Right, move on to chapter two! Not too sure where this is going yet, but I have a few ideas, so hold on! Feel free to drop in a review, I'd love to know what you think so far :)

Enjoy xxx

Sherlock opened the door to find a girl standing in front of him. "Right, what can I gather from her?" He thought before he could even see her properly. The girl had strawberry blonde hair, falling to her shoulders in loose curls, partially covering her face, while the rest was obscured by large turquoise glasses in retro fashion. She was very short, indicating either she was very young and yet to grow, or had stopped at an early age and was doomed to be tiny. Most likely the latter, looking at her figure, which was far closer to woman than girl, but probably only fifteen. The raises in her make-up showed she still suffered from spots, meaning she was younger than Sherlock had originally thought. She was carrying a note pad, with a pen in the spine, and she had a faint pen mark down the side of her left hand. Other than physical features, Sherlock was unable to see what was going through her mind. This never happened, yet she was so difficult. He'd need to think of some cleverer tricks for her.

"Excuse me, does Dr Watson live here?" she said sweetly, she was well spoken, but not quite from around here, hints of Irish. Nothing else was given away. She waited for Sherlock to give an answer as he tried to pry more information from her.

Sadly, he could not.

"Yes, he does. Unfortunately he's not in at the moment, could I take a message?" Sherlock spoke just as gently as she had, maybe he could get more from that. At least she was taking away some of the boredom, she was a challenge.

"Oh, no matter. He was supposed to be here to meet me, though..." She trailed off looking around, perhaps hoping to conjure up John from thin air. "Oh, I'm sorry. I'm Louise, Louise Chase. John volunteered with my school for some coursework I need to do." She put her hand out, and Sherlock curiously took it "Sherlock Holmes" He replied. Just as he let go, his phone vibrated, without any acknowledgement to Louise, he pulled it out.

Forgot to say, we're having a visitor. Getting home now, if she turns up, let her in.

Just as Sherlock invited her in and showed her up the stairs, another text came.

Behave.

What an insult, of course he would behave. Sherlock allowed Louise to find a seat, and they sat in silence. "Tea?" He offered, like a good little host, and even made it for her. Once they had sat down again she opened her notepad and started to write. John was taking longer than expected. Sherlock would have to be human sooner or later, conversation, and small talk. Oh joy.

"So, Chase isn't a very Irish name."

"Should I be Irish?" Louise looked inquisitively at the man she had just met. She set her tea down, and sat back, waiting for an answer.

"You have a lilt in your voice. Surely there's Gaelic in you somewhere, I'm assuming you Mother as the name probably comes from your Father, who I'm guessing is English and you moved out here to accommodate his work, as most families do for the breadwinner, your Mum certainly did well to keep a strong enough accent to give you one."

Louise smirked at him. What, had Sherlock missed something? She crossed her legs and leant forward. "I knew I'd heard your name before." She said, slightly quieter. "Consulting Detective, right?" She certainly wasn't as dippy as she had first seemed. "You're correct, how'd I do?" Sherlock asked, in a blasé manner, he didn't want her to know how much effort that took. He leaned back in his chair, hoping to give off a different body language to what he felt.

"Well, I can tell you, Sherlock Holmes that that was completely," She scoffed "Wrong." Sherlock tried not to show anything, no emotion was better than the wrong one. She smiled through her explanation. "My Father is the Irish one – strongest accent you'll ever hear – he moved over here to be with my Mum, as her parents, my grandparents, disapproved of her moving so far away to be with a 'fling'" She spoke quickly, slightly louder than earlier, she was coming into her stride, and started to talk on Sherlock's level. "I kept her name rather than my Dad's because Mum died a few years after I was born. Apparently I look just like her, and Dad wanted me to have something to remember her by. I think he regrets that, only sometimes, mind. Some days he'll just look at me, if I do something particularly well, or when I play my piano, he'll go quiet for a while. Sometimes I think I'm like her too much." Louise was quiet for a moment. Fearing she had said too much. It was clear to Sherlock she worried about her small family, as any person does.

Apart from Mycroft and himself.

"I'm sorry I pried." Sherlock said; looking genuinely embarrassed to have extracted that outburst from a girl he had just met. "You must love your Dad very much." Louise looked at the detective with the tiniest of smiles, she seemed fine with it. "Don't worry about it," She said, opening her book once again, "It's good, you're making my work much more interesting than I thought it would be." And without further ado she started scrawling and scribbling on what appeared to be staves of empty sheet music, ignoring Sherlock altogether. Before he could ask what she was actually here for that front door banged.

"I'm back!" John called as he climbed up the stairs laboriously, due to the large amount of Tesco bags in each hand. He grumbled something about no one helping when he noticed from the kitchen that his guest had arrived. "Ah, Louise, I see you met Sherlock. He hasn't been too annoying, has he?" John pulled a chair slightly away from the table to join the two. He looked at the desk.

"Have you been on my laptop?"

"No."

"You have your own, you know,"

"Yes, I do know, thanks for pointing it out."

John sighed as he turned to Louise, who still hadn't revealed why she was here. "He hasn't tried to show off yet, has he?"

Sherlock looked at Louise with more interest. She looked at him, seeming to communicate a hell of a lot, yet nothing Sherlock or John could understand. She smiled almost and turned to John and said as politely as a girl her age could.

"Oh, not at all. From what you've told me, he's behaved very well." She looked into her book. "I've already got a few phrases thrown in, not sure if I'll use them, but if I get a little bit of everything, there must be something I could use!" She then got up and started to look in the kitchen, with a remark along the lines of "Never know what'll come in handy," and started to look at the mugs. Sherlock didn't appreciate her picking up his favourite stripy mug, but he could cope, for today.

John looked at Sherlock. He seemed worried. "Are you all right?" He asked, getting up to clear away the morning paper, along with the document Sherlock had found earlier. Sherlock seemed to be much quieter than usual with Louise around. He looked at John nervously. "I couldn't read her, John." He said with an urgent tone. He seemed as bewildered by the fact as did John, "I observed her for about half an hour before you arrived, and I had no idea what she was here for, still don't to be honest, she never told me."

Both men sat in silence for a minute, with Louise just audibly humming in the kitchen. John was the first to recover. "Have you ever thought that you're not invincible, Sherlock?" He asked; there was genuine curiosity in his voice, as Sherlock fidgeted about in his chair looking away for a moment, then at Louise, then back to John. "Yes, of course I have." He said plainly. "But I can always understand what's going through a person's mind. When we first met, I could tell you everything about your sister's habits and problems. With this one though, I had nothing."

"Maybe you're a little under the weather. You don't get sick that often, so you probably wouldn't notice." John tried to make Sherlock feel better, just a little bit. "Anyway, what does it matter? I volunteered with her school to be a... a muse for her music coursework."

"A muse?" Sherlock chuckled, looking directly at John now, all worry gone from his face. "What exactly could she write for you? A marching band piece? Please tell me she won't give you a plodding beat to represent your cane?" John looked at Sherlock, who had definitely cheered up, he was about to reply when

"Considering I've never seen John with a cane, I won't use any 'plodding'" Louise replied as she sat down in the living room again giving Sherlock what seemed to be a mixture between a glare and sympathetic look. "I'm supposed to look at personalities, and relationships between those closest to my subject." She said, looking between John and Sherlock in turn. "So Mr Holmes, behave yourself or my examiners will know exactly what I think of you."

Neither man could quite tell if she was joking or not, until a little smile crept on her face. Before they could react, Sherlock's phone rang; he answered and was silent for a moment. He put it back in his pocket.

"Lestrade has another one for us." He said, almost gleefully. "There have been three murders so far, and another woman has been receiving threats. Brilliant!" He exclaimed, jumped up from his seat and got his coat. He was followed by John, while Louise stayed where she was. "Right, enjoy your investigation. John, are you free tomorrow? I'd love to meet some of your friends."

"Aren't you coming?"

It was Sherlock who had spoken, he seemed to be almost upset to see her leave so early. Louise stood.

"They wouldn't mind a child wandering about?"

"Of course not."

"People won't say 'Ooh, it's not safe for a fifteen year old!'"

"Nope, come along, Chase!"

Sherlock had dragged Louise out of the flat before either she or John could reply.