This year I asked the my friend what he wanted for Christmas and read his request was an encounter between a teenager and Ianto Jones Sherlock. The story is then set on Christmas Eve 1999, when Ianto has about 16 years and has Sherlock 23.
Title: Observation and deduction
Genre: General
Rating: for all
Spoilers: TW: Fragments
Characters: Sherlock Holmes (SH), Ianto Jones (TW) N.
words: 1,052
Genre: General
Rating: for all
Spoilers: TW: Fragments
Characters: Sherlock Holmes (SH), Ianto Jones (TW) N.
words: 1,052
Dedicated to Joy, a friend and valuable beta.
London, December 24, 1999
Sherlock advanced to the streets London with a rapid pace and an expression of annoyance. He did not understand why people lose so much time to buy decorations and gifts that were not appreciated, not to mention countless lunches where those obnoxious people who can not stand to go pretend to love and agree to the Convention. He shuddered at the memory of the expression of cold and angry when Mycroft had communicated with a regret that his brother did not believe even for a moment, he could not join the rest of the family for the usual festivities. What I had not expected was to avoid a situation extremely unpleasant to be in despair now that he had discovered that he could not gain access to chemistry labs to end of the holidays. His plan, to continue undisturbed experiments that teachers would not have approved, had faded and now she did not know how to fight boredom. It was taken from his thoughts, did not notice that the lights had changed and I nearly stepped over by a police car. For a long moment he stood watching the vehicle moved away and suddenly his eyes lit up and changed direction. The last time I was at Scotland Yard had been a pretty interesting and if there was the same detective, very likely because it was a new arrival, and then surely turn during the holidays, he could convince him to give him look at his case. Unfortunately
for him, Lestrade was actually on duty but was sent to interview witnesses to a crime of some little importance. Sherlock, bothered by the setback, he looked around and was about to get his hands through his hair, frustrated by the useless that day, when he saw a group of people in a state of standstill and decided to kill time exerting his favorite science : observation and deduction. The people, almost all idiots according to his enlightened opinion, it is not ever realize how easy it was for a mind trained to recognize the many small signs that told of their lives. This young blond woman, for example. The paint was recently applied but poorly on the roots and trembled at every sound. Victim of domestic violence, repeatedly broken arm, tired of harassment had reacted and stabbed the partner (not married, had no sign of rings on his fingers). The prostitute with a red wig and nose stud had a higher education, almost certainly run away from home and with no intention of going back on his feet (the betrayed the properties of language and hands) and so on.
Sherlock went off the time needed to find a cup of tea, then sat in a strategic position, from that point could be observed at will and the people, reflected in a glass, the entrance of the office where he worked the detective.
For most people it was very interesting, as the three boys a couple of uniformed police had just come. Clearly the suburbs, a history lesson and jump school years repeated. Shoplifting and other minor offenses, ready to follow in the footsteps of fathers and older brothers in the world of crime.
Ah! Not everyone, however. The youngest, about fifteen or sixteen, had hunched shoulders, her cheeks pink with embarrassment and threw furtive glances to the other two. Involved in spite of himself, then. He had no implications in jeans and a shirt under the jacket was of poor quality, but stretch. The family would be anything but proud of her first and only failure. Perhaps visiting some relatives for the holidays. Had hardly opened his mouth but had requested a cup of coffee with an unmistakable Welsh accent. Hard to please. After the first sip, grimaced eloquently on the face, had left the cup on a desk.
The others were transferred elsewhere, too much earlier to get out without involving lawyers and social workers. The boy stayed where he was Welsh, his fists clenched at her sides. The family had been contacted and someone would come get him. Fury and grief in his eyes clear that, having explored the room with curiosity, had met the impassive gaze of Sherlock who took the opportunity to study it further.
Not only son, to spite someone had cut the locks of hair. Then a sister, possibly more. Clean hands and nimble fingers, but not without signs of a trade. Something to do with paper? No, in a corner of the jacket had a patch of plaster. Scissors and chalk. A tailor's family. He could go on for hours, but even if the boy seemed slightly more intelligent than average, the banal life that led not persuaded to go further analysis.
Sherlock got up, had to stretch their legs and find something more interesting to do. Or return to college, now seemed unlikely that the detective came back in time to do something.
carelessly walked toward the exit by throwing a last glance at the office of Lestrade and ended on another person. He blinked, vaguely surprised to find himself face to face with the young. Was willing to go further, apologizing at best a waste of breath and had time, but met his eyes sparkled with irritation and irony and nailed him on the spot.
- Le has perhaps broken the TV? - Suddenly felt very sarcastic tone request and after a moment of uncertainty, Sherlock laughed.
people tend to send him to hell without any inventive step when he realized to be the object of his observations, but this guy knew he had used a weapon that few master. Irony and detachment were his armor, but there was vulnerability and curiosity in his gaze. An enigma that boy, he would like to decipher. But before he could open his mouth a young woman pushed him unceremoniously aside.
- Ianto! My mother is nearly had a heart attack when she found out where you were and dad nearly closed shop to board the first train. How did you get past the mind of ...
Sherlock had stopped listening and was released from police headquarters. Not far away was a great Chinese restaurant and, since he had nothing to work with, could afford to lose a bit 'in the gloss with a decent meal.
for him, Lestrade was actually on duty but was sent to interview witnesses to a crime of some little importance. Sherlock, bothered by the setback, he looked around and was about to get his hands through his hair, frustrated by the useless that day, when he saw a group of people in a state of standstill and decided to kill time exerting his favorite science : observation and deduction. The people, almost all idiots according to his enlightened opinion, it is not ever realize how easy it was for a mind trained to recognize the many small signs that told of their lives. This young blond woman, for example. The paint was recently applied but poorly on the roots and trembled at every sound. Victim of domestic violence, repeatedly broken arm, tired of harassment had reacted and stabbed the partner (not married, had no sign of rings on his fingers). The prostitute with a red wig and nose stud had a higher education, almost certainly run away from home and with no intention of going back on his feet (the betrayed the properties of language and hands) and so on.
Sherlock went off the time needed to find a cup of tea, then sat in a strategic position, from that point could be observed at will and the people, reflected in a glass, the entrance of the office where he worked the detective.
For most people it was very interesting, as the three boys a couple of uniformed police had just come. Clearly the suburbs, a history lesson and jump school years repeated. Shoplifting and other minor offenses, ready to follow in the footsteps of fathers and older brothers in the world of crime.
Ah! Not everyone, however. The youngest, about fifteen or sixteen, had hunched shoulders, her cheeks pink with embarrassment and threw furtive glances to the other two. Involved in spite of himself, then. He had no implications in jeans and a shirt under the jacket was of poor quality, but stretch. The family would be anything but proud of her first and only failure. Perhaps visiting some relatives for the holidays. Had hardly opened his mouth but had requested a cup of coffee with an unmistakable Welsh accent. Hard to please. After the first sip, grimaced eloquently on the face, had left the cup on a desk.
The others were transferred elsewhere, too much earlier to get out without involving lawyers and social workers. The boy stayed where he was Welsh, his fists clenched at her sides. The family had been contacted and someone would come get him. Fury and grief in his eyes clear that, having explored the room with curiosity, had met the impassive gaze of Sherlock who took the opportunity to study it further.
Not only son, to spite someone had cut the locks of hair. Then a sister, possibly more. Clean hands and nimble fingers, but not without signs of a trade. Something to do with paper? No, in a corner of the jacket had a patch of plaster. Scissors and chalk. A tailor's family. He could go on for hours, but even if the boy seemed slightly more intelligent than average, the banal life that led not persuaded to go further analysis.
Sherlock got up, had to stretch their legs and find something more interesting to do. Or return to college, now seemed unlikely that the detective came back in time to do something.
carelessly walked toward the exit by throwing a last glance at the office of Lestrade and ended on another person. He blinked, vaguely surprised to find himself face to face with the young. Was willing to go further, apologizing at best a waste of breath and had time, but met his eyes sparkled with irritation and irony and nailed him on the spot.
- Le has perhaps broken the TV? - Suddenly felt very sarcastic tone request and after a moment of uncertainty, Sherlock laughed.
people tend to send him to hell without any inventive step when he realized to be the object of his observations, but this guy knew he had used a weapon that few master. Irony and detachment were his armor, but there was vulnerability and curiosity in his gaze. An enigma that boy, he would like to decipher. But before he could open his mouth a young woman pushed him unceremoniously aside.
- Ianto! My mother is nearly had a heart attack when she found out where you were and dad nearly closed shop to board the first train. How did you get past the mind of ...
Sherlock had stopped listening and was released from police headquarters. Not far away was a great Chinese restaurant and, since he had nothing to work with, could afford to lose a bit 'in the gloss with a decent meal.
End
December 26, 2010
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