A/N: New chapter! And boy was this hard to write. Once again thanks for the reviews, and you should probably thank my friend K for the fast updates, for the extreme amount of pushing :P
Sherlock was once again in the lift. It was the commercial break so he had enough time to get ready for his 'talent'. The first half of the show hadn't gone too badly, 10 lights still remaining and, although he would never admit it, some of the girls had caught his eye. He was going to kill John for saying those things about him on national television. And he was pretty sure he would be unable to show his face in Scotland Yard again.
Trying to pick a talent was another problem. Sherlock knew he was a man of many talents, but picking one was difficult. He wanted to stand out. Playing the violin? Too mundane, anyone can learn the violin. Sherlock was a show off, and he had a chance to show off on national television. So he would do what he did best. Unfortunately, the producers had insisted he had a 'change of costume', and as he didn't have the thinking time to waste on such a pointless thought he decided to change his suit. Then they said that wasn't enough, so he got his coat that he normally wore on cases, and after much begging from the producers and John, he put on the deerstalker hat that he once worn and was in every national print.
Sherlock skipped out of the lift with a little wave. He saw out of the corner of his eye that some of the girls seemed a bit apprehensive of his outfit, but no lights off. Some, on the other hand, by the straightening of their backs in apprehension, we're relishing his new outfit. Nothing like an ego boost to get you going.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Sherlock addressed the audience, "As said before, I am Sherlock Holmes, detective extraordinaire, and I am here to prove it."
He saw Phil twitch in apprehension. In rehearsal he
had not done what he was about to do, but his skill was well known.
"But first off all I need an assistant," he did a dramatic twirl for what seemed like effect, but it was really to see how the girls were responding. Again no lights off, they were spellbound. "I will need a member from the audience, randomly selected so everyone knows I have never met or seen this person before in my life. To ensure randomness, I will throw my hat into the crowd," In reality he just wanted to get rid of the damn thing.
The hat landed somewhere and a girl shrieked. From the shriek, Sherlock could tell she was a teenager. Boring, so he said, "And can the lovely lady who caught that throw it someone else?" A young man stood up, "Brilliant, sir, can you come down here please?"
The man walked down the stairs and as he did, Sherlock mentally prepared. Another quick glance, all lights still on.
"Right sir, firstly, can you give me permission to analyse you to the best of my ability?" He heard a buzzer go off, but he didn't care, he was getting a metaphorical buzz himself.
The man laughed, 'Even better, I love it when someone doubts me', "Sure knock yourself out, I'm Chris by the way"
"Great, good to meet you, Chris", Sherlock lent forward to shake his hand. Perfect. He clapped his hands together, "Alright, everyone, I am going to start off with some basic bits about Chris. Should be standard to see," He turned to Chris, "You are an investment banker, but originally had an art degree. You cut contact with your parents years ago after they told you that you would get nowhere with an art degree and you refuse to talk to them right now because you know deep down, they were right. However, even though you secretly cherish the idea that one day you may become a famous jeweller, you are perfectly content with your job, mostly because of the money you make, but also you have found this arrogant, brash side of yourself, that you've been all too willing to accept. You are a non-smoker, but during your teenage years you had experimented with cannabis. You also liked to do other 'experiments' during your teen years, and I'm not talking about the scientific ones," Sherlock paused letting his victim- sorry volunteer, have the information sink in, and quickly turned his head, 2 lights more lights off, but the rest were astounded, "Am I right?"
"Ho- ho- ho –ho-" Sherlock briefly thought his stutters made him sound like Father Christmas, he permitted himself to a private smirk, "-How did you know?"
"Simple. You're clothes are designer, far too expensive for an average person your age to wear out; that said a normal person may have indulged themselves for one piece of expensive clothing, but you're fully kitted out in it, suggesting these are daily clothes of yours. Expensive clothes, you must have a well-paid job, and the only type of people who are going to be as obnoxiously, in your face, with their expensive clothes is going to be a banker. I could tell you were an 'ex artist' also by the clothes. Skinny jeans and loose t-shirts may be the uniform of the 'expressive' youth of today, but there's more than that. You're little finger has a bronze ring on it. Engraved and obviously hand made. But you wear it. Not from an artistic girlfriend, I can tell you're single by the way you kept glancing at the girls behind me, so the only person you care about it yourself. And as a banker, you don't have the time to take twilight courses in art or pottery, so you must have an art degree. Therefore you must be an investment banker because it is the easiest to get an internship in it. By your age and the clothes you wear, you must have climbed to the top pretty easily, and the only way you do that in any job is by having a dominant personality, something you must have embraced. You wear the ring as a reminder that you could've had a career in art and you hope one day you could go back to it. The wanting to be a jeweller is obvious, from the ring. How do I know you cut off contact with your parents? By the size of the ring. Little finger. Not a usual place to wear a ring, but someone with smaller, ring suited fingers would be a woman. Your mother to be more precise. You made her that ring to show her your talent, and she threw it back in your face, probably because she didn't want you to take the degree. Now you wear it to remind yourself how she treated you, but you can't help but think how she was right about you not getting anywhere with an art degree. Non-smoker, well you don't show any of the symptoms with someone with a nicotine addiction, however you have a few dilated blood vessels in your eyes, reminiscent of someone who used to have a drug problem. However, you are clean now, and the symptoms aren't prominent, so it must have been your teenage years. How can I possibly tell about the bi-curiousness? Well no one can wear a shirt that fluorescent and not have experimented with the same sex, if you get my drift."
There was silence then someone in the audience clapped once. Soon Sherlock had a round of applause. 'God I love ego boosts' thought Sherlock. Chris walked solemnly back to his seat.
Phil approached Sherlock, "Mate, that was- that was-," Sherlock really wished people would stop stuttering around him, 'I know I'm awe inspiring and all, but seriously…', "That was incredible. Let's see if why some girls turned off and some stayed turned on."
"Holly, why did you turn off?" he said to a young brunette in a black dress.
"Well, I'm not going to deny it was pretty amazing, but really Phil, I don't think I could take it and have him see everything about me, I like to keep a bit of mystery about me."
Sherlock nearly snorted in disbelief, this girl was as easy to read as an open book, he was sure you didn't need to be a genius to work that out, but then again, who knows what goes on in the minds of normal people.
"And Raine, you're light is still on!"
"Is it weird I found that really hot?" Raine said, "I mean, you can analyse me any day."
"Here that Sherlock?" called out Phil, "You can analyse her any day!"
Sherlock resisted the urge to: one, tell Phil, he had heard her without the need for him to repeat what she had just said and two, wink at her, which was bizarre, he had never had that urge before. Maybe John was right, this show was educational. In the most backward sense of the word.
"And Kaitlin, why are you still turned on?"
"Well Phil, I just found it fascinating. And look at him, he's gorgeous and so damn intelligent, how can I possibly be turned off?"
"Well Sherlock," said Phil, "You have a date! Now all you need is to choose!"
Sherlock did a mini dance in his head. Not because he had won a date, more to the fact he had proven John right. Oh God, not he had to choose. He briefly thought: 'Is doing eeniee- meanie- minie- mo too childish a method of choosing a date?'