### Chapter 18: Sherlock Hers
By the busy corridor of the Inspectorate, a lazy young man with black hair and brown eyes against the wall read a newspaper.
He was hardly more than twenty, a looker like a university graduate fresh out of college.
Thin, with a pointed aquiline nose and narrow, pursed lips, he emitted a touch of haughty, critical deanor.
While reading, Haina stood by him, talking non-stop.
"…That's all I recollect, Mr. Sherlock! Can you now clarify my query?"
Haina was visibly thrilled.
She had not only gained rit but had also been interviewed and reported on the front page of the Glass Steps Gazette, probably drawing the Queen's eye. She felt like she was walking among clouds.
Seeing her new popularity, she'd blown it, spent all of her non-essential cash buying every single one of this week's issues to take ho to family and friends.
Bumping into Consultant Sherlock on the job, she was half-ecstatic to encounter an old idol, half-needy to brag, and put a question to him—
"…What question?" Sherlock Hers glanced up, responding casually. "You an 'why did Mr. Aiwass suspect the bartender'? Easy—he's highly intelligent.".
He knew the na of the bartender, so he'd been there previously. Mr. Aiwass's posture is elegant, straight—not like an old person's. Shoulders vary between youth and age. Although the bartender may not be familiar with anatomy, a more obvious indicator is Aiwass's boots.".
"Alchemical and consecrated elven boots, handcrafted with occult thods—sweat-absorbing, deodorizing, breathable, waterproof, with improved gripping ability to avoid slipping. Such a pair is more than 120 Silver Crowns. Even the majority of knightly households cannot afford it.".
"Lloyd District bars tend to conduct unsavory business and are quick at sizing up people. He couldn't help but see this as a clear indicator. But even after knowing Aiwass, he addressed him as 'old sir.' Would a Lloyd District bartender ever speak to soone like that?"
"And why was he not afraid of you? The Inspectorate's work is to tax the ones who seem like they are evading it, extracting agre pennies from the poor. They despise and fear you. Shopkeepers, with their shaky accounts, fear you more than laborers.
"So why wasn't he not bothered? Either he didn't mind your demands for taxes, or he wasn't from around here—perhaps not Avalonian, not knowing what an unheralded inspector is like here.".
"His boots are as clear in the newspaper picture as the letters etched into the wheelchair—not to ntion its beautiful elven art. 'Moriarty.' Did you not notice?
"Say, Miss Haina… Professor Moriarty told you graduated with honors. Did you pass your Elvish?"
".Yes, I can read it," Haina admitted, flushing. "I simply didn't notice."
Her initial pride and excitent lost, a creeping sense of inadequacy replaced her.
She hadn't said anything about Aiwass bringing a banned book into the bar with him that day—it was his secret, and she'd not betray him.
They were "accomplices" united by that book, tied to the sa destiny!
But without that detail, Sherlock deduced the truth from other evidence Haina had missed.
It was as miraculous as Aiwass deducing the mastermind's presence in the basent from the bartender's actions!
Haina was elated but deflated.
She was like she was in her first year—telling herself she was special, only to realize, in a wider world, that she was average.
Given those facts, she might have cobbled it together, but slower. But she had not even seen them—that was the true gap.
A tiny distinction, but a gulf.
You've understood Mr. Aiwass's genius. Good," Sherlock snapped. "Unfortunately, among your contemporaries, you're probably above the average—a clever one amidst fools. The others, with brawn for brains, are nothing but idiots.
"They do nothing but ss up. Even when I give them the truth, I have to reiterate so they'll believe .
"But Mr. Aiwass—honestly, his insight outweighs half the Inspectorate together."
"…You peg him that highly?" Haina exclaid, flabbergasted.
She had only ever heard Sherlock call other people incompetent or stupid.
"Of course," Sherlock replied calmly. "Your 'partnership' cracked this case completely because of his observation and judgnt.".
Without him, you'd never get it. He could have done it by himself. You were just rolling his wheelchair around, and failing as a guard too. When he asked you to attack straight out, why not attack straight out? If you trust his command, trust it entirely. Half-trusting and wondering if you should have is worse than not trusting at all.".
"He possesses acute observation, sound judgnt, prompt decision, steady action, mature judgnt, and accurate marksmanship. His ability, personality, and aptitudes exceed 99% of the people in this nation at the age of eighteen. He rits my 'Mr.' status.
"I'm intrigued. He's a freshman? I will pay a visit to our alma mater to get acquainted with him. I feel working or communicating with him would be very comfortable."
With that, Sherlock neatly folded up the paper—neatly aligned corners demonstrating his perfectionism—and returned it to Haina.
"He's been off on leave two or three months, hasn't even begun classes…" Haina stamred, accepting the paper.
Sherlock wasn't surprised, nodding placidly. "Makes sense. Universities don't breed genuine talent. They're just nannies of knowledge, reducing information to easy-to-swallow mush for slack-minded idiots, attempting to make them useful at best.".
“I’d wager Aiwass’s intellect and wisdom co from the Professor’s personal tutelage. Even at Royal Law University, Professor Moriarty is among the sharpest.”
“…I see,” Haina said, crestfallen.
She'd taken pride in having gone to Royal Law University and beco won's class leader by sophomore year. But Sherlock, a fellow top graduate, had the influence to have said this—he'd been student council president during her freshman year, his regulations allowing her to coordinate council responsibilities even without guile or contacts.
Both perfect scorers, council presidents, and top graduates, but so far apart. Transcendent courses were set for starters, so high scores were within reach for advanced transcendents.
"Wait, Mr. Sherlock," Haina finally burst, "I have one question. If you find the Inspectorate full of fools and turned down their and the Oversight Court's internship offers upon graduation, why beco a simple consultant now?"
A consultant, however excellent, couldn't ascend ranks. All of the rits belonged to Director Kent, who would possibly give him a book or two at best.
If he had gone to the Inspectorate, he could by this ti be deputy director, ultimately taking the whole bookshelf as director.
"…*re*?" Sherlock turned, shocked.
He looked at Haina, took a deep breath, and spoke low. "Don't say that again.".
"Authority Path followers should not obsess with 'promotion' or 'prospects.' A clear 'ambition' of an inspector indicates Transcendence Path competence.
"In Avalon, those willing to advance do not. Get it?"
(End of Chapter)
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