By the time Sherlock arrived home, the entirety of 221B was filled with the sickly-sweet smell of chocolate cake. He inhaled it gratefully as he stepped over the threshold and removed his scarf. He began climbing the stairs to 221B as Mrs. Hudson popped her head around the corner of her door.
"Sherlock!" she exlaimed, smiling. She was wearing an orange, autumn-themed apron that was now covered in various foods. "I thought I heard you come in," she continued, "just thought I'd let you know that your cake's done. Just needs to cool before I can ice it for you." Sherlock smiled and stepped off of the stairs.
"Mrs. Hudson, you're a star!" he said, hugging the woman. She giggled and waved away his compliement.
"Nonsense, I just like a good baking session!" she confessed, patting him on the shoulder. "John's home, by the way. I heard him about twenty minutes ago," she smiled at him and returned to her apartment and Sherlock turned to make his way to his.
He climbed up the stairs with ease and pushed open the unlocked door to 221B to find John spraying air-freshner all over the apartment with all windows open.
"Ah, John -" Sherlock began, but John silenced him with an icy glare.
"You've completely stunk the bloody place out!" John complained, throwing the now half-empty aerosol can at Sherlock who caught it without taking his eyes off of his seething flat-mate. "What were you even doing? I left you a voicemail!" Sherlock stood rooted to the spot.
"I can explain," he said, throwing the can onto the sofa. John sighed and flopped into his chair.
"Oh I've no doubt about that, Sherlock. But next time you have the random impulse to bake, do me a favour? Don't." In reply to this, Sherlock smiled and joined John around the fireplace and taking a seat in his own chair.
"It was for Molly," Sherlock explained as he sat, "the apology I promised her."
"Really?" John asked, raising an eyebrow. "You walk out of a party that she planned for two months and you think a bit of cake is going to fix everything?"
"It's Mrs. Hudson's cake," Sherlock countered, as if that made everything better. John laughed.
"You can't just give her cake, Sherlock! Even if it is a Mrs. H spectacular. You promised you'd make it up to her, not Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock didn't know what to say. In all truthfulness, John thought cake was a lovely apology. He just thought Sherlock could do that little bit more for Molly after all the help and dedication she'd put in over God knows how many years.
"Well... what do you suggest?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't know!" John exclaimed, throwing his hands up and laying back in his chair. "You're in London, take her to a play or something!" Sherlock thought about this for a while, leaving the two in silence. After a few minutes, he got up and went to John's laptop.
"What are you doing?" John enquired, turning in his seat.
"Looking for theatre tickets," Sherlock replied bluntly.
"Why didn't you just use your own laptop?"
"Too far away."
"Really, Sherlock? It's right there!" John sighed, pointing to the laptop that was, in fact, simply five inches away from his own on the same table.
"Mm," came the reply. It was evident that Sherlock wasn't really listening from the speed at which he was typing. John's eyes followed his fingers as they continued to tap swiftly at the keyboard. "Aha!" Sherlock remarked after about ten minutes of searching.
"What?" John asked, standing to look at the laptop screen closer but Sherlock was already closing it and grabbing his coat.
"I'll be back soon," Sherlock called as he left the flat, "I have a musical to see!"
"Okay, but I won't wait up!" John called back, smiling. He made his way to his laptop and flipped it open. The webpage that was open was that of Her Majesty's Theatre. John scrolled down and saw the booking details.
Confirmation: 2 tickets in the name of Mr. S Holmes, January 6th evening performance 7:30pm, total price £82, Phantom of the Opera.