This is just a kind of humorous chapter about a party in next one will have to do with the party too, but with more storyline, I promise :3 I hope it's worth a read though, still. Just a bit of fun. Not an epilogue or anything, the story isn't anywhere near finished. Anyway the POV is split three ways...kind of is anyway but y'no :) -LS
It was Sherlock's birthday, not that he told anyone. John knew anyway, of course, and had told The Doctor and practically anyone that could live with Sherlock's...behavior. Did Sherlock like parties? Probably not, but it was worth a try. They had to have a party, anyway, because it was The Doctor's birthday too. He wasn't sure exactly how old he was but the discussion lead to an explanation of regeneration and all that kind of wibbly wobbly, timey wimey stuff that both intrigued and bored Sherlock.
The three men had an unspoken agreement to go gift shopping the day before the party. Sherlock found this extremely difficult because he usually got Mycroft or Anthea to pick gifts, but not this time; partly because the two other men were his only friends in the world, and partly because he hadn't quite convinced his brother that The Doctor was real, although he was coming to the party- John had invited the older Holmes.
Sherlock called into his favorite suit shop, knowing that they did tuxedos and bowties as well as blazers and nice shirts. He ended up buying The Doctor five bowties; a red, a brown, a cream, a white and a navy blue, all made out of a shiny, satiny kind of material. Feeling oddly considerate- he was starting to think John and The Doctor were rubbing off on him -he bought John a navy blue jumper. The real reason was that he didn't want John to feel left out, he and The Doctor both had navy blue things to wear; he would lie and say he had forgotten John's birthday when it had came around and it was a kind of thank you for organizing the party.
On his way home, he wondered what his friends had bought him; John would pick something good, probably something to do with his work. The Doctor was fairly unpredictable in this area, being quirky and not quite human. Molly would probably get him something too, and perhaps Mrs. Hudson would make him something to eat. Lestrade and Mycroft...well, that depended on their mood, or rather how Sherlock had treated them recently. He didn't expect anyone else he knew to come; perhaps some of John or The Doctor's friends would show up.
John had scoured half of London for a fez and he couldn't find one. It would have to come in special delivery from Amazon, he supposed. He had also bought him a navy blue pair of suspenders, just in case the fez didn't come on time.
Although John had only known The Doctor for a couple of months he was a lot easier to pick presents for than Sherlock. He eventually decided on an array of scalpels and other medical tools that he could use for dissections and the like. He briefly wondered whether Sherlock would actually need them, he had enough scattered around their flat, but then he remembered that the last one he saw had been stuck in a wall after Sherlock got bored and threw them like darts at the smiley face, and made the decision to but the pristine collection.
He walked home, happy with his choices; he could only hope that Sherlock and The Doctor would be.
The Doctor wasn't used to shopping and had somehow managed to wander from the men's section of Next into a section filled with bras, to him embarrassment, and couldn't find his way out. He attracted a lot of stares from the women around him, and not in a good way. Not in a good way at all.
He somehow managed to navigate his way out of the lingerie department and into one of the sections of the shopping mall. He looked around him; what was a good shop to look in for a present for Sherlock? Boots? Grainger Games? New look? Topshop? Hm...probably not. He avoided clothes shops as a rule after his visit to Next, but managed to find a science-y kind of shop that sold different supplies. He bought a periodic table poster, a particle diagram and a working model of the digestive system. Maybe the consulting detective would like them, he didn't know. He hoped he had a good sense of humor, and then realized Sherlock's sense of humour was terrible. Ah, well, it was worth a try.