Sparkling Diamonds

I sat cross legged on one of the bar stools in the kitchen. In front of me was Ben's computer that I had asked to borrow for a while since I didn't really have my own. I logged into my emails and scrolled through them, checking for the call sheet that Mark had promised earlier.

I eventually found it amongst the other emails that had accumulated over the last few days that I had been bed bound. I still had the cast on my arm and it hurt like hell, especially after I had used to it fend off my "former" husband. Benedict had taken me to the hospital earlier to get a new cast and also to check that my arm was still healing well.

I still had, thank God, the use of my main writing hand, which also meant that I could draw to help calm me when times were rough and I couldn't always go to Benedict, Eliza, or Bianca for comfort.

I quickly ran over the call sheet to find out that we had to be there at some ridiculous time in the morning…although I had to be there earlier then Benedict to help co-ordinate people, get costumes ready and everything else that I was required to do as a Production Designer. Hopefully, everyone wouldn't ask too much about the cast and the news of what happened with my husband didn't get passed Mark otherwise I would have a whole other issue to deal with -- the press.

I knew, at some point, they would have to get involved in some aspect of my life now that I had attached myself to Benedict. We hadn't made anything official yet, which is probably why it would spark some interest in the tabloids.

What I didn't understand was why so many people were interested in snooping around in other peoples lives. Couldn't they just leave you alone? Surely you would have your own problems and didn't exactly want to deal with anyone else's.

I shut the lid of the computer and called out to Benedict that I had finished using it. He had disappeared into the bathroom last time that I knew so I left it on the kitchen bench and went to sit upon the couch that Benedict had made himself because he wanted me to take the bed as he thought it was inappropriate that we slept together…not like we hadn't slept in the same bed before.

I pulled myself under the doona he had put there and rested my head on the soft pillow. I looked out across the room, not really focussing on anything and just taking in the sound f the room. It was quite compared to what I was used to -- the loud banging noises of my husband clambering for another drink; a smashing of plates; or the cheers from the television set when he boosted the volume of one of the EPL games.

I sighed, closing my eyes and enjoyed the silence that I heard. I drifted off, noticing a slight sound of someone moving across the room whom I could only assume was Benedict. He knelt down beside the couch and leaned his face close into mine. Soon enough, he slipped his arms underneath my body and carried me to his bedroom.

So much for his plan of separating himself rom me as he placed me lightly on the bed and slipping off the covers that he had carried with him from the couch. Quickly, he slipped me under the covers of the bed and joined me. I felt the warm touch of his skin as it pressed against my own, his firm hands puling me close and his nose burying itself into my hair. I wriggled closer to him, curling up at his side, as I drifted off into a soundless sleep.

I was glad that I had a good nights rest and that I had stayed with Benedict because the next day when we began shooting the first episode of the third season of "Sherlock," things certainly got messy. Not relationship messy but bloody.

By the end of the day, I was pretty sure that my fingers would be permanently stained with blood as I painted various items of clothing, pieces of set, and eventually Benedict in which he refused for any make-up artists to apply the blood.

I was lead to the make-up tent when I had dealt with everything that I needed to. We we filming just out of London in an old car yard with cars that no one wanted anymore. Benedict was sitting upon a chair in one of the corners, fending off one of the make-up artists who tried to attack his face with a brush.

I smiled to myself as I watched this happen from the edge of the tent. When the make-up artist caught a glimpse of me, she dropped her head and backed away from Benedict before finally setting down her brush.

"He's being…difficult," she said, her accent thick.

"It's because you're not doing it right," Benedict retorted as I made my way into the tent. He caught a glimpse of my fake blood stained fingers and motioned for the make-up artists to take notice. "And that's how you do make-up. You get your hands dirty."

The make-up artist blushed a deep red and was about to make another comment when I said, "I'm not interested. If an actor feels uncomfortable when you're applying their make-up, you must be doing something wrong. You're dismissed."

"Dismissed?" the make-up artist stuttered.

I picked up a basic coverup for Benedict, thinking a movement as I glanced between the make-up and Benedict, before placing the make-up back down and picked up some of the blood that the make-up artist should have been using.

"Yes, dismissed," I replied. She looked like she didn't understand what I was saying, like I was speaking a completely different language. I glanced to Benedict. "Another for dismissed because I don't think our lovely make-up artist here, whatever your name must be, doesn't understand the term of being fired."

"What?" the make-up artists gasped. "I've been working her for years! Who are you to fire me?"

"I am the Production Designer for this show and I can pick and choose who works with me on this team," I said. "I expect the best and I am afraid that you haven't given it." Her mouth hung open, unable to say another word. "Leave." With a humph, she stormed off completely irritated. I turned back to Benedict, hand upon my hip and eye brow raised. "Happy?"

"Extremely," he said with a slightly smile as I moved towards him and started applying blood where I needed to. "Aren't you meant to put on some bottom layer in this whole make-up thing?"

"Are you kidding," I said as I felt his eyes following me as I attached his face. "I don't need to ruin your perfect skin with that kind of make-up."

"You're too kind," he replied, kissing me on the forehead as I finished my work.

"Perfect," I said, setting down the fake blood.

"You're the one that's perfect," he said, standing from his seat as he looked down at me.

"Are you paying me a complement, Mr. Holmes?" I said, trying not to be too intimidated by his looming presence.

"I think I am," he said, knocking up my chin. "Heads up, little one. You're time to feel as beautiful as I know you are will come."

"Like that will ever happen," I sighed, moving away from him to try and clean some of the blood off my fingers.

"That time is actualy sooner then you think," he said.

"What do you mean?" I said, glancing up to him a sI cleaned my fingers.

"My birthday is on two days," he said, placing his hands on the small of my back. "And I want you to be the star attraction."

"You're birthday is in two days?" I gasped as I turned to him. "How did I not know that?"

"I didn't want you to burden yourself with trying to get something for me," he said. "But I decided to tell you know incase you turned pat home to find a party there and be totally unprepared."

"Well, thanks for the short notice!" I said. "And besides, this doesn't stop me from wanting to do something special for you."

"Surprise me," he said, sensually place his lips upon mine as he playfully kissed me and left my side.

I watched him rejoin the crew as I thought of something that I could do for his birthday. I looked down at my fingers, seeing that they were still stained. I made a noise as I turned back to the table to try and remove the stains. This, however, lead to something else completely.

As I removed the blood red stains, I thought back to the drawings that I had done of him and how they relaxed me, how awestruck Ben was at my drawings. When I thought of this, the day's filming suddenly went quicker then I would have expected. I hovered about the set, fixing what needed to be done and making sure that all pieces of set, costumes, and make-up were packed away safely so we could use it the next day.

At all costs, I avoided Benedict and hurried back into London. I caught a lift with Eliza and Bianca, who questioned what I was doing walking around without Benedict right by my side.

"I have something important to do," I said as they dropped me off at the nearest shopping centre. "Without him."

"What's going on?" Bianca questioned suspiciously.

"Nothing," I replied. "I have something important to do that doesn't require him right by my side."

And with that, I hurried into the shopping centre and went to the nearest arts and crafts store where I bought a large canvass and some paints. The cashier gave me a strange look as I carried all of these things to the nearest taxi to take me back to Benedict's apartment.

I found him waiting for me in the foyer, pacing up and down. Martin was leaning against the wall nearby, trying to calm Benedict down but clearly, it wasn't working. When Martin caught sight of me, he clicked in front of him to catch Benedict's eye and pointed him towards where I stood at the entrance to the foyer with all my painting gear.

"Where have you been?" he said breathlessly, hurrying over to me and clearly distraught about something and I could tell it wasn't about missing me.

"What happened?" I asked.

"My lawyer called," he said. "And it's not good."