Accusation
Jul. 31st, 2008 07:25 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
custodianTitle: Accusation
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Notes/Summary: In which Ianto maintains his composure in the face of overwhelming odds. Written for the July 27 prompt at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
horizonssing.
“The butler did it.”
“Sorry?” Jack asked, his confusion plain.
“The butler,” Ianto repeated. “Probably here in the library, though it’s possible he did it in the study and moved the body here shortly thereafter.”
Jack snickered. “What is this, Cluedo?”
“Think about it,” Ianto said with a shrug. “He’s pleading shape shifters – Zygons, actually – but there’s no trace of Skarasen lactic fluid anywhere. There is, however, evidence of a struggle, a luminol reaction on the carpet, and blood on that candlestick. Oh and we’re about 10 hours from Loch Ness.”
“And the residue?”
Ianto looked down at his PDA. “Wheat starch, mainly.”
“Huh.” Jack rubbed the back of his head. “And you really think the butler killed him?”
“In the library, with the candlestick, yes.” Ianto held Jack's gaze, his expression one of deadly earnest.
Jack pulled his mobile from his coat pocket and dialed a familiar number. “Hey Andy? You have a minute? You’re never going to believe this…”
Disclaimer: Being a bloke who likes to slash pretty men doesn't make me RTD, I don't work for the BBC, and as much as I might like to, I don't own Jack or Ianto or any part of Torchwood. I do, however, order pizza under that name on principle.
Pairings: Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG
Notes/Summary: In which Ianto maintains his composure in the face of overwhelming odds. Written for the July 27 prompt at
horizonssing.“The butler did it.”
“Sorry?” Jack asked, his confusion plain.
“The butler,” Ianto repeated. “Probably here in the library, though it’s possible he did it in the study and moved the body here shortly thereafter.”
Jack snickered. “What is this, Cluedo?”
“Think about it,” Ianto said with a shrug. “He’s pleading shape shifters – Zygons, actually – but there’s no trace of Skarasen lactic fluid anywhere. There is, however, evidence of a struggle, a luminol reaction on the carpet, and blood on that candlestick. Oh and we’re about 10 hours from Loch Ness.”
“And the residue?”
Ianto looked down at his PDA. “Wheat starch, mainly.”
“Huh.” Jack rubbed the back of his head. “And you really think the butler killed him?”
“In the library, with the candlestick, yes.” Ianto held Jack's gaze, his expression one of deadly earnest.
Jack pulled his mobile from his coat pocket and dialed a familiar number. “Hey Andy? You have a minute? You’re never going to believe this…”