Hi! Here's chapter three, with some new adjustments. The story keeps changing itself, I've no idea where it's going! I think the characters are deciding their own paths now. Ah well, I can live with simple narrating. Feel free to drop in a review, I'd love to know what you guys think :D

Enjoy xxx

"John, who's this?"

Lestrade looked to the doctor, who was rather confused, himself. The three of them had taken a cab in an awkward silence, until Sherlock murmured details of the case with John, and explained to Louise their jobs when John wasn't healing sick people. The girl hadn't seemed thrown by it, but intrigued. She took in every little detail, never interrupting the detective in his stride. John seemed bewildered by it all, first she completely shocks his friend by being unreadable, and then they get on like a house on fire. John decided maybe it was better this way, Sherlock had far too many people hating him, and this way Louise would have plenty to write about. As long as it felt like it made sense, John could pretend it did.

Before John could garble out some excuse, Louise piped up. "Oh, you must be Mr Lestrade," She spoke much louder, and clearer than before, projecting herself, teeming with confidence. "I'm Louise Chase, and I'm studying these two for the next month, which means I'll be accompanying them to most places. I hope you don't mind, Detective Inspector." By the time she was finished, she had given Lestrade a firm handshake, and dragged John off to see what all the fuss was about. Allowing the men to share a baffled look for just a second.

Sherlock, of course, was already inspecting the body, going at full pelt, perhaps showing off a little too much for their 'guest.' By the time John and Louise were there, he had talked to the threatened woman, and probably frightened her even more. She was called Grace Jenkins, a secretary for a local businessman, and wasn't exactly living in poverty. Jenkins was sat on her sofa still in her coat; apparently she had only just got home when she received another letter. Sherlock sat on a chair opposite, while John rested against the chair as Louise placed herself next to Jenkins, with a warm smile on her face. She seemed to be almost motherly at points.

"There's no point staying really, I've got what I need and it turns out she really is much more boring than I'd hoped." Sherlock drawled, ignoring the woman now, having turned to John. "Sherlock, try not to be yourself for a minute." John sighed as he turned back to Jenkins, "Why don't you tell us when these letters started appearing." He said with a much more considerate voice than his friend.

Jenkins looked to Louise who had appeared to have completely changed her demeanour to the one she had outside, or in the flat for that matter. "It could be someone you know, and if we can link anything to that it'll be the time this all started." She said, smiling encouragingly at the woman, who opened her mouth to speak.

What came out must have been pure evil. She had the most nasally shrillest voice known to man. Sherlock and John managed to keep up a facade, while Louise's face crumpled for a moment, seeming disgusted. She only blinked a few times, and then carried on with the act until Jenkins had said her piece. Jenkins handed the three of them the fourth, and most recent, letter she had been given.

Not long now, my angel.

How beautiful you are. I've seen you for many weeks now, and you're absolutely gorgeous. And modest too, you wouldn't believe me even if I told you so in the flesh.

How about that? You meet me, I formerly meet you. My angel and I, together for all eternity. I've had angels before, don't feel special. I've met your kind. I've attempted to free so many of you, sadly, no one has survived the transformation. But only because they never accepted their beauty. If you admit to me your angelic purpose in life, I can set you free. Forever.

And you can take me with you. Just keep an eye out for me, angel, for I am never too far away. Remember who you are, angel. The others didn't, now look at them?

All my love

Afterwards, the three of them said goodbye to their new client and had flagged down the next available taxi. They were still in view of the police until they entered the vehicle. Once out of sight, Sherlock, John and Louise flopped down onto the seat. Louise sighed, and the other two looked, waiting for an explanation.

"That voice!" She blurted, deciding to point out the obvious. "I never want to hear that again. I'll join you two on your next case. That was disgusting!"

"Surely it wasn't that bad-"

"Funnily enough, it was." Louise scoffed as she looked out the window, and then to her watch. It was getting late.

John and Sherlock looked at each other, then at their new companion, then at each other again. Neither one could say which one laughed first, but one definitely set off the other. When Louise brought her attention back to the pair they were in a fit of giggles. She scowled at them. She may have been young, but not young enough to ignore it.

"What?" She said, looking at the two of them, who both looked at Louise and chuckled some more. "Wouldn't you rather an honest kid than a liar?" They had to admit she had a point.

"It's just," John started, "You have no tact whatsoever." Sherlock finished, both of them smiling at the girl. Louise, oddly enough, wasn't as amused. "So? I don't suffer fools gladly, and have a low tolerance to stupid people who don't know how irritating they are. Surely you can relate to that a little bit?"

Sherlock stopped laughing as John shot him a look. The detective seemed almost embarrassed, and decided to bring the subject back to Louise's lack of people skills. "Yes, but she can't really help having a voice like that, it's not like she can change it," he said, trying to get John back on side. Louise promptly threw back – in an unusual tone – "Please, anyone can change their voice, and we all do it pretty much every day." She sounded almost exactly like Grace Jenkins, and carried on with her point "When I first met you two I spoke very differently, most people won't notice it because it just fades out as a person becomes more familiar. Eventually you forget the attempt at a good first impression. Don't argue, Sherlock, I can see you hatching a plan, let's just say this point is completely right and there's nothing you can do about it." She finished, leaning back into her seat.

Sherlock accepted defeat as John stared at the two. This never happened, not since Irene...

The taxi dropped Louise off down the road from her house, apparently due to the fact that her Dad didn't want two men he'd never met knowing their address, which was fair enough. John and Sherlock continued to 221B and quietly went to bed, as not to wake Mrs Hudson.

As both of them lay in their own beds each man had a similar thought; perhaps having a teenager around wouldn't be as bad as they thought, may be helpful, even.