Welcome to Baker Street

24. Battle of wits

Two weeks later – Mid-October

"Sherlock! John!" Giulia furiously cries out, rushing upstairs.

It's been two weeks since their case together, and it almost looks like the three of them have finally found a balance at 221 Baker Street. Almost.

The two men sitting in their armchairs exchange confused glances and John glowers at Sherlock like a father scolding his son. "What did you do this time?"

Sherlock lifts his eyes from the computer placed on his legs and scowls back at him.

"Nothing. And she called your name as well."

"I am innocent," Watson states, emphatically placing a hand over his heart right when Giulia throws the door open and marches inside the living room.

"So am I," Sherlock adds candidly.

"I don't think so. One of you two read my diary," she protests indignantly, shaking a notebook in the air.

The detective gives her an indifferent look. "Why would you think I'd ever be interested in it?"

"Maybe you thought I wrote something about you."

"Did you?"

She raises her eyebrows. "You already know the answer. You broke into my flat and—"

"To be fair, you allowed us to go in. You gave us a spare key, remember?" Sherlock cuts her off.

"Yes, in case of an emergency. Certainly not to violate my privacy," she hisses, then shakes her head, letting her anger cool down slowly. "But while we're at it, please, do tell: what do you think about my personal thoughts?"

"I already know them. I read your plain mind every day: nothing special." His tone is more scornful than usual, and she quickly figures out the reason behind his bad mood.

"Oh, I see." She smiles slyly, with a gleam in her eyes. "You didn't like what you found."

Sherlock's head snaps up. "Actually, I didn't like the way you described me."

"No, no, Sherlock. You're blowing it: you can't admit that you read it," John intervenes in despair.

"Seriously, John, et tu?" she asks, surprised, crossing her arms over her chest.

Watson swallows hard and mumbles, "I'm sorry, it was none of our business."

"It really wasn't. Although, I expected you would nose around my things, eventually."

Holmes reflects for a few seconds, then inquires distrustfully, "Wait, how did you know we had read it? We've been extremely careful: we left everything exactly the way it was. Have you installed hidden cameras?"

She rolls her eyes. "Come on, 221C is not the Pentagon."

"Then how?" He fixes his eyes on hers. This is getting interesting; most of his friends never spot his little intrusions. For instance, Lestrade has never suspected that Sherlock pays regular (unauthorised) visits to his office while he is out in the field, and he would probably pale at the number of police IDs and items that the detective has stolen from him over the years. Only his brother can always deduce when he breaks into his house, but that's hardly a surprise considering Mycroft's superior mind and the fact that the whole point of Sherlock's incursions is to test the limits of his sophisticated alarm system, out of boredom.

"Have you ever read '1984' by George Orwell?" Giulia asks him.

"You mean the book about Big Brother? I must have leafed through it when I was a boy. School stuff: bo - ring!" he spells out, focusing back on the PC in front of him.