"Um, is that you making those waves out there? Could you…could you maybe…err… stop? Um, because I think people are getting hurt."

Molly Hooper stood on an earthen ridge looking out upon the now riotous bay that framed the desolate island that she knew as her home. The great scientist, Sherlock, stood before her at the rocky edge of the ridge, arms outstretched as if orchestrating the tumultuous chaos of sea that rose and threw itself at the boat of patrol caught in the bay. Sherlock turned slowly towards Molly. His formidable glance instantly startled her and she became ashamed and anxious.

"Don't worry, Molly. " He ordered her. "You have a tender heart, but I've hurt no one."

Molly bounced from her toes to her heels and swung her arms in an awkward manner. Sherlock turned once again to the speck of a ship jumping wildly between the colossal waves towards the rocky shore, barely visible from their position.

"Oh, that's good. I'd have hated to see anyone hurt."

Sherlock no longer interested in the slowing movements of the wrecking boat, placed a tattered pair of binoculars within his coat and spun swiftly away from the cliff, beginning down the slope towards their island cell.

"Molly, your compassion for others astounds me, but the lack of such compassion towards yourself leaves me perplexed." Sherlock addressed her as she fell into step beside him. "For the years that we have been on this island, you have not once inquired as to the reason why. That's a terribly ignorant way to live don't you think?"

Molly gazed about the blankness of the island around her. "I never thought to ask you… thought you mightn't want me to."

Sherlock considered her with bemusement. "Now that seems silly; to constantly go about your business on a god-forsaken island without even knowing why you can't rest your head on a feather pillow each night! Molly, I think it's time you knew."

"You did try to tell me…a few times," she replied timidly, "then you stopped. You said, 'No, what's the point?' That you'd tell me later."

Sherlock screwed up his face, remembering. "Did I? Well, later is now- now is later! I'm going to tell you, Molly, why it is that we must exist upon this dreadful lump of crumbling rock. Do you remember how well we were doing? Crime rates at an all-time low, the Yard the most admirable company in England…"

"I do. But now we're here." She gestured at the dry brush that surrounded them.

Sherlock kicked angrily at a nearby rock. "And now we're here!" He spat.

"It must have been something really bad, for it all to go wrong…when…when it was going so right."

They were approaching the rocky cell; Molly sat on a boulder by an overhanging ledge. The ill-fated boat lay entangled in the forest of jagged sea stones across the bay.

"Bad? Oh yes, it was a bad deed alright. "Sherlock paced before her as she stared sorrowfully at the wreck.

"My brother, if even a true brother that could be so conniving- Mycroft- who I did regard affectionately, despite our trivialities and differences of character: I made the sorry mistake of passing my knowledge of the criminal schemes and occurrences of the state to, so that I could focus more on perfecting my scientific method of deduction… he- are you even listening to me?"

Molly's head snapped back to Sherlock and away from the distant ruin with impressive swiftness. "Oh yes…I am. Sorry, continue."

"Humph." Sherlock regained his stance of storyteller and began to explain his circumstance to Molly. "Mycroft was surprised and exceedingly excited by the information I gave him and a childish possession took over him. His position of power was increased tenfold by what I could provide to him. I believe he was jealous and angry that I could hold but never share with him such treasure. "

Sherlock grew quite angry and had to pause a moment before continuing.

"In my absence, the police and government departments grew restless. From that point on, it was easy for Mycroft to persuade them that I was a liability; my selfishness outshined my sense of duty. The gullible fools forsook me, forgetting entirely my talents and astounding application of criminal science, mind you! He turned the whole city against me. I tried to continue on with back-alley cases, you know, for I brought you along for assistance. You know the rest."

"Yes, we-"

"Mycroft took over liaison duties at Scotland Yard," Sherlock butted in; discontent with Molly finishing his story, "and retained his position at the secret right hand of the Crown. Mad with power he now despised me and my conspirers and the city was no longer safe for us. Poor kind Inspector Lestrade made arrangements for us to leave the country until stability was recuperated in the British government…but-"

"But the sailboat that was provided to us collided with the rocky output that surrounds the island on which we reside." Molly finished quickly, growing tired of Sherlock's dramatic recounting.

Sherlock glared at her angrily, which made Molly instantly full of regret and shame once again. It was strange how easy he could do that.

"Yes, alright." He snapped, moving through the door and into the sleeping cell, with Molly close behind. "You know that much, but you have no idea about the present occurrence that you witnessed off shore just now. And so I will tell you."

Molly slid down onto the makeshift bed in the centre of the dank room and resigned herself to Sherlock's impending story. While she settled herself on top of the ragged blankets, Sherlock slipped from his shelf to his pocket a small vial of clear liquid. To distract Molly, in case she had seen his movement, he gestured to the contents of his shelves.

"Lestrade had, most helpfully, recovered some of my most prized possessions from Baker Street before our unfortunate departure. " He ran a long finger across the spine of a dozen heavily bound books and encyclopaedias. "He brought as much as he could of its contents; clothes, books, food- of course. But most importantly the base instruments needed for me to complete my studies and experiments."

He sighed deeply, gazing at the contents of the murky cell.

Molly also glanced around, with mild disdain and longing for her own bed and own apartment.

"Yes Sherlock, but I'm still confused." She told him. "What caused those giant waves this morning? Whose boat was that, and shouldn't we go and help them?"

Sherlock surreptitiously moved the vial from his pocket to the cuff of his sleeve and moved towards Molly.

"Ah yes, by happy accident the English tides have brought those who defied me right to our doorstep and my genius has brought them crashing to our shore." He sat down beside her. "An opportunity most grand, don't you think? It would be a waste to let this precious moment pass…Molly, you are falling asleep!"

Molly sat upright and looked at Sherlock. "No, I'm not…Sherlock, I'm awake. I'm listening."

"No, you're not. You're positively yawning!" He swept the unstoppered vial swiftly under her nose and replaced it in his pocket. "Perhaps, you should take a nap?"

Molly wrinkled her nose as the aroma hit her, and her eyes began to droop. "Sherlock, I don't want to nap. I….."

Sherlock grasped her arms and aided her as she fell lightly onto the rough bedding and slept.

"Perfect." Sherlock stated, standing up and looking around. "Now, to find John.

JOHN!"

Character Index- Shakespeare to Moffat

Prospero- Sherlock Holmes

The main character and overthrown pride of London City. He now lives on an island and has become a great inventor and scientist.

Miranda- Molly Hooper

Friend and assistant to Sherlock, who lives with him in his island cell.