The Typewriter affair
Disclaimer: I do not own Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot books or tv series, any related characters or property. I write only to entertain and I make no profit from this work.
Summary: In which Miss Lemon gets her typewriter, Hastings learns to trust his instincts and Poirot creates the ruse most convincing.
Warnings: none
Pairing: none
AN: slightly AU -Fix it for The Dream (S2, E8). Set after the case is solved.
START
Poirot was in high spirits. He had solved the case! He insisted that Captain Hastings and Miss Lemon accompany him to celebrate with a fine meal. Miss Lemon had accepted of course, hoping she had something worthy of wearing. Hastings had accepted without hesitation. Who could deny Poirot's victory?
Hastings was still intrigued. He had no reason to doubt it was a celebratory meal. No reason to doubt the worthiness of the victory. So what was that glint in his eye that was telling him something else was afoot! Maybe he was imaging the whole thing...
At 6:30 sharp they assembled at the door, a taxi having already been called.
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The evening had turned out well. After much talking and laughing it was finally over. It was late but Poirot insisted they come in for coffee before bed. Hastings found this strange...
As they entered the doorman stopped Poirot's. "Mr Poirot, a package was left for you while you were away." he said dutifully.
"A package? So late? I say!" Hastings spoke surprised.
Poirot merely nodded. "Merci." he said kindly before picking up the heavy package.
"Would you rather me take it? It looks jolly heavy!" Hastings offered.
Poirot's shook his head. His eyes were glinting again...
AHHPAHHPAHHPAHHPAHHPAHHPAHHPAHHPAHHPAHHPAHHPAHHPAHHPAHHPAHHP
They were seated in his office, the package on the desk. Poirot made no move to open it, he pushed it toward Miss Lemon. "It is for you." he said.
She gave it a cautious look. "How could you possibly know that? It has no note!" she criticised.
Poirot took no notice of the sharp tone. "Maybe because I ordered it for you. It is a gift for your part in solving the cases." he said kindly.
She looked surprised. She carefully unwrapped the paper to reveal a shiny black typewriter. She smiled for a moment, appreciating the machine before her as only a secretary could. "Its beautiful!" she exclaimed.
Poirot was wearing his trademark smile of victory again. "But of course!" he said simply.
Hastings smiled himself. This was what Poirot had been hiding! The dinner was a distraction. Well not entirely. "Arn't you a sly devil, old boy!" he said good naturedly.
AN: R and R. Merci- thankyou (In French)