A funny little ficcie.... I don't know where I got this idea from but oh well. I think I might write a sequel (most likely not, though). It's a bit strange but there you go; enjoy!

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Happy Birthday...How old are you now?

This wasn't exactly how she'd imagined her eightieth birthday. All though, she'd never really bothered to imagine it at all, not with all her preoccupations.

It just felt that it had all started yesterday, that in a few hours the Chief Inspector would be phoning her telling her to get down to wherever, there's been another break-in. She smiled to herself. That all sounded so cliched.

"I wonder what Moriarty's doing right now?"

Deidre sniffed disapprovingly, "Not trying to take over the world, most likely."

Holmes raised an eyebrow "How would you know? He could be plotting the assassination of the Prime Minister right now."

"This is an interesting topic of discussion for an eightieth birthday party." Tennyson had gotten a normal voice-synch forty years ago.

"Not for my birthday party!" Lestrade smiled, "But anyways, can we eat the cake now?"

"I second that!" Wiggins held up his fork in agreement.

Deidre sniffed again. "What are you two? Seventeen?"

Lestrade nodded. "Yup. Eighty going on seventeen."

"Well, that will save us money on candles." Holmes remarked, handing Lestrade the knife.

Watson fixed a stern eye on the birthday woman. "No screaming when you cut halfway through the cake this year please, Lestrade."

"Aww, Watson..."

"No."

"Drat."

"But," Tennyson ran a hand through his now-white hair. "Watson, you don't have real ears. Screaming shouldn't bother you."

"It bothers me," Holmes replied.

"Well in that case..." Lestrade smiled wickedly and cut through the cake silently.

Deidre rolled her eyes to the heavens. "You two are impossible. You're still arguing after sixty years and you're not even married!"

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that." Lestrade slipped a piece of cake onto Tennyson's plate. "So anyways, about this assassination of the Prime Minister..."

"Moriarty could phone the Yard right after he killed him and wait for them to come and still they wouldn't be able to arrest him!" Deidre shook her head, "This newest batch of Yardies is NOT very bright. Though I can't say it was much better fifty-five years ago."

"Hey!" Lestrade glared at the wrinkled little woman sitting beside her. "You should respect your elders! And plus, you can't be mean to me today. It's my birthday!"

Watson laughed, "You shouldn't give advice you don't follow Lestrade. I don't believe you're terribly respectful to Holmes..."

"...And I am most definitely your elder," Holmes finished.

"Though not biologically," Wiggins added.

They all laughed at that. Tennyson even made a few Beep Whirr noises for old time's sake.

Well, it might not be what she'd imagined, if she'd bothered to imagine it, but this was definitely the best eightieth birthday she'd ever had. Not that she'd had very many.

Sixty years was quite a while. She was surprised their little ragtag group had stayed so close for such a long time. She certainly hadn't foreseen that back in the alley where Holmes and Wiggins had had their detecting contest. She was glad she'd done that 'favor for Mr. Holmes' and let the kids stay. She grown to be very fond of them, not that she'd ever admit it. She smiled again. Some things never change.