Doctor Who

Ooh, smell that air!

Grass and lemonade and a little bit of mint,

a hint of mint, must be the 1920s.

You can tell what year it is just by smelling?

Oh, yeah!

Or maybe that big vintage car coming up the drive gave it away.

The professor's luggage, Richard, step lively.

- Good afternoon, Professor Peach. - Hello, Greeves old man.

- Ah... Reverend! - Professor Peach!

Beautiful day. The Lord's in his heaven, all's right with the world.

Reverend Golightly.

Lady Eddison requests that you make yourselves comfortable in your rooms.

Cocktails will be served on the lawn from half past four.

You go on up. I need to check something in the library.

- Alone. - It's supposed to be a party.

All this work, it'll be the death of you!

Never mind Planet Zog.

A party in the 1920s, that's more like it!

Trouble is... we haven't been invited.

Oh, I forgot, yes, we have!

I was right.

Kept secret all these years...

It's unbelievable!

But why didn't they ask...?

Heavens!

Oh, it's you.

I was just doing a little research...

I say, what are you doing with that lead piping?

But that's impossible!

English Subs: Sanju

We'll be late for cocktails!

What d'you think?

Flapper or slapper?

Flapper. You look lovely!

Look sharp, we have guests!

Good afternoon!

Drinks, sir? Ma'am?

Sidecar, please.

And a lime and soda, thank you.

May I announce Lady Clemency Eddison!

Lady Eddison!

Forgive me, but who exactly might you be

- and what are you doing here? - I'm the Doctor,

and this is Miss Donna Noble, of the Chiswick Nobles.

Good afternoon, my lady.

Topping day, what?

- Spiffing! Top hole! - No, no, no, no. No.

Don't do that, don't.

We were thrilled to receive your invitation, my lady.

We met at the Ambassador's reception.

Doctor, how could I forget you?

But one must be sure with the Unicorn on the loose.

A unicorn? Brilliant! Where?

The Unicorn. The jewel thief.

Nobody knows who he is.

He's just struck again,

snatched Lady Babbington's pearls right from under her nose.

Funny place to wear pearls.

May I announce the Colonel Hugh Curbishley, the Honourable Roger Curbishley.

My husband

and my son.

Forgive me for not rising.

Never been the same ever since that flu epidemic back in '18.

My word, you are a super lady.

Oh, I like the cut of your jib. Chin, chin.

Hello, I'm the Doctor.

- How do you do? - Very well.

- Your usual, sir? - Ah, thank you, Davenport.

Just how l like it.

How come she's an Eddison, but her husband and son are Curbishleys?

The Eddison title ascends through her.

One day Roger will be a lord.

Miss Robina Redmond!

She's the absolute hit of the social scene.

A must!

- Miss Redmond! - Spiffing to meet you at last, my lady!

- What super fun! - Reverend Arnold Golightly!

Reverend, how are you?

I heard about the church last Thursday night.

Those ruffians breaking in.

You apprehended them, I hear.

As the Christian Fathers taught me,

we must forgive them their trespasses,

quite literally.

Some of these young boys deserve a decent thrashing.

Couldn't agree more, sir.

Typical.

All the decent men are on the other bus.

Or Time Lords.

Now, milady, what about this special guest you promised us?

Here she is!

A lady who needs no introduction.

Oh, no, please don't.

Thank you, Lady Eddison. Honestly, there's no need.

Agatha Christie.

- What about her? - That's me.

No!

You're kidding!

Agatha Christie! I was just talking about you the other day.

I said, I bet she's brilliant!

I'm the Doctor, this is Donna.

Oh! I love your stuff! What a mind!

You fool me every time, well, almost every time.

Well, once or twice.

Well, once. But it was a good once!

You make a rather unusual couple.

- No, we're not married! - We're not a couple!

Obviously not.

No wedding ring.

- Oh, you don't miss a trick. - And I'd stay that way, if I were you.

The thrill is in the chase, never in the capture.

Mrs Christie! I'm so glad you could come,

I'm one of your greatest followers.

I've read all six of your books!

Is Mr. Christie not joining us?

Is he needed?

Can't a woman make her own way in the world?

Don't give my wife ideas!

Now, Mrs Christie, I've a question.

Why a Belgian detective?

Belgians make such lovely buns!

I say, where on earth's Professor Peach?

He'd love to meet Mrs Christie.

Said he was going to the library.

Miss Chandrakala. Would you go and collect the Professor?

At once, my lady.

The date on this newspaper.

What about it?

It's the day Agatha Christie disappeared.

Professor Peach!

Professor?

She'd just discovered her husband was having an affair.

You'd never think to look at her.

- Smiling away. - Well.

She's British and moneyed.

That's what they do, they carry on.

Except for this one time.

No-one knows exactly what happened, she just vanished.

Her car will be found by the side of a lake.

Ten days later, Agatha Christie turns up in a hotel in Harrogate.

Said she'd lost her memory.

She never spoke about the disappearance, till the day she died.

But whatever it was...

It's about to happen.

Right here, right now.

Professor... The library!

Murder! Murder!

Oh, my goodness!

Bashed on the head. A blunt instrument.

Watch broke as he fell, time of death was a quarter past four.

Bit of pipe.

Call me Hercule Poirot, but I reckon that's blunt enough.

Nothing worth killing for in that lot. Dry as dust.

Hold on. The body in the library?

I mean, Professor Peach, in the library, with the lead piping?

- Let me see. - Out of my way!

- Gerald! - Saints preserve us!

- Oh, how awful! - Someone should call the police.

No need.

Chief Inspector Smith, known as 'the Doctor'.

Miss Noble's the plucky young girl who helps me out.

- I say! - Mrs Christie was right.

Go into the sitting room. I will question each of you in turn.

Come along. Do as the Doctor says,

leave the room undisturbed.

"The plucky young girl who helps me out?"

No policewomen in 1926.

I'll pluck you in a minute. Why don't we phone the real police?

Well, the last thing we want is PC Plod sticking his nose in.

Especially...

now I've found this.

Morphic residue.

Morphic? Doesn't sound very 1926.

Gets left behind when certain species genetically re-encode.

The murderer's an alien?

Which means one of that lot is an alien in human form.

Yeah, but think about it.

There's a murder, a mystery, and Agatha Christie.

So? Happens to me all the time.

No, but isn't that a bit weird?

Agatha Christie didn't walk around surrounded by murders.

Not really.

I mean, that's like meeting Charles Dickens and he's surrounded by ghosts,

at Christmas.

- Well... - Oh, come on!

It's not like we could drive across country and find Enid Blyton having tea with Noddy.

Could we? Noddy's not real.

Is he? Tell me there's no Noddy.

There's no Noddy.

Next thing you know, you'll be telling me it's like Murder 0n The Orient Express,

and they all did it!

- Murder on the Orient Express? - Oh, yeah.

One of your best!

But not yet.

- Marvellous idea though. - Yeah.

Tell you what, copyright Donna Noble, okay?

Anyway! Agatha and I will question the suspects,

Donna, you search the bedrooms. Look for clues.

Any more residue. You'll need this.

- Is that for real? - Go on.