"There will be sever repercussions such as contempt of the court charges, if you talk about what is presently discussed in this deliberation room to anyone not on the jury." The Court Clerk, now serving as a bailiff to ensure the jury was not interrupted told the eleven remaining jurors sternly. They all nodded.
"There is to be absolutely no online research about the defendant or the prosecution. In addition, you are asked to keep the details of the case to yourself. You must deiced whether the defendant is guilty or not of the three charges brought against him with the evidence provided. At this time it is suggested that you elect a foreperson amongst yourselves to guide the debate. Everyone must maintain a civil tongue. You are not required to reach a verdict today. The Jury will be honorably dismissed for the day at 5pm. You may call for lunch when everyone is hungry. Water is provided along with the transcripts of everything said in court so far. Deliberate fairly and honestly to reach a just verdict. Good luck."
With that the Court Clerk left the room. Leaving them alone, standing around a circular table and twelve semi-comfortable chairs. Awkward.
Sherlock huffed in annoyance, pulled out the nearest chair, and took a seat. That seemed to break the awkward moment and everyone sat down. They looked from one to another uncomfortably. No one wanted to break the silence. If he was ever going to get out of here, things needed to get moving.
"Right, so a foreperson needs to be elected. Who volunteers?"
No one volunteered.
"Why don't you be the foreperson?" Juror number one asked as he stared at Sherlock intently. As if he had seen him before.
"Because I don't like people."
"Then you'd be perfect for the job. You'll treat everyone with equal disdain." Sherlock thought about it. It made sense, sort of.
"Raise your hand if you think juror number twelve should be foreperson." One said. All hands were raised. Sherlock groaned audibly.
"Fine, if I really must be the foreperson, let's get on with it."
"Shouldn't we introduce ourselves first?"
"Are you foreperson?"
"No, I just thought that it might be a good idea."
"Alright then Robert Leren. Introduce yourself and tell us your job." Sherlock said sarcastically, remembering that he was the first name on the list of jurors selected. Robert looked flummoxed as he said,
"I'm Robert Leren, and I'm a marketing consultant." No one else spoke.
"Look, jury, if we are ever going to move on with our lives, you need to speak. This is supposed to be a debate! You with the hobby for acrylic painting, what's your name?" Sherlock cajoled.
"Um, I'm Ezzie Paul-Thyler and I'm a cashier. How did you know I painted with acrylics?"
"You reek of the high-end pigments you use and the cuff of you left sleeve has drops of blue acrylic paint from when you did a hasty touch up to a nearly finished painting before you left to come here to court. I know you use high-end paints because the color of the paint stain hasn't faded in the four hours or so since you came here. You don't make a lot of money, but what spare change you have, you spend it on painting supplies. And I know that because the receipt for one of the better quality art supplies stores is showing from your trouser pocket. It would normally be well above your means to buy from a store like that, but you work there and get an employee discount."
"Who are you?" Ezzie, along with the rest of the jury, stared at Sherlock in shock.
"Not my turn. Next!" Maybe he had gone a little too far with his deductions.
"Wendy Blanche, primary school teacher."
"Coal Emmet, pharmacist."
"Penelope Quilla, mail carrier."
"Ella Marini, I volunteer at Amnesty International in my retirement."
"Gavin Hofstra, occupational therapist."
"Kyle Croly, self-employed photographer."
"Jay Whitt, recently I was a florist."
"Olga Vorodomir, dance instructor." His turn.
"Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective."
"The Sherlock Holmes? The Consulting Detective?" Ezzie asked, giving his name and job title palpably capital letters.
"Yes." He said brusquely. Ezzie did not take the hint. Sometimes he enjoyed all the attention he got when he solved a case. Other times, his relative fame made it hard to work with others those times he was forced to.
"So then you already know what happened. And whether Mark Timothy is guilty or not."
"Perhaps." He said, non-committing. "But the nature of a trial by Jury is to have a just verdict delivered and come to by representatives of all parts of society. Therefore, much as it pains me, we must debate the question of Timothy's guilt."
"That makes sense."
"So, who believes they know what happened?" Jay raised his hand.
"Please this isn't school. And I'm only supposed to be directing the conversation. Just talk." Jay glared at him and cleared his throat.
"So, Keen is walking home from work and this creep Timothy assaults her. Her ex steps in to help her and he gets stabbed. Timothy goes into hiding, is turned in and Keen presses charges." Sherlock stared at him. Why did he keep on getting surprised at the obtuse nature of most people?
"Why would Timothy be stalking her?" Wendy asked.
"Betcha he wanted to kidnap her or something. Didn't you see her? She's hot." Jay answered.
"If you like blonds I suppose." Kyle added.
"Why else would someone stalk someone?"
"Or, maybe she owed him money or something. And he was waiting to corner her to get it back."
"If that's the case, surely she would have mentioned she was in a debt."
"Then he must have had a crush on her. Saw her break up with Reilster or something and then decided to take his chances."
Sherlock and Robert rolled their eyes at the same time. Robert face-palmed.
"Boys!" Ella barked. "Do try to keep level heads. Useless speculation is just that. Useless. We need to review the facts and go from there. Motives can wait. Right Mister Holmes?"
"Quite right." He said quickly. "Besides, you two are operating on the assumption that Timothy is guilty of all alleged crimes. You're biased because you believe that you already know what happened." Sherlock winced internally as he recognized the irony. He already believed Timothy was innocent. Had even gone so far as to put Keen down as the murderess. There was a difference he told himself. He had based his conclusions on facts. Now he just had to make sure the others inferred correctly from the facts presented to them.
"So." Ezzie said brightly into the silence. "Shall we review the transcripts?" They hastily agreed it was a good idea. Sherlock flipped to the part where Timothy's waiter witnesses' words were recorded. He had some reading to do.