"It's a cake" says Sherlock.

I laugh. He looks like a inquisitive child.

"Yes, it's a cake" I say.

He looks at me.

"You can't cook" he says.

I smile.

"You don't know it" I say.

"Yes, I know!"

I take off my apron. I put a cake into plastic box and kiss Sherlock's cheek.

"What poison did you use?" he asks.

I smile. I promised Sherlock's mum, I make a cake. We go to dinner and I know, every good woman must bring salad, cake, anything.

Sherlock doesn't want go. He doesn't like his parents. He says, they are boring but I don't think so. They are Holmes parents. They mustn't be boring! Sherlock's an idiot.

"Hyoscamus niger" I answer.

Of course I joke but he don't understand it. He hasn't sense of humor.

"Good choice" He says.

My dress are red. I don't know, it is good choice. Maybe his mum doesn't like this colour? Dress aren't short. It's classical. I'm little nervous. It's strange.

"Hi Honey!" says Mum Holmes.

She hugs Sherlock. He doesn't look happy. He doesn't like hugs. She doesn't know it? And her voice...it's strange. Too high.

She look at me and doesn't say nothing.

His father is different. He smiles all time and talking with me about don't important things. He laugh loud. Mycroft is here too. He sits in the armchair in the living room and reads a book. He's cold. Typical. He looks at me but says nothing. His father still talking. I don't know about what but smile and nod.

"He likes you" says Sherlock.

I shrug my shoulders.

"You too" I say. "You're very similar" I say.

"Are you kidding me?"

I laugh.

"No. You are. You're intelligent, funny, cute boys".

He rolls his eyes and silence.

"What's wrong with you, Adler?" asks Mycroft.

He sits near me.

"The same with you" I say and smile.

Do you know, what Holmes do when they have dinner? Math! They're crazy but it's fun.

I do math all afternoon. Mycroft is weak in typical algebra and Sherlock prefer chemistry. I know it but I love math! Similar to their mum, so we can talking together about this amazing subject.

"It was amazing!" I say, when we back home.

Sherlock look at me like at very ugly child.

"Come on!" I say. "You're happy too. Say it!"

I sit in the likely Sherlock's armchair. He lies on the sofa. Typical evening on Baker Street 221B.

"I need drugs" he says.

I stand up and lies near him. The sofa is small but it's okay. I put my head on his arm.

"You need me, honey" I whisper into his ear.

"You aren't morphine".

I sight and close my eyes.