Sherlock Holmes and the Case of the Bachelor's Birthday

"Attractive, single, late thirties, dark hair, blue eyes, popular-"

"Asides from the 'attractive' and 'popular', it almost sounded like you were describing yourself," John intoned, flicking a page in The Sun.

"- what sort of prospect would be considered the perfect birthday gift?" Sherlock finished, looking intently at John.

John frowned, glancing up. "What are you on about?"

"A case. Has to do with a popular bachelor's birthday, but what would be the perfect gift?"

"A normal friend and a clean flat," John muttered, casting his gaze about the cluttered sitting room.

"No! Don't be idiotic, John; think!" Sherlock paced restlessly across the sitting room, stepping carelessly on newspapers and sheets of music and clothes. "He has quite a considerable amount of money, I should think..."

"A vacation?" John supplied.

Sherlock paused. John could practically see the cogs turning in the detective's brain. "Vacation... It isn't impossible... but given his popularity..."

"Wait, is this guy popular popular or just a ladies' man?"

"He's popular enough with the crowds here," Sherlock clarified, returning to pace.

"Well, maybe he took a vacation to relax. I'd like to do that on my birthday."

"Yes, but you're old!" Sherlock snapped.

John was immediately defensive. "I'm in my late thirties, you bloody git!"

Sherlock paused for only an instant, thinking again. "Oh." He shook his head before resuming pacing. "So you are."

John scowled at him before turning back to The Sun. He had suggested a perfectly plausible idea; Sherlock had, with all his tact, dismissed it.

"I don't celebrate 'birthdays'-" Sherlock said.

"I know," John muttered.

"- so I don't know what to expect? Younger people have parties and there are parties on milestone years such as forty or fifty, but thirty-seven? There's an infinite amount of possibilities, but none that seem terribly likely."

"Maybe he's just spending it at home with family and friends," John said.

Sherlock gave him an annoyed look. "Why would anyone do that?"

"Because people love their friends and families?"

Sherlock gave an 'ugh' noise before throwing himself down in his chair, drumming his fingers against the armrest. "I have always spent my birthdays alone."

"And that's the differentiation between whoever you're talking about and yourself: you said this guy was popular. He probably has a lot of friends, unlike you." John was partially teasing, although it was a wasted effort. Sherlock was happier without friends and that was just the way it was. Sherlock didn't want friends, as far as John could tell. He wanted work, murders, and cases, but not friends.

"You believe that this man would have a get-together at his home?" Sherlock said, completely seeming to disregard or not have heard John's 'friend' comment.

John shrugged. "It's a possibility. Or else he'd go to a friend's house."

Sherlock stood. "It couldn't hurt to investigate, I suppose."

"Why are you so hyper about this guy's birthday, anyway? Is he wanted or something?"

"No, I'm looking for his friend. He's short, older-looking, graying hair and all that lark-" Sherlock stopped suddenly, looking at John as he looped his scarf around his neck. "Now it sounds like I'm talking about you," he said cheerfully and descended the stairs in the next moment.

John glared after him. Bloody pompous consulting clot. He wasn't making him any tea when he got home.


Happy birthday, Mr Cumberbatch! I wish you all the happiness and all you could ever wish for. :)

I'm saying that just in case, you know, he ever happens to read this. I had to write something in honour of Ben's birthday, so this pointless little John-Sherlock friendship drabble spouted from it. Hopefully it brings a smile to the readers (or Benedict's!) face. I mean, of course Sherlock wouldn't celebrate birthdays. The unsentimental git. :p

I do not own Sherlock. Thank you!