Aria got in at 3am. She had meant to get in earlier but..something came up she couldn't put off. Clumsily she opened the door to the building then fumbled for her keys to open her flat. The whole affair took a good ten minutes. She was terribly tired and couldn't care less about how loud she was being (which was quite loud).
When she finally got into her flat the first thing she did was drop her duffle bag on the kitchen table. The table, however, was already full of papers and other duffle bags, so it had other ideas. The bag quickly fell off the table with a loud crash which would have made Aria jump if she weren't so tired. Instead she only winced and prayed it didn't wake anyone up.
For a long time she just stood there and stared at the overturn duffle-bag and inhaling the old smell of her flat: musty with a mix of drying paint. She was so wrapped up in thought that she almost didn't hear the small knock on her door.
She snapped out of it and looked over at the door. Had she imagined it? Maybe if she waits long enough the person will go away.
The someone knocked again, this time louder. With a sigh she walked over to the door and opened it, hoping all the way it wasn't mrs Hutson coming to give her a good chewing out.
To her happy surprise it wasn't. It was a tall man with dark hair and light eyes.
"Hello?" She whispered.
"Ah yes, good morning." He replied, "I'm from the flat upstairs and I just..."
He stopped talking and tried to peer into her room. Instinctively she tried to close the door even more.
"Yes?" She asked.
"I just wanted," he seemed distracted now, "wanted, to talk."
With a roll of her eyes and a heavy sigh she opened the door for him as a way to say 'well then, come in if you must'. Without missing a beat he made his way to the center of the room and turned on the spot.
"Yes, now." He seemed to be saying to himself while looking over the room intensively.
Aria took this chance to get a good look at him. He was thin and had a thin face. His air about him was haughty but not mean. He seemed...
"Alright then where were we?" He asked bringing her back to her flat.
"I don't know where you were but I was just about to ask you why you were here." She asked a little too coldly then she meant to.
"Right! I just have a few basic questions about you. Who you are, where you're from, what you do, you know..." He talked rather quickly with a sort of draw at the end.
"Why?"
"Just doing, a..check up. That's all nothing to worry about." He insisted.
"You think that after you have invited yourself in, at three in the morning mind you, that I'm now just going to let you question me?" Aria challenged.
Sherlock opened and closed his mouth a couple times before answering, "well, since your kitchen seems to be full of confidential items and the walls of your flat have been written on and painted over multiple times...I'm thinking that no, you would rather not share your life history with me."
Aria blinked.
"You're that detective I've read about in the paper. Sher..Sherlock. Yeah that's it."
"Ugh, yes that's me." Sherlock replied obviously unimpressed by her mini deduction.
"Fantastic. I'm living downstairs from a super-detective." Aria grumbled to herself.
There was an awkward silence after that before the girl broke it.
"Anyway, why are you here again?" Hostility bled into her voice. She did that to hide the panic that was settling in. "I told you that already, and you know that. Pretending like you don't know makes you sound guilty." Sherlock observed.

Aria focused on keeping her eyes on the detective. If she let them wonder it would look suspicious.

"I am Aria Jones, my birthplace is right here in London, and I...paint for a living. Nothing more." Aria recited.

Sherlock looked her up and down. She kept her stance trying to look sure of herself. He studied her heavily freckled face and took in its features. Her lips were full and tinted pink. He then moved to her light eyes, but to do this he had to brush her long, wavy reddish brunette hair that came down to her waist. She tried to let him do this but her hand went up to grab his wrist.

"Sorry, but people don't touch me." Aria said calmly pushing back her own hair.

She let him study her features a bit longer. It didn't bother her. He did it the way she studied a masterpiece from Van Gogh. Not looking at it with lust but with interest. Actually she sort of enjoyed being viewed as a masterpiece rather than some girl to hit on.

"Almost done?" She asked with a bit of a smile on her face.

Sherlock snapped out of it and replied with a nod.

"Well thank you for stopping by and looking into my eyes with engrossment but I now have to get some sleep. I will see you later," Aria said. Or hopefully never again, she thought to herself.

Sherlock walked to the door without any disagreement. He was about to leave when a thought entered his mind.

"Ah yes, tonight around 6 you will be coming to dinner." He stated, "See you then."

Aria stood dumbfounded as Sherlock left. That was not a request or an invitation. That was simply an observation. If she didn't show up she'd look guilty. She knew she had to show up. Sherlock knew something about her and this was his safe way of figuring it out. She was trapped and the only option was to do as Sherlock said: Show up for dinner later that day.