A/N: Hello there :) This is where I'm going to stick my random drabbles based on random word generated words or prompts. Any prompts: send them my way, I could do with keeping busy whilst I faff about with T&R. These will be completely random, cracky, funny, maybe a little explicit at times, but we'll see. Here's my first anyway. Love you guys.
Ratio.
"Nope."
John released a short disgruntled sound as the knife in his hand began to tremble, "What now?"
"Too much cheese."
John huffed as he began to maliciously remove cheese, each throw punctuated by a slightly more audible grumbled word.
"No, no, no, wait. Now there's not enough cheese. If there isn't enough cheese then the ketchup will make the bread soggy."
John turned to stare at the detective incredulously. The detective that had taken up root standing just behind him, chin on his shoulder and scrutinising his sandwich making skills with the same interest and attention he usually paid the corpses in the morgue.
"You're a pain in the fucking arse. Why ask me to make you a sandwich if I can't do it right?"
"You can do it right, John," Sherlock sighed, folding his arms and shuffling the rest of his body forward in line with his chin, his elbows now gently resting against John's back, "You just have to have patience. It's all about getting the right cheese to ketchup ratio. Science, if you will."
"Hmph, 'science'," John scowled, "If I wanted to be a sandwich scientist I'd work at Subway."
"Subway employees are not 'Sandwich Scientists', John. They're not worthy of such a title. The way they throw around marinara sauce like it's bloody-"
"Yeah, alright, that's quite enough of that for one day," John grumbled, taking each individual grating of cheese out of the tub and adding it to the bare bread, lining each strand up so as to provide a crude ketchup barrier.
"Well, now you're just being silly."
John stared ahead, his mouth set in a thin line but his eyebrows drawn down into an angry squiggle.
Sherlock sighed over his shoulder, "Like this," he said finally, awkwardly manoeuvring his arms around John's so that his palms were resting on top of John's hands, ready to play puppet master to the makings of his lunch.
"Right, now…" he began, putting the lightest of pressures on John's fingers until he was awkwardly picking up clusters of grated cheese, "Then over here…" John simply watched bewildered as Sherlock began to pile almost exactly the same amount of cheese John had put there in the first place.
"Bu-" John spluttered.
"Shh, thinking," Sherlock mumbled, taking in a sharp breath of contemplation, the air dragging over John's ear as he did so before his long exhale whistled down his ear.
"You're making a bloody sandwich, what's there to think about?"
Sherlock grumbled, his manoeuvring becoming more aggressive as he moved onto the ketchup part of his cheese and ketchup sandwich.
"I'll pretend I didn't hear that, John," he mumbled, tightening John's fingers around the ketchup tub and delicately squeezing near perfect blobs of red evenly spaced along the sea of yellow, "Now, so that we don't get soggy patches, we need another very light dusting of cheese."
"Wow, with culinary skills like these, I'm surprised you didn't pack in being a consulting detective years ago to become a Michelin starred chef instead."
John could practically feel Sherlock's eyes rolling behind him as his ungraciously thrust John's fist back into the cheese tub.
"All this over a fucking sandwich you won't even bloody eat."
Sherlock pointedly ignored him as he carefully sprinkled another thin layer of cheese over his creation before slapping the slice of bread on top and finally letting go of John's hands.
"Right, perfect, wonderful, job well done, the creepiest session of teamwork we've ever taken part in," John drawled, picking the knife back up to cut Sherlock's sandwich in half.
"What do you think you're doing?" Sherlock suddenly bellowed down John's ear, "You don't just cut it in half! You have to squash it first."
"Oh for the love of…"
"John," Sherlock said quietly, "Just this one last thing John, then I, Sherlock Holmes promise you, John Watson, that I will eat that whole sandwich in one sitting."
"Even the crusts?"
"Even the crusts."
John thought on this for a moment before he felt long fingers back in control of his again.
"This is the best part!" Sherlock chirruped gleefully before pressing John's hands on top of the sandwich they had both spent the past 30 minutes making, practically whimpering with excitement at the resulting squelch.
The minute the sandwich was squished to a sufficient standard, Sherlock practically dived on it, scooping it up and taking a massive bite, complete with pleasured groan.
"Mmff mmm gddd," Sherlock mumbled through sandwich-y teeth "Thisis Sandwich Science, John. Perfection," he said as he strode out of the room taking another bite.