"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. If you would like to play your own game please PM GameMaster19 for the rules and instructions."

Stupid man.

She let out a sigh as a gentle breeze wafted through the open door of the kitchen brushing a strand of hair into her eyes.

He had promised her he wouldn't be late. She clicked her tongue and tapped her fingers on the table. If Miss Fisher could admit to one flaw it was her impatience. She absolutely hated waiting, it drove her mad. And now she had been waiting for 15 minutes and was quickly getting bored.

She let another sigh and pushed her chair back this time tapping her foot. Her eyes caught on the fruit bowl in the centre of the table. An involuntary smile crossed her lips at the thought of peaches and the man who was supposed to be taking her to dinner.

"Did you hear that?"

"no" she continued to kiss as she worked at unbuttoning his shirt as he tried to brush her off.

He was worried and she knew they wouldn't be able to continue down here. Reluctantly she pulled back and brushed his hair out of his eyes before dragging herself off him.

"Go upstairs, I just need to get something from the kitchen."

"What do you…"

"Go" she waved her hand at him and he slunk up the stairs shirt still undone with a concerned look on his face. She got up and after catching her breath walked into the kitchen to see Hugh Collins sitting looking as worried as the Inspector.

"Hugh" she didn't let the shock show, when had he come in?

"Oh hello Miss, I was looking for Dot." His cheeks were still faintly pink and she wondered if he had looked into the parlour.

"She's not here, Mr Butler is in bed sick and Dot popped up to the market to get something for dinner." She had made her way to the ice- box where she remembered asking Dot to put some cream and sliced peaches. She pulled them from the fridge and placed them on the table beside Hugh before pulling a tray from the cupboard and placing them on it as well as two glass tumblers remembering the scotch bottle to already be in her bedroom.

"Have you ever tried peaches and cream Hugh?" she asked absently stacking the items onto the tray.

He gulped and shook his head, "Ah no Miss."

The look on her face very much suggested that whatever she was about to do with the peaches and cream was going to be wicked, even Hugh could see that. Her smile was still wicked when she spoke, "You should try them with Dot one day."

He blushed heavily, but didn't pause, "I will remember that Miss." The corners of her mouth twitched as she picked up the loaded tray, "I don't think she should be too much longer Hugh" and with a wink she left the kitchen and started for the stairs.

She leaned across the table to pick a peach from the bowl and placed it on the table in front of her brushing her thumb across the soft fur. Her and Jack had had a lot of fun that afternoon, they had ruined a set of sheets and her blouse. But still she considered it a success. The peach was taunting her, surely one peach wouldn't ruin her dinner?

Her hand found her thigh and pushed the soft grey material of her skirt up her leg to reveal a black garter concealing her dagger. It really did come in handy, although a regular person would have used a knife, Miss Fisher was no regular person. She absently plucked it from its hiding place and cut a small slice from the peach in front of her paying no mind to her skirt or the juice which had trickled onto the table and onto her hands.

As she cut another slice of peach she wondered just what could be keeping Jack. Her mind whizzed with possibilities, although the most realistic (and most boring) had her thinking he had simply lost track of time. Which was exactly something that would happen to Jack Robinson. But still, it was rude to keep a lady waiting, especially when said lady was crazy about you and waiting to be taken to dinner.

The worst part was she was the only one home. By pure luck too, which was even better. She considered ringing the station, but knew he would be annoyed. She realised she had finished her peach and put her dagger on the table beside the pip. Her fingers were sticky and with a heavy sigh she took herself and her dagger to the kitchen sink. She began to hum as she rinsed the juice from her fingers before running the cool water over the blade of her dagger. She dried the dagger on the tea towel beside the sink before once more lifting her skirt and returning her dagger to its original position on her thigh. She took one last look around the kitchen before sinking back onto the hard kitchen chair and tapping her fingers once more on the table. Jack Robinson really knew how to keep a woman waiting.

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