Brilliant {A BBC Sherlock Fanfic}

Chapter Twelve: Impressing Sherlock

CHAPTER TWELVE: IMPRESSING SHERLOCK

Amelia bit her lip, scrutinizing Ewart-as identified by the nameplate on his desk-carefully. His office was well-kept, she noticed but by the tan line on his wrist she could tell that he often spent time abroad. Amelia cocked her head quizzically as Sherlock shot her a look, wondering what was going through the consulting detective's mind.

"Can't see how I can help you gentlemen," Ewart said to Sherlock and John, though his eyes were on Amelia. She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, leaning into Sherlock's side. "And lady."

Amelia ignored him entirely. "Mr Monkford hired the car from you yesterday."

"Yeah." Ewart confirmed. "Lovely motor. Mazda RX-8. Wouldn't mind one of them myself!"

Sherlock slowly walked around Ewart's desk, quite aware that Ewart wasn't talking about the car when he said he wanted one. Sherlock involuntarily pursed his lips at the thought, feeling protective over the youngest Watson. He came to a stop beside Ewart, "Is that one?" Sherlock asked, pointing to a picture on the wall at random.

"No, they're all Jags." Ewart answered, turning to face him. "Yeah, I can see you're not a car man, eh?"

"But, err..." Amelia said, breaking the awkward silence. "Surely you can afford one-a Mazda, I mean?"

"Yeah, it's a fair point." Ewart said. "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?" He eyed Amelia hungrily as he scratched his arm, causing her to shoot him an angry glare.

"But you didn't know Mr Monkford?" said John.

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

Amelia stood abruptly, perching on the edge of Ewart's desk-much to Sherlock's amusement. Sherlock knew that Mycroft often taught his protégées more unconventional means of persuasion, he just didn't think that he'd ever see Amelia in action. Amelia smiled seductively, looking at Ewart from under her lashes. "Nice holiday, Mr Ewart?" She said in a low voice.

"Eh?"

"You've been away," Amelia continued despite John's appalled look, "haven't you?"

"Oh, the-the..." Ewart stuttered, surprised by the turn of events. He gestured to his face, "No, it's, err, sunbeds, I'm afraid, yeah. Too busy to get away. My wife would love it, though-bit of sun."

"Have you got any change for the cigarette machine?" Sherlock asked suddenly.

"What?" Ewart blinked.

"Well, I noticed one on the way in and I haven't got any change." Sherlock shrugged, handing Ewart a twenty pound note. "I'm gasping."

"Um, well..." Ewart took out his wallet, thumbing through the several Columbian-which Sherlock and Amelia noticed immediately. "Hm... No, sorry."

"Oh well." Sherlock said. "Thank you very much for your time, Mr Ewart." He turned and headed for the door. "You've been very helpful. Come on, John."

"I-I've got change if you still want to, uh..." John sputtered as he followed Sherlock and Amelia out of Ewart's office. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately, he noticed.

Sherlock patted his upper left arm, "Nicotine patches, remember? I'm doing well."

"So what was that all about?" John said in confusion.

"He needed to look inside his wallet." Amelia muttered, her head hanging low and her hair creating a curtain which covered part of her face.

"Why?"