Work Text:
The house was quiet, all but for the crackling of the fire. Mr. B and Dot had long since gone to their respective beds, leaving Phryne and Jack in the parlor playing draughts and, when not deep in strategic thought over the game, chatting.
Jack had just about decided on a plan of attack when Phryne inquired, “I’ve been meaning to ask you, was it your knowledge of German or your police work experience that got you into military intelligence?”
It took a moment before his eyes made their way to hers and his expression reminded her of nothing so much as someone hit with a two-by-four. Because she could read him like a book (one she hoped to someday soon read in bed.), she recognized the path of his thought progress. He was shocked that she knew but almost immediately reminded himself that this was the Honorable Phryne Fisher. He then considered denying it and then, again, reminded himself that this was the Honorable Phryne Fisher. At that point, he just decided to accept the inevitable and merely asked, “How did you know?”
Phryne took a slow, triumphant sip of her drink while lowering her eyes. No need to make it obvious that she had been playing a hunch.
“I first started to suspect when you knew to look for lemon writing on that book during the Saul Michaels’ case, but when you knew more about the utilization of ricin in cigarettes than any self-respecting digger would have a few weeks ago, I started putting two and two together.”
There was nothing he could do but laugh. “I can only imagine what we would have done if we’d had you in MI-1!”
Her eyes twinkled with humor. “Too bad that MI-5 got to me first. To be honest, I’d be more interested in what you would have done with me. I’ll make you a promise, Inspector. You share some of those imaginings with me, and I’ll see if I have any of M’Greet’s old outfits still in storage and we can see who gives up military secrets first.”