John's Birthday Surprise.

ch 3

"Why? Why are we driving? Couldn't we just take a plane? And who's car is this? And when did you learn to drive?" John moaned and sulked in the passenger seat. Sherlock was driving, his fingers tapping on the wheel. Mrs Hudson was waving them off, a huge grin on her gentle face.

"So many questions. The car is a...favour from someone, you could say. And I didn't actually learn, but I know what I'm doing. More or less. Also, word of advice! Don't sulk, John. It's bad for your posture. As for the plane thing, you seem to forget that your boyfriend is Sherlock Holmes. I have a lot of enemies, flying is not the safest." Sherlock started the car. Soon, they were whizzing away from 221B Baker Street.

John softened at the word 'boyfriend'. He always loved when Sherlock said it, it made him feel all fuzzy inside. "That doesn't really make me feel safe. I guess I understand the plane thing. But, why are we going to Scotland?"

"For your birthday, obviously."

"You're taking me to Scotland for my birthday?"

"Why not? The Queen likes it."

"I'm not the Queen, Sherlock."

"No, sadly. But you are my boyfriend. Which means you have to shut up and appreciate the things I do for you."

"Like driving me to Scotland."

"Like driving you to Scotland, exactly."

John was silent for a minute. "I didn't want anything anyway."

"Well it's your bloody birthday in three days so you're getting a trip to Scotland! Now stop complaining and turn on the radio or something."

John shook his head, defeated. "Fine."

Mumbling, John flicked throught the stations until he found the one he liked. Coldplay's 'paradise' was flowing softly from the speakers. John tapped his foot in beat with the music, smiling when the songs changed from Coldplay to Muse, to Train. He and Sherlock talked every now and then, but it was a comfortable silence. Sherlock was just happy to glance over and see John. He looked great, with dark denim jeans and a t-shirt on. Sherlock could see John's muscled arms, sitting loosely in his lap.

"How long have we been driving for?" John asked, staring out the window. He didn't know where they were, but he enjoyed seeing less houses as they drove away from London.

"We've been driving for four hours. There's only about six hours left and we'll be there."

"I'm hungry. Can we stop at a service station or something soon?"

"Yes, we'll be at one in about-" Sherlock closed his eyes for four seconds and opened them. "- half an hour."

"I wish you wouldn't do that when driving."

"Do what?"

"Map out everyting."

"Well I'm hardly going to crash."

"You don't know that."

"Shut up and go for a nap, you're cranky."

Sherlock took his left hand off the wheel and wrapped it around John's. His thumb stroked the back oh John's hand softly. John yawned and gave Sherlock's hand a squeeze. He closed his eyes and was asleep in minutes.

"John. John. Wake up."

John sat bolt upright and flung his hands out to the side. If he was at home that's where his gun would be, but he wasn't at home, he suddenly remembered.

"Wow, calm down there. It's only me. We're at the station."

"Oh..Sherlock. I'm sorry, I-I just got a bit of a fright. Reflexes from, well, you know. Sorry."