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owletry · 2 months ago

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Hey guys look what me and my flashbang partner did!!

A Birthday on Baker Street

By catrhys and @owletry

"Wakey-wakey, birthday boy- er no, that's a bit weird isn't it?" John pushes the door open with his shoulder before Sherlock is even awake. Archie is ultimately who wakes him, jumping up onto the bed and on top of him.

"Eugh, what are you-?"

"Up and at 'em, Sherly! I brought you tea!" John is already by his bedside, a steaming mug of Earl Grey in his hands. Sherlock burrows further into his blankets, shielding his eyes from the sudden flood of light into his room.

"Watson- It's early," he complains.

"And your birthday, sleepy head!" Mariana chimes in as she enters the room.

"Exactly, let me sleep-"

John cuts him off, "No can do, Sherl-a-roo! We've got a busy day ahead of us, so sit up and drink your tea."

Sherlock groans. "Do I have to?"

"Yep." Mariana remarks.

"Absolutely." John follows.

Sherlock sighs and sits up. His weighted blanket is draped over his shoulders like a cloak, curls messy and wild from sleep. He yawns as he reaches both hands out for John to deposit his mug—well John's mug—but it doesn't come, and by the time he registers what's happening, they're already singing.

"-o you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Sherlock," John and Mariana poorly harmonize. It sounds like a whale dying. He buries his head in his hands.

"Must you do this?" He groans.

They power on through his whines, "Happy birthday to youuuu!"

"Now drink your tea," John quickly adds, finally presenting the mug within arm's reach of the pouting detective.

"That was awful," Sherlock grumbles as he accepts the mug. Archie whines in agreement.

"Oh, we weren't that bad," Mariana chides.

Archie barks his dissension to the statement.

"Okay okay, maybe we were that bad," John relents with a chuckle, patting the disgruntled bulldog's head. He and Mariana persuade Archie off the bed and into the kitchen, leaving Sherlock to drink his tea.

Sherlock shakes his head fondly as they shut the door. He looks down into his mug of tea. It's been so long since he had friends to make him tea on his birthday. Since he had friends.

He sips his tea. It's perfect.

Earl Grey with two sugars and a splash of milk. It tastes even better than usual and he can't help but think it may be just because of the love that was put into its making. All for him. He smiles as he stands up and gets dressed for the day.

When Sherlock joins the others in the kitchen, John is in his pajamas, standing in front of the cooktop and humming to himself as he fries up another pancake —chocolate chip, Sherlock's favorite. They're lumpy and misshapen and a little burnt, but John insists they're not, and even though they all know that he's wrong, Sherlock steals and eats pieces of them off the serving plate nonetheless.

A plate topped with two pancakes, bacon, and eggs in the shape of a smiley face is shoved in front of him by a chuckling Mariana as John runs his slightly singed fingers under the tap.

"I told you to be careful!" she chastises through giggles.

"It came at me!" John defends.

"It's inanimate!"

"Oh shush!"

Sherlock smiles to himself. It's a sickeningly sweet display of domesticity. He loves it.

Mariana runs her hand down John's arm as she walks back to the counter, a silent form of comfort even as they banter. By the time she sits down across from Sherlock at the table, a mug of coffee in one hand, a plate in the other, John's stopped whinging and follows close behind. They sit in silence for a moment, enjoying each other's company. John is the first to speak, and as always, he waffles on about one topic or another, Mariana occasionally chiming in. Sherlock sits and listens, eating his home cooked breakfast as his closest friends converse.

"And on the agenda for today folks," John announces like a show host, "Ice skating annnd... drumroll please," he drums his hands on the table and makes the worst drumroll impression, "the Aquarium! Ha-ha!"

"And of course, we'll take Archie for his walk then come back here for dinner," Mariana adds.

"Yeah, that too. That all sound good to you, Sherls?"

Sherlock looks up at the sound of his nickname, a bite of pancake —fork and all— in his mouth. He's quiet at first, just processing the last bit of the conversation, and as his friends patiently wait for his reply, he can’t help but be grateful for their understanding.

He nods. Today is going to be a great day.

Sherlock eyes John skeptically. "Are you sure you're fine to walk?"

"I'm a big boy, Sherlock; I think I can handle walking the few steps to the rink by myself."

"You haven't even stood up yet and you're already wobbling," Mariana points out.

"Yep, very helpful, thanks." John grunted petulantly. He attempts to stand, instinctually grabbing Sherlock's arm for support when he immediately stumbles. The three of them make their way to the ice.

Mariana is the first to make it there, not having been hindered by the task of keeping John upright. She steps onto the ice with ease, skating with grace.

Sherlock is next to enter the rink, calm and balanced. John is close behind, one arm still around the detective's shoulders, the other shooting out to grip onto the wall for balance. He plants a foot on the ice. He slips.

"Woah!" He falls backwards, landing square on his bum with a thud. Sherlock grabs the wall last minute for support, having almost been taken down with the doctor.

"Are you quite alright, Watson?" He queries worriedly like he didn’t also just almost fall.

"Yeah. Yeah- yeah, I'm fine, just- er- lost my balance there, landed on my tailbone," comes John's winced reply.

Mariana skates over, having noticed John sitting on the ground with Sherlock standing over him. She puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You okay, John? Did you fall?"

"I'm fine. I'm fine. Feet just slipped out from under me is all." John is already getting back up, using both of his roommates' hands for support.

They lead him to the edge of the rink where he can hold onto the wall to steady himself. As Sherlock and Mariana step back, John carefully shifts his stance, trying to balance properly. "You two go on ahead, I'll catch up."

Sherlock hesitates, "Are you sure?"

"I'll be fine, go have fun," John takes a hand off the wall to wave dismissively and almost loses his footing. Both Mariana and Sherlock practically leap forward to catch the doctor, but he beats them to it when he quickly returns his hand to the wall.

Mariana tries to placate the stubborn man, "We can just go, John you don't have to-"

"No- no- seriously, go. Go skate. Now." John adamantly interrupts. They know they will get nowhere arguing with him so they do.

They both keep an eye on the unbalanced podcaster, as they skate around the rink, and after a while, John even joins them. They talk and laugh and show off to each other, spinning and moonwalking on the ice.

It's maybe 30 minutes in, when John finally trips, left foot catching on the back of right, and he tumbles, taking down Mariana who was holding his hand and sliding into Sherlock who was only a few feet in front. Within seconds, there was a small pile of consulting detectives giggling at the situation and wincing at the surely forming bruises.

"Watson, it's completely safe, I assure you-"

"Sherlock, I don't care if it could withstand a bomb, I refuse to be the first to die in this horror movie."

Mariana smiles at their antics, chiding, "John, don't be so dramatic, it's just a trip to the aquarium!"

"Yeah and Jaws was 'just a job'."

"Watson, we are walking through a chamber over the sharks, not hunting them." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

John pauses in his protests, seeming to question his sanity for a moment. "...Did you just make a Jaws reference?"

"Yes...?"

"Just for that, I'll do it." John acquiesced.

"What?" Now it was Sherlock's turn to question things.

"I'll do the shark- chamber- or whatever it's called-"

"Shark Walk," Mariana supplies.

"Yeah, that. I'll do the Shark Walk with you."

"Oh." After a moment of processing, Sherlock’s face splits into an excited grin and he takes off down the hall.

It's barely a full 60 seconds before they are standing on the transparent platform, John clutching onto Sherlock for dear life as they look down at the swimming beasts below.

"Magnificent aren't they?" Sherlock mused.

"Gorgeous." Mariana breathes out in awe.

"Terrifying." John shudders.

"Hardly," Sherlock counters.

"They're predators, mate! They're dangerous!"

"Not to humans," Mariana replies as they begin walking down the corridor.

"Oh really?" John says skeptically.

"You're significantly more likely to get struck by lightning than attacked by a shark, Watson, there is really nothing to worry about." Sherlock defends.

"Especially considering that we live in central London," Mariana adds.

"Okay, but- What the hell is that?!" John startles as he finally takes in his new surroundings and notices an ugly looking fish behind the glass.

Sherlock follows his gaze. "An Anarhichas Lupus, the Atlantic Wolffish."

"It's horrifying!"

"Aww, it's kind of cute," Mariana comments, finally catching sight of the thing.

John is incredulous. "No it's not!?"

"It's known for its teeth." Sherlock grins and pulls out his phone.

"Nope. Nope. Next room!" John hurries them out of there, not eager to witness whatever monstrosity of an image that Sherlock is no doubt googling; he'd like to sleep tonight, thanks.

They continue exploring the aquarium, stopping to look through every window for at least a moment. Sherlock bounces on the balls of his feet and periodically lists facts on just about every creature that drifts by. John and Mariana happily listen to the detective's excited rambles, making comments every so often about everything from the information he's giving them to the scenery and staging of the tanks. They've just shuffled past the stingrays when suddenly they are alone in the ocean tunnel, stopping in their tracks to gawk. It's mesmerizing.

The light shining down through the water casts a ripple of blue upon everything as sea turtles and fish swim by. They sit down. It's quiet and peaceful and serene and they could truly stay there forever under the water.

"Wow," John breathes, his face obstructed by the ever-shifting caustic network refracting down on them as they gawk up at the necklace carpetshark above.

It must be hours before any of them move, time passing calmly as they watch the creatures swim around them.

"-en the frames are secured in a machine called an extractor that uses centrifugal force to flinging the honey out without damaging the wax comb so that the bees can-"

They're back in the darkened sitting room of 221B after Archie's walk. John sits on the sofa, Sherlock's head in his lap. He runs his fingers through the chattering detective's curls as they watch a documentary about beekeeping. Mariana sits on the floor opposite them, smiling at the scene before her. They'd had dinner together less than an hour before, all sneaking a bite or two to the now half asleep bulldog, though none of them would ever admit it. Archie lies curled up by Sherlock's feet, half-listening to every word that falls from his favorite person's lips, even if he has know idea what he's saying.

As the documentary comes to a close, Mariana gets up, slipping into John's room for a moment before returning with a couple of brightly decorated packages.

Sherlock raises an eyebrow. "What's that?"

"Gifts." John smiles down at him.

John had got him a new violin case, monogramed with a silver plaque donning his name and inscribed internally.

"Happy Birthday! Try to keep it down, people are sleeping." Sherlock reads out with a small huff of laughter. The case is a deep blue leather with silver hardware and lined in soft velvet. His favorite color, he notes with a warm smile.

Mariana had bought him a handful of items, a botany kit, some chocolates from Spain, an antique surgical kit, and a small plushie.

"A stuffed rat?" He questions, holding the soft object as if it may bite him.

"It has a removable pouch that you can heat up in the microwave. I thought you might like having a warm friend to cuddle." She explains, smiling gently.

Sherlock seems to look at the toy in a different light for a moment before bringing it to his chest and hugging it tightly. The sight is adorable and his best friends can't help the warm feeling that comes over them watching as the detective buries his face in the cuddly rat, his glasses getting pushed up into his hair.

After a while, Sherlock turns his head to the side, looking at his friends gratefully.

"Thank you," He whispers.

They both smile softly at him, no words needing to be said.

They stay like that for a moment until John's face does something odd and he abruptly blurts out, "Oh! I almost forgot!" before taking off down the stairs to Mariana's flat.

A few minutes later, Archie lifts his head at the sound of his owner coming back up the stairs. The door is soon shoved open by John, carrying a moderately-sized round cake with patchy blue frosting and frankly illegible writing on top. John grins as he places it on the coffee table, shooing away the overly curious bulldog.

Sherlock stares almost unbelievingly at the cake. It's lopsided and ugly and missing chunks, but that's not what's caught his attention. Rather, he's hung up on why it's there at all.

"Why...?" He trails off.

"It's supposed to say 'Happy Birthday Sherlock', but it's surprisingly hard to write in frosting," John unhelpfully amends.

"But..." Sherlock starts, "why would you make me a cake?"

"Do you not like it?" John asks, insecurity bleeding into his voice.

"No no no, I- I love it! It's just..."

"Oh Sherlock," Mariana looks at him with a gentle understanding, "We got a cake to celebrate your birthday, to celebrate you."

"But why?"

John catches on. "Because we love you, Sherls."

"Oh."

John and Mariana smile kindly at him.

Sherlock looks back at the cake. The wonderful, ugly, homemade cake that his friends baked and decorated for him. The gesture alone seems to ooze with their love for him and that image seeps in and warms his bones. He takes a deep breath and carefully blows out the candle.

As the candle smoke curls up and disappears, John grins at his best friend. "So, what'd you wish for?"

Sherlock doesn't answer that. Not because of superstition, but simply that he didn't wish at all. He doesn't need to, he already has everything he could ever want: John and Mariana, two people who love him unconditionally. A family.

#It was a pleasure to work with them I had a ton of fun #even if I was dealing with some finals for my masters degree

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