Of Fangirls and Screwdrivers—Meet the Gang (Literally)

"You'll never guess what happened in London," Lena sing-songed to the assembled group.

"Evil star?" asked Zia

"Green!" asked Karinne

Nadine was vibrating on the spot, having been informed of the encounter already.

"Daleks. You were attacked by a Dalek."

"You voted Saxon for PM."

"I can't even vote yet, the Daleks would run away screaming from me, yes, everyone was green, no, the evil star was Christmas."

The girls were assembled in Lena's guest bedroom, sleeping bags spread in a circle, all facing a giant bowl of popcorn in the center. Officially, they were having a sleepover so Lena could tell everyone about France. To the girls, it was a meeting of ABOF(OVF)WWTSTDS(R). For the laypeople in the audience, that's A Bunch Of Fangirls (Of Various Fandoms) Who Want To Steal The Doctor's Screwdriver (Repeatedly).

"Well… I was in a bookstore/café before I met my parents for crepes, and who do I see but the Doctor and Martha, who then wave me over looking for this," she pulls out the sonic and waves it around, careful not to thumb the activation button, "Which of course, I didn't have, as I left it with Nadine."

Zia raised a hand, short brown hair still ruffled from wrestling with Lena's dog. "And how well did that go over?"

This prompted a round of giggles at the mental image of the Doctor's face confronted with a fangirl refusing to give back his screwdriver.

"So of course, he tries to Oncoming Storm me, the effect of which was somewhat ruined by the fact that he looked like David Tennant, and the rather dainty teacup he was holding. So I explain, give them my email address, and go to meet my parents."

Karinne blinks repeatedly, running one hand through shoulder-length blonde hair.

"You gave the Doctor and Martha Jones your email address?"

Lena nodded, bouncing on the balls of her feet as Nadine squeed.

"…"

"I think my brain just exploded."

"Isn't it wonderful? Of course, looking after the sonic was fun too, but I have to say I would have much rather been in London with Lena."

"I'd have stolen you if I could, Nadine darling."

Lena was confronted with three teenage girls screaming at her in unison.

"CHECK YOUR EMAIL!"

"Fine, fine."

Lena pulled up gmail on her iPad, smiling when a computerized voice said. "You have five unread messages."

The girls all crowded around the messages from ?

E

"Erm…."

"That's a bit…anticlimactic."

"At least it's green."

"Read the next one."

Hello

Erm, sorry about the last message, I've switched to a voice-activated system, really, I don't know how you people deal with these keyboard things we deal because we have to Martha, shut up. We can't all have 51st century technology Martha, seriously, be quiet. New paragraph. New paragraph. New paragraph!

ARRRRGHHHH

Message ends.

"Wow. Good to know Dragon Naturally Speaking fails, even in the future."

"And it wasn't even green."

"Next."

Martha, seriously, geroff! No, really! Martha! I can do this just fine, really, in the name of rust lion. No! Martha Jones, get away from the microphone this instant.

Message ends.

"I'm seriously starting to wonder about my sanity. Or his sanity, assuming he ever was sane."

"Still not green."

"Next. Please, for the love of god, just move on."

Alright, sorry about that. This is Martha, I've got himself tied up in a closet, with the TARDIS apparently not letting him out. I guess she doesn't like his technology skills any more than I do. Anyway, assuming this is Lena, which it should be, yeah, we've got questions.

Like, who the bloody hell are you?

And—oi Doc, get off!

CAN I HAVE MY FLIPPING SCREWDRIVER BACK!

Scrape, bang, crash.

Message ends.

"Wow…."

Alright, I think we've finally got this down. Martha is currently out shopping, so no other voices to interfere.

Now.

My screwdriver. I need it back. Never mind why, just give it back. I'm not quite sure why you and that other girl, Nadine, I believe it was, have some obsession with my screwdriver, but this really can't continue.

So, if you'll meet me someplace to give it back, we can just forget about this whole thing.

Now, Martha has given me a list of questions to ask.

Who are you?

What do you want?

How do you know about me and the Doctor…which should be the Doctor and I, by the way.

And…something about having tea sometime, she quite likes your…spunk.

Alright. So. Meeting.

Let me know when and where, I'll be there.

"Are we meeting him?"
"An excellent question…"