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heroescutiesTitle: The Adventure of the Famous Fiddler (2/6) [Previous Chapters]
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia \
Genre: Adventure/Mystery/Romance
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: America/England
Word Count: 2,033
Summary: This story truly begins when I first came into the knowledge of not only America’s fiddling exploits, but also when I was presented with the mysterious circumstances of a famous fiddler’s disappearance. [England POV]
Chapter 2 Summary: I pulled back and met his wide blue eyes with my own. “I will find the answers, America. We won’t leave until we have an answer, good or bad.”
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sillyputtie for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
help_haiti. She asked for A mystery fic. Sherlock Holmesy type (established relationship would be love). So yes. Sherlock Holmes-style domestic-USUK it is!
Our quest for justice began by eluding police detection, which was rather simple given their preoccupation in investigating the lake, and was followed up by breaking and entering. America had argued that we should work with the police, but I assured him that all great detective work is done without their hindrance. That and, as America quite agreed, it was best if we didn’t have to use our FBI and SIS clearance allotted to us as nations if we didn’t have to.
And so, that is how we found ourselves prying open the kitchen window of Robert Chafley’s home. I had procured a small toolkit for such adventures and with its aid, had managed to pop the latch on the windowsill. Stowing that away in my back pocket, I turned to America.
“All right now, who in first?”
“I’ll lift you in first,” he offered, reaching over to give my hand a squeeze. “Really England, you have no idea how thankful I am that you’ve offered to do this for me.”
I flushed in embarrassment, but regained my proper composure and cleared my throat. Now was not the time for sentimentalities. “It’s the least I can do, America. Right then, let’s get in there and see what we can find.”
With his excessive strength, America wasted not a moment’s time in lifting me up to the windowsill. I clambered in, balancing precariously atop the sink, and reached back out through the window to aid America in. Once I got a good grip on his forearms, it was only a matter of seconds before his entire front half was in my lap where I crouched on the countertop.
“Well, hello there, England,” he said with a cheeky grin.
I frowned and pushed up his dislodged glasses. “I see you’re already in better spirits.”
As I jumped down from the sink to the floor, America pulled himself fully in the window and shut it after himself. Swinging his legs around, he dangled them over the counter’s edge. There was a hint of seriousness to his eyes again.
“Look, I’m still worried about Mr. Chafley. Really worried, you know? But…” He puffed up his cheeks and huffed out a breath. “I’m just certain that whatever the outcome, we’ll do our damnedest to bring him justice. And that’s the best I can hope for.”
Giving the room a quick glance around (and making note of the placement of the table, the stove, the refrigerator and the doorway), I listened hard to see if anyone was inside the home. On not hearing a single noise outside the ticking of a distant clock, I nodded to myself. America deserved this much, to bolster his sinking mood, for it just wasn’t like his smile to not quite quirk up all the way and for his eyes not to sparkle with that unashamed hope for the future. As ridiculous as it might sound, I knew him far too well not to notice that he was a bit off.
“Come here you,” I mumbled, closing the space between us and wrapping my arms snugly around his back. He started at the contact, but quickly eased into my hold, leaning down from his perch in the sink, his swinging legs coming to a standstill.
“England?”
“It’s all right to worry,” I elucidated, rubbing circles over the tense muscles of his back. “You don’t have to fake being cheerful, and you don’t have to act like everything’s going to be okay. Someone you care about is missing and there’s not a single answer as to why. I can’t promise you that we’ll find the answer you want, but…” I pulled back and met his wide blue eyes with my own. “I will find the answers, America. We won’t leave until we have an answer, good or bad.”
His tenative smile softened at that, and I wasn’t too surprised to find myself being tugged forward into a grateful kiss. As he pulled back, his eyes darted to the floor and he mumbled, “Thanks. That’s…that’s good to know.”
I trailed my hand down his arm and gave his hand a squeeze. “Are you going to be up to this or should I let you gather your thoughts?”
Pausing a moment, America frowned as he considered the options. With a determined sigh, he jumped down from the sink and squeezed my hand back. “I’ll help you find those answers, England. Good or bad, I…I want to know.”
We twined our fingers together, sharing a look and an understanding smile between us, before we ventured forth from the kitchen into the hallway. I didn’t know what to expect or where to begin to look for clues, but one thing was quite certain either way- we were in this together, whatever the outcome might be. And simply put, that was the best place to start.
-----------------------------------------
We made a general sweep of the house, ensuring that we were indeed alone and looking for anything that seemed out of place. That's when America pinpointed our first, and perhaps best, clue. Robert Chafley's favorite fiddle was nowhere in the house to be found. Certainly, there were plenty of other fiddles, hence why the police probably didn't take notice; but America emphasized to me how Mr. Chafley always favored this specific fiddle and that it was, coincidentally, the one missing.
"You should have seen it. It was gorgeous. Hand-carved, ebony chinrest and pegs, spruce top, flamed maple body. And that's not even talking about the sound of it. Just...it was so awesome, England. If it's missing, something is definitely up."
I pondered this fact over, frowning to myself in thought. "It's not his most valuable one, is it?"
America shook his head in the negative. "Nope, that's this one or well, that one too." He remarked, pointing out two of the fiddles in the room. "Mr. Chafley's favorite was a gift from his parents, one of a kind, so it's more...sentimental value."
Not wanting to give America false hope, I tucked away the answers that this had given me. America noted my expression though, and I knew I had to provide him with some sort of answer at the moment. I chose to state the more obvious one. "I doubt it was stolen for money then, so we can put that conclusion aside."
"Yeah..." He mumbled, setting down the fiddle he held. "I really hope he isn't being held hostage by a super villain..."
I didn't have the heart to mock his silly comic-inspired theory, he was just too upset. So instead, I placed a reassuring hand on his arm and caught his eye. "Well, if he is, he's lucky then." He looked shocked, but I pressed on. "Because he's got such a great hero as a student of his that would surely save him, right?"
America beamed at that. "Yeah! That's right!" His arms wrapped around me in a quick hug as he proudly exclaimed. "If he needs a hero, I'm just the person for the job."
Chuckling, I let my eyes drift elsewhere in the room. "All right then, hero. Let's see what else we can find that the police haven't noticed."
And with an added bounce back in his step, America led the way down the hallway to the next room.
------------------------------
Our investigation began in the bedroom, where I closely observed any and all idiosyncrasies with the surroundings in order to gather some knowledge to further support or negate my current hunch. The first thing that caught my eye was the rather large closet, with its doors open wide and several bare hangers dangling inside amidst other clothing. Truthfully, it could have been the police who had left it open, but that wasn’t what drew my attention the most.
“America, would you say Mr. Chafley is an overly organized person or a bit haphazard?” I queried, drawing nearer to the empty hangers and seeing what I could make of them.
America came up behind me. “Well, I’d say he’s kind of a neat freak. Not like he dusts obsessively or something, but he always insisted on me using a coaster when I had a drink or putting certain books and things right back where he pulled them out from.”
“What do you make of this then?” I asked gesturing to the hangers. “A bit strange that he doesn’t have all the empty hangers gathered at one end?”
Pressing against my back to peer into the closet, America pointed out something else I’d already noticed. “Yeah, I’d say so. Considering it looks like he keeps his hangers grouped by type- I bet he’d be that nitpicky. Come to think of it, England, I bet you two would get along.”
I shoved feebly at the hand that rested now on my shoulder. “Hush, you.”
But it was true. The hangers allotted for slacks were all kept to the right, while shirt hangers with notches and those without were grouped separately towards the left. A collection of empty hangers, assumedly from dirty clothing yet to be washed, was gathered on the far left.
This made the six empty hangers left scattered throughout seem definitely out of place, and also, supported my current theory about what had become of Robert Chafley. America was frowning at the hangers, obviously trying to gather the same knowledge from them that I had.
“So maybe he grabbed some clothing because he was leaving, or was being forced to leave, in a hurry?”
I turned to face him and a smile tugged at my lips. “Quite. But that definitely means that…”
The sound of a door creaking open hushed my words immediately, and I hastily exchanged an urgent look with America. He’d heard it too, and we both glanced around for a way to quickly remove ourselves from sight.
In here? America mouthed, indicating the closet we were inspecting.
No. It’s too obvious. I mouthed back, snatching America’s wrist in my hand. I could hear footsteps now in the hallway and it was only going to be a matter of moments before whoever this was found us standing here gadding about.
Think, England. Think. Where would they be least likely to look in this room that can fit two able bodied men?
That’s when I spotted the bed frame, the underside of the bed being hidden by a ruffle around the bottom. Without a moment to lose, I pulled America with me towards the bed and I knelt to feel beneath it. Thankfully, it wasn’t solid; and even luckier in our favor, it seemed to be completely devoid of any sort of storage under it as well.
“Come on,” I hissed under my breath. America nodded and scrambled under the bed with me, both of us stifling coughs from the clouds of dust we stirred up.
It seemed, as America had noted, that Mr. Chafley might be organized, but he wasn’t so nitpicky that the underside of his bed was cleaned often. In fact, I would chance a guess that he’d not cleaned it in several years, for it was downright filthy, coated in dust bunnies and cobwebs, all of which was making it rather difficult for us to repress our coughing and sneezing.
Clutching America close to my side so he could stifle a cough against my chest, I heard the muffled voices drawing closer. As quietly as I could manage, I whispered in his ear.
“Well now, we’ve gotten ourselves in quite the predicament, haven’t we?”
And through the blue fabric-hued lighting that permeated the dusty alcove, I saw him quirk a smile that was nearer to being his usual smile than before. Perhaps the clue in the hangers had given him the same hope as it had me?
Quietly, so quietly I almost mistook it for a gush of wind outside, America whispered back.
“If I have to get into trouble with someone, I wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else but you, England.”
He gripped my hand then, and I gave it a squeeze; both of us holding our breaths as the footsteps entered the bedroom and came to a pause right above the bed.
Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia \
Genre: Adventure/Mystery/Romance
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: America/England
Word Count: 2,033
Summary: This story truly begins when I first came into the knowledge of not only America’s fiddling exploits, but also when I was presented with the mysterious circumstances of a famous fiddler’s disappearance. [England POV]
Chapter 2 Summary: I pulled back and met his wide blue eyes with my own. “I will find the answers, America. We won’t leave until we have an answer, good or bad.”
Notes: Written for
sillyputtie for help_haiti. She asked for A mystery fic. Sherlock Holmesy type (established relationship would be love). So yes. Sherlock Holmes-style domestic-USUK it is!Our quest for justice began by eluding police detection, which was rather simple given their preoccupation in investigating the lake, and was followed up by breaking and entering. America had argued that we should work with the police, but I assured him that all great detective work is done without their hindrance. That and, as America quite agreed, it was best if we didn’t have to use our FBI and SIS clearance allotted to us as nations if we didn’t have to.
And so, that is how we found ourselves prying open the kitchen window of Robert Chafley’s home. I had procured a small toolkit for such adventures and with its aid, had managed to pop the latch on the windowsill. Stowing that away in my back pocket, I turned to America.
“All right now, who in first?”
“I’ll lift you in first,” he offered, reaching over to give my hand a squeeze. “Really England, you have no idea how thankful I am that you’ve offered to do this for me.”
I flushed in embarrassment, but regained my proper composure and cleared my throat. Now was not the time for sentimentalities. “It’s the least I can do, America. Right then, let’s get in there and see what we can find.”
With his excessive strength, America wasted not a moment’s time in lifting me up to the windowsill. I clambered in, balancing precariously atop the sink, and reached back out through the window to aid America in. Once I got a good grip on his forearms, it was only a matter of seconds before his entire front half was in my lap where I crouched on the countertop.
“Well, hello there, England,” he said with a cheeky grin.
I frowned and pushed up his dislodged glasses. “I see you’re already in better spirits.”
As I jumped down from the sink to the floor, America pulled himself fully in the window and shut it after himself. Swinging his legs around, he dangled them over the counter’s edge. There was a hint of seriousness to his eyes again.
“Look, I’m still worried about Mr. Chafley. Really worried, you know? But…” He puffed up his cheeks and huffed out a breath. “I’m just certain that whatever the outcome, we’ll do our damnedest to bring him justice. And that’s the best I can hope for.”
Giving the room a quick glance around (and making note of the placement of the table, the stove, the refrigerator and the doorway), I listened hard to see if anyone was inside the home. On not hearing a single noise outside the ticking of a distant clock, I nodded to myself. America deserved this much, to bolster his sinking mood, for it just wasn’t like his smile to not quite quirk up all the way and for his eyes not to sparkle with that unashamed hope for the future. As ridiculous as it might sound, I knew him far too well not to notice that he was a bit off.
“Come here you,” I mumbled, closing the space between us and wrapping my arms snugly around his back. He started at the contact, but quickly eased into my hold, leaning down from his perch in the sink, his swinging legs coming to a standstill.
“England?”
“It’s all right to worry,” I elucidated, rubbing circles over the tense muscles of his back. “You don’t have to fake being cheerful, and you don’t have to act like everything’s going to be okay. Someone you care about is missing and there’s not a single answer as to why. I can’t promise you that we’ll find the answer you want, but…” I pulled back and met his wide blue eyes with my own. “I will find the answers, America. We won’t leave until we have an answer, good or bad.”
His tenative smile softened at that, and I wasn’t too surprised to find myself being tugged forward into a grateful kiss. As he pulled back, his eyes darted to the floor and he mumbled, “Thanks. That’s…that’s good to know.”
I trailed my hand down his arm and gave his hand a squeeze. “Are you going to be up to this or should I let you gather your thoughts?”
Pausing a moment, America frowned as he considered the options. With a determined sigh, he jumped down from the sink and squeezed my hand back. “I’ll help you find those answers, England. Good or bad, I…I want to know.”
We twined our fingers together, sharing a look and an understanding smile between us, before we ventured forth from the kitchen into the hallway. I didn’t know what to expect or where to begin to look for clues, but one thing was quite certain either way- we were in this together, whatever the outcome might be. And simply put, that was the best place to start.
-----------------------------------------
We made a general sweep of the house, ensuring that we were indeed alone and looking for anything that seemed out of place. That's when America pinpointed our first, and perhaps best, clue. Robert Chafley's favorite fiddle was nowhere in the house to be found. Certainly, there were plenty of other fiddles, hence why the police probably didn't take notice; but America emphasized to me how Mr. Chafley always favored this specific fiddle and that it was, coincidentally, the one missing.
"You should have seen it. It was gorgeous. Hand-carved, ebony chinrest and pegs, spruce top, flamed maple body. And that's not even talking about the sound of it. Just...it was so awesome, England. If it's missing, something is definitely up."
I pondered this fact over, frowning to myself in thought. "It's not his most valuable one, is it?"
America shook his head in the negative. "Nope, that's this one or well, that one too." He remarked, pointing out two of the fiddles in the room. "Mr. Chafley's favorite was a gift from his parents, one of a kind, so it's more...sentimental value."
Not wanting to give America false hope, I tucked away the answers that this had given me. America noted my expression though, and I knew I had to provide him with some sort of answer at the moment. I chose to state the more obvious one. "I doubt it was stolen for money then, so we can put that conclusion aside."
"Yeah..." He mumbled, setting down the fiddle he held. "I really hope he isn't being held hostage by a super villain..."
I didn't have the heart to mock his silly comic-inspired theory, he was just too upset. So instead, I placed a reassuring hand on his arm and caught his eye. "Well, if he is, he's lucky then." He looked shocked, but I pressed on. "Because he's got such a great hero as a student of his that would surely save him, right?"
America beamed at that. "Yeah! That's right!" His arms wrapped around me in a quick hug as he proudly exclaimed. "If he needs a hero, I'm just the person for the job."
Chuckling, I let my eyes drift elsewhere in the room. "All right then, hero. Let's see what else we can find that the police haven't noticed."
And with an added bounce back in his step, America led the way down the hallway to the next room.
------------------------------
Our investigation began in the bedroom, where I closely observed any and all idiosyncrasies with the surroundings in order to gather some knowledge to further support or negate my current hunch. The first thing that caught my eye was the rather large closet, with its doors open wide and several bare hangers dangling inside amidst other clothing. Truthfully, it could have been the police who had left it open, but that wasn’t what drew my attention the most.
“America, would you say Mr. Chafley is an overly organized person or a bit haphazard?” I queried, drawing nearer to the empty hangers and seeing what I could make of them.
America came up behind me. “Well, I’d say he’s kind of a neat freak. Not like he dusts obsessively or something, but he always insisted on me using a coaster when I had a drink or putting certain books and things right back where he pulled them out from.”
“What do you make of this then?” I asked gesturing to the hangers. “A bit strange that he doesn’t have all the empty hangers gathered at one end?”
Pressing against my back to peer into the closet, America pointed out something else I’d already noticed. “Yeah, I’d say so. Considering it looks like he keeps his hangers grouped by type- I bet he’d be that nitpicky. Come to think of it, England, I bet you two would get along.”
I shoved feebly at the hand that rested now on my shoulder. “Hush, you.”
But it was true. The hangers allotted for slacks were all kept to the right, while shirt hangers with notches and those without were grouped separately towards the left. A collection of empty hangers, assumedly from dirty clothing yet to be washed, was gathered on the far left.
This made the six empty hangers left scattered throughout seem definitely out of place, and also, supported my current theory about what had become of Robert Chafley. America was frowning at the hangers, obviously trying to gather the same knowledge from them that I had.
“So maybe he grabbed some clothing because he was leaving, or was being forced to leave, in a hurry?”
I turned to face him and a smile tugged at my lips. “Quite. But that definitely means that…”
The sound of a door creaking open hushed my words immediately, and I hastily exchanged an urgent look with America. He’d heard it too, and we both glanced around for a way to quickly remove ourselves from sight.
In here? America mouthed, indicating the closet we were inspecting.
No. It’s too obvious. I mouthed back, snatching America’s wrist in my hand. I could hear footsteps now in the hallway and it was only going to be a matter of moments before whoever this was found us standing here gadding about.
Think, England. Think. Where would they be least likely to look in this room that can fit two able bodied men?
That’s when I spotted the bed frame, the underside of the bed being hidden by a ruffle around the bottom. Without a moment to lose, I pulled America with me towards the bed and I knelt to feel beneath it. Thankfully, it wasn’t solid; and even luckier in our favor, it seemed to be completely devoid of any sort of storage under it as well.
“Come on,” I hissed under my breath. America nodded and scrambled under the bed with me, both of us stifling coughs from the clouds of dust we stirred up.
It seemed, as America had noted, that Mr. Chafley might be organized, but he wasn’t so nitpicky that the underside of his bed was cleaned often. In fact, I would chance a guess that he’d not cleaned it in several years, for it was downright filthy, coated in dust bunnies and cobwebs, all of which was making it rather difficult for us to repress our coughing and sneezing.
Clutching America close to my side so he could stifle a cough against my chest, I heard the muffled voices drawing closer. As quietly as I could manage, I whispered in his ear.
“Well now, we’ve gotten ourselves in quite the predicament, haven’t we?”
And through the blue fabric-hued lighting that permeated the dusty alcove, I saw him quirk a smile that was nearer to being his usual smile than before. Perhaps the clue in the hangers had given him the same hope as it had me?
Quietly, so quietly I almost mistook it for a gush of wind outside, America whispered back.
“If I have to get into trouble with someone, I wouldn’t want it to be with anyone else but you, England.”
He gripped my hand then, and I gave it a squeeze; both of us holding our breaths as the footsteps entered the bedroom and came to a pause right above the bed.
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no subject
Date: 2010-04-15 06:00 am (UTC)Oh gosh I am SO happy that you're continuing this! I love how the writing style is SO Sherlock Holmes XD. You did an awesome job on this chapter and I can't wait for more!
<333
no subject
Date: 2010-06-17 10:00 pm (UTC)Next chapter's up now ^^
no subject
Date: 2010-04-15 06:35 am (UTC)Wanna see more ~
no subject
Date: 2010-06-17 10:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-15 06:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-17 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-15 02:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-06-17 10:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-15 05:47 pm (UTC)GAH A cliffhanger! I'm so curious to know who is in the room and if they manage to escape...just wow. This was an awesome chapter! You did a great job keeping the flow going and the narration is still so epic and so well done. Awesome job and I can't wait to see what happens next! ♥
no subject
Date: 2010-04-16 11:41 am (UTC)Americas last line was so cute 8l<3 my god~
no subject
Date: 2010-06-17 10:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-16 06:13 pm (UTC)I'm usually pretty doubtful when it comes to fics with first person narrative, but this is absolutely great and suits this fic so well! I'm so excited about it and about this fic, completely hooked already! The interaction between America and England makes me smile goofily and it's just so adorable and precious <3. I love so much every small and big gestures of affection they're doing to each other; all the hugging and kissing and >u< !
AND CLIFFHANGER OMGKDSFJL oh god! I can't wait for the next chapter *o* you really know how to leave a chapter in an exciting spot! Andkfsjl hiding under a bed = so much LOVE <3 !!
no subject
Date: 2010-06-17 10:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-16 09:41 pm (UTC)I'm so sorry it took me so long to read it, but it's wonderful! Thank you so much! They're just so cute and I just love seeing them interact as they're trying to solve this case. I can't wait for more. <33
no subject
Date: 2010-06-17 10:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-04-19 11:17 am (UTC)It's very sweet how England keeps reassuring America, and I love the way he noticed something was wrong. The cliffhanger at the end was also awesome; I really hope they don't get caught there.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-17 10:17 pm (UTC)As for whether they get caught there or not...the next chapter that's now up shall reveal that XD