You Had Me At Sherlock

Ben knocked on the hotel door at roughly half past nine the next morning. Jo had texted him to tell him the room number and that she had been joined by Shannen and Eliza, undoubtedly recalling countless occasions where they'd plotted to kill Steven Moffat. Ben understood that sometimes. He'd thought about that a lot since he'd met Jo. It was curious to think how there was such a wall between a show and it's fandom. He'd love to cross it but how was he meant to choose who to help him across? They all were good people, quite possibly better than himself. Or not. But that was the point. How was he to know? So he chose this lot. Ben reckoned he could have done worse.
The door opened to a scene of joy and Ben grinned. The three kids were sat around a trivia set with music by the band from last night slivering tinnily out of the speakers in Jo's phone.
"Sherlock freaking Holmes!" Shannen cried.
"Yes?" Ben replied.
They crippled with laughter as Ben's brow furrowed.
"He was the answer to 'who's worst enemy was named Moriarty?' but it's nice to see you getting into the mindset," Eliza explained.
"I have to or I'd earn the title of rudest actor. I'd be ignoring like half the people that say anything to me if I didn't respond to Sherlock."
Ben sat down between Jo and Eliza, squinting to see the trivia card in Jo's hand. Something about Romans now. Ben reckoned he'd know the answer but his mind was on other things.
"Martin and I were wondering how much time you've got lying around? We had some plans and were wondering if you'd like to join us?"
"Are you serious?" Jo asked, "'cause I'm staying here for like a week."
"Of course. We're going for dinner with some Sherlock people tonight to celebrate the end of filming. I talk about you lot all the time. I think they'd like to meet you all so I can prove I'm not a paedophile."
"You had me at Sherlock," Shannen declared.j

Sonic the Hedgehog of Sass

 Jo's reaction to The Hair was sensational. She Gah'ed and she ulgfbwsfdilwvulefsb'ed for almost an entire song from the selection of pop-punk classics booming out over the loudspeakers. Her eyes widened and she looked like she would soon vomit out all her feels.
 "Hedgehog! Blue!" she gasped, the concept that she, Eliza and Guntas had pointed out to an oblivious Martin when he revealed his style choice - it being that he was now Sonic The Hedgehog.
 Her reaction, Shannen thought, was nearly as spectacular as Guntas's first reaction upon meeting Martin. Shannen and Eliza had been playing 'Glow' on Shannen's phone, Ben leaning over their shoulder with a ridiculously deep frown drawing his features into a 'V'. Joanne was sat on a couch with Alex Vlahos, when Martin finally re-entered the room from the bathroom. Evidently, even the men's line had been humongous. Guntas still wasn't here, but she'd explained that she'd be late so that was to be expected. Shannen felt like this day was owed to them. Fate had taken away the last time one of them had come into contact with these people and replaced it with horror and death. It was only proper that they got that back.
 Martin had just reached the sandwich table when Guntas entered, a smile already blocking any of them from her troubles. It became truly ecstatic, however, the moment she set eyes on Martin. With some sort of egg, pickle and smoked salmon mixture filling of sandwich, he looked comical enough to break even the coolest of Sherlockian-Haters. Guntas bent over double and then let out a torrent of verbal gruel. The letters seemed to flow into one another, but it was as if she were rambling in the language of the Judoon. He cheeks lifted with her smile and her eyes glinted like Alexander Armstrong's. The actors and writers dotted around the room stopped to watch as she approached him and ... poked him? She reached her finger out and jabbed him in the upper arm.
 "Yes because Gandalf insubstantialised me so he could teleport me to Mordor. Poking me is therefore an excellent idea!" he exclaimed, a smile on his face betraying the pretense of irritation.
 "SASS!" Guntas cried.
 Martin, like one of those relatives that tips you upside-down until your laughter is uncontrollable, swept Guntas into a quick bear-hug, then released her and took a bite of his sandwich.

 "To be fair, I'm not in the habit of associating myself with hedgehogs," Martin argued, "Why would blue automatically signal Sonic?"
 "Because you da Sassy Hedgehog!" Shannen repeated, for the third time.
 "Great. Maybe Sonic can just diss Dr. Eggman until surrender," he sighed, "When are this band due to start."
 Then there was movement. Alex, Jack, Rian and Zack emerged tentatively from the shadows of backstage and took their places on the stage. Then they danced. Not just the teenagers. Ben and Martin even got involved in the mosh pit, Martin drawing much laughter through his hair. During the slow song, the two took turns lifting the teenagers up on a rota. Each were assigned two kids, swapping who was perched on their shoulders after each verse, which in the end became a very athletic endeavour.
 The show wound to a close with 'Lost in Stereo' at which point they all squeezed as close to the front row of the crowd as was physically possible, the best result being roughly Row 4. That night was enough to satisfy any fangirl's longing to secure a friendship with their idol.

 But Jo's trip to England didn't end there.

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.

The Jollies

"Um ... Are you a stalkery stalk-stalk?" he mumbled.
"No, I'm um, I'm Shannen. You've probably met Jo?"
"The girl Ben brought down? Yes, yes, sorry, but in fairness you do have my face on your head."
The mask was horizontal on the top of her head, as if it were a pair of sunglasses sitting idle while the clouds shrouded the sun.
"Oh, sorry," she replied, "It's a long story."
"Do you want me to take you to Jo? I can get you past the crowds."
"No, it's fine. I'm meeting Eliza here."
"Oh yes, Eliza of Shaliza."
"You've heard of us?"
"Oh, yes. I'm a big fan of Jo's blog. The sidebar is very ... interesting."
"Jolly John?"

Jolly John

"Yes," he replied, "Jolly John. Did you enjoy merging me with yourself?!"
Nobody would ever be able to convince Shannen that his next action was not a 'click-click-click-the-fingers-of-sass.
"I jest of course," he continued, "I mean, it's clearly Moffat."


Eliza scanned the crowd like she was locating a target. Well, she probably was, since Shannen would surely die from fangirling the moment of their reunion. Not to mention the fact that they were being reuntied by B E N E D I C T C U M B E R B A T C H. The Sherlock crowd was huge and she knew Shannen had headed to the Guest Room, so she headed there without delay. She hoped Ben and Jo would get here soon. She really wanted to thank Ben for getting them these tickets. Plus, he'd sort of integrated into the group just as much as any other Sherlockian. He gave them spoilers and posted photos of him and Martin messing around on set. With Sherlock, a spoiler was like a dead cow on a desert island; you had to make it last as long as you could. But with Ben around fangirl ammunition was in abundance.
 She hesitantly entered the Guest Room. Was she definitely meant to be here? Hopefu- What the? Was that ... was that Martin Freeman wearing a Martin Freeman mask? Good God, it was. Sat on the couch and laughing her head of, was Shannen.
 "Shannen?" Eliza asked, "What's going on?"
 "What do you mean?" a muffled voice from behind the mask asked, "Shannen here is simply, well, she is laughing like a hyena at my face!"
 SASS. It was here already. Just as promised.
 "Erm...okay...are you like, um, Freeman squared now?"
 "I think I am Freeman to the power of Freeman."
 "Definitely," Eliza replied, simply unable to comprehend that this conversation existed.
 A loud bell signalled the recapturing of the Guests - or release, depending on how overwhelmed they were by the British fandom public. British Fandom Republic. What Eliza wouldn't give to live there. Well, today, at Comic Con, she did. Martin handed Shannen the mask.
 "Here, take the jumper. I have an idea."
 He handed what could be described only as a cardigan to Shannen, which she slung over her shoulders, while he grabbed Shannen's jacket from the couch. The moment he got it somewhat fitting him - without even time to jeer at how much his cardigan hung round Shannen's shoulder - Ben and Jo strolled through the door.
 "Wow, gah!" Martin breathed, with surprising fluency of the language of fangirl.
 Shannen followed his lead, "You took your time with getting here. Did you get stuck in some fangirl's underwear?"
 Ben burst into full laughter that had been the theme song to the party he'd organised the year before. He doubled over with Jo leaning precariously on him as she too collapsed into a fit of giggles, even once they'd swapped back their clothes and other, less in-touch-with-the-fans actors and writers had begun to file in the door.

Comic Con (PART ONE OF BRAND NEW SHALIZA FIC)

 Summer had come! And not just the holidays. The endless, inescapable, pestering drizzle of snow had finally, mercifully come to its conclusion. Shannen, clad in jeans and a Merthur t-shirt turned her face to the blissfully blue sky that was harbouring her freedom from exams, from pressure, from parents, from life. The warm weather was a signal for go. Go! Have fun! The grins of the people around her were like beacons that awesomeness was near, which Shannen knew to be true. Today, the grey office buildings were not dull but an endearing attempt to work within a monochrome. They were a tunnel that would spurt her into the colours and excitement of this year's comic con.
 She and Eliza were due to meet at the Sherlock table, an arrangement actually put forward by Ben, who'd insisted they all stay in touch after last year's debacle. He was going to wring VIP passes out of the event coordinator's and planned to introduce them all to the other cast members. Of them all, Andrew Scott was probably Shannen's most eagerly anticipated confrontation, not least because Jo had been to a graphics place in her town and made a Shaliza shirt. She doubted it would be able to exist without Moricorn. Martin Freeman would also be interesting, since, currently strapped to her face was a Freeman Mask.
 The table was near the centre of one of the main halls and the swarm of people around it was already as tight as a pair of tube socks. Shannen didn't mind though. Eliza would be here soon. And Jo. And Guntas. Alex and Rebecca hadn't been able to make it. She checked for wi-fi and was awarded with full signal, for free! The organisers of the event must have anticipated that the audience they'd be inviting would often be want of Internet. They were nerds, geeks. Proper ones. Not just chavs who sported the term on their chests. No, they had earned the right to their nerdinality. This was where the hardcore fangirling went down!

The queue to the Sherlock table would have taken at least two hours to stand in and she was already late so, out came twitter.

Shannen: eliza, you there yet
Eliza: nope
Jo: I am
Shannen: where r we meant 2 go?
Jo: ben says theres a staff/guest room. He says he told the security 2 let us in
Shannen: is that where u r?
Jo: na, ben gave me a lift down. Im standin at the corner of his table waitin for moffat
Eliza: moffat?
Jo: i wanna show him some of my writing. See if he thinks its any good. Haha ben just told me the minimum no. of deaths 2 get moffats approval
Shannen: how many?
Jo: twelve. Maybe there could b a nuclear explosion...
Shannen: ok im at the room. Im in the room. Im the only one in the room. Eliza where r u?
Eliza: ...talkin to moffat...

Shannen grabbed a muffin from a basket sitting on the table in front of her. The room was about the size of a classroom, with tables dotted around the room, each with a different snack. Around each table was a ring of couches for guests to fill once the bell sounded for their break. The walls were clinical but the noise outside it lent it the necessary feeling of warmth. As she lifted her Freeman mask to take a bite of the muffin FREEMAN WALKED THROUGH THE DOOR.

Thankyou

I know what I've been writing is only significant if you know Shannen and Eliza and I'm glad about the reaction I got because it allows me to claim that, if you know Shaliza, then this certainly was significant. I intend to write a sequel, though I might open a new blog so there's no confusion.
Christ, it was a late night whim that hyper-activity had fueled that led to this anyway!
Thankyou to whoever checked my page and gained me five pageviews to male me smile when I logged on after school. You made me feel popular. Thankyou and D F T B A!!

Epilogue

It was today. Finally, after months and months of waiting, it was today. School would be finished by lunch as it always was on a Friday at Hamilton Grammar. But no, this was no time for always. Today, after months of texting and tweeting was the day of the Party. I suppose I'd always felt left out when I wasn't invited to the parties at school. I wish I'd known back then that the resultant nerdiness would eventually lead to my being the co-host of a party alongside Benedict Cumberbatch that entry had to be earned to by proof of fangirling. Missing out on the booze would have seemed like a blessing.
On returning home, I'd ironically been grounded - except for school. There had been hugs and kisses and I took the punishment willingly because I knew I had hurt them. They felt a little weird about me still having a thirty-eight-year-old actor's number on my phone but I think they could tell from the way I spoke about him that he felt like just another TwitterFriend.
Tonight, my parents had agreed to let us use the house and were going out to dinner in one of the many adorable side street Italian restaurants with like three tables. They were staying to help woth the decorations and the food. In fact, I entered my house to Ben discussing music with my dad: what constitutes rock? Apparently, my mum had given up with my dad's attempt to cook with her. He can get VERY bossy when he thinks he knows better than you, which to be honest isn't as rare as I'd like.
I didn't help much with the cooking but instead set up various shrines around the house, with a massive 'Shaliza' shrine immediately below some pictures of me through nursery. I was starting to feel like Ben was more connected to my parents than me but then they left and we started to talk about how much we felt.
How sad we were about those that died that day, on both sides.
How excited and nervous we were about tonight.
How happy we were to see each other.
How funny the Moricorn reference from last night had been.
Then the bell rang.

Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. We'd split sort of into groups but we'd float from group to group if we heard something we liked so I suppose we'd never all shake off Twitter.

http://twitter.com/Joanneabiscuit/status/315251093963677696/photo/1

I'd invited about fifty of my followers via direct message and had told the five who'd been there That Day to bring someone extra each.
It was really just a regular party. Not much to tell. Actually, I'd expected more of a difference with us all being in the one room. We had the same conversations, with the same people.
After all was done and Twitter returned from exile, I imagined those holograms you see in imaginings of the future, except maybe we're already there. We know so much about the person that we feel like they are there. Right there. Maybe holograms are abstract. Maybe technology is already so advanced that communicating so directly to someone so far away is what let's us see this person. Twitter puts us all in the Twitroom and it is my favourite room in my house.