[SYNOPSIS: In an attempt to impress one of his brother's closest friends, Sheldon invites TheGentleman over to his flat for a nice meal! But when things in the kitchen go REALLY south, can Sheldon still manage to make this an unforgettable luncheon?]

[LOCATION: Sheldon's flat]

I'm sorry, I couldn't help myself with this one...

____________________________________________________________

Sheldon took a peek at the clock on the wall and stiffened a bit where he sat. 2:00, on the nose. TheGentleman would be here any minute now, and he hoped to make a good first impression on the charcoal-garbed bean.

"Sure glad I was able to get that smoked ribeye on sale," he said to himself. "Mmm...I can smell it all the way from the living room."

DING DONG

His doorbell rang, and the burnt orange crewmate hopped up to answer it. He readjusted his coral-colored tie and dusted off the suit he's chosen for today one more time before peering through the peephole to see if his company was here...Surely enough, it was the familiar figure in twin top hats, so Sheldon hastily opened up the door for him.

"Well Sheldon, I made it," TheGentleman said to him flatly. "DESPITE your directions."

"Ahh, TheGentleman. Welcome," the burnt orange crewmate greeted him warmly. "I hope you're prepared for an unforgettable luncheon!"

"Yes..."

The black-colored crewmate made his way into the flat, carrying a bottle of Merlot with him in an ice bucket. Sheldon pulled out a chair for him in the dining room, and TheGentleman accepted his gesture and placed the glass bottle in the center of the small table. The burnt orange bean rose his forefinger to indicate he would be right back, then made his way through the kitchen door to see if the roast was ready.

...Only to be met with a massive black cloud shrouding the room!

He gasped, coughing a bit as he went to open the oven, and was met with a roast that was FAR past the point of well done. Flames spurted from the grease settling in the pan and further singed the already black top of the cut.

"Oh, egads! My roast is ruined!!"

Sheldon was ready to panic; this was supposed to be his magnum opus, and he didn't have anything else to serve for lunch! He slumped over, staring mindlessly out the kitchen window.

...And there, not too far from his flat, he spied it. The newly-built Wing-Chester location just a jog's distance away. They had fried chicken out the wazoo! Not to mention their famous side dish: roasted chestnuts in olive oil.

"But what if...I were to purchase fast food and disguise it as my own cooking? Ho, ho, ho, ho..." he chuckled to himself. "Delightfully devilish, Sheldon!"

He flipped the window open, removed his baking mits, and then stuck a foot out the window in preparation to sneakily pop out and then pop back in with some edible food.

"Eh-?"

...Only to be met with TheGentleman entering the kitchen and beholding him in such a ridiculous pose.

"Oh! TheGentleman!" Sheldon greeted him as though nothing was wrong. "I was just, eh...stretching my calves on the windowsill! Isometric exercise. Care to join me?"

"...Why is there smoke coming out of your oven, Sheldon?"

"Um, de-OH!  That isn't smoke, it's steam! Steam from the poached eggs we're having! Mmmmm...Poached eggs!"

TheGentleman appeared skeptical at first, but he was quick to shrug it off and go back to the kitchen. Sheldon heaved a sigh of relief, then made a hasty retreat out the window and down the street towards the fried chicken joint...Very fortunately for him, there was hardly any line, so he ordered a bucket meal, a heaping basket of chestnuts and a couple of scones before hightailing it out of there, hopping back in through the window and re-arranging everything onto a platter to make it look fancy and home-cooked. Finally, everything was done, so Sheldon heaved out one more exhausted breath before straightening his tie yet again and then entering the dining room with his banquet.

"TheGentleman, I hope you're prepared for the crispiest fried chicken south of London!"

"I thought you said we were having poached eggs?"

"Oh, no, I said poached legs!" Sheldon falsely corrected him. "That's what I call fried chicken legs."

"...You call fried chicken 'poached legs'??"

"Sure do. It's, eh...sort of a regional dialect, y'know?"

"M-hm. Er, what region?"

"Uh...north side of Wessex?"

"Really? Well, I grew up in Oxford, and I've never heard anyone use the phrase 'poached legs' before."

"Oh, not in Oxford, no! It's, eh...a Swindon expression.

"I see..."

TheGentleman wasn't so sure he was convinced, but he supposed it didn't really matter. He took his provided fork and knife, cut a bite out of one of the crispy chicken legs and sampled it...Well, he had to give him some credit; the meat was tender and flavorful, and the breading had a very satisfying crunch to it. It was delicious! Come to think of it, it tasted a lot like...

"Hm. You know, I cant help but notice that this fried chicken tastes quite similar to what they serve at Wing-Chester."

"D'oh, ho ho ho ho, no! Patented Egg-prepared chicken. Old family recipe!"

"...For poached legs?" TheGentleman corrected, eyebrow raising slightly.

"Yes!"

"Indeed. And you call them poached legs, despite the fact they are obviously  fried?"

"Well, eh..."

Sniff sniff...

Sheldon managed to catch a whiff of the smoke coming from the kitchen before he could say anything else. And...was it getting HOTTER in the flat, or was it just him?

Oh, no... he realized. ...I DIDN'T TURN THE OVEN OFF.

"Erm...One thing I should..." he stammered for a moment, taking a swig of his Merlot in a vain attempt to ease his nerves. "Heh...E-excuse me for just a moment, TheGentleman."

"Of course..."

He popped back into the kitchen as the charcoal-colored crewmate continued to feast on his chicken platter...And then he IMMEDIATELY popped back into the dining room after seeing the massive flames engulfing the kitchen.

No way he'll ever let me host for him OR MrEgg if he finds out about this, he said to himself, putting his cool face back on in spite of the growing heat.

"Ahh, well...That was wonderful," he fake yawned, hoping to wrap things up before TheGentleman found out what was happening behind the kitchen door. "A good time was had by all, it was. I'm knackered, let me tell you what."

"Hm...Yes, it is rather late in the afternoon," TheGentleman acknowledged. "Would you happen to have anything for me to transport my leftovers in, Sheldon? I hardly touched my scone."

"Oh, certainly!" the burnt orange bean nodded, dreading the fact that he would have to return to the kitchen...and hoping that his tupperware was still intact. He opened the door and tried to close it quickly.

...Not quickly enough for TheGentleman to not notice the blaring light inside.

"Great SCOTT, what the devil is going on in there!?"

"Aurora borealis."

"Eh-? Aurora borealis!" TheGentleman stammered. "At this time of day, at this time of year, in THIS part of the world, localized ENTIRELY within your kitchen!?"

"...Yes!"

TheGentleman blinked.

"Erm...May I see it?"

Sheldon looked behind himself and decided to be blunt.

"...No."

"But-?"

"You know how it is, good sir. Ozone, radiation...I should tell Engineer I want a refund for that lava lamp."

"Oh...I see."

Sheldon VERY QUICKLY ran back into the kitchen and fetched his guest his last intact plastic container, then assisted in helping him pack up...By then, the flames had begun to lick holes in the ceiling and make their way into the rooms above.

"You're free to keep the Merlot," TheGentleman offered. "I'm...driving, of course."

"Many thanks, TheGentleman! Hoping to see you again for supper soon."

"SHELDON! THE BLOODY FLAT'S ON FIRE!!"

As he and TheGentleman were exiting, Sheldon could hear his elderly neighbor upstairs calling to him.

"Oh no, Ms. Finkleson, it's just the northern lights," he replied calmly.

"Erm...Well, Sheldon, you are an odd fellow," TheGentleman said to him. "But I must say...You poach a good leg. You do indeed."

"Come again! Oi, bring your associate next time!"

"Heeelp! HEEEELP!!"

TheGentleman looked behind him one more time to see what the ruckas was about, only to be met with Sheldon giving him a confident thumbs up...He shook his head in defeat as he made his way to his car; he would never know what on earth was up with Sheldon. But at that point, he honestly didn't want to.

And nor did Sheldon want to deal with the untimely entourage of emergency vehicles that he could already hear from a mile away, bound to pin the fire on him and get him in BIG trouble.

____________________________________________________________

...

____________________________________________________________

"GAH!"

Sheldon shot upright in bed, brow lined with sweat not from a fire's heat, but from the fear perpetuating in his head up until that point. He looked around...Nothing was burnt, there was no smell of smoke, and he was in his own room instead of a jail cell.

"Ah...Oh...oh, thank God. It was all just a dream..."

He looked at his alarm clock...He'd overslept by a good half hour, but luckily for him it was a Saturday and he was off.

"Phew...Well, guess I'll make myself some breakfast. Poached eggs, maybe? Wait...no. No. Anything but. Eesh..."