"When you asked me if I would like to go on a cruise, I was under the impression that we'd be alone. And by alone, I simply meant without Aunt Haggis." Sherlock sat, arms crossed, frowning at a pattern of rusty flowers that stained the maroon carpet. Joan did her best to look reprimanding, but it was impossible. Sherlock had a knack for nicknames.
"Agnes, Sherlock and you better break that habit before she shows up."
"Or what? Does she have talons and laser vision?" Sherlock asked.
"Worse, much worse." Joan stood up. "I'll enjoy listening to your arguments. Isn't it funny that you two ended up next to each other and I'm down the hall?" She began to leave. As the door rocked closed behind her, Sherlock leaned back and said,
"I'll have you know Watson, I'm beginning to suspect foul play. Watson?" Sherlock muttered to himself then plopped his suitcase on the bed. Unzipping it, he took out a pair of neon green swim trunks splattered with orange hibiscus.
"I suppose I'd best prepare myself." He began to unbutton his flannel.
"Aunt Agnes, this is-oh my God." Sherlock was face down on the floor in his swim trunks, a snorkel and flippers. When he heard Joan speak, he popped up, causing both her and her aunt to jump.
"Why hello. You must be the aunt. The one with the piranha Pekingese and atrocious taste who cut Joan off after she gave up doctorhood. By all means, come in." Sherlock smiled. The aunt, clad in a heavy magenta skirt-suit frowned for a moment then smiled back.
"You must be the bum who's still supported by his father and hasn't found a real job yet. And yes, I am the aunt." She extended a wrinkled hand. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Holmes. Now get up and sit down so that we may speak like civilized people. Joan, get out, I don't want you meddling. I want to meet the man you've been living with." Aunt Agnes's mouth twitched. Joan sighed.
"I've already explained to you, there's nothing romantic between Sherlock-"
"Out. Attend to Rudolph's needs." Aunt Agnes turned to Sherlock, who, somewhat shell-shocked, was sitting on the edge of the bed. "That's your piranha. Now, what on Earth were you doing when I walked in?" She crossed her talons over a purse that matched her suit hideously.
"Seeing if they vacuumed beneath beds on cruise-ships."
"And do they?"
"So it seems." Sherlock tapped his fingers together. Aunt Agnes brushed dust off her arm.
"Excellent. I don't know if I'd trust a man's judgement, but-"
"I assure you, you may trust mine."
"Why?"
"I know that you are not married, have had seven Pekingeses all having names starting with R, had a lot of money at one point but, having lived longer than you intended, are beginning to run out, you don't get along with your sister because you believe she indulged and corrupted your niece and you actually do have atrocious taste." Sherlock bowed.
Aunt Agnes raised her eyebrows. "Any other reason why I should trust you, Mr. Holmes?"
"Well, according to your suspicions, I myself have excellent taste, especially in women, considering I'm living with your niece." He smiled. She frowned, but Sherlock sensed a gleam in her eye that was almost amused.
"I think that'll be quite enough for now. You may walk Rudolph later on, once he's had his salmon." She stood up. "As for now, you may accompany me to my quarters."
"As you wish." Sherlock stood up, and, Aunt Agnes in arm, led her out of his room and one door over, doing his best not to trip her with his flippers. She picked up Rudolph and smirked.
"Just so you know Mr. Holmes, I now believe every word Joan told me. She'd never sleep with a nerdy busybody like you." The door slammed in Sherlock's face. He stared at it.
Joan emerged from her room down the hall.
"So how was it?" Sherlock looked down, processing the last few minutes. Then he looked up, the corner of his mouth raised.
"Oh, I think it went very well." He bobbed his head.. "I like this aunt of yours, she has spunk." Sherlock made an exploding motion with his fingers. Joan rolled her eyes.
"I should have known."
Two hours later, the ship lingering off the coast of Virginia, Sherlock finishing his promenade with Rudolph, flippers still on, he stopped by Joan's room. He knocked on the door. There was no reply. Frowning he thought back to the deck, where he had just taken Rudolph. He hadn't seen Joan anywhere. Rudolph scratched at the door and whined. Sherlock knitted his eyebrows.
"Easy boy, we'll open it." Sherlock touched the door, and was alarmed to find it already open. There was a maid in the room. Glancing around, Sherlock did not see any of Joan's belongings.
"Excuse me, have you seen the inhabitant of this room, Ms. Watson? She's Asian." The maid shook her head, slowly mopping the floor.
"There isn't anybody in this room." She met his gaze. "Mr. Holmes."