AN: My first 221B, so be gentle ;) All the thanks to my beta, I love you man!

When John came downstairs on the morning of December fifth, Sherlock, who had been pondering two methods of strangulation and their effectiveness, looked up irritated.

" I'm just popping down to the shops," John said cheerfully, not at all affected by Sherlock's glare.

Sherlock was still lying on the couch when he returned, clad in his pyjamas, feet in the air.

John only spared him a glance before disappearing into the kitchen.

Sherlock huffed at being ignored, but John didn't even turn around. He was humming under his breath, and Sherlock thought he recognized the tune.

He didn't have time for this, though.

He shifted on the sofa, trying to find a comfortable position and, just possibly, for John to acknowledge him. John, on the other hand, was rummaging around in the kitchen, taking things out of cupboards. Sherlock glanced at the clock. It was too early for lunch, surely?

John was apparently mixing something now.

Sherlock could hear the oven door open and close a while later, and then John joined him with a book, lifting Sherlock's feet and placing them in his lap. When the oven timer went off, John jumped up and returned a moment later with a plate of biscuits. He smiled at Sherlock.

"Something you should know about me: Around Christmas, I love to bake."