Dishes

                                    

                                          
I take back what I said. Sorta. I think this is probably my favorite chapter. XD Normally I have a favorite saying, but in this one, I have three. "Come to think of it... no. Hey, I'm pretty good at it!" Is the best of the three. You'll see why, though you may not appreciate it as much as I do. This chapter made sense when I first wrote it, but after reading through, I realize it doesn't make much sense. How the heck did Sherlock know about Shirley's gun? And why is Shirley suddenly "flirty"? What did I drink too much of before writing this? Also, I just realized that I have been spelling Shirley's name wrong in these beginning AN's this whole time... Wow. Enjoy! :)
                          

                          
Joni's POV
                          

                          
"John?" I whispered after he answered the phone. "You may have to put Sherlock on the phone."
                          

                          
"What's wrong?" John asked, a light layer of worry covering his tone.
                          

                          
"It's Shirley," I told him.
                          

                          
"This better be good," Sherlock said, immediately. All I imagined was John thinking, 'Oh. Shirley. Well, then it is a job for Sherlock', and handed his cell phone to him.
                          

                          
I glanced at the door, making sure Shirley was not standing there, listening. "She's doing the dishes," I whispered even softer. 
                          

                          
There was a short pause from Sherlock, and I just knew he was rolling his eyes. After only knowing them for two days, I felt like I knew so much about them, as if we were all old friends who have known eachother our whole lives. I trust them with my life.
                          

                          
"Joni, you are wasting my time. I finally have a lead for the murder and you call me to discuss dishes," Sherlock scoffed.
                          

                          
"Sherlock, you don't understand," I said quickely, sounding a bit too loud. I lowered my voice again as I continued. "She never does the dishes. She never does chores of any kind, whatsoever."
                          

                          
There was another short pause, but a different one this time. Sherlock was taking in everything I was saying and putting it together with other things he had noticed about her.
                          

                          
"Do you know what her purpose in doing the dishes is?" He asked, trying to not show how hungry he was for more information. 
                          

                          
"I was about to do the dishes myself, but she stopped me, and told me to get out of the house for a bit. She said, 'Call up John. Go on another... whatever you people call it. I'll take care of the house. You go.' and then she practically pushed me out the door. The only way I got back in was because I told her I needed my purse and phone to call John, and then she got right on with the dishes." I spoke hastily and quietly. And then a paused to take a few short breathes. "She's never acted like this before."
                          

                          
"Thank you Joni, I'll be right over. Here's John." 
                          

                          
After John and I made plans for dinner and a movie, I walked out of my room, walked down the stairs and peeked into the kitchen. Shirley was just finishing putting away the clean dishes, and was looking right at me. 
                          

                          
"So, I guess I'm going out to meet John," I said, rocking on my heels. "Are you sure you don't-"