Thomas let the backdoor slam as he strode out into the yard, the warmth of the late morning sun doing little to thaw his icy mood. He paced, loosening his black tie, tugging at the stiff collar of his shirt, allowing the chilly breeze to touch his skin. Muttering a string of curses at himself, he settled in his usual place – the same place he'd found solitude for his decades in Downton's service when things or people got too much. He could handle stress, chaos and demanding guests of his superiors – it came with the job and those who couldn't handle that had never lasted long – but even he had his limits.

He had had what Richard referred to in an endearing manner as 'one of those days'. He'd woken to find Wilde had coughed up a hairball on his newly ironed uniform. Richard had sorted that for him, ironing another with the utmost efficiency so his mood was not too out-of-sorts by the time he'd walked up to the house, arriving slightly late but not tragically so. He'd forgotten and forgiven their cat's mishap, but no sooner had he finished with upstairs breakfast had he returned to a commotion to find Mrs Hughes' set of keys had gone missing and with it access to the pantry and other essential parts of downstairs that the kitchen staff needed if anyone in the house – upstairs or down, guest, servant or family – was going to eat by lunch. Thomas had been able to offer a temporary solution through his own keys, but this did little to appease the situation. That her keys could go missing in the first place momentarily dumbfounded Thomas. He was so used to seeing Mrs. Hughes hold them or have them on her clothing that he had assumed they were just as much a part of her as any limb. As Daisy and Charlotte discussed whether the missing keys could have been part of a wider sabotage of the Crawley family, Stephen had rushed in, holding the keys, having found them under the table. After being left exhausted by two disasters in his morning, Thomas retreated to his office to let himself and everyone else cool off. In order to address the accusations and negative comments circulating, he considered various options and ultimately focused on sorting out the staff's wages to ensure prompt payment for everyone before lunchtime. After all, what better way to distract anyone than with money?

Thomas fiddled with the lighter, glancing sideways several times before lighting up. Richard would smell it on him later, no matter what he used to cover the smoke up, but Thomas needed something. The wages were supposed to be a solution, but had instead led to another still unsolved problem. He finished two cigarettes and then a third after he recalled the last time he'd had a smoke. It wouldn't have helped him to think about his dead father and anything he might have said at how pathetic it was that, as butler, he'd messed up the most basic of tasks before he could even begin. He couldn't ask anyone for help – not anyone in the house, anyway. Chris might know how to help him, but he didn't have the time to sneak down to the village to ask him. Thomas threw down a half-finished cigarette, stamping on it with unnecessary force. "If I knew how to open a locked door," he muttered to himself, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Now that sounds intriguing."

Thomas startled, whirling round in the direction of the familiar voice. He regarded Larry with a double-take, not used to seeing someone who usually dressed immaculately to be wearing a loose-fitting shirt dotted with splatters of either mud or oil, old boots and ill-fitting trousers. "What are you doing sneaking up on me like that?"

"I wasn't Thomas. You were in a mind of your own. I was merely observing. I don't know how Richard does it, letting you leave looking so ... delectable." Larry sauntered over. He was a contradiction: he spoke like Larry, but he looked like an imposter. Thomas didn't know what to make of it.

"Then observe somewhere else," Thomas snapped.

"Oh dear, now I'm afraid Mr Barrow," Larry began, speaking his name in the way only Richard did, "it is now impossible for me to leave you be. I have to know two things: what's caused that frown on your handsome face and now I may remove it." Larry stepped closer still and, for a moment, he thought Larry was about to step into forbidden territory when his shoulder brushed Thomas's. Instead, he settled himself casually against the wall beside him.

"Are you drunk again?"

"What? No! Really Thomas, you should know me enough by now that I was trying to cheer you up with a little harmless flirtation. It backfired clearly. Matthew has been watching me closely and after my incident with"—Larry clasped a hand over his mouth and mumbled something incoherent—"Richard told you I hope? He didn't? Damn, I'm not helping at all, am I? Thomas, I'm sorry."

Thomas rolled his eyes at Larry's overly dramatic behaviour. "I know you kissed him, so don't go all Shakespearian on me. I've had enough drama locking myself out of the safe."

"Locking yourself out of ... Oh, so that's what you meant!" Larry's expression flickered back to concern again. "Really though, Thomas, Richard explained I was drunk, stupid, and that I felt nothing but guilt and regret since, right? I enjoyed kissing Richard once – well, actually many times and other things besides – years ago, but not when it would hurt you. If it has, then I can only beg your forgiveness. It seems I do that a lot lately."

Thomas felt suddenly grateful for Richard, who made it his mission that he'd never feel alone or unloved again. He touched Larry on the arm. "It's in the past, Larry. If it helps you, though, I forgive you. I doubt you can help me now."

"What exactly is wrong with the safe?"

"I entered the code on the dial as usual and ... nothing. The dial didn't turn. No turning dial, no access to the staff wages that are due today. That will just add to an already rubbish morning. Chris is handy with locks and getting into places he shouldn't – he broke into Downton whilst drunk once – but I don't have the time to go to the village to fetch him or any way to get him inside to fix the safe without being seen."

Larry rubbed his chin. "I could sort it."

"You?"

"I broke into a duke's safe once. He'd broken a deal with me, locked away some incriminating letter from myself that he intended to use as leverage. I stole them back and held his own words against him. Kept him quiet and at a distance."

A wave of fear washed over Thomas, causing his heart to race in his chest. "A duke? What was his name?"

"Oh George, Duke of Somerset – I forget the full title. He is of no consequence."

"I see." Thomas let out a slow breath.

"Why?" Larry asked with a tilted head.

"Nothing. Doesn't matter," Thomas said. "I'd appreciate your help, Larry," he added, changing the subject.

Larry gave him another puzzled look, but didn't press him further. "I'd like to feel useful to someone. If not Sebastian, then you, Thomas." Larry lowered his gaze, now filled with excitement. "Get me inside and I'll see what I can do."

…

Larry knelt on the floor of Thomas's office, rubbing his chin whilst studying the imposing solid safe nestled into a locked cupboard at the far end of the room. Thomas hovered behind him, pacing a little, but enough for Larry to snap his head around towards him.

"Thomas, I will figure this out a lot quicker if you'd keep still or find something to distract you. I'll sort it out. I never shy away from a challenge," Larry said with his characteristic glimmer in his eyes before returning his attention to his task.

Thomas could think of no distraction. His day had been rubbish, to say the least, and he couldn't afford another round of disgruntled staff to deal with. He shut the door, playing with the lock before opening it again and pushing it into an ajar position – everyone downstairs knew the unspoken meaning of a shut locked door when Richard was visiting, but he didn't think they'd understand the meaning with Larry, or worse, they'd jump to the wrong conclusions like they'd done with Andy and himself years ago.

"Right. I have a guess ... It's more of a feeling, but I'll give it a shot." Larry stood, pushing his braces off his shoulders, allowing them to fall and hang from his waist.

Thomas raised an eyebrow.

"Thomas, if I am to work I need to be comfortable, but don't worry I won't remove anything else"—Larry gave him a suggestive wink—"not unless you'd like me to?"

Thomas cleared his throat. "That's far enough. What are you going to do? I'd rather have the safe in one piece afterwards."

Larry let out a chuckle, his smile afterwards playing on the corner of his lip. "I'm not about to blow the door off with gunpowder. No, I have another idea. I'm reckoning the dial is stuck."

Thomas sighed with impatience and rolled his eyes. "Well, yes, Larry, anyone can see that. I told you so earlier."

"Something is jamming it from behind. There's a piece of something – debris of some sort – that needs to be removed. I could just about see it, but no way would I reach it with a fingernail. I need something to prize it free, something ..."

"I'll fetch it, whatever it is, just hurry."

The door pushed open and Stephen entered, looking at Larry kneeling on the floor by the safe, to Thomas, then back to Larry again. He opened his mouth to speak and Thomas could guess what his question would be.

"Stephen, have you forgotten the art of knocking?" Thomas asked the footman.

"Err ... no ... sorry Mr Barrow. Your door was open so I ... What's Lord Ferroland – I mean – Larry doing with the safe? Have you forgotten the combination, Mr Barrow?"

"No, of course not."

Stephen smiled angelically. "It doesn't matter if you have. I know what it is."

Thomas tilted his head. "How do you know? You shouldn't. Only Mrs Hughes, myself and I suppose, Mr Carson, know it."

"You've opened it when I've been here many times. I've got a good photographic memory, Daniel says."

Larry sniggered, causing Thomas to shoot a glare at his friend. "Stephen, you could come in handy, actually. Thomas hasn't forgotten the combination, but there is a problem with it. I think I can fix it, but I need two things first. Could you fetch me a lady's hairpin?"

Stephen swallowed deep. "A lady's hairpin? How would I find one of those as a footman?"

"Some men – I've known a few – have found usefulness and indeed a pleasure in owning such an accessory, as well as all manner of other garments and accessories typically – but not limited to being – used by women."

Any doubt that Thomas had that Stephen was not aware of what Larry was referring to vanished by the rise of pink in the footman's cheeks. "I'm not ..."

"Alternatively, Stephen, you could ask one of the maids? Charlotte, for instance?" Larry suggested, his eyes playful once more.

"Right, of course. "I'll just ...' Stephen scuttled off on his errand.

Thomas hid his giggle under his hand, shaking his head at Larry. "Don't tease my staff, Larry. I am glad to see you smiling, but I have a responsibility for them," Thomas said, failing to master his neutral expression.

"I need one other thing," Larry began, ignoring Thomas's chiding, "a lubricant. I thought you'd have something in that regard?"

It was Thomas's turn to fall victim to Larry's game – and a game it was as no one other than Larry Ferroland could turn a mundane task into something so full of innuendo. "Lubricant?"

"Yes. Men like us have a need for such things in times of—"

Thomas silenced Larry with his hand. "I know what you mean. God, Larry, you don't need to spell that out, but this is the butler of Downton Abbey's office. Why would there be such an item here?"

Larry raised an eyebrow, a broad smirk curling his lip. "Because you are the butler of Downton Abbey and Richard is a frequent visitor ... Need I say more?"

"No, you don't." Thomas felt the flush grow from his stomach up through his chest to his face. "Richard and I have never done that here."

"Really?"

"I ... No that is I"—Thomas pulled at his shirt collar, a wash of heat riding over him—"never ... Well, maybe once," he admitted, with a huff.

Still, Larry's suggestive eyes bore into him.

"Alright twice, but honestly it's none of your business and I bet you and Sebastian—" Thomas stopped himself as the mention of that name caused a flicker in Larry's cheerful demeanour.

"In my study," Larry finished for him, closing his eyes as though caught in a bittersweet memory. "But anyway, do you have anything I can use for the safe?"

Thomas surrendered and fetched a small pot from a locked draw in his desk. "You say one word and I'll—"

Larry tapped the side of his nose, giving him a knowing look. "Not a word Mr Barrow. I am the sole discretion."

"Will this do?" Stephen asked, bursting in brandishing a long, thin pin.

"Perfectly Stephen." Larry took the pin, rubbed the end with Vaseline and pushed it in behind the dial. He wiggled it around, taking it out, then in again a few times whilst peering with one eye closed up close to the dial, muttering to himself.

Thomas held his breath, catching Stephen's eye occasionally and hoping he wouldn't query the Vaseline later. Stephen had grown in his few years serving at Downton and since his relationship with Daniel was no secret amongst certain people, Larry and himself included, he reckoned the footman would know best not to pry.

"Oh, yes!" Yes! There we go!" Larry pulled the hair pin free from behind the dial, which turned with ease. Pinched between his index finger and thumb, he held up a tiny splinter of wood. "That was the problem. Tiny little devil, but sorted now."

He placed the splinter in Thomas's open palm. "That was it?"

"Yep, Mr Barrow, that was it. A minor detail that made one hell of a mess."

Thomas got the feeling Larry wasn't only talking about the splinter of wood. "Thank you Larry. You are brilliant, and saved me a lot of trouble."

Larry pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and cleaned his fingers. "We can't have Downton's staff going unpaid, can we?"

"We would not get paid?" Stephen asked, wide-eyed.

"Not if the safe wouldn't open." Larry stood and made for the door. "I'll leave you to enter the combination in private."

Thomas nodded his thanks. "Larry?"

Larry paused mid-step, his back to Thomas and Stephen.

"We will sort this for you. You and Sebastian."

Larry hung his head for a moment, nodded briefly, as though exhausted, and pulled the door ajar behind him as he left, not uttering a word.

"Will you Mr Barrow? How far can you meddle to solve his mistakes?" Stephen asked when they were alone.

"Richard and I have a plan, one that I hope is in motion as we speak. The person we've tasked with helping us is ... most determined."

Stephen didn't push further, but gave him a trusting smile. "I'll leave you to open the safe, even though privacy is pointless since I know the numbers."

"Yes, yes, no need to rub it in," Thomas said, making a swatting gesture with his hand in Stephen's direction, resulting in the young man's broad smile. "One thing, Stephen, the hairpin – how did you get it?"

"I asked Charlotte like Larry suggested. She thought it was a strange request and even stranger still when I wouldn't explain why." Stephen's smile grew into a cheeky grin. "I just told her Mr Barrow needed a lady's hairpin for a private matter."

"You what?" Thomas gawped, but Stephen scarpered before he had the chance to say more.

Alone in his office with a greasy hairpin and open jar of Vaseline, he held his face in his hands and laughed.

At least he had a good story to tell Richard later.

Note: I hope this raised a few chuckles.