Natalie

Birthday

"But Molly, honestly. You had your gloves on this morning. How could they be at Baker Stree-" I was asking as we climbed the stairs to the flat. The answer made itself well noticed.

"Happy Birthday Natalie!" Echoed as Molly held open the door. My hands flew to my mouth in a gasp. I looked up to Molly who nodded, reading my mind. "It's for you." She smiled and led me into the room.

It was a spectacularly ordinary birthday party, my very first one. The first matter was a wonderful dinner of chicken and mashed potatoes and green beans. It was the best meal I had ever had. After food we had presents. Molly gave me a journal and lots of colorful pens. She told me I could write anything in it. I picked this. Next, John, along with his 'friend' (her name was Sarah) gave me a big fluffy sweater with a cute little puppy on it. I decided to name him Steve. Steve the puppy. Mrs. Hudson gave me a toboggan with rhinestones. It was pink. I wore it for years. Listrade gave me a Barbie doll. Not very useful, but I smiled and thanked him anyway. Last was Sherlock's gift. From what Molly had told me, and I had deducted myself, he usually didn't buy for people, let alone a stranger. Maybe he felt bad for getting me shot in the shoulder. I unwrapped the box and found a pink scarf. One that almost perfectly matched the blue one around his own neck most of the time. I saw it and instantly looked up at him. I can't explain it, but this scarf meant a lot. Why I can't say, because I am unsure myself. After Thanking him and receiving a nod in return we ate cake. Cake with my name. We ate it and sat around, telling stories and jokes. It was the perfect end to a perfect day--so far. After giving drowsy hugs and thanking everyone again we made our way outside.

It was a cool and rather crisp autumn night, September the 29th. Molly's flat wasn't far so we just walked. It was the very best day of my life. Until....

We crossed the road, still in front of the flat. Then, out of no where, a big man stepped out of the alley. He punched Molly across the jaw and she crumpled. I screamed and stood in front of her protectively. I didn't stand a chance. With a knife in one hand, the other a fist, the man began to approach me. I stood my ground. If this man wanted Molly, he'd have to kill me first. And he just might. He pulled his fist into the air, and I braced myself to no effect. He sent me back about seven feet onto the cold pavement. I forced myself onto my feet and staggered back in front of Molly. "Just don't learn." He grunted, raising his fist again. I waited the blow, but it didn't come. Instead, Sherlock stood in front of me, a soft growl in his throat. He flicked his head toward the flat, and as I turned my own head, John was there. John pushed the man against the wall, twisting his arm so that it made a loud snapping noise. Sherlock spun around and past me, picking up Molly and crossing the street quickly, with me right on his tail. As I reached the landing John had shut and locked the door.