You wake from yet another slightly cryptic dream with strange sense of fulfilment. When you'd made a wish for things to be more like fairytales - the wish came true in the form of a dream, you supposed. Though in a way you were slightly disappointed you didn't wake up as a fairy or a Princess or something of the like. You'd wished you'd have woken up in the largest, most grand king sized bed with the prettiest bedding alongside your Prince "Not-So" Charming - looking beside you as you both awake at the same time and as you both lean toward each other to embrace one another before giving a gentle, loving kiss. You remembered his features perfectly, the way the corner of his mouth curled up into a smile that looked slightly cheeky yet incredibly sweet. His caramel coloured eyes and how he could easily look scruffy - yet he was the smartest looking man you'd ever met up front. His voice that spoke softly to you - sounding so understanding. You smile to yourself in your bed as you continue the memory of James Moriarty in your head. Every part of you wishes he was real. That he'd climb up through your window and sweep you away somehow. Like the story of Rapunzel in a way - if only you could throw your hair out the window and hope for the best. But you knew that wasn't going to happen. It would never happen.
You roll over in your bed, so you're lying on your side - facing the other side of the room. You glance at your bedside table and notice there's a white envelope sitting neatly atop it. You wonder if your mother had just brought up a letter you'd recieved in the post until you remember the envelope from the dream. Laughing at yourself, you brush off the thought of your dream being a reality and lazily grab the envelope in your hand, bringing it closer to you so you could observe the front. You notice that it only has your name on it written neatly in what seemed to be an ink pen. There was no address, either: self delivered? You open the envelope with precision, almost as if you really didn't want to ruin it. As if you wanted to keep it safe in a way. You remove the letter from inside and take in the text which informs you that you have been invited to a masquerade ball that very night. It gives you an address but doesn't say who has invited you. You're more than confused at this point. The handwriting is exactly the same as the handwriting you'd seen on the envelope in your dream. A slight gasp of hope escapes your lips.
Your step mother knocks on the door briefly before entering with some breakfast on a tray for you. She takes a look at you gawking at the envelope and raises an eyebrow.
"Is that the envelope from your bedside table, (y/n)?" She asks, with a high pitched questioning voice.
"Yes, it is. Do you know who sent this? Or where it came from?" There's hope in your voice as you wonder whether someone of importance came to the door with a Royal invitation or something of the like.
"A young man came to the door this morning with it, addressed to you. He wouldn't tell me who he was or anything. Short man, he was - wearing a suit, too. Very nice face, mind you. He said the letter was from a Lord and Lady or something."
"..." You can't even reply. Why would you recieve an invitation to a masquerade from a Lord and Lady? You? Somebody who remains in their room until their step mother decides they won't touch a male body again. Everything becomes very strange to you. As you don't say anything in reply, your step mother leaves the breakfast on your bed and then leaves you alone.
You take your time to decide on what you're going to do - whether you're going to attend the masquerade or skip the invitation entirely. You're unsure as to whether it would be wise to attend an event that you had been invited to completely out of the blue. On the other hand, you're taken in by the idea that maybe you'd meet Moriarty in a completely real situation and you wouldn't be dreaming. You'd never know if you didn't take the chance you had right in front of you. You yourself wanted things to be like the fairytales and this was the perfect opportunity to make that a reality yourself. Within a small amount of time you convince yourself to attend and begin wondering what on earth you should wear. Considering you don't really own many dresses fit for a masquerade. Or even a mask for that matter. You have to come up with something - very quickly, too.