and it might sound stupid, but the saddest thing about growing up

[acclimatized]

WHO: john watson (acclimatized) and sherlock holmes (deductives)
WHERE: in their new flat.
WHEN: sunday, the 6th of january.
WARNINGS: sherlock holmes.
SUMMARY: it's sherlock's birthday! john has decided to order chinese and even tried his hand at baking a cake for the occasion. bros being bros.
FORMAT: tagger's choice.

Cooking is much like chemistry. Unfortunately, John had never taken advantage of the equipment set up and dominating most of the kitchen space. When he first moved in with Sherlock Holmes, he had actually tried to clean everything up and move it away from the food.

But through a few passive aggressive remarks and glares from his flatmate, he had learned to leave Sherlock's little home-grown chemistry set alone and gave up, although he did decorate a few things with hanging ornaments and tinsel around Christmas. He got a kick out it and it spruced up the kitchen nicely.

Living in a city, it was easy to order food or go out to eat. John could recognize and treat myocardial infarction, but actually cooking something for himself? He was out of his depth and Mrs. Hudson wasn't downstairs to save his skin this time either.

At least he couldn't cock up the Chinese – he was still waiting on them to deliver the food. For now, he was monitoring the process of the cake baking in the oven, hoping he'd read the instructions on the back of the cake mixture right.

They had been through a lot since coming here, so he at least owed Sherlock this.

Comments

[deductives]

Things like that were what made John and Sherlock a good team; he would have left without so much as a notification. He sits down at the table with his beer and pops the cap. The rough callouses from chemical burns and god knows what else on his fingers let him do it without flinching.

The only flicker across his face comes when John says that he owes Sherlock. The detective's gaze falls to the inside of his bottle at that. If anything, it's the opposite.

"You... don't owe me anything."

[acclimatized]

John lapses into an uncomfortable silence when he sees that look flash across Sherlock's face. After a moment of struggling to pop his own beer cap (shouldn't this be easier now, he thinks), he finally slides into the chair opposite and wets his lips thoughtfully.

"Preeeetty sure I'd still be picking splinters out of my hand." He remarks eventually, deciding to pursue that approach rather than flat out ask 'why are you giving me that face'.

"Don't argue with your doctor."