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

Chapter Thirty-Four

Veronica's POV

Benedict walks me back to my apartment, and when we reach it, we remain standing awkwardly on the sidewalk together.

I feel like I've become immersed into one of those celebrity fan fictions where the hot celebrity falls for the regular old girl.

"Thank you, Veronica, for coming with me." I feel my cheeks heat up.

"Really, I already told you: you can call me Nica." Benedict's face changes upon hearing that. His mouth twists into a smile that I can't quite read.

"Nica." He practically breathes it, and I feel the hair on my arms raise.

"I had a lot of fun," I offer, and his smile widens.

"I'm glad. What are you doing tomorrow?" My jaw drops.

"Tomorrow, too? You haven't had enough of me yet?"

"Nope. I'm feeling a bit like I'm... floating... away..." Benedict wears a silly grin on his face as he pretends to drift away, and I giggle.

"Oh so you need another dose of 'reality'?" He leans in and whispers in my ear.

"Always." I shiver all over.

Suddenly nervous, I step away and back up toward the staircase into my apartment building.

"Thank you, really. And I'm not doing anything tomorrow, so-"

"How am I supposed to get a hold of you?" I'm already at the door.

"You know where I live," I reply, my heart pounding, as I let the door close slowly in front of me; Benedict's face is gone, and I am alone.

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

"I'm home!" Mckenzie announces as she walks into the apartment, keys jangling. I hear her bustling, but I remain where I lay on my bed. "Nica?"

It was almost as if Benedict knew me. And not just knew me. He knew everything about me. He understood me. He got me.

But we only ever met that one time. And even then, it's not like he paid me much attention. I was an irritating fan, and he was a sexy actor.

"Niiiiica?"

Come to think of it, he's still sexy. How does he still look so fantastic? He's got to be in his forties now.

"He's in his forties!" I screech suddenly, fully comprehending. Kenzie knocks on my door.

"Who's forty? Nica, you okay?" I let my face fall back into my pillow.

"Come in!" I call, but it is muffled by the pillow. Kenzie opens the door.

"I assume that was an invitation. Darling, what is wrong with you?" She sits on the bed next to me. "Are you okay? Who's forty? What's going on?"

"Benedict Cumberbatch is in his forties," I say, but of course, my speech is still muffled.

"Nica, please act like the 28 year old that you are for a moment and tell me what your problem is." I lift my head.

"How can Benedict Cumberbatch be in his forties and still be gorgeous?" Kenzie smirks.

"So that's your problem? Honey, there are more fish in the sea." My eyes narrow.

"You might not say that after I tell you about my afternoon." She cocks her head to the side and eyes me curiously.

"What happened this afternoon? What does it have to do with Benedict's gorgeousness?"

I relay to Kenzie everything that happened since I left work this afternoon, and she sits there silently until I finish, unresponsive.

"Kenzie? Kenzie, what do you make of it?" She places a hand on my forehead.

"That is one heck of a fever. You're delirious." I roll my eyes.

"I'm telling the truth. It happened. It happened, and I think I'm going to die." Her turn to roll her eyes.

"You're so dramatic. Always looking for some way to get attention." She smirks, stands, and walks out. "Did you want something specific for dinner? I was just going to bake a frozen pizza." I flop back onto the bed.

"No!" I call.

"I still don't speak pillow, genius," she calls, and I hear her working in the kitchen.

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

Mckenzie has long started snoring in her own bedroom, but I go to my closet and pull out my old DVD copies of Sherlock seasons 1, 2, and 3. I put the most recent season, made about a year before his disappearance, into my computer and wait for it to load.

I smile fondly, remembering how much I really loved this show back when it was popular. The first episode is when Sherlock finally reveals himself to John after having faked his death, and I giggle during the restaurant scene when John tackles Sherlock to the ground.

Still, I'm mesmerized by Benedict's face. Because he hasn't changed a bit. He looks exactly the same. How can that be? How can he look exactly how he looked back in 2013?

Out of curiosity, I search it, knowing the I'm not the only person who's noticed this. My Google search page is filled with crazy theories, all having to do with time travel and such, which "obviously explains his ten-year long disappearance". I exit out of Google, disappointed that I found nothing truly plausible.

It's the internet. What did I expect?

I continue with the episode, and my heart swells with happy memories of forcing Ian to watch Sherlock with me.

I watch Benedict's long body move about on screen. His lips as he talks. His eyes as he observes. I'm entranced.

I fall asleep to the sound of his voice.