Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, but I am rather excited about my Jane character.

Thank you so much to my friend who's been reading over my work, and without who's help, John would not seem nearly so human...

Enjoy and review, please.

Jane POV

This is ridiculous. He comes every Tuesday of every week at exactly noon. For a month. Sherly allows for change…But not this man – no, oh no, he's…well…boring.

So where is Johnny-boy then?

John POV

If Sherlock could see me now, he'd call me a sentimental fool. He'd find
some confusing and complicated way of telling me that I am a complete
idiot, the way I visit his grave all the time. But isn't it ok for a person
to miss their best friend?

Well today…after this visit…after this visit I'll have tea with Mrs. Hudson – yes that sounds good, tea with Mrs. Hudson. Normal. Good, yes.

Then perhaps…perhaps I'll move back in…into our – my – flat. Perhaps…

Should I visit the grave?

Maybe just this one last time…

Jane POV

I kneel down in front of the headstone waiting to hear the crunch of leaves or the snap of a twig.

"Ahh," twigs snap, leaves crunch, Johnny-boy trips over a root…

Finally.

It's time to play.

Bowing my head, bringing forth tears, "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I feel it's m-my fault you're dead…my fault, all mine, I shouldn't have given up on him. You're never supposed to give up on family, but…well, you met him. He was criminally – violently – insane. I should've gotten him help, but he refused…what was I supposed to do?"

Pause just long enough to breath and sniffle, but not long enough to give Johnny an entrance point and… "He always did look for someone like him…said I was too far on the side of the angels…and he needed someone who wasn't…so he could play. I didn't even know what he'd got himself into! No one did. He was like a spider in his web…all those strands, all those people. All from his own secluded place…I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…"

John POV

Stupid damned roots, someone should really take care of them. Well, it could be worse; I could still need my cane and – hang on. Who in the hell is that?

"What was I supposed to do?" I open my mouth to speak – whether in an attempt to comfort or out of sheer dumbfoundedness, I can't quite say – but the mystery woman just starts up again with, "He always did look for someone like him...said I was too far on the side of the angels…" Side of the angels? What is she talking about? Who talks like that?

But she's still going, "He was like a spider in his web…all those strands, all those people." Who was like a what?

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry…"

I go to take a step forward but the woman kneeling by the grave mustn't have heard me, because she jolts around with a startled look in her eyes as I say, "Who are you?" I immediately feel remorse for it as she's clearly distraught over something. "It's just that Sherlock doesn't get many visitors…"

"Y-you must be Dr. John Watson. I'm sorry; I hope I'm not inconveniencing you. It's just that…well…I haven't really had a chance to say m-my apologies for – well, for everything. And I didn't think I should go to the funeral. It just didn't seem right for a variety of reasons…" She moves to stand up but still seems shaky, so I hold out my hand for her to grab; she accepts.

She's pretty: black hair, shocking brown, almost black, eyes…you know, she actually reminds me of –

"My name's Jane."

Jane POV

I hear him coming – of course I hear him coming – but I do nothing but continue muttering "I'm so sorry" as tears slip from my eyes. I wait until he gets bold enough – and surprised enough – to jolt around as he asks, "Who are you?"

Of course, I play the startled little damsel with tears still in her eyes – Johnny-boy really is such a sucker…– and he immediately goes all puppy-dog on me: "It's just that Sherlock doesn't get many visitors…" he backtracks.

Backtracking already? This is going to be almost too easy.

Almost.

Still with my legs curled to my side, and in an attempt to keep the smirk I can feel coming wiped clean off my face, I say, "Y-you must be Dr. John Watson. I'm sorry; I hope I'm not inconveniencing you." OH, he has no idea…"It's just that…well…I haven't really had a chance to say m-my apologies for – well, for everything." I don't do apologies... "And I didn't think I should go to the funeral. It just didn't seem right for a variety of reasons…" I move to stand up, purposefully on unsteady legs, so the good doctor will go into full chivalry mode.

Of course he does – predictable people always are thus – and I accept his hand shyly. I can see him taking in my appearance – and can therefore foresee the oncoming train wreck – "My name's Jane."

"J-John. John Watson," he stutters – clearly having just lost his train of thought thank God – still bumbling about adding, "But um…of course you knew that already, then, didn't you?" The question is more to himself than anyone else but it's hard not to retort with a glib I hadn't the faintest…all the same. Instead, "It's nice to finally meet you Doctor; I've heard so many nice things."

"You have?" Still a bit out of it, then – if I were any other woman I'd think it adorable – well, ok. It is slightly adorable…you know, I really should just get it over with and get a live-in one… "Well, that's good, that's…that's nice…it's just, what are you doing here? How did you know Sherlock?"

Aaand he's back. Good – I was beginning to think this would be like shooting fish in a barrel… "I didn't – not really anyway – but I do know of him. He was a good man and I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." He just sort of blinks, processing what I've told him – he must truly still be in mourning over Sherly…why isn't he over it yet? I truly do not understand sentiment.

He's still holding me up, so slipping away easily isn't an option – but why on Earth would I want that? That would be so boring… "Well Doctor, if you'll excuse me, I'll let you get to what you came here for. I'm sorry for disturbing your time with him." Time with him? He's not even in the coffin! But what can you do, hm? It's not his time yet – not until I say – he's not…ready yet.

I pull away, making sure to maintain my shaky façade, but he isn't going to let me go that easily (slightly less boring, then?) "Wait." I stop and turn uncertainly back around. "Umm…I rather think I can spare the visit, I mean, it's not like I don't do this often, yeah?" No kidding. "A-and, you have every right to be here, it's not like I have these few hours blocked off on a little chart." He laughs, so I join in – he looks reassured, so he must really have been trying to flirt. In a graveyard? I guess Sherly rubbed off on him more than I'd thought – timing.

We stand there awkwardly, and there's no clear indication that he'll break the ice by the next ice age, so I do it for him. "Do you want to go for a coffee? With me? I mean, I understand if this is bad timing and all but I just…I don't know. I could use someone to talk to…" It's all I can do not to bat my eyelashes at him – for God's sake, I sound like a cheesy romance novel, there's no way people actually get off on this shit, is there?

"Yes!" Realizing he's left the door wide open for interpretation "Not to the timing part, the coffee part. I'd love to – and I think talking is a good idea…for the both of us."

Well what do you know? People really do go for it…or maybe it's just him –

Nah, can't be. He's boring. One of the angels.

Author's Note: I look forward to reviews :)