Chapter one

The ringing of the phone managed to accomplish what both the bright sun and the alarm clock had failed to do. A hand groped forth from the covers, reaching until the desired target was found. Then a dark curly head popped out from under a pillow just enough to place the receiver to an ear.

"Hmph."

"WAKE UP!"

The voice resounding through the line finished the job and Detective David Starsky jerked up, covers falling to his waist.

Squinting at the sudden light in his eyes he sputtered back, "What time is it?"

"7 AM - GET OUT OF BED, NOW!!" A pause as the voice waited for his order to be complied with. Starsky sat, blinking sleep from his eyes.

As if in the room with him, watching him, the voice came back. "I SAID NOW!!!"

"Alright! Alright! Calm down!"

Another pause, and then a little quieter, the voice asked. "Are you out of bed yet?"

"Oh Jesus" Starsky sighed.

"Get out of bed Starsk! Physically out of bed! Now!" The quietness of the voice did nothing to belittle the intention with which those words were spoken. Starsky held the phone back looking at it, then shaking his head he rose slowly, stretching like a sleek, dark cat in the morning light.

After a loud yawn he brought the receiver back to his ear. "Ok, I'm out of bed."

"Good! I'll see you at the office in an hour." A click and the dark haired man was suddenly alone.

Looking around his bedroom he took in the scattered clothes, dirty towels and thin layer of dust covering everything in sight.

"Oh man, I really need time off."

He and his partner had been working eighteen hour days for over two weeks straight with no break in sight. It was enough to wear anyone out and Starsky was no exception. After oversleeping and being a half hour late one day, Hutch had gotten in the habit of calling him every morning to make sure he was awake, only lately the calls had been getting less and less friendly.

I guess Hutch is finally wearing down too, Starsky thought, smiling at the gruffness of his friends voice that morning.

The cause of their exhaustion was a string of robberies - not a big deal and certainly no reason for working two detectives to death. Except the people being robbed were all very influential and well off - many having close connections to the Mayor and the Governor.

So the Mayor was under pressure from the Governor to find the crooks, and the Chief was under pressure from the Mayor, and that placed their Captain under greater pressure by the Chief. The trickle down effect only meant that he and Hutch were under the most pressure, especially since word was the crooks were nothing but a bunch of kids.

To make matters worse they had been working on the case part-time for a month when a syndicated columnist in Miami had somehow gotten some inside information. He used it in a story that ran in newspapers all over the country - the headline reading, "LA's Best Bested by a Bunch of Punks."

Starsky didn't remember ever seeing his partner as mad as he was when he read that headline.

"Wouldn't want to be that guy if Hutch ever gets to Miami," Starsky laughed to himself.

That was when Captain Dobey had put them on the robberies exclusively. Starsky was ecstatic, thinking he and Hutch would have this thing wrapped up in no time, but now he was beginning to wonder if they shouldn't request more help.

Only problem was the department was short handed with two detectives on extended sick leave and almost everyone else was working on a huge drug case. All this along with the usual petty thefts, missing persons, murders, and assorted assaults and batteries still coming in, and the whole division was spread pretty thin.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he sighed deeply. "Oh well, maybe we'll get lucky and trip over a clue today."

That thought urging him on he picked his way through the mess of his bedroom to the bathroom - which was worse.

Always being a neat person, Starsky found the most difficult part of this case being the fact he had no time to clean his apartment. It had gotten so bad that his cleaning lady had called and quit - saying he would have to make the place presentable or pay her $200 to do it for him. He had refused, telling her he shouldn't have to clean for cleaning people. She hung up on him, but not before telling him he would regret his decision.

Looking around he decided she was right. He had thought of calling her and begging her to come help, but he figured she would probably charge him $400 now since the place was that much worse.

So he lived with it. Trying not to look, but instead just going from the door to the bedroom to the bathroom and out again, constantly telling himself it wasn't that bad, that he was not so neurotic that he couldn't survive this little mess.

With that in mind, he tried to ignore the black mold peering at him from the corner of the shower as he gingerly stepped in.

Just pretend it's not there, he thought, turning his back on the offensive intruder. Take your shower and get out of here. You have to get started on another wonderful day busting bad guys.

Sergeant Hutchinson rummaged through the clothes on his bed muttering under his breath. "I know I have a clean shirt in here somewhere." Turning, he tripped over a dish he had laid on the carpet after a late night snack the evening before.

"Damn! Of all the times for Fifi to go on vacation."

Still muttering obscenities about his absentee cleaning lady, Hutch leaned over to pick up the dish, spotting the shirt he had been looking for amid shoes under his bed.

Starsky stood in the bedroom surveying the many piles of clothes.

I know I have SOMETHING clean to wear. he thought. I've got to.

He dug back in his closet, coming up with his oldest and rattiest pair of jeans.

Sighing, he stripped the towel from his waist and began the search for clean underwear.

Hutch picked his way through the dishes, looking for the top to the blender. After five minutes he finally gave up - grabbing a small plate from the dirty pile. "This will have to do."

Placing it on top of the machine, he mixed his morning shake, wondering if he had any clean glasses. His concoction done, he discovered he didn't. After eyeing the pile of dishes blocking the sink, he picked up the blender, tipping it to his tired lips, and quickly gulped his breakfast down.

Both men arrived at the precinct at the same time. Starsky didn't get out of his car, but instead just waited for his partner to join him.

"Mornin'" The blond grumbled as he piled into the passenger seat.

"Mornin'". The dark detective started the car. "Huggy's?"

"Yeah."

Nothing more was said - conversation requiring too much energy - until the car was well on the road.

Then Starsky admitted amid a yawn, "I havta go to a department store today. Need to buy some clothes."

Hutch looked over at him, taking in the tattered appearance, then looking down at his own faded yellow t-shirt he answered. "Yeah."

Starsky walked into the dark apartment eighteen hours later, feeling his way to the bedroom where he turned on a very small light. He found this little routine allowed him the luxury of pretending the place was clean.

He really couldn't handle mess. Over a week ago he had walked into his kitchen only to be assaulted by a family of flies nesting in an old take out container. He hadn't been back since.

Dropping the shopping bag on the floor - why not - everything else is on the floor, he thought - he went to the bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready for bed, only to wake up in six hours and do it all over again.

Hutch grabbed armloads of clothes off his bed, turning, trying to find a place to put them. When nothing presented itself, he released them to the floor with a mighty sigh. "Man, even I think this is too messy."

He climbed into bed where his sheets assaulted him with the distinct smell of dirty clothes - a nice mixture of sweat, dirt, aftershave......and taco sauce - ahhh - Starsky, he thought.

His olfactory senses now awake, he next became aware of the trash can that had been left unattended for much too long.

"I can't handle this!" Jumping up he grabbed his robe and a blanket and made his way outside.

A chaise lounge resided on the bank of the canal. The blond man settled into it, breathing in the fresh scent of ocean breeze and sweet orange blossoms. Smiling contentedly he was soon asleep.

Chapter two

"I am going to wash my car!"

"Starsky, we don't have time. Micky said meet him at 9 am and it's 8:45 now."

The dark haired man kept moving towards the hose and bucket.

"I DON"T CARE! IT'S BAD ENOUGH I HAVE TO LIVE LIKE AN ANIMAL AT HOME - I AM NOT GOING TO DRIVE AROUND IN THIS CAR, LIKE THIS, ANYMORE!"

Hutch watched as his partner angrily yanked the hose down and started to fill a bucket with soapy water.

He was tired and he did not want to wash Starsky's car. He decided to try one more time.

"Starsky, Micky said he had important information. Now, if we spend this time working on the case instead of cleaning your car we will be that much closer to finishing - and getting a day off." Hutch was very proud of his logic and felt certain Starsky would agree. But, he had underestimated his partners frustration at their current condition.

Starsky would never admit it, but he was a neat nut... actually, Hutch thought, he was damn neurotic when it came to his surroundings.

Hutch couldn't have him over without cleaning first or Starsky would spend the entire time straightening up.

Watching his partner attack the Torino with a wet sponge, Hutch smiled at the memory of one Saturday when his friend had insisted on stripping and waxing his kitchen floor. They were supposed to go to the movies, but Hutch couldn't get him to budge until that "disgusting yellow buildup was gone."

"You know you could help! Most of that trash in the back seat is from you!"

The angry voice pulled the blond man back to realty. Hutch stood for a few more moments, watching Starsky scrub the massive hood of his pride and joy, amazed at how he could want to keep his belongings so clean but didn't ever seem to care about his own appearance.

Noticing his partner was just staring at him, Starsky straightened from his task, and yelled over at him, waving his arms, "Hey, Blondie! The Back Seat!!"

"Alright, alright. Anything to shut you up and get back to work." Hutch sighed, resigning himself to the fact that if he was going to be this mans friend and partner, he would not only have to ride around in that stupid striped tomato, but he would also have to help keep it clean.

Neither man noticed the dark shadow lurking in the door of the garage, a small smile forming on the full lips.

"Harold, I need keys to Starsky's and Hutch's apartments." Edith Dobey walked into her husbands office, his lunch in her hand.

Her husband, Captain of the Detectives had always worked very long hours, but lately, with these robberies, he had been putting in even more time. So she had gotten in the habit of bringing him food during the day. It allowed her an opportunity to see him and also to keep at last some control on his diet.

Captain Dobey looked up from the file on his desk. "What?"

"You heard me. I need keys to the boy's apartments. I know you have them - you have keys to everyone's house."

Edith sat down across from her husband, the look on her face telling him one thing... don't argue.

Knowing he was beat before the battle even began, he unlocked his bottom drawer, preparing to give her what she wanted.

"Oh... and don't say anything to them. Understand?"

"Yes dear", he said smiling, as he handed her the keys.

Starsky ran from his apartment - Hutch had called him as usual and he got out of bed, but he had laid back down after his shower - wanting to close his eyes just for a minute. That minute had turned into half an hour. He was late. And Hutch was going to kill him.

In his rush he didn't notice the black sedan that pulled into his driveway as he sped down the street.

Letting herself in the man's apartment, Edith stood for a moment surveying the room. "Oh my goodness." was all she could say. And thank god I'm here was all she could think.

Dropping the supplies she had brought by the front door, she grabbed trash bags and started getting to work collecting laundry. Working with the skill of a pro and the experience of someone who has seen worse, she had the living room picked up, dusted and vacuumed in less than an hour.

She then went to work on the kitchen, not even flinching at the fly family that had taken up permanent residence. By the time she was done with that room she had three bags of trash sitting beside the two bags of laundry she had collected earlier.

"Better not get those mixed up", she laughed. "Dave would never forgive me."

By this time she had been at it for almost three hours. Deciding it was time for a break, she sat in the now clean living room and turned on the TV to watch her favorite soap - munching on the sandwich she had brought from home.

"Starsky, what's the matter."

Hutch's voice pierced through his thoughts. They were sitting in the car, staking out a very nice neighborhood in Bel Aire where, according to Micky the snitch, the next robbery was to take place.

Starsky looked over at the words. "What?"

"What is the matter? You've been quiet all day and you've been staring at that tree over there for the last half hour." Hutch was now turned towards his partner, honest concern on his face. "What's going on?"

Starsky looked at him for a moment before moving his eyes back to the window.

"Nothin'"

"Come on Starsk, don't give me that. I know you too well."

Lowering his head Starsky's voice, small and quiet reached Hutch, "You'll laugh."

Hutch smiled to himself, amazed at how much his partner looked like a pouty little boy. Placing his hand on his friend's shoulder, he spoke gently, urging the other to talk. "Come on Starsk, I won't laugh.....I promise."

The blond watched as Starsky seemed to struggle with the decision of opening up. Then he slowly straightened, his eyes staring at something through the glass.

"Hutch. I don't know how much more I can take." Starsky looked over at him, real distress in his face. "I almost rented a hotel room last night just so I could sleep on clean sheets - and take a shower in a clean bathroom."

Turning back to the window, he continued, his voice weary. "I know you just think I'm weird. But I can't take this. I need to have a clean home - I can't stand it anymore, and I don't know what to do about it."

Silence hung like a curtain between them as Starsky waited for the fit of laughter he felt certain would ensue.

"I don't think you're weird Starsk." The voice was soft, sincere.

Starsky looked over, not quite believing what he had heard. He was certain this confession was just going to set him up for weeks of relentless teasing. Hutch had always taken great joy in referring to him as Susie Homemaker at just the wrong times.

But what he saw in the deep blue eyes was not teasing or laughter, but honest care and love. "You mean it?"

"Yes." Hutch squeezed the other man's shoulder. "Starsk, you are not weird. You just like things clean, and there is nothing wrong with that. I could see how this schedule would upset you - hell, it's upsetting me. I can't even stand sleeping in my house anymore."

With that confession done Hutch removed his hand from his friends shoulder, settling back in his seat.

"Really? Where do you sleep?"

"A lawn chair."

Two second beat and the blond looked over at the dark sapphire eyes that he knew were staring at him. Both men sat, looking deeply into each other for a second before breaking into a fit of laughter.

"A lawn chair." Starsky threw his head back, filling the car with deep sounds of joy, or was it hysteria. He didn't know or care, whatever it was it sounded and felt good.

"A hotel, you're gonna stay at a hotel!" The blond threw back, joining in the glee.

After several minutes both men started to settle down, wiping tears from the corners of their eyes.

"Oh, man. We gotta finish this case up." Hutch chuckled as he mopped his face with a handkerchief.

"No, what we need are elves."

The blond head turned, "Elves?"

Starsky sat, with that 'Yup, I just figured it out' look that every five year old gets on their face when they come up with the impossible answer.

"Elves." When his partner just continued to stare. The dark man continued.

"You remember, the shoe maker and the elves..." No response, Starsky sighed, rolling his eyes. "Didn't anyone EVER read you any stories besides the history of the world?"

"No," The flat voice was betrayed by the twinkle in the blue eyes.

"Well I'll tell you then. A shoemaker needed help, so some elves came at night and made the shoes for him and he didn't lose his business." Hutch continued to stare.

Starsky raised his hands in a gesture of 'that's it', figuring anyone should understand the meaning of what he just said. "So, we need some elves."

Deciding he was too tired to follow the philosophical trail Hutch just put on his best 'yeah, sure' smile and nodded his agreement. "Elves, yeah Starsk. That's what we need."

That seemed to satisfy his partner as Starsky settled back in the seat, resuming his observation of the street in front of them.

Hutch watched him for a moment longer, wondering again how his partner managed to maintain so much innocence amid all the pain he had witnessed on a daily basis.

Then, smiling to himself, he slowly turned and looked out at the quiet street.

It took Edith three trips but she managed to get all the trash and laundry down the long flight of stairs. Sweating and tired, she loaded the dirty clothes into the trunk of her car, got in and headed over to Venice.

Upon arriving at Hutch's she suddenly knew who the neater of the pair was. If she had thought Starsky's place was bad, Hutch's was that much more.

"Oh well" She muttered to herself. "It's no worse than Calvin's room."

With that she brought out the heavy duty trash bags and began her assault.

Four hours later she stood, hands on her hips, looking at a clean cottage. Starsky's laundry stood folded and ready to be returned to his home - thanks to Hutch's washer and dryer.

Hutch's freshly washed clothes were piled neatly on his bed, which had been made with clean sheets and blankets.

Edith smiled at herself, "Just a little bit more and then I'm done." She thought.

She loaded her car, then got in and headed in the direction of home.

Starsky stood at the foot of the stairs to his apartment looking at the bags of trash in his driveway.

"Those weren't there this morning - I know they weren't." Realizing he had spoken that aloud he quickly looked around to see if anyone heard him.

You're going nutty, that's all. No sleep, dirty house, no women, can't take it. He thought.

Shaking his head he started the long trek up to his front door.

Entering the apartment he prepared to take his usual dark route to the bedroom, when something stopped him. Something was different. He stood in the doorway for a moment.

He almost reached for his gun, but no, it wasn't danger, it was something else. A smell - yes... a smell. The place smelled.......CLEAN!

He flipped on the light gasping at what he saw. His living room was clean... VERY clean. Walking in slowly he let his hand scrape gently across a piece of furniture. Then, almost absently he inspected his fingers.

No dust... WOW!.

At that exact moment his phone rang - grabbing it there was no hello just an amazed, "You too?"

"Yeah."

"Laundry as well?"

Starsky shot a look at his bedroom. Then dropping the receiver on the couch, he ran into the other room. What he saw stopped him short - there, all the clothes that just that morning, had been strewn throughout the apartment now sat on his bed, washed and neatly folded. The bed itself was made, clean sheets he was sure, and the entire room had been vacuumed and dusted with the same precision as the living room.

Grabbing the phone on the bedside table he peaked into the bathroom.

"Laundry too." He managed to get out. "And you're bedroom?"

"Completely clean." Came the astonished reply.

"I have to check the bathroom - hold on." Dropping the phone on the bed, the dark detective walked carefully towards the adjoining room, as if afraid that moving too fast would disturb what he was certain was an illusion.

Turning on the light - he was almost blinded. Everything sparkled - the soap scum was off the sink and shower door. The floor shined, and when he opened the shower door he saw nothing but bright, white tile.

His jaw now hanging permanently open, he made his way back to the phone.

"Who...? How...?"

"I don't know. Did you get food too?"

"You're kidding...!" And the phone was dropped back on the bed as he ran towards the last room to inspect - the kitchen.

Remembering what he saw the last time he had visited this place, there was slight hesitation before flipping on the light. Taking a deep breath and smelling nothing but pine, he became brave. His hand flicked the switch and he was greeted by one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen.

The counters were so clean they acted as reflecting pools. Every dish was put away and the appliances sparkled. But his favorite part was the floor, he hated dirty floors. This one was cleaner than even he could have made it and he wouldn't have minded admitting that to anyone right now - that's how happy he felt.

But the real jackpot came when he opened the refrigerator - there were three casserole dishes in there - each with heating instructions attached.

Grabbing the closest one, he quickly read what to do and popped it in the oven before making his way to the phone on the wall, "Yeah, food too. What'd you get?"

"Two salads." The words came back between chews. "And a casserole. How about you?"

"Three casseroles. I'm heating one up now." Starsky continued to look around, amazed at everything he saw. "Hutch... who do you think did this?" Then a thought struck him - and the other one as well.

Speaking at the same time, the question came. "Did you do this?"

Then the answer. "No."

Well that didn't get them anywhere.

Something caught the corner of Starsky's eye. "Hold on." Lowering the phone he walked over to the shelf in his living room. As he got closer a wide smile spread across his face. "I knew it!" he said loud enough for his friend to hear through the many phones laying around throughout the small apartment. Then again, louder. "I KNEW IT!"

"What? What?" was being screamed from three receivers.

Starsky, laughing, turned towards the sound of Hutch's voice - plopping down on the couch he grabbed the abandoned phone. "Look around your house, find an elf shoe."

Silence, then a choked, "What?"

"You heard me - just do it. It's small - and green." Starsky smiled down at the little object of affection he held in his hand.

The phone was laid down and a very short time later the dark man heard through the line, "No Way! How did you know?"

Then Hutch's voice came back, sputtering - unbelieving. "What the hell? How...? Who did this? " Looking down at the little shoe in his hands. "Starsk... you're not gonna tell me.....no way.....I won't believe it......elves???"

Starsky laughed at his articulate partner's loss for words. "I don't know buddy. I don't know and I don't care. I'm just gonna thank the stars and enjoy it."

Laughter returned to him through the phone line. "I'm with you partner. Weird as it is - I've never been so happy to not have an explanation in my life."

Edith Dobey sunk down deeper into the big tub, her tired muscles responding to the heat of the water.

The kids were in bed, Harold had just come home and was eating his dinner, the house was clean and now she could relax.

What a day, she thought. I hope this case is over soon - I don't know if I could do this again.

Her mind went to her two favorite detective's. She knew they would just be getting home and she secretly wished she could be a fly on the wall at both of their apartments right now.

She laughed when she thought of them trying to figure out what had happened and wondered how long it would take them to find the shoe. Then, from there how long it would take them to figure out it was her. They had both been to Rosie's recital when she wore that elf costume - would they remember?

Edith smiled - maybe they wouldn't want to remember. Maybe they would want to pretend it really was an elf and miracles could happen.

Well, whatever they decide - she thought - it was ok with her.

She slid down further in the tub, closing her eyes for a little nap.

THE END