Royalty

Chapter 4: I Think He Wants To Be Distracted

Sherlock, John, and I all left for Molly Hooper's lab at St. Bart's. I felt badly for her, she had a not-so-cleverly-concealed crush on Sherlock, and he often used it.

Sherlock and John were both looking at the shoes, and I was on the other side of the room, looking at the pink phone.

Same model, same case ... What was this person playing at? I glanced over at Sherlock and John again, and now they were talking about Mycroft still texting them.

Andrew West ... Bruce-Partington plans ... I shook my head, clearing it. Focus on saving the woman.

I looked over, hearing the door to the lab open. It was Molly, closely followed by a man I didn't recognize. I gave him a quick glance before looking back down at the phone as I heard conversation begin.

I carefully removed the case, looking for any sort of clue, and a small piece of paper fell out into my lap. I picked it up, making a mental note to tell Sherlock about it, and unfolded it. In careful neat type, were the words:

Don't rely on them too much, darling. -JM

What the ...? I glanced up at Sherlock and John, and caught the strange man looking at me. His face broke into an awkward smile and he looked back at Sherlock and John.

Who was JM? Was the note for me ... or?

The pink phone suddenly lit up with a text.

Yes, that was for you, love. - JM

My eyes widened. I immediately shut off the phone, praying Sherlock and John hadn't noticed. I hastily shoved the note into my pocket, reminding myself to give it a closer look later. I looked up just in time to see Molly leave the lab in a huff.

I sighed and walked over. "Sherlock, what did you do this time?"

"Saved her time, isn't that kinder?"

"Sherlock, no, that wasn't kind," John told him.

"What did he do?"

"He was obviously gay, just saving her inevitable pain --"

"Sherlock, you didn't seriously deduce that the man was gay in front of the woman he's dating?"

"He'd left at that point --"

I cut him off. "Saving her time, fine, thinking you're helping her, fine, saying it like she's an idiot for not noticing, not fine. You can't talk to people as if they're vacant goldfish."

"Thank you," John agreed.

Sherlock pursed his lips and pushed one of the shoes over to John. "Fine, then. You know what I do. Off you pop."
"I'm not going to stand here so you can humiliate me --"

"An outside opinion, it's useful to me --"

"Yeah, right --"

"Really."

John sighed and picked up the shoe, looking over it. "I ... just a pair of shoes. Trainers."

"Good."

"They're in good nick ... I'd say they were pretty new, but ... the sole's been well worn, so the owner must have had them for a while ... very eighties, probably one of those retro designs ..."

"You're on sparkling form, what else?"

"They're quite big, so, a man's ..."

"But ...?"

"Ah, there's traces of a name inside ... adults don't write their names in shoes, so these belonged to a kid."

"Brilliant. Anything else?" I look at John as he examines the shoe again.