johnlock oneshots

The cake

I wake up late in the morning, happy like a cat after his nap. I was lucky my birthday was on a Saturday. I stretched in my bed, enjoying a few more minutes in the warmth of the blankets before standing up and putting some clothes on. Then, I went down stairs, ready to make myself some tea and to suffer the whines of Sherlock.
I don't expect him to remember my birthday and that's why I was expecting that day to be perfectly mundane.
But, when I arrive down stairs, I am dumbfounded to find my flat mate pacing around the sofa, his brows furrowed. Usually, he would have been him sitting in his chair, thinking, or in the kitchen, making an experiment... I coughed lightly to make him aware of my presence. Sherlock almost jump to the ceiling.

"Ah, John! Morning! Come and sit here!" he said, pointing to my chair. I oblige and he almost runs to the kitchen. What did he make up again? I hope it's not one of his experiments with severed body parts

But surprisingly, he comes back with a tray charged with two cups and an overflowing teapot. He set it up on the table next to my chair and poured me some tea.

"Wait!" he says as he goes back to the kitchen. Some clattering noises echo in the flat and as I turn my head toward the source of the noise, I hear Sherlock shout in my direction: "Don't move, I get it! Everything is fine, I'm coming!"

I sigh internally and go back to my cup of tea. I hear my flatmate craking a match and after a few more seconds (and a few more cursing), he comes back in the living room with a plate in his hands. And in this plate, there is the most horrendous birthday cake in the world. It was bright blue, with tons of icing and some skittles sprinkled on it and a marzipan sign that says "appy birthday".

I feet my brain stop for a few seconds when I realise it is a perfect replica of the cake we saw at the supermarket last time I dragged Sherlock there. Not only he remembered that today is my birthday, but he remembered the cake too. Even if I just showed it to him to make some small talk, he remembered.

I look up to Sherlock and feel my heart stop this time: he looks so pleased of himself. I give him the best smile I can and show him his chair. "You remembered my birthday! And the cake! It looks delicious, thank you! Let's taste it!"

My friend's smile widened so much I think it could circle his face three time. Sherlock grabs a knife that he apparently slipped in his back pocket and cut one big piece and one thin piece. He, obviously, took the latest.

I munch on the first bite and have to gulp it down painfully. When I look back to Sherlock, there was so much hope in his eyes that I can't disappoint him. So, I nod and take another bite. This continues until I ate all my piece of cake. Of course, Sherlock haven't eaten a single crumb of his own piece. But he looks so happy, I can't even be mad at him.

"So, what about a little trip to the morgue now? It'll be fun!" Sherlock adds, joyfully. I have to fight the pressing need to facepalm before explaining to him why going to the morgue was not a common way to spend time, especially not on a birthday.

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Hey, I hope you're still enjoying this story and I wanted to thank you for reading it, it really means a lot!! <3

I also wanted to apologise for all the spelling/grammar mistakes and other "sentence-that-dosen't-mean-anything-because-I-thought-gibberish-was-spelled-gribbish"... If you see any mistake, just tell me and I will correct it!

PS: I couldn't find a way to put it into the story, but I think jawn's favourite cake ever would be a Victoria's Sponge, with the cream and jam in the middle.