Keep in mind that French is not my first language. I'm only in my second year of learning it, but I think I've done alright. Hopefully. For those of you who do speak French fluently, be kind. I realise that there may be some issues with grammar or spelling, but I tried my best. If there are any glaring errors, please let me know, though. ;)

~Saturday Night, 22:30~

Sherlock ran down the hall into the bedroom, Cora following close behind him.

His heart dropped when he saw John on the floor, Doctor Lawrence pounding his chest with his fists and Mrs. Hudson tearfully breathing into him.

"What happened?!" Sherlock cried as he slid onto his knees.

"Cardiac... Arrest..." Lawrence said in between pumps. "Breathe."

Mrs. Hudson blew two breaths into John.

"Move!" Sherlock commanded her and Doctor Lawrence.

"Mister Holmes, Doctor Watson is dying! We don't have time to-"

Sherlock shoved him aside and took a place beside John, immediately pumping on his chest.

"Come on, you idiot," Sherlock mumbled. "Don't do this."

After thirty, he breathed twice into John.

God, those lips were still warm.

Barely.

"This wasn't meant to happen," he muttered. "We were meant to leave for home and order Chinese takeout. Perhaps watch some crap telly."

Two breaths.

"Come on, John Watson. Get your heart beating again. You've never given up before, and you shouldn't now. Not when we have our entire lives that need living."

Two more breaths.

He wasn't responding.

"Sherlock, dear," Mrs. Hudson said, teary-eyed.

"No!" the detective screamed at her. "He'll live!"

"He's right," Cora said. "He will."

She sat on the other side of John's body.

"I'll do the chest compressions," she said.

Without another word, she started pumping on John's chest.

"Please John. Please come back," Sherlock said.

He breathed into him twice more.

"For me."

With a shuddering gasp and cough, John sprung to life.

"John?" Sherlock said.

He lifted John's torso off the ground, taking care to support his head, as the doctor tried taking deep breaths.

"Don't... kiss me..." John panted.

Sherlock closed his eyes, relieved.

"John... don't do that again."

"Can't... help it," John chuckled. "But if... it gets you... worked up like this..."

"John, if you die ever again, I will use your kettle to store my collection of severed phalanges."

John narrowed his eyes.

"Do it and I will haunt your arse."

"The notion that spectral beings could even exist-"

"Shut up," John said. "Please."

He brought an arm around Sherlock's shoulders and pulled himself into a sitting position.

"Oh Jesus," he moaned. "Oh God. I might choose to go into cardiac arrest again."

"Let me help," Doctor Lawrence and Mrs. Hudson said almost simultaneously.

"I'm fine," John said.

"It's funny, John: every time you say that, you seem to get worse and worse. Now be quiet and lay back down."

"Sherlock-"

"Your heart stopped, and we nearly failed to restart it. If you don't lay down and rest, I will strap you down to the bed."

John blushed.

"Please don't phrase it like that."

Lawrence and Mrs. Hudson took John from Sherlock's arms and helped him onto the bed.

"Keep a close eye on him," Sherlock said to them both. "I have a culprit to unmask."

"You solved it?" John asked.

He sounded on the verge of sleep again.

Sherlock sat by John and patted his thigh.

"I'll tell you about it when you're well again."

"I'll stay to help," Cora said.

"No," Sherlock stopped her. "I need you with me."

She nodded obediently.

"Okay."

"I've got a signal on my phone!" Doctor Lawrence said. "I'll phone an ambulance."

"And Scotland Yard, while you're at it," Sherlock said.

He stood up.

"Come along, Cora. We've got work to do."

~Saturday Night, 22:50~

"What have you been giving her?" Sherlock asked Cora as they went down the stairs.

"Arsenic," she said. "They should be in my medicine cabinet."

As they entered her bedroom, they found that though the cook was undisturbed, the gun that had been lying next to her had disappeared.

"Oh God," Cora whispered. "We're in trouble."

Sherlock nodded and motioned towards the bathroom.

"Grab the tablets. Then run downstairs and wait outside for the ambulance and the police."

Cora quickly darted into the bathroom and rummaged around a bit before coming back out, empty-handed.

"They aren't there!"

"Of course not," a feminine voice said as a gun was cocked.

The woman had a French accent.

"Oh Lord," Sherlock muttered. "You've got to be joking. It was you the whole time?"

Fiona, the maid, chuckled waving the gun in Sherlock's face.

"Well, Monsieur Holmes, I can tell that you fell for my façade; une demoiselle en détresse. Convincing, n'est-ce pas?"

"You are quite the actress," Sherlock said. "Bravo."

"Fiona, what have you done?" Cora asked.

Fiona steadied the gun.

"Allow me to explain: After you told me about Arthur's liaison with Mademoiselle Elizabeth, I was très furieuse. I tried talking to him, but he simply brushed me off and said: "There is no problem, Fiona. You are making an issue out of nothing. You are being très ridicule". Il n'y a pas de problème, he tells me. He then breaks our relationship off! Vous imaginez! He is unfaithful, and then he leaves! I was désespéré! All I could do was cry. And then I thought to myself: "C'est facile! Je vais le tuer lui!""

"Yes. How perfectly sane," Sherlock said sarcastically.

"You know French?" Cora asked him.

He shrugged.

"Only a bit."

"Fermez vos gueules!" the maid yelled. "Alors... I remembered the arsenic poison Mademoiselle had mentioned. And I thought: "C'est parfait!" At the party I would do it. But then you showed up. You and the doctor. I recognised your faces from Mademoiselle's website she likes. I remembered you two were des détectives. So I had to do something assez drastique."

"You poisoned John," Sherlock growled.

"Mais oui. It would make you less focused, I thought."

"It certainly helped stall for time."

"Oui. C'est vrai. I slipped three tablets in Arthur's drink and two in the doctor's. When Arthur ran upstairs with an upset belly, I waited until the right time to leave. You gave me that, Monsieur."

Sherlock grimaced.

"He was on the floor, weak. I used this to my advantage and began to choke him. Not being strong, he easily died. It felt fantastique, Monsieur."

"You monster," Cora said with absolute disgust.

"Moi? Non. Surely you mean Arthur. L'inceste. Beurk," she gagged. "But then the chef caught me. She began becoming crazy, almost screaming. So I pushed her into the bedroom and, with the pistol in Mademoiselle's bureau, put a pillow to her head and boom! I then locked the door, opened the window, and threw my shoes down. I climbed down, and ran to the front door. And then I screamed." She sighed. "Alors, now you understand. I should shoot you now."

"Wait!" Sherlock said.

Fiona paused.

"Oui?"

"Vatican Cameos!" he shouted. The words echoed throughout the house.

Fiona and Cora both stared confusedly at him, not really sure what to make of those two words.

Then Cora's eyes lit up, showing she had caught on.

"Quoi?" Fiona exclaimed.

"Never mind," Sherlock told her.

Mrs. Hudson was bound to understand. She would grab help.

"I do not have the time for this!" Fiona cried. "I have to kill you now!"

She prepared to pull the trigger, when suddenly...

"Hey!"

Sherlock's eyes widened in shock when he saw John standing at the door, gun pointed at Fiona's head.

Fiona turned around to meet the eye of the barrel.

John licked his lips.

"Only I can point a gun at Sherlock Holmes."

And he fired.

And Fiona went down.

John dropped his gun and his knees buckled. Immediately, Sherlock dove to catch him as Doctor Lawrence grabbed him from behind, and they both stood him upright against the wall.

"You idiot," Sherlock said to John. "You could have gotten hurt."

John raised an eyebrow.

"A bit late for that, yeah?" He lurched forward in pain.

"What the hell has happened?" Mrs. Williams's voice sounded from downstairs.

The sounds of the other guests approached as well.

And the sound of sirens.

"Thank Christ," John muttered. "I think I'll pass out again, now."

And he did just that.

"Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock called as he, with the help of Lawrence, began to lower the doctor to the floor.

"I've got it," Cora assured him. "I'll let them know we're here."