Disclaimer: I don't own Miss Misher's Murder Mysteries, or any of the associated characters. No profit is being made

Summary: As fantastical as Phryne Fisher's adventures could be, there were some aspects of it that the world of the 1920s was not yet ready to hear. Some secrets had to remain behind in the desert.

Desert Secrets

Jack Robinson and Phryne Fisher had always had very strange ideas of pillow talk and sweet nothings. Lying together in a tent in the middle of a desert, after an extensive bout of make-up sex, proved to be no exception.

The Crypt of Tears had held many secrets, some as scandalous as they were expected. The tomb of Hephaestion, Alexander the Great's lifelong companion and lover, who's death some claimed had caused the Conqueror of the World to die from grief barely six months later. The Melbourne-based Inspector was only peripherally involved, and he could already hear the screams of outrage and denial echoing from Hobart to Helenski.

Matters involving Phryne tended to have that effect, somehow.

Jack stared up at the canvas ceiling, as it he could see through it to the stats beyond, though he spoke to the woman wrapped in his arms. "You realise that if you could barely tell me the reason for marrying the Maha Raja, there's going to need to be some judicious editing in what we reveal to the public over this."

Phryne's haughty scoff was as expected as it was understandable and annoying. "Historians. All kinds of evidence that Hephaestion was blatantly Alexander the Great's lover, including contemporary accounts, and they still try to claim that it's merely friendship."

He couldn't help the faint smile that crept across his face, carding his fingers through her dark hair. "What was that quote about them? The one that nearly made Dot pass out?"

There was a kind of quiet pride in that he'd managed to render her without a ready comeback, even if only for a short while. "Hm? Oh, 'Alexander was only defeated once, and that was by Hephaestion's thighs'. I memorised it to scandalise Aunt Penelope."

Miss Fisher would do exactly that, and for exactly such a reason. "And now we have this."

She nodded, snuggling a little closer. "Of course, with the cave collapsed, I doubt that there will be many people making pilgrimages to check. Besides, I doubt that the government will be too thrilled to have British Scholars running around after they've finally gained their independence."

Inspector Thompson was occasionally annoyed that everyone and their mother considered themselves superior to him. At times like these, he was profoundly grateful that politics was (mostly) someone else's problem. "Then what will you say? You know the papers will ask at least once."

Phryne shrugged, the motion doing interesting things to her bare chest, and Jack struggled to keep his mind on their conversation. "Something about a secret desert bride, perhaps. The news will lap it up and forget just as quickly, and the scholarly journals will insist on proof before they publish anything."

And then life could go back to normal, at least until the next mystery, murder or disaster came calling, at least. "I look forward to it."

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A/N: I adored Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries, and the movie was absolute perfection. I only had one objection: that after an entire movie of build-up, and in the face of historical evidence, the tomb belonged to some nameless 'Desert Bride', rather than the person whose death caused Alexander to have an extremely well-documented breakdown. Thus, this fic.

For those following 'Stand By Your Friends', it isn't abandoned, I've just been useless about updating it here.

As ever, reviews and constructive criticism is much appreciated.

Thanks,

Nat