An extra chapter for you all in honor of my Best Friend's birthday!
Before Sherlock could even growl at his brother, Jayne was popping her head out of the kitchen. "Ah, Mycroft! Come in, please. You'll stay to supper, won't you?" Feeling a bit overwhelmed by the woman-turned-whirlwind that was Jayne, Mycroft stepped inside the apartment. Huffing, Sherlock stalked to the window, picked up his violin and began to play violently, the tune furious. Jayne thought she recognized the tune as one she'd heard Sherlock play before, one of his own compositions. She didn't realize she'd begun humming along as she cooked, but Mycroft certainly did.
Like Sherlock, Mycroft stood in the doorway of the kitchen and watched Jayne cook. She slid the roasting pan of steaks into the hot oven, setting a timer on the counter. He noticed with approval that the kitchen was spotless, the cabinets were wiped clean, the small window over the sink sparkled. Dishes were put away and there were no signs of his brother's odd experiments anywhere. "They're in the refrigerator," Jayne said, as if knowing what he was thinking. He felt his face flush brightly, but Jayne merely smiled at him and motioned for him to sit at the table.
He made his way there as pompously as possibly, as though she hadn't withered his pride immediately when he saw that she was neither in league with Moriarty (as far as he'd been able to determine) or out to steal his money. The only things she'd bought were items she'd needed for the kitchen, and he couldn't fault her for buying the best money could buy at the local market. A small smile crossed his face; perhaps he should send her a small gift, an entire set of the finest cookware available, perhaps.
The door opened and John appeared in the kitchen doorway just as Jayne was placing a cup of tea in front of Mycroft. John was absolutely surprised to see Mycroft sitting there, and after seeing him, wasn't as surprised to see Sherlock sulking in the corner and playing his violin. As John went to shut the door, there was a knock on the doorframe and DI Lestrade was standing there, looking distinctly uncomfortable and out of place. "Well hello, Greg. Come in!" John exclaimed, opening the door for him.
"Greg! In here, supper's almost ready!" Jayne called from the kitchen. John and Greg were both rather shocked to see Mycroft sitting at the table, talking with Jayne, a cup of tea in one hand as if he visited every day and enjoyed a chat. Jayne stood at the stove, stirring some kind of chopped greens, it looked like spinach to John, in a large cast-iron skillet. The timer next to the stove went off and Jayne pulled the steaks from the oven, placing a large piece of aluminum foil overtop of it, she explained it was called "tenting" and would keep the steaks hot while the juices inside redistributed.
She began to pour the potatoes into a large steel colander, draining them of all the water that had been in the pot. John watched over her shoulder, Greg and Mycroft still at the table, while she replaced the pot on the burner, melting half a stick of butter. She added the potatoes back to the pot and began mashing them, stirring in salt and cream. By this time, John could feel his stomach growling and was almost certain he heard Greg's doing the same. Even Mycroft looked uncomfortably aware of how very good the kitchen smelled.
Jayne placed the food on platters, scooping the roasted onions and carrots into a bowl and dotting it with butter that quickly melted. She drizzled the spinach with a little balsamic vinegar and sprinkled it with sea salt. She placed a bowl of the mashed potatoes on the table and a platter piled with the steaks steamed in the center of the table. When she finally decided everything looked right, Jayne passed around plates and silverware.
She stepped into the living room and walked over towards Sherlock. "Sherlock, supper's ready," she said softly. He stopped playing and simply looked at her. She was heated and flushed from the heat of the kitchen, her shirt rumpled and a small stain spotted the front of her blouse.
"Why do you try so hard to impress them?" He asked sincerely, confused by all the endeavor she'd put into the meal. He honestly didn't understand how she could put that much work into something that would only last for a short time and actually enjoy it. It seemed rather like a waste of effort to him.
She smiled. "Because I want them to like me, Sherlock. I want them to feel comfortable here. Until the apartment downstairs is ready, this is my home too, Sherlock. Now come into the kitchen for supper, please."
"Not hungry," he sighed and picked up his violin to begin playing again. She gripped his wrist and he saw a flash of anger in her eyes. "Sherlock Holmes, I just put a lot of effort into a FAMILY meal. You're part of my family here. Now come in and eat. Or I swear on all that's holy, I will break every single string on that violin."
He grumbled, but allowed Jayne to push him into the kitchen and sat down with an ungentlemanly thump into the chair she gestured him to. "Well then, who's hungry?" she asked unnecessarily, as Greg, John and Mycroft all seemed to be equally ready to tear into the meal with her blessing. She laughed to herself and began pouring tall glasses of icy cold lemonade, while John placed steaks on each plate and the others began passing around the bowls of spinach, mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables.
Jayne wanted to laugh yet again, when she looked up from her own plate and realized that everyone had gone quiet, enjoying the meal with looks of rapture on their faces. Well, everyone except Sherlock. He was watching everyone else and had barely taken a bite. Jayne pinched him under the table, causing him to glare at her. While everyone but the two of them was involved with eating, she mimed popping the strings on his violin. He rolled his eyes at her and looked down at his plate, smirking at the thought that he'd gotten under her skin, but began eating.
When they were all finished, Greg and John were leaning back in their chairs, hands on their stomachs. Mycroft was very nearly doing the same thing, but looking much more prim and proper, with his wrists resting on the table's edge. "If you're all done, I'll clear the table and serve dessert?" Jayne asked, wondering if they could even still eat dessert with as much food as they'd eaten. All except Sherlock, she'd put his plate in the refrigerator for later.
Greg looked at her like she'd suddenly sprouted wings and a halo. "You made dessert?" he asked, sounding awed. "From scratch?" he exclaimed, knowing he hadn't seen a bakery box or a boxed mix anywhere when he'd arrived.
John was grinning. "I told you she was a saint."
Jayne blushed at John's praise. "I'm no saint, John. But I hope you all like chocolate cake." She pulled a tall chocolate cake covered with white chocolate frosting and a drizzle of dark chocolate from the refrigerator, basking in the "oohs" and "ahhs" of John, Greg and even Mycroft. As always, Sherlock merely watched, but felt his insides twist when Jayne served him first.
The chocolate cake was deeply rich and fudgy, and even Jayne moaned softly with the first bite. By the time everyone was scraping their plates for that last crumb, Jayne felt strangely fulfilled by giving everyone a good meal and a nice evening. First Mycroft, then Greg, said their good nights and thanked her profusely for supper. "Next Sunday, same time. I expect you both to be here," Jayne said, kissing them both on the cheek. She nearly giggled when they both blushed, Mycroft clearing his throat loudly. She closed the door behind them, leaned back against it and sighed, smiling.
She felt that it had been quite a successful evening, and truthfully, she'd always been curious what a "family" meal between Sherlock and Mycroft would be like. She hadn't been surprised when Sherlock had been sulky and quiet throughout the meal. But he'd eaten almost everything on his plate, knowing she'd annoy him to no end unless he did. While Jayne fully admitted she loved Sherlock's slim physique, she also knew that not eating for days on end was entirely unhealthy. She was just glad he'd been eating and sleeping the last few days that she'd been there. Jayne knew it wouldn't catch his body up on sleep or calories, but it was a start.
