Lestrade just stands there, the grin falling from his face as he takes in the scene.

"What the fucking hell's going on?" he says, frowning. I stalk past him down the stairs. I don't trust myself to speak.

Sherlock comes after me and puts his hand on my shoulder, he doesn't say anything. I'm grateful because I have such a bloody turmoil of emotions in me that I have no idea how to react. Mycroft is down next, Jamie stands in the hall, his coat's on and he's got his kit bag.

"I think it's probably best if I take him somewhere. After all it is your birthday Sherlock." He seems all business like, exact. Sherlock nods and looks at me. I avoid Jamie's gaze and nod too. Mycroft pats his brother on the shoulder and smiles at me. "Right, I'll be off then. Hope the rest of the day goes well." He winks at me and Sherlock looks away.

They go downstairs and then Lestrade comes in, he's still holding the champagne. He looks deflated.

"Does anyone want to tell me what's going on? John? Sherlock?" Sherlock's gone into the kitchen and got champagne glasses, god knows where from, I didn't even know we had them.

"Jamie turned out to be a war criminal and so John hit him." he says taking the bottle and ripping off the tin foil from the neck. "I don't know about you but I really need this drink!" I smirk, typical Sherlock to sum the whole traumatic, confusing, tangled mess up with one sentence.

"Bloody hell. Good job I brought another bottle then, eh? The other's in the fridge, I put it in when I got here. By the way, what's in the jam jar in there?" He wrinkles his nose.

Sherlock pops the bottle; I watch his long fingers wriggle the cork out of the neck.

"Knuckles," he says nonchalantly, Lestrade feigns a gagging gesture and I grin. "I've nowhere else to put..." Sherlock stops mid pour of my glass, he's just remembered he has an entire laboratory downstairs. He puts down the bottle and grabs open the fridge, takes the jar and he dashes off. Lestrade stares after him.

"I take it you gave him his present?" He smiles as Sherlock comes back, still holding the jar, frantically looking around the room. I take the key for 221c from his coat pocket and hand it to him silently; he kisses my cheek, grins and runs off again. I nod at Lestrade.

"Whatever gave you that idea?"

"Do you mind if I go down? Seems as good a way to distract him as any." He says picking up the open bottle. I look at my watch, five thirty.

"Keep him down there until seven ish, everyone will be here by then?" Lestrade is already at the stairs.

"Won't be a problem, I'm going to ask loads of questions. He'll love it." He grins and leaves.

I take the rest of the afternoon to get things sorted out. Clara comes over to help. People are arriving for seven and I've got the flat looking good. I've garnered lamps from Mrs. Hudson and two from Clara. The lighting's cosy and intimate. Clara says it makes the room look more old fashioned, Victorian. It certainly highlights the interesting wallpaper. We've got the fire lit and pushed the furniture back. Together we've dragged the dining room table out into the lounge.

"Hey look! This table has a hidden leaf underneath, we won't need to drag that other table upstairs, we'll all fit here." Clara pulls out the extra bit of the table and smiles as she fits the chairs she's lent to me into the extra seats. I circle the table counting out names.

"Laura, Rose, Art, me, Sherlock, Lestrade, you, Mrs. Hudson, RN..."

"RN?" Clara frowns.

"Ah. Yes, not sure what his name is. RN's a nickname." She raises her eyebrows.

"I see. What does it stand for?" I sigh.

"Rubber Nazi." she grins.

"Really?" I nod.

"Yep, really. He's into bondage and all that. Actually I should tell you, that's where Sherlock met Laura and Art and Rose." Clara laughs.

"Sherlock's into... god John, are you into...? Wow. Bloody hell. Cool." She looks at me with new respect. Much as I think I should tell her that, a) I am not a hardcore Bondage Master and b) that even if I was it wouldn't make me cool, I just bask in her impressed expression. "So which one of you..? Oh sorry? It's just like, fascinating." She says as she sets out the wine glasses and tries not to look shocked.

"What? Oh right, which one of us... erm, well both of us. We take turns."

"Gosh. Wow. Sorry, not being very coherent here am I?" she's quiet for a bit and we finish setting the table. "So Laura and Rose, are they together?" I nod.

"Yeah, I think you'll like them. Laura's, well, she's exciting. And Rose is a sweetheart." Clara frowns.

"Is Lestrade the only straight person tonight?" she starts to giggle. She's only met him once but he's obviously made an impression. I consider her question.

"Apart from Mrs. Hudson, yes." Clara purses her lips like she's about to say something and then just nods. I'm just about to ask her what's wrong when there's a quiet knock on the door; it's a rhythm, like in a bad spy movie.

Clara opens the door and it's Art, he's on his own but he's struggling to carry a large bunch of flowers and a painting.

"Hello!" he whispers looking furtively about.

"It's ok, he's downstairs with Lestrade." I grin.

"The policeman? Darling, can I sneak down?" I shake my head.

"No, we're staying up here; I'll go and get him later." He pretend pouts and then passes me the flowers.

"For you," he kisses my cheek. "For being such a doll and organising this. And this is for the birthday boy!"He leans the picture against the sofa. I try to peak through the brown paper. "You're not to look now!" he squeals, throwing himself dramatically in front of the canvas. "It's for the bedroom," he winks and Clara giggles.

"You must be Art!" She shakes his hand and he pulls her in for a kiss. They start to introduce each other, explaining how they know Sherlock, how they know me. Art raises his eyebrows when Clara mentions that we dated briefly.

"The one that got away!" he sighs dramatically and Clara smiles at me. Then Clara says she likes Art's suit, it's black with a thin pinstripe, a kind of modern take on a gangster outfit from 20s. Then the door opens and it's Laura and Rose.

"Hi!" Rose smiles and gives me a hug. Laura is behind her and she gives me a dazzling smile. They've got party dresses on. Rose's is a dark pink silk and Laura's is in black, predictably.

"Hey John! Did the booze arrive?" I gesture to the corner of the kitchen where the crates are stacked ready to replenish the fridge. "Did he like his present?"

"I've never seen him so excited..." I begin but Art interrupts.

"Now, I'm sure that's not true!" Everyone chuckles and I think I blush.

"When's your date getting here?" I ask trying to deflect the conversation.

"He had to work late," Art pouts and then shrugs. "He'll be here a little after eight I think."

"Did he indicate his proposed outfit?" Rose asks and smiles at Clara. "Have they told you about RN?" Clara nods and I can see she and Rose are going to get along.

"Does anyone know his real name?" I ask the others. They look from one another and then shake their heads. "Not even you Art?" he frowns and then shrugs.

"We don't talk much," he says grinning. There is a general groan from everyone and I wonder if we can be heard downstairs.

"Yoo hoo!" Mrs. Hudson opens the door. She's wearing a really nice purple dress which sweeps down to her feet. Clara smiles and goes and hugs her. They stand with their arms about each other. It's nice to see them both so happy. Laura glances at the clock and I realise I'd better get Sherlock.

"Right, I'll send Lestrade up and then bring Sherlock. Try to be quiet." This last comment I aim at Art who tried to look offended and then giggles.

"Shall we turn the lights off?" he asks. I nod.

As I leave I turn off the lights. I am just about to go downstairs when I hear Art remark.

"Lady Laura Aston! Keep your hands to yourself young woman! You're a peer of the realm!" There is much silly giggling; it's like being seven again.

"Shhh!" I hiss and the giggling gets sillier. I sigh.

"Geoff, phone call for you upstairs." I say as I come into 221c. Lestrade is sitting on the bench swinging his legs while Sherlock gives him a lecture on the different types of mud found in London. Lestrade looks relieved to see me. He jumps down from the bench making the glass instruments Sherlock has piled up, wobble dangerously. Sherlock glowers.

"Ok thanks John. Are you hungry?" It's our cue.

"I've made pasta, stay for dinner if you like? Sherlock, are you hungry?" He looks up from the pipette he is squirting into a flask and he is thinking. I see the thought processes flick over his face. 'It's exciting down here but John wants me to have dinner with him and Lestrade, it's my birthday and I want to play down here but I suppose I should be nice.' He nods.

"Hang on a minute; I'll come up with you." He says, dropping the last of the liquid in the flask and swirling the mixture. Lestrade goes upstairs.

I watch him work. He is absorbed in the experiment he is undertaking. He heats the flask over the Bunsen, shaking the glass bottle carefully. He looks up and sees me watching; he grins and puts the flask down.

"Thank you." He comes around the bench and puts his hands either side of my hips, leaning his hands on the metal surface. He kisses me. His lips brush mine and it feels like it's been forever since he touched me. He obviously has the same reaction because he's breathing heavily and he leans into me and grinds his hips against me. I moan a little and he brings one hand up to cradle my head. His tongue plays just inside my mouth, his teeth graze against my lower lip and I gasp a breath in. He pushes against me more insistently.

I suddenly realise that we have a party to go to. I push him away and he frowns.

"Let's do this later." I kiss him again and stroke his cheek; he closes his eyes and nods. I take his hand and lead him out of the lab, he locks the door and, still holding my hand, he lets me take him upstairs.

I open the door to the lounge and gently push him forwards into the dark. The light flicks on and I briefly see his face, grinning broadly before he even sees anyone.

"Happy Birthday!" Everyone shouts, originally enough. Sherlock is smiling and raises his eyebrows at me. I grin. I know him well enough to know he wasn't surprised for a moment.

Everyone comes forward to kiss him, hug him and he stands there like a piece of wood and lets them manhandle him. Lestrade shakes his hand; Rose and Laura kiss him on the cheek. Art hugs him and grabs his arse, apologising to me. Clara kisses him and Mrs. Hudson ruffles his hair although she has to stand on tiptoe to reach him. He holds out his arm towards me and wriggles his fingers. I come forward and he grabs my hand and holds it.

Art brings us some drinks. Murphy's' for me and Sherlock's favourite beer courtesy of Laura.

"So, have you had a nice day?" he asks. Sherlock smiles mildly.

"John met Mummy and then we came home and found out Jamie was a..." the others have stopped talking and are listening now.

"War criminal was how you described it to me."Lestrade says drily, there is a shocked silence.

"And John punched him. On the nose." Sherlock adds for effect. Everyone now looks at me. I shrug.

"Is that why he isn't here?" asks Laura.

"No, he's nipped out to get us a clown who does balloon sculptures," says Sherlock his eyebrows raised. It's a moment before people realise he's joking. He doesn't do it often. Then everyone laughs.

"Shall we sit down? The food's going to be here any minute." Laura says checking her watch. She sits at the table and we follow her, Lestrade ends up between her and Art. I cringe.

"Have we met?" Lestrade asks politely, frowning as he tries to place her face. I remember her story about the party and how Lestrade came to fetch Sherlock. She pretends to think.

"Possibly, you might know Daddy? Lord Ashton?" He scratches his ear and shakes his head.

"It's strange but I have the feeling we've met while I've been on duty..." He cups his chin on his hand. I can tell by Art's expression that he's worked it out; he catches my eye and grins.

"Oh I know!" He leans over and touches Lestrade's arm. "Laura! This is the policeman who came to get Sherlock that time he was with Andrew! In the dungeon!" he adds, eyes twinkling with mischief. Laura frowns and then her eyebrows raise and she nods. Lestrade looks thoughtful and then blushes. He's remembered.

"Ah, and Sherlock was... yes, with that bloke... Andrew? Right. I remember now. Yeah." Bless him, he looks completely thrown. Sherlock overhears and leans on an elbow to join the conversation.

"Has anyone heard from Andrew?" he asks. Lestrade looks relieved.

"Since the party? When John had to defend your honour?" asks Art sweetly. Sherlock nods and grins.

"Did you... I mean, was he your boyfriend?" Lestrade asks Sherlock obviously still trying to make sense of it all. Sherlock shakes his head while Laura and Art nod in tandem.

"No, not a boyfriend. I don't think I've ever had a..." he looks at me and frowns. "Andrew was the subject in an experiment." Lestrade snorts.

"An experiment which left him strapped over a stool entirely naked? Sounds interesting. I don't recall my science lessons being that much fun."

"Would that be fun Inspector?" Art leans his hand on Lestrade's arm coquettishly. It's not fair how flustered Lestrade gets.

There's brisk knock at the door and Lestrade is rescued from his embarrassment by the arrival of the Rubber Nazi. If that's possible.

Except Rubber Nazi isn't in rubber. And he isn't in SS uniform at all. Nor is he in a mask. He's wearing a really expensive looking double breasted suit and he has the shiny black hair and chiselled jaw of a superhero.

"Who's Bruce Wayne?" Clara whispers to me and I nod in agreement.

"Rubber Nazi." I whisper back and her eyes go wide. Lestrade is on his feet, his face shocked.

"Superintendent?" I look from Lestrade to RN and the penny drops. Oh my god. The Rubber Nazi is Geoff's boss. I think I gasp aloud.

"Lestrade? Good grief, I didn't know you knew Sherlock! I should have realised really, all the times he's been at the Yard. How are you?" RN shakes Lestrade's hand and then claps Sherlock on the shoulder. "Happy birthday Sherlock! Bought you a little something, Art said you'd like it. Nothing extravagant but... well, here you go." He passes Sherlock an envelope.

I am still gaping. I've never seen RN outside of his rubber costume and it's hard to imagine him as Superintendent RN. Lestrade's mouth opens, closes. RN grabs the chair which Art has saved for him and smiles sweetly at us all.

"Aren't you going to open it?" he nods to the envelope. Sherlock starts and prises the paper apart aware that everyone is focussed on him in order to avoid the awkward situation at the table.

"Vouchers!" he smiles broadly. "Just what I wanted! Look John!" He waves them at me and, although I can't see the name of the shop on them, I can see that they are a lurid pink and have some black handcuffs embossed on them. Jesus.

Laura's phone beeps and she goes to the door. Five men in dinner jackets bring in food on platters. It's probably the same bloody caterers that Mycroft uses. Everyone is eating and drinking and I'm just enjoying my starter when I feel Sherlock's hand on my knee.

At first I think he's trying to tell me something and so I look at him. He's engaged in a conversation about strangulation with Lestrade which he appears to find engrossing. I frown, from his expression he doesn't even know I'm here. The hand moves further up my leg and begins a tickling, circling motion.

It's like the noise in the room drifts away to a quiet buzz and all my attention is on that 3 inch spot over the top of my thigh. Maybe it's the distance, or the fact that all these people, these new people and old, I catch Clara's eye and smile, all these people, are gathered here but something makes me take stock of my new life.

All the things I wanted, close friends, people I could trust and laugh with, someone to love me so that I could let myself love them, it's all here. It's hard to believe that these things have fallen into place so easily. Has it been easy? I question myself. Not entirely I think, wincing at the remembrance of having my fingernails pulled by Mycroft's goons, Freiman's torture of those kids. But easy if that's what I've had to go through to win this life, this love. What was it Sherlock said that time? 'It was worth the wound.' I look at my fingertips, the nails have only just grown back over the nail beds and they still look a little raw, worth it. I smile to myself.

I slide a glance to Sherlock. His face is animated, engaged in a debate with Laura now about the place of aristocracy in British life, or at least that's what I think they're discussing. His pointed, turned up nose is wrinkled as he disagrees with her, that full mouth smirking and the high cheekbones contrasted with his pale skin in the lamplight. He still makes me catch my breath and I do that thing which I like to do sometimes when he's not paying attention, which is admittedly not bloody often. I look at him, I take him all in. Long fingers twisted together, sharp elbows on the table, the way his shoulder blades cut through the fabric of his shirt, the rise and fall of his chest, the blue eyes bright with thought. I look at the way his dark hair falls over one perfect eyebrow and I remember, consciously enjoying the fact, that he is mine, that he loves me. I bask in this self indulgent moment. I think about all those times he has moaned my name, accepted my body into his, wanted me so fiercely like he does everything. The warm glow of satisfaction, of having something precious which no one else can have, settles over me.

I shift my thoughts and remember how he makes me want him too. How demanding and gentle and passionate he is about me, about my body. And I smile. For four minutes I take stock of my life and realise how bloody happy I am. How content I am with the person I've become. And it's because I met him.

As if he hears me thinking he looks at me and smiles a slow smile. That expression, hunter, hungry, used to scare me a little but now I feel a tremor of excitement flush through me. His hand moves higher, and he squeezes gently, still grinning wickedly. I feel the tingle of emotion transmute to passion. My breath hitches but everyone's so focussed on the conversation that I go unnoticed. He turns to me.

"John, I want to go and open Art's present? Will you come?" I nod and get up from the table, pushing my start plate away.

"Don't be long boys, main course id ready in a moment." Laura says catching Sherlock's eye.

"I just want to see what it is." He smiles back and her and she grins. Then he pulls a box from his pocket. "Art, this is for you. Unwanted gift which I thought was much more your style." Art takes off the lid and tips the heavy bracelet onto his palm.

"That's gorgeous. Are you sure?" but he's already putting it on, getting RN to fasten it for him. Sherlock laughs.

"If I tell you Christopher Clark bought it, does it make it better?" Art squeals.

"Oooh! I love him. Did you see him in 'Casanova'? I'm definitely buying that on DVD!" he leers.

"So you can watch the bit where he seduces the young boy singer?" I ask and everyone gawps at me, "what? I watch films you know!" Sherlock tugs my hand and picks up the canvas.

In his room he puts the picture down and turns to me. He wraps those long arms about my neck and pulls me to him. He kisses me lazily and those slow kisses, languid and gentle begin to fan the passion which his teasing hands have started. He breaks the kiss and looks at me; his eyes are a sea blue.

"Thank you for today, for everything really John," he murmurs as he kisses my neck. "For the party, the lab, meeting Mummy, for being the best thing I could ever have for my birthday." Each phrase is punctuated with a soft kiss down my collar bone. He must be able to hear my heart hammering against my bones. He looks up from where he is bending, fingers unbuttoning my shirt.

"I'm going to thank you properly later but for now," more kisses this time over my nipple, I arch my back and hiss as he takes it into his mouth. "I just wanted to make you come. Is that alright?" I nod, words have failed me. I can feel my pulse in my hard cock and he kisses down my body until he is kneeling and I am leaning against the bed. He's still talking.

"You know today made me realise what a good man you are." he is unfastening my jeans and kissing along the length of me through the material of my shorts. "It made me think how lucky I am to have you." he pulls down my shorts and looks up at me, he licks his lips slowly and I groan.

"And of course I, personally, find you very attractive." He says with a smile and slips his mouth over the tip of me. His mouth is warm and wet and demanding. He hollows his cheeks and pulls along the length of me, eliciting a moan and I hiss from me as my hips buck forward trying to create more friction. He chuckles against my skin.

His hands come up and he grabs my backside with one, pulling me right into his mouth and snakes the other up my body to pinch my nipple. The combination of sensations is overwhelming. I start to thrust, his hand moves from my nipple and gropes for my hand. He finds it and brings it to the back of his head. I grab his hair and push against him. He moans. His fingers resume their teasing and stroking of my nipple, first one and then the other. I start to come.

"Oh, oh Sherlock. Oh god. Don't stop." I hear my voice as though it is someone else because all my consciousness is focussed on the part of me between his lips.

When I release his hair he kisses me gently, soothingly and stands up again. He presses his mouth to mine and I taste myself, mingled with his own personal taste. It is the flavour of us I realise.

I lean against his chest, trembling a little form the exertion, and he runs his fingertips over my scalp. When my heartbeat is regular and my breathing steady he pulls back and looks at me.

"What do you think the picture is?" he grins, I'm impressed he had the patience to wait and see. I smile and shrug and he turns and unwraps it.

It isn't a picture; it's a large, gold framed mirror. It's obviously an antique and the surface is pewter and mottled rather than silver and shiny. The frame is broad and ornate, swirls and curls in an Art Nouveau style. There is a tag attached. Sherlock lifts it and reads it. He laughs and passes it to me.

"Always useful to have a large mirror in the bedroom boys! Have fun with it! Art x'

Hi again! Hopefully this made you happy. Between sleep deprivation, cold medicine and having too much bloody word to do I am not sure what happened here. Will hopefully write tomorrow and then can't do anything until Sunday. Longest I think I've gone for months. sorry guys! If it's any consolation it will be killing me. so, I'd appreciate some feedback on this to keep me going and motivated. Glad you approved of John punching Jamie last time!

The Baker St Irregulars! I'll miss you over the next few days.: PrincessNala and Peachsilk (I'll share him sans dress?) Darmed (do hope you're ok babes) Clubba Bear, Tasty- Kate ,2cajuman2, Tanya Zsa Zsa, Munchiees!, Aelfric's cat , Nellyington, mrs winny, Despairandcupcakechild!), Mouserjb4 ,Tillif and Harpyquin and Jazzysatindoll,thegeekyprincess and Flabagash! And all the new people who just found us! I'll be checking email tomorrow morning, off to bed now. Feel like death!

Love you OHOB and Reggie Cx