A little bit human
Chandler sat down at his desk. After briefly looking up to check no one was watching, he began to empty his pockets. Phone, pen, badge, watch, tiger balm. Each item spaced an inch apart, and always in that order. He literally couldn't do his work if it wasn't. It was quite ridiculous, really. Years of training, months of leg work, and weeks of planning, all became useless if his phone wasn't parallel to his pen.
It was like a part of his brain just wouldn't let him get on if things weren't just right. In fact, it was exactly that. He'd hoped the rest of the team hadn't noticed. Miles probably had a fairly good idea, just from barging into his office unannounced when Chandler was counting or tidying but, hopefully, the rest were blind to his eccentricities. For now, anyway.
Chandler was reading through an old case file from the 'Ripper', trying to find anything he could have done better, when the phone rang.
"Chandler. Got a murder for you."
It was Anderson. Straight to the point, as usual.
"Great, where?"
The station had been dead for over a week now. After the Ripper, everything was so much more…. Mundane.
"It's underground. The building site at Fenchurch street wasn't cornered off properly and someone used the entrance to the plumbing as a dumping ground."
"The entrance to the plumbing?" Chandler paused for a second, before working it out. "You mean the sewers?"
Chandler almost shouted and his heart sank when the reply was not one he'd been hoping for.
"Of course I mean the sewers. It wasn't exactly gonna be dumped where the builders are working, was it. Forensics are already there, so you'd better hurry up."
Chandler reached for his tiger balm. "Right, ok. We're on it."
He hung up the phone and unscrewed the cap as fast as he could. Chandler closed his eyes and rubbed the sides of his forehead. The minty fresh menthol was working it's way into his temples as he rubbed, but the stress - induced headache that was coming wasn't going to be held off for long.
The sewers!
Chandler looked around his office. Where was it? It must be here somewhere. No one was allowed in his office and he certainly hadn't taken it out.
As his eyes scanned the room, they came to rest on top of his filing cabinet. Now he remembered. It was behind the stack of books.
Joe hurried over to it and took the books down, placing them carefully on his chair, and grabbed the bottle of blended whiskey he'd been saving for emergencies. Emergencies like this.
He really wasn't an advocate for drinking at work and he'd much prefer not to. Being a detective inspector and having your inhibitions lowered, your control taken away and your judgment impaired wasn't a good mix, but unfortunately, that was exactly why he had to drink.
He could do a better job if he was tipsy. He'd be under the influence of something either way, and alcohol was much easier to explain and deal with.
Chandler took three big swigs from the bottle and emptied the rest into a canteen. After everything was back in the DI's pockets, including the newly acquired alcohol, He left his office to tell the team the 'good' news.
"There's been a murder at Fenchurch street. The body's been dumped in the sewers near a building site. Doctor Llewellyn is already at the scene and we won't know much else until she's had time to examine the body."
For a second, the room was silent. All eyes were on Chandler and it was as if, for a moment, everything was moving in slow motion. He still got nervous when that happened. Everyone in a room looking at him, only him. The way he could demand the attention of everyone like that was both a blessing and a curse.
Suddenly, the room was buzzing again as Miles, McCormack, Mansell and Kent all reached simultaneously for their coats, turned their computers off and left for their cars.
Kent was the last out, and as Joe watched him leave, he saw Kent look back and give him a smile before running after the faster DC's.
Kent's smile made Joe feel warm. It was so inviting. He didn't get to see it much, as the youngest DC was usually buried in paperwork, trying to gain the respect and friendship of his seniors by working twice as hard. But when he did smile, it lit up the room.
"You coming boss?" Miles was yelling from the staircase, wondering where his lift had gotten to, he guessed.
Chandler took advantage of the empty room to take another swig of the whiskey concealed in his pocket. The warmth spread down his throat and he could already feel the buzz beginning to take effect. He only hoped it would properly kick in before they got to the rat infested, disease ridden, dark, damp sewers.