Hey guys! Sorry for the long time it took to update, but my muse isn't really helping. Her current substitute isn't much help either. Ah, sorry. Here's the next chapter for you guys! Enjoy!


Arthur and Francis were seated comfortably in the Forensic lab, folders spread out before them and policemen and a certain albino detective surrounding them. Well, the policemen surrounded them, waiting for them to make a move so Marc would have a good reason to toss them into jail. Gilbert just sort of sat there and grinned.

"So, vhy did you call the awesome me over, Franny?" he asked, running a hand through his white hair, his scarlet eyes glinting as they took in the MEs. France snorted.

"I assume you know zat you are suspected for ze murder of Katherine Grey," he started, receiving a nod in return and a skeptical roll of red eyes. Arthur chuckled.

"Well, we wanted to know a couple of things. First, what were you doing here?"

"I came here to meet up vith Eliza. You know, the crazy lady-man," he stated. Green eyed looked over at Francis, confused at what Gilbert was saying. The Frenchman winced and nodded.

"Ah, Elizaveta. She would be razer beautiful if she didn't try to kill us," he mumbled, sighing and shaking his head. Marc straightened up at the word 'killing'.

"Pardon? Qui tue qui?" [Pardon? Who's killing whom?] he asked with interest. Francis snorted again.

"Nous parlons de Elizaveta. Et pas vraiment tuer. Elle voulais nous voir en train de fair l'amour," [We're talking about Elizaveta. She wants to watch us making love to each other]. Arthur made a face.

"Proper ladies shouldn't act like that," he commented lightly. The Prussian albino stared at him incredulously.

"Artie, man, since vhen vas Eliza a lady? Didn't I already tell you she's a lady-man?"


There was a pause as everyone studied the notes. Marc was the first to break the silence.

"Alright. Can you tell me why you 'ave called Erik Muller 'ere?" asked Marc, looking rather ticked off. Francis glanced up at the detective and grinned.

"Il est mon ami. Et il n'est pas un trafiquant maintenant. Il a le béguin pour un homme. Un Roderich Edelstein qui est un aristrocrate et musicien. Très bandante," [He's my friend. And he isn't a drug dealer anymore. He has a crush on a man. A certain Roderich Edelstein who's an aristocrat and a musician. Very sexy] explained the longhaired blond, ignoring the suspicious look from Gilbert at the snicker from Arthur.

"Vat did you say, Franny? Vhy is Artie laughing?" asked the Prussian, casting suspicious looks at everyone. Marc had a vaguely horrified look at the French detective's personal opinions about Gilbert's boyfriend.

"Nozing. Trust me, I didn't say anyzing wrong," said Francis airily, occupying himself with shuffling the sheaf of notes importantly. The albino gave a final suspicious glance before giving up and leaning back.

"Like I said, I vas here on a vacation. I vas definitely not here to murder someone. If I did Roddy vould be upset vith me. He already doesn't like the fact that I offer my awesome detektiv skills to people."

Marc gave him a skeptical look but didn't say anything more as Arthur studied the pictures and put them down, lacing his fingers together and leaning forward.

"I don't know if I should be worried about this or not, but the ambassador seems to have been taking drugs, according to the MEs," said the Brit, glancing at said MEs. Matthew stepped forward, nodding, and spoke softly.

"We found out she's been doing drugs for quite some time and seems to have developed a slight resistance to them. She took-" The Canadian was cut off by Alfred, who was just dying to show off too.

"Synthetic marijuana. Worse than real marijuana, but I guess more addictive," said Alfred, glancing sharply between the detectives and the police.

"Cannabis?" asked a random policeman, who's name turned out to be Stéphane, after a pause. There were nods from both the MEs.

"Le cannabis est legal Canada. Peut être…elle l'a obtenu à partir de Canada," [Cannabis is legal in Canada. Maybe…she got it from Canada] offered Matthew quietly. The albino in the room frowned slightly.

"My French isn't that good, Birdie. Care to speak in English or German?"

"Hey, dude, did you just call my bro 'Birdie'? Are you, like, cheating on the Roddy guy with my bro?" asked a slightly enraged voice. Canada groaned and buried his face in his hands while Alfred did a whole alpha-male-overprotective-brother routine. Once he was done strutting around he found himself staring into about twelve pairs of amused eyes. The American flushed slightly and crossed his arms defensively, raising his chin and looking away. The Prussian cackled and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms.

"No. But, ve are good friends and I think I am entitled to nickname him vatever I vant."

Matthew sighed and rolled his eyes, interrupting any row that might start out.

"Right. Gilbert, I said that can- marijuana is legal in Canada so that's were Ms. Grey could have gotten it from," he explained. That had everybody's attentions again. They hummed and mused, looking rather thoughtful.

"I think I have a vague idea of what could be happening," mused Arthur. Next to him, Francis was sporting a similar look. He glanced at the Brit and they both nodded.

Francis broke the thoughtful silence.

"Arthurr, I would like to 'ave a word wiz you. Outside, preferably," he said, standing up. The Englishman cast him a look before slowly standing up and followngi the Frenchman. Once they both were gone, Gilbert glanced over all the files and photographs before turning his gaze on the policemen.

"Okay, where's the letter, Marky?" he asked, leaning forward and tapping his fingers against the table. The man gave him a glare.

"Zere is no letter."

"Don't lie. I know you've got a letter from the killer. I can see it from here," said the Prussian. Marc's hand immeditenly flew to his coat pocket and he glancerd down before frowning.

"No you can't!"

"Kesesesese! I can't believe you fell for it. Are you going to show it to me?"

The policeman grudgingly shuffled closer to the albino and let him read the letter. It was in French, but what stood out most to the German man were the words 'tuer' and 'mort'. Those were the only words he had bothered to learn, words which meant and/or were related to death. He raised and eyebrow and handed the note back.

"So you might be killed. If I vere you I vould keep security right now. And please install a CCTV in front of your house and use a tracker. If you die Francis and Arthur vould prefer some clues," said the albino dismissively, leaning back and looking outside to see if he could discern where the other two detectives were. Suddenly all the other policemen were talking, waving their hands around agitatedly and trying to read the letter all at once. It was this moment that Francis and Arthur made their way inside the room, looking around with slight confusion. Someone chose the moment to read out the letter loudly.

"Okay! Écoutez moi! Je vais le lire! Ahem.

Salut Marc!

Je n'aime pas que tu mêles dans mon travail. Mais c'est pas grave. Fais attention, tu pourrais être le prochain mort. Et je ne veux te tuer. Tu es plûtot intèressant.

Adieu, chou!"

[Hello Marc!

I don't like you meddling in my work. But it's okay. Pay attention, though, you might be the next one dead. And I really don't want to kill you. You're very interesting.

Till next time, sweetheart!]

The officers broke out into a new uproar. The French understanding people had paled. Francis and Arthur were furiously discussing this new fact. Gilbert and Matthew were looking worried. Everyone was panicking. Everyone was talking. Alfred was getting concerned. He raised his arms in a calming gesture and shouted.


There was an awkward silence. Matthew had face-palmed and many of the officers were flushing or looking confused. Francis was sporting a vaguely confused and perverted look. And Arthur? Well, what to say about him? The Brit was looking very confused and embarrassed that a fellow English speaker had shouted that. He spoke slowly.

"Alfred…you do know that none of us are women right? We wouldn't have the womanly…assets. And none of it makes sense."

"It's a figure of speech," said the American. There was some more silence before Marc spoke.

"Well, I will try not to make my deaz 'ard for you. Zat is, if it ever 'appens. I 'ave good security measures, I'm sure nozing will 'appen."

"Hopefully we can catch the murderer before anything happens to you," admonished the English detective. There was another silence in which many people still gave Alfred disturbed looks before someone burst in.

"Marc? On a un autre meurtre." [Marc? There was another murder.]

The French detective clapped his hands together, a grim look settling on his face even though his eyes lit up.

"Génial! Allons-y!" [Great! Let's go!] said Franics, swilring out of the room. Arthur was already striding out to the frenchmna's car. Marc stared after both of them for a while before groaning and following them, gesturing fr both the forensic doctors to come too.

"Ils vont être la mort de moi," [they're going to be the death of me] he grumbled as a car honked its horn outside and certain green eyes glared out at the men.

"Je sais comment vous sentez," [I know how you feel] said Matthew sympathetically, making his way to his own car.

Zat would be impossible, mused Marc.

Sorry for the long update. How did you like it? Good? Bad? Okay? Please review!