Sherlock's POV;
It's John's birthday. I was never one for birthday presents. Giving or receiving them was a pain I'd rather not experience. But- John's changed that. I want to give him a present this year. After all he's been through; I think he deserves something nice.
"Are you sure, dear?" Mrs Hudson asks with a weary voice and uncertain eyes.
I sigh "Yes. Don't make me repeat myself."
She nods "Okay then.What would you like to cook for him?" She wonders.
I think for a moment "Spaghetti?" I suggest "He's always had a liking to pasta despite the fact that he gains weight easily and starches aren't a good pick. Maybe I should--"
Mrs Hudson chuckles making me cease my rambling.
"He'll love spaghetti." Mrs Hudson smiles.
"Okay." I nod "Good."
"Right then!" She claps her hands together "Let's go make spaghetti!" she decides gleefully as she makes her way up the stairs. I follow behind her at a steady pace.
Will he like this? /of course he will/ But what if he doesn't? What do I do then? /you try again/ Even so, I can only make him so many putrid meals before he gets fed up /John'll never leave. He needs us/ Haha, no. John's the most independent man I know. He doesn't need us. In actuality; John's better off without us. /well, if you weigh up the pros and cons; he's in more danger alone./ You don't know what you're talking about.
"Okay!" Mrs Hudson says and I blink a few times, registering that I'm in the kitchen.
"What's first?" I ask her.
"We need a pot." She says and I nod.
I stop myself short "Where are the pots?"
Mrs Hudson shakes her head and chuckles.
"Here." She says as she goes to a cupboard and gestures at the pots and pans in it.
"Thank you." I nod as I grab a pot and set it on the counter.
"Okay," Mrs Hudson begins "Now we need spaghetti."
"That's easy." I remark as I stroll to the food cupboard. I make macaroni guns when I'm bored. I take arch shaped pasta and push spaghetti through it, making it shoot pieces of spaghetti. John gets rather annoyed at this, but I just shrug and continue shooting spaghetti at him from behind my chair.
"Here." I chide, handing the spaghetti to Mrs Hudson.
"Good." She praises.
"Now we need oil and hot water." She says.
"I'll put the kettle on." I decide and fill the kettle with water, setting it down on the base to boil. I lean against the counter as Mrs Hudson pours some sunflower oil into the pot, adding salt as well.
"Why do you do that?" I wonder "Add oil and salt?"
"Oh, well. It's to help with the flavour and to make it soft." She smiles.
I nod "So... It's like science?" I inquire curiously.
She chuckles a bit "You could say that. But it's more of an art really."
I knit my brows in confusion then sigh as the kettle clicks.
"So I just pour the water in the pot then?" I ask, kettle in hand.
"Yes." Mrs Hudson nods.
I pour the water in the pot, the water level being nearly at the top before I stop.
"Good." Mrs Hudson praises again. I feel... proud.
"Now what?" I ask, getting excited.
"Well," Mrs Hudson begins "We makes the sauce."
"What do we need for that?" I wonder.
"We need pasta sauce, which is in the fridge. Italian spice, pepper, salt, and mince." Mrs Hudson lists as she gathers the ingredients. She sets it all down on the kitchen table.
"You need an apron, Sherlock. The sauce tends to splat." Mrs Hudson informs as she takes two aprons out of the cupboard.
"This one's for you-" She hands me a black apron. I nod my thanks and put it on, tying it quickly.
"Okay, now we need another pot." Mrs Hudson says.
I take another pot out of the cupboard, setting it on the stove.
"Now what?" I ask, my excitement poking through my voice.
Mrs Hudson giggles "Are you having fun then, dear?" she asks.
"Oh, uhm. Yes." I say with a small smile.
"That's good." Mrs Hudson decides.
"Put the mince in the pot and add some margarine." She instructs.
"How much approximately?" I wonder as I get the margarine out the fridge.
"Two teaspoons."
I nod and put two teaspoons of margarine in the pot.
"Okay," she nods "Now put the mince in the pot."
"Wait-- How do I...?" I examine the mince packet.
"Tear the cling wrap, dear." Mrs Hudson smirks.
"Oh." I say sheepishly as I tear the plastic open with my fingers. I put the block of half frozen meat in the pot.
"Now you break it apart with a wooden spoon while it cooks."
I get a wooden spoon and begin breaking pieces of mince off, browning it evenly.
"Add some salt, Italian spice and pepper."
"How much of each?"
"A teaspoon of each."
I take a teaspoon in my hand making Mrs Hudson chuckle. I shake my head as I measure the proper amount of spice, throwing it in the pot and repeating this two more times.
"Keep mixing it or it'll burn."
I mix the meat, a pleasant sizzling sound filling the room. It smells good so far.
"Now add mushrooms. I'll mix it."
I go to the fridge and get the mushrooms out, setting it on the kitchen table before getting a knife and cutting board. I know how to cut up mushrooms. I've helped John cook before.
I cut up the mushrooms then throw them in the pot.
"Good."
I smile. This is going well. I haven't set anything on fire yet.
"Now add the sauce."
I screw the lid off the glass jar and throw all the contents into the pot.
"Now you mix it. I'll put some garlic bread in the oven."
"Okay." I look down at the bubbling broth. It looks nice and smells delicious.
"Do you..." I trail "Do you think he'll like it?" I wonder hopefully.
Mrs Hudson halts her actions, looking at my face with a soft expression.
"I'm sure he'll love it, dear." She smiles.
/why do you worry so?/ I... I don't know. /well, it's rather foolish if you ask me/ I never asked you. /oh, but you did/ I don't need this right now. Please keep quiet. /fine/
"Sherlock?" I hear. I turn my head to face Mrs Hudson.
"Yes?" I answer in a bored tone.
"Why are you doing this?" She wonders.
"I thought I should be kinder to him. After-after all he's been through. He deserves some sort of repayment. Even though it's a mere meal." I smile softly.
I hear her make an odd sound then her arms wrap around me from behind. I let out a surprised gasp then smile to myself.
"That's very good of you, Sherlock dear." She says cheerily as she releases me.
"Yes, I think so too." I mutter under my breath. I continue mixing the sauce for as long as Mrs Hudson told me to.
"Taste it it now, dear." Mrs Hudson says from her seat at the table. I bring the sauce smothered spoon to my mouth, slowly blowing on the hot liquid. I lick up the sauce and for a moment I'm bolted in place. It tastes... good.
"Well, how does it taste?" She asks.
"It's surprisingly okay." I say with a hint of surprise.
"That's good." Mrs Hudson smiles.
/looks like you didn't screw this one up/ Perhaps. But we still need John to taste it. /for once; I'm going to agree with you/ Why? /not sure. maybe you're happy/ Happy?
"Alright. Let's get the spaghetti off the stove." Mrs Hudson says. I nod.
//after cooking and setting the table//
"Are you sure? He wouldn't mind you joining. I'm sure of it." I say to Mrs Hudson as she inches toward the door.
She chuckles "Oh, no, dear. I'd rather John and you have a nice time alone." She says then pulls me into a hug. I hug her back, somewhat easing my nerves.
"Alright then. I'll be off. Call if you need me." She waves as she heads down the stairs, leaving me alone in the flat with table set.
I sigh heavily as I close the door, leaning against it as I listen to the dripping of the tap in the kitchen. It's just food. Why am I so nervous? Honestly, this is ridiculous.
I push myself off the door then go get dressed, making sure to dress decently. I could've taken him to Angelo's, but that didn't feel heartfelt enough. /like you know what heartfelt feels like/ Maybe I don't, but I googled it. /do you realize how pathetic that is?/ I do. Even so, I think I've done good. /you have. be proud/ I am.
I sit down at the table, my knee bouncing and my mind unquiet. So many scenarios run through my head, all of them ending in disaster. Utter disaster. Why do I think it'll burn? Why do I think he'll be upset? It makes no sense.
I sit like this for twenty minutes before I hear familiar foot falls on the stairs. Why is my heart pounding? I haven't been poisoned, nor have I been running. I'm sure I'd know if I'd been doing both. The door opens and I hear John sigh in content. My breath hitches in my throat as I hear him walk closer to the kitchen.
"Hey, Sherlock. What smells so--" His eyes widen as he examines the kitchen.
"I, uh, I hope you like it." I smile lopsidedly. I get up and stand beside my chair awkwardly, running my hands up and down on my legs.
"Sherlock, this is-" He looks up at me "This is amazing." He chuckles.
"Oh, uh, thank you." /pathetic/ Shut up.
"Would you like to sit down?" I ask and gesture to his chair.
"Oh, uh, yeah. Thanks." He says and strolls over to his chair. I pull it out for him and he smiles at me kindly. I take my seat across from him with a crooked smile.
"Erm, this is nice and all. But- what's the occasion?" John asks with a small frown. I feel my heart drop a bit. He forgot his birthday?
"It's your birthday, John." I say, steepling my hands in front of me and smiling at him.
He blinks a few times then nods "Oh, is that today?" He chuckles sheepishly.
I chuckle awkwardly.
"So, uh, how was work?" I wonder as I begin eating. I'm not hungry, but it'll make John happy.
"Small talk?" John asks with a smirk.
"Uhm, yes." I say, feeling my cheeks heat up.
"It was good. You know, beside death." John says with a chuckle.
"You? How was your day?" John asks, poking at his food. Why isn't he eating? Does he think I poisoned it? That only happened once. I promised I'd never do it again.
"Er, my day was... pleasant?"
John smiles "That was good."
I nod "Okay... good."
He wraps spaghetti around his fork then puts it in his mouth. His eyes widen once again as he stares at me in disbelief.
"This is really good, Sherlock." He says after swallowing.
"Oh, uh, thank you, John." I smile.
He ravenously scarfs down his meal, looking like he hasn't eaten in years.
"You seem hungry." I chuckle.
"Uh, yeah. Sorry. I just haven't had a good meal in awhile. I guess I missed it." John blushes a bit.
"No, it's fine. I'm glad you're enjoying it." I say as I lift my fork to my mouth and put the small amount of spaghetti in my mouth.
"Are you enjoying it?" John wonders as he wipes his mouth with a serviette. I nod, covering my mouth with my hand then swallowing.
"Yes. I think it tastes rather good."
"That's good." he smiles before taking a sip of his wine.
We sit in silence for what feels like forever before John breaks it by clearing his throat. I catch his gaze and wait patiently for his words.
"Uhm, this is really nice. Erm, the food and the wine. But er, why are you doing this?"
I look down at my plate. Why does there always need to be a reason? Can't I just want to do something?
"I..." I trail, slowly lifting my gaze to look at John. I wipe my mouth with my serviette.
"I thought you deserved it. After all the things... all the things I've done and all the things you've had to endure; I thought you could use a nice dinner."
John stares at me blankly. My heart is pounding again. I can feel it hit against my sternum. I clutch at my chest.
"Sherlock..." His eyes trail over me, stopping when he sees my hand on my chest.
"That's... that's so sweet of you." John smiles.
"Really?" I ask in a nearly inaudible whisper. He leans across the table and takes my hand, smiling down at our intertwined digits.
"Honest." He smiles up at me. I smile back, exhaling a breath I've been holding in for far too long.
"Okay." John says and gets up with his plate in hand "I'm gonna get a second serving."
I chuckle as he goes to the counter and refills his plate.
/well it looks like you did it, Sherlock Holmes. you made him happy/ I did it. Finally.
unedited.
word count: 2181