The line of candles I had going on the fireplace mantle cast a warm, dancing glow as I sat curled in the corner of my couch with my phone and my cat, who appeared as though he was leagues ahead of me in feeling adjusted to the new place. I stretched out my legs as I held my phone to my ear and waited.

"Er, yes? Hello, who's calling?"

"I see I still haven't been added to your contacts. Hi, Dad. How's the French life?" I grinned and lightly picked at a velvet throw pillow on the old couch that I was now the proud-ish owner of.

"You know that when left to my own devices I am mostly incapable of operating any of my devices." He chuckled at his own 'joke' and I smiled at the welcomed sound of his voice and laughter. I pictured the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. "Beautifully sunny here, just went for a country walk and made an omelette for supper. Lunch too. Trying to perfect them, you know. How's the new home?" I couldn't help the reactionary twinge at the word 'home.' We'll get there, I thought to myself.

"It's… cozy. I have an abundance of blankets and pillows now, er, a desk! That's new. Proud of setting that one up myself." I had made a couple of intensive runs to the store that afternoon to pick up a number of creature comforts and necessities. "I had tea with my neighbors. The detectives, I guess."

"The detectives! That's right. At least I can trust that you're safe and sound in that flat of yours. I, on the other hand, have been leaving the windows open all day as there's some quality fresh air here, but I often forget to close them over night so I may be the one we need to worry about. Mice, intruders, spiders worst of all, you know me." Snakes, I thought, grinning to myself. "Marvelous creatures but they do send me running."

"Oh Dad, I have to tell you! My neighbors were telling me about this case of theirs, the one they're working on cracking right now." I sat up straighter and clutched my pillow, feeling genuine excitement over recalling the briefing they had given me over our second cup of tea. Well, that John had given me. Sherlock had busied himself in the kitchen, mostly prodding at something in the fridge whilst offering the occasional scoff at John's attempt to summarize.

"So this woman was found in her bed, with no clear or obvious cause of, er…" I didn't have any issues acknowledging the concept of death, but saying the word around my dad still resonated as uncomfortable to me. "We don't know! But she was covered in red dots and an unidentified poison was found in her bloodstream along with two puncture wounds on her ankle; a possible bite mark. John, the doctor, thinks it was a snake but he's been calling all of the zoos in London to see if they've lost any," I nearly laughed as I said this out loud, deciding I was leaning towards taking Sherlock's side on this one. "And they've all been accounted for. I guess there's a weird family dynamic as well, which is always entertaining, but there's apparently a bizarre brother in law that keeps loads of snakes at home, though Julia, the speckled woman, never set foot in his flat and he has an alibi. It's..." I took a deep breath while smiling, "all very fascinating."I heard a garbled rustling on the other line. "Dad?"

"Yes, darling, yes! Venomous snakes and women with dots, all very enchanting material it sounds like. I've just dropped a tomato in the dirty dish water but it's salvageable. I suppose I'm the only one that will have to worry about eating it."

My father didn't sound sad while voicing this truth, but it was comments like this that sent a pang through my heart more than anything that was overtly tragic or sad. I closed my eyes at the thought of him sitting alone in the countryside. His wavy dark hair and kind brown eyes with a vest for every day of the week, eating omelettes at a table with nothing but empty chairs and a breeze through the open windows to keep him company. He had repeated that this move would be a dream for him and I encouraged it. This was a time for the two of us to encourage dreams. A through and through optimist he was, and I hoped with all of my might that that trait wouldn't abandon him. Not right now.

"Getting any writing done?" I inquired with a hand on my forehead, subconsciously there to put a stopper on racing thoughts I'm sure. My father was a moderately successful writer, wildly successful as far as documentarians were concerned. Conversationally he had a tendency to bounce and ramble but with a pen and paper he crafted beauty.

"Here and there," He said tentatively. "I have a trip planned for Colmar, leaving the day after tomorrow. Cobblestone streets and Medieval buildings. A canal, you know those bring me joy. Chasing inspiration and whimsy, I suppose. That should be the place to find it."

"I hope you do." I responded with the utmost sincerity.

We sat in a few moments of reflective and comfortable silence before saying our goodbyes. I tossed my phone to the other end of the couch and suddenly felt very restless, getting up and turning on the kettle for some decaffeinated tea and to take out my contacts. I had just thrown on my gold wire rimmed glasses and poured myself a cup when I began to hear distant footsteps that verged on stomping. I thought about John and Sherlock, wondering what they could be getting up to. A break in the case? Did a zoo finally report a missing snake? Is John doing a jig out of pure smugness?

I was casually pacing around my living room, holding my mug and waiting for my drink to steep and cool when I heard a door slam, followed by more stomping and hushed, urgent voices that then ceased in front of my flat. The momentary silence was then pierced by a rapid set of knocks.

I opened the door confidently as there was very clearly no mystery as to who was standing behind it.

"Hi?" I said, half smiling, instantly becoming very conscious of the fact that I was wearing an incredibly oversized t-shirt and now uncomfortably short shorts. I took an all too hot sip of tea and tried to hide my grimace.

"You own a car." Sherlock stated.

"For the record," John stated while sticking up an exclamatory pointer finger and pushing past Sherlock, "this was not my idea. Had absolutely nothing to do with this. Nope." He finished with a shake of his head and made a quick X with his forearms before they dropped back to his sides. I stared at John with an inquisitive brow for a few moments longer before returning my attention to Sherlock.

"Yes. I did in fact make the illogical decision to own a car in this city. " I took another sip. Though not entirely illogical as I found it therapeutic to drive and had lots of family scattered about Scotland so I used visits to Nan and Grandad's as a means to justify it.

"You clearly had no other plans this evening," Sherlock said after giving me a quick up and down glance. I laughed (mostly in indignance) and tilted my head as he continued, "and we need to move past placing guilt on uninvolved reptiles. Julia Stoner was murdered. In the weeks leading up to her murder," Sherlock stated with a sideways glance at a tightlipped John, "she had constantly complained of feeling fatigued and ill. To gain insight into her last days I'm going to recreate and relive Julia Stoner's final night in the exact environment that in some way..." Sherlock pushed past into my flat with his pointer fingers joined under his nose. I looked at John and shrugged, gesturing for him to enter my flat as well.

"Some way contributed to her passing. And it's now, by no coincidence of course, that Helen Stoner-"

"Her sister." John stated. I nodded.

"Is complaining of feeling lethargic and drowsy."

"So you want a ride to the Stoners' house?" I gathered very quickly.

"Precisely."

"And you're spending the night?"

"Necessary."

"Where in England are we headed, exactly? If I agree, of course." I crossed my arms.

"Western Surrey." John offered, only making eye contact with the cat.

"Surrey…" I looked between the two of them. "All right. Let me just put on some proper trousers. Oh, and blow out those candles for me, would you? Thank you!" I loudly said as I was closing my bedroom door, making quick work of getting ready. I tucked a black sweater into some black high waisted jeans then swiftly looped an appropriately black belt around my waist. Leaving my glasses on and hair in it's slightly messy nighttime updo I threw a toothbrush into a bag as I wasn't about to leave the boys there, only to have to make a second round trip to fetch them the next morning. I gave myself a quick look in the bathroom mirror and excitedly smiled. The thought of what we were about to do was exhilarating and I clung to the welcomed feelings of enthusiasm with all that I had in me.

I strolled back into the living room to see John sitting on one end of the couch engaged in a staring contest with my cat on the opposite end. Sherlock was standing with his hands clasped behind his back, reading the old letter from Bowie to my mum.

"What's his, er, her? Name?" John asked.

"He doesn't have one, actually." I responded while grabbing some iced coffee from the fridge. Caffeine was now essential. "I guess I just didn't feel it was my place to give him one. Blame my angst filled, existential teenage self." I smiled. "Ready?"

We filtered out of my front door and I locked it behind us before we stepped out onto a gloomy Baker Street. It was still drizzly and now slightly foggy which felt like an ominous sendoff. With the momentum I had felt from moving and running errands all day I had also thankfully given my car a quick but thorough cleaning.

"Please tell me they know we're coming." I said, looking over my shoulder as we were now pulling onto the road and officially Surrey bound.

"We've been in contact with Helen." Sherlock said after… Snorting? Scoffing? Whatever it was, it was ultimately condescending.

"Well we are going to be showing up on their doorstep at nearly midnight and I am doing you a favor. Patronize me after you get the free ride." I said while glancing over at the dark haired detective. I focused on his profile as it was framed by droplets on the passenger side window lit by passing city lights and neon signs. He returned my gaze for a few moments and I smiled with raised brows to show that my comments were mostly lighthearted. One couldn't deny that he was striking in appearance.

"She's going to give us a tour of their manor and take us through her sister's daily routine where I can then pinpoint the culprit. It will be a tangible item still within the home, obviously as the sister is now somehow feeling it's effects. It has to be something inconspicuous that could have been easily placed inside as there's too high a risk otherwise with the amount of adults in the home that were paranoid even before one of them died. If someone was intent on murder and had a straightforward means to do it they would have just done it the old fashioned way; but they didn't. They couldn't." Sherlock finished as he grabbed the lever on his seat and rolled it all the way back, stopping when John's knees were pressed into the back.

"Damn it, Sherlock!" John responded as he put both hands on the back of the seat. "Pull the lever again!"

"So the odds are, whatever item is behind this was placed there by someone who wouldn't have raised suspicion by entering the home?" I asked while John and Sherlock continued to toy with the seat.

"See then? Still could've been a snake." John bitterly offered. Sherlock pushed his seat all the way back again, smirking.

I laughed to myself as their bickering resumed, taking a swig of coffee as I let eyes drift over the ever familiar streets of a very soggy London.