A C T O R S || OS

179. Benedict Cumberbatch | Bad Feeling

By : insomniaacs | Tumblr

Benedict x reader. Benedict comes home early from filming. To surprise his girlfriend. Only to find police and the press outside their home because they were broken into while his girlfriend and their new puppy were inside when it happened

Word count: 1774
Warnings: none

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The day had seemed like a normal one for Benedict when he woke up in the morning.

It had been bright and busy like any other day of the week; with London's usual partially cloudy sky and streets that bursted with life. He'd gone to work and spent the day doing everything he usually did; repeated his same old routine and longed for a day in which he wouldn't have to do it all over again.

He would later learn to be careful what he wished for.

"Benedict," his manager had said through the phone with a light tone to his voice. Benedict had just left a script reading session for his latest project, and had been collecting his things when his phone rang. "Johnny had to call off the eight o'clock meeting- something came up at the studio, apparently," he'd explained quickly, "you have the night off."

Benedict had smiled. It was probably his first night off in months, and he had no idea when would be his next. He'd packed his things and left the building feeling like a winner.

He figured you'd be in for a lovely surprise. Maybe you could even open that old bottle of wine your parents had given the both of you for Christmas...

It wasn't until he was in his car - his hands gripping the steering wheel while he was stuck in traffic - that things started going south.

Benedict turned on the Bluetooth on his phone and waited for it to connect to the stereo. "Siri, call my wife," he said as soon as he heard the familiar beep that indicated there was a connection.

The phone rang five, six, seven times before it hit voicemail. "Hello, this is (Y/N) Cumberbatch. I'm not available at the moment, but please leave a message after the beep," your voice boomed through the speakers, and Benedict didn't wait before he pushed the call button on the steering wheel again. Still no response.

In front of him, the line of cars started moving, and he tried to tell himself everything was okay.

It was useless to keep worrying simply because you hadn't picked up the phone. Half of him reasoned that you were probably on the shower or listening to music in your studio. The other more anxious half of him insisted that there was something wrong, though.

Benedict couldn't keep the cold shiver than ran through him and settled in the pit of his stomach as he pushed his feet into the gas pedal.

He thought that perhaps if he pretended to be calm the feeling would overcome the worry that had been growing inside him, but if anything, it seemed to intensify it. He approached his driveway with a dreadful feeling on his stomach, one that was confirmed when he saw the blink of police lights.

Benedict's heart nearly dropped on his chest.

There was cold sweat dripping down the nape of his neck and his hands were trembling when he stopped the car a few feet away from his house, the police cars occupying the whole width of the street.

Benedict exited the car and didn't even bother to close the driver's door behind him as he stumbled toward the scene unraveling in front of him. His hands pushed past the curious bodies of his neighbours and his eyes roamed the faces around him for a glimpse at you.