S: Cormoran got a new prosthetic. After the first therapy session he is so exhausted that he can't reach his apartment and stayed at the office. How will Robin find her partner the next morning?

Chapter Two: Summer

Why did this infernal duo hate him so much? Cormoran groaned and took the next step on the endlessly squealing metal stairs, clinging with one hand on the banister as the other gripped the new walking aid. This cyan cane with arm rest screamed invalid and destroyed his image as the mysterious black silhouette he had honed to perfection. He hated it, but needed it. Cormoran didn't know if he could reach his apartment on the top floor. He would definitely take a break at the office one floor below.

His whole body was one big sore muscle. The only part that didn't hurt was his stump and the knee. The new prosthetic shaft with integrated gel pad was heavenly. It fit perfectly. Laser measuring of his lower leg and the 3D-printed case paid off. But learning to walk with the new prosthetic was hell. It was the third time he had to learn to find his feet. The first time as a toddler he couldn't remember, the second time shortly after losing his lower leg had been almost impossible and the current situation was a close second.

Jeff, his physical therapist and Joanna the orthopaedic technician had worked with him all day long and now he had to rest 20 seconds after each step. "Sadists," he hissed between clenched teeth. Thank God he could see the door to the loo, half a floor under the office. Twenty more steps to go.

During the whole 30 minute climb up Cormoran told himself the new buffered prosthetic would give him better mobility and the sensors and hydraulic systems would increase his long lost flexibility and sensitivity. But right now it just hurt everywhere from head to toe and he wanted to cry in frustration. Joanna had told him other leg amputee veterans in the program – yes the Army really paid for everything, even the embarrassing and unstylish walking stick – could drive a standard vehicle again or ride a bicycle. He didn't give a shit about bicycles and he liked when Robin drove him. Okay he admitted that with him driving again they could split the work load outside of London and cover more ground. The thoughts of driving her old Land Rover tickled him. This would make the agency even more efficient and flexible when both detectives didn't have to investigate the same case. Another thought lit up his brain with endorphins. Maybe he could finally pick up his 1984 Triumph at St. Mawes, which was gathering dust in Joan's garage. His aunt had wanted to dispose the bike so many times but Uncle Ted had prevented it each time.

Soaked with sweat Strike finally reached the second floor. Taking several deep breaths he paused in front of the detective agency door, resting his overheated forehead against the cool glass pane.

C.B. Strike

Private Investigator

Strike almost missed a small picnic basket which greeted him on the threshold. He inched his way forward, shrugging off his black Crombie coat and crashed on the couch.

After several minutes Cormoran sat up uttering more groans and curses. He was curious about the basket. Opening it he found a small note on top.

Dear Cormoran,

I put together a few snacks and something for your supper.

See you tomorrow around 10 o'clock,

~Robin~

"Oh," he was amazed and very touched. He dug deeper into the basket and found a crispy pie, this favourite chocolate bar, an apple, a turkey sandwich and some biscuits. There was even a fork and knife and a bottle of water. He didn't need to get up at all.

Robin had also moved a chair close to the couch, so Strike could arrange all the food. An even bigger smile brightened his face as he noticed a soft blanket Robin must have hung over the chair back. She must have suspected he wouldn't be able to make it up the steep stairs to his tiny apartment and into his bed.

Strike was happy. He reached for the blanket and snuggled deeper into the leather cushions. If he didn't move at all, or just moved his mouth, mhm, the pie smelled delicious, this evening and night wouldn't be as horrible as expected.

~oOo~

The next morning Robin arrived at Denmark Street three minutes before 10 o'clock, a cardboard tray with two coffees cups in her hand and a big Tupperware box with homemade scrambled eggs in the bag. She was curious where she would find Strike. After he had sent her a stream of messages yesterday afternoon from his therapy session filled with frustration and curses, she had arranged a snack for him before she clocked off and had even had prepared the office so he could stay there overnight, if needed.

Robin was relieved she didn't find Strike collapsed somewhere in the stairwell. Their relationship to Mr. Crowdy, the graphic designer on the first floor, had improved this last year and she didn't want to push the relationship with the neighbourhood because Strike crashed in front of Crowdy's front door. The basket was gone. The young woman carefully unlocked the office, avoiding rattling the keys. Within seconds her eyes surveyed the whole room. Strike's black wool coat barely hung on the coat rack. A cyan walker leaned against her desk. The picnic basked had been raided. A big grin spread across Robin's face. Only the apple was left. She could see Strike's dark brown jumper hanging over the back of a chair, carefully folded black pants laid on the seat. The new high-tech prosthetic laid underneath the chair next to his other shoe. His army past was still showing.

And Strike? Robin's eyes finally rested on her partner. He snored softly under the yellow blanket on the old couch with the sunken cushions.

Robin removed her trench coat, placed the coffees and her handbag on the desk and walked with the eggs into the kitchenette.

"Morning," Cormoran murmured from under the blanket.

"Good morning."

"I thought you wanted to arrive at ten."

"It's 10 minutes after," Robin replied amused.

"Great," Cormoran slowly sat up, tousling through his dark and wild hair. He had slept well and felt very relaxed. But to be found snoring wearing only boxers and a sweatshirt that was riding up his torso hadn't been part of the plan. He searched for his phone and found it between the cushions. Just wonderful, he had fallen asleep so quickly that he had neglected to set the alarm.

"I brought coffee and scrambled eggs."

"I can smell the coffee, thanks." He smiled at his partner. "Eggs sound awesome."

"I only have to heat them up a bit," Robin replied and turned around, giving Cormoran some privacy. He reached for his new foot, slipped into the pants and flattened the shirt. With the apple in hand he stood up and walked over to Robin with only a slight limp. The sore muscles were almost gone. His recent swimming, boxing and weights workouts were paying off. He had not only lost 8 kg, his recovery time also had decreased.

Both partners stood next to each other in the tiny kitchenette working in sync. Cormoran reached for a knife to cut the apple into thin slices, Robin handed him a plate with one hand and stirred the eggs in the pan with the other.

"Thanks for everything," Cormoran said, looking deep into Robin's powder blue eyes, bumping his shoulder gently against hers. During their whole partnership he had never asked for her help, she just did it, did countless times. This made their relationship even more special to him.

"No problem."

"C'mon, you got me supper and made me breakfast" Cormoran pointed at the pan and over his shoulders towards the picnic basket. "How did you know I wouldn't make it to my apartment?" he asked.

"Your messages," Robin replied. "But I couldn't be sure. I just placed the basket outside the office so you would see it and the blanket was just in case," she paused for two seconds. "I didn't get the camp bed." Both laughed, remembering the time Strike had slept in his office. The time when Robin had started to work at the agency. It was the time they had met.

"Ready," Robin said, getting two more plates to serve the scrambled eggs.

"Give me a minute," Cormoran replied, and left the office, leaving only a slight waft of sleep behind. He wanted to wash his face and needed to pee. When he came back, Robin had arranged the breakfast on her desk. She sat in her chair, one plate in front of her and the apple slices between them. She even set out two yoghurts from her weekly reserve. She had pulled the other chair up to the desk across from her where the aromatic scrambled eggs and a big cup of coffee awaited him. What a lucky man he was.

~oOo~

"Let's get ready," Robin said, as she stood up, checking her watch. Quarter past eleven. She had an appointment at University of London at noon.

"I'll do the dishes," Cormoran replied, and collecting the plates and cutlery as he snagged the last apple slice. "Are you seeing the head of the Plagiarism Department today?"

"Yes, I have a meeting with Dr. Okonedo at 12 o'clock to share our findings about BioSolutions from last week." Robin reached for the right folder and pulled out two pieces of paper, some photos and the memory stick with audio data.

"Do you have another therapy session today?" Robin asked as she folded the yellow blanket. Cormoran would stay in the office for the next two weeks. They had reorganized all of his out of office work appointments on Monday.

"God, no!" Strike replied, and dried the last plate. "Jeff and Joanna will torture me again Friday."

"But your leg is working well," Robin pointed at the unused walker.

Cormoran nodded. Maybe finding his feet this time wouldn't be as hard as he expected. He stepped confidently toward the coat rack, reached for Robin's trench and helped her slide into it.

"Thanks," she passed him the blanket and picked up her bag with the documents. Both detectives left the office, Robin stepping quickly downstairs and Strike heading up to his apartment to shower and change. He was looking forward to a couple of quiet weeks working as an assistant to Robin.