A/N: I probably won't add more to this, because it's been a while since I've watched Eleven and Amy and Rory and their voices aren't as firm in my head as they were when I wrote this, but I thought I'd publish anyway.

Also, I ended up switching from movie-Reep to book-Reep midway through the story, but at least I had him apologize for it. :)

"Doctor, it's a mouse!"

"How creative of you," said the creature.

Amy had just turned away from a clothes rack (they were at Wal-Mart looking for clothes in Rory's size, which by a strange circumstance was now several times smaller than it had been before) when she saw it. She wasn't normally distressed at the sight of mice, but since this one was two feet tall, bipedal, and armed with an elegant little rapier, she was a little startled.

The Doctor withdrew his head only slightly from his clothes rack, and said confusedly, "What would you want with a mouse?"

"No, it's a mouse and it's two feet tall and it talks!"

"Oh, I see," and his head went back forward, "humans like things like that. Never knew why -"

"Doctor, this is not anticipation in my voice -"

"Madam, before you call me it again, you may want to take note that it also has a sword."

"- the mouse is not on a shelf!" She and the mouse had been talking simultaneously.

"Indeed not," muttered the mouse.

Finally the Doctor got up and turned toward them. "Then what's -" He cut off at sight of the creature, then smiled and nodded at it courteously. "Hello, sir. May I ask where you're from?"

The mouse's expression became pleasanter, and it bowed gracefully (it looked funny - almost cute - imitating the courtly movement of a musketeer). "Good sir, you are the first person in this strange place who has called me anything other than, 'It's a mouse!'. Thank you greatly for your respect."

A grin appeared on the Doctor's face; he leaned in to Amy and whispered, "Knew it'd work - the 'sir'."

Amy rolled her eyes.

"I come from the noble and happy country of Narnia - perhaps you have heard of it? -" The expressions suddenly changed on the faces of the taller two. "- and how I came here I do not know." He bowed on one knee to Amy. "Madam, I am sorry for my rudeness to you; had I not been in confusion and distress at my sudden . . . arrival . . . here, and the disrespect of so many people, then I would never have spoken so to a lady." And he looked up at her with almost a humbled expression.

Amy looked at the Doctor questioningly. He didn't notice; he was staring off into time and space, tapping his foot restlessly - he was probably about to start pacing. He couldn't stand still with a mystery in front of him.

Okay. So, she'd have to figure this out herself. How would they say it in Narnia? She bent down closer to the mouse's level and said, "Apology accepted."

"I thank you." The mouse rose, then stood there still, as near awkwardly as was possible for such a courtly creature. "May I ask what is this place, and what is the road to Narnia? Or, perhaps -" He looked hard at the Doctor, who was pacing, muttering something about 'the land of fiction'. "- how I came here?"

The Doctor surfaced halfway. "Eh? What was that?"

The creature drew himself up to his full height. "It seems to me that I could only have come here by Magic. This could be the evil design of a sorcerer wishing to deprive my army of me - for I am commander of the company of Talking Mice in Narnia - or an adventure sent by Aslan. And - though I know not how, sir - you look as if you knew something of such matters."

Just then Amy's cellphone rang.

"Sorry," she sighed, "I just have to talk to someone, through this . . ."

"Ear trumpet," the Doctor finished.

"Yes. Right."

It was Rory. "Amy?"

"Rory."

"Erm - how long is it taking you to find clothes?"

"We'd be finished by now, except the Doctor's distracted. By a mouse." He was now kneeling on the floor deep in conversation with it.

"A mouse?" Rory groaned. "Are you still in the store? Or in it yet?"

"Still there. And I did find a really cute Thomas the Tank Engine T-shirt that'd just fit you." For that was the size Rory had been shrunk to.

Rory groaned again; what with the discomfort of his clothes (he was still sitting in them, but almost as in a sleeping bag), and this fresh reminder of the embarrassment of having to crane his neck up to look at his wife, he had good reason. "Well - can you get him - undistracted?"

"I don't know, it's a really fascinating mouse."

Rory noted her surprising lack of sarcasm. "How?"

"Two feet tall, talks, has a sword, and says it's from Narnia."

"Narnia."

"Yes. And -" Amy looked at the Doctor and the swordsmouse. "-he's taking it to the TARDIS."

Oh, and no I don't own Doctor Who, the Chronicles of Narnia, or Thomas the Tank Engine. If I did they'd all be a lot worse, except perhaps the Tank Engine.