Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of it's characters. All rights go to Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss.
Author's Note: Hello! Glad to see you've found your way to my work. This is my first fanfiction, so, constructive criticism and feedback is
greatly appreciated. I will try and update this as quickly and frequently as I can. Bare with me. Thank you and enjoy!
Chapter One
John had been contently buzzing about all day- putting up garlands above and around, counting and recounting guests who'd be attending, and fussing over flower arrangements and the foods being prepared- and always on his side was his dear wife Mary.
Cling.
"Could you get that for me, darling? It's probably from Sherlock telling me that he refuses to come to his own birthday party" John said to his wife as he tried to tie the last garland securely into a tight knot. Mary removed his mobile from his coat pocket and smiled at the received text. "You know him all too well" she said handing him the mobile. John chuckled as he stepped down from his ladder to read his text.
'I'm not coming. -SH'
John's fingers typed quickly in response.
'Yes you are. You have nothing on tonight because Lestrade's entire team will be at your party celebrating. -JW'
The reply did not come quickly. John was able to fuss about a few more things before he had to look at his phone again.
Cling.
'They can celebrate all they want. Crime doesn't stop for birthday parties. -SH'
John chuckled typing a response quickly once more.
'We have wine. -JW'
John sat himself at one of the guest tables, knowing this will probably be a long conversation. He sighed to himself and scanned his surroundings. The tables, freshly pressed napkins and table wear, the orchestra tuning up for the evening, the lights that will eventually come to life when dusk arrives, and the guests that are yet to arrive. Sherlock hasn't seen any of this yet. John could only hope that he could convince him to come.
Cling.
'I never get drunk, John. -SH'
Sherlock lay at his old flat in dismay. A party. The word made him cringe. Drunken people everywhere gossiping the latest news. Absolutely tedious business. Even if John had dedicated the entire day in making this whole event happen and even if the media where waiting for the great detective's entrance, he wasn't going. He probably hated parties more than he hated Anderson. Though, John was right about one thing; he had nothing on.
Ding.
'If it means getting you to have a little fun at your own party I highly suggest it -JW'
Sherlock let out a painful sigh. He lifted himself up from his leather sofa and glumly headed to his room to find himself a suit. Anything to not be bored, he supposed.
More on the way!
