Title: Making the Connection

Story Summary: A non-chronological collection of short chapters based on one word prompts, includes (pre-)slash for Johnlock & Mystrade

Chapter Summary: It's John's first birthday in 221B, but he didn't tell anyone about it. Prompt: Exquisite

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Moffat, Gatiss & SACD.

A/N: This tiny little piece of Johnlock is for all the wonderful people who added this story to their favourites or their story alerts. It always gives me such joy to see that somebody likes this story enough to add them to their favs and/or wants to know when there's a new chapter up. So thank you very, very much. Please let me also mention again that I'd love for you to prompt me (in a PM or a review). This prompt, however, came from oneword(dot)com.

It was his first birthday after his return to England. At work Sarah had surprised him during lunch with a cupcake in hand with a single candle in it, Harry had sent him a text and Clara had called while he was on his way home. He hadn't told Mrs Hudson when his birthday was because so far she hadn't asked and of course the same was true for Sherlock.

He had stopped at the shop on his way home, buying himself a pre-cooked cottage pie and two cooled pints of his favourite stout, hoping for a quiet night in. Sherlock hadn't had a case in a bit but kept himself busy by abusing their kitchen for his experiments. John still hadn't got used to that.

When he entered the sitting room his flatmate sat in the armchair facing the door, reading a book. "Is it safe to use the microwave?", he asked and trotted into the kitchen.

"Yes, but don't open the fridge." Sherlock looked up from his book long enough to make deductions about his day. By now John knew that was the reason Sherlock seldom made small talk.

The cottage pie was cooking in the microwave while he opened the first pint. "Would it be okay if I watch some telly during dinner?" Just because his flatmate wasn't the polite type didn't mean he had to be rude as well.

"I can blank it out, so go ahead." With those words Sherlock blindly threw the remote control in John's direction and he caught it effortlessly, tucking it into the back pocket of his trousers.

He ate dinner at his desk, watching a programme about the creatures of the deep sea. Just after he had swallowed the last bite his flatmate took his violin from the mantelpiece and started to tune it. That was his cue to turn off the telly, so John opened his laptop to see whether any of his old comrades had sent him an email for his birthday.

Sherlock started with playing a classical piece of music, Mozart by the sound of it, but after a few minutes the familiar song changed and fluently transformed into the melody of 'Happy Birthday'. More than a little confused John turned around to look at his friend who was genuinely smiling at him.

After he was done with the tune he quickly picked up a grey flat box that had sat on one of the shelves next to the desk for a couple of weeks now. He handed it to John, congratulating him as he did so.

"How did you know it's my birthday?" The surprise was audible in his tone.

"Two months ago Lestrade almost caught me pick pocketing him, so I practiced on you a few weeks ago. I just so happened to see your driving licence. Go on then, open your present." Sherlock said, motioning towards the grey box that now sat on his friend's lap.

John wasn't sure whether or not to believe Sherlock's story, but one thing he had picked up on quickly was not to question it when the man did something nice. One look told him that his friend actually seemed to be rather nervous. So he went ahead and opened the light box. There was soft, red paper wrapped around its contents, he peeled the layers back and discovered a classic black jumper. He took it out of its wrapping and immediately felt the exquisite fabric, pure cashmere.

"You shouldn't have, Sherlock. You really shouldn't have. I don't know what to say." He ran his fingers over the extremely soft material, completely stunned. This was without a doubt the most expensive piece of clothing he ever owned and something told him that it would look rather good on him. "Thank you. It's wonderful."

Sherlock smiled with relief, obviously glad that his best friend liked his present. "You're most welcome, John."