Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Life

Chapter 10

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John made a few incoherent noises and looked at his watch, feigning checking the time, before he said

"No."

"Go on." Sherlock urged but John stood firm

"I'm not going to stand here so you can humiliate me while I try and disseminate..."

"An outside eye, a second opinion. It's very useful to me." Sherlock interrupted

"Yeah, right!"

"Really.". They stood there for a moment gazing at each other while my line of sight jumped from one man to the other. I was growing impatient with the unnecessary subliminal eyesex.

"Oh for God's sake! If he doesn't do it I will.". This got their attention and the pair turned to look at me, Sherlock had his eyebrows raised in an 'Oh, really?' stance and John looked shocked at my outburst. "If I wanted to see a gay couple I'd go on tumblr."

"Fine." Watson huffed unhappily.

"I dunno- they're just a pair of shoes." he muttered before immediately correcting himself. "Trainers."

"Good." Sherlock praised as I moved slightly closer to him, itching to step in because he was boring me already. I looked over Sherlock's shoulder at the screen of his phone as John continued, his voice now a low humming in my right ear. He, of course, already knew everything that John was reeling off and was ahead by miles, googling retro trainer designs until he found the ones that matched our evidence. The shoes that John held in his hand now were original. John said something about them being new and I rolled my eyes.

"You're on sparkling form. What else?" Sherlock had clearly been paying more attention to his friend than I had.

"Well, they're quite big, so a man's."

"But...?"

"But there's traces of a name inside in felt-tip. Adults don't write their names inside their shoes, so these belonged to a kid." Sherlock looked at John like a proud father but pushed him to continue.

"...that's it." John said with one last glance at the shoe before placing it down on the lab desk again.

"That's it?" Holmes said; Watson nodded in response.

"How did I do?"

"Well, John; really well." Sherlock praised. "I mean, you missed almost everything of importance, but, um, you know...". He twisted himself around so that he was just below eye level with me. He adjusted his head so that we were looking directly into each other's eyes and he sent me a 'care to explain?' look to which I replied with a devious grin. Time to show them what I was capable of.

I strolled over to the trainers and knelt down so that I was at eye level with the table top and began.

"The owner loved these. He scrubbed them clean-"

"He?"

"Yes, John. He. You just said that yourself. Don't interrupt me."

"Of course. Sorry."

"As I was saying, whoever he was whitened them where they got discoloured. Changed the laces three... No, four times." I traced my fingers gently over the places that I was referencing to. "There are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers came into contact with them, so he suffered from eczema. Soles are well-worn, more so on the inside, which means that the owner had weak arches. British- made, twenty years old."

"Twenty years?"

"Yes, me and Sherlock were looking them up while you were rambling on. They're not retro, they're original." I gestured to Sherlock who was holding his phone up to John of the image that we had searched for.

"Limited edition: two blue stripes, nineteen eighty-nine." Sherlock added.

"But there's still mud on them. They look new!" John stumbled over his own words

"Someone's kept them that way. Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis shows it's from Sussex, with London mud overlaying it."

"How do you know?"

"Pollen. Clear as a map reference to me."

"Now that's one thing I can't do." I laughed and Sherlock joined in.

"I'll teach you." he said

"Really?" I asked, the excitement taking my voice up an octave.

"Of course." Sherlock grinned, his eyes sparkling with the reflection of the flashing map on the computer screen. Butterflies materialised in my stomach and for the first time I felt like there might be a cheesy love story brewing in my life with me and this mysterious detective as the main characters.

Sherlock's attention had gone back to the screen and he was speaking again. "South of the river, too. So the kid who owned these trainers came to London from Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind."

"What happened to him?" John asked, trying to become re-involved with the conversation.

"Something bad." me and Sherlock mumbled at precisely the same time. I blushed a bit when his head whipped around and he smirked slightly. Thankfully he didn't seem to notice anything odd other than my goofy grin.

"He loved these shoes, remember. He'd never leave them filthy. Wouldn't let them go until unless he had to. So: a child with big feet..." Sherlock trailed off, staring ahead of himself. "Oh."

"What?" John was uncomfortable because he was the only one that had remembered that there was a life at steak. The only reason I had forgotten that fact was because it made it easier for my mind to work.

"Carl Powers." the detective said softly.

"Sorry, who?"

"Oh my god..." mine and John's words collided with each other.

"Carl Powers, John." Sherlock clearly knew that I knew who he was talking about so he focused his attention on John as he rose from his seat and collected his coat, putting it on.

"What is it?"

"It's where I began." Holmes stated, speed walking towards the doors, trainers in hand. John gave me and exasperated look and we followed suit.