John came in shortly thereafter, having left the back-up cake on the landing outside. Sherlock was still lying on the sofa, glaring at the entire kitchen as if the room was to be held personally responsible for his failure.
"I take it is was not a success."
"Well observed."
"I'm sure it will be fine. It's the thought that counts."
"You haven't seen it yet, John."
"Surely, it can't be that bad."
"It certainly can be. And I don't feel like playing your silly movie quote game. Not when I've made what is possibly the worst cake of all time."
"That would be 'surely you can't be serious,' and, if it is that bad, it's kind of an honor, isn't it?" he joked. "Come on. As long as we have something to give her. So what if it's not up to your usual standards of perfection. It's still cake." He went into the kitchen. Sure, it looked a bit unkempt, but some of the best cakes he had ever had were kind of messy looking. Just because Sherlock was always so fastidious didn't mean his cake would also have to look like it was just ripped out from the pages of Cake Vogue. He grabbed it and headed towards the door. "Come on! Let's go!"
Sherlock scrambled up and tried to block the door, but John had the advantage of not having spent the last half hour moping on the sofa, and was quicker on his feet. John had already called out "Mrs. Hudson! We have a little something for you!"
"Oh boys, you shouldn't have!" came the response.
She opened the door quickly and John transferred the cake into her hands before Sherlock could attempt to trip him or otherwise sabotage it. "Happy birthday, Mrs Hudson!"
"Did you make this yourselves?"
"Sherlock did. It's a bit messy, but I'm sure..."
"John bought a cake. It's outside. I'll go get it." Sherlock interrupted.
"Nonsense! Now don't be embarrassed, Sherlock. I know it's hard when you do everything so well, to not have it look just right, but it's fine."
Mrs Hudson got a triangular serving knife out from a drawer and cut the cake...or rather, attempted to cut the cake. The knife simply wouldn't pierce it. "Just a minute, I need a sharper knife...."
John looked at Sherlock and whispered "I thought you made another one?"
"I did," he replied. "I made three. This was the best of the bunch."
With an acuity of hearing far greater than her 78 years might suggest, she returned with a small paring knife and addressed Sherlock.
"Three times? Oh, Sherlock!" She wrapped her arms around him.
"I do not understand how my natural predisposition to stubbornness can be interpreted as a display of affection."
"Sherlock. You were at this for how many hours, to make three cakes?"
"Six, technically- two layers," he pouted.
"Six cakes! And I'm sure you were doing something else far more up your alley before then. "
"He was doing an experiment when I left," volunteered John.
"Exactly. And you chose to stop that to do this for me. Three times." She planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."
With that, she stabbed the cake me and broke off a piece."I think we might appreciate this better," she said, "if we reclassified it as a biscuit."
FILL: 5/5 (end) Many Happy Returns To Tesco
"I take it is was not a success."
"Well observed."
"I'm sure it will be fine. It's the thought that counts."
"You haven't seen it yet, John."
"Surely, it can't be that bad."
"It certainly can be. And I don't feel like playing your silly movie quote game. Not when I've made what is possibly the worst cake of all time."
"That would be 'surely you can't be serious,' and, if it is that bad, it's kind of an honor, isn't it?" he joked. "Come on. As long as we have something to give her. So what if it's not up to your usual standards of perfection. It's still cake." He went into the kitchen. Sure, it looked a bit unkempt, but some of the best cakes he had ever had were kind of messy looking. Just because Sherlock was always so fastidious didn't mean his cake would also have to look like it was just ripped out from the pages of Cake Vogue. He grabbed it and headed towards the door. "Come on! Let's go!"
Sherlock scrambled up and tried to block the door, but John had the advantage of not having spent the last half hour moping on the sofa, and was quicker on his feet. John had already called out "Mrs. Hudson! We have a little something for you!"
"Oh boys, you shouldn't have!" came the response.
She opened the door quickly and John transferred the cake into her hands before Sherlock could attempt to trip him or otherwise sabotage it. "Happy birthday, Mrs Hudson!"
"Did you make this yourselves?"
"Sherlock did. It's a bit messy, but I'm sure..."
"John bought a cake. It's outside. I'll go get it." Sherlock interrupted.
"Nonsense! Now don't be embarrassed, Sherlock. I know it's hard when you do everything so well, to not have it look just right, but it's fine."
Mrs Hudson got a triangular serving knife out from a drawer and cut the cake...or rather, attempted to cut the cake. The knife simply wouldn't pierce it. "Just a minute, I need a sharper knife...."
John looked at Sherlock and whispered "I thought you made another one?"
"I did," he replied. "I made three. This was the best of the bunch."
With an acuity of hearing far greater than her 78 years might suggest, she returned with a small paring knife and addressed Sherlock.
"Three times? Oh, Sherlock!" She wrapped her arms around him.
"I do not understand how my natural predisposition to stubbornness can be interpreted as a display of affection."
"Sherlock. You were at this for how many hours, to make three cakes?"
"Six, technically- two layers," he pouted.
"Six cakes! And I'm sure you were doing something else far more up your alley before then. "
"He was doing an experiment when I left," volunteered John.
"Exactly. And you chose to stop that to do this for me. Three times." She planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you."
With that, she stabbed the cake me and broke off a piece."I think we might appreciate this better," she said, "if we reclassified it as a biscuit."