Sherlock pulls the door with the familiar bold, silver numbers 221B open and starts running up the stairs when he suddenly stops. He turns around and slowly walks back down, pressing his index finger to his lips as he surveys the ground at the bottom of the stairs.
'Mrs Hudson!' he yells loudly. 'Mis-sus Hudson!' he repeats impatiently.
The door under the stairs opens and the woman standing in it frowns as she wipes her flour covered hands on her pink, flowered apron.
'What is it, Sherlock?'
'Where is she?' he demands.
'Where is who, dear?' Mrs Hudson pretends not to know.
'Tsk! Oh come on, Mrs Hudson. The new tenant! Who is she?'
'I thought you wanted to know where she was, Sherlock?'
He turned on his heel and deliberately marched over to Mrs Hudson until he stared her down, his finger still against his lips.
'The new tenant, the one that recently moved in. I noticed that the dust line under that door has been swept away' he pointed at the floor behind him without looking.
'There's half a shoeprint in the dust that wasn't swept away. Small size – not a man or he would have to be a dwarf'
He turned around and accentuated each tread back to the door in question, his hands now crossed behind his back.
'I can smell fabric softener. A bachelor wouldn't do his own laundry he would go to the Laundromat that's conveniently situated down the street. There is a new curtain hanging in front of the door. A man doesn't pay that much attention to detail, unless he's gay…Hmm…No, not in this part of town, a gay man wouldn't be seen dead in this part of town. Also indicates that one is not to see the inside of the rooms without permission, therefore a new tenant. Now…'
He turned to Mrs Hudson in expectation of an answer.
'She's gone to the shop. I need more flour for my Devon Scones' she answered.
'Oh, so you like her then' he stated.
'What's up then?' John asked as loosened the scarf twisted around his neck.