Benedict was at a loss. He was in his adult flat, sat on his grown-up couch, with a maturely designed spoon in his hand, gulping - aged - ice cream. He grimaced and once again weighed the value of the ice cream's incredible flavour against the violent assault of the degenerating antibodies contained therein. He took another spoonful. The point of his wondering however, was not primarily out-of-date dairy products, but how, for all the evidence of maturity within his house, he had ended up with the phone numbers of four different teenagers, two of whom were almost unidentifiable as separate human beings. They called themselves Shaliza and their lore was insurmountable by the average storyteller.
That, Benedict guessed, was where Joanne came in. Jo catalogued the rather dastardly events that had befallen the motley pairing of fangirls almost since the dawn of the ship. Benedict was still unsure of the rules around shipping, but since he was shipped with Martin Freeman, he doubted it was required to be taken in absolute seriousness. She also recorded the doom of herself and himself. This Quest that Martin was arranging was sure to end up in her Shaliza Codex. Well, that was assuming Martin would tell them where it was headed.
The phone rang.
"Hello," Ben answered.
"Hi, it's Martin."
"Ahoy there, Martin, oh brilliant captain in this 'ere venture!"
"I said nothing about a boat. How did you know anything about a boat?"
"I didn't even intend that to come out pirate. What's up?"
"I need your help."
"Duh."
"I need your help for recruitment."
"Don't you have enough?"
"No ... I need more for ... well ... I can't tell you ... It's like being Moffat. I get to hold everyone in suspense."
"Alright fine. Did you have anyone in mind?"
"No, not really. Just find one more Scot, one more Welshie, one more Englishman, and then one from Northern Ireland and one from the Republic of Ireland."
"Seems a bit far to avoid seeming racist."
"Spoilers."
Northern Ireland
"Hello?"
"Hi, is this Colin Morgan?"
"Yep. Is this a fan?"
"Um, I like your work, but I'm really more of a peer. Benedict Cumberbatch."
"Oh, right, the otter. I was told you might call."
"Yes, I am the otter that makes phone calls. At your service."
"Merlin, Arthur's magical servant, at yours."
"Well that sounds like a Hobbit reference in which I'm a dragon so I'm not sure how co-operative I'd be in offering up my help. What I'm interested in, however, is will you help?"
"With what?"
"I've no idea."
"Sure."
Republic of Ireland
"Hello, I'm looking for Eoin?"
"You got him."
"Hi, it's Benedict Cumberbatch here. I'm looking for your assistance in making Martin Freeman happy."
"Can I bring my hairdryer?"
"Probably. Probably not."
"That's okay. It goes all wavy when it dries naturally so it'll be just like the old days on a quest to capture Morgana."
"Sounds good. I think. See you then."
"See ya."
Scotland
"Jamesy Boy!"
"Benny?"
"Yeah, that's the one."
"What's going on away in ... where are you?"
"London."
"Right, hello other end of London!"
"Oh yeah, I forgot you lived here."
"Cheers."
"Now come on. You sir, are a recluse. How am I supposed to remember you live here?"
"How about the fact that I can see you."
"Huh?"
"You're just outside Waterstones."
"Ooh a stalker?"
"Ha-ha. Turn around."
James lifted his hand above his head and waved it like a palm leaf, "Oy, Cumberbatch!"
Ben's mouth creased into a grin as he greeted his friend in a similar mock formality, "McAvoy!"
As they neared, Ben was quick to put forward his proposal.
"Where's he want to go?" James asked, glancing somewhere behind Ben as he did so.
"I don't know. I just know that I trust him."
"Oh, I don't know. Hold on a wee sec."
James trotted past Ben and crossed the road behind him at the Pelican crossing to a row of shops at the other side. He approached a woman with a buggy whom Ben recognised as Anne-Marie, James's wife. He should have known. James was far too busy. It is understandable, therefore, that he was extremely surprised when James returned and confirmed that he would go.
"Just, call me when you find out where, okay?"
England
Annoyingly, but somewhat in keeping with character, Simon didn't answer his landline. Benedict, like Sherlock, was reduced to texting. It wasn't enough to dupe him into wearing sun tan lotion in dots on his face for an entire day, no? Couldn't he just do this little thing like pick up his phone? Ben doubted he was even out. He was probably just waiting to see if a message was left, in order to validate a conversation with whoever was on the other end. Ben, with a heart as affable as Bilbo Baggins, would never understand the need to abandon manners.
Ben: Simon. Pick. Up. Your. Phone.
Simon: Hello. Cumbers. Wumbers. Bumbers.
Ben: do u wanna come on a real live quest with me and martin freeman and a bunch of others?
Simon: where?
Ben: will u ppl ever stop asking thatttt?
Simon: it is a fair question
Ben: we don't know yet. well, I don't
Simon: ok, fine, but only to keep you two together and happy
Ben: huh?
Simon: never mind. text me details later
Ben: can u not just pick uP YOUR PHONE??
Simon didn't reply. Typical.
Wales
"Hello, Alex?"
"Um, yeah, who is this?"
"It's Benedict Cumberbatch. I believe we met the other day?"
"Uh-HUH. GAHHHHHH. What the hell?! What's going on? How does Benedict bloody Cumberbatch have my phone number??"
"A friend gave it to me."
"A s d f g h j k l!"
"What the?"
"Never mind. What's going on though. W-why are you calling me?"
"Because I have a request. Shaliza, Jo and Guntas are involved in a quest journey type thing with me, Martin and another heap of people. Martin asked me to recruit some people."
"And you chose me?"
"Well, I needed another Welshie. He's very keen to avoid racism is Martin. And I already had Alex Vlahos."
"Right. Well, I'm the other Welsh Alex and I am most definitely on board."
"Okay, and um, what is the last name of this Welsh Alex?"
"Oakley, Alex the Oakley."
And so the recruitment was done. Martin called later having announced the assignment of Simon Farnaby to the quest. There was still no news of its intent or of its route.
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