Chapter 7: Deductions In A Taxi

"So," Sherlock began in a bored tone, his baritone breaking the silence of the cab, "What can you deduce about me?"

My eyes flickered over his attire, adding the information gathered there to the reactions to the conversations and the things seen at the flat. He went out of the way to cover his skin, fear of being injured, damaged? Was that metaphorical? Didn't eat much, he probably forgot, he didn't seem one to starve himself. He didn't do 'emotions', but had some understanding of them. He worked with corpses, judging by his earlier comment, and there had been scientific equipment in his flat.

Forensic Scientist? I'd say detective, but that also worked with the psychological side of things, and, well, he didn't seem to suit it. The sheets of music were for a violin, so he played (just like my brother), and the books were rather sophisticated, so he'd gone to a upper-class university.

Oh, and the writing- the letters were small, but slightly messy, and seemed to dart around the pages. Judging from that, he payed attention to detail, didn't seem to have any other people reading what he'd written and had a very fast-working mind. It sort of reminded me of my father - not many other Beings had much much care for the study of human sciences and they, for the most, didn't apply to us, anyway. So that was either forensic scientist or detective, but he didn't seem to be official in either. Was there such thing as a consulting detective?

"Sherlock Holmes... " I paused, trying to get my thoughts into order. "Well, I would hazard a guess at you being either a forensic scientist or, well, a consulting detective. You pay attention to detail, and you do a lot of experiments, judging by the equipment in your flat, but I don't see you as the kind of person to work for anything other than your own benefit." He gave a smirk. Had I been correct so far?

"You are incredibly intelligent, you would have to be, if you went to the university I think you went to. You have a fondness for music, you play the violin, and was the Beethoven's third I saw on the stand?" I flicked my hand, as if waving the thought away, and continued.

"You don't do emotions, though you have some comprehension of them, forget to eat frequently enough, and I'd say John's worried about that; he is a doctor, after all. You..." I faltered, remembering something. Was that a camera in his room? He had seemed to be aware of it, so that meant it was placed there by someone he knew. Brother, perhaps?

I shook my head in annoyance. "You have only recently had John move in with you- up until that point, you avoided socialisation altogether. You have trust issues, preferring to rely upon your senses alone, and you are afraid of being hurt. You have a brother who is probably older than you by eight years or so, who worries about you- he's gone so far as to monitor you 24/7."

I was sure that, had he not had a iron-cast hold on his emotions, he would be picking his chin up from the floor. Instead, he just folded his arms, and looked at me with a smug look on his face, trying to hide the rather obvious shock in his eyes. I smirked. This was much more fun than being a sweet little girl - not that I'd let any one else see anything other than an innocent facade. Speaking of which...

The cabbie steadfastly ignored us, pulling up outside the cemented building. I opened the door to jump onto the pavement, wincing slightly as a rock imprinted itself into the pad of my foot. I didn't have any shoes, but Kayla hadn't liked them, so it wouldn't be anything particularly odd.

What would be odd was that the doctors would do an examination on a ten-year-old girl that, despite just banging her head on asphalt, being brain-dead for an hour, and waking up with a temperature of 33 degrees Celsius, wouldn't display any physical or mental indications stating she was anything other than at the peak of health.

Edit: 25.2.16