This chapter is dedicated to all my wonderful readers. Thank you for 100 chapters of support!

Donna stepped outside of the TARDIS, raised an eyebrow at the Doctor, and sniffed in disapproval. "Lyssa says you didn't have anything to do with that, which I might believe once, but it better not happen again, you hear me? I've been scarred enough." She wagged her finger at him in warning.

The Doctor looked bewildered. "Do with what?"

"Ignore her," Lyssa scowled, stepping out from behind Donna and onto the grass, shutting the door behind her. "She's just being facetious."

"Is that what they're calling it nowadays?" the redhead scoffed.

Lyssa heaved a very heavy sigh. "Let's just get to the party."

"Good idea!" The Doctor offered them both an arm. "Don't want to be late for cocktails!"

Despite being sometime in December, according to the Doctor, the weather was actually pleasant enough, considering neither Lyssa nor Donna wore long sleeves. The grass was still green and plants were blooming as well. Lyssa, who'd spent years in the North, where December was usually filled with several feet of snow and bare plants, promptly accused the Doctor of lying about the time of year. He'd vigorously defended his honor before they both had to quiet down as they grew close to the party.

One of the servants, a middle-aged Indian woman, looked up as they approached. "Look sharp, we have guests!" she instructed the other servants sharply.

"Good afternoon," the Doctor said amiably, nodding his head in greeting.

A young man hurried up to them. "Drinks sir? Madams?" he offered.

"Sidecar, please," Donna ordered with a smile.

"And a lime and soda, thank you," the Doctor decided. "Lyssa?"

She considered. "I'll just have a water, thank you."

The young man nodded. "A moment, please," he said, heading towards the house and returning with their drinks a few moments later.

"Efficient," Donna approved, taking a sip from her glass. Her eyebrows rose and she took another sip. "And good at his job."

"May I announce, Lady Clemency Eddison," the butler announced as an elegant older woman with youthful features, upswept blonde curls, and a deep blue dress glided towards them.

"Lady Eddison," the Doctor greeted her.

She took it with a bemused but polite smile. "Forgive me, but who exactly might you be... and what are you doing here?" she asked, dropping his hand.

"The Doctor and Lyssa Devons," the Doctor introduced them, nodding at Lyssa and then Donna. "And this is Miss Donna Noble... of the Chiswick Nobles."

"Good afternoon, my lady," Donna said in the most posh accent Lyssa had ever heard in real life. And then she continued in the same tone, Lyssa stifling a giggle. "Topping day, what? Spiffing! Top hole!"

"Is that even English?" Lyssa muttered before offering a smile to the poor lady, who was doubtless now even more confused.

The Doctor winced, his smile abruptly dropping. "No, no, no, no, no. Don't do that, don't," he pleaded in a low voice. He turned back to Lady Eddison, pulling out the psychic paper and flipping it open with his smile once more in place. "We were thrilled to receive your invitation, my lady. We met at the Ambassador's reception," he said with all the confidence of one speaking absolute truth.

"Ah, of course," her face cleared and she put on a bright smile. "Doctor, how could I forget you?"

"Hard to forget someone you never met," Lyssa murmured into her drink, feeling slightly bad for the poor woman who probably felt like she was going mad. At least she handled it with grace. The Doctor nudged her gently with his elbow and she blinked up at him innocently.

"But one must be sure with the Unicorn on the loose," the lady continued, looking around as if expecting them to appear out of nowhere.

"A unicorn? Brilliant! Where?" the Doctor grinned, eyes brightening with excitement as he scanned their surroundings.

Lyssa cleared her throat, trying not to laugh at him out loud. "I don't believe she's referring to the mythical creature, Doctor."

Lady Eddison nodded at her. "Quite right. The Unicorn. The jewel thief. And nobody knows who he is. He's just struck again, snatched Lady Babbington's pearls right from under her nose."

"Funny place to wear pearls," Donna muttered, taking another sip from her drink.

"But of course! It's the best place to notice if they go missing," Lyssa informed her archly. "Imagine if she wore them someplace else - they could easily be stolen and not noticed for ages!"

Donna considered that for a moment before nodding. "That's a good point."

The Doctor shook his head, quickly finishing his drink and placing it on the tray of a passing waiter. "I can't take you two anywhere."

"You say that like you're never the one who gets us into trouble," Lyssa snorted.

"May I announce, the Colonel Hugh Curbishley, the Honourable Roger Curbishley," the butler announced, and they turned to see a young man in his twenties, wearing elegant clothes and pushing an older man in a wheelchair towards them.

"My husband and my son," Lady Eddison introduced them with a soft smile.

"Forgive me for not rising," the colonel apologized gruffly. "Never been the same ever since that flu epidemic back in '18."

The young man raised his eyebrows at Donna. "My word, you are a super lady," he complimented her.

She gave him a coy smile, clearly flattered. "Oh, I like the cut of your jib. Chin chin."

"What language was that?" Lyssa whispered to the Doctor. "And why didn't the TARDIS translate it?"

He shrugged. "Some languages even the TARDIS can't translate," he replied in the same tone before stepping forward and shaking hands with Roger. "Hello, I'm the Doctor."

"How do you do?" he greeted him politely.

"Very well," the Doctor nodded. "And yourself?"

"I'm quite good, thank you," he smiled, turning to Lyssa. "And your name, ma'am?"

"Lyssa Devons, sir," she took his hand with a polite smile before releasing it and stepping back to the Doctor.

"Your usual, sir?" the servant from before offered, a tray with a drink resting upon his hand.

"Ah, thank you Davenport. Just how I like it," Roger approved, taking the drink and sipping from it.

Davenport nodded, collecting Lyssa and Donna's empty glasses before returning to his work.

"How come she's an Eddison but her husband and son are Curbishleys?" Donna whispered to the Doctor as Roger turned to greet some of the other guests.

"The Eddison title descends through her. One day Roger will be a lord," the Doctor informed them, imparting the information as if it were a great secret.

Two more guests were announced in short order, a young lady named Robina Redmond and the religious man she'd seen earlier announced as Reverend Golightly. They chatted for a bit about the local news - apparently some troubled youths had broken into the Reverend's church earlier that week - before Roger raised his voice.

"Now, my lady, what about this special guest you promised us?"

"Here she is, a lady who needs no introduction!" Lady Eddison announced, holding her hand out as a blonde woman a little younger than Donna walked towards the group, smiling politely as everyone started clapping.

"No, no, please. Don't. Thank you, Lady Eddison. Honestly, there's no need," she assured the older woman. She turned to the Doctor and held out her hand. "Agatha Christie."

Lyssa's eyes widened. Agatha Christie? The Agatha Christie? "This is the best day of my life," she decided under her breath. The name rung a bell in more ways than one, and she was pretty sure that someone was going to get murdered before the day was done, but... she got to meet one of the most famous authors, and one of her personal favorites.

"What about her?" the Doctor asked obliviously. Lyssa just stared at him.

"That's me," the author informed him with some amusement.

"Nooo," Donna denied, shaking her head as Agatha started laughing. "You're kidding."

"We are in the presence of greatness," Lyssa whispered to her, only slightly feigning her awe. "I don't even have one of her books to ask her to sign. Or would that be rude? I feel like that would be rude. I don't want to bother her."

"Agatha Christie!" the Doctor exclaimed, shaking her hand exuberantly. "I was just talking about you the other day. I said, 'I bet she's brilliant'. I'm the Doctor, that's Lyssa, and this is Donna. Lyssa and I, we like to read through your books together, don't we!" he grinned down at Lyssa, twining her left hand with his right. "Ohhh, I love your stuff. What a mind! You fool me every time. Well, almost every time. Well, once or twice. Well, once." Lyssa kicked him gently in the ankle and he winced. "But it - it was a good once!" he tried to cover.

"Sorry about him," Lyssa apologized, shaking Agatha's hand with her free hand and trying to suppress her excitement. "We both enjoy your books. Very much."

The author gave her a bemused smile. "You make a rather unusual couple," she observed, looking between her and the Doctor.

"I - sorry?" Lyssa faltered. She would have expected something like this from Jack or Vina. But not from... from Agatha Christie of all people.

She should have known it was too good to be true. Never meet your heroes and all that.

"Don't they just?" Donna snorted, seeming to get over her awe quickly enough and rolling her eyes. "Finally, someone else who sees it."

"I, er, what makes you think that?" the Doctor asked cautiously, looking more intrigued than flustered.

The author raised her eyebrow and nodded at the Doctor's left hand, out of Lyssa's sight. "Your wedding ring rather gives it away, don't you think?"

Lyssa frowned, trying not to be obvious about trying to look at the Doctor's other hand. She was pretty sure he wasn't wearing a ring - that he'd never worn any sort of ring the entire time she'd known this regeneration of him. They hadn't bothered getting a fake pair when they'd faked a relationship to get into the hospital the first time Martha met them. Or, rather, she hadn't even thought about it -although she hadn't exactly been in a good headspace at the time - and the Doctor hadn't brought it up. No one had questioned it, so it must have worked.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows in turn, lifting the aforementioned hand slightly - though still enough out of sight that Lyssa couldn't see what he was actually wearing - and glancing down at it. "I really shouldn't be surprised you noticed that," he said, sounding rather impressed.

His right hand released Lyssa's and then grasped it again a moment later, cool metal sliding up her ring finger and resting against her skin. When she glanced down, she caught a glimpse of a slim gold band sitting perfectly naturally on her ring finger as if it'd always been there. She glanced up at the Doctor in consternation, only for his fingers to tighten around hers as if in warning. She hastily threw up a smile at the older woman, wondering at the Doctor's reasoning this time. It wasn't the first time they'd pretended to be married, but usually he gave her at least a heads up first.

He offered a proud smile to Agatha. "Yep. Married just over a year ago," he announced. "And been living happily together ever since."

"Ah." Her smile tightened ever so slightly. "Well, congratulations to you both."

Lady Eddison came up to them, and Agatha turned to her gratefully. "Mrs. Christie, I'm so glad you could come. I'm one of your greatest followers. I've read all six of your books. Is, ah, Mr. Christie not joining us?" the lady asked delicately.

The author's smile tightened a little more. "Is he needed? Can't a woman make her own way in the world?"

The colonel laughed, lowering a newspaper to rest on his lap. "Now don't go giving my wife ideas!" he cautioned jokingly.

"Now Mrs. Christie, I have a question. Why a Belgian detective?" Roger asked, drawing her attention.

Lyssa's quickly drew her own attention back to the Doctor, releasing his right hand and circling around to eye his left hand. Sure enough, resting neatly on his ring finger where a wedding band would go, was a simple gold band. She grabbed it, lifting his hand up to her face to examine it more closely. Up close, she could see that, while obviously very well taken care of, it wasn't new and thrown on for the disguise like her own. The ring moved slightly at her touch, revealing a indent in the skin beneath, far paler than the rest of his skin, indicating that it had been worn for quite some time.

Except she'd seen him with Martha in what would have been less than two years earlier his time, and he hadn't been wearing a ring then.

"Where did this come from?" she asked curiously, looking up at him but not dropping his hand. "You didn't have this a couple years ago."

He shifted ever so slightly under her gaze, and she narrowed her eyes. "Sure I did," he said blithely. "You must've just not noticed. Don't feel bad about Agatha Christie noticing it first," he tried to switch tracks. "That's what she's good at. And why she's such a good mystery writer."

She raised an eyebrow, refusing to be diverted. "Doctor, one of my first ever jumps was to this version of you and Martha. I may have accepted this as my new reality by that point, but I knew exactly what you were supposed to look like then, and I would have noticed something as different as a wedding ring," she shook his left hand for emphasis.

"What makes you think it's a wedding ring?" he fired back.

"I - what?" she frowned uncertainly.

Donna, who had been looking between the two with great interest, suddenly drew a deep breath and clamped her mouth shut. The Doctor cast her a warning look, and she just rolled her eyes at him, muttering something about needing more wine for this.

"I'm not from Earth, let alone America or the UK," the Doctor reminded her.

It was Lyssa's turn to roll her eyes at him. "Yeah, I think the two hearts gave that bit away," she snarked.

The Doctor sighed. "Different cultures have different customs," he said patiently. "What means one thing on Earth could mean something entirely different on Gallifrey."

She raised an eyebrow, both at the phrase, which sounded vaguely familiar, and his continued attempts at avoiding her questions. "Okay, so what does it mean, then?" she pressed him.

"It's... it's a promise ring," he finally told her. "A sign of a solemn oath I swore long ago." His eyes grew distant and pained. "Back before Gallifrey…" his voice trailed off and he abruptly shook himself, returning to the present. "After... certain events, I added a variation of a perception filter to it. I didn't want to be constantly reminded of it by people who would see it as a wedding ring. I've tweaked it since then, but it's still needed sometimes," he explained.

He glanced over at the famous author, chatting with one of the guests. "Certain people can see through it at times, it only makes sense that someone like her would as well. She'd probably be able to see through the psychic paper too," he added in admiration. "Good thing she's not the host. Would've been a bit harder to crash the party." He turned his attention back to his ring and twisted it ever so slightly, pressing in at the same time. "Everyone should be able to see it now," he informed her and Donna. "Don't want to draw attention to its absence now that Mrs. Christie's aware of it."

"Are... are you okay with pretending that it's a wedding ring?" Lyssa asked tentatively, finally releasing his hand and feeling sorry she'd pushed him on a subject he clearly felt deeply about. "I don't want to dredge up bad memories."

He shook his head immediately. "The day this ring was put on was one of the best days of my life," he told her firmly. "And... circumstances are different from the day that I added the perception filter. My main reason for adding it no longer applies." He shrugged. "As long as you're okay with wearing that ring as well - I didn't exactly get the chance to ask you first this time."

Lyssa glanced at her own - far less meaningful - ring and shrugged in turn. "It's not like this is the first time we've pretended to be married," she said, feigning a nonchalance she didn't feel. Knowing what she did now, it had probably meant a lot more to him than it had to her every time in the past they'd faked a relationship - although why had the subject of rings never been brought up before now? Did the perception filter extend to that too? Or had he just subtly turned it off each time and she'd still somehow never noticed?

"Although... dare I ask where this ring came from?" she teased, waggling her own finger. "Do you just keep rings around for no reaso- wait. You've done this before," she recalled, the first time they'd both met Donna coming to mind. "Is this the ring you gave Donna?" she asked, nodding at the redhead. "The bio-dampener, or whatever?"

"Bio-damper, yes," the Doctor corrected her with a small smile. "It's come in handy on several occasions, and here it is again - although for a completely different reason this time. Judging by your appearance," he twirled a lock of her hair - now with gold strands running among the brown - in his fingers. "I'd say the bio-damper would only hide you for a short time. Certainly not long enough for..." he paused. "Certain events which might require it."

"Certain events?" she repeated with interest, noting his pause. "Do I sense you speaking from experience?"

He winked at her. "Spoilers, wife of mine," he teased, glancing over at the group as a particularly loud laugh erupted. "Hold that thought," he switched tracks abruptly, striding up to the colonel and snatching his newspaper with a quick apology before returning to her and Donna and glancing over it. "The date on this newspaper..." he started.

"What about it?" Donna asked, her and Lyssa following his gaze and seeing nothing special about it.

"It's the day Agatha Christie disappeared," he said solemnly. They all turned to look at the woman, laughing and chatting with the other guests. "She'd just discovered her husband was having an affair."

Lyssa wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Imagine being stupid enough to cheat on Agatha Christie," she frowned. "I mean, bad enough to break your vows and do it to anyone; that makes you a dirtbag in general. But to do it to Agatha Christie..." She shook her head in contempt. "That's just asking for some sleazy guy with your name to wind up dead in her next book. Probably murdered in some horrible, satisfying way."

"You'd never think it to look at her, though," Donna said in a hushed tone, watching the author easily mingling. "Smiling away. I didn't take it near that well."

"Well, she's British and moneyed. That's what they do. They carry on. Except for this one time. No one knows exactly what happened, she just vanished," the Doctor said solemnly. "Her car will be found tomorrow morning by the side of a lake. Ten days later, Agatha Christie turns up in a hotel in Harrogate. Said she'd lost her memory. She never spoke about the disappearance till the day she died, but whatever it was..."

"It's about to happen," Donna concluded.

"Right here, right now," the Doctor confirmed.

Lyssa frowned, vaguely recalling the image of an abandoned vintage car by the side of a lake. That and a very large wasp. Who... somehow murdered someone? Without stinging them? She shivered at the memory of the creature, goose bumps rising on her arms. She should have grabbed a can of bug spray before leaving the TARDIS. Or two. Maybe there was still time?

Except then someone came running out of the house, waving their arms wildly. "Professor! The library! Murder! Murder!" the older woman they'd seen earlier shouted, and chaos immediately descended on the group.

Lyssa sighed. She shouldn't have tempted fate.

xXx

Agatha Christie was right behind them as they entered the library, a large room filled with old books and a desk positively covered in loose papers. A mostly bald older man in a suit lay on the floor, quite obviously dead from a wound to the head. Blood spatters surrounded the body, and Lyssa shivered as she noticed the expression of horror frozen on the dead man's face.

The Doctor squeezed her hand in comfort before releasing her and pulling out his glasses, putting them on as he bent down to inspect the body.

"Oh my goodness!" the butler exclaimed as he entered the room, his polite, business-like demeanor disappearing as he stumbled backwards.

"Bashed on the head," the Doctor surmised as he examined the poor man. "Blunt instrument. Watch broke as he fell..." he lifted the wrist of the professor and studied the timepiece. "Time of death was quarter past four," he stated, gently placing the limp arm back on the ground and going to search the desk.

"Bit of pipe," Donna exclaimed, using a blank sheet of paper to lift a metal pipe off the ground. "Call me Hercule Poirot, but I reckon that's blunt enough."

Lyssa glanced around helplessly, seeing Agatha searching through the grate and the Doctor going over the desk. She knew who'd killed him, but at the same time, she didn't know who they were. It was hardly as if she could ask the giant homicidal wasp from outer space to reveal themselves. One of the few things she did remember was that absolutely everyone at this party was hiding something.

Naturally, she didn't remember any of those things.

She cursed her weak memory and went for the windows, wondering if maybe the murderer had used them to escape. Only one set was open, and she glanced outside, then stopped short with a frown. On the ground below were, just like all along the rest of the manor, perfectly placed and trimmed shrubbery. Scratches were carved into the frame of the open window, as though someone - or something - had dug into it.

The Doctor finished rifling through the pages and set them back on the desk. "Nothing worth killing for in that lot, dry as dust," he sighed.

"Hold on." Donna set the pipe back on the ground by the body. "The body in the library? I mean, Professor Peach, in the library, with the lead piping? What next, roll the die and solve the murder?"

"Doctor..." Lyssa started, not moving away from the window. "I think you need to see-'

She was cut off as the rest of the guests crowded into the room, gasped in horror, and all began chattering at once in fear and dismay, none of their comments understandable in all the dim.

"Someone should call the police," Agatha's firm voice stood out as one of the few non-hysterical voices, quieting the group.

"You don't have to," the Doctor took charge, flipping open his psychic paper and showing it around the room - although Lyssa noticed that he flipped it shut before it reached Agatha's line of vision, and tucked it away neatly in his pocket once more. Then he continued speaking, not allowing anyone the chance to question him. "Chief Inspector Smith from Scotland Yard. Known as the Doctor. My wife and Miss Noble are the plucky young girls who help me out."

"I say," Lady Eddison clutched a hand to her chest delicately.

"Mrs. Christie was right. Go into the sitting room. I will question each of you in turn," the Doctor ordered them, pointing out of the room.

"Come along, do as the Doctor says. Leave the room undisturbed," Agatha instructed, ushering the others out of the room and following them out, shutting the door behind her.

Donna rounded on the Doctor as soon as the door was shut. "'The plucky young girls who help me out'?" she repeated indignantly.

"No policewoman in 1926," the Doctor pointed out logically as he laid out flat on the ground.

"I'll pluck you in a minute," Donna continued on, unfazed by his logic. "Why don't we phone the real police?"

The Doctor scoffed. "The last thing we want is PC Plodd sticking his nose in."

"Yeah, Donna, that's our job," Lyssa teased. "Although, do be fair, Doctor. Even Hercule Poirot was fond enough of Inspector Japp."

The Doctor grunted. "After bemoaning how he consistently didn't use his 'little gray cells', yes. Which is exactly what our dear old PC Plodd would be doing here." He scraped something sticky off the ground with a small stick and stood up, holding it up for them to see, amber goo dripping off the stick and back onto the ground. "Especially now that I've found this. Morphic residue!"

"Morphic? Doesn't sound very 1926," Donna pointed out.

"Oughta write a letter of complaint," Lyssa mumbled, crossing her arms. "How dare he not keep up with the times."

"It's left behind when certain species genetically re-encode," the Doctor explained, still examining the goo.

"The murderer's an alien," Donna realized.

"What? Nah. Probably just a butterfly. They change shapes and kill people all the time," Lyssa remarked casually, leaning back against the wall.

"See, you say that like it's a joke, but traveling with you two it's probably a real thing somewhere," Donna complained. "Planet of murdering butterflies, just left of Timbukto."

"What it means," the Doctor interrupted, trying to get them back on track, "is that one of that lot is an alien in human form."

"Like you," Donna pointed out, suddenly eyeing him suspiciously and taking a step away from him.

He rolled his eyes. "Like me, but not me. Donna, you were with me the whole time."

"Not when I was changing, I wasn't," she rebutted. She gasped, eyes going wide. "Lyssa, you're married to a shape-shifting alien who kills people like a Cluedo game."

"Well, you're partially right," Lyssa snickered.

"Fairy-girl, you're not helping," the Doctor sighed.

"Okay, fine, you don't change your basic shape like this creature does," Lyssa granted him magnanimously. "Just your entire genetic structure."

"No, but think about it," Donna continued, hands held out wide to include the body and the direction where Agatha had exited. "There's a murder, a mystery, and Agatha Christie."

"So?" the Doctor shrugged. "Happens to me and Lyssa all the time." He smelled the slime and held it out for Lyssa to try. She shook her head, crinkling up her nose, and he shrugged and offered it to Donna, who didn't even notice.

Honestly, Lyssa was just glad he didn't try to lick the slime to analyze it. Apparently - thankfully - even he had limits.

"No, but isn't that a bit weird? Agatha Christie didn't walk around surrounded by murders. Not really. I mean that's like meeting Charles Dickens, and he's surrounded by ghosts. At Christmas."

Lyssa snorted and the Doctor avoided Donna's gaze. "Well..."

"Oh, come on!" she scoffed in disbelief. "It's not like we could drive across country and find Enid Blyton having tea with Noddy." She stopped, eyeing the Doctor. "Could we? Noddy's not real. Is he? Tell me there's no Noddy!" she pleaded.

"There's no Noddy," the Doctor assured her.

Lyssa laughed. "You say that now," she teased. "Spoilers!"

The Doctor eyed her uncertainly before shaking his head, placing the gooey sample in a little container and tucking it in his pocket. "What did you find earlier?" he asked, joining her by the window.

"Wha- ohhh, right," Lyssa nodded, remembering her earlier discovery. "So, I was wondering if maybe the murderer had used the window as an escape route somehow, so I decided to take a look."

"An escape route? But we're on the first floor," Donna objected.

"First? We're two stories up," Lyssa frowned before realization dawned. "Ohhh, right. You guys name things weird. Anyways, it's totally survivable. I've fallen two stories before and ended up only mostly bruised. Well, my rib cage started to cave in, but that was from something totally different. Annnd you're both staring at me. Why?"

The Doctor sighed, rubbing his forehead. "I don't think I want to know. Just... go on with your story, please. Preferably without dropping any more heart-stopping information.".

Lyssa eyed him oddly, but shrugged. "Okay, well, anyways. This is the only window open, which makes me think that it was probably used as an escape route somehow. Except the shrubbery below," she indicated the ground outside the window, "is in perfect order and completely un-flattened. Which means that no one landed on it, and it'd be pretty hard for someone to avoid doing that if they're anywhere near human size or weight. They'd have to be tiny."

"Or able to fly," the Doctor mused.

"What a ridiculous idea," Lyssa's lips quirked upwards.

"Although, I tell you what," the Doctor said slowly, leaning his head outside and looking at the window panes rather than the ground. "There are grooves on the outside of this window. As though someone tried to pull it open from the outside, rather than push it open from the inside. I think this might be how they got in, not just how they got out."

"Which means it's probably one of the guests, not the staff," Donna observed. "Although, wouldn't the window've been locked?"

"On the first floor?" the Doctor pointed out. "Or, second, for the American among us," he added, with a glance at Lyssa. "A lot of people don't worry about people breaking in that high up. Or the window might've been open already. Or maybe this far out in the countryside, they don't worry about thieves."

Lyssa nodded. "I know back in America I had a couple friends growing up who lived out in the country once we moved up North. They almost never locked their doors because they were out in the middle of nowhere and nobody ever came out there."

The Doctor rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I think we need to get the stories from everyone out there, see whose story doesn't add up, or doesn't have a good alibi."

"So we've got an alien who looks like a human but can change their shape and fly, and it could be anyone of them out there," Donna summed up as they left the room and headed down the stairs. "Next thing you know, you'll be telling me it's like 'Murder On The Orient Express', and they all did it!"

"Oi, I haven't read that one yet!" Lyssa objected.

"You'll get there eventually," the Doctor grinned, glancing over at her.

"Murder on the Orient Express?" Agatha repeated questioningly, appearing at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh, yeah! One of your best!" Donna affirmed enthusiastically.

"But not yet," the Doctor mentioned off-handedly in a low voice. Donna grimaced.

"Marvelous idea, though," Agatha said thoughtfully.

"I'm sure you'd do a great job at it," Lyssa offered, receiving a grateful smile in turn.

"Yeah. Tell you what, copyright Donna Noble, okay?" the redhead tried with a grin.

"Anyway!" the Doctor interrupted, giving her a warning look. "Agatha and I will question the suspects. Donna, you and Lyssa search the bedrooms. Look for clues." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Any more residue." He handed the redhead a large golden magnifying glass. "You'll need this."

She raised her eyebrows at him. "Are you for real?"

"Go on, then," he grinned mischievously. "You're ever so plucky." He quickly joined Agatha at the bottom of the stairs before she could brain him with the glass, and she marched upstairs, muttering invectives under her breath, followed by Lyssa, trying to muffle her giggles.

"That's certainly one way to do it," Lyssa ventured after one particularly creative plan as they explored one of the many hallways.

Donna cast her a sharp glance. "That's if I'm feeling kind. Stupid spaceman." She tried one of the doors, only to find it locked.

The butler appeared out of nowhere - quite possibly literally, as there had been no sign of him a second before - and both the girls jumped. "You won't find anything in there," he said gravely, all signs of shock from before completely gone.

"Why is it locked?" Donna asked, recovering herself quickly.

"Lady Eddison commands it to be so," the butler explained, as if that actually explained anything.

Donna raised an eyebrow. "Well, I command it to be otherwise," she stated imperiously. "Scotland Yard, pip-pip!" Faced with the indomitable Donna, he caved in a manner of seconds and pulled a large keyring out of his pocket, moving to unlock the door. "Why's it locked in the first place?" Donna questioned him as she waited.

"Many years ago, when my father was butler to the family, Lady Eddison returned from India with malaria. She locked herself in this room for six months until she recovered. Since then, the room has remained undisturbed," the butler explained, opening the door and turning on the light. "There's nothing in there," he added as Donna and Lyssa stepped in.

"How long's it been empty?" the redhead asked, not listening to him.

"Forty years."

Donna raised an eyebrow again. "Why would she seal it off? All right, we need to investigate, you just... butle off." She closed the door firmly, and listened at the door until his reluctant footsteps lumbered away.

Lyssa laughed. "Donna, you're the best."

The redhead waved her off. "Oh, pshh. Now come on, let's find out what's so important that her ladyship closed this place off for forty years."

Lyssa glanced around the room obediently. It seemed like a normal enough bedroom for a wealthy family from the late 1800's. Very dusty, but everything in the room was very neat and orderly otherwise, although the heavy curtains were closed completely. "I don't think he was joking when he meant it'd been locked up for forty years," she remarked, swiping a finger along the mantle of the fireplace and leaving a trail in the dust. Then, because she was still a child inside, she drew a little smiley face.

Donna pulled a large teddy bear off the bed, squeezed it experimentally, then placed it back on the bed with a sigh when it refused to give up its secrets. A faint buzzing sound became noticeable and she looked around curiously, not noticing the way Lyssa had stiffened. "1926, they've still got bees. Oh, what a noise!" she remarked as it got louder - and closer.

"Donna..." Lyssa said slowly, starting to move over to the redhead and glancing around for the source of the noise. It was such a big creature, there were only a few places it could hide. "Be careful."

"It's just a little insect, it'll be fine," Donna waved her off, moving over to the curtains. "All right, busy bee, I'll let you out. Hold on, I shall find you with my amazing powers of detection," she said sarcastically, holding the magnifying glass up to the curtains before pushing them aside and letting out a scream of terror.

"Donna!" Lyssa shouted, running the rest of the way and joining her just in time to see a giant wasp as big as she was break the window with its massive stinger. Both the girls screamed as they were sprayed with glass, covering their faces with their arms and falling away from the window and down to the floor.

"But that's impossible," Donna stammered in horror as the creature flew into the room before turning around to face them, the buzzing sound louder than ever as its wings flapped fast enough to create a small breeze in the room.

"Stay away from it!" Lyssa warned her, too frozen to actually be of use and move. The wasp turned to her at the noise and she flinched as its menacing gaze fixated on her.

"Stay away from us!" Donna shouted, pulling Lyssa to her feet and tugging her back to the window. "Doctor!" she raised her voice even louder. The wasp moved even closer, aiming its stinger in their direction threateningly, and she raised her magnifying glass to the broken window, creating a bright spot of light and heat and focusing it at the wasp. It recoiled at the sensation and Donna took advantage of the flinch, yanking Lyssa past it and out of the room, slamming the door shut behind them. "Doctor!" she called again.

A giant black blade pierced through the wood, sending splinters flying, and they both screamed, falling to either side of the door. Gooey liquid dripped from the point, creating a menacing hiss as it came in contact with the floor and made the wood warp and bubble. The buzzing in the room quickly grew faint and disappeared and Lyssa sagged back against the wall as it did so, letting out a huge sigh of relief.

"We're alive," she breathed, still not quite believing they'd escaped. "We're alive!" She pushed herself to her feet on shaky arms and looked her and Donna over. Her elbows were bruised, and both she and the redhead had scrapes from the flying glass and wood, but they were both alive. She shoved her loose curls back behind her ears and tried to pat them into some semblance of order with trembling hands, hoping the action would help calm her racing heart.

Footsteps pounded up the stairs before the Doctor rounded the corner at a run, followed closely after by Agatha. "Lyssa? Donna?" he shouted, hurrying up to them and placing his hands on Lyssa's shoulders, looking her over frantically and cataloguing her cuts and bruises. Not letting go of Lyssa, he glanced over at Donna as well, noting the same injuries. "What happened?" he demanded, wrapping an arm around Lyssa and looking even more concerned when she just leaned further into his side without saying anything, trying to still her trembling hands.

"It's a giant wasp!" Donna exclaimed, tone still bordering on hysteria.

"What d'you mean, a giant wasp?" he frowned. "How could a wasp have done that?" he nodded to their scrapes.

"I mean, a wasp that's giant!" Donna rephrased impatiently. "How much more clear do I have to make it?"

"It's only a silly little insect," Agatha frowned, though she looked concerned as well.

"When I say giant, I don't mean big," Donna said scornfully, indignation shaking off her fright. "I mean flippin' enormous! Look at its sting!" She thrust a finger at the long stinger sticking several inches out of the wood.

"Let me see," the Doctor decided, moving Lyssa gently behind him and cautiously pushing the door open, then all the way. The room was empty, the curtains fluttering in the wind brought in by the broken window. "It's gone, buzzed off."

"If Clara were here she'd smack you for that," Lyssa muttered with the first of her returning humor, recalling the brunette's distinct lack of appreciation for the Ranger's puns back at the "impenetrable" bank they'd robbed.

"Who?"

"Ahh, nobody you remember," Lyssa waved him off, rubbing her arms for warmth and wincing when she brushed against one of her new scrapes.

"But that's fascinating," Agatha breathed, crouching down by the stinger and drawing everyone's attention back to her. She lifted a curious hand to the goo, only for the Doctor to stop her.

"Don't touch it! Don't touch it! Let me..." He trailed off, pulling a test tube out of his pocket and scooping some of the goo into it. He carefully capped it and placed it into his pocket. "Giant wasp... Well, tons of amorphous insectivorous lifeforms, but none in this galactic vector," he thought aloud, forgetting the non-galactic-traveler in the room.

"Err, maybe we should not discuss certain ideas right now?" Lyssa offered, glancing over at the bemused author.

"I think I understood some of those words. Enough to know that you're completely potty," Agatha pronounced, standing back up and eyeing the Doctor with distinct concern.

The concern grew to include Donna when the redhead added, "Lost its sting though, that makes it defenseless."

"Oh, creature this size, got to be able to grow a new one," the Doctor said dismissively, staring down at the stinger.

Lyssa sighed, resting her face in her hands.

"Can we return to sanity? There are no such things as giant wasps!" Agatha exclaimed in exasperation.

"Exactly!" the Doctor agreed, startling her. "So, question is, what's it doing here?"

A high-pitched scream came through the window, followed by a wet thud, and they all flinched. The Doctor reacted first, charging down the stairs, and the others quickly followed him as he ran outside and around the building, stopping abruptly.

Lyssa's gaze was immediately drawn to the huddled figure in black laying limply on the ground. The stone gargoyle laying next to her and the bloody mess that was the remains of her torso gave a clear, horrifying picture of what had happened. One hand flew up to cover Lyssa's mouth as she knelt by the dying woman. One glance at the Doctor's face told her it was too late to do anything besides try to ease her passing.

"The poor... little... child," the woman gasped, blood trickling out of the corner of her mouth as she struggled to draw in one last breath... and never let it out again, her eyes growing distant and unseeing.

The Doctor, his face grim, gently reached over and closed her eyes. "I'm sorry," he told her quietly, turning to Agatha. "What was her name?"

The author swallowed. "Lady Eddison addressed her as Miss Chandrakala." She glanced up at the ledge, where the remaining gargoyles snarled down at them, an ominous gaping hole in the middle of the row. "This wasn't an accident, but there's no way anyone could have gotten up there to push one down and escape by the time we made it out here," she frowned. "They'd have to be able to fly."

The loud buzzing returned, and Lyssa flinched, hands instinctively flying up to cover her head as the giant wasp flew into view.

"I'm gonna hazard a guess and say that's our culprit," the Doctor muttered as it flew off towards the house and out of sight. "Come on!" He led the way back inside the house and up the stairs. They were confronted by the wasp once more, but Donna held up her magnifying glass threateningly and it disappeared down the stairs and into an empty hallway. "Where are you? Come on! There's nowhere to run. Show yourself!" the Doctor shouted.

Almost as if it'd been rehearsed, all the doors opened at once as the guests and family emerged from the quarters.

The Doctor sagged in disappointment. "Oh, now that's just cheating," he moaned.

xXx

"My faithful companion, this is terrible!" Lady Eddison gasped, tears tricking down her face. Her husband rolled his chair beside her and took her hand comfortingly, his own face drawn at the terrible news the Doctor had given the group once he'd gathered them all in the drawing room.

"Excuse me, my lady, but she was on her way to tell you something," Davenport spoke up, bowing his head in deference.

The lady shook her head. "She never found me. She had an appointment with death instead," she sniffed out between more tears.

"She said 'The poor little child'. Does that mean anything to anyone?" the Doctor questioned, looking around the room carefully to see any reactions, only to be met with blank faces and at least seemingly-genuine denials.

"Mrs. Christie, you must have twigged something, you've written simply the best detective stories," Lady Eddison implored the startled woman.

"Tell us, what would Poirot do?" Reverend Golightly prodded.

The colonel nodded, seeming to find more energy at the prospect of getting answers from someone. "Heavens sake! Cards on the table, woman, you should be helping us."

The poor author looked bewildered. "But, I'm merely a writer!" she protested.

"But surely you can crack it, these events, they're exactly like one of your plots," Robina pointed out, one perfectly manicured fingernail tapping her chin.

"That's what I've been saying!" Donna exclaimed excitedly. "Agatha, that's gotta mean something!"

"But what?" Agatha said helplessly. "I've no answers. None. I'm sorry, all of you, I'm truly sorry, but I've failed. If anyone can help us then it's the Doctor, not me." She shook her head and fled from the room.

xXx

Having dispersed the group once more, the Doctor pulled Lyssa into a study while they waited for Donna to speak with Agatha. He quickly gave her a summary of what he'd learned on his end as he studied the test tube with the wasp goo, ending with, "None of them have any witnesses for their alibis. And given that the killer is a shapeshifter, it could be any one of them." He frowned at the little test tube before tucking it back into his pocket.

"They're all hiding something," Lyssa frowned, straining at her memory. "I just - I don't remember what! Maybe if I had my journal, but I think it's buried somewhere in my room. It'd take too long to find it, and events are happening very quickly today. I think things are going to be resolved in the next few hours, probably less," she said quietly. "But whoever this killer is... it's personal for them. They're... trying to protect a secret, I think."

"Agatha found a burnt scrap of paper with the word 'maiden' on it," the Doctor recalled thoughtfully. "I'd say the professor probably found something he shouldn't have and the killer took him out because of it."

"Mrs. Christie found another clue," Donna announced proudly, striding into the room with Agatha close behind, looking much more sure of herself and carrying a small black box in her hands. She handed it to the Doctor, who opened it curiously, revealing several rows of strange metal tools.

"Oh! Someone came here tooled up," the Doctor whistled lowly, impressed. "The sort of stuff a thief would use. And not just any thief - this is for a professional."

"The Unicorn!" Agatha gasped. "He's here!"

"The Unicorn and the wasp," the Doctor mused, carefully shutting the box up tight again. "Now there's a catchy title."

Donna grimaced. "I don't think it'd sell well."

He conceded the point as the butler entered the room with a tray of drinks on one hand. "Your drinks, ladies. Doctor," he held the tray out to them and waited until they'd each grabbed a glass of water before disappearing as politely as he'd entered.

"How about the science stuff, what did you find?" Donna asked, setting her drink off to the side in favor of focusing on the Doctor right as he was about to take a sip.

He pulled the glass away and set it down in favor of showing off his knowledge, displaying the test tube for them all to see. "Vespiform sting. Vespiforms have got hives in the Silfrax galaxy."

"Which is definitely not our galaxy, so what's one doing here?" Lyssa pointed out, taking a sip of her water, wrinkling her nose slightly at the faintly odd smell. Someone must have squeezed a bit of lemon inside. She personally wasn't a fan of lemon-water, preferring the sweeter lemonade, but water was water, and she was thirsty.

"Good question," the Doctor frowned. "Most Vespiforms tend to stay away from Earth. So why's this one so interested in this group here? Why is it so... personal?"

"Again, you talk like Edward Lear," Agatha shook her head.

"You get used to it after a while," Lyssa shrugged, taking another drink from her glass. "You still have a 50/50 shot of understanding it, but you eventually get used to it." She coughed slightly into her hand as something must've gone down the wrong tube. "Sorry," she muttered, clearing her throat.

"But for some reason, this one's behaving like a character in one of your books," the Doctor mused. "Why? What's the point?"

"Maybe they figured that without Hercule Poirot they actually had a chance to get away with it?" Lyssa offered, coughing into her hand again when the tickle only got worse. She took another drink of water, trying to wash away the obstruction, but it didn't help. Noticing that her coughing had raised her heartbeat, she tried to take deep breaths to lower it without drawing attention to herself.

The Doctor smirked. "Too bad they didn't figure on me being here. I tend to put a damper on plans like that."

"Come on, Agatha, what would Miss Marple do?" Donna turned to the author. "She'd have overheard something vital by now, because the murderer thinks she's just a harmless old lady."

"Not yet, Donna," Lyssa tried to point out discretely, clearing her throat once more and still failing to actually remove whatever was bothering her. To make matters worse, she must have coughed too hard, because a sharp headache was rapidly forming, throbbing in time with her heartbeat.

"Clever idea. Miss Marple? Who writes those?" Agatha asked curiously, turning to the redhead with interest.

Donna winced. "Um, copyright Donna Noble, add it to the list."

"Donna," the Doctor sighed. "At least have some respect for the timeline?"

Donna sighed right back at him. "Fine. We can split the copyright," she offered magnanimously.

"I don't know why I bother," he muttered, rubbing his temple.

Lyssa coughed into her hand, wincing as the motion aggravated her headache. Unable to catch her breath afterwards, she was forced to take more rapid breaths in an effort to bring it under control. Unfortunately for her dignity, this did not go unnoticed and the author turned to her in concern.

"Are you all right, Mrs. Smith?" she asked.

Lyssa winced as the Doctor immediately turned to her, cheeks turning pink at the unwanted attention. "Just went down the wrong tube," she tried to wave them off. "I'll be fine in a minute," she said, breathing heavily. "I just... can't seem to catch my breath," she panted.

The Doctor immediately stood from his chair and moved over to her. "Something's wrong," he muttered, eyes dark. "You didn't react when you first took a sip which means this is a reaction to something else." He picked up her wrist and carefully felt for her pulse, his eyes darkening even quicker. "Rapid pulse, respiratory distress, probable headache..." he listed quickly, scanning her for other signs of distress. "We've all been seen hunting down the killer. You were the only one who took a drink."

"What, like poison?" Donna asked, staring at Lyssa in horror.

Agatha hurried over and sniffed her glass. "Bitter almonds! It's cyanide! Sparkling cyanide!" she realized with dismay.

"Doctor, what do we do?" Donna demanded, waving her hands about helplessly.

Lyssa brought her hands to her forehead with a groan as the raised voices echoed in her skull like a jackhammer. "Not so loud," she pleaded, shifting to the side to rest her aching head against the cushion behind her.

The Doctor stiffened. "Right. You two, get to the kitchen," he ordered them, voice lowered in deference to her but brooking no argument. "I'm going to need ginger beer, protein, and something salty. Now!"

The words sparking a long buried memory, Lyssa felt bad for laughing at the Doctor when he'd tried to get Donna to get him what he needed. Not if he'd felt like this.

"Doctor, I'm an expert in poisons. There's no cure. It's fatal, I'm so sorry," Agatha told him sympathetically.

"Just do it," he snapped, thrusting one hand at the door. "And get a move on!"

"Come on," Donna told the author, casting a worried look at Lyssa. "If he says he needs it, I'm gonna listen to him. You just hold tight, Lyssa, you hear me?"

"Let's give them some privacy," Agatha said in a low voice, leading the redhead out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

The Doctor reacted immediately, crouching down to kneel in front of her, eyes intent on her. "Lyssa, I can save you. Do you understand me? I can save you," he told her urgently.

Lyssa gave him a weak smile. "Doctor, I'm not... like you," she reminded him quietly. "I can't... metabolize the... poison or whatever... like you can."

"I know," he said impatiently. "But if I pull the poison from you I can stimulate the enzymes into reversal... which is not important right now. I can save you, Lyssa. Do you hear me? I can save you! Please!" he pleaded, his hand clasping hers.

She nodded weakly. "Okay, if you've got the cure, go ahead." It wasn't like she wanted to die in the first place.

But he shook his head again. "It's not a cure, I'm literally going to pull it from you. Do you trust me?"

"Of course," she frowned, wondering what he was getting at. "Whatever you... have to do, do it."

She was expecting him to pull out a giant syringe, or some cauldron full of suspicious-looking soup. Maybe even a bottle of anti-poison syrup that tasted like cold medicine.

She certainly wasn't expecting him to carefully pull her into a sitting position, cup her cheeks with his hands, and kiss her.


A/N: We are officially at 100 chapters, and it's kind of crazy to believe that I made it this far! Three years in, your guys' support has been phenomenal every step of the way, hugely encouraging and motivating. Thank you so much for bothering to even check out this story in the first place - and then for continuing to read and support me! This story would never have reached this point without all of you. Thank you.

Now, first things first, I'm sure you're all thinking something about the ending of this particular chapter. And in case you were wondering... yes, that was (And is, in regards to the next chapter) one of the major things I've been planning and looking forward to for months. This is going to be a major step forward in terms of plot and growth, so I look forward to seeing where it leads. ;)

Also, I'm definitely not stealing inspiration for this from Nine/Rose's kiss in Season 1. On a totally unrelated side note, I am 1000% convinced he had at least 6 other ways he could've taken Bad Wolf from her, and that he chose that particular option purely because he wanted to. I totally haven't taken that logic and applied it here.

Another scene you guys probably took minor interest in is the "wedding" ring scene. I want you to know that I nearly rage quit that scene several times trying to find a ring that I wanted before finally settling on the one that you see here. There may or may not be more to that particular piece of jewelry, but that's a spoiler. ;)

I'm pretty sure I've been added to yet another list here... I was researching poisons, symptoms, and how easy it is to access various poisons for this chapter. D:

Special thanks to everyone who's favorited and followed, and shout-out to all my reviewers. You guys are awesome!

Thank you all for reading, and I hope you enjoyed! :)

General Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or sneaky plot devices to get characters to kiss. (or at least, not this particular one) Only Lyssa :)