A/N: This little plot bunny came to me when I realized that Snape and Sherlock (two of my favorite literary characters) have birthdays just days apart from each other. This will probably just be a two chapter thing, but I'm having fun with combining the two sets of characters that I might venture here again.

Pairings: HG/SS and SH/JW (bromance only)

Rated T for mild references to alcohol and sex.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Sherlock Holmes or Harry Potter. Shucks.

John Watson pulled his phone out of his pocket at the beep. The screen seemed to be disgustingly bright and cheerful as it read "Message from Mycroft Holmes." John sighed. What did he want this time?

The doctor was surprised to find a short and informational text. Sherlock's birthday is next Monday. MH

That was it. Nothing that might suggest what he might like as a present or what he might want to do for his birthday, but just the fact. John recoiled in slight shock. The two men had been sharing a flat for almost a year, and John had had no clue when the detective's birthday was. John's had passed unnoticed during a case before their friendship had really formed.

Sherlock never did really seem like the birthday celebrating type. Why would Mycroft bother to inform John of this?

Nevertheless, John thought it might be nice to at least go out and get a nice dinner. Maybe invite Lestrade. Maybe Mrs. Hudson, if she wouldn't mind going out a bit later in the evening. Yes, it could be fun. He pulled out his phone and called the Detective Inspector.

XOX

"So, will you go, Harry?" Hermione implored him.

Harry narrowed his eyes for a second and then relaxed. "I guess, Hermione, but do you really think he wants to do this?"

The witch obviously hesitated, but shook it away. "Yes. I missed his 50th birthday last year because we were in that massive fight, so I figured we ought to go out for 51."

"If you say so," Harry responded doubtfully. "Friday night at 7?"

Hermione nodded in agreement, quickly said her goodbye, and popped off to find more people.

XOX

Well, damn it, John thought as he sat at the bar nursing a drink in his hands. He had tried calling Sherlock five or six times in the last half hour and the detective hadn't answered.

He gulped the rest of that drink down and motioned to the bartender for another when a young woman with brown hair and a disgruntled look on her face sat down two seats away from him. John raised an eyebrow at her. Something about her looked so familiar that he couldn't help but stare. She noticed and they locked eyes. The doctor saw a flash of recognition there.

"John . . . John Watson?" she began hesitantly.

His face betrayed his surprise. "Yes. I'm sorry, you look so familiar, but I can't place you."

She smiled with understanding. "Hermione Granger. We lived on the same street and went to primary school together when we were younger. I probably remember you better because you're a bit older than I am." She blushed a little. "Cute guy on the block in the eyes of a lot of ten year old girls. I'm sure you don't remember the younger girl from down the street."

But the lightbulbs went off in John's head. Yes, he remembered her. His parents thought she was a bit of a weirdo, and he didn't see much of her when she went off to boarding school at 11, but whenever all the neighborhood kids would get together, she would come sometimes. She would be reading a book on the sidewalk, but she'd be there nonetheless.

"No, Hermione, I remember you. You liked to read." John winced inwardly. Probably not the nicest thing to say.

However, Hermione laughed. "Yes, that was probably me. It's crazy what a small world this can be sometimes. Fancy running into you here. What are you doing now?"

John gave a brief description of his days as an army doctor and then the past ten months solving mysteries with his flatmate. Hermione returned the nicety and explained that she was also in medicine, but John didn't recognize the hospital she had mentioned.

"I couldn't help but notice your ring, Hermione. Married, then?"

A quick dark look passed by her face. "Yes."

John frowned. Her answer was so brief and she avoided his eyes. Normally he wouldn't have pressed the matter, but with a bit of alcohol coursing through his system, his inhibitions had slightly fallen. "Is he why you're here, Hermione?"

She sighed deeply. "Yes, but it's probably my own fault this time around."

"Want to talk about it?" John offered.

She gave a small smile. "Why not?" She paused, took a deep breath, and began. "It started out because my husband's birthday is today. Last year was his 50th birthday, but circumstances meant that we couldn't really celebrate, so I figured that we should really do something this year. I knew he wouldn't like it too much, so I just invited some friends out for a meal."

She paused and John prompted her to continue. "Well, my main mistake was to make it a surprise. I really should have known better; Severus never really does do well with that sort of thing. When we showed up, it was a bit of a disaster . . ."

*flashback*

"Let's go Severus! We're going to be late for our reservation," Hermione called back to the bedroom where she was sure Severus was moping at least a little bit.

"Hermione. It's really not necessary to do anything for my birthday. I'd just as soon as stay at home with you," Severus said for what seemed like the millionth time as he walked out towards her, robes still billowing even without students to intimidate.

"I know, but it will be fun!" Hermione said almost a little too cheerfully for Severus' comfort.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Is there something I don't know about this?" he asked suspiciously.

With a totally fake innocent smile on her face, Hermione answered, "Of course not sweetie."

Severus sighed. She called him sweetie. There was obviously something he didn't know and therefore had a bad feeling about the whole thing.

What he didn't know came in the form of the Weasley family, Potter, his godson, and various other order members all at the predetermined restaurant. A loud mixed chorus of "Happy Birthday" and "Surprise" greeted him as he and Hermione approached the table. A sneer and snide remark were on his lips, but Hermione's firm grip on his forearm halted the sarcasm.

He at least tried to be a good sport about it, but it was painfully obvious to just about everybody that he was not pleased to be there. Everyone else tried to make light of the situation and have a good time, but Severus could only take so much.

When they pulled out the presents, the glare he gave his wife could have frozen over a desert. He stood up suddenly, nodded at the guests, and turned to leave.

"Severus!" Hermione followed him outside. She gave a slightly panicked look at the group who were sitting there in shock at the sudden departure of the guest of honor as she ran to catch up with her husband.

"Hermione, how could you do something like that? You know how I feel about large gatherings," Snape begun as soon as they were a little ways outside the restaurant.

Hermione sighed. "Severus, we were just trying to show you how much we care about you. Is it really too much to ask to spend an hour with your friends?"

Her husband sneered, "You know damn well that they're your friends, not mine."

"Bull, Severus Snape. You fought in both wars with most of these people and they care about you. You're just too much of a stubborn old man to realize you care about them too."

"They don't care about me, Hermione, they're only here for your sake," he snapped back.

Hermione's eyes lit up menacingly. "Ah ha! Then you don't deny that you do care about them!"

Snape's eyes narrowed and before Hermione could say another word, he was gone. She turned to find everyone rudely staring outside the window at the whole ordeal.

*end flashback*

"And so, I had to go in and politely thank everyone for coming and all that kind of crap. Then, I ended up here because I'm currently too much of a coward to go home yet," Hermione finished. She grimaced. "After relaying the whole story to you, I realize how much of an idiot I was though. I knew he wouldn't really like it, but I just thought he could maybe put it aside for one night."

John patted her hand comfortingly. "I know exactly how you feel. Almost the same thing happened to me tonight. Yours seems like a pretty easy fix though. Just go home and apologize. Have some hot make-up sex." Oops, John thought, that's the alcohol speaking again.

"Ha," Hermione huffed, but with a slight blush that crept up her cheeks, "If only it were that easy. You haven't met my husband. He's likely to sulk and not speak to me for a week. It's just so frustrating that even after almost a year of marriage, he won't let anybody else into his life."

It was John's turn to smile. "At least it's only a week. Sherlock will go for more than one week at a time without speaking if he gets bored or upset with me."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and, even though she was trying to be subtle, the effects of the alcohol in her system caused her quick check to his left hand all the more blatant.

John caught on and showed his left hand to her. "No, I'm not married, Hermione. Just living with a good friend of mine, but I must admit he's a bit . . .eccentric."

Hermione smiled knowingly. "Might as well share, right, John?"

John smiled grimly. "Why not. My story starts out much like yours. Sherlock's meddling brother texted me the other day to let me know that Sherlock's birthday was Monday. Well, I assumed that if Mycroft, sorry, Sherlock's brother, was informing me, that he would probably want something done about it. So, like you, I thought it might be nice to go out for a dinner."

*flashback*

John bounded into the living room to find Sherlock lounging on the couch with that bored expression on his face. "Sherlock!"

"Yes, John?" he intoned back without moving so much as an inch.

"Your brother texted me an interesting bit of information the other day," John began slowly.

"Unless it involves a nice grisly murder, I doubt I'm interested."

John couldn't help but smile a little and shake his head. "No, not quite that. Rather, he mentioned that it's your birthday on Monday."

"Boring," Sherlock replied.

"It's not boring! I thought we might go out and have a little celebration," John said with an upbeat tone hoping to convince Sherlock.

But the detective turned to the doctor with that 'Really, John?' type look on his face. "Why would I want to celebrate being pushed out of a small canal in a midst of blood—"

John cut him off. "Thank you, Sherlock. I don't need a graphic description of birthing. I've seen it for myself." That earned a slight grin from the younger man. "It would mean a lot to your friends to let us show you that we care." John decided to throw in the trump card. "Mrs. Hudson would be so upset not to celebrate with you."

Sherlock sighed. "Is it that important to you, John?"

John was momentarily surprised that Sherlock was more concerned about disappointing John and not Mrs. Hudson. "Yes, it does, Sherlock."

"Well, then lets go." Sherlock leaped off the couch and grabbed his coat and scarf on the way towards the door, yelling for Mrs. Hudson in the meantime.

Dinner with the four of them (Lestrade had managed to make it), was going rather well, considering John's apprehension about the whole thing. If only Sherlock's phone hadn't rung as the main entrees were brought out.

The vibration buzzed loudly in his pocket and Sherlock wasted no time answering it.

"Sherlock Holmes. Yes. Really? Fascinating. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

John looked up with surprise in his features. "Sherlock? Where are you going?"

The detective's eyes were bright with excitement. "That was DI Dimmock. Locked room case. Method of death not found anywhere in the room. Should be good. Check your phone, Lestrade; I think Dimmock has been trying to call you." He was gathering his coat and about to take off before he realized John had made no moves to follow him. "Coming, John?"

John stared at him. "Sherlock, this is your bloody birthday dinner. You can't just walk out on it!"

There was a blank look of confusion on Sherlock's face. "But the case. And if it really is my birthday, shouldn't I be able to do as I wish?"

Sherlock's lack of social graces never seemed to amaze John. "No, er, yes, but you can't just leave us; it isn't polite," John tripped over the words. "The case can wait another half hour for us to finish eating."

The detective looked like a child who had just been told there would be no Christmas this year. He seemed to have an internal argument with himself before finally responding. "The case can't wait. Dimmock said Anderson was there and I won't have him mussing up my crime scene. Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, so lovely to have you here, but I must be off." After another glance at John who was obviously not coming, he had rushed from the building.

*end flashback*

"Lestrade was kind enough to take Mrs. Hudson home. I've been trying to call Sherlock to find him and help out, but he won't answer. He texted me that he was fine just before you walked in, so at least I don't have to worry about him for the time being." He sighed. "I do hate being at odds with him though."

Hermione nodded understandingly. "I hear you loud and clear. But it would seem that your solution is just as easy as mine is – go and apologize . . . and have hot make-up sex." she teased. Damn the alcohol, she thought.

John blushed. "Uh, I don't know what impression you've gotten, Hermione, but Sherlock and I, er, aren't—"

Hermione giggled. "I'm sorry, John. It was just too perfect of an opportunity. Although, if you don't mind me saying, even if there isn't a sexual attraction between you too, the way you talk about him suggests something more than just flat mates and friends."

John recoiled in stunned silence. "Well, er, what else would we be?"

Hermione shrugged, "I don't know. Hetero-life partners?"

John busted out with laughter as if she was joking, but then he saw the rather solemn look on her face. "You're, serious?"

"Sure, why not?"

John didn't have a good reason.

Having found comfort and courage in each other, they finished their drinks and both resolved to go home and fix things. They exchanged numbers and, promising to follow up, each headed their own separate ways.