The Water is Warm
*None of the characters are mine, but all the mistakes are…
He never wanted to be here. When he had begged the universe for somebody to please come to him with something to solve, he could have never predicted that this is what he would be going to do. To be fair, if it weren't for a certain meddling pathologist, he would have never even taken the case.
It had all started several months after he had returned from the dead. John had forgiven him, Lestrade had been returned to his previous status, Mrs. Hudson had fussed over him to the point of annoyance, and Molly had welcomed him back to the lab with a smile and a cup of coffee. He and John had been taking cases, though there were not as many as he would have liked. Unfortunately, Sherlock found himself on cases by himself more often due a certain Ms. Morstan that John had begun dating. Though John's absence was lamentable and he would never say, he was actually quite glad that John had been able to find somebody to make him happy.
And so it was that Sherlock found himself working quietly in the lab at St. Bart's while Molly was aiding as needed while working on her own actual job. Since his return, he ended up spending more time at the hospital with Molly than he ever had before. Part of this was due to John's spending of time with the aforementioned Ms. Morstan, and part of it was due to the calm that came over Sherlock's mind in the presence of Molly. Whenever he spent time with her, his mind was quieted. He could focus on cases or whatever needed his attention. She was always there with a cup of coffee, a soft smile, and sometimes even the answer to his dilemmas. Though Sherlock knew that Molly counted, he had not realised quite how smart she was and the benefits of her perspective.
Their respective work was interrupted when Mycroft Holmes entered the lab. He stood inside the door looking expectantly at Sherlock sitting at his microscope. After he had returned, things had been a bit shaky between the brothers, but both had been at least attempting at being civil to one another, mostly for Mummy Holmes' sake. "Yes," Sherlock spoke, refusing to look up from what he was doing.
Mycroft frowned. "I have a case that you and Ms. Hooper need to take. Several people are dead and it's all quite a mystery," he stated stoically.
"It's Doctor Hooper," he corrected, "and what makes you think that it will interest either of us?" Molly, who had been taken aback at Mycroft's desire for her to accompany Sherlock on a case, looked over at the elder brother.
"Well, to begin with, it is on a remote tropical island. There are only 200 permanent residents on the island and the rest are tourists. As it is so small, there is very little police presence, and they have a distinct lack of a coroner or pathologist. They don't even have a morgue, just one funeral home. There is only one resort on the island, and it is quite exclusive. The movement of people to and from it is rather restricted. A plane only arrives once a week, though there is a plane on the island for emergencies. The only other way is through private boat.
"In the last three weeks, three residents of the island have been murdered and there are absolutely no leads on who might be behind it. Given that there is a large British presence on the island, I was alerted to it and asked to send you, Sherlock, to investigate. I was also asked to send a coroner or pathologist, and though I could select a more qualified one, I know that you prefer to work with Dr. Hooper," he finished.
Molly turned her head down at Mycroft's comment, but before she could tell herself not to cry at his words, she heard Sherlock's reply. "First of all, there is no one more qualified for Dr. Hooper. She is the best at what she does. Need I remind you brother that it was she who killed me in order to solve the problem that you helped to create?"
At this, it was Mycroft's turn to lower his head in at least a semblance of shame. "Secondly, why should I leave England to go to some terrible little island which is overrun by tourists? I'm perfectly happy here with Dr. Hooper."
"Which island is it, if I might ask," Molly spoke for the first time. She had been emboldened by Sherlock's comment as to her ability. Turning her glance to him, she flashed him a quick smile to show her appreciation of his defense. As Mycroft said the name of the island, Molly's eyes gained a certain sparkle.
"You two would be staying at the resort, which is a five star, exclusive resort. The next available reservation is four years away," Mycroft informed the two.
"Well, if Sherlock won't go, I'm still willing to fly out and examine the bodies, if you like," Molly said, smiling at Mycroft. Even though the man insulted her work, she figured that it might just be a Holmes thing to put her down upon occasion. Her response gave Mycroft a small smile. He walked over to her and gave her the information. He then gave the information to Sherlock, who refused to take it. The smile left, and the elder Holmes set the folder next to him and walked back towards the door.
"Your flight leaves tomorrow at seven a.m., Dr. Hooper," he said. "Good day." With that, he turned and left. Molly went over to Sherlock.
"If you really don't want me to go, I won't. But I've heard of this place and it is absolutely gorgeous. I don't know about you, but I could definitely stand to spend a week in paradise. Plus, it's Mycroft, so he'll probably be paying for everything and it is guaranteed to be expensive," she said, looking at Sherlock expectantly.
"How expensive," he asked, looking at her. She leaned over and whispered in his ear. A grin lit up his face.
"Very well Molly. We'll go and solve the case. And spend a small fortune," he smirked. Molly smiled and gave him a spontaneous hug.
"Thank you Sherlock. I really need this," she replied. "I'm going to talk to Mike about getting the time off. I've plenty of vacation saved up, so it shouldn't be a problem…" she drifted off as she walked out of the lab in a daze as to her good fortune.
Sherlock frowned. His heart was racing. Why was it racing? He was in perfectly fine health. It had been a day since he had eaten, but that was not unusual for him. Was he excited about the case? Well yes, but he had yet to go over the details and was afraid that after he had done so, he would have solved it all and the trip would be needless. So why was his heart racing?
AN: I don't mean for this to be terribly long, but I've had the idea for a while and really wanted to get it down. I'm thinking 4-5 chapters right now. Hopefully will get one a day done, but if I don't, feel free to pester me. Reviews are lovely. Thanks!
