Work Text:
One evening while they were still in London, Sebastian found Molly Hooper in their kitchen. She was making a pasta… something. Even he wasn't exactly sure what it was, but a bit of improvisation could be good in food. Normally he cooked (someone had to, his boss forgot to eat with a startling amount of frequency).
"Hello Colonel," Molly Hooper said. "Pass me the vinegar," she said. He handed it to her and left the kitchen. He had no particular need to talk to her. He went to his room after that, content to leave dinner to her and to have a free hour to himself.
It became clear later that evening that he really should have stuck around. To be fair, the food wasn't bad. Sebastian had eaten much worse. It was just only acceptable. For a man who could consume sugary cereal at an alarming rate, Jim Moriarty had surprisingly discerning tastes when it came to cooked meals.
"This is awful, what did you flavor it with, dish soap?" Moriarty asked, glaring at Ms. Hooper, who was looking thoroughly cowed. "Why would you serve me something this bad?" She didn't answer. It didn't matter. "Sebastian, make something edible, something that doesn't involve pasta. I'm afraid this disaster has turned me off pasta for at least a month."
Sebastian simply did as he was told, leaving and angry criminal mastermind and an overly chastised doctor in the dining room. It took him about thirty minutes to quickly scrape something together, and the two of them were still in the dining room when he came back. No one spoke again that night.
Sometimes Moriarty went out on work on his own and left Sebastian behind. It didn't happen too often, but sometimes Jim Moriarty just wanted to go to Stratford for a week on his own, and Sebastian had other work to do anyway. Sebastian was fine with that. A week on his own could be a glorious thing. He didn't expect there to be anyone else in the flat while Jim was gone, which was why his heart slammed against his rib cage when he saw Molly Hooper sitting on the sofa when he came in on Wednesday.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Sebastian asked, shutting the door behind him with his foot. Aside from the pasta disaster night, he'd slept next to the woman every night she'd been over. He'd slowly begun to take comfort in her presence, in the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she slept, of the way her hair tended to go everywhere and he was just as likely to be chewing on it in the morning as he was to inhale it accidentally. She had become a part of his life, but that didn't mean that being alone with her when his boss wasn't around wasn't very dangerous.
"I'm here to see you," she said, standing up.
"How did you get in?"
"Jim made me a key," she said.
Sebastian cursed. Of course Moriarty wasn't going to tell him that. "That still doesn't explain why you're here."
"I need your help."
Moran felt weary. Help could mean anything from want him to blow off someone's head, to asking him about what Jim Moriarty did and did not like. None of the prospects made him happy to think about. "With what?" he asked gruffly.
"Teach me to cook."
"What?"
"Teach me to cook. I know you wouldn't ask anything so obvious if Jim were here," she said. Sebastian glared at her, but she was right. Making Moriarty repeat himself was a very bad idea.
"Your food is fine," he said, walking back to his room. She followed him.
"He hates it."
"He doesn't like eating."
"He likes what you cook."
"He's only just used it."
"You cook much better than me."
"Your meal was fine, Boss is just picky."
"Why won't you teach me?"
"Do you think it's a good idea for you to be here alone with me? Does Moriarty even know you're here?" Sebastian asked, not looking at her as he moved around his room to change into non-work clothes. He knew Molly was turned away as well. She would follow him around, but she never looked at him while he changed.
"It's a surprise."
"He'll kill both of us if thinks that we're doing something behind his back."
"We're not."
"He only has to think it."
"I'll explain it to him later. Colonel, please, there isn't much I can do for him. I want to be good for him."
Sebastian sighed heavily. He knew, he understood. He wanted to do a good job for his boss. It wasn't just being afraid of dying if he fucked up. He wanted to be good for his boss. He wanted to be an employee worthy of working for Moriarty. He took pride in his work. He strove to be better. Understood that need to be good for Jim Moriarty.
"Fine."
"Really?"
"We'll start now."
Molly came by the flat every evening after that as they worked through different types of recipes. Sebastian quickly found out that Molly did brilliantly with fish and chips. It came from living over her father's fish place. It made Sebastian's mouth water to think of her fish. With everything else she was passable. Her sugar cookies were a little better than store brand, and the oatmeal raisin were good (though Sebastian found it hard to screw those up in general).
Her weakness came from the fact that she normally just threw food together for herself and didn't care about flavor. Sebastian had been like that until about the third plate of food his boss and thrown at his face. After that he'd learned to pick things up.
"Lasagna doesn't seem to be that hard," Molly said. It was Thursday, a week and a day after Molly's request for cooking help.
"Just make sure the noodles are straight," Sebastian said, walking up behind her and putting his arms over hers to guide her with the work. He'd done that a lot over the week, guide her, with his arms around her. He found that he liked the way she fit into his arms. She had practically lived with him that week, sleeping in his bed, in his arms after spending hour just cooking after a long day's work.
Sebastian knew it was bed how much he liked holding her. It was bad that he liked the smell of her hair. It was bad that he liked the way she said "Colonel" and the way she laughed. It was bad that he felt his stomach clench sometimes when he thought that she was only doing this for his Boss. It was bad that he found himself thinking that it was like the flat was their home, his and Ms. Hooper's. He didn't dare call her Molly, even in his mind.
Moriarty was coming home in a few hours, and Sebastian had decided that lasagna was a good welcome back dinner, that and the coffee cake they'd made earlier. Molly had taken a day off just to work on the meal. Sebastian had considered telling her just to fry fish, but it seemed a bit of a waste to have her make something she already knew how to do instead of working on something she'd been practicing for.
Promptly at seven, Jim arrived home. Molly stopped tossing the salad to go and greet him. "Welcome back, Jim," she said, as she came to stand in front of him.
Moriarty eyed her suspiciously. "What are you doing here?"
"Cooking."
"I thought we agreed you wouldn't be doing that anymore."
"No," she said stubbornly. With her heels on she was actually a tiny bit taller than him. "The Colonel had been teaching me," she said proudly.
Moriarty eyed Sebastian suspiciously, but nodded. He dropped his bag and went to the dining room. "Then show me," he said. "The main course," he ordered.
Neither Ms. Hooper nor Sebastian hesitated. Sebastian went and poured the wine, while Ms. Hooper went and fixed Moriarty a plate. Neither of them pointed out the salad that was supposed to be first. Moriarty sipped his wine, glancing at Sebastian in a way that made the sniper sweat.
"Here," Ms. Hooper said, setting the plate down in front of him.
Moriarty looked at it for a moment before picking up his fork and trying a bite. His chewing seemed to go on for ages. Finally he swallowed and took a sip of wine. "Not bad," he said. He went to take a second bite when his phone rang. "Hello?" he answered, getting up from the table and heading to his office.
"He liked it," Ms. Hooper breathed, looking stunned.
"He said it wasn't bad," Sebastian pointed out.
"Colonel, thank you so much!" Ms. Hooper gasped, jumping on Sebastian and hugging him, incredibly happy. She moved past him, back to the kitchen to finish with the salad.
Sebastian stood rooted to the spot, his heart hammering in his chest. This was bad, this was very, very bad.