"Again, why are we all the way out here?" Mark asked and Sue shot him a dirty look.
"For the very last time, our usual location is under construction. As you very well know. We were lucky to get this place on such short notice!" The producer, Mark, Steven, Benedict, Martin, Loo and a couple of crew members were all getting out of their snow covered coats at the entrance of the morgue where they were to shoot all afternoon. It was an abandoned one, quite a long way from the nearest village, but it was perfect for their purposes as it was almost identical to the one they usually shot in. Sue had had a few very stressful days along with the location scout trying to find a new morgue after there'd been a water leak at their old one, and she'd had enough of the boys' complaints.
They only needed to get a few scenes done and they'd be out of here again, and the actors had already been dressed in their costumes and been through most of make-up back in Cardiff, needing only a few finishing touches before they were set. There was a loud bang and then the lights all came on. A local man, the caretaker of the building, closed a cupboard which apparently held the switches, locked it, and turned to face them all.
"Everything else is unlocked for you. I'd appreciate it if you didn't go poking around where you don't need to," he looked at them sternly, "as there's enough to deal with here already. Now, you've got my number, so when you leave here you call me and I'll come lock up after you. Is that understood?"
"Yes, thank you, sir, we'll be sure to do that," Sue replied and put on a big smile, though she found the old man to be rather unpleasant in his attitude. "And thank you once again for letting us do this," Mark chimed in; stepping up and shaking hands with the Welshman. He mumbled something incoherent, nodded to the rest of the crowd, and then went out the door, letting in a a whirlwind of snowflakes after him.
"Right," said Martin and cleared his throat, rubbing his hands together. “Shall we?”
Benedict shuddered and looked over his shoulder. To say he felt uncomfortable in this cold, damp place would be an understatement. It wasn’t that he was scared, but, well, abandoned or not it was still a morgue.
“Should we run through it quickly?” Martin asked, coming up behind him. He was paging through his script to find the right scene and Benedict nodded, grabbing his from one of the big pockets of the Sherlock coat.
He looked up to see Martin studying him. Was that worry in his eyes?
“You don’t look good,” he said.
“I’m fine,” Benedict replied and gave him a smile that probably wasn’t all that convincing. “I mean, this isn’t what I’d call my ideal place to spend a dark, snowy evening, but...”
“Careful Sue doesn’t hear or you might not come out of here alive!” Martin giggled. Benedict elbowed him playfully.
“You know what I mean,” he said.
“Yeah, no, you’re right. Not the most romantic of places, is it.”
Benedict glanced at Martin, who was fidgeting with his script. Odd choice of words, he thought, and noted that the shorter man was blushing slightly. Benedict coughed. Probably just red cheeks from the cold.