Title: Material Culture

Author: Nemo the Everbeing

Rating: PG for this chapter

Summary: Every object has significance. The goal of study is to determine what it is. (Finch/Dominic)

Disclaimer: 'V for Vendetta' belongs to Alan Moore and David Lloyd. The theatrical version of the story belongs to Warner Brothers, the Wachowski brothers, and possibly a few other brothers. I don't own any of it, am not a brother, and write this solely for my own pleasure.

oOo oOo Chapter 2: Case Files oOo oOo

Two weeks in and Finch realized he'd have to at least acknowledge Stone's existence. They were on a case, a major case as things were shaping, and Finch couldn't help but delegate responsibility. Stone was his partner, but more than that he was a sergeant with a great lot of constables who thought he was tops. It made sense to pass him some of the load.

It was one of the harder things Finch had to do as an inspector. They looked at one another when he handed Stone the case file. "I'm trusting you with the door to door and to chase down any leads you get off that," Finch said. "Don't bollocks it up."

He left the office with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. "I won't, Sir!" he heard over his shoulder, but didn't turn to acknowledge Stone or his shout. They'd both see in the next few days.

oOo oOo oOo oOo

"I may have something, Inspector!" Stone says, hurrying into their office. "I got a vague sort of description off the neighbors, Sir, those who weren't hiding away trying not to see anything."

"I thought you might," Finch says, not bothering to hide his dry tone. Even political appointments can be persuasive.

Stone chooses to ignore the sarcasm. Stone is rather good at selective ignorance. "So I ran the description and location past my friend at the Finger—"

"You've a friend at the Finger?" Finch leans across his desk. He didn't know that Stone was quite that connected.

Stone shrugs, and has the decency to look uncomfortable. "No one special, Sir. Just an assistant in the information department. We went through school together when we were lads."

"And do you give him information in exchange for his help?" Finch asks.

"No, I just buy him the occasional pint. He says he always pulls girls better with me around to get them interested."

"And you're never interested back?" Finch is scoffing openly now. He doesn't believe a word of this.

"Call me old-fashioned, Sir, but I prefer to know a girl's name and a bit about her before I go and hop into bed with her. Still, if it keeps him passing me bits and pieces every now and again, I don't mind playing wingman a few times a month." Stone frowns. "You don't believe me."

"It's quite a lot of bullshit," Finch says.

"It's not, though. That's what happens. I know it's daft, and I know it's preposterous that he'd leak information for a few tries with a few girls, but he doesn't have many friends, and he never gives me information that's too sensitive."

"And what did he give you this time?"

"That surveillance caught the sound of running footsteps."

"We already know the killer fled the scene," Finch says. Either Stone is daft, or he's stringing the story out to get a reaction. Either way, Finch doesn't have time for it.

"Did we know he ran in, too?"

"What, away from something?"

"Probably, because two seconds later a few Fingermen happened along looking for a man who fits our killer's description."

It's a good lead, if it's true. "Did he give you their names?"

"No, that would be a step too far. But if we can find out who the Finger's been after these past weeks we just might get an ID."

Finch dislikes having to call the Finger for anything, but needs must. He picks up the phone with Stone standing there, looking a bit pleased. "It may well lead to nothing," Finch says.

"I know, Sir," Stone says.

"Then why are you smiling?"

"It's just good to finally work with you, Sir."

Finch rolls his eyes. "Don't you play silly buggers with me, Sergeant. You've still got a week to go."

Stone's smile only dims a bit. "Of course, Sir. Still good to work with you, to contribute to the case."

After a second, Finch tucks the still-ringing phone against his shoulder and tosses Stone another folder. "There. Since you've such a winning streak going, why don't you track down the names on that list? They've all got form, and they were all rumored to be in the area. See if any of them are in the Finger's sights too."

"Will do, Chief," Stone says, and before Finch can correct that particular ridiculous nickname the other end of the line picks up.