Hey, well the Jubilee weekend here in the UK is over and it's back to work :( . At least we have videos and pics of Ben and Loo at Hay Festival to keep us going. I definitely have a visit to that Festival on my bucket list…some day!

As for the story, thank you for all the reviews and comments. So, now Sherlock has arrived, and the investigation begins. Let's see how they get on.

Chapter 3

Molly quickly nipped to the loo and checked her face in the mirror, scrunching up her nose a little at the view looking back at her. For once, she was looking a little tanned and her hair, in its regular ponytail, had sun kissed highlights. She added some lip gloss, but not much more, knowing as she did that Sherlock would see if she tried to doll herself up for him...not that it was worth the effort, she knew he didn't see her in that way.

She was glad however, that due to her having no plans to walk that day, she was in one of her few summer dresses that she'd packed, along with sandals rather than walking boots. It at least made her feel more feminine and pretty, even if he didn't notice.

She grabbed her bag and her sunglasses and then made her way downstairs.

Sherlock was nowhere to be seen in reception, so she went out to the front of the hotel; only to be greeted by the sight of Sherlock sitting in a very expensive looking gunmetal grey, sports car with the roof in the process of collapsing back into the boot, before a matching cover slid over hiding it from sight.

'Ah Molly there you are...about time...hop in.'

'Where the hell did you get this car?'

He grinned at her as he slid on a pair of sunglasses. 'Mrs Hudson, she sold the vantage at the end of last year and bought this. She doesn't normally lend it out, but she was away visiting her sister and I know where the keys are kept.'

'So you stole it.'

She could almost imagine he was rolling his eyes even though she couldn't see them. 'No I didn't steal it...well no more than she steals my handcuffs. I've just borrowed it, now get in before we waste away the whole day.'

Molly still wasn't entirely convinced about the legality of the situation, but she climbed into the car, and as he set off the engine roaring into life; she had to admit it felt like a dream come true.

He weaved through the traffic in the town, keeping to the speed limits, but as soon as they left the crowded, tourist filled streets and hit the country roads, he really opened up the engine and let her fly, and fly she did. Molly's hair was streaming out behind her as the fields and hedgerows whipped by, and she knew she was grinning from ear to ear. Here she was, in an expensive convertible, the sun was shining, and she had not just any handsome fella, but Sherlock Holmes himself driving her; she felt as though life would never get better than this.

As they got closer to the cove, Sherlock dropped the speed, and Molly directed him to the same point the police had driven to, until finally he parked up overlooking flat iron rock which was now clearly in view.

He climbed out of the car, and Molly followed him as he made his way to the edge of the cliff.

'I take it that's the rock. So, where were you eating your lunch...' He pointed over to the East. '...over there?'

'Yes, I'd just lain down for a minute or so when I heard the yell.'

'OK...come on then.'

He set off along the path running parallel with the edge of the cliff, making his way to the point he'd identified, and Molly scrambled to catch up with him.

'So, why are we going over there?'

'I would have thought that was obvious Molly. I want to recreate yesterday's events.' He glanced down at Molly's footwear. 'Hmm, you really should have worn more appropriate footwear Molly...I thought you were on a walking holiday.'

'I was...I am, but I had been planning a relaxed day in the town, not hiking across clifftops with a mad Detective.'

He caught her elbow as she stumbled a little, and Molly felt a rush of arousal at the feel of his hand on her bare skin. She stuttered a little as she thanked him, and then internally berated herself for reacting so obviously; even after all this time when she had made so much progress in her friendship with him. Maybe the heat was affecting her reactions because the sun was high now and beating down on both of them. Sherlock removed his jacket and slung it over his shoulder, and it gave her a better view of his slim cut, tailored white shirt.

It took them about fifteen minutes to make their way to the outcrop where Molly had lunched the previous day and Sherlock assessed the view before asking her to point out where she had been sat. That was easy for her to do because she remembered checking the grassy patch closely the day before so she wouldn't sit on any thistles.

'There.' She pointed to the spot and watched as Sherlock sat down before reassessing his view.

He absentmindedly patted the grass next to him and she sat herself down at the side of him.

'So, you ate here...for about how long?'

'It must have been about fifteen...twenty minutes.'

'And then you lay down?'

'Yes.'

Molly lay herself down, wriggling a little on the grass to get comfortable. She closed her eyes and cast her mind back to the day before remembering the feel of the sun on her face as it was now...the sound of the birds calling out...just how relaxed she'd felt.

'And when you heard the shout, you sat up?'

Molly started to sit as she opened her eyes, but Sherlock was leaning over her watching her and she ended up stopping just before her face collided with his. Her breath caught in her throat at being so close to him and she couldn't seem to bring herself to look away. His eyes, normally so changeable, seemed impossibly blue. She could see the pores in his skin, the dark shadows under his eyes that told her he hadn't had much sleep lately.

Time seemed to stretch out as her eyes fell to his mouth and she imagined herself leaning forward just an inch or two more and pressing her lips to his.

It was Sherlock who broke the moment swiftly standing before offering his hand out to help Molly to her feet.

'Did you stand immediately?'

Molly struggled to bring herself back to reality. She felt a little shell shocked by how close she had come to kissing him.

'I...umm...no, no I packed up my rubbish and had a drink then I stood.'

He turned back towards the beach...the rock was clearly visible. Molly hadn't really picked up on it until she'd started walking but she knew she would have seen if anyone had been walking away from it...it would have drawn her attention. She said as much to Sherlock, and he nodded.

'And I assume this was the path you used to get down to the beach?'

She nodded and then followed as he started to make his way down. It certainly wasn't as easy in her flimsy shoes and Sherlock must have noticed because he held his hand out so she could use it to help her balance as she made her way down the rocky path. His grip was sure and made her feel more secure. She was helplessly aware that his hand engulfed her own and she had to repress a giggle when she recalled the saying about men with big hands and big feet being well endowed...now was so not the time for her to be thinking about his body but she seemed to be in a losing battle with her traitorous libido.

When they made it to the beach, she took a moment to remove her shoes deciding it was easier to carry them and walk barefoot. What did surprise her was when Sherlock did the same. He even rolled up the bottom of his trousers, so they didn't get sandy. It gave Molly an idea and she set off walking partly towards the rock but also towards where the waves were gently lapping on the seashore.

'Is this the route you took yesterday?' Sherlock asked as he caught up to her.

'Not quite but we're here a bit earlier than I was yesterday. I took a more direct route because the tide was coming in.'

'So, what are we doing now? There's nothing down here.'

It was her turn to roll her eyes...had he never had a childhood. At that thought a shard of guilt went through her. No, he probably hadn't...not once his sister had killed his best friend and been incarcerated. From everything she'd heard through John Sherlock's family had been emotionally torn apart and even now were struggling cope with the aftermath of all that had happened and recently been revealed.

'I just want to paddle a bit...indulge me.'

She expected him to complain or walk over to the rock without her, but instead he just huffed and stayed by her side...following her in as she walked ankle deep into the water.

'Mmm...I love the feel of the water and the sand. Don't you?'

She turned to him to find him watching her, with a slightly puzzled expression on his face. 'It's just water and sand Molly...it's nothing special.'

'I know, but things don't have to be special for you to enjoy them. Don't you ever just let yourself enjoy things Sherlock?'

She knew his answer before he even said it, and it made her sad.

'I...I enjoy lots of things.'

'Really? Like what...and don't say drugs, they don't count.'

'I wasn't going to say drugs. but they certainly do count. I enjoy solving a puzzle, finding the piece where it all slots into place and I can see how the murder was committed, or who carried out the crime...I enjoy spending time in Barts with you carrying out my tests...the quietness and cleanliness of the lab soothes me. I enjoy London...I've travelled the world and I know that London is where I belong...with my friends...with you...'

The way he said that last part tugged at her heartstrings. From anyone else it would feel like the start of a declaration...she knew it wasn't but hearing him admit he enjoyed her company was enough.

He kicked his foot up and splashed her. 'Come on Molly, enough of trying to make me be sentimental...we have a murder to solve.'

He laughed a little and dodged out of the way as she tried to splash him back, then he started walking through the edge of the water towards the rock. Molly bit her lip and followed him. It was strange how natural it felt, being here with him. She hurried to catch up with him; enjoying the coolness of the water lapping around her ankles and occasionally splashing up her calf, it made her want to go in further and swim.

It only took them five minutes to walk over until they were parallel with the rock, and when Molly looked up at it, she felt a sense of anxiety and unease wash over her. She remembered the shock she'd felt the day before when she'd realised there was blood running down the side, and her dilemma over what she should do. It just felt so much better being here today with Sherlock...cathartic even.

He left his jacket and shoes on the sand at the side and then he circled around the base of the rock. Molly likewise left her sandals and bag, and then she showed him where she had climbed up.

'I'd tried calling to him but obviously received no answer. I was just intending to give his shoulder a shake to wake him but when I put my hand here...' she indicated the small crevice in the rock which had served as a handhold.

Sherlock gestured for her to climb up and she did so, hoping she wasn't flashing her knickers to him as she went. A moment later and he joined her, and she described where the body had been situated and what actions she had carried out. He asked various questions and after a couple of minutes he knelt down and looked over various points at the edge of the rock.

Finally, he stood back up. 'Wait here a minute.' Then he jumped back down onto the sand.

Molly watched as he circled the base of the rock again and then she let out a slight gasp as he ducked out of sight on the opposite side from where she had climbed up. She leant over a little but still couldn't see him, so she knelt down to enable her to lean over a bit further.

His disembodied voice came up to her from below. 'Can you see me?'

'No, not at all.'

She felt a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach, as she realised that the killer could have been with her all along.

Dun, dun, duunnn…but at least we know the killer didn't do anything to Molly then. Anyway, are you enjoying the investigations and their interactions, looks like they're getting on quite well together now they're away from London and alone xx