Oneword: Pattern

John winced on behalf of Sherlock as they approached the crime scene; the smell of rot was ripe throughout the lobby, the voices of several panicked guests echoed around the giant aquarium centerpiece where the body had been dumped, and the walls and carpet were covered in clashing textures which would make even a mute sick. John reached out to steady Sherlock's mind, though the well-controlled Sentinal hardly needed it. He was already focusing in on the relevant details and assessing the situation. John was swept up in his excitement for something new and interesting, but what exactly it was, John would have to wait and see.
The guests were beginning to stare at the two-man detective team instead of at the body now, their stress running higher at the sight of the sentinel amongst them. John threw his shields up around himself and Sherlock, willing the mutes to look away.
Surely enough, their gaze began to slide from one gaudy pattern to the other, eventually forgetting what they had been looking at in the first place. The detective and his precious Guide slid into obscurity, leaving them free to gather data without fear of interference.