The Master growled into his coffee. It was too hot to drink, and it was also decidedly not helping him solve this case. The mayor had been bothering him again that she wanted to see results, and soon, but the Master wasn't sure what avenues he could try that he hadn't.
He handed his coffee, still untouched, to his partner, Winston Churchill, who looked like he needed it more. Winston propped his head up on his desk just enough to take a long gulp of the scalding coffee. The Master flinched, since Winston clearly wasn't going to show any common sense of his own.
"Thanks, good fellow," Winston said, suddenly fully awake and cheerful. As much as the Master insisted that he had a name, and that it was a perfectly serviceable one, Winston flat out refused to use it. There were times the Master wished that he still worked on his own.
"Forensics done with the body yet?" the Master asked.
Winston shrugged. "If so, they haven't told me."
The Master really couldn't understand why he had to do everything by himself. He really didn't think it unreasonable to expect that just once his partner could pick up some of the slack. The Master stalked off in the direction of the forensics lab, to see if he could find anything of use. He could hear Winston take a few large slurps of his coffee as the Master slammed shut the door to the office they shared.
Forensics did in fact have a DNA sample for the Master, from scrapings under the victim's fingernails, but it didn't match anything the department had on file. The Master returned to his office to rustle up his partner and head to interview people who knew the victim, in hopes that they would act suspiciously enough that he could get a warrant for a DNA sample.
"Where are we headed?" Winston asked, when they were close enough to their destination that there were evenly spaced trees along the middle of the road.
"Where do you think?" the Master snapped. "Out to lunch?"
"Too early for that." Winston was irritatingly petulant.
"Too early to do anything but our actual jobs. I, for one, intend to find the killer and have him sitting in a jail cell waiting to be convicted by tea time." The Master might not be too fond of scalding coffee, but he had quite a fondness for tea. Particularly when it had milk and sugar in it.
"That's a little overly optimistic, don't you think?" Winston asked.
The Master shrugged as he parked the car on the street. "I've always believed in dreaming big. Like world domination. Or being able to drink my tea at home, for once." He left the police lights flashing in the hopes that no one would hit the car. It had happened the last time he had driven it, well after midnight and in a completely different part of town, but all the Master remembered was that it had been most unpleasant.
"Just let me do the talking," the Master said as they approached the house. "I always do it much better."
Winston smiled, and the Master realized that Winston had forgotten which of them had seniority. "Sure thing, chap."