The Christmas Cookie Catastrophe

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas, everywhere you go…

Flakes of snow drifted lazily down onto the London streets, sharply contrasting with the deep plum sky. The feeling of Christmas was almost tangible in the chilly air, enveloping the city in an invisible blanket. It had even penetrated a certain flat on Baker Street,

In this certain flat, a lanky figure was sprawled on the sofa, plucking his violin with the air of one whose mind is elsewhere. His friend was in the kitchen doing… something. What was he doing, exactly? As an unfamiliar sugary scent wafted toward him, he decided to investigate.

"John?" He called.

"Yes, Sherlock?"

He heard a metallic clinking sound coming from the other room. "What are you doing?"

"Come and see. I'm just about to take them out of the oven."

"Take what out of the oven?" He strode into the kitchen to see John removing a tray of oddly shaped cookies from the oven, closing the oven door with his knee and placing the cookies on a cooling rack.

"Why are they in such obnoxiously Christmas-y shapes? If would have been so much simpler to make them all circular."

John turned to him, mouth agape. "These are Christmas cookies! You can't just not shape them!"

"I don't see what the big deal is."

"Have you never decorated Christmas cookies?" He asked curiously. "You haven't, have you?"

"No, and I don't particularly-"

"You're helping me."

"What? No! I didn't say I would help you!"

"It's not an option, Sherlock. You haven't lived a full life until you've decorated Christmas cookies at least once. Come on, you're helping me."

"But-"

"Sit!"

Rolling his eyes, Sherlock huffed and sat down as he was forcefully directed. As John busily frosted a cookie, his eyes wandered over the myriad of toppings: M&M's, chocolate chips, red hots, and just about every color and shape of sprinkles imaginable. John had really pulled out all the stops for this, hadn't he?

When a gingerbread man was carefully set in front of him, Sherlock sighed again. "I assume I'm supposed to put the toppings on the cookie to make it look nauseatingly cheerful."

"Yep."

"Not going to happen."

"Sherlock, decorating this cookie is neither the hardest nor the most painful thing you have ever done. I gave you a gingerbread man because they're the most fun. Besides, if you don't start decorating soon, the frosting will dry."

"What a pity that would be…" he mumbled, crossing his arms. He sat there resolutely for a couple more seconds. Then a brilliant idea crossed his even more brilliant mind. Grinning evilly, he snatched a red hot and started arranging sprinkles with extreme precision.

Seeing his concentration, John looked over his friend's shoulder. "See, I told you you'd like this! That hair's really detailed- hey!" Sherlock smirked. "That looks suspiciously like the corpse from last week's case!"

Sherlock's smirk grew even wider. "It is! I even gave the cookie the same facial expression and a red hot for the bullet hole."

Groaning, John put his head in his hand. "That was supposed to be a gingerbread man, not a gingerbread corpse!"

"Technically, corpses are men."

"You know what I mean! Because of that, you get demoted to an ornament," he said, setting another cookie in front of his friend. "If you won't make a normal, decorative ornament, it had better at least not look like something dead."

"Your word is my command."

"Is that sarcasm I detect?"

"Oh, never."

While John sat down to decorate his own gingerbread man (three M&M buttons, chocolate chip eyes, and a cheery sprinkle smile- dull!), Sherlock pondered the possibilities of his empty ornament. Maybe he could- oh! That was perfect.

As John put the finishing touches on his gingerbread man, he glanced up. Seeing, the pleased expression on Sherlock's face, a feeling of dread crept over him. "What did you make now? Sherlock, is that Mycroft?"

"I added the umbrella for clarity."

"He really isn't that fat, you know."

"He isn't now. You should have seen him as a child."

John just shook his head. "I'm almost scared to say this, but try a snowman next. I'll do one, too. Please make it look somewhat normal at least."

They both set to work, identical grins on their faces. After a few minutes, John held up his cookie.

"Ok, Sherlock, look at this. It's you!" With some strategically placed chocolate chips and blue M&M's for eyes, it did look quite a bit like the consulting detective.

"That looks nothing like me."

"It looks exactly like you! See, I even gave it turned up coat collars!"

"My John snowman looks much more convincing," said Sherlock, holding up his cutout snowman. "He's even got a striped jumper."

John laughed. "I do not look like that!"

"Yes, you do!" Both of them laughing now, they surveyed the kitchen.

"These are some terrible-looking cookies."

"On the contrary, I think mine look rather professional," said Sherlock, a look of mock-seriousness on his face.

"Sherlock, you made Mycroft into an ornament. How on earth is that professional?"

"It's quite lifelike."

"It's an ornament."

Sherlock chuckled. "Point taken." They sat there for a while, just enjoying each other's company.

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"Could I… make another?"

"See? I told you you'd like it!"

"It's not that I like it, but there are so many cookies that it would take forever for you to do them all yourself."

"Yeah, because you're always so thoughtful like that. But yes, you can make another."

"Any restrictions on decorating this one that I can find a way around?"

"As long as you'll eat it, I don't care anymore."

As the two friends continued their tasty project, the snow continued to drift down, unnoticed by the cheerful occupants of Baker Street.

JWJWJW

I know this idea has been done before, but I figured I had a bit of a different take. Merry Christmas to you all, and especially to my Holmes, and to Meredith, who is probably reading this. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

~JillianWatson1058