Disclaimer: I don't own Sydney and Nigel. I made up the rest, kind of.

Note: this is not a sequel to my previous story, Lovers of Legend. It is mainly, as it says, a comedy/mystery story, but as it develops I'm sure it will contain plenty of high-kicking action adventure, a good dose of angst, and some moments of Syd/Nigel romance.

Dedications: I don't normally bother, but I dreamt up this incredibly silly concept with the 'love of my life' over a nice bottle of wine. So I really ought to mention him somewhere...

Anyway, the story:

Mystery weekend

By Katia

Of course, Nigel said 'No!' However, by then, as the plane on its transatlantic flight was starting its descent towards Glasgow airport, it was far too late to do anything about it.

'You're lucky Maria was able get you onto the island at all,' said Sydney, matter-of-factly, as her teaching assistant stared at her, aghast. 'There was only one place left for the murder mystery party, and it was for a woman. Of course, if you feel that you could keep the cross-dressing act up all weekend, then I'll see if they can find a place for me on the domestic staff…'

'Alright, alright,' seethed Nigel, through gritted teeth. 'Its just that you could have told me earlier and, well… what exactly am I going to have to do?'

Sydney smiled congenially. 'There's nothing to worry about, really. It seems that Lord Bannockburgh likes to give his paying party guests a really… pleasurable experience. So, he employs attractive young people to dress in period costume, do some light domestic chores, and generally make the place look… nice.' The aghast look returned to Nigel's face. 'You have to play along with the murder mystery, of course…hey, maybe you'll know who did it before I do!' There was still no change in his awestruck countenance. 'Come on, Nigel, you'll have plenty of time to snoop around looking for the relic, and it'll be fun… '

'Alright, alright,' said Nigel, relenting slightly. 'It might be fun. Its not like I'm not used to being ordered around, is it?' He gave Syd an accusing smile, which she returned. 'So, what is my job title?'

'Err, I think you're the, err…stableboy.'

'Stableboy!' Several images shot through Nigel's mind, all of which were disturbing. 'I couldn't possibly…I don't like horses that much! I can't even ride... and I'm sure I'm allergic to hay!'

'Relax, Nigel. No experience with horses was necessary. Apparently, they were more interested in the bar work we added to your fake cv, and your photo. The hay allergy might be a problem though…'

Nigel gaped at her and then recoiled slightly as his boss leaned in so close that her warm breath ruffled his hair. 'I was looking forward to a roll in the hay with the stableboy,' whispered Sydney playfully.

Almost simultaneously, an announcement came over the speaker system informing them that they should put on their seat belts for landing. Nigel, his seatbelt already fastened, gripped the arm of his seat and wondered what on earth to say to his boss in reply to her proposition. Could her suggestion, or the whole situation, be anything more than a particularly humiliating joke?

………..

Up until Sydney had made her little revelation, Nigel had been rather looking forward to this particular mission. Professor Fox had been contacted by an old college friend, Maria, who was now a curator at a museum in Athens. Maria was incredibly excited about a new exhibit which was about to open at her workplace, a reconstruction of a temple to the goddess Athena, which had once stood near the city. She had hoped to have crowned the display with a beautiful marble statue of the goddess herself, which had remained in situ in the ruins of the temple until the early 19th century. Then it had disappeared.

Maria's research suggested that there was one major suspect in the case of the vanishing relic. Back in the 1800s, a young Scottish Lord, had shown a great interest in the statue. Nevertheless, although they had taken his money in return for less precious artifacts, the locals had refused to let him remove the statue from her plinth. They had defended the piece partially because of its extreme antiquity and beauty. However, the statue was also the subject of ancient myths which claimed all who touched her would be blessed with particular longevity of youth and beauty. Angry and resentful, the Scottish Lord had skulked back to the Highlands without his prize. A few months later the statue had disappeared in the dead of night.

The British aristocrat had been a profligate, diffident man, with a great deal of money; his family's fortune had been made in the 'East Indies'. He certainly had had the resources to arrange the theft, and he was clearly the prime suspect. When Maria had contacted his descendant, however, the present Lord Bannockburgh, her advances had been rebuffed. Even though she had offered him a large cheque for something which, if he had it, would have essentially been illegal stolen goods, the Lord refused even to confirm whether the statue was in his possession or not. He would open no negotiations. It was then she got on the phone to Sydney Fox.

The plan seemed simple. Lord Bannockburgh lived in an enormous mock-gothic mansion on a remote Scottish island, which had been built by the same extravagant ancestor who was suspected of taking the statue. As the family funds were drying up, he made ends meet by holding extremely exclusive murder mystery parties. He charged vast amounts of money for toffs, celebrities, and bored businessmen to dress up in 1930's costumes, wine and dine extravagantly, and pretend to be Poirot or Lord Peter Wimsey for the weekend. Maria suggested that Sydney and Nigel go undercover at one such gathering and see if they could locate the statue and either open negotiations with the Lord or, if rendered necessary, appropriate it by other means.

This idea had appealed to Nigel. The prospect of danger seemed relatively slight and a couple of days in a swanky Scottish castle sounded positively pleasant. Between studying Maria's research notes on the plane, he had conjured up visions of his playing Colonel Mustard to Sydney's slinky Miss Scarlet, imaginings which were not entirely unexciting. That, however, had been before he'd been informed of his allotted role in this ensemble piece, and his dreams had crashed in flames, or rather, into hay, manure and worse.

Sydney, admittedly, had felt a little guilty about his lot, and deliberately postponed telling him until the last possible minute. She assured herself this delay was because she didn't want him to get anxious on the flight. She reasoned that the less time he had to think about it, the less time he had to worry. Her conscience was not helped by the matter that she had been enjoying mental images of 'Nigel the stableboy' for the full six hours of the journey, and had checked herself at least a couple of times as her fantasy tumbled towards the ubiquitous hay. She also was pretty sure that the 'young and attractive' staff were employed, at least partially, for purposes of titillating the guests. Although Maria had assured her that Lord Bannockburgh's parties were entirely respectable, and there was a 'look but don't touch' policy in operation, she did hope that Nigel could handle any unwanted 'attentions'.

'You'll be fine,' she instructed Nigel, as she handed him his rail tickets at Glasgow Queen Street Station. Her assistant looked particularly nonplussed. 'You only have to survive on your own for a few hours until I get there…although, of course, we will have to pretend we don't know each other.'

'Yes, of course…' grumbled Nigel. 'Great ladies can't be seen to be mixing it with us commoners.'

Sydney smiled sympathetically and patted him on the arm. 'I'm sorry, Nigel. I know this isn't what you envisaged. But we will find the statue and, if you really hate it, we'll get out of there as soon as we can.'

'Not before I've had my roll in the hay, ma'am.' Nigel grinned cheekily. Sydney was taken aback by his sudden, and slightly uncharacteristic, change of spirit.

'We'll see about that,' was all she had time to whisper as the whistle blew and he boarded the train. Taking his seat, Nigel waved self-consciously from the window at his boss, wondering what on earth possessed him to deliver that last line, but not regretting it too much. At the very least, Sydney Fox was owed some revenge.

Thanks for reading. Reviews appreciated.

If there is no chapter 2 following this yet, there will be soon: half the story is more or less written, it just needs proofing!