Contemplating, Sherlock studied the camp and its inmates, as he leaned against Barracks 4, distanced from the other prisoners.
The camp was odd, no doubt about it. He didn't have any experience with WWII Luft Stalags, but he was pretty sure most prisoners didn't talk or act towards their guards the way they did.
Just now, for instance, the sergeant Schultz was watching some of the prisoners bump a volleyball around, while the short Frenchman next to him held his gun. Though-Sherlock risked a look at the gun-to be fair, it wasn't loaded.
His check-up with the camp medic finally over, John was coming over. About thirty feet away, he raised his hand to wave when a man in a blue uniform bumped into him. John was clearly flustered; Sherlock could hear him apologizing. The other man did the same, his Cockney accent obvious. Sherlock flicked his gaze over John and the Cockney's coat.
Having finally extracted himself, John made his way to Sherlock. "That was awkward, but he seemed nice, so I didn't want him to feel bad-"
"He has your wallet."
A quick feel against his coat confirmed it. John moved to stand next to Sherlock, scowling in the direction of the Cockney, who stood next to a building labeled 'Barracks 2', talking with Col. Hogan. Clearly in thought, the colonel wrapped his arms around himself. His gaze was on John and Sherlock.
"We're being evaluated." Sherlock realized.
"What do you mean?"
"The prisoners. They're feeling us out, to see if they can trust us. A sergeant asked me who won the 1940 World Series. After I told him I didn't pay attention to American sports, he asked me about the location of buildings in London."
John thought for a moment. "The medic, Sergeant Wilson, asked me about my unit. I gave him the backstory Doctor Smith told me to use. 207th RAF bombing squad. Colonel Morrison. But why would they think we're spies? What would we report?"
"Most likely escape attempts. Tunnels. I know they have some. The dirt on Colonel Hogan's shoes couldn't have come from the surface."
"What's the point, though? No one has ever escaped from here. But why no one has is beyond me."
"This camp isn't normal. That much is clear."
Finishing his conversation, Sgt. Schultz started to walk towards them, but was called back by the Frenchman, who handed him his gun. Then they came over together.
"Sergeant Watson. Corporal Holmes. What are you doing?"
"They're planning a mass escape, Schultzie. We're going to leave tonight through the tunnel."
Wide-eyed, the two looked at Schultz, who only chuckled. "Jolly joker. No one escapes Stalag 13. Not in 367 attempts."
"367?" John blurted.
"364," The Frenchman asserted, almost offended.
"No, cockroach, it was 367, I'm sure of it."
"Colonel Hogan refuses to take credit for the three guards."
"That's right. I forgot."
The Frenchman turned to Sherlock and John. "I'm Corporal Louis LeBeau, but people just call me LeBeau. You're Holmes and Watson, right?"
At Sherlock's nod, he smiled. "Welcome to Stalag 13. If you need anything, just ask le Colonel."
"Thanks." John said. "We'll do that."
"I'll see you later. Bye, Schultzie."
As LeBeau sprinted towards Barracks 2, Schultz huffed and waddled off.
Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Something's going on here."
A strange voice rang out. "You're right about that."
A man in an American private uniform stepped out of Barracks 4. He headed over to them, his gaze sliding every now and then to where Hogan stood.
"I'm Private Haden Leslie. I'm called Leslie."
"Watson."
"Holmes. What do you know?"
"I'm sure you've heard about the no-escape record," Leslie said, disgusted.
John snorted. "Once or twice."
"When I got here. I figured that there's a first time for everything. I asked Colonel Hogan about the escape committee, but he said that Klink refused his invitation to the next meeting, so he disbanded it."
"Klink?" John asked. "As in the Kommandant?"
"Yep. After that, I decided to do it by myself. I still needed information about the camp, but the best sources are Hogan and his stooges."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "Hogan's stooges?"
"His henchmen. He's got at least four of 'em. Sergeant Kinchloe is his XO. The others are Sergeant Carter, Corporal LeBeau, and Corporal Newkirk. You'd've seen him. He's the Cockney in the blue uniform. Sergeant Olsen and the medic, Wilson, are also possibilities."
"We've met some of them," Sherlock stated drily.
"Sergeant Carter is chatty, so I talked with him, to get ideas for how to escape. He's a bit dense but he caught on pretty quickly. He told me, and I quote, 'No one escapes without Colonel Hogan's permission.'"
Leslie spat in the general direction of Barracks 2. "Our CO is a Kraut-lover. He's got all the men under his thrall. Hogan tells 'em to do something and they jump to it, no questions asked."
"Why're you telling us this?"
"I'm going to escape, and I need help from people who aren't controlled by Hogan. Are you in?"
John and Sherlock looked at each other, Sherlock's mind on the tunnel he knew existed somewhere. He wanted to know more but he had no intention of staying here. He nodded and John nodded back.
"We're in."
