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A Long and Illustrious Career

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“I wasn’t in a coma?”

“And you say I don’t listen to you, cloth ears. I already—”

“Tell me again, Guv.”

“Livejournal crashed and we were lost for a few days, bloody hacker. Course while you were dreaming of being in a coma I was part of the 1966 World Cup team, you should have seen me pass to Greaves, Tyler, I was—”

“So I’m not really a DCI in 2006?”

“No.”

“I’m not even real?”

“Not exactly.”

Not exactly?”

“You’re more like Tinkerbell, you would be real if all the girls and a handful of the boys could wish it so.”

“Since when do you say things like wish it so?”

“Must be a new writer, the com’s got a lot of them.”

“But I came back for you Gene, jumped off a bloody roof so we could be together.”

“A roof? Thinking out your arse again, Tyler.”

“So we can’t be together…”

“Try and bloody stop us. Be nice to have an evening where we could just have a couple of pints and play some darts. Instead, we’re so busy with the uphill gardening that I don’t have any time for the other sort, you should see my bloody lawn it’s—”

“So we’re sleeping together? Why don’t I remember that?”

“How could you forget? Handcuffs, in the alley, leather gloves, in another alley, on my desk, dressed as a nun, in yet another alley, in the car, in the Tufty suit—”

Tufty?

“I’ll never think of look both ways the same way again. Then there’s your career as a prozzie.”

“WHAT?”

“You’re good at it too. Course that’s one storyline where I’m a right bastard and yet that writer claims that I’m her favourite. You’ve even got to fuck Phyllis—”

Phyllis?

“Could be worse, at least you’re not a psychotic murdering bastard in that one.”

“I’m not— NO, I don’t want to know. So what about you, what’d you do to get off so lightly?”

“I didn’t. Don’t want to talk about what you’ve done to me… well, not you, the other you, the one who really wanted the other me…”

“My head hurts.”

“Mine too Sam, mine too. I’ve already fucked Morgan, Woolf and even my car—”

“How? Don’t answer that. Why?

“Course, my record’s nothing compared to yours. There’s all of CID to start with. Then there’s your mobile phone, procedure, your pencil case, my car, your files, your … clients of course, the Tufty suit, strangers in public toilets, a bloke off the telly, no, two blokes off the telly, no, three—”

“That’s enough.”

“See, that’s one thing you’ve never done before, said that.”

“So what do we do now?”

“It’s quiet, too quiet. So we should get some kip while we can and then you should see if Annie knows where you can learn to put your legs behind your ears.”

“What, you mean yoga?”

“Yeah, that's it. It’s the Ficathon in a month Sam and I’ve already seen the prompts.”

 

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