A/N: Okay people, here is your single, extremely lengthy, very important Author's Note.
First, a thousand thanks to my beta, Forever the Optimist. She trudged through the absolute mess that was this fanfiction, and made it a thousand times better. Seriously, if you guys actually like any of this, give her the credit. The first draft would have just scarred you for life.
If you're interested, Forever the Optimist has several stories up, including the Doctor Who, 'Mystery Girl' series, a wholock going by the name of Elysium, and something on her profile called 'Fanfiction for Dummies', as well as a whole bucket load of other stuff. I would go check that out:)
Second, Arthur Conan Doyle never existed. I have my reasons.
Third, asks that we do not put actual people in our stories, such as actors and writers. The briefly mentioned characters Ben and Matthew represent Benedict and Martin. Since I have never met them and can't do their personalities justice, I just stole their faces.
That last line sounded better in my head.
Okay, all done. This will be the only A/N that is more than a few sentences. Enjoy!
"Next up, we have screenwriter, creator, and director of Sherlock, Meghan Carter!"
Meg smiled and waved at the crowd, as she stepped out onto the stage, taking a seat in the overstuffed orange chair, doing her best not to squint in the sudden harsh light. Enthusiastic applause emanated from the sea of heads and faces in front of her. The amount of people here was amazing, considering where she had come from.
Her seat was tilted slightly in the direction of the audience, and slightly towards her interviewer, the famous Nathan Nathaniel.
Nathan, a popular television show talk host, as well as her interviewer, had a face Meg was well acquainted with. Not only had she seen it on television, but at times, right in front of her.
A lot can change in eleven years. Ever since she had met the strange man with the blue box, events and consequences had entirely renovated her, making her an entirely different person. Meg suspected most of the change happened when she met him. He had given her a curiosity, and a sense of wonder she'd never felt before. After that, it had taken very little time for the curiosity to turn into determination. Then it was just one thing after another. It had taken a lot of hard work to get to where she was now. There had been many hardships, and almost failures. But she had found herself, at the end, with more than an existence. She'd found herself with a life.
"So Meg."
Nate spoke casually, as if they were in the supermarket, instead of on a stage, in front of thousands.
"What do you think so far of the British Television Con, being Sherlock's first year with the panel?"
Meg grinned.
"It's absolutely wonderful. There are so many people, such a variety of faces, all here because they love our work. Everyone is nice. I've had some wonderful conversations with those who watch the show, as well as conversations with a few actors and writers dropping in to say hi. It's weird, really, seeing the response to Sherlock, and all of this."
She waved a hand vaguely in the direction of the crowd.
"When I was writing the first season, I would try to imagine what would happen should Sherlock be successful. I could never have imagined this."
Never, in Meg's wildest dreams, had her little stubborn headed, optimistic self, eleven years ago, thought up a fantasy equal to what her life was now. Eleven years ago, Meg would have thought her future self delirious to try to explain it. All of Meg's impossible dreams had come true. She was a successful screenwriter, had friends and a family. So much had changed since the day she had met the alien Meg had come to know as the Doctor.
"I'm sure it's quite strange at times, watching people act out your script."
She laughed. "It really is. I sometimes wonder if anyone actually wants to do it, or if they're just doing it because they want to be nice."
"I think you don't have to wonder about that anymore. Earlier, I asked Ben and Matthew what it was like to work with you on set."
Meg covered her eyes with her hands.
"What did they say?"
"They said, with quite a bit of honesty, may I add, that you were absolutely wonderful, easy to work with, and very funny at times."
Meg looked taken aback.
Honestly, that was quite unbelievable. Eleven years ago, when Meg first met the Doctor, anybody that would've worked with her would have found her the most disagreeable person to be around. She remembered, with a lot of cringing, how easily she would get into arguments over almost anything she disagreed with another person on. She had to have her way, and usually expected everyone else to listen. It had taken many years, the gain of some new friends, and lots of extraterrestrial experiences to overcome it.
It took barely half a day for her overwhelming curiosity to take control of her. She'd spent the next six months furtively searching for the man with the blue box, or, as she later learned, the Doctor. She'd had no luck until she found something unimaginable. Rather, someone unimaginable. That person's personality was good influence. Slowly, but steadily, Meg found her bad qualities being decreased, due to the man's rather bossy personality, and at times, no nonsense demeanor.
"Me? No way. They were probably talking about themselves."
Nate chuckled along with the crowd at the very British statement. A compliment within an insult, with a bit more insult tacked on the end.
"They certainly didn't sound that way. What is it like for you, working with some of the U.K's best film creators?"
"It's weird, really. Reading through articles online all about this person, and thinking, 'yesterday we were eating the same food, at the same table, discussing what to improve on the show.' But everybody is absolutely marvelous, Ben and Matt included. I've gotten to know quite a few people."
Meg had. She was good friends with some of Britain's finest, not only in film and television production, but in extraterrestrial businesses as well.
It had started with a Google search. Meg had found very little information concerning the strange man with the blue box. One word from all of her research stuck out: Torchwood.
There was a news article, about some incident a few years back. It had mentioned the strange appearance of a man with a blue box, accompanied by an organisation called Torchwood, located in Cardiff.
She asked around, trying to find more information. She found nothing. She was disappointed, but had expected it. The news article was fifteen years old.
It all changed when a strange man came to visit...
"Ben and Matt also spoke about your ability to write. Where do you get the ideas for your stories?"
Meg answered this one easily.
"Everywhere, constantly. You just look at something and ask, 'What if?' What if there was a character even smarter than the genius at your work, and this character was rude, with sociopathic tendencies? What if that man was actually a serial killer, and his next murder was to be committed with a scarf?"
Actually, quite a bit of the good parts of Sherlock came from her part time job, an inspiration for any of the adrenalin fueled scenes.
They say curiosity killed the cat. It wasn't far from the truth. Her curiosity had almost killed her several times. A mourning and grief stricken Captain Jack Harkness had come to her house after hearing about her attempts to find Torchwood, too angry and tired with his life to do more than point a gun at her and threaten hers. It had been a close call. She'd managed to convince him she was just curious. He'd put the gun away. Many small, tiny things had happened, ending up with the two becoming friends. Later on, she'd questioned him about Torchwood, bringing his overwhelming grief to the surface. After a very precarious discussion that was almost violent, she'd convinced him the deaths of his team were not his fault. Once again, it was only a series of little events that convinced him to reopen Torchwood.
"When did you first get your idea for Sherlock?"
Meg stared into the distance.
"I don't really remember. It just happened, slowly, but with little ideas, here and there. It really took off about three years later. I wanted to send in the script, but I didn't believe it would succeed. I changed my mind, sent it in, and I had a television show."
It had been on her mind for a while now. Jack had eventually explained who the Doctor was, and since then, their conversation was the only thing she could think about.
"This is really good. You should send it in." The Doctor had sounded sincere and honest. Eventually, she did.
When she received the confirmation, it was almost impossible to believe. She had a television show. Then she realised. Meg had no idea how to tell Jack.
After a year, Torchwood had gained two new employees and lots of alien tasks to deal with, mostly from Jack's constant, and frankly annoying, flirting. Meg wasn't sure how to tell Jack she now had a television show and would no longer be able to work full time there. She approached him cautiously, stammering.
"Hey, um… Jack?"
"You want to start working only part time because of your television show."
She'd blinked, surprised.
"Actually, yes. How did you… nevermind. Ummm… will you be okay?"
Jack had reluctantly said yes. It had taken a while for him to realise how incredibly useful it was to have access to Meg's resources as a mainstream television screenwriter. Eventually, he had warmed up to the idea. Now she saw Jack very little. Meg was only called in for the occasional loose alien, when the steadily increasing rift activity became too much for the Torchwood members to handle.
"I'm glad you did. The BBC wouldn't be the same without Sherlock." There were murmured agreements from the crowd. Meg wondered how the world would be different if the television show really did not exist. Television shows like that can affect so many people's lives, people using the main characters as examples and role models.
Nate asked his next question. "What is your funniest memory from set?"
Meg instantly smiled.
"There was this time we were all taking a break, and the kitchen brought out snacks. The person sets this giant platter of chocolate wafers in front of Matt because there was almost no room on the rest of the table. We're all very busy talking. We finish our discussion, and I look around at the snacks, only to watch Matt absentmindedly eat the last wafer on the platter."
There's some laughter from the crowd, but Meg has already moved on in thought, busy thinking about what was really the funniest.
"Meg, someone is here to see you. Something about an emergency?"
The people in the room looked up at the two people standing in the doorway. One was a stagehand, the other Jack.
Up to that point, none of the people from her film life had ever met someone from her outside life. There were many curious glances.
"Is that your boyfriend, Meg?" Ben asked curiously.
Meg spluttered.
"My… boyfriend? Good heavens no. He's got a butt chin."
As a second thought, she added on,
"He's also my brother. He's visiting from America."
Ben's teasing smile turned embarrassed.
"Oh, I'm sorry."
"No, no. Easy mistake. This is Jack."
Jack smiled flirtatiously.
"Hello."
Meg rolled her eyes.
"On second thought, I'm not introducing him. He'll just flirt."
She grabbed her bag, and ran out of the room, leaving the confused people to themselves.
Jack's flirtatious smile turned into a frown as they get into the Torchwood vehicle. Meg glared.
"Don't ask. Brother was the first thing I could come up with." He didn't.
"Butt chin?"
Meg mock punched him in the arm.
"Oh shut up, you."
"I have only one last question, on behalf of the entire Sherlock fandom. Do you have any spoilers for season four?"
Meg smirked at Nate, though inwardly, she let out a loud groan.
"Plenty."
The crowd waited with baited breath. Meg could only imagine what they'd theorise, the craziest thing based off five little words that could mean almost anything. Unfortunately for them, Meg didn't actually have any spoilers.
"But you won't hear any from me today."
The crowd's faces switched from hopeful, to crushed. Meg's smirk only grew.
Nate sighed.
"I was expecting something a little more fun than that. Oh well. I suppose it can't be helped, especially this close to the finish of season three. Alright. Ladies and gentlemen, this was Meghan Carter, screenwriter, director and creator of Sherlock!"
Meg made her exit, smiling and waving.
It was a bit more complicated than just not sharing any spoilers. Usually by this time, season four would be practically completed in her head, meaning she just had to meet with the team for edits and sprucing up. This time, that wasn't at all true. Meg had not had a single idea for Sherlock season four. Not one. Considering the rate at which she came up with ideas, that was absolutely ridiculous.
Technically, Meg had had an idea. In fact, an entire episode, planned out in her head. From a writing standpoint, it was well written, with plots and ideas. But she could never publish it as actual work. It wouldn't fit in the murder/drama theme that went on in Sherlock. It also had a lot of sentimental value. She really didn't want to share it with the world.
When a writer writes, they can use several different methods for coming up with characters. They can take ideas from written documents, or books. They often get ideas from the people around them. Sometimes, a character like Sherlock is created, entirely from one's imagination, with no connection to anything else in the person's life. That is very rarely done. Beginner writers, such as Meg when she was first writing Sherlock, take character traits from themselves. More advanced writers do it too, but they're cautious, knowing if they add too many character traits from themselves, the character won't be an individual at all, just a copy of them.
When Meg had first written this isolated chapter of Sherlock, she had been taking ninety percent of the character traits from herself, sometimes improving the character to make her a better person. She and that character were so alike, that all she really did was switch the name. Meg didn't want to share this chapter of Sherlock because it was about her.
It was also the one she had shared part of with the Doctor. She connected it to the start of all of this. It felt wrong to share something so personal with the world.
But then again, that chapter felt like it was meant to happen.
Meg had already decided she wasn't sharing that segment with the group, when they presented ideas. She'd have to come up with new material, like she always did. That meant she had very little time to do so. The group meeting was the next day.
"Meg." Meg turned around to find a stagehand staring at her carefully.
"Are you okay?"
She smiled an embarrassed smile.
"Yes, I'm fine. Just deep in thought."
Behind her, she could hear the next interview start, with the producer of Sherlock. She quickly made her way back to her room behind stage, scooping up her personal possessions.
She didn't want to be concerned right now. Meg was about to go meet the fans, those with obsession enough to go to a big meeting about fandoms. They'd pick up on her worried demeanor. Meg put on a smile, trading her thoughts with exactly how wonderful her life actually was. It was one she'd built, with hard work and effort. She left the room, heading for her designated spot. The light in the room went out.
It was a pity Meg didn't know her perfect life wouldn't last.