A/N - Warning - fluffiness ensues :)

Also note: I know what you are gonna think when you read the first paragraph but please remember that Sherlock is recovering from two stab wounds 😂

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Sherlock awoke to the pulsating glow of pale light from behind the window curtains. Inhaling soundlessly, he shifted his head slightly to look down at Elizabeth, whose head and hand lay upon his chest, still deep in her slumber. Five consecutive nights of waking up beside her or with her in his arms made him smile softly every morning - he didn't think he would ever stop smiling with her in his presence. His hand gently tousled her dark butterscotch brown hair and he pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

Elizabeth groaned softly at the contact, curling up into him more.

"Good morning." His deep voice mumbled softly.

She croaked a barely audible, "Already?"

"Mhm."

As Elizabeth forced her eyes to crack open, Sherlock moved her hair from out of her face, getting a peek at her neck. He saw that her once jagged purpley-blue bruising was beginning to fade more, now appearing as a light yellowish-green ring around her neck.

"Your neck is getting better."

"I wish I could say the same to you."

Sherlock shrugged, "We can take off the dressings today - maybe you can say the same."

Elizabeth shuffled away from him, careful not to bump his abdomen, before sitting up to stretch. Running her hands over her face, she sat up against the headboard. Sherlock took in every action that she committed, amazed by how she could make even the simplest of things look so uniquely beautiful. She looked at him with a sleepy smile.

"Happy birthday."

"Thank you." Sherlock winced slightly as he pulled himself up into a sitting position next to the thief too, "What have you planned?"

"I didn't say I planned anything." She smiled suspiciously, "You told me I didn't have to try and one-up you."

"Stop lying." He wrapped his arm around her, "What tediously tormenting things have you organised?"

When he had said those first two words she felt guilt creep up and grab her heart, stopping the beating for a mere second. Laughing off the wrong feeling, she nuzzled her head into his neck, delicately kissing his skin before mumbling:

"Cake."

"Cake?"

"Yeah, you know the spongey, edible stuff people make on birthdays that they decorate with icing and candles, then gather around to sing happy birthday before consuming?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes but answered anyway, "Yes."

"Mm, well, I've been craving cake since my birthday and thought we could make a joint birthday cake together. We can get John and Mrs Hudson to celebrate with us - "

"John's gone to see his sister and Mrs Hudson is out volunteering today."

"Oh...on your birthday?"

"They...don't know that it is my birthday."

"But - " She sat up properly again to look at him, truly puzzled, "How?"

"Never bothered with it. Why celebrate another year closer to imminent deathizwat I thought before you." He flashed a quick smile at seeing her narrowed eyes.

"Nice save." Sarcasm dripped from her comment.

He moved the conversation along, "So - cake?"

"After I've sorted out your dressings. I still need to disinfect them, remember?"

The detective grumbled some incoherent comment about the fact that it wouldn't hurt to do later. She chuckled at his response, kissing his cheek before she got up to fetch the household med-kit.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

The two exited the bedroom a few minutes later. Elizabeth wore a red turtleneck (more so to hide her oddly coloured neck rather than out of warmth) and black jeans and socks while Sherlock appeared in his typical white shirt, dress pants and navy blue gown, sockless.

"So, I was thinking," She reeled off as they headed into the kitchen, Elizabeth tying her hair up into a messy ponytail as they went, "You like ginger biscuits, I like carrot cake - carrot and ginger go nicely together so why not make carrot and ginger cake?"

"And walnut too? It's not carrot cake without walnut."

"Unpopular opinion: but it's better without walnut." She challenged, setting the bags of shopping she had fetched the day before on the kitchen table, before leaning on the surface, staring down the detective who stood on the other side.

"Relationships are about compromise, yes?"

"Yes?"

"So you compromise to add walnut to the cake this year and then you can get a cake without walnut next year."

"That - that's not how a compromise works?"

"Who says it can't work like that?"

"I - " Elizabeth's brow furrowed, truly befuddled by his statement and question. She shook her head with a laugh, "Stop being such a smart arse."

"You like it when I am." He deduced.

Elizabeth gave him 'the look', "You won't get cake at this rate."

He, too, leaned on the table, close to her face, smirking as he said, "But I'll still have you."

A blush rose in her cheeks at his comment. Without a word, she started unpacking the ingredients. Sherlock watched with a triumphant, smug smile at having silenced her with his truth. His honesty really did affect her in a good way - or at least in away that amused him.

"I'll decorate half the cake with walnuts."

"I shall accept the compromise."

"Good." She placed a bowl, grater, a packet of carrots and a piece of ginger in front of him, "You need to - "

"Wash the carrots and ginger, and then grate them?"

"And you called cooking rocket science." She remarked.

"This is baking."

"Shut up and just do it." She laughed, "Plus the sooner we bake it, the sooner we can eat it and imagine - a whole cake between two people."

"In case you've forgotten, I don't eat - "

"When you're on a case. No, I know. But you can't go on cases at the moment so you're gonna have to get rid of the evidence somehow and I'm not eating the half with walnuts on."

Fair enough, Sherlock thought, she had a point. The two got to work, he organising the ingredients to create the taste while she started mixing up the batter. All the while he worked though, the detective couldn't resist sneaking little peeks at Elizabeth as she worked. Everything she did, even accidentally dropping an egg, had an element of grace to it that he found fascinating.

Once finished with his tasks, he brought the bowl of grated carrot and ginger over to her at the counter, placing it next to her before he laid both of his hands on her waist while she whisked the mixture. She couldn't fight the tiny grin that crossed her lips at the feel of his lips (through her turtleneck) on the nape of her neck. He kissed up to her ear, smirking when she shuddered and slowed her whisking, enjoying the intimacy.

"We're not going to have any cake at the rate you're whisking at." He purred.

Elizabeth shuddered and gulped, turning to face him, "Well, it's hard to focus when one is distracted."

"I was able to focus on my task and I was distracted." He said this in all seriousness, quirking an eyebrow, "It appears you simply don't have enough discipline."

"I hope you know how suggestive that sounded?"

He gave a throaty chuckle as he leaned down to capture her lips in a passionate kiss.

"Sherlock, darling, happy birthday! Oh!"

The second he heard the shrill shout of his name leave the mouth of the intruder, Sherlock whipped his head and entire body away from Elizabeth to confirm his worst thoughts, his eyes wider than that of a tarsier as he saw the kindly woman in the doorway to the kitchen. Elizabeth's eyes were equally as wide but more so with confusion and curiosity at the strange woman in the doorway who had caught them in an almost compromising position.

"Mother?" The detective was mortified at the sight of his parent, "What on earth are you doing here? You're supposed to be in Kanchanaburi - in Thailand, close to six-thousand miles away from here!"

The thief didn't know whether to laugh or to cry at seeing a grown man act like a teenager at having his mother walk in on them. Violet Holmes sassily moved her head in response to this, raising her arms and letting them fall again by her sides.

"Oh, well I am griveously sorry, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, for not realising that, once the child I gave birth to turned twenty-four, I was no longer allowed to spend any birthdays with them. You've turned twenty-eight, for goodness sake, and your father and I need to make up for being deprived of celebrating three others with you. Especially after what happened to you, my poor boy." She approached Sherlock, her hand held out and all ready to pat his curls but he moved away, embarrassment flooding through him.

"Can't you go bother Mycroft? I'm - " He briefly met his gaze with Elizabeth, "Busy."

"We've already bothered Mycroft, Sherlock, and he has agreed to come out for a birthday meal tonight."

"Mother, I'm busy."

"Busy snogging a girl, yes, I saw. But you obviously can't be doing that the whole day, dear, you need to breathe too."

Sherlock visibly died inside at the words of his mother and he turned to walk out of the kitchen and into the living space, as far away as humanely possible from the two woman while still remaining in the flat, to recover. The thief sniggered at his reaction.

Violet turned her attention to Elizabeth, "Hello, dear, how are you? Oh, wait, in fact who are you?"

"Elizabeth Parrish, Sherlock's - partner. And I'm fine." Even to her, 'girlfriend' seemed odd, "Nice to meet you, Mrs Holmes." She held out her hand.

Violet whispered to her as she politely shook her hand, "I gathered," Then she looked in the direction of the detective, whose back was turned to them, and accusingly yelled, "Sherlock! How dare you not mention you had a girlfriend. Do you know how long your father and I have been waiting for the day?"

Exasperated, Sherlock spun around to argue, "Mycroft has a girlfriend too and he hasn't told you. He's the older brother: he set the bad example that I merely followed."

"Mikey has a girlfriend!?"

"Oh, yes, for God's sake, do keep up, mother!"

"Don't you take that tone with me, young man." Shaking her head, she looked back to Elizabeth, rolling her eyes, "Honestly, these boys. Anyway, Elizabeth is is a beautiful name for a beautiful young woman. You can call me Violet."

"Thank you, Violet."

"You can meet the other half in a second if he would stop loitering." Mrs Holmes stood closer to Elizabeth, "We came here straight from the airport - "

"You really didn't have to, mother."

"Nonsense." She silenced her son with a glare and then continued, "And Siger said he would collect the bags. I offered to help him but, like all men, he wanted to be chivalrous - except he didn't use his head. There are five cases he has to bring in - all quite heavy enough on their own - and last time I checked, he only has two arms. But I offer the help, what does Siger say?" She paused to imitate her husband, "'Oh no, no Violet, don't be silly.' Don't be silly? I'm being silly? Pah! No. He's being the ridiculous one. Wouldn't you agree?"

"It is in my experience," Elizabeth met her gaze with Sherlock, folding her arms across her chest as she said this, "That men tend to forget that women can be just as practical in their thoughts and actions, if not more so, which leads them to underestimating us and our practicality at times."

"Most times."

"Agreed."

"If I'd have known you would both be like this, I would have tried to keep Elizabeth a secret for longer." Sherlock mithered, rolling his eyes.

"Well, hello there, Sherlock." Came the smooth, aged voice of Siger Holmes as he appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"Ah, the more tolerable parent." Sherlock forced a smile as he greeted him, "Father."

Violet scoffed at statement and said to Elizabeth, "You see what I had to deal with? Imagine him like this and as a teenager."

"You didn't have to deal with this." Sherlock pointed out, "You could have still been in a resort, in Thailand."

"Resort? Come now, you know your father and I are more exciting than that."

Siger's gaze landed on the thief and he gave her a friendly smile, "Hello there, I'm Siger, and you are?"

"Elizabeth."

"Nice to meet you."

"Elizabeth is Sherlock's girlfriend." Commented his mother excitedly.

"Girlfriend, eh? Violet, I believe you owe me twenty pounds."

"Did you bet on my chances of getting a partner?" Sherlock's eyes narrowed, incredulity echoing in his pupils, at both of his parents.

Elizabeth held her hand over her mouth to soften her laugh at the hilarity of the situation: everyone's worst fear when they get a partner had happened in that his parents walked in on them during an almost steamy (and luckily not explicit) moment and now Sherlock, the man previously thought of as more emotionless machine than man, was understandably offended by his parents placing a bet on him regarding the prospect of his future relationships.

"You have to understand, son, that other than that one girl you made friends with in secondary, we thought you had no interest in girls whatsoever."

"Nor boys for that matter. We thought you'd end up becoming a bit of a hermit like Mycroft, although," Violet turned to Siger, "Sherlock says that Mycroft's managed to get himself a girlfriend too! We have to call him again and tell him to bring her along to dinner this evening."

"Or we can just not go for dinner this evening. I was stabbed - twice - remember? I'm still recovering."

Elizabeth was about to protest but Violet beat her to it.

"If you are well enough to snog your girlfriend, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, then you are more than well enough to join us for a family dinner."

"Oh for the love of God, please stop saying that!" Sherlock cried, his face almost beetroot in colour.

By this point, Elizabeth had been sent into fits of giggles and while somewhat embarrassed too, Sherlock's reaction just kept getting better and better.

"I will say what I like and I will organise what I like. I gave birth to you which gives me more than enough authority to demand that you come for a meal with your parents and your brother. Elizabeth," She turned to her with a smile, "Would you like to join us tonight?"

Stifling her laughter, Elizabeth managed to answer, sending a bemused look to Sherlock as she did, "Violet, I would love to join your family tonight."

"Wonderful. You can drag this one," She gestured to Sherlock, "To Odette's - a table has already been reserved. Siger can phone to make it a table of six, if you can manage that, dear."

Siger stood up a little straighter, "I'm more than capable, Violet."

"Perfect then." She smiled brightly, particularly at Sherlock, "See you both at six." Violet sang and began heading out of the door and back down the stairs, calling after her husband straying behind, "Come on, love, I'll call us a taxi."

Siger pressed his lips tightly together, curving his mouth upwards before saying, "Good to see you're well, Sherlock. And lovely to meet you, Elizabeth."

"Lovely to meet you too." She politely answered before he turned to leave.

The two residents remained silent as they heard shuffling downstairs, incoherent chatter, the front door open, more shuffling and then the door slamming shut loudly. Biting her lip, Elizabeth looked at Sherlock, humour glinting in her big blue eyes. Sherlock didn't know what to make of the situation that had just happened and couldn't even look at Elizabeth for agreeing to meet with his parents this evening.

Elizabeth pushed herself away from the kitchen counter and slowly approached Sherlock as if he were a wild animal that she were afraid to frighten. As she neared, he turned away from her and folded his arms.

"Don't be like that." She chuckled.

"You just doomed us to a meal with my parents and Mycroft." He grimaced.

"Oh my God, you are so dramatic." The thief wrapped her arms around his waist, careful to avoid his wounds, and pressed a kiss to his shoulder, "I think you're lucky." She whispered, resting her head on his shoulder, "They love you a lot. I can only wish I had the parents you have. Yes, family can be annoying but still, you're luckier than most - please don't take their love for granted."

Sherlock silently sighed, his crinkled brow softening at her words. Turning to face her, his lips placed another sweet kiss upon her forehead as he wrapped his arms around her. The small action was all the apology she needed. Silence shrouded them for a short moment.

Eventually, he muttered, "About the cake - "

"Yes, we can keep making it. But no distractions or else it will never be finished by dinner."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Homely winter darkness enveloped the city of London. Out in the streets, people hurried down the pavement, eager to get home and to be in the warmth rather than let puffs of frozen breath fall in clouds from their lips. Inside 221B, the couple were getting ready to go out.

"Sherlock!" Elizabeth called from the bathroom after not having heard from him in a while, "You better not be having any of the cake! Dinner first!"

"I didn't touch anything!" He yelled in reply, "Are you ready yet?"

"Almost!"

Elizabeth was just swiftly applying a shade of red lipstick to match the burgandy turtleneck she was wearing. The only thing she had changed about her outfit to make it look a little fancier was by deciding to wear a black skirt and thermal tights with her winter boots instead of her jeans. Around her neck hung her apartment key on its chain. Her hair was still tied up, but she had neatened the pony tail by brushing it through. Once satisfied with her look, she exited, walking straight into Sherlock who was headed back into their bedroom.

The detective hissed as her hand had connected with his still healing wound.

"Oh! Sorry, sorry! Are you okay?"

"Fine." He strained, holding his hand lightly, protrctively over his wound, eyes still squeezed shut as he processed the wave of pain "It's okay."

Elizabeth pulled a face, apologising once again. When he finally opened his eyes, Sherlock saw his present dangling around her neck - he smiled at her, through the ache that was now subsiding.

"I can make up for it with my present before we go?"

"You didn't ne - "

"But I wanted to." She hushed him up, taking his hand to lead him into the living room again.

Slipping her hand out of his, Elizabeth walked over to the couch, picking up a medium sized, golden gift bag. She turned, handing it to him.

"It's actually a few things - and don't deduce them." She warned, "Just - enjoy opening them."

He set the bag down on the table and pulled out the first flat, square shaped present, wrapped in tartan paper. Tearing it open, he saw that it was a new striped shirt with subtle, vertical, alternating lines of baby blue and white.

"Seeing as the Sandborns ruined your old one." She muttered.

Nodding appreciatively, he pulled out the second present and unwrapped that too, revealing a voice recorder, and an expensive one too judging by the quality. Sherlock looked to her for an explanation.

"I was thinking that, not only would it be good for cases, but, because I love your violin playing so much, I was thinking that we could maybe record it. And seeing as I'll be starting work soon, I'd love to have something to listen to on the way there?"

He was flattered, "It would be my greatest pleasure to record some pieces for you."

Elizabeth smiled and then urged him to open his final present. The last remaining object appeared to have the shape of a cuboid about one and a half inches in width. Intrigue crept into his expression as he tore open the paper to find three DVDs.

"Pirates of the Caribbean?"

"Bit of a gamble but, seeing as you originally had plans to be a pirate, I thought you might like to sit down and relax during your recovery by watching some pirate movies. I know you find telly crap but I can assure you that you will love these movies."

Sherlock placed his present back down on the table and then held his arm out to her. Allowing herself to be caught by his arm, he pulled her into a hug.

"I know it's not much and nowhere near as special as what you did for me but - "

"Thank you." He interrupted, "The best present you have gifted me by far is simply your time and presence."

An adoring smile crossed her lips as she pulled away, lovingly pecking him on the lips and gently caressing his face.

"We should go." Elizabeth said, moving away to grab their coats, "I got the impression that your parents wouldn't appreciate us being late."