Fourth Floor Common Room, Wednesday Night, With Extra Grey Cells

[onapalebicycle]

Today, the fourth floor common room was not, in fact, the fourth floor common room. It was, rather, the scene of a murder.

The deceased -- a rather unfortunate looking stuffed animal -- lay just there, behind the sofa.

The police were stumped. The police, they saw and they observed, but they did not use the little grey cells, mon amiThe police

Comments

[bamf_tastic]

Kurt wandered into the room to make popcorn and waved at George. "Fandom weird enough for you yet?!" he asked cheerfully.

[onapalebicycle]

"Ah bon, mon ami," Poirot said effusively. "So good of you to help me solve this case. Perhaps you can write the story of how Monsieur Poirot had yet another victory, where the police found themselves fooled. Let us hope there are no red-headed women about to lead you astray, mais non?"

His dear Hastings would not mind the very gentle teasing of his old friend, Poirot.

[bamf_tastic]

Kurt blinked at George, entirely confused. "...But I'm just here for popcorn...?"

[onapalebicycle]

"Come, Hastings," Poirot said, gesturing towards the late, lamented stuffed animal. "Tell me, what do you make of this? Does nothing suggest itself? I find one or two small matters to be extremely curious, mon ami."

[squire_hand]

James wandered in to the common room, a floor above his own, scouting to see if there was anyone cooking, as was so often the case.

Alas, this floor seemed strangely absent of food, but with an abundance of...something else.

"Hello," James said, nodding at the girl.

[Oh, Poirot!]

[onapalebicycle]

"Monsieur Harkshire," Poirot said, his back straightening. "Come. Have a seat. The police have questioned you, mais non? But Poirot, he has questions that the police did not ask."

[squire_hand]

He blinked a few times and tilted his head a bit. "I'm sorry?" he asked.

[onapalebicycle]

"Sit," Poirot said, gesturing towards a chair. "We have time for your apologies later, monsieur. For now, Poirot will ask the questions, and you will tell him everything you know."

Murderers loved to talk. It was one of their fatal flaws.

[didntchewgrass]

Elphaba peered into the common room, and her curiosity got the best of her.

"What are you doing?" she asked, stepping inside.

[onapalebicycle]

"Mademoiselle," Poirot said, folding his hands behind his back. "I am investigating a crime of the utmost seriousness. Your police, they say, 'We do not know who killed this man.' But Hercule Poirot, he is not so easily fooled."

[didntchewgrass]

Elphaba just stared in disbelief. "Have you eaten strange mushrooms, George?" she asked, knowing full well what some Munchkin boys could get up sometimes.

[onapalebicycle]

Monsieur Poirot was taken aback. "I am afraid you are mistaken," he said. "George is the name of my most excellent valet."

His pronunciation softened the G considerably.

"I am Monsieur Hercule Poirot, the great detective. Criminals, they fear Hercule Poirot. They are wise to do so."

Either that, or they feared the mustache.

Don't ask how George got a mustache. Thankfully, it was fake.

[willbethenight]

Bruce didn't often go to the fourth floor common room, but his shirt was missing a button and it wasn't anywhere on the fifth floor. The last time he wore this one, he had been on this floor, so it was time to look for it.

He hadn't expected to walk into a crime scene. "Is something going on here?"

[onapalebicycle]

"But of course," Hercule Poirot said, regarding the newcomer with a professional eye. "The police, they have made no progress in their investigations. Hercule Poirot, he lends his services. Come in, Monsieur. There are questions that Poirot must ask."

[willbethenight]

"... What kind of questions?" Bruce asked, stepping into the room.

[onapalebicycle]

"Alors," Poirot said. "Come. Sit down, my young friend. You will unburden yourself, and permit Papa Poirot to assist you, non?"

Poirot's eyes were kindly, as though he knew that Bruce was concealing something -- not murder! Merely something unfortunate. Confession was good for the soul.

[puppy_fair]

Okay, so, Zack was on his way back up to his room after a bit of evening training with the really nice little (sorry, Arthur) sword that he'd gotten for his birthday, and it was somewhere around the fourth floor that he realized that he was actually a little on the thirsty side. Go figure, working up a sweat made people need to drink water, right? Weird stuff.

In any case, he was peering in to the fourth floor common room and realizing... Hey, there was something going on in there!

"Hiya!"

New faces were awesome.

[onapalebicycle]

Poirot's face brightened considerably at the newest member of the common room.

"Why, if it is not my dear friend Colonel Race," he said warmly. "Mon Dieu, it has been a great many years since we have undertaken the hunt together. How is your excellent wife?"

[puppy_fair]

"Um." It would take Zack just a moment, here. A moment to realize that yes, he was on Fandom Island, and yes, sometimes people went completely insane, even the ones that he didn't know, and that this was totally okay. Gremlins here just didn't make you depressed, that was all.

And now he was all smiles again.

"She's doing great, thanks for asking!"

Perhaps it made Zack into a horrible human being for playing along. But... Hey, this was fun!

[onapalebicycle]

"Bon," Poirot smiled. "Mrs. Race, she is quite charming. Give to her my regards, if you would please. Now. About our present difficulty. Have we identified the late gentleman in question?"