I have started drawing some Dempsey and Makepeace fanart: xlaramiexDOTdeviantartDOTcom (replace the 'DOT' with '.'). What do you guys think?

To recap:

"Thank you for a wonderful holiday, James," she said, looking up at him sideways.

"No, thank you," he countered. "I had a great time, Princess."

Then he did something which Harry would spend a large amount of time replaying and dissecting.

He turned and kissed her full on the mouth. Their lips touched for a scant second but Harry felt as though an bolt of lightning jolted through her. It seemed to freeze her, freeze time, and for a moment she had never felt so alive.

Then it was over, and he removed his arm from her shoulders.

"James?" she said quietly, feeling as though a solid floor she hadn't previously been aware of had suddenly disappeared, leaving an abyss of dark swirling colours beneath her feet. What was he doing? And why?

He gave a laugh which seemed higher than usual. "Well lover-boy certainly seemed to be enjoyin' himself, I thought I'd see what all the fuss was about!" They regarded each other nervously. "Well, bye, Harry. I'll see you t'morrow." He hurried into his car and sped away with a screech of wheels, leaving Harry alone with the unnerving realisation that she enjoyed kissing her partner far more than she enjoyed kissing her boyfriend.

"James…" she sighed into the night. "I think I've fallen for you."

After Dempsey had driven away, Harry went into her kitchen and numbly got a bottle of wine out of the cupboard. She poured out a big glass and drank it down rapidly.

I love him, I hate him, I want him, I distrust him, he makes me happy, he makes me angry, he makes me cry, he said he needed me but what did that mean maybe he just meant for the case but he never would have said that a year ago but he flirts with me but he flirts with everyone but it's not allowed but who cares about rules but he loves his job but who says he feels anything for me to even consider quitting and nothing's even started yet - yet? what am I expecting? but he kissed me but it probably means nothing but I want it to but what if it doesn't -

Harry screamed mentally, trying desperately to drown out her thoughts. Her breathing became spasmodic, bringing forth tears to the corners of her eyes as she sank into the protective shelter of her arms. She didn't know what to do any more.

The shrill ring of the telephone interrupted her thoughts halfway through the bottle. Vaguely thinking that it might be Dempsey, Harry went to answer it with the wine glass still in her hand.

-:-

Dempsey was even later than usual getting to work the morning after he had kissed Harry. He was nervous, though he wouldn't admit that even to himself. Despite his tardiness, Harry had still not arrived when he strode into the office with a false air of bravado at twenty past nine. Even the least observant among his colleagues noted that he looked deflated at the realisation that she was not there, though most assumed it was because he'd been looking forward to seeing her. Almost everyone was involved in the office bet predicating how long it would be before they slept with each other, and most exchanged significant looks as he slumped moodily into his chair.

None of them knew that the real reason was because he had been rehearsing the breezy greeting he would give her as he sat down opposite her and rested his feet on the desk to show that he was casual (not that he was). Now he would have to re-imagine the first greeting from the submissive position of sitting down as she walked in.

He tried to busy himself with standing-up jobs like needlessly reorganising files and making coffee, then offering to make it for other people. He was too filled with tension to sit still. Every time the door opened he'd freeze then try to see who it was without being too obvious. He felt foolish but he couldn't help how he felt. His apprehension increased as time went on.

The minutes passed slowly until five to ten, when the door opened and the person behind it was finally Harry. All his planned nonchalance went out of the window when he saw her from his position behind the desk, because she looked awful. She was wearing sunglasses, though it wasn't particularly bright. A combination of her hunched shoulders and the careful way she was placing her feet made him realise that she was hung-over. Wordlessly, he went to make her a coffee as she made her slow way towards him.

He placed the cup on the desk in front of her just as she was lowering herself delicately into the chair. She sunk her head forwards into the support of her hands and ignored the coffee.

"Harry? Y'alright?" Dempsey asked apprehensively.

She nodded resolutely, but he noticed her wince.

"Hangover?"

Another nod.

Dempsey wondered if it was his fault that she'd drunk so much, then why kissing her led to her turning up late and hung-over.

Spikings looked out from his office. "Dempsey…Makepeace," he said in a low but dangerous voice.

They followed him apprehensively into the office, Harry significantly slower than Dempsey. Spikings waited until they were stood in front of him like naughty schoolchildren before he began to speak.

"What I would like to know," he said in an ominously polite voice, "is why the both of you have turned up several hours late this morning. I would also like to know why the sergeant here is apparently hung-over."

Harry cared little for the small piece of dignity she had left at that point, and was leaning on Dempsey as discreetly as she could. She couldn't face the thought of talking so she left it up to Dempsey to explain why he had been late before having to contemplate speaking.

"Slept through my alarm," Dempsey said abruptly.

Spikings' anger seemed to add a few inches to his height. "And you?" he said, still in that terribly polite voice, as he turned to Harry.

"In private, sir," Harry said as quietly as she could.

Spikings considered her for a moment, then jerked a head towards the door. "Get out, Lieutenant."

Dempsey scowled but, for once, did as he was bidden. When outside, he put his ear next to the door to listen. After a few seconds, the door was opened and Spikings glared at him, and he gave up. What was Harry saying? Was she going to tell Spikings what he'd done? Did it matter? He still didn't know if he was the reason for her hangover.

Dempsey sat on Harry's side of the desk so he could watch the door and thoughtlessly picked up a pen to tap on the table.

It was at least ten minutes before Harry emerged from the office, withdrawn and exhausted still. She took his chair without comment and seemed oblivious to his concerned gaze.

Dempsey gathered up his courage. "Harry, is this about last night? What I did?"

Harry met his eyes, hesitated, and shook her head; it was partly true. If it hadn't been for that phone call, she would probably still have got drunk, but definitely not that badly.

"What's up, then?" he persisted, pushing her cooling cup of coffee towards her.

Harry roused herself, took a sip of the drink, grimaced, and, put the cup down again. "Spikings isn't happy with us," she replied quietly, trying to avoid the question. To her relief, Dempsey did at last drop it.

-:-

"Shouldn't murder be doing this?" Harry complained that afternoon, glancing at Dempsey in the driver's seat. The car was stifling and though her headache was almost gone the heat was making her temper short. The one advantage was that it was helping her forget the awkwardness between the two of them.

"It's only some broad gone missin', it ain't necessarily a murder. Hey, what are you moanin' about? The sun is shinin', the sky is blue, and you're in a confined space with your favourite American." He turned to wink at her.

"You're the only American I know."

"Exactly, so I must be your favourite."

"That also means you're my least favourite American," she pointed considered this, his lips pushing out as he thought. "I think that just about sums us up," he observed matter-of-factly. With that, he pulled the steering wheel around and slammed on the brakes.

"Is that your version of parking?" Harry asked, sounding unimpressed as she got out and saw that the car was 'parked' diagonally and taking up two spaces. Even Dempsey could appreciate that 'abandoned' would have been a more accurate term.

"There's no one here to miss the space." Dempsey gestured around the almost-empty car park to illustrate his point. "C'mon Harry, quit moaning and let's go see this woman. What's her name?"

They walked together across the small car park towards the apartment building. "Toni. She's the one who reported her friend missing," she added helpfully.

"I knew that bit, I'm not stupid, I just forgot her name," Dempsey retorted defensively. He scowled briefly, but soon recovered.

"What are missing persons for, anyway?" Harry continued to grumble as they ascended in a pee-soaked lift. Dempsey hoped privately that she wouldn't be like this for long, and wondered if her distress was his fault after all; she was being short and snippy with him. Then he decided not to think about it any more.

As the lift arrived with a ding he automatically placed a hand on Harry's lower back, only to have his arm slapped unceremoniously away. Stung, he resolved to keep his hands off her for the rest of the day. Maybe. What was the matter with her today? Usually her acceptance of the contact was as unconscious as his initiating it, but today it felt as though he'd done something wrong. Well, he was pretty sure he had, but Harry had said it wasn't his fault.

BZZZ!

The harsh sound of the buzzer as Harry pressed it cut through his thoughts. He took a moment to study her face in shadowy profile. He couldn't make out her expression through the gloom but, reluctant to be accused of staring (again), he quickly refocused his attention on the door.

At last, the door was opened a crack to reveal a sliver of a face. "Who are you?" asked a nervous voice.

"We're the police, you called us," Dempsey reminded her, showing her his ID. "About your friend, Lydia. Can we come in?"

Toni pushed the door closed and for a moment Dempsey thought she was locking them out, but then there was the rattle of a chain and she let them in. Toni was a slender woman, average height, early twenties. Tired grey eyes observed them warily from beneath the uncovered duvet she clasped around her body and over the top of her head.

Her apartment was unkempt and sparsely furnished. A pile of clothes were hanging over the back of a chair next to her bed, which Toni sank onto face-first with the duvet over her head. The room in which they were standing seemed to double as a living room and bedroom, and through an open door could be seen a kitchen. It was clearly the home of someone in a state of financial desperation.

It was usually Harry who did the public relations bit, but when she seemed unlikely to stir herself to speak Dempsey decided to take over. Harry continued gazing despondently at the carpet as he spoke. "When did you last see your friend?"

"Two nights ago," Toni said in a muffled voice. "We went swimming."

"Where?"

"In the river."

"In the river? Jeez, you musta been cold."

Toni remained under her duvet and said nothing.

"Where in the river?" Dempsey asked.

"Other side of town."

"Then what?"

"Then she…she just disappeared. I expect she wandered off to a pub or something, but there's some dodgy people around there."

"Can you show us?"

Toni twisted, and moved the blanket away from her face to look at them. "Okay," she said, her voice louder now that it was unencumbered by the heavy material. She slid out of bed and started dressing - she was still in her pyjamas -, stripping off without shame in front of them and pulling on scruffy trousers and a stained green t-shirt. She donned dark sunglasses and retreated into an old coat before picking up her keys and leading them outside. Dempsey waited impatiently as she turned the key firmly, and carefully made sure that the door was locked.

"Takes about an hour to walk there," Toni told Dempsey, who thus far was the only one to speak to her, as they piled into the lift.

"Ain't you got a car?"

Toni shook her head. "Can't afford it."

"I'll drive, then."

And so, with Toni navigating from the backseat, Dempsey drove them to a stretch of the river about half a mile downstream from one of the bridges which stretched imperiously across the water.

"You're sure this is the right place?" Dempsey checked.

Toni looked up and down the riverbank and nodded. "Definitely."

"Right then, Harry, I think it's time we go asking in pubs. Toni, can you remember where you went?"

"Um - no."

"No? You mean we're gonna have to go in every pub in the area asking if they saw your friend last night?"

Toni looked sheepish, which was answer enough.

Dempsey sighed irritably. "It's gonna be a long day."