A Christmas time Sherlock snippet inspired by a real-life story from a friend which seemed to fit these guys. The characters of course belong to the writers of the BBC show.


"What are those cookies?…You know the white ones covered in cinnamon and sugar?" John asked peering at his laptop.

"Why would I know." Sherlock rolled his eyes and kept reading.

"Well I thought you liked them."

"That doesn't mean I pay attention to what they're called."

"Of course you do, you always remember details."

"Whatever they're called doesn't matter."

"Well I can't look up a recipe if I don't know what they're called."

"You're going to bake cookies?" in spite of his sarcastic tone, John could tell he was slightly interested in this possibility.

"Well it is Christmas."

"Mmm." He acknowledged, a bit wryly. He was obviously not into a lot of the 'fluff' associated with the holidays, although he hadn't made any comment on the wreath John had hung over the mantle.

"Come on, you know the ones I'm talking about."

"Look up cinnamon cookie, I'm sure you'll find it" He said irritably.

"I did, there's too many different results."

Hmf. He was getting tired of being pestered, but John pressed on.

"Sherlock, I know you know what they're called."

Hmf. John realized he must be onto him by now, oh well.

"Just say it!"

"No."

"It's just a word, there's no reason you can't just say it."

"John I'm not playing this game."

"Come on! You make me analyze things just so you can laugh at me."

John held out against the death glare Sherlock directed at him.

Finally Sherlock looked away and muttered resentfully, "Snickerdoodle."

Pfft! John snickered, grinning broadly. In fact, for several minutes he couldn't stop chuckling to himself as he searched through online recipes.

Sherlock shot him another evil glance from the couch.

He'd better go make some now as a peace offering.