How They Met Alice (BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 15

(JANUS CARS; Alice’s POV: )

 Sherlock, John and I were in the office of the car hire company. John sat on the other side of the desk to the owner, taking notes while Sherlock looked out into the forecourt. I leaned on the threshold of the door again, my arms folded.

“Can’t see how I can help you gentlemen.” Mr. Ewert said.

“Mr. Monkford hired the car from you yesterday.” John said.

“Yeah. Lovely motor. Mazda RX-8. Wouldn’t mind one of them myself!” Ewert said again. Sherlock walked over to the other side of the desk so that he’s standing beside Ewert, then pointed into the forecourt.

“Is that one?” He asked. Ewert turned his head to look and Sherlock immediately looked closely at the side of the man’s neck.

“No, they’re all Jags. Yeah, I can see you’re not a car man, eh?” He replied. I snickered. Sherlock straightened up and looked at me briefly as Ewert looked round and smiled at John.

“But, er, surely you can afford one – a Mazda, I mean?” Sherlock asked.

“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 liquorices allsorts, when does it all stop, eh?” He started scratching near the top of his left arm with his right hand. Sherlock looked at him for a moment, then turned away and headed around the room towards the other side of the desk.

“But you didn’t know Mr. Monkford?” John questioned.

“No, he was just a client. Came in here and hired one of my cars. No idea what happened to him. Poor sod.” Ewert said. When Sherlock reached the other side of the desk he stopped.

“Nice holiday, Mr. Ewert?” Sherlock asked, seemingly out of the blue.

“Eh?” The greasy man asked.

“You’ve been away, haven’t you?” Sherlock asked again.

“Oh, the-the...” He stammered, gesturing to his tanned face. “No, it’s, er, sunbeds, I’m afraid, yeah. Too busy to get away. My wife would love it, though – bit of sun.”

“Have you got any change for the cigarette machine?” Sherlock asked again, immediately changing the subject.

“What?” Ewert asked.

“Well, I noticed one on the way in and I haven’t got any change.” Sherlock explained, offering Ewert a bank note. “I’m gasping.”

“Um, well...” He reached into his trouser pocket and took out his wallet. “Hmm.” He opened the wallet and looked inside. “No, sorry.” He concluded, putting his wallet away.

“Oh well. Thank you very much for your time, Mr. Ewert.” Sherlock thanked, heading towards the door. I joined him on the way out.  “You’ve been very helpful. Come on, John.” We left the office and headed back across the forecourt.

“I-I’ve got change if you still want to, uh...” John stammered.

“Nicotine patches, remember? I’m doing well.” Sherlock excused, patting his upper left arm.

“So what was that all about?” John asked.

“He needed to look inside his wallet.” I explained, moving up next to Sherlock and stuffing my hands in my jean pockets.

“Why?” He asked again, facing me.

“Mr. Ewert’s a liar.” Sherlock said.

 ST. BART’S LAB: