Chapter 2
On A Trial Basis

"… and cut!" Toby Haynes, the director, calls. "Thank you, everyone! You may go to lunch now, then we can shoot the scene again."
I heave a sigh. He can't be serious! Not another take of this scene! This last one was perfect – at least in my extra-opinion.
Rubbing my eyes I yawn and lean back in my seat. The other jury members, who have been sitting around me, rise and slowly walk off, but I don't join them. I am tired of their gushing about Benedict Cumberbatch and how brilliant he is. But I am not that into him, to be honest.
From the corner of my eyes I watch a couple of girls approaching Benedict, ogling at him as if he was a god from ancient Rome and giggling sheepishly when he makes a remark that isn't even funny. The girls don't seem to mind, though, instead they are posing for a couple of pictures with him.
Rolling my eyes I shake my head. Silly cows they are – thinking they are special, because they chatted with Benedict Cumberbatch for a couple of minutes. As if he cared much about them! To him they are just ordinary fans, meaningless extras in a TV series that he happens to be the star of.
"What were you rolling your eyes at?"
I flinch when I suddenly hear the familiar voice of Benedict Cumberbatch right next to me and turn around to face him. He certainly looks taller in the film than in real life.
"Oh, just all that lot," I answer, nodding at the girls, who are now leaving the set. "All fawning all over you …"
I scoff.
"That must get a bit exhausting, right?"
"Yeah," Benedict confirms, shrugging. "It can be pretty exhausting."
"Especially because they are just doing it because all of a sudden you are famous," I add.
Benedict frowns.
"Except they are not doing it just because I'm famous, though."
"Sure they do," I insist.
"No," Benedict maintains. "It's my looks as well."
"Hmm…" I muse.
"What's that supposed to mean, 'Hmmm'?"
"Oh, nothing, nothing," I lie, quickly.
I cannot tell him that he isn't as good looking as he thinks he is, can I?
"I just don't think that they would be acting like that if you weren't a film star," I add for consideration.
"Actually, they pretty much would," Benedict establishes. "I have always had attention."
"Even before 'Sherlock'?" I ask, doubtfully. "I, for example, didn't even know your name a couple of years ago. You were an absolute nobody before 'Sherlock'."
"No, I wasn't!" Benedict contradicts. "I did films before."
"Really?"
I frown.
"What films?"
"Loads."
"I never noticed your name, sorry."
"And how is that my fault?" Benedict demands.
I sigh.
"Look, all I'm saying is, if you were, let's say, the prop boy, you would just get ignored."
"What?"
Benedict throws out a laugh.
"With this face?" he asks, gesturing at his head. "I wouldn't get ignored."
"I'm just saying …"
"I will tell you, who does get ignored," Benedict cuts in. "James McAvoy. On the set of 'Atonement' the girls just walked straight past him, going 'Get out our bloody way, whoever you are, we want to get to Benedict.' They were round me like bees round a honeypot."
I blink confused.
"They ignore James McAvoy?"
"Yeah," Benedict confirms. "They were going, 'Oh, Benedict, who's that freak over there that we didn't notice?' I was going, 'It's James McAvoy', you know, and they were going, 'Who cares? You were Stephen Hawking!'."
I raise an astonished eyebrow.
"Were you?"
"Yeah, sure, few years ago, yeah."
Benedict nods.
"And James always was like, 'Oooh, I'm so cool, I'm in love with a pig-snouted girl!," Benedict mimics. "And, 'Oooh, look at me, I've got goat legs with glossy brown hair!'."
He rolls his eyes.
"Tom Lefroy?" Benedict huffs, scrunching up his face into a grimace. "A tomfool, he is."
"Okay," I reply, slowly.
"Anyway …"
Benedict smiles at me again.
"Got to go now."
"Yeah," I answer, evasively. "Bye!"
"Catch you later!"
Benedict click-winks at me Sherlock-style, then he walks away.
"Yeah, maybe," I mumble as I look after him, grateful that I finally left alone.
Did I mention that I am not that into him?