Somehow, John had figured out when Sherlock's birthday was, and he was going to drag Sherlock to the pub with some friends, "come hell or high water", as he'd put it. They'd bickered amicably for about twenty minutes until Sherlock decided that it would be an interesting way to study people in a relaxed environment, and eventually assented.
A few texts and phone calls later, they were on their way to the pub. Mrs. Hudson stood between them, having been asked by John and clearly flattered at being included. When they got inside, John spotted the few folks he'd invited and waved. Sherlock studied them all - DI Lestrade, looking tired and rumpled after a long day at work; Molly, smiling too wide, trying too hard, and looking awkward but pleased at having been invited; even bloody Mycroft, incongruous in the pub in his three piece suit. However, all of them had something in common - they looked genuinely happy to have been included in this. They headed across the pub and sat down, greeting everyone in turn.
As his gaze drifted from John and Greg laughing conspiratorially about something to Mrs. Hudson nursing her whiskey sour and smiling contentedly, he couldn't help think that maybe John was right. Maybe, sometimes, it was good to have a place where you belonged.