Oneshots of John lock<3

Birthday mornings,(bbc)

John hit the grand age of 50, he dreaded it for weeks hating that he felt so old. Though sherlock was never bothered about age, or birthdays, or celebrations. He was determined to make this day the best he could for his husband.

John woke up in a empty bed, he stretched out only just realising the absence of his partner. The doctor rolled onto his side with a grunt, pulling the blanket just over his shoulder in comfort. It must have been maybe half an hour until sherlock entered the room with a tray full off food. From eggs, to pancakes and even English muffins.
"Morning Birthday Boy." Sherlock smiled teasingly, sliding beside John in bed.
"Fuck off." The older man chuckled, sitting up to catch his husbands eyes. They exchanged a gentle, though meaningful kiss, before the brunet slipped beside John being carful not to spill the contents. "How long have you been up to do all of this?"
"Don't worry 'bout it." Sherlock smiled, pressing a kiss against johns temple. John admired the food, they both were very aware sherlock was not a good cook. Food often resulted with being on fire, or burnt till it's the darkest shade possible. Unlike this time, it was perfectly presented. The detective slid the tray onto his partners lap, handing him the utensils. John took a bite of the eggs, and froze. Disgusting would be a underestimation.
"How bad is it?" Sherlock smiled, cupping a tissue for John to spit in. John didn't hesitate to empty the contents of his mouth. They both broke out in fits of laughter, sherlock having a taste himself.
"Oh my god." A disgusted expression mixed with laughter was printed across his face. They couldn't help but laugh at how bad it tasted.

"Skip to the cake?" Sherlock suggested.

In a matter of minutes Sherlock had plated johns cake, it was decorated with fondant and frosting, and was quite beautiful to say the least.
"You didn't make this one?" John teased, moving the tray onto the floor. Sherlocks eyebrows narrowed, moving beside him again. The candle was lit, slowly melting away at the wax.
"Make a wish." Sherlock whispered between his kisses, his lips close to johns jaw.
"What if I don't have anything to wish for?"
"Everyone has something to wish for." Sherlock argued, gripping his lovers shoulder. It took a few seconds, though the candles were out and johns wish had been made.
"It's killing you that you don't know, isn't it?" John smirked.
"Just a Little."

John only wanted one thing, and that was to be this happy and content for the remainder of his life, to be able to spent it with the love of his life, Sherlock Holmes.