Sherlock working in customer service

Author's note: This is loosely based on a prompt I saw at the Sherlock BBC ficmeme. Unfortunately I've misplaced the link and can't remember the prompt (I'm pretty sure it was Jim rather than Sherlock in an entry-level job) but this came to me in a dream. This is based on my experiences working at an unnamed retail store in Australia, slightly tweaked for dramatic effect, un-britpicked and unbetaed. I hope you enjoy!

Elaine wasn't entirely sure if the latest employee was quite as qualified as he claimed. Sure, his resume was top-notch and he had seemed charming and competent in the interview, but now that he was faced with actual customers she found herself doubting everything he'd said. Her gut feeling was usually right, especially after working in customer service for seventeen years.

"Sherlock," she said quietly as he followed her instructions, "you have to be polite to the customers. They are giving us our patronage, after all."

"But how can you deal with the amount of stupidity they seem to have rolling off them in waves?" he questioned, frowning. "That woman clearly should have known that she was a size sixteen rather than a twelve."

Said woman was still in earshot by the counter, waiting for her blue returns voucher. At this she looked offended and very slightly hurt. He'd already insinuated that buying the skinny jeans would not impress her latest conquest, and that she should go with darker clothes and longer sleeves.

"Look, just give the lady her returns slip – and don't even say anything other than 'thank you' or 'have a nice day'."

Sighing, the man did what he was told, his demeanour turning a complete one-eighty as he smiled sunnily and wished her a great morning.

The man had moves – that was clear enough. His people skills, however, were certainly lacking. Hopefully it would get better during the day as he got into the swing of things.

It did not get better.

So far that morning Sherlock had insulted two more ladies, made a child cry and caused a couple to split up. He did stop two shoplifters, which had redeemed him slightly, but Elaine thought he had a long way to go before he was completely forgiven in her eyes.

She'd decided that he had enough knowledge to serve a customer on his own, but was hovering nearby negotiating the paperwork that needed to be in the cash office by closing. As Sherlock greeted the latest customer she involuntarily held her breath and said a silent prayer.

"I'd like to return these DVDs," the lady said, taking them out of her eco-friendly shopping bag. "They don't work on my DVD player at home."

"That's a shame," Sherlock said politely, though his expression suggested otherwise. "Do you know what's wrong with them?"

"No idea. Tried them on three different players – even went to my son's place. Nothing worked."

Nodding, Sherlock checked the DVDs were in the cases. "Do you have your receipt?"

"I'm afraid I don't," the woman replied. "I bought them so long ago. Eighteen months, in fact."

Suspicious. Sherlock certainly seemed to think so too, because he gave her a funny look. Sighing, the customer elaborated.

"Look, I bought these DVDs eighteen months ago. However, I didn't really have time to watch them until last week, when I realised they weren't unlocked. I had to get them unlocked at the other store – you know the one, round on Wickham Street – and they did it for me. I finally got around to watching them last night but, like I said, they never worked. Now, I need a refund or an exchange."

She was clearly lying, Elaine realised. The checkout staff were very diligent in unlocking the security devices on all the products, and if there had been a mistake you needed a receipt to confirm the purchase before anyone would even unlock anything. She'd explained as much to Sherlock earlier.

"Madam," he said finally, utter disdain dripping from the word, "I very highly doubt you bought these DVDs from here."

Affronted, the woman scoffed. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"I beg your pardon," the woman spluttered. "Is this how you treat customers? I paid good money to buy those DVDs and I'd like an exchange or a refund. If you can't do that for me I'd like to see your supervisor – and if they won't do anything, I'd like to see the store manager."

All throughout the woman's hissy fit Sherlock's eyes had narrowed and his glare had deepened. At the end of her announcement he suddenly loomed and the combination was actually quite terrifying. Elaine did not envy the customer at all. Judging by her sudden nervous look, the woman seemed to be rethinking her actions. "What are you doing?" she demanded squeakily.

"Testing a hypothesis."

That seemed to throw her a bit. "What?"

Sherlock clapped his hand together, steepling his fingers under his chin. "I was wondering if my desire to have you self-combust would come true simply through the strength of my stare and your apparent idiocy."

Elaine stifled a snort. The woman glared at her, and she shrugged, then continued the guise of ignoring her in favour of the paperwork while she listened in.

"It seems that while my ire grows and your stupidity reaches new heights it will not make you self-combust." He seemed rather disappointed at this conclusion. "However, I can take great pleasure in pointing out why you are wrong and ineligible to a refund. In doing so I can also ensure you banned from stepping foot in this store again and hopefully awaken you from your foolishness, though I very much doubt it."

And then, in one of the most absurdly entertaining moments of her career, Elaine Pinkersham listened as Sherlock bloody Holmes listed evidence to the woman's kleptomania, citing evidence from the tiniest, almost imperceptible things that Elaine never would have noticed. He also cited a possible link between the woman's depression and the aforementioned kleptomania, and finished with a, "I think your daughter would be missing her shoes, don't you?"

Grudgingly impressed, Elaine gave up the pretence of working on paperwork and resisted applauding. The woman looked shocked more than anything, and Sherlock had that smug air about him – even if he didn't smile, exactly.

"You're forgetting one thing, dear," Elaine said as the woman tried to close her jaw. He turned to her, gaze questioning.

"What might that be?"

"Those DVDs were only released last week, not eighteen months ago."