It took a significant amount of self-restraint, and two ignored texts from John asking how it was going, before Sherlock finally cleared off the table, grudgingly wiped it down, and began the search for a suitable cake recipe.
He took a quick look in the fridge. Eggs, butter, milk. Good. Cupboard: flour, sugar, jam. Good. This is indeed possible without a trip to Tesco.
After a quick image search of cakes, he settled on a Victoria Sponge. Now for the recipe. "Mary Berry's perfect Victoria sandwich." It even had a corresponding YouTube link: 40,580 views, 436 likes, 12 dislikes. Reasonable statistics, given people's natural tendency to simply move on after the mission was accomplished, a hesitancy to log in and leave feedback after a successful experience.
Sherlock removed the eggs, butter and milk from the fridge and placed them on the table. The milk seemed awfully light. "No. No milk. Do I need milk? No, I don't need milk. Good. We need milk!" he announced to the empty flat. He glanced at the recipe again. Four free-range eggs. Free range is hardly necessary. Four eggs it is. 225 g self-raising flour. Yes, we have flour. 2 tsp baking powder. 225 g baking spread, margarine or soft butter at room temperature. Extra to grease the tins. Yes. To serve: good-quality strawberry or raspberry jam. Yes. Mrs. Hudson's favorite brand, given to John as a thank you gift for caring for her plants while she spent the week at her sisters. Whipped double cream (optional). Optional indeed.
Five ingredients. Simplicity itself. Preparation time: less than 30 minutes. Cooking time: 10-30 minutes. In less than an hour he would be back to his experiments.
Preheat oven to 180. Grease and line 2x20 cm sandwich tins. Do we have tins? After a rather exhaustive search of the cupboards there were some tins of roughly the correct size and shape . Sherlock didn't know how they got there and decided he would cease to question how or why, instead being simply grateful they existed. Use a piece of baking or silicone paper to rub a little baking spread (or, presumably, butter) around the inside of the tins. With baking or silicone paper? Surely he would have spotted something like that when he looked for the pans. He looked again. Just to spread the butter. Any thin paper would do. He had printers and printer paper scattered throughout the flat, but it wouldn't be very thin. Oh, yes. The Rizlas. He spread the butter around. Line the pan? Now that part he'd just skip. Eggs, sugar, flour, baking powder, spread. Mix. Hand mixer or spoon. Spoon. Put a damp cloth under your bowl... surely I don't need to... this is ridiculous. I'll just mix the batter. There. Mix. Mix. Mix. Where was I? Oh, divide between the tins. You can weigh them? Use a spatula. Yes. I have a spatula. Middle shelf. 25 minutes. Don't open the door while they are cooking. Do look through the door to check them after 20 minutes. I have 20 minutes.
Sherlock Holmes is not entirely unaware of his tendency to become fully absorbed in something to the exclusion of all other things. That is precisely why he set a timer, and 20 minutes later diligently peered through the door. The cakes are done when they are golden brown and coming away from the edges. Not yet then. He almost went to check John's emails without resetting the timer for another five minutes, but caught himself just in time. When the alarm went off a second time, they were golden brown and separating at the edges, exactly as described. Easy peasy. Springy to the touch. No. No not at all springy to the touch. Cool. Run butter knife around the edge and out on a ...cooling rack? Where is a cooling rack? Forget the bit about using a tea towel to prevent rack marks, where is a bloody cooling rack? There was no chance of leaving wire impressions on the cake anyway. They were hard as a rock.
Re: FILL: 2/? Many Happy Returns To Tesco
He took a quick look in the fridge. Eggs, butter, milk. Good. Cupboard: flour, sugar, jam. Good. This is indeed possible without a trip to Tesco.
After a quick image search of cakes, he settled on a Victoria Sponge. Now for the recipe. "Mary Berry's perfect Victoria sandwich." It even had a corresponding YouTube link: 40,580 views, 436 likes, 12 dislikes. Reasonable statistics, given people's natural tendency to simply move on after the mission was accomplished, a hesitancy to log in and leave feedback after a successful experience.
Sherlock removed the eggs, butter and milk from the fridge and placed them on the table. The milk seemed awfully light. "No. No milk. Do I need milk? No, I don't need milk. Good. We need milk!" he announced to the empty flat. He glanced at the recipe again. Four free-range eggs. Free range is hardly necessary. Four eggs it is. 225 g self-raising flour. Yes, we have flour. 2 tsp baking powder. 225 g baking spread, margarine or soft butter at room temperature. Extra to grease the tins. Yes. To serve: good-quality strawberry or raspberry jam. Yes. Mrs. Hudson's favorite brand, given to John as a thank you gift for caring for her plants while she spent the week at her sisters. Whipped double cream (optional). Optional indeed.
Five ingredients. Simplicity itself. Preparation time: less than 30 minutes. Cooking time: 10-30 minutes. In less than an hour he would be back to his experiments.
Preheat oven to 180. Grease and line 2x20 cm sandwich tins. Do we have tins? After a rather exhaustive search of the cupboards there were some tins of roughly the correct size and shape . Sherlock didn't know how they got there and decided he would cease to question how or why, instead being simply grateful they existed. Use a piece of baking or silicone paper to rub a little baking spread (or, presumably, butter) around the inside of the tins. With baking or silicone paper? Surely he would have spotted something like that when he looked for the pans. He looked again. Just to spread the butter. Any thin paper would do. He had printers and printer paper scattered throughout the flat, but it wouldn't be very thin. Oh, yes. The Rizlas. He spread the butter around. Line the pan? Now that part he'd just skip. Eggs, sugar, flour, baking powder, spread. Mix. Hand mixer or spoon. Spoon. Put a damp cloth under your bowl... surely I don't need to... this is ridiculous. I'll just mix the batter. There. Mix. Mix. Mix. Where was I? Oh, divide between the tins. You can weigh them? Use a spatula. Yes. I have a spatula. Middle shelf. 25 minutes. Don't open the door while they are cooking. Do look through the door to check them after 20 minutes. I have 20 minutes.
Sherlock Holmes is not entirely unaware of his tendency to become fully absorbed in something to the exclusion of all other things. That is precisely why he set a timer, and 20 minutes later diligently peered through the door. The cakes are done when they are golden brown and coming away from the edges. Not yet then. He almost went to check John's emails without resetting the timer for another five minutes, but caught himself just in time. When the alarm went off a second time, they were golden brown and separating at the edges, exactly as described. Easy peasy. Springy to the touch. No. No not at all springy to the touch. Cool. Run butter knife around the edge and out on a ...cooling rack? Where is a cooling rack? Forget the bit about using a tea towel to prevent rack marks, where is a bloody cooling rack? There was no chance of leaving wire impressions on the cake anyway. They were hard as a rock.