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Season four, episode seven:
The Unicorn and the Wasp - Part Two.
- ~ -
"No alibi's for any of them," Agatha hummed as she paced back and forth with the Doctor, "The secret adversary remains hidden."
Lynnette couldn't care less. Better not to get too attached to avoid getting her heart ripped out again. Rose had been an agonising blow but Jenny, Jenny had been a fatal one. She picked at the skin of her fingers as she watched her two companions mutter to themselves.
"We must look for a motive, use 'the little grey cells.'" Christie hummed as she sipped on her tea, eyes glinting with curiosity.
The Doctor nodded thoughtfully as he shifted, sitting now in the suspect chair, the light from the sun cascading down upon him. At times like this, Lynnette could see him both as an ordinary man and a vengeful god.
"Oh, yes, little grey cells, good old Poirot," The Doctor spoke, "Do you know, we've been to Belgium, yeah. I remember. We were deep in the Ardennes, trying to find Charlemagne. He'd been kidnapped by an insane computer."
"Doctor!" Agatha huffed, he didn't respond, "Doctor!"
"Sorry," He started.
The woman narrowed her eyes as she studied the pair, one sitting in the middle of the room and the other on the very edge. Curiosity pulsed within her, the words he spoke and the way he acted with her were so intense, befuddled in something only the two of them understood.
She furrowed her brows, "Charlemagne lived centuries ago."
He stared at her intensely, looking for a moment like a mocking beast, "I've got a perfect memory."
Lynnette blinked, a small smile twitching at her lips. His eyes sometimes looked black in the dark but now, with the sun, they looked like molten bronze, bright and powerful. Still, she couldn't resist the urge to say, "Good memory, selective memory. Tomato, tomato."
He scoffed, looking at her with warm eyes.
"For such an experienced detective, you missed a big clue," Agatah began.
"What? That bit of paper you nicked out of the fire?" The Doctor responded almost instantly.
"You were looking the other way!"
"Yeah, but I - we - saw your reflection in the glass of the bookcase."
"You crafty man."
And Lynnette was reminded all over again of her ignition attraction to the Doctor when he smirked, smugness pouring out of every part of his expression. His eyes glimmered with mischief,d delighted that he could get one over the brilliant author before him. He caught her gaze with a sharp one of his own and winked, almost as if beckoning her closer.
