The Undefined Criminal - A Sherlock Fanfic

Profiles

Surprisingly, this is my first interrogation room. It's pretty much what I expected it to be. Plain white tile walls, concrete floor. A two-way mirror on the wall facing me. Metal table with handcuffs attached to it, and attached to me, with a metal chair with a wooden seat. Not comfortable. I mean, this place is nice, but boring.
In the chair across from me, that same tan man with graying hair. He seemed frustrated and confused, I guess he wasn't expecting an interrogation today.
"Ok, Miss Amy Winters, 27 years old, five foot ten inches. Surprisingly clean criminal record... Judging by that smirk you just did I suggest your proud of your absence of a criminal record?"
"My, my. Your deducing skills are off the chart! If we're gonna talk profiles let me have a go," Waiting for an objection can be so nerve racking. seeing none I decided to show him what I've got.
"Well, detective inspector Lestraude. Your ridiculous tan tells me that you go on holiday a lot, but your expensive looking suit tells me otherwise. So, you must make enough money to go on frequent holiday and afford nice things. Now the question is, what job requires a suit? Office worker? No. The gray hair tells me otherwise. You're not old enough for your hair to start graying naturally, you have a job that puts you under stress, hence the gray hair. I mean I was going to say reporter, but then you pulled out these handcuffs so you must work in the law industry. Now, how did I guess that you're the detective inspector? Well that part was quite easy. I mean, just walking through your lovely police station, everyone stepped out of your way, and said 'Hello sir' and stuff like that. You must be important. What really sealed the deal for me was when everyone we passed seemed to get five times more stressed when they saw you. In conclusion, you are the detective inspector of the private investigation division. Am I wrong?"
       Even the atmosphere of the room was silent. Lestraude looked at me with eyes bigger than his police badge. "How did you guess my name?" He finally said.
       "It says on your badge," I replied.
       The door burst open, the short man and Sherlock ran inside. "How the HELL DID SHE DO THAT SHERLOCK I THOUGHT IT WAS JUST YOU AND MYCROFT AND-" the short one seemed to trip on his own words. Sherlock seemed surprisingly calm, but he was staring at me with such concentration. Like he was looking for something.
       "We're doing an interrogation, aren't we?" He said. "I've got a question for her. Take a look at John Watson here," he gestured towards the short man. "If you were to ask one question to him, what would you ask?"
       Was this a test? What does he want to know? Whatever. I focused on John Watson. What would I ask him? The gears in my head were spinning. Linking everything about him with a meaning was easy. He was very readable. Question. What question do I ask? Find a bump in his history. Find it. Find it!...
       Found it.
       "Afghanistan or Iraq?" I smiled.