Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.

In honour of Sherlock Holmes' 159th birthday, I thought it necessary to celebrate with a story. I had hoped to do a 221 story, or even a 442 story but those are impossibly hard for me, given that I'm rather long winded. Either way, I hope you enjoy!

Sherlock was working contentedly in the kitchen, delicately adding five drops of a shiny blue liquid to a glass slide. John came down eventually, making tea and breakfast before migrating to his chair with the paper.

Sherlock thought, rather foolishly, that John had forgotten today was his birthday. Not that he cared – he was actually rather grateful. He had no use for birthday hats or songs or blowing out candles. The less people knew it was the anniversary of his birth, the better.

"I'm going out for a bit, do you want to come?" John asked later that afternoon. Sherlock was still peering into his microscope.

"No."

"Do you need me to pick up anything?"

"Rimmel London 60 Seconds Vinyl Stars nail polish, colour code 484. It's called Rapid Ruby, if you're interested."

John nodded, not even bothering to ask why Sherlock needed nail polish or how he knew that colour code 484 was called Rapid Ruby. He just shrugged on his coat and left the flat.

John quickly ran to Tesco for Rapid Ruby and returned to the empty flat about ten minutes later. He knew Sherlock would be called away on a "case" – it had been arranged – so that he could decorate the flat. Of course he hadn't forgotten it was Sherlock's birthday and he was throwing a party that evening. With Mrs. Hudson's help, he managed to tidy and decorate the flat and ensure all the food was laid out properly. Everyone was slated to arrive at five o'clock sharp and by ten after five, Molly, Mrs. Hudson, Mike Stamford, and Mycroft were chatting happily. After his mobile rang – it was Greg, telling him that he and Sherlock were on their way – he instructed everyone to hide.

John was crouched behind the far edge of the sofa and he could hear Sherlock complain as he climbed the stairs.

"Really, Lestrade, I don't see why you felt it imperative to come up. I didn't even invite -"

"SURPRISE!"

Everyone jumped up as Sherlock came through the door, his scarf half un-looped. He stopped suddenly with a rather horrified expression on his face before looking at John.

"Come on, Sherlock." John said laughing, coming out from behind the sofa. "You don't honestly think I'd forget your birthday, do you?"

"I had hoped," Sherlock said, hanging up his coat. "I hate surprises."

No one was offended by this statement. In fact, they had all been expecting a similar reaction.

"Too bad," John said cheerfully. "Are you hungry? We have a cake."

Sherlock didn't want to admit it but he was a bit peckish so he followed John into the kitchen, everyone following him. He smiled slightly when he saw the cake – it was his favourite kind and on top, in big, loopy letters, it said 'Happy Birthday, Sherlock!'

He couldn't remember the last time someone had gotten him a cake for his birthday and he was touched. He looked discreetly at John, smiling ever so discreetly as he did. John smiled back.

"Happy Birthday, Sherlock."

Happy Birthday, Sherlock! 159 years later and you're still the famous detective of 221B whose stories inspire thousands of people every year.