Chapter Text
It's An Odd Day In Oxford
It was an odd day in Oxford when reports of people turning to animals start coming into local police stations. Detective Chief Inspector Fred Thursday wasn't sure what to make of it until a young, unfamiliar uniformed officer arrived in his office holding a cardboard box at arm's length.
"Constable? What's this?"
The poor boy looks terrified, all pale and wide-eyed.
'Must be new,' Fred muses as he waits as patiently as he can for a response.
"It's... well it's... we got the suspect, sir. The animal guy. Former college boy. Expelled for wrongful use of college resources or something like that."
Thursday frowned. It was always the colleges these days. Ever since Morse arrived. What happened to the good, old fashioned thieves or pickpockets? Now it was all Dons and Latin and...stuff only Morse knows. However, that didn't explain the box that the constable was currently holding like it was a bomb ready to explode.
"Ah. Well done then. First big job? Who got him? And What's with the box?"
The lad glances at the box and gulped. Honest to God gulped. Fred would've laughed if he wasn't starting to get concerned.
"Constable?"
'Morse, sir."
"Morse?"
"To both questions, sir."
"I'm not following."
The constable frowns before placing the box gently on Thursday's desk. Something inside rustles and the nervy officer beats a hasty retreat before stopping near the door to gather himself. It's starting to get a little frustrating.
"I don't have all day lad."
He didn't either. It was Joan's birthday and he had strict instructions to be back by 6 for a birthday tea. Homemade cottage pie and cake.
"Well... Sir... DC Morse identified the suspect, no idea how, and radioed for backup. By the time we got there, the suspect was about to flee. We literally caught him on his way out the door, Sir. DC Morse was... well... he's in the box... Sir."
Fred blinks. He was not expecting that. At all.
"He's in the... Morse is...?"
Reaching for the lid of the box Fred goes to open it before the constable raises his hand. Honestly, the lad can't be that fresh out of school, can he? The last time he checked they did have some form of age limit.
"Yes!?"
The boy, Fred should probably ask for his name, lowered his hand looking a tad sheepish.
"Could I leave, sir? It's just... he didn't take kindly to being handled and he's quicker than he looks."
Fred looks at the box in confusion. He can't imagine Morse turning into anything overly fierce. He could be a bit blunt at times, a bit sharp maybe but aggressive? He looks back at the new boy with a sigh.
"Alright constable. On your way."
He was gone almost before Fred finished speaking.
Turning his full attention back to the box he once again reaches to carefully open the flaps. Once he's peeled them back and lifted the towel he finds dumped inside Fred finds himself at a loss for words.
A Hedgehog. A small, reddish-brown, tightly balled hedgehog.
Well... he'd never hear Morse being described as prickly the same way anymore.