Cuff Me, Officer.

Chapter Eleven- Handling Business

Harry slipped out of his car, gracefully carrying a cup holder with two cups of coffee occupying its slots. He no longer had to fumble around with his keys and try to not spill the steaming beverages all over his shirt; it was a bad habit he had learned to grow out of these past four months.

He was no longer the shy and nervous 'rookie' he was on his first murder case with Louis. He had grown in experience, quick thinking, and status. He was no longer known as the boy shadowing Louis.

Harry was known as Harry, Louis' partner. Likewise, Louis was known as Louis, Harry's partner. And together, they were known as the duo who can close a case faster and more accurately than any cop in the precinct.

Harry walked up to Louis, who was talking to Niall and had his back to the approaching man.

"Niall, I just don't think he will be able to handle this one." He overheard Louis saying.

"Who won't be able to handle what?"

Louis jumped, and turned around, letting out a nervous chuckle. "Hazza, you scared me!"

"Sorry, Boo," Harry said, a small smirk on his face as he tilted his head slightly. "Who won't be able to handle what?" He asked again.

Louis averted his eyes away from Harry, and repositioned his stance to where he was turned fully towards him. He sighed before saying, "Haz, I think you should go home."

Harry's face dropped into a frown, a dull ache forming in his chest. He was hurt, to say the least. Louis was always happy to see him and get his help, and now he didn't want him around? "What? I don't- why?" He stuttered over his words, trying not to let his emotions show, but failing.

"Let me and Niall take care of this one." Louis avoided Harry's question. He noticed Harry's confusion and disappointment changing into anger, an emotion he'd never seen before from the usually cheeky lad. Louis would be lying if he said he wasn't a bit scared. "I'll call you for the next one, yeah?" He tried reasoning.

"I don't understand Louis. What can't I handle? I've been working with you and Niall for four months. I've seen a woman hanging from the ceiling by barbed wire and symbols carved into her skin. I've seen a five year old boy floating in an actual pool of his own blood. I've seen a woman shoved into a washer, for Christ's sake! I've gotten past those things; I can handle whatever lies in that flat." Harry thrust the cup holder into Louis' hands and stormed past the two and into the building, ignoring both men's protest and callings of his name. He instinctively took the blue gloves from the forensic investigator holding them out at the door and slipped them on his hands before walking into the living room. What he saw waiting for him was something he definitely wasn't ready to handle.

The victim, a male in his mid-20s, had a bloody gunshot wound on the left side of his chest, the crimson liquid staining his white tee shirt and heavy coat. An extensive pool of blood was peeking out from under him. His navy blue beanie was a few centimeters away from his head, indicating it fell off during his fall, letting the victim's matted, raven black hair show. His eyes were half hooded by his eyelids, and the once glimmering light emitting from the golden orbs Harry knew so well was gone.

"Oh my God. Zayn!" Harry sobbed, collapsing to the floor in a crumpled heap.

Louis and Niall caught up with Harry to see him with his knees to his chest, wailing into his hand as an attempt to muffle the noises coming from his mouth. His eyes were bloodshot and staring at the lifeless body of his best friend. Officers and detectives alike were gracing him with looks of sympathy, but no one stopped to comfort him.

Louis ran over to the crying man and sat down next to him. He pulled Harry's head into his chest, running his hand through his hair and gently rocking back and forth, whispering words of comfort into his ear. Harry clutched at his shirt, his sobbing getting louder. With each hiccuped cry, Louis' heart broke even more. Harry was never one to lose his cool. This heartbroken, vulnerable version of his best friend was so new to Louis, and he hoped he'd never have to see it again. For now, all he could do was whisper, "Shh, love. It'll be alright," into the devastated man's ear, rubbing his back.