Not Sherlock Holmes

Chapter Five

Benedict's POV

"Ben? Ben?" I struggle to focus on the fingers snapping in front of my face. "Earth to Sherlock Holmes, are you with us?" I nod impatiently.

"Yes, yes, stop that snapping. Can we get back to this?" Martin crosses his arms over his chest.

"You haven't even been listening. Mark just told you to go sleep on the couch." I pretend to remember, even though he's right: I wasn't listening.

"Right, yes, sorry." I run to the other end of the room and jump onto the couch.

Still, I cannot get the image of Veronica and Ian out of my head.

"You still weren't listening," Mark complains, exasperated. "Did you even look at the script?" I shake my head.

"Of course I did! This is the scene where you admit that you've secretly been in love with Mrs. Hudson since season 1." That gets a laugh from the rest of the crew, but Mark and Steven remain unimpressed.

"Idiot," Mark mutters. Steven approaches me.

"Listen, I know you're distracted by the pretty girl in the corner, but if you don't pull it together, I'll make them leave. And then do you know who I'm going to blame that on? You." I snort.

"I'm not distracted." Even though that's not true, it's not her beauty that has me distracted.

"We've never had issues like this before, Ben. What do you want me to think? Ever since they both arrived, you've been acting like... Well, Sherlock Holmes, to be precise." I smile at that.

"Excellent." In all honesty, at least Sherlock had Irene Adler to love. He smacks me across the chest.

"Grow up, Ben, or I'm rescinding the dinner deal." He looks me over suspiciously. "Not that you needed any motivation to entertain a grabby fan and her friend. Most likely, she would do absolutely anything you wanted..." I stop him.

"Shut up. I'm not that kind of man, and for you to imply..."

"I don't care. Right now, you're acting like a git, and I'm about ready to strangle you. Now get your act together." Moffat spins on his heel and heads for the back of the set where the restrooms are.

Someone hands me a script to quickly skim over, but I still can't stop thinking about Ian's face while he was looking at Veronica.

How is it that I can be 37 and yet I haven't found someone I can look at in that way?

I've been in relationships, of course. But what is so different about the young people backstage? What exactly do they have?

I shake my head, trying to clear away these ridiculous thoughts. Steven's right: I'm becoming distracted, and it's going to be my downfall.

Still, it hadn't occurred to me until now how much I desire that kind of partnership.

"Are you ready now?" Mark looks annoyed, but he's trying to suppress it for the sake of this scene. I nod once, jerkily.

"I'm ready," I say, and this time, I shove Veronica completely from my mind. For the sake of my job.