Molly approached Mycroft's townhouse with more than her usual trepidation. This… thing… between them was still rather new and fragile, and one slip-up would shatter it. (And of course it'd be me to slip up.) She rang the bell and was a bit surprised that Mycroft came to the door himself.
"Afternoon, darling," he said, ushering her in with a peck on the cheek. "Might I take your coat?"
She handed it to him and then asked, "So, er… you wanted me to help you with something?"
"Yes, I rather think it's time I introduced you to one of my favourite hobbies," he said, as he took her to the kitchen.
Molly wasn't sure what she had expected to see in Mycroft's kitchen, but it definitely was not flour, sugar, cocoa, shortening, milk, eggs, and a top-of-the-line mixer. "Baking?"
"I find it the best way to spend a lazy Sunday. Despite what my GP thinks, it's been quite good for my health – without a way to relieve stress, I'd have died from a heart attack years ago," the diplomat replied. He handed Molly a white apron and donned one of his own.
"Now, cream together the cocoa, sugar, and shortening* while I start the oven," he said.
"Er, what does 'cream together' mean?" Molly murmured.
He looked at her in wonderment. "Haven't you ever made a cake before?"
"Um… no. My mum wasn't much of a cook; all the cakes in our house came from Tesco's." Molly stared at the floor, certain she'd made a fool of herself.
"Then it's high time I repaired this defect in your education," he said gently. "First, ensure the butter is at room temperature – which I've already seen to – then add the sugar and the cocoa, and start the mixer on the lowest speed." As the mixer whirred, he handed her a rubber spatula and continued, "You want to push those stray bits down into the centre of the bowl to ensure they all get in."
The pathologist looked at him hesitantly, but complied, trying not to remember the accident victims she'd seen in medical school. As she wielded the spatula, he gently placed his hand over hers as a guide.
"That's it, darling," he murmured. When the batter was well-combined, he nodded towards the eggs and told her to crack two of them in. Then he fetched a measuring cup of milk and drizzled in a bit. "Measure out the flour and then add a bit of it in – we'll alternate adding the milk and the flour."
She studied the recipe card, which was handwritten in a ladylike script, battered at the corners and stained. "This must be an old recipe," she said as she scooped out the flour.
Mycroft nodded. "It was my grandmother's. She made it for my father and uncle's birthdays every year, and after she passed on, my mother inherited her recipe file and she made this for my birthday."
"Not Sherlock's?" Molly asked as she sprinkled in more flour.
The diplomat rolled his eyes in a manner that caused his companion to bite back a giggle. "Sherlock always was a finicky eater. I think our parents indulged him a bit too much in that regard." When the flour and milk were all in, Mycroft added a dash of salt, a dash of vanilla, and then heated up the kettle. He explained, "The secret ingredient in this recipe is boiling water. It helps to bring out the flavour of the chocolate."
Half an hour later, the cake was finished and the posh gentleman cut slices for both of them. "Now, tell me what you think," he said, as he fed her a bite.
The cake's texture was perfect and the chocolate exploded on Molly's tongue. She gasped, "That's the best cake I've ever had!"
He smiled fondly. "Only because you are the best assistant I've ever had," he replied, and leaned in to kiss her.
*Since several people have asked, shortening is semi-solid vegetable oil. If you haven't got shortening, cooking oil, butter, or margarine can be substituted.
The recipe Mycroft uses is my husband's grandmother's recipe for chocolate cake – and yes, boiling water really does improve the taste! PM me if you want the recipe, but be warned that I'm American and it's not in metric units. :)