Sam stood before the locker room door and fidgeted.
First he straightened his shirt, then his jacket.
He polished his shoes on the back of his trousers, despite the fact he knew he'd spent nearly an hour cleaning and polishing them the night before.
He straightened his hair, using the reflection in the glass of a picture frame, Her Majesty staring back at him.
'Right,' he told himself, and reached to push the door before him open.
And then had a sudden panic and checked his breath - again, despite the three brushings his teeth had had that morning and two pieces of chewing gum since he got into work.
Satisfied he now past muster - at least by 1973 standards, Sam stepped up to the mark.
His hand made contact with the door and - a voice erupted from further down the long, dark, concrete corridor.
'TYLER!! Get your smug backside in gear NOW!'
Sam rolled his eyes at the not so genteel tones of DCI Gene Hunt resonated around him.
'Tyler! Where the bloody hell are you?!'
Gene bellowed again and burst out of the CID doors.
He strode towards his hapless DI, a cloud of nicotine coloured smoke behind him, and half smoked cigarette in his right hand.
'Guv.' Sam turned and walked towards him.
'Stop lurking outside the changing rooms, you perv. Cartwright's already out on this call - I sent her out with Ray and Chris already.'
Gene grimiced at the younger man.
'Oh. Right.' Sam felt himself colour at the insinuation, and cursed his immediate thought, the one that wanted to start quoting Harrassment policy at Gene.
It would do no good, as he well knew.
The proliferation of girly magazines, calenders and other, what Sam termed, 'material', that routinely littered CID territory had initially thrown him on his arrival in 1973.
In truth, it still troubled him, as did the complete lack of any understanding of 'Equal Opportunities' within the department.
Dragging his mind back to the vision in a brown suit and whisky fumes that passed for his boss in CID, Sam held out his hands with a query on his lips.
'Ahead to what?'
'Eh?' Gene was fumbling for his lighter.
'You sent Ray, Chris and Annie ahead on what call?'
'Oh, that. Some nutter with a shooter. Nothing to worry about.'
Sam rolled his eyes again, and dragged a hand through his hair.
'Guv, you can't just keep wading in when weapons are involved! There are procedures to be followed!'
'And you know what you can do with those! C'mon Tyler, lets go and bring this lowlife down! No one walks around my city threatening the general public without my authority!'
And he stormed off, coat tails flying behind him.
Sam followed in his wake.