Chapter Text
“Sherlock you’re doing it!” John shouted at his flatmate.
“I don’t want to.” Sherlock kicked the coffee table in frustration.
“Don’t be so bloody childish it’s for charity.” John looked through the old recipe book his mother gave him. “You can cook I know you can. You’ve seen Come Dine With Me on the telly.”
“So I have to cook 3 courses, you, Mycroft, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson judge it and the person with the most points at the end gets the money.” Sherlock said pouting.
“And gives it to the charity of his or her choice.” John smiled. “We’ve raised £500 so far.”
“As long as I can go last.” Sherlock smiled deviously.
Monday
John had decided to go first. He looked at his menu, hopefully he had a chance. An added incentive meant he could also get some veggies into his boyfriend. He looked down at the menu he’d printed out.
Starter
Spicy Sweet Potatoe Wedges and a Selection of Dips
Main
Vegetarian Chilli Con Carnie
Basmati Rice with Lime
Tortilla Chips and Salsa
Dessert
Caramel Flan and Fresh Strawberries
John sent Sherlock out to Bart’s for the day so he could concentrate on preparation. His guests were due to arrive at 7pm. He had plenty of time. This was going to be fun he thought as Gladstone wagged his tail.
He’d cleaned the fridge the previous day, so it was actually hygienic for a change. The flan sat on the middle shelf ready to be served, prepared 24 hours in advance while Sherlock was sulking because it wasn’t tiramisu. The fresh veg he had bought remained untouched in the veg rack. Sherlock had avoided the fridge as if it was holding a miniature version of Mycroft within.
John peeled and sliced the vegetables, giving Gladstone the odd bit of carrot when he’s whined. Popped them in a pot and covered them in water and let them soften. He poured himself a well deserved glass of red wine and took a sip. Adding spices and a touch of Tabasco he felt happy with his concoction. Things were going very well, almost too well.
He started to make the fresh dips his first the salsa. When he opened the cupboard he realised he had made a fatal error. There was nothing to put it in…
At least Argos wasn’t packed at this time of day he thought to himself. John frowned as he flicked through the catalogue and discovered that they didn’t do a dinner service for five. He ordered two, some were bound to get smashed in a flat where Sherlock Holmes lived anyway.
John grumbled as he dragged the dinner sets out of the shop. Of course he had to choose stoneware which weighted a bloody ton. Five minutes later as he got into a taxi he was reminded of the days when he could carry a 10kg backpack on his back in the army. Those days were long gone now. He slammed the taxi door shut.
Molly giggled as she held the camera.
“So that went well then John. The Tequila slammers and Mexican cocktails went down a treat. How do you feel it went?” Molly asked a swaying John.
“Waz good. Waz funny when Greg had to carry Mrs Hudzon downstairz. Gross when Mycroft pinched Gregz ass though. I fink they liked the food. In’t Sherlock great, he haz a much better ass than hiz brufer.” Molly smiled.
“I think you should probably go to bed now John.” John grabbed Molly’s arm.
“No stay dur partyz just startin.”
“So Mrs Hudson, how would you rate this evening?” Molly asked a rather green looking Mrs Hudson.
“It was a little bit spicy for me, but the dessert was wonderful. John’s such a lovely boy, I’ll give him seven out of ten. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to throw up.” Mrs Hudson made a dash to the toilet.
“Uhm.. Can I help?” Molly called through the door.
“Right then Sherlock how would you rate this evening?” Molly asked. Sherlock seemed rather agitated by the fact John was alone in the bedroom.
“John’s a very talented cook. I’m giving him ten out of ten. Everything was perfect and John looked very handsome in his apron.”
“Oh yes, ‘Kiss the Cook’, not absolutely sure he appreciated it when he was serving though. I did think you were going to punch me when I tried it.” Molly laughed.
“Don’t try it again…” Sherlock replied through his teeth.
“Mr Holmes, how would you rate tonight’s meal?” Molly asked quietly as Mycroft held his head. Mycroft groaned. Greg stood in the hall pretending not to be listening.
“Why are you shouting?” Mycroft whispered Molly bit her lip. “I think it deserves eight out of ten. The food was well prepared, presentation was acceptable. The liquid refreshment was more than adequate.” Mycroft groaned again. “However I think I may have over indulged and should take my leave now.” Greg grabbed Mycroft’s arm and helped him down the stairs.
“I’ll be back in a minute.” Greg yelled to Molly.
“So what did you think then Greg?” Molly asked.
“Delicious!” He said grinning from ear to ear. “I love hot and spicy food. It’s great not to have to cook for myself for a change. Beans on toast every night does not make a happy digestive system.” Lestrade replied. There was a moan from Sherlock and John’s bedroom. Molly’s eyes shot open and she blushed.
“They’re not..” Her hand flew to her mouth.
“Oh for god sake! This is what happens when people don’t have proper jobs. I had one glass of wine!” Lestrade rubbed his temples. “I give John nine out of ten.” Lestrade looked into the camera. “It would have been ten but I’m deducting a point because I don’t really want to listen to you rogering Sherlock.” Lestrade grabbed his coat. “Come on Molly I’ll give you a lift home.”
Molly sat in the passenger seat in Greg’s car and turned the camera around to face herself.
“The first night, and John scored an impressive thirty four out of forty. Well done John, and thanks for doing some extra for the camera woman! Tomorrow it’s Mrs Hudson’s turn. Hopefully the electrolytes and paracetamol I gave her will make her feel a bit better.”
TBC……