Mycroft Holmes- Tomatoes (c)

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There were many benefits to being engaged to Mycroft Holmes, and truthfully you should claim that the best thing about the relationship was something about his personality or the such; in all honesty, you knew it was the fact that he was an amazing chef and owned Diogenes. You had been with him long before he had set up the restaurant in New York, and you had encouraged the endeavour knowing it would be a great hit along with a lovely change for the two of you to be out of London for some time.

It had been exactly as you had thought, also providing you lodgings with the large flat above the restaurant so that the two of you could make a home for yourselves in America. Although you had a perfectly good kitchen upstairs if it was for a special date night (such as tonight) where he was cooking for you, he insisted to use the downstairs kitchen after the chefs had left for the night.

You perched yourself on the work surface watching him prepare dinner. You didn't know what he was cooking as he told you it would be somewhat a surprise.

Just seeing him work made you smile. You enjoyed seeing him doing the one thing he loved ever so dearly, even if it wasn't something you were overly keen in doing. Of course, you could cook, but Mycroft wasn't just a cook, he was an artist whose medium happened to be food. He had great skill and precision in his work, making you not wish to interfere, not until you saw the dreaded ingredient be lifted into his hand.

"If you put tomatoes in that I'm going to kick you in the face," you said with narrowed eyes, jumping down from the kitchen work surface.

He turned to you, cocking an eyebrow. Mycroft saw your anger of a relatively menial thing, bringing a gentle laugh from his lips. His hands raised as he dropped the tomato away from the food he was cooking.

"I am sorry, Love," he chuckled.

You continued to playfully glare at the man that you loved.

"And so, you should be. Tomatoes have no place in cooking," you stated turning up your nose at the thought. Granted it was an irrational hatred of the food, but it was disgusting and you were sure to never have to eat the things again.

Mycroft turned away from the cooking he was doing, reaching a hand out to loop around your waist and pull you to him. The height difference was fairly significant so you were forced to look up at him to see his face.

"You are a peculiar woman," he chuckled.

"But you love me for it," you smirked.

He couldn't help but laugh slightly, leaning down to press his lips to yours.

"That I do. I am completely and utterly in love with you."

"I love you too."

~*~

Written by Charlotte. 

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