Can't Love You {Sequel to "Not Sherlock Holmes"}

Chapter Thirty-One

Benedict's POV

"Ben, I don't feel right leaving you like this," the Doctor had said before riding away in his TARDIS. I shrugged it off.

"I'll be fine. Really." I don't lie very convincingly.

"There's always a chance you can get her back," he tried to assure me.

"I plan on trying," was all I said before turning away and leaving.

I couldn't even remember where my flat was. I was sort of shocked to find everything normal again, and I wandered for hours before remembering what end of town I used to live in.

By then, though, I started getting strange looks from passer-byers, and I tried to ignore them. Finally, I was approached.

"Sir, you wouldn't happen to be Benedict Cumberbatch would you?"

I couldn't exactly lie.

I was swarmed by people and, soon after that, reporters. I didn't know where to go. After years of being able to handle press and fans appropriately, I was at a loss at what to do in the face of so much attention and exposure.

"Where have you been?"

"Where did you go?"

"What happened?"

Over and over again. All things that I wish I could forget.

Wait, no. I don't want to forget.

I just don't want to talk about it. Ever. To anyone.

Except Veronica.

The one name that resonates within me. Over and over again. It's like my whole being just cries out for her. It feels her loss and longs for her.

The days following that were filled with interviews and reporters fighting for my attention.

I found Martin that first night.

The door to his home opened, and he stared at me.

"I saw the news. I wasn't sure I believed them." I smiled.

"Did you miss me?" He almost hit me for that comment, but it was followed by a tight embrace.

"I hate you, you know that? And you owe me an explanation." I sighed. I wished I could explain it all to him. I really did.

If only you had agreed to remember, I thought to myself.

In the end, I told him exactly what I had decided I would tell the press. He wasn't satisfied with it, but he didn't pressure me into saying anything else. Amanda made some food, and we sat around and talked.

"Can I stay with you?" I asked out of the blue.

"Umm, yes, of course. Why?" I flush a bit.

"Turns out my flat was sold a few years ago. I'm going to have to find myself somewhere else to live." He told me I was welcome there for as long as I took to settle back down. I was grateful.

"Ben, you don't have to tell me, but it wasn't about a girl, was it?" I rewarded him with a half-smile.

"Something like that."

--------------------------

"I'm sure everyone's been asking you, Ben. But really: where were you?" Mark Gatiss sits across from me in his high-backed armchair. I'm sitting in his flat with Steven and Martin, and we're drinking coffee around a large round table.

"I was telling the truth when I told the press that I just had to get away." He purses his lips.

"I don't believe you." I shrug.

"You don't have to." Silence as we sip our coffee.

"Steven, I have a favor to ask of you." He chuckles in response.

"Already? You've only been back a week. What could you possibly need?" I set my mug down on the coaster and lean back in my chair.

"An address. Specifically the address of a young woman." Eyebrows raise all around the table.

"A young woman?" Martin repeats, puzzled. I nod slowly.

"Yes. We had two fans come visit the set shortly before I... left. I would really like the address of the woman called 'Veronica Blake'." Steven gapes at me.

"Why would you want her address?" I roll my eyes.

"Really, I don't know why you care. I'd just really like it."

"Forgive us for being curious, Benedict. We just worry. And wonder." I sigh.

"Personal reasons, gentlemen. That's all you need to know." Steven stands and sets his own coffee down.

"Fine, I can get that for you. Although I don't believe you."

"You don't have to," I say again. Small smiles all around.

----------------

Still, no matter how I act around people and reporters during the day, my nights are filled with horrors. Nightmares.

I wake up in a cold sweat, images of Veronica's lifeless body fresh in my mind. I cover my eyes, but the picture remains. I cover my ears, but nothing can silence the gun going off repeatedly in my brain.

I'm happy that the Lumaros are gone. I'm happy that everything is back to normal.

Except it isn't normal.

I wonder if I'm going mad. Other people will begin to pick up on it, if I am. After all, I witnessed the world's near-destruction. I witnessed my friend's deaths. Now they're standing before me, and it's almost too much.

Maybe I should have opted for forgetting.

Ignorance is bliss, no?

The constant lying, the clueless humans that surround me. The long days and the longer nights.

They're all worth it because I am occasionally graced with a wonderful memory of Veronica. Her kind smile. Her green eyes.

So I slowly fall back onto my pillow, close my eyes, and prepare for the worst. I asked for it, after all.