A/N: I'm just a little late, but still… I wanted to wish Sherlock a Happy Birthday in the form of a fic. This is also my signal that I'm DEFINITELY planning on returning to 'Sherlock' fandom. There's been a few speed bumps but I AM coming back. May this fic be a sign of that. (smiles)

DISCLAIMER: Oh, I wish I owned something…! But unless you see pigs flying such a miracle hasn't happened yet. It's soooo cool to toy with the characters a bit, though.

WARNINGS: SLASH, FLUFF, language, minor adult themes… Uh… Any of you still there…?

Awkay, because it's best I get on before changing my mind… Let's rock! I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride.

Happy Birthday, Sherlock

Sherlock Holmes didn't care about birthdays. Including his own. Such days were irrelevant, unworthy of room in his Mind Palace. What use was there in celebrating ageing? Another year slipped away? Ridiculous!

But still… This was his first birthday as John's… boyfriend. A word which still felt extremely strange to him. His data base on those matters wasn't exactly enormous but… Shouldn't such a day have been special, somehow?

Not that he cared about such trivial matters, of course.

But he did care, far more than he would've admitted out loud under any amount of torture, about the fact that presently John was back in Afganistan. As a consultant instead of a soldier or a medic but still. He most certainly didn't want his blogger there, back in the desert that caused so many scars and nightmares. He wasn't worried, of course. Being without his bl… boyfriend was just becoming increasingly tedious as the days passed by.

Sherlock's eyes strayed towards the clock. Two minutes to midnight and still not a peep. A strange lump appeared to his throat while an unexplainable cold filled his body and his eyes stung. A frown appeared to his face and his nose wrinkled a bit.

Tedious, all of it, this… relationship thing.

Then his cell phone began to ring and in a microsecond the item had absolutely all his attention. Sherlock wondered, somewhere in the back of his buzzing and screaming mind, what the record of picking up was. He was confident that he broke it. "John?"

John chuckled. "Most people start with a 'hi' or 'hello' you know?" Well, the connection was certainly a great deal better than usual. He could hear the softness in the doctor's voice. "But for the record… I've missed you, too."

Sherlock scoffed. If there was a splash of warmth, somewhere deep inside, John didn't have to know. "Sentiment." He didn't sound as appalled as he'd tried to.

"I know. I know." John's voice was nothing short of tender. There was a brief pause. "Happy birthday, Sherlock."

Sherlock glanced towards the clock for the hundreth time that evening. It was a minute past midnight. "It wasn't", he announced grumpily. "Gawin…"

"… Greg, Sherlock. It's Greg."

Sherlock didn't even register. "… insulted my intelligence and wasted my time with roping me to a case that was barely a three. Then my parents insisted on arranging this… birthday dinner." He shuddered and his nose wrinkled once more. "They made me wear a suit, John."

John sighed. "I'm sorry that I couldn't be there to suffer with you." Even the detective could hear that there was a lot hidden behind those words.

Sherlock swallowed. He didn't like the taste sitting in his mouth. "Yes, well… Me, too."

There was a prolonged moment of silence. At first Sherlock intended to use it on listening what was going on with John, if there were any sounds of danger. But instead he focused on John's comfortingly steady and even breathing.

"You didn't fall asleep on me, did you?"

Sherlock blinked, several times. Then snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. I wouldn't…

"… fall asleep on a phone? You have. Remember?" John's voice sounded soft and steel hard at the same time. "You never sleep when I'm away. Well, not that you'd sleep enough, anyway."

Sherlock felt his eyes narrow, just a little. "Neither do you. You sound tired right now."

"Yes, well…" John coughed. Did the doctor… sound nervous? "I tried that, at first. But I share a room with five other blokes. Try explaining to them why I moan your name in the middle of the night."

Well how about that. Those words coaxed the day's first smile from Sherlock. It was a small one but still a good start. "You dream about me, then?" That thought made him oddly happy. A lesser man might've said that it touched him.

"Who else would I dream about?" Then, much before he had the chance to prevent it, John swapped topics. "Ánd you haven't been eating, either, I reckon."

"I blew up our microwave oven", was Sherlock's only answer.

"What?! How…? Never mind, never mind… Are you alright?"

Sherlock fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes. Obviously."

"Good." Was that purring or growling? "Then I won't feel bad about punishing you over being so reckless."

Those words made certain very intimate parts of Sherlock's stiffen and his eyebrow bounced up while his breathing pattern changed.

"Excited, are we?" John was definitely smirking. "And for the record… If those ears are still in the fridge when I get home… Well, I'd ask – politely, mind you – Mrs. Hudson to spend a couple of days with her sister."

Sherlock shivered. His heart was beating fast and he was almost certain that his pupils were dilated. His transport was failing him miserably. It didn't bother him as much as it should've. "What do you have in mind?" Not exactly suave. But surely John knew better than to expect anything different? This whole… flirting thing was a bizarre, foreign planet to him.

"Why don't you open the door and find out?"

Sherlock frowned. Then, slowly, felt his eyes widen as realization dawned. He'd never moved quite as fast in his entire life.

If his heart had been racing before it was close to exploding entirely by the time he reached the apartment's door and opened it. For a few moments he stood perfectly still, staring. Barely daring to believe. The sight didn't disappear.

Dr. John Watson appeared throughoutly exhausted, practically swayed on his feet. It was highly likely that the doctor had lost a bit of weight over the past couple of weeks. The tan on his face made him appear reasonably healthy, though.

"Sherlock?" John's half worried, half amused voice pulled him back from his thoughts. The former soldier waved a hand before his eyes. "Are you, uh… Are you still with me?"

Sherlock didn't speak a word. Instead he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around John as tightly as he could. His blogger jolted a little with surprise at first but soon returned his embrace with equal passion. Sherlock responded with tightening his hold and burying his face into the smaller man's shoulder.

To Sherlock nothing more than a fleeting moment passed by. But apparently it'd been a lot longer before John cleared his throat and spoke. "Look, it's… I'm not complaining, alright? But… It's been almost half an hour. We should…"

Sherlock unleashed a small, demanding growl, not loosening his hold.

John sighed. Or perhaps chuckled. It was hard to tell. "Fine." A soft, tender hand began stroking his hair. "Fine."

In the end, after forty-five more minutes, they did go inside. Hand in hand because breaking all physical contact felt out of the question. Sherlock brooded, observed and rejoiced. John made tea. Neither of them felt any need to speak.

They were together, that was enough. Not because of all the… emotion… things. Sherlock just liked having things the way they belonged.

At last, when it was a very early morning rather than a night, John's voice pierced the comfortable silence. "I'm sorry." And the doctor indeed seemed apologetic. "I really tried to get here for your birthday but the flight was delayed. Badly."

Sherlock shrugged. Honestly, what difference did a few minutes make? It wasn't like today would've been any more or less special than the previous one. All the birthday idiocy certainly notwithstanding.

"It does matter", John insisted. The man rummaged through his pocket with his free hand. "Because… I even had a present for you."

Sherlock leaned forward without even noticing it, the hand holding John's gripping tighter. The doctor placed something small and neatly wrapped to the table. Sherlock waited for the grand total of five seconds before starting the infuriating process of opening it with just one hand.

"Maybe you should…" Sherlock's hand squeezed tighter as a reply to John's intended words. "Okay."

In a few minutes the present was revealed. At first Sherlock looked at it with something close to disbelief. Then felt warmth fill absolutely all of him.

It was a extremely beautiuful silver bracelet with the picture of a dragon engraved to it. When he picked it up he saw markings carved inside. 'S.H. & J.H.' along with the symbol of eternity.

John smiled, clearly noticing his not exactly well disguised delight. "Matching rings would've been too obvious, considering all the criminals we're chasing. I wouldn't mind screaming out our relationship, but…"

Sherlock understood, better than well. Them being friends was enough to lure all sorts of unwanted attention on John. If they'd been realized to be a couple… Well, he wasn't about to place a threat like that on his blogger.

"Still… I wanted to give you something. You know, as a sign that we've finally stopped wasting time and I'm yours." John chuckled, shaking his head. "Stupid sentiment, huh?"

Sherlock answered with sealing John into a fiery kiss. One that expressed all the longing he'd been through over the past weeks, his gratitude and his relief. "Don't be an idiot", he muttered against the smaller man's lips when they were done.

John giggled. Yes, most definitely giggled. "Shut up and take me to bed, you git", the former soldier commanded.

Sherlock wasted no time before obeying.

A couple of hours later John lay beside Sherlock, their arms wrapped tightly around each other. He sighed with contentment as he listened to the steady beat of his boyfriend's heart, inhaled the familiar scent. He snuggled closer to the other's heat and it wasn't only because London's cool air felt hostile after two weeks in Afganistan.

"You'd better get us a new microwave oven before Mrs. Hudson returns from her sister", he murmured. "Otherwise she'll throw a fit. Or hit you with a frying pan."

There was no response. When John lifted his chin, just a little, he couldn't help but smile at what he discovered. Sherlock was already sound asleep with a perfectly serene look on his face.

John yawned, relaxing fully against the detective. "Sweet dreams, my madman", he whispered. Then closed his own eyes for some much needed rest.

It was good to be home.

End.

A/N: So, did anyone go 'awwwwww'? (grins) I couldn't help it. Today just felt like a good day to type out something like this.

Soooo… Good? Bad? Lukewarm? Please delete? Now it's your turn to let me know. It'd be FANTASTIC to hear your opinions!

In any case, thank you so much for reading! And who knows. Maybe we'll cross paths again?

Take care!