Chapter Text
We stood in the heavy rain, huddled together under our umbrella, outside the small door that led into the nearby bookshop.
“I am never doing this again.” I muttered, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. My best friend made a face at me, and waved the smoke away from her nose as I blew it at her.
“He has to be here.” She said, bouncing on her toes. “I know he’s here. The site said he would be!”
“And we all know everything on the internet is true.” I snorted, shifting uncomfortably and pulling my jacket closer around me. I nudged her with my shoulder as the door opened, and we both leaned forward to get a better look, but it was just one more patron leaving the shop. “Look, it’s cold, wet, my first time in London AND my birthday. Why can’t we go find a nice café and have a hot cuppa before we turn in?”
“We can, just…please, let’s just give it thirty more minutes.” My best friend pleaded, turning to look at me. I sighed, and nodded. We’d pooled our cash for a vacation from Canada to England, and we both had things we wanted to see while here. This would be her only chance to see Richard White whilst here, and I couldn’t really begrudge her that.
“Besides, you have things and or people you would fangirl like this for.” She said, smiling as she turned her attention back to the door. I grinned, flicking the ash off the tip of my cigarette and taking a drag.
“I don’t think there’s anyone I’d stand three hours in the rain just to get a glimpse of.” I said, running my free hand through my dark hair.
“You’d do it for Benedict Cumberbatch.” She said instantly, glancing at me. I paused, considering.
“Yeah, okay, maybe.” I shivered, pulling the jacket tighter. “Still. Three hours in the London rain would be pushing it, even for him.”
“We nearly spent that long in line at the theater to see him a couple days ago.” She pointed out.
“Hey. Hey. Hey. It wasn’t raining, and I’d already paid money for the tickets.” I asserted.
“You’d wade through lava if it meant you got to meet him face to face.” She said, shoving me with her shoulder. I shoved back, laughing.
“That’s not true! It would have to be for a hug, at the very least.” I said. “Hey, you’re pushin’ me out into the rain, woman!”
“Your moms out in the rain.” My friend said, and I shook my head at her. The door ahead of us creaked open and closed again as more people came and went. I finished my cigarette and let it drop to the ground, twisting my toe over it for a moment out of habit as it fizzled and died in the river of rain moving down the walkway. A few people were moving past every once in awhile, but beyond us, the street was mostly deserted. It was past dark, and I’d expected to be back at the hotel by now.
I turned to survey the rest of the buildings on the street as my companion watched the shop anxiously. Mostly what I’d expected to see in London, though I hadn’t anticipated quite so much traffic. Even getting a cab was a nightmare here, though there seemed to be more available than expected. My peripheral vision caught sight of a figure walking up the street toward us in the pouring rain, tall jacket collar pulled up against their face against the cold. I tracked it only briefly, as a hand suddenly gripped my arm.
“Oh my god. That’s him!” my goofy best friend babbled excitedly, stepping forward. She took the umbrella with her, heedless of my exclamation of annoyance at the sudden drench pour that hit me. I quickly turned up my collar and hunched my shoulders, grumbling under my breath.
“Woman, I’m going to stab you.” I growled, then lifted my hands to my mouth to blow hot breath on them. “If my hands don’t freeze off, that is.” I watched her scamper across the walkway and up to the man standing in front of the shop, her excited voice getting drowned out by the noise of the rain as she moved farther away. My hair began to drip into my eyes, and I reached up unthinkingly to shove it back, accidentally squeegeeing the water out of the hair and down my face. I swore softly, then gave up.
“You look positively drenched, love.” A voice said from behind me. I jumped, turning halfway before my hair slid into my eyes again, obscuring the figure. “Here, I’ve an umbrella.” I felt a firm hand set gently on my arm, and the rain suddenly stopped.
“Thank you.” I said, nervous about the sudden appearance of the stranger. I brushed my hair out of my eyes for the last time, and looked up into the face of my benefactor.
Green-blue eyes peered back at me, from above high, sharp cheekbones. A curl of dark hair fell over them, and my eyes involuntarily dropped to his mouth as he spoke again.
“Are you alright?” the brows knitted together in concern as my mouth fell open, looking for words. I struggled for a moment, then finally was able to force myself to speak.
“Yes, I’m…yes. I’m fine. Fine, yes.” I took a breath, staring up at him. I’d seen that face in a dozen TV episodes, in hundreds of photographs over the internet. The gentle color-changing eyes, those striking features. I’d seen them on stage not two nights ago, at the National, and gushed about them countless times on my blog. I tried again to make my frozen mouth work. “I…er…”
“It’s pouring out here. Were you waiting for someone?” he lifted his head to look around. I took a deep breath and tried to compose myself.
“Yes, well…we were waiting for…my friend and I, that is… well, she loves Richard White, and she heard he would be here, so um…” I stammered. He smiled down at me, and I tried desperately to keep my knees from buckling.
“I see she got her wish.” He said, nodding towards the two figures in front of the shop. I could only nod, and then some bizarre sense of conversation took over and I asked:
“What are you doing out here in the rain?” I immediately bit my tongue. That was not the first thing I wanted to ask Benedict Cumberbatch! What the hell, brain? He laughed.
“I was on my way home, actually.” He said, and angled his head slightly at me. “I saw her take the umbrella and leave you in the rain, so I thought I would offer mine, until she’s done.” I tore my gaze away from his lips as he spoke, trying to force my heart to calm down.
“That’s very…very kind of you.” I managed. He shifted slightly, the umbrella moving further over me, and his arm brushed against mine. I took a deep breath, trying to quickly figure out what I should say.
“Am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked softly, and I looked up in surprise.
“Oh, no, no, not at all! It’s just…I’m…well, I’m such a huge fan!” I started to babble, and caught myself. “I mean… I saw you onstage at the National two nights ago, and you were brilliant.” His eyes brightened, and he turned to face me.
“I didn’t know you knew who I was.” He said with a smile. His eyes traveled over my features momentarily. “I recognize you.” He said at last, the smile widening. “You were in one of the front rows.”
I blushed, and nodded. “Yes, I…yes.”
“It’s always lovely to meet a fan.” Benedict said happily, holding out a hand. I gingerly took it, and was suddenly conscious of how large he was. His hands were much larger than mine, and he stood several inches taller than me. He shook my hand a moment, then looked down at it. “My goodness, your hand is freezing! How long have you been out here?”
“I uh…well, about three hours, actually.” I admitted, glancing across the street to where My friend was still engrossed.
“Three hours? You must be very dedicated to your friend.” He smiled, and I felt a little bit of my spine melt.
“Well um…she really loves White, so.” I said, suddenly very aware that he hadn’t released my hand yet.
“It seems to have been a worthwhile endeavor.” He said. “But you’re shivering!” my hand was shaking, but I doubted it was because of the temperature.
“It’s um…cold.” I said lamely. He rubbed his thumb over the top of my hand as he held it, the warmth of his soft fingers spreading over my cold ones.
“That it is!” he lifted his gaze to look across the street, then looked briefly around. “Here, it seems as though your friend will be busy for a bit. Will you come sit?” he tugged gently on my hand, and I offered no resistance as he led me a little ways down the street and into a small café. My head was swimming, but I suddenly realized that once we were inside, he would have no need to stay for the umbrella. He probably just wanted to go on his way.
“Here now.” He pulled out a chair for me, and I sat numbly. Then he moved a second chair nearby and drew off his coat, setting it down across the back before sitting down himself. I sat frozen for a moment before taking off my own coat and scarf, and then perched nervously on the edge of my chair as Benedict leaned back lazily in his and gestured to a nearby waitress.
“Tea please, thanks love.” He nodded at her, then looked at me. “Would you like tea, or something else? I know many don’t have the same fondness for tea as us Brits.” I quickly nodded.
“Oh, yes, hot tea would be lovely. With a bit of honey in it, please.” I added to the waitress as she moved off. I was aware of his eyes on me as I clapsed my hands nervously between my knees. I knew I was a sorry sight- dark hair all wet down and plastered against my head, shirt soaked despite the efforts of the coat.
“Since you know who I am, you seem to have me at a disadvantage.” he smiled at me gently, and I looked up quickly, embarrassed that I hadn’t even introduced myself.
“I’m so sorry. I’m Sarah.” I said, pushing wet strands of hair behind my ear.
“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Sarah. So, you’re a Sherlock fan, yes?” Benedict asked with a charming smile. I blinked, about to ask how he knew, when I suddenly remembered the shirt I was wearing. It said ‘I am SHERlocked’. I blushed, flustered.
“Yes, I…” I sighed. “I’m really a huge fan of all your work.” I admitted. “It’s all very brilliant.” He smiled and inclined his head slightly, sitting up towards me.
“That’s very kind of you. Though,” he leaned forward to say in confidential tones “I don’t meet many who have seen all of my work.” I giggled softly, trying not to let it develop into an uncontrollable, nervous cackle. His gaze flicked upwards as I pushed a strand of hair nervously behind my ears, and he sat back again.
“So where are you from?” he asked with half a smile as the waitress set the cups down in front of us. I reached for the cup, stirring the tea absently, then savoring the steam with a deep breath as I set the spoon down on the saucer.
“Oh um, I’m from Canada.” I said belatedly. He nodded, sipping his own tea, and then smiled over my shoulder.
“It looks like your friend is all set.” He said, as the door opened and she stepped in. She made a beeline for me, and her words came a mile a minute as she gushed about White.
“Oh my god I can’t believe I got to see him that was AMAZING! Thank you so much for waiting with me, but you know I would’ve done the same if you wanted to like, stalk Cumberbatch or something.” She grinned at me, apparently oblivious to both the tall man sitting next to me and my violent head shakes at her. “Still, I really appreciate it, and I realized I took the umbrella, and I’m so sorry. And on your birthday, too! Geez, I just feel awful. Next time you tell me you want to lick Sherlock’s abs, I’ll do my best to make it happen.” She grinned at me, and I sunk further down in my chair, hiding my face in my hands as Benedict raised a fine eyebrow.
“Oh god. This is a bad dream.” I whispered, then indicated Benedict with one hand while facepalming with the other. “Meet Benedict. He was nice enough to let me share his umbrella.”
My friend turned and reached out a hand, and her expression froze. I rubbed my hand down my face, figuring that at this point it couldn’t get any worse.
“I uh…” she managed.
“Pleased to meet you.” He said, smiling at her. Her gaze shot over to me, and I spread my hands, then jerked my head to the side. She leaned down near me, and I whispered.
“Can I just meet you back at the hotel?”
“Oh my god, are you kidding me?!” she almost squealed. “I’m so sorry about the whole licking comment..”
“Just! Just…go. Take a cab.” I said, shoving some cash into her hands and rolling my eyes. She nodded and after a blabbering goodbye, retreated from the table and went outside.
“Oh my gosh. Um.” I forced an embarassed laugh.“I just…I’m so sorry about that.” I looked up at him, but there was that familiar, broad smile on his face, and no hint of annoyance. I quickly stared down into my tea.
“Not at all.” He said, and his smile touched his eyes as I chanced a look at him. “So…a very big Sherlock fan, then.” I almost choked on my tea, and as he leaned forward and reached out a hand in concern, I set the cup down and quickly wiped my face with a napkin as I laughed.
“Well, I guess you could say, that, yes.” I giggled, his earnest smile putting me more at ease. “I’m kind of a fan of…well, just you, I guess.” I admitted.
“I’m flattered.” He said, and there wasn’t a note of sarcasm in his tone. “Really, I am.” He chuckled almost nervous manner. “I have many fans, but it all seems surreal still, if I’m honest. And it’s rare that I have the inclination or ability to…dally with my fans.”
The way he said the word ‘dally’ made me want to blush, though I didn’t know why.
“And did I hear your friend correctly? Today is your birthday?” he asked with a charming smile, and I nodded.
“Um, yes. Well, technically at midnight.” I took a breath, pushing my hair behind my ears and looking up nervously over the square frames of my glasses. “This trip is my present…to myself, at least.”
“Then I hope that you have a delightful birthday, my dear. Hopefully my presence will make it all the better.” The deep voice was soft and sincere, and I blushed at his words.
“Thank you…” I said, and fiddled with the handle on my teacup absently, aware of the blue-green eyes studying me carefully. Finally he shifted his gaze out the window, and I tried desperately to say something not stupid to keep the conversation going.
“So…was the sudden Sherlock fanbase a surprise to you?” It was an attempt to cover my embarrassment, but I was genuinely curious about that- I had discovered Sherlock a bit behind the times, but the sheer love for Benedict among the fangirls was enormous.
“It was very unexpected.” He agreed, turning back to smile at me. “Martin and I just weren’t expecting the response we got from the fans. I just tried to do justice to the character, because Doyle was such a big influence on me. It wasn’t until the second season that we really earned the fanbase, though.” His soft, deep voice was almost mesmerizing as I listened to him, the excitement about the subject becoming evident as he gestured animatedly about Conan-Doyles work. “Holmes was just such a brilliant detective, and…” he leaned forward to lower his tone again, setting his hand atop mine on the table as he added in almost a whisper “I’ll admit, Marks idea of his personality was a bit of a challenge for me to take on.”
“No way.” I said, my entranced expression breaking into a smile of awe. “It just seemed so natural for you!”
“No, not at all, it was very difficult! My own nature is so far removed from Sherlocks, I found it honestly hard to relate to him at first.” He took a drink of tea, and continued. “I’ll say this, Martin was so patient with me.”
I listened, fascinated, as he described how his co-star and friend Martin Freeman, another actor I revered, helped him find his initial grasp on the brilliant, reclusive, hard-to-live-with Sherlock Holmes. His sheer exuberance for his career and the intricate details he frequently reminded himself of just to make the character that much more complex drew me into his story, and his deep, gentle voice and light, lilting accent made me wish I could listen to him speak forever. The waitress came and left several times, refilling our teacups, neither of us really noticing. He spoke about playing with Martin’s children on the set of Sherlock, and how much he wanted kids of his own one day. I asked him about playing both Victor Frankenstein and the Creature, and where he drew his inspiration to play both so stunningly well.
I laughed as he told me about the ridiculous things they did during outtakes while filming the new Star Trek, and tried to picture Chris Pine being as much of a prankster as Benedict said he was. When I asked him about taking on the role of John Harrison, and he rubbed a hand on his cheek almost abashedly.
“Well, I have been fortunate enough to be blessed with the more cerebral roles. So it was very exciting and somewhat egotistically fulfilling to step into the role of the physical, sort of kickass bad guy. And, I mean, J. J.’s interpretation of the Star Trek universe was just ingenious, and he had set this kind of difficult to understand set of morals behind the Harrison character. He acts out of his own sense of what he feels is right. And it was that that really persuaded me to take on the role.” He smiled, taking a sip of tea. “And I will say, the stunts are incredibly fun to do.”
He had a story for every moment we sat there. He jumped out of his seat to imitate a dance Martin had started doing behind the camera during filming, to try and make him break character. I had never felt such joy in my heart as I did watching this tall, handsome man moving awkwardly around the table in long strides, talking about what a thrill it was to work with the men of Monty Python and be directed by Terry Jones. I had known he was naturally a rather comical person, but interacting with him I got to see the truly dorky, geeky, delightful personality shine through.
As time passed, I stopped being a bundle of nerves sitting across from my favorite, most revered actor, and started being a truly happy woman, sitting next to a charming, witty, intelligent man, sharing fandom jokes and even abashedly joking about the loads of fanfiction involving him.
“I mean, I can’t blame them.” I said with a laugh. Benedict laughed too, his grin suffusing his eyes as he listened. “I did hear that at one point you mentioned to an interviewer how it was usually flattering but inaccurate portrayals of your body, doing things you wouldn’t normally do, or have done to you, with Watson.” He threw back his head and laughed.
“That’s true! I don’t know how they imagine I look like half the ways they draw me…I mean really, I’ve been naked enough times on stage or screen, you would think they could just use the real thing.”
“I don’t see why they’re exaggerating in the first place.” I smiled at him as he laughed again.
“Kind of you to say.” He cocked his head at me, and suddenly his gaze flicked to his watch. “Oh, bollocks!”
“What is it?” I furrowed my brow.
“I believe we’ve been talking for quite some time.” He said. “It’s nearly midnight.”
“Oh gosh, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to keep you from anything.” I said, reaching out for my scarf. He shook his head with a smile.
“I don’t regret a minute of it.” He said, standing up as I did. “I just have a scene to shoot in about five hours, so I should be getting some rest.” He picked up my coat as I wrapped my scarf about my neck, and held it up. “Allow me?”
I blushed and nodded, and he slipped the jacket onto my shoulders with warm, strong hands.
“Where are you staying?” he asked as he picked up his own coat.
“Oh, it’s just a little motel in north London.” I said, sipping the last of my tea and reaching into my pocket for my wallet. He held up a hand, with a smile, and set down the money himself on the table.
“Far from here?” he inquired as he held the door open for me. I nodded slightly.
“It’s somewhat of a ways, yes.”
“Let me take you.” He said, and because my mind is always dirty, I blushed.
“Really, you don’t have to…”
“I insist.” He said with another charming smile, and proffered his elbow to me. I reached out and took it, a little shiver of joy working its way up my spine as he set his other hand on mine and we started down the street.