So, here I am, somehow completely unprepared, posting the beginning of my Christmas fic.

One thing you should know about me is that by the time I come to post a story it's normally written and just needs a final edit...but this one isn't finished yet...which stresses me. I mean it's mostly written...the crime and the romance but the final chapter so far eludes me but I'll need to come up with something before we get there.

The title also eluded me. All I could think is it's Christmas, they're on an island and there are murders.

Anyway, I hope you like the start.

Chapter 1

Molly could hear her phone ringing but she couldn't remember where she'd packed it. She'd been at her aunt's house on the island for four days now and so far she hadn't needed it but now it was ringing and she couldn't find it.

'Fuck, fuck, fuck...ah...hello.'

She answered without even looking at the screen so was caught completely unawares when she heard Sherlock's frustrated voice in reply.

'Molly, what took you so long? I've been calling you all morning.'

'Oh, sorry. I've been out and I didn't take my phone with me.'

'So I gather. Anyway I haven't got long I'm about to board and there'll be no signal. Meet me at the port in half an hour I want to see where the body was...'

'Sherlock...Sherlock...what the...'

Molly looked at the phone which was showing that the call had been cut off. Her mind was whirling with confusion. Surely he couldn't possibly be on his way...she was literally in the middle of nowhere, well almost. Her aunt lived on Conan Island which lay just over half an hour's boat ride off the Cumbrian coast. It was home to forty people on a good day, less now it was three days from Christmas and one less since they'd found the body of Robbie Sanders-Conan.

Molly remembered back less than 48 hours to when she'd heard a hammering on her aunt's front door before it was flung open. Pete had been stood there looking flushed and excited as his eyes locked on hers.

'Thank God you're here. Barry and me have found a body, we think it's Robbie, up by the old lighthouse. You're a doctor aren't you? I thought I'd try here first as your nearer than that old bastard up at the house.'

Her aunt had tsked in the background at his insult. 'Dr Piper might be a bit eccentric but he's looked after most of us at some point or another as you well know. It wouldn't hurt you to show him some respect.'

He'd rolled his eyes but smiled. 'Alright Aunt Evie.' Then he turned back to Molly. 'Can you come?'

'Yes, of course but I don't have any medical equipment. Are you sure he's dead?'

Pete shrugged. 'Looks it. I didn't like to get too close, left that to Barry, he's braver than me.'

'Well you go on to Dr Piper and I'll go and meet Barry and at least check for life signs.'

There hadn't been any. They'd called across to the mainland and a coroner and police officer had come over to retrieve the body and make some enquiries but they'd quickly put it down to suicide. It seemed he'd gone up to the top of the lighthouse and thrown himself off.

Molly had had her reservations and told them but they hadn't really wanted to hear them and so she'd been disregarded. None of that however explained how Sherlock had found out about the case and why he seemed to be on his way.

She made her way downstairs still absent mindedly holding her phone. Her aunt was sat in her normal chair by the fire knitting the new scarf that she'd promised Molly would be ready for Christmas Day.

'Problem dear?'

'I...I don't know. That was Sherlock...you know my friend, the detective that I told you about. He seems to be on his way here.'

'Is he? That's good. I know you were a bit bothered about that business with Robbie, maybe he can clear it all up.'

Her aunt seemed to be amazingly calm about this news and Molly felt a sudden wave of suspicion wash over her.

She made her way to the chair on the other side of the fireplace and sat on the edge leaning forwards.

'Auntie Evie what did you do?'

Her aunt glanced up at her between stitches and smiled before shrugging. 'I may have called him and told him what was happening. He seemed very interested.'

'But...it's almost Christmas...this must be getting on for the last ferry over from the mainland. He'll be stuck here.'

'Yes, I told him that too...and yet he's still on his way. What does that tell you?'

Molly's mind reeled but she couldn't come up with an adequate answer. She glanced at her watch.

'God, I'd better go if I'm to get to the harbour in time. Do we even have anywhere to put him? There's no room here.'

'I had a word with Dr Piper, he's arranging one of the retreat lodges to be made available. Bring him here though first, I'll make sure there's some hot chocolate ready for you both. He'll be needing it after that journey on such a cold day. Anyway, get along with you, you don't want to be late.'

Molly shook her head at her aunt's audacious behaviour but she bid her goodbye before leaving the warmth of the small cottage.

SHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSHSH

Sherlock had had the impression that the ferry would be something more substantial but it seemed to be little more than a fishing boat. He was grateful for his strong constitution as he hung onto the rail to stop himself from being barrelled about; the boat rolled relentlessly up and down as it gradually made its way across from the mainland to the small island in the distance.

It seemed not everyone was so fortunate and he turned his head away as one of his sea mates carried on throwing up into a sick bag. The man throwing up was part of a family of four on their way to the island to spend Christmas with a relative and he'd been initially sociable until he'd gleaned that they were connected to one of the farms on the other side of the island and therefore not connected to the murder; at which point his mask had dropped and he'd ignored them for the rest of the journey.

The only other traveller was an island local called Pete making his way back home after being on the main land for business. Their conversation had lasted longer as Pete professed to knowing Molly and also admitting to being one of the two men who had found the body.

'God it was awful. Me and Barry, my husband, we got married last year, we were just going for a walk like we often do after breakfast and there he was; all smashed up at the bottom of the lighthouse. It was obvious he was dead but I was too upset to go near him so I went for Molly; we knew she was a doctor and she was the closest. I mean you don't know what to do do you? It's not something you expect is it?'

As Sherlock started to question him they were interrupted by the mother of the family asking them not to discuss this subject in front of her two young children.

Sherlock had to bite back his response as Pete apologised before turning back to him. 'You'll have to come over to ours, with Molly, for dinner and some drinks. There's little else to do on the island and we love having people round. How about tomorrow evening and you can ask all the questions you want? Barry will be thrilled to have a real life celebrity detective to cook for and we love having Molly on the island. She's such a breath of fresh air.'

Sherlock accepted and the conversation petered out as the island started to come closer into view. It would appear and disappear with every swell of the waves and even Sherlock was grateful that he wouldn't be subjected to all this movement for much longer.

He thought back to that unexpected phone call the day before.

'Mr Holmes, my name is Evelyn Hooper. I hope you don't mind me contacting you but my niece Molly...'

Sherlock had gone from bored to concerned in a split second finding himself sitting more upright as his stomach swooped uncomfortably. 'Is she...is Molly...'

'Yes, yes she's fine but we've had an incident here on the island where I live and I thought you'd be interested. I know Molly won't want to disturb you because of the time of the year but from everything she's ever said about you I don't think seasonal frivolity is anything that appeals to you.'

'What's happened?'

'We've had a murder. The local police are calling it suicide but Molly knew the victim and saw the body and I know she has her concerns and I think I'm probably right in saying that we both trust Molly's judgement. Is that so?'

'Yes, yes it is.'

He spent several minutes questioning the old lady about the victim and the details around where and how the body had been found and then he fell silent.

'I should warn you Mr Holmes that should you come over you'll need to be quick. The eleven o'clock ferry tomorrow is likely to be the last before Christmas and you would be stuck here until at least the 28th possibly longer depending on the weather. We can offer you a warm welcome and a hearty Christmas meal if you like that sort of thing or peace and quiet if that's your preference.'

There really wasn't much of a decision for Sherlock at that point. It had been painfully quiet since Molly had left. Lestrade was too busy attending endless social events to do his actual job and John and Rosie were now packed up for their trip to John's sisters for Christmas. Which had left him with either Mrs Hudson for company or his family, neither of which was appealing to him.

He had packed and been on his way within the hour taking the long train ride up to Cumbria before staying overnight in a local hotel walking distance from the ferry. He'd spent the journey researching as much about the island as he could.

There wasn't that much to learn it seemed. It had been bought by the Conan family back in the early 1800's and used as a summer residence. They had built a large Manor House there and by the late 1800's one branch of the family was living there permanently, supporting the local farmers and building a small community.

The family had been losing money for decades and now the main residence was being rented out to a Dr Piper who ran a meditation and yoga centre. The owner, one Stephen Sanders-Conan had recently died and it seemed his son had returned to the island to claim his inheritance and now he was dead. Sherlock had asked Greg to make enquiries regarding both men's wills so he could see if there was a motive for murder. He had also asked for a copy of Stephen Sanders-Conan's autopsy and inquest documents in case this was more than a simple case of murder for him to investigate.

The one aspect in all of this that he wasn't focusing on at all was how fast he had agreed to come and how much of that decision involved Molly.

Those were thoughts that he kept pushing to the back of his mind but he knew he needed to tackle them at some point and probably sooner rather than later.

He watched the island getting ever closer until he could see the small harbour, only big enough for a handful of boats, and he started to make out figures waiting on the dockside.

His stomach swooped uncomfortably as he recognised the pink and purple scarf wrapped around the neck of one of those figures. She was there, waiting for him, as she always had been.

The scene is set and the players are assembled. Are you onboard as well? Let me know what you think so far xx