A/N: This is the last chapter. I am going on a (longer) hiatus this time. See you all in May!
He ran through the corridors, surprised at the darkness. How was he supposed to create darkness now? He opened the doors of the lab, his brain warning him that something unexpected was going to happen.
"SURPRISE" four voices yelled and the lights turned back on.
Sherlock was momentarily blinded by the light. It took him exactly five seconds to realise what was happening. Great big balloons were everywhere, but surprisingly they had quite a classy look to them. There was a chocolate cake filled with candles (stupid! That explained why John insisted Sherlock having a differently flavoured slice of cake every breakfast. Sherlock distinctly remembered eating a little more of the chocolate slice). A knife was indeed, like John said, waiting. The deduction was Anderson-level. It was a birthday party. Mrs. H, Molly, Mike and Lestrade were looking at him, smiles on their face.
Where is John?
Sherlock felt many emotions – initially blindness, then confusion, later surprise and a little happiness, and finally he settled on disgust. He snorted loudly which surprised everyone. He put on an expression of someone whose ego had just been injured.
"A surprise party is the ultimate insult to a detective" he said, since they still looked confused.
"Don't tell me you don't love a surprise" John's voice sounded behind him. Sherlock turned so fast that his neck cricked. John looked merely amused. And a little bit happy.
Sherlock had forgotten what he had intended to say. Shit. He was turning into those bloody teenage girls in those movies again. He collected his composure quickly (0.53 seconds to be exact) and replied:
"Was this supposed to be a surprise?"
John looked slightly hurt, but then smiled like a parent who he knew his kid was lying.
"You're bluffing. I know you Sherlock Holmes" John said.
The hairs on the back of his neck rose.
"If you had known, you would have made the whole world know that you know. You would have banged open the doors with a ready quip in hand to show us all that you figured it all out" John said. Sherlock accepted defeat, that is, he did not argue further and let John take his coat to hang.
Sherlock had no idea what made him do this, he wasn't even aware of deciding to do this, but somehow he found himself walking towards the coat hanger and whispering:
"You do know how to impress a guy, John Watson"
John stiffened up immediately. He slowly turned to face Sherlock. The distance was painfully close, or rather painfully far. John was about to say something when:
"Oi! I've a case to go back home to" Lestrade's voice pierced the moment.
"Dear god above!" Sherlock's mind yelled.
The party was surprisingly short. They sang while he cut the cake and had generous amounts of it. There was also beer in the burettes, beakers, basically every chemical apparatus that could hold liquid. Mrs. Hudson smiled and hugged him, adding a few comments on how he should settle down. Lestrade merely smiled at him. His eyes held the triumph of fooling Sherlock Holmes with a fake real case. Sherlock's respect for Gavin went up a little bit, that is, he decided he would find out Lestrade's first name. Molly smiled at him and wished him well, nothing like the Christmas incident. Mike wished him and said he deserved a gift for giving Sherlock a friend for life. Sherlock secretly conceded.
They all give him their gifts and soon left. It was only John and Sherlock now. John suggested going back to 221 B. Sherlock acquiesced.
There were a pile of boxes waiting for him on the armchair. Sherlock deposited his present gifts into his armchair. He swallowed once or twice, determined to say the things that he should.
"John?"
"Mm-hm?"
"Thank you"
John stopped in his process of pulling out of his socks.
"You're welcome, mate. Though, there will be no presents for ten more years or so, mind you" he said, merriment in his eyes. This was what Sherlock preferred best. A nice time with a friend.
"So, how did you figure it out? The double murder"
"I fell in my own pit. I did not realize what was missing."
John nodded.
"The wedding rings. They were killed by one of the crew for the jewellery."
"But he didn't take anything else, like the platinum chain for example"
"He was clever. The chain left a print on her neck. It would be realised missing immediately. SO, would the rings but again that just proves how much people can't see what they don't see."
"You mean, I was clever?" John smirked a little.
Sherlock did not reply, instead opting to open his presents.
"I was serious about the ten year thing. I told them they didn't have to get you gifts for the next ten years so to put the effort into a good one. So, don't go expecting these gifts the next year."
"You wanted the day to be perfect" Sherlock realised.
He tried to deduce the gits, but they were skilfully packed in shapeless boxes. He opened them, resigned that he would have to wait to know the contents of the box, and truth to be told, he was enjoying this a little. Was this how normal people felt like when they opened a present?
The presents included mostly promises (Mrs. Hudson would let Sherlock experiment in the kitchen every year on his birthday, Lestrade gave full access to cases they would get the following month while Molly invited him to a game of Guess the Career in which she would let Sherlock examine the limbs of every dead person on her slab while Sherlock would guess their profession). However, Mrs. Hudson provided him with some books on bee-keeping. He opened a red present already knowing who it was from. He received similar present ages ago. It could not be a phone this time.
It wasn't a phone. It was a whip. She had three words for him: Use it well.
Sherlock blushed at the implications.
He then proceeded to open John's multiple gifts. John had gotten him a very powerful magnifying glass, a new bow for his violin, a quite promising analysis of blood splatters, a new scarf and most importantly, two tickets for a violin concerto which Sherlock had no doubt, must have cost a fortune.
Sherlock looked at his presents, overwhelmed by the love of his friends. He turned to thank John once again. Only problem, John wasn't there. He went to his bedroom, clutching Mycroft's present with him.
John was in his room, pacing back and forth, like a man on a mission. Sherlock knocked.
"Come in" a terse response.
Sherlock entered. The atmosphere was awkward, nothing like the easygoing attitude before. John looked at Sherlock for something to say while Sherlock waited for John. They both stared at each other, not wanting to break the moment.
"Make a deduction" John whispered, after some time.
Sherlock instinctively moved closer.
"You're afraid"
"Yes"
"But why?"
"Figure it out, Sherlock Holmes. Why would someone go through these lengths to do this for you?"
"Because..." Sherlock stuttered, eyes wide. "Because...you like me"
The realisation was like a knife to the gut. He had it wrong. John had said nothing to convince Sherlock, but the ever insecure Sherlock realised.
I own John Watson
John, on the other hand, merely looked at Sherlock, a mask of no emotion. He was learning from Sherlock, it would seem.
"John..."
John cut him off, as if he was suddenly broken out of a reverie.
"Look Sherlock, I know your philosophy okay? I've talked to Mycroft. He was the one who convinced me to go for it since you were bi. Sherlock, there's a reason why I...I love you, okay? I am not asking you to marry me or anything – I am willing to wait. Wait for you to trust again. Wait for you to hope that I won't leave. Because, really, Sherlock, all we have is hope. Hope is irrational agreed but do you think every man on this planet loves believing they will be happily married ever after? No. They hope. They hope that they get to grow old with their spouse, hope to play with their kids, hope to see their children happily settled, hope to play with their grandkids then, hope that they can have their own bubble of happiness. And, all we do have is hope. It drives every human to their actions. Just...give hoping a chance"
SHSHSHSHSHSH
Sherlock sat on his own bed, recalling the adventures of the day. He had woken up confused and was now even more confused. Sherlock opened Mycroft's present, an attempt to think about something else. They were wedding rings, a family heirloom. The note read:
When the time comes.
Sherlock knew he and John had a lot to talk about – The Woman's death, The Fall, Charles Augustus Magnussen, Mycroft's interference with Mary. Sherlock knew John had his own ghosts to talk about – that shoulder wound, Harry, a letter John stored in his locker...they had so many things to tell each other. Things that would make, strengthen or perhaps break their relationship. Sherlock would need a lot of time and evidence to believe John would stay.
But it felt nice to believe that the rings could be used when the time comes.
Sherlock hoped.
A/N: Any queries..I've left some things unexplained...so feel free to PM. Btw, their first date is the concerto.
Please review!