Birthday
I don't own Sherlock
Sherlock POV
Everyone on this Earth has a birthday, and I am no exception. I never really understand the point of celebrating that you have less year until you die. John says I'm just a pessimist, and that I should look at the glass half full, but I pointed out that as long as you do something with whatever's in the glass, it doesn't matter if the glass is half full or half empty.
As a kid, my parents did give me presents. Little things and big things. Redbeard was a present for my tenth birthday. My first Belstaff coat was from Mycroft. I got my first violin from my Grandad. I really don't want to be reminded of all that. John had finally figured out when my birthday was, as I usually ignored it. He then set too out too turn our flat into an American trend, an 'Escape Room' where I had to find the key to a safe and inside the safe was a riddle that would get the key out of the room. He had done this for several years, but obviously stopped after I, well, you know the story. And now that he had moved out, I wasn't expecting it to happen again. The best I could wish for was a sarcastic, not meaningful 'happy birthday' from Mycroft, and possibly a cheesy card form my parents. I all of this went through my head as I drank my morning tea, watching the telly. I started to feel a bit drowsy. My eyelids grew heavy and I didn't even realise what was going to happen until I was already asleep.
I woke up with a start. The only thing that was different was the television was flashing letters. I knew exactly what to do. I looked at the telly. It was flashing L-I-B-R-O. Book. I turned to the book shelf and scanned it. All the books that were supposed to be there were, except for one. I didn't own it, and neither did John or Mrs. Hudson. It was called 'A Violinist's Thumb', by Sam Kean. I pulled it out from the self and took a look at it. It was brand new, but had been tampered with, as the spine was too big. I shook it and heard a small object, probably a bullet inside. With a little poking and prodding, sure enough, I found a small bullet with a six on it, and the roman numeral IV, or four. I suspect that each bullet I would find would have a number and a roman numeral, to show what order to put them in, too open the safe. And I had the fourth bullet in my hand. I slipped it into my pocket and continued looking.
I looked through my papers. Nothing new. I went to the kitchen. No new chemicals, no chemicals that were in a different order. The only disruption was a bacterial dish that was out of place. Taped to the bottom was a piece of paper that said 'Kerzenleuchter', which is german for candlestick. Around the flat, I didn't know were there would be a candlestick. There was a candlestick next to Tom, so I looked there. But all it really was was a metal tube dipped in wax. But it too had a bullet in it. I pulled on the wic, and the bullet pulled through the wax at the top. This bullet had the number three and roman numeral five. I put it in my pocket and inspected everything in sight.
I pulled on the strings that move the blinds. First window, nothing. Second window, a skull had been hastily painted by someone with poor drawing skills. Although it wasn't very good, I recognised it immediately. It was a copy of the same painting that was in the main living room. I took the painting of the wall, but nothing seemed any different. But the wall had a small box glued to it. I pulled it off and inspected it. It was obviously one of John's, probably something that he had gotten in his war years, as it had the Royal Army stamp on it. And it clearly had a bullet in it. It looked like it once held a gun, or something someone didn't want children getting their hands on. To get into the box, there was a six lettered passcode. It was something John would remember, but something almost no one knew. Like his middle name. I tried 'HAMISH' and there was a small click. Inside was a bullet and a slip of paper. The bullet had a nine and the roman numeral two. I put the bullet in my pocket and read the paper. It said 'blog'.
I went to John's computer and put in the password, then opened Google, then opened his blog. The latest entry was labeled 'Bullet'. I opened it, and sure enough there was the number eight and the roman numeral three. I had two more bullets to find.
I went through everything. I overturned mugs in the kitchen. I looked for concealed bottoms in drawers. I finally found the next hint under the teapot, which was hidden in a small compartment in the leg of a table. Underneath the teapot there was taped a piece of paper, that said 'Panneaux de Plancher', which is french for floorboards. I looked around the ground for any out of place floorboards but found none. I started to walk around and listen for out of place boards and soon found a creaky one. I pulled it up and found a small bag of marshmallows along with the bullet, which had a number seven and roman numeral one. I put it in my pocket and looked at the marshmellows. In neat handwriting, there was a little note. It said: "Sherlock, happy birthday! John told me you love marshmellows, so here's a bag. Love, Mary. PS: Orologio". I really do love marshmellows, and appreciated that Mary had gotten me a bag. Orologio mease clock, so I went to look at the one on the wall. Nothing was different about it, except that it was ticking in a strange pattern, and wasn't working, stuck on one time. I listened carefully, and heard a repeated message.
... - ..-. .-
Morse code. It translated too 'sofa'. I looked under the sofa, and there was a large framed picture. I took it out to reveal a large, framed, periodic table. The entire table was grey except for rhenium (Re), iodine (I) Neodymium (Nd), and lanthanum (La). I scrambled these letter up and got 'IReLaNd' as the most logical word that those letters could make. I went to the global map on the wall and poked Ireland. There was no wall behind it. I took the map off the wall and found a small cavity in the wall. Inside was the last bullet and a log for the fire. The number for the sixth bullet and last bullet was two. Now that I had all the bullets, I could open the safe. But I needed to find the safe. The log was obviously the hint. So I took it over to the fireplace and looked around. The wall didn't swing around and lead to a spaceship hundreds of years in future, there were no broken clocks, and nothing suspicious. I looked at the other logs. They were all normal cylinders of wood, except one. It was plastic, and had something in it. I popped open one end and pulled out a torch. It wasn't an ordinary torch either. It was a UV one. I turned of the lights and closed the blinds, then turned on the torch. I shined it on every surface I could find. I found this message when I shined it on the mantelpiece.
Which Witch Will you pick? the SAFE choice would be too choose the SHy onE and pRay she doesn't eat you Later. O my! Can't choose! going to blacKout... i Can't choose. can yOu? Mother could.
I wrote down all of the capital letter. WWWSAFESHERLOCKCOM. It was a web address! .com. I typed it into the browser and a black screen with a white box popped up. In bright pink words above the box, it said 'Do you know the code, Sherlock?' I pulled the bullets out of my pocket and typed into the box 798632. A green light appeared and the page changed too the riddle. This was the riddle:
A man was killed in his office and the suspects are Edison, Maxis, Jason,Janna, Sofia, and Patrick. This was found scrawled all over the calendar next to his desk: 6 4 9 10 11. Who was the killer?
It was so easy! I went over to the small intercom on the wall and pressed the button. "John, the killer is Jason. The numbers are pointing to the months on the calendar and the first letter of each month. Six is June, which starts with J, four is April, which starts with A, nine is September, which starts with S, ten is October, which starts with O, elleven is November, which starts with N. J-A-S-O-N spells Jason, and, begging for recognition as most killers are, he put those numbers there to get better rep in the criminal community."
"Correct." Said John, and from the other side of the door slid the key to the flat. I fit it in the keyhole and pushed open the door were John and Mary stood with a small box.
"Happy birthday!" They said, and I felt a genuine smile spread across my face. We sat down in our respective chairs and I was handed the box. It was a plain Royal Mail box, and had been opened before. I opened it up and found several cards. The first one was from my parents, cheesy as always, but meaningful nonetheless, one from Mycroft that said 'Stop Growing Up, You Make Me Feel Old', one from Molly, short and sweet, one from Lestrade, calling me a smart-arse, and one from Mrs. Hudson, reminding me to pay the rent. The last one was from John and Mary, and I have too say, they are the best friends that I could ever have and I certainly don't deserve them. The present was socks. At first I was confused, then I went over to the light switch to flick it off. The socks glowed in the dark. Probably the best socks ever. I like my socks, and I would have a special place for these particular socks in my sock index. Finally, John pulled out a cake from another box and we ate it all. Then we went for lunch and discussed Wimbledon and football and deduction and kidnapping. After lunch, we solved a particularly gruesome murder and then went out for donuts with Lestrade and Molly. It was probably the best birthday I have ever had.
Yay! That was a long one. I enjoyed writing it, and hope you enjoyed reading it. Suggestions are taken and thanks for reading!
