So, I do not own Sherlock. It/he belongs to Arthur Conan Doyle and the good ol' BBC. Please review. Oh! And if anyone wants to RP (role play) with me (aka Mary Morstan) on tumblr, its .com. Thanks!

The Meeting

John couldn't help but admit that he was thinking about it again. The fall, that is.

"Sherlock!" he'd yelled.

"Goodbye John." Sherlock had said.

"John," he could still hear him say his name.

"John?" Wait…something wasn't right…

"John Watson?"

Suddenly John was snapped back into the present. A blonde woman, early thirties John guessed, was standing in front of him at his table in the cafe. She was pretty, her eyes questioning.

"I'm sorry if I've disturbed you. Are you John Watson?" she asked politely.

"Yes, sorry. My mind's just been drifting. And you are?" he asked.

"My name is Mary. Mary Morstan. Ella told me to meet you here for lunch?" she asked, questioningly.

Oh right. Ella, John's therapist. She'd suggested this meeting, saying it was good for John to get out and meet new people. And for some reason she'd suggested this woman. Said she'd be good company for him. He had no idea how right she was.

"Right, right. I'm sorry Mary." He stood up. "Please, sit down?"

Mary sat down immediately and smiled sweetly at him. He wondered why on earth anyone would be smiling like that at him, of all people. He wasn't one to whom people usually garnered their smiles, especially as of late, with him being so completely miserable.

"Look, I don't know what Ella has told you about me, but I've been going through a really rough time lately. I'm not sure what you're planning to gain from this meeting, but…I feel I have to warn you that you'll probably be disappointed and…" he started.

"John." Mary interrupted. She was looking at him in a way that said 'you're being ridiculous.'

She smiled. "I don't know about you, but I'm completelystarving. I haven't eaten all day. And since we are both in a place that both prepares and serves food, and good food at that, then I suggest we eat. Wouldn't that be the most logical choice of options?" She asked in a rather sarcastic tone.

John didn't know why but he was immediately reminded of Sherlock. He wasn't sure if it was her facial expression, tone of voice, use of the term 'logical', or a combination of all three, but it was as if it were Sherlock sitting there and not Mary.

John couldn't help but smile, the first he'd mananged in months. "Yes. Yes, that sounds like a plan, Ms. Morstan."

"Mary," she contradicted. "Call me Mary."