This came to me in a flash, and I just had to share. I want to dedicate
it to Shirley, Janice, and Melissa, who all love Turnbull as much as
I do. Any comments can be sent to tanyar@glinx.com.
Disclaimer: I do not own either of the characters used in this story,
but the story content is all mine.
Mistletoe
by Tanya Reed
Renfield Turnbull hummed and dusted, infused with the holiday spirit. A huge grin resided on his face, and a Santa hat sat jauntily on his head. Earlier, after they had put up their Consulate Christmas tree, he had gone around to do a little extra decorating. He hoped it would help those posted in another country feel less homesick over the holiday season.
Renfield, himself, felt happy. He loved Christmas, no matter where he spent it or who he spent it with. His smile widened as he thought of the gifts in his desk, all carefully hand chosen and wrapped with precision. He couldn't wait to give them to his friends.
A soft click made Turnbull look up from his feather duster. He paused as he saw the Inspector step out of her office, holding a file and frowning. She must have been completely unaware of his presence because her glasses were perched on her nose.
Inspector Thatcher walked forward haltingly, making her way to Turnbull's desk. Her frown deepened and she shook her head softly. Suddenly, she stopped right in front of the desk--and right under one of Renfield's earlier decorations.
Renfield studied the Inspector, then looked up to the carefully hung sprig above her head. Again he looked down at the Inspector, who was now leaning against his desk and mumbling, not knowing her position.
Indecision gripped the Constable as his first urge battled with fear and decorum. That wasn't just any pretty woman standing under his mistletoe. This was Inspector Thatcher, his boss and a woman that could make him shake in his boots with a look. She terrified him. On the other hand, it was Christmas, and that was mistletoe, and Christmas cheer was good for everyone.
He spent a couple more moments in painful indecision. The tongue lashing that would result from his actions froze his feet. Visions of her hauling out a gun and shooting him flashed through his head, and Turnbull's hands began to tremble.
Then came the knowledge that she too--like himself and Constables Fraser and Cooper--had been denied leave home to Canada for the holidays. Headquarters believed that a Christmas among the Americans would help their Chicago staff better understand them. Inspector Thatcher was away from her family just as much as he was, and though she didn't seem to mind it, she might be feeling a little homesick as well.
That settled it for Renfield. If the choice was between trying to bring someone a little happiness, thereby getting himself killed, and not trying, resulting in her being sad, there was no choice.
Standing up straighter and squaring his shoulders, he prepared for battle. Not giving himself time to even think about retreating, Turnbull hurried to his boss's side.
Inspector Thatcher was so intent on her file that she didn't even hear him approach. She was biting her lip and her brow was furrowed.
Fully prepared to meet his maker, Turnbull cheerfully announced, "Merry Christmas, Inspector!"
When her eyes rose from her folder in startlement, he bent down and softly kissed her warm cheek. He felt his superior officer stiffen as he stepped away from her. Her eyes were wide, her face stern.
"Did you just kiss me, Constable?" Her voice was pure ice.
"Yes, sir. M-m-mistletoe," he replied, the fear he had held in check suddenly surging through his veins. Maybe this *had* been a mistake.
Her stoney face looked up then back at him. The expression didn't change, unless it got darker.
"That is no excuse. Kissing superior officers is a breach of protocol. Do you understand?"
Renfield looked at the floor, sadness warring with the fear. All he'd wanted to do was bring her a little happiness, and he'd failed. He wondered what his punishment would be.
Then something strange happened. He was taken completely off guard when a pair of small but strong arms suddenly enveloped him. They wrapped around him tightly, giving him a good, firm squeeze.
A soft voice chuckled before he heard a warm, "Merry Christmas, you big lug."
When the Inspector pulled from him, she had a twinkle in her dark eyes. Renfield was aware that she must be amused at the way his mouth hung open in shock.
"I'll forgive you." She smiled easily. "Just this once. Because of the mistletoe." With that she turned and walked back towards her office. Renfield watched her in astonishment. He was so shocked that he could not move.
Inspector Thatcher had hugged him! He watched her office door for another minute or so before reason came back to him. His disbelief was slowly replaced by pleasure. He had done it! He had made the Inspector happy. Secure in the knowledge that he had made someone's holiday brighter, his own eyes began to sparkle. As Renfield went to hang up his duster and start on the vacuuming, a Christmas song slipped from his lips.
The End