Benedict Cumberbatch and the Bodyguard

Muted Aria

This case had me vexed. I made the coffee with extra fervor. Ben's stalker was not the face of one but the face of many—the invisibles.

"Yo Anderson, get your head out of your arse and get on with making the jo."

I looked at the speaker and grimaced. Even with my head up my ass, I could see more than you—moron. I forced my facial muscles to smile. "Yes sir, right away." I ignored their laughter, continuing on with my task, focusing on the movement of my hands.

"Good morning, Charlotte."

My headed snapped to attention. "Good morning...Mr. Cumberbatch."

He winked. "It's Ben to you."

My hands shook, attempting to look cool, then yelping when my skin came into contact with the hot contents of my cup. "Damn." That should have been the end of it, right? Dear god, it wasn't. My foot became entangled on the edge of the table leg. I watched in horror when the coffee urn tottered, then fell to the ground in a metallic crash.

"Bloody hell, Anderson, can't you even get coffee without cocking it up?"

Ben stepped forward. "Now see here it was just an accident."

The team lead's jaw tightened. "Mr. Cumberbatch, where is your personal bodyguard?"

Ben smiled. "He's going to be displeased. I've ditched him."

"Mr. Cumberbatch, how do expect us to keep you safe if you insist on breaking the rules?"

Ben's expression sobered, "You're quite right of course." He bent down to help me.

The team lead stepped forward. "Mr. Cumberbatch, please this area hasn't been secured."

Ben stood up, fixing his bright eyes on me. "Hang in there, Charlotte."

My throat felt raw and swollen. I nodded, looking down at the coffee that pooled around my knees.

After he left, the team lead rounded on me. "Get this cleaned up. Do you want me to petition the boss to have you removed from this job? Stay away from Mr. Cumberbatch."

I looked up at him. "He came over to me."

"Well, avoid him at all costs. I don't care how bloody wet he makes your panties."

Oh my god, I want to die.

"Hey, Sommers, none of that talk. The last thing we need is another sexual harassment suit and bloody hell the man even makes my pants wet and I'm as straight as an arrow. Now quit bothering Anderson and get back to work, that is if you can walk straight."

I put my hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, then glanced up at the head of our entire unit. "Anderson, let hospitality clean this up. Go and check in with analytics."

I wobbled to my feet. "Yes, sir."

I checked in with analytics, then began to look through the employment records from the tea shop. Nothing stood out, so I started with the most recent hires. I spent hours watching surveillance footage of the employees, rubbing my fatigued eyes in frustration. Wait hang on. I ran back a section, then grinned. "I found something." I shouted.

"Jesus, Anderson, what are you trying to do raise the bloody dead?"

I ignored, pointing to my screen. "Look."

"I don't see anything. Just a bloke kissing his girl."

I magnified the picture. "Look, at her bag."

He sighed. "What about it?"

"Read what it says."

"Well, there's a happy face and it says, Keep Calm and Get Sherlock."

"One of the tea shop's employees' girlfriend is a Sherlock fan."

He rubbed his chin. "Better call in the boss."

This is it. I'm going to get my recognition and potentially crack the case and keep Ben safe.

The boss came in and pointed out the findings to the boss. Here it comes. Good work, Anderson.

"Good job, Simmons."

What?!

I knew better than to yell at Simmons, while the boss stood there. After he left, I walked over to where Simmons sat, all smug-like. "I found that clue. How come you didn't tell him?"

Simmons shrugged. "What does it matter? We're a team, right?"

"I've been at this for almost twelve hours."

"Twelve hours, really? Is sounds as if you need to knock off for the night. Good night, Anderson."

I stared at him, imagined my hands his throat, then left without a word. Once outside, I sat down, pulled out my e-cig, then sighed. "Oh, hell, this calls for a real one." My hands shook a little when I lit it, anticipating the mouth hit and the nicotine buzz. I inhaled. Oh, hell that's glorious. Too bad they kill.

I turned on my phone, checked my messages, then pushed my music app. The haunting sounds of Violetta's aria, Addio Del Passato from La Traviata filled my earbuds. I closed my eyes, allowing the aria to wash over me. Like a desert traveler ready to release the genie from its lamp, I unplugged my earbuds from the phone. The music echoed around the empty courtyard. I smiled. The notes are free.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

I jumped, then looked up at the speaker. There could be no mistaking those dulcet tones. There he stood— Benedict, so beautiful, so kind, so generous, so unavailable. I wanted to yell at him, to vent my anxiety, boredom, and loneliness, but my vexed spirit melted when his glowing eyes looked into mine. My sorrow is my own. I won't let him see. "Yes, it is." Then I plugged the earbud back into its slot, muting its beauty. My sadness belongs to me. "Goodnight, Mr. Cumberbatch."

"Ben, remember?"

I didn't contradict him, but didn't call him Ben, afraid that his name would stumble through my cracked lips, like the crashing coffee pot. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Charlotte."