((Hi, everyone!

I couldn't resist making this fic. I really couldn't.

Now, please be aware that I have NEVER written a mystery before. Never. So if this is a little shaky, my inexperience with the genre is probably why. Also, to be honest, this was a shipfic oneshot plus mystery, but it kinda evolved.

In this story, by the way, France and England will both be female. Everyone else is the same.

Enjoy the fic! Hetalia isn't mine.))

Tuesday, 12:38 p.m.

The city of London was bustling as usual, with people hurrying here and there through the many streets. The sky was a chalky grey and the air smelled of another rainstorm in the late November afternoon. It surely was a day you could call normal in the British capital.

Well, for most people that is. Among the crowds running to and fro was a petite woman. The woman had sandy-blond hair in two pigtails and bright peridot eyes, which were narrowed in both determination and irritation. The woman donned a simple dusty-blue overcoat and was carrying two bags of groceries in her hands. At her side were two men: one had pale blond hair with an odd curl at the side of his head, dull indigo eyes and a very blank face; the other was a strawberry blond and looked very cheerful, with a small red hat on his head and a strange fang sticking out from the side of his mouth.

"...so I couldn't help but smack him," the woman said, apparently continuing a conversation. "What nerve he had! Who did he think I was? An idiot? Just because I'm a lady doesn't mean I'm stupid! I'm a detective, for God's sake!"

"Some people never learn," said the cheerful man, almost skipping in his step.

"Hmm," the other blond mumbled.

Yes, to the average person, these three would just be your typical group on the street. However, these three definitely weren't average in the least: the woman just happened to be the private detective Alice Kirkland, a stubborn young woman that has been hired by many to solve baffling cases. At her side were her assistants: the deadpan yet trusty Lukas Bondevik and the silly and perceptive Vladimir Popescu.

Today, the three had gone grocery shopping, since they needed food to put in the little pantry they had placed inside the office just in case they ended up staying the office all day (which happened often). Alice had launched into a very long rant about her encounter with another detective from Poland, to which Lukas and Vladimir more-or-less tuned out.

As they approached the small cozy office, Lukas spied something that hadn't been there before. "Alice?"

"Hmm?"

"It seems we have a client," Lukas answered. He pointed to a black Ford parked right outside the office, next to Alice's own car.

Alice peered at the car, eyebrows raised. "I know that car…" she mumbled. She walked closer and almost dropped her bags.

"What's wrong, Allie?" Vladimir asked, watching Alice's both disgusted and shocked face.

"A-A-Alistair," she stammered.

"Who was that again?"

"My brother," Alice breathed, before her expression shifted in a deadpan one. "My stupid older brother." She shoved her bags into Vladimir's hands, striding over to the car. "Oi! Open that door right now! I know it's you in there, Alistair!"

Before she could get a chance to knock on the car window, the door opened and a tall man with bright red hair and thick eyebrows stepped out. He looked down at her, twirling a cigarette in between his fingers.

Alice and he had a small staredown before the man grinned. "Ah, long time no see, lil' sis."

"Don't "lil' sis" me!" Alice growled. "What are you doing here? Come to bug me again? Why can't you stay in Scotland?"

"Oh, don't be so angry," said Alistair, "I'm not here to bother you today, I'm here for business."

"Business?" Alice drew back, suddenly intrigued. "What kind of business?"

"Your business, of course," Alistair answered, taking a puff of his cigarette. "I've come to hire you for some detective work."

Alice glanced at Lukas and Vladimir, who glanced at each other. They looked back at Alice and shrugged.

She sighed. "Fine, fine. Come in. But throw out that cigarette; I don't want my office smelling like smoke."

Alice put the last of the groceries in the pantry and sat at her desk, folding her hands. "So, what's this business you speaking of? Start from the beginning, if you don't mind."

"Fair enough," Alistair replied, some slight humor in his tone. "As you know, I'm a realtor. I sell houses to those who are willing to buy them. However, in one estate I just sold, there was a bit of a...predicament."

Alice raised an eyebrow. "I'm listening."

"The people that bought the mansion were a pair of brothers," Alistair continued. "The Vargases, Feliciano and Lovino. They had told me that they wanted to move because their grandfather had just passed, and they purchased the house. Nice blokes, they were." He paused for a few moments, as if pondering. "A few nights later, I came to the house again, to discuss the final lease. I heard screaming upstairs and became concerned, so I ran up there to see what was happening. I couldn't find Lovino, so I headed up to see Feliciano. When I found him..."

"Go on," Alice urged, leaning in her chair.

Alistair looked gravely serious. "...he had been murdered. Axe-murdered."

Alice drew in a sharp breath. Lukas and Vladimir's eyes widened.

"So…" Alice said slowly, "You want me to go and investigate who killed Mr. Vargas?"

"Basically," Alistair replied.

"Mm," Alice bit her lip and turned to her assistants. "Pack your bags, boys. It seems we're heading to Scotland."

"Understood."

((Plot introduced, check. *checks checklist*

I hope you enjoyed the first part! I gotta go work on some Lithuania fanfics now.

Later, gators!))