Oneword: Crescent

Sherlock awoke to the smell of something delicious. Butter, at the very least, and perhaps something chocolate? The oven was filling the flat with an enticing aroma which had Sherlock instantly out of bed and into the kitchen (thankfully remembering to put on a robe first). John had just removed a tray from the oven, lined with sixteen perfectly-browned crescent rolls, drizzled with melted chocolate. The very steam rising from their crisp surface seemed divine.

"Ah, you're up," John smiled as Sherlock poked his head into the kitchen, already fixated on the sweets, "I was just fixing breakfast." He indicated a freshly-cleared table, covered with a spread of fresh fruit, eggs, and bacon. "I figured since you'd finished your last study, you could spare the kitchen table for at least one decent meal."

Sherlock only mumbled incoherently, largely ignoring the spread of healthier items as he leaned over John at the stove, resting his chin on a head of sandy hair as he inhaled the prescious sugar-laden steam. John only sighed happily, leaning back against Sherlock to enjoy the moment. He found an arm had curled around him, and he didn't mind in the least.

After the rolls had been given a moment to cool, however, the arm extended to claim one as Sherlock quickly pilfered it back to his bedroom, leaving John in the kitchen, quite miffed, with a breakfast too large for himself.