Welcome to Baker Street

39. Dark side

"I'll take care of fruit and vegetables. You two just try to find some non-perishable food. And please, behave." John gives them a stern, fatherly look and disappears down one of the corridors.

The two of them rummage silently through the shelves.

"Sherlock, would you mind helping me?" Giulia groans, standing on her tiptoes and stretching her arms up towards some cans on the top shelf. He comes to her rescue and easily reaches up to grab the cans. When he lifts his arms, his sleeves slide down, letting her glimpse his bare forearms.

"What's on your arm?" She immediately asks, staring at him with wild eyes.

"You have a terrible memory. I already told you: nicotine patches."

"No, I mean the red punctures right on your veins," she clarifies, grabbing his arm and pushing up his sleeve to get a closer look.

He instantly breaks free from her grip and yanks down his sleeve, covering his exposed skin.

"I- I donated blood," he hesitates.

"All those needles? How much did you give, three litres?" She sarcastically asks. "You'd be dead by now."

He huffs and looks away. "If Death wanted me, it would have taken me ages ago."

"I don't feel like joking, Sherlock. And look me in the eye when I am talking to you. What are those?" Her flinty gaze pins him on the spot.

He fixes his eyes on hers and hisses, "None of your business."

"Of course it is. I'm your friend."

"You are my flatmate," he specifies hideously. "Just do me a favour: don't pry into things that do not strictly concern you."

She should feel hurt by his hateful correction, but the only sensation taking hold of her mind is a deep, disheartening disappointment.

"I can't believe it. Drugs? You?"

"A superior mind needs a superior stimulus," he says, as if that were a valid justification for risking an overdose.

"It's nonsense. Does John know about it?"

"He knows I used to do drugs, but thinks I'm clean now. Are you going to tell him?" He does nothing to hide the suspicion in his tone.

"Come on, Sherlock, wise up. I won't say anything to John. I don't want him to be alarmed, not now that he is having problems at work. A spoiled child is the last thing he needs to worry about." She glares at him with sadness and annoyance in her broken voice.

He furrows a brow. "Does he have problems at the clinic?"

"Gosh, you're the most observant man in London and you didn't notice how stressed your friend is? You must be really high."

He averts his gaze and looks into the distance without a word. She shakes her head.

"I would've never expected that. You must put an end to it, or I swear I will tell your brother everything. Promise me it won't happen again," she begs with teary eyes.

"I don't make vows," he spits out.

"That's because you're too weak to keep even the smallest promise. Or maybe you're just a junkie," she snaps back.

"Keep your voice down, for God's sake. You're making a scene in a public place." He looks feverishly at a couple of people staring at the fighting couple.

At that moment, John reaches them. "What are you two arguing about?"

They spin around with guilty looks on their faces, and Giulia steals a glance at her surroundings.

"I was blackmailing Sherlock, actually," she confesses, and Holmes looks daggers at her.

John frowns. "What about?"

Her gaze lingers on the frozen food section on her left, and she clears her throat.

"Because I disputed that a mini-fridge is absolutely necessary."

This time, Sherlock turns towards her with confusion in his eyes rather than animosity. John looks quite disoriented, as well. "Mini-fridge?"

"Sure. I was threatening to throw away all the thumbs and other body parts he keeps in the fridge if he doesn't accept to store them away from our food, in a more appropriate and separate place," she pretends to whine.

"Not to mention that bloody head." John joins in on those complaints, winking at her.

Meanwhile, Sherlock hasn't been able to take his eyes off her. How could she make that story up in such a short time? Only an expert liar could misdirect and distort the whole meaning of a conversation with such spontaneity. And that is not a reassuring thought.

He plays along. "It's an experiment. I don't see the need for a useless mini-fridge."

"If you don't buy it, the next severed head will be yours." She glares at him, and he stares back, their eyes locked, a glacial tension between them.

John shifts his perplexed look from one to the other. It looks like they are slightly overreacting now.

"Alright," he awkwardly breaks the ice. "She convinced me. We'll take it."

While they are stepping out of the supermarket, passing exactly where they had walked just half an hour before, Giulia looks at Sherlock and repeats the same words as before, "You never cease to amaze me."

This time, though, it is a completely different type of amazement.