Author's note: Hi! I would have posted Yesterday, but the website wouldn't let me. I don't know why! Thanks to Arcoiris, SammyKatz, Mrspencil and Renaissancebooklover for their reviews. I appreciate them.

I hope you like this, have a great day!

Feral

.

Rome is full of trees.

Tall and majestic, they tower over the streets and shade the ruins scattered around all over the place. Molly had no idea the eternal city was so...green.

They had been greeted at the airport by DIGOS agents, carabinieri and agenti scelti. Ascanio Rigamonti, a rather striking man in his early forties, seemed to be the one in charge.

"Welcome to Rome." He had said with a curt nod. He did not offer his hand. "Primo, Michele, vedi se hanno lberato la strada. Ci mancava solo l'ingorgo, và! 'Ste proteste di merda, non si riesce a lavorare..." He had given commands with a soft but authoritative tone as he escorted them to the car. Two other identical vehicles travelled with them, surrounded by 4 policemen on motorcycles.

Asking for a pop into the shops for a change of clothes was out of the question, of course.

As they drove down the streets, siren were flashing and traffic moved aside for them. It all felt very grand and important... It also made Molly feel, well, terribly out of her depth. She was painfully aware of her shabby look as the three of them walked through the iron gate, passed security and entered the embassy.

They walked down a posh corridor, decorated with posh things and animated by posh people, untill they finally reached the posh door where the probably-obscenely-posh ambassador was waiting for them.

I should have brought more clothes.

Agent Rigamonti opened the door for them, and they stepped into a private office.

A tall man in his late thirties stood by the window. His simple white shirt, rolled up at the forearms, hinted at a strong, athletic physique. Although his face had been lined with concentration, it relaxed the moment he heard people walk in, and when he turned to greet them his deep green eyes crinkled in a smile.

James Bailiff, the British ambassador to Italy, walked towards them.

I really should have brought more clothes.

"Welcome, Mr. Holmes, Doctor Watson and Doctor Hooper." He began with a slightly gravelly voice. "Your brother informed me you might come. May I offer my most sincere condolences for your loss." He added, his eyes resting softly on Molly, who smiled back.

It wasn't hard to understand why he would address her on the matter, she clearly had been crying in the past few hours. Sherlock's back stiffened.

The ambassador offered them something to drink, and called for his secretary to make some tea. They sat down on comfortable armchairs around an antique coffee table.

"I must admit, I was looking forward to meeting you. I have had the pleasure of reading your work, "the science of deduction", and have found it very compelling. I am sorry you took the analysis of tobacco ash down..." The ambassador shook his head.

"You read it?" John exclaimed, brows raised in disbelief. Sherlock glanced coldly at his friend. "Why?"

The ambassador's smiled deepened. "I have some small skill with deduction myself, although it is in no way comparable to Mr. Holmes' abilities. I find that keen observation is vital to good diplomacy, reading people's clues allows me to better understand them."

Sherlock's head twitched for a moment in...Pride? Disbelief? "What can you deduce about me?" He asked.

The ambassador laughed. "Very little, I'm have no pets but you do not dislike animals, I would dare say you are quite fond of dogs. You have lost a lot of weight over the past few weeks and something has been making you very uneasy, although I doubt it's the case itself..."

John grinned. "Extraordinary! How did you know?"

This was fun.

James Bailiff shrugged. "Mr. Homes, you have an almost impeccable coat, free from any animal hair, except on the right sleeve, near the wrist. As it is such a well-kept item of clothing, it seems you have it rolled every day, so the dog hairs must be very recent. I would dare say you stroked a dog at the airport."

The doctor nodded. Sherlock had petted a dog when Molly was in the bathroom and John was getting the suitcases.

The ambassador continued. "You have just been on a plane, a situation which usually leaves signs on clothes, however you look as though you've been sitting perfectly still the whole trip. I would think it usual behaviour, if I had not noticed the marks on your palms: you've spent a long time with your fists so tightly clenched that your nails have left small, red impressions in your hands. Someone who sits so still out of habit does not need to contain and redirect their energy as you have done. No, you were stiff out of some unease, concealing it. As you are very much accustomed to working on cases, I must reach the conclusion that this state of stress comes from another source. It is probably something that has been toubling you for a few weeks, as you have also lost weight over that period of time, as your belt shows. You have only recently moved to the tightest hole, which is still barely marked by use, while the one next to it is very worn..."
"How do you know it's been only recently? Maybe Sherlock goes on crash diets every once in a while, using the tighter hole occasionally over a long period of time." John inquired. Oh, this was fun!

Sherlock replied, eyes narrowed as he looked at his friend. "If I did fluctuate in my weight, the third button would show signs of use, too. Your deduction is accurate." Sherlock turned to the ambassador. "If somewhat limited. I am sure that with practice you will become very skilled."

The consulting detective then began his own little series of deductions, going from the man's clothes to his furniture and the way he closed drawers. John thought it was slightly over the top, but he knew a little vanity in his friend was a forgivable flaw.

"Wonderful, Mr. Holmes! Your reputation doesn't do you justice. Now, enough of these little games: how can I help you?" The ambassador smiled. If Sherlock had turned it into a competition, Mr. Bailiff had no desire to win it. John noticed the ambassador frequently look at Molly. Maybe it wasn't Sherlock he had tried to impress.

If Sherlock noticed, he didn't point it out in one of his deductions.

"You are familiar with the murders of three of your colleagues."

The ambassador nodded. "The prime minister has had security increased exponentially. I believe he is terrified I will get killed, because that would mean an automatic resignation on his part. Italian politicians would rather die than give up their seats, it is practically impossible to get rid of them, especially for the voters..." He mused somberly. Italian politics were a painful note.

"I am sorry to say we believe you are the next target, your excellency."

The ambassador nodded, unsurprised. "I have been invited to a few events at Milan fashion week, I was supposed to leave tomorrow. I imagine you wish me to stay here..."

"No." Sherlock interrupted. "I want you to go to Milan and do everything you had planned to do."

The ambassador seemed pleased. Obviously the security lockdown in Rome had become stifling. "You wish to use me as bait, then?"

Sherlock nodded, and the ambassador grinned.

"Wonderful. But please, if we are going to work together I want none of that 'excellency' business. Just call me James."

The ambassador's eyes met Molly's, and something in those warm eyes made her blush, so she looked down into her mug.

She did not see Sherlock's fists clench tighter.