Prompt - Mystrade - Cookies
Gregory Lestrade loved to bake. He may not have been very good at it but he loved to baked. He never burnt anything though. Under baked so cakes turn out to be unnecessarily gooey in the middle. Vile tastes. Egg shells. Wrong amount of ingredients. It looked like it had been run over. Those things were really just on the top of the list of things that could occur whilst baking.
Dancing around the kitchen to one of 5 Star's greatest hits he glanced in the oven. His latest attempt at something appeared to be going well. No burnt edges. Exploding chocolate chips or gooey messes. It was going well. Too well. Something was going to go wrong.
The front door opened and Mycroft entered the home, leaving his briefcase by the foot of the stairs. He tried to call out for Gregory but received no answer. His attempts flooded out by the atrocious noise coming from the kitchen.
After making his way to the kitchen he was confronted with the image of Gregory singing into a wooden spoon. He watched this for about two minutes before the song ended and coughed to show his presence. "M- Mycroft! How long were you standing there?"
"Two minutes roughly," he smirked. "Now how about catching me up on this?"
Gregory watched and Mycroft gestured to the pink apron, flour covered face and wooden spoon. He probably should have cleaned up first. "I erm… I made cookies!" He blushed. "They're almost done! Do you want one?"
"No thank you. I must remember my diet," he smiled. Indeed the air smelt like freshly baked cookies. Just like the ones his old cook use to make. From what he could tell the cookies were still in the oven. "I do believe they are done however."
It was almost amusing watching the way Gregory rushed to the oven. Placing oven mitts, Mycroft didn't even know they owned, on and producing a tray of perfect looking cookies. The smell wafted throughout the kitchen and Mycroft felt his stomach flip at the possibility of dessert.
"They're perfect!" Gregory exclaimed.
"You sound so shocked."
"Well they never turn out the way they are meant to," he replied. Picking one up from the tray. "You sure you don't want one?"
"I'm sure thank you, Gregory," Mycroft smiled. He had experienced the man's baking before. It didn't end so well the last time. Gregory shrugged taking a bite into the cookie. Mycroft watched as Gregory's face screwed up and he ran to the bin to empty his mouth. "Something wrong, dear?"
"Salt!"
"Excuse me?" He asked. Some people put a pinch of salt within some baking products. So it wasn't a thing to be complaining about.
"Instead of sugar! I put salt. Oh Jesus my tongue."
Mycroft laughed against the door frame as he watched Gregory rush to get a drink of water. Maybe he could get a hold of his old cook. That way she could give Gregory some baking lessons. Cook would be repulsed at the idea of Mycroft living within a home made dessert free environment. Her best quality.
Either way somebody had to because Mycroft Holmes refused to be brought down by a salt poisoned cookie.