Deductions

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"A deduction," I had demanded, lighting a cigarette, earning a  glare from Sherlock.

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere," he sat up from his curled up position in his chair. "John! An inanimate object," he held his hand out and gave him "the look".

"The hat. dear brother," I motioned. He sighed and handed it to Sherlock.

"Female, late... 30's, poor, very poor, a gift, from...," I walked over and took it out of his hands.

"Male as you may, yes late 30's, poor, a gift from," I pondered it. "Aunt, most likely, judging by the pattern, out a lot, coffee, smokes." He grabbed it out of my hand.

"Trying to quit, and at a coffee shop specifically... yesterday, client at the door right now, wants her hat back," he set it at the table as the doorbell rang.

"How can I help you Sir?" We heard Mrs. Hudson call.

"Oh, I left my hat," he headed upstairs and Sherlock put his hand out.

"Male, how?" he examined the hat, sniffing it. 

"Strongly of cologne faintly of coffee, a hint of smoke, often worn, short, graying hair on the inside," I explained. I lifted his sleeve. "Nicotine patch, trying to quit." I caressed his cheek and handed the hat to the man. "The little details love," I kissed him lightly. "Honestly though, how do you forget them? Like how the Earth goes around the Sun."

"Oh god, not this again," he pinched the bridge of his nose before smirking. "By the way, wrong hat, wrong client." He strode to the door and opened it to reveal a confused, woman in her late 30's. "Admit it dear, you're good, but not as good as me," He smirked lightly and sauntered out the door, grabbing his scarf and coat on the way out.

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