“Sherlock, dear, please.” Mrs. Hudson speaks despairingly, arms folded, eyes fixed on the screen. “You always ruin the surprise.”
“But it’s so obviously in poor condition. Anyone could see the stains, the fading, the clear signs of renovation -”
“Shut up, Sherlock.” John gives him a pointed glance over Mrs. Hudson’s head and he settles back into the couch, lips pressed in a thin line. A moment later the appraisal is announced - Sherlock is right, as always. His smug silence is itself a form of exaggerated bragging, and John sighs. “Yes, yes, you’re very clever.”
The kettle sings and Mrs. Hudson hurries about making tea. “Yell if anything interesting comes on!”
“Just some cameos,” John calls, over the sound of domestic bustling. Sherlock seems to be staring past the image on the screen, distant and expressionless, and John watches him warily. “Very old, good condition, some sort of religious significance.” Lowering his voice, addressing Sherlock, he adds, “What do you think?”
“Obviously her manner is quite revealing, but her appearance is telling as well - the condition of her skin indicates time and money spent fighting the effects of aging, rather futilely one might add, but the two-inch gray roots suggest recent stress, preoccupation, despite or more likely because of the recent change in her fortunes. Displeasing a powerful friend will have that effect.”
“I was talking about the cameos.”
“Oh - stolen. Undoubtedly. By someone beginning to discover that she is in over her head.”
“Stolen?” John starts to laugh, then stops abruptly at the look on Sherlock’s face. “You’re not joking.”
“Oh, not at all.” Mrs. Hudson returns with the tea, carefully arranging the service on the cluttered table. “It wouldn’t be the first time Sherlock’s gotten a good case out of Antiques Roadshow.”
Sherlock stands abruptly, already animated by the familiar frenetic energy of the chase. “The Case of the Vatican Cameos, John,” he calls, practically running from the room. “This will be one for your blog.”
Case of the Vatican Cameos 1/2
“Sherlock, dear, please.” Mrs. Hudson speaks despairingly, arms folded, eyes fixed on the screen. “You always ruin the surprise.”
“But it’s so obviously in poor condition. Anyone could see the stains, the fading, the clear signs of renovation -”
“Shut up, Sherlock.” John gives him a pointed glance over Mrs. Hudson’s head and he settles back into the couch, lips pressed in a thin line. A moment later the appraisal is announced - Sherlock is right, as always. His smug silence is itself a form of exaggerated bragging, and John sighs. “Yes, yes, you’re very clever.”
The kettle sings and Mrs. Hudson hurries about making tea. “Yell if anything interesting comes on!”
“Just some cameos,” John calls, over the sound of domestic bustling. Sherlock seems to be staring past the image on the screen, distant and expressionless, and John watches him warily. “Very old, good condition, some sort of religious significance.” Lowering his voice, addressing Sherlock, he adds, “What do you think?”
“Obviously her manner is quite revealing, but her appearance is telling as well - the condition of her skin indicates time and money spent fighting the effects of aging, rather futilely one might add, but the two-inch gray roots suggest recent stress, preoccupation, despite or more likely because of the recent change in her fortunes. Displeasing a powerful friend will have that effect.”
“I was talking about the cameos.”
“Oh - stolen. Undoubtedly. By someone beginning to discover that she is in over her head.”
“Stolen?” John starts to laugh, then stops abruptly at the look on Sherlock’s face. “You’re not joking.”
“Oh, not at all.” Mrs. Hudson returns with the tea, carefully arranging the service on the cluttered table. “It wouldn’t be the first time Sherlock’s gotten a good case out of Antiques Roadshow.”
Sherlock stands abruptly, already animated by the familiar frenetic energy of the chase. “The Case of the Vatican Cameos, John,” he calls, practically running from the room. “This will be one for your blog.”