Dempsey's hunch had paid off. Hours later, he and Makepeace waited it out, whilst negotiators had conversed with the serial killer. Then the quiet street had erupted in violence only seen in Hollywood or the lead news. It'll be on the BBC, he knows that much and Sturgeon will get all the credit. The killer's body was ripped by gunfire, but the last woman he snatched was in shock, and thankfully alive. For this, Dempsey was grateful.

Sometime around midnight he suggested to Harry that she left and she'd objected as he'd expected. He knew she was restless. The women were blonde, surreal and familiar but not her uniqueness, at least not in his opinion. When he'd started to talk about it, she had told him to stop. She knew already. Of course she did.

When he got home, he was relived to see her car outside.

He stumbled into the kitchen, overcome with tiredness to find her sat at the table, sipping tea having let herself into his place like she lived with him. He stood briefly in the doorway unable to comprehend this domestic scene and how it agreed with him. It must have shown on his face, for she handed him a mug.

"Close your mouth, you'll swallow a bus." Harry watched as he swilled down the tea. She reached up and smoothed down his hair when he pulled off his jumper.

"You're staying over?" He asked and offered out the biscuit tin to either avoid the rejection or gain favour with a jammy dodger.

"I have rather invited myself in…." She tailed off apologetically and he's quick to reassure her. She shakes her head at the biscuits.

"Anytime, you know that." He can't define what they are but he means that his place is her home too.

There's a warm, fleeting smile on her face and the tension melts a little more.

"Thanks for sending in that guy in with my coffee." Dempsey remembered as sipped from the mug.

"I didn't." Harry dismissed. She slumped at the table, head rested on her hands. "Actually, if you don't mind a guest, I'll stay."

Dempsey got up, thinking no more of the day. He handed her one of his t-shirts and her yoga pants that she left the last time.

DMDMDM

Dick found himself sat in the early hours of the morning over his desk, fiddling with a broken projector in the media room of SI-10. He looked up to see the television being flicked on by two detectives he recalls from the fraud division.

He noticed then that the outside of the building he was in, was on the screen, and Inspector Sturgeon was leading an interview, clearly in his element. Dick supposed this would look good for the Met, even if woman had died, they'd caught the killer.

"Looks like Dempsey's attitude paid off." One of the men threw down the newspaper and wiped his moustache clean from the pearls of coffee. "Who would have thought it was the locations that mattered?"

Dick was invisible to them as his colleague gave a wry laugh. "Not Sturgeon. He was going to send in Makepeace."

"Dempsey got lucky with that one, and the guess. Still, bloody creepy if you ask me, knowing that stuff."

"Well if isn't screwing the blonde, he's telling us how to do our jobs."

"You reckon he's…." The man thrust his hips, "with the Ice Maiden? He's bloody brave. Mind you, keeps her in her place."

"C'mon, we've been asked for a press interview. Let's get our name in the credit." His colleague laughed.

As they left, swinging the door behind them, they failed to see the young man at the projector whose eyes hadn't left the television screen, his knuckles so tight on the screwdriver in his hand, that he'd turned them white. Lloyd and Matthews, he recalled their names.

He released a loud rush of air as the room cleared, and his frustration was set free. He watched them disappear to take credit for an arrest that was never theirs to make. Thank god, he thought, that he worked alone and he didn't have to deal with that sort of bullshit. Dick rose from his seat and punched the buttons on the television, plunging the room into silence. He picked up the projector and heaved it up to Chief Inspector Spiking's office.

"Put it over there." Spikings pointed at the table and waited as Chas cleared the stack of papers. Dick carefully placed the projector down and followed the tall Scotsman from the office.

"Give it a mo, he'll have no idea how to set it up." Chas shoved a mug of coffee into Dick's hand.

"Chas, how do you work this damm thing?" There was a bellow from the flimsy partition door and Chas grinned.

"No idea, guv and honestly, with Dempsey and Makepeace out till tomorrow, I haven't got the time." Dick watched as Chas stuck his head in the door. "This man can though."

"Where are Bonnie and Clyde?" Spikings bellowed as if he wanted to be heard in the car park.

"Day off, you said last night after the arrest" Chas reminded his boss.

"I could use them in here today. There's bloody loads to do, it's not a holiday camp."

Chas sighed and Dick got the impression this was an frequent exchange when he found himself in the lair, under the watchful eyes of the Chief Inspector who grumbled his thanks when the projector sprung into life.

Today was turning out a bit better than he hoped.