Spirits of TARDIS

   When you are officially homeless and live on board of a time machine which looks like a police box from 1960 or something, it can seem that nothing can be insanerer (if such word exists). But now it was even crazier than usually.
   Johnny-Jimmy was used to the sight of his foster father supine under the console, fixing something or fiddling with wires, but this would be not enough here.
   The console room was a mess. No, that would be too calm of and expression. It was not a mess, it was chaos. Wires of different colors (even those which had never appeared in human sight) were sprawled along the glass floor and to the outside, and items of different purposes were thrown around here and there as well. Even the lantern on the top of the TARDIS was hidden in a bunch of hanging wires, and the receiver was hanging fron behind the famous PULL TO OPEN sign on the door. One careless step would be enough to get entangled in this. Literally.
   There had been loads of harsh landings - practically every second one, or maybe first-and-a-half - but this had been the first one with such result. The Doctor had gone to search for "needed equipment", or rather parts of them - everybody knew that he could make a quadrocycle out of stuff kept in garages in two hours or less ("just not to be bored"), and Johnny-Jimmy had been left alone. He was not afraid of staying alone in the TARDIS - sometimes she talked to him. The boy didn't know how it happened - the sense of vshvwarping, chirping and rumbling simply appeared in his head. And he knew for sure that the Doctor always came back... but, as every child, he was worried when wandering along all those corridors. Imagination plays weird tricks even to those who lack it.
   Johnny-Jimmy decided to get to the console room and stay there - before he had been lurking around in the library, not without two or three encounters with bats which lived there (although they were the Doctor's good friends, they didn't enjoy the boy's company much, and vice versa). But as soon as he walked into the orange spacious room, he heard voices. Not in his head, but outside.
   "What are you doing, Nine?! Splashing oil all over me!"
   "Do something, for the sake of Rexicoricophalvitorius!" another voice replied. "It was Six who pushed me!"
   Johnny-Jimmy crept to the console and peeked from behind it. Oh dears. Despite his age of three, he had already got used to aliens, mutants and all kinds of such things, but this was something new. Those were little human beings - not taller than him - sitting all around the floor and fiddling with gears thrown around. But the most surprising was that they were the doppelgangers of the Doctor at different time... or not? There were two that didn't fit, both grey-haired, but one with short tight curls for hair and the other was the only one who had facial hair. And besides, they all looked more like "cuddly" plushies than like human beings.
   "Double me is fooling around, so blame him", Six snorted. Ye-es, that was the one in such colorful outfit that eyes not used to it would soon hurt. "Ahoy, is that macrocalculator working?"
   "Double me" appeared to be the one not fitting - the one with full head of grey little curls, lying on his stomach and pushing buttons on a gear in front of him. The other out-of-the-row - some kind of a combination of a scruffy kid and sad old man, though he wasn't too upset now - was attaching wires to a glass egg-like device as large as half of his head, whistling a cheerful song in process.
   "Well-well-well, we've got a visitor".
   Johnny-Jimmy jumped with surprise - he hadn't noticed one of the little people sneak behind his back through the labyrinth of items. This one was shorter than the rest, dressed in shabby clothing, with a shock of uncombed dark hair and blue blue eyes that now were staring at him from under thick brows.
   "Don't take it too serious, Two". This was said by a little man in dirt-stained clothing and with chin-length brown curls framing his face. "It's just a child. We could've done it to any kiddo".
   "Done what?" Johnny-Jimmy wondered. "Who you?"
   "We are the spirits of TARDIS". The tallest little man, dressed in frilly clothing and with fluffy white hair, climbed onto the seat next to the console. "Have you heard about house spirits?"
   "No. Dotta-daddy didn't tell me 'bout 'em..."
   "See, One? The kiddo loves our trickster", the blond "shorty" in beige clothing noticed. "Those are not just words".
   "All loving for you, Five", was the reply from under the console.
   "No wonder that he didn't tell you... Every house has a spirit which takes care of it. Trust us, we know, because such big house - or ship, whatever, - needs quite a lot of spirits. From One to Twelve, and I am Three", the white-haired little man continued.
   "Twelve?.." No. No. Something did not fit. First of all, Johnny-Jimmy knew about his foster father's ability to change his face in extreme situations, and he knew it for sure that now the Doctor wore his eleventh face (the doppelganger of which was present too - now he was ruffling hair of Ten, who laid face-up, eyes closed with pleasure). Second, there were... how many? Thirteen little men!
   "Ahh, you got confused?" Two caught up - his grumpy expression was gone in a moment. "You see, this is not just a house. This is the TARDIS, the place out of time. Past, present and future together, so some of us broke the laws quite flawlessly".
   "Yes", the little elfin-looking-like man with an umbrella under his arm added. "We all have fine numbers. I have Seven, and he has..." he pointed at the bearded small man, "...Eight-and-a-Half. Norm, you say?"
   "Anyway, I haven't finished yet. The house spirits help the hosts fix things out and about, but no one ever sees them. Apart from children", Three continued. "The Doctor never saw us, but he feel we're here... and now we needed to come out and fix this mess".
   "Fix is too light of a word!" The one with the shortest hair, all in oil stains, pulled his plastic goggles on the top of his head. "It all needs to be rushed through!"

   The Doctor was whistling a tune to himself, trying not to think about the grandiose work he was to accomplish. He wasn't afraid that Johnny-Jimmy was going to get lost or anything. The TARDIS liked him, and that guaranteed safety without clone kids running around...
   And something else. The blue police box was standing in the street corner, as if nothing had happened, apart from something did happen - no wires, no broken parts and nothing like that was now hanging from it. Everything wrong - at least "here" and "now" - was its being anachronistic. Forty years older than this space - at least forty.
   Either she repaired herself or someone's inside, the Doctor thought and darted in, having hardly managed to snap his fingers and get the door open on time in order not to squash is nose. Inside there was the same thing. Not a wire, not a gear on the floor, almost squeaky clean (at least its glass part).
   "Wow, perhaps someone needed a regeneration", the Doctor gave out, having recalled that case when he had almost regenerated, but had stayed himself - at least for a while. This was partly the same, maybe... He found Johnny-Jimmy peacefully sleeping, curled up in the seat. Great. "Okay, when he wakes up, he'll tell me everything..."
   "No, he won't". This was hardly heard, then there was a "shhhh!', a fuss, and then the TARDIS gave out a noise which was obviously her interpretation of a sigh. Or a trial to cover the voices of those who always were there.