John's POV

All I wanted to do was have a cup of tea, maybe some toast and jam, followed by a nice, long bath. But no, Sherlock and I had to go to a birthday party for Greg Lestrade.

If I was miserable about the whole ordeal, Sherlock was devastated. As I pulled my jumped over my head and Sherlock was wrapping his scarf around his neck, he gave me a pleading look.

"I don't want to go," He said.

"Sherlock, no, we have to," As much as I wanted to grant his wishes, out of respect, we had to go, "Come on, it's Lestrade that gives you all your cases,"

Sherlock grumbled something under his breath. Due to the predicament of what to get him, we were instructed by Sally Donovan to get a large chocolate cake.

That was what I carried down the stairs and we trudged reluctantly towards the taxi.

I gave one last longing look to 221B, saying goodbye to my cup of tea, my toast and jam and my nice, long bath.

Sherlock's POV

The party, if you could call it that, was a sorrowful affair. Of the seven of us that attended (That seven being myself, John, Mrs Hudson, Mycroft, Molly, Donovan and Lestrade), I seemed to be the one everyone wished to talk to.

I myself have no desire for small talk, but the occasional look from my blogger told me I should be a little less rude tonight.

Whereas everyone else was boarding on drunk, I merely drank glasses of water. I find it hard to deduce when drunk, or suffering from a hangover, and the games that the now past-the-boarder-line-of-drunk people where playing did not appeal to me.

Molly suggested that they played, "3 fact guessing,", a game, which I learned, in which each person anonymously wrote 3 facts about themselves that nobody knows on a piece of paper, they all put it in a hat and each person picks out on and has to guess who it is, after reading the facts out loud.

So the seven of us sat in a circle (Although I wasn't pretending, I was interested at what the others would write), and five of them waited for paper and pens, which Molly had gone to collect.

While we where waiting, John (who was drunk as well), dipped his hands into his drink and proceed to flick the water at people, which caused some hilarity from everyone else that wasn't me.

I watched John as he wrote, folded the paper three times, and dropped it in the hat. Donovan passed the hat around, and everyone took a note from the hat, apart from myself of course. Judging by the handwriting in them, and the way the paper was folded, I could have probably guessed who each person was in seconds, but I decided to keep my mouth shut.

"That's not fair on our here Sherlock," Molly hiccupped, "I'll give him my note," She leaned over and passed me her note and I took it slowly.

Based on the intent stares from the group, it was apparent that I was to go first.

"Number one," I read out, "I like to dress like a woman,"

The entire group began to laugh, and Lestrade pointed at Mycroft, and they all laughed even more, including my brother. Not a bad deduction.

"Number two," I said, hearing a few immature drunk sniggers from Mrs Hudson, "I kiss a guy once, and I like it,"

Before anyone could react, I read out number three, "Number three, I am madly in love with Sherlock Holmes,"

There was a brief silence, before Lestrade whispered loudly enough for everyone to hear, "Mycroft,"

While the whole group laughed, I glanced at the note, figuring out who it could be.

Judging by the slight dampness of the paper, the smell of alcohol coming from the stains, and the eight squares on it that could only come from someone who folded the paper three times, the note had to belong to…

Oh.