Write Me into Your Daydream

A man stood outside the Hilton in Central London. A few feet from him rain poured down on the London streets. Anything and anyone that dared try run through its icy drops found themselves soaked and miserable. He gave a chuckle as a rude business man, who'd previously been arguing with the doorman of the hotel over something silly and insignificant, tried to run to the cab that'd been called for him only to run right into a particularly powerful gust of wind and rain and soaked him through and through.

"What's so amusing?" another man asked walking up to the first.

"Karmic justice," he said tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette. "You're here early."

"Yeah well," he shrugged, turning to lookout across the street same as the other man. "The driver somehow made a thirty minuet drive in twenty. What about you?"

"I'm staying here for the moment," He said nodding to the hotel behind him with the white tube hanging between his lips. "How's Amanda?"

"She's great," the second man turned towards the first. "Why are you staying here? You have a house."

The first man smirked, "I do. What about your kids, how are they?"

His eyes narrowed slightly, "they're fine. Why are you changing the subject?"

He shrugged, "I'm just making conversation."

"No, you're avoiding my questions," the second man rolled his eyes. "Just because you're the smart one on camera doesn't mean you are when the camera turns off."

"I think the three of us can agree that I'm the smart one," Gatiss laughed approaching the two men how turned to greet him.

"Mark, it's good to see you." Martin Freeman said shaking his hand.

"Especially under these circumstances," Benedict added with a smile. "I've been waiting for this call for about a year now."

Mark raised an eyebrow, "A year ago the last series had just finished airing."

"Exactly."

Martin crossed his arms, "So this is about Sherlock then."

Mark nodded, "Of course."

"Good because I've been hearing some strange things over the past few weeks that I've wanted to talk to you about." He looked around them before nodding across the street, "However, our private meeting it about to get a lot less private; we've been spotted." The others turned to see a few people stopped under the awning of a shop. Their camera phones were out and snapping away at the three men as they turned to enter the building behind them.

Lunch consisted of more small talk about Martin and Mark's families. The asked Ben about filming for Fifth Estate and in unfortunate correspondence with the man he would be playing. Martin talked about the second Hobbit film and Ben mentioned going to the London Zoo to watch the Komodo Dragons as he would be playing Smaug. Mark talked about his role in Game of Thrones for a bit as they reached the end of their meal. The conversation reached a stand still as their waitress took their dishes away. They exchanged glances as she eyed Ben with a hungry gaze. He gave her a small smile and a wink to which she nearly dropped the plates in her hand. She scurried away and Ben chuckled as the other two rolled their eyes.

"So down to business then," Mark began. "Series three."

"It's in production then," Ben said taking a drink of his tea.

He nodded, "It will be soon, Stephen and Steven are putting the final touches on their scripts and we're working out times for the read through. Though you should know that they are going to be done over several days rather than the one or two we've done in the past."

Ben raised an eyebrow, "Why?"

"I think Martin knows," Mark said turned to the man in question. "You've said you hear rumors, what were they?"

"I heard from a friend, who also happens to know the Moffat's, that our overlaying plot will not be an original Canon Doyle story. I heard… we're doing a fanfiction."

Ben spit out his tea, "What?!"

Mark held up his hands as Martin handed Ben a napkin to wipe his face, "Calm down."

"How can-" Ben paused as the waitress walked by, "How can you expect me to calm down? What are you and Steven thinking? A fanfiction, Mark? Really?"

"Yes."

Ben leaned back in his chair, "So what? I'm to snog Martin then?"

Martin rolled his eyes but Mark only chuckled, "No, no, not one of those. This could, but for the fact that it is clearly based on our show, be published as an original novel because of how she approached the story. She's added a character, her own character. A love interest for Sherlock Holmes."

"I thought Adler was his love interest," Martin said crossing his arms over his chest.

Mark nodded, "She is and she has a place in this woman's story. She is the dark to this new character's light. While Irene is only interested in serving her own interests Hanna only wants to help. They are both brilliant, both beautiful, and both are perfect for Sherlock."

Ben raised an eyebrow, "Yin and Yang."

"Exactly."

"So why are we taking extra day for the read through?" Martin asked.

"The original author deserves a say in what we use and how we use it," Martin explained. "After all we couldn't follow her story completely. Changes had to be made."

"Who is this author? Some teenager with no clue about TV or film?" Ben asked. His displeasure at the idea was clear to everyone.

"We don't know."

"You don't know?" he asked raising an eyebrow, "How can you not know?"

"She is a short story writer," Mark began to explain, crossing his arms over his chest. "She's getting quite popular in America. So her tracks have been well covered. The woman who contacted me, her agent, only gave me her pen name. Mayfor Night."

"I've heard of her," Martin said nodding, "She is good."

"We wouldn't have considered this if she wasn't," Mark said with a pointed look at Ben. "It's a fantastic story. If my word is not enough then I did bring copies of the text for both of you to read if you want."

Ben leaned forward onto the table, "Are you sure about this? Are you absolutely sure?"

Mark leaned forward as well, "Read the story, Benedict."

"I will," Martin chimed in, trying to break the tension between the two men. "I'd like to read it."

Mark turned to look at him and nodded before reaching down to his brief case. Pulling out two copies of the story he handed one to Martin who scanned the cover page.

"Deducing Tragedy Part One," he read, Ben turned to look at him, "See no evil?"

"She's writing a trilogy," Mark smiled.

"One story per episode," Martin nodded flipping through the first couple pages.

"One story per series," Mark corrected him.

"You're kidding," he said letting the pages fall from his fingers. "You're signing her on for three total series?"

"It's an idea but the way this story ends we could stop it there," Mark explained. "It all depends on how well Mayfor is received, how well her ideas are appreciated by our audience."

"What are the other stories called?" Ben asked.

"The other stories?"

"This one is called See no Evil," he nodded toward the text in front of Martin. "What are the other ones called?"

"Part two is called Speak no Lies," Mark said. "She's on chapter 23."

"It's not even finished?"

"See no Evil is a complete enough story that it can stand alone," Mark explained. "She could have ended it right then and there she even said, that if the people who read her story wanted to, they could have stopped reading. Many did, most choose to continue."

"And the reasoning behind the names?" Ben asked with a slight frown. "Why Deducing Tragedy? Why See no Evil?"

Mark placed his hand on the story in front of him, "The series is call Deducing Tragedy because our heroine's life is consumed with tragedy. The story is called See no Evil because when it begins Hanna is blind."

"Blind?"

"Blind."

Martin smirked, "That sounds like something you would write. You or Steven."

"Precisely." He beamed, "And because she is blind she affects Sherlock all the more. He can't deduce her the same way he does everyone else. And what he can deduce is only because she's allowed it. She is brilliant; she knows how his mind works. He sees only what she wants him to. Like when he first met Irene and she was naked. He could deduce nothing because that was how she designed it."

Ben nodded slowly, his eyes on the stack of papers under Martin's hands. Mark was so sure of his plan, so sure of someone else's ideas. If he was bringing it up to them then Moffat was probably on board as well. These men were two of the most brilliant story tellers he knew. They've done brilliant things with Sherlock thus far. They wouldn't jeopardies that.

"Give me the copy," he sighed finally. "If I'm going to be acting out fanfiction I might as well know how this author portrays the character."

"Fanfiction?" the waitress squeaked and they turned to see her standing a few feet from them, "Series three is going to be a fanfiction?!"