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Summary
"Don't be stupid," Sherlock said, turning around with a plate of toast and one hand and a pipette in the other. "You're thirty-eight today," he added, leaning to set the plate in front of John. "Surely you consider that some kind of achievement. I'm not in the habit of celebrating birthdays, but for you, I might make an exception."
"I appreciate it, Sherlock, but I'd better ring Harry and tell her I'll be late."
Sherlock turned again, staring, eyebrows high enough to hit the ceiling.
"Given the choice, why on earth would you spend your birthday with your sister?"
John took another sip of tea. "Because it's her birthday, too."