What Breaks A Detective.

Chapter 4

Within an hour, Toby Smart was back in London. He couldn't return to his office, which frustrated him awfully, but he had donned his trademark hat and overcoat and was now standing somewhere he never thought he would ever find himself.

Outside the flat of Lieutenant Robert Newham.

Smart hadn't wanted to. But it was the only place he could go. He couldn't go back to the Yard, or ask any of his work friends to help him, since he'd probably be sent back to his mother's again. Also if Quinne found out he was in London, there'd be a lot of love lost, and a lot of distrust. His brother would be upset. Very.

Smart would have gone to Praed Street, but Isabel would doubtless have let word slip to Fisher. He barely knew Hettie Broker, and plus, Smart reckoned she deserved the holiday she had taken to Kent.

Dr. Scott, perhaps, Smart would have gone to, but really, the gentleman was too old for what Smart had in mind. Which left the Lieutenant.

In his favor, Newham had been on the scene from the start, and was a valuable source of information. As much as Smart hated to admit it, Lieutenant Newham was really his only choice, and his only chance of finding Allie.

He rapped smartly on the door.

There was a moment of silence, and Smart heard stumbling footsteps. The door opened, and a gust of alcohol fumes floated out of it.

"What?" Lieutenant Robert Newham slurred.

Smart wrinkled his nose, adjusting his hat.

"I need your help" he said truthfully.

"Get lost."

Newham tried to slam the door, but Smart stepped quickly forward, pushing the other man back into his apartment.

"I said, get lost!" Newham repeated again, angry and obviously intoxicated.

Smart sighed pityingly as the lieutenant staggered forward, spoiling for some sort of fight. One solid strike to the temple from Smart's palm later, though, he was out cold on the floor.

Dusting off his hands with a slightly satisfied smirk, Smart looked disgustedly around Newham's apartment. Bottles were littered everywhere, and the whole place stank to high heaven. Charming, but in his heart of hearts Smart hardly blamed the young Lieutenant.

The Detective Inspector then calmly began to pick up all the scattered bottles, stowing them all in the trash. He then turned and opened all the windows, in a hope the smell of beer would disperse. There was so much of it, it was practically choking him.

He then not too gently half carried, half dragged the unconscious Lieutenant through to his bedroom, leaving him sprawled on the bed.

Returning to the main room and beginning to sweep up a little, Smart couldn't help but be understanding of the situation Newham had gotten himself in. He'd done exactly the same, except without the alcohol, before he'd ended up in hospital. In some ways, overwork and undereating was worse than alcoholism, Smart had realized.

But hopefully the Lieutenant wasn't going to need the hospital like he had. Smart needed to keep as low a profile as possible in London, and an emergency trip to the hospital wasn't going to help his anonymity.

Sighing heavily, Smart prepared a jug of water and a glass for when the Lieutenant woke up, strolled over to the little kitchenette, and made himself a little dinner. This could be quite the wait.

It was. Night was in full swing when Newham finally surfaced. Smart was sitting relaxedly on the sofa, hat and coat still on, reading a newspaper with his feet up on the coffee table.