Anonymous → I don't like confessions blogs and I really like that other Cumberbatch fans out there like you are married, so I have something to say. Sometimes I wish my husband would leave for a few hours so I could just sit (read: kneel on both knees with my hands stretched out before me) and do a silent scream in front of Benedict on my TV screen.

If I’m watching something with Benedict in, I usually wait til my husband’s out, or I watch it during my commute/lunchbreak.

He tolerates my appreciation to some extent (he’s coming to Frankenstein with me tomorrow) but I figure I’m best not taking the piss and subjecting him to a permanent rotation of Sherlock/Starter for 10/Van Gogh, etc. Although I did make him listen to Cabin Pressure on a recent car journey…

I’m hoping Frankenstein helps him realise how fucking awesome Benedict is, and that I appreciate his body of work and not merely, you know. His body.