The next day, Giulia leaves her hotel room, heading back to Baker Street. No nightmares that night.
John greets her with a cordial smile and helps her with her luggage.
"I didn't know you were ready to move in immediately," he says, puffing and blowing under the weight of a heavy bag.
"I hadn't unpacked. I wasn't planning to spend the entire semester in a hotel room." She shrugs casually, but the sincere smile on her face fails to hide her relief. She has a proper place to stay now. That's a start.
He leads her to the basement door and turns a key in the lock before handing it over to her.
"It was pretty late last night, and I haven't explained much to you. This place is quite small, as you can see," he pronounces, pushing open the door of 221C.
"To be precise, it isn't even a flat. There's just a bedroom, a bathroom, and this small, unfurnished entrance hall. You will share the kitchen and living room with us upstairs. Hope it won't be a problem."
She roams around the place with a satisfied grin. "It won't."
"Good. Very good." He clears his throat, uncomfortable with useless small talk. "I'll let you move in and finally unpack your bags."
He takes a few steps toward the main door, but she calls him back.
"John, we didn't really discuss the rent. Yesterday you said it wasn't expensive. What did you mean by that?"
He looks pensive for a second. "Can you cook?"
"Sure."
"And would you mind tidying things up, now and then, just helping us with shared spaces?" he asks as his mind pictures Sherlock's beakers cluttering the kitchen table and the gory body parts in the fridge. Let's hope she isn't a very impressionable woman.
She beams at him, unaware. "Not at all. It's fine with me."
"I'm sure we will find an affordable deal, then." He winks at her and leaves. A second later, his head peeps again from the threshold.
"Come on up when you're finished. I'll make you a cup of tea."
"Thanks, John," she whispers as a warm smile lights up her face. She walks to the bedroom, collapses onto the sheetless mattress, and sighs, relieved. For the first time in forever, she doesn't feel out of place. That minuscule room almost smells like a place where she could belong.
-------
Some days later, early in the afternoon, Giulia appears in the living room of 221B, wearing her coat and scarf. It's late September, but the air is already turning chilly when the sun hides.
"Hanging out with some new friends?" John asks, standing up from his armchair and stretching his back.
"I'm going out on my own, actually. I wanna stroll about and discover some new places." She beams at him.
"Didn't you go on a walk yesterday?"
"Yes, and the day before. What can I say? I adore wandering around this city."
Watson shoots her a sceptical look. "London is quite big. Are you planning on visiting it all by walking?"
"Maybe, who knows? See you later, guys," she says cheerfully before disappearing down the stairs.
John gives ear to her footsteps, waits until he hears the front door opening, then mutters, "I'm embarrassed to say it out loud, but I still have doubts."
Sherlock, who had spaced out, grumbles idly, "I won't explain our latest case again. Ask Lestrade for clarification." He finishes the sentence and frowns at his own words.
John ignores his comment and says, "I was talking about Giulia."
The detective shoots him a meaningful look then rebuts, "I thought you chose her."
"She was the only possible choice since everyone else legged it out of this flat because of you. I was simply pointing out that we don't know her very well. Yet."
"If you don't like her, there's still time to kick her out," Sherlock points out, displaying his absolute lack of care for the fate of another human being.
John turns to face him, appalled.
"No, Sherlock. I would never go that far. I just meant that she looks suspicious sometimes."
"Suspicious how?" He cocks a brow at his friend's allegation. To him, that woman seems utterly ordinary, which, in his clever little world, is synonymous with irremediably boring.
John moves to the window and looks down on the street, spotting Giulia, who is now crossing the road.
"She often goes on long walks, and God knows where she roams and who she meets".
Sherlock rolls up his eyes. "You could know it, too. Just ask her."
Watson turns around with a conflicted expression on his face. "I don't want to sound intimidating."
"Believe me, you really wouldn't."
"The point is, I am not completely sure we can trust her."
Holmes looks directly into his eyes. There they are: the trust issues John has been suffering from ever since he came home from the war. Oddly enough, though, trust was never a problem between the two of them.
"She's not a threat," he reassures him vaguely.
John crosses his arms over his chest. "How would you know?"
"I deduced her," Sherlock replies firmly, almost offended.
John can't help but throw a sneering look at him. "I'm sorry, but it isn't a certainty."
Sherlock jerks his head up and glares at him, but his friend doesn't bat an eyelid and retorts, "Remember Jim Moriarty?"
The detective's expression changes immediately after that mention. He remains silent.
"A criminal mastermind, the most dangerous man we've ever met, and the only thing you deduced out of him at your first meeting was his sexual orientation," John argues disapprovingly.
Sherlock rides the rap and holds his silence. There is nothing to add; that was a gigantic misstep.
From his place near the window, John observes Giulia ambling into the distance.
"Where do you think she's going?"
"Why don't you follow her and find it out by yourself?" Sherlock answers ironically.
John turns around, grinning. "My thoughts precisely."
"Are you serious?"
"I just need to check," John tries to justify himself while taking his jacket from the coat rack.
"If it makes you feel better."
"You're not coming then?" John asks innocently, his hand on the doorknob.
"On a manhunt for our new flatmate?" Sherlock fakes an unconvinced tone, even though he can't conceal the hint of curiosity in his voice.
John turns around on the threshold with a jaunty smirk. "Have you better things to do?"
Holmes stares at him and wrinkles his nose. "I don't know. Is it possible to die of boredom, doctor?"
They smile at each other, and without another word, rush downstairs together. Once out on the street, they go in the same direction as Giulia, trying to spot her in the middle of a crowd of pedestrians.
"There she is. I recognise her coat," Sherlock exclaims, vaguely excited. The streets of London are his battlefield.
The two men follow her, keeping their distance. It isn't a hard task after all, and Sherlock gets bored soon.
"Can we go back home now?" He whines after a while.
John never gets his eyes off Giulia's back and asks absently, "Why?"
"Because this is pointless. We've been following her for almost an hour, and she has done nothing else but walk, look around, and take photos. I see nothing suspicious about it."
A few yards ahead of them, Giulia has to suffocate her curiosity and gather all her strength not to turn around or glance over her shoulder. She is being followed; she is certain of it. She can notice these things: she knows how to prick her ears in the middle of a crowd to spot the constant gait of people tailing her. She has been listening to the same two pairs of footsteps resounding behind her back at a short distance for almost an hour. She must admit that her trackers are indeed persistent. She stifles a laugh. Chasing after her is a bizarre way of wasting an afternoon.
"She might plan to go to a specific meeting point," John whispers, craning his neck beyond the corner of a building to glance at his target.
"Given the route that she has made so far, I highly doubt it," Sherlock grunts.
"What if she's going to meet with someone, maybe an enemy of ours?"
"Under the London Eye? How very daring of her. It's hardly a secluded place for a secret meeting. Besides, would you really be willing to believe that the whole reason she became our flatmate in the first place was to plot against us?" Holmes furrows his brow.
"A spy at 221B... Considering the kind of criminals we deal with daily, it wouldn't be that surprising. Please, just a few more miles, then we'll go back home," John promises, trying to keep pace with Giulia.