Another Year Older (Sherlock)

[Dr John Watson]

It was a cold, cloudy day in London, as most days were, though John didn’t really mind, he was use to it and grew up loving the London weather; he’s just not too fond of it when Sherlock decides to go on a case in the rain and drag him along.

But today was a ‘special’ day. Well, to John it was just another day that meant he was another year older, the ‘special’ in the day kind of died when he hit thirty, realizing he was ten years away from forty, which is now only a year away.

Though it was his Birthday, he didn’t expect it from Sherlock to remember, in fact, this year it would be nice if everyone could just forget. Though, if he does remember, John wouldn’t mind either, mostly because he knew Sherlock wasn’t big on celebration and wouldn’t do anything much other than utter the words ‘Happy Birthday’, if even that. Though John was a tiny bit excited, even though he would deny it, but it was his first Birthday since Sherlock came back.

He lays silently in bed; the sheets pulled up to his shoulders to shield himself from the cold as he lays on his side, staring at the wall in front of him trying to block out the fact that he’s another year older. But then again, he didn’t really know why he was fussing over his age, maybe the fact that he was still single and living with a man that fakes death and keeps heads and thumbs in fridges was it, but then again, strange enough, he didn’t really have a problem with it... much.

He closed his eyes and let out a big sigh before sitting right up, running both hands down his face, and looking towards the door... it was quiet... there was no violin, no shouting for his name or for tea and it made John worry, where was Sherlock? He couldn’t possibly still be sleeping, that is if he even slept the night.

He threw the sheet off him and swung his legs off the bed, standing up and grabbing his robe, running a hand through his hair as he yawned and slowly and tiredly made his way to the door. Turning the knob and opening the door, he rubbed his right eye stepping out of his room.

”Sherlock?” He called and looked up and around the room for the Consulting Detective.

[Sherlock Holmes]

Sherlock had been working all night on a case. John had been asleep and for once the detective let the blogger have his time off. So while John had slept the consulting detective had roamed London, looking for clues and investigating the house that had been the centre of this crime. This time it had been a diamond theft and with Moriarty back, Sherlock wanted to keep a look out. The crimes couldn't always be a juicy murder to solve or a fantasticly devious serial killings. Lestrade also seemed happy that Sherlock was keeping himself occupied, even if Donovan and Anderson complained.

The other plus was Mycroft had not contacted Sherlock for ages. Which meant no big crimes in the government that involved legwork. It also meant that Mycroft was not worried about Sherlock's habits, even if they did involve staying awake to all hours of the morning. But Sherlock had forgotten one important factor. He was human and needed sleep and so it was at 5:57am the detective crashed on the sofa, newspaper clipings scattered around him, random scriblings, police reports and pictures of the scene. In fact Sherlock slept longer than he had in a while, he managed all the way until John called his name.

”Sherlock?” The detective's pale eyes flickered open and he sat up admist the mess that had been created in the living room. Bleary eyes focused around the room and the detective sniffed slightly, his nose was a bit runnier than usual. Probably something to do with running around in the cold. His now attentive eyes flickered to a cup with had signs of once housing tea in it.
"Not enough tea." The detective muttered, partly to himself and partly to John.

At the present time the detective had just been leaning up slightly, but now he pushed some of the papers off him and sat upright, looking at John. His piercing gaze examined the doctor briefly.
"Morning John. It appears that you had a sufficient lie in. Tea would be good." The detective said, his eyes flickering back to the papers around him. The detective was sure that he had nearly cracked the case. The daughter and her boyfriend were involved, but he was sure that there was one more element. It had been narrowed down to two theories. Later today he would go test them out.
"We have a case, it's nearly finished though." The detective informed his room mate, eyes still focused on the news articles before him.

[Dr John Watson]

”Not enough tea.”


Of course, tea, the first thing Sherlock Holmes would demand in mornings, either that or a nicotine patch, so John usually didn’t complain and went to make them both a cup, he anyway needed it most mornings as well. But this morning was different, and John just raised an eyebrow at the man, opening his mouth to speak but before he could, the Detective spoke again.


"Morning John. It appears that you had a sufficient lie in. Tea would be good."


And there it was, the prove that John needed, Sherlock either did forget his Birthday, or didn’t care, or knew John wanted no one to make a fuss over it, but in all honesty, he did at least expect his flat mate, and best friend, to say something.


”Morning... and yes, I’m surprised you allowed me to sleep this long. But guessing by your appearance and the state of the living room you just woke up as well,” he replied still a bit asleep which was proved by a following yawn.


”We have a case, it's nearly finished though.” This caused John to pause, standing with his mouth half open for at least a second, ready to argue. But instead he closed his mouth and sighed, rubbing his forehead as he replied.

”Sure, uh, I’ll help you after I make tea.” he replied and dropped his hand, turning towards the kitchen and started walking, half dragging his feet.

”Seems like I’m going to need it if I’m going to make it through today.” he half mumbled and as he reached the kettle. Switching it on he knitted his eyebrows together and turned, leaning against the counter.

”How long were you up last night?” he asked from the kitchen.

[Sherlock Holmes]

Sherlock, now more awake, watched John, his eyes searching through his flatmate's features. What was it within them that was trying to say something? It was one of those human emotions, but quite well masked and the detective was never good at figuring out what emotions went through people. Was it disappointment? But why would John be disappointed this early in the morning?
”Morning... and yes, I’m surprised you allowed me to sleep this long. But guessing by your appearance and the state of the living room you just woke up as well,”
"I did not mean to sleep in." The detective said, standing up and walking over the table to pick up a discarded picture and examine it closely.

As he spoke of the case, the detective's pale eyes flickered up to John again and for a moment it looked like the doctor was about to say something. But instead John closed his mouth.
”Sure, uh, I’ll help you after I make tea.” As John walked, Sherlock noticed John dragging his feet. It had to be that John was tired, that was the thing that he had been trying to puzzle out. How could John still be tired? They had slept in!

Sherlock cast his gaze back at the empty cup on the table and then picked it up before following John into the kitchen. There he desposited the cup by the sink.
”Seems like I’m going to need it if I’m going to make it through today.” Sherlock ignored that and went to look for milk in the fridge. On a spur of the moment, Sherlock had asked one of the Homeless network to buy him milk. He had paid the human and when he came home there were three bottles of milk waiting on his doorstep. He took one out, looking rather pleased with himself.

”How long were you up last night?” John asked as Sherlock placed the bottle on the counter.
"Technically all night, I went to sleep at arounf 6 am. I wasn't meant to." The detective frowned and then sneezed. It had been a busy and cold night last night. "The case is nearly finished, though." He added on a more positive note. This time Sherlock grabbed a paper tissue as he sneezed, before bining the used paper.

((OCC: I hope you don't mind me having Sherlock come down with a cold. But I've always imagined him catching colds with all his work.))

[Dr John Watson]

Once in the kitchen, noticing that Sherlock followed him in this time he watched him suspiciously, maybe he did know? Either that or he caught on to John’s disappointment and was now determined to figure out what he could possibly be disappointed at this time of the day. John did always find it amusing that Sherlock had to know everything, well, everything about people, apparently the fact that the Earth orbits the Sun wasn’t ‘important information’.

John shifted his eyes, staring at the floor for a moment as he listened to Sherlock answer.

”Technically all night, I went to sleep at around 6 am. I wasn't meant to.”

Immediately John had a small frown, which only deepened as Sherlock sneezed.

”The case is nearly finished, though."

He pushed himself away from the counter and walked closer to Sherlock ”I can’t believe you went running around in the cold all night. Could’ve at least told me,” he said and reached out his hand, placing it on Sherlock’s forehead whether he liked it or not.

”You have a cold, slight fever” he said and his eye caught the milk and the worry in his expression increased. ”Maybe a small concussion too, did you hit your head last night? Or is it just me seeing the milk in your hands which I know I didn’t buy.” he stepped back, still looking at the milk as if it was some foreign object.

((OOC: Oh, no, I love it! Actually, I picture him catching colds from his work as well. XD))

[Sherlock Holmes]

The detective stood awkwardly in his own kitchen, still wondering what exactly it was about John. It was either disappointment for some reason or another type of tired reaction that Sherlock had not yet seen. Or maybe both. He frowned, still wondering what it could be that caused John to be like that. Maybe it was a lack of an early wake up call asking for tea? That would be disappointing and sleeping in could make one sleepy, the detective knew that. It did seem like a possible cause.

John frowned as Sherlock revealed his sleeping time and the detective wondered what could be wrong with it. On plenty of occasions he had stayed up all night. Although in recent times he had been doing that in sucession a lot. But there were either crimes to solve or he was too bored to sleep and needed mental stimulation. It was these factors that had lead him to collapse while working. Either way the case should be solved by today and he should be able to give Lestrade the answer.

”I can’t believe you went running around in the cold all night. Could’ve at least told me,” The detective frowned.
"You always complain when I wake you up in the night. Besides its a simple enough crime. Diamond theft." The detective reached for another tissue and sneezed again. It had been raining part of last night and although his coat and scarf had been hung out to dry the detective's clothes had still been damp when he arrived home and eventually fell asleep.
”You have a cold, slight fever”

This caught the detective and he froze for a split second. He couldn't have a cold or fever. His good streak of avoiding Mycroft's attention might end. Mycroft loved to play mother and the last time Sherlock was ill, before John, Mycroft had insisted on making Sherlock eat soup. It had been dreadful. Besides he had a case to solve. Only a few more interviews and it would be finished. He couldn't get ill near the end of a case.
"I can't be ill, you must be mistaken." Sherlock said, it was the obvious conclusion. He simply couldn't get ill.

Although Sherlock's body seemed to want to disprove his words as he sneezed several times in sucession this time.
"Probably something in the air." The detective commented, focusing on the milk bottle.
”Maybe a small concussion too, did you hit your head last night? Or is it just me seeing the milk in your hands which I know I didn’t buy.”
"I paid for it. One of the homeless network has offered to buy me milk, I pay her for it." The detective commented. "And I did not hit my head." Sherlock's voice became rather defensive, and then he frowned.
"Something has disappointed you." He said, trying to turn the conversation around.

[Dr John Watson]

With every second passing John became more and more disappointed, it was expectant from Sherlock to forget, but disappointing to John that he forgot specifically this year, the first year after his return. In the back of his mind he kept thinking back to last year, it was horrible, he refused to do anything or to even go out. He barely responded to anyone wishing him a ‘happy’ Birthday, as if it was possible to smile without the violin playing, skull owning, experimenting Detective around.

But for now John scratched all thoughts of Sherlock no longer being there from his mind, and even though he didn’t remember his Birthday, John was just happy that he was here and not six feet underground.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he realized again just how happy he is that Sherlock’s back, but he’s also grow more protective over the man, and him running around after a diamond in rain and cold was not acceptable to John, so his small smile faltered back into a frown.

”Something has disappointed you." Sherlock pointed out before he could respond and John just gave him a look before turning his back to him, heading back to go finish the tea.

”Trying to change the subject’s not going to work, Sherlock. Though, if you woke me yesterday my ‘complaining’ could’ve prevented the cold that you do now have,” he said as he prepared the tea, turning around and holding his hand out for the milk.

”Besides, you never seem to care about my complaining, you wake me up anyway. What changed?” he asked, wiggling his fingers for the milk and a small smile tugged away at the corner of his lips again as he waited for him to respond, feeling more awake as the minutes passed.

[Sherlock Holmes]

Understanding people when petty things were involved was not one of Sherlock's greatest skill. Since a young age he had honed his skill and thus was brilliant at deducing things when it was based around crime. As far as Sherlock was concerned he was the best, although he was aware that Mycroft was quite posiible probably better than him. But Mycroft didn't do leg work so that made Sherlock better. Again he frowned, wondering what it could be. With the milk now on the kitchen counter he picked up his phone from his pocket and googled the news. Was there anything that would cause John's disappointment?

Scanning through the titles, Sherlock kept his eyes peeled for any interesting crimes, Moriarty and anything that mgiht effect John. Afghanistan (the doctor had served there), Alcoholics (His sister), medicine (his work). But nothing significant popped up. He frowned. What could the cause be. Maybe there would be anu clues in John's room. If he treated this like a crime scene then he would get down to the bottom of this. And John didn't appear to be hidding his disappointment, so it should be simple. He would go and have a search right now. Then have his tea and go finish solving the crime. And if John insisted he may try soup later, as long as that kept the British Government away.

”Trying to change the subject’s not going to work, Sherlock. Though, if you woke me yesterday my ‘complaining’ could’ve prevented the cold that you do now have,” Sherlock listened to what John said.
"I don't have a cold." The detective comented. "I have a case." His tone was back to being defensive. The detective never let anything come between him and a case.

The detective noticed John's hand reaching out for the milk and he picked up the bottle and placed it in John's hand. Now while John was making tea the detective would investigate his room to find what had disappointed John.
”Besides, you never seem to care about my complaining, you wake me up anyway. What changed?” Sherlock paused, he had already taken a step away from the kitchen and he turned back around.
"It was a simple case, I've solved plenty of them by myself. And according to Mycroft I need to let you sleep." That had been one of the things that Mycroft may have mentioned a while back when Sherlock had first gotten John. Mainly the detective ignored these sorts of things.

In truth the reason was simply because the case was simple and Sherlock had thought that John might deserve a sleep after looking after Karen. The detective had hated it when she wanted his help after slipping in the shower. But it wasn't easy for the detective to admit that he was grateful for John's help. The detective prefered some sort of just understanding. With that he breezed out of the kitchen and headed straight towards John's room. He would find out why John was disappointed. There was nothing like an early morning mystery to start the day.

[Dr John Watson]

John was disappointed, but not mad, sure he would have loved for his best friend to remember his Birthday but this wasn’t just anybody, it was Sherlock, and John knew the man better than most people. To be honest, this wasn’t the first year he forgot his Birthday, the last time he was so kindly reminded by Molly who wished John a happy Birthday while Sherlock was ‘examining’ a body at St. Bartholemew's Hospital. John didn’t care much, though he sort of expected this year to be different, but in a way he was glad to see things truly went back to normal.

John watched Sherlock as he was busy on his phone but didn’t think much of it, the only thing on his mind at this point was the milk so he could finish the tea and get his ‘fuel’ for his Birthday morning. Although Sherlock didn’t remember, he was sure others did, and even though he didn’t want to be reminded by everyone that he was another year older, he still looked forward to finding out just exactly who will make Sherlock realize.

"I don't have a cold. I have a case,” the Consulting Detective replied and John’s expression fell with a look that clearly stated he was not going to win this one.

”You have a cold, it’s not at it’s worse yet and if you keep going on as if you don’t have one it will get worse...” he replied to the stubborn man but stopped talking, though still having much to say, when Sherlock handed him the milk and spoke again.

"It was a simple case, I've solved plenty of them by myself. And according to Mycroft I need to let you sleep." he turned and headed out of the kitchen, leaving a John with a mouth full of words in the kitchen.

”I’m still making you soup later, you do have a cold!” he called after him before rolling his eyes as he turned back around to finish with the tea, making the mistake of not wondering where the man rushed off to so suddenly.

He slowly poured the hot water into both cups, opened the milk and poured in the right amount each preferred and looked at the bottle, suddenly remembering words he spoke earlier but John was too distracted by other thoughts to comment on them.

”Homeless network... ?” he mumbled to himself and gave a small shrug, turning around and walking over to the fridge to place the milk back, finding yet another surprise, there was another bottle. He slowly closed the fridge, finding all this a little bit odd.

”Alright.” John said to himself once again before shaking his head, heading back towards the two cups to stir the sugar in, which he did, slowly, unknowingly buying Sherlock more time to snoop through his room like it was some crime scene.

After the tea was made, ready, fresh and just the way they both liked it. He turned with the two cups in hands and started heading out the kitchen, assuming he’ll find Sherlock on the sofa again busy with the case.

”Right, tea’s done...” he called and looked up to find no Sherlock in the room.

”Uh... Sherlock?” he looked around him for any signs to where he could have disappeared to.

[Sherlock Holmes]

The detective had not really been working on his people skills, even when he did get John. All he needed was to be able to tell who was guiltly (and why) and who was innocent. So why should he be able to understand the more petty and pointless feelings? His best chance would be to understand what was effecting John would be to treat the entire thing like a crime. Something had hurt John somehow and he would find out what it was. It wasn't something on the news, maybe it was an email, like his sister telling him that she was not going to give up alcohol this year.

Once Sherlock had finished solving his 'crime' he would have his cup of tea and then another crime. The detective didn't care if he had a cold coming. Why didn't they ever come when he was bored? The detective sneezed several times again, picking up a tissue in time for it. Placing the tissue in the bin he pocketed five tissues for later use.
”You have a cold, it’s not at it’s worse yet and if you keep going on as if you don’t have one it will get worse...”
"As long as it only affects me after I've finished the case. Lestrade is hopelessly lost, he won't be able to solve it." He was even going down the wrong direction and Sherlock had yet to point that out to the police officer. He let the police take most of the claim, but he would be the one to solve it.

As he headed into John's room, Sherlock heard John's reply.
”I’m still making you soup later, you do have a cold!” Why was it always soup?
"Not hungry." Sherlock replied as he entered John's room. Pale eyes scanned around the room, looking for anything out of place. Nothing. The laptop was here though, and Sherlock quickly snuck on and looked through John's emails to see if anything could be there. There was something from Mycroft! Sherlock read it and frowned. Mycroft was wishing John 'Happy Birthday' and in a footnote there was a message to Sherlock. His dear brother had figured out that Sherlock would not remember and hack into John's computers.

Great. Sherlock thought, at first focusing on the fact that his movements had been predicted. That was annoying. Then he thought about the fact that it was John's birthday, why hadn't Lestrade mentioned it last night? Come to think of it, Sherlock had had to keep the detective inspector on track. Sneezing again into a tissue, he frowned and turned off the computer and snuck back into his room. What was he meant to do now? John was probably disappointed because Sherlock had forgotten something as minor as John's Birthday. The detective only remembered his own birthday because Mycroft would suprise him.

His phone rang out and answered it. It was Mycroft telling Sherlock that he was to get John a present, not solve the crime (he would text Lestrade what he had figured out), drink his tea and eat his soup. And that a cake would be sent around later. The consulting Detective knew that it would be pointless now. If he did attempt to go out Mycroft would probably send someone to pick him up and then Mycroft would pay his own visit.
”Right, tea’s done...” The detective stood up and cast his eyes around for some sort of present for John. Sherlock didn't want a visit from Mycroft.

Casting his gaze about, Sherlock went to look under his bed, pulling out a box full of books. He searched through this until he came across 'The Murders in the Rue Morgue' by Edgar Allen Poe. On the first page was a message from Mycroft wishing Sherlock a 'Happy Birthday'. Back then Sherlock had been refered to as 'Sherly'. It was the first book that Sherlock had shown an interest in reading. Of course they had had a copy at home (Which was now in Sherlock's box) which was the first one he read. But still, this should be a possible present for John.

”Uh... Sherlock?” Sherlock looked up and returned the box to under the bed with his foot. Then he walked into the living room and exchanged the book in his hand for tea. The detective didn't say anything but drank his tea, still annoyed that Mycroft had effectivly grounded him. Taking out his phone, Sherlock had to pause as he sneezed. Than he began texting Lestrade.
"Mycroft says I have to stay inside. And he's sending cake around later." The disgruntled detective said.

[Dr John Watson]

Sherlock was never good with feelings that involved showing affection towards others, he had them, but he just didn’t show or embrace them like most did. With that John also felt more at ease with the fact that he forgot his Birthday, it was really not that big of a deal... right? It’s just another day, one that meant he was older, and he was sure Sherlock would find out at some point in the day and therefore was quite looking forward to seeing his reactions.

Well, here he was, in the living room done with the tea they both craved every morning and Sherlock wasn’t there. John guessed he was in the bathroom, either that or he was in his room, probably remembering something’s not in the place it should be, he was always the perfectionist, though only sometimes.

But before John knew it, he came into view, took the cup out of his hand and pressed a book in its place. John didn’t know what to say at first, so many things going through his mind, besides; he was waiting for Sherlock to reply... explain, but that didn’t happen. He looked at the book and shortly after placed his tea down, taking the book in both hands and examining it.

”Mycroft says I have to stay inside. And he's sending cake around later." With the word ‘cake’ John immediately knew he knew. And honestly, John didn’t know if he liked that. He wanted to see Sherlock’s expression when he first founded out.

John knew Sherlock didn’t know a few minutes ago, there were no signs, and by the mention of Mycroft, two things came to mind. Either Mycroft called, or Sherlock went through his e-mail. John sighed softly and then looked at the book, opening it on the first page and reading the ‘Happy Birthday’ note, he could see it wasn’t Sherlock’s handwriting, but the thought was still really nice and it caused John to smile, even though a small one.

”You went through my e-mail, didn’t you?” he asked and looked up at him, closing the book and holding it up ”Thank you, though, it’s nice of you. I’ll start reading it tonight.” he placed the book down, still with the small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

With that he sat down on the sofa and took his tea, bringing it up to his lips and blowing on it lightly before taking a small sip. ”And good, I’m sure you can give Lestrade all the details through a text, wouldn’t want your cold to get worse otherwise we’ll be expecting a visit from Mycroft.” he said with a small, teasing smile, but it faltered as he looked to the pieces of paper on the floor from the case.

He went silent for a little while, taking another sip of his tea before looking at the book and then at Sherlock ”You really forgot my Brithday?”

[Sherlock Holmes]

Sherlock sat sullenly on the sofa as he texted Lestrade the answers to the crime and the single mystery. Taking another sip from the tea, he glared at the phone, not happy with Mycroft for ruining what had been a good day and pointing out something that Sherlock should have remembered. Now he was stuck inside with no crimes to solve. It was crul of Mycroft. ”You went through my e-mail, didn’t you?”
"Of course." Sherlock said, giving a small smile as he looked up from his text, hitting the send button. "You didn't tell me what was wrong." he added.

”Thank you, though, it’s nice of you. I’ll start reading it tonight.” Sherlock offered him a smile. It wasn't good and interupted by several sneezes.
"That is the first story that I ever read." Sherlock said. "I was six." He added. It had been a good read and the plot was still within his mind. Crime was often repeated and sometimes it could be found within books. It helped him to solve things.

”And good, I’m sure you can give Lestrade all the details through a text, wouldn’t want your cold to get worse otherwise we’ll be expecting a visit from Mycroft.”
"He just loves to play mother." Sherlock commented, clearly unhappy, he hated being confined. Especially when Mycroft was the one doing it.
”You really forgot my Brithday?” Sherlock continued to drink his tea for a few seconds before replying.

"Of course, I wouldn't remember my own birthday if Mycroft gave me the choice." The detective said. "He insists that it is important."

[Dr John Watson]

"He insists that it is important." John raised an eyebrow at the man as he sipped on his tea. Lowering the cup he softly cleared his throat and replied.

”Well, I think he’s got a point there. Birthdays are important, Sherlock, but I guess not as important as other things, like cases,” He gave a small shrug, bringing his cup back up to his lips and taking another sip, looking towards the book.

”You know, I’ve heard of this book before, not a lot but enough to make me want to read it,” he said as he lowered his tea, his eyes still focused in the book, but they quickly flash towards Sherlock ”You understood it at the age of six?” he added, nodding impressed, imagining the little Sherlock reading books most teenagers wouldn’t even understand. But then again, this was Sherlock... he was brilliant, and even though he was difficult at times, John had a lot of respect for the man’s mind.

”Can’t wait to read it,” John offered him a smile in return, but it grew as he thought of the sneezes Sherlock just had a moment ago.

”And about the Mycroft thing. He just cares about his brother, playing mother is just his way of showing that,” John knew the two of them were... well... not close. But he also knew Mycroft cared enough to kidnap him every now and then just to hear, in a very strange way, how it was going with Sherlock. Though, to be honest, John tries to avoid all black cars like the plague, ‘forever running from suspicious looking cars’ became his motto.

”But I won’t tell if you won’t say no to rest, soup and medicine,” he bargained, a tiny smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, but it faded as he considered who they were trying to keep a secret from and he leaned back into the sofa ”Though, knowing him he already knows you’re sick.”

”We should make a bet about this,” he thought, staring at the floor as he once again took a sip of his tea, which was almost finished now. John never said no to a good gamble... though betting against Sherlock was maybe not the wisest of choices for the ex Army Doctor. But he could take him... right? ”Wrong!” he could already hear Sherlock utter that very word.

He narrowed his eyes together, lowering the tea, his eyes flashing back to Sherlock ”I know this might not work but... please don’t go through my e-mails again.”

[Sherlock Holmes]

”Well, I think he’s got a point there. Birthdays are important, Sherlock, but I guess not as important as other things, like cases,”
"Birthdays don't do anything. They have no importance. Cases allows me to work, which stops my brain rotting." Sherlock said. "And an arguement can be made for protecting the public being another reason why cass are important." Sherlock added as an afterthought. Even as a child, the detective had not been too interested in anybody's birthdays, or Christmas. They just didn't seem to have any advantage tied to them.

Another sneeze presented itself and Sherlock took another sip of tea as soon as he was sure that no more sneezes would follow for a while.
”You know, I’ve heard of this book before, not a lot but enough to make me want to read it,” Sherlock frowned as John said that he had never been made to want to read the book. It was very good and it had been the first influence to put Sherlock on the path that he now tred. But at least John had heard of it, apparently some people had never even heard of 'The Murders in the Rue Morgue'; it baffled Sherlock how some people could lead such boring lives.

”You understood it at the age of six?” Sherlock nodded, taking another sip of tea and then blowing his nose before a sneeze could sneak up on him.
"When I was little Mycroft read me his school books and what he viewed as important literature. Clearly trying to make me follow his footsteps. But I had picked up the skill of reading and chose my own stories to read." Sherlock explained. And that was about as much into his past as the detective was willing to go.

”And about the Mycroft thing. He just cares about his brother, playing mother is just his way of showing that,” Sherlock doubted that. Mycroft liked to control things, it was why the detective's brother was the British Government. Mycroft stole John often enough, surely John was aware that Mycroft just liked to have everything under his fingers?
”But I won’t tell if you won’t say no to rest, soup and medicine,” The detective knew that it was already a lost cause. Mycroft knew that Sherlock was sick and would be keeping an eye on the detective.
”Though, knowing him he already knows you’re sick.” Of course Mycroft knew that Sherlock was sick!

”We should make a bet about this,”
"You'll loose." The detective pointed out as if it were fact rather than opinion. Although to be fair, the detective did have all the cards.
”I know this might not work but... please don’t go through my e-mails again.” Sherlock thought about this. It was John's birthday and Mycroft would pay a visit if Sherlock did something wrong.
"I only read your emails if it is important for me to do so." The detective pointed out.