Greg finally finished typing up his report and hit save before embarking on the spell-check. Even after the spell-check was done, he'd have to read through his report to avoid any embarrassing mistakes. Hodgeson was still being teased over his report which referred to the 'genital public' instead of 'general'. God knew what he'd been thinking while he was typing that.
"Give me good old-fashioned pen and paper any day," Greg muttered as he fixed yet another mistake the spell-check had highlighted. There were days when he felt more like an admin assistant than a copper. Finally, it was done and he hit 'print', taking a moment to stretch his back before standing up. If the printers weren't down (again) he might actually get home before seven o'clock. Greg couldn't remember the last time that had happened.
He gave vent to a quiet, triumphant, "Yes!" as the aged printer in the corner rattled into action.
The report printed, he shoved it into the folder and dropped it in his out tray, then swung around and grabbed his coat, shoving his arms into the sleeves and yanking it impatiently into place. Out of habit, he checked the contents of all of his pockets. Wallet, check; keys, check; phone, check; warrant card... He frowned. He could have sworn he'd put it - okay, maybe the other pocket. Nope, not that one. Nor that one. Nor that one.
Greg sighed and went through every pocket he had. Not again. There was no way - Sherlock hadn't even stood near him at the crime scene. "This is the fifth time this month!" he said to himself. Clinging to hope, he went through all his pockets again, in case he'd missed it on the first run through. Nope; he definitely didn't have it.
Greg knew where it was though - and he didn't need Sherlock bleeding Holmes to investigate that crime. That lanky genius with the soul of a pickpocket had stolen Greg's warrant card again!
Growling to himself, Greg grabbed his phone and sent off a quick text: Stop stealing my warrant card!
Less than thirty seconds later, he got a reply: Well stop annoying me. SH
Greg's fingers hovered over the buttons as he considered sending another text. Finally, he shoved the phone back into his pocket; the git would only find it funny anyway.
Resigned, he opened the bottom drawer of his desk and removed one of the two dozen warrant cards he had stacked in there. He just hoped this lot would last him longer than the last lot had.
The end.
3rd November 2011
Note: The title is taken from Gilbert and Sullivan's Pirates of Penzance.