A/N: This is a silly idea, but this happens so much. People send others to find ridiculous, non-existent things as a joke, and usually newbies, apprentices and juniors end up the victims.

Sarah x

"Honestly," Fleur grumbled, bringing Serena Campbell out of her little reverie. She had allowed herself to forget the stress of the ward and general every day life to remember the good times for just a moment. "That boy. So much brains, but the common sense of lettuce!" she exclaimed as she chucked a file down on the nurses' station.

"Who?" Serena asked, completely unaware of who it was that had wound Fleur up this time. She was busy on Keller, covering an ill Sacha, and she saw now why Sacha was so wary of Fleur. Loud, opinionated, totally un-PC and very much her own, strong woman.

Fleur melodramatically huffed. "Clark Kent," she replied. Serena just shot her a look of total confusion. "Arthur!"

"Oh!" Serena smiled. "Yeah."

"You OK?" Fleur encouragingly smiled. Ever since her mum died, Serena had been subject to sympathy and caution, both of which were driving her up a tree. She was still Serena Campbell, after all, grieving or not. "It's not weakness not to be OK all the time, you know." Serena rolled her eyes, knowing that it was the human condition to attempt to comfort the grieving. But she wasn't grieving anymore. She was just trying to be happy and move on; it was just not as easy as some people made it look.

Serena sighed out, "Yeah, I'm fine. I don't suppose you've seen Dr. Copeland anywhere?"

"Doris?" Fleur replied. "Last I saw him, he was getting himself a coffee. Half an hour ago."

"Oh, so he's bunked off because the ward is quiet," grumbled Serena. "Just brilliant."

Fleur just smirked. "Boys will be boys, I guess," she reasoned. She glanced at the edge of the ward and added, "Speak of the devil." Walking through the place were Dom and Arthur, bickering over some stupid thing or another. It was something that Serena sometimes enjoyed about being on AAU so much these days – aside from Harry and Raf's antics, most of the staff acted like adults most of the time. Unlike here, where childlike Zosia, Dom and Arthur were led by Sacha, the biggest kid of them all. "Ahem!" Fleur loudly cleared her throat. "Just where do you think you two are going?"

Dom looked over, and Serena felt her lips twitch up in amusement at his expression. "Staff room."

"Wrong answer, Doris," smiled Fleur, picking up a piece of paper and a pen. Intrigued, Serena watched as words – a list – was scribbled down, and she was left with no choice but to grin at it. "You are both going to get this lot for me."

Arthur read the list to himself. "But you're right-handed," protested Digby.

"Yeah, my right hand's getting a little sore," complained Fleur. Dom and Arthur just shrugged at each other and headed off; once the young men were out of sight and earshot, Fleur obviously could not contain her amusement any longer, and ended up leaning over the nurses' station in stitches of laughter. Serena just shook her head and smiled, wondering how long it was going to take two junior doctors to work out what was going on.

"A left-handed punch, a bucket of steam and a left-handed mug," Digby read off for the third time. "Where on Earth are we going to find a left-handed punch?!" he demanded of Dominic, who was just happy to get to bunk off for a while, because he was rather lazy. "She's a surgeon, for God's sake. Why does she need a punch of any sort?!"

"Hardware store, obviously," retorted Dominic. "Come on. Let's get it done." Arthur groaned and got in the car, driving onto the High Street. He did not understand why they were being used as Fleur's lackeys, but it wasn't like there was anything else worth doing on the ward with Serena's tornado of grief-driven efficiency tearing through Keller today. "Ugh. This is ridiculous."

Arthur said nothing, letting his mind wander to other issues. Zosia was currently in a mental health clinic, and Dominic was currently angling for Fleur's approval, and Serena was still hurting over her mum's death...there was more on his mind than the petty grumblings of Dominic Copeland. They reached a hardware store, opposite the garage and the metal-coating company, and parked up. "Come on, then," sighed Digby.

Feeling like an idiot, he led Dom into the shop and started to look for a left-handed punch. He decided it would be placed in the metalwork section. There he found files, drills, vices, pliers, snips, Vise-Grips...but no left-handed punches. Next to them stood a young man of about twenty, wearing a forest green boilersuit. "Looking for something in particular?" he asked, obviously trying to be helpful.

"Not that it's any of your business," sneered Dom before Arthur could get so much as a word in, "but I need a left-handed punch." The man, tall and burly, raised his eyebrows for a moment, clearly amused at something. Suddenly, a fist collided with Dominic's face, though not with the full force of the body behind it. Catching the blood dripping out of his nose, Dom demanded, "What the hell was that for?!"

"You're looking for a left-handed punch, right?" the man laughed. Were they missing some sort of joke? Because, as far as Arthur knew, there wasn't much that was funny about punching someone in the face. "Who sent you?"

Dominic said nothing, only glaring at his assailant with all the venom Arthur knew he could muster, so Digby spoke for him. "Miss Fanshawe, our consultant," he answered. "Boss. She's in charge," he added hastily.

"She's having a laugh," advised the man as he walked away, chuckling to himself. Arthur was confused as he turned around to Dom to see if he was alright. However, Dom was not happy. He'd just been punched in the face – of course he wasn't happy.

Then it dawned on Arthur. "Fool's errands!" he exclaimed. "She's sent us on fool's errands!" What was the point of this? To prove Fleur's superiority? Or just a joke? Arthur just didn't understand. It was beyond his social ability to understand the workings of Fleur Fanshawe's actions. "But I am no fool," Arthur reasoned. "You, maybe, but not me," he added as an afterthought, remembering he was accompanied by Dominic Copeland. "I am not a fool."

"Oh, stop talking to yourself and give me something to wipe the blood away!" snapped Dom, and even Arthur knew his patience was rapidly waning.

He searched his pockets and found nothing. "I don't have anything," was his apologetic answer; Dom rolled his eyes and pulled at the sleeve of Arthur's raspberry red scrubs, wiping the blood from his face onto the cloth. "Hey!" protested Digby, completely indignant that he was being used as a blood-and-snot rag. "Get lost!"

Again, Dom's eyes looked to the ceiling. "Never mind that. What are we going to do? Tell her she's not funny and we're not quite as thick as two planks of wood?" Dom demanded.

Arthur contemplated this; there had to be a better way. A way to outsmart her. A left-handed punch, a bucket of steam and a left-handed coffee mug...how could he do this? There had to be a way. He looked around him – he was surrounded by tools and materials, some of which must surely have been some use to him. Of course, he had little imagination. That was Dom's department, even if he did often have too wild an imagination at times. "No," asserted Arthur. "No. We get one over on her."

Dom snorted. "Fat chance."

"Come on," replied Arthur. "You're the one with the creative thinking process."

"You're the smart one!"

"That's not enough!"

"Alright, alright!" Dom half-shouted. Arthur watched him think for a moment, as he resumed his thinking. Then, he remembered how steam was created. He could easily do that.

"Got it!" they both said, at exactly the same time.

"Get a bucket!" ordered Arthur.

"Get a mug!" replied Dom.

Arthur added, "And then we'll go to the lab when we get back to the hospital." To Dom's questioning look, he just replied with a smirk.

Fleur was sitting contentedly at the nurses' station when Serena spotted the boys sauntering down the ward. One carried a black mug and the other carried a red bucket...and they both looked to be deviously and determinedly up to no good. "Oh, dear," muttered Serena, barely able to repress a smirk. She knew that look on Dom's face. It was his 'I win!' face, but of course, Fleur did know him well enough to be aware of that, did she?

"Welcome back to the fray!" greeted Fleur, cheerfully standing up.

"We come bearing gifts!" announced Arthur.

Serena looked on in amusement as one man went to either side of Fleur, going into the nurses' station from opposite sides; Serena was surprised when they both punched one of Fleur's arms each. A look of outrage manifested upon the short but formidable woman's face. "What on Earth-"

But Dom cut across her. "You wanted a left-handed punch, didn't you?" Serena started to chuckle as it became obvious to her that the boys had managed to turn the tables on their mischievous consultant. "We got you two."

Fleur was, for once, speechless.

"One bucket of steam," Arthur added. He handed her that red bucket and, sure enough, steam billowed from it.

"And a left-handed coffee mug," finished Dominic, pressing a full mug of coffee into her hand.

"Um, that's just a regular mug," Fleur pointed out.

"Nope," Dominic smirked happily. "Left-handed. Says so on the bottom." Serena knew what he was up to as soon as he said it, and it was inevitable that Fleur was going to try and look on the bottom of a full mug. Hot, black coffee tipped out onto Fleur's chest, staining her scrubs; Dominic burst into a trill of gleeful laughter, and Serena had to join in.

Even Arthur was laughing aloud as Fleur dabbed and wiped at her chest, trying with little success to get the coffee out of the fabric. Serena looked into the bucket, intrigued by the steam pouring from the vessel. "How did you manage that, Dr. Digby?" Serena asked, genuinely curious to know how he had created what had initially been a joke.

"Got some dry ice from the lab," he answered, blatantly proud of the initiative he had shown.

In the middle of them all, surrounded by Digby, Dom and Serena, Fleur grumbled, "Smart arses," as she gave up on wiping her scrubs clean; she rubbed her upper arms with an indignant look, where the boys had punched her. They hadn't hit her hard – and Serena knew they never would actually harm Fleur – but it was just enough for it to twinge for a few minutes.

Serena just giggled, her mood brighter, and pointed out, "It's your own fault." Fleur glared at her, but her glower was lighthearted and slightly amused. "You brought this on yourself."

Hope it's OK.
Please feel free to tell me your thoughts.Sarah x