Write Me into Your Daydream

I took a step back to examine the mystery in the mirror. She looked like a snobby creative type, her head tipping to the side as I watched her through the reflection. Her hair was long, bright blonde layers that cascaded down her back. Her bangs cut a hard line across her eyebrows and dusted the top of her sunglasses. They were so dark that you couldn't see her eyes and large enough to cover most of her face. She took them off and I could only marvel at what laid beneath them. Clear porcelain skin with just a touch a warmth in her cheeks; she looked like a member of the upper class but with an exotic touch in the dramatic angle of her eye makeup. It was probably a little over the top, I thought with a small frown, but it accentuated the green in her eyes and gave her a dangerous element that I liked. Her clothing was simple, black leggings and long sleeve shirt with a white fish net knitted poncho. Swede ankle boot completed the look and were far more comfortable than the hooker boots Moffat and suggested in the beginning.

No one would recognize me like this, hell I could barely recognize myself and I was staring in the mirror. This is how the world will view me- no, I corrected my thoughts; this is how the world will view Mayfor. Mayfor Night, I reflected as my chin raised and a sly smirk pulled at the corners of my shiny pink lips, another character come to life.

I stepped out of my room, where Mark and Steven were waiting for me, and gave them a small grin. "Hello boys." My voice was low, carrying a light Latin-accent as I tapped my glasses against the side of my hand.

"Mayfor," Steven held out a hand and I shook it.

"Mr. Moffat," I bow my head and he chuckled.

"It's an honor," Mark drew my attention to him and I smiled, "I can't speak for Steven but I, personally, am a fan of your work."

"Of course you are," I chuckled, "Otherwise I would not be here."

"I suppose not," he reasoned and I shook my head.

"A poor joke," I placed my hand on his shoulder, "I am honored as well, it is a dream come true."

"Yes, well, you might not think so for long," Steven checked his watch, "We have a long day of auditioning to get through."

"I could see the line from my window," I glanced at him as we started down the hall to the elevators. "Surely it is impossible to audition all the girls out there?"

"We will not get to all of them no," he explained, "there is a team who will see the girls first and send us the ones with potential but I still expect being here for most of the day."

"Perhaps a drink when we are finished?" I suggested. "In America I am too young and I've been looking forward to the opportunity."

"Ah, the gift of youth," Mark chuckled as we stepped into the lift.

I walked to the back of the glass box and looked out over the lobby. Actresses were lined up; eyeing the material they'd been given at the door. Beyond them fan girls looked about anxiously, news that Ben was staying at this hotel had hit the fandom and caused quite the stir. My whole floor was blocked off to anyone not checked in. Not that it had done a great deal, twice this morning I heard the screams of fan girls being carried away by security.

Mix in with the hopeful on lookers the press and paparazzi patrolled. Expensive cameras in hand they watched the crowd, looking for the secrets of season three. Little did they know, it was already published online and had been there for months. How amusing it would be when the series aired and my readers recognized my story. I wonder what they'll say.

"Mayfor," Steven brought my attention back to him as we reached the ground floor. "Why don't you tell us more about the character?"

I ran my tongue over my lips, "Is this you trying to distract me from the crowd?"

"I thought it would help," he nodded, "So tell us about her. What are you looking for?"

"To me she is the embodiment of innocence," I began as the doors opened. It felt like the world turned to look. Some cheered, some booed, I expected as much. But the thing that surprised me was how I held my head high and continued my conversation without giving the flashing lights of camera so much as a second thought. I knew they were there but I pressed on as if they weren't, "The white rose in the garden. She is pure and beautiful in her soul despite all the dark that surrounds her."

"What about appearance?" Steven asked as Mark hung back to sign a few things for the fans and speak to the reporters.

"She must be blonde," I said and he opened the door to the conference room. "Or we must die her hair. Other than that her appearance can vary. I only require the very best actress to portray my character."

He smiled as we walked into the room, the lobby's noise fading into a dull hum behind the heavy doors. "Of course we would settle for nothing less."

"Steven, there you are." A familiar voice accompanied a set of footsteps approaching us. "Mark is coming too right?"

"He's satisfying the beast forming behind these doors," Moffat rolled his eyes; "He'll be in any moment. In the meantime, Martin this Mayfor Night, the mind behind series three."

"Pleasure," I smiled as I held out my hand.

He raised an eyebrow, "Same…"

"Something wrong?"

"No- it's just," he looked from me to Steven and back again, "Well I thought you were American, but your accent I can't quite place."

"Well I did fly in from America," I offered with a sly smile, "And I have lived there for quite some time."

"So where are you from?"

I laughed, "If you need to know I will tell you."

He nodded once, annoyance creeping into his expression, "Right."

"Martin is here to assist with audition," Steven explained, "They will be reading through John's first encounter with Hanna and while that is going on you will have the opportunity to adjust Martin's performance as you see fit."

"I don't expect he'll need much," I smiled at the man across from me. "You truly are a magnificent talent, Mr. Freeman. I tried to capture how you portray John in my story if I failed please let me know."

He studied me, "There were a few things I questioned, but over all you did a fantastic job. You're story, by the way, is kind of amazing. Hanna is a fascinating character."

I smiled as we walked further into the room, "I'd like to say I only write fascinating characters but the truth is I only write what is human. And as humans go we have a great capacity for all things dark. When I wrote Hanna into existence my intent was a female Sherlock with tact and innocence. But as the story continued I realized that there is darkness in everyone, even in the most beloved of people. Hanna is loved, she is all that is good and innocent, but she has an obscured past; a past that many can relate to and unfortunately is not spoken of nearly enough."

He nodded slowly, a smile twitching in the corners of his lips, "Then let's change that."

The door opened. Mark walked in with a grim smile on his face and motioned for Steven to join him. I frowned, my eyes following the two before Martin sighed, "I wouldn't mind them. We're probably over in the budget. It's nothing."

I fidgeted with my ring, "Probably."

"Is that a class ring?" he asked snapping my attention back to him, "it's nice, can I see?"

"Uh," I covered it with my other hand, "It was a gift from someone a long time ago and is precious to me."

He raised an eyebrow, "I wouldn't break it."

"I know, I just-," I bit my lip, "Do you have something you know would be safe in the hand of others but you still would never risk it. All rational thinking is lost when it comes to this and you keep it protected in your own capable hands alone?"

He nodded slowly, still looking perplexed, "That's how I feel about my kids, but I don't see how a ring compares."

I shrugged, "I have no children, only things I carry close to my heart. And I'm feeling slightly uncomfortable with this continued line of questioning as I can tell by your face that my answers will never be good enough to assuage your curiosity. I'll just say that this ring represents something very dear to me and leave it at that, yah?"

His lips pulled into a forced smile, "That's fine by me."

I smiled in return and made my way to the snack table on the other side of the room. Martin was lying, he didn't think my reason was good enough and it was a rather weak excuse. The truth was that it had my real name engraved inside the band. If he saw it he would have questions that I couldn't answer. I should have just left it inside the room; I cursed myself as I nibbled on a carrot. But I love this ring and it's so small, who would notice it? Martin obviously did. Only because I brought attention to it in the first place. By fidgeting with it like I always do when I get anxious. Ugh.

"Mayfor," Moffat placed a hand on my shoulder snapping me out of my argument with myself.

"Yes?"

"We're ready to begin;" he raised an eyebrow, "are you?"

"Uh- yes," I shifted nervously, "I think so."

He lowered his voice, "Remember who you are now. You are Mayfor Night, not Lux. You can handle this you just need to raise up your shield." I took a breath, letting all of my anxieties flow from my body. He was right, I was acting like Lux now, like a scared little school girl. I was Mayfor; I had nothing to fear in here. I didn't care what anybody else thought and I certainly didn't care if Martin didn't like the reason I wouldn't let him see my ring. It was my prerogative; if he has a problem then it is his problem to bear. I didn't have time to worry about him.

I caught Steven's eye, my lips curling into an arrogant smirk, "Thank you, Mr. Moffat."

He smiled as well, "Shall we begin?"

My smile grew, "I thought you'd never ask."

"Thank you," Moffat forced a smile, "We'll give you a call." This was the lie we'd been telling girls for the better part of four hours. One after another filed through the doors with hope in their eyes and by the end of Stevens' lie all optimism had been drained from their bodies. I wanted to force a smile, restore that glimmer of confidence but after the third hour I just didn't have the strength. Some of these girls were awful. It hurt my soul to see them portray my character so thoughtlessly. Hanna was strong, Hanna was wise, and Hanna was not the stammering fool they made her out to be.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," I muttered bitterly, "I will most assuredly need that drink."

"You and I both," Mark pitched the bridge of his nose.

"I warned you that it would be a long day," Steven said with a sigh as he stood up, "let's take a ten minuet brake."

"Oh thank god," I stood up to stretch, "I was sure you would keep me pinned to that chair forever while girl after girl butchered my Hanna."

Martin chuckled, "Some of them were pretty awful."

"Truly!" I turned towards him, "And I feel some of them were bad just to be bad! How hard is it to do this-" I slipped my sunglasses over my eyes and recited words I knew by heart. "My sister called about my visit."

Martin played along, "Yeah, I just got off the phone with her actually."

"I know," I forced a smile, "I was waiting outside for her to text me."

He let out a hard laugh, "I hope you weren't waiting long."

I shrugged, "Long enough."

He shifted uncomfortably, "She said you were looking for a flat."

I sighed, "My sister tends to misinterpret things. I rent a house up north and am relatively happy there. She thought it would be best if I don't live on my own; something about having someone around just in case."

His eyes narrowed in confusion, "In case of what?"

I paused, my head tipping to the side, "You haven't noticed?"

His jaw tightened, "Clearly I haven't." I smiled gently as I took the glasses off my face. It was harder than I thought, acting blind. My eyes kept trying to focus on Martin's form so I shifted my gaze to the far wall just above his left shoulder. It must have worked because he gave a small gasp and said, "You're blind."

"As a bat," I forced another smile.

"Molly wants Mrs. Hudson to take care of you," he concluded and I shook my head; a dry laugh on my lips.

"She sent me here so you could take care of me," I corrected him, "She thinks you need someone to take care of like you took care of Sherlock."

He paused a moment. When he spoke again it was with a courteous tone in his voice, "You disagree?"

I glanced in his direction, tipping my chin up in irritance, "You do need to take care of someone but I don't need to be taken care of."

He sounded amused with my response, "You don't?"

I glared now, "People assume that because I'm blind I need help, I don't."

Martin held his hands up in surrender, "if you say so."

"I do," I growled acting as if I didn't see his surrendering gesture, "Now if twenty questions is over Lestrade is waiting for us." I turned as if I was about to storm away but stopped myself mid-stride and turned back to the rest of them.

"Are you sure you don't want to act?" Mark questioned me and I raised an eyebrow, "Because that was beautifully done. The best portrayal of the character we've seen."

I gave him a playful smirk, "That's because these girls are not giving her half of what she needs to shine. In them there is not spice; no real life to her. They come in, spout out a few words and call it acting. I swear if things don't look up soon I will have to retire early and recommend we resume again tomorrow."

I would never have to do that though. Two girls later the door opened and… I just knew. This girl would change the course of my time here. She was beautiful yes but that was just the beginning of her. There was something, I could only describe as, real about her. Something solid and unbreakable and strong in the way she moved or the impact of her glance. When her eyes were on me I felt the weight of that recognition. She knew I was the vote she needed to land this role and I saw her change her behavior accordingly.

"My name is Martha Sera," she introduced herself, her eyes lingering in my direction. "I'm auditioning for the part of Hanna Hooper."

"Yes, yes," Steven glanced down at the paper work, "Says here that you are a Victoria Secret model."

"I am," she shrugged, "I was blessed genetically with a certain physique that pays the bills. And pays them well, might I add."

"I think what Seven is trying to say," Mark began, watching her through narrow eyes, "is that you have a good steady job that you seem to enjoy. Why try your hand at acting?"

She shrugged again, "Acting has always been my favorite part of modeling. Getting into the different characters is fun; it brings a new…spice-" she glanced at me, "-to my job. I figured a real acting job would be even more interesting. Plus I'm pretty and everyone knows how much more important that is than having real talent. I plan on using my looks to further my career until I can't anymore."

"So blunt," I tipped my head to the side, "it's as unsettling as it is refreshing."

The corners of her lips ticked into a smirk, "I've never seen the point in playing coy when it comes to your beliefs and intentions. If you tell people what you're after they have the chance to get out of the way before they get run over."

I studied her, pulling my sunglasses off my face as I stood up from my seat, "Martin, I think I will handle this one."

Confusion colored his tone, "Okay…?"

I nodded to her, "You know your lines?"

"By heart," she seemed quite proud of herself.

"Then let us begin," I relaxed my shoulders and adjusted my accent, "You must be Hanna. Molly literally just called about you."

She was caught off guard by the change in dialog but the fire in her eyes only burned brighter, "I know I was waiting for her to let me know it was okay to come in."

I frowned slightly, "I hope you weren't waiting long."

Her eyes met mine, "Long enough."

"Thank you, we're done here," I turned away from her, "We'll give you a call." Her eyes narrowed but she left without another word.

"Mayfor?" Steven questioned as I approached them, "What was that about?"

"Proving what I suspected the moment she walked into the room," I mused, slipping my glances back over my eyes.

"And what was that?" Mark asked crossing his arms over his chest.

"That she's perfect," I said turning to them both in turn. "We'll perhaps not perfect but I believe, with a few pointers, she will fit the shoes nicely."

"Really?" Moffat frowned deeply, "Her? Martha Sera the Victoria Secret model? You told me that Hanna was the white rose in the garden but that girl seemed more like the serpent beneath it."

"You guys asked me here because you said I would see something in the actress that you could never understand," I insisted. "Well I see something in her, I can't explain it. I just know."