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Pan- Check.

Spatula- Check.

Bread- Check.

Cheese- Check.

Butter- Ch-….

“Sherlock? Where’s the butter?”

“I used it for an experiment.”

“And you couldn’t have told me that before I went to the grocery so I could get more?”

No response.

You let out a little growl at the ceiling, “I’ll just have to ask-“

“I used all Mrs. Hudson’s as well.”

You slumped against the counter. All you had wanted was a grilled cheese. Just toasty bread and melted cheese. But of course in this household that was asking too much.

Two weeks. Two weeks you’d wanted a grilled cheese and every time you went to make one something came up. Needless to say that at this point the craving was almost unbearable.

John came into the kitchen to find you looking at your ingredients with the most dejected look on your face. You looked like a kicked puppy and it was damn near heartbreaking. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders and kissed your temple, “Don’t look so upset. It’s just a sandwich.”

Your lip trembled, “All I want is a grilled cheese, John. I don’t understand why it has to be so hard.”

He tried to stifle a laugh and you shot him a glare, shrugging his arm off you, “Next time you're craving something don’t ask me to make it for you.”

You stormed out of the kitchen to jab a finger at Sherlock, “You either. And that includes tea.”

Before either of them could respond, you’d disappeared into the room you shared with Sherlock and slammed the door. A second later Let it Go from Frozen blared behind the closed door and John groaned, running a hand down his face, “She’s Disney upset.”

“I don’t understand why. It’s just a sandwich… that has only one ingredient.”

“You don’t have to understand it, Sherlock. Just go to the store and get butter.”

“You do it.”

“She’s your girlfriend.”

“She’s your sister.”

“You’re the reason we don’t have any in the first place.”

“So?”

“So if you don’t go, I won’t make you tea, I will tell Mrs. Hudson not to either, and you’ll have to make it yourself.”

“Easier than going to the store.”

“I don’t just mean this time, Sherlock.”

“Fiiiine.”

The consulting detective slipped off the couch, acting like a difficult teen as he dragged himself over to the door and pulled on his coat and scarf, groaning and moaning the entire time. John called after him as he descended the stairs, “And come back in a timely manner. Don’t doddle.”

With Sherlock gone, he flopped down in his chair with a sigh, listening to the strains of Go the Distance from Hercules waft through the bedroom door, and waited. Less than five minutes later his phone buzzed, “What was it I was supposed to get again? Milk? -SH”

“Butter, Sherlock. Butter. I don’t understand how you could forget that. –JW”

“Unimportant. –SH”

John rolled his eyes. He would never understand what you saw in that man- to be friends was one thing but to date him. It was a good thing you were easily pleased and John was willing to kick him in the trou to treat you right or the entire relationship would be just one disappointment after another.

When Sherlock got back, Bare Necessities was playing and John had retreated to his room to try and escape the music. He sighed heavily and headed to the kitchen to do what needed to be done.

You didn’t even move when he flung the bedroom door open, humming along to God Help the Outcasts from The Hunchback of Notre Dame while splayed out horizontally across the bed on your stomach with your feet hanging off the edge.

You groaned when he turned off the music, rolling to face the ceiling as you huffed, “What do you want, Sherlock?”

“I still don’t understand your obsession with a sandwich that consists of only melted cheese but, as you are my girlfriend and I am obligated to try and please you at least every so often, I have made you a grilled cheese.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, “It’s not the same without butter.”

He rolled his eyes, “It has butter.”

“But-“

“Obviously I went to the store and bought some.”

“You…” you ventured hesitantly, narrowing your eyes, “ Sherlock Holmes, went to the store for butter?”

“Yes. That’s what I just said. Now do you want the sandwich or not?” he snapped, annoyance plain in his tone, and you nodded vigorously, reaching out a hand for the plate he was holding. He kept it from your reach, shaking his head, “Not in the bed. Crumbs. I have to sleep here too you know.”

You rolled off the bed and followed him out into the living room, plopping down on the sofa before he put the plate in your hands and flopped down next to you. You barely had a chance to lift the plate out of the way before he shoved his legs over you lap so he could stretch across the length but you didn’t care- you had a grilled cheese sandwich in your possession.

Sherlock watched you stare at the sandwich happily for a moment and then take a huge bite, a blissfully delighted look crossing your face as you chewed. He couldn’t stifle the chuckle that came about when you let out a soft groan, “God that’s good.”

You shifted so you could lay across his chest with the plate on your stomach, taking a few more bites before tilting your head back to look at him, “Want a bite?”

He quirked an eyebrow at you, “You’d share with me after you sulked over it?”

“Well Duh. I love you, you idiot.”

“What does love have to do with anything, (F/n)?”

“Love is being willing to share the things you treasure with another person even if it means less for you.”

“And the thing you treasure is that sandwich?”

“In this moment- yes.”

You rolled so you were facing him and held the sandwich out for him to take a bite with a little giggle and he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you as he leaned up to accept your offer. You pressed a quick kiss to his lips while he was chewing and hummed, “I love you, Sherlock.”

He swallowed and gave you chaste kiss, “I know.”

“You did not just Han Solo me.”

“I did.”

“You’ll pay for that, Holmes. I know where you’re ticklish.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wrong, genius.”

“HA hahaha- Ok…haha. OKAY! Hahaha I love you, too, (F/n)”

Happy Girlfriend- Check.