John entered the living room of his and Sherlock's flat; he could hear the consulting detective pottering around in the tiny kitchen.
"JOHN!" Sherlock roared in delight as John entered the house. As he emerged it became apparent that Sherlock had been attempting some form of cooking whilst John had been at work. He was coated from head to toe in flour, his fingers coated and heavy with bits of dough.
"What the hell have you been doing?" John asked him, refraining from laughing at his disshiveled flatmates appearance. The streaks of white flour in his hair plus the fact it was sticking up at odd angles due to him running his hands through his hair in stress gave him the look of a mad scientist.
"Cooking." Sherlock said to John in that way that just screamed This is what cooking is, is it not? Do you know nothing about the art of mimicking human activities John?
"Right… okay…" John said, mentally preparing himself for the mess of the kitchen. "and what is it that you have been baking." Sherlock shot him a look to tell John to stop treating him like a child and John would have to admit he was being a little condescending.
"I made cake John, It was going to be a surprise" Sherlock said, looking a little sad. The kitchen was a bomb site, it looked like Sherlock had attempted to make the cake by just throwing ingredients at the walls and hoping for the best. There were two charcoaled black cakes piled in the corner by the sink but on the kitchen table, in a cleared area there sat a perfect Victoria sponge. John wanted to be angry about the state of the kitchen but he found it virtually impossible when he saw the pure effort that had gone into making it and the look on Sherlock's face, wincing and waiting for the anger.
"Come on let's get this place cleared up." John said grabbing a couple of dirty dishes from the counters and chucked them into the sink. Two hours later, the kitchen was clean, Sherlock was in the shower and John was stood over the stove making risotto for their dinner. John couldn't get the image of Sherlock peeling off his purple shirt, coated in drying egg yolks and smudges of flour to reveal the flawless pale skin underneath out of his mind, cooking was an attempt to distract himself but it was not a successful one. He served up the dinner, his mind running over the way Sherlock had dropped the garment to the floor before stretching, giving John a view of the muscles flexing under his skin, the thin line of hair from his naval that spread down beneath the waistline of his dress pants. Sherlock was sat in front of the television watching Miss Marple and muttering under his breath when John handed him the risotto, he heard brief snatches of the ranting
"Wrong… oh it's obvious…. Like Anderson… ugh!"
"Sherlock if it's so annoying then put something else on." John suggested.
"Everything on at this time is boring and mundane, it's either this or the X-Factor and trust me I have no desire to watch that atrocity." Sherlock said, picking at his food.
"Hmm… I agree with you there." John said and tried to watch the program.
"Cake!" Sherlock shouted once John had finally finished his own food, Sherlock hated the way that John would eat, slowly savouring the flavour of each mouthful. The cake was served, buttercream and Jam on the inside. John was happy to see his favourite condiment in between two thin halves of cake. They ate in silence, the television had been turned off long ago after John had gotten sick of Sherlock's constant complaints about the obviousness, it wasn't enjoyable for either of them. Sherlock took a bite from the cake, Jam smearing above his lip.
"Sherlock, you've got… Jam on your face." Sherlock tried and failed to remove it with his tongue.
"Come here." John said moving in closer to the consulting detective, reaching up with one hand and wiping the Jam away from him. He doesn't know why he did but he took the finger that he had used to wipe away to Jam and put it in his mouth licking it clean and savouring the taste of Sherlock and Jam. John was on his tiptoes know, one hand wrapped around Sherlock to keep him upright. Their lips met in a kiss, slow and passionate. John had no idea Sherlock even knew how to kiss, to have a relationship or do any of this but there he was one slender hand wrapped around John's thin waist the other cupping his Jaw. John's hand reached out finding his chest; it was strange to not feel softness of breasts but rather flat muscle of the chest but it was not an unpleasant sensation. John was the first to pull away.
"Sherlock-" he began.
"Nope." Sherlock said cutting the smaller man off, he pulled John back in towards him and pushed him against the wall. John found himself lifted up by the taller man, his legs wrapped tightly around his torso, fist gripping him by the hair. He was surprised at Sherlock's strength but went along with it.
"I think… I think…" John tried to speak between kisses "we should, we should take this somewhere more… comfortable." Sherlock nodded and let John down, he pulled off his clean clothes as he walked towards the bedroom, from the darkness inside john saw his boxers be flung out of the doorway. John grabbed a jar from the counter and followed the world's only consulting detective, he had thought of a far better use for the jam.