Elephant's Memory (Sherlock BBC)

The Great Game part 4: Relocation

"Can't see how I can help you gentleman... and dear lady." Said Mr. Ewert, a dark haired (but slightly balding) man. He seemed to be far more calm than Clara thought was normal, considering his being in the presence of a known billionaire and her entourage of crime solvers. The more she thought about it, the more she felt like bloody Bruce Wayne.

"A Mr. Ian Monkford hired the car from you yesterday." Sherlock said.

"Yeah." He replied, imagining the car and drawing things out with his finger on his wooden desk. "Lovely motor. Mazda RX-8. Wouldn't mind one of them meself!" Sherlock stepped over to the other side of the desk to point at a picture of a luxury car.

"Is that one?"

"Hm?" He turned around, scratching at his arm absentmindedly. "Nah, they're all Jags. Yeah, I can see you're not a car man, eh?" Sherlock straightened up.

"But, er, surely you can afford one - a Mazda, I mean?" Sherlock said.

"Yeah, it's a fair point. But you know how it is: it's like working in a sweetshop. Once you start picking at the liquorice allsorts, when does it all stop?"

"It stops when you run out of money." Clara offered.

"But you aren't one to be talking." Sherlock said, watching as Ewert scratched at his arm again.

"But you didn't know Mr Monkford?" John asked.

"No, he was just a client. Came in here and hired one of my cars. No idea what happened to him." He leaned his head back. "Poor sod."

"Nice holiday, Mr Ewert?" Sherlock asked innocently.

"Pardon?"

"You've been away, haven't you? The tan-" he tapped his own wrist.

"Oh, this." Ewert replied, pulling up his sleeve a titch. "Nah, it's sun beds, I'm afraid. Too busy to get away. My wife would love it, though - bit of sun and sea."

"Mmm."

"Do any of you have any change for the cigarette machine?" Clara's brow furrowed in confusion.

"What?

"Well, I noticed one on the way in and I haven't got any change. I'm gasping." Clara went for her wallet. John nearly gaped at the amount of money she carried on her person.

"Sorry, I haven't got anything under a hundred quid." Clara sighed. This was a daily problem.

"Um, let's see." Mr. Ewert dug into his own wallet, and dug through bills. "No, I'm sorry."

"Oh well. Thank you very much for your time, sir. You've been helpful. Come on, John. Clara."

"Thank you for stopping by. And, Mrs. Evangeline, if you should ever need a car-"

"It's Ms. Evangeline." She replied stiffly, an odd look crossing her face. "Good day." They walked out of the office together, heading for the road.

"I've got change if you still want to-" John began to say

"Nicotine patches, remember?" Sherlock said, patting his left arm. "I'm doing well."

"So what was that all about?"

"I needed to look inside his wallet." Sherlock replied, smirking at his companions.

"And why did you need to look inside of mine, pray tell?"

"I had to ask you too, Clara. He knew who you were. He would have been suspicious if I didn't ask the billionaire for change." He smirked. "Liars tend to do that."