Welcome to Baker Street

42. Nasty surprises

"Two days have passed and still no news from that voice."

Sherlock sighs, flopping down on the couch. He can do nothing but wait for the next move of his rival. And it is driving him crazy.

"I'm sure that our dear killer is planning something great. Don't worry: he will turn up soon." Giulia tries to cheer him up, tuning in with his not-so-subtle admiration for psychopaths and murderers.

"I fail to see how this would be reassuring," John comments tersely.

"My brain is rotting. I am doomed," Holmes whines dramatically, sinking his head in his hands.

"We all are with you in this state." Giulia rolls her eyes at his dramatic reaction. "Now relax. I'll make you a cuppa," she volunteers, heading to the kitchen with a soft smile on her lips.

Sherlock springs to his feet and rushes to the kitchen door, shielding the entrance with his body. Giulia stops just in time to avoid colliding with his bare chest peeking out of the blue gown loosely tied around his body.

"I appreciate your kind offer, but no, thank you. I'll make it myself." He fakes a grin, steps in, and shuts the door behind his back.

She blinks, standing still on the threshold, stumped.

"What's the matter with him? Does he still fear I would poison him?" she murmurs with a hint of sarcasm.

John sighs. "He is just restless and impatient. I'll try to convince him to go to Scotland Yard. Maybe we can gather some more information about the murder on the Alpes or talk with Lestrade that just got back from his eventful holiday. All Sherlock Holmes needs right now is a distraction."

She stares sadly at the closed door as if it represented the impenetrable gates of Sherlock's mind palace. She feels that their delicate balance is falling apart. Sherlock used to be the one with trust issues with her, but now she is not so sure that she can trust him either.

John eventually drags Sherlock out of the flat, and they head to Scotland Yard. When they come back home, a few hours later, Sherlock walks into the kitchen and immediately storms out.

"Where are they? What happened? What did you do with them?" He shouts at Giulia, who is reading a book on the couch.

She placidly looks up from the page and frowns without uttering a sound.

John glares at his unnecessarily high pitch. "Sherlock, what are you talking about? Calm down, please."

"No, John, this is essential. Where are my experiments?" He furiously asks Giulia. His eyes are flaming.

"On the shelves, where I always put them when I try to sort out your mess," she says in a jaded tone.

"No, I'm referring to all the other things I had left on the kitchen table." He stomps his feet, enraged.

"Oh." Her mouth turns into a perfect circle shape as she fakes surprise, but the sparkle in her eyes reveals she was waiting for him to mention it. "You mean all that trash? I threw it away," she affirms candidly, resuming her reading.

"You what? Where is the bin? Where's the garbage?" He looks around the flat and turns the living room upside down, rushing from one corner to the other.

"Simmer down. The bin is over there," she points a finger at it, "but you won't find what you're looking for."

His livid face whips towards her. "Why not?"

"Because I flushed everything down the toilet." She shrugs innocently, putting down her book.

"I can't believe it," he yells out of his mind. "Please tell me that this is just a terrible joke. You can't have done such an absurd thing."

"Did you really destroy all of Sherlock's experiments?" John looks at her in disbelief. That is incredibly disrespectful of her.

"Experiments?" She spits out the word in disgust and contempt, then shakes her head slowly and flashes a hurtful look at Sherlock. "What a cunning front, detective. Above any suspicion."

She turns to John with heartache gripping her voice. "They weren't real experiments, John. We should wise up. It was his drug lab."