A/N: Well, it's taken me a while to finish off this series but I'm very thankful to those who have continued to read and review. Thought I'd end a rather intense series with a lighter note and I hope you enjoy this final chapter!
The sofa cushions were made of a tough, bobbly material that was severely uncomfortable. The fridge was humming. The house seemed to sway with the wind that terrorised and rattled the windows.
Zaf vowed to never, ever play office pranks again, as his punishment was one that he never wanted to re-live.
Dog-sitting for Harry.
The dog in question was not only the liveliest thing he'd ever encountered that he'd practically had to wrestle her out of the garden, but she was also loud - Zaf could hear her now in the kitchen, rattling the food bowl. He hadn't bothered to drag her back to her basket after another escape.
It had seemed like such a good idea at the time to swap the sugar for salt in the kitchen. It was his paperwork day and pranks seemed like a suitable time-killer, and watching Adam almost choke on a coffee with a substantial lump of salt in it rather than what he expected to be sugar was priceless. However, when Harry invited Juliet to the Grid for a cup of tea after a hellish op they didn't really seem to see the funny side of it...
Harry had a meeting of some sort or something – Zaf hadn't been paying much attention during his scolding, instead focussing his energy on not bursting out laughing at the image of Juliet spitting out tea on Harry's office carpet – and would need Zaf to keep an eye on his dog, Scarlet, for the better part of Saturday evening. He'd picked an appropriate punishment – Saturday was Zaf's favourite day and he'd much rather be at a bar than his boss' house.
Glancing round the house now, Zaf wouldn't be surprised if Harry had deliberately doctored his home to provide him with the most restless night possible. The tap in the kitchen wouldn't close and so constantly dripped; the phone had already rung twice with someone that sounded suspiciously like Adam putting on his Arabic accent trying to sell him double glazing; the lights were flickering at random intervals and, worst of all, Zaf couldn't find the remote for the telly. Either Harry couldn't be bothered to do some DIY or he'd extended the punishment cruelly and with the help of a disgruntled Adam who had shared the salty tea experience.
Zaf could only try to fall asleep on Harry's sofa and forget the woefulness of his evening.
Harry 1, Zaf 0.
Next time, he'd be sure not to get caught.