Challenge post from last case: Writing Bingo
I forgot to post some of these XD Here's what I did for the writing BINGO.
Title: And Your Bird Can Cook
Prompts: Action: cooking, Character: John, Theme: Decisions, Object: A Gift, Song: And Your Bird Can Sing by The Beatles
Word Count: 679
Rating: G
Pairing; Sherlock/John
John put his hands on his hips and sighed. Paced around the kitchen, sighed. Picked up a bowl, put it down, sighed. He had no idea what to do with himself. His one year anniversary with Sherlock was coming up and he was trying, and spectacularly failing at making them a romantic dinner.
Echoes of “It’s more romantic” did not help at all. He didn’t even know if Sherlock would eat it, didn’t know if he would like it if he did. John’s knowledge of Sherlock’s tastes was limited basically to take away and instant food. That’s kind of sad, isn’t it? Now that John thought of it, did Sherlock even do presents?
John groaned, pacing once again. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself, but well, he at least was hungry so if Sherlock didn’t want any then he’d just eat it himself! Besides, he’d look like a bit of an ass if he didn’t at least try at a present.
He eventually managed to excavate some pasta that had somehow survived Sherlock’s frequent cabinet purges. As if by magic, there was Alfredo sauce too! Triumphantly, John snatched it up and grabbed some pans on his way to the stove. He whistled to himself as he got the water going. He hoped the toes in the fridge haven’t caused the chicken to go off.
By the time he had everything in pots and pans and boiling and sizzling, he’d whistled and hummed his way past modesty and was swaying his hips as he danced with a spoon. He swayed it in the air like a baton as he took a gulp of his cooling tea, not letting his tapping foot lose time.
It was at this point that Sherlock entered the flat.
He heard the ruckus, smelt the creamy aroma of the cheese sauce and smiled a bit to himself. Alfredo would go nicely with what he had in mind for dessert. He crept past the kitchen, where John murmered “and your bird is green”, to his present’s hiding spot. He pulled out a rather nice fondue set and placed it on the coffee table, minding any clinking as he went.
Making sure John was in the midst of yelling “but you don’t get meeee!”, Sherlock deftly popped opened and lit the gel fuel for the burner. He again waited, this time until a loud rendition of the guitar bridge, to light it and quickly pour some chocolate chips in. He used his hand as a buffer, which was a bit inconvenient because he really needed it to stifle his snickering.
It wasn’t that John had a bad voice, actually he had rather a good one, but it was the fervor with which he belted out the melody that was making Sherlock’s job difficult. At this rate, John was going to ruin his own surprise. Only through utilizing the most rigid of self control methods did he hold it together long enough for the chocolate to melt. He quietly snuck over to the kitchen, noting that dinner was almost done, and that while his voice was good, his dancing was not.
“That’s the third time you’ve sang that verse.”
John jumped and whirred around, spoon throwing a few flecks of Alfredo to the floor. “Christ! Don’t do that! Scared me half to death! You almost got your eye spooned out!” He put a hand to his chest, taking a deep breath. Sherlock chuckled and John glared.
“Well that would certainly make an interesting addition to dinner,” he said, turning back to the living room. “Hurry up with dinner, I’ve already prepared dessert and I don’t want it to burn.”
“Dessert?” John said as he poked his head in through the door. “You, cooking? I had no idea our anniversary came packaged with miracles.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Just hurry up, I’d like to eat before it’s over.”
John slipped into the room and lightly pecked Sherlock’s cheek. “Thank you, happy anniversary.”
“Happy anniversary, John Lennon.”
John smacked his arm lightly before leaving with a light kiss.
Title: And Your Bird Can Cook
Prompts: Action: cooking, Character: John, Theme: Decisions, Object: A Gift, Song: And Your Bird Can Sing by The Beatles
Word Count: 679
Rating: G
Pairing; Sherlock/John
John put his hands on his hips and sighed. Paced around the kitchen, sighed. Picked up a bowl, put it down, sighed. He had no idea what to do with himself. His one year anniversary with Sherlock was coming up and he was trying, and spectacularly failing at making them a romantic dinner.
Echoes of “It’s more romantic” did not help at all. He didn’t even know if Sherlock would eat it, didn’t know if he would like it if he did. John’s knowledge of Sherlock’s tastes was limited basically to take away and instant food. That’s kind of sad, isn’t it? Now that John thought of it, did Sherlock even do presents?
John groaned, pacing once again. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself, but well, he at least was hungry so if Sherlock didn’t want any then he’d just eat it himself! Besides, he’d look like a bit of an ass if he didn’t at least try at a present.
He eventually managed to excavate some pasta that had somehow survived Sherlock’s frequent cabinet purges. As if by magic, there was Alfredo sauce too! Triumphantly, John snatched it up and grabbed some pans on his way to the stove. He whistled to himself as he got the water going. He hoped the toes in the fridge haven’t caused the chicken to go off.
By the time he had everything in pots and pans and boiling and sizzling, he’d whistled and hummed his way past modesty and was swaying his hips as he danced with a spoon. He swayed it in the air like a baton as he took a gulp of his cooling tea, not letting his tapping foot lose time.
It was at this point that Sherlock entered the flat.
He heard the ruckus, smelt the creamy aroma of the cheese sauce and smiled a bit to himself. Alfredo would go nicely with what he had in mind for dessert. He crept past the kitchen, where John murmered “and your bird is green”, to his present’s hiding spot. He pulled out a rather nice fondue set and placed it on the coffee table, minding any clinking as he went.
Making sure John was in the midst of yelling “but you don’t get meeee!”, Sherlock deftly popped opened and lit the gel fuel for the burner. He again waited, this time until a loud rendition of the guitar bridge, to light it and quickly pour some chocolate chips in. He used his hand as a buffer, which was a bit inconvenient because he really needed it to stifle his snickering.
It wasn’t that John had a bad voice, actually he had rather a good one, but it was the fervor with which he belted out the melody that was making Sherlock’s job difficult. At this rate, John was going to ruin his own surprise. Only through utilizing the most rigid of self control methods did he hold it together long enough for the chocolate to melt. He quietly snuck over to the kitchen, noting that dinner was almost done, and that while his voice was good, his dancing was not.
“That’s the third time you’ve sang that verse.”
John jumped and whirred around, spoon throwing a few flecks of Alfredo to the floor. “Christ! Don’t do that! Scared me half to death! You almost got your eye spooned out!” He put a hand to his chest, taking a deep breath. Sherlock chuckled and John glared.
“Well that would certainly make an interesting addition to dinner,” he said, turning back to the living room. “Hurry up with dinner, I’ve already prepared dessert and I don’t want it to burn.”
“Dessert?” John said as he poked his head in through the door. “You, cooking? I had no idea our anniversary came packaged with miracles.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Just hurry up, I’d like to eat before it’s over.”
John slipped into the room and lightly pecked Sherlock’s cheek. “Thank you, happy anniversary.”
“Happy anniversary, John Lennon.”
John smacked his arm lightly before leaving with a light kiss.