Sparkling Diamonds

I woke up, breathing heavily and the sweat I was producing making my t-shirt (or was it Ben's?) stick to my body. I looked down at myself, turning my hands this way and that, only thinking if that dream was real, I could have been dead right now.

I touched the bed around me, making sure that I wasn't falling into the world below like my dream had been. I took a deep breath in attempts to calm myself down. It was okay. I wasn't on the edge of a building about fall off into James' embrace. I was here. On the bed. With Benedict lying asleep beside me.

I wiped the sweat off my forehead and got out of the bed, trying not to wake Benedict up as I got out. I walked around the other side of the bed and kissed him upon the forehead. He shifted slightly but didn't wake up. I watched him, for a moment, while he slept.

His soft, dyed brown hair curled against his forehead. There was a small line of blonde regrowth visible against his forehead, lightening his features only slightly. Benedict's puckered lips were lined with a soft, unshaven beard he yet had to shave. He looked peaceful, beautiful. I wanted to take him in my arms but didn't want to risk disturbing his sleep.

Instead, I shuffled across the bedroom and into the main living room. It was still messy from the previous night, tables still lined across the floor and glasses filling these tables. I wanted to get cleaning at that moment but that would've given nothing for the cleaners to do in the morning. I shuffled over to the kitchen and made myself a cup of tea.

Sipping from the mug, I went to look at the photograph that I had painted of Benedict. I still couldn't believe I could have painted something like that but I couldn't complain. Benedict loved it and it was his birthday present. I smiled and shifted the painting so that it stood amongst the large collection of artwork and pieces of set that he managed to collect.

I then walked over to the window and looked out across the city. The sun was starting to come up, casting a beautiful light across the buildings. I looked down and my breath caught in my throat. I dropped the mug and it smashed across the floor around my feet. I sucked in a large amount of air but not really feeding it too my lungs. Hyperventilating, it's called.

I collapsed to the ground, lying on my side and my vision going blurry. My lips were number and I couldn't feel my hands or feet. I tried to move my hands to touch the window, trying to touch the sunlight that pouring into the apartment.

I felt so numb that I didn't even realise that Benedict was at my side and rolling me onto my back so that he could see me. There was so much concern in his features, in his soft touch, that I wanted to cry. But only I couldn't. He was dressed in a t-shirt and his boxers, not even caring what he looked like in the rush from his bed to the lounge room.

"Be-ben-bene--" I tried to say but my haggard breath's prevented me from doing so.

"It's okay, it's okay," he said, taking my head into his head and pushing some hair off my face. "I love you." I managed to flick a smile across my lips and receive a kiss upon my forehead. "Don't think that I didn't feel that when you got out of bed."

His face soon came back into focus, able to see all the curves and beauty of his face. I took in another deep breath, calming the tightness in my throat and stomach. The feeling in my hands and my feet soon came back to me, but it was a long while before it did and Benedict stayed with me the entire time.

"Why does everything have to happen to me," I said in a voice still recovering from a dream that I had just relived. "I feel so weak, so useless."

"You are one of the strongest women I have ever met," he said, his deep voice rumbling over me.

"But not strong enough for you," I said.

"Why would you say something like that?"

"Because I've been told I'm worthless and inconsiderate for the majority of my marriage to James. How could you not let something like that affect you?"

"You learn to."

"You've had more practice then me."

"Just because I'm an actor doesn't mean that I can't pretend its there. It's always there, wanting to bring me down."

Pushing myself up from the floor and his embrace, I sat cross legged in front of him with my back to the rising sun that was caught in his eye, creating a deep sea that I would purposely get lost in. Anytime. Anywhere.

Benedict takes a deep breath, pressing his hand against his chest, and glancing to the side. I watched him as his body began to change, his features withdrawing into himself. He runs his hand over his messy, bed hair and flattening it out.

The morning light suddenly made him look pale, sick, and totally unlike him. His dark, Sherlock hair washed him out, and his eyes becoming dull. His depressing sadness just suddenly took over him like a horde of bulls racing towards you and your unable to stop it.

"Even after all you've gone through, you've still managed to find some sort of kindness for me," Benedict whispered, his lips barely moving. "Do you have any idea what that means?"

"That we're here to support each other," I said, keeping my distance from him and letting him process alone. Alone, though? That's the last thing that I wanted him to feel. "You are one of the most brilliantly talented men I have ever met. You are six foot of sex on legs that I will never get tired of."

Benedict smiled but it was soon swallowed into his depressive state.

"I want to try something," I said, remembering the words that he had said to me in my saddened state.

I leaned in, afraid to do so. Our noses bump, touching each other playfully. I then moved to the side, letting our noses slide together, the first parts of our bodies to connect. My heart was beating so fast, filled with desire, but I feared it. How can someone fear desire when they crave it so?

My hands rested upon his crossed legs, feeling the soft muscle underneath my fingers. I pressed my hand further into his legs, feeling him fully. I lifted one of my hands to rest behind his neck, running my fingers along the bare flesh there.

With my nose touching his cheek, my eyes fluttering between being open and closed, I felt a tear catch between us. I shifted slightly, kissing the tear away. He let out a sob, forcing my heart to beat faster, wanting to heal his heart of his self-concious issues.

"Is that my t-shirt?" Benedict asked, his fingers tugging at the t-shirt that I wore.

"Yes," was the only word that could escape my lips.

His breath was warm and sweet, especially from the drinks he had consumed the previous night. It rolled over me as he pulled the t-shirt over my head and cast it aside. Everything burned within me and the only cure was the taste of his lips. His breath was giving me a slight taste and killing me so.

"Who are you?" I trembled, feeling his fingers press into my half naked body, only covered by the underwear that had remained on throughout the night.

"Benedict Cumberbatch," he replied as he helped me remove his t-shirt to his tense, thin body. He had lost so much of his muscle from some other film that he had done. Star Trek, I think it was. I had missed the chance to explore it, but at least this was Benedict. Even if it was a thin version of him.

"Who are you?" I repeated, not happy with the answer that he had given.

"Benedict Cumberbatch," he exclaimed.

I pushed him down onto the floor and climbed on top of him. Growling, I took his face in my hands and dipped into his lips, but not kissing them. His depression had been knocked out of him and rolled across the floor, far away from ever returning.

"Who are you?" I begged, collapsing into his chest and burying myself in it.

"You're husband."

I sat up so quickly that I became light headed. I grasped the sides of my head and shut my eyes tightly. His wife? What was he talking about? What was he trying to say? Was he...?

"Oh my gosh," I snapped, opening my eyes and looking down at him. "Are you proposing?"

"I don't...know," he said slowly, thinking about what he had just uttered. "I think I am?"

"I hope you are," I said, reaching over to his fingers upon his left hand where I found two sets of rings upon his ring finger. "Because, dear Mr. Cumberbatch, I will do so if you don't have the guts to."

He sat up and wrapped his legs around my waist and mine around his. We were connected, and now forever.

"If it's one thing that I'm not afraid to do is ask you to marry me," he insisted.

"Yet you are too afraid to afraid to face yourself," I said, still holding his hand, I took off one of the rings and slipped it onto my ring finger upon my left hand.

"Hello, Mrs. Cumberbatch," he said, extending his hand towards me and I accepted it. "Nice to meet you."