Dr. John Watson buys an Island

"You did what John"?

"I bought an Island, Sherlock. You heard me".

"Why on earth would you do such a thing. Your book sales are going well, I presume"?

"Do you have any idea how much people love to read about you Holmes. The books are sold out all over the world. We are rich, we can buy anything. I know you would have objected if I asked you, so I just did it myself".

"And what do you propose to do with this island, Watson, vacation there, or maybe grow coconuts"?

"As a matter of fact, I plan to host a monthly "WHODUNIT" mystery contest. I will invite all the famous detectives, celebrities or whomever is willing to pay the hefty price to come play detective and solve a make-believe 'crime' with you".

"Well, I must say that sounds quite intriguing. Invite them all to come best the mind of the famous and brilliant genius which is Sherlock Holmes. Why, Watson, that is a first rate idea my man. I am shocked that your ordinary brain could contrive such an ingenious escapade"!

Watson smiled, he was used to Sherlock's complete inability to realize when he was actually insulting someone's intelligence. He loved the man for his honesty and childish exuberance, that was enough to seal a lifelong friendship. Watson had a few children's homes and charities who will benefit from Sherlocks fame and Watson's writing skills.

"One thing Sherlock, I will wear your hat and you wear mine. It is part of the charm of the plot. An attempt to foil the detectives in determining who we are".

"Righto, old chap, when is your first mystery"?

"This weekend, here is a list of all the people who have paid the hefty admission and are quite eager to join in the fun, I have had hundreds of applications, we will have contests for a very long time".

"Fifty thousand dollars, Watson. They have all already paid you this money"? Watson showed him the account, Sherlock was impressed.

The List (Paid)

1. James Moriarity

2. Agatha Christie

3. Auguste Dupin, from "The Murders in the Rue Morgue" by Edgar Allan Poe

4. Sherlock Holmes (He did not pay, Watson did)

5. Hercule Poirot

6; The Hardy Boys

7. Nancy Drew

8. Columbo

9. Inspector Clouseau

10. Poirot

11. The CSI Team

12. Miss Marple

13. Jessica Fletcher

14. Jonathan and Jennifer Hart

15. Batman

16. Bulldog Drummond

17. Philip Marlowe

18. Joe Mannix

19. Thomas Magnum

20. Shaft

21. Virgil Tibbs

22. Blanche White

And

23. Adrian Monk

"Why, pray tell, does Monk get the 'AND' at the end"?

"Monk is a special case, but this list would not be complete without him, he will be your biggest pet peeve, believe me, Sherlock". Watson had a good laugh at the thought of Sherlock and Monk working side by side.

"Oh yes, I almost forgot. I also bought a yacht".

"You bought......a yacht! Well, I guess it makes sense, If one has an island, one also needs a yacht". Sherlock laughed heartily, he was both amused and proud of John, they may just have some fun after all. He could learn to have fun...right?

Mrs. Hudson brought tea, and was apprised of the newly acquired luxury situation. She was invited to join and assist in the provision of culinary entertainment for the many guests. She was delighted to do so.

The weekend arrived and the guests were quite early, ecstatic and eager to get the yacht sailing. Sherlock and John had no pressing or important cases to solve, so they met their various 'detectives', settled in and set sail for "JohnSherlock Island". The name had amused Sherlock even more.

Imagine his surprise when he saw the enormous mansion situated in the middle of the beautiful island.

Everyone, including Sherlock, gasped in wonder and appreciation of the absolutely breathtaking resplendence and magical view of nature's sheer perfection.

They disembarked at the boat dock and continued to the house.

John had hired a large staff to prepare the house, grounds and Island for the contest, the entire place had been rigged, booby trapped and staged for a fake murder, along with other puzzle solving activities. Mrs. Hudson had visited and arranged the dining activities with caterers. All was ready for the solving of a prearranged case.

Adrian Monk had brought Natalie to navigate all the touching of things and the fussing of people for him.

Shaft, Blanche White and Virgil Tibbs decided to stick together though working individually.

After being shown to their rooms, everyone got refreshed and were ready for the delights of pitting their minds against Sherlock Holmes. Refreshment was offered, guests mingled and exchanged pleasantries before the fun began.

Then they all met in the great hall to discuss the case and the rules.

John announced that something here would happen under very strange and mysterious circumstances. Something was amiss, out of place and could cause the death of one of their members if not fixed. Who would be the first to figure out the details and explain the methods. There were no rules, just use whatever means became necessary to arrive at the correct conclusion and save the guest in time.

"The game is afoot"! Shouted Sherlock, he looked and jeered at Moriarity in particular as everyone took off to find some form of a crime.

As John and his crew monitored the situation from the electronics room, with cameras all over the place, someone screamed. It sounded like a female member of the group.

They panned the cameras everywhere and saw Monk and Natalie standing over a body on the floor of the library. Blood was oozing from the body. Was it the fake blood or real blood. It looked quite real from here.

John was both impressed and horrified, he hurried to the library. The planned fake crime was exactly as this was going down. Someone was supposed to fake kill Moriarity in the library with a small dagger from the display case through his heart.

When he got there, Moriarity was as dead as dead could be. The blood was real, Moriarity was dead for real.

Every eye in the room turned to Sherlock Holmes. Who else could have solved the case so lightening fast and committed a crime to boot. Except maybe Adrian Monk, and everyone knew that Monk hated a mess. He would have probably poisoned the man. Yet Sherlock was no killer, although given the right provocation, anyone could become a killer.

The police was notified. John announced that the contest was still on, the trophy would go to the first to solve the case. The name of the winner would be engraved on the trophy and displayed in the "Brilliant Detective Museum of Crime Solvers". Another innovation from the book sales which he just thought up, he would build it right here on the island.

"Won't the first person to solve the case be suspected of the murder, John"? Sherlock asked.

"Have you solved it Sherlock"? Nancy Drew asked.

"I bet he wouldn't say". Said Shaft.

"Sherlock is smart, if he wanted to off Moriarity, this would be the perfect opportunity. Everyone would think him too smart to do it here". Growled Batman.

The police arrived, looked around and advised everyone that no one was leaving until the murderer had been apprehended. John made sure that the yacht was staying put.

The masterminds thought and though, no one really wanting to be the first to solve the crime. Sherlock sat rocking in a chair in the corner, smoking his pipe and smiling. "Let the fools argue the case, I already solved it". He mused to himself.

The detectives and police went back and forth all evening and into the night. They all decided to sleep on it and decide what to do next morning. The mansion was large enough to accommodate everyone.

Next morning, Monk could take it no longer. There were just too many people within his comfort zone. After breakfast when everyone again gathered in the great hall, he made his move.

"Here is what happened". He announced after clearing his throat and made Natalie shout to get their attention.

"No". Everyone else started shouting.

"I solved it".

"Quoth the raven". Auguste Dupin mumbled, causing everyone to think him quite mad.

"I know how it was done"! Among other similar such utterances.

Monk allowed everyone to speak. The police tested the many theories. All except Sherlock and Monk's accounts of the crime.

"Your turn Mr.Monk". Sherlock graciously offered.

Taking a deep breath, Adrian stated simply:

"No one living killed Mr. Moriarity. Moriarity killed himself".

The entire room erupted in a frenzy of guffaws, grunts, arguments and exchanging of facts. Everyone had differences of opinions.

"I am afraid Mr. Monk is correct". Shouted Sherlock Holmes.

The room fell quiet.

"Why do you say that Mr. Holmes". Asked the Inspector in charge of the investigation. He was quite alarmed at the esteemed gathering of great minds on the island.

"Moriarity and I both found ourselves in the library after exhausting all the other possibilities. I was hidden behind a large shelf when he came in. He found the book which held the hidden plans for the answer to the puzzle. You see John is not a detective himself, so he was a tiny bit amateurish in his plans. Mr. Monk is the only other detective to have found it after I did, sorry Adrian, I am just a bit smarter than you, you see. But, Moriarity then switched the plans for one of his own. Which means everyone else found the planted one and not the one which John intended.

I knew he was up to something, so I postponed my victory speech to find out what his plans were. Before I could report this to John, however, his body was found in the library. Now If I did not kill him; and Mr. Monk did not kill him, then being the only other person with the evidence, Moriarity must have killed himself. For I very much doubt that anyone else could have gotten the original plans from a man like Moriarity, unless he wanted them to".

"Ok, as soon as the fingerprinting has established all the facts, you all will be allowed to leave. Until then, feel free to wander the island, no one leaves. Dr. Watson and the police have the only transport off the island anyway".

The forensic team finally finished collecting evidence, the library locked, awaiting the removal of the body, and everyone now relaxed a bit. Supper was announced, after enjoying a hearty meal, all decided on an early night to bed.

Upon awaking next morning, an uproar could be heard in the great hall. Guests poured in from swimming pools, from lounging on patios and from yawning and being roused from their slumber, wondering who else may have died, or if another calamity had occurred.

"Quiet everyone"! The Inspector shouted.

"The body of Mr. Moriarity has disappeared"!

Silence ensued. Then pandemonium broke out. Again, someone had to yell for quiet.

"Fortunately for you all, none of your prints were found on the weapon, or anywhere near the crime scene. You are all free to go, but be available if I need to contact you in a hurry".

Objections were raised by those who lived outside of the UK. But to no avail. After a week of finding no evidence of Moriarity. The detectives were allowed to go about their lives.

Back at Baker's Street, Sherlock and John still had no answers about the disappearance of Sherlock's nemesis, James Moriarity.

"I know that there are some medicines which can stop your heart and allow you to appear dead, but I have no idea how long that would take. Maybe Moriarity got his hand on something like that". Watson told Sherlock.

"So, Watson, Moriarity gets his name on the trophy whether he is dead or alive. He wins by default by the act of killing himself". Sherlock was not amused.

The phone was ringing off the hook with detectives demanding their turn on the island. John made sure to choose the less likely ones who may die or not die on the island. He had had just enough excitement for one weekend.

Later that evening, the phone rang. Mrs. Hudson was alone in the living room tidying up after supper. Sherlock yelled for her to answer it.

"Hello. Holmes and Watson residence".

"Hello Sherlock....Did you miss me. Hello Mrs. Hudson, did you miss me"?

Mrs. Watson dropped the phone, stumbling back and falling onto the sofa.

"Sherlock...John"! She screamed

Both men ran out in their nightwear and saw the dangling phone. They heard the maniacal laugh.

"Moriarity"! They both yelled, while attending to poor Mrs. Hudson.

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