Coming Home

Prologue: The first evening

My very first fanfiction so don't expect too much of me. ;-) Dedicated to my favorite actor Benedict Cumberbatch. Please tell me what you think :-) It's written in my POV but it's not me. I'll try to update it as soon as possible.

The first thing I did after being showed my new room was locking the door and throwing myself upon the bed. It was a relatively big room for a town flat, with a wooden floor, white walls and a modern cupboard made of lots of glass. Everything looked very expensive. I felt really tired but I didn't want to sleep. I had lost six months of my life sleeping. So I got up and walked to the window. Pushing aside the white curtains the incredible view of a big park opened before me and behind it the London Skyline, covered in the last sunbeams of a nice autumn day. Hampstead Heath. I sat down on the sill and watched some children playing football in the field, a couple kissing on a bench, a woman jogging along the paths. This was life. Everything seemed so familiar but so strange at the same time. I felt like while I had been in coma life had gone on without me and now I didn't belong anymore. A stranger in a country I once called home. But this wasn't my home anyway.

A knock on the door made me wake with a start. I must have been fallen asleep on the window sill against my will.

'What?'

'Dinner is ready. Mr. Cumberbatch is waiting for you, downstairs.'

Cumberbatch? Funny name...

'Not hungry!'

That was a lie. I was starving. But I didn't want to meet that guy that claimed to be my family now. I wanted to be at home, my home, with my parents. This had to be a nightmare. I felt the tears in my eyes. Get yourself together!

There was no answer from outside. Sighing I got up, unlocked the door and went down. It was still quite hard for me to walk stairs so I needed to hold on to the handrail very closely.

'You want me to help you?'

On the foot of the stairs a tall man appeared, giving me a sympathetic look. He was still wearing a suit without a tie, like he just came from a talkshow or something. I was told he was an actor, though I didn't know him. But actors go to events like that, don't they?

'No thanks. I can help myself quite well!' I replied sharply, reaching the floor right in front of him. I withstood his gaze, being momentarily fascinated by his strange coloured eyes. They seemed to be green, blue, grey and golden at the same time. He gave me a smile.

'Hi, I'm Benedict, but call me Ben. I know we... we don't know each other very well for I only met you once when you were still a baby. But your father was a good friend of mine and if the last thing I can do for him is caring for his daughter I will try to do so.'

I don't need any caring! I thought to myself but just left him there with a short nod. I'm sure he already knows my name, and that's all he needs to know!

Luckily I had chosen the right direction so the next room was the dining room. It was really big, facing the small garden. The design was a perfectly balanced mix of old and new, wood and glass. The modern grey and white kitchen was only separated by a kitchen counter so it all seemed like one big room. To the left a door opened to the living room where I could spot a comfortable but a bit older looking sofa and the edge of a quite big TV-Flatscreen. He can't be that bad an actor. Maybe he got famous only lately. The flat looks quite new.

Ben had followed me and gave me free to choose where I wanted to sit. I chose the place at the head of the table where I could look out into the garden. He chuckled a bit at my choice, sitting down at my right side. Oh shut up I can sit wherever I want. I gave him a grim look, then focused on the food which was spread on the table. Spaghetti how creative... seems that rich people can eat normal food as well.

'I'm sorry I couldn't cook myself cause I had several appointments today. But I didn't know what you like so I told Clara to prepare something... common.' He laughed a bit. 'You like pasta?'

I LOVE pasta.

'Yeah it's okay.'

He seemed relieved.

The dinner went pretty quiet. I was anxious for always having food in my mouth so I didn't need to speak. He told me that he had chosen a nice little private school for me where I could finish my grade with all the support I needed. A private car would take me there and back again for he could not allow me to walk or take the underground until I got my full physical strength back.

'Your physiotherapist will come here every day at five pm, except Sundays, but we'll reduce that according to your development. I'll try to be at home as often as I can, otherwise Clara will cook for you, if you like. But she doesn't live here and only comes when I call her so, if you need anything during the day just text me and I will see what I can do.'

He paused and gave me a short look. Then he smiled again.

'But I suppose you can look after yourself quite well.'

I'm seventeen – of course I can!

'I suppose that's right' I answered, finishing my meal. I got up, ready to take my plate to the kitchen myself but Clara hurried in and took it from my slightly shaking hand. It made me angry but I was to tired to reject.

'I think I need some rest now. Thank you for.. dinner'

Without waiting for a reaction I turned around and left the room, preparing myself for the climb up the stairs.