SOCIOPATH'S ROMANCE // Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Chapter 16 - The Great Game part 4

A.N: decided to add sherlock memes at the top because why not? 🙃

Sherlock, John and Y/n were assembled in Mr Ewert's office, seeming the next logical place to visit upon Ian Monkford's bizarre disappearance. It is a very nice office, Y/n had to admit, the car hire company had the cleanest locals and manifestedly very high standards even in their buildings. 

John sat across Mr Ewert's desk with a notepad and pencil in his hands, looking more like the detective than the distant Sherlock who was watching the forecourt. 

"Can't see how I can help you." muttered Mr Ewert sitting in his revolving chair and watching Sherlock's paces around his glassed office. Two looks sufficed for Sherlock to already have eight theories. Now he just needed to narrow them down. 

"Mr Monkford hired the car from you yesterday." John started, awaiting Mr Ewert's version of the events. 

"Yeah. Lovely motor. Mazda RX-8. Wouldn't mind one of them myself!" he recalled, swinging a little in his chair. Y/n gazed at his fingers, his face, his eyes, to see if she could even attempt to figure out anything for now. 

His face was quite tanned, that she noticed. She nodded towards Sherlock, who noticed the same, before asking whilst pointing at the pictures of cars on the wall, "Is that one?" 

Mr Ewert turned to see which one she was referring to and chuckled a little. Meanwhile, Sherlock peered into his shirt a little, only to notice the faint tan line stopped exactly where the shirt begun. So, he'd been abroad.

"No, they're all Jags. Jaguars. Yeah, I can see you don't know your cars, eh?" he answered in a somewhat condescending way. He quickly added, "My wife doesn't either." 

As if that would help his case, Y/n scoffed, forcing her lips to stay in their perfect line instead of the nasty scowl she wanted to send his way. Accompanied with some choice words, of course. 

"But, 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 liquorice allsorts, when does it all stop, eh?" 

As he spoke, Mr Ewert scratched his upper left arm, little seeps of blood piercing the striped fabric. 

Still conducting the questions, John asked, "But you didn't know Mr Monkford?" 

"No, he was just a client. Came in here and hired one of my cars. No idea what happened to him. Poor sod." 

Innocently, Sherlock said, "Nice holiday, Mr Ewert?" 

"Eh?" Mr Ewert exclaimed, staring at the detective in surprise. 

"You've been away, haven't you?" 

"Oh, the-the..." he gestured to the tan, "No, it's, er, sunbeds, I'm afraid, yeah. Too busy to get away. My wife would love it, though – bit of sun." 

Sherlock having by then walked over to the other side of the desk, asked randomly, "Have you got any change for the cigarette machine?" 

Y/n's gaze moved sharply to the detective. He was clean currently but if he did take that cigarette, who would know.

"What?" Mr Ewert was confused by the nature of the request. 

"Well, I noticed one on the way in and I haven't got any change." Sherlock explained, holding between his fingers a folded up note towards Mr Ewert, "I'm gasping." 

Mr Ewert reached for his wallet and looked through it, "Um, well. Hmm. No, sorry." 

"Oh well. Thank you very much for your time, Mr Ewert. You've been very helpful. Come on, John and Y/n." Sherlock replied, already walking out of the office.