elen_nare: (elen)
Title: Catch More Flies
Fandom: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries (TV)
Rating: G
Length: 721 words
Content notes: set during season 2, before "Blood at the Wheel".
Author notes: For the 'honey' challenge at fan_flashworks. Also for my trope_bingo "fluff" square - this is pretty much pure fluff. I have no regrets ;)
Summary: “Well, you know the saying, ‘you catch more flies with honey than vinegar’,” Phryne replied teasingly. “And I can be very persuasive.”

Jack Robinson found himself looking at Phryne Fisher with an all-too-familiar mixture of annoyance and admiration. She smirked back at him as she perched on the edge of his desk, waiting to hear his reaction.

“So Tom Anderson suddenly decided to tell you the truth about his whereabouts the night his father was murdered? Just like that?”

“What’s so unbelievable?” Phryne asked, with her best butter-wouldn’t-melt look.

“He’s been in for questioning twice and refused to say a word,” Jack grumbled. “As you know perfectly well, since I let you sit in.”

“Well, you know the saying, ‘you catch more flies with honey than vinegar’,” Phryne replied teasingly. “And I can be very persuasive.”

“You do have some unfair advantages, Miss Fisher,” Jack muttered, recalling the way Anderson had looked at Phryne from the first moment she walked into the room.

He immediately regretted his words as Phryne looked at him, eyebrows raised. He knew that expression all too well, that wicked glint that appeared in her eyes whenever someone gave her an opening. It was a look he much preferred to see directed at their suspects, not at him.

“Unfair advantages? What would those be, Inspector?” she asked, leaning forward so that her long scarf almost - but not quite - touched him.

“No rules and regulations to obey, no superiors to answer to, no public to placate,” Jack listed, talking as rapidly as he could think of new items, in the hope of distracting her.

The quirk of Phryne’s lips seemed to say all too clearly that she could guess those advantages hadn’t been the ones uppermost on his mind, but - to his great relief - she didn’t pursue it.

“I think we need to take another look at our crime scene,” she said instead. “I’ll even give you a lift, so you can’t claim my car is another unfair advantage.”

“No, thank you,” Jack said firmly. “I’ll take the police car - ”

“The one you sent Constable Collins out in to gather witness statements?” Phryne retorted smoothly. “Come along, Jack. There’s no time to waste.”

Rising from the desk, she walked out without turning back to see if he was following. She knew perfectly well he would - and, after a few seconds spent glaring at his desk and trying to think of any other option, he did, pausing only to snatch his hat and coat from the coat rack. Emerging from the station, he found Phryne already seated in the driver’s seat of the Hispano-Suiza. She grinned wickedly as she saw him.

“I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ll let me drive?” he asked, without much hope.

Phryne shook her head. “No-one drives my car but me, surely you know that by now. Stop stalling and hop in!”

“If you break the speed limit, I will arrest you,” Jack threatened, his voice sour as he made his way reluctantly to the passenger door.

“What did I just tell you about honey and vinegar?” Phryne said. “But you needn’t worry, I promise I’ll be good.”

She started the car and pulled away smoothly from the police station, then added, “You’re not vinegar really, you know, though you like to pretend you are sometimes.”

“If you’re trying to distract me from the speed you’re going, I warn you it won’t work, Miss Fisher,” Jack said, with a pointed look at the speedometer.

Phryne huffed in annoyance, but slowed down just a little. Then, as if he hadn’t interrupted, she continued, “You’re… a whisky, perhaps. Something dry, and strong.”

“Well, in that case, you’re not exactly honey,” Jack said thoughtfully. “More like… mead, say. Just honeyed enough to lure in the unwary, before you knock them out.”

Phryne laughed, delighted. “Careful, Jack, that was almost sweet! I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He just smiled, then leaned forward suddenly. “Look at that car up ahead. Does it look familiar to you?”

“It’s Anderson’s!” Phryne exclaimed. “Hold on, Inspector. I’m afraid I’ll have to break that promise… and the speed limit.”

Jack grabbed his hat firmly with one hand and clutched the door handle with the other, doubtful that either grip would be much help. Phryne pressed down on the accelerator, and the car smoothly gathered speed, at a rate that had Jack praying to everything he believed in - and many things he didn’t, just in case.
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