Work Text:
Sherlock sat at the kitchen table, chin resting on his clasped fingers. He studied the plate of cupcakes before him like they held important clues somewhere beneath the icing, hints that would help him piece together the puzzle that was John Watson.
John. Cupcakes.
Sherlock never imagined those two things would go together. He never thought baking would be amidst the skill set of his jumper wearing and gun wielding flatmate, but there was no denying the evidence of John’s kitchen activities or the warm and pleasant scent wafting through the flat, making his mouth water. There was no denying the existence of this apron-clad version of his best friend.
John – bit of flour on his cheek and in his hair, mouth wet and coated in sugar.
Sherlock bite hard on his bottom lip and leaned in closer to the cupcakes, trying to note the differences in each one. He was not watching John. He was not watching the way John licked and sucked each finger clean.
At least Sherlock was trying not to watch. He took a sharp breath inwards, pulse racing.
John laughed.
"I’ve seen you stare at crime scenes with less intensity. They’re just cupcakes, Sherlock. There’s no great mystery to them.”
Sherlock growled and snatched a cupcake from the plate, finishing it off in three quick bites.