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

I'm sorry for the long update - I'll try to get Chapter 3 up sooner.

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.

John POV

I can't believe my day has gone like this. Who would have thought that I'd plan to see Sherlock one last time, go have tea with Mrs. Hudson for the first time in a long while, and maybe move back in but instead meet a beautiful woman in the graveyard and go for coffee with her?

I still don't know who she is though. She hasn't said much since she asked me to go for coffee…but I thought she wanted to talk?...she either looks at me shyly or gazes glassy-eyed out of the window.

"You're probably confused." My head snaps toward her as she speaks for the first time in 45 minutes.

"Yeah – yes – yes, I am." What is it about this woman that makes me lose myself? And those eyes…so haunted…No. That's not quite right, is it…they're haunting…I could lose myself in those eyes.

"Right then," she mutters, trying to muster up courage before continuing, "You have questions. Ask them." Hold on, You have questions…Sherlock – Sherlock said – never mind.

"Yes, well, alright. What were you doing in the graveyard?" She shoots me a look – a look I thought I would never see again, frankly – a look that quite clearly states, 'Isn't it obvious?'

Only it's not quite like his, no – not like I'd first thought – now I see this one has undertones of inner-pain – I have to remember: she's not him, she never will be – no one…ever will be again.

And she's under emotional stress; loads of people don't act exactly socially normal under social stress.

Who in the hell is this woman?

Jane POV

Now, where are we in the over-all scheme? Oh, yes – coffee, Johnny-boy, gain his trust. Not a particularly detailed step but, there you go! I've been flirting shyly with him for the past half an hour but to no avail – he really does let sentiment rule his life, doesn't he – and I realize I've been partially stuck in my own world (entertaining as it may be) for far too long to pass for an 'ordinary' person, which must be suspicious to the King of Boring-land – and he's never going to get the ball rolling on his own sooo – "You're probably confused."

I have to keep back my wince. Nice going, Janey. Really. Excellent job there – just look at the shock on his face – now he thinks you're a sociopath.

Well, of course, you are a sociopath – albeit a mentally unbalanced one – but that is besides the point. HE doesn't need to know it.

"Yeah – yes – yes, I am." I'm as of yet unsure as to whether the stuttering is his shock that I'm speaking again or if I'm reminding him too much of Sherly, but either way, I have to fix this. And fast.

I see him staring – no, sorry – gazing into my eyes and I realize this probably won't end well if he's allowed to keep it up unchecked. It's not time yet, after all.

"Right then." Was that too blunt of me? Best to take a deep breath and make it seem like I'm in a lot of emotional pain. "You have questions. Ask them." Again – too blunt. What is the matter with me today?

He looks rather startled, and not in the fun kind of way, either. Am I reminding him too much of Sherly?

Ah, well. Hopefully he'll just assume emotional pain drives us all a bit mad.

Finally, he speaks up. "Yes, well, alright. What were you doing in the graveyard?" Really? Are you kidding me? Isn't it obvious?

Oh no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no. Not good. I must have broadcast my thoughts in a look because he's a hop, skip, and a jump away from finding me out. And it's not even time yet! Buuut…throw in a bit of deep emotional paaaiin and…crisis averted. Now he just looks sad. Not that that's new…

Pretending to muster up enough courage to speak, I take a deep breath. "I was saying my apologies. I-I-I…felt that…felt I needed to." He just looks at me, very confused. Nearly there…but not yet. "While I may not have caused his death," Mmmh, debatable. Oooh – I do love a good debate – ok. Sidetracked. "I don't feel I did all I could to prevent it's cause." Clearly.

"How d'you mean?" Is he really that ordinary? That boring? He's almost put the clues together so many times already.

Nearly there. Push him to the point and then give him a not-so-gentle push. "M-my brother. He caused your friend's death and…well…I feel I have his blood on my hands because of it." Though of course, not literally, because blood is so very hard to wash off. Trust me.

"What do you mean, 'blood on your hands'? How could your brother have had anything to do with Sherlock's death? That was all...oh. Oh, no. No, you're not…not…"

There. "My name is Jane Moriarty."

He nearly chokes on his coffee when he hears my name – I love having that effect, though I don't get to have it that often in person – even though he's almost had it on the tippy-tip of his tongue since the graveyard, but now, now he's in shock.

Johnny-boy, in choking and trying to breathe all at the same time (and, I suspect, trying to get a head start on running the hell away from me), actually falls off of his chair with a thud.

I didn't mean the push that literally but…I'm not one to complain when something's just so funny.

Oh, why is it so hard to play concerned and to keep from smirking as he flops about trying to get up…

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