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It'd been almost nine years since Sherlock and John found you at the crime scene. John was now married to a wonderful woman named Mary (whom you saw as a mother figure) and you lived with your adoptive father, Sherlock.
Living with Sherlock over the years, you picked up some of his traits. You weren't nearly as good a detective as your father, but you could tell a few things about people. A few months after he brought you to the loft, he began taking you to crime scenes, against John's strong advise of course.

Anyway, you were now nine (and a half). Since they didn't know your real birthday, they celebrated it on the day they brought you in, which was in three days. Well, John, Mary, and Uncle Lestrade did. Sherlock, well, Sherlock was a different story.

John and Mary were currently taking you around London for the day because Sherlock was in one of his moods. You weren't exactly sure what that meant you just knew it made him very grumpy and as John put it, 'a real pain in the rear.'

"Do you have any ideas what you would like to do for your birthday, (N/n)?" Mary asked. "Not really. I kind of want to spent it with Daddy, since I'm going to be double-digits after all," you said. "Have you told Sherlock about?" John asked. You weren't sure, but it sounded like there was a hint of worry in his voice. You looked up at him. He was furrowing his eyebrows a little and pursing his lips. Yep. Definitely worry. "Not yet. I was going to wait until he was done with his experiment," you said, looking back at the sidewalk.

The adults didn't say anything and when you looked back up at them, they seemed to be having a silent eye conversation. Mary was about to say something when John's phone began buzzing. You loved it when it did that. You weren't sure why, but you loved the feeling of it buzzing.

John looked at his phone and sighed. "Crime scene. Well, ladies I think we should head back home now," he said. "Aww, ok," you said. "Don't worry, we'll come back some other time," Mary said and you instantly brightened up. Not because of what Mary had said, but because you saw a particularly large rain puddle. You may live with an emotionless father, but there was still plenty of child in you. You ran from John and Mary and jumped in the puddle, giggling with happiness.

When you got back to the loft, you were wet and cold, but you didn't mind.

"(Y/n), why are you all wet?"

Sherlock however, did. You knew he had good intentions, but it seemed like he never let you have any fun. "I was jumping in a rain puddle, Daddy. It was so much fun! It was nice and big and-," He cut you off. "(Y/n), you could catch a cold, or worse, the flu. Remember that last time you had the flu?" he asked. You shuddered at the memory. You were throwing up for weeks. "Go dry off. Mrs. Hudson will be here in a little bit to put you to bed," he said. "Where're you going?" you asked, watching as your father walked around the loft, looking for his coat.

"Murder scene," he said. "Can I come?" you asked hopefully. "No," he said. Your smile dropped. He always let you come. "Wh-why not?" you asked. "Because I said no. Now go change your clothes," he said. "But you always let me come," you said. "(Y/n), I said no. Now go change your clothes," he snapped. You sighed but did as told.

"Goodnight, Daddy," you said as you left. He grunted in response.

You curled up in bed after changing into your pajamas. You heard the door open and close and guessed he had left. There had to be a reason he wasn't letting you go. He let you go all the time and you loved it. It was your special bonding time with your daddy. Maybe he thought you weren't big enough to go to this one.

That had happened before, but only if John argued with him enough about it. Mary would always stay with you but she had to get to bed tonight and couldn't. Something about the baby in her making her sleepy.

You walked out to the living room and curled up on the couch, pulling your favorite purple flannel blanket tight around your small body. You might be nine (and a half) but you were very small for your age.

Anyway, you drifted off to sleep, thinking about your birthday and all the fun things you were going to do with your daddy. You didn't see the tall, dark haired man creep in the doorway however, because you were already asleep. You didn't feel him gently pick you up. You didn't hear him say, "Hello, daughter."

"Did you miss me?"