This takes place after Mantrap, series 3 episode 9

Sammy Powell was masterminding a series of diamond heists. Dempsey and Makepeace had got close to solving the crime but during a raid a colleague (Billy) had been killed. Most of the episode is about Powell setting up Dempsey and Makepeace so they can be taken out by the Walsh Brothers and Des Johnson under the guise of a bank raid. Running parallel is the story of Powell's daughter getting married, at the end Dempsey and Makepeace crash the wedding to arrest Powell.

It was a triumphalistic group gathered in the pub, with Powel and both Walsh brothers charged and in cells waiting for court on Monday the celebrations had started with pre meal drinks as soon as the Bramcote had opened for evening trade.

The diamond traders association had come up trumps with a cash reward which had been spent on an Indian meal and now at the bar of a near by pub. Spikings had left as they made their way from the restaurant to the pub. Watson and Dave had set up the shots and the window corner of the pub at present contained a rowdy rabble of SI 10 officers. As they raced to knock back vodka shots the barman decided to enquire if the would be requiring a taxi

"Oh don't worry about us – we're police officers" Harry made her way to the bar and leant across and slurred in his face. Hell he thought, the one thing worse than a drunk crowd was drunk police officers. She put down £20 just give us two bottles of vodka

"Are you sure love?"

"Look today we nailed two armed robbers and the brains behind the jewel thefts – I'm sure. He passed the bottles and prayed closing time would come quickly tonight.

Harry and James climbed out of the taxi; they had bought a bottle of champagne to take back and celebrate their successful ambush of the Walsh brothers and that they were both still alive. Neither could remember whose idea it was but it still seemed good. Harry opened the door on her third attempt too get the key in the lock and found the champagne glasses whilst Dempsey had opened the bottle. As the cork bounced on the ceiling Harry giggled "oops" Dempsey poured the over flowing bubbly into the glasses and they chinked glasses. Harry waved her arm towards the sofa and Dempsey sat down. She collapsed next to him and splashed champagne from her glass onto his shirt "oops"

"Well we did it"

"Danny Walsh – in jail"

"Mickey Walsh – in jail"

Harry drank the champagne and thought a moment "Sammy Powell's another scum bag who serves a pretty decent champagne"

Dempsey looked at Harry "Pity we ruined the wedding"

"Well Sammy Powell ruined more than a wedding for a lot of people"

"Who do think is more culpable Sammy for paying or the Walsh brothers for doing?" reflected Makepeace

"They're all scum. Low life that should be banged up"

"At least the tax payer won't have to pay for Des Johnson"

"I wonder who the photographer was."

Harry turned sharply; Dempsey had jumped right back out of her drunken philosophical debate to somewhere she found inexplicable.

"To get our photo" Dempsey clarified. He stood and wandered across to get the champagne and poured them each a second glass. He held up his glass "A toast 'to us'" he said and Harry looked up at him and caught his eyes.

"The best in the business" she added. She stood to join him and staggered a little nearly falling into him. "How much have we drunk?" she suddenly asked

"Not all this bottle yet"

They stood facing each other. Neither actually knew where this was going but both could feel the sexual tension rising as Harry swayed. Their pulses started to race, Harry tilted her head slightly to the right and Dempsey did likewise. He opened his mouth, she bit her lip and then they panicked yet again; both drank their champagne, pretending that was why their lips had parted. "Now we can finish it" Harry slurred as she took the bottle out of Dempsey's hand and poured the remaining contents into the flutes. Dempsey sat back on the sofa and patted the space next to him. Harry smiled "Oh no lieutenant – I'm going to bed and you're not invited"

It was nearer mid day when Harry woke. She was lying on top of her bed, still fully clothed. Her mouth was dry, her head throbbing and the sunshine an unwelcome torture that forced her to close her eyes as soon as she tried to open them. She had a vague recollection of coming home, Dempsey was there and out of curiosity she made her way downstairs. She looked across the room to the sofa for an arm hanging over the top. He wasn't there and she was forced to walk into the room. She found Dempsey on the floor with two cushions over his head. She left him and went into the kitchen and boiled the kettle. She was sat at the table drinking black coffee and swallowing paracetamol when Dempsey appeared.

"I thought you were still sleeping it off"

"No I was hiding the light out with those cushions"

She made another mug of coffee and passed the bottle of tablets. He failed to negotiate the child safety cap and Harry took them back before they were flung across the kitchen. She passed him two.

"Boy that was quite a night"

"You and me?" she asked once again trying to square the thoughts that had started to buzz as she sat with her mug cradled in her hands, safe in the knowledge that nothing had happened but with recollections about a conversation to do with 'us'

"We're the best"

"The best"

"Yeh the best team out there! We're good" he grinned "you and me partner; we'll clean up this town" He hoped she realised what he meant, it was just that his head was hurting too much to explain, at least that's how he excused himself.

She sipped her coffee; they were the words she was expecting, just not the ones she found herself hoping for. She could see Simone's point – he was comfortable with her – she just didn't see that anything else followed. Obviously nothing did from Dempsey's point of view. The throbbing in her head consumed her attention again and she walked over to the cupboard and took out some muesli. She took down two bowls, some yoghurt from the fridge and placed everything on the kitchen table.

Dempsey felt at ease even though he was harbouring a hangover from hell, this was almost what he wanted – he smiled but declined the offer of breakfast saying he was going to work his hangover out at the gym. "You wanna meet up later?" he asked

"I don't want to do anything too heavy"

"So what about meeting at that pub by the Thames in Richmond, grabbing a bit to eat and then taking in a movie – tell you what – you can choose the film."

"Huh, you know I'll have to choose one you'll like cos I cant have you fidgeting and wandering off to buy more popcorn if choose something only I'll like"

"I keep telling you princess hold my hand and tie me down."

Harry noted the mixed signals yet again but she wasn't in any mind to try and unravel them. She looked at her watch, she need to sort some laundry, do some shopping, the sun was shining outside; her head was mixed with hangover, confusion and indecision.

Dempsey was still waiting for her reply and although his head was tortured his eyes were now resting contentedly on a picture of hope. She looked rough, her natural beauty breaking through even so but even more crucial he was here, with her, sharing their rough awakening together.

"Save that table outside where you can see the river, a glass of white wine and a chicken salad" - she had decided in the affirmative

"Are you intending to be late Lady Harriet?" he grinned

"A woman's privilege" she smiled back at him

He gulped the rest of his coffee and stood. The quick movement hurt his head and he just stood for a moment then with a natural sort of reflex he bent down and kissed Harry's cheek "See you later Honey" he said as he performed the act.

Harry sat frozen to her chair as she heard the front door shut; it hadn't registered with Dempsey at all but Harry was suddenly back in married life. She shook her head as an image of Dempsey and her ex morphed into one and she was forced to acknowledge that she missed sharing her life with someone. Robert had always been a planner and although towards the end his demands to know what and where they would be wore her down she had enjoyed sitting together on a Saturday morning deciding what the weekend would hold. When Robert left he would likewise kiss her cheek and right now she could smell his aftershave and hear his voice "Don't be late darling". 'Darling' she thought – so very Robert – a term of endearment that was supposed to convey intimacy but was so very correct and the same term he used on acquaintances as well. Robert she had called 'dearest' he had been so very special to her once and she remembered running up to her father and showing him her engagement ring. But Harry couldn't keep the happy memories separate from the frustrated ones, or those separate from the hurtful. She touched her cheek where James had just kissed it and Roberts admonishment 'don't be late' came back to annoy her. Angry at him even now she picked up a teaspoon and threw it across the kitchen; the noise of the spoon hitting the floor snapped her back to the present. She retrieved it and placing it in the kitchen sink she wandered upstairs to run a bath and smiled – she secretly liked the term 'honey'. She wondered what was on at the cinema and hoped to god that her head was clear by then.