A/N: This is set around 1970, when Sandra is about ten years old and Brian is in his early twenties, as a young police officer.

Disclaimer: I don't own New Tricks.

The Minder

It was five o clock on a Thursday afternoon, and duty sergeant Brian Lane had just begun his late shift, overseeing the custody desk and keeping an eye on the inmates of the cells, which were located behind the heavy metal door opposite him. The first few minutes since he had arrived had been spent clearing away the general debris left behind on the desk by the previous sergeant, and ensuring that the area was clean and orderly to please his fastidious nature, or OCD as the doctor called it. He was now filing away some evidence to be processed at a later date, a task he was completing at a relatively leisurely pace. It was a cold December evening, and it had already grown dark outside. He found that the colder weather put people off committing crimes somewhat, so there was only five occupants in the cells, a small number in comparison to the usual twelve.

He heard footsteps in the entrance to the custody area, and turned to look, expecting to see uniformed officers with a criminal in tow. Instead he saw the tall figure of Gordon Pullman, a Detective Inspector in the murder squad. He had rarely seen him before, but he recognised him, and he could see why there were rumours circulating about him. He was slim, and handsome, with smoothed back light brown hair and kind blue eyes. What was strange, though, was that he had a girl accompanying him, holding his hand. She was young, maybe about ten years old, her long blonde hair running almost to her waist. Her blue eyes were similar to Gordon's, yet much more piercing, and they shared the same high cheekbones. This, then, must be his daughter. Sandra.

"It's Brian, isn't it?" he asked, leaning on the desk casually.

"Yes, sir," he replied formally, moving over towards him.

"I don't suppose you'd mind doing me a favour, would you?"

"Not at all," he nodded courteously.

"Could you just keep an eye on my daughter for a while? I'll only be half an hour, I've just got to pop upstairs and sort something out," he paused, glancing at the young girl cautiously before leaning in closer to the younger man. "We've arrested a serial rapist today, but he's not giving us any information at all. I've been called in to interview him, try and get something out of him, but I had to pick Sandra up from her horse riding lesson early, and, well. I can't exactly bring her with me."

He nodded knowingly. The Met wasn't exactly a nice place for children, and vice squad incident rooms definitely weren't. "Of course, I'll keep an eye on her."

"Thank you, I appreciate it. She's no trouble, honestly," he addressed Brian before turning to his child. "Sandra, this is Brian. He's going to look after you whilst I go upstairs and sort something out, alright?"

The girl nodded, turning to sit in one of the blue plastic chairs which lined the wall facing the desk.

"I won't be long sweetheart, then we'll go home for some dinner, alright?"

She nodded again, smiling slightly.

"Sorry, I think she's just tired," he chuckled to Brian. "She gets a bit grumpy when she's tired, don't you?"

"Dad," she whined in protest, conscious of the sergeant watching their exchange with a bemused smile.

"I'd better go before she bites my head off," he grinned, heading up the flight of stairs which lead to the various departments of the Metropolitan Police.

He waited until the sound of footsteps had disappeared, nervously eyeing the child in front of him. He didn't really have much experience with talking to children, and he highly doubted that he would have anything in common with a ten year old girl, so…what exactly could he say to her? He studied her appearance for any possible topic of conversation he could bring up. She was wearing long black riding boots, and Gordon had mentioned that she rode horses for a hobby, so maybe that was a start.

"So, you like horse riding then?"

"Yes, I go every week," she answered, biting her lip nervously. "My horse is called Charlie."

"Nice name,"

"Thank you."

An uncomfortable silence descended over the room, and he returned to his filing for something to do whilst they waited. After a few minutes of her vision switching between watching him intently as he went about his duties and curiously eyeing the locked metal door which guarded the cells, she decided to ask him a question.

"Are there cells behind that door?"

"Yes,"

"And there's people in them?"

"Yes,"

"Can I see?"

He chuckled. "I don't think your dad would be very impressed if he came back to find you mixing with London's criminal fraternity."

She looked disappointed, but then shrugged. "I suppose so. What crimes have they done?"

"There's a mixture, really. Mostly driving a car without a licence, being drunk and disorderly, that kind of thing. Why are you so interested, anyway?" he asked her. Criminals weren't the kind of thing that she should be interested in, especially not at her age.

"I want to be a police officer when I grow up. Like my dad," she smiled proudly.

"Ah, I see," he smiled back, the bemusement at the idea of her becoming a police officer quickly being replaced by admiration. After all, it wasn't every little girl you met who wanted to be a police officer, most of them wanted to be nurses or hairdressers. It was good that she was different. Although if he ever had children, he would discourage them from joining the force, purely because he wouldn't want them to see the things that he'd seen.

"You can come behind the desk if you want, see what it's like to do my job," he offered.

She leapt up from the chair and reached the desk in two quick steps, wandering into the space behind it with a look of awe in her eyes.

"What's that?" she gestured to an overflowing box of items in plastic bags.

"It's the place where we keep the belongings of the people in the cells," he answered. "There's nothing interesting in it really, just keys and wallets mostly."

"Oh," she replied vaguely, still looking around the space. "Do you go out and solve crimes like my dad or do you just stay here?"

"Well, I used to work in uniform, out on the streets, but now I mostly stay in here unless I'm called out. Hopefully soon I'll get promoted, and then I'll do the same thing as your dad."

"That's good," she smiled kindly. "I hope you get promoted soon, I think you'll be a good police officer."

"Do you?"

"Yeah. You're a bit strange but I like you."

"I'll take that as a compliment," he laughed, grinning at her. Maybe child minding wasn't so difficult after all.

Before long, the familiar sound of heavy footsteps descending the stairwell could be heard behind the custody desk, and Gordon reappeared. He looked weary, which Brian could sympathise with after a long and fruitless interview, yet he still smiled at the sight of his daughter sat at the desk, wearing a spare police hat which they'd found in a cupboard.

"Any joy?"

"Not really, but we'll keep working on him. How's she been?"

"She's been great. She's been telling me about her police ambitions, haven't you?"

She nodded, and Gordon smiled at her fondly, although there was something behind his eyes which suggested that he didn't want to see his daughter follow in his footsteps, probably for much the same reasons as Brian would discourage his children from joining the force. If he was ever lucky enough to have children, of course.

"Hmm, I've heard all about them, countless times," he sighed. "Right, come on then sweetheart, let's get you home."

She carefully removed the black and white hat from her head and set it down on the surface in front of her before hopping off the chair and joining her father on the other side.

"Thanks again Brian, I owe you one."

"It was my pleasure, honestly."

"Bye Brian," she smiled, waving as she followed Gordon into the car park.

He sat back in his chair, sighing. This had certainly been a more interesting shift than usual. And he had a feeling that if Sandra Pullman ever did become a police officer, she'd be a bloody good one.