Summary: It is Sherlock's birthday.
A/N: Because I can see this happening. Thank you xDarkLightx, SethMaxwell06, TimeTravellingThestral, bookworm0902 and Rori Potter. And to everyone else who favoured or followed. :)
"Where are you going Sherlock?" John asked, surprised when Sherlock emerged from his room dressed and ready to go out.
"Out," Sherlock replied, reaching out for his coat and scarf.
"But it is your birthday!"
"Exactly." John sighed and returned to his laptop.
Sherlock got out of the cab and concentrated till no.12 appeared between 11 and 13. Opening the door with his key, he walked in, hung his coat and scarf before waving to the forever silently fuming Walburga.
"I am almost done, I told Kreacher to go help in Hogwarts kitchen for the night," Harry's voice sounded from the kitchen.
Sherlock leaned against the doorway and watched silently as Harry cooked. Unlike normal witches and wizards who cannot use magic to cook very well – because they lack complete control over their magic and no one wants to eat over cooked food, Harry could with a wave of a finger stir a pot full of stew or even chop several types of vegetables together.
"Let's go," Harry said, filling out two plates and levitating them. The plates trailed behind the duo as they made their way to the livingroom in front of the fireplace, where Harry had a blanket and a couple of pillows set up.
They started eating, half way through Harry handed Sherlock a glass filled with red wine.
"Happy birthday," Harry said with a sweet smile.
Sherlock took a sip, his throat burned and he coughed several times to get used to it. Harry who was still smiling simply laughed at Sherlock's expression, who was still coughing by now.
"Too much for you?" Harry teased.
"I will stick to butterbeer for now," Sherlock rasped, grimacing.
"I thought you should try the goblin's Fire Whiskey." Harry excused himself with a smirk.