The Case of the Persian Slippers

He knew he had to get out and about.

He knew he had a tendency to wallow and be unmotivated with regard to a social life.

Too much the stiff upper lip military man.

Or so his therapist said. Ha! His antecedents were firmly leftish lower-middle class, thank you very much.

And that counterrevolutionary stiff upper lip was the only thing keeping him from going completely to pieces.

Mrs Hudson had had the sense not to attempt to comfort him and he hadn't been contacted by Mycroft, not that he would have spoken to the upper class loose-tongued git.

Molly had called and even visited a couple of times. He supposed she wanted to share the misery. She had been quite persistent. He suspected she may have turned her unrequited feelings toward himself now that Sherlock was…gone. He still had problems with that phrase, even to himself. But he had ended up telling her, reasonably politely, to go away. How could she know that every time he saw her, he saw Sherlock apologising and gently kissing her cheek after making that gaff at the Christmas party? Or that only he had noticed the devoted look she had given Sherlock in return.

So it was with some bewilderment that he found himself as her reluctant plus one at her medical class reunion. Beer in hand firmly acting as a barrier, he gravitated to another man also standing awkwardly at the side of the room. They nodded to each other.

The other man topped John by a good half a head and his wild bush of unruly curls made him seem even taller. There was an awkward silence which John felt compelled to break.

"Your girlfriend here for the reunion?"

"No, I'm with the magician, Adam Klaus; performing tonight."

"Oh, Oh! Ok, that's...fine, it's all fine.'

"No, I mean…um, we're not a couple, godsaveme, I work for him."

"Oh, ok."

There was another short silence. John wondered how long before he could decently make an escape.

"So you're a military doctor. Afghanistan?"

John gasped, "Oh, my god. Not you as well. This is a sick joke by the universe." The heat of the room and stress caught up with him abruptly and he swayed. He felt his arm grasped by a firm hand and the other man was babbling.

"I've upset you. Sorry, sorry, I'm pants at small talk. You need air, come out to the balcony. Here sit, these chairs aren't too damp from the evening dew."

John rested his head on his hand; he did feel better now he was in the fresh air. He looked up as his companion plonked what turned out to be a glass of ice water down in front of him before sprawling untidily in the opposite chair.

"I don't know about you but I could stand not to be in there."

"Thanks. John Watson."

"Jonathan Creek."

"You were right about Afghanistan."

"Well, I noticed you hold yourself like…"

"Yes, I know how you did it." John realised he had been too abrupt. "Look, I've had a...loss. Still not a hundred percent."

"Ok."

"John! Fancy seeing you here!"

Both men reacted, standing to greet Jeanette, then looking confusedly at each other. Jeanette took a second look at Jonathan, recoiled then decided to brazen it out 'Oh, you! Hello, I mean, Hi! Fancy seeing you as well, didn't know you ran in these circles…um. You know each other then?"

"Just met tonight. It's Jeanette isn't it. I don't think we exchanged names properly the…other…night…" Jonathan faltered to a stop, glancing guiltily at John.

John looked from one to the other and clamped his teeth over the urge to giggle. "So, Jeanette, who...what have you been doing lately?"

Jeanette looked down her nose and sniffed, "My career is going very well, thank you. No need to ask what you have been doing."

John froze. Jonathan looked askance at his expression and jumped in with "Oh look, isn't that the Dean of Medicine from St Giles waving at you?"

Jeanette spun round "Where, what?"

"He just moved to the punchbowl, you better go see what he wants." Jeanette left gratefully.

Jonathan looked worriedly at John, "Look, I don't think you better be here. Panic attacks. I can relate. I'll call your date."

"She's not my date, we're not a couple." John winced "I'm fine, it's just Jeanette raked up the last couple of months, it's been pretty brutal, as you could guess."

Jonathan looked blank. "Er, no?"

"You read the papers, don't you?"

"Not for the last three months. I've been in Turkmenistan with Adam, we've researched a new act. Well, when I say we, he swanned around the hotel swimming pool, while I was up to my nose in dusty books."

"Well, my….friend, best friend actually….," John stopped, it was no good, he had barely been able to say it in front of his therapist, to a stranger this was not going to happen.

Jonathan waved his hand, "Look I don't need to know, take all the time you want." Just then a handsome, if harassed, older man rushed up to them; ignoring John he aimed his remarks at Jonathan as if they were in the middle of a conversation "The slippers, I need the slippers, the other ones I'm going to wear; bloody things have disappeared again. How can I do a Persian act without bloody Persian slippers!"

John assumed this was Adam, the magician.

Jonathan opened his mouth to answer when a young woman with short blonde hair, wearing a belted silky tunic and Doc Martens, wound herself round Adam's arm and obviously stronger than she looked, managed to tug him backwards "I've found your slippers and your scented candles. Place will smell like a Turkish whorehouse in no time…"

"Jonathan!" Adam was scandalised

"She's joking, aren't you, Joey?" She grinned back at him as they left.

"Guess he couldn't make them appear by magic," muttered John. "If the act is Persian, how is it you were in Turkmenistan?"

Jonathan chuckled "When Adam found out Persia meant Iran, he refused to go any closer than one of the "stans". But he has been practising the Dari phrases I found for him pretty hard; he learns it all by rote."

"I picked up some Dari or Afghan Persian, as it's called, when I was over there. The dialects are quite alike."

"You'll enjoy his act then."

"I suppose it is just meaningless phrases for the act."

"Not entirely."

Joey sprinted up to them "Jonathan, it's an Adam crisis!"

"Thought you said you found them?"

"I had, but now Adam has lacerated himself and is doing his scone."

"Oh, hey, I can help." John stood.

"Thanks, this way." Jonathan followed Joey as they rounded the edge of an ornamental screen and ducked through a small door which led to a makeshift green room.

Adam was cursing and holding a blood stained silk scarf wrapped round his hand; he started talking as soon as he saw them.

"This is a disaster; I simply cannot manage to perform with sub-standard equipment. Look!" he waved his hand "Your performing bird bit me!"

"It's mechanical; it doesn't have a mind of its own. How in the world did you set it off….? Never mind, this is John Watson, he's a doctor."

"Oh." Adam eyed John speculatively as he unwound the makeshift bandage and looked about for a water source.

Joey noticed and quickly filled a small bowl from a tiny sink. John rinsed the blood-stained scarf and cleaned the blood from what turned out to be a deep but small cut.

"Got a first aid kit? Thanks." Working quickly he drew the edges if the cut together and taped up the wound. "Are your tetanus jabs up-to-date?"

"Got all those before my last world cruise," said Adam nonchalantly

"Then you'll be fine. But don't loosen the dressing. You won't need a stitch, if you keep it firm."

"But Jonathan," protested Adam "I can't fire the bolts if I can't wiggle my fingers!"

"Give me a second." Jonathan closed his eyes, forehead scrunched in thought. John had to look away.

"Got it. Hand me those chains." In minutes Jonathan had devised a work-around that suited Adam. John marvelled at the deceptive complexity of the act. Adam was locked into a complicated Heath Robinson contraption that combined steam-punk with Arabian Nights storytelling and styling.

A mechanical 'Persian slipper maker' with wicked 'steam-hammers', thumping down millimetres from the magician and the whole contraption turning on a spiral which threatened to skewer the magician with two foot long needles as the slippers were 'embroidered' and pairs were spat out the end. Adam's trick was to extricate himself and 'steal' the 'magic slippers', while avoiding the mechanical bird whose cry controlled the hammers and needles. John realised it was a take on Jack and the Beanstalk, where Jack steals the magic harp.

Fascinated he peered into the machine interior.

"Careful!" Adam pulled him back, "That's delicately set."

"Yes," muttered Jonathan "How was it you set off the bird? That isn't supposed to be able to happen, by itself."

Adam humphed "I assure you I did nothing wrong. Damn thing just flew at me."

"But Adam, it can't. You know you have to be in the machine to….." Jonathan stopped

"Oooh," breathed Joey. "It's a locked room thing, isn't it?" She turned to John, "You'll like this, he's brilliant at solving impossible whodunits."

John slowly shook his head, this night was turning surreal.

Jonathan rounded on Joey and John, "Look, its obvious someone is trying sabotage the act. If this isn't set right when Adam goes on stage …well those needles are very sharp."

"Adam will get the point?" asked Joey innocently

"Hey, I'm right here you know."

"Adam, is there anyone who you have upset, anyone we could spot that may have a reason to upset the act."

"Well…..I did get this gig on the strength of a former girlfriend being on the organising committee."

Jonathan groaned "Which is she? How badly did you break-up?"

"No, no you've got it all wrong, she's cool about it. Mutual parting of the ways. Very sophisticated that gal. Absolutely no problem. You met her when we unloaded."

"Besides Jonathan," conceded Joey reluctantly "I don't see how she could have got in to damage the machine. Either one of us has been here all night, we were here all afternoon after delivery and I locked up when I went to find Adam, before."

Jonathan fiddled with the machine's intestines "There, it's reset." Lock it up tight…better yet, Adam, get ready for the act and keep an eye on this."

"What are you going to do?"

"The three of us are going to see if we can spot anyone loitering, trying to get to close to this room again. With all of us leaving, they must realise we have fixed their first attempt."

Joey grabbed John's hand and led him out behind Jonathan. They joined a group by the buffet table and tried to surreptitiously observe the characters. John found himself falling back into his old habit of trying to observe not just look, like Sherlock had tried to teach him. In moments he was absorbed in the puzzle. Many of the guests were mingling in couples. Joey pointed out Adam's ex, a busty blonde who had a young man, whose moustache was not a success, attached.

"Even if we spot someone acting all creepy, how did they get into the green room?"

"One thing at a time, Joey."

"Who helped you load that thing in," asked John suddenly

Jonathan stared at him "Of course. When is a green room not a green room?"

Joey caught on, "Oh, when it's just a storeroom usually. Let's see, there was you, me, Adam's ex…"

Jonathan shook his head, "She wouldn't go near the thing. I remember."

"Well," Joey continued "That's everyone who was standing around at the unloading…."

"Loading!" all three spoke together.

"The lorry driver?" Joey started bouncing on her toes, "Yes, yes, that's where I had seen him before; he's Adams' ex's new squeeze. Talk about mates rates…"

"But how to prove it," interjected John.

"Oh, I can do that." Jonathan wended his way up to the couple who were still talking. Clapping the young man on the back, Jonathan breezily forced his way into the conversation "Did I thank you for being our lorry driver today? I am very pleased you offered to help us lift the machine."

"I never touched your ruddy machine!"

"Then how did you get these?" Jonathan produced a pair of Persian slippers from the driver's coat.

"Sidney! How could you! I told you it was over. It was nothing."

"You were going to get back with him! 'Mr, I'm so famous I go round the world for my kicks'. Well he's going to have a problem getting you now!" Sidney made a grab for the slippers, "Those come from the machine, he'll be miscounting the number and get himself skewered!" with that he took off.

"I'm so sorry, is Adam alright?"

"He's fine, I fixed the machine. The show will be on schedule."

"I'll report him. I suppose he could have really hurt Adam."

"Yes, but he didn't know quite how the machine worked. Just taking the slippers wouldn't have mucked things up too much. But he disturbed the settings for the mechanical bird."

"So it cried, thief!" finished Joey happily

"I better go see security. Thank you again."

John caught Jonathan's eye as they walked back to the green room. "He didn't have those slipper's on him, did he?"

Jonathan grinned "No, well spotted. He undoubtedly got rid of those he stole this afternoon, but when he saw these, he panicked." Jonathan handed John the slippers "A memento."

John found himself grinning for the first time in weeks. "Thanks."

"Any time. You'll enjoy the show, despite knowing how it's done."

They shook hands.

Later John poured an exhausted Molly into her car and drove her back to her flat; as he caught the tube home he reflected that he had enjoyed the show immensely; though he couldn't for the life of him imagine why Adam would conclude his act by exhorting his audience in Dari to "Take your clothes off and give me the clap."