𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐬

𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐁𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤!

It's the 6th of January, 2021- the Birthday of my favourite Consulting Detective! I have written this One Shot for my man, to wish him a very happy day. Even if he's a fictional
character, we can still celebrate. Happy Birthday, Sherlock Holmes. For the purpose of this one shot, Mary is still alive- because it's happier and it's his birthday!

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"I don't care if he doesn't want one, he is getting one!" I grinned, lugging a huge box of decorations up the stairs.

"He won't be happy, Y/n, you know what he's like. He'll end up shooting the wall again," John sighed next to me, dragging another box. "He's never, in all the years I've known him, ever celebrated or even mentioned his birthday."

I gripped the heavy box tighter, "yeah, which is exactly why I'm doing this," I turned, my smile fading. "Look, John, three years ago, we nearly lost him. We nearly lost everything and he's changed, what with Eurus and all that. I just- sometimes, he forgets that people love him. That we love him. And he needs to be reminded." I looked at him sincerely. He sighed and looked down at the floor.

"You're right," he nodded, "but just one condition."
Grinning wider, I asked "and what's that?"
"This has got to be the best God-damn party in human history."

Three hours later, with just five minutes to go, Mary, Rosie, Molly, Mrs Hudson, Lestrade and I were crouched, hidden behind desks and chairs and the kitchen counter. Mycroft, who we hadn't really expected to arrive, was sat in Sherlock's chair, one leg crossed over the other, with his left hand clasping his trusty umbrella. We all held confetti canons and we were all wearing ridiculously bedazzled party hats.

The kitchen was laid out with heaps of food, from battered shrimps to mini pizzas. We were all giggling like school children when we heard the footsteps of John returning with Sherlock. Covering our mouths with our hands, we crouched lower as Mycroft sat up straighter.

The door burst open and Sherlock stood there, glaring at his brother.

"Mycroft. What are you doing here? If you are here to drag me off on some dangerous mission, I've already told you no, I'm not leaving y/n-"

"Actually," Mycroft began, standing up from the chair and moving closer, "I'm here to wish you a very happy birthday." He grinned, which was slightly creepy. Sherlock's face scrunched in confusion.

"What?"

Not a second after he had spoken, we all burst up from our hiding spots, throwing confetti every where.

He could deny it as much as he wanted, but even Lestrade could see the smile pulling at Sherlock's lips. Bewiled, he froze for a moment taking it all in.

"What...what are you all doing here?" He was trying so hard not to smile, dimples were forming in his cheeks.

Laughing, I moved towards him, "it's your birthday party, idiot," I threw my arms around his neck and softly kissed his lips, "happy birthday, Sherly. By the way, it's okay to smile."

Grinning now, Sherlock moved his hands round my waist and pulled me to his side. "Well then, let's get this party started."

Lestrade burst out laughing, "bloody hell Sherlock, y/n really has made you human!"

We all laughed as Sherlock kissed the top of my forehead. I could practically hear his smile.

Half an hour later, we were all sat in the lounge, gasping for breath. The majority of us had tears streaming down our faces, although Mycroft sat far away, his lips in a tight smile. John and I had decided that if this was Sherlock's first birthday party, it was going to be exactly how a child's party should be, just with a little more alcohol. We had done pass-the-parcel, pin the tail on the Mycroft (he found that very amusing), musical statues, duck duck goose, musical chairs and truth or dare. And now we were all sat, tipsy to the point of intoxication, all sharing the craziest stories we could remember.

"But the thing is" Lestrade was gasping as we all shook with silent laughter, "I'm like kinda drunk and it was really dark." We all cackled and I buried my head in Sherlock's shoulder, desperately trying to calm myself. Lestrade continued grinning, "I thought she looked really hot and so we flirted and you know, went back to her hotel room to get it on." At which Rosie turned to Mary, her blonde pigtails swishing and said,

"Mum, what's getting it on?" And of course, telling a four year old the basics of human pleasuring isn't exactly considered appropriate, so we intended to do the usual- pat her on the head and tell her when she's older. But drunken Mrs Hudson leaned over,

"Well, it's another word for rumpy pumpy, love making, sexual inter-"
Then the entire group burst into cackles as Mary, shaking with laughter, covered her daughter's ears. And we never got to hear the rest of Lestrade's story about how he almost 'made love' with a crossdresser.

"Have fun with a hang over and a whining baby and Rosie tomorrow," I giggled, clasping Mary tight. She sighed, shaking her head,

"Can't wait for it. John's even worse with a hangover than Rosie was at three months."

She scooped up her tired daughter and started making her way down the stairs, following her husband. "Bye!" I called, waving back at Rosie, before closing the door. Just as I shut it, I felt two warm arms wrap around my waist. Sherlock lent his head down to my shoulder.

"Hello, Sherly."

"Now that we're alone, I can thank you for giving me the best birthday I could have ever had. Honestly, I didn't know just what I was missing out on," he kissed my cheek, holding me tighter.

"You're very welcome. But I have one more present for you," I whispered seductively, turning around to face him. I pushed my lips against his.

"Mm, what's that then? I nice murder?" He grinned into my lips.

"Not quite. It's something much better."

I grasped his hand and pulled him into the bedroom.