A/N: This was inspired from a line in the episode Dark Chocolate- Strickland leaves Sandra a covering letter on a case file that begins with 'Dear Sandra', which my obsessive fangirl mind thought was sweet (or sweeter than the average boss anyway). Please leave a review if you like, they make my day!

Disclaimer: I don't own New Tricks but I live in hope.

Everything was almost in place for his upcoming holiday. He hadn't realised it would take so much planning, he would only be gone for a week for Heaven's sake, but in the last few days, amongst all his other duties, he'd attended to the quite considerable pile of memos, files and letters in his in-tray, sorted out all the files that were dotted around his office in not quite organised piles, made sure that all of the departments under his remit had everything they needed to survive without him for five days and informed them all, plus the Assistant Commissioner, of his hotel's contact details if they needed him. The last thing he had to do was to leave UCOS a covering letter for their latest case.

He had been given the case by the AC with strict instructions that it was to be handled with the utmost sensitivity. If the press found out that the Met were raking up the rapes of three young women, they would have a field day. He trusted Sandra and her team not to leak any information to the press, they had no reason to, but he didn't trust that some of his other, less experienced colleagues wouldn't be tempted by the financial gain that came with spilling case details to journalists. He sighed, sitting at his desk for what would be the last time, at least for a while.

Opening up a new document on his computer, he began with a formal 'To DS Pullman'. He rarely wrote letters to her, it was usually just a scrawled handwritten sentence on a post-it note, but this case took more explaining than the usual…what? He snorted ironically. Being in the police force for the best part of thirty years now, he had come to accept murders, rapes, kidnappings as normal. The things that he saw, not so much now, but in the past when he had being a young, optimistic man starting out in CID, no longer bothered him. A small part of him still longed to be out on the beat, actively fighting crime rather than just doing paperwork, but he knew he was getting too old for that.

Completing the letter and reaching over to receive it from the printer, the picture of his children caught his eye. They were sitting on a sunny beach in Portugal, smiling up at him with equally sunny smiles. He remembered that scene well- it had been their last holiday with both parents present, although by that stage they were only together for the sake of the children. He had been the one taking the picture, sat on the beach building sandcastles with the children, whilst she was sat to the side, only focused on building up her sun tan. He shook his head, remembering all the things she had done for the sake of vanity and forever thankful they were no longer married.

The letter addressed to Sandra was still open on his computer screen. His thoughts wandered to her again, as they often did. On previous holidays, he had briefly considered not returning to work and giving it all up for a tranquil life in a little fishing village by the ocean, but that was before he had met Sandra. He was drawn to her, for some reason. Yes, she was beautiful, intelligent, successful, but there was something else about her that fascinated him. She had faced so much pain in her life, much more than he would ever know, but still she kept fighting. Fighting for what was right, fighting for the truth, fighting for her boys. To her, he was merely a disruption to the tight-knit UCOS team, someone who constantly seemed to be blocking her path to the result she wanted, but he possessed utter admiration and respect for her, even if she would never know.

With that thought swirling in his mind, he deleted the formal opening to the letter and replaced it with 'Dear Sandra'. He printed out the new version, placed it with the case file and took it down to the UCOS office, which the team had long since vacated in favour of the pub. Gently setting it on her desk so he didn't disturb the rare silence, he retreated back into the main office, only to see the woman who was at the centre of his thoughts stood quietly by the doors.

"Sorry, I was just leaving your new case on your desk before I go on holiday," he explained, aware that his presence in her office at half past nine on a Friday evening had most likely surprised her.

"Oh, thank you, we'll start it on Monday sir," she smiled slightly before remembering the reason why she was there. "I think I've left my purse in my office, have you seen it? Gerry had to pay for the drinks, he wasn't happy about it."

He stepped back into her little haven and retrieved a black purse with gold metallic studs from the floor by her coat stand. "Is this it?"

"Yes, thank you, it must have fallen out of my bag somehow," she reached out to take it, nestling it safely back inside her matching handbag.

"Right, well, I'd better get going. Early start tomorrow," he smiled at the thought of his upcoming escape from hectic London life.

"Where are you going on holiday?" she asked as they stood together into the lift on their way to the foyer.

"Ferragudo, it's a village on the south coast of Portugal. It isn't a huge tourist area and the locals are really lovely people. We used to go there with the kids before we separated." He smiled sadly. The memories were still bittersweet for him.

"It sounds perfect, I could do with a break from being cooped up in that office with three pensioners," she grinned, trying to lift the mood as they arrived in the reception area. "Anyway, I hope you enjoy yourself, you deserve to relax."

"Thank you, I'm sure I will," he replied, suddenly nervous. He thought about asking her to dinner when he returned, but quickly dismissed the idea. This was a normal conversation between him and his subordinate, conservations that other people have with those under their command. His over-stressed mind was running away with itself.

"Goodnight sir," she said cheerily. "Hopefully we'll have that case cleared up by the time you get back." She turned away and began to walk towards her car, which was parked in the dark, unlit car park. He watched her, her heels clicking on the tarmac rhythmically and her hair seeming to shine in contrast to the dark surroundings, until she got into her convertible and drove away into the night.

"Goodnight, Sandra."