Chapter 1
As soon as he entered the flat, John knew something was wrong. The flat was… quiet.
For Sherlock Holmes was staring at the wall.
The detective was perched on the edge of the sofa, staring at the patterned wallpaper as if waiting for it to move. Staring intently. John stood in the doorway of the flat, watching his flatmate for any kind of movement. Nothing. He couldn't be ruminating anything of purpose- that usually involved a lot more arm waving. This was worrying. Should he say anything? He knew he should but was worried the other man would throw another lamp at him. He rubbed the tender bruise on his arm. Best wait a moment…
"…What are you doing?"
Sherlock huffed a sigh- as if it wasn't obvious, "I'm waiting, John"
"Erm… Right. Okay… Um. What- what are you waiting for?"
Sherlock swung his head round to glare at his flatmate. "I'm waiting for the Girl," He cried, his gaze returning to the wall.
John sighed as Sherlock muttered something about the "idiots of the world" under his breath. Well he was obviously fine, the normal polite Sherlock. He sniffed the air, "No need to be so patronising."
"Did you say something?"
Was that…? John sniffed again. What was that smell? Could it be-? No. It couldn't be. Was it? Really?
Walking towards the laboratory cum kitchen John glanced around trying to find the source of the smell, "So. This girl. Is it about the case?"
Sherlock smirked- the only expression he seemed capable of, "What case?"
John opened the fridge, "Mycroft's case. He asked me to remind you about it's national importance."
The fridge was unusually empty- the smell wasn't coming from there.
"I texted him. Said something about some photos. Boring."
By now, John had looked through the fridge and all of the cupboards. Where on earth was it coming from? Turning, the smoking tray caught his eye… "What. On. Earth. Is. That."
John stared at him than back at the smoking black crisp. Sherlock Holmes baking someone a cake? Sherlock Holmes BAKING?
Sherlock looked up and grinned, "Collateral damage."