Title: Sweet
Rating: T for implied naughtytiemz
Pairings: Sherlock/John, some implied John/random lady
Warnings: Was processed in a factory that also processes nuts. May contain groan-worthy 'jokes'
"The heat is too high. You're going to burn it."
"Shut up, Sherlock. What do you know about candy making anyways?"
"More than you, apparently." The taller man swept into the kitchen, his bathrobe flaring open, to turn down the flame under the double boiler. "Why can't you just buy her chocolates?"
"I may have told her I'm an amateur cook. I told her I'd make her some candy. She told me I was 'sweet'."
"'Sweet?' How is that sweet? It's only chemistry and you're obviously…" Sherlock plucked the strainer of strawberries out from the running water, "Not very good at it."
"It's flirting, Sherlock." John's hands were covered with cocoa powder. "It's not supposed to make sense."
"You've never made chocolates before."
"No."
"You never make chocolates for me." Sherlock leaned against the kitchen table, taking up entirely too much space in the tiny kitchen.
"Well, given the direction things are taking here, you can probably eat all of these." John tried to wrangle the wax paper onto the cooling rack.
"That's…sweet?"
"Great, and now you're mocking me. "
"You've got chocolate on your face." Sherlock stepped over towards John. Suddenly the room was twice as small. The taller man's thumb, callused from his bow, wiped chocolate off John's cheek, his lip. Sherlock brought his thumb to his mouth, pink lips closing around the skin.
Sherlock gagged. "This is the worst chocolate I've ever tasted."
"Ha ha."
"No, I'm serious. I'll do it."
"Sherlock, the last thing you cooked was a human hand."
"And it was boiled to perfection."
"Absolutely not." John crossed his arms.
An hour later, the smells coming from the kitchen were heavenly.
Sherlock, wearing just his pajama pants, was spotless, as usual.
"Alright, let's see them."
From behind his back, the dark-haired man produced a truffle. It was beautiful, white chocolate drizzled on top.
"And the taste?" John raised his eyebrows. He was not wholly willing to admit defeat…
Sherlock knelt beside John's chair, and held the chocolate to John's lips.
They held eye contact as John took the chocolate into his mouth, his lips brushing against Sherlock's elegant fingers.
The chocolate was perfect and smooth. John bit into the candy and groaned in delight as vanilla cream spilled across his tongue.
"God, these are brilliant!" His mouth was still gummy with chocolate. "Why do you never bother to cook…"
Sherlock's mouth tasted sweeter than chocolate.
Two hours later, all of the chocolates were eaten, and Sherlock had sticky fingerprints all over his torso.
"What are you going to bring that woman?"
"What woman?" John asked lazily, sipping his tea.
Sherlock smiled. "'Sweet' answer."
The consulting detective dodged the pillow that John threw at his head.
