Giles and the Inspector
Disclaimer: I'm playing on other people's turf for fun but not profit.
Summary: Giles has a small problem in his new flat.
Giles was in the middle of unpacking boxes of books in his new London flat when he was interrupted by an authoritative knock on the door. He opened up and was confronted by two men, one wearing a trenchcoat over a good suit and the other a plain but rumpled suit.
"Are you Mr. Rupert Giles?" the older one asked.
"I'm Detective Chief Inspector Worthington and this is Detective Sergeant Sawyer." They held out their identification cards and badges for Giles to see.
"I see, and what may I do for you gentlemen?"
"We're making enquiries about a certain person who visited your flat last night, around nine o'clock. Do you know to whom I am referring?"
"Yes Inspector. I only had the one visitor, and he was memorable."
"Ah, I see. May we come in, sir?"
The Sergeant looked at Giles speculatively and said, "Excuse me sir, but are you a British subject?"
"Yes, of course, why do you ask?"
"Your manner of speech seems somewhat American."
"Easily explained; I've been working in Southern California for most of the past ten years and have only recently returned home." The sergeant nodded and penciled a comment in his small police-issue notebook.
The Inspector said, "Look at these photos please. Was this your visitor?"
Giles looked. The first was a photo of an ordinary looking man at his door. The next one showed Giles opening the door, and the last showed the visitor pushing his way in. Giles frowned and asked, "May I ask why you have my flat under surveillance?"
"Not your flat, sir, it's your visitor, Mr. Pennington, who is under surveillance."
"Oh, I, ah, see," said Giles as he polished his glasses.
"So Mr. Giles, please tell us what happened when he came inside."
"Uh, why do you want to know?"
"We're here to ask questions Mr. Giles, not answer them," the Inspector replied stiffly.
"Certainly Inspector, of course. Well, the gentleman pushed his way in and attacked me. I grabbed that sword off the wall and defended myself as best I could."
The Sergeant frowned heavily at the sword and asked, "Did you injure him?"
"Why no, I used the flat of the blade, not wishing to kill the man or get blood on my rug as the landlord had it steam-cleaned recently. I only wished to scare him off."
"And did you?"
"Yes, obviously. I hit him with the blade, he knocked me down with a chair," Giles pointed to the broken remains of a wood chair, "and I must have passed out for a few moments, for when I awoke, he was gone."
"Why didn't he hit you when you were down?"
"I couldn't say, perhaps he didn't realize that I was defenceless."
The Inspector said, "Hmm, that's all very well, but for one problem. The subject never came out of your flat."
"Oh. Well, I suppose he must have used one of the windows then."
"Wot!" exclaimed the Sergeant.
The Inspector asked, "Why would he do that?"
"I, I don't know, why don't you ask him?"
"Because we haven't been able to locate him," said the Inspector. He turned to his sergeant and said, "Sergeant, inspect the premises, if you please."
"Please sit down Mr. Giles, over there."
The Inspector wandered around the living room while the progress of the sergeant's search could be gauged by the occasional crashes of things getting knocked over or moved. He stopped in front of the display of three swords and an ax on a wall rack. He said, "You do realize Mr. Giles, that these weapons are illegal in England?"
"Oh yes, merry olde England, where the law-abiding are no longer allowed to defend themselves against armed attackers. What utter codswallop."
"Really," DCI Worthington said, "that's our job you know, not yours. I'm afraid I shall have to arrest you for weapons violation and confiscate these."
"No, no Inspector, I have an arms license."
"A license for swords and battleaxes?" the Inspector exclaimed incredulously, "Show me this 'license' of yours, if you please."
"It will take me a few minutes to find as it is still packed somewhere."
"Uh huh," he answered with disbelief, "Come come, hurry up then, there's a good chap."
Giles rummaged through a couple of newly opened boxes, found his briefcase, opened it and retrieved a letter from the Home Office. He handed it to the Inspector.
The astonished policeman read it with a heavy frown. "I shall have to check the bona fides, of course."
"Naturally," Giles said, unperturbed.
The sergeant returned. "No bodies sir. All the window frames have recently been repainted; the paint was undisturbed. Also, I found a crate full of swords, knives, and axes."
Inspector Worthington handed the license to the sergeant. "Have you ever seen anything like this, Sergeant?"
Sergeant Sawyer read the paper slowly before replying, "No sir, this is outside of my experience."
"Yes, my thoughts exactly. How recent is the paint?"
"Perhaps last week sir, not last night anyway."
"So Mr. Giles," asked the Inspector, "how did Mr. Pennington leave your flat last night?"
"I couldn't say. Perhaps your surveillance crew could tell us. I haven't the foggiest idea as I was unconscious at the time."
"Do you have any bruises sir?"
"Yes, right here." Giles removed his vest and tie and unbuttoned his shirt to show them the black and blue bruising on his chest. The sergeant pulled out a digital camera and took pictures while Giles impatiently stood still.
"Did you report this crime to the police?"
"No. As he had scarpered off, and the only real damage was to that chair which I didn't much care for anyway, there seemed no reason to bother the authorities."
"You should have reported it immediately sir, then we could have begun our search for the perpetrator last night."
"Uh huh. I elected not to report it. As far as finding this man goes, well, that's not in my job description, is it?"
The Inspector's eyes narrowed. He asked sternly, "Are you having me on?"
"No Inspector, but I tire of this harassment. If you are going to charge me with something, do so. Otherwise, please leave."
The Inspector picked up Giles' armament license and asked, "May I take this? You have other copies?"
"You know Inspector, it's quite irritating when people ask permission for something they're going to do anyway. But, yes, I do have other copies and you may keep that one."
"We shall return, Mr. Giles," said DCI Worthington, "you may be sure of that. In the meantime, don't leave the country without first informing me. Here is my card."
With that, the policemen left.
Giles dug through more cardboard boxes until he found several cell phones. He picked one that was a particularly unfortunate shade of pink, with little shiny stars sprinkled on it. He sneered at it while he punched one number and held it gingerly to his ear, as if he feared the silver sprinkles might transfer.
"Hey Giles, what's the what?"
"The what Giles, what's the what? Don't you understand simple English?"
Giles sighed, "I would have preferred not to. Would you look on my desk and find the number of Lord whatsit at the Home Office. You know the one, where we got our weapons permits."
"Sure, hold on a sec. Here it is, Lord Wynstone," said Buffy, then she read the phone number.
"Thank you Buffy. I may have a spot of bother with officialdom. Last night I was attacked by a vampire, one which I had inadvertently allowed access to my flat..."
"Giles, you know better than to invite strangers in!"
"Yes, yes, I do know better, but I was not expecting a vampire attack within walking distance of Buckingham Palace."
"Why ever not?"
"I guess I wasn't thinking clearly."
"Yes, yes, I've learned my lesson, I am prostrate with embarrassment. So last night, after I opened the door to a knock, a vampire pushed his way in and attacked me."
"But Giles, what happened to the invite rule?"
"I only just moved in yesterday; it would appear that's not long enough to establish residency on the magical level."
"Oh, well, then I forgive you, this time."
"Hmmph, so noted. After the untimely invasion, I was able to retrieve one of my swords and decapitate him after a brief but exciting fight. Unfortunately, the vampire had brought himself to the attention of the Metropolitan Police and was under surveillance. So now Scotland Yard has photos of him entering my flat, but not leaving. And they've been round asking questions."
Giles had to pull the phone away from his ear for Buffy's peels of laughter hurt his hearing. "Buffy, this is not a laughing matter," he said harshly.
"I know, but really Giles, things like this happen to Andrew, or maybe Xander, but not you." After another laugh, Buffy calmed down and said, "Well, I suppose we can get this Lord Wynston of yours to quash Scotland Yard, can't we?"
"I think so, especially since the Inspector is checking up on the arms license even as we speak."
"However, why did this vampire target you? Did he know you? They don't usually go around knocking on random doors in the hopes that someone just moved in."
"Yes, it's a worry, especially since he asked for me by name."
"Oh, oh. Someone is after you."
"I fear you may be correct. On the other hand, I am a more difficult target than many would think."
"I'm sending a Slayer to stay with you."
"Well, thanks for the vote of confidence, Buffy."
"Giles, I'm worried. And seriously, as good as you are, you aren't as good as a Slayer."
Giles sighed and replied, "Touché. I know that actually. But what will the neighbors think with a young girl living with me?
"Tell 'em she's your niece, or daughter, or ward, or foster daughter. You can think of something that'll fit. The old Council must have had whole volumes of how-to manuals for just this sort of situation."
"Hmm, yes, I suppose," he replied while longing for the quiet which wouldn't happen now.