Strike was already sat waiting in the dining room of the Tottenham at a quarter past one. He was the one who was usually late. He'd actually gone to the pub straight from the office, rather than the lie he'd told Robin that he was going to see one of the law firms they freelanced for. He needed a drink after leaving that envelope on Robin's desk. Instead he had been good, remembering how his knee had hurt a few nights before and settled for tea after tea. The next day after their late-night talk, Strike had called Linda Ellacott and written the letter to Robin. The envelop though had sat in his pocket for days. The feeling of anticipation was both painful and exquisite. The outcome of this lunch would determine whether their relationship would be back to navigating around each other or some new stage that he didn't want to allow himself to consider.

When Robin had returned to work, they quickly fell into familiar routines and had entered new territory. Before one weekend she had asked Strike what he was up to, as it had been the first Saturday he had been free in weeks.

"Goin' with Nick to watch the Spurs - Arsenal game. I'll be the one sat in a sea of white and navy wearing his red arsenal shirt!"

That had made her laugh, "So I'm assuming you'll be expecting some light-hearted ribbing?"

"Yeah and most of it will be from Nick!"

"I'll ask him to take mercy on you," but her unstoppable laughter had said otherwise.

After Arsenal had hopefully beaten Spurs, they would move on with some of Nick's friends to a pub back in central London where Ilsa and a few of her friends would join them. The thought flashed in his mind that Robin might want to go with them. It was a large group so, he told himself, it wouldn't seem too weird for him to ask her, "What are you doing?"

Robin's laughter went silent instantaneously. She looked away from him, busing herself with the paperwork she was organising, "Urm, I'm out with Vanessa again…she's forced me into a double date with this guy she likes and his friend."

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

How long had it been since the wedding? Nearly three months? She had to start dating at some point, he counselled himself. He'd shagged Ciara Porter a few weeks after breaking up with Charlotte. He tried to keep his voice even, "Well, you can always S.O.S me if it goes to crap and I can give you the failsafe emergency phone call."

She'd smirked at this and was able to look him in the eye again, "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," but her face was sceptical.

That Saturday Arsenal had lost. But Strike was still actually enjoying himself amongst the laughter and chat of the raucous group. Strike had met most of the others. It had only been Charlotte who looked at his friends with disdain, so he found it was easier to simply avoid social occasions when he'd been with her. But, as time had passed he was gradually re-establishing himself as the man he had been before she chipped pieces of him away.

Between the conversation and laughter, his thoughts still wandered to Robin. Was she enjoying her night? How she'd have found a particular joke hilarious? How she'd have appreciated a particular people watching observation he'd made? The thoughts were so unrelenting that he had taken his mobile out of his pocket and was holding it in his hand when a text had appeared on the screen. It was from Robin.

S.O.S

He'd chuckled to himself and had opened the message immediately, "Corm? Who's that?" Ilsa was her usual forthright self, worried he was going to have a Charlotte relapse he supposed after his most recent relationship had expired.

"Robin."

"I thought she had a date tonight?"

"Ah, you knew about that, did you?"

Ilsa gave him a sheepish smile and Strike showed her the text, "Oh dear!" Ilsa sighed, "Tell her to come here!" suggesting it as if it was the easiest thing in the world. Strike could see how pointless it was to continue to keep the façade of professional boundaries in place when somehow Robin had unwittingly infiltrated his life.

Strike began to tap, firing off a message. Where are you?

Brixton. Just been out for dinner. Can't get away. Don't want to seem rude to Vanessa. Came back the reply almost instantly.

Ilsa was watching over his shoulder, "Tell her to ask them all here, we'll then separate him from her somehow."

Thirty minutes late Strike was trying not to appear to be watching the door. Ilsa caught his eye and grinned at him but he just shook his head dismissively, as if he disapproved of where he knew her thoughts were travelling. Then suddenly, there she was. Strike exhaled slowly, his eyes wide. Course she couldn't get rid of this guy. There was nothing about her that wasn't beautiful. Interestingly, she had appeared to be more and more stunning to him now she was without Matthew as an accessory.

By the end of the night, one of Nick's friends had trapped Robin's date, who turned out to also be a Spurs fan, into a long drawn out analysis of the afternoon's game. Vanessa was very busy snogging her date. While Robin was sat across from Strike at the table, joining in with the banter and chat, laughing and smiling. She seemed to emanate happiness. All of them a little worse for wear, they had left the pub and had started to walk back to the tube. Nick and Ilsa seemed to be physically supporting each other as they walked clumsily ahead of Strike.

"Wait for me!" Robin had caught up with them after saying her goodbyes to Victoria. She wasn't sure when Jack, her date, had left and she hardly gave it a passing moment, "That was fun!"

"Oh yeah?" Strike quirked an eyebrow.

"Eventually…"

"So, the S.O.S worked then?"

"Yep, good thinking! Was that from your wealth of dating experience?" she thought she had made it sound a completely casual question, a smile playing on her lips.

"Disasters would be more appropriate," then regretted his flippant remark as she looked pensive.

"Does it get any easier?"

"Course it will Robin," he nudged her arm," - right time, right person."

"Kind of thought that was Matthew?" she sighed.

"Yep and for a long time I considered it to be Charlotte. What really makes it easier, is having good friends around you." He smiled widely at her before dragging his eyes away from her gaze.

He felt her snake her arm through his. And he allowed it, tipsy as he was, he dropped his hand into his pocket so her hand rested in the crook of his elbow. They chatted and laughed until they got to the station and Robin had finally stepped away from his side. Ilsa and Nick said their goodbyes and she gave him a quick hug, they walked into the station while Robin hesitated and hung back.

"Good friends," she smilied up at him shyly.

He returned her smile and they awkwardly stood waiting for the other to walk away. Quickly, as if Robin thought she only had a second of opportunity, she put her hand on his shoulder and kissed him on the cheek, millimetres away from his mouth so her lips just brushed his own as she withdrew. Strike's hand had just pressed against her back before Robin was gone, following their friends into the station. Once she got to the barriers she turned to look back over her shoulder. Seeing he was still there, Robin gave him a little wave and that beaming smile before her Oyster beeped her through. How had she known he was still there, frozen like a gormless loon? Yep, bloody highly commended in counter-surveillance training! He had felt a bit colder, like something was missing as he walked back to the flat.

Strike glanced at the empty stairs again. He then took a deep sip of his waiting beer and pressed his lips together to get rid of any residual foam.

"Sorry I'm late!" Robin sounded breathless.

Strike looked up from his drink, "Usually it's the other way around, it's fine!"

"I was getting you something actually." She said cheerfully.

Strike relaxed either she hadn't yet looked inside the envelope or she wasn't upset by what he had written.

Robin picked up the glass of wine he had ordered for her and almost inhaled a mouthful.

"I'm intrigued."

"Well, I know you love intrigue," she took a rectangular shaped present from her handbag and placed it in front of him.

He could tell it was book shaped and he looked quizzically back at her smiling expectant face. He pulled out the hardback, Fordyce's "CATULLUS".

"Robin?" then it came back to him, he'd told her he had recited it to Fancourt in Latin.

"Yep. Anyway, you might have it already but I saw it weeks ago and after your note, I just thought it was a good opportunity to give it to you. To say thanks. I had to go and get wrapping paper though."

"Thank you. I did have it, at University but…" it might still be in a box somewhere in his Aunt and Uncle's loft in Cornwall where his things had been stored when he abruptly left Cambridge to join the army. He'd assumed reading Latin love poetry may not have gone down well with the other recruits, "It must have cost you – I'll give you the money for it."

"It wouldn't be a present then! Anyway, I just hope it's worthy of a few days with my extended family," she smiled.

"So, you saw the note? You want me to come with you?"

"Of course! Even if I was actually looking forward to it! Although, I appreciate the sacrifice you're making for me - days with family and they're not even yours."

"But you'll be there," The words were out before he could stop them and he registered her glowing blush, "What food do you want? It's on me after your first successful case."

Robin recounted the meeting with Davies to Strike while they waited for their food. When it arrived, Robin pinched some chips from Strike bowl and he donated a slice of bacon to her salad. She held one of the chips over the yolk of his egg and looked at him raising her brows in question.

"Wait!" Strike picked up the glass Heinz tomato ketchup bottle tapping the end until a blob landed on the yolk.

Robin dipped in her chip, mixing both yolk and ketchup then popped it into her mouth.

"God you're disgusting!" he laughed.

"Yum! You love it!"

Strike smiled but found it hard to hide his awkwardness.

"The ketchup yolk I mean." Robin mumbled concentrating on her food.

"So," he took pity on her and changed the subject, "What can I expect in Masham?"

"Well the night we arrive there's the Sten do in Harrowgate…"

"Wait…Sten? Oh, I've got it."

"Sounds better than a Hag do!"

"Have to agree with you there."

Robin continued to list the indignities she expected to suffer that would therefore involve him, then something occurred to her, "Where did Mum say you'll be staying?"

"At yours – I said I could bring the camp bed and then the hotel for the reception, someone can't come so I can take over their booking."

"My cousin, she's just had her baby. Okay, we're all staying at Swinton Park after the reception there. I have to share a twin room with Martin."

"Bad luck!"