AN: I just want to give a big Happy Birthday to The Green Eyed Cat! I can't make you a cake, but you might enjoy a slice vicariously through these guys.

Disclaimer: I don't own, because if I did the guys would be wearing a lot less clothing throughout the series.

John had cleaned the flat- twice! The floor was so clean that he felt reasonably sure he wouldn't poison himself while eating off of it.

And it had only been one day so far!

Sherlock had gone to Australia for a case- John hadn't gone because he had been expecting some alone time with Jim- and Jim had suddenly run off somewhere to take care of some business emergency or something- John never asked for specifics, he figured it was safer that way- and the doctor had no clue as to how long either man would be away for.

He had called Sara about more hours at the clinic, but a wave of healthiness had swept the city and they didn't need anyone at the moment. He had never before wish for a plague to strike, but a that moment he would take anything if it relieved the boredom.

'This must be how Sherlock feels between cases.' He mused. 'I should keep that in mind the next time he tries shooting the walls.'

Taking a walk through the flat- his fifth one- to see if anything else needed doing, he was suddenly struck by an idea as he looked at the clean kitchen.

'Well... I haven't done that in a while.' He mused as he grabbed his jacket and headed for the door.


Jim exited his car at the same moment as Sherlock stepped out of his cab, the two men glared at each other a moment before decidedly ignoring the other completely.

They had quickly determined- just after Jim had started dating the good doctor- that John was more important to each of them than any rivalry that they had going on. But that in no way meant that they had to like the other man.

As they moved to the black door of their destination they both paused and stiffened. The knocker had been straightened, and that could only make one thing: Mycroft.

The only thing besides John that these two could agree on was their mutual dislike of the elder Holmes. Bracing themselves for an unpleasant encounter, but not about to leave their John to the pompous mercies of the British Government, they hurriedly moved into the old building.

They were immediately hit by a smell wafting its way down the stairs.

It was a sight to see after that: two grown men, both in expensive suits, pushing and shoving the other to be the first one up the stairs.

Bursting through the B flat door they ignored Mycroft- who was calmly sitting on the sofa with a pleased smile- and fought each other to get into the kitchen.

"The cheese scones are mine, Sherlock!"

"Then unhand the lemon bars!" This carried on for several minutes, and, after one terrible moment when a tray of snickerdoodles almost landed on the floor, a commanding voice rose above the babble.

"QUIET!" As soon as silence descended over the kitchen John moved to the oven and removed two round pans, and two sets of eyes grew round at the sight.

John had made his chocolate cake! And if he'd made the cake then that meant that he'd also...

"If the two of you behave I'll let you share the bowl once I'm through frosting, but I'm afraid that I've already promised the spatula to Mycroft." The two younger men both turned nasty glares on the smug looking ginger in the other room.

"Now I still have some preparations to make while the cakes cool, so go sit and I'll bring you all something in a moment." Unable to argue the request, especially not with John's chocolate cake on the line, they headed into the sitting room to wait.

After a few moments, John brought a tray with three plates loaded with goodies and three tall glasses of milk.

"Now eat up, but save room. I've still got the domino cookies and the angel food cake to make before I'm out of ingredients- again." With a pointed look, but not unhappy one, at Mycroft, John headed back into the kitchen.

"Well, it has been a week since you two left him to his own devices." The ginger haired man said as he picked up one of the mini cupcakes that were on his plate.

"He's been baking nonstop since the first day you were gone. I only regret that I didn't realize what he was doing until the third day, though I'm sure that the local homeless shelters all appreciate his kindly donations; as do DI Lestrade and his team, no doubt." Neither Jim or Sherlock could comment as they each had a mouth full at that moment, but they each winced at the thought that John had been baking all this time and they had missed it.

He didn't get in the mood to do it often, but when he did it was a time to be celebrated.

"I managed to arrive just in time to help restock his dwindling supplies- of which Anthea should be arriving with more any moment now- and he has been kind enough to let me sample his treats before he distributes them." Finally popping the mini confection into his mouth, Mycroft shot both men a superior smile.

Jim and Sherlock shared a glance horror and resignation.

They had almost missed out on John's baking! And what was- almost- worse was that they had Mycroft to thank now for the treats that they were consuming at a rapid rate.

They owed him. They owed Mycroft. The smug bastard was rubbing that fact in their faces and there was nothing that they could do about it.

A welcome distraction arrived in the form of Mycroft's PA hauling several bags into the room and setting them down in the kitchen doorway.

"Is there anything else you need, ?" The PA asked while valiantly trying not to drool over the peanut butter bars on the counter top.

"I've told you to call me John, but no: there's nothing else I need. Thank you." Placing several of the bars into a resealable bag- as well as a few other items that she had looked at longingly- John ushered the woman out of his kitchen.

Scurrying away to nibble her reward in peace- she had no intention of sharing her bag of goodies with her boss' sweet tooth- Anthea left the men to their own devices.

As John put away the groceries the three men looked over their empty plates and tried to come up with reasonable excuses as to why they needed to be given more.

"Don't even think about it!" Came the authoritative voice of all things sweet and delicious from out of the kitchen.

"And we're going to have dinner before anyone gets cake!" Realizing with horror that they would all be made to not only spend an undisclosed amount of time together, but that there was the very real chance of dessert being withheld if they complained too much the three men put on their very best unconcerned masks and gritted there teeth.

There was no way that one of them was not going to have a slice of cake if the other two were going to get some.

"And what would you like for dinner, Johnny?" Jim asked in his sweetest voice, trying to tip the odds in his favor of getting a larger piece than the others.

Latching onto the plan, Sherlock and Mycroft quickly chimed in.

"I can call Angelo and have him deliver something."

"There is this fabulous little Chinese place that does an amazing spicy egg roll, if you are in the mood for it at least." John popped out of the kitchen at that moment with a chocolate covered bowl and spatula, effectively silencing all talk.

Handing the spatula to Mycroft, and the bowl to Sherlock, John gave Jim a wink as he headed back into his domain.

"I'll eat whatever, just as long as it doesn't bite back I'm fine with it." The three men barely heard him as they were all engrossed in licking every speck of the hand-made chocolate butter cream icing off of their respective utensils.

Well, Mycroft licked, Jim and Sherlock battled over who got to put their finger in the bowl next.

By the time they were done John had already called in their orders to the Indian place he liked.

"I hope everyone's in the mood for curry, because that's what we're having." No-one said a word of protest, not wanting to offend and risk receiving a smaller piece than the others.

All in short order- but what felt like an eternity to the three waiting men- dinner was over with and the cake was brought out.

Four layers- John had sliced each round in two- covered in chocolate butter cream icing and topped cherries and more icing done in intricate swirls; it was a thing of beauty.

They dug in like men who had never before seen food.

By the time the dust had settled John had yet to take more than a bite from his- reasonably sized- slice, and the rest of it was gone.

Too stunned for words, the ex-soldier quietly ate his piece before clearing the table.

"Well, I'm done in for the day. Sherlock, could you help Mycroft load the rest of my baking efforts into his car? He's promised to drop them off at a local shelter and it would go a lot faster with help." Completely oblivious to the silent, recriminating stares Mycroft was receiving- he'd had no intention of taking the treats anywhere but his own house- John began cleaning up the kitchen.

"Of course John, I'll even go with him. I'm sure unloading them will be as much of a task as loading them was." Shoulders slumping in resignation- he had so wanted all those little confections waiting for him in the morning- Mycroft texted his driver that they would be making a pit stop before heading home.

As soon as the two Holmes' were gone John strolled over to Jim, piping bag in hand.

"I like to lick my icing too, you know." He said as he squeezed a dollop onto Jim's neck before licking it off.

Smirking at the startled/lustful/playful expression on his lover's face, John made his way up to his bedroom.

"Loss the suit, Jim. I'd hate to leave a chocolate stain on a Westwood after all." Stripping as fast as he could, Jim practically ran up the stairs and into his lover's waiting embrace.

It turned into a long night after that. Jim found out that John's favorite dessert was him.


AN.2: So, what did you think? Too much? Not enough? What? Please leave a review and let me know.