Welcome to Baker Street

2. Deduction time

She climbs up the stairs with a puzzled expression on her face and follows the blond-haired man into a messy living room.

"I believe proper presentations are in order. I am Doctor John Watson, and this is Sherlock Holmes," he tries to break the ice, pointing at a man with curly dark hair and piercing eyes sitting silently in a black armchair.

The doctor sinks into another armchair across from his friend and nods at an empty seat in front of them. "Please, have a sit."

She cautiously places down her shopping bag and rucksack and sits, smiling politely.

"Hi, my name is—" she begins before being interrupted by the man that was just introduced as Sherlock. Weird name.

"Not interested, thank you. I already know everything about you. You are an international student who has recently moved to London. You believe that this experience could mark the start of an entirely different life, yet you are afraid of feeling homesick." He does nothing to hide the bored expression painted all over his face.

"Sorry?" she asks, astonished.

Sherlock glances at her and gestures at her body.

"You are wearing brand new clothes to help you feel different but worn-out shoes; I suppose you must be sentimentally attached to them. As I said, it all indicates a desire for novelty but a tendency for melancholy. I pointed out that you are an international student, but I might as well add you came here to attend a prestigious university. I recognised the coat of arms on the tag that was recently stuck on your bag." He looks down at her possessions abandoned at her feet.

She follows his gaze to the sticker attached to her bag. How did he notice that? She thinks, but before she can express the question verbally, John Watson raises his eyebrows at Holmes. "International student?"

"Obviously. There's a flyer with an evocative expression peeping out of the front pocket of her bag: Welcome to the UK," he reads out loud. "She must have attended the orientation day before coming to the flat. Nevertheless, her foreign accent could have revealed it, as well."

"What foreign accent? I didn't catch that," John objects, earning a conceited look from his flatmate.

"Clearly." He turns again to face her. "As for your nationality, I would say Spanish or Italian. I'm not sure which one yet. After all, you've barely pronounced five words."

She gapes at him and exclaims, "That's impressive."

"Definitely Italian," he concludes. "A foreign student attending an expensive university but looking for a flat... It means that you highly value your education and want to make a sacrifice, yet you don't want to waste money with on-campus facilities, which explains why you're searching for something cheaper. That leads me to another point: you made new friends at the university today."

"How..." John doesn't even have time to raise a question because Sherlock pre-empts him.

"We can easily presume that she met other students at the orientation day. It is entirely possible that she desires to acclimatise to a foreign country by meeting new people. I'd be careful if I were you, though: some of them are very trustworthy, but it doesn't apply to everyone you talked to."

"How can you possibly know that?" Watson looks at him in disbelief.

"From the name on the shopping bag: it's a bookstore in a small alley, excellent but little known. Only a helpful Londoner could have given such a piece of advice." Sherlock shrugs.

"What about the untrustworthy ones?" John questions him, sick of always being one step behind.

"Natural deduction. She came to Baker Street looking for cheap accommodation. You should know, Miss, that whoever told you to get here was trying to make a fool of you. This is central London; the rents are very expensive." Sherlock deepens his voice in an intimidating tone.