Clean Criminal // l.s.

xii.

[Dun, dun, dun, duuuun. Tell me how you think Louis' will do in a cell for one night? I hope you're having a good week so far! And if not, have a hug! *Tighly hugs you* -M]

As Louis sat on the very much dirty, germy and contaminated cell bed, Harry slowly approached him, carrying a few freshly cleaned blankets and a container of Clorox wipes.

"I thought that you'd want some clean things and things to clean with. I just...It's one night and I know you can do it, but I still want you to be comfortable," Harry spoke, unlocking the cell to hand Louis the items.

Louis mumbled a thank you as he took the things from Harry and instantly opened the container filled with fresh-smelling Clorox wipes. He started to clean the (very sucky) mattress off and then the legs of the bed.

"I'm sorry that you're here," Harry said, waiting for a reply, "I didn't mean to make you angry. I just need answers." Harry waited for Louis to say anything, but he was too focused on cleaning, "it's my job, you know? I find the bad guys and I put 'em in jail."

"You think I'm a bad guy?" Louis asked, snapping at Harry.

Harry knelt beside Louis and helped him clean, "I can't tell you want I think. I'm not supposed to have an opinion in the matter."

Harry grabbed a Clorox wipe and started to clean one of the other bed-legs."But you do, so just tell me," Louis tried to persuade, however, his efforts were pointless; Harry was a very tough egg to crack, "Please, Harry. I'm stuck in this germ factory for a whole night and then some, the least you could do is tell me what's on your mind."

Harry thought about what Louis said as he ran his fingers through his long hair, "there's nothing I can tell you because I don't know what to think. I'm so confused right now, Louis," Harry admitted. His thoughts were jumbled, like a kitchen drawer stuffed with so many utensils, making it hard to ever find the thing you needed.

"You don't honestly think I'm capable of killing someone, do you?" Louis questioned, his eyes wide. There was no way he could have done this. Even if he did, wouldn't he remember that? Isn't that something most everyone would remember?

"I don't know, Louis," Harry spoke softly. He straightened his back, realizing how much time he had lost, "food will come around seven, in the meantime you can clean up the place and relax. Just take a break, Lou. Think of this as a vacation. Germy, but still time spent alone. Maybe you'll think of a reason why someone might have done this to Zayn."

Louis nodded and as Harry was turning away, he grabbed the taller's wrist with his empty hand, "Harry," he pleaded, "you have to believe me."

Harry yanked his wrist away and continued to walk, "that's not my job, Mr. Tomlinson," and, boy, did it hurt to say such a thing.

.

Harry sat at his desk, frantically looking through files for anything that could prove Louis' innocence, when his phone started to buzz, "yes, Harper?"

"Yeah, hi there, Styles," Cris spoke, "you're gonna want to get your ass over here. We've got some problems."

It didn't take Harry long to get out of his chair and throw on his coat, "see you in ten."

As Harry sped towards Louis' apartment, he was only hoping there was something to help out Louis' case. He couldn't find any other evidence against him, otherwise, whether Harry liked it or not, Louis was completely screwed.

"Tell me what we've got," Harry spoke out of breath and in need of a drink.

"You're not gonna like it," Cris said.

"Harper," Harry warned. He couldn't deal with Cris' shit at the moment, "show me what you've found."

Cris held up his hands in defeat and then dropped them at his side as lead Harry to the kitchen, "those knives he was talking about, one's missing. I bet you can guess which one."

"I don't think we're looking for a knife," Harry stated, peering around the kitchen, "Doc said that it was a weapon of opportunity, something the suspect quickly grabbed, like scissors."

"You want us to tear apart this place in search of scissors? Scissors. Don't you think this is a little insane, Harry? The kid's a murderer!"

"There's still not enough evidence, young one. We need the weapon. I had Doc look at the wounds compared to the possible wounds the knife could make and they weren't a match. We need something wider."

Cris threw his notebook onto the floor, making a loud thud, "why the hell are you trying to protect this guy? What are you in love with him or something? Frankly, I'm not getting it, Harry. I don't understand why you are letting him get in the way of solving this case."

"He didn't do it," Harry stated simply.

"All the signs point straight at him! Fuck, they're probably teasing him at this rate!" Cris yelled.

Harry grit his teeth before trying to calmly speak to Cris, "I don't appreciate that tone."

"Well, maybe I should speak a bit louder then!" Cris yelled yet again, "what is so special about him that you treat him like some baby? You're not his mother, Styles, stop acting like it."

Harry slammed his hand on the dining table, "he has no one, goddammit! He has absolutely nobody to love, care, comfort him. He's living life on his goddamn own after having no clue what it's like living in the real world. His parents are fucking imbeciles and the rest of his family is just as bad! Why the hell do you think I take care of him? He's me! He's who I was just over four years ago, Cris. Out of every one of my friends, I thought that would be something you understood." Harry took a moment to calm down, "I'm the only thing he's got right now. I'm his last hope."

Cris carefully went to pick up his notebook and pen and then straightened his shirt, "then where do we go to find the weapon?"

"I'm thinking we'll just have to go back to where everything happened," Harry replied. Cris nodded and the two rounded up the group of cops that were searching the area. And as his day slowly picked up speed, Harry could only think of a certain blue eyed boy.