Young Writers Society

Freddy and Lucy exchanged nervous glances. Their eyes (which weren't actually their own, but you have to overlook these details when describing clones inhabited by consciousnesses) rolled a little too high into their heads and their attention seemed to float away into the clouds for a moment.

The Doctor stood still during this time, warily watching the crowd of clones which surrounded himself and the two siblings. Along the street, the odd human was swaying back and forth, or asking too many questions of friends and relatives. These were the people who hadn't been sent back in time, like Mrs Dawson. They were confused and scared about the scene which was playing out around them, and it didn't take long for the clones to react. They all carried clicky guns, and when a human got too out of control, they simply held the device against the victim's neck and sent them into sleep. At least that's all the Doctor hoped it was.

"We will take you to our leader as requested," said Lucy. Her eyes had returned to their normal position, so Eleven took note that when they rolled into their skulls, that meant the consciousnesses were communicating. Telepathically? Over the wifi? Probably telepathically.

Freddy moved forwards again, and this time the Doctor allowed him to deposit a cold hand on his arm. Then the two siblings escorted him through the crowd of onlookers, having a hard time getting their legs to move over the obstacle course of sleeping victims.

When the Doctor imagined what the clone leader's home base would be, he had considered a tall office building, or a rotting dungeon, or a court house; just something that said 'I'm big and strong and not to be messed with'. So you can imagine how surprised (and delighted) he was when the sweet aroma of chocolate-y, syrup-y pancakes filled his nostrils. Rounding a street corner, the clones stopped directly in front of a pancake house. Its walls were painted to attract leprechauns, glittery bunting hung from the verandah, and there was a cut-out of a life size teddy bear holding a plate of pancakes out the front. This was the sort of place five-year-olds went to turn six; an odd choice for an evil mastermind who had just taken over London.

"Your taste buds certainly didn't suffer in the cloning stages," the Doctor muttered. Upon looking through the windows, he could see that the pancake house was packed. Every seat was filled, and waitresses were rushing around with plates of gooey goodness.

"Our forms still need nourishment." Lucy stated as if it was obvious that pancakes were the only way to get nourishment. Whatever bubble of the universe these creatures had come from, it must have been a haven for sweet-tooths.

The doorbell rang as Freddy led the way inside, but only one of the waitresses paid attention to them, everyone else was too busy eating. Even she had been eating on the job, it seemed. (The maple syrup running down her chin was a tell tale sign.)

"Come for pancakes?" She asked, pulling a greasy notebook from her apron pocket.

"We're here to see the boss," Lucy explained. "He's expecting us."

"Go on through, then." The waitress jerked her head to a pink door at the back of the eating area, then she went back work, picking up empty plates.

The clones' leader had taken the body of a pudgy, bald man whose enormous body completely covered the chair he was sitting on; making it seem like he was floating on air. There was a small TV-dinner style desk in front of him, and he was eagerly digging in to a dish of chocolate pancakes.

"Is our guest hungry?" He mumbled between bites, melted chocolate oozing from his lips.

"No." Lucy said and pushed the Doctor into a chair opposite the giant man. Eleven would have liked to point out that the pancakes did seem rather delicious, and the scent and sight of them was slowly driving him mad. But perhaps that was how they broke people; torture by pancakes.

"Good, more for me." He addressed the Doctor now. "So what do you want, timelord, if not pancakes?"

Eleven thumped his fist down on the armrest. "I demand to know why you have come to this planet and sent thousands of people into the past!" He thought that covered the general reason for his being in the back of a pancake house.

"Oh, that." The boss rolled his eyes. He didn't deposit them in his head as a form of communication, he actually rolled them, just like any stubborn teenager would. Clearly the leader was far more comfortable in his chosen body than the other clones. "It's all been done by the books. Perfectly legal, even the shadow losers aren't batting their eyelids."

"You dislocated thousands, assaulted everyone else with clicky guns, and stole an entire city!" The Doctor leaned forward in the chair. "And you say it's legal?"

"Yes, of course." He waved a hand at Freddy, who disappeared into the dining area, the door swinging back and forth after him. After depositing the final pancake into his mouth and licking his thick fingers, the leader finally continued. "You see, our species jumps from one home to another all the time. We only require the majority of a planet's population to welcome us, and then-" He attempted to click his fingers but they just made a funny sound. "-we can move right on in without a problem."

"But they didn't agree, they wouldn't agree..." The Doctor's eyes were focussed on the man but his attention was turned inwards; like the consulting detective, he had a mind full of answers and memories. Now he churned through them, trying to find something which would explain how the clones had been successful in their take-over. The humans would never have agreed to be invaded, to be sent back to Camelot. They must have been tricked. Then the Doctor remembered Morgana.

"Who made the deal on behalf of the human race?" He asked, his voice so soft that Lucy stepped closer to try and hear what was being said. But the leader heard, and he gave the answer Eleven had anticipated.

"Oh, a cranky woman with a very dark spirit, but she cooperated with us. It was easy to get her to agree." Freddy reappeared with a fresh platter of food, which the boss quickly began consuming.

"But how can one person make a deal on behalf of everyone?" The Doctor shook his head disgustedly when a pancake was held out for him; there were much more important things going on in his head at the moment. Even the sweet aroma of lemon-sugar didn't tempt him any longer.

"We don't ask questions. We just saw an opportunity and took it. She was plenty powerful, and the deal worked." The rejected pancake was shoved into his mouth whole. "I wasn't going to stick around, she had a mood coming on!" He laughed, apparently thinking his comment to be funny, and half choked. Freddy smacked him on the back, unfortunately he wasn't holding a clicky gun.

The Doctor pulled out his screwdriver, deciding some more scans were in order. This made the boss uncomfortable, and to Eleven's frustration, Lucy's clicky gun emerged from her coat. They were both armed, but she didn't appear worried that he'd go sonic again.

"You've overstayed your welcome, timelord." The oversized man spoke to the screwdriver, rather than the Doctor. "You can see this is all legal, so go away in peace, or stay... and things may turn out badly for you."

As hard as he found it to believe, the Doctor wasn't an idiot. He knew that nothing else could be gained from staying in the pancake house, as delightful as the establishment was. "You're just like lawyers," Eleven replied. "Always finding loopholes." He'd gotten as much information as possible from the clones, and now the answers he required were back in Camelot; with Morgana. "Well, guess what..." He stood and edged towards the pink door, adjusting his bow tie. "I'm the judge!" Then he ducked out and swiftly ran back to the Tardis.