Power of Words

Chapter 7: Consulting Detective

        I walked down the street, Shimmer trailing slightly behind me. I had my eyes peeled for anyone that looked... abnormal. That sounds so bad, but it was true. Shimmer had said that other characters would show up to the cafe... but they hadn't--at least not when I was there. 

     I looked at Shimmer for a moment. It was probably about 30 degrees Celsius out. Boiling. I took a swig of bottled water and kept looking. 

      Why were we searching? Boredom, really. Better than hanging out alone at the cafe, what with Jesse and Aura gone on a date or something like that. I thought I spotted someone that looked like Sherlock Holmes. Yeah, yeah. Cosplay, that was my first thought too. But do most cosplayers go as far as to perfect the accent? 

     No... we're too lazy for that. That dark haired man had a spotless British accent! He wore a long dark trench coat and was muttering to himself quickly. I quickened my pace to match his long stride. Why did he have to be six feet tall? I was only 5'5"! Gimme a break!

      Nonetheless, I raced to catch up with him and Shimmer followed like a puppy. The man barely gave me a glance before returning to his mutterings. I could only catch a few words and those weren't much to go by. Just filler words like 'the', 'he' and 'but.'

After a minute or two he turned to me and said, "What do you want?" A bit rude, but at least he didn't beat around the bush?

     "I'm just..." I fumbled for words. The truth, a lie, anything. Finally, I spat out somewhat of both, "I'm a big fan of yours, mister Holmes."

     "All the way in--what is this?--Canada?"

     I nodded and said, "Yes, sir. Your cases are very well known here." Well... sort o? I could only hope that this wasn't some early Sherlock that hadn't gone through his famous cases yet. Come on Conan Doyle! Please tell me I wouldn't make a fool of myself in front of a man who claimed to be the world's best and only Consulting Detective.

      He sniffed and said that he was surprised at being known across the world. He remarked that it was probably his friend John Watson. HE took out a pipe, looking around.

     "It's odd." the detective said suddenly after a short silence.

     "What's odd?" I asked.

      "A man cannot smoke a pipe without forty other men staring at him as though he were mad. And yet they smoke out of rolled up papers. They are not poor, though they have ripped pants that cling tight to the thigh and loose shirts that bear frightening imagery and cartoons." he sighed, lighting his J-shaped pipe, "Times have changed." I wondered what he thought about other elements of the world... like television and cell phones. I didn't ask him though. I couldn't ask him. I mean, who was I to get him riled by asking stupid questions? What if he didn't know what I was talking about? What if he did? Why on earth was I worrying about something like this?

      Holmes turned to me in question, taking his pipe out of his mouth. He blew a ring of smoke out of his mouth, "You want to ask something that you think is foolish, but you still wish to ask." He summed it up as though I was a book that lay open for him to read.

     I was surprised but said nothing. The detective would have just made some smart-aleck remark anyhow. I didn't want to hear that, nor put up with any following banter, so I was quiet.

     Sherlock frowned, "Questions, but you don't want answers. Interesting." I rolled my eyes and was met by a raised eyebrow from the famous consulting detective.

     My phone buzzed in my pocket and I dug it out, trying to be sly while checking Sherlock's reaction. He didn't seem to care or even notice the touch screen phone which I worked with ease and quick thumbs. My surprise was evident on my face--at least to Sherlock it was... what did that say about anybody else?