The Laws of Attraction - A Study in Pink

A Study in Pink

     Leanna sat uncomfortably in the back of the cab, with her hands pressed tightly  in-between her knees. It was a while before anybody said anything, and it was she who broke the silence.

     "So, who was that? The man who came over?"

     "Detective Inspector Lestrade. But that's not what's on your mind, is it?" How can you possibly know that when you're not even looking at me?  She wondered.  He was, in fact, rather boredly looking out the window.

     "No, it's just- I've never ridden in a cab before."

     "What, never?" John looked at her with surprise while Sherlock remained focused on the window. She nodded at them. She'd been on a bus, even the tube, but she'd never needed a cab before now. They were again in silence, until Sherlock spoke to John.

     "Okay, you've got questions."

     "Yeah- where are we going?"

     "Crime scene. Next?"

     "Who are you? What do you do?"

     "What do you think?"

     "I'd say private detective..." John let the sentence trail off, and Sherlock finished it for him.

     "But?"

     "But the police don't go to private detectives."

     "I'm a consulting detective- only one in the world, because I invented the job." Leanna nodded her appreciation of his title.

     "What does that mean?" John asked, not following all the way.

     "It means that when the police are out of their depth, which is always," Leanna laughed silently in agreement with this fact, "they consult me."

     "The police don't consult amateurs." John said, almost with an air of humor.

     "When I met you yesterday, I said Afghanistan or Iraq." He carried on their own conversation, leaving Leanna out.

     "Yeah- how did you know?" John responded as if it should have been impossible to tell. Obviously not.

     "I didn't know, I saw. You're haircut and the way you hold yourself says military, and your conversation as you entered the room says trained at Saint Bart's- so army doctor, obviously."

     "Obviously." Leanna muttered to herself, mimicking the superior way in which he'd said it.

     "Your face is tanned, but not above the wrists. You've been abroad, but not sunbathing. You're limp's really bad when you walk, but you don't ask for a chair when you stand- like you've forgotten about it. So it's at least partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances were traumatic- wounded in action, then." He began summing up.

     "Wounded in action, sun tan- Afghanistan or Iraq." Leanna thought about how freaking amazing his mind must be, and for the first time, she thought it might not be so bad to get to know him, even if he was rude.

     "Then, there's your brother." Apparently, Sherlock Holmes didn't know how to stop himself.

     "Your phone is expensive- email enabled, MP3 player- and you're looking for a flat share. You wouldn't waste money on this. It's a gift, then. Scratches- not one, many over time. It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins. The man sitting next to me wouldn't treat a luxury item like this, so it's had a previous owner. The next part's easy. You already know it."

     "The engraving." John answered.

     "'Harry Watson'." He quoted, "Clearly a family member who's given you his phone. Not your father, this is a young man's gadget. Could be a cousin, but you're a war hero who can't find a place to live- unlikely you've got extended family, at least none you're close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara. Who's Clara?" He asked, very interested, but Leanna hadn't a clue.