Welcome to Baker Street

68. It's all about chemistry

Baker Street

A few hours later

"Why didn't you answer my calls? Where were you? Why doesn't anybody in this flat reply when I yell?"

As soon as Giulia walks into the living room of 221B, she is greeted by the barrage of questions coming from a troubled Sherlock. She rolls her eyes at him, sinks in John's armchair, and steals a glance at her watch: it's 6 pm.

"Truth be told, I assumed you would spend the night in the countryside, near the crime scene. Have you already solved the case? Anyway, I came home because I found 10 missed calls from you, eventually." She shoots him a concerned look, then lets her eyes travel all over the place. "What's wrong?"

"You'd have known it sooner if you'd answered your phone," Sherlock snarls.

She throws her hands in the air, exasperated.

"For God's sake, I wasn't ignoring you. I simply couldn't answer: I was in the middle of my exams, Sherlock—the ones I have been talking about for the entire past week."

He waves a hand in the air dismissively. "I never listen to you when you are complaining."

"I wonder why I do, instead," she grumbles. "Why didn't you call John if it was so important?"

"Because he went straight to the clinic when we came back from the countryside, and he never picks up when he is at work," he whines. He hates being ignored, especially when the reason is John's mundane job as a doctor. Where's the excitement in that?

"Never? And what if something extremely serious happens, as if you were dying?"

He gives her a condescending look. "If I was dying, John wouldn't be my first call."

"Yeah, sure. You should call an ambulance first," she logically concludes.

"What? No, the ambulance isn't even on my list." He chortles, amused at her simplistic way of thinking.

"Who would you call, then?"

"Scotland Yard, of course."

"The police? When you are on your last breath?" she asks, surprised. Sherlock's low opinion of the cops has never been subtle.

"Sure. I would tell them exactly who is trying to kill me. With me gone, it would be too difficult for them to solve the case, and I don't want my murderer to walk away free." He wrinkles his nose at the idea of becoming a dusty cold case file on Lestrade's desk.

"What a shame. I really hoped I could get away with your murder," she jokes. At that mention, she notices the nearly imperceptible change in his expression. His eyes dart across the room as if he felt the need to check that there were no dangers around. Does he believe that someone out there is indeed getting away with murder?

She rests her elbows on her knees and leans forward to scrutinise him closer.

"Seriously, though, you are rarely so concerned and vexed, and you are even bitter than usual against Lestrade and his men. What's wrong?"

He avoids her gaze and replies in a low voice, "This case at hand... Something keeps eluding me. I'm sure that the mysteries in that little town are connected, and I am positive that Fred Admiral is the link: he must have killed Adam Therton six years ago, and for some reason, this morning he decided to kill Elisa as well. But I have no hard evidence for the first murder, no real motive for his apparent outburst of rage that led to the second killing today, and I'm stuck with an airtight alibi that places him miles away from the crime scene at the time of Elisa's murder."