Disclaimer: Monk and all the characters belong to USA Networks. I have no affiliation with them whatsoever, I'm just having a little fun here.

Mr. Monk and the Murder Mystery Weekend

Prologue

It wasn't easy to find things that Adrian Monk was willing to eat for breakfast. Being as lactophobic as he was, diary products had been all but out of the question until recently. Sharona was doing her best to ease him into the daily use of dairy, and he'd gotten as far as cheese when he seemed to give up. It was milk that was his biggest blockade. Sharona could sometimes manage to slip it into his pancakes and while he would inevitably notice, he dealt with it as well as Monk was capable of dealing with anything. It was these covert culinary tactics that first caused Adrian to be wary of Sharona's cooking. It made him nervous, and he had begun to watch her carefully. Recently, she had taken to locking him out of his own kitchen when she would cook, which caused him to pace nervously and scour the house for anything that might be the slightest bit out of place. The only thing that could make him more nervous than Sharona's cooking was the thought that one day she might not show up at all.

He had already prepared for her arrival by setting out the appropriate boxes and cans of food. He carefully and meticulously lined them up on his kitchen counter and once satisfied that they were in order, checked his watch. It was nearly nine thirty. Sharona usually came over at nine on Saturdays to make breakfast for the both of them and her son, Benjy. Tonight, she was definitely late, and Monk couldn't get her to answer her phone. He was getting worried and the later she got the straighter he made sure the ingredients were lined up. Just as he picked up the phone to punch her number in one more time, he heard a set of keys in his door and leapt up with a deep sigh of relief.

"Adrian! I'm really sorry I'm late!" Sharona called from the doorway. Monk frowned as he caught sight of her. Sharona Fleming was a small woman, thin and vibrant, though some small signs of her motherhood still hung on her. She was forever attempting to shed the two or three pounds that were leftover from her pregnancy eleven years ago and cover up the barely noticable crow's feet that would appear when she would laugh. What bothered Monk, however, was not her cosmetic superficialities, but the way that she was dressed. She seemed particularly eager to appear youthful tonight, and Monk was all but certain that it wasn't on his behalf. She wore a sleek black dress with a plunging neckline. It hugged her hips and flared out slightly below her knees. She had equally black heels on, and her hair was done up in a crown of soft blond curls. She clutched her purse to her chest, dragged a small suitcase by her side, and gave Monk a little smile. Benjy was not with her.

"Uh, Sharona? You don't have to be, uh, me to notice that you're a little overdressed for breakfast," Monk noted, "and overpacked."

"Listen, I know how you're going to react to this, but I need a huge favor," She said, "This all came up very suddenly, but I got someone to watch Benjy, and I wrote out instructions for you so you can cook for yourself." She fished around in her purse and pulled out a hastily scribbled note. The paper was crinkled up and she did her best to smooth it out before offering it to Monk. He accepted it uncertainly, and continued to try ironing out the wrinkles. Sharona watched his hands pulling at the paper and her feelings of guilt increased with each little tug.

"W-what are you getting at?" Monk stuttered. Sharona started towards the kitchen, for no reason other than to keep moving and avoid eye contact as she began to explain herself.

"You know that guy I've been seeing? Rich? He invited me to this weekend retreat, but he only told me about it yesterday, and I've already got my tickets and I'm packed and he's waiting downstairs for me, so I was hoping that you'd be okay on your own here for a few days," Sharona stopped as she noticed the careful line-up of grocery items. She spun around and looked at Monk for some kind of reaction. He was still struggling with the sheet of paper as he gave her an uncertain chuckle.

"This is just so soon...I-I.." he paused, "I could just go down there and tell you what's wrong with the guy and then you wouldn't have to go at all and we could have breakfast." He smiled boyishly at her before finding himself distracted by the creases in the paper once more.

"No!" Sharona snatched the paper back from Monk and waved it at him in frustration, "Okay then there's one other option. I got two tickets. One for me, one for you. So you can come with us but you have to leave me alone for at least a little while, got it?"

"I still like the first option better," Monk said sheepishly.

"There is no first option, Adrian, your suggestion doesn't count. Come on. You'll like it. It's one of those 'Murder Mystery' retreat things," Sharona handed him a brochure. Monk frowned at it.

"Don't we do this kind of thing everyday already?" He asked, shrivelling up his nose as he flipped through the booklet. These things were jokes anyway. Either they made it perfectly clear from the first minute who they want you to think is the killer or there weren't enough genuine clues, as there was never a genuine murder, to figure it out to begin with. Sharona ignored Monk's obvious dislike of the situation and went again into her seemingly bottomless purse to fish out a necklace. She shuffled in her heels towards the bathroom. Monk followed.

"It wasn't my idea, it was Rich's. Anyway, c'mon, Adrian, it'll be fun," Sharona insisted as she fixed her necklace crookedly around her neck, "and besides, you'll get the chance to show off! I know you like to show off so don't even try to deny it."

"Sharona..." Monk started, then frowned, unable to help himself. He reached out a hand tentatively and straightened her necklace out. She sighed in exasperation and looked up at him. "All right. Let me just pack a few things."

"Thanks, Adrian," Sharona smiled and thrust the suitcase she'd been carrying towards him, "I packed for you."

"But--" Monk opened the suitcase to find all of his socks packaged in individual plastic bags, his clothing carefully and pristinely folded, a brand new unopened toothbrush, and several towels, pillow cases and sheets. Everything was in perfect order. It normally took him several hours to get his suitcase to look this way. He looked up at Sharona in surprise. She simply smiled and headed towards the door.