Author's note: all usual disclaimers apply. This story started off as my Christmas story but grew... So I thought I would start publishing now to get us in the mood. (Leonie - it is snake free, so you can read without risking your phone.)

The rain was unrelenting. In the blustery gale, water seemed to spray Barbara Havers from every angle. When a car drove past her, going far faster than was safe in the conditions, water even splashed her from below. She waved her umbrella at the car and swore. It was a mistake. At that moment, a blast of icy wind caught her only means of creating any illusion she would stay dry and blew it inside out.

Barbara swore again. This time it was venomous and included a curse on every London bus driver who had decided that a stormy night two days before Christmas was the perfect time to hold a snap strike to protest recent violent attacks on staff. She turned the corner towards the nearest Underground station. A line of people was backed back almost 500 yards, all jockeying for cover as they pushed towards the station entrance.

"Ah, bloody hell!"

It would take hours to get a train. In this weather, she would be able to walk to Camden faster than waiting for a cab. She shoved her dead umbrella into an already overflowing garbage bin outside the nearby 7Eleven. It acted like a bowl and rapidly filled with rain as the heavens opened into a torrent she imagined was akin to a monsoon. The crowd pressed back further as everyone tried to shelter from the unseasonal weather under the awnings of the shops. She was squashed in, barely able to breathe. When a large man with the breath of a horse stable stepped onto her toe, Barbara had had enough. Swearing vehemently, she forced her way to the front of the growing crowd and back into the deluge.

A van, plastered with slogans and posters in support of the drivers drove slowly along the line. A loudspeaker mounted on the roof bellowed about the rights of workers to safe, violence-free workplaces. Several people surged towards the van hurling abuse and the occasional shoe or drink bottle.

"I'm beginning to see why they bloody well attack you!" Barbara shouted in a tone that did not befit her status as a Detective Sergeant charged with upholding peace, and the rule of law.

She momentarily wrestled with her anger and her responsibility to intervene to prevent an attack, when police whistles blew behind her, and four mounted police rode their horses between the van and the commuters threatening to become rioters. The van drove away, and the crowd pushed back towards the station.

Still cursing everyone and everything she knew, a sodden Barbara stomped back to Scotland Yard where she kept a spare set of clothes and toiletries in a bag under her desk. She planned to sleep in her boss's office then shower and dress in the morning in the change room downstairs. She had done it once or twice before without attracting any undue attention.

Her dinner would be one or two of the giant chocolate chip cookies in the vending machine. As she exited the lift, she extricated all her spare coins from the front pocket of her wet jeans. She was about to insert them when she noticed F8 had no cookies. She scanned the machine. It was nearly empty. She counted her loose change and examined the prices. Dinner would be a Snickers and packet of potato crisps.

Clutching her crisps and chocolate in her teeth, Barbara hung her coat on the rack, then pulled her bag from under her desk. No one was in the squad room. She had been the last to leave, apart from her boss, Detective Inspector Tommy Lynley. He had wanted to finish some emails but had assured her he would not work late.

His room was in darkness. Unusually, his door was closed, but Barbara did not bother to knock. She opened the door, threw her bag on the floor near the desk, and turned on the light.

There was a bang near the window sounding like wood on the glass. "Bloody heck!"

She jumped, not expecting Tommy to still be in his office. The bags fell from her mouth as she let out an anguished, "arrrrgh!" She bent down and snatched up her dinner. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"It's my office," he protested. "What are you doing here? And why are you all wet?" He looked past her. "You've left a wet slick all the way through the squad room."

"You were at the window. Didn't you notice it's raining?"

"Not really."

Barbara tutted. "The bus drivers have pulled a snap strike, and the Tube had queues back to the City Hall. So much for legislation about unions needing to provide notice. You didn't answer my question. Why are you standing there in the dark?"

Tommy rubbed the front of his head where he had hit it on the edge of the window frame. "Thinking."

"And you can't do that with the light on?"

"Not as effectively."

Barbara understood that type of thinking only too well. She had thought Tommy was a tad too cheerful in the lead up to Christmas. It was a time of the year when many people found their pasts intruding uninvited on their present. "Sorry to interrupt."

He waved his hand to indicate there was no need to apologise, and indeed no desire to discuss it any further. "You'll catch your death in those wet clothes."

"I was going to change into my spare gear and..."

"Yes?"

"Sleep under your desk."

"Barbara! You're not a Labrador. You can't sleep under my desk."

She sighed loudly then picked up her bag. "Fine. I'll sleep in the squad room."

"No. You won't. Get changed out those wet clothes before you catch pneumonia. You can stay at my place. Getting to Camden and back will be too hard on a wet night if the transport is off."

"But, Sir, I don't want to impose. If you need time alone..." She did not finish her sentence.

"I don't. I need company. I wasn't sitting here pining for Helen if that's what you were thinking. I was just... I was thinking about the future and..." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. Now go and get changed. That's an order."

"Thanks." Barbara turned to leave.

"Wait. Sorry, where are my manners? Change in here." Barbara raised her eyebrows. "I'll wait in the squad room," he said with a small cheeky grin.

"Thanks for this," Barbara said as Tommy showed her the spare room.

"My pleasure. I couldn't have you sleeping under my desk, could I?"

"I've done it before."

"Have you? Why?"

Barbara looked away. "Things like tonight. Times when staying has been easier than getting home." She did not mention the times when he had been on sick leave after Helen's shooting when she had needed to feel close him.

"Well, no more, Sergeant Havers. You are to come here. That's an order."

Barbara could not help but grin at him. He gave her such a lovely return smile that her heart fluttered in her chest. Even though he had a sizeable ego, and knew he was an attractive man, Tommy had no idea how utterly adorable he was when he smiled at her like that. It was as comforting as hot chocolate pudding on a cold winter's night.

"Hungry?"

Barbara laughed. "I was just thinking about food."

"I know."

Barbara shook her head as he turned and headed downstairs. She followed closely on his heels still laughing. At the bottom, he stopped and turned. Barbara nearly tumbled into him, averting a collision in the last few inches.

"What's so funny now?" he asked.

"I'm following you just like Labrador does at the mention of food."

"Should I start calling you Marley?"

Barbara shook her head. Her face hurt from smiling and speaking would spoil the moment. It was not a romantic moment or even one with a deep spiritual connection. It was merely two friends enjoying a joke. Friends. Not Inspector and Sergeant. Not Eton and Acton. Not Earl and peasant. For the first time, she realised she was his equal in this one aspect of their lives.

"I don't think so, thank you, Tommy." She walked past him towards his kitchen, resisting the temptation to put her finger under his chin and push his gaping mouth closed.

To his credit, and her relief, he did not mention that she had finally begun to address him by his name. In the kitchen, he acted as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

Barbara perched herself on one of the high kitchen stools. "What are we eating?"

"Homemade pizzas, I think," he said as he began getting ingredients out of his fridge. He put his oven on high to heat while he pulled two medium pizza bases from his freezer. "What sort do you fancy?"

"I don't know. Surprise me."

He raised his eyebrows twice in a playful gesture she knew meant that he had accepted her statement as a challenge. "Now, drinks." He checked his fridge. "Beer? Wine? Orange juice? Water? Or..." He reached in behind some other bottles. "I have champagne."

"Champagne and pizza sound extravagant, even for an earl. Beer please."

He pulled two beers from the fridge and handed her one. "Cheers."

"Cheers, Tommy."

In her head, he was always Tommy, so it was easy to make the change. When she used his name this time, he grinned at her with the same expression that visited her in her dreams. That only made her more determined to call him Tommy all the time. They stood silently, looking at each other, grinning in turn and drinking their beer.

Tommy handed her another beer before preparing his topping, Barbara scraped every bit of pizza sauce from the plastic container and spread it over the bases. It was barely enough, so with the back of the spoon she scraped it as thinly as she could. Tommy began to arrange strips of bacon in radial lines from the centre before cracking two eggs over it and covering it with pieces of fresh mozzarella that he had sliced. "Bacon and egg pizza for me. Now, what will I make you?"

"That looks good. Can I have one too?"

"Of course."

Barbara watched as he made hers and noticed that he added extra bacon and three eggs. "Why has mine got more topping?"

Tommy placed a floury finger on the tip of her nose. "So you don't steal mine. Open the oven door would you? These should be ready in about twenty minutes."

"I can't wait."

She watched as he washed his hands then packed everything away. He dug around in one cupboard and pulled out two small wooden platters. "These should do us. Still thirsty?"

"Yeah."

After fetching two more beers, Tommy led her into his lounge. Two red leather Chesterfield sofas and a large wing chair were the only seats. Barbara sat on one of the couches and was mildly disappointed when Tommy thumped into the other one. Between two built-in bookcases, a large modern television hung on the wall above the fireplace. Tommy threw her the remote. "Find something you like while I light a fire."

"I'm not cold."

"Neither am I, but if we were to rely on this for heating, we would freeze to death. I thought it would add to the ambience of the room."

"Oh well, of course. This room has no ambience without it."

He frowned. "I think it's a very barren room. Much like the whole house. It never feels lived in. The fire helps."

Barbara took a sip of her beer. Tommy sounded sad as if he hated living here but did it because that was what was expected. He had abandoned his flat by the river and retreated to Belgravia after he had returned to work. Barbara could not blame him; the unit had too many reminders of his failings. But she was concerned that he did not have a sanctuary to come home to each night.

"Maybe you should move."

Tommy was kneeling at the fireplace and nearly bumped his head on the side as he turned to look at her. "Why would I move? It was not exactly a success last time."

"Sorry." Barbara wondered why she had spoken. She had not intended to say that and dredge up the past.

"No, don't be. Wherever I go, I will never escape myself."

"No, but one day I hope you learn to live with yourself."

"So do I. I'll check on our dinner. Find something to watch."