Jamcakes- A Sherlock one shot
Mycroft mixed his cake batter contently. He was in 221b to make a cake for himself (his oven at his house was broken) and technically had no right to be here, but Mrs Hudson had let him in anyway.
He kept stirring the mix, occasionally dipping his finger in and licking it to see how it tasted. He smiled. It tasted perfect. He cast his mind back to when He and Sherlock were children. Their Mother had was making meringues, and had given Mycroft the job of testing if the mixture was the right consistency. Needless to say, he had held the bowl over Sherlock's head and it turned out that it wasn't the right consistency and there was meringue mixture everywhere and one very angry Sherlock.
John walked in to 221b, having left Sherlock to work with Lestrade on a new case and was surprised to find Mycroft standing at the kitchen counter, stirring a bowl of cake mix.
"Mycroft, what are you doing?" He asked politely
"Making a cake, what does it look like John?" Mycroft replied, still stirring the mixture.
"I think it could use a little bit of jam," John said, delving into the fridge for some of his home-made strawberry jam.
He poured a little bit of jam into the mixture while Mycroft was turned away, probably checking if there was enough security cameras on the building or something.
Sherlock strolled in to the flat, obviously feeling a little too friendly, and slapped John on the back playfully.
"Oops," Sherlock said as he saw the jam slither its way into the rest of the batter.
Mycroft was still turned away, and while they had the chance, John and Sherlock snook out of Mycroft's field of view, like naughty boys who had committed a playground crime and acted as normal as they possibly could, with Sherlock sitting in his mind palace and John blogging.
Mycroft went back to mixing his batter, not noticing that it was turning a bright pink colour. He poured it into a pre-prepared cake tin and put it in the oven.
Twenty minutes later, the cake was ready. Timer Blaring, Mycroft took the cake out of the oven. He noticed the dire shade of pink the cake had turned.
"Sherlock, John?" He asked, trying his best to keep calm.
They both looked up.
"What have you done to my cake?" He cried.
"Nothing, we didn't do anything, you must have done that yourself." John said, with Sherlock seemingly locked in his mind palace for real this time.
"Fine, OK. I believe you. I probably made a stupid mistake,"
Mycroft didn't believe John, but he kept he didn't get angry.
After the cake had cooled, Mycroft sat down at the coffee table, and cut the cake. He let John and Sherlock have a bit, as well as himself.
He let the cake melt in his mouth and was surprised to find it tasted distinctively like strawberry jam.
"Did you put jam in this when I wasn't looking?" Mycroft asked, looking from John to Sherlock and back again.
Sherlock and John couldn't help but burst out laughing.
"Maybe," they said in union.