Someone targets Aziraphale and Crowley and decides the best way to get back at them is to take one of them out. Permanently. When Aziraphale is injected with a poison deadly to angels, it's a race against time to find the culprit and the antidote that will save his life.

Heaven punished Aziraphale by making him human and taking away his memories. Hell figured this was punishment enough for Crowley and just crossed the job off the list.

Now Crowley is searching for an occult (originally ethereal) artefact that could restore Aziraphale’s angelic nature, but the only man who can help him doesn’t remember who he is.

Aziraphale quickly becomes much more than just intrigued with the enigmatic scholar seeking his assistance, eagerly joining him on a modern-day quest to unravel mysteries and solve riddles to find the artefact. As they spend time together, Aziraphale's feelings develop and he struggles with the fact that his new acquaintance’s heart quite evidently belongs to someone else... or so he believes.

Anthony J Crowley just wants to open his business and live a peaceful life. But when a murder occurs on his street and it becomes apparent nothing will be done about it, Crowley takes it upon himself to solve the mystery. He enlists the help of his next door neighbour, Azira Fell to help solve the mysery but things aren't what they appear.

---

“Fell, you are the most knowledgeable of all the people here and the most likely to listen to me,” Crowley began, leaning forward, his glasses slipping slightly. “I’m guessing you don’t want this anymore than I do?”

Fell was silent for a few seconds, before finally replying. “It’s murder,” he said, a weird tone in his voice, like he was speaking through a sob. “Why would anyone want it?”

“Then help me.”

It’s the trial of the century: bestselling mystery author Anthony Crowley stands accused of poisoning his former lover. He’s got means (arsenic), motive (the breakup), and opportunity (a meeting the night of the murder); his guilt seems certain.

Certain, that is, to everyone except Lord Aziraphale Eastgate, rare book collector and amateur detective. Aziraphale’s not sure why he’s so convinced of Crowley’s innocence, but he’s determined to save him from the gallows--by finding the real murderer before it’s too late.

"They'll leave us alone. For a bit."

One year after the Apocalypse-That-Wasn't, Crowley and Aziraphale have settled into a new routine: keeping an eye on supernatural happenings in the world and preventing Heaven or Hell from interfering too much with humanity. It's not a bad job - despite occasional rains of fish - and if there are some unspoken things they really ought to talk about, well, they have all the time in the world now to get around to that, right?

At least, until the Archangel Raphael turns up on their doorstep looking for help... and it starts to become clear that the world is changing fast, and so are they.

Or: Crowley and Aziraphale start a detective agency. Shenanigans ensue. Slowburn continues. Apparently, there is plot. I have some thoughts about Heaven, Hell, and humanism. There will be stupid jokes and a healthy sprinkling of angst.

Post-End-of-the-World-that-Wasn't, a bored demon sets up a Detective Agency and obviously drags his angel counterpart in to help out. They are tasked with preventing a murder before it happens and set off to the Highlands of Scotland - where, of course, nothing works out quite the way they imagine...

It’s the trial of the century: bestselling mystery author Anthony Crowley stands accused of poisoning his former lover. He’s got means (arsenic), motive (the breakup), and opportunity (a meeting the night of the murder); his guilt seems certain.

Certain, that is, to everyone except Lord Aziraphale Eastgate, rare book collector and amateur detective. Aziraphale’s not sure why he’s so convinced of Crowley’s innocence, but he’s determined to save him from the gallows--by finding the real murderer before it’s too late.

Detective Inspector Crowley is 99.999 percent sure that Aziraphale Fell is a serial killer. The trouble is only that the remaining 0.001 percent are deeply in love with the man… --- In which there is A Murder - rather a lot of them, actually - A Marriage Proposal - just the one - and True Love - whose course runs less not-smooth than it takes a sharp left turn, loops a couple times, and doubles back on itself, before crashing straight into a wall. (Dont mind the metaphor. It still ends well. Promise.)

Anthony J Crowley just wants to open his business and live a peaceful life. But when a murder occurs on his street and it becomes apparent nothing will be done about it, Crowley takes it upon himself to solve the mystery. He enlists the help of his next door neighbour, Azira Fell to help solve the mysery but things aren't what they appear.

---

“Fell, you are the most knowledgeable of all the people here and the most likely to listen to me,” Crowley began, leaning forward, his glasses slipping slightly. “I’m guessing you don’t want this anymore than I do?”

Fell was silent for a few seconds, before finally replying. “It’s murder,” he said, a weird tone in his voice, like he was speaking through a sob. “Why would anyone want it?”

“Then help me.”

In light of the murder of six UK nationals at a resort in Calais, France, D.I Fell and D.I Crowley are sent there to catch the seemingly invisible killer.

The only pickle, really, is that they have to pretend to be married.

Which is fine. It’s not like Aziraphale sometimes wants to smother Crowley with a pillow or kiss him senseless, or anything.

When Mr. Cortese and Mr. Harrison stumble across a deceased servant, there can only be one culprit. The Antichrist may be seven, but that's surely old enough to awaken some of his darkest powers.

Or is it? It's up to one demon and one angel to find out.

Victorian AU. A celebration at an aristocrat’s castle turns deadly with a murder most foul. Paranormal encounters at every dark turn, humans going carnal left and right, and if that stupid Duke puts his hands on Aziraphale one more bloody time, Crowley was going to lose it.

-Or-

Circa 1880's Victorian Era. Crowley's just woken up from his century nap and the world has changed, including Aziraphale.