Chapter 2

"Happy Birthday Molly! Thirteen already!"

Molly tried not to wear an awkward expression on her face as her parents took pictures on the antique blue camera that was usually kept on the dusty mantle of their house, of her and her large vanilla birthday cake .

"Do you think Mycroft and Sherlock are coming soon?" Molly asked Eloise, her sister.

Molly was eager to for the only two guests to her party to arrive. Her two guests also happened to be her only two friends; living in the isolated countryside didn't exactly provide too many companions.

"I'm sure they'll be here soon," Eloise reassured.

Molly sighed and sat down on the ground, observing the presents she had received that morning. Suddenly, the doorbell rang, a loud clanging noise, and Molly jumped to her feet.

"I'll get it!" she announced to no one in particular.

When she finally reached the door, she swung it open, only to find Mycroft, dressed in his best Sunday clothes, standing alone on the doorstep. Forgetting her manners for the moment, without greeting Mycroft, Molly immediately asked, "Where's Sherlock?"

Mycroft shifted his feet and looked down. "He, ah-couldn't be here today... not feeling well," he mumbled. "He sent his present though." Mycroft handed Molly a neatly wrapped gift that had a card that was clearly not written in Sherlock's scrawling handwriting.

Molly could hardly conceal her disappointment and she could almost feel herself slouching from it. Sherlock not at her birthday? The notion itself was as disheartening as could be for her.

Molly's birthday celebration, which she had meticulously planned for weeks, was drab and boring without her closest friend in attendance. The cake tasted less sweet and the gifts, although lovely, seemed unremarkable to Molly. When the party was over, Molly surveyed the scene around her. Mycroft, no doubt instructed by his parents, stayed to help her family clean up after the party. Looking at the room with the cake tray and the wrapping paper for the opened gifts that sat crumpled on the ground, Molly was filled with the sad, empty feeling that was characteristic of the end of a party, especially when the party didn't live up to expectations. It was the realization that an event that had been looked forward to for weeks with anticipation was now over and so was the excitement.

Seeing Molly in her disappointed state that was no doubt, at least mostly caused by Sherlock's absence, Mycroft remarked to Molly that perhaps, Sherlock would be feeling well enough to have a visit from her. Mycroft guessed that Sherlock would not be happy about the invitation, he was in a dejected mood that day, but Molly's instantly cheered expression reassured him that he had done the right thing. It was the least he could do to cheer her up on her birthday.

Mycroft and Molly walked the short distance towards the Holmes house and entered through the front door which was decorated with a wreath and flowers on both sides.

Mycroft led Molly through the house into the living room where Sherlock sat on the carpeted floor next to his dog, Redbeard.

At their arrival, Sherlock looked up and asked, "What are you two doing here?"

Mycroft glanced at him with a stern expression and Molly shifted her feet uncomfortably. "I'll leave you two to talk," Mycroft said. "Molly wanted to visit you."

Molly wanted to interrupt and say that in fact, she had been invited to come, but Mycroft was already walking away. She walked quietly towards Sherlock and sat down next to him and his dog.

"Is Redbeard okay?" she asked gently.

Sherlock shook his head silently and went back to petting the dog's head. "I'm… sorry I missed your birthday."

"That's alright, I didn't mind." It was a lie, but Molly knew now wasn't the time to complain or whine. She pushed her own disappointment aside for the sake of Sherlock. After all, comforting him was the right thing to do at the moment.

She noticed that there were tiny tears coming out of Sherlock's green eyes, which he quickly wiped away as soon as he noticed her looking at him. "I'm fine," he tried to stay as best as possible without his voice breaking.

Molly nodded. "I know," she said softly. Not knowing how else to help her friend, she gently placed her hand on Sherlock's arm and just sat there to keep him company, because 'alone' was the worst thing that could happen to a person.

A/N: Hi everyone! Hope you liked this chapter and thanks for reading! Also, thank you to those who have shown interest in the story, it means a lot. The next chapter will be coming soon! For chapter 3, I am thinking of writing it in the modern day. Would you be interested in reading that?

P.S. There seems to be a little problem with fanfiction involving cover images not showing up, so I apologize if sometimes the cover picture isn't visible.