Chapter Text
There were some definite advantages to being a kept man, John mused as he knelt in the bright morning sun. He smiled up at the warmth, letting it shine on his face for a while before he turned his attentions back to the patch of ground in front of him.
Violet had gone off to her job at Torchwood, leaving him to occupy his day as he saw fit. She never demanded anything of him, only asking that he be there when she returned. Her love was unconditional. She put up with his odd sleeping habits, his fumblings as he tried to figure out his place in the universe, the experiments and tinkering in their cellar and his sometimes mercurial mood swings and asked nothing in return.
So of course he went out of his way to try to please her.
This morning's farmer's market shopping trip had yielded some fine fresh vegetables that he planned to cook up for their dinner later, and two flats of deep purple violets. Which was why he was kneeling in front of a neglected square of ground in their garden, pulling weeds and tilling the soil.
He would have never imagined that this is what his life would end up being. His memories, courtesy of The Doctor were of battles, saving worlds, making the universe safe...not planting flowers in a garden on an early spring day.
Still, he reasoned, it was his existence now. And even if it wasn't the most exciting one he had the advantage of waking up with Violet in his arms every morning, or if he didn't sleep that night, holding her until she woke. Either way he was never alone and that was worth all the rest of it.
The ground was hard as a rock and trying to loosen it was thirsty work. Taking a break he stood up to go into the house for a cool drink. He had just reached the door when a loud grinding sound filled the air and the TARDIS materialised in the garden, coming to land right on top of flowers.
John groaned as he heard the plastic containers snap, clearly seeing in his mind's eye the crushed flowers underneath the blue box.
The Doctor flung open the doors and stepped out. Seeing the pained look on John's face he was momentarily confused. But following his almost-clone's gaze he saw an edge of plastic sticking out from under the TARDIS and a couple of rather sad looking crushed flowers.
"Oops," he declared, then pointing at the time capsule asked, "should I move her?"
"Damage is done already," John sighed, "what are you doing here? Aside from killing harmless plants."
"I'll buy you replacements," The Doctor bent to pluck the bit of plant and held it to his nose, "violets, nice!"
"They were nice," John replied, "now they're mulch."
The Time Lord looked pained as if he had landed the TARDIS on the Wicked Witch of the East instead of some flowers. John took pity on him, "I can get more," he smiled, "the market's full of them at the moment," then he repeated, "what are you doing here?"
"This is something best explained to both you and Violet," The Doctor finally tore his eyes from the TARDIS.
"Has something happened to David?" John demanded, his eyes narrowed.
"No, he's fine, in fact he's part of the reason I'm here," the Time Lord replied.
"Why don't I ring Violet and ask her to come home a bit early, since I'm lousy at playing twenty questions, and you don't seem to want to tell me without her being here," the meta-crisis offered. Then slightly under his breath he added, "and I'm losing my patience."
"Might be best," The Doctor nodded, "and while we're waiting you can show me this market and we can get you some more flowers!"