His Favorite Melody

Amateurs

The taxi roared along the London street, fast and furious. Melody sat between the boys as the streetlights flashed past the windows.

Sherlock flicked listlessly through items on his PDA. "Okay, you’ve got questions!"

John and Mel looked over at the man and nodded in silent agreement.

"Where are we going?" Melody inquired.

"Crime scene, next."

"Who are you? What do you do?" John asked.

"Ahh, the million pound question. Who exactly is Sherlock Holmes? Go on, Mr. Watson. What do you think?" Melody  pressed.

Sherlock gave her a curious glance as she spoke. Melody had certainly gotten to know him and his mannerisms during the time that he assisted in her father's case. He dared say they knew each other better than anyone else.

He thought for only a moment on her statement before John spoke.

"I’d say you were a private detective but -"

"But?"

"The police don’t go to private detectives."

"I’m a consulting detective. Only one in the world, I invented the job." Sherlock explained.

"And quite proud of it at that." Mel chuckled quietly.

"What does that mean? Consulting Detective?" John said,trying to figure out the title.

"It means when the police are out of their depth - which is always - they consult me." Sherlock quipped.

"But the police don’t consult -" John started before biting off the word. Sherlock looked sharply at him as Melody took a sharp breath. "Amateurs." He finished.

Just the merest flash in Sherlock’s eyes showed both of the people sitting with him: he didn’t like that.

"Good thing he isn't an amateur then, eh?" Melody said decidedly.

"When I first met you yesterday, I said," Afghanistan or Iraq? " You seemed surprised." Sherlock said quickly.

"How did you know?" John said, suspicion laced in his tone.

"I didn’t know. I saw. Tanned face, but no tan above the wrists. You’ve been abroad but not sunbathing. Your haircut and the way you hold yourself says military - but your conversation as you entered the room says you trained at Barts. So - army doctor. Obvious!"

Melody was greatly enjoying watching him as his mind easily picked out details. She had learned a few things from him when they spent time together, and she was getting rather good at observing things the way he did.

"Your limp is really bad when you walk, but you don’t ask for a chair when you stand, like you’ve forgotten about it - so it’s at least partly psychosomatic. That says the circumstances of the original injury were traumatising - wounded in action then." Sherlock continued.

"Wounded in action, a suntan. Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"You said I had a therapist." John added.