Author's note: This is a one-shot with no particular time or show setting. Dr. Lucien Blake decides to write his memoirs and his friends "help."
...
"The amorphous nature of the murderer made him hard to catch."
"...walked quietly down the long dark hall of the art museum."
"The housekeeper reached for the gun..."
"...near Singapore."
"Bloody hell!" Lucien ripped another piece of paper off the pad, crumpled it up, and threw it in the waste bin. The paper bounced off the pile of other crumpled papers in the bin and rolled to the floor. Lucien stared down at a fresh page and started writing.
Jean stuck her head around the door to the office.
"Dinner's in a quarter of an hour!" The sight of the mess caught her attention. "And what on earth have you been doing in here all day?"
Lucien sat up at his desk and puffed out his chest. "Well, Jean, I'm writing my memoirs."
Jean gave him a doubtful look and sat down in a leather chair across from his desk. "Your...memoirs."
"Yes, Jean. My memoirs. I've lived an interesting life. I've traveled all over the world. It's time I wrote it all down."
Jean looked unconvinced. Lucien continued. "Besides, I got a call from the Courier. They are doing a series of profiles on important members of the community. They said if they like what I've written they would pay me for a series of articles. It could even lead to a book."
"Important members of the community?"
"Yes."
"And that includes you?"
"Yes!"
"And they'd pay you?"
"Possibly."
Jean paused for a minute and looked concerned. "Are we having money problems? I went over the household accounts just last week and everything looked alright."
"No, everything is fine, Jean. It's just an opportunity. And that's aside from the point. I want to write down my life for posterity."
"Ah. So...what are you going to write about?"
"Some of the murder cases I have worked on, for starters."
"Oh no, you can't write about that, it's much to dreary. Who would want to read about that?"
Mattie turned the corner into the office. She was still wearing her nurse's uniform. "What's going on in here?" Lucien smiled as Mattie came into the room, grateful for the appearance of an ally. "I'm writing my memoirs, Mattie."
"I had no idea vaccinations were that interesting."
"Case histories are." He wagged a finger in Mattie's direction. "And I have solved more than one medical mystery in my time."
"And you forget the doctor is an important member of the community," Jean added sarcastically. Lucien looked annoyed now.
Mattie thought about it for a moment. "Mmm cases can be interesting but you can't write about them. Not if it is ever going to be public. Ballarat is a small town and you can't go around sharing everyone's medical details."
Jean nodded and gave Lucien a pointed look, just a Charlie came into the room.
"What's everyone doing in here?"
"The doctor is writing his memoirs," Jean replied. She was barely concealing her amusement now.
Charlie grinned, "I had no idea police paperwork was that interesting."
"Now, Charlie," Lucien began to reply, but Jean cut him off.
"There's something you could write about for the Courier. Write a story about a doctor who submits all his medical receipts in time so I don't have to stay up until midnight balancing the surgery account book."
Lucien let out an exasperated sigh and looked from each one of them to the next, trying to think of a retort.
Jean stood up and slapped one hand on the table. "Come on! All of you. Dinner's ready," and then to Lucien, "You'll have to write the great Australian novel later."
Lucien threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender and smiled. "You know, that may be the most interesting thing I've heard all day."