"I'm bored," he says, the moment he sees Lily's face. It's been four days since his last case, and even trying to figure out where Robert went after he stole the coronet or even what happened to Susan Cushing's ex-boyfriend (Ray? Ray.) wasn't enough. For once, he was no closer than the police. Lestrade even called to let him know the results of Michael's psych evaluation and that he pled guilty and went to a mental institution despite having no history of hallucinations or delusions. It was a break due to the stress and depression his divorce caused, they determined. What was Sherlock supposed to do with that? That wasn't his profession.
John had taken Rosie to the park and out for ice cream, and she had dragged him into her games and stories, which helped — but only slightly. The girl was creative, but her stories never made sense; he couldn't deduce anything about what would happen and what he was supposed to do because he wasn't sure she even knew when she started the story.
John didn't dare give Sherlock another pointless conundrum because Sherlock threatened him if he did. For nearly three whole days they never saw Lily, either. The brownies were gone, and there were two cookies left that Sherlock was going to eat if Rosie and John didn't hurry up and eat them first (despite the number of cookies he'd already had). Her dish she brought the brownies up on was in the sink, and this morning, when Sherlock finally got out of bed instead of dying of boredom in there, he found it and the cookie dish clean and drying on the drying rack. It was lunch time, and John and Rosie were eating. Sherlock had some of what John had made and then turned back to those dishes.
"I'm taking these downstairs," he said.
"That bored?" John asked.
"Yes."
He walked downstairs, wondering what in the world Lily was going to do to cure his boredom, because nothing will short of a murder. He'll give her the dishes, and hopefully she'll say she'll make more baked goods, and then he'll go back to being bored again. What was he going to say? Could he ask her to do something? — like go out and look for a body themselves, since Lestrade clearly wasn't.
But she just opened the door before he could think, like she knew he was there, and he says it. "I'm bored."
She laughs. "Me, too. I'm going to the grocery."
He thinks a moment, then sighs. Anything would be better than sitting in 221B, waiting for a case. "Can I go?"
"Sure." She smiles, then sees the dishes in his hands. "I'll just set these downstairs and then we can go."
,,,O,,, ,,,O,,, ,,,O,,,
{_;_;_;_} {_;_;_;_} {_;_;_;_}
\_|_|_/ \_|_|_/ \_|_|_/
They get a taxi to the grocery, and it's a short ride. On the way, Sherlock laments his boredom, the lack of clues about Robert, and his boredom once again.
"It's been four days," Lily says, though she herself has been getting bored.
"I know," Sherlock agrees. "Far too long to go without a case. And the last one didn't end in a satisfying conclusion."
"How often do they?"
"I mean that John and I weren't even there for the confession. We never talked to Michael — we didn't need to."
"I see."
He sighs loudly as the taxi stops. Lily pays, then they get out, heading into the grocery store. Lily grabs a trolley and starts heading down aisles.
"What do you need here, anyway?" Sherlock asks, perusing the biscuits himself as they pass.
Lily pulls her list out of her pocket. "Jam, milk, bread, flour, brown sugar, butter, pasta sauce, spaghetti noodles, and cheese. I think that's everything."
"Some of those sound more important than the others."
Lily laughs. "What do you need?"
"A case."
"And you think you'll find one here?"
"One can only hope."
Lily picks up some biscuits that weren't actually on her list, then continues on, looking for the baking aisle. They pass boxes of mixes until they get to the flour and sugar. Lily grabs the kind she normally uses, then turns back to Sherlock, who's holding a box of chocolate cake mix. "What've you got that for?" she asks.
"It looks good."
"Are you hungry?"
"Maybe a little bit."
Lily chuckles, takes the box, then puts it back on the shelf. "Well, if we're making a chocolate cake, we're making it from scratch." Her mind goes over her grandmother's recipe for the chocolate cake Liam requested every year for his birthday. "I think I need more cocoa powder and confectioner's sugar. Just in case." Sherlocks grabs both and puts them in the trolley, then heading off to find the other things she needs. He goes for the dairy aisle first, his long legs and her pushing the trolley putting considerable distance between them.
"Hold on!" Lily says, laughing.
They quickly get what she needs, Sherlock not even bothering to look when Lily stops to look at something she doesn't need. He just takes the trolley and keeps on going. Lily looks after him, but she still can't decide if she wants these crisps or not. Her snack didn't do much to curb her appetite.
Ultimately, she decides to go to Speedy's instead when they get back to the flat; she hasn't been in a while. When she finally finds Sherlock, he's at the chip and pin machine, groceries bagged, paying.
"Sherlock!" Lily exclaims, pulling out her wallet, though it's too late.
"What?" he asks, putting his card away.
"Why did you pay for that? They were my groceries."
He grabs the bags and starts taking them outside, forcing her to follow. "But it will be my chocolate cake, right?"
She chuckles a bit as she hails a cab. "I suppose so."
,,,O,,, ,,,O,,, ,,,O,,,
{_;_;_;_} {_;_;_;_} {_;_;_;_}
\_|_|_/ \_|_|_/ \_|_|_/
Sherlock protested to the idea of going to Speedy's, wanting cake, but Lily insisted she was hungry and cake was not a good meal — and it would take too long to make for her to wait. "Besides," she said, "it's not like you have a case right now." He mumbled in response.
Speedy smiled when Lily entered, and she smiled back. "Hello."
"Hello, Lily!" he said. "Haven't seen you in a while. I thought you'd moved out already."
"No, I've just been a bit busy with this one." She gestured to Sherlock.
He squinted at Sherlock. "You're the detective, aren't you?"
Sherlock sighed. "Yes."
Speedy nodded. "Well, it's my pleasure to serve a local celebrity. What can I get you?"
Lily ordered what she had last time, while Sherlock took longer to decide. They didn't wait for their food long, however, and they took it down to Lily's flat to eat. As they ate, Lily got out her recipe and ingredients, knowing Sherlock was already impatient. He ate more than she ever seen him eat, besides baked goods, and that still wasn't much. When they were both finished, she sat her phone down on the table. "I hope you don't mind, but I always like to listen to music when I bake."
"Anything that will get this cake done."
She chuckled and turned on her usual playlist. He didn't seem to pay attention to the music much, but Lily often hummed as she couldn't just be silent when certain songs played. She loved them too much.
"Preheat the oven to 120," she said, and Sherlock went to the oven and looked at it for a moment with a furrowed brow. She laughed and showed him how. "You don't do a lot of cooking, do you?"
He shrugged. "John and Mrs. Hudson always do."
They started mixing the dry ingredients, Lily letting Sherlock measure out the flour, though as she watched him about to pour in a heaping cup, she quickly reached over to stop him. "You have to level it out." She did so, swiping the excess flour back into the container.
He poured the leveled flour in. "Does it really matter?"
"It's baking, Sherlock. It all matters."
From then on he was very exact in his measurements, if some sugar and baking powder fell onto the counter. Lily was no better in this department, spilling butter and milk and egg whites everywhere as well. The cocoa powder was the worst, as she knocked the tin over when she went to dump it in the mixing bowl. Sherlock scrambled to grab it as it fell, cocoa powder raining down to the floor.
He was stirring while she got a cake pan, and when the batter was ready, they very carefully dumped it into the pan — but some still spilled anyway. Lily put the pan in the oven, then turned back to Sherlock, who was licking the spoon. She laughed. "You better hope you don't get salmonella." He merely shrugged in response and continued licking the spoon.
Lily started cleaning up, humming along to her music. Sherlock helped by scraping the mixing bowl clean. The song changed to one of Lily's favorites, and as she worked, she absently sang along under her breath.
"Sometimes it rages, rock a little. Even when it's calm, rock a little. Just like the sea, still rock a little. Say it was just like me. Rock a little."
"Well, I know why you like this one," Sherlock suddenly said, and Lily almost jumped.
"What?"
"Your name's in the title." He gestured to her phone as Stevie Nicks sang, 'It's about time, Lily.'
"That's not why," Lily argued. "It's just a good song."
"But that helps, doesn't it?"
"Maybe." She went back to cleaning and couldn't help but sing again. "She's gone now. She says, 'I've gone far beyond that song.' Rock and roll ballerina, where else would she go?" As the chorus played again, she was sure she could hear Sherlock humming, but he was putting the bowl in the sink with his back to her. She wiped the counter, got the broom for the fallen cocoa powder, and sang just a little bit louder. "Go ahead, Lily, hit it. Hit it. It's about time, Lily. Hit it."
When they were done cleaning, she looked at the timer on the oven. Thirty minutes. The song faded out, and she turned to Sherlock. "Vanilla or chocolate icing?"
He thought a moment. "Vanilla."
She got out the powdered sugar and butter and vanilla extract, then plugged in her mixer. This recipe she had memorized, so she told Sherlock how much sugar to put in and then mixed the rest in until it looked right. By that time they had fifteen minutes left. She put the icing in the fridge. "Want to watch crap telly?"
"The cake will be done in fifteen minutes."
"But it has to cool before we can ice it."
"Alright."
They sat on the couch and Lily turned on some reality TV, which they watched for about an hour (she pulled the cake out of the oven when it was ready and then came right back). She lost track of time for being amused at Sherlock's annoyance at how people were acting. It got to her, too, sometimes; it was nice to have someone to complain with.
Sherlock rolled his eyes at the TV. "Why does she care so much when he's running around behind her back with Jessica?"
Lily's brows furrowed. "How do you know?"
"Look at him! He's so obvious. Surely she can see that."
"I certainly can't."
"Even so he's an imbecile."
"That I can see."
"Jeremy is better for her, anyway. They have a great deal in common, if only he weren't with Olivia."
"Olivia doesn't even like him anyway."
"How can you tell?"
"Listen to the way she talks to him. She's just there for his money."
"Of course."
By the time that episode ended, Sherlock was grumbling, so Lily decided it was time to ice the cake. She handed Sherlock a spatula and they both got to work on two different sides of the cake. It didn't look the best, but Lily wasn't too worried about that as it was immediately going to be eaten, anyway. As soon as they were done Sherlock got out a knife and began slicing. It was nice and fluffy, and the icing was delicious. It reminded Lily of being at her grandmother's house on Liam's birthday. She always ordered lemon pound cake for her own birthday. She made a mental note to make it for Sherlock, John, and Rosie some time. Maybe on Rosie's birthday, though she'd have to ask when that was.
"Should we cut some pieces for John and Rosie?" Lily asked, already grabbing the knife.
"I suppose."
"And Mrs. Hudson, too."
Sherlock sighed a bit but he didn't protest. Half the cake was still left by the time they were done cutting pieces. Lily had him carry the cake up anyway, so he would have it in the flat to eat on for the next few days. Mrs. Hudson, John, and Rosie were very impressed when she told them Sherlock helped make the cake.
"How'd you get him to do that?" John asked, already digging in. He and Rosie had just returned from the park.
"It was his idea," Lily replied, watching the man in question cut himself a second piece of the cake.
"There isn't any poison in this, is there?"
Lily laughed. "I hope not; he's on his second slice."
John shook his head, but Sherlock spoke through a mouthful of food. "I like cake."
"Clearly," John said. He finished his slice then cut another thick one. He wrapped it up and gave it to Lily. "Here. I'm sure he didn't help that much. You ought to enjoy the cake you slaved over all day."
"He did, actually," Lily replied, though she took the cake anyway. It reminded her too much of her grandmother for her to protest.
"Good job, Lock," Rosie said, cake and icing covering her mouth. "You should make this all the time."
John laughed. "Yes, he should."
Lily left soon after, happy to have a respite from the boredom. Sherlock seemed happier, too, after a day full of something to do. She only hoped he would get another case soon, though she wouldn't object to baking another cake with him.