PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook
The Time Lord approached the disguised TARDIS from around the corner and stopped suddenly. He was accustomed to the inexplicable, but this sight rendered his mouth agape.
“I clearly recall you being in pristine condition when I left here to pursue that elusive rogue.”
He looked about, but a crimson telephone box containing multiple trays of flora punctuated by a pigeon cooing on the top layer hadn’t yet attracted attention. This was somewhat peculiar for London.
“Very well, then,” he said reaching into his inner jacket pocket. “One sonic screwdriver to the rescue. Then we’ll deal with this pesky Doctor.”
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