The ride home was quiet as Sherlock spent most of the time using his cell phone to look up various things on the internet. John tried to make conversation only once the entire time.
"So, that seemed like a waste of time, eh? I don't know what they expected to get out of such a generic and short line of questioning."
Sherlock grunted.
"Nothing but more doubt, I suppose," pressed John, hoping Sherlock would share something with him.
Sherlock was so lost in thought that it wasn't until they got back to Baker Street that he surfaced enough to talk to John.
"Fancy a little trip to Edenbridge?" asked Sherlock, firing up his laptop.
"Edenbridge?" asked John surprised. "What the hell for?"
"Just a hunch," said Sherlock casually.
"You actually got a clue from that nonsense?"
"As ever John, you see but you do not observe," Sherlock said dryly.
"Yah. Getting a bit sick of that one, mate. What have I not observed this time?" he asked testily.
"Hunter wore a pin on his lapel," said Sherlock as if the rest was obvious.
"And…?" urged John.
Sherlock heaved a big sigh and continued.
"Killers can never help but flaunt their cleverness, John, especially ones that think they've gotten away with something. His lapel pin was the insignia from the Sport Horse Breeding of Great Britain organization, in Edenbridge."
"You saw that from the video feed?" asked John incredulously.
"Nope. I saw it in the loo," replied Sherlock matter-of-factly.
John shook his head in disbelief. "You think that has something to do with this case?"
"Not sure yet. Just want to follow the lead. I don't think Scotland Yard pursued that particular interest of Karl Hunter's."
"We'll need to change clothes, I should think, and maybe grab a bite for lunch first?" said John sensibly, but Sherlock just gave him one of his signature inscrutable looks.
"Right, well, I'm changing and eating first, so you do whatever you want," said John, exasperated at his friend's oddities.
It was almost 1 o'clock in the afternoon before the two left Baker Street for the tube. Edenbridge was about an hour and a half outside London, so a cab just wouldn't be practical. Sherlock hated the tube, and was in a disgruntled mood as they left the flat.
Just as they stepped out onto the street, John came to an abrupt halt as he ran into a woman that had been standing there looking at the door.
"Sam!" said John in surprise. "What are you doing here? I thought we set dinner for seven?"
Sam Sloan looked embarrassed as she looked from John to Sherlock.
"Oh, I was just…I just wanted to scout out the area you live in before I came here at night in the dark. I'm not too familiar with London, you know?" she smiled weakly.
"Sure, yeah!" said John smiling broadly.
Sherlock, on the other hand was scanning her with suspicion.
"We're just on our way to the tube," said John, not sure if leaving abruptly would be too rude. "We're just going out to Edenbridge to…"
"Visit a friend," shouted Sherlock, at the same time John said 'follow a lead.' He glared at John, who was too busy gazing at Sam to notice.
"Well," said Sam hesitantly. "I could give you lift. I have a car," she said, pointing down the street to where she had parked. "Do you mind if I come along?"
"Yes!" said Sherlock now clearly peeved at this development.
"Not at all," said John, shooting him a meaningful look.
Sherlock rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Aren't we supposed to each be following our own leads?" he asked not caring if she was offended. It was his reputation at stake after all.
"Truthfully, I don't have a lead," admitted Sam regretfully. "I do believe Hunter is lying. All the markers are there," she added. "We just need him to give us a piece of information we can follow up on!" she said adamantly.
"He has," said Sherlock tersely. "It's in Edenbridge."
Sam looked at Sherlock, taking in the details of the man. His face betrayed nothing of his emotions, unlike his friend John who was very open and warm. Sherlock stood with his collar turned up against the chill, his light eyes regarding her cooly. She smiled slightly, regarding him just as straight forwardly.
Sherlock pressed his lips together. "Oh, all right," he relented.
John looked relieved. "Alright then. Let's go!"
The only positive from Sherlock's perspective was that he didn't have to ride the train. Otherwise, he sat in the back seat and barely endured Sam and John's small talk. They laughed and flirted, while Sam looked periodically in the rear view mirror at Sherlock. Most of the time he was gazing out the window deep in thought, or else manically checking his cell phone. She caught definite signs of sadness when he didn't think she was looking. It was probable that he felt like a third wheel, and Sam's heart went out to him. It occurred to her that many of the walls he had built up around himself were to avoid the pain of loneliness. The problem was, those walls ensured his loneliness. John was the one exception to the rule, which was very interesting. Sherlock had the capacity for friendships, but it was a gift he rarely bestowed.
As it turned out, Sam had a Master's degree in Psychology. As an undergrad, she had minored in law, so she knew her way around the legal system too. Sherlock would not admit it just yet, but she was a very intelligent and discerning woman. She definitely had potential…