At the sound of two people on the stairs, Sherlock leapt up and started to escape to his bedroom. John intercepted him and grasped his arm.
"Where do you think you are going?" John asked, mock harshness in his voice.
Sherlock tried to pull free. "The parental units are on the stairs. Where do you think I'm going?"
"No. It's your birthday. I invited them here and you're not going to go hide in your bedroom. I'll make it worth your time later," John promised, giving Sherlock a wink.
Sherlock's glare was tempered by John's promise. "I hold you to it, Doctor Watson."
John didn't get the chance to reply as the Holmses bustled through the door.
"Happy Birthday, dear," Violet said as she kissed Sherlock on the cheek. Siger repeated the sentiment, pulling Sherlock in for a hug. Sherlock rolled his eyes through the entire process and broke free as soon as he could.
"You know how I feel about birthdays. It's just another day. Not to be marked by needless celebration or…" Sherlock noted the two packages Mummy held, "presents." He gave a dramatic shudder.
"We do indeed," Siger stated. "You like presents and being celebrated as much as the next person. You just pretend you don't. You've done it ever since you started with that ridiculous sociopath notion which our John has nicely proven wrong."
"Yup. That I did." John glanced down at his wedding ring and smiled broadly. "Oh, I've forgot my manners. Tea anyone?"
"I'll make it, dear," Violet said. "You open your present." She handed the larger of the two packages to John.
"But it's my birthday. Why does he get a present?" Sherlock whinged as he threw himself down into his chair.
"See," Mummy observed, "You do like presents. "Here's yours, dear." She handed the second package to Sherlock then went and made tea.
John paused in opening his own present in favour of watching Sherlock rip into his own. Paper flew in every direction and he soon had his prize. In his hands he held a framed photo of him and John. It was a candid photo of the two of the giggling, post case, holding hands as they walked along the streets of London. Mummy must have had Mycroft send one if his minions to take the photo. Sherlock didn't care. His lips quirked up at the corners as he remembered the lascivious comment John had just made to bring such laughter to their lips. He hugged the photo to his chest. "Thank you. It's passable."
"You're welcome dear," Mummy called from the kitchen. "I knew you'd love it."
John held out a hand. "May I?" When Sherlock passed the framed photo over, John couldn't help but grinning. Sherlock looked completely unguarded and especially beautiful. "This is amazing. How did you manage it?"
"Mycroft helped," Siger admitted. "It really is an excellent photo of the two of you. We kept a copy for ourselves."
John handed the photo back to Sherlock who immediately went and placed it on the mantle. At the same time, John opened his present. It turned out to be a photo album.
"No!" Sherlock exclaimed as he lunged towards the album. John deftly kept it from Sherlock's grasping fingers however.
"Sherlock!" Mummy scolded. "Stop that this instant." She set a tray with tea and biscuits down on the coffee table. "Let John have a look at his present."
Sherlock sulked, slouching down in his chair as he watched his husband flip through the album.
John pointed at one photo in particular. "Don't tell me, this is from his first birthday, isn't it?"
In the photo, a baby Sherlock with black curls was covered from head to toe in chocolate icing. Here and there were dabs of orange icing that had been used to decorate the cake as well. His hands were together, he had clearly been caught mid-clap, and he was grinning unrestrainedly. The next several photos were of him being bathed in the kitchen sink, splashing away and getting everyone around him soaking wet.
Of course other photos caught John's attention, but none quite so much as Sherlock's first birthday. He decided he'd get it restored as it was somewhat faded, then frame it and keep it by his side of the bed. Sherlock would pout, but John knew he would be able to kiss the pout away. "Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Holmes."
Violet rolled her eyes, reminiscent of how Sherlock often did. "John, for the last time, it's Violet and Siger."
John laughed self consciously. "Yes, Violet." He stood up and went to the kitchen and fetched the chocolate cake he had hidden in the cupboard and brought it back to the living room, then he fetched plates, forks and a knife. "Happy birthday, Sherlock."
Sherlock tried to look grumpy, but he actually looked pleased. He even cut and served the cake, his lips curled up into a smile. His parents didn't have to know that he was thinking about John's promise for 'making it up to him later'. That was for him and his husband to know.