Sexual dreams, but nothing too long :) We meet Benedict! At first I wasn't going to have there be a connection, but as I write the sexy scene that is later, I realize I need that for the plot. So, here ya go. Benedict is the complete opposite of Sherlock, and it was fun to write!
CHAPTER 4 - Choose, Doctor!
The beauty next to him growled and pushed his shoulder with her hand, moved to straddle him. He held her hips tightly as she pulled down his trousers just enough to let his erection bob out. She wrapped her hands around him, and his hips lifted as he groaned. She glanced at his face, and saw his eyes closed and his head tilted back.
She scooted down and lightly blew on the tip. She looked up into his now opened eyes as she took the head of his manhood into her mouth. His eyes watched her hungrily, his breathing more of a pant. She closed her eyes and took him fully inside her mouth, enjoying the taste of him more than ever before. She worked him with her hands and mouth until he pulled at her hair. She pulled away, and straddled him once again.
"Tabitha –"
Benedict groaned and reached out with a blind hand to get his mobile phone. He clutched it tightly, hoping that would be enough to stop the buzzing. He sighed, frustrated, when it buzzed again in his hand. He shut his eyes tightly, urging himself to go back to sleep and finish the erotic dream. The only thing it caused was his erection to grow more painful.
He slowly opened his eyes to blink at the sun streaming into his bedroom. He mumbled a few curse words as he threw the blanket off of his body and sat up. He threw the buzzing phone on the bed and ran a hand through his newly cut ginger hair.
Ben, what is going on?
Proposing in a graveyard – that's different.
Why haven't we met her yet?
Tumblr is going crazy.
I thought we agreed that you wouldn't take any of the costumes from the set?
What are you doing in America? I thought you said you were going to Greece?
He frowned as he watched the messages go up with each vibration. What the bloody hell was going on? He stood up and stretched. It was the first day of his three week vacation, and no one was going to ruin it. I couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to sleep in with no plans for the rest of the day – it was almost like it was a dream. He breathed in deeply as he opened the sliding glass door, the air salty and warm. He sighed, pushing the sensual dream to the back of his mind.
A shrill ring cut off his relaxing thoughts. Ben growled and marched back to his bed. He answered his phone while he searched through his drawers to find something to change into from his pajama pants that he was wearing.
"What?" He didn't mean to sound rude, but he had given specific instructions to only call him for an emergency. He had been gone only one day, and something had already happened. He found a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt.
"You're creating a stir," his friend chuckled. He heard sounds of pots and pans in the background – Steve must be at the restaurant early.
"I haven't done anything, I swear it," he answered, shoving his pajama pants off and pulling on his jeans without anything underneath it. He had no plans, no need to look his best.
"Check out the photo I sent you."
Ben grunted as he pulled his shirt over his head and brought his phone down to look at the photo. He blinked a few times to makes sure he was seeing what he was seeing. He sighed and walked down the hall to his kitchen to get some breakfast.
"I'm sure it's a … what are they called, cosplayers? There have been some exceptional ones," he replied. He pulled out a bowl and a spoon – he wasn't in the mood to have a feast. Cereal would be just fine. He poured a bowl of cereal.
"Maybe. It's a damn good one, then. Have you really looked?"
"Yes! Yes, it is well done, but it's not me. Can you fix this?" he pleaded, pouring milk into the bowl. His friend chuckled on the other line, and Benedict was a bit irritated that his friend was finding this amusing. "Steve, please! I'm on vacation – I need this!"
"Okay, okay, calm down, Karen and I will send out a statement – no worries."
"Thank you," he replied, calming down. He took his bowl into the living room and plopped down on the plush couch, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "And, seriously, do not call me unless it's an emergency."
"Aye aye, captain."
"Shut up," Ben chuckled, switching the phone off. He tossed it beside him, but then picked it up again. He opened the photo and studied it. It was uncanny how much it looked like him in full Sherlock mode – although the green shirt was new. The woman and man were facing each other, staring into each other's eyes, as a ring box was between them.
Dressing up as his character to propose was an odd thing to do, but they looked happy. The man could be his twin – he squinted his eyes at the photo – his cheekbones, his nose, his mouth, all the same. It had to be a coincidence. He'd read somewhere that it was very possible to have at least one person who looked similar to oneself.
Benedict froze as he stared at the profile of the woman. It was Tabitha – the woman from his dreams. His mouth went dry as visions of the last few dreams about her slammed into his mind. The first one had been at the end of July and the yellow lacy undergarments haunted his memories constantly. The next time had been a dream of furious love-making that ended in him being a complete asshole and leaving her laying there. This last dream had been the third and final one.
It had to be a coincidence. He couldn't help the tug of apprehension in the back of his mind, though.
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That night Prescott slept like a baby, with the TARDIS humming a soft lullaby. He slept in a makeshift bed of blankets next to Tabitha and Sherlock in one of the many empty bedrooms. It was a room of dark blue and black decorations. Sherlock spooned Tabitha, who in turn slept with her face toward the baby.
Prescott woke up first, getting stuck in the blankets. Tabitha woke up just in time before he slid off the bed, and held him close as her heart beat fast in her chest. Sherlock mumbled and sat up. Tabitha quickly changed his diaper. Sherlock murmured and laid back down. Prescott still made a fuss after she was done.
"I think he's hungry," Sherlock mumbled, turning around and wrapping his arms around her waist. She huffed a laugh as she took out a breast to feed Prescott. Sherlock nuzzled her thigh. Suddenly, the Doctor burst in, sonic up, with a pair of red plaid pajamas on. His hair was a mess. He squeaked and quickly shut the door when he saw Tabitha's naked skin. Sherlock sat up, again, confused.
"Doctor, what's going on?" he called.
"Are you decent?" came through the door. Tabitha rolled her eyes, used the blanket to cover herself and the baby, and called out an affirmation. "Good. I heard the baby cry. Is he alright?"
"He was just hungry," Sherlock huffed, throwing the blankets off of him and sitting up. He didn't seem fazed as he stood up, shirtless and wearing only a pair of pajama bottoms the TARDIS had provided. After examining them for over an hour last night, Sherlock had finally put them on. "Why?"
"Ah, not used to having a baby on board," he answered with a shrug. He turned away, and then turned back. "Oh, we may have a problem."
"We already have a problem – the TARDIS can't take us back," Sherlock called out as he went into the bathroom connected to their room. Tabitha rolled her eyes and resituated the baby against her chest. She made sure the blanket was still over his head, just for the Doctor.
"Well, yes, but this has to do with you," the Doctor yelled to Sherlock. "Well, your face."
Tabitha's realized what he meant. She groaned and put her head in her free hand.
"Oh, god, people saw him."
"Yes. He's all over the news. Well, Benedict Cumberbatch is."
"Damn. We can't ruin this man's life!"
"What do you care about a man you've never met?" Sherlock poked his head out, toothbrush still in his mouth. He continued to brush as he leaned against the door frame. "I'll stay inside the TARDIS – it'll die down."
"There is another person's feelings at stake here, Sherlock." Tabitha turned with a frown. Prescott seemed to be finishing up, and she switched him to another quickly. Sherlock rolled his eyes and went back into the room to finish brushing his teeth. The Doctor came inside, opened up a cupboard that was empty last night, but now had a flat screen television. Tabitha hummed in amusement. Sherlock came back and plopped down on the bed. The bounce unlatched Prescott from Tabitha, and he cried out in annoyance. Tabitha glared at him, and his mouth tightened, his eyes forward.
Of course, he wouldn't apologize. She should have known.
The Doctor flipped on the television with the sonic screwdriver, and stepped back. The three adults watched, and Prescott finished up his nursing. As Tabitha burped him, she watched the television with guilty heavy on her mind.
"Benedict's people has issued a statement saying that this man is not him. He's in Greece, not America, and is enjoying his three-week vacation on the beach. There is no woman, and he is definitely not getting married."
Sherlock smirked.
"See? Everything is fine."
"Sources say, though, that this was indeed Cumberbatch."
Sherlock frowned.
"Sources? What sources?" Tabitha frowned, moving to change Prescott's clothing. The Doctor shrugged and made to turn off the television.
"Wait!" The Doctor raised an eyebrow at Sherlock's exclamation. "I want to talk to him."
The Doctor and Tabitha shared a glance, and burst out laughing. Even Prescott giggled along as Tabitha put him in a gray onesie, blue trousers, and a blue jacket. Sherlock frowned and looked back and forth between them. He jerked himself up and walked over to Tabitha, who was finishing dressing their son.
"Sherlock, you can't talk to Benedict Cumberbatch." Tabitha took a step back as Sherlock picked up the giggling infant. The man cracked a smile, brushed his lips against the baby's forehead, and turned back to Tabitha.
"Why not?"
"He'll freak out! We'll get arrested!" Tabitha threw her hands up and moved to find some clothing to change out of her own pajamas. Sherlock chuckled and shook his head.
"Why? We'll just go to talk."
"He's in Greece!" Tabitha huffed, pulling out jeans and an over-sized shirt. The Doctor stuttered a bit as she threw off her shirt, too annoyed to notice he was still in the room.
"S-she's right," he answered, turning quickly and looking at the wall. Tabitha raised an eyebrow at Sherlock as she took of her pants and quickly got dressed. "The TARDIS won't get us anywhere."
"Not even just to Greece? We don't have to leave this planet or time, or go to another universe," Sherlock countered. The Doctor hummed thoughtfully.
"No! No, we cannot just show up at his door!"
Tabitha took Prescott so Sherlock could get dressed.
"I'll… let's talk about this in the console room, yeah?" The Doctor rushed out as Sherlock stripped. Tabitha let her irritation slip as she eyed her naked fiancée. Sherlock caught her heated look as he pulled on his usual black trousers.
"Soon," he murmured huskily, buttoning them while staring at her. She felt her face flush and her body heat, and then glared at him. He sent her a grin and finished getting dressed. She rolled her eyes, picked up a few toys, and headed out into the console room. Sherlock followed her by a few seconds.
"I have a psychic paper – I can get into anywhere!" The Doctor held up a wallet-sized notebook thing, grinning like an idiot as he opened it.
"It's blank." Sherlock looked bored.
"Really?" he glanced at it and then shrugged. "Ah. Well, anyway, it'll work!" Sherlock didn't look convinced.
"This thing is infinite, right? Can we get a playard or something?" Tabitha said, looking up and around the console room. The TARDIS seemed to hear her, as it began to hum loudly and a door flung open just up the stairs inside the hallway. The Doctor hurried up to see what it was while Sherlock and Tabitha leaned against the railing, with Prescott playing with one of his toys in Tabitha's arms. The Doctor came back down the stairs with a bundle in his arms.
"Green and yellow!" he cried excitedly as he quickly set up the little playard. It was big enough that Prescott could move around in, although at six weeks the best he could do was fling his arms and legs around. He needed tummy time, though, and the adults needed to talk about things. Tabitha set him inside, laying a few toys within his reach to keep him occupied.
"Sherlock, why do you want to talk to him?" Tabitha asked after she was convinced that Prescott was safely tucked away. She took a seat in the chair besides the playard, leaning forward so her elbows were on her knees. Sherlock had his hands on his hips as he circled the console, thinking and murmuring to himself.
"You say he's me – everything is exactly alike. I want to know for sure." He stopped in front of her and turned around so she was looking up into his face. He furrowed his brows as he looked down at her. "I need to know." He ran a hand through his hair. Tabitha frowned, unsure why he was getting so forceful about the subject.
"He looks exactly like you, but your mind and thoughts and personality is all yours," she replied softly. The Doctor watched them, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the console with his feet crossed at the ankles. Sherlock murmured to himself some more. "Sherlock? What's wrong?"
"I don't know," he growled loudly, roughly throwing out his arms. Prescott made noises, and Sherlock moved to look down at his son, hands on his hips. Tabitha and the Doctor watched him, unsure what he was going to say or do next. After a long moment of silence, the Doctor seemed to catch on.
"Prescott has half your DNA – which means that the actor is technically his father, as well."
"Whoa, what?" Tabitha sat up, trying to connect the dots. It took a moment, but when it did she felt herself blushing. "Wait, you're jealous of a man I've never met?"
"Jealousy is a petty emotion," Sherlock answered, still staring down at their babbling son, who was slobbering over a toy happily. Tabitha rolled her eyes, knowing that his words were a confirmation towards the fact that he did feel jealous. She stood up and wrapped her arms around Sherlock's waist, pressing her nose softly against his shirt.
"If you really have the need to see him, we should go, I trust you," she answered, turning her head enough to send a look to the Doctor. The man didn't look happy at what she said. "But," she added, pulling back and moving to stand beside him. Her hand touched his arm and she looked up at his face. He returned the stare. "We really shouldn't – like you said, if we leave everything alone, it will go away."
"I'd like to meet the man who made me in this universe," Sherlock stated simply, shrugging nonchalantly. He turned fully toward Tabitha and placed his hands on her hips. She raised an eyebrow as he leaned down and kissed her. He frowned after he pulled back. "That is the oddest statement I will undoubtedly ever say."
"I still don't think this is a good idea," the Doctor interrupted loudly. The couple sighed and broke apart. Tabitha sat down beside Prescott's playard while Sherlock stepped over to the Doctor to converse about his wants.
"I can't sit here for however long it's going to take for this box to repair itself. I need something, this is a case I need to have to keep occupied!" The urgency in his voice escalated with each word, until his face was tight with frustration.
"Sherlock –"
"I want to take apart the TARDIS, study its make-up." The Doctor stared at him. "It's that or Greece."
"You can't take the TARDIS apart – the vortex will make your mind explode –"
"Choose, Doctor!" Sherlock suddenly ran down some steps to the side, making his way under the console. Tabitha and the Doctor heard him rattling some things and then a huge scrap as a metal door was being opened. Tabitha rubbed her temples, feeling a headache coming on.
"Wait! Fine, I'll take you!" the Doctor called out uneasily. Sherlock's head poked over the deck floor edge with a grin. The Doctor sent him a glare, but it turned into a smirk as Sherlock joined him. "I can't help but be curious myself. I've always wanted to meet him – he's an extraordinary actor."
