It was the middle of a rainy day when Mycroft folded up his umbrella and strode purposefully into his favorite bakery, like a man on a mission. 

Which, he was on a mission. A mission that should have brought him much shame, however he was intent on going about it as if there wasn’t the slightest thing unusual with his intentions.

For Mycroft Holmes, he would have his cake and he would eat it too.

The baker could tell just from the lust-filled gazes he was casting upon the cakes that this was no ordinary patron. Several cupcakes also met an unexpected demise when they seemed to leap backwards and meet their death on the flour-dusted tiles behind the display cases.

Could it be they feared the worst? 

A red velvet cake appeared to shrink back beneath the bright glaring lights, showing off that cream cheese icing with reckless abandon. 

Just the sort of tempting little devil that Mycroft had been searching for to fulfill his fantasies.

Indicating the ill-fated red velvet cake with nothing more than a point of his umbrella and a nod, the baker had no choice but to ring him up and sell his unwitting prostitute of a cake.

“Shall we?” Mycroft murmured to the neatly-packaged cake, picking it up off the counter.

The cake seemed to quiver at his touch. Trepidation? Arousal? Fear? 

The world may never know.