A/N: Despite the title, this is not a comedy. It is a serious story based on old-fashioned crime dramas (I think. Film noir?). This is also not a crossover with Sherlock BBC (which I understand is a show starring Benedict Cumberbatch, aka new Khan). Yes, it is detective-Sherlock themed. If you'll note, all Sherlock Holmes stories are told from the 1st-person point of view of Dr. Watson. Well, we have our own doctor here. I don't own Star Trek or Sherlock Holmes. READ!

I listened to the rain as it pattered outside the window. It'd been raining steadily now, since about midnight I'd wager. I didn't mind. It reminded me of home. Many a night in Georgia I would fall asleep to the sounds of a rainstorm.

This wasn't Georgia, of course. It was a small little planet about 1000 light years away from that state. We'd arrived on Demetria for scientific reasons… but it was such a nice planet that the captain also allowed shore leave. A bunch of crewmembers flocked to the transporter room immediately after the announcement.

I wasn't here on shore leave, though. Yes, I was curled up on a comfy bed in a hotel room reminiscent of a cabin, what with its wooden walls and furniture, but in the morning I would be out in the forest studying some more floral samples. They had some really intriguing properties. Several were either phosphorescent, or had a unique form of bioluminescence- we weren't sure yet.

We? Yeah, I wasn't here alone. In the next room over was Spock, who was probably also up at this late hour. No, I don't think he was listening to the rain like I was; he was either meditating or still working on our floral studies. Workaholic.

I sat on my knees on the bed and looked out the window. The rain was really coming down. I couldn't sleep- I just wasn't tired. So I got out of bed and left my room.

I walked down the carpeted hallway until I came to the balcony at the end of the two-story building. Stepping outside, I took in a deep breath. I loved the smell of rain. It was even better because the balcony had an overhang, so I wouldn't get wet. Despite the darkness I enjoyed the view. Rolling pasturelands with a forest not far off to the left- that was where Spock and I found our samples. Even now I could see some lights from the glowing plants.

I don't know how long I stayed out there. I was about to leave when I caught sight of someone hurrying down the gravel road on the right. I frowned. Whoever he was he was going to catch a cold if he stayed out much longer in this weather. No matter, though. He was moving at a decent clip and vanished in the direction of the hotel's entrance. Perhaps it was a late-hour patron.

On foot? My mind niggled. Well, it was a bit odd, but he could have stepped out and then returned inside. Unlikely, my brain continued to say. But where else could he have come from? The hotel was a long way from anywhere.

Turning inside, I tried shrugging it off. It didn't work when moments later there was a piercing scream from downstairs.

Instantly I was bolting down the corridor racing for the stairwell at the other end. Spock burst out of his room as well- I knew he wasn't sleeping. Another door opened behind us and we pelted down the stairs into the spacious lobby.

We stopped dead cold.

Mr. Landsworth, the proprietor of the establishment, was lying face-down on the carpet. A red pool was beneath him. His daughter Leslie, the lovely receptionist who had greeted us when we arrived, was standing on the other side of the lobby near the employee rooms, looking horrified. Behind her another employee raced down from upstairs and a second came from the kitchen, arriving like we did. Lastly, near the door was a wide-eyed man in a rain slicker, pale as a ghost. A bloodied knife was between him and the victim.

"What happened?" I shouted, leaping for Mr. Landsworth. I rolled him over and inwardly swore. His throat had been cut from ear to ear.

"I d-d don't kno-ow," the wet man by the door stuttered. "I came in… and he was just lying there…"

"Really?" an employee, the chef, Vincent Turner, sneered. "That's your story? You walked in and found him like this? And just what were you doing walking around in the middle of the night in a rainstorm?"

I recalled the man I had seen from the balcony. "You weren't driving, either," I said. At his startled look I elaborated. "I saw you. You were on foot. Why were-"

"Oh my God!" someone yelped. I turned around and saw Mrs. Gordon, another patron, fanning herself at the sight. Her husband supported her, talking quietly. Then the whole room erupted into chaos as everyone started talking at once. Vincent was getting angry, the man at the door was looking more and more scared and Leslie just seemed numb- could be shock I'd have to look at her…

"If you will please get a hold of yourselves." I looked and saw that Spock had taken center-stage. Everyone quieted and looked at him. "It is obvious that someone has committed murder," he said blandly. Some dirty looks were thrown the wet man's way. "However," Spock continued. "Right now there is no evidence of who killed Mr. Landsworth." There were some protests but he raised a hand and silenced them. "There are suspects. I suggest that everyone remain in the lobby while the authorities are contacted-"

"They'd have a hard time getting here," the man said. "The road's flooded from the river down a ways. I had to leave my car." Ah, so that's why he came on foot. But he was apparently very determined.

An elderly employee- the one who had come from upstairs- frowned. "Then that means that the hotel phones are also out. They have lines which run right by the road. If part of the road's underwater then so are they."

"I see." Spock glanced outside. "And unfortunately, this weather prevents communications with our ship, as well as other forms of wireless-"

He was interrupted by a snort from Mrs. Gordon. "Wireless communications are no good, too? Well, we'll see about that."

The Vulcan inclined his head. "You are welcome to try, Madame, however Demetria is known for its storms producing high static electricity within its clouds. It will be very difficult to puncture through them, to say the least." She just huffed.

"Well, then what do you suggest we do?" I asked him.

"For starters, we must ascertain the facts." Spock walked up to the wet man, who was now shivering. "What is your name?"

"Br-Brice Parton," he stammered, uncomfortable under Spock's scrutiny.

"Why were you arriving at so late an hour?"

He glanced to his left. "I, uh, I had an urgent message to give Le- Miss Landsworth." He shifted.

"What was the message?"

Brice looked down. "Well," he glanced up shyly. "Mark Truett passed away."

Spock looked at Leslie, who was leaning dully against the wall. "Does that name mean anything to you?"

Slowly, she nodded. "Yes. He was an old friend. He-" she covered her face in her hands. Vincent went up and comforted her.

"So you raced down here in a rainstorm, leaving your car behind at an uncrossable river, to tell Miss Landsworth that her friend was dead," Spock restated, returning his attention to Brice.

"Yes," he hiccupped. "The three of us were very close- I figured she would want to know as soon as it happened… I mean as possible… I…"

Spock changed the subject. "What happened when you came inside?"

"I told you, he was just lying there. I stood still, frozen solid, then Leslie came down the stairs and screamed and well, the rest you know." He finished and stood awkwardly, shaking.

"Miss Landsworth, what did you see?" Spock asked gently.

"I- I came down for a drink of water," she said. She drew more strength and pulled away from Vincent. "I rounded the landing you see on the stairs- and I saw Father lying there… Brice was by the door…" tears started streaming down her face.

"Thank you," Spock said quietly.

"Well?" Mrs. Gordon demanded after a moment of inaction. "Aren't we going to lock him up?"

Brice looked frightened, but Spock shook his head. "We have no evidence that Mr. Parton committed the murder." Taking a cloth, he knelt down and gingerly picked up the knife. "There are also no fingerprints." There was some more arguing which Spock again silenced. "Dr. McCoy, are you willing to examine the body more closely?"

I looked down at Mr. Landsworth. "I don't have a proper Sickbay but I'll do what I can. Could somebody set up a table in my quarters?"

The elderly employee nodded. "There's a fold-up one in the back," he said, retreating to the employee workspace. While he was doing that Spock left and came back with a tricorder. "Since we'll be moving the body it will be best to record as much raw data as possible," he explained. He took recordings of the knife and then the surrounding room.

"What about him?" Mrs. Gordon interjected, pointing back at Brice. "We can't just leave him free."

"Madame, there is no-" Spock was saying again when Vincent interrupted.

"He's the prime suspect," he pointed out. "Your people think logically, would it be logical to leave the prime suspect of a murder unhindered?"

I bit my lip and glanced at Spock. The appeal to logic was definitely the right one to make. "You are correct," he conceded. "However, since we do not have proper restraining facilities, we shall have to improvise." He turned to where the elderly employee was struggling with the table, assisted by Mr. Gordon. "Mr…?"

"Bird. Harry Bird," he said, smiling at Mr. Gordon for the help.

"Mr. Bird, are you able to adjust the locks on a room's doors and windows so that they can only be opened from the outside?"

Bird rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yes, I can do that. I'll need help with the window since I'll need to be outside and this weather isn't the kindest." At his words there was a flash of lightning and a boom.

"I shall assist you," Spock said. "Mr. Parton, I hope you will not object to being locked in a room here for the night-"

"No," he said. "No, I see where everyone's coming from. But I'm innocent," he insisted. "Know that."

"We shall see." Spock turned back to the run. "Doctor, once the table is set up if you will proceed with the examination, Mr. Bird and I will secure Mr. Parton's room. As for the rest you, I suggest you get some sleep. We will see if the weather has abated for communications in the morning."

I grunted as I lifted up one end of Mr. Landsworth. Vincent helped me with the other. Harry and Mr. Gordon had set up the table and we laid him on top of it. In the stairwell we had passed by Mrs. Gordon, who was staring after where Leslie had disappeared at the opposite end of the hotel.

"That poor girl," she whispered. "She shouldn't be alone tonight…"

Thanking Vincent, he left me to my work. I gathered my medkit and scanner, and a few other tools we had brought down for our scientific outing. As I started the examination- it wasn't a true autopsy- I glanced back out at the rain which had kept me up. Looking back at the body in my room, I figured I wasn't going to get to go back to sleep. Likely none of us were.

Dun dun duuuuunnnnnn! What more will happen on this dark and stormy night? Please review, and oh! You will get points if you can correctly name where I got the name 'Harry Bird' from. Stay tuned for more!