December 22: "Christmas baking at 221B." (from Aleine Skyfire)
"Holmes," said Watson with an exasperated sigh, "we've gone through this already! We are going to bake something nice for Mrs. Hudson."
Sherlock Holmes shook his head. "You might be, but I most certainly am not. Baking is hardly my area of expertise."
"How difficult can a little cake be?" said Watson, "And besides, she has done so much for us over the years that it is about time we returned the favor. What better time than the Christmas season to do so?"
Holmes was silent, eyes downcast and expression sullen.
"You know I won't leave you alone until you agree to this."
Holmes still said nothing, but his frown deepened.
"And if anything goes wrong, I will take the blame," added Watson.
Holmes was quiet for only a moment. "Well, in that case, I believe we have reached an agreement," said he.
"You will help, then?" asked Watson hopefully.
Sherlock Holmes threw up his hands. "Well, you have hardly given me a choice!"
As it turned out, "baking a little cake" was much more difficult than they had bargained.
"Dash it all, where is the sugar?" exclaimed Watson.
"The devil if I know!" Holmes replied irritably, violently brushing some stray flour from a pant leg. "I don't understand the way this place is organized."
"Well, I suppose if we were here long enough, we'd figure it out," Watson reasoned. "But have you found the sugar?"
Holmes had not. He looked through several more cupboards, and eventually found it. Finding every ingredient proved to be a quest by itself, and trying to combine then was even more difficult.
"Does that say to beat the eggs for three minutes, or five?" asked Watson, pointing to a spot in the recipe.
"I haven't a clue," Holmes snapped. "Understanding cyphers does not make reading messy handwriting any easier!"
When at long last, they completed their task, the cake was not quite what Watson had hoped. But Mrs. Hudson said it tasted fine, and thanked her dear lodgers all the same.