The Doctor hesitantly strolled into the TARDIS's living room. He was worried about what John had prepared for him this year. You see, it was his birthday and for the past 100 odd years (or at least that's how long he remembered knowing John) the man had had something quite bizarre up his sleeve to celebrate the occasion. "I really do live too long," thought the Doctor.
Suddenly, he heard a skittering across the tiled floor. John always seems to move so unlike the human he was. What a perfect match. "My companion always does seem so extraordinary." His light footwork resembled the pattering of a small animal.
"John, why must you resemble a hedgehog? You know how jealous Sherlock will be. He collects them you know. Hedgehogs. Well, he holds them in captivity. Well, he locks them away in hope that one may become a clone of you, but you know how he is." John stood there adoringly looking into the Doctor's deep brown eyes.
"Doctor, don't talk about Sherlock today, alright? He can look after himself. Today is all about you. Happy birthday my dear. I made you something." John brought a small box forward. The Doctor lifted the lid revealing a miniature vanilla frosted cake. Written in pink icing on the top were the words, "My dear Doctor, Happy 908th."
"John this is rather lovely," started the Doctor as a gentle smile crept onto John's tanned face, "However I must decline. As much as I DO appreciate your generous gift, I know how much you actually love Sherlock. Making him jealous isn't going to win his affection, just go to him. I'll be waiting here in the TARDIS in case I am wrong. Not like I ever am, you know, because I am quite brilliant."
"But, but, Doctor there is jam in the cake," the smile disappeared, "Strawberry jam, Doctor. Strawberry jam." John's lower lip quivered as he realised that he might not be able to get today's jam fix. His addiction really was spiraling out of control; he should go see someone about that.
Sherlock was pacing the main room of 221B as usual. "Oh I do hope that John will come back to me. What ever could I have done to upset him this time? Surely he wouldn't be that troubled about my spending more time with Jim? I mean John IS ordinary after all, a genius like me can't be expected to spend all my time with a normal person," Sherlock said aloud unaware that John had just entered the room.
"Is that how you see me then Sherlock? Huh? Well you go run off with Jim and live happily ever after. I will just go see the stars with the Doctor. You think I'm ordinary? Well in comparison to him you are the ordinary one!" John bellowed at his estranged friend. "I've had enough of you taking advantage of me, at least the Doctor sees me for who I am! Goodbye Sherlock, have a nice day." John slammed the door behind him and with a shudder Sherlock ambled over to the couch and curled up in tears.
"Sherlock," whispered Jim in his ear. "I overheard the commotion from the street and I just wanted to check you were alright. John gave me the cold shoulder when I met him on the stairs. Surely he hasn't distressed you again? Wouldn't it just be better if you forgot about him?" Sherlock gracefully wiped away his tears with his long white fingers. Rubbing his eyes, he sniffled, "Yes Jim, It think it is about time I did." His strong yet manicured hands gripped Jim's suit lapel and drew the young Irishman closer. They were now staring directly into each other's pupils. "I don't know what John sees in him, I mean he is dreadfully old, but I know exactly what I see in you, Jim, my dear Jim." He raised his white fingers and tenderly stroked Jim's stubbly face. Flattered, Jim understood that it was time. He leaned forward faltering for only one second and then kissed Sherlock's smooth lips. It was held for a minute or two before Sherlock pulled away.
"What's the matter?" demanded Jim.
"Absolutely nothing, come with me." Sherlock bounded up off the couch with an unexpected exuberance and skipped into the bedroom. Jim stood frozen. "Aren't you coming?" called the deep hypnotic voice from the other room.
"Of course! Coming!" replied Jim still quite in shock. A smile snuck onto his face and before he knew it he was beaming in utter joy.
"Doctor? Doctor? Are you in here?" sighed John still distraught over Sherlock's rejection. "I'll surely be better off with the Doctor," thought John to himself as he wandered into the TARDIS. In front of him stood the Doctor with a colossal grin on his face. "Although I believed that I was right about Sherlock, I was really hoping that I was mistaken. And here we are. Of all the mistakes I have ever made, this is my favourite one." John glanced down suddenly aware that the Doctor was wearing the kilt he gave him this time last year. The Doctor, seeing John recognise this, beamed even more intensely. "I have loved it ever since you gave it to me but I had to hide my infatuation with you - sorry, I am so sorry - with it, because I knew how much you wanted to be with Sherlock. But now maybe I don't need to hide how much I love this kilt anymore. I mean you even got the tartan of Gallifrey right; no one seems to know what it looks like anymore! I love –"
John's impulsive embrace cut the Doctor off. He gladly stepped further into John's grip and grabbed his face between his slim hands. Their kiss lasted a Time Lord's lifetime and the Doctor never wanted it to end. "How could Sherlock possibly turn this man down?" the Doctor wondered.
John stepped backwards. "Yes, Doctor, how could he? I think I have a dispute to solve."
Shocked, the Doctor gasped. John had read his mind. As John ran out of TARDIS, the Doctor stood thinking of what had almost been. A solitary teardrop ran down his cheek and then he realised. Sherlock had magnificent cheekbones.
John peered round the edge of the doorway. "What if he doesn't want me anymore?" he wondered worryingly. A faint sound could be heard from Sherlock's room but John couldn't quite make out what it was. No one seemed to be in the room, however. The muffled sound grew slightly and John's worst fear was confirmed. A heap of sheets on the floor appeared to move up and down in a repetitive fashion. And then the movement ceased.
"Jim, John will probably be home soon."