Welcome to Baker Street

69. Chasing monsters

TRIGGER ALERT: mention of self-harm. No graphic nor detailed description, just a mere mention of it, but I thought it'd be fair of me to warn you, dear reader. Sending love to anybody who's struggling in their lives. If you want to talk, just message me: I'm always available.

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When they jump in Mrs Hudson's car, Giulia looks at him. "Where are we going?"

Sherlock turns on the engine and peels out.

"Back to the countryside. We need to get to Mrs Admiral as soon as possible, before either her symptoms lessen and eventually disappear, or intensify and lead to her death."

She shivers. "The first case scenario looks positive to me."

"It isn't. I need to verify my hypothesis; I need to check all signs of poisoning," he explains, darting along the road.

She knits her brows: she has spotted an uncommon note of uncertainty in his voice.

"Check? You never need to check anything. Why are you so insecure?"

"Please, I'm never insecure," he rebuts, then his tone loses his usual arrogance. "But this case has proved quite challenging. I thought I had the right answer all along, but could never get the whole picture. All these doubts have had a strange effect on me. The haunting feeling of unease, the impression that I was one step behind the whole time..."

He interrupts his self-pity spiral and casts a glance at Giulia: her head is leaning against the seat, her eyes peacefully closed. Has she dozed off?

"Are you even listening to me?" he asks, his voice low, afraid to disturb.

She nods slowly, keeping her eyes shut.

"Yeah. I've had a long day. I just need to rest my eyes for a bit." She tries to stifle a yawn, but he notices it.

"It's a long drive. Why don't you sleep for a bit? I won't try to wake you up with my monologues, I promise."

She opens her eyes and turns to him with a serious expression. "No, I don't want to leave you alone."

He shrugs. "I can survive. I've been alone before, a lot."

"And that's precisely why I won't let it happen again."

He takes his eyes off the road for a second to look back at her. What does she truly think of him? Why is she always by his side, no matter what? Is it just 'Florence Nightingale syndrome'? Is he just a hopeless person for her to save?

He focuses again on the dark streets.

"In this case, even though I'm obviously not a fan of pop culture, maybe some music will help you stay awake."

They reach for the radio at the same time; their fingers brush against each other before Sherlock can quickly withdraw his hand, placing it back on the wheel. That burning sensation again, a heat that spread through his chest up to his cheeks. What is wrong with him?

Giulia throws him a timid smile and fiddles with the commands until she settles for a delicate ballad. She relaxes in her seat and stretches her back.

He steals a glance at her and briskly inquires, "Aren't you tired of it all yet?"

She gives him a quizzical look in response. He doesn't meet her gaze but wonders, "How can an apparently rational human being such as yourself bear this lifestyle of ours?"

"Look, Sherlock, all these things that keep happening to us, all the cases, terrorists, violent deaths, my kidnapping... It's exhausting, that's true. But I was never made for a peaceful life."