Work Text:
John quickly ended the call as Sherlock sauntered into the living room at 221B, flinging himself down onto the sofa.
"Who was that?" he asked of his husband.
John replied with a quizzical eyebrow raise. "Who was what?"
"I am not deaf or stupid, John. Who was that on the phone?" Sherlock's patience was thin.
He was on edge this week. John had noticed, Greg had noticed, and even Mycroft had been giving his little brother a wide berth in recent days.
John rolled his eyes and decided to placate his lover.
"Greg called to ask if we wanted to go out to the pub tomorrow night, that's all. I told him you'd probably rather have a quiet night in. He was fine about it."
A grunt as Sherlock rolled himself to face the back of the tatty worn sofa, was the only response John got.
******************************************
Sherlock pushed open the door to 221 and stomped up the stairs.
"Shhhhhhh", someone said as the muttering sounds in the darkness became a little louder than they ought to, "He'll hear us."
Molly giggled and clamped a hand over her mouth.
They silently counted the steps up to 221B, and John did a quick scan of the room. It looked good.
As Sherlock elbowed open the living room door, everybody shouted.
"Happy 50th Birthday!"