Sentiment || Sherlock Holmes

The Reichenbach Fall

Dr. John Watson was not stupid. As much as Sherlock liked to remind his dear friend that he better served as a reflection of Sherlock's own brilliance, John was not stupid.

"You see, but you don't observe!"

Ah yes, observing and seeing. That was a favorite point of superiority with Sherlock Holmes. Well, there just so happened to be some things John was able to observe while Sherlock was left in the dark.

Evelyn moved around in the small kitchen of 221B Baker Street, baking a batch of cookies. The day before, she declared she was going to actually cook something edible in the apartment, and managed to follow-through on her goal. Step one involved reorganizing the space so that Sherlock's specimens and experiments had a whole block of cabinets and counter space to themselves while the rest of the kitchen stayed uncontaminated. John helped with this part eagerly, very happy to shoo Sherlock away for a few hours and clean. The whole experience was wonderfully cathartic.

The smell of flour and butter wafted through to the living room where John sat at his desk, writing up a blog entry. Eve hummed a little while she worked, and John caught flashes of her blue apron in his peripheral vision as she gathered and mixed ingredients.

Evelyn added the bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips to the dough. Sherlock's bedroom door creaked open when the scent floated down the hallway. The tall detective stomped down the hall, the hem of his burgundy dressing gown snapping at his legs. He'd been in a sour mood ever since he had returned from a visit with one of his homeless network members to find his kitchen ruined.

"You've put in too much chocolate." Sherlock spat, looming on the opposite side of the kitchen island from Eve.

Oh lord, here he goes. Thought John.

Evelyn continued stirring, glancing at Sherlock over her left shoulder with a smile. "Have I?"

"One cup is sufficient for the proportions and consistency of the recipe. You've added the entire bag, which is almost double the amount required." Sherlock continued, crossing his arms.

"That's true." Eve agreed.

Sherlock stomped around the island to stand behind Evelyn and lean over her shoulder. John noticed her falter and slow down a bit in her stirring.

"You're doing it wrong." Sherlock insisted.

"Well, I'm afraid we can't take out any of the chocolate." Eve said. "I promise that all the superfluous chocolate makes the cookies more gooey and delicious in the end, but if you don't trust me, why don't you help with the rest of it." She suggested.

John let out a short laugh to himself. Sherlock baking cookies? Yeah, as soon as hell freezes ov-

"Alright." Sherlock agreed.

What?

John shifted in his seat, turning as to have a better view of the kitchen. He propped his chin on his hand, watching.

"Okay, you stir some more and I'll get the cookie sheets ready." Evelyn instructed, handing over the bowl and spoon.

Sherlock took over, mimicking Eve's speed and motion while she placed two stainless steel sheets onto the counter. She got out four tablespoons and a spatula, surveying Sherlock's progress over his shoulder.

"That looks pretty good. I think we can start placing them." She handed him two spoons. "So first you scoop a bit of the dough like this," Evelyn used her spoon to get a generous glob of cookie batter. "Then use the other spoon to shape it into more of a sphere and to scrape it off of onto the sheet. We'll do twelve on each sheet, going three down and four across." She slid the other sheet over to Sherlock. "You work on this, and I'll do the other one."