Doctor Who rewritten - Confused by her peculiar lingering memories, Donna visits a certain unusual consultant.
Sherlock: So, who was murdered and why should I care?
Donna: Uh, no one, I -
Sherlock: Then I don’t care.
Donna: But -
Sherlock: Look to your left. See that wooden thing there? It’s called a door. I think you’ll get along well. Good afternoon, Miss -
Donna: Oi, you listen to me, Clue Man! I didn’t travel all this way for nothing. You’re looking for interesting cases, right? Well, what if I told you that I have memories - vivid ones - of Mount Vesuvius erupting?
Sherlock: So? You obviously survived. Yay, you.
Donna: …No, but that was thousands of years ago.
Sherlock: Was it?
Donna: Yessss. What’d you think, I meant yesterday?!
Sherlock: I only just learned that the Earth revolves around Venus - or the Sun, or whatever object John here insists that we travel around - last month. Why should I concern myself with France’s volcanic history?
Sherlock: Again, what’s it to me?
Donna: Well, it isn’t just that. Every night, I have the strangest dreams. A library covering an entire planet, bees disappearing, these bald creatures with spaghetti stuffed in their months, a man with a rubbish name - something like ‘Captain Jackoff Hardness’, white fluffy things that jump out of fat, meeting Agatha Christie, giant insects - oh, and throughout it all, I’m with a Martian as skinny as a toothpick and the hair of a wild bird, who -
Sherlock: Your point?
Donna: It feels like something’s missing. Something major. Like I have amnesia, but I don’t even remember that I have it. I don’t know, maybe I’ve been drugged because I witnessed a murder? Or…something. Please, Mr. Holmes, it’s been nearly 12 months. I’ve seen 4 psychiatrists - none of them have helped. Do you -
Sherlock: Yes, I’ll take the case. You’ll pay well. Not that I usually care about money, but I wouldn’t mind draining a lottery winner of her wealth.
Donna: Oh. At least you’re honest. Most people - wait, how’d you know I won the lottery?
Sherlock: Please. With earrings like those? Clearly pricey, not to mention tacky. Plus, the painted nails. And the haircut. And the velvet top. The whole look screams new money, done up by someone overly excited by it all, not making wise decisions. And how else besides the lottery could a former temp look that way?
Donna: How’d you know -
Sherlock: That after 14 to 16-and-a-half years as a temporary office staff member, you quit thanks to your lottery win and are now concentrating on conceiving a flock of bossy little ginger children? Your knees.
Donna: My knees…told you all that? Oh you are mad! I like it.
Sherlock: But change the name. Your last name, Temple-Noble. Sounds like a religious estate. Only adds to the number of people befriending you for your money. Either that, or it gives the impression that you’re royalty. Which clearly you’re not.
Donna: Oi, and rude! Don’t think I’ve never met anyone quite like you.
Sherlock: Yes, well I may be rude but at least I’m not ginger. Now, talk. And John, stop staring; Breasts are only a pair of mammary glands.