Detective Inspector James Sawyer Ford stubbed out his cigarette and fanned the fumes away as he heard heavy footsteps coming up the corridor in the direction of his office. Over the year, he'd tuned his hearing to that hallway, so that he could always look as if he was busy when someone was coming.

In truth, it wasn't difficult to look busy in his office. Paper work was scattered over every surface, including the floor, despite the sturdy filing cabinets that sat in the corner of the room. He was fairly sure that they were empty; he hadn't ventured inside for years.

He grabbed the closest sheet of paper; a form that only required his signature, that had apparently been waiting for him for over a month. Wincing at his own sloth, he picked up his pen and scrawled his name at the bottom. He'd give it to Charlie to deliver to the correct department when he came in with some fresh coffee. Technically speaking, DC Pace was a constable and not Sawyer's personal secretary and dogsbody, but Sawyer had never concerned himself with the 'technically's of the world.

He grabbed the next sheet of paper on the pile, paperwork on a homicide case that he'd cracked months ago, when the door sprung open and the bald head of the Superintendent, John Locke, peered in. His blue eyes, once with a scar sprawling across it, checked that the room was otherwise empty before he stepped inside.

"Sorry to disturb you, James," he said, smiling vaguely. He was distracted, mind on other things, so Sawyer didn't bother to hide his annoyance at the use of his first name, his 'real' name. "Hope you're not up to anything too important?"

"No, sir." The 'sir' tasted dirty in his mouth. Maybe all those people who had accused him of having a problem with authority had been right. "Just working through some old paperwork; nothing I can't do any other time. What're you wanting done?"

Locke looked troubled. "Didn't you get my memo?"

Sawyer kept his face blank – he'd got it, read something about going down to the morgue to talk to Dr. Sheppard, and had immediately thrown it away. At the Christmas party last year, he and Jack had gotten into a fist fight and both had been suspended from work for a week. He wasn't too keen to repeat the experience.

He decided that, where the memo was concerned, his best option was to feign ignorance. "No. What'd it say?"

"A body's turned up, James. Looks like some sort of low life so you needn't work too hard on it." Sawyer raised his eyebrows but didn't comment on the charming display of classism. There was no point; bodies like these were turning up all the time. If they worked flat out on all of them, they'd have no resources left for the real cases. "Ana was supposed to take it, but she's fallen ill. I want you on it."

Sawyer nodded. "Yes sir."

Locke moved to the door, but looked back and didn't open it yet. "And James?"

"Yeah?"

"Remember to fill in the paperwork this time." Locke flashed a smile and then was gone, whistling down the corridor. Sawyer heard Charlie saying hello to the Superintendent, the two having a laughed conversation, before even that faded and Sawyer was left with silence.

He wrote down one sentence on the sheet of paper in front of him, then gave up with a sigh. He threw the pen down and leaned back in chair.

Looked like a trip to the morgue was needed.

As always, the morgue was attempting to look like a happier place than it was. Light streamed in through window and classical music played softly in the background. It was pointless – like it or not, a morgue was a morgue and a dead body was still dead, regardless of how you dressed it up.

So Sawyer ignored the gentle effects to come storming into the room, doors slamming open. "Shephard?" he yelled, when he couldn't immediately locate the coroner. "Locke said you've got a body for me?"

Jack appeared from the side door, but Sawyer had already caught sight of the body lying on the slab. Ooh, that looked gruesome – maybe this case wasn't going to be as boring as he'd first anticipated.

"Her name's Sun," Jack chided, but his tone was professional. "Sun Kwon. Forensics ran a fingerprint they found at the scene through the database. We were lucky, managed to find out who she was."

"Got any priors?" Sawyer asked, even though by now there were bound to be files on his desk containing this information.

Jack seemed to realise this, but he supplied the answers anyway. "Two. 1997, for driving under the influence. Then she was arrested again in 1999 – for solicitation."

Sawyer raised an eyebrow, because things were definitely becoming a little more interesting. He probably should have headed along to the crime scene, even though it would have been swept clean by forensics by now. Damn.

He loosely paid attention as Jack ran through a checklist and led him through all the various cuts and wounds over the body. Strangulation, severed fingers, missing teeth, broken jaw, no evidence of rape, blah blah.

Jack seemed to realise that he didn't have Sawyer's full attention. "I thought DI Cortez was working the case?"

"She got sick. It's mine now."

"You'd better solve it, Ford."

"I will," he snapped back, defensive by now. It didn't take a lot from Jack to get his back up. Things had been tense between them for years, ever since Jack had walked in on his girlfriend and Sawyer together. Jack and Kate had split up after that, but Sawyer kept in touch with her; she was a journalist, good at sticking her nose in where it wasn't needed. She could usually be relied on to provide some useful information.

"Okay." Jack didn't sound as if he believed him, not really.

Sawyer looked down at the body and digested the information he'd been given before Jack had started to annoy him. Nodding to himself, he glanced up at Jack. "I want a full report on her by the end of the day," he ordered. Without giving Jack the opportunity to object, he turned and walked back out of the morgue.

Just as he'd expected, the crime scene barely looked out of the ordinary by now. The body was gone, the evidence was bagged, and though there was still vibrant yellow police tape marking the alleyway off, there was nothing left to see. Just various officers in uniform, milling around and looking bored.

Sawyer went anyway and had a good look around. Dried blood on the ground, dark and almost black in the shadows and a mud-lined footprint – other than that, there was nothing.

He stayed anyway and studied the size of the blood stain, the size of the footprint – about the same as his own, though the forensics department would be able to be a lot more accurate about that – and looked around just in case there was anything that the previous team on the job might have missed.

Obviously not.

Damn it. He'd wanted to feel at least a little productive.

Sighing, he eventually pulled out the phone he had on him and called the station, just to report on his whereabouts.

"Good afternoon London Police Department Homicide this is DC Pace speaking how can I help you?" Charlie's voice said in a rush, not pausing for breath at all. He sounded rushed off his feet. Sawyer had to smirk at that, even though he was standing alone at the scene of a murder.

"It's DI Ford," he said to introduce himself; they weren't on first name terms, not yet. Charlie had just transferred down from Manchester a few weeks ago – and Sawyer wasn't even friends with the people he'd been working with for years. "I'm at the crime scene." He just assumed Charlie would know what he was talking about. He usually did – he somehow managed to keep track of what case everyone was working on.

"Oh, good. John was looking for you, by the way. Said you were following up a lead. He didn't seem to believe me. Think it's 'cause I'm kind of a crap liar."

Sawyer nodded, but having the Superintendent looking for him couldn't be good. That usually meant he'd done something wrong. "What's Locke want with me?"

"Said that we've managed to find an address for the vic's husband – and he also kind of said that, seeing as you're heading up the case, you have to be the one to tell him, and get him to ID the body and stuff."

"Shit."

"Yeah. Sucks, doesn't it? You want me to come with you?"

Sawyer shook his head, because he preferred working alone even if the department would rather that he didn't. He wasn't a team player – never would be. "No, I'm fine. What's the address?"

He grabbed a pen from his pocket and wrote it down on the back of his hand, along with the name while Charlie told him some extra details. He grouched and hung up without another word.

Sawyer parked outside the house, and looked out of the window. It wasn't somewhere you'd expect to find the home of a dead prostitute. There were flowerbeds, for hell's sake. A woman walking her fluffy little dog peered disapprovingly at him through the window. He stared back at her until she hurried away.

He frowned down at the address and name, written on his hand. Fuck. He hated this part of the job.

Jin Kwon. Immigrant, moved to London ten years ago, but there was no record of what he did for a living. Officially, he was unemployed. Officially, Sun had been too. 'Officially' didn't mean a whole lot.

"Here goes," he muttered to himself, while unbuckling his seatbelt. Hopefully this would be over with quickly. Maybe he'd have time to head to the pub afterwards, get a drink or two. DC Pace had mentioned that he'd probably be in the pub around the corner after work. Seeing as Charlie had only transferred to their branch, just over a week ago, it would make sense to get to know him – to investigate him, basically.

Well, that was something to look forwards to. He'd definitely need it.

One deep breath, then he walked out of the car and up the stone path towards the front door. There were several potted plants by the doorstep, pretty and decorative. Sawyer frowned at them as he raked through the various pockets on his clothing – jacket, shirt, trousers; he supposed he was lucky that, as an inspector, he no longer had to wear the uniform – and eventually located his ID badge. He rang the doorbell and waited.

The door opened after a wait of a few moments. Sawyer quickly looked over the man answering the door, evaluating him; neat black trousers, expensive watch, pale blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked like a business executive. Not really what Sawyer had been expecting, to be honest. He wondered if Jin even knew what his wife did to keep the money rolling in.

He flashed his badge. "DI Sawyer Ford. Are you Jin Kwon?" he asked.

He received a blank stare in returned, then an alarmed burst of some foreign language. Aw, shit.

"Slow down," he ordered, and Jin shut up. Sawyer already wished that he'd forced Charlie to do this for him. Sawyer was a DI, wasn't he? He was supposed to delegate. That was one of the perks. "I don't speak your damn language."

Jin carried on looking at him with worried confusion.

"Look, can I come in?" Still no comprehension. Alright. Slower this time. Accompanying hand gestures. Whatever. "Can. I. Come. In?"

He wasn't sure why he wanted to. He had no warrant and no reason yet to look around inside. Still…

He pointed rapidly inside, and that seemed to do the trick; Jin stepped back to let him past. He walked inside and looked around the hallway. Nice place, to match the perfectly groomed exterior. The floor beneath his feet was made of varnished wood. He was tempted to remove his shoes.

Jin stared at him expectantly, but Sawyer knew he couldn't do a thing without a translator or a warrant. So what could he do for now?

"Your wife?" he said, voice raised. "Sun Kwon?"

Jin seemed to recognise the name at least, because he nodded frantically and started up jabbering in his own language again. Sawyer waved the words away. "I don't understand you, so just stop it." Jin didn't. Sawyer closed his eyes and willed it away.

Alright, this was pointless, a wasted journey. He should've saved himself the time. Shaking his head, he looked at Jin's face again. How the hell did anyone live in this country for so many years without learning the language? Sawyer had lived in England for five years, and already he had dozens of 'bloody' and 'buggers' falling into his speech.

"I'm going to have a look around," he said loudly, and accompanied the words with a wave of his hand. He probably wouldn't find anything, and he'd be yelled at if anyone found out because he didn't have a warrant, but it was something to do.

He walked down the hallway with Jin trailing behind him. The house was normal, really. Depressingly so. The decoration was neat and understated, although there were definitely way too many houseplants scattered around. He hated the moist smell of them.

He made a cursory sweep of the house. Nothing out of the ordinary. There was a door upstairs that wouldn't open – probably nothing, probably a cupboard containing the boiler, but he noted it anyway and reminded himself to check it out later.

He looked back to Jin, who was staring at him, and headed back to the stairs. "I'm gonna have to take you in to the station," he said, more to himself than to Jin. "You can wait there 'til they get a translator."

Jin rushed down the stairs after him, but he didn't understand. Of course he didn't. Asshole. He grabbed Sawyer's arm and held tightly. "Sun, yes?"

Frowning, Sawyer removed Jin's hand from his arm. "Yeah. Sun. How much English do you speak?"

"No English. Small."

"We found a body. Think it might be your wife." Not the softest way to break it, but no comprehension dawned on Jin's face, so it didn't matter. Sawyer shook his head. "Just come on."