Trivial Matters
From his vantage point of the sitting room chair, John was waiting.
Like a beast awaiting its prey, John was still and absolutely silent, save for the occasional tap that his saucer made when he set his teacup back down.
Of course, a beast stalking its prey probably didn't spend most of the time smiling to itself.
John sipped at his tea, staring at the blank television screen.
From the bedroom hallway, there was the click of a door.
John sat up, placing his teacup back on the saucer.
Sherlock's yawn was increasingly obnoxious, John mused as he struggled to keep a straight face, as the consulting detective stumbled into the kitchen.
"Is there more tea?" Sherlock mumbled.
"Still some in the teapot," John replied.
Sherlock mumbled something in return, but John didn't catch it. He didn't mind. It was clear that the detective was still partially asleep. That helped John's plan, the detective's defenses being down, and it was sheer luck that Sherlock decided to sleep last night.
Moments later, Sherlock shuffled into the sitting room. He was pale, as usual, and his eyes were red from sleep. His hair was notably more unkept than usual and his dressing gown was askew.
Sherlock sank heavily into his chair, yawning widely.
John looked away as he nearly yawned in response, sipping at his tea again.
"Is that all you're having for breakfast?" John asked, nodding at Sherlock's teacup.
Sherlock didn't look up. "Yes."
John shook his head slightly, choosing not to comment on Sherlock's eating habits. Getting the detective a good night's sleep was a step in the right direction, but...
"You win some, you lose some," John muttered under his breath.
"What?"
"Nothing," John replied.
After the silence reigned for a bit, John decided that there was no better moment for his plan. He put his teacup back on the saucer.
"So, happy birthday, then."
"What? Oh, yes, thanks," Sherlock replied absently. It took a moment before the consulting detective actually seemed to realize what John had said, and when he did, he paused with his teacup halfway to his lips.
John laughed quietly, looking closely at the consulting detective. "So, you thought you could hide your birthday from me."
Sherlock didn't move for another half second before he placed his teacup back on its saucer. "I wasn't hiding it from you. You simply didn't ask," he replied idly, although John still had to laugh at Sherlock's somewhat surprised expression.
"In case you're wondering, Greg told me."
"How did he know?" Sherlock asked, frowning.
John shrugged slightly. "Dunno. Didn't ask. Didn't really care, actually, because I was more concerned that he told me yesterday, a day before your birthday."
"Birthdays are trivial matters," Sherlock muttered, sounding off-hand. "I can't be bothered with the sentiment of them."
"Trivial, but it means you're getting old," John teased.
"Please, you're older than me."
"Fine," John muttered. "Ruin my fun..." He took another drink of his tea before he continued, contemplatively. "I didn't think you'd like me to buy you anything, so I didn't."
"Good," Sherlock replied.
"But, I did pick up some of those cakes. I figure we can put a birthday candle on one, or something, and... yeah. Instant birthday cake."
"Don't bother with the candle. The candle's stupid. Just give me the cake."
"And Mrs. Hudson is making you your favourite for dinner tonight."
"She knows, too?"
John couldn't help laughing as Sherlock's flabberghasted tone. "Yeah, Sherlock, it is typical for friends to know other friends' birthdays."
Sherlock huffed and, setting his teacup and saucer aside, drew his knees close.
"Mycroft said he'd send a birthday card, and that it would be fashionably late. Of course, I think that's supposed to be a surprise but since it's Mycroft, I didn't think you'd care if I told you."
"How dull."
"Greg will stop by later, too. He, probably, will have bought something for you."
"I won't be at home."
"I figured you wouldn't. Pressing case suddenly appear?"
"Of course. Naturally, Scotland Yard hasn't been notified yet, and by the time that Lestrade tries to figure out what case I'm working on, I'll have solved it and he won't even need to know the details."
"Shall I entitle the blog 'The Mysterious Case of the Uncelebrating Sherlock Holmes'?"
"As you wish," Sherlock replied, his lips twisted to a smirk.
John only shook his head, smiling, drinking the last of his tea. He stood and walked across the room, placing his teacup into the sink.
"John."
"Hm?"
"... Thank you."
John glanced up, looking at the wall behind the sink. Against his better wishes, he did not look back at Sherlock. He would have loved to see the detective's expression, but he could already hear the awkwardness oozing through his tone.
John gave him the privilege of being awkward on his own.
"Uh huh," John replied, rinsing out his teacup. "I get one of the cakes, though."
"That seems hardly fair. It's my birthday."
"I bought them!"
"Fine. Just one. You can eat the one that you put the candle on. Candle wax is disgusting."
John rolled his eyes, smiling as he looked for the birthday candles.
Happy birthday to the most wonderful consulting detective ever, Sherlock Holmes! Sherlock celebrate? Never! But cake is good. He can't deny that.
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