“Pushing Who: Happy-Go-Weirdy” - A Doctor Who/Pushing Daisies crossover.
Collab between me and my friend Jess. I’ll write a chapter, she’ll write a chapter.
Title: Pushing Who: Happy-Go-Weirdy
Genre: Humour, crossover, mystery
Story By: Immy and Jess
This Chapter By: Immy (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
applegrass_wolf)
Word Count: 2,159
Disclaimer: Characters not ours, DW © BBC and PD © Bryan Fuller/ABC/etc. (oh how that corporation is loathed).
An ordinary day at the Pie Hole, and Chuck and Ned are planning a picnic. But all this is halted by the arrival of a strange man and three companions in a bizarre blue box…chaos ensues…and Emerson finds he might just need their help with the latest, most mysterious case.
CHAPTER THREE!
Chapter Three
In Which Discussions Ensue, and Emerson Becomes Cranky
Soon there were four new customers in the previously deserted Pie Hole, all clearly far from home and all intrigued by the pies listed on the menu. The girl named Chuck watched from the other side of the counter with the Pie-maker. He stood nervously with his hands behind his back, staring incredulously at the man who had been seen to die, but had not died; whose “alive again” status was nothing to do with the Pie-maker himself. If it were not for the fact dead bodies were a constant feature in his life, the Pie-maker would have had a sudden severe instance of abnormal heart function, more commonly known as a heart attack.
The four visitors he could see were out of the ordinary, not even considering the one man’s brush with death. A flame-haired woman with a cheeky smile sat next to a skinny, besuited man with brown hair that could have been plugged into an electric socket with no difference made. A petite woman wearing leathers sat next to the man the Pie-maker had almost touched, but not quite. His teeth were dazzlingly white and the coat he wore was of the military variety, with shiny brass buttons and wide shoulders that accentuated his form. Each was considering the Pie Hole’s menu. It had so far been eleven minutes and forty-five seconds since they had seated themselves in the booth, and the Pie-maker was beginning to wonder whether it would have been easier to simply press upon them the fresh blueberry cup-pies that sat cooling on the counter, on the house.
“Here, Doctor, should I have raspberry, blueberry, or kiwi? I love raspberries. But then, I used to have blueberries as a kid. Dad would make crumble.” Donna Noble stared thoughtfully at Digby, who lay in front of the counter. “Kiwi sounds a lot more adventurous, though.”
The man with the brown hair whipped off his glasses and slipped them into his pocket.
“Tell you what, Donna…I’ll get the kiwi. Then you can get the blueberry.” Before waiting for a response, he rapidly continued a frenzied speech that seemed to trip effortlessly off his tongue, with no consideration for the others in his company’s understanding. “No, I can’t say I’ve ever had a kiwi pie before, either. But I have had a snozzcumber pie. Now, that was a bad day. Ended up running for my life across the desert pursued by some of the vilest amphibians I have ever had the misfortune to encounter…”
“Snozzcumber? Isn’t that from a kids’ book…” Martha Jones looked up at the Doctor, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
“It certainly is. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, Martha, you should know that. Any chance of a cup of tea?” The Doctor waved crazily at Chuck, who gave a wave back with similar enthusiasm. Worried, however, for the Pie-maker’s peace of mind, she turned to him and pointed out quietly,
“Well, as they’re here, you might as well try and figure out what happened.”
He nodded. “If they’d only hurry up and choose the pies, then we could get some answers…though actually, I’m more worried about Olive.”
~*~
Olive Snook was in no mood for any kind of investigation. Sitting opposite the private investigator in the far corner of the Pie Hole, she sniffled into a tissue and secretively tipped a suspicious clear liquid into the cup of coffee in front of her.
Emerson Cod, on the other hand, was desperate to begin an investigation. He was out of yarn and a case had come knocking the previous night. Without the Pie-maker, his sweater vest would remain a few inches too short for rather longer than it should do, consequently, he was itching to leave the Pie Hole and get to the morgue. Not that this seemed likely any more.
He drummed his fingers on the table and looked over at the four excitable new arrivals.
“Just give ‘em the damn rhubarb,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry?” said Olive.
“Nothing.” Emerson frowned. “And are you sure about mixing vodka and coffee so early?”
Affronted, Olive glanced around and hissed,
“A strange man just fell off the roof, then got up and walked. What’re you suggesting, that I’m drinking something too strong for the situation?!” To emphasise this, she took an enormous swig from the bottle before dumping the remainder in her coffee. “I didn’t think so.”
~*~
“Welcome to the Pie Hole. Are you ready to order?” Chuck took up Olive’s usual job effortlessly, pen poised above a miniscule notepad. Investigating combined with pie was, as an interrogater, Chuck’s ultimate speciality. The visitors looked up at her and all smiled warmly. The man who had fallen did this in particular dazzling fashion, then held out his hand.
“Captain Jack Harkness. Sorry about your bees. It was Chuck, wasn’t it?”
Surprised by his blatantly flirtatious manner, particularly after his unexpected collision with the pavement, she simply smiled back and said,
“It certainly was.”
“And I’m the Doctor.” The second man with a crazed gleam in his eyes offered his hand, adding, “…yes, I don’t know how that happened, on the roof –”
“It was only your hopeless navigational skills,” snorted the woman at his side. “Donna, Donna Noble.”
“And I’m Martha,” said the fourth guest. Chuck relaxed instantly. The fact that they were so friendly and eager to introduce themselves should surely ease some of the Pie-maker’s fears? She beamed back at the foursome and continued,
“Well, we’re very pleased to have you here today…have you chosen your pies?”
“Oho, yeah,” winked the Captain. “I’m thinking I’ll be going with peach.”
“Blueberry, thanks.”
“Aaaand kiwi here, with tea if it’s not too much trouble.”
“And for me! With a strawberry pie. Just to keep it simple.” Chuck looked down at the quiet woman seated next to the Captain. She was smiling shyly back and was clearly the sensible one of the pack, especially judging by the behaviour of the two men. Though it was hard to believe that any of them were sane after apparently witnessing one of their number fall from a rooftop, uncaring and unsurprised.
“Ned!” she called, turning away from the table. “Peach, blueberry, kiwi and strawberry...are all those ready?” A voice returned from far back in the kitchen.
“Uh…I guess.” Satisfied that her interrogation could continue, the girl named Chuck turned back and asked,
“So…what are you all doing in town? We haven’t seen you around before, we know all the pie-lovers in the area – or so we thought - ”
“Ohh, we’re just passing through,” said the Doctor.
“Not that we should be,” smirked Donna, “more years than you could imagine of driving and he still can’t get us where we want to go.”
“Give it a rest, Donna! And who’s to say we wanted to go anywhere in particular, anyway? Isn’t that half the fun of travelling? Come on, you know it is…”
“Well, if you hadn’t misfired, we certainly wouldn’t be doing this amount of great sight-seeing.”
“Jack!” Martha rolled her eyes theatrically. “He always does that,” she told Chuck, who had just managed to accidentally catch the Captain’s eye. He held her gaze with his stunning blue eyes for just long enough for the approaching Pie-maker to stumble on a carelessly placed chair upon noticing. Chuck blinked at the sound and took the pie from his hands without looking at him. But by this point, the Captain’s attention had been otherwise engaged.
“Hello, you must be Ned.” In precisely the way he had greeted Chuck, the Captain’s flirtatious nature was strikingly evident. The Pie-maker, however, eyed his hand but did not shake it for fear of what might happen, instead smiling tightly before returning to the kitchen. As Donna and the Doctor stabbed forks into steaming warm pie, Chuck looked inquisitively at the man that should have died. It appeared that what they had in common was not just death, but a degree of interest in the Pie-maker. She sullenly folded her arms and stepped back from the table, just in time for Ned to shout,
“CHUCK!” Shocked and suddenly aware of how her step had almost taken her to the grave, she spun around on the spot. The Pie-maker was breathing rather heavily and reeling slightly at how his bare, fruit stained arms could so easily have brushed the tender arms of the girl he called Chuck.
Donna Noble, on the other hand, simply swallowed and said of their near collision,
“Nice one. And by the way, this pie is good. Really good.”
“Quite extraordinary…” muttered the Doctor, “…the blend of texture, it’s just perfect. And the kiwi is not too sweet, not too sour…” Only about a quarter of his pie was left as Martha and the Captain tucked into their platefuls. In only four minutes and thirty-five seconds, all that would be left on any plate would be flecks of juice and crumbs. However, Emerson Cod was already tired of waiting. Standing up abruptly, he left Olive to her vodka infused coffee to stride over to the Pie-maker. Jabbing him on the shoulder, he insisted,
“This is taking far longer than it should. We’ve got a date at the morgue with a body that needs to go into the ground, and I can’t wait all day for you to lap up compliments. So get movin’.”
“The morgue?” asked Martha. There was strawberry juice all down her chin, but nobody mentioned it.
“Yeah, the morgue. Private investigator, Emerson Cod. And – ” Martha had offered Emerson her hand, which, surprised, he shook. “And I need the Pie man.”
“Don’t even think about it,” said Donna, twirling her fork menacingly at the Captain, who had just started to open his mouth with some witty quirk or another.
“Private investigator? Fascinating. Need a hand?” The Doctor was suddenly very, very interested. Emerson’s stubborn reply was a resounding
“No.”
“But we’re good with murders. Solved a murder, no, a triple murder, with Agatha Christie once.”
“That we did!” grinned Donna.
“Excuse me?” Chuck raised her eyebrows. “That’s…ridiculous.”
“Since when do you care about ridiculous?!” asked Emerson, with a thick layer of incredulity. Overcome with a frustration that the investigation she had instigated might just be failing, Chuck burst out with the words,
"Well, maybe since four people appeared on my roof, nearly killed my bees, and then one of them fell to the ground and isn’t dead when they’re supposed to be?”
There was a short silence in the Pie Hole. Until -
“There’s a lot of that around…” all seven people turned to stare at Olive, who rested her chin in her hands expectantly.
“Olive!” chorused Chuck, Emerson and the Pie-maker. Chuck continued,
“Now is not the time -”
“Am I missing something here?” asked the Captain, rather mischievously.
“NO!” the three investigators yelled in unison.
“…unless you feel like explaining yourself any time soon?” added the Pie-maker. He shrugged a little and shoved his hands into his pockets, but the message was clear.
Answers were needed.
“Oh.” The Captain’s face fell. “You want to know about the roof? Well, the thing is…it’s just that…” he looked at Martha, who shrugged, then Donna, who suppressed a laugh, then the Doctor, who –
“Yes, the thing is, Jack has a disease.”
“What?!” the Captain spluttered.
“Hyperflexohoomagorpaglobinopolistitis bug, which is an extremely – and I mean EXTREMELY – rare bone disease, causing clumsiness, flexibility, supple bones…”
“Um…yes! I do.” He nodded vigorously.
Not entirely satisfied, the Pie-maker and Chuck simultaneously folded their arms and looked down at the four strangers who were just getting stranger by the minute, wondering how on earth they had gotten into this mess.
“Great. Can we go now?” Emerson looked bored as ever.
“Yes. I’ll come too,” Chuck announced.
“Ohh hell no,” moaned Emerson, “I’m not having you and Pie man making love eyes at each other all the way there – ”
“Without the word ‘eyes’, I’d have been in that car faster than you can say Raxacoricofallapatorious,” winked the Captain.
“Raxa-what now?” asked Olive, who had suddenly appeared at the Pie-maker’s side.
“Nobody cares!” growled Emerson Cod, checking his watch. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“Is it ok if you clear up, Olive?”
“Huh?” her eyes had fallen on the Captain, who winked.
“Jack!” moaned Martha. He raised his hands defensively.
“Can’t help it!” the Captain smirked. Olive Snook was simply pleased to have a little attention – he was no Pie-maker, but it was fine by her.
"Yeah, sure. Bye, Ned! Bye, Emerson! Bye, Chuck!”
Olive waved the Pie-maker, the private investigator and the girl named Chuck out of the restaurant and into Emerson’s car. The car zoomed off in a flurry of exhaust and confusion whilst thoughts of the four people from the roof filled the Pie-maker’s apprehensive mind. For the explanation given by the Doctor had been a long way from comforting, and in the Pie-maker’s eyes, secrets still needed to be unearthed.
_______________________
End of chapter three.
Please comment :)
and follow the link to chapter four.
Collab between me and my friend Jess. I’ll write a chapter, she’ll write a chapter.
Title: Pushing Who: Happy-Go-Weirdy
Genre: Humour, crossover, mystery
Story By: Immy and Jess
This Chapter By: Immy (
applegrass_wolf)Word Count: 2,159
Disclaimer: Characters not ours, DW © BBC and PD © Bryan Fuller/ABC/etc. (oh how that corporation is loathed).
An ordinary day at the Pie Hole, and Chuck and Ned are planning a picnic. But all this is halted by the arrival of a strange man and three companions in a bizarre blue box…chaos ensues…and Emerson finds he might just need their help with the latest, most mysterious case.
CHAPTER THREE!
Chapter Three
In Which Discussions Ensue, and Emerson Becomes Cranky
Soon there were four new customers in the previously deserted Pie Hole, all clearly far from home and all intrigued by the pies listed on the menu. The girl named Chuck watched from the other side of the counter with the Pie-maker. He stood nervously with his hands behind his back, staring incredulously at the man who had been seen to die, but had not died; whose “alive again” status was nothing to do with the Pie-maker himself. If it were not for the fact dead bodies were a constant feature in his life, the Pie-maker would have had a sudden severe instance of abnormal heart function, more commonly known as a heart attack.
The four visitors he could see were out of the ordinary, not even considering the one man’s brush with death. A flame-haired woman with a cheeky smile sat next to a skinny, besuited man with brown hair that could have been plugged into an electric socket with no difference made. A petite woman wearing leathers sat next to the man the Pie-maker had almost touched, but not quite. His teeth were dazzlingly white and the coat he wore was of the military variety, with shiny brass buttons and wide shoulders that accentuated his form. Each was considering the Pie Hole’s menu. It had so far been eleven minutes and forty-five seconds since they had seated themselves in the booth, and the Pie-maker was beginning to wonder whether it would have been easier to simply press upon them the fresh blueberry cup-pies that sat cooling on the counter, on the house.
“Here, Doctor, should I have raspberry, blueberry, or kiwi? I love raspberries. But then, I used to have blueberries as a kid. Dad would make crumble.” Donna Noble stared thoughtfully at Digby, who lay in front of the counter. “Kiwi sounds a lot more adventurous, though.”
The man with the brown hair whipped off his glasses and slipped them into his pocket.
“Tell you what, Donna…I’ll get the kiwi. Then you can get the blueberry.” Before waiting for a response, he rapidly continued a frenzied speech that seemed to trip effortlessly off his tongue, with no consideration for the others in his company’s understanding. “No, I can’t say I’ve ever had a kiwi pie before, either. But I have had a snozzcumber pie. Now, that was a bad day. Ended up running for my life across the desert pursued by some of the vilest amphibians I have ever had the misfortune to encounter…”
“Snozzcumber? Isn’t that from a kids’ book…” Martha Jones looked up at the Doctor, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
“It certainly is. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist, Martha, you should know that. Any chance of a cup of tea?” The Doctor waved crazily at Chuck, who gave a wave back with similar enthusiasm. Worried, however, for the Pie-maker’s peace of mind, she turned to him and pointed out quietly,
“Well, as they’re here, you might as well try and figure out what happened.”
He nodded. “If they’d only hurry up and choose the pies, then we could get some answers…though actually, I’m more worried about Olive.”
~*~
Olive Snook was in no mood for any kind of investigation. Sitting opposite the private investigator in the far corner of the Pie Hole, she sniffled into a tissue and secretively tipped a suspicious clear liquid into the cup of coffee in front of her.
Emerson Cod, on the other hand, was desperate to begin an investigation. He was out of yarn and a case had come knocking the previous night. Without the Pie-maker, his sweater vest would remain a few inches too short for rather longer than it should do, consequently, he was itching to leave the Pie Hole and get to the morgue. Not that this seemed likely any more.
He drummed his fingers on the table and looked over at the four excitable new arrivals.
“Just give ‘em the damn rhubarb,” he muttered.
“I’m sorry?” said Olive.
“Nothing.” Emerson frowned. “And are you sure about mixing vodka and coffee so early?”
Affronted, Olive glanced around and hissed,
“A strange man just fell off the roof, then got up and walked. What’re you suggesting, that I’m drinking something too strong for the situation?!” To emphasise this, she took an enormous swig from the bottle before dumping the remainder in her coffee. “I didn’t think so.”
~*~
“Welcome to the Pie Hole. Are you ready to order?” Chuck took up Olive’s usual job effortlessly, pen poised above a miniscule notepad. Investigating combined with pie was, as an interrogater, Chuck’s ultimate speciality. The visitors looked up at her and all smiled warmly. The man who had fallen did this in particular dazzling fashion, then held out his hand.
“Captain Jack Harkness. Sorry about your bees. It was Chuck, wasn’t it?”
Surprised by his blatantly flirtatious manner, particularly after his unexpected collision with the pavement, she simply smiled back and said,
“It certainly was.”
“And I’m the Doctor.” The second man with a crazed gleam in his eyes offered his hand, adding, “…yes, I don’t know how that happened, on the roof –”
“It was only your hopeless navigational skills,” snorted the woman at his side. “Donna, Donna Noble.”
“And I’m Martha,” said the fourth guest. Chuck relaxed instantly. The fact that they were so friendly and eager to introduce themselves should surely ease some of the Pie-maker’s fears? She beamed back at the foursome and continued,
“Well, we’re very pleased to have you here today…have you chosen your pies?”
“Oho, yeah,” winked the Captain. “I’m thinking I’ll be going with peach.”
“Blueberry, thanks.”
“Aaaand kiwi here, with tea if it’s not too much trouble.”
“And for me! With a strawberry pie. Just to keep it simple.” Chuck looked down at the quiet woman seated next to the Captain. She was smiling shyly back and was clearly the sensible one of the pack, especially judging by the behaviour of the two men. Though it was hard to believe that any of them were sane after apparently witnessing one of their number fall from a rooftop, uncaring and unsurprised.
“Ned!” she called, turning away from the table. “Peach, blueberry, kiwi and strawberry...are all those ready?” A voice returned from far back in the kitchen.
“Uh…I guess.” Satisfied that her interrogation could continue, the girl named Chuck turned back and asked,
“So…what are you all doing in town? We haven’t seen you around before, we know all the pie-lovers in the area – or so we thought - ”
“Ohh, we’re just passing through,” said the Doctor.
“Not that we should be,” smirked Donna, “more years than you could imagine of driving and he still can’t get us where we want to go.”
“Give it a rest, Donna! And who’s to say we wanted to go anywhere in particular, anyway? Isn’t that half the fun of travelling? Come on, you know it is…”
“Well, if you hadn’t misfired, we certainly wouldn’t be doing this amount of great sight-seeing.”
“Jack!” Martha rolled her eyes theatrically. “He always does that,” she told Chuck, who had just managed to accidentally catch the Captain’s eye. He held her gaze with his stunning blue eyes for just long enough for the approaching Pie-maker to stumble on a carelessly placed chair upon noticing. Chuck blinked at the sound and took the pie from his hands without looking at him. But by this point, the Captain’s attention had been otherwise engaged.
“Hello, you must be Ned.” In precisely the way he had greeted Chuck, the Captain’s flirtatious nature was strikingly evident. The Pie-maker, however, eyed his hand but did not shake it for fear of what might happen, instead smiling tightly before returning to the kitchen. As Donna and the Doctor stabbed forks into steaming warm pie, Chuck looked inquisitively at the man that should have died. It appeared that what they had in common was not just death, but a degree of interest in the Pie-maker. She sullenly folded her arms and stepped back from the table, just in time for Ned to shout,
“CHUCK!” Shocked and suddenly aware of how her step had almost taken her to the grave, she spun around on the spot. The Pie-maker was breathing rather heavily and reeling slightly at how his bare, fruit stained arms could so easily have brushed the tender arms of the girl he called Chuck.
Donna Noble, on the other hand, simply swallowed and said of their near collision,
“Nice one. And by the way, this pie is good. Really good.”
“Quite extraordinary…” muttered the Doctor, “…the blend of texture, it’s just perfect. And the kiwi is not too sweet, not too sour…” Only about a quarter of his pie was left as Martha and the Captain tucked into their platefuls. In only four minutes and thirty-five seconds, all that would be left on any plate would be flecks of juice and crumbs. However, Emerson Cod was already tired of waiting. Standing up abruptly, he left Olive to her vodka infused coffee to stride over to the Pie-maker. Jabbing him on the shoulder, he insisted,
“This is taking far longer than it should. We’ve got a date at the morgue with a body that needs to go into the ground, and I can’t wait all day for you to lap up compliments. So get movin’.”
“The morgue?” asked Martha. There was strawberry juice all down her chin, but nobody mentioned it.
“Yeah, the morgue. Private investigator, Emerson Cod. And – ” Martha had offered Emerson her hand, which, surprised, he shook. “And I need the Pie man.”
“Don’t even think about it,” said Donna, twirling her fork menacingly at the Captain, who had just started to open his mouth with some witty quirk or another.
“Private investigator? Fascinating. Need a hand?” The Doctor was suddenly very, very interested. Emerson’s stubborn reply was a resounding
“No.”
“But we’re good with murders. Solved a murder, no, a triple murder, with Agatha Christie once.”
“That we did!” grinned Donna.
“Excuse me?” Chuck raised her eyebrows. “That’s…ridiculous.”
“Since when do you care about ridiculous?!” asked Emerson, with a thick layer of incredulity. Overcome with a frustration that the investigation she had instigated might just be failing, Chuck burst out with the words,
"Well, maybe since four people appeared on my roof, nearly killed my bees, and then one of them fell to the ground and isn’t dead when they’re supposed to be?”
There was a short silence in the Pie Hole. Until -
“There’s a lot of that around…” all seven people turned to stare at Olive, who rested her chin in her hands expectantly.
“Olive!” chorused Chuck, Emerson and the Pie-maker. Chuck continued,
“Now is not the time -”
“Am I missing something here?” asked the Captain, rather mischievously.
“NO!” the three investigators yelled in unison.
“…unless you feel like explaining yourself any time soon?” added the Pie-maker. He shrugged a little and shoved his hands into his pockets, but the message was clear.
Answers were needed.
“Oh.” The Captain’s face fell. “You want to know about the roof? Well, the thing is…it’s just that…” he looked at Martha, who shrugged, then Donna, who suppressed a laugh, then the Doctor, who –
“Yes, the thing is, Jack has a disease.”
“What?!” the Captain spluttered.
“Hyperflexohoomagorpaglobinopolistitis bug, which is an extremely – and I mean EXTREMELY – rare bone disease, causing clumsiness, flexibility, supple bones…”
“Um…yes! I do.” He nodded vigorously.
Not entirely satisfied, the Pie-maker and Chuck simultaneously folded their arms and looked down at the four strangers who were just getting stranger by the minute, wondering how on earth they had gotten into this mess.
“Great. Can we go now?” Emerson looked bored as ever.
“Yes. I’ll come too,” Chuck announced.
“Ohh hell no,” moaned Emerson, “I’m not having you and Pie man making love eyes at each other all the way there – ”
“Without the word ‘eyes’, I’d have been in that car faster than you can say Raxacoricofallapatorious,” winked the Captain.
“Raxa-what now?” asked Olive, who had suddenly appeared at the Pie-maker’s side.
“Nobody cares!” growled Emerson Cod, checking his watch. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“Is it ok if you clear up, Olive?”
“Huh?” her eyes had fallen on the Captain, who winked.
“Jack!” moaned Martha. He raised his hands defensively.
“Can’t help it!” the Captain smirked. Olive Snook was simply pleased to have a little attention – he was no Pie-maker, but it was fine by her.
"Yeah, sure. Bye, Ned! Bye, Emerson! Bye, Chuck!”
Olive waved the Pie-maker, the private investigator and the girl named Chuck out of the restaurant and into Emerson’s car. The car zoomed off in a flurry of exhaust and confusion whilst thoughts of the four people from the roof filled the Pie-maker’s apprehensive mind. For the explanation given by the Doctor had been a long way from comforting, and in the Pie-maker’s eyes, secrets still needed to be unearthed.
_______________________
End of chapter three.
Please comment :)
and follow the link to chapter four.
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