Welcome to Baker Street

61. Unwelcome guest

Three weeks later – End of January

Early morning.

A man bangs repeatedly on the front door of 221 Baker Street.

"I'm coming. For the love of God, just hold your horses," Mrs Hudson shouts, dashing down the stairs to answer the door. She unlocks it and greets the man.

"Good morning—" But the moment she lowers the handle, he abruptly pushes her aside and storms up the stairs.

"Where are your manners?" Mrs Hudson complains, shaking her head.

In the meantime, the man has reached the door of the flat marked 'B' and bursts it open, rushing inside and yelling, "Sherlock, I know you dislike me. That's a mutual sentiment, by the way. But I need to talk to you—" he stops mid-sentence when he comes face to face with Giulia coming out of the kitchen.

"Who are you?" He inquires immediately, shocked.

She smirks. "A burglar."

"Really?"

"Sure, and if I were a burglar, I would definitely tell that to a police officer." Giulia sarcastically grimaces at him while pointing at the tag with the words New Scotland Yard hanging around his neck.

"Technically, I'm a forensic officer," he specifies, peeved.

"And I'm not a burglar. I live here: I'm Sherlock's and John's flatmate. My name is Giulia. Pleased to meet you, Mr—?" She extends her hand amiably, and he shakes it curtly while taking an anxious look around the living room.

"Philip Anderson. Where is Sherlock Holmes?"

"He's been out for hours now. But judging from the anxiety in your voice and your opening sentence, it seemed rather pressing. Do you want to wait for him here? I could make you some tea," she kindly suggests.

He seems to consider the idea for a second, then replies bluntly, "No, thanks. When he comes back, just tell him to meet me at Scotland Yard, okay?" and he nervously heads for the door.

Her words reach him when he is crossing the threshold.

"Is he in trouble?"

Anderson sighs and turns around.

"No, but I will if he doesn't show up." He is about to go down the stairs, but Giulia stops him in his tracks again.

"Mr Anderson?"

He turns, annoyed, and she shoots him a little smile.

"About what you said earlier, don't let it upset you: you're not the only one. Sherlock dislikes most of the humankind."

He frowns, frustrated. "Did he run a test to select you as his flatmate?"

She chuckles. "Sort of. Have a good day."

He dismissively waves a hand in the air and leaves.

Upon hearing the thump of the front door closing, Sherlock steps out of his bedroom.

"What if he had accepted?" His voice hosts a disapproving tone.

Giulia turns towards him with an interrogative look. "What?"

"Your tea offer," he spits out, almost nauseated.

She shakes her head.

"I was just pretending to be polite, but I knew he would never stay. He was desperate and in a hurry; people in such a critical condition hate to sit on their hands. They feel so helpless."