"Six people are playing a fanfic version of MFMM Cluedo. Murdoch Foyle has been murdered in Miss Fisher's House. We must discover the name of the murderer, the weapon and in which room the murder was committed. Every player must 'investigate' by writing a fic (100-1000 words). Each round, more and more clues can be crossed off their list. The first person to solve the mystery will write the story of Foyle's death and earn great praise for their cleverness."

His eyes blinked open and he was surrounded by darkness. He let out a groan and felt something soft on back of his neck. Where was he? It was silent and he could smell something familiar, mixed with a slightly musty smell. He reached his hand up and felt something soft, the fuzziness was leaving his brain and it clicked that he was surrounded by material, more specifically coats. Coats which smelt like Miss Fisher and judging by the fur which was behind his head and the soft crinkle of the material in his hand he was in her cloakroom.

When she had asked him to come over he thought the sparkle in her eye was slightly too bright, but he had accepted the offer anyway. He had been accepting her offers a lot lately, and now it appeared she had poisoned him.

He just hoped she wasn't doing anything too dangerous. They were investigating a murderer who thought it was fun to strangle people. And if he was locked in the cloakroom of her house, than she must have found something which he would think was too dangerous for her to participate in.

Why she had felt the need to poison him was beyond him. Surely she could have just not told him? She had done it before. He let out a sigh deciding that standing wasn't possible right now and besides, if Miss Fisher had locked him in there then he doubted he would be able to get out until she let him. He let out another sigh and closed his eyes.

"Sorry Jack, I know you will forgive me eventually."

He had promptly passed out and she had locked the door behind him with a frown on her face. She had chosen the cloakroom because she knew it was rarely used and she didn't want to have to explain to her household why she had poisoned the Inspector. She had only given him a small dose she reasoned with herself as she ran out of her house knowing she only had a short time to act before he would wake up and most likely be extremely angry with her.

He really hoped it was worth it.

There was the sound of scuttling and the door swung open revealing a slightly frazzled looking Miss Fisher. He blinked a few times while his eyes adjusted to the light.

"Got them" she walked into the cloakroom, pushing some furs out of the way to reach down a gentle hand to help him up.

"I could have you arrested for that." For poisoning him or whatever she had just done he wasn't sure.

"Ah you could" she was nodding, before breaking into a grin, "or you could thank me for my creative brilliance."

She had managed to break into the Baxter household to find the blood stained ties which Mr Baxter had been using to slowly kill off his family. That had been fine until Mr Baxter had arrived home to find her shoving said ties into her purse. There had been an ensuring fight, but Dot had telephoned the police (much to Miss Fishers disappointment) when her Miss had not returned to the parlour after 10 minutes.

Her pants were ripped and there was a stain which looked suspiciously like blood on the bottom of her shirt.

"Obviously it went well?" his eyes ran over the rip and the stain on her crushed clothes.

Her tone was defiant, "Obviously"

"Poisoning me though Miss Fisher?" sometimes he wondered if she did these things just to prove she could. He accepted her hand reluctantly to which she rolled her eyes as she pulled him up to his feet.

"I just needed to be sure it was Mr Baxter before the police were involved." He bit back the retort on his lips. He was the police and by poisoning him they were defiantly going to find out. Instead he allowed himself to be pulled out of the cloakroom and into the corridor.

She was still tugging at his hand when she turned to face him, "It seemed quicker than going through all that hassle."

He wasn't at all comforted by the thought that she assumed poisoning him less hassle than a simple phone call.