My name is Jane.

I never really liked that name, since I never thought I deserved to have such a pretty name. Jane should belong to a happy, beautiful girl… not like me. My mother would always hold me and tell me that I was such a pretty girl. At least that was before she died. Now I am all alone. I do have a father… if I should call him that. Anytime I see him, I try to hide so he doesn't find me. He yells and screams, saying things that I wish I could never hear. And when he does find me… I wish I were dead. And who is my father you may ask… It is a name no one ever wishes to hear. A name that when you it is mentioned, you cringe in horror. It is because of him that I am writing this note. This is my final testament before I take my last breath. Goodbye world… Goodbye to the man who gave me life, and is now taking it away… Jim Moriarty…

Jane places down the letter, trembling. Who knew that she would ever come to this moment where she would decide to take her life?

She grabs the object right next to her and loads it. It is her father's pistol, that she has been threatened with so many times. As she holds it in her hands, she looks around her dim, tiny little room that she has lived in all her life. Then she looks back down. She pulls it closer and closer to her head.

"Goodbye," Jane says softly.

Just as she was about to pull the trigger pointed at her right temple, someone breaks down the door. This startled Jane so much that she dropped the gun.

Not being able to see the man's face and thinking it might be her father, she quickly backs into a corner and starts balling her eyes out.

"No, no! Please don't!" Jane screams as the man grabs the gun and walks towards her.

Then Jane notices that after she says that, the man puts the gun on the ground. She looks up to see that it is not her father, but a kind, gentle looking fellow.

He crouches down next to Jane and tries to calm her down.

"Shhh. It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you," He says softly.

"Then… why… are you… here?" She asks in between sobs.

"I saw you through your window. When I saw you had a gun, I quickly ran up here to see if you were all right. What are you doing with this pistol?" He says, sounding really concerned.

"It doesn't matter," Jane said finally calming down, then mumbles, "My life doesn't matter."

"It does matter. Are your mother and father home?"

She quickly responded, "I don't have parents."

"Oh… I'm so sorry. I didn't mean… I'm sorry."

"It's okay," She said silently. "You should probably leave…"

"I can't just leave you here by yourself, especially not after what just happened." The man stopped and thought for a while. Then he said, "How about you come with me and you can stay at my flat for a while. At least until everything is figured out."

Jane thought about this for a minute or two. This could be my only opportunity to get away from my father. After thinking, she finally said, "Where do you live?"

"I live at this quaint little flat at 221B Baker Street."

"Okay… I will come." As they start walking out, Jane thought about something and quickly stopped and said, "I don't think you have told me your name. Mine is Jane."

The man stopped and turned around and said, smiling, "My name is John Watson."