Fic: Two Tales of Jools Siviter
From the meme in the post below. Oddly, two fics both featuring Jools Siviter (Hugh Laurie) from Spooks. (And I'm very amused generally by how wonderfully bonkers my flist are.)
For
daibhid_c, who asked for Jools meeting Inspector Thompson (Stephen Fry) from Gosford Park.
I'm sorry if you weren't expecting aged Thompson meets very young Siviter, but this is what happened...
***
Trespassing
“You were in the police, weren’t you?”
Thompson turned slowly - he couldn’t do anything quickly these days - to see a schoolboy, probably about 11 or so, sitting on his garden wall. He was dressed in the uniform of the posh boys’ school up the road and he also appeared to be eating away at one his apples with complete unconcern. “I was. Interested in joining the force, are you?”
“What? No,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the thought and taking another bite of the apple. “Policemen are stupid.”
“Now, look here, young feller-me-lad -.”
“Well, you are. You didn’t notice me taking your apples until now, did you?”
He sighed. Well, he hadn’t, but on the other hand, someone always stole the apples. Scrumping was one of the things that schoolboys existed to do and they weren’t his favourites anyway. Mrs Thompson had been fond of them, once upon a time.
“You never solved that murder, all those years ago,” he continued through a mouthful of fruit. “Made a right bungle of it. People still talk about you down in the village: that useless old inspector who couldn’t even work out who stabbed Sir William McWhatsit.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Right. What’s your name, then, young man? I’m going to be having a word with your -.”
“I mean, come on, did you really not know? Or did one of them pay you not to say anything?”
He glared. “I asked you what your -.”
“How about it, Inspector Thomas? Go on, spill the beans.”
“It’s Thompson, and I’ve had enough of this, you cheeky young -.”
He swallowed the last piece of apple and threw the core down, with a sudden innocent look on his face. “Oh, didn’t I explain? It’s for a school project, sir.”
“A project?”
He nodded. “We were allowed to choose our own topics.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so instead of sitting there and being so infernally -.”
The boy slid down off the wall. “I’ve got all the old newspaper reports from the library, but I thought I could interview you as well.”
“I suppose there’s no harm in that. As long as you -.”
He leant back against the wall. “And then, of course, I’m sure I’ll be able to solve the case.”
“You’re sure you’ll what? You young devil!”
“Of course. I mean, I’ve got a jolly decent brain, you know. What do you say, Inspector?”
“I think,” he said eventually, “if I see you round here again, I’ll be writing to your head teacher.”
The boy shrugged. “Oh, well. I don’t suppose you’d have had much to add, anyway.” Then he nimbly hopped back over the wall and ambled off, whistling.
“Hmph,” said the elderly ex-inspector, watching him go. What was the world coming to?
***
And for belantanawho wanted Jools meeting someone from Press Gang. There was only one possible reason I could think of for Jools hanging round the office of the Junior Gazette, so I now present Jools Siviter meets Lynda Day.
***
Offer of a Lifetime
“So, Mr Smith, what is it? We’ve got an edition due out in two days and this isn‘t a convenient time. Is that your real name, anyway?”
“Of course not.” Jools Siviter leant back in the chair opposite Lynda Day, editor of the Junior Gazette. Usually he’d have chosen more discreet surroundings to approach someone, but the chaos of the newsroom was cover in itself. Besides, if they’d learned one thing, it was that prising Lynda out of the building was no easy matter. There were nights when she even slept there.
“Well, that’s honest, I suppose.”
“We’ve been watching you for a while, young lady.”
Lynda paused in between scratching out a line of overly purple prose from Hannah, a newcomer to the newsroom, and resolved to fire the girl. “Isn’t that called stalking? Or are you just a peeping Tom?”
“’We’,” he informed her with a smile, “are MI6, Lynda. But it’s good to see someone with such a refreshing sense of humour.”
“Sense of humour?”
“You’re exactly the sort we want in the service - ruthless, intelligent, amoral and doesn’t know the meaning of the word failure.”
She gave him a glare. “There isn’t a word in the dictionary I don’t know the meaning of!”
“That‘s exactly the sort of thing I mean,” murmured Jools.
Lynda put her pencil to her mouth and said, “You’re from MI6?”
“I may be.”
“Great!” she said, showing some enthusiasm at last. “We could do with a general interest piece for page seven. You don’t mind if Sarah interviews you while you’re here, do you?”
He frowned. This encounter was not going as expected. “You understand what I’m offering you? Travel, adventure, the chance to serve your country. With your talents, young lady, we could even install you as dictator of some eastern European country for the next ten years or so.”
“Right,” she said, still paying more attention to the proof in front of her. “Kenny! Can we have more of the Supermarket fraud on page two and cut that ridiculous thing about the cat -.”
The MI6 agent cursed audibly.
Lynda chewed the pencil further and pushed the swear box in his direction. Somehow he found himself putting a pound in. It really was a crying shame she wasn’t interested.
Jools coughed after a few more minutes of being ignored. “I did make you a generous offer, Lynda.”
“Yes, well, it wasn’t very impressive, was it?” she returned, glancing up this time. “You could at least have offered me Belgium or Portugal. Besides, I happen to be busy with the next edition. Unless you‘re going to give us an interview about what it‘s really like to be a spy, you can go, Mr Smith. Oh, and do try and think of a more original alias next time. I‘m beginning to think you‘re either a liar or you’re not very good at your job.”
“For heaven’s sake, woman, don’t you ever think about anything other than the Junior Gazette?”
“No,” said someone else, a dark-haired lad cutting in from behind. He grinned at Jools. “She really doesn’t. Look, Lynda, Hannah says you’ve cut two thirds of her article again and she’s walking out if you get rid of another line.”
She smiled a wicked smile. “Good. That’ll save me firing her.”
“And, if you’ve finished, I’d like my chair back,” added Kenny to Jools. “Please.”
Jools sighed. “Am I to assume you‘re turning me down? You may regret this, young lady.”
Eventually Lynda looked up. “You can have Colin,” she offered hopefully.
***
For
daibhid_c, who asked for Jools meeting Inspector Thompson (Stephen Fry) from Gosford Park.
I'm sorry if you weren't expecting aged Thompson meets very young Siviter, but this is what happened...
***
Trespassing
“You were in the police, weren’t you?”
Thompson turned slowly - he couldn’t do anything quickly these days - to see a schoolboy, probably about 11 or so, sitting on his garden wall. He was dressed in the uniform of the posh boys’ school up the road and he also appeared to be eating away at one his apples with complete unconcern. “I was. Interested in joining the force, are you?”
“What? No,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the thought and taking another bite of the apple. “Policemen are stupid.”
“Now, look here, young feller-me-lad -.”
“Well, you are. You didn’t notice me taking your apples until now, did you?”
He sighed. Well, he hadn’t, but on the other hand, someone always stole the apples. Scrumping was one of the things that schoolboys existed to do and they weren’t his favourites anyway. Mrs Thompson had been fond of them, once upon a time.
“You never solved that murder, all those years ago,” he continued through a mouthful of fruit. “Made a right bungle of it. People still talk about you down in the village: that useless old inspector who couldn’t even work out who stabbed Sir William McWhatsit.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Right. What’s your name, then, young man? I’m going to be having a word with your -.”
“I mean, come on, did you really not know? Or did one of them pay you not to say anything?”
He glared. “I asked you what your -.”
“How about it, Inspector Thomas? Go on, spill the beans.”
“It’s Thompson, and I’ve had enough of this, you cheeky young -.”
He swallowed the last piece of apple and threw the core down, with a sudden innocent look on his face. “Oh, didn’t I explain? It’s for a school project, sir.”
“A project?”
He nodded. “We were allowed to choose our own topics.”
“Well, why didn’t you say so instead of sitting there and being so infernally -.”
The boy slid down off the wall. “I’ve got all the old newspaper reports from the library, but I thought I could interview you as well.”
“I suppose there’s no harm in that. As long as you -.”
He leant back against the wall. “And then, of course, I’m sure I’ll be able to solve the case.”
“You’re sure you’ll what? You young devil!”
“Of course. I mean, I’ve got a jolly decent brain, you know. What do you say, Inspector?”
“I think,” he said eventually, “if I see you round here again, I’ll be writing to your head teacher.”
The boy shrugged. “Oh, well. I don’t suppose you’d have had much to add, anyway.” Then he nimbly hopped back over the wall and ambled off, whistling.
“Hmph,” said the elderly ex-inspector, watching him go. What was the world coming to?
***
And for belantanawho wanted Jools meeting someone from Press Gang. There was only one possible reason I could think of for Jools hanging round the office of the Junior Gazette, so I now present Jools Siviter meets Lynda Day.
***
Offer of a Lifetime
“So, Mr Smith, what is it? We’ve got an edition due out in two days and this isn‘t a convenient time. Is that your real name, anyway?”
“Of course not.” Jools Siviter leant back in the chair opposite Lynda Day, editor of the Junior Gazette. Usually he’d have chosen more discreet surroundings to approach someone, but the chaos of the newsroom was cover in itself. Besides, if they’d learned one thing, it was that prising Lynda out of the building was no easy matter. There were nights when she even slept there.
“Well, that’s honest, I suppose.”
“We’ve been watching you for a while, young lady.”
Lynda paused in between scratching out a line of overly purple prose from Hannah, a newcomer to the newsroom, and resolved to fire the girl. “Isn’t that called stalking? Or are you just a peeping Tom?”
“’We’,” he informed her with a smile, “are MI6, Lynda. But it’s good to see someone with such a refreshing sense of humour.”
“Sense of humour?”
“You’re exactly the sort we want in the service - ruthless, intelligent, amoral and doesn’t know the meaning of the word failure.”
She gave him a glare. “There isn’t a word in the dictionary I don’t know the meaning of!”
“That‘s exactly the sort of thing I mean,” murmured Jools.
Lynda put her pencil to her mouth and said, “You’re from MI6?”
“I may be.”
“Great!” she said, showing some enthusiasm at last. “We could do with a general interest piece for page seven. You don’t mind if Sarah interviews you while you’re here, do you?”
He frowned. This encounter was not going as expected. “You understand what I’m offering you? Travel, adventure, the chance to serve your country. With your talents, young lady, we could even install you as dictator of some eastern European country for the next ten years or so.”
“Right,” she said, still paying more attention to the proof in front of her. “Kenny! Can we have more of the Supermarket fraud on page two and cut that ridiculous thing about the cat -.”
The MI6 agent cursed audibly.
Lynda chewed the pencil further and pushed the swear box in his direction. Somehow he found himself putting a pound in. It really was a crying shame she wasn’t interested.
Jools coughed after a few more minutes of being ignored. “I did make you a generous offer, Lynda.”
“Yes, well, it wasn’t very impressive, was it?” she returned, glancing up this time. “You could at least have offered me Belgium or Portugal. Besides, I happen to be busy with the next edition. Unless you‘re going to give us an interview about what it‘s really like to be a spy, you can go, Mr Smith. Oh, and do try and think of a more original alias next time. I‘m beginning to think you‘re either a liar or you’re not very good at your job.”
“For heaven’s sake, woman, don’t you ever think about anything other than the Junior Gazette?”
“No,” said someone else, a dark-haired lad cutting in from behind. He grinned at Jools. “She really doesn’t. Look, Lynda, Hannah says you’ve cut two thirds of her article again and she’s walking out if you get rid of another line.”
She smiled a wicked smile. “Good. That’ll save me firing her.”
“And, if you’ve finished, I’d like my chair back,” added Kenny to Jools. “Please.”
Jools sighed. “Am I to assume you‘re turning me down? You may regret this, young lady.”
Eventually Lynda looked up. “You can have Colin,” she offered hopefully.
***