Welcome to Baker Street

38. Houston, we have a three-patch problem

It's been a week since Giulia's release, and everything is back to normal at Baker Street. As normal as it gets, anyway.

Sherlock has been consistently in a bad mood and has become even more unmanageable than usual. It isn't utterly surprising, though, given that he has just solved a crime—meaning he is eager to find another mystery. However, the latest case was surely an intricate, fascinating one, and John hoped it would appease him for a while. But it looks like it had the opposite effect: the consulting detective is more restless than ever.

Surprisingly, at the moment, he is experiencing one of his rare quiet pauses, lying peacefully on the couch while Giulia reads a book curled up on John's armchair. Suddenly, he presses the palm of his right hand on his left forearm and lets out a deep moan.

Giulia snaps her head up and frowns at him. She stares at his arms and nods at the strange sticking plasters.

"What are those?"

"Nicotine patches," he replies absent-mindedly.

She gives him a side glance. "I thought you'd quit smoking."

"I am not smoking," he objects captiously.

She narrows her eyes at him. "When?"

"When what?"

"I've never seen those patches before, so it must be a recent habit or maybe a relapse. When did you resort to nicotine?"

"When you had the brilliant idea of getting yourself arrested. I needed to find a way to let you out," he tries to justify himself.

"Don't even try to pin this on me."

"I was simply recalling the facts: if you hadn't got yourself locked up by Scotland Yard officers, I probably wouldn't have needed them. Nicotine just helps me think, and it came in handy in such a situation." His tone sounded more scathing than necessary.

She doesn't skip a beat and rebuts ironically, "I bet your lungs are so immensely grateful."

"Lungs are not the organs for thinking. Do study a bit of anatomy." He kills her mood.

She rolls her eyes. It's impossible to talk to him these days. He hardly ever addresses her, and when he absolutely needs to, his tone is harsh and angry. It looks like he hasn't forgiven her for something, though she hasn't the slightest idea what for.

At that moment, John emerges from his bedroom and heads toward the kitchen to make some tea. He comes out a moment later with an expression of pure hatred. He takes a deep breath to control his anger and orders peremptorily, "Sherlock, take your coat. We're going out."

He springs to his feet in a rush of enthusiasm. "Really? Have you found a case?"

"Sure. An irresponsible madman who starved his two flatmates to death," he snaps back sarcastically. "It was your week to do the shopping."

"No, I can perfectly remember that it was two weeks ago."

John gives him a glacial look.

"Yeah, that's right. But two weeks ago, you didn't do it, and Giulia swapped places with you to help. Last week, I asked you to go (more properly, begged), but you ignored me once again, so I had to fill in for you. I won't allow it anymore. We're going shopping today." He turns to Giulia and his tone softens when he addresses her. "Giulia, you can come too, of course, if you need anything."

"Or she could give us a list, and we simply buy what she wants. She doesn't have to come; she's not our shadow," Sherlock retorts with an unmistakable trace of bitterness, leaving her speechless and incapable of reacting.