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 Title: For He's a Jolly Good Fellow
Author: prettybirdy979 
Fandom: Sherlock
Work Type: Fic
Characters: Sherlock, John, Lestrade, 
Rating: PG13 
Spoilers: None but set pre Rechienbach. 
Written Formorganstuart as a birthday gift.
Summary: John and Lestrade have birthday drinks and have a quiet moment.

Author's Note: Thanks heaps to morganstuart, for being her usual inspiration. =)

Lestrade jumped as John sat down at the bar beside him. John smirked at him but otherwise didn’t comment and waved down the bartender. 

“Another one of his please.” John said, pointing at Lestrade’s drink. 

Lestrade frowned and lifted a hand to stop the bartender. “Should you even be drinking mate?”

John glared. “I’m a doctor. I think I know my own treatment.”

“And you had major surgery, what, two weeks ago?”

“Four.” John corrected, sounding exactly like his flatmate when he was sulking. But he did turn back to the bartender. “Better make it an apple juice. Keep the birthday boy happy.”

Lestrade groaned and took a gulp of his drink. “You start singing and I’m out of here.”

John laughed. “I start singing and I’m out of here. Only person I inflict my singing on is Sherlock and only when he deserves it.”

“When is that?” Lestrade asked through his laughter.

“Last time was when he decided to use all my white socks as rags. Because I left them in the living room for a half hour. I sung the entire ninety nine bottles of beer song twice before he threatened to shoot me if I so much as opened my mouth.” John took a sip of his newly arrived apple juice and shot a wistful glance at Lestrade’s beer. Lestrade just looked down at his side, where he knew the jumper covered his recent knife wound.  

“You managed it twice?” Lestrade said as John rolled his eyes at his friend’s over protectiveness.

John sighed. “Yes, I know. Normally I get through half the song before the threats start. But recently... he’s been so careful with me. It’s bloody annoying. I’m not going to break.”

Lestrade flashed back to the scene he had witnessed a month ago, a bloodsoaked John who was far too pale and a Sherlock whose colour almost matched his flatmate. The memory of holding Sherlock, who was covered in blood he refused to wash off for hours, through that long night as they waited for news on John was one of his worst.

The delight on Sherlock’s face when news of John’s survival reached him was one of his best memories.

“I never did thank you for that.” John said, picking up on the thread of his thoughts. Lestrade jumped.

“You’ve been hanging with Sherlock too much mate.” Lestrade tried to joke but he was still stuck on the memory of John lying in a hospital bed, looking so much like a broken doll-

“It’s all that seems to be on anyone’s mind around me recently.” John commented, a touch of anger in his voice. “I’m not dead-”

“You almost were.” Lestrade said softly. “It was close. Sherlock performed CPR at one point for God’s sake.” 

John looked away. “I know.”

“Forgive us for treating you like a doll, didn’t have to see his face. John, I never want to see Sherlock look like that again.” Lestrade hid the catch in his voice by taking a long gulp of his drink. He called for another one.

“I try to stay out of danger but, better me than him.” 

Lestrade huffed. “Better neither of you. The pair of you are far too close...” Lestrade cut off before he could voice his deepest fear, that the loss of one of the Baker Street boys was going to be the loss of both of them.

John looked away, blinking. “Right, this is depressing and not why I’m here.”

“Yes, why are you here?” Lestrade asked, jumping on the change of topic. 

“Well, in part to thank you for last mon-”

“I’m thanked. Move on.” Lestrade cut in, eager to avoid a repeat of any part of that conversation.

John smiled softly. “Also to give you this.” He fished in his pocket for a moment and pulled out a card. “It’s from me, I’ll give you Sherlock’s in a moment.”

“Presents, John-”

“You are to say nothing about how I shouldn’t have or I will start singing. Loudly. I’ll get the whole pub involved, so help me.” John said glaring but he had a smile on his face.

Lestrade gave him an answering smile. “Fine, I won’t say it.” He opened the card to find a beautiful, handmade card. It was a sky blue and had been decorated in small stars and it made no mention of Lestrade’s age. The outside read Happy Birthday in John’s handwriting and the inside simply said Thank you for being you. May you be you for another delightful year. Happy Birthday, from John.

“John.” Whispered Lestrade. 

“I’ve had a bit of free time." He looked down at the inside of the card and blushed. “Ah...Mrs Hudson helped with the inside. Here’s one part of Sherlock’s gift.” He said the last part quickly as he tossed a handful of badges at Lestrade.

Lestrade recognised them immediately. “These are all mine!”

John nodded. “He figured a good present was things he had pick pocketed from you.”

Lestrade rolled his eyes as he tried to fit as many of the badges he could back into his pockets. “Tell him thanks.”

“Tell him yourself.” John said with a smirk.


“The second part of your present is at the flat. Come around sometime tomorrow and he’ll show you how to pickpocket.”

“Why would I need to know that?”

“To avoid being pick pocketed.” Sherlock drawled as he sat down on the seat on Lestrade’s other side.

“What are you doing here?” John asked.

“You weren’t answering my texts.” Sherlock said with a pout.

“Because you stole my phone when I said I was going out.” John retorted. “Now see, I’m fine. You can go home now.”

Lestrade flagged down the bartender. “Actually, he’s staying.” When Sherlock went to protest, he added, “I’m the birthday boy, what I say goes. You’re having a pint with me right now.”

Sherlock glared but then seemed to think over what Lestrade had said. “So birthdays give you-”

“No.” John cut in. “I’m not doing whatever stupid thing you can think up on your birthday. Birthday privileges are only for those who will use them responsibly.”

Sherlock scowled as the bartender placed a drink in front of him.

“Cheer up Sherlock.” Lestrade said. “It’s not like the world is ending because of one drink.”

Sherlock eyed John who was taking another sip of his apple juice. “No, not anymore.”


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