Goodness, I haven't actually found the time or energy to sit down and write more chapters of this recently…Anyway, it really did take my mother two months to prepare her Christmas cake. Inspiration for this.

Holmes was out on a case, which meant Irene had been left to her own devices at 221B and was therefore bored out of her skull. She had read a book for a little while before getting annoyed with it and flinging it across the room in frustration. She had then spent an hour hiding various possessions of Holmes' around the room. His violin, the Persian slipper which housed all of his tobacco, his favourite hat…

And then she was bored again. So, she decided to go and see what Mrs Hudson was up to, in the hope that the landlady would be doing something at least marginally interesting. Irene made her way downstairs to the kitchen, where she found Mrs Hudson covered in what appeared to be icing.

"It's finished!" she declared proudly.

"What is?" Irene asked.

"My Christmas cake, I've been making it since October."

"Since October?" said Irene incredulously.

"Oh yes, when you are very busy it can take time to get round to it and I'm always quite busy because of a certain irritating tenant of mine. I'm sure you know."

Irene laughed and said, "I do."

The cake, which was sat in the middle of the kitchen table, could only be described as a masterpiece; it was completely white and had an iced white snowflake on it. It was simple, but beautifully so.

"It's lovely Mrs Hudson."

"Thank you dear. Just don't tell Mr Holmes it's finished," she requested nervously.

"Why not?"

"He has a habit of ruining my Christmas cakes. It is usually an accident, but it's as if telling him just provokes fate. He fell on the one I made last year."

"How on earth do you fall on a cake?"

"He was conducting an experiment in the kitchen and he fell over-don't ask me exactly what he was doing I have no idea- and landed on the cake."

Irene pulled a face. "Lovely," she said, "Well I'll be sure to keep him away from this one. I'm rather brilliant at keeping him from finding out things…most of the time."

"Thank you dear. Now I'm going out to see a friend, I'll be back around 3 o'clock," said Mrs Hudson cheerfully.

"In that case I'll think I'll take Gladstone for a walk. If I stay in this house any longer with absolutely no human interaction and nothing to do, I think I might kill myself," Irene replied.

"Oh I wouldn't do that dear," said Mrs Hudson as she left, "It would make a terrible mess of the carpets."

And then she was gone, leaving Irene to ponder whether or not her rather casual reply was a result of Sherlock Holmes repeatedly threating to kill himself out of boredom, but never actually going through with it.

Gladstone, it seemed, had been as equally as restless as she was and was therefore extremely excitable during the walk, but well behaved nonetheless.

She didn't understand what Holmes was talking about when he said the dog was trouble, he always seemed well behaved to her. Or perhaps maybe he was just behaving because she wasn't Holmes and he just like to irritate the detective as much as he could.

Now that was definitely over thinking things.

She hung up the dog's leash and walked to the kitchen, Gladstone at her heels, to check on the cake and make sure it was still in one piece.

It was.

Feeling the first pangs of hunger start in her stomach, Irene went to the cupboards to search for something to eat. She heard the front door open and footsteps that sounded like they might belong to Holmes.

"Sherlock? Is that you?" she called warily. If it were anyone but Holmes, she had several tricks up her sleeve that they wouldn't like.

She was relieved when she heard Holmes confirm that he had indeed returned. But she wasn't going to let him know that.

"Do you want something to eat?" asked Irene.

"All right then," Holmes called back from the hallway. He walked through to the kitchen, intending to ask her what she was thinking of having. But then froze in horror when he saw what was occurring on the kitchen table. Irene could not see it, as she had her back to the table as she rummaged through the cupboards.

"Irene," said Holmes in alarm.

"Do you want scones? Do we even have any jam?"

"Irene," Holmes repeated, a little more fiercely this time.

Irene turned her head to face him and snapped, "What?"

"You never, never ever let Gladstone into the kitchen under any circumstances," he replied severely.

"What?"

Holmes nodded his head towards the table and Irene turned round to face it. A look of horror immediately etched itself onto her face.

Gladstone was sat on the table, wagging his tale and looking extremely pleased with himself. He had devoured more than half of the cake.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!"

Holmes began to laugh heartily.

"It's not funny Sherlock! Mrs Hudson is going to kill me," cried Irene in despair.

"Yes she is. But there is one good thing that comes out of this darling," replied Holmes with a grin.

"What's that?"

"At least it's not my fault this time," said Holmes cheerfully.

"I hate you."

"Liar."

A small smile tugged at Irene's lips, but it disappeared quickly.

"What am I going to do?"

Holmes sighed and walked towards her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked directly into her eyes.

"My dear, there is only one thing that you can do," he said calmly.

"What's that?"

"Hide."

Well there you go, thanks to everyone who has reviewed since the last chapter. :) Now I'm quite tired, if there are any spelling mistakes that I have missed (even though I have checked) please let me know. I'm off to watch episode two of Sherlock. :D