Sparkling Diamonds

I don't know how long it had been, but it had been months since I last saw him. It was like I was living through my computer...finding out tidbits of information about him that I wouldn't have know otherwise. I wish I could have been there with him, encouraging him through the interviews, press conferences and days of filming in which he would return to his hotel room exhausted. Without another woman...I would hope. I knew he wouldn't be the kind of person that would leave be behind, but it certainly felt that way.

Since Sherlock had wrapped, everything seemed to step into fifth gear. The world swirled passed and I barely even registered that it was only 31 days until Christmas. And it would be a lonely Christmas at that. We were on two different continents in which a plane ticket of any class would be out of my price range. He was a rising star and I was stuck in his apartment with my sketch pad and a painting that I had done for him on his birthday that hung like a prized possession on the wall amongst his other pieces of memorabilia.

In these past months, I had snuck into previews of his movies, which included "The Fifth Estate," "August: Osage County" and "12 Years A Slave." Although he seemed to be vying for his credit amongst a larger cast of names, he stood out. To me, at least. He was my....partner and I was proud of his achievements even though they had drawn us physically apart for such long periods of time. He offered to fly me out, or even to fly back to me for a few days but I couldn't let him do that. He needed to focus and I refused to be a source of a distraction while he worked. I knew that was a lie as soon as I mentioned it. The filming of Sherlock was a distraction in itself, especially in his relationship to me. He had so much on his plate and still managed to find time to care for the situation that I found myself in and that situation that I kindly avoided as much as I could, while the lawyer assigned to my case did the best they could for me.

I had to attend to court, at least once, since the case seemed to be a very straight forward one -- according to the lawyer. Eliza was there as a support, and as a witness, in telling the jury of the abuse my ex-husband had committed against me. I was surprised to even see Bianca there, but Eliza made sure that we weren't close enough to talk. Despite her betrayal, she still provided a statement against James and spurring the jury further into my favour. Bianca returned to her seat upon the final questions being asked from both sides. Eliza glared Bianca into the opposing side of the room and kept a close eye upon her in her peripheral vision. It was clear that Eliza had become protective of me, especially since Benedict had been globe trotting for work.

Eliza took my hand and squeezed hard. I knew that she would always be there if I needed a friend to confide in.

Photographs were shown and my lawyer made his closing statement, followed by the lawyer that the state had provided to represent James. He barely said a few words, knowing that the case was lost. He barely put up a fight. My eyes flickered to James, dressed in a tacky suit and tie. He stared straight ahead into nothingness. I guessed that he accepted the fact that what he had done was costing him seriously and right now, and for a long time into the future, he would have next to no control over his life -- let alone another's.

The jury returned not long after they were dismissed by the judge. My lawyer glanced back to me with a glint in his eye, sensing the results were positive. And they were. James would be sentenced to at least 15 years in prison. Although it wasn't desirable, he would be near the end of his life by the time he would be released. We both will be different people by then, or so I would hope. I could count on myself to have changed but no matter how much more James will have to endure during his time in prison, I know that somewhere deep within him, that memory of his abuse towards me would still be apart of him. He would still hold that deep seeded anger that could be set off into full flight at the sight of a spark.

It was then that he finally broke his distant gaze and glanced back to me amongst the almost empty chairs of the court room. It was only a brief second but even in his glance, I could feel that he had control of me. My breath became caught in my throat and my grip upon Eliza's hand tightened to the extent she squeaked underneath my grip. She gave me a look of concern before following my gaze to James. She turned towards me in a way that would break eye contact between us but it still didn't release the tension in my chest and the grip upon her hand.

The security guards behind her went to cuff James and lead him off into a side room.

The lawyer noticed my tension and moved into a position beside me. He placed a calming hand upon my shoulder said something that I didn't hair. My eyes shifted to Eliza, trying to read her. Her eyes were wide with worry and her features telling me to remain calm. I began to shake underneath their touch, shaking from the core of my being. It was the first time that I had seen James in a very long time and that one single look told me that it wasn't over. Not in his mind.

My mind had frozen so much that I didn't even realise that I had been transported into Eliza's car and we were on our way back to Benedict's apartment. What was I saying? Our apartment. Eliza fumbled for my set of keys that would let us into the underground carpark and swiped my gate key across the buzzer. We drove through to a parking space that correlated to the apartment and she was over to my side of the car in a flash. She took my arm gently and guided me to the elevator in which she pressed our level and waited nervously against the wall. Everything dripped concern.

When she received a text message, she didn't want to answer it. She didn't want to take her eyes off me for even a second incase something went wrong. She didn't want to risk it, but when her mobile continually chimed with messages, she couldn't just ignore it. She pulled out her phone from her black bag and let her eyes quickly run over the messages. The ding of the elevator brought her back to reality as she then lead me to the couch by the window. I sat there, staring out the city below.

Dumping everything on the ground in front of her, Eliza took a seat next to me on the couch and continued to stare. It was then that I decided to break my silence. Her constant staring, worrying, finally drew me out to say..."You're freaking me out."

That cracked a smile in her worry as she rested a hand upon mine, saying, "So are you. Can I get you some tea?"

"No, thank you," I replied. "I think I'm just going to go to bed."

"You've had a long day," she said. "Are you sure you're going to be okay? Don't need me to hang around?"

"No, you go home," I said, finally looking at her. "I suspect Benedict is waiting to hear from me."

Eliza nodded understandingly. She said, "Just call if you need anything. I'm not too far away."

She stood from the chair and disappeared from the apartment. I was left alone, again, in such a big place that I didn't know what to do with all the space. I don't know how much longer I had sat there for but by the time that I did, the sun was setting a beautiful shade of orange over the city, and I was force to my feet for the bedroom. I plugged my dead mobile into it's charger and discarded all my clothes on the way to the bathroom. I turned on the shower, all heat and no cooling, and let the clouds of moisture wash over me. It felt more then a sauna, it felt like the hell that James put me through. In a moment, I turned the water to freezing cold -- like the change that Benedict provided.

I stepped into the shower when it was warm enough for me to withstand and let the water run over me like a waterfall. I didn't wash myself, no shampoo or conditioner or body wash. I just let the water cascade over my charred body and my exhausted brain.

By the time that I had wrapped myself in a robe and threw a change of clothes onto the bed, I checked my phone to see that I had received multiple texts from Eliza asking me if I had called Benedict yet because he had started harassing her to make sure that I was still alive. Also amongst them were a large amount of voice mails and missed calls from Benedict. I knew how annoyed he was at the fact that he couldn't be here during the court case, but who knew that he would be this obsessive.

I changed into my pyjamas and exchanged the robe for a towel that I wrapped turban style around my head. I settled back into the bed and decided to return one of his many missed calls...and it went straight into message bank. I snorted loudly and put the phone aside. Probably busy, like usual. Not disturbed by the thought, I drifted off into a broken sleep alone in my bed.

Over breakfast and a cup of coffee, I was graced with many updates of his whereabouts and the interviews that he had taken. I gave a small smile when I came across an interview where he had left his mobile off silent and someone had called through. There was only one person that could have been and his expression widened that taught smile of mine. He had obviously tried to call after that but I knew with the time differences, we could barely even spend five minutes together without being interrupted on his end so I decided to leave it for even longer. I knew that I should have tried to keep some sort of contact but it was hard when all I wanted to do was hear his voice.

I opened up an email, hoping he would be able to read it in the little spare time that he had. I asked him if he would be coming home for Christmas, although I doubted he would. He was spending a lot of time in the United States that I was becoming used to the fact that I would have a lot of alone time and breathing space. That would be something that I would not be in lack of in our "relationship." I told him that I missed him with all my heart and that the apartment was cold without him. It was true. Winter was approaching and the heater became a constant presence in the apartment. It was the only other warmth that I could feel.

I hit send and spent the rest of the day gazing out of the window across the city.

I received a few other calls about working on one or two other projects for the BBC. A few reshoots for the upcoming 50th anniversary of Doctor Who, a redesign for a small time television show in some sketches, and a message from Eliza asking if I was okay.

The days passed by, and so the snow drifted across the city. I wrapped myself in clothes whenever I left the apartment, which was hardly ever. I lived off the food that dwindled away in the fridge until one day, there was nothing left. Then, I was forced to the grocery store to restock and was faced with the glances of London and the whispers of the wind. I leaned, tired, against the shopping trolley that I wheeled around the supermarket. I picked out simple things that were easy to make and didn't require that much effort. It would barely fill the fridge but I was only stocking for one until Benedict would return home...whenever that would be.

I was in the milk aisle, about to reach in to grab a carton, when a middle aged woman approached me in awe. I stared at her a moment, fridge door still open and my arm reached out to grab the milk. We looked at each other for a while, until she said, "You're her, aren't you?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, finally taking the milk and shutting the fridge door with my hip. I put the carton of milk into the shopping trolley.

"The one that Sherlock left for that blonde...what's her name?" said the Woman.

"Excuse me?" She was getting on my nerves.

"Oh, didn't you know?" the Woman said. She pulled out a magazine from her shopping basket and flicked through to a page somewhere in the middle. She showed me a photograph of Benedict at a festival appearance with another woman, a blonde like the Woman had mentioned, in his arm. She gripped onto him tight and flashed the media a dazzling smile. "They've been seen together everywhere."

Of course I had seen the picture, but I had dismissed them as I thought she was a co-star of his. I had clearly not put much thought into the fact that he would be cheating on me. Could he? Was what this Woman showed me true?

"It's a trashy magazine," I criticised. "Half the stuff that they say in there is fabricated."

"But you can't deny the photographs!" she exclaimed as I began to walk away from her. Fast. "There's something going on there!"

I was out of the supermarket in record time and back in the apartment with few bags that I carried dumped on the kitchen bench. I threw open my laptop and searched for more proof that Benedict hadn't been cheating on me. Sure, there rumours that were flying around but not hard evidence that he had been doing anything against me. I sighed and rested my head in my hands. I was living through a computer and Benedict was my subject.

I put all the groceries that I had bought from the store away and checked the time. It was barely mid-afternoon and two weeks out from Christmas. I began to pace the kitchen, biting at my nails in though as I began to formulate a plan in my mind. Benedict had made no plans to return to London for Christmas since his schedule barely allowed him to even leave North America. We both knew that he needed to return to London at some point, especially when his work died down and to promote the new season of Sherlock.

I pulled out my mobile and called his manager, asking what his schedule looked like. Although his manager was annoyed at the time difference and when I was calling him, he acknowledged the fact I was that I was trying to make something work so we could be together for Christmas, or even the new year. I got an email moments later with important dates marked out of when and where he would be.

Quickly checking my bank account, and sighing at how low I had let it go, I booked a flight and agreed to meet his manager in New York for new years. I would arrive two days before but he wouldn't even know of my being so close until the night of. Planning took place and I had felt more productive then I had felt in months, despite the jobs that I had undertaken in his absence. When Eliza and I went out for dinner a week later, she said, "What happened?"

"I'm going to win my fiance back."