(Excerpt from Fractured Reality, a Sherlock Holmes fanfiction by yours truly)

I turned my gaze from the footprint in the mud to my companion as we sat upon the stone wall, away from the crime scene where Holmes had placed us. "I don't think he trusts us, Sam," I said more lightly than I felt. I drew up my legs onto the wall without a thought to the lack of etiquette it displayed. I have never been terribly fond of dresses, and being forced to wear the period fashion (no matter how nice and how indebted Sam and I were to Mrs. Hudson) irked me into a general ill-humor.

Sam chuckled, as she often did when I made such a remark which was obvious to even a child. I privately prided myself on sounding like an idiot one moment and then blowing someone away with something unexpected the next. "I think you're right," she said to me and then pointed to the boot print. "What do you make of it, Cal?"

I smiled at her. "A rather corpulent gentleman who does a good deal of riding on horseback and who dangles his toes. He really shouldn't do that."

"Explain your reasoning if you please."

I assented and knelt carefully on a dried patch of dirty next to the print. "His boot is a square-toed riding style, emphasized by the heel being squared off." I outlined it with my finger. "It's perhaps a size seven or eight boot, indicating a short man, reinforced by the length of his stride. Yet the depth of the impression is much deeper than - say - Holmes' tread over here. That speaks of a large man. The inside of the heel rather than the bottom of the boot is worn with the stirrup, indicating that the man drops his toes while he rides. He also rides a good deal because his riding boots still have the tread pattern to them with little walking wear on the soles." I looked up at Sam. "How'm I doing?"

She smiled at me, satisfied. "Admirable, my dear Cal. Admirable."

I rose and gave her a bow that nearly touched my forehead to my knee. "Thank you, Holmes," I said, addressing her in the fashion I previously had before we had come to this era.

"A fine Watson you make," Sam praised before gesturing me to come sit back down. Holmes had finished his investigation and was coming to collect us.