Sherlock looked at his older brother Mycroft like he was incompetent.
"Just go already. You need to meet someone and keep yourself occupied so you don't have to bother me all the time."
Sherlock closed the door in his brothers face. Mycroft held up a flyer with a singles night at the local pub plastered on it. Mycroft left with a sigh, twirling his umbrella.
"Fine I'll go. But I won't like it."
Later that night Mycroft arrived at the pub after mingling for a short while he saw her. She was tall and pale, just how Mycroft liked. She wore a light cream colored number and smelt of sweet vanilla, her size just perfect as well. But the outer beauty would not be able to compare to the luscious inside which Mycroft suspected was vanilla sponge. He strode across the room to where they were serving the decadent cake. He saw the slices and he had assumed correct. It was indeed vanilla sponge.
"Of course it is I'm an expert on this matter." He thought.
Mycroft received a piece of the cake and he gently dragged his finger on the side, frosting piling up. He pulled his finger away and licked off the frosting from his finger. He put a fork into the cake and began to eat, savouring every last bite. But alas once it was gone he felt empty for he had eaten his one true love, cake.
He went to the bar and ordered a brandy, as he was about to pay a woman walked up and slid her card in front of his.
"His is on me." She said to the tender as he took her card, "So why so down?" She asked Mycroft, sitting beside him.
"I lost my one true love." He said with a sigh.
"Sorry to hear that bud. How'd she go?"
"I killed her and ate her."
The woman stood and walked away quite quickly.
Mycroft went home alone that night, as he normally did. His heart heavy with the pain of losing his love.
"I, of all people, know you can't have your cake and eat it too."