Chapter 3: The House Of Surprises
When they reached the house around ten minutes later, the owner was already waiting for them. The man was in his mid-forties, his beard showing some nice stopples of grey, a real contrast to his brown skin.
Sherlock was the first to greet him, "Hello, Sherlock Holmes. We wrote to each other?"
The man, who was the same height as John looked up at him and nodded. "Si, I am Antonio Giotto, the owner of the house."
"Nice to meet you."
"So, this is your team from the police?"
Sherlock turned round to face the others, who were slowly stepping out of the car.
"Yes, that's Dr. Watson. If we find a body then he's the one to consult. And this lady here is Sheila Edwards. She helps me with my investigation."
The detective saw that Antonio's eyes were wandering to the little child.
"It seems strange to me that a child is brought to a possible crime scene," the man replied.
"Well, normally yes. The problem is, Dr. Watson is a single dad and therefore he has to take Rosie with him sometimes," Sherlock informed calmly.
"I see. Why don't we go inside and I show you the house," Giotto offered and the four followed.
When they entered their rental for the first time, it was like living in the past. There was a round table in the middle of the living room, there was a bed leaning against the wall and on the other side an old sofa decorated the room. From the living room you could walk to the left into the kitchen, which was in poor shape. John was glad that Antonio wasn't able to understand the English language.
"Jesus Sherlock, this kitchen looks worse than ours had looked in Baker Street," the doctor whispered.
"As you can see, this door leads to the washing machine. Just open the doors and you can get out." Antonio informed while pointing to the backdoor of the kitchen.
They stepped backed in the living room and from there walked to the right side this time, Antonio showing them the two sleeping rooms and the bathroom. Like the other rooms, the sleeping rooms looked very poorly. The wardrobes in both rooms were broken and the beds looked also very old. The bathroom was little. There was a sink in it, a toilet, a shower and a bidet. The room was so small, that only one could enter.
When they met in the living room again, Giotto informed them that there was no TV available and Sheila rolled her eyes. Giotto signed the papers for the house and then left very quickly.
"This is going to be brilliant," Sheila stated and pointed to the TV.
"I'm sure Rosie will find other things to play with," John replied.
Sherlock smiled and added, "It could have been worse. Salento is a region, where the modern life is still far away but that's what people like the most here." He started to yawn. "If you won't mind, I would lay down now. The drive to Italy was long and exhausting and all I want to do right now is sleep."
Sheila and John nodded and the detective slowly walked into his bedroom. When he closed the door, Sheila and John decided to take a short shower and then take a walk to the sea, which was only five hundred metres away from their home. The first surprise awaited them, when the shower wasn't really warm. The water heater wasn't very big and therefore the water was warm for only two minutes. Sheila and Rosie were lucky to be the first ones but when John entered with a big smile on his face, all the doctor received was cold water. When he finally stepped out of the bathroom, his mood had changed.
"If this vacation continues like this, I will fly home," the blogger complained.
"Come on my lovely man. Let's not get angry about cold water. Things are different in Italy and we have to enjoy it."
They grabbed Rosie and started to walk down the street. The way was plastered with dog feces and this was something both Sheila and John didn't like. Also, there was trash everywhere. Glass bottles, plastic bags, old plastic forks and everything else that would normally belong in a trash bin. John shook his head. "It's sad that people here also don't know about the climate crisis."
"I guess we have to ignore it right now. We can't save the whole world," Sheila sighed desperately.
It was already starting to get dark. Something the two never expected.
"Just look, it's already getting dark at 7:30 PM here," Sheila said astounded.
"You're right. Strange, isn't it?" John said.
They were reaching the end of the street and the sound of the waves hitting the rocks, could already be heard. Sheila and John were both holding Rosie's hands now and together they carefully climbed down the hills. A few minutes later, they were sitting on the stones, which were still warm from the sun and stared at the waves. The smell of the salty water filled their nostrils and John took a deep relaxing breath. The rush of the waves was kind of calming and Sheila lay her head on the doctor's shoulder, closing her eyes.
"It's so quiet here," she mumbled, while John slowly put his arm around her back, kissing her slowly on the cheek.
"Let this holiday never end," he replied and both watched Rosie, who was jumping from stone to stone.
Meanwhile, Sherlock had slept a little and was then awakened by the sound of their neighbours, who were just getting home and their dogs barked an alarmed warning.
"Perfect," the detective mumbled, rubbed his eyes and stared at his watch, which was lying next to him on the night stand. It was 11 PM now and when he walked out of his room, he discovered that he was alone. Slowly he walked into the kitchen and opened the door to the back of the house. The washing machine was blinking, telling him that Sheila had already washed their dirty clothes. When Sherlock stood at the back of the house, he made a discovery. To his surprise, there was another shower, but outside the building. A smile appeared on his face and when he was sure no one was looking, he stripped himself from his pyjamas and stepped under. The water started to flow and he felt kind of free. He couldn't describe what he was experiencing, but it felt good. He liked cold water, especially when it was still very warm outside. Everything was different here. The beds, the houses and of course the fact, that almost every house had a shower outside, too. While the water ran down his body, he looked at his scars. The one on his chest was slowly fading, but it would never disappear completely. It was a reminder of how hard he had fought to save his best friend from falling apart. He had nearly died, something the scar would always remind him of. After a few minutes under the cold shower, he turned off the water and started to soap his body…
Sheila and John returned to the house a few minutes later and while it was late and Rosie already asleep on John's arm, she said, "Why don't you go inside and make sure Rosie can sleep in our bed, while I check the washing machine?"
John nodded and carefully stepped inside. Meanwhile Sheila went behind the house and wondered where all the water was coming from. "Shit, something must be wrong with the machine," she said to herself and followed the water trail. When she rounded the corner of the house, a naked Sherlock Holmes turned round, frightened by the sudden appearance. Sheila was also screaming because she never expected him outside.
"Jesus Christ Sherlock! You scared the shit out of me," she screamed while staring at the naked man in front of her.
"Sorry, I didn't know you were coming back this early, so I thought I could take a shower."
The paramedic was too shocked from the discovery and couldn't stop staring at him.
Sherlock knew all too well where she was looking but was still too surprised to move. It was an awkward situation and when John stepped out of the kitchen door and met the two, he just stood there, not sure what to say. Finally, he decided to play the cool guy and just said, "Don't worry about it, Sherlock. I already know every detail."
Now Sheila looked disgusted at her lover and replied, "Jesus John. I thought you loved me."
"Of course, I do. You know that. You got it the wrong way. I saw him being stripped in the hospital more than once."
Sherlock grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist. "I'm sorry you had to see me like this. It wasn't my intention to upset you."
"You didn't upset me. It's more the opposite." She looked at his waist. "I was impressed."
Now all three started to laugh.
"This is really a vacation I like," John giggled while rubbing away a tear from the laughter.
"Me, too," Sheila admitted while still staring at the detective, who was also laughing.
"I would say we should go to bed now. Tomorrow, we have to buy things from the supermarket, otherwise we won't survive," Sherlock informed, while turning around and putting on his pyjamas.
"Nice butt," Sheila mumbled and left the scene. John was standing there, his eyes looking at the scars on his best friend's back.
When Sherlock finally turned round, he saw the mixed expression on the blogger's face.
"What's wrong?"
"I still can't believe, you did all of this just to save me."
The detective smiled, "You are my best friend, John. I would give my life for you."
"Yeah, literally speaking," Watson sighed and stepped away.
At 1 AM, finally everyone was heading for bed, ready for the next surprise. The heat was unbearable and therefore Sherlock and John met outside their rooms by coincidence.
"You cannot sleep, can you?" John asked him directly.
"No. It's too hot, even for me," the detective answered.
Both stared at the air conditioner above the living room. "Maybe we should try it, but I doubt we will get any cold air in our rooms," Sherlock suggested and pressed the button. The air conditioner started to blow the first waves of cold wind into the living room, but unfortunately this was the only room that was getting cooled. The rooms that needed cooling wind where it was mostly needed stayed hot…
"Oh wonderful. How am I supposed to survive three weeks of hell?" John complained quiet.
"When we are driving to the supermarket, we will make sure to get two vents for us," Sherlock whispered and stepped desperately back to his room. John shrugged with his shoulders and also stepped back to his bedroom, where Rosie and Sheila were sleeping together. A smile appeared on his face. When Mary was still alive, she used to take Rosie in her arms too while sleeping together. Slowly, John entered the bed and tried to get some much-needed sleep. It was going to be a great holiday, he told himself. A great holiday, yes indeed…
The next morning, Sheila and John awoke to the scent of coffee. Surprised, the blogger walked out of his room and stepped into the kitchen. He saw something that he was sure he would never see in his whole life. There, in front of him at the stove, Sherlock was making Espresso with the traditional Espresso can.
"Morning. Where did you get this coffee?" John asked impressed.
"A wonderful good morning to you, too. I was up early, so I thought I'd visit the supermarket and make sure we were going to get breakfast," the detective replied.
"I must be dreaming," John whispered to himself.
"Why? Because you never saw me in the kitchen?" Sherlock wanted to know.
"I always see you in the kitchen but most of the time it's not about food," John replied dryly.
"Well, I know I always seem distant to people but that's because of what I do. Of course, I could make my own coffee and sandwiches, I even served tea to Moriarty once." The detective turned round and placed the Espresso can on the table. John inhaled the flavours and smiled, "I don't know what's wrong with this coffee, but the smell alone is enough to make me feel good."
The detective smiled and placed a little package on the table. The blogger looked at it and read out, "Quarta Café. So, this is your little secret?"
Sherlock grinned. "This is a secret hint I got a few years ago. This coffee is known nowhere, especially some regions in Salento. The only place, where this coffee can be found is Switzerland."
"Amazing. So, what are you going to serve for breakfast?" the doctor asked, while setting the table.
The detective put a plastic bag on the table and John looked at it. "Frise di Grano?" he questioned.
"Believe it or not: This had been a meal for the poor a long time ago. Now it's kind of a tradition. It's like a dried bread."
"Aha, and how am I supposed to eat this?" John asked sceptically.
While the blogger was still wondering, Sherlock put a bowl with water, tomatoes, salt and olive oil on the table.
"You have to put it in the water, then you press some tomatoes over it. Next the olive oil and at the end some salt, that's it. And of course, you can enjoy some Espresso with milk, too."
Sheila stepped into the kitchen and smiled, "Wow, you already made breakfast, my lovely man."
From the corner of her eye, she could see Sherlock's sad face. Immediately she recognized her mistake and added, "Jesus Sherlock I'm sorry. I didn't know you made this for us."
"It's alright. Don't worry about it," the detective replied broken and left the room.
John looked at Sheila, who was now hating herself. "I'm sorry. I didn't know it was him. He's never made breakfast before."
"It's not your fault. I was astounded like you," the blogger assured her.
The blogger walked outside the kitchen, searching for his friend. The tall man was sitting outside the house on the steps, head tucked between drawn-up legs. The blogger sighed and sat next to the slumped figure.
"Hey listen. Sheila didn't mean it. It's just we're not used to this. You just surprised us a little but we never wanted you to feel foolish or anything like it."
"It's ok. It will never change," the detective whispered.
"What do you mean?" the doctor asked irritated.
"As soon as I show some 'normal' behaviour, people get confused."
"We've known each other for over five years now and you never made breakfast," John tried to explain.
"I was thirteen when we made a school trip to Ireland. We were living in little houses, all of them made for four people. I was forced to live with Brad Stoker, Andrew Cane and Frederic van Hooper. Most of the time I tried to stay in my room, but one day I had to grab some food before I starved and they found me in the kitchen, making coffee and some sandwiches. When they saw what I was doing, they started to burst out in laughter and made videos of me, later showing the others what a ridiculous person I was."
John felt a lump forming in his throat. "I'm sorry for you. It must have been very depressing."
"It was. I was throwing up from the stress in the middle of the bus…"
"Listen to me Sherlock. We are your friends, not enemies. No one will harm you here. We want to have a good holiday, remember?"
The detective nodded and pushed himself up.
"Where are you going?" John asked irritated.
"Aren't we going to eat breakfast?" he replied with a smile.
Later that day, the four decided to go to the beach. Sherlock had calmed and now they were sitting on the warm sand, staring at the waves, which were cooling their feet. Rosie was walking around, trying to catch the waves but failed. She looked confused at the sand in front of her.
Sherlock decided to show Rosie the real use of waves and entered the water with her. Holding her in his strong arms, he jumped up and down in the waves, Rosie laughing and giggling.
"Look at these two. He's so in love with your little girl," Sheila said overwhelmed.
"Yeah, she adores him so much. Never expected this." John was lying on a towel in the sand, his back full of blisters.
"Dear good Lord! You should stay out of the sun! Look at your back!"
"Where else am I supposed to be?" the blogger asked.
"Umbrella! Now lift your arse and move before I take care of your blisters!"
"You're not going to tell Sherlock about this," John threatened.
"Why not?"
"Because, he would tease me the whole day, telling me he warned me… You know him." John wasn't amused.
Sheila shrugged her shoulders, "I bet he will figure it out no matter how hard you try to hide it."
Sherlock stepped out of the water of the free beach of Ugento, smiling at his two friends in front of him.
"You should have used sun protection yesterday," he said when he looked at John.
The doctor stared at him like he was shocked to the core. Maybe he was, the detective thought and grinned even more.
"H… How is that even possible? You haven't seen my back since we arrived here."
Sherlock's grin widened. "I can see the shadow of your back."
When John Watson glanced at his own facade' in the sand, he couldn't suppress his laughter.
The four decided to sit down on their towels for a while, waiting for the tiredness to subside. They weren't used to such temperatures and even as Sherlock Holmes discovered, his fitness was useless here. Italy, especially Salento, had its own rules of living and all they needed was some time to get used to it. While they were sitting under the big orange umbrella, an African woman was walking directly to them.
"O no. That's the last thing I need right now," Sherlock already complained.
"Why? Look, she has beautiful necklaces," Sheila interrupted and already was smiling at the woman.
"Please Sheila, don't," the detective begged but it was too late. The African woman had discovered the young paramedic and was now showing all types of necklaces.
"You want this? Beautiful," she teased. Sheila stared at the staff, while John and Sherlock gave one another a desperate look.
"Sherlock for God's sake, do something," John whispered.
"You're her partner," the detective replied and stared at the two women, their hands full of necklaces now.
"Those good. Very beautiful," the woman replied. For a few more seconds Sheila looked at the fake pearls in front of her, then shook her head. "Sorry, but it's not what I am looking for."
The African woman seemed not to understand what Sheila was saying, or maybe she was but didn't care. When she started to speak in Italian to the young woman, Sheila again shook her head. But the seller was not dumb and decided it was time to involve the two men. "Look. Your wife, beautiful."
John and Sherlock only shook their heads and when the woman didn't stop, it was finally enough for the detective and when he said something in the Italian language, the woman thankfully backed off.
"What did you tell her?" John asked curious.
"O, nothing special. Just that she should be ashamed of leaving her daughter at home alone that long."
"Sherlock! That wasn't very nice," Sheila now interrupted.
The detective shrugged his shoulders. "What? The pressure point of every desperate mother is her child."
They had been over two hours at the beach, when the sun was starting to set. The blue sky was decorated with orange lights by the sun and the shadows of the seagulls, which were sitting on a rock. Rosie was getting tired and as soon as the sun was behind the hills, it was getting cold.
At home their first mission was to shower, so the sand was washed of their bodies. Sheila and Rosie were using the shower in the bathroom, while Sherlock preferred the one outside. Only John wasn't interested to inflict even more pain to his burned back and stayed in the kitchen. When he heard his best friend outside, he decided to join him. When he stepped out, the detective gave him a warm smile. "I thought you have seen me enough times without my clothes," he grinned.
"It's not about that. I thought you might want company."
"Why would I be lonely if I can talk to Sheila, who is right behind that window?" Sherlock pointed at the open frame.
A hand waved a 'hello' out of the window and the doctor started to laugh.
"So, do you want to take a shower, too? I'm not sure how much more water we get from this old heater," the detective said.
"No thanks. I think I'll leave that back of mine alone," John replied with a pain filled voice.
"You should see a doctor," Sherlock suggested.
"I am a doctor, Sherlock. I can take care of myself."
"You do know, that these blisters will need more than two weeks to heal?"
"Of course, I do! Now would you please shut up and leave my blisters my problem?"
"Guys, calm down. I'm sure John here knows exactly what to do and if he needs care, I'm sure he will ask his paramedic to help him," Sheila called out of the window.
"Right. So, what are we doing tonight? Are we staying at home or anything planned," the doctor asked.
"I heard there is a festival today at Gagliano del capo with traditional music," the detective informed.
"Sounds good. I like folk music," Sheila answered from the bathroom.
John also seemed interested and after Rosie had taken her nap, the four were on their way to the festival.
While they were sitting in the car, driving through the night, the air smelled of pines and firs. The roads were empty and everything quiet. They had been driving for a while, when suddenly the scent of fire reached their nostrils.
"You smell that? Is there a fire somewhere?" Sheila was looking around in worry.
"Unfortunately, a lot of people think it's fun to burn down the fields of the people," Sherlock replied.
In the distance they could already see the orange colour of fire and the black smoke lighting the darkness. When they got closer, a whole field of olive trees was burning and there was no one to stop the fire.
Sherlock stopped his car on the road and they were watching helplessly, as the first olive tree broke down.
"Shame," the detective mumbled and moved on. The mood had changed. No one was smiling now.
"I don't get it. Why are people doing this? I mean, those olive trees are typical for Salento," Sheila whispered.
"There are rumours that the mafia is involved but I don't know if that's true," the detective explained.
"Why would they do this?" John asked irritated.
"To control the market," Sherlock replied.
They reached Gagliano del capo at 9:45 PM. Thanks to the little car, they were able to find a free space very quick. A lot of people were passing by and while John was handling the buggy, Sherlock checked the area.
"I think we should follow those people. I'm sure they know where to go," he said optimistic.
"Well then, let's go," Sheila said with a smile, patting John's back accidentally. The doctor flinched instantly, but didn't say anything.
While they were walking down the streets, a homeless dog crossed their way. From the look of the animal, it was a young chihuahua, who had a collar around his neck.
"Poor thing," the paramedic stated.
The detective sighed and whispered, "It's still a problem around here. The people do have dogs, but it's complicated. Big dogs were held outside in a shelter to protect the house. There's not really space for love or hugs. On the other side, little dogs are slowly respected as pets now here. Unfortunately, there are still enough people, who leave a dog behind when moving away or, what's more likely: the owner dies and the dog will be expelled. If I would be able, I would take all of them from the street."
Sheila knew that the detective had some problems with his emotions when it came to humans but with animals, especially dogs, it was a very different story.
"We all know you have a good heart but let's face the truth Sherlock. We can't save all of them," she sighed.
"I support an organisation here, which helps those poor souls. Sometimes I have the feeling it's not enough," the detective confessed.