A/N: So the final chapter! :-) Thank you so much to everyone who has read, favourited, followed and reviewed this story. I hope you have all enjoyed it. As I said at the start, this is the first time I have added a little mystery to my stories. I hope I managed to pull it off okay, though I think most of you have probably guessed who Sherlock's 'true love' is, so I think I still have some work to do. :-/ If you have enjoyed this story, please let me know in a review, (I love receiving them), thank you. :-)

Disclaimer: Still don't own, please enjoy! :-D

On the 12th day of Christmas my true love gave to me ...

6th January Sherlock's Birthday

The clock on the mantle softly chimed the hour, drawing Sherlock from his mind palace. Releasing a sigh, he stood up and walked over to his bedroom, collecting his suit from the back of the wardrobe door as he went. After dressing, Sherlock went back to the living room, and standing in front of the mirror, he quickly adjusted his shirt collar before putting on his jacket. Taking a deep breath, he thought back to the previous evening. Maybe 'phoning Lestrade and demanding to be told all that the inspector knew of the party being held at the Yard had not been the wisest course of action, but you couldn't blame a chap for trying. Pulling on his coat, he checked to ensure the dove of peace badge was on straight, then wrapping one of his new cashmere scarves around his neck, he turned to leave, and make his way to Scotland Yard. As he was turning however, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and paused, suddenly his eyes lit up as realisation spread across his face. 'Oh, of course!' Sherlock breathed as his eyes flitted across the room, taking in some of the gifts he had received. The tenth timelord, the fact that whoever was doing this knew him so well (and cared), the jigsaw with the stag and robin, and the note from the previous day. Sherlock picked it up from the coffee table, read it again, and grinning, said quietly to himself, 'of course.'

Arriving at Scotland Yard five minutes to the appointed hour, Sherlock got out of the taxi and went inside. Easily locating conference room 5, he walked calmly through the doors to a darkened room. Suddenly the lights were switched on and the whole room seemed to burst into life.

'SURPRISE!' yelled several of the room's occupants.

Sherlock merely rolled his eyes as he calmly stated, 'I received an invitation to attend. It is hardly a surprise.'

'Oh yeah.' replied Lestrade, his face flushing a little in embarrassment.'Fancy a drink?'

'No thank you.' Sherlock answered as his eyes roamed around the room, taking in every tiny detail. The room which was normally rather large appeared somehow smaller, spinning around in a full 360 degree circle, Sherlock eventually realised why that was. At the far end of the room, away from the table that was doubling as a makeshift bar for the night, a section of the room had been cordoned off with a floor to ceiling curtain. Continuing his perusal, the young genius saw that most of the detectives he had ever worked with were in attendance, as well as Molly, Mrs. Hudson, and Sherlock groaned as he saw his brother walking towards him through the crowd.

'Why are you here, Mycroft?' Sherlock asked with an expression of absolute disgust on his face.

Mycroft smirked as he replied, 'I was invited brother dear, after all, it is a party to celebrate the day of your birth, why would I not wish to be here?'

Sherlock growled as he stalked away towards the curtained area. Only to be prevented from reaching his goal by Mrs. Hudson slipping her arm through his and steering him towards the bar, saying, 'get me drink dear.'

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he matched his stride to that of his elderly landlady. 'What's behind the curtain, Mrs. Hudson?'

'I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about dear, now, I think a nice vodka and tonic would suit me, don't you dear?' replied Mrs. Hudson, whilst attempting to avoid eye contact with the young consulting detective.

Just as Sherlock was about to demand an answer, a low droning sound filled the room. Turning towards the source of the sound, Sherlock saw the curtains pull back to reveal the pipes and drums of the London Scottish Company of the London Regiment. Suddenly the universally recognisable tune of Happy Birthday filled the room. When the playing stopped and the low hum of the bagpipes died away, the entire room erupted as cheers rang out. Finally silence fell as the band parted to allow the organiser of the event to make their way to the front. The organiser squared their shoulders before marching with military precision over to where Sherlock was standing. Bright blue eyes shining with love and just a hint of fear, John stopped and stood in front of the man he loved. Holding out the red rose he carried in his hand, he said softly 'happy birthday Sherlock.'

Plucking the rose from John's fingers, Sherlock looked down at the man who meant more to him than any other human being ever had or ever would and smiled softly, relief washing over him as he realised that his last minute deduction in the flat had been correct. John Watson was his true love. Raising his hand to John's cheek, Sherlock caressed his face as he leant closer, and whispered 'thank you' before closing the gap. Meeting him halfway, John stretched up on to the balls of his feet, his arms rising to Sherlock's neck as he pressed against him, his fingers tangling in Sherlock's soft brown curls at the nape of his neck as he dragged him closer.

The complete and utter silence of the room finally penetrated their lust filled minds, and pulling away from each other slightly, John and Sherlock looked at the expressions on the faces of those around them. Most looked pleased, they had been wishing the two of them would finally realise their feelings, some looked embarrassed, watching two people attempt to snog the face off each other was not everyone's idea of a fun night out, and one or two looked a little disgusted, but that said more of themselves than John or Sherlock.

Grabbing hold of John's arm, Sherlock dragged him away to a quiet corner, glaring at anyone who came near, and proceeded to thank John in a rather inappropriate manner, considering they were both in Scotland Yard. Eventually they pulled apart as the lack of oxygen was becoming an issue.

'So, you figured it out then?' gasped John as Sherlock began attacking his neck with biting little kisses.

'Mm, yes.' mumbled Sherlock. Suddenly he pulled away, a look of confusion on his face. 'How did you get pipes and drums, you're a doctor?'

John smiled, his eyes shining with merriment as he replied 'ah yes, well a mate of mine from the field hospital in Helmand was an army musician, and he knew someone who knew someone. Now why don't you carry on from where you left off, hmm?' John then pulled Sherlock back down towards his neck, humming in approval when Sherlock got the message and continued his previous actions.