Nobody Does it Better
Genre: Friendship, with minor humour
Pairings: Greg and Molly, Sherlock and Sally, both background
Main characters: Molly, Sally, Mrs. Hudson, and introducing Emma Bailey, wife of Kieran
"Greg's is okay, but Sherlock has mastered it. No questions," Molly said.
"He treats tea making like it's one of his experiments," Sally confirmed. "I have to agree there then. Nobody makes a better cuppa than my Git. John mostly just pours boiling water over the bag in a big mug. I prefer coffee myself though."
Emma Bailey – wife to Kieran, mum to Julian, and fast friend to the Baker Street clan - and the female contingent in particular - having joined the ladies there when she'd brought her son over to work on a homework project Julian had paired up with Rosie for, was in agreement. "Well in that case," Emma said, "Greg makes the best coffee I've ever had."
The small group of women assembled at the kitchen table in 221B were in solid agreement there.
"I've drunk Greg's coffee for years," Sally said. "The Boss has turned it into something of a fine art."
"Well," Molly said, "John makes the best hot chocolate, and biscuits as well, in my opinion." She plucked one of them off the plate in the middle of the table, taking a satisfied bite out of it. She closed her eyes with bliss. No question, John Watson had a solid grasp on the art of biscuit baking – something he had taken up when Rosie had started school and there were other little ones at 221 Baker Street to enjoy the treats. "I'd prefer it though if he didn't give it to the boys to sugar them up and then send them home, though."
"Oh, you've never had Kieran's biscuits then," Emma said with a wink. "My husband bakes a bit when he's got a day off, he likes to have things for me to pack into Julian's school lunches. And to butter up the boss when he's on duty," she laughed lightly.
"I've had Kieran's biscuits lots of times," Sally said, matter of factly. When she got a strange look, she said, "Well, Julian shares with Rosie, and sometimes she gets distracted and forgets she's brought them home." Sally cleared her throat guiltily. "What? Auntie's prerogative!"
"Fair enough," Mrs. Hudson said. "I've had them too, and it depends upon the biscuit. John makes the best oatmeal raisin, but Kieran makes a wonderful ginger nut."
"I wouldn't know that," Sally said with a sigh. "I've only tasted Kieran's butter pecan. Sherlock can sniff out a ginger nut at 500 yards and since he's the one most likely to see Rosie first after school, well I swear my husband has a sixth sense when it comes to those things."
"Well, Greg mainly cooks, he makes a great pot roast," Molly said. "I've had Sherlock's cooking though. The only thing he should be making for dinner is a reservation."
The group of women seemed to be in silent agreement.
"Sherlock means well at times but he really should stick to making tea," Mrs. Hudson said. "Cooking is more forgiving and has more of an artistic flair but that doesn't mean you can't flub it. John knows his way around the kitchen too and he's actually a very good cook, but some things he should just leave to someone else. Like pies."
"Greg could wrap a football in John's pastry and not even dent it when he's out playing in his rec league," Molly said. "It's nothing against him, he just doesn't have the touch with it, that's all."
"Come to think of it, I'm not sure any of the blokes can make a decent pie pastry," Sally said. "Sherlock's is maybe the closest when he does take a notion, but it's still rubbish. Thank God the notion is rare."
Emma nodded, giggling softly to herself. "Kieran never bothered much. He says it's too damn much work, yet he'll spend an hour to roll out biscuit dough to make ginger nuts or sugar cookies. You can't figure the logic of a man sometimes."
"Greg doesn't bake," Molly said regretfully. "Well not much anyway. He'll make scones now and then, but that's about it. Mostly he cooks a meal if he's in the kitchen. If he wants pastry for a meat pie or something, he gets me to make it. He said that requires a lady's touch," she giggled. "The truth is, I think he just likes to ogle me while I bend over the table with a rolling pin in my hands!" Sally smiled to herself - that was really the only redemptive thing about Sherlock's pastry - watching her tall drink of water husband bent over the counter.
Mrs. Hudson, snickering to herself at the cheeky mental image of the usually gentlemanly Greg Lestrade perving on his wife in the kitchen, said "Didn't he make the fairy cakes for the boys' birthday party, though?"
"Only because they were on a case and he forgot to stop at the baker's," Sally snickered. "They weren't bad, actually, but 4 year old boys seem easy enough to please if you give them sweets, and I was at a point then I would eat anything put in front of me so I'm a bloody poor judge of how they really tasted. These babies had me ravenous," she said, as she held Grace.
Molly, holding Michael, smiled at that memory. It was true, Greg really didn't bake but he'd come through in the pinch with no other choice in the matter. Molly hadn't been pleased with him for forgetting to stop to pick up a cake for their boys, so Sherlock and John had convinced him that his only reasonable course of action would be to get his arse into the kitchen and get on with it. If they had ended up a bit on the dry side, John had saved the day by remembering he had ice cream in the freezer at 221B, and had whipped up a pan of hot chocolate to wash it all down with.
"They tasted perfectly fine," Mrs. Hudson said as she reached out to grab Greer, who had awoken from her nap and taken it upon herself to go on the lam. "A little crumbly but none of the little ones cared about that, really."
Emma, rising from her chair to put her empty mug in the sink, agreed with the assessment. "I didn't have any, but apparently Greg took some to the Yard for his team. Kieran had one, he said it was good, but then he'd been on the team for all of a week and probably didn't want to offend the boss!" she giggled.
"All done, mum!" Julian said, coming out of Rosie's room, he and Rosie each escorting a Lestrade twin, both of whom were beginning to look a little tired and irritable.
"Well ladies," Emma said, "I suppose we're off then. Next time I'll see if Kieran might make biscuits for our tea time," she smiled. "Too-rah!"
"I should get these little Lestrades downstairs as well. I don't imagine Greer needs another nap but the boys are getting a bit grumpy," Molly said, as she stood up and handed Michael over to Mrs. Hudson.
Mrs. Hudson smiled at her, then glanced down at the young Mr. Holmes she held in her arms. Back in her day, men steered clear of the kitchen unless they were in there to ask their wives what was for dinner.
Times had certainly changed, and she was glad to see it. If nothing else, it certainly made for a good afternoon of fluffy conversation.