By Matthew Jones
Medical professional Who New Adventures booklet!
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Additional resources for Bad Therapy (New Doctor Who Adventures)
It was only when she spoke for the second time that he realized he was hearing her voice inside his head. The Major. He didn’t get out. He’s still in there. Guarding his face with his hand, Chris crawled back into the room. Every time he opened his eyes they watered immediately, turning the room into a fierce orange blur. If the firefighters in this era had enhanced visual and breathing equipment then he was taking a stupid risk. But if they didn’t, the heat was going to prevent anyone without them from mounting a rescue in this room in a few minutes’ time.
Tilda exclaimed, her cigarette falling from her lips. ‘This is Soho, not Chicago. He died of a heart attack. His younger brother Gordy runs the show now. Or tries to, at least. Not much upstairs unfortunately. ’ ‘So rumour has it. To be honest I’m not that worried for the Tropics. We’re too well in with the law. I doubt that little Gordy would dare come flexing his tiny muscles around here. I’m more concerned about the smaller clubs. My dear friend, the Major, runs a little one-roomer around the corner.
It was good to be back on the street, although the autumn night was cold and the smog gave a stale taste to the air, almost like sulphur. He spent a moment getting his bearings. To his left were the brighter lights of Old Compton Street, which would lead him back to the TARDIS, and home. A black cab was pulling up on the far side of the road as he left the Tropics. Chris paused to watch as an attractive young blonde woman wearing a fur clambered drunkenly from it and rummaged through her handbag for the fare.