Alleyway Sherlock and the Mystery of the Shoelace

He kept walking down the alleyway. Messy hair that's put in a half up, half down hair style, always looking tired given the dark circles under his eyes. His name was Axel. He seems to be in search for something. Or maybe someone?

Trash bins litter the rear exit walls of each building, with half the trash tied up in bags sitting on the ground. He hand grips the picture in his pocket, worn and dirty from years of handling. He sees a dirty ankle and rushed forward to see it it was them. No, false alarm.

“Not again,” he muttered to himself, yet his eyes kept scanning the crowd—for a gait, a glance, even a shoelace that might give them away

Alas he found no footprint (or whatever you want to call it) of the suspect and instead turned to the café for a refuge. Then he noticed one of the baristas accidentally drop a familiar looking shoelace they were clenching tightly in their fists. 'Aha!' he exclaimed, approaching.

The nervous barista attempted to excuse himself, but the detective did the usual detective explanation from tv shows which brought the barista to his knees. The detective knew everything! "You got me," he declared in defeat as the detective handcuffed him in triumph. Case closed.