Author's usual notes and disclaimer: I don't own any of the original characters nor the original Inspector Lynley Mysteries – they belong to Elizabeth George and the BBC. I have borrowed the characters from the TV-Show and solely own the ideas of my stories and the developments I've let them go through.

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Summary: Who said she only had learned Aikido? Who said he only had practised rowing at Eton? And who said that a free afternoon after a frustrating case in an upperclass snobbish society in some Scottish town must stay boring by spending it with waiting for the flight back home for more than 24 hours?


Author's notes: This turned out to be longer than I intended and so I've splitted it (the next chapters still need some polish). I hope it also is better than I first had thought it would be. Thanks to Cats for a certain scene in this story I've shamelessly borrowed from her. Though it's taken out of its original context somehow it fits into my story.

Ladies and gentlemen - stretch your tendons, warm your muscles! Enjoy once more to be...


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Sportif (II)

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"You what?!" he gasped.

"I've been practising it for years." she answered as if it was absolutely nothing unusual.


DI Tommy Lynley and DS Barbara Havers aimlessly drove around in the small car they had been given by the local police for the time they had to stay up there in some town in the Scottish Lowlands. They had needed some distraction on this afternoon because they were stuck in that town for the next 24 hours until the flight back home to London would depart from Edinburgh. They had to stay another day in that tiny B&B where the accident had happened in the backyard. That it was an accident was not clear at all at the beginning of their investigation because it had looked as if every single one of those snobs had hated him, had a motive, alibis relating to each other and a possible way to have him stabbed by that fork. But the webcam they had found in the end (...don't ask! It looked as if some of the juniors had wanted to film the lovers who came there on some kind of regular basis...) showed no intervening of third parties. So now the two Metropolitain Police officers were not convinced at all but they had to close the files.

At the moment they were driving around, watching the landscape and the picturesque Scottish villages, sitting close in that ridiculously tiny car - too close for Tommy's liking. Her perfume made him nervous. They were nibbling some salted crisps and looked out of different windows. Driving around was not exactly thrilling but it was better than sitting in their rooms or hanging around in the pub, maybe drinking alcohol too early in the day.

So for now Tommy manoevered the car through narrow streets and had a hard time concentrating on the road with her perfume in his nose, her face visible in the corner of his eyes, her humming in his ear - he had turned on the radio because he had not wanted to talk nonsense and had not known what he could say to her. Somehow she still was a bit pissed off about those people involved in that 'non-case'. But now she was bobbing her head in the rhythm of the song and hummed the melody. Tommy had a strangely deep feeling for her since lately and was constantly trying to suppress it. Since their friendship had grown stronger lately he tried it with decreasing success, even more so when she was so near to him. But she was his friend and he knew her opinion about 'his lot', especially after this case. Probably there never would come the chance that she would see more in him than just her DI, her good friend that accidentally was the eighth Earl of Asherton.

He did not know that his sergeant evenually had decided that it did not matter at all but she better stayed his friend and not risk that by telling him that there was more developing. She never indulged in more than imagination and a few unobserved long looks and quick hidden glances. Their usual banter and bickering still was a game for them though lately Barbara had found more courage to play her witty irony on Tommy.

He loved that.


But now they were sitting in that car in companionable but slightly nervous silence. A few moments ago they had driven past a public golf course that made Barbara mutter that the Scots do it right with their everybody-could-do-it-way concerning that sport.

"Not like we English people!" she had snorted.

"What? Golf? Oh, it's an expensive sport, Barbara, so it's no wonder that you mostly have rich people playing it."

"Yah, but if you subtract the care for the grounds - which could be solved otherwise if you ask me - it's just expensive when you have enormous numbers of golf carts, an overstylish club with clubhouse of the best class, servants here, servants there and if you still ask me - most of the clubs, I mean the irons and woods, could be lended. As well as the bags and balls and tees and if there would be more clubs, I mean the associations, in which the members organise the care for the grounds and everything by themselves, all would have to pay less money. Not to mention that you don't really need those brand-name clothings and expensive equipment and usually just a few different clubs and not the whole range!"

Lynley had listened to her talking about the injustice most not-so-well-situated golfers endure until he had asked her how it came that she obviously knew about the situation in that sport and she had answered "Because I do play golf."

"You what?!" he gasped.

"I've been practising it for years." she answered as if it was absolutely nothing unusual. "Well, recently not really often, but I used to once. Back in history." Then she told him that it had been an opportunity back in her youth when she had an older (at that Barbara rolled her eyes to emphasise that it had been a very much older) boyfriend who had a teaching job at one of those upper class golf societies and so she was allowed to play with him there without being a member. He was a good teacher but since the boyfriend eventually had become history she had looked out for another club and found the Trent Park Public Golf Course in Southgate where she unregularly made a round.

"Not so much spare time these days to spend hours on the green..." Barbara sighed.

"Unbelievable..." he mumbled shaking his head and pensively looking at his colleague. Still waters... he thought. But then his eyes returned back to the road and they went on watching the landscape. Although Lynley made her even a bit more nervous since he eventually had started to fidget with his mobile all the time.

"Sir, you shouldn't do this while you're driving!" Barbara warned him.

"Yes, you're right, Sergeant. I just had turned on my sat nav. Here we are." He turned into a road with a big wooden sign saying that this was the way to a golf course.

"You're not serious, are you?" Barbara asked. She feared he was up to a golf match.

"Well, I used to play golf in my youth, so why not spend the time until we return home with some holes on the green in the fresh Scottish air? Anyway it's like a little walk through the meadows and better than driving around in this car."

"Oh, how 'romantic', Sir." Though it was said with an ironic accentuation she looked forward to that walk. Recently they had become very good friends and had spent much time together even on one or the other simple walk through a London park.

Tommy shot her a quick glance. Indeed, with you it could be.


Barbara could not really believe it at first but after they had checked in accompanied by a constant grin on Tommy's face and since they actually were able to lend two sets of clubs they both went to the first teeing ground. It was late noon on a sunny day at the end of September and the promise of a very nice afternoon lingered in the air.

"That's crazy, Sir." she laughed and was absolutely pleased about this pastime.

"Have you seen the receptionist's face?" Tommy murmured. "He only became friendly after he had heard my title."

"That's always happening when you pull your nobility card, Sir."

"Now that's crazy." Barbara looked at him with a shaking head but Tommy only grinned again. "Well, now you can prove that you're in this posh sport, Barbara. Heads or tails?" He produced a penny.

"I am the Queen." Barbara chuckled but lost the coin toss.

"Ok, I might only be a number - but I'll start. Here we are." He was about to bend down but decided to put a little kick in the game and set a prize first. "What's the prize in that competition?"

"Competition?" Barbara raised an eyebrow.

"Of course! I suggest stroke play?" Barbara nodded at that. "And if you need less than me, I'll let you drive the car - I mean my car! - during the next case or at least for one week." Barbara was flattered that he trusted her with his beloved car but then again she thought he knew he would win anyway. "I think playing this nine-hole-course once is enough."

"M-hm. And if you win, Sir..." And I truly believe I can't compete with your education and experience... She had to think a bit. "I promise I'll let you take the lead in our next case and won't complain about your strange ideas, whatever you think."

"No way, Barbara, your objections are too inspiring." Tommy smiled. "Always."

"Oh, are they? Nice to hear that."

"Give a different wager."

"Well... what about... I'll be the mermaid." She laughed. Short time ago Tommy had told her of a charity event Peter once had organised for Cornwall orphans where Tommy had been auctioned off in thirty minute blocks. One of those blocks had been bought by the jealous husband of a woman Tommy had had to dance with during the previous block. That man had made him sit on the dunking stool over the harbour instead of the mermaid. It had been so much fun for Nanrunnel (not for Tommy!) to make one of the Ashertons go swim so Peter had made it an annual event. He even had had his mother sitting there for her half hour, not in the mermaid's costume of course. And Tommy truly did not look forward to sit there again.

"Ok, so we have a deal." Tommy showed an audacious grin. "I'm looking forward to not only see you in that costume but to send you down into the water." His eyes were sparkling.

"Oh, hell, of this I'm sure. But no costume!" Barbara shook her head but was grinning nonetheless.

"You bet!" Tommy's grin widened.


After they had agreed on the prizes Tommy pinned his tee into the ground and tentatively placed his golf ball on it. He took his stance and looked out onto the fairway. Then he corrected his stance and made a stroke through the air. He corrected his stance again. He actually looked like he was making a show of it.

Oh, for Christ's sake, I'm going to make a fool of myself. Actually he was a bit nervous because his last real game of golf was decades ago. But he could not believe that Barbara had played on such a regular basis like he once had at Eton and even later on so he was sure he would be able to teach her some tricks. In fact he looked forward to showing her some swings. He felt a little twitch in his stomach when he had a particular scene in mind. But for now he had to concentrate on his own swing. Seeing Barbara in a mermaid's costume - that was his incentive. Tommy hid a salacious grin.

His eyes went across the fairway again and he changed his grip on the club once more. Another swing through the air followed before he dared to step closer to the tee to make his first stroke but that was when Barbara had watched him long enough.

"Sir? Are you going to start or shall I help you give your ball some action?" Right after she had said it she was shocked of herself. Oh, dear, how did that sound?!

Barbara saw Tommy's shocked eyes and had to turn away chuckling when she realised that he had heard the same double meaning and saw his red ears. Touché! she thought but glanced again in his direction. Tommy's concentration was on the tee again and she could look at him properly. Since it was a day off he was in a tight T-shirt instead of shirt, tie and jacket and after he had stroked and stood still with the club still in the air, his hips slightly twisted, Barbara recognised the play of his muscles under the stretched cloth. She harrumphed when she caught herself staring and stepped up to the point from where she wanted to play her own first stroke.

After she had sent her first ball on its way accompanied by an appreciative whistle by her DI about its range they took their bags. She swung hers onto her shoulder and Tommy, who had not been quick enough to help her like a real gentleman would have done, saw the play of her arm muscles. She obviously did not need help at all. He marveled at her sportiness that always was hidden under her oversized clothes. Like her female figure.

Behave, old man! he thought and thudded himself forward. Oh heavens, this will be a challenging afternoon. It would be hard not to stare at her the entire time. At this point he already cursed himself for starting this afternoon golfing.


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