He had risen early that Sunday morning in Bath, ate a reasonable breakfast and took a short walk of a few blocks. If asked he was stretching his legs but he also was wondering if he might see Kate once more. By nine o'clock though he was back at the hotel, had packed his things and deposited his case with the box room and checked out.

He stood in the doorway of the ballroom, thinking that at least he ought to sit thru several presentations, so he suffered through the typical badly written and poorly presented claptrap. Finally he heard a discourse on treatment of chronic kidney disease and one of urologic care of the elderly. Those two he actually took notes on as the information as useful.

But during those three and a half hours he replayed his time with Kate. By then he'd processed enough of his memories to separate Kate Ashurst from her double. She might look much the same as Louisa, but she was not her double in many respects. For one thing Louisa would likely never take down a drunk in a pub with knee and elbow.

By nearly one the conference ended, he received his certification papers from the organizers, and collected his things. He left the hotel, skirted the Christmas Market and found himself walking in the square where Kate had said she was staying. Her description matched the B&B and though he paused a moment, he felt very strange being there, so he quickly resumed his march to the station.

The streets were all cobblestones and houses jammed cheek by jowl and one could easily imagine it was Victorian days, except for the absence of street beggars, unwashed bodies, and deposits of horse manure on the pavement. What a horrid time of disease that must have been, he thought. "So much better now," he said to himself as pack of teen girls charged past, who might be duplicates of the Portwenn girl-gaggle.

Near two he got to the Bath Spa station after purchasing a sandwich for the train. He'd carefully pawed amongst the sandwiches displayed in the small market until he found one that was actually made on Saturday. He could abide coffee on a train but the foodstuffs he abhorred – full of useless fats and calories and God knew when they'd been made.

In the station he checked the board and found his train was listed as being on time, thank the Lord. As he thought those words he turned and saw Kate Ashurst come in through the outside door.

They'd said they're goodbyes last night, such as they were, and to be honest her embrace and kiss on his cheek was still fresh in his memory. He quickly turned the other way so as to spare her embarrassment then walked up to the platform for the westbound train.

Steady on Martin, he thought, let her go. She's got her own life and you need to move on. Louisa had moved and was gone – and Kate Ashurst, despite her appearance, was not any sort of substitute for the woman he loved. Kate was Kate; Louisa was Louisa. Never the twain shall meet.

000

Kate had a lie in, a long soak in the tub across the hall, then ate a late breakfast in the cheery white-painted dining room on the ground floor. She had a long chat with her hostess for the inn was run by a mother and her adult daughter.

"Have a nice time?" the owner asked.

"Very," Kate told her as she finished her tea. "I'd love to come back some day."

"The Christmas Market is wonderful, no doubt of that, but Bath is always crowded rain or shine." The lady squinted at the bright sunlight coming in. "Looks like a fine day for you."

Kate smiled. "I've needed a break."

The hostess nodded. "I wanted to ask… none of my business. But you had a double room."

"Yes," Kate sighed, "I was to be with someone, but they he broke up, no, well… I broke up with him."

The older woman smiled at her. "Relationships."

"Complicated."

"I've been lucky. Married for thirty-three years, have a fine daughter, you met her, and she's married and has a son; my grandson."

Kate sipped the last of tea. "That was a very fine breakfast; more than I usually have at home."

"Well, what's the point of a holiday if you can't kick up your heels once in a while?"

"Right."

"Anything else?"

"No," Kate rose. "I'll pay now, may I? Like to visit the Abbey before I get my train."

The hostess took her card. "I'll run upstairs to my desk and get this sorted."

Kate smiled. "I've had a lovely time."

"Even on your own?"

"It was fine," Kate told her. "I did; I really did have a lovely time." She then climbed the stairs to her room, packed up her things, studiously brushed her teeth and was ready. "I will come back," Kate said to her lovely room. "Promise."

The Abbey was beautiful and nearly empty for the morning service had ended. The angels climbing ladders carved on the west front, with some ascending and others descending was both whimsical and reverential. She scanned the guide she'd picked up reading how the Abbey site had been a place of worship since 757 AD. The fan-vaulting of the ceiling had been added around 1870… the pages went on and on, but Kate put the pamphlet away and just walked up and down the aisles admiring the stained glass windows, the beautiful white walls (more Bath stone) with memorials and grave markers on walls and floor.

There were many carved statues and busts dedicated to family, lovers, and even dear friends which were moving. Kate, however, was not quite certain what to make of the bare-breasted bust of one Dorothy Harvey (born 1697 - died in 1722) dedicated by her sister Catharine Churchill. Perhaps the sister had admired her late sister's breasts? It was puzzling so she mentioned this to a docent.

"Well you know, it was all part of an admiration of Roman statues," the man told her. "That one does get commented upon a lot, though," he gave her a gap-toothed grin.

Eventually Kate ran out of time, picked up her case from the B&B and scurried down to the station.

000

Monday morning, Pauline Lamb opened the door of Martin's surgery and waltzed in. "Mornin' Doc! Have a nice weekend? How was Bath? Do some shoppin'? Go to the Roman Baths? I never been but I hear they're pretty ace!"

Martin finished the coffee he was holding, turned on his heel and left for the kitchen. In a moment Pauline was at his elbow while he washed his mug.

"So…" she began, "I been buggin' Al that me and him should go up to Bath. Nice, right? Enjoy the conference? Lots of medical lingo I'd imagine."

Martin put the cup upside down on the drying rack then dried his hands. "It was…" he had to halt for visions of Kate flew through his head. On the ride back to Bodmin Parkway Sunday afternoon and his drive from the station back to Portwenn, he'd mulled over much of what had happened. He was still dazed by the experience. He'd never imagined that he'd see the image of Louisa there. Finding instead the very capable police detective was quite strange. But the experience helped him to put a bookend to his thoughts of Louisa.

"Pretty? Enchanting? Educational?" prodded his receptionist.

"Yes," he muttered, "educational."

"Oh; that all?"

Martin turned to face her. "Uhm, and… enjoyable."

Pauline chuckled as she knew the Doc was never one for small talk. "Really? Meet anybody you know up that way?"

He turned to glare at her. "We have a busy schedule - all week - let's get to it."

Pauline sighed. "You're no fun."

Martin paused on his way to his surgery but kept moving, but the face borne by two different women was fixed in my mind. "First patient!" he yelled.

"Doc?" Mr. Newcross told him after hobbling into surgery walking stiffly and using a cane. "This knee of mine is killin' me." He sat down heavily then flexed his left knee. "The right 'un ain't no better."

Martin moaned softly, yet put his doctor persona into gear. "Are you taking the anti-inflammatories I prescribed?"

"No Doc, they give me crampy tummy."

Martin Ellingham sighed wondering what sort of day Kate was having. "I don't prescribe them for fun! If you don't take them how can you get better? How do you expect to get better?" he yelled, for it was another perfect day in Portwenn.

000

At that moment Kate was beset by her colleague who was bugging her about her weekend. "Scribbs, enough," she protested and thus began their investigation into the Moore murder and the break-ins of Collins Grove.

Ten days later when Dr. Ostercroft was booked into the Middleford Jail, Sullivan made it a point to find Ash and Scribbs. "Good job," he told them. "So it was the doctor after all." He sighed. "Pillar of the community…"

Scribbs scowled. "Whose first attempt to kill his wife's paramour was to crush his skull. Shame the second method worked."

The Boss turned towards Ash. "This GP you got the idea from – the potassium chloride – you should let him know it was important. Key finding I think."

Kate had been thinking about Martin; more about his situation. He was lonely, depressed, and solitary. "Uhm yes, that was a good call," she muttered. She also had been thinking about new starts. "Boss, might I have a word?"

"Oh?" Sullivan asked.

"Later, when I get a chance."

"Fine," he smiled. "Later then."

"And I'll let the GP know. Thanks Boss."

Sullivan smiled. "Not always easy to separate the chaff from the wheat. But good job. Thanks."

Scribbs smiled at her partner across their desks. "Just doing our jobs, Boss! Keeping the community safe."

"I doubt Ostercroft would have killed again," he replied.

"I'm not so certain, Boss," Ash answered him. "Might his wife have been next?"

Sullivan pursed his lips. "You never know what might happen in suburbia do you?"

Ash shook her head sadly. "No. Not at all."

The Boss walked away and Kate admired his bum under his coat until he was out of sight.

Scribbs laughed. "Ash? You gonna take the Boss's advice and call him? He's your GP."

"Scribbs, he's not my GP.

Emma laughed and Kate replied in turn. "No suppose not." Scribbs crossed her arms. "Do it. Now."

Kate scowled at Scribbs. "I'll do it right now."

Scribbs leaned forward. "I'm gonna sit right here and watch you do it."

"Alright," Kate moaned but she turned to her computer and quickly located the phone number of Portwenn Surgery. She picked up her phone, took a deep breath and dialed it.

"Portwenn Surgery!" a strident female voice answered.

Suddenly Kate's throat went dry.

"Hello?" the high-pitched voice urged her.

"Ahm, yes… hello, this is DI Kate Ashurst of the Middleford Police calling."

"Police?" the voice on the line dropped to a whisper. "Is Doctor Ellingham in trouble?"

"May I please speak to the doctor?"

"You're sure the Doc's not in trouble?"

Ash answered, "Doctor Ellingham is not in any trouble. Is he available? I need to speak to him."

"Uhm, yeah, okay… HEY DOC! CALL FOR YOU!" the female voice bellowed almost breaking Ash's eardrum. The voice was so loud that even Scribbs heard it.

"Nice professional presentation there," Scribbs muttered. "Cornwall?"

"Scribbs, shush."

There was a click and a male voice said in her ear, "Ellingham."

Kate froze. "Hello Dr. Ellingham, this is Kate Ashurst."

Martin's heart was suddenly banging away inside his chest. "Ah, yesss…" he stammered. "What… uhm… can I do for you?" he said cautiously.

"I wanted to call and let you know that your input to a murder investigation was very important."

"Oh?"

"You told me how potassium chloride can kill. It was an offhand comment but it was an important tip in a case I and my colleague were investigating.'

"Okay."

"We caught the man. He murdered his wife's lover. We arrested him yesterday afternoon, thanks to you." Kate heard only silence after that. "Uhm… wanted to call and say thank you."

"Yes. Thank you for informing me."

"How are you?" Kate asked brightly.

"With a patient."

"Oh," Ash froze for she'd experienced this professional side of Martin. "Well you take care, Martin."

"Yes… thank you for the call. Goodbye."

Ash found herself holding a dead line. "And that's that," she muttered.

"Problem?" Scribbs asked.

"No," Kate put down the handset and sighed. Bye Martin, have a nice life she thought, then trembled slightly.

Emma waved a hand in front of her partner's blank face. "Ash?"

"Yeah Scribbs?" Kate answered slowly.

"What did happen to you in Bath?"

"Oh," Ash sighed. "Nothing much."

Scribbs grinned at her. "How many bottles of wine will it take to get the whole story?"

Ash's head snapped around to look at Scribbs. "At least one and you're buying."

"And," Scribbs prodded, "what are you going to talk to the Boss about?"

Ash grinned. "We'll talk later."

In Cornwall, Martin tried to get back into the thread of the explanation of the coughing patient. "Been coughin' and hackin' - can't get no rest."

"Ahm…" Martin asked.

"You listenin' to me Doc?" the old woman asked testily.

"Yes," he snapped. "Go on," he told her but he wondered what he ought to have said to Kate.

After that patient was gone Pauline swished in, her many bracelets and necklaces janging. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Martin grunted.

"That call was from the police. You in trouble?"

"No."

"You sure – sounded important. Is it about Louisa?'

"No. Pauline…"

"It musta been serious; the call was all the way from Middleford. You think you should call Penhale? I mean…"

"Pauline! Shut up and get out!"

When she'd left him Martin stared at the golden Buddha for a moment. God he hated Portwenn, especially now that Louisa was gone. He sighed and tried to prepare himself for the next idiot he had to examine. "Next patient!" he yelled.

It was only late that evening when Kate reached deep into her handbag and found the toy dolphin. "Oh my," she muttered. "I forgot to give it back to Martin."

EPILOG

The Moore case was in early December but the Earth had spun on its axis over a hundred and fifty times and now it was mid-March.

Kate and Paul Sullivan got onto the Tube heading for the British Museum and Kate found a seat on the train. Paul had to stand due to crowding but he faced her, admiring the top of her head; trademark black hair piled atop it. He'd had quite a time last night unwinding it when they got into bed at the hotel.

"You okay?" he asked her.

"Fine," she patted his knee. "Very. You?"

He smiled at her and briefly took her hand.

The Moore case was a watershed moment for Kate, but actually it was bumping into Martin Ellingham that was the impetus. She'd cast away the shackles of her past relationships, had met Sullivan for coffee one Saturday after Christmas and poured out her heart to him. Her visit to Bath and pondering over that ancient pagan god, Sulis, had made her decide on a course of action. Sulis was not the god of curses - but one of healing to her - and she hoped that Martin Ellingham felt the same.

"Look, Paul," she'd told him. "This is awkward. But…"

Sullivan had toyed with his coffee cup. He had been mystified why Ash wanted to meet for coffee on a Saturday afternoon. "Go on."

Kate leaned forward. "You're a nice man and… I… well, we… have a problem."

"We?"

"Yes," she sighed. "You – me; we."

His face went blank for a moment but then he smiled. "Oh, the kiss thing."

"More than one actually. Two, last time I checked."

"Yes," he smiled and Kate enjoyed the way his eyes crinkled up. "All in the line of duty."

"And that's our problem," Kate said. "Duty. I'd like to know you better but… you're my boss," she shrugged. "So…"

He nodded slowly. "Yes," he sighed. "Ash, I'm…"

"Call me Kate."

"Fine, Kate. Are you saying, what? Just what are you saying?"

Kate steeled herself. "Paul, I can't see you – uhm… date you – if you're my boss. That would be…"

"Not proper."

Kate leaned back and crossed her arms, biting on her lip. "There it is. And I want to – date you. You know?"

Sullivan gave her a slow smile. "I… I… could ask for a transfer; so I'm not your boss. That might solve that issue."

"Oh," Kate said and smiled back. "That would be nice."

Sullivan's transfer to Internal Affairs went swiftly and a few weeks after that she and Paul were a couple. Their weekend away down to London was a treat when their schedules coincided. They'd been to tour the Churchill War Rooms and were now off to the museum.

At the next station, Kate sat bolt upright when a very familiar face came aboard and sat down facing her from a few rows away. Her hair was dark and long and pulled back into a ponytail. Her dress was a green flower print and she wore a dark coat which could not be fastened as she had a pregnant belly blocking the way.

Kate drew a deep breath.

Paul glanced at her. "Everything okay? Kate?"

Kate purposefully hid behind Paul and did not catch his eye. There she was - Louisa Glasson, and she was pregnant! Oh my God! Is it Martin's baby? From the size of her belly Kate estimated about fifth months ago it had got started... so it had to be Martin's.

Kate stole another glance at Louisa and saw her dab at red-rimmed eyes. "Oh dear," she muttered when she saw that but she smiled up at Paul. "I'm fine."

"Good. Next stop is ours," Paul said, so she stood, putting her back to Louisa.

Does Martin know? Did Louisa call him? She wondered about that. What could she do? Or say? Hello, you don't know me but you're my double and I've met the man you used to be engaged to? And is likely the father of your baby? No, that would be too odd – too strange. Too… the train slowed, the station was announced, doors snapped open, and Paul led her off the train.

Kate paused briefly on the platform and looked back compassionately at Louisa Glasson. Good luck lady – good luck – to you and your baby.

Just then Louisa felt prickles down her neck, and as she turned her head, she saw a chestnut-haired woman who looked just like her, staring at her from the platform.

"Kate?" Paul called her so she took his hand, following him off the platform.

Louisa rose in astonishment, but the train doors closed and the train accelerated away. Louisa shook herself. "That was very odd," she said in her soft Cornish accent, just as the baby kicked her hard.

THE END

I hope that you have enjoyed this trip into the never-never land of a Doc Martin / Murder in Suburbia crossover. I always wondered what might happen if on the Venn diagram of fiction these two overlapped; so there you go.

A big thank you to all you readers and reviewers and also to Snowsie2011 who helped me hugely with her description of a certain tearoom in Bath, England.

If you have not been to the Roman Baths or to Bath, I highly recommend making the trip. I have been there and the city is fabulous, and I can only imagine how fantastic it must be during the Christmas Market. I have fudged some of the details of the city and Roman Baths, but hope I have captured some of the flavor of this place.

The first name of DCI Sullivan is apparently DCI. Nowhere could I discover the character's name, so I christened him Paul.

I miss Ash and Scribbs from the town of Middleford, since that production ended in 2005, but am glad that we can see Ash's apparent double and alter ego on Doc Martin thru the brilliant performance of Caroline Catz who plays Louisa Glasson.

Now I lay my keyboard down and put this one to bed. It's been fun.

Doc Martin is owned by Buffalo Pictures. Murder in Suburbia is owned by ITV Studios Ltd. The story here in no way is intended to infringe on any of the rights of the property owners and is presented merely as an entertainment and an exercise of fanfiction.

Perhaps we shall meet in Portwenn or Middleford someday! Cheers!

Rob (robspace54)