HELLO ALL! I'm back! Sorry it's been a bit of a wait but I have my exams soon and, unfortunately, they take priority :P

Also, any detective stuff is all me so if it's weird or off please let me know so I can hope to improve :)

Disclaimer: As I said, they can drop round for tea, but I don't own them :(

A Crumpled Clue

"Ah, Mr Holmes!" The sly grin spread across the man's face, appearing from beneath his white moustache.

"Mr Cravely, I assume." Sherlock said, grasping the old man's frail hand before securing it behind his back.

"You assume correctly. I'm sorry we couldn't discuss this in my office but it is, unfortunately, being refurnished." The old man gestured towards a room further down the cluttered hallway that was full of men in uniforms, lifting and moving furniture in and out. There was another room across from Mr Cravely's with its door ajar. Sherlock briefly glanced over the old man's hunched shoulders between the two rooms, returning his gaze to the curator's with a small smile.

"Quite alright," he said. It was then that the old man's eyes landed on John.

"Oh, do forgive my manners. I don't believe I've had the pleasure," he said, hand outstretched to John who firmly shook it.

"John Watson. I'm Sherlock's…" He never did quite know how to finish that sentence.

"Assistant." Sherlock supplied. John smiled. He always changed it.

"Ah, so nice to finally meet the man behind the man." He smiled a matching smirk to Sherlock. John looked between them.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked but was quickly cut off by Sherlock.

"Mr Cravely, I do hope we were asked down here for a reason," he said slowly, lowering his head slightly and intently staring at the old man.

"Of course, of course. I found some information about that coin," he said, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his coat pocket. He looked at the paper, glancing down through his half-moon glasses before handing the paper to Sherlock.

"It was discovered a month ago by a Luke Casta on a dig in Egypt. He was in the process of selling us the coin but left before the paperwork could be completed. We've tried to reach him several times but can't get a clear connection. It's all on that paper. Such a shame too. It was found the coin was Roman and over 1,500 years old! A marvellous find," he said, his eyes glowing with enthusiasm. Sherlock handed the paper to John.

"And the girl?" he asked, hands now in his pockets. The curator smiled sadly.

"Ah, yes. The girl. Her name was Margaret Bleaker. She was my secretary." Sherlock bounced lightly on his heels.

"Good?" Sherlock asked.

"Very good," said Mr Cravely.

"And you're not just saying that because she's dead?"

"Sherlock!" John exclaimed in surprise. Sherlock and the old man's gaze didn't waver from each other.

"It's quite alright, Dr Watson. She was an excellent secretary." Sherlock's mouth twitched at the edges.

"Well, if there's nothing else Mr Cravely, we have dinner plans." The smile returned to Mr Cravely's moustache but didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Don't let me keep you then. If I find anything else I'll let you know." Sherlock bowed slightly at the old man before turning on his heels and walking away. John smiled at the old man, muttered a quick thank you, and hurried after Sherlock. The old man stood watching after the two men even after they were long out of sight and slowly strolled into his busy office.

Sherlock and Watson walked in time down the steps to the museum and waited on the street for a cab. John turned to Sherlock.

"So?" John asked. Sherlock glanced sideways at him.

"So…" he echoed.

"Figured it out yet?" Sherlock smiled.

"Mostly," he said. John nodded and looked down the street when a nagging thought entered his mind. He pushed it away, and thought of something else.

"How did he know I was a doctor?" he asked Sherlock.

"He's a curator to a museum. He does his research," he said simply, waving the crumpled piece of paper in front of John's face. John snatched it from him.

"How and when did you get that? It was in my jacket pocket," he said, reaching into said pocket.

"For an ex-army man you really don't pay enough attention to your surroundings. I suppose you'd like these back then?" Sherlock said, dangling John's phone in front of him which John promptly snatched back as well.

"Cheeky," he said, as Sherlock finally flagged down a cab. They slid in, Sherlock first, and he spoke the address to the cabbie before resting against the seat, falling into a comfortable silence with John. John held the paper in his hands and started reading. Sherlock watched him.

"How long, would you say, did it take you to read that?" John didn't answer. He kept reading until he was finished and folded the paper back into his pocket.

"How long was that?" Sherlock shrugged.

"One and a half minutes." John relaxed against the seat.

"Why?" John asked. Sherlock held onto the car door and looked slyly across at John.

"Didn't you notice?" John shook his head as Sherlock sat further forward.

"Mr Cravely had never seen that paper before he gave it to us. He read it on the spot and recited it to us." John sat further forward.

"But you said he does his research. He'd have to read it to know it was relevant." John countered. Sherlock smiled knowingly at John.

"Miss Bleaker was his secretary. Her office was right next to his. The door was open and there was a file on her desk that said Luke Casta. She did the research and gave it to her boss. By the looks of that paper it was a while ago as well." Sherlock straightened his back slightly and furrowed his brow.

"Right. But he recited it perfectly! How could he have just read it?"

"Because he's a fast reader. The sooner you read something the further forward it is in your mind to remember."

"But it's so crumpled. I thought that meant he had held it in his hands a lot and fiddled with it."

"Did you see where he pulled the paper from? His coat pocket. A very small pocket that could only fit the paper if it was squashed. The fact that it was crumpled means nothing but that it was in his pocket for some time." Sherlock relaxed against his seat again as John rested his elbows on his knees.

"So is that important?" Sherlock slowly closed his eyes.

"Is what important?"

"That he's a fast reader." Sherlock opened his eyes and stared at the roof of the cab.

"Possibly," the cab stopped, "Or it could just be a fun little fact about the curator." Sherlock hurried out of the cab and into the small restaurant, turning John's phone off and ignoring the awaiting text message from Harry. John paid the cabbie and slowly followed, oblivious to his jacket being slightly lighter.

Review if you would, my lovelies!

Have a beautiful day :D