John walked through the door, already exhausted from a long day at the surgery. Sarah had kept him running around between patients all day; he hadn't even had time for lunch. What he really wanted to do was to come home, order in, force Sherlock to eat some, and go to bed early while Sherlock stayed up with his experiments. His flatmate evidently had other plans.
"What the hell are you doing?" John asked, staring into the kitchen in surprise. It looked, per usual, like a small explosion had gone off in it, but instead of being an explosion of science like normal, it appeared to be an explosion of flour and sugar.
Sherlock looked up from the bowl of batter he was stirring only long enough to take in John's day. "Go ahead and order some Thai," Sherlock said, dodging the question primarily just to annoy his doctor.
John stepped into the kitchen, trying to avoid getting flour on his clothes when he gave Sherlock a brief kiss on the cheek. "Alright, but really, what are you doing?" The oven was on, there were eggshells and half- empty bags of flour and sugar lying out, and Sherlock appeared to be using his lab coat as a sort of apron.
"I'm… baking. It's a traditional holiday thing to do, isn't it?" Sherlock questioned, moving to the semi-clear table and beginning to roll out the dough. John stood aghast for a moment then shook his head. If Sherlock was capable of having sex, Sherlock was capable of anything. There were very few things he could do now that would surprise John.
That was before the sprinkles.
They were strangely whimsical, obviously either stolen from Mrs. Hudson or bought especially for the cookies. Knowing Sherlock, most likely the former. Sherlock sprinkled them over the snowmen and Christmas tree shaped cookies, obviously not caring if they got all over the kitchen.
"Here, John, take a plate down to Mrs. Hudson, she'll like them," Sherlock said a moment later, loading a plate with the treats and shoving it toward John. The doctor nodded and ran them down. Mrs. Hudson had thanked him, and expressed no small amount of surprise when John had revealed Sherlock was the cook.
"That's what he's been banging on about all day," she mused, shaking her head. "You'd best get back up to him, then, before he causes more trouble." John nodded, rushing up the stairs as he realized exactly how many things Sherlock could get up to in the brief time he was downstairs.
When he arrived upstairs, Sherlock was smirking. "Did Mrs. Hudson scare you?" Sherlock asked with smarmy smirk.
"No, but the idea of you, alone, with an oven is a cause for alarm on its own," John replied, reaching to steal a cookie. Sherlock swatted his hand.
"Not yet, those are for the others," Sherlock said. John raised an eyebrow. "Harry, Lestrade… Mycroft," Sherlock added the last one on reluctantly.
"Then we'd better get delivering, or they won't last that long," John commented, nibbling on the cookie he'd managed to snatch while Sherlock had been thinking. It was actually pretty good. Then again, his detective was full of surprises.