Sipping his tea, Sherlock regarded the skull from his sprawled position on the couch. "He was American, you know," he remarked, trying to to distract John.
"Oh really?" John muttered, glancing up from his reading to follow Sherlock's gaze. "How can you tell - hang on! Are you telling me it's real?"
"Of course it's real. Why wouldn't it be?" In a rustle of silk, Sherlock flung himself upright and fetched the skull, pointing out its features. "Measurements, from here, to - here, indicate male, about 20 years old. These healed fractures show a rough life before dying in the late 1800s. Of course, the darkening acquired since then makes the exact date of death elusive."
"Is it even legal to have? And where did you get it – 'him'?" John watched Sherlock roll his eyes. "Ah. Online, right. Don't you think its origin might be sketchy?"
"Yes, it's legal, and 'sketchy' evidence is obviously an interest of mine. Although, as this little value-added detail might upset Mrs. Hudson …" - Sherlock winked as he traced a finger around the bullet hole just behind where the ear would have been - "… I keep it discreetly concealed." He put the skull back in its place, and carefully adjusted the headphones to cover the hole. "Even if he was only a bison."
