Hey, hey, I hope everyone is having a great weekend. I have a week off and I'm starting to feel very chilled. I'm certainly ready to get going on posting this story. I'll be honest, it's been kicking around for a while so I'm excited to finally bring it to you. It will also force me to finish writing the last couple of chapters…yes, it's a long one. Are you ready for a case fic?

For those that are into the Lord Peter Wimsey novels I've used the start of Have His Carcass as my inspiration but the murderer and reason for death is completely my own. (If you have read it, I'd love to know what you think of my version) . Anyway, it's set after season 4, so let's get on with it.

Chapter 1

The sun was shining in a perfect, cloud-free, blue sky and Molly let out a deep sigh as she took a bite of her ham and cheese sandwich. Her eyes drank in the view before her as she sat on the grass, overlooking a cliff edge that dropped down to a quiet beach with rolling waves washing up white on the seashore.

She had been planning this walking holiday for over six months, and it was turning out to be better than she'd dared to hope. She tried foreign holidays in the past and singles cruises, but she'd always felt awkward and they'd ended up just making her feel more alone. Well, if she was going to be alone, she might as well just grasp the nettle and enjoy being alone.

So, here she was, almost a week into her two-week holiday, walking the south coast. She could have gone the whole hog and carried her belongings whilst camping, but she'd taken a much more civilised approach. Instead, she'd gone through a specialist firm, and they had booked hotels on route, and they also ferried her luggage between them, so all she had to worry about was carrying maps and food. She was glad however that the next hotel was booked for three nights. She needed a chance to rest her feet and her back and just enjoy exploring one area before starting on the next leg of her trip.

As a lone seagull circled overhead, she took a final bite of her sandwich and took a deep draught of her drink. Her eyes felt heavy, and she glanced around herself self-consciously before lying down on the grass with her backpack under her head. She'd just close her eyes for five minutes...no more than that.

Molly woke with a shock when she heard a cry, feeling a bit disoriented and groggy. Rubbing at her eyes she sat up and yawned as she looked around, but there was still no one near her. After a moment she put the noise down to the birds that were still circling above her and swooping down below the cliff edge.

Checking her watch, she saw that it was just after two...she needed to get a move on if she wanted to get to the next town by five, so she packed the rubbish from her small lunch into her bag. Then she took a final swig of her juice before lifting the now lighter backpack back onto her shoulders.

She could see a small path down to the beach and thought it might make a change to walk along the shoreline. The tide was starting to come in but there was still plenty of time to walk along the edge of the sea before she'd have to get back on to the coastal path.

As she made her way down, she noticed a rock in the distance. It was unusual in that it was the only one on the beach. It was long and flat and maybe four feet high. She wasn't sure from this distance, but it looked like someone was lying out on it sunbathing. She wasn't particularly interested in interacting with anyone but there was nothing stopping her from just walking on by.

As she got closer, she could see it was a man. He was wearing shorts and a t shirt and looked to be fast asleep. The tide was starting to lap around the base of the rock, and she found herself worrying that he might get stuck if he didn't wake up soon, but she felt a bit nervous about disturbing him. She shook her head and huffed...how very British of her!

About ten feet from the rock, she coughed loudly, hoping the sound would wake him, but he was still unmoved. Looked like she was going to have to get a bit closer...be a tad more obvious.

'Hello...hey there.'

It was the first time she'd spoken in hours and her voice sounded strange even to her own ears.

'Hey, sorry to wake you but just want you to know the tide's coming in.'

There was still no sign of him waking up as she reached the rock and so she leant up to try to shake his shoulder. In order to do so she had to get a foothold on a small ledge to give her some height and as she used her hands to pull herself up a bit, she realised with horror that there was blood flowing in a steady, sticky stream down the side of the rock face.

'Shit...shit, hey...are you OK?'

She scrambled her way up onto the top of the flat rock and as soon as she took a clearer look at the body, she knew it was just that...a body. She hadn't been able to see the wound because of the way his head had been lying but now she was on a level with him she could see his throat had been slit.

All her years of training immediately kicked in and she checked for signs of rigor mortis...though she already knew he hadn't been dead long from the way the blood was still seeping out of the wound...it was slow and sluggish now, but he can't have been dead more than half an hour.

He looked to be about mid-thirties, blond, muscular build...good looking but in a flashy kind of way; not Molly's type. An image of Sherlock came into her mind, and she suddenly wondered what he'd be doing if he was here.

Quickly she took off her backpack and rooted out her phone; she needed to try to alert the police. The tide was coming in faster now and there was a danger that the body would end up being pulled out to sea if they didn't act fast. But when she retrieved it, she swore under her breath...the battery was completely dead. She'd been having trouble with it for a while now and kept promising to buy a new one, but she'd never quite got round to it; now when she needed it most, she had nothing.

It occurred to her that he might have a phone and she was grateful that she wasn't squeamish around dead people as she gingerly made her way around the body before checking the pockets of his shorts. It didn't stop her feeling a bit guilty though. In one pocket there was a money clip with about forty pounds in cash plus some loose change. In the other there was just a card. It was from the hotel she was due to stay at and on the back written in pencil was the following Flat Iron rock 2pm.

She managed to find a plastic bag in her backpack and she careful placed the items in, trying to handle them as little as possible. She also had a small Tupperware box that she'd used to hold some grapes. She used one tissue to wipe it out and another to soak up some of his blood which she then stored in the box. She then checked him as best she could for any other injuries or distinguishing features, but she was acutely aware that she was running out of time. The water was completely circling the rock now and was getting deeper every minute; she needed to get herself to safety and find a phone.

Reluctantly she stood, turning away from the body, and looking towards the beach and the low cliffs beyond. It was then that she noticed that behind her own footprints there was only one other set which made their way from a path to her left directly to the rock...there were no other marks in the sand and no footsteps leading away.

She half climbed and half jumped down landing with a splash in the water and she scrunched up her nose in disgust...walking in wet shoes was not going to be pleasant but she didn't appear to have much other choice and she hefted her pack onto her back as she made her way away from the rock and to the path the man must have used to get there.

She kept her eyes peeled as she went making sure she didn't miss any dropped clues but there was nothing. By the time she made it to the coastal path again and turned back to look at the beach the rock was almost submerged, and she could see the body started to be shifted by the incoming waves. She felt an unutterable sadness watching it; she'd contemplated trying to drag the body up the beach, but he was over six feet tall and stockily built and she just wouldn't have been strong enough, especially not once he was on wet sand. She watched for a moment longer and then she turned away heading as quickly as she could towards the town. The best thing she could do for him now would be to alert the authorities and hand over her evidence.

For the first time walking seemed interminably slow and there didn't seem to be anyone around who could help her. A car did drive past once she got to the road, but it didn't stop when she tried to flag it down; it was only a country path so there wouldn't be much traffic until she made it to the main road. She contemplated cutting across the fields to a farmhouse that she could see in the distance but there was no guarantee that it was occupied and if it wasn't she'd just be wasting more time.

Finally, an hour after leaving the body she reached the main road and was grateful to see a pub at the intersection. She quickly made her way into the cool, dark interior and over to the bar.

A barmaid maybe ten years older than herself came over. 'Alright ducks what can I get for you?'

'Please...I need to use a phone; I have to call the police.'

For the first time the woman seemed to perk up and show an interest. 'Oh right, whatever for?'

Molly took a quick look around the bar and then lowered her voice a little not wanting to alarm anyone. 'I found a body...down on the beach, on top of a flat kind of rock.'

The woman had turned and reached for the cordless phone sitting by the cash till. 'Oh, you must mean flat iron down at Eastley Bay. Here you go...are you sure they was dead?'

Molly dialled 999 and then looked grimly back at the woman. 'Yes, absolutely sure...hi, yes Police please.'

As Molly waited for the police to arrive, she gave in and ordered herself a brandy...she might be used to death but that didn't mean that it wasn't a shock to have been the one to discover the body. She wondered if she should call someone...Lestrade or... Her heart swooped a little at the thought of calling Sherlock. Things had been awkward between them ever since the year before; Mary's death, his descent back into drug use followed by all the events over him finding out about his sister including that call which was etched onto her soul. No, she should just ride it out for now and see what the police did. She downed the drink and ordered another.

So, the body has been found and the police called. Do we think Molly has made the right decision about not calling Sherlock? Let me know what you think about that and everything else xxx