Sherlock opened his eyes and looked at the clock.
"…Suppose I'd better make an effort." Rolling his eyes, he heaved himself out of his chair and slouched to the kitchen. "Now…cakes…" Sherlock deftly pulled a dog eared book from the shelf. It was John's birthday, and he'd decided to actually do something for it. Not like last year, when his forgetting and ignoring of the occasion resulted in quite a nasty and icy silence.
"…I wonder what kind of cake…Birthday….certain recipe…?" He muttered, flicking through the pages. "…just flour…eggs…sugar…" Sherlock slammed the book shut. "Pfft. It's just a
cake. Mixing things together and putting it in the oven. How hard can it be?"
Sherlock stood over a large mixing bowl on the table, hands plated firmly on either side of it and staring into the less than appetising mixture. It had turned a very peculiar greyish brown. Flour plastered one side of his face and strands of egg webbed his hair. Sherlock rubbed his forehead, leaving a streak of butter. He frowned at the mix.
"…Shouldn't it be yellow? Ish?" He looked round the kitchen for inspiration. Striding to the cupboards , he pulled a door open and smiled a little. "Food colouring." Searching through the little bottles, he found the one he was looking for and looked at the instructions.
"Use sparingly…" He looked sideways to the direction of the bowl. "Hmph." He walked back to it, and unscrewing the lid, emptied the entire contents into the mix. After mixing it firmly, it turned a lurid mustard colour. He paused.
"…It'll turn the right colour when it's cooked."
Scooping the mixture into a cake tin, he slid it into the oven and closed the door on it.
John stood outside the door of 221B and sighed. It had seemed like a long day. He put his heavy shopping bags down and fumbled with his keys.
"And I thought birthdays were when you could relax." He muttered. Finding the correct key, he inserted it into the lock and turned. Pushing open the door, he held it open whilst he also retrieved the shopping bags.
"Sherlock?" The door shut. "Sherlock, I'm home…"
"Um…yes…don't come up!"
John frowned and stopped in his tracks. "…Why?"
"It's…um…nothing! Just don't come up!" A crash echoed from upstairs, followed by Sherlock uttering a load oath. John left the shopping at the foot of the stairs and ran up.
"Sherlock, is there something burning…?"
"Er…yes…experiment… don't worry!"
"Where are…OH FFF-"
John turned into the kitchen and slapped a hand to his face. "I don't believe this…"
Sherlock was batting at a smoking lump with a tea towel on the kitchen table with the smoke from it and the oven billowing and filling the room. His hands were blackened and his face displayed an interesting array of colours. The smoke alarm started to scream.
"Dare I ask what you were trying to do?" John raised his voice over the alarm. Sherlock staggered out of the kitchen, gasping for breath and clutching onto the door jam.
"Just…just an experiment…I was…trying…!" He flashed an unconvincing grin at John. John folded his arms and raised an eyebrow. Sherlock sighed.
"Fine…fine…It was for your birthday. I baked you a cake…"
"Well. Attempted to bake a cake…" He eyed the dark lump and then looked at Sherlock. He smiled. Sherlock had remembered this year. Sherlock chuckled. John started to laugh, and Sherlock's face broke into a grin and he laughed with him.
"Sherlock….remind me to NEVER let you loose in the kitchen again!" John said between bouts of laughter.
"No need, I have NO intention of doing that again!"
They calmed down and looked at each other. Sherlock smirked.
"I know that look…"
"I've had an idea."
John raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"Let's send it to Mycroft."
"…Yes!" John grinned, and they both started to laugh again.
That evening, they were sitting in the living room when Sherlock's phone beeped with a text. He picked it up and looked. Grinning, he showed it to John.
'Sherlock, what in the name of all that is holy is this on my doorstep?! –MH'
John burst out laughing again.
"Happy Birthday, John!"