quick note: This chapter isn't as good as the last two (and I hope that my future chapters are better than this one)! Thank you for reading! Alright back to the regularly scheduled program :)
Sherlock knew she was hiding something, but he couldn't figure out what. Think, think! He wasn't too pleased with not already knowing what she was hiding. He ran through the facts again and again.
She lied about:
• Her name (Aria Vancooper is different from Aria Jones which she said without stuttering which means she is used to the lie)
• Her job (She couldn't just be a painter. There was something more...)
• Her age (Though she didn't say anything about her age she showed obvious signs of trying to look older then she actually was)
This wasn't quite enough to go off of and he knew it. However that didn't stop him from being peeved when he couldn't figure it out. He stayed up the rest of the night trying to pinpoint what was off about her and didn't even notice John sit down in the chair opposite of him.
"How long have you been up then?" John asked blowing on his tea.
"Hm? What? Oh I didn't go to bed. I've been busy."
John nodded. This was a normal occurrence in the flat of 221B. John would sleep on his problems and Sherlock would stay up all night thinking.
"So I think I will invite Aria over in about an hour and tell her to come at 6pm." John finally said.
"Don't bother I've already done that task."
Taken aback would be an understatement for what John was feeling. Sherlock almost never cared about social events so John ended up plaining them. Never in his life had Sherlock actually invited someone over for a formal dinner...that is without a reason. Little did John know that Sherlock did, indeed, have a reason.
"So what should we have for dinner?" John asked.
"Hm, what?"
"Do you ever pay attention?"
"Rarely, you talk all the time and usually all I hear is: bla bla bla the military bla bla Sherlock bla bla." Sherlock said waving his hand to dismiss the question.
It took a lot for John not to swing a punch at him right then. Sometimes, most of the time, he had to restrain from maiming Sherlock. Not because he didn't like him but because Sherlock had a way with words that either made you sound important or like rubbish. There was no in between.
"How about we-" John tried to say, but was interrupted by Sherlock.
"How about you go to the store and buy whatever people usually eat for dinner and I will stay here and set the table."
John opened and closed his mouth a few times before getting up and heading out of the flat. Sherlock was left alone to think to himself.