CHAPTER 2: THE THRILL OF THE CHASE
The next day, Giulia leaves her hotel room, heading back to Baker Street. No nightmares that night.
John greets her with a cordial smile and helps her with her luggage.
"I didn't expect you to be ready to move in immediately," he says, puffing and blowing under the weight of a heavy bag.
"I hadn't unpacked. I wasn't planning to spend all my money on a hotel room." She shrugs casually, but the sincere smile on her face fails to hide her relief. She has a proper place to stay now. That's a start.
He leads her to the basement door and turns the key in the lock before handing it to her.
"It was pretty late last night, and I haven't explained much. This place is quite small, as you can see," he says, pushing open the door of 221C.
"To be precise, it isn't even a flat. There's just a bedroom, a bathroom, and this small, unfurnished entrance hall. You will share the kitchen and living room with us upstairs. Hope it won't be a problem."
She roams around the place with a satisfied grin. "It won't."
"Good. Very good." He clears his throat, ill-at-ease with useless small talk. "I'll let you move in and finally unpack your bags."
He takes a few steps toward the main door, but she calls him back.
"John, we didn't discuss the rent. Yesterday you said it wasn't expensive. What did you mean by that?"
He looks pensive for a second. "Can you cook?"
"Sure."
"And would you mind tidying things up now and then, just helping us with the shared spaces?" he asks as his mind pictures Sherlock's beakers cluttering the kitchen table and the gory body parts in the fridge. Let's hope she isn't a very impressionable woman.
She beams at him, unaware. "Not at all. It's fine with me."
"I'm sure we will find an affordable deal, then." He winks at her and leaves. A second later, his head peeps again from the threshold.
"Come on up when you're finished. I'll make you a cup of tea."
"Thanks, John," she whispers as a timid smile lights up her face. She walks to the bedroom, collapses onto the sheetless mattress, and sighs, relieved. For the first time in forever, she doesn't feel out of place. That minuscule room looks like a place where she could belong.
Some days later, early in the afternoon, Giulia appears in the living room of 221B, wearing her coat and scarf. It's late September, but the air is already turning chilly when the sun hides behind the treetops.
"Hanging out with some new friends?" John asks, standing up from his armchair and stretching his back. Sherlock, who is sitting on the armchair next to him, shows no signs of life.
"Going out on my own, actually. I wanna stroll about and discover some new areas."
"Didn't you go on a walk yesterday?"
"Yes, and the day before. What can I say? I adore wandering around this city."
Watson shoots her a sceptical look. "London is quite big. Are you planning on visiting it all by walking?"
"Maybe, who knows? See you later, guys," she says cheerfully before disappearing down the stairs.
John listens to her fading footsteps, then mutters, "I'm embarrassed to say it out loud, but I have some doubts."
Sherlock, who had spaced out, grumbles idly, "I won't explain our latest case again. Ask Lestrade for clarification." As soon as he finishes the sentence, he frowns at his own words.
John ignores his comment. "I was talking about Giulia."
Holmes shoots him a meaningful look then rebuts, "You chose her."
"She was the only possible choice since everyone else legged it out of this flat because of you. I was simply pointing out that we don't know her very well. Yet."
"If you don't like her, there's still time to kick her out," Sherlock points out, displaying his absolute lack of care for the fate of another human being.
John turns to face him, appalled.
"No, I would never go that far. I just meant that she looks suspicious sometimes."
"Suspicious how?" He cocks a brow at his friend's allegation. To him, that woman seems utterly ordinary, which, in his clever little world, is synonymous with irremediably boring.
John moves to the window and looks down on the street where Giulia has just closed the front door and is about to cross the road.
"She often goes on long walks, and God knows where she roams and who she meets".
Sherlock rolls his eyes. "You could know it, too. Just ask her."
Watson turns around with a conflicted expression on his face. "I don't want to sound intimidating."
"Believe me, you really wouldn't."
"The point is, I am not completely sure we can trust her."
Holmes looks directly into his eyes. There they are, the trust issues John has been suffering from ever since he came home from the war. Oddly enough, trust has never been a problem between the two of them.
"She's not a threat," he reassures him vaguely.
John crosses his arms over his chest. "How would you know?"
"I deduced her."
John can't help but throw a sneering look at him. "I'm sorry, but it isn't a certainty."
Sherlock jerks his head up and glares at him; his friend doesn't bat an eyelid and retorts, "Remember Jim Moriarty?"
The detective's expression changes immediately after that mention. He remains silent.
"A criminal mastermind, the most dangerous man we've ever met, and the only thing you deduced out of him on your first meeting was his sexual orientation," John argues disapprovingly.
Sherlock bites the bullet and holds his silence. He can't argue with that; that was a gigantic misstep.
From his place near the window, John observes Giulia ambling into the distance.
"Where do you think she's going?"
"Why don't you follow her and find it out by yourself?" Sherlock says ironically.
John turns around, grinning. "My thoughts precisely."
"Are you serious?"
John tries to justify himself while taking his jacket from the coat rack. "I just need to check."
"If it makes you feel better."
"You're not coming then?" He asks innocently, his hand on the doorknob.
"On a manhunt for our new flatmate?" Sherlock fakes an unconvinced tone, even though he can't conceal the hint of curiosity in his voice.
John turns around on the threshold with a jaunty smirk. "Why, you have better things to do?"
Holmes stares at him and wrinkles his nose. "Is it possible to die of boredom, doctor?"
They smile at each other and rush downstairs together without another word. Once out on the street, they follow the same direction as Giulia, trying to spot her in a crowd of pedestrians.
"I see her: I recognise her coat," Sherlock exclaims, vaguely excited. The streets of London are his battlefield.
The two men follow her for some time, keeping their distance. It isn't a hard task after all, and Sherlock gets bored soon.
"Can we go back home now?" He whines after a while.
John doesn't get his eyes off Giulia's back and asks absently, "Why?"
"Because this is pointless. We've been following her for over an hour, and she has done nothing else but walk, look around, and take photos. I see nothing suspicious about it."
A few yards ahead of them, Giulia has to fight against the impulse to turn around or glance over her shoulder. She is being followed; she is certain of it. She can notice these things: she knows how to prick her ears in the middle of a crowd to spot the constant gait of people tailing her. She has been listening to the same two pairs of footsteps resounding behind her back at a short distance for a while. She must admit that her trackers are quite persistent.
"She might plan to go to a specific meeting point," John whispers, craning his neck beyond the corner of a building to glance at their target.
"Given the route she has made so far, I highly doubt it," Sherlock grunts.
"What if she's going to meet with someone, maybe an enemy of ours?"
"Under the London Eye? How very daring of her. It's hardly a secluded place for a secret meeting. Besides, would you really believe that the whole reason she became our flatmate was to plot against us?" Holmes furrows his brow.
"A spy at 221B... Considering the kind of criminals we deal with daily, it wouldn't be that surprising. Please, just a few more minutes, then we'll go back home," John promises, trying to keep pace with Giulia.
Two hours later, they finally reach Baker Street while Giulia, who has constantly been some steps ahead of them, unlocks the front door.
Sherlock scowls at John and complains, "Just a few more minutes, was it? I haven't been on such a ridiculous chase since the day we followed that cab."
"It was the day we moved in together," John recalls as his lips automatically bend in a smile.
"Yes, and I have never been more pleased to come back home." Sherlock steps forward, but John grabs his arm.
"Wait, we can't enter so soon after her; that could seem fishy."
"For God's sake, John. At this point, I couldn't care less."
"We need to wait."
After what feels like an eternity but it's actually just fifteen minutes, they climb up the stairs and step into the living room, knackered.
Giulia greets them gleefully, "Evening! I thought I'd find you at home when I came back. Were you two on a case?"
"Erm, yes. The usual, y'know," John lies absent-mindedly.
"Of course. Murder this time?" she asks. She has been trying to keep up with their peculiar lifestyle and appears more intrigued than scared about it.
John nods silently to avoid adding unnecessary details. As his sleuth friend believes, only lies are detailed, neatly-wrapped stories.
"You look awful. Was it quite distressing?" Giulia presses him with questions.
"A bit tiring. Lots of walking involved," John murmurs, sinking heavily in his armchair.
Giulia walks into the kitchen but re-emerges soon after.
"Oh, I almost forgot. Next time we're going to Notting Hill, okay? It was a shame we couldn't walk down there today."
John raises his head, dazed. "We?"
Sherlock sighs and draws one obvious conclusion, "When did you realise we were following you?"
"A few minutes after I left. You aren't too good at tailing people," she replies, shaking her head with fake disapproval.
"So, you didn't have to go on such an endless walk," John howls, exhausted, finally understanding that they have been played.
"I'm glad you got it, in the end. I hadn't planned to wander for so long, but I wanted to see how far you'd go. Sort of test. And revenge, of course." She smiles smugly.
"I think we owe you an apology. Sorry, we shouldn't have followed you," John admits sheepishly.
"You really shouldn't: wasted effort. If you had questions or doubts, you could have just asked me. Luckily, there's still time."
"Can we trust you?" Sherlock intervenes bluntly.
Giulia tilts her head and furrows a brow. "Wrong question."
Sherlock narrows his eyes at her. "Why?"
"You can't just ask that. People might seem trustworthy, but they may let you down as well. I suggest you look at me and decide it for yourself." She opens her arms and turns around, full-on display under their inquisitive gaze.
Sherlock stares at her. "I've made my decision, but I am interested in your answer, too."
She lowers her arms, and a warm smile curves the corner of her lips.
"Of course you can trust me. I am loyal. Besides, I wouldn't have any interest in betraying you."
"You're vengeful, though," John breathes out, rubbing his sore feet.
"I am, but my anger blows over in a second." She goes into the kitchen and comes out with a tray full of biscuits.
"Are you hungry?"
"Not really," Sherlock mumbles, sitting down.
"Okay. I'll leave them here, just in case," she says, placing the tray on the tea table.
John ogles the biscuits. "Where did you buy them?"
"You know I didn't; you followed me for miles on end. I baked them myself the moment I got home, waiting for you to come upstairs."
Sherlock steals a glance at the food and comments, "Did you add poison?"
Giulia smacks her forehead theatrically.
"Poison! That's what was missing from the recipe. I knew I had forgotten something."
"You don't seem to appreciate my humour." Sherlock waits for a moment, then stretches out his hand and takes a biscuit. "I'll have one, anyway. Just to check the taste. I don't want you to poison John."
The doctor smiles and takes a fistful of them.
"I wouldn't care. I'm starving." He takes a few morsels and adds with his mouth full. "It wouldn't even be the first time a flatmate of mine has tried to intoxicate me, by the way."
Sherlock turns to him, peeved.
"You mean at Baskerville? It turned out it wasn't a hallucinogenic drug in the end."
"But you thought it was in the sugar and deliberately put it into my coffee," John objects.
"I needed to test my theory, John," Holmes rolls up his eyes. When will he let it go?
"And you chose me as your lab rat?"
"We were in a controlled environment, scientifically safe."
"You two are impossible," Giulia comments, lying down on the couch and observing them fight.
"Welcome to our world, stranger," Sherlock says and winks at her.