Randy was pulling the file that Monk and Natalie had asked for when he overheard two officers chatting around the corner. He recognized Officer Jackson's voice as he'd been the one to transfer Natalie's call to him just a few minutes earlier.

"So I'm waiting for the Lt. to come to the phone and Natalie mentions that the case file has to do with the lady that used to work for Mr. Monk."

Randy froze.

"Oh, yeah. Sharona something," the other officer, Thomas, drawled. "She had a real thick accent," Randy smiled as he remembered her snappy comebacks. "And she used to wear those tops." Officer Thomas let out an appreciative sigh that was echoed by Randy out of sight around the corner.

"Before my time, buddy. Anyway, Natalie said she was going to meet them here for the file."

Randy moved around the corner so fast that the two jumped. "What! Sharona? Here?" He watched the startled officers take their hands from their guns and took a deep breath. "Sorry. You said Sharona Fleming is coming here to San Francisco?" He tried to look casual as he cleared his throat. His voice had gone a little high.

"Uhh...yeah," Officer Jackson said. He looked at his partner and noted the smirk directed at the lieutenant. "Although it sounds like she's already here. In the city." He watched, fascinated, as the lieutenant pumped both fists in the air. "Natalie said she's meeting them here at the station in a few minutes."

Randy steadfastly ignored the smirk. Officer Thomas used to rib him about his 'crush' on Sharona years ago. "She's coming here? Now?" He ran a hand over his hair and straightened his jacket, the file in his hand forgotten.

The smirk got worse. "Don't worry Lieutenant." Officer Thomas grabbed his partner by the arm and tugged him towards the bullpen. "You look real pretty," he assured him loudly once he was out of reach.

Randy was so distracted and nervous that he didn't respond. He looked at his watch. Natalie had called about twenty minutes ago. Sharona could be here by now, he thought and dashed towards the front lobby.

He planned his strategy as he went. He'd casually welcome her back, he thought to himself. He ignored the people who looked at him funny as he practiced saying 'Hello', 'hi', and 'great to see you!'. Would she look the same? Was she still as spunky and feisty as ever? God, he hoped so.

He got to the door that separated the offices from the lobby and stopped. Cool it, Disher, he thought to himself. You're just happy to see an old colleague, friend, he corrected. She'd see no reason to tease him about being hung up on her.

Because he wasn't, he assured himself. He wiped a sweaty palm on his pants as her reached for the door handle. Just because he'd never met anyone like her, anyone as strong, as kind, as pretty, as good with her kid, and who could wear those clothes like she did...that did not make him hung up on her. Those were just facts, he nodded to himself. After all, he was a trained observer.

He used that training to peek around the doorway. When he didn't see her, he blew out a breath and walked into the lobby. He'd just hang out here for a little while, he decided as he brushed at his jacket again. It'd be nice if she saw a friendly face when she came in.

"Ahem!"

Randy turned to look at the Sergeant manning the desk. "Did you say something?"

Sergeant Richmond, a veteran cop with a bushier mustache that the Captain, raised an eyebrow. "I said, 'ahem'." He shook his head. "I said it four times, I might add."

"Oh, sorry. What...," Randy whipped around as the front doors opened.

The sergeant smiled as Randy visibly deflated and turned back towards him. He remembered the lieutenant's leanings, too. "I thought you might want to know that I sent that nice Miss Sharona up to Captain Stotellmeyer's office."

Randy gaped at him for a moment then rushed once more tOffice office doors.

The door would only open with a key card or if the buzzer was pushed. The devil in him made wait a few moments while Randy wrestled with the doorknob, then remembering his keycard, slapped all his pockets in an effort to find it, all while doing an impatient two-step that reminded Richmond of his three year old grandchild doing the potty dance. He hit the buzzer and chewed on his mustache to keep from laughing out loud.

"Thanks!" Randy called out as he pulled the door open and raced down the hallway.

"Go get 'er, kid." Richmond said with a smile.

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