The Side of The Angels (A Sherlock Holmes Fan-Fiction)

Chapter Three: Six Hours and Carl Powers

I waited a moment then walked in at the absolute worst time for my nerves.

"He's not gay, why do you have to spoil..." Molly trailed off.

"Sherlock-" John started.

"With that level of personal grooming?"

"Because he puts product in his hair? I put product in my hair." 

"You wash your hair, there's a difference." Sherlock reasoned," No, tinted eyelashes, clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines,  those tired, clubber's eyes. Then there's his underwear." I thought back to the man with his back to me an dhis bright yellow underwear poking out of his pants and over his shirt. Oh yeah...gay. And pressumably, judging by Molly's upset demeanor...her boyfriend.

"His underwear?" Molly asked.

"Visible above the waistline. Very visibal, very particular brand. That, plus the suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here." he held up the card, "and I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain." She stormed past me and out of the room.

"If I had to guess Sherlock, I'd say you are the pain right now." I stated.

"Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?" He asked.

"Kinder? No, no, Sherlock that wasn't kind." John crossed his arms, and it was at that moment that the two of them reminded me of a father repremanding his child. Sherlock pulled one of the shoes towards John on the counter.

"Go on then."

"Hmm?" John asked.

"You know what I do. Off you go." John chuckled.

"Oh...no."

"Go on."

"I'm not going to stand here so you can humiliate me while I try and..."

"An outside eye, a second opinion. It's very useful to me, and I'm afraid Claudia is much to irritated at the moment to oblige me."

"Good observation." I stated dryly.

"I prefer deduction." he infomred me. I rolled my eyes.

"Fine." John cleared his throat, looking over the shoe. "They're just a pair of shoes-trainers."

"Good."

"Um...They're in good nick. I'd say they were pretty new, except the sole has been well-worn, so the owner must've had them for a while. Uh, very eighties. Probably one of those retro designs. "

"You're on sparkling form. What else?" Sherlock asked.

"They're quite big. A man's."

"But..."

"But there's traces of a name inside in felt-tip and adults don't write their names inside their shoes, so these belong to a kid."

"Excellent. What else?"

"Uh...I don't know, that's it."

"That's it." Sherlock repeated.

"That was incredible." I told him.

"Really?"

"Yes! For someone that does not have the mental training that Sherlock has you are very perceptive. No ordinary person could spot those things, John." I assured him. He looked to Sherlock.

"How did I do?"

"Well, John. Like she said, really well. I mean, you missed almost everything of importance, but, you know..." John handed the shoe to Sherlock who then proceeded to place it in my hand.

"So now it's my turn, is it?" I asked. He nodded and I started in. "Right. The owner loved them, scrubbed them clean, whitened in the places that they were discolored. The laces were changed four times. There are traces of flaky skin from his fingers coming into contact, so he must have sufferec from Eczema. The shoes are wll worn, more on the inner side, which tells as that the wearer had weak arches. British made and lastly twenty years old." I said, slapping the shoe back into Sherlock's hand and crossing my arms.

"Oh my gosh, that was...amazing. How did she do?" John asked. Sherlock eyed me for a moment. I had rendered Sherlock Holmes speechless. I smiled triumphantly at John. "Wait...twenty years?" John asked.

"They're not retro," Sherlock stated, "They're original. Limited edition, two blue stripes, 1989." Sherlock held up his phone, showing the picture.

"But there's still mud on them. They look new." John reasoned.

"Just like the pink phone, someone has gone to the trouble to make them look new." I replied.

"Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles, analysis shows it's from Sussex with London mud overlaying it." I stopped. I'm from Sussex. I came here to get away from Sussex.

"How do you know?" John inquired.

"Pollen. Clear as a map reference to me. South of the river, too. So the kid who wore these trainers, came to London from Sussex, twenty years ago and left them behind."

"So what happened to him?"

"Something bad." Sherlock responded. "He loved those shoes, remember. He'd never leave them filthy. Wouldn't let them go unless he had to. So a child with big feet gets..." He trailed off. The look in his eyes struck realization into me as well.

"Carl Powers." We stated together. Sherlock looked at me. "I'm from Sussex, I went to school with Carl Powers. He's what got me started in detective work."

"What is it?" John asked.

"It's where I began...both of us began, which is presumably why this specific puzzle was given to both of us. I'll explain in the cab." We grabbed the shoes, heading outside. 

~~~

I sat in the middle, crammed tightly between John and Sherlock, my legs pressed against each of theirs.

"1989, young kid, champion swimmer, came up from Brighton for a school sports tournament, drowned in a pool. Tragic accident. You wouldn't remember it, why should you?" Sherlock explained.

"But the two of you remember."

"Yes." We said together.

"Something fishy about it?"

"Nobody else thought so. Even Carl's parents were convinced." I explained. "Nobody except me...and Sherlock evidentially."

"I was only a kid myself, I read about it in the papers."

"You two started young, didn't you?" John asked.

"The boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got him out, it was too late. There was something wrong somewhere. I couldn't get it out of my head."

"What?"

"His shoes." I answered for him. "They never found his shoes."

"I made a fuss, I tried to get the police interested but nobody seemed to think it was important." Sherlock looked at me and we maintained eye contact for a few seconds. I shifted uncomfortably, turning towards John.

"he's left all of his clothes in his locker, but his shoes were nowhere to be found...until now."

Six hours left to go.