Rose's last two flat mates had been absolute disasters. Shireen always pestered her to go out dancing, no matter how many times Rose told her she was busy. When her best mate finally asked what Rose did all night then, Rose decided it was time to move on.

And Mickey… well, they hadn't had any business turning their friendship into something more in the first place. Maybe if the accident hadn't happened, they might have been good together, but it had, and Rose wasn't the girl he'd known in school. Still, she hadn't expected the unattractive jealous streak sparked by her odd hours and secretive nature.

So here she was, scanning room letting sites again, hoping to find someone who wouldn't ask too many questions—including why an heiress worth millions of pounds didn't just buy her own flat. Rose shuddered at the idea of living alone and clicked on another listing.

The room in Greenwich sounded just like all the others, with the fully-fitted kitchen and private en suite and all the estate agent buzz words designed to catch the eye. Rose almost clicked away, but then she saw the magic words: "Must be comfortable with a flat mate who comes and goes at odd hours. I often work late into the night, not getting home till early morning."

She clicked the "contact user" button and sent off an email asking if the room was still available, then she turned off her computer and started to pack. She had a good feeling about this.

Her phone buzzed only ten minutes later, announcing a new email. Hello, Rose Tyler. Oh, I like how that sounds. Rose Tyler. Anyway, I'm John Smith, and you answered my advert today. Yes, the room is still open. We could meet tomorrow if you like—say 2:00 at Costa?

John Smith

DWDWDWDW

Rose tapped a nervous rhythm out on the side of her coffee cup. Costa's front door opened and she looked up, but the young mother was certainly not John Smith.

She yawned and drained the rest of her latte, grimacing as the bitter dregs passed her tongue. London's criminals rarely scheduled their misdeeds to her convenience, and last night had been no exception. It had been almost 6:00 am before she'd been able to shove her mask into her drawer and crawl into bed.

The door chimed again, and this time the new arrival was a fit looking bloke with the most amazing hair she'd ever seen. His eyes scanned the cafe, and Rose raised her hand in a half wave, expecting (and hoping) this was her potential flat mate.

His face broke into a wide, relieved grin and he made his way around the tables to stand in front of her. "Rose Tyler, I presume," he said pompously, then grinned at her. "Rose Tyler," he repeated, stretching out the o in Rose and ending Tyler with a slight lilt to his voice.

"Still like the way my name sounds?" she teased.

"Oh yes!" He bounced on the balls of his feet. "Now, Miss Tyler, I see you've already had a coffee while you were waiting for me. Can I get you a treat for making you wait?"

Rose was ready to sign the lease sight unseen. Gorgeous, and charming to boot. "Could murder a cuppa," she told him.

John got in line and Rose took advantage of his momentary absence to clear her head and organise the questions she wanted to ask. When he reappeared with a tray bearing two pots of tea, she automatically poured a healthy amount of milk into her cup and watched with growing amusement as he dropped one, two, three, four lumps of sugar into his.

"Like you have room to talk," he said, apparently spotting her smile. "Are you sure you'll even be able to taste the tea with all that milk?"

Rose raised an eyebrow. "At least I won't go into a sugar coma," she retorted calmly. She gave the pot a quick stir and then poured her tea. "The flat sounds lovely, but I have a few questions."

John leaned back in his seat and tilted his head back slightly, smiling down at her through half closed eyes. "Fire away, Rose Tyler."

The long line of his neck distracted her for a minute, but she managed to tear her eyes away from his Adam's apple before he noticed. "Well, it's one question mostly. Well, two. First, the rent—does that include everything, or are utilities extra?" She could afford it either way, but her financial advisors had hammered on about the importance of knowing the details before she signed anything.

"That's all-inclusive. I actually…" John rubbed absently at the back of his neck. "I own the flat, to be honest." A beat passed. When he realised she wasn't going to ask the obvious question, he relaxed a little. "What's your second question?"

"You said your work schedule is variable, so… I assume you wouldn't mind a flat mate who's also out odd hours?"

His answering smile took her breath away. "That would actually be perfect. My last flat mate couldn't quite understand why I was in and out at different times."

"What do you do anyway?"

"Research astrophysicist. So I'm out at night, looking at the stars."

"And your flat mate…"

John cleared his throat. "Jack liked to… entertain. Never knowing when I'd get home cramped his style."

Rose grinned. "My mate Shireen said the same thing."

"Well Rose Tyler, what do you do for a living?"

Rose flinched. It had been five years, but she'd assumed… "I sorta thought you'd put it together," she commented. "It was all over the news."

She felt John staring at her and heard the swift intake of breath when he pieced it together. "Rose Tyler. Pete Tyler's daughter. The Vitex heiress. Parents died in a car accident six years ago, leaving you alone."

"I still have… the thought of being all alone in a flat…" Rose swallowed.

To her surprise, John reached across the table and wrapped his long fingers around her hand. "Let's get you moved in as soon as possible then."