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

Chapter Thirty-Six

Veronica's POV

Benedict walks me out of the building, and there's a car waiting.

"No way. What did you-" I look at him, and he's smiling.

"Did you think I would make you walk, darling?" I'm glad that the waning light outside covers my deep blush somewhat. He opens the door for me, and I step into the passenger seat of the car.

What is this? Why is this happening? Is this is a date?

"If you want it to be," Benedict replies, and only then do I realize that I must have voiced my last thought.

"Oh, um, well-" He laughs.

"No pressure, Nica. I just thought that for tonight, we could be a bit more formal." Formal is right. I went for the nicest thing I owned to wear tonight, and I still look drab next to the sexy Benedict Cumberbatch.

Pull yourself together, I think to myself. Talk to the man, for goodness sakes!

"What's your favorite color?!" I blurt, and I immediately clamp a hand over my mouth. Where did that come from? What kind of question is that?

Benedict, however, as he puts the car into drive, stiffens a bit and looks at me. What is that in his eyes? Fear?

Did I say something wrong? Oh good gracious, he must think I'm stupid.

"Purple," he finally says. I feign surprise, still shaken by his reaction and by my demonstration of my lack of social skills.

"That's mine, too!"

"I know," Benedict whispers, but I lean in.

"I'm sorry?" He looks at me quickly, then back to the road.

"Nothing. What's your favorite movie?" And the Q&A begins.

Conversation is full of questions all the way to our destination. I hardly pay attention to where we are going, fully caught up in Benedict and his charming personality and his silly jokes.

"We're here," he says, putting the car in park. The sky is fully dark now, and I realize we're outside of town. We're in a park, and there's a little pavilion with a round table in the center. The table is laden with an elegant white tablecloth, two plates, silverwear, and glasses. I gasp.

"Oh my goodness! What did you do?" Benedict smiles at me.

"Well, I thought I would take you to a nice restaurant, but I didn't really want to deal with press and pictures and such. So I thought something more private would do." He gets out of the car and comes around to open my door, and he takes my hand, helping me out.

"Thank you," I murmur, a little at a loss for words. He still grips my hand, and he leads me to the table. The park is very pretty, and there's a little pond off to the left and a gazebo to the right. There's a little CD player that's playing instrumental music, and he gestures to it, embarrassed.

"I will admit, I fudged a bit on the music. I thought that it might be a litte... over the top to hire a violinist." I turn to him.

"This is definitely a date."

"Well, I didn't claim it wasn't."

"You just said that it could be if I wanted it to be."

"I did say that."

"Well, I want it to be." Benedict's smile widens, and he glows.

"Then a date it shall be called." I laugh in spite of myself.