Sherlock desperately wanted cake.
He had just finished the joint he had stashed in the lining of his least favorite dressing gown. Eye twitching and growling he made his way to the kitchen only to find no cake. His eye continued to twitch as he glanced around the room taking everything in. The airtight jar of ring fingers he had collected, for an experiment, he told John, but they really weren't, he just liked staring at them; the bags of painted fake nails, which were surprisingly useful; several species of insects, arachnids, and bugs in plastic containers which Mrs. Hudson despised because she was always afraid they would jump out at her; and large stacks of lab equipment everywhere. John was always complaining about all his junk and Mrs. Hudson was always trying to clean it up, but Sherlock liked the mess.
It actually wasn't a mess. Everything was where it needed to be. It may be cluttered, but it wasn't messy, not really. If someone asked him for something he could point it out in seconds without even looking. This fact kept John from actually trying to clean up the flat. But Sherlock wanted cake. CAKE!
He raced to the fridge and tore it open scanning the shelves with a fast intensity. But there was nothing to scan. There was just a glass of pond water he was studying for a case, a milk bottle full of chlorine, and a half eaten dark chocolate bar. Growling and eye still twitching he slammed the fridge door closed, making it rock violently and sending a can of warm soda across the room. It smacked against the wall and released it contents onto the floor.
Staring at it, eye still twitching, he tsk-ed at it and stepped over it, through the door, down the stairs, and stood in front of Mrs. Hudson's door. He reached out and grabbed the handle, but it was locked. Growling some more he reached his hand up to stop his eye from twitching, but it didn't help so he grabbed the key from under the small dresser in the hall and opened her door. He slunk to the kitchen and opened her fridge, but found no cake. He slammed her fridge shut too. Why was there no cake?
Shouting in frustration he slammed his hand over his still twitching eye. It wouldn't stop until he had some cake. He dashed back to his and John's flat and burst into his flatmate's room shouting, "JOHN I HAD A JOINT NOW I WANT CAKE GET ME SOME I NEED SOME!"
John sat up and looked at the clock, "Sherlock, its 4 in the morning. Can't you wait 2 hours?"
"NO I NEED CAKE NOW!" His eye twitched and he covered it with his hand.
"Oh, God, Sherlock! Your eye only twitches when you've had more than one and, or some harder stuff. You said you gave me all of them."
"I lied. Now, get me cake."
John stared at him and slid back into a sleeping position. "Good night, Sherlock."
"John? John? JOHN? I know you're not sleeping." He walked closer to the bed and peered down at his flatmate. "John. I need cake. I need it. Get me some." He poked him, "John." His voice started getting pitchy and whiny. "John. John." He sighed. "Please."
John opened one eye. "Please isn't going to cut it this time."
"It got you talking didn't it?" John closed his eye again. Sherlock groaned, "John. Please. I need it." His twitching eye was annoying him. "I won't do it again." He promised.
"That's what you said last time." Sherlock growled and grabbed his flatmate to pull him off the bed, but found himself in a very awkward position under John's arm.
"Never." John breathed into his ear, "surprise an ex-soldier."
"You were a doctor." He choked out.
"Not all the time." John said.
"You're choking me, John."
"No shit, Sherlock." He said and eased up a little.
Sherlock was able to get out of his hold and grab the smaller man and pin his arms behind his back. "CAKE!"
"NEVER!"
"CAKE OR DEATH."
"I choose death!"
And with that they wrestled until Mrs. Hudson came up with a "Hoo-hoo. Am I interrupting something boys?" But her face was quite gleeful.
"No, Mrs. Hudson." John said pleasantly as he held Sherlock in a full Nelson.
"I was just wondering if Sherlock had come into my flat."
"He did. And he's sorry."
Sherlock looked up at her, his face red and eye still twitching and mouthed, "Help me."
Mrs. Hudson put her hand up to her chest, "Dear me. Oh, do let him go John. He's only being Sherlock."
John stared at her a moment before releasing him with an, "Oh, all right."
Sherlock tried to compose himself. He straightened out his shirt and tugged on his dressing gown then flipped his hair out of his twitching eye. "I'll make you a cuppa." Mrs. Hudson said as she turned to leave.
"Ca-" it came out hoarse and high-pitched, he cleared his throat, "Cake, Mrs. Hudson. Cake."
"Oh, all right, I'll make you some cake. Chocolate or vanilla?" She asked.
"Mrs. Hudson, don't."
"Vanilla."
"It's no trouble at all, really dear. I'm used to it."
As she left, John muttered, "You shouldn't be."
"You see, John, that is how you should act."
"Yeah, well I'm not your housekeeper-"
"Neither am I!" Came a voice from the stairs.
John rolled his eyes, "Or your boyfriend, okay."
"I know that." He put his hand up to his eye.
"I shouldn't have to be taking care of you. I'm really just here to help you pay the rent."
"Are you really?"
"Oh, shut up and go eat your cake." Sherlock laughed as he left, considerably calmer now that he knew cake was on its way.