Hello. This fanfic (as I do not own "Are You Being Served?" and could not unless I time traveled) is for hawaii50girl since she likes this show too. It's probably not my best work but oh well!
It takes place at some point after "Are You Being Served Again?", which I don't own either.
Mr. Harman was sweeping up one dark night. Grace Brothers had not been the same since everyone on his floor had left. As the Head of Maintenance he apparently had not been worthy to be included in Young Mr. Grace's will although he had received a small cheque. Still, not being able to go to the manor with the rest of the floor had hurt him. The newcomers flat-out refused to mingle with the janitor. Admittedly the others had looked down at him on more than one occasion, but they had least talked to him and let him be part of the floor.
Pausing in his sweeping, Mr. Harman remembered that one time there had been robbers in the building and he had led the ultimately successful masquerade against them. Mr. Humphries had been quite the hoot that day!
Ah, Mr. Humphries. There were times Mr. Harman had wondered about him but nothing had ever been confirmed or denied as far as he knew. Besides, he was such a personality Mr. Harman didn't really care either way. As long as Mr. Humphries and he were just friends, that is. Was, he reminded himself sternly.
Of course, there had been Mr. Grainger who had been the Senior Menswear person way back when Mr. Harman had first been assigned the floor. A cranky old man, but Mr. Harman had found him nice enough. Of course, there had been a few replacements after his departure but in the end no one could replace Mr. Grainger. Although in the end Mr. Humphries more or less took over the role.
Now Mr. Lucas had been a real riot as well; Mr. Spooner was a pale imitation! As he resumed sweeping Mr. Harman mused out onto the darkened floor, "Maybe Mr. Spooner was hired because of his superficial resemblance to Mr. Lucas? He was even tardy like Mr. Lucas a lot."
The floor was silent, not replying. Even back when they were around, Mr. Harman had always been the first to come and last to leave at Grace Brothers for the floor. But with the others not coming in at all the floor seemed a lot dourer these days. He sighed, glancing over towards the Ladies' Intimate Apparel section. Ah, the two ladies of the floor.
The legendary Mrs. Slocombe with her constantly changing hair. There had used to be a running pool on what color her hair would be each week among the lower workers; Mr. Harman had always opted for brown but had never won. Which was fine; winning due to a co-worker felt dirty. And he was unanimous in that!
Chuckling he shifted his memory to the younger, prettier, and more pert Miss Brahms. Mr. Harman had to smile. Yes, she was a treat. Her Cockney accent could get quite strong when things were coming to a head (which was quite loud with that crew!). And her heart always tried to be in the right place, plus she could survive long-term, constant daily exposure to the larger-than-life Mrs. Slocombe. Mrs. Slocombe was a grand old dame but oh Miss Brahms was a real darling at times.
Then there was Captain Peacock. Twisting his –ah- tail feathers was one of the highest joys of working at Grace Brothers. But Pompous Peacock did care for those under his watch, which mostly redeemed him in Mr. Harman's eyes. But nowhere near enough to have stopped annoying him by not coming onto the floor during business hours. Furthermore he usually had a valid reason for going onto the floor. Mostly.
Mr. Harman kept sweeping, trying to remember who he was forgetting…
Oh! Jug-Ears, of course. That is who he forgot. Otherwise known as Mr. Rumbold, manager of the floor. A more gullible and hard of hearing man Mr. Harman had never met thankfully. The combination could cause and had caused some interesting results though. Mr. Harman chuckled. The poor man was so comical without even trying; Mr. Harman would rather be low class and have sense than be upper class and without sense like him! But he did try his best and was a good sort of fellow.
His sigh echoed across the floor. Yes, he was free from all their zany schemes but it felt like being chained to the mundane. The odd letter just didn't cut it; if anything, the letters made him feel more felt out because the core floor group- Miss Brahms, Mrs. Slocombe, Mr. Humphries, Captain Peacock, and Mr. Rumbold- was clearly off unleashing their unique brand of chaos onto the countryside. Mr. Harman felt bad for the countryside- it would never be the same again.
After being among them for so long, he was not the same and would never be so again. Good thing he didn't want to be the same again.
Mr. Harman had just finished sweeping up when he heard the elevator slowly coming up. It was long before hours and highly doubtful it was any of the new guard. They didn't bring the same zeal to their jobs as their predecessors. Broom in hand, he waited in puzzlement for the elevator to finish its journey up.
With its trademark ding the elevator doors slid open to reveal Mr. Humphries, Mrs. Slocombe, Miss Brahms, Captain Peacock, and Mr. Rumbold all in travelling clothes. Mr. Harman exclaimed in shock, "What are you lot doing here?"
"We got bored, of course," Mr. Humphries waved a hand as he came down the stairs, followed by the rest. "Even though we were almost all still together, we still needed one last member of our little nakama. So here we are!"
"Naka-whatta?" Miss Brahms questioned. Mrs. Slocombe sighed and replied, "It is best not to know, Miss Brahms."
"Quite," Captain Peacock intoned before turning to Mr. Harman. "Of course, that is up to you."
"Sorry it took us this long to realize it," Mr. Rumbold blustered. Mrs. Slocombe noted, "You must be rubbing off on us, Mr. Rumbold, for it to have taken us this amount of time."
"Really? How nice," he beamed. Mr. Humphries raised his eyebrows and looked away in resigned disturbance. Captain Peacock looked at Mr. Harman from down his nose.
"In short, Mr. Harman- are you free?"
Mr. Harman grinned from ear to ear.
"Just let me let the boys down below know and I'll be free!"
Ah, freedom once again.