"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SHERLOCK!" Why does everyone think that when it's your birthday you want to be awoken by shouting. I'm very well aware that it is my birthday. Why does it have to be my birthday? Birthdays are dull. You are just as close to your death as you were the day before, if not closer, so what is so special? "Sherlock?" They aren't going away are they? One can only hope. I open my eyes only to see a cupcake with a pathetic little candle sicking in the top. John has a smile on his face that lights up the room, more than the candle (that's just my opinion) but right now, it's annoying. "Seriously, John?" He rolls his eyes and shrugs his shoulders in the cute way he does when- okay, enough of that. "Come on, it's your birthday and Mrs. Hudson made you breakfast." He heads out the door with a smile on his face and a bounce his step. He gets increasingly more adorable everyday. No matter how ridiculous. It has been 6 days, 9 hours, 27 minutes and 49 seconds since he told me how he felt about me. It was awkward. He came home all out of breath and upset. I had never seen him like that. I had this terrible feeling in my stomach. It was as if someone was crushing my appendix with forceps. It was something called: worry. I have never felt it before. When I mentioned the feeling to John later that night he told me it meant that I cared about him. Then, he kissed me. He told me that he felt this way for a while and me (not good with words) well, i just kissed him back. It was exhilarating. So many new emoti- "Sherlock, I may seem small but I can guarantee that I am stronger than you! Get you butt down here! Now!" Idiot. Climbing out of bed I wrapped my sheet around me and headed down the steps, only to be ambushed with a kiss on the last one. "Happy birthday, darling!" I couldn't help myself. I grabbed John's chin and kissed him. I didn't let go. I didn't want to. We stood there for quite a while, attached at the mouths. Until we heard footsteps come around the corner: "Get a room you two. Breakfast is getting cold." John's face turns a light shade of pink and I can't hide my slight smirk. "Yes, Ms. Hudson." John and I walk into the kitchen, laughing, hand-in-hand. This day might actually be bearable.