Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman react to the shit hitting the fan. All my imagination. None of this is good, it's just what I've been thinking about these past few days.
In the last vestiges of sunlight, Martin Freeman climbed out onto his hotel balcony on the evening of January 23. His mobile was clutched in his hand, and feeling a little lost, he sat on the wicker chair, watching the sun disappear behind the buildings.
He sat quietly for a few minutes before opening the phone. He checked his texts quickly (nothing new) and his emails (nothing important) before finding his contact and calling.
Benedict picked up after the third ring. Contrary to what media outlets were saying on the so-called "frosty relationship" between the costars, there was absolutely nothing going on between Benedict and Martin. Perhaps the cold nature of the series four filming could be attributed to his split with Amanda. He did not like to think of it.
"Martin, how do you do?" Benedict said across the line.
"Oh, just wonderful," he spat. "Hey, listen, is now a bad time? It's about 6 pm where I'm at, I wanted to give you a ring."
"I just finished a shoot, I'm driving home."
"Right well, see, it's just that. . ."
"Yes?"
"I'm feeling a bit unsettled about it all, you know?"
"About?" Benedict replied.
"Oh, you know." Martin cleared his throat. "The Final Problem." There was silence on the other side for a moment, so Martin kept speaking. "You just have to wonder if the ending was. . .right? We've acted a, er, a certain way. For seven years. And I mean, god Ben, have you been online?"
"Personally, no, I try to stay off. At least until the drama has died down a bit. But my manager has said things to me in the past couple of days that are making me seriously question where this show is headed."
At last, the sun slipped behind the skyline and all Martin could see was the sky, lit up in beautiful pinks, purples, and blues.
"We've always been upfront with Mark and Steven. From the very beginning, when they sat us down. We said we would play Sherlock and John as involved as the season allowed."
"Christ, Martin, is it true what they're saying online? There's people so dedicated and invested in a fourth episode? A 'Lost Special'?" Benedict's voice sounded, quite honestly, tired. And a little weak. Martin knew how demanding shoot days were, but this was the voice of someone who'd had it for years.
"That's not all. They've theorized everything. Honestly, it's quite genius what they've come up with. They think The Final Problem took place in John's 'mind bungalow' and everything. They've connected it to every other episode, they've connected it to past interviews. Even the goddamn wallpaper.
"And the thing is, Benedict, they only sound slightly crazy. They feel cheated. They want more. They have expectations. They found a billion little plot holes in the episode. And frankly, I don't blame them."
"Yes, but there's not really anything we can do."
Martin twisted his face, trying to pull it out of it's frown. He rolled his shoulders back.
"Do you think we've been queerbaiting them?" Martin's voice shrunk, sounding much smaller than before in Benedict's ear.
"Damned if we do, damned if we don't," was Benedict's reply.
"But be honest. What if some of this backlash is our fault?"
"Please, Martin, be reasonable with yourself. We poured ourselves into the story. We made decisions together. We gave people hope when they needed it. Mark and Steven's decision to keep waiting is not our fault."
"But what if it never happens? What if we don't get to series 5?"
"Oh please, we both know the show isn't over yet. There's still one last story to tell."
Still holding out hope for episode four.
Cheers,
Olivia