The next morning, John and Sherlock walked down for breakfast. Mrs. Holmes had made pancakes and toast with jam.
Or pancakes with jam.
John ate his in a heartbeat, but Sherlock hadn't even touched his plate. Mrs. Holmes looked worried.
"Something wrong, honey?"
Sherlock shook his head. "Not hungry, that's all."
John rolled his eyes. "You have to eat!" He exclaimed.
Sherlock slammed a fist on the table.
"I'm not hungry!"
John went over to him and picked up a handful of toast, and shoved it into Sherlock's mouth. He chewed it, then swallowed. John smiled.
"See? Not that bad!"
Mrs. Holmes looked utterly confused. "What?"
John shrugged. "I'm not sure."
"What the hell is going on?" Mrs. Holmes repeated.
This time, there wasn't an answer. Sherlock finished his toast without another word.
John hugged him. "Thanks for eating."
Sherlock smiled. "Only because you jammed a bunch of bread down my throat."
John laughed. "And you liked it!"
