This is where the lost things are

Hi, it's me, I have found another fandom of two emotionally repressed people who clearly love each other, yet cannot say it. I have only seen the series, so that is the basis for my characterisation. I also don't know how the Met works/worked in the 1970s, so let's just handwave some of that stuff.  

But I love Dalgliesh and Miskin, your honour, so I will leave this for the the tiniest of fandoms who also love repressed police poets and strong-willed women and who just need them to get together already.

Summary:

After TC and Rick head for La Mariana to close up, Thomas sits down next to Juliet and she takes his hand in hers. She's been wanting the comfort of their closeness since they escaped being buried over a case of exorbitantly expensive whiskey and finally, she can relish in it. In return, he pulls her close, wrapping his arm around her completely and she leans close into him, his warmth, his security.

For a while, they don't say anything. She knows he must be processing the revelations around Captain Greene's death but she won't push him to talk about it more than he wants to; more than he's ready to.

“I was scared today.”