The two youngish girls appeared from apparently nowhere, into a bustling, congested*, cobbled London Street. Finding that they were in, not 21st century America, but in 19th century England, they had, though quite different, somewhat similar reactions. (They were both negative, because that's just the kind of people our heroines are. They are not "Ooooh….wow…yeah…" people, they are-)

"oOoo- GAH! OMFG! WHERE THE FUCK AM I?" and "I SAID HOGWARTS D'ARVIT! WOULD IT REALLY HAVE BEEN SO DIFFICULT? Ooh, I'm pissed now!" people respectively. Those kooky girls, eh? Yeah…

However, them being those people, that is Avis and Sarah, did them very little good in 19th century London. As the citizens gasped, and stared, and started to whisper, the two youngish girls slunk away aAawkwaaad-ly.

"Oh my God! Avis! Wow, how long has it been, you look great, how are your parents, blah blah blah, where in the name of fucklolloy are we?"

"Sarvy? How in the Milky did you get here! SQUEEE!," the bewildered teen asked her equally discombobulated, but slightly more furious BBFL!1!

"Did you not just hear my shortish tirade? I have absolulty no idea." She took in a deep breath and looked around her. "Oh the hey! We have stuff! Lookie, an Oh Sheesh Y'all, 'Twas a dream! T-shirt!"

Following suit, Avis inspected her surrounding, seeing the baker a block away, the street name, Colley Ave, before it,and the cobbled streets they were standing on. Her gaze finally rested on-

"MY HAIR!" she shrieked. Indeed, in the shining store window, Avis saw, not her bright sapphire tresses as she usually did, but dull mouse brown locks. They were still in the pixie cut, but alas, it was no longer f'awesome. Breathing heavily with moisture welling in her eyes, she gasped out, "Ok, I can deal with this, less conspicuous right?" She then proceeded to wail.

"We can deal with your hair later, Avi my gel. Now, where are we?" asked the Voice of Reason. "I mean, is this T-shit telling me that it's a dream, or that we're as knuts as Amir?"

"Bitch, plz. Chillax. I wrote myself into a fan fiction, and then I followed the normal plot, and I arrived here. I don't know why you're here though. Ah wezzels." She wasn't yet over the loss of the f'awesomeness, and was pushing her hair back to avoid the sight of it.

"Which fand-Ohhh," She stopped, eyeing her compatriot's T-shirt, which held the axiom Sherlock Holmes: 19th century crackhead. "Holmes. Go figure. Wait! HOLMES! I'M GOING TO MEET HOLMES! This is the best moment of my life."

"Yeah Ok. Vamoose, Mon Cherie." Avis darted into the crowd, than suddenly turned around and walked back dejectedly. " A) I left the bags. B) I left my fellow traveler. And C) I have no idea how to get form Colley to Baker Street. "

" We're in luck with C! I've been rummaging throught the bags-"

"When?"

"When you were lying on the floor crying about your loss of f'awesome. "

"Oh."

"Anyway, I found Mypod!" She triumphantly pulled out a battered iPod Touch and waved it about. " And a taser. Weird, eh?"

"FMUDGE YEAH- wait. No internet, smart one…" Avis was slowly becoming her snarky f'awesome old self again, despite the hair. " Oh my god. No internet. Do you hear what I'm saying? NO INTERNET! AHHHHHH!"

"Yeah, this sucks. But about the directions. Er… remember when I spent two weeks hogging your computer with Mypod plugged in? Well, I downloaded Google Earth. Yeah."

" I don't remember. Is that even possible?"

"I dunno. Are you coming or what?" Sarvy gathered up the bags, and proceeded to lumber to Baker Street, Avis close on her heels.

I will now take this opportunity, while the girls are walking to the House of Holmes, to describe Sarvy and finish describing Avis.

Sarvy was a short(er than Avis), skinny(er than Avis) girl with blue and blue-outlined eyes and a fr'awesome black bob. They were both wearing jeans and T-shits, and identical purple Vans.

That didn't take long.

So they were there, walking and talking in 19th century England.

"So did you read that one fic, by Tarta Megami? It's called-"

"Rebelion, Yeah isn't it F'AWESOME!"

"She's the best, eh? I LOVE Plot Bunny Whisperer too, though."

"What did she write? IANAT?"

"Yeah, and the Voldie Letters. Hey, what was that one Darren Shan fic, the one with Annie and Steve?"

"The Bit Shan Left Out?"

"Yeah, that was it. Fr'awesomeright?"

"I dunno. I thought it was a bit OOC."

"Get out!"

rANDOMLY sWITCHING TO hOLMES'S POV

"Holmes, there appear to be two oddly dressed young ladies walking down the road. Don't let them wreck the house after I leave."

"My dear Mrs. Hudson, What on Earth makes you think that they are destined to grace notre humble porte?"

"I've learned to accept the fact that such odd people are drawn to my poor house."

"Never fear, woman. I'll take care that the two ladies refrain from the highly devastating activities that young girls are so prone too."**

"I should be so lucky."

Mrs. Hudson, shaking her head despairingly, proceeded down the front steps, and left in a cab before the girls noticed her, engaged as they were in their discussion of Cirque du Freak and shtuff.

"Bitch,as if. TVF is soooo the best."

"Have you even READ The Charoom?"

"I did, and I thought it was okay, but TVF is EPIC!"

"They were Scary Movie Three."

"HOW DARE YOU!"

Sarvy was tensed to fight, when she suddenly let out a fangirl shriek.

"We're HERE!" the one with f'awesome hair squeed. The two girls danced up the stairs. Upon reaching the top, Avis gave a little scream.

"Seventeen!" She crowed. "My shirt has officially kicked your-"

"Are you insinuating that I have doubted Crackhead tee?"

"What?"

"Oh say I ain't so!" She affected a terrible Southern accent and clasped her hands together.

"I'd wager that it is, and hat it'll make my job all the more difficult,"

At the sudden appearance of Sherlock Holmes, the two girls performed a rarely seen ritual.

It is called The Dance of the Fangirl.

Step 1) "Oh. My. God." The two girls breathed out the words simultaneously, standing stock still for a solid seven seconds before proceeding to:

Step 2) " SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-" a good two and a half minutes passed before they ceased, because this was not the Squeee of a sane Fangirl seeing a resident of Hollywood at universal Studios. Oh no. This was the sound of something much more magical. Plus they were both bonkers. After breahing for a nanosecond, the girls resumed the squeee, and it was 13:02 minuted before they decended into-

Step 3) " ohmygodOhmygodohmygod-"

"Mr. Holmes! I mean, Sher-no. But he looks just like Robert Downey Jr. YOU LOOKS JUST LIKE ROBERT DOWNEY JR! Gah! Does that mean we're in movie verse? WHO CARES? HOLMESIE MY DARLING BUTTERCUP FAIRY-"

"Wait, what?"

"Erk….mah bad. I apologize."

"OK. OhmygodohmygodOhmygodohmygod-"

"HOLMES! Sign my Crackhead tee!"

Holmes, bewildered, began to speak, which may have promted,

Step 4) the girls fainting dead away.

And so ends the Dance.

Badumdum.

*"Congested" is right! (COUGHHACKWHEEZE)

**Lulz. It's funny because it's true and they don't think so.