"Absolutely not" was Sherlock's response to Watson's perfectly innocent question. ""Why on earth would you suggest such a thing?" John Watson turned and looked over. "It's not that hard, Sherlock. How else are you going to find out what's going on?" Sherlock considered once again the prospect that Watson had put forward. "Me, work in a shop?" He sighed. "Well, if I must…."
…
The next day saw John and Sherlock heading for the doors of the vast monolith that was their destination. In his starched white shirt and immaculately ironed black trousers, that fell to just above his perfectly polished black leather shoes at least he looked the part. Sadly the management, and John, had vetoed the prospect of a bow tie and had instead handed Sherlock a polyester nightmare of a clip-on tie. After Sherlock had deposited it in the nearest bin, which he felt was probably too good a place for such an item, the next destination was the harsh white lights of the vast shop floor.
As he walked past the notice that ordered you to "smile!" Holmes gave a slight grimace, before he made his entrance. Almost immediately he was accosted by a short middle aged man, who hadn't quite masked the smell of onion which had resulted from a rather hurried lunch nor quite wiped all the crumbs from his sleeve jacket. "Where are the tissues?" he asked somewhat abruptly. "Over there, behind the pillar and just before the door" replied Sherlock before moving swiftly on. Then, as he went to go about his assigned duties, a second question. "Can you tell me where the soap is?" a rather well built older man with a loosening tie and small flakes of dandruff. "Yes" was the answer, as Sherlock turned away. "Excuse me!" blustered the man. "I want to know where the soap is!". Sherlock paused, considering the request. "Then, sir" he began. "You should have asked that. You asked if I could tell you where the soap is. You did not, however, ask me to show you where it was". The man huffed and walked away, and was quickly followed by a woman who was trying to follow a strict diet, thanks to the slimming food in her basket. However due to the faint scent of dark Belgian chocolate, Sherlock deduced that the plan for a healthy diet was progressing as well as her too new-trainers that were unlikely to see a gym or indeed any form of exercise in their lifetime.
A slight moment of respite was abruptly interrupted by a third request, as Sherlock was borne down upon by another befuddled customer. "Do you work here?" she asked. "Yes" was Sherlock's only comment. "Yes, madam. I do. That is why I am wearing a uniform, tidying stock and not at home with John Watson for company". At this mention of his name Watson looked over and quickly assessed the situation. Intervention was required. "Excuse me" he began. "Perhaps I can help". John quickly ushered away the confused and slightly outraged woman and then turned back to Sherlock. "This isn't working" he said. "Time for plan B." Sherlock considered what this might involve. "So, John" he began. "What might that involve?" Watson indicated his own black suit and smiled. "That's easy" he said. "Sherlock Holmes, you're going into management".
