Chapter Three

He smirked as he went to sit in the chair opposite her, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. She leaned on her knees also, lacing her fingers together, resting her chin on them. This allowed him to see the ink on her wrist.

Peponi

Interesting, he thought before his eyes snapped back to her now bluey-green one. Just as he went to open his mouth though, Mrs Hudson spoke.

"What about these suicides then, Sherlock?" She said and Aven saw Sherlock's slight annoyance with the older woman's interruption. "Thought that'd be right up your street. Three in three weeks."

"Four." Corrected Aven, not looking away from Sherlock. "And he hasn't been asked to help…yet." She smirked at the end, knowing what was to happen in the next few seconds.

Sherlock frowned though; he'd been following the case. "There's only been three." He told her.

She lifted an eyebrow at him, smirk growing. "Oh, really? I say four."

Just as Sherlock was about to retort with how he would have heard about it by now had there been a fourth, a man burst into the living room.

Aven just sat back as she took in his appearance. Dressed in a long grey coat, greying hair and a slightly aged face, the man breathed heavily, looking to Sherlock.

He couldn't see how she had known, it was impossible. But Sherlock went with it, knowing that he would find out later, but rather sooner. Turning to Lestrade, he didn't miss a beat. "What's different ? You wouldn't have come otherwise."

"You know how they never leave notes?" The panting man asked.

"Of course." Sherlock replied.

"Well this one did." Sherlock hummed in reply. "Will you come?"

"Who's on forensics?" Sherlock asked in reply.

The man seemed a little reluctant to reply however. "…Anderson."

Sherlock pulled a nasty face at the name though. "He doesn't work well with me."

"He wont be your assistant!" Argued the man. Sherlock just let out a long sigh. "Will you come?"

Sherlock waited two seconds before replying calmly. "Not in a police car. I'll be in a cab behind."

"Lauriston Gardens." The man told him, getting a nod in return. Nodding to both woman, the unknown man took his leave.

As the front door closed again, Sherlock leapt off the seat, going to grab his coat, mind racing in so many directions it was heard for him to keep track; How could she know of the fourth death? Who was this fourth? How did she know he'd be asked to helped? What new information was there? Who was she?

"Mrs Hudson!" He called out, seeing her move in from the kitchen. "I wont be in for tea."

"Do be careful dear." She replied giving him a look. "I know what you're like."

Running off down the stairs, he called out to the two women. "Aven, make yourself at home. And Mrs Hudson, I'm always careful."

The woman just snorted as Aven replied. "I will. Have fun now."

The phrase made him pause, standing in the hallway frowning. Anderson would only be annoying and she did seem to be half way intelligent. But how did she know about the fourth? A voice argued, she shouldn't be on the crime scene!

But I could see if it was her if she were on the scene, Sherlock argued back. The only problem is how to get her onto the scene…

23 seconds sounded about right to her, so she waited, crossing her legs and counting down in her head.

"Look at him, running all about the place." Mrs Hudson said fondly, looking from the door way to Aven. "You don't seem the sitting down type either, though I try not to judge a book by its cover."

"He'll be back…." Aven told her quietly before turning around to grin at the older woman, following her next comment with a wink to her. "Besides, I'm not as bad as I look."

"Oh, don't worry, dear. Even I had my wild days!" Mrs Hudson replied, earning a chuckle from Aven. "Anyway, do you want a cuppa? I might have some custard creams in the cupboard."

5...4...

"Thank you, but I'll be off out soon." Aven said. She didn't know where - the crime scene seemed like the right place but she wasn't one hundred percent sure - she was sure she was going though, it was decided.

3...2...1...

Right on time, Sherlock wondered onto the landing once more, though Mrs Hudson didn't see him there.

"Alright, well I'll be just downstairs if you need anything." The older woman offered as she went to the doorway. "Oh, I thought you'd left Sherlock."

"In a minute or two maybe." He replied, offering her a small smile as she passed him to go down stairs.

"Forget something?" Aven asked, the knowing smirk back in place, eyes swimming a bright green once again - something Sherlock didn't miss.

"How did you know about the fourth one?" He asked, ignoring her question. Her eyes only brightened though, almost glowing in the evening light that streamed through the dusty windows.

Aven let out a low chuckle, replying in a cheeky fashion that revealed her age more than anything else. "Knowing things is what I do best, Mr Holmes."

"Qualifications?" He asked, wanting to get an insight into what sort of things she would know most about.

"A's in all my GCSE's; English literature and language, Welsh, advanced maths, triple award performing arts, standard, advanced and computer science and psychology. I also did a home course of a university standard in herbalism." She explained quickly, rattling off her qualifications that she knew off by heart before giving the man a smirk, deciding to brag a little. "I was the best healer in my own village - including the doctor - and several of the surrounding villages."

"Young though…" He replied, pulling on a glove.

"Yes, but what's wrong with that?" She asked, smirk still in place - she knew it was decided after all.

"You do seem to know a lot." He reasoned, still arguing with himself, even if he knew what he would do in the end.

He saw that she also knew, standing up from her seat and walking over to stand in front of him. "Mr Holmes, we both know I'm going with you. You can argue about it in the cab if it makes you feel any better though."

He frowned as she called him by his surname; no one does that. He sighed though, knowing she was right. "Well, Miss Ash," two can play at that game, "If we both know it, what's there to argue about?"

"Touché." She chuckled. "Shall we then?"

"After you." Replied Sherlock, hoping he wasn't going to regret taking her along.