All Time Who?

They say the best way to show terrorists that they can't get at you is to pretend everything's normal. Normal? Nope. Discussing 'Doctor Who' with Alexander Vlahos and Martin Freeman? Suck it terrorists! We'd reached the topic of having your own Doctor. I had begun watching the show halfway through David Tennant's term as Doctor and so wasn't properly dedicated to him. That's why, when Matt Smith came along, I had no problem accepting him and the Ponds as replacement. Matt was My Doctor.
"Um ..." Alex began, "so you'd be pretty annoyed if someone were to replace him?"
"Depends how experienced he is with BBC dramas."
Martin smirked, "I just thought of Mark Gatiss as the doctor!"
"Is he ginger?" Alex asked, "He kind of looks it."
"Sort of. Yeah. Ben is though. But he's already said he wouldn't want to be the Doctor if it's the still-not-ginger thing you're thinking of," Martin replied.
"Why ginger," I asked, "Why not aim for something more adventurous like blue or green?"
"Ben swims any more and his hair's gonna turn green," Martin acknowledged.
Ben was standing by the sandwich table, talking - probably about sandwiches - to Shannen, Eliza and Guntas, who'd shown up about twenty minutes ago. He looked happy, properly happy. I guess I hadn't seen much of him happy last year and he had so many followers on twitter by now that I barely ever got the chance to speak to him there either. So this was happy-Ben. I hoped I'd see more of this. Speak of the devil, here he was sauntering over to our couch.
 "So what are you doing for the rest of the time you're down here?"
 "Well, my friend Fiona - you've met her - is around here somewhere. We're going to an 'All Time Low' concert tomorrow night."
 "D'you think we could come?" Ben asked.
 "We," Martin's head perked up, "You know Freebatch don't move in a single unit?"
 "You promised we could spend some time with them. You promised."
 "You never mentioned a boyband."
 "They're not a boyband!" I hate when people assume that, "They're pop-punk! They have guitars and drums and everything!"
"Alright ... Jesus," Martin mumbled.
"Just don't go comparing All Time Low to, like, The Wanted, despite their having a song called All Time Low."
"So what do you think then?" Ben asked Martin.
"Um, sure, I guess."
I guess we'd met enough people today so I wasn't so put off by the fact that we missed All Time Low getting drenched in the Scottish rain. We arrived at the concert as the speakers inside begab to thrust out their chests with the sounds of the support group, Blitz Kids, they were called. When I say we, I mean us kids - me, Shannen, Eliza and Guntas. Ben and Martin were on their way in a taxi, somewhere that English people knew the name of but stuck in my mind worse than the small text in a terms and conditions agreement. In a taxi. They were in a taxi. I wondered if any Sherlockians walking the streets suspected that they hadn't yet finished filming and were travelling to Scotland Yard to surprise Lestrade.
 From what I was told - for I'd wanted to see the Blitz Kids set - it took them seven or so more minutes to arrive. I received the text from Ben after the set and was told to report swiftly to the bar. I did so, for it felt like I'd be arrested for mutiny if I disobeyed. Besides, All Time Low wouldn't be here for a while, and I was still psyched from having shaken the singer, Joe's hand as he sang 'Never Die'. The bar wasn't far off and as I located it by a bizarre blue beacon that hovered about head-height.
What the?
IT WAS MARTIN'S HAIR.