Hey guys. Deciding to try out a murder mystery after reading tons of Agatha Christie, Ian Rankin, and watching Pink Panther 2: the movie and Sherlock. I would love your support! And ideas… because honestly, I don't think I'm good with murder mysteries.
Pairings will be:
FrUK (the main onne. Though it'll actually be ArthurxFrancis)
GerIta (because they're just AWESOME! ^^)
PruAus (yep, I love them! Oil water and all that :D)
And more if I remember them…
I look forward to your reviews!
DISCLAIMER: I, , do not own Hetalia and (if my life keeps going like this) never will. But, and I'm trying really hard here, if my plan succeeds I might! And when I do, France and England will be together forever and ever and ever and ever. Mwahahahahaha!
The camera lights flashed as a man took photos qickly. Men in blue swarmed over the place, busy guarding the doors to the room as they waited for a certain someone to come. The medical examiners, in their dull blue clothing, were crowded around something on the ground some way off. There was a sudden commotion near the doorway.
A police officer raised an eyebrow at the flashy man in front of him. Said man had shoulder length blond hair that fell in waves, piercing blue eyes and a smattering of stubble along his jaw. He was dressed in dark jeans, white sneakers, white button down and a coat which had been unbuttoned. He definitely did not look like the detective they were waiting for. More like a model who just fell off the runway.
"Excuse-moi, je dois aller dedans," he repeated, trying to ove around the man blocking his way inside. He mustve been new. Almost everyone on the police team knew who the blond detective was. Hell, even people not on the police team knew who he was!
"Desole, monsieur. Vous n'avez pas m'a montrer l'identification approprie."
"Qu-ect-ce que vous dites? Je suis Francis Bonnefoy! Le meilleur detectivede la France!" snapped the blond Frenchman. Before the sheepish police officer could deny him entrance again, another policeman caught sight of what was happening and rushed over.
"Francis! Parfait! Qu'est ce que tu fait dehors? Viens!" With that, Francis Bonnefoy, France's leading detective, was lead inside and ushered quickly to where all the medical examiners were. Francis cast quick glances around the room, taking in the slight changes and out-of-place things before he saw the body.
On the ground was a woman's dead body. She was lying down, looking completely serene. There was no external bruising or anything that appeared to be wrong with her. She almost looked peaceful. The policeman, Marc Beaufort, started talking. In english, for the sake of the trembling Englishman present there.
"Zis is Katherine Gray, the British ambassadeur. She came to France zree days ago for an important meeting…" While Marc talked, Francis observed the owmna carefully. He crouched next to her frail frame, checking her clothes with a critical eye. Hmm, slightly damp. He studid her finger, noting the rings and jewelery. Tan lines that were uneven.
"…and apparently she died from a-"
"From air embolism. Approximately 6mL," rang a new voice. Francis, Marc and the others present turned around to the source of the voice. Standing at the doorway was a young blond man with rather…prominent eyebrows and bright green eyes. He had a grim look on his face and a distinct English accent. He was dressed in a white button down whose sleeves had been folded to his elbows and jeans with loafers. The man held himself up with a distinct pride, his blond hair untamed.
"Who are you?" questioned Francis, quickly checking the man's posture and nodding slightly to himself.
"Your babysitter. Arthur Kirkland, best detective of Britain. I've been sent to make sure you don't mess this case up," replied the man, a small smirk playing around his lips as he stepped inside, nodding at is fellow Englishman. "Hello, chap. You must be Alan Smith, Ms. Gray's assistant, am I correct?" The short, brown haired assistant nodded, looking relieved to find a fellow countrymen there.
"Yes. I just found out-"
"It's quite okay. I'll talk to you later, hopefully over tea. Can you please give us some privacy?"
"Of course, sir. I'll see you later sir."
As soon as the assistant was out, Francis stood up, glaring at Marc.
"Marc, what is ze meaning of zis? Why is zere some random anglais 'ere?"
"Oi! Froggie wanker. I don't want to be here either. I'm here to help you on your case. Ms. Gray is British after all."
"I don't need ze 'elp! I'm ze best detective in France!"
"And I'm the bloody best in Britian! And we don't want you to somehow mess this up. So I don't care if you like it or not, but I'm staying here and helping."
Francis groaned, looking at Marc, who just shrugged.
"Il allait se passer."
"Mais je vais mourir, Marc! Il va me tuer!"
"Dommage, frog. And don't be so melodramatic," cut in a voice smoothly, a hint of an accent in his French. Francis looked at him with a cool façade.
"Melodramatic? Please, you will make my life 'ell!"
"Well, I'll try. Either way, we're going to have to work together for quite some time. If I were you, I would belt up an take it like a man. Now come on, your car is downstairs and I need to drop my bags off at your house." The Englishman turned on his heel and strode away, stealing one last glance at the body of the dead woman before making his way away. He was sure the French police were competent enough to send the body to forensics and keep the rest of the crime scene untouched. And Francis would be smart enough to have notes. Arthur let a small grin twitch his lips as he walked to the frenchman's car. Finally. A good case and someone smart enough to keep up with me," he mused. At the same time he heard a shriek from inside the hotel building he had just quit. His sgrin widened into a smirk. This was going to be fun.
Francis stared blankly at Marc as Arthur left.
"Wait…de 'e just say 'e was going to stay at my 'ouse?" he asked Marc slowly. The other Frenchman gave him a sympathetic smile.
"Bienvenue en enfer anglais, cher."
Hehe. What do you think? Reviews please?