He Stole My Cab (Benedict Cumberbatch Fanfiction)

Chapter One

Bored. Bored. Bored.

My life is boring. I have a boring office job in London working as a PA to the boss of a law firm, sure it pays well, really well, but everyday it’s the same: sorting through emails, filing, going to meetings and then repeat. Most of my friends now live in the suburbs, married or living with a partner and some even have kids. And here I am 27 years old bored out of my mind and haven’t been on a date in years.

Ok maybe that not quite true. I have been on a few dates with men from work but they are all the same: rich lawyers or bankers who just love talking about their work. Dull. Each and every last one of them.

I finish my last email and stand up in my office and walk to the floor to ceiling glass window. When I first got the job I couldn’t even go near the window I was terrified. But now I love watching all the people far below me on the busy London streets, imagining them all on an adventure or of to fly around the world. Sometimes I imagine that I can work out what the person is like by what they are doing or the colour of their coat and then I would go and write down ideas in my little journal that I keep in my top drawer.

That’s what I would love to do, become a writer and then I could publish each one of my adventure stories instead of keeping them at home in a dusty box. But mum and dad said that it was a stupid idea and that there is no money in writing. So I didn’t really have the choice when dad set me up this job as a PA to his best friend Paul or Mr Rainin as I have to call him. It’s nearly six which means it’s time to go home. I pull on my caramel coloured trench coat and grab my leather bag from under my desk, my mind already working out what I would have for dinner and whether or not my flat mate Tina would have tidied up her mess, but I already knew that she wouldn’t of.

“See you tomorrow Kimberley” I say as I pass the receptionist, her immaculate blonde bob bounces as she waves and flashes me her perfect white toothed smile. Geez is everyone who works here perfect?

I climb into the lift and press ground and wait patiently as the light music begins to play in the lift. At almost every other floor the lift stops and men in suits enter, talking into phones or typing away or business women carrying briefcases and hurriedly giving instructions to their sectaries. I can feel the eyes of some of the men on my and pull my coat tighter across my long black skirt and pink blouse.

When the lift door opens everyone rushes out continuing typing or talking. That’s the problem with London; everyone is too busy to notice the small things, the important things. Like the fact that the weather is finally getting warmer and you can see the flowers blooming in hanging baskets. Or the way that the birds sing quietly in the trees calling to one and other.

I hail a cab and it pulls up in front of me. I clamber in and when the driver asks where to I say “Purple Elephant apartment block please” and another voice says “Charing Cross station”. I look to my right and see a man in his thirties. He has a kindly face with piercing greeny blue eyes and high chiselled cheekbones, his upper lip is a perfect archer’s bow and his bottom lip compliments it perfectly. His curly dark brown hair is pushed back from his face and looks perfect. He is very unusual looking but very attractive none the less. I realise that I’m staring and cough to break the awkward silence.

“I’m terribly sorry” he says in his deep baritone voice but his eyes remain kind “Please you take this cab, I’ll get another”

“No please” I say, opening the door, “you stay I’ll get another one”. I clamber out of the taxi and turn around and see that he has done the same thing. Just as we both realise this the taxi pulls away, leaving us both. I couldn’t help but laugh as this strange man shouted at the taxi. When he turned to see me laughing the corner of his mouth raised slightly in a half smile, after a few moments he was laughing too and as he laughed a few wrinkles appeared on his forehead and his eyes looked almost closed, he looked adorable.

“Well this is great” I say a few minutes later, more to myself than to him, as we both stand waiting for another taxi to arrive.

“Sure is.” He replies, looking down at me. “My names Benedict” he says extending a hand to me “I’m Theresa” I reply shaking his hand. He is wearing a dark suit and a black shirt, with the top two buttons undone and the next one straining slightly. When I take his hand in mine I feel a tiny flutter in my stomach. “Well Theresa” he says “Having stolen your taxi and leaving us both here stranded I think it is the least that I can do to buy you a coffee” I look up into his eyes and they seem to shine.
“I think that would be lovely” I say and we set off down the London street.

One thing’s for sure: things don’t seem so boring anymore.