Normalcy

xx the meeting xx

A/N This is really just a fic I started writing one day that became a lot longer and more detailed than expected. I may continue to post chapters depending on the kind of response this gets so hey, give it a try. xx

The sky threatened a storm, the greyness of it making for a bleary day. No sun rays peeked from behind the clouds to shine their light upon the cracked sidewalk. The click clack of his shoes beat a scattered rhythm into the concrete as he stumbled from the artificial flashes of light and shouted inquisitions, his hands stuffed deep into his jacket pockets. Looking back behind him was critical every couple of minutes to ensure he had indeed lost them and their heavy camera equipment.

Benedict found it ridiculous that he had to wear sunglasses on a cloudy day such as this. The camera flashes blinded him otherwise. At the start of his inclination towards the top of the charts he hadn't known how to deal with things such as paparazzi. They attacked him, not caring about personal space. He stumbled his way through the dizzying flashes only to emerge in the street with black dots careening across his vision. Benedict felt drunk, the way he moved and the way his brain worked-- or didn't work-- reminding him of a bachelor party he attended months before, but without the happiness. It wasn't something he'd forget come morning.

Fumbling for his keys in his pocket, he had finally entered the car, the tinted windows blocking their view. The picture-taking stopped eventually, no one wanting a photo of a car idly sitting on the pavement. Once the lightheadedness faded he drove to the nearest store to buy a pair of sunglasses-- the ones with the darkest tint he could find.

That same pair rested on his face now, rarely ever taken off when he was in public. Looking ahead of him he found himself in a part of town he'd never been to. He had to admit to himself that he got lost easily. The shop names around him seemed vaguely familiar. Someone had probably told him details about it before. Drawing out a map in his head-- the irony was not lost on him-- he remembered a dear friend of his mentioning a massive book store a few blocks away. He figured going there was his best chance of discovering his location.

The only thing he worried about were the type of people that were in there. Fans of his were usually never too far away from books. Huffing, he sped up, hoping to get it over with as quickly as possible. He had meant to simply run a few errands and get out for a couple minutes after being trapped in the house for far too long. Now he had to face the screaming and pretend he wasn't too tired for the foolish antics. Benedict Cumberbatch was just a regular person (albeit with a silly name) that happened to have his face posted all over magazines and the Internet. Meeting him wasn't that spectacular.

As he rounded the corner, someone slammed into him, a squeal of panic emanating from them. Benedict landed on his bottom with an oof, his sunglasses falling from his face. They were then shoved into his pocket instead of back on his face.

Looking up, he saw a girl examining her scratched hands. A book laid next to her, the pages bent and creased at weird angles. Upon seeing the book, her damaged hands were long forgotten as she smoothed the pages back out to the best of her ability. From what he could tell, the book was new. The bright, unscathed cover and barely worn spine is what gave it away. He concluded it was from the book store he was trying to get to.