Author's note : "Happy, happy, happy birthday Jack ! It's not crème brûlée, but I hope you like it anyway."

It's been six months since Sherlock jumped. Outside, the trees are bare again, and the freezing wind speaks of promised snow. Inside Ella's office, Christmas decorations are up, some of them rather obviously made by her children, and there's even a fire crackling in the chimney. All of this adds up to a cosy atmosphere and John can feel himself relax even as his mind is sifting through memories of happier times.

"Hello, John. How are you today ?"
"I'm fine, Ella, thank you."
"I thought we could try something different this afternoon. Evoke good memories of your time with Sherlock Holmes. Would you tell me one such story ?"

The Christmas party ? No... Maybe that time when... John nods and gives a brief smile as he thinks about his last birthday:

"It was a few months after we met. My birthday was coming up, and I was still working at Sarah's surgery. Somehow, Sherlock found out about my birth date and decided to make my favourite dessert to mark the occasion."

Pausing to gather his thoughts, the doctor can't help but smile as he pictures the result of his friend's efforts. Ella's voice breaks into his thoughts, taking him back to the present :

"What's your favourite dessert ?"
"Crème brûlée."

He sees her starting to smile. She reads his blog and they've been talking regularly since June. But even she can't possibly know what he's about to reveal:

"I'd had a rather bad day at the surgery, not to mention things were still a little tense between Sarah and I. The whole going out for celebratory drinks was scheduled for the week-end, and I never dreamt Sherlock would wish to mark the occasion. When I got to the flat, I was feeling a little sorry for myself. And there he was, standing stiffly in the middle of the room with a thunderous look on his face. He thrusted a can of tinned peaches into my hands, managed a grumpy "Happy birthday", then disappeared inside his room."

John chuckles at the memory, and Ella prods :

"But what about the crème brûlée ?"
"Oh, I'm coming to that... I was stunned. I was trying to figure out if I should knock on Sherlock's bedroom door or just wait until he was ready to come out. I opened the partition to the kitchen, and that's when I saw it. The... crime scene, so to speak. There must have been 10 different pots, each containing something burned beyond all recognition. At first I thought it must have been one of his experiments, but then I spotted the recipe book."

John smiles as he again gets lost in the past. The dirty dishes, the distinctive smell of charred sugar, the French recipe book open at the "Crème Brûlée" page. He hears himself asking his flatmate, disbelief evident in his tone :

"Sherlock... Were you trying to make crème brûlée ? What the hell did you use ? A flamethrower?"
"Of course not !" comes the indignant reply, the words still ringing crystal clear in his head. "I used a flame gun!"

Notes : for those of you willing to try the recipe, I'd recommend using a blowtorch, to brown the sugar... ;-) I tried to put up a link, but it wouldn't work, sorry.

Thank you to Ennui Enigma, who kindly beta-ed this story and made it better with her suggestion !