Chapter Text
It was Friday evening and nearly 6.45pm and Fred was longing for a nice cold pint in the local pub. He had planned to leave at 5pm, but then Mr Bright had asked him to complete another report before he went home.
Being as he and his team had the weekend off, it needed to be done now apparently.
Oh well, it was finished now and signed off and he put on his hat and coat and walked out of his office into the main CID room.
It was mostly deserted, everyone already in the pub, no doubt, except for one person, at his desk in the corner, working away like there was no tomorrow…
“Morse? don’t you have a home to go to? You do know it’s a quarter to seven, don’t you?”
Morse looked up, seemingly startled that someone else was still there.
“Sir? Oh yes. I agreed to cover for a few hours for DC Baker, he got delayed at the hospital, his wife’s expecting.”
Thursday frowned. “Oh, so you won’t be able to join us for a pint then?”
“No, sorry Sir. Not tonight.”
Thursday thought Morse almost looked disappointed. “Well goodnight then. Mind how you go.”
“Goodnight Sir.”
Thursday was only intending to have a couple of pints with his team, before heading off home, but thanks to Jakes and Strange refilling his pint glass over and over, before he knew it, the landlord was politely tipping them out onto the street at closing time and judging by how unsteady he felt, he had definitely had more than a couple.
Well, he wasn’t going to waste good money on a taxi when he only lived a 25 minute walk away and maybe the cold air would sober him up a bit before he got home to Win.
About 15 minutes into his walk, he took a shortcut down an alleyway, that should get him home a few minutes earlier.
He didn’t notice the pile of bricks in the dark though, until he’d tripped over them. He cursed as he fell to the floor and when his head hit the bricks, he was knocked out cold.
When Fred came to, he had no idea how long he’d been lying there, or indeed, quite where ‘there’ was. His head was pounding. What had Happened?
He pulled himself to his feet and stumbled out of the dark alley and onto the road which was much better lit.
He felt dizzy and a little drunk and his head was bleeding.
He stood there for a couple of minutes until the dizziness subsided a bit and he started to walk home.
When he got to his flat, he eyed the steps down to his front door warily before slowly descending them.
He fumbled through his pockets for his front door key. The first bunch of keys didn’t fit. In fact they weren’t his keys?
He would have to ring the station in the morning to find out whose keys they were. He must have picked them up by mistake.
Another search of his pockets found his own keys and he let himself into his basement flat.
Fred flicked on the lights and looked across at his beloved record player…but the pain in his head and the effects of the beer steered him straight into his bedroom, where he undressed and climbed into bed, briefly noticing the clock on the bedside table showed 2.30am.
Fred’s last thought before he drifted off to sleep was
“Thank Heavens we’ve got the weekend off. I doubt I’d have been able to get up in time for work in the morning and Inspector Thursday would have killed me”