Work Text:
John sat, nursing some Glenfiddich he had gotten this day two years ago. Just gone 9 in the morning, John wasn’t expecting to do much of anything. He normally kept this day to himself, especially after the last few years.
His phone dinged.
Lestrade: Many happy returns, John!
John groaned. Greg must have gotten that from one of the many reports John filled out over the years. Downing the rest of his glass, he resolved himself to avoiding the pain of only having one friend anymore and considered asking the man out for some pints.
His phone dinged again.
Molly Hopper: Happy birthday, John! Hope you’re doing something fun. :)
What the…
His phone dinged.
Donovan: Happy Birthday
Sarah: Happy Birthday, John.
Mike: Have a good one, mate!
John gripped his phone in his hand, pushing back the swell of emotion. Alright, maybe he had more people in his life than he thought. His phone kept showing him notification after notification, hearing from people that he didn’t even know knew his birthday, let alone would commemorate it.
As he sat responding to each of the texts, a knock came to the door. Before he could even get out of his chair, Mrs. Hudson walked in with a cake. Following behind her, back from the dead, the familiar man in the familiar Belstaff.