Chapter Four: Deductions, Deductions, Deductions
The cab ride was initially silent. Full of unspoken questions and curious glances. John wanted to know more and Sherlock was afraid to tell him. Yes he was the first person he'd met that had actually agreed to go with him to a crime scene, but if he learnt what he could do, would he act the same as all the rest or would he not and in turn give Sherlock hope. He took a breath. Now or never.
" Ok you've got questions"
Damn right he did. And he was quite glad Sherlock had saved him the effort of asking. "Yeah, where are we going?". You said violent deaths. Your mate said a suicide. Though mate was probably not the right word. So where were they going? Sherlock stared. Wasn't it obvious? He sighed, why were people so oblivious. "Crime scene. Next". John turned to look at his fellow passenger.
"Who are you? What do you do?". Again, it wasn't obvious? How dull.
"What do you think?".
John paused and pondered his earlier thoughts on this issue. "I'd say private detective...". Good, good, not that obvious then. "But?". "But the police don't go to private detectives." So why do they go to you I wonder. You're something else.
Sherlock smirked. Great, wonderful. A lot more smarter than your average human then. He could tell he was going to like having John around, if he stayed that is. But then he had just followed him to a crime scene. Things were looking up.
"I'm a consulting detective. Only one in the world. I invented the job." John didn't even take a breath. "What does that mean?". "It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me." Sherlock continued to look outside, slightly afraid of reading the other's feelings upon his face. John found this last statement very amusing. Even to go so far as to laugh out loud. Police don't consult amateurs, he told Sherlock. Sherlock looked away and then back, a sly smile touching his lips.
"When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said "Afghanistan or Iraq?" You looked surprised." "Yes. How did you know?" "I didn't know, I saw." Yes that answered things didn't it. But what did he actually mean? "Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. The conversation as you entered the room...said trained at Bart's, so army doctor. Obvious." John's eyes widened, his mouth opening in shock as the man continued. "Your face is tanned, but no tan above the wrists...you've been abroad but not sunbathing. The limp's really bad when you walk, but you don't ask for a chair when you stand, like you've forgotten about it, so it's at least partly psychosomatic. That suggests the original circumstances of the injury were probably traumatic..wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan...Afghanistan or Iraq." Again John was floored, he didn't have a single idea on what to think. It was truly impressive.
But he wasn;t finished. He needed to know more. "You said I had a therapist" Come now, how did you know that then? "You've got a psychosomatic limp. Of course you've got a therapist." Neither of them gave the other so much as a glance, as if it would break the mood or the magic spell that gave this strange individual the power to see everything in nothing. But John broke this when Harry was mentioned. Sherlock fingered John's phone in his hand, the gears in his hard-drive spinning. "Then there's your brother. Your phone µ it's expensive, email enabled, MP3 player. But you're looking for a flat-share, you wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift, then. Scratches...not one, many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. The next bit's easy, you know it already" Of course the inscription. It was all so simple once it was explained wasn;t it. So not really a magic trick.
"Harry Watson...clearly a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father...this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live. Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to, so brother it is." John couldn't stop his mouth hanging open again. Ok, he admitted it, this was really impressive.
"Now, Clara µ who's Clara? Three kisses says romantic attachment. Expensive phone says wife, not girlfriend. Must've given it to him recently ... this model's only six months old. Marriage in trouble, then...six months on, and already he's giving it away? If she'd left him, he would've kept it. People do, sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it ...he left her. He gave the phone to you, that says he wants you to stay in touch."
This...he was getting all this just from his bloody phone? But it was his phone! How.. he just couldn't fathom how he was doing it. "You're looking for cheap accommodation and you're not going to your brother for help? That says you've got problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife, maybe you don't like his drinking." Ok time to close his mouth. The drinking, now how did he get that from his phone. Did it smell? "How can, you possibly know about the drinking?"
Sherlock had to admit that was a shot in the dark. Good one though. His lips turned upwards. He rarely guessed, guesswork was a distasteful business. "Power connection... tiny little scuff marks around the edge. Every night he goes to plug it in and charge but his hands are shaky. You never see those marks on a sober man's phone, never see a drunk's without them. There you go, you see? You were right." He took a breath, preparing for the inevitable. John blinked as his phone was handed back to him. "I was right? Right about what?" Sherlock looked away and took another breath "The police don't consult amateurs."
John was impressed. He was more than impressed really. That had been absolutely incredible. He'd never seen anything like it. But he was reluctant to truly admit this. But the man did deserve something. "That. Was amazing". Whatever Sherlock had expected it wasn't that. He never got that reaction. Ever. It was usually a sarcastic or rude retort or a fist in his face, never a flat out compliment. It actually rendered him speechless for a moment. He looked back and forth between John and the outside, he wasn't sure what to say. "You think so?"
"Of course it was. It was extraordinary. It was quite... extraordinary." Had the man not been told that before? Odd. "Thats not what people normally say." Thats never what they say. Its usually something highly suggestible or completely impossible. "What do people normally say?" "Piss off". Sherlock couldn't help but grin at John's face, his smile was infectious. John's world had suddenly changed in this one cab ride. He was feeling it again. His heart was beating, his life was turning. Something was happening! To him! John Watson! He could tell life was never going to be dull if he stuck around Sherlock. And he didn't mind that one bit.
High above, quick eyes watched through a thousand cameras. Searching for one man. Once found, their attention was switched to the man beside him. This was different. This merited investigation and...legwork.
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