Sherlock Fanfic (Haven't come up with a title yet.)
“I will shoot you!” Molly Hooper tried to keep her voice from trembling. It was hard, considering the fact she was pressed into the corner holding a pistol in her shaking hands. Her expressive brown eyes, usually sparkling were now filled with the utmost of fear. She tried her best to swallow the overwhelming feeling of terror crowding any other emotion she had been previously experiencing.
“Oh will you now?” her assailant replied. His voice was thin, almost casual but with an underlying sense of sarcasm. “Oh Molly dear, we both know you don't have the guts to shoot me.” his tone was now an infuriatingly pitiful whine. “Why would you even have such thoughts?” he stepped closer to her, palms out by his sides in a nonthreatening gesture, though he didn't seem frightened at all at the barrel of the pistol staring him in the face. “Poor poor Molly,” he cooed. “What a sight you are.”
“I will! I mean it! I will pull the trigger!” Molly couldn't keep the tremble out of her voice this time. She was frightened and she knew that he knew. But then again, he knew everything. One does not get a reputation for nothing. Her pointer finger pressed the trigger of the weapon just enough to assure her again that it was there, ready, waiting. But waiting for what? Why couldn't she do it? One simple movement, a fraction of a second and it would be over.
“Molly? I can hear you thinking,” the man in front of her told her gently. “You doubt yourself. Doubt is the downfall of man. If you're so strong as you've always believed yourself to be, pull the trigger. I'm waiting Molly. Pull it. Shoot me dead. Go ahead!” his tone had grown slightly mocking.
Again, Molly hesitated. Looking into the eyes of the man she hated so deeply, even then she couldn't find the strength to do as she knew she should be doing. She was around dead people all the time. In fact, even her job centered around the dead. And yet, to take a person's life...
“Shoot me Molly, we haven't got all day.” The words slipped so easily, so casually from his lips. It was infuriating, yes. But still.
Molly swallowed hard and tightened her grip on the pistol until her knuckles were white. Squeezing her eyes shut, something she had been told never to do when firing a weapon, she shook her head, unable to comply. Suddenly a shot rang out, echoing around the little room a hundred times louder than it would have been ordinarily. A bullet whizzed out of a gun barrel, deadly in its intent. Molly hadn't fired. Or had she?
Two days earlier:
Sherlock Holmes pulled up the collar of his black trench coat bowing his head against the cold, onslaught of rain drenching the streets and shops around him. It was a dreary day, one that, if Sherlock had any emotions to feel-John insisted he did but Sherlock remained stubborn in believing that he was completely impartial to all feelings-would have echoed the thoughts in Sherlock's mind to the letter. He was bored. So bored in fact, that John had talked him into taking a walk. A rare victory to the small, but faithful companion who was walking at his side.
“Any better?” John's voice sounded muffled as he breathed into his coat. The chilly air was cutting even through that. He glanced over at his partner watching the clouds of steam leave his nose with each breath. He took in the piercing green eyes, always alert, always taking in every detail. His lips were slightly parted, almost as if he had been talking to himself, also not an unusual occurrence to the brilliant but socially awkward consulting detective at his side. “Sherlock?” the normal pause for a two person conversation had passed and John wasn't sure his friend had heard him.
Apparently he had. Sherlock's head snapped up, an unruly black lock of his shaggy curls falling into his face. He didn't bother to push it back, only encouraged it with a shake of his head as he glanced at John with a look that seemed to pierce deep into his very soul. “Oh yes, very nice,” Sherlock remarked distractedly. “What is it that we're doing again?”
John rolled his eyes. “A walk. Sherlock, can you not enjoy yourself on a bloody walk for fifteen minutes? Look around us. The people, the places. Being in the 'real' world isn't so bad you know.” his voice held a hint of a scold.
“And so very boring.” Sherlock halted mid-stride and it took John a whole extra one to note the change and backtrack. “Enough of this 'walk,' John. It's boring. Everything is boring. The world is boring!” Sherlock threw up his hands exasperatedly. “A case John. I need a case. Any case.”
“You have that one-” John began, only to be interrupted.
“Boring.”
“You said ANY case, Sherlock.” Now it was John's turn to be exasperated.
“Anyone but that one, John,” Sherlock sighed impatiently, rubbing his bare hands against the biting wind and rain. “I'm going back,” he added decidedly, turning around, not even waiting for his friend.
“Well wait up will you?” John hurried to catch up.
Sherlock's strides were long and it didn't take long to arrive back at 221B Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson met them in the hall with her usually motherly worry and questions. Sherlock answered the friendly woman in as few words as possible as she pulled off his dark blue scarf and trench coat, hung them up carefully and tromped up the stairs, John following close behind. “You could have at least thanked her for the tea,” John reprimanded.
“The tea? Oh yes. Well it's no matter now is it? She's gone.” Sherlock unlocked the door to their flat, and threw himself in his customary seat, almost like a child having a tantrum. He sat there while John helped himself to a cup of piping hot tea, twiddling his thumbs and drumming his fingers on the armrests. He was just about to say something when his phone buzzed, alerting him of a text that he had just received. Sherlock grabbed the device with the eagerness of a greedy robber and glanced at the message.
“Anything interesting?” John asked, half hoping it was a case to perk up his suffering friend.
“Only Anderson again,” Sherlock huffed, tossing the phone down carelessly beside him.
“And what did he want?” John asked, sitting down in the chair across from Sherlock with his cup of tea on which he now sipped sparingly.
“Only to confirm what I already told him, of course. He never listens, the bloody-”
“Sherlock,” John half snapped, jerking his head toward the door where a woman had just appeared. “Watch your language,” he mouthed, standing up in respect to her presence.
“Why Molly, what brings you here?” Sherlock asked, standing as well. His voice no longer sounded deathly bored, but slightly curious.
Molly gave the both of them a rather nervous smile, her eyes resting the longest on Sherlock. “Yes, um, hello John, Sherlock,” she mumbled.
“Would you like a cup of tea? We were just-”
“Enough with the formalities John, she's obviously on business. Sit Molly,” Sherlock invited rather bluntly as he gestured to a third seat.
Molly took the invitation and sat down. Everything about her radiated nervousness which only delighted Sherlock at the prospect of an adventure. Her hands clasped and unclasped as she fidgeted, unsure where to begin.
Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. “Well,” he prompted impatiently.
“Oh yes, well I-” this was not the usual Molly Sherlock was used to. She hesitated and pulled out her phone. “I received a strange text.”
John, who had been watching Sherlock leaning forward eagerly in his seat, all eager to hear what she had to say, saw his whole demeanor deflate like a balloon. He slumped backwards and the bored expression returned to his face. He did remain silent though.
Molly held out the phone to him. “See?”
Slowly, Sherlock let out his breath as he took the phone and read the text. Though his expression remained unreadable, John's sharp eyes took in the slight tensing of his body. “What's it say Sherlock?” he asked quickly.
Instead of reading the text out loud, Sherlock continued to stare emotionless at the screen until John took it away from him. His eyes scanned the message. “A game you seek, a game you'll find. A way to leave boredom behind. Be careful. Once you begin there's no telling where we'll end. The clock is ticking. You've been waiting for this day. Are you in?”
John looked up, confused. “Sherlock what is this?”
Molly shifted uncomfortably on her seat. “I don't think this was meant for me.”
Sherlock had been sitting completely still, his hands steepled underneath his chin. “Yes it was,” he answered slowly. “You're being used. Come on John.” He stood up and headed for the door.
John looked beyond bewildered. “Sherlock? Where are we going? What about Molly?”
Sherlock spun around, his eyes lit up with the thrill of a new adventure. “Moriarty,” he answered simply, taking Molly's phone from John. “I'll need this.”
Molly's face went pure white. “M-Moriarty?”
“Yes. Now please, if you'll excuse me...”
“Wait, we're done?! All finished?!”
“Oh no dear Molly. The game is only just beginning! Oh by the way, be careful, you're in danger,” he added nonchalantly. Sherlock was nearly giddy with excitement as he bolted down the stairs, grabbing his coat and scarf.
John was hot on his heels. “But how do you know where we're going? And why is she in danger?”
Rolling his eyes as he tucked in his scarf, Sherlock gave John a look a mother might give a misbehaving child who should obviously know better than to do what it just did. “John you don't see the most simple of facts. He spelled it right out in his text. Even you could have seen that. He doesn't want to waste time, keep me thinking long. He's as eager as I am. Come on!” Sherlock stepped outside, looking for a cab.
“But wait...what?” John stammered. “You never told me why her life is in danger?”
“Moriarty is playing with her, with all of us. He knew Molly would take the phone to me, show me the message.”
“And where are we going again?”
“Ben, John, Ben!”
“Ben who?” John asked, still not following Sherlock's train of thought.
“The clock. Big Ben,” Sherlock explained. “He mentioned a clock and said the word 'been'. Could only mean one thing.”
“Oh, right,” John nodded, grunting as he climbed into the back of a taxi Sherlock had just hailed.
“I will shoot you!” Molly Hooper tried to keep her voice from trembling. It was hard, considering the fact she was pressed into the corner holding a pistol in her shaking hands. Her expressive brown eyes, usually sparkling were now filled with the utmost of fear. She tried her best to swallow the overwhelming feeling of terror crowding any other emotion she had been previously experiencing.
“Oh will you now?” her assailant replied. His voice was thin, almost casual but with an underlying sense of sarcasm. “Oh Molly dear, we both know you don't have the guts to shoot me.” his tone was now an infuriatingly pitiful whine. “Why would you even have such thoughts?” he stepped closer to her, palms out by his sides in a nonthreatening gesture, though he didn't seem frightened at all at the barrel of the pistol staring him in the face. “Poor poor Molly,” he cooed. “What a sight you are.”
“I will! I mean it! I will pull the trigger!” Molly couldn't keep the tremble out of her voice this time. She was frightened and she knew that he knew. But then again, he knew everything. One does not get a reputation for nothing. Her pointer finger pressed the trigger of the weapon just enough to assure her again that it was there, ready, waiting. But waiting for what? Why couldn't she do it? One simple movement, a fraction of a second and it would be over.
“Molly? I can hear you thinking,” the man in front of her told her gently. “You doubt yourself. Doubt is the downfall of man. If you're so strong as you've always believed yourself to be, pull the trigger. I'm waiting Molly. Pull it. Shoot me dead. Go ahead!” his tone had grown slightly mocking.
Again, Molly hesitated. Looking into the eyes of the man she hated so deeply, even then she couldn't find the strength to do as she knew she should be doing. She was around dead people all the time. In fact, even her job centered around the dead. And yet, to take a person's life...
“Shoot me Molly, we haven't got all day.” The words slipped so easily, so casually from his lips. It was infuriating, yes. But still.
Molly swallowed hard and tightened her grip on the pistol until her knuckles were white. Squeezing her eyes shut, something she had been told never to do when firing a weapon, she shook her head, unable to comply. Suddenly a shot rang out, echoing around the little room a hundred times louder than it would have been ordinarily. A bullet whizzed out of a gun barrel, deadly in its intent. Molly hadn't fired. Or had she?
Two days earlier:
Sherlock Holmes pulled up the collar of his black trench coat bowing his head against the cold, onslaught of rain drenching the streets and shops around him. It was a dreary day, one that, if Sherlock had any emotions to feel-John insisted he did but Sherlock remained stubborn in believing that he was completely impartial to all feelings-would have echoed the thoughts in Sherlock's mind to the letter. He was bored. So bored in fact, that John had talked him into taking a walk. A rare victory to the small, but faithful companion who was walking at his side.
“Any better?” John's voice sounded muffled as he breathed into his coat. The chilly air was cutting even through that. He glanced over at his partner watching the clouds of steam leave his nose with each breath. He took in the piercing green eyes, always alert, always taking in every detail. His lips were slightly parted, almost as if he had been talking to himself, also not an unusual occurrence to the brilliant but socially awkward consulting detective at his side. “Sherlock?” the normal pause for a two person conversation had passed and John wasn't sure his friend had heard him.
Apparently he had. Sherlock's head snapped up, an unruly black lock of his shaggy curls falling into his face. He didn't bother to push it back, only encouraged it with a shake of his head as he glanced at John with a look that seemed to pierce deep into his very soul. “Oh yes, very nice,” Sherlock remarked distractedly. “What is it that we're doing again?”
John rolled his eyes. “A walk. Sherlock, can you not enjoy yourself on a bloody walk for fifteen minutes? Look around us. The people, the places. Being in the 'real' world isn't so bad you know.” his voice held a hint of a scold.
“And so very boring.” Sherlock halted mid-stride and it took John a whole extra one to note the change and backtrack. “Enough of this 'walk,' John. It's boring. Everything is boring. The world is boring!” Sherlock threw up his hands exasperatedly. “A case John. I need a case. Any case.”
“You have that one-” John began, only to be interrupted.
“Boring.”
“You said ANY case, Sherlock.” Now it was John's turn to be exasperated.
“Anyone but that one, John,” Sherlock sighed impatiently, rubbing his bare hands against the biting wind and rain. “I'm going back,” he added decidedly, turning around, not even waiting for his friend.
“Well wait up will you?” John hurried to catch up.
Sherlock's strides were long and it didn't take long to arrive back at 221B Baker Street. Mrs. Hudson met them in the hall with her usually motherly worry and questions. Sherlock answered the friendly woman in as few words as possible as she pulled off his dark blue scarf and trench coat, hung them up carefully and tromped up the stairs, John following close behind. “You could have at least thanked her for the tea,” John reprimanded.
“The tea? Oh yes. Well it's no matter now is it? She's gone.” Sherlock unlocked the door to their flat, and threw himself in his customary seat, almost like a child having a tantrum. He sat there while John helped himself to a cup of piping hot tea, twiddling his thumbs and drumming his fingers on the armrests. He was just about to say something when his phone buzzed, alerting him of a text that he had just received. Sherlock grabbed the device with the eagerness of a greedy robber and glanced at the message.
“Anything interesting?” John asked, half hoping it was a case to perk up his suffering friend.
“Only Anderson again,” Sherlock huffed, tossing the phone down carelessly beside him.
“And what did he want?” John asked, sitting down in the chair across from Sherlock with his cup of tea on which he now sipped sparingly.
“Only to confirm what I already told him, of course. He never listens, the bloody-”
“Sherlock,” John half snapped, jerking his head toward the door where a woman had just appeared. “Watch your language,” he mouthed, standing up in respect to her presence.
“Why Molly, what brings you here?” Sherlock asked, standing as well. His voice no longer sounded deathly bored, but slightly curious.
Molly gave the both of them a rather nervous smile, her eyes resting the longest on Sherlock. “Yes, um, hello John, Sherlock,” she mumbled.
“Would you like a cup of tea? We were just-”
“Enough with the formalities John, she's obviously on business. Sit Molly,” Sherlock invited rather bluntly as he gestured to a third seat.
Molly took the invitation and sat down. Everything about her radiated nervousness which only delighted Sherlock at the prospect of an adventure. Her hands clasped and unclasped as she fidgeted, unsure where to begin.
Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. “Well,” he prompted impatiently.
“Oh yes, well I-” this was not the usual Molly Sherlock was used to. She hesitated and pulled out her phone. “I received a strange text.”
John, who had been watching Sherlock leaning forward eagerly in his seat, all eager to hear what she had to say, saw his whole demeanor deflate like a balloon. He slumped backwards and the bored expression returned to his face. He did remain silent though.
Molly held out the phone to him. “See?”
Slowly, Sherlock let out his breath as he took the phone and read the text. Though his expression remained unreadable, John's sharp eyes took in the slight tensing of his body. “What's it say Sherlock?” he asked quickly.
Instead of reading the text out loud, Sherlock continued to stare emotionless at the screen until John took it away from him. His eyes scanned the message. “A game you seek, a game you'll find. A way to leave boredom behind. Be careful. Once you begin there's no telling where we'll end. The clock is ticking. You've been waiting for this day. Are you in?”
John looked up, confused. “Sherlock what is this?”
Molly shifted uncomfortably on her seat. “I don't think this was meant for me.”
Sherlock had been sitting completely still, his hands steepled underneath his chin. “Yes it was,” he answered slowly. “You're being used. Come on John.” He stood up and headed for the door.
John looked beyond bewildered. “Sherlock? Where are we going? What about Molly?”
Sherlock spun around, his eyes lit up with the thrill of a new adventure. “Moriarty,” he answered simply, taking Molly's phone from John. “I'll need this.”
Molly's face went pure white. “M-Moriarty?”
“Yes. Now please, if you'll excuse me...”
“Wait, we're done?! All finished?!”
“Oh no dear Molly. The game is only just beginning! Oh by the way, be careful, you're in danger,” he added nonchalantly. Sherlock was nearly giddy with excitement as he bolted down the stairs, grabbing his coat and scarf.
John was hot on his heels. “But how do you know where we're going? And why is she in danger?”
Rolling his eyes as he tucked in his scarf, Sherlock gave John a look a mother might give a misbehaving child who should obviously know better than to do what it just did. “John you don't see the most simple of facts. He spelled it right out in his text. Even you could have seen that. He doesn't want to waste time, keep me thinking long. He's as eager as I am. Come on!” Sherlock stepped outside, looking for a cab.
“But wait...what?” John stammered. “You never told me why her life is in danger?”
“Moriarty is playing with her, with all of us. He knew Molly would take the phone to me, show me the message.”
“And where are we going again?”
“Ben, John, Ben!”
“Ben who?” John asked, still not following Sherlock's train of thought.
“The clock. Big Ben,” Sherlock explained. “He mentioned a clock and said the word 'been'. Could only mean one thing.”
“Oh, right,” John nodded, grunting as he climbed into the back of a taxi Sherlock had just hailed.
A Happy Birthday by Carrington Tyson
Kelsey Meirs hurried along the street, her eyes sparkling with happiness. She couldn't keep the excited grin off of her sun-tanned face. Kelsey was wearing a pink short-sleeved shirt and tan khakis. Her gray and pink tennis shoes pounded along the pavement as she approached her destination, Dylan's house.
It wasn't the biggest abode in the world, but the yellow house was charming all the same. The white shutters and well manicured yard was inviting. Kelsey swung open the wooden gate and nearly bounded up the three steps onto the small porch. Ringing the doorbell she awaited for the door to open. It didn't take long.
Dylan poked his head out of the crack. “Hey Kelsey! Come on in!” he grinned. Kelsey loved it when he grinned. Dylan opened the door wider and let her into his house.
The living room was snug and cozy. Two small leather couches, a small table and a TV set filled it comfortably. A multi-colored rug lay on the floor. Seated on the couch was Frank, Kelsey's father. The two embraced and Kelsey sat next to her dad, a sturdy man with graying hair, a dark blue t-shirt and blue jeans.
“Ok so I called you for a very important meeting.” Dylan announced as he handed his two guests a cup of piping hot tea. The steam drifted up lazily and seemed out of place in the excitement-charged atmosphere. Dylan sat down on the opposite couch and made himself comfortable. “As you both know, Mark's birthday is coming up. We have to plan the party.”
“A surprise party!” Kelsey corrected, taking a sip of tea. “Mmm this is good!”
“I'm glad you like it. Now, we need to hurry because Mark will be done running errands shortly. I was thinking that we have the party in his plane because we have a flight that day. We could totally make something work. What do you two think?” Dylan asked curiously.
“That's a great idea! We could pack everyone into the cargo hold and surprise him on the way. I like it!” Frank agreed.
“That's not all.” Dylan grinned, his eyes holding a mischievous glint. “This isn't just any flight.”
Kelsey's interest was peaked. “Where are we going?”
“Charlotte has graciously provided her mansion for a family reunion of sorts. We're headed to England.”
Kelsey leaned back against the cushions on the comfortable couch. “I'm so glad they have made up. It certainly was rough there for a while.”
“It was,” Dylan agreed readily, “but we're getting off topic.”
“Oops! Sorry,” Kelsey apologized. “It's a girl thing.” She took another sip of tea.
“So we need someone to blow up balloons and decorate the interior with...” Dylan's manly voice was cut off by the doorbell ringing. “That's gotta be Sandra.”
Sure enough, it was. Sandra squeezed onto the couch next to Kelsey. “Sorry I'm late. I was making Mark's present. See?” she handed Dylan a small leather bound photo album filled with pictures of them all.
Dylan's eyes lit up. “He's going to love this! Ok, as we were saying, we need people to fill up the balloons and decorate the plane with streamers. Any volunteers?”
Both girls raised their hands. “Girls are master decorators. We'll get the job done.” Sandra assured him.
Dylan nodded and pulled out a plastic bag from under the couch. “Here are the decorations. I'll give these to you girls. You'll need to hurry because the party is in two days and I'll be hard pressed to keep Mark away from the plane.” he handed Sandra the bag.
“Blue and red and white!” Kelsey noticed. “Britain's colors.”
Sandra shoved her playfully. “Red white and blue aren't just the colors of England silly. There's a lot more red. Mark's favorite color.”
“Alright you two, pay attention. On party day I want everyone in the cargo hold by ten thirty. The flight is at eleven. I'll handle Mark because I'm the co-pilot. I'll pick up the cake tomorrow evening. Kelsey, if you can get the presents together that would be great.”
Kelsey nodded. “Sure! I've already got Frank's and Sandra can give me hers and I have one as well. What about yours?”
“Oh no. That one stays with me.” Dylan smirked.
“I'm home!” A muffled but masculine voice sounded from the front of the house.
Kelsey paled. “Mark's here!”
Sandra shoved the bag and the album under the couch, grabbed her cup of tea and began sipping it just as Mark entered the living room. “Hey! What's up?” Mark asked, giving Dylan a love pat that was more of a slap to his back.
Dylan winced. “Did you have to do that? You almost made me spill my tea!”
Mark grinned and plopped onto the couch. “Now that would be bad. You'd disgrace all of England!”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “You're happy today, aren't you?”
Mark paused, thinking. “Actually no. I'm a bit upset that you invited all these people without me! What were you thinking?!” his sharp eyes peered at the three guests.
“Ah, we were having tea.” Dylan hurried to explain.
“You're lucky we're in the presence of ladies or I would not be so proper in my reply to that.” Mark replied cockily. “Did you save me a cup?”
Dylan pointed to a mug on the tiny table next to the couch. “We didn't forget about you. His eyes rested on the floor and he nearly paled. In her haste, Sandra hadn't pushed the bundle of party supplies all the way under the couch!
“So what did I miss?” Mark asked, completely oblivious to what was going on.
“N-not much. What did you get from the store? I hope you put the bags away. It would be a shame to leave them where they could be seen.” Dylan tried to reply to Mark while signaling to the girls. His eyes danced from them back to Mark. Luckily he didn't seem to notice.
“Nah, I'll put them away later. I don't think our guests would mind. Right?”
Kelsey had caught Dylan's look. She gave a tiny nod and nudged Sandra hard, at the same time pushing the bag further underneath the couch. “No we wouldn't mind!” she exclaimed rather loudly, trying to muffle the sound of the rustling bag.
“Hey! What was that for?!” Sandra asked.
“I was just playing around. Hey, Mark, come on and we'll help you put away the groceries.”
“Now that's an offer I would never turn down.” Mark grinned. “Let's go.”
The girls stood up and began to follow Mark into the kitchen. As Kelsey passed by Dylan, she dropped her car keys into his hand. “Put the bag in there.” she whispered as Dylan nodded.
Ten minutes later, the groceries were all put away. “We'd better be going. The tea was lovely. We'll have to return the favor sometime.” Kelsey smiled.
“Yes! You're getting pretty good at making it!” Dylan replied. “I guess we'll see you later then. I'll show you to the door.”
The trio headed outside as Dylan returned Kelsey's keys. “Bye!” he waved.
The next afternoon, the girls made the short trek to the airfield. Mark's plane sat sedately on the runway, glistening white. “I hope Mark doesn't come around,” Kelsey shuddered, entering the plane.
“I know!” Sandra agreed. “Ok let's get to work. I'll set up streamers if you want to blow up balloons,” she offered.
“That's fine.” Kelsey pulled out the bag of balloons, opened it and pulled out a red one. She blew it to a decent size and tied it. “I guess we can throw these at him huh? There's no helium.”
“Don't make him crash!” Sandra teased. “Just strew them around. That'll work.”
The girls were kept busy for about an hour but by the time they were done, both had to admit that it looked really good. The streamers were neatly hanging from the ceiling and it gave the white interior a festive appearance. The balloons were scattered throughout.
“Well I think our job is done.” Kelsey plopped onto the pilot's seat and gave a weary sigh. “It's kinda hot in here. Let's head home.”
The next morning dawned bright and clear. Promptly at ten thirty, two taxis pulled up at the airfield. Grace, Leisel, Frank, Kelsey, Barbara, Garrett and Sandra piled out and trooped into the cargo section of the plane. It was crowded but there was just enough room. As eleven o' clock approached, the conversation quieted down.
“I think I hear them!” Kelsey whispered, picking up Grace. The little girl snuggled close and rested her head on Kelsey's shoulder, golden curls blanketing her head. She popped her thumb into her mouth.
Sandra pressed her ear against the side of the plane. “You're right! Everyone hush now!”
“Ok, Mark,” Dylan was saying, “since it's your birthday I'll do the pre-flight inspection. The cargo is already loaded.”
“Nope. That's my job.” Mark insisted.
“Come on, pal! Just this once. You trust me don't you?” Dylan pressed.
“Ok fine. But if we crash it's not my fault.” Mark launched into the captain's seat and began pressing knobs and buttons.
Dylan snuck into the back. “You guys alright? That was a good idea, leaving the cockpit bare of decorations. It looks good back here though!” he praised. “I'll open the door to the back once we're under way. Then you'll surprise him.”
The others nodded as Dylan disappeared into the front of the plane. The anticipation was mounting in the air. “You ready?” Dylan asked a minute later.
Mark nodded and started the engines. “Yep! Let's go!”
The plane began to taxi down the runway. Towards the end of it, the graceful aircraft's nose lifted into the air and took flight. Mark's hands were steady on the controls, his face confident.
“We'll be in England before you know it,” Dylan smiled. “Our homeland.”
Mark sighed. “I've missed it. Ever since we moved to America I've been homesick. Of course I'm not going to keep complaining, we have made some great friends here.”
“I know, Mark. Hey I've gotta get something. I'll be right back.” Dylan opened the door to the back and motioned to everyone to be quiet. “On my signal!” he whispered. Returning to the cockpit he turned to Mark. “Hey can I fly her for a bit?” Mark reluctantly agreed.
Dylan nodded at the others as he took control of the plane. “Surprise!” they yelled.
Mark jumped and twisted his head around to be met with a sea of faces. “What are you guys doing here?!” he grinned.
“It's your birthday, remember?” Kelsey smiled.
Mark laughed. “This is the best birthday ever! Thanks! Oh wow...you decorated too!”
Grace climbed out of her mother's arms and handed Mark a picture. “I drew it!” she giggled.
Mark looked at the colorful piece of paper. “Oh my! This is quite a drawing! Let me guess...that's the plane and that is me?” he pointed to two rather badly drawn objects.
Grace giggled again and nodded.
“Well you're quite the artist! I didn't know I had such long arms!” Mark winked at Kelsey.
Dylan now joined in the conversation. “We spent quite a while planning this for you. The cargo was your friends and we're headed to your mum's house for a party!” he announced.
Mark's mouth dropped open. “You're kidding, right?!”
Kelsey, Frank, Sandra and Dylan all shook their heads. “We've been planing this trip for months! We're bringing the cake and you're going to have to go through us to get it so don't get any ideas in your head.” Kelsey warned teasingly.
“I wouldn't stand a chance!” Mark laughed.
“And Kelsey is in charge of the presents too so don't go snooping around. Dylan, maybe you'd better let him fly the plane again,” Sandra suggested.
“Yeah that's a good idea.” Mark agreed, returning to his seat.
The next several hours passed quickly as there was much to talk about. Finally, Mark brought the plane down safely in a small British airport and the group piled out and stretched cramped muscles before climbing into several taxies. It didn't take long to reach Charlotte's estate, a huge brick mansion enclosed by a tall but ornate fence.
Charlotte met them at the door and embraced them all warmly. “Hey! I'm glad you all made it safely!” She scooped Grace into her arms and tickled her making the three year-old laugh with delight. Stewart also welcomed them happily, as did Catherine who reserved a lengthy hug just for Sandra and Mark.
Mark tossed his flight bag carelessly onto the plush brown couch. “Where's the cake? I'm starving!”
Kelsey laughed and pointed to the table. A large vanilla cake, frosted white with red words on top that said Happy Birthday Mark lay upon the smooth wooden surface. “Come on you all! Mark is hungry!”
Everyone crowded around the table and Dylan handed him the knife. “You may have the honors,” he grinned.
Mark took the knife and carefully cut generous slices of the rich dessert for all, plopping the pieces onto plates and passing them around. After everyone had been served, Mark plunged his fork into the airy cake and took a bite that was rather large but nobody scolded him as he stuffed it into his mouth and closed his eyes in rapture. “This is amazing!” he announced, a second mouthful already on it's way to his mouth.
After the pieces had been devoured, it was time for presents. Sandra helped Kelsey pile them onto the table. “The first one is from Kelsey,” Sandra announced as she handed him a brightly wrapped red box.
Mark tore into it with the eagerness of a child and wrapping paper went everywhere. “It's...it's a watch!” he exclaimed happily. “Thanks! You don't know how much I've been needing one ever since SOMEONE,” he glanced accusingly at Dylan, “dropped my other one.”
Dylan sighed and gave Mark a playful punch on his shoulder. “Open the next one!” he suggested.
The minutes ticked by as Mark continued to receive his gifts. He received one expensive leather wallet from Stewart, a navy blue teacup with the words Royal Air Force in white from Catherine, an extra month's worth of pay from Barbara, a stuffed whale from Garrett, a selection of various German teas from Lesiel, and Sandra's album was an instant success. Catherine gave him some new socks, much to everyone's amusement. Finally they came to the last two presents.
Dylan picked up the larger one and handed it to Mark almost reverently. Mark sensed the change and was more careful in opening it. Inside was a brand new pilot's suit. It looked stunning and Mark's eyes shown with gratitude. “Wow...thank you so much!” he gasped.
Dylan nodded. “I paid a pretty penny for that. Here's the last one.”
Mark opened it promptly. A matching dark blue captain's hat was inside. “Now this is absolutely the best birthday!” he exclaimed, giving Dylan a fond hug. Dylan responded by tousling the pilot's hair, much to Mark's dismay. “Ok now we have one more surprise so go upstairs until we're finished.” Dylan ordered playfully.
Mark groaned but relented and bounded up the stairs. Dylan turned to the others. “Ok hurry hurry!” he shoed them off. A few minutes later they were ready. “Ok Mark! Come on down!” Dylan yelled up the stairs.
Mark returned in a hurry and his eyes widened. Everyone but him were wearing white t-shirts with a picture of him. The photograph had obviously been an unexpected shot as Mark's face was absolutely hilarious. A caption under the face read 'Our Hero'. “Seriously guys?!” Mark huffed, trying to keep from laughing.
The others burst into fits of giggles and soon Mark had joined them. “This is what we're going to wear when you take us on a tour of England!” Kelsey announced.
“Oh no you don't! I'm gonna get those.” he turned and began to chase Dylan. “You scamp! You set this up, I know you did!” the two disappeared around the corner and soon everyone was engaged in a giant whirl of fun. It had been a very happy birthday.
It wasn't the biggest abode in the world, but the yellow house was charming all the same. The white shutters and well manicured yard was inviting. Kelsey swung open the wooden gate and nearly bounded up the three steps onto the small porch. Ringing the doorbell she awaited for the door to open. It didn't take long.
Dylan poked his head out of the crack. “Hey Kelsey! Come on in!” he grinned. Kelsey loved it when he grinned. Dylan opened the door wider and let her into his house.
The living room was snug and cozy. Two small leather couches, a small table and a TV set filled it comfortably. A multi-colored rug lay on the floor. Seated on the couch was Frank, Kelsey's father. The two embraced and Kelsey sat next to her dad, a sturdy man with graying hair, a dark blue t-shirt and blue jeans.
“Ok so I called you for a very important meeting.” Dylan announced as he handed his two guests a cup of piping hot tea. The steam drifted up lazily and seemed out of place in the excitement-charged atmosphere. Dylan sat down on the opposite couch and made himself comfortable. “As you both know, Mark's birthday is coming up. We have to plan the party.”
“A surprise party!” Kelsey corrected, taking a sip of tea. “Mmm this is good!”
“I'm glad you like it. Now, we need to hurry because Mark will be done running errands shortly. I was thinking that we have the party in his plane because we have a flight that day. We could totally make something work. What do you two think?” Dylan asked curiously.
“That's a great idea! We could pack everyone into the cargo hold and surprise him on the way. I like it!” Frank agreed.
“That's not all.” Dylan grinned, his eyes holding a mischievous glint. “This isn't just any flight.”
Kelsey's interest was peaked. “Where are we going?”
“Charlotte has graciously provided her mansion for a family reunion of sorts. We're headed to England.”
Kelsey leaned back against the cushions on the comfortable couch. “I'm so glad they have made up. It certainly was rough there for a while.”
“It was,” Dylan agreed readily, “but we're getting off topic.”
“Oops! Sorry,” Kelsey apologized. “It's a girl thing.” She took another sip of tea.
“So we need someone to blow up balloons and decorate the interior with...” Dylan's manly voice was cut off by the doorbell ringing. “That's gotta be Sandra.”
Sure enough, it was. Sandra squeezed onto the couch next to Kelsey. “Sorry I'm late. I was making Mark's present. See?” she handed Dylan a small leather bound photo album filled with pictures of them all.
Dylan's eyes lit up. “He's going to love this! Ok, as we were saying, we need people to fill up the balloons and decorate the plane with streamers. Any volunteers?”
Both girls raised their hands. “Girls are master decorators. We'll get the job done.” Sandra assured him.
Dylan nodded and pulled out a plastic bag from under the couch. “Here are the decorations. I'll give these to you girls. You'll need to hurry because the party is in two days and I'll be hard pressed to keep Mark away from the plane.” he handed Sandra the bag.
“Blue and red and white!” Kelsey noticed. “Britain's colors.”
Sandra shoved her playfully. “Red white and blue aren't just the colors of England silly. There's a lot more red. Mark's favorite color.”
“Alright you two, pay attention. On party day I want everyone in the cargo hold by ten thirty. The flight is at eleven. I'll handle Mark because I'm the co-pilot. I'll pick up the cake tomorrow evening. Kelsey, if you can get the presents together that would be great.”
Kelsey nodded. “Sure! I've already got Frank's and Sandra can give me hers and I have one as well. What about yours?”
“Oh no. That one stays with me.” Dylan smirked.
“I'm home!” A muffled but masculine voice sounded from the front of the house.
Kelsey paled. “Mark's here!”
Sandra shoved the bag and the album under the couch, grabbed her cup of tea and began sipping it just as Mark entered the living room. “Hey! What's up?” Mark asked, giving Dylan a love pat that was more of a slap to his back.
Dylan winced. “Did you have to do that? You almost made me spill my tea!”
Mark grinned and plopped onto the couch. “Now that would be bad. You'd disgrace all of England!”
Dylan rolled his eyes. “You're happy today, aren't you?”
Mark paused, thinking. “Actually no. I'm a bit upset that you invited all these people without me! What were you thinking?!” his sharp eyes peered at the three guests.
“Ah, we were having tea.” Dylan hurried to explain.
“You're lucky we're in the presence of ladies or I would not be so proper in my reply to that.” Mark replied cockily. “Did you save me a cup?”
Dylan pointed to a mug on the tiny table next to the couch. “We didn't forget about you. His eyes rested on the floor and he nearly paled. In her haste, Sandra hadn't pushed the bundle of party supplies all the way under the couch!
“So what did I miss?” Mark asked, completely oblivious to what was going on.
“N-not much. What did you get from the store? I hope you put the bags away. It would be a shame to leave them where they could be seen.” Dylan tried to reply to Mark while signaling to the girls. His eyes danced from them back to Mark. Luckily he didn't seem to notice.
“Nah, I'll put them away later. I don't think our guests would mind. Right?”
Kelsey had caught Dylan's look. She gave a tiny nod and nudged Sandra hard, at the same time pushing the bag further underneath the couch. “No we wouldn't mind!” she exclaimed rather loudly, trying to muffle the sound of the rustling bag.
“Hey! What was that for?!” Sandra asked.
“I was just playing around. Hey, Mark, come on and we'll help you put away the groceries.”
“Now that's an offer I would never turn down.” Mark grinned. “Let's go.”
The girls stood up and began to follow Mark into the kitchen. As Kelsey passed by Dylan, she dropped her car keys into his hand. “Put the bag in there.” she whispered as Dylan nodded.
Ten minutes later, the groceries were all put away. “We'd better be going. The tea was lovely. We'll have to return the favor sometime.” Kelsey smiled.
“Yes! You're getting pretty good at making it!” Dylan replied. “I guess we'll see you later then. I'll show you to the door.”
The trio headed outside as Dylan returned Kelsey's keys. “Bye!” he waved.
The next afternoon, the girls made the short trek to the airfield. Mark's plane sat sedately on the runway, glistening white. “I hope Mark doesn't come around,” Kelsey shuddered, entering the plane.
“I know!” Sandra agreed. “Ok let's get to work. I'll set up streamers if you want to blow up balloons,” she offered.
“That's fine.” Kelsey pulled out the bag of balloons, opened it and pulled out a red one. She blew it to a decent size and tied it. “I guess we can throw these at him huh? There's no helium.”
“Don't make him crash!” Sandra teased. “Just strew them around. That'll work.”
The girls were kept busy for about an hour but by the time they were done, both had to admit that it looked really good. The streamers were neatly hanging from the ceiling and it gave the white interior a festive appearance. The balloons were scattered throughout.
“Well I think our job is done.” Kelsey plopped onto the pilot's seat and gave a weary sigh. “It's kinda hot in here. Let's head home.”
The next morning dawned bright and clear. Promptly at ten thirty, two taxis pulled up at the airfield. Grace, Leisel, Frank, Kelsey, Barbara, Garrett and Sandra piled out and trooped into the cargo section of the plane. It was crowded but there was just enough room. As eleven o' clock approached, the conversation quieted down.
“I think I hear them!” Kelsey whispered, picking up Grace. The little girl snuggled close and rested her head on Kelsey's shoulder, golden curls blanketing her head. She popped her thumb into her mouth.
Sandra pressed her ear against the side of the plane. “You're right! Everyone hush now!”
“Ok, Mark,” Dylan was saying, “since it's your birthday I'll do the pre-flight inspection. The cargo is already loaded.”
“Nope. That's my job.” Mark insisted.
“Come on, pal! Just this once. You trust me don't you?” Dylan pressed.
“Ok fine. But if we crash it's not my fault.” Mark launched into the captain's seat and began pressing knobs and buttons.
Dylan snuck into the back. “You guys alright? That was a good idea, leaving the cockpit bare of decorations. It looks good back here though!” he praised. “I'll open the door to the back once we're under way. Then you'll surprise him.”
The others nodded as Dylan disappeared into the front of the plane. The anticipation was mounting in the air. “You ready?” Dylan asked a minute later.
Mark nodded and started the engines. “Yep! Let's go!”
The plane began to taxi down the runway. Towards the end of it, the graceful aircraft's nose lifted into the air and took flight. Mark's hands were steady on the controls, his face confident.
“We'll be in England before you know it,” Dylan smiled. “Our homeland.”
Mark sighed. “I've missed it. Ever since we moved to America I've been homesick. Of course I'm not going to keep complaining, we have made some great friends here.”
“I know, Mark. Hey I've gotta get something. I'll be right back.” Dylan opened the door to the back and motioned to everyone to be quiet. “On my signal!” he whispered. Returning to the cockpit he turned to Mark. “Hey can I fly her for a bit?” Mark reluctantly agreed.
Dylan nodded at the others as he took control of the plane. “Surprise!” they yelled.
Mark jumped and twisted his head around to be met with a sea of faces. “What are you guys doing here?!” he grinned.
“It's your birthday, remember?” Kelsey smiled.
Mark laughed. “This is the best birthday ever! Thanks! Oh wow...you decorated too!”
Grace climbed out of her mother's arms and handed Mark a picture. “I drew it!” she giggled.
Mark looked at the colorful piece of paper. “Oh my! This is quite a drawing! Let me guess...that's the plane and that is me?” he pointed to two rather badly drawn objects.
Grace giggled again and nodded.
“Well you're quite the artist! I didn't know I had such long arms!” Mark winked at Kelsey.
Dylan now joined in the conversation. “We spent quite a while planning this for you. The cargo was your friends and we're headed to your mum's house for a party!” he announced.
Mark's mouth dropped open. “You're kidding, right?!”
Kelsey, Frank, Sandra and Dylan all shook their heads. “We've been planing this trip for months! We're bringing the cake and you're going to have to go through us to get it so don't get any ideas in your head.” Kelsey warned teasingly.
“I wouldn't stand a chance!” Mark laughed.
“And Kelsey is in charge of the presents too so don't go snooping around. Dylan, maybe you'd better let him fly the plane again,” Sandra suggested.
“Yeah that's a good idea.” Mark agreed, returning to his seat.
The next several hours passed quickly as there was much to talk about. Finally, Mark brought the plane down safely in a small British airport and the group piled out and stretched cramped muscles before climbing into several taxies. It didn't take long to reach Charlotte's estate, a huge brick mansion enclosed by a tall but ornate fence.
Charlotte met them at the door and embraced them all warmly. “Hey! I'm glad you all made it safely!” She scooped Grace into her arms and tickled her making the three year-old laugh with delight. Stewart also welcomed them happily, as did Catherine who reserved a lengthy hug just for Sandra and Mark.
Mark tossed his flight bag carelessly onto the plush brown couch. “Where's the cake? I'm starving!”
Kelsey laughed and pointed to the table. A large vanilla cake, frosted white with red words on top that said Happy Birthday Mark lay upon the smooth wooden surface. “Come on you all! Mark is hungry!”
Everyone crowded around the table and Dylan handed him the knife. “You may have the honors,” he grinned.
Mark took the knife and carefully cut generous slices of the rich dessert for all, plopping the pieces onto plates and passing them around. After everyone had been served, Mark plunged his fork into the airy cake and took a bite that was rather large but nobody scolded him as he stuffed it into his mouth and closed his eyes in rapture. “This is amazing!” he announced, a second mouthful already on it's way to his mouth.
After the pieces had been devoured, it was time for presents. Sandra helped Kelsey pile them onto the table. “The first one is from Kelsey,” Sandra announced as she handed him a brightly wrapped red box.
Mark tore into it with the eagerness of a child and wrapping paper went everywhere. “It's...it's a watch!” he exclaimed happily. “Thanks! You don't know how much I've been needing one ever since SOMEONE,” he glanced accusingly at Dylan, “dropped my other one.”
Dylan sighed and gave Mark a playful punch on his shoulder. “Open the next one!” he suggested.
The minutes ticked by as Mark continued to receive his gifts. He received one expensive leather wallet from Stewart, a navy blue teacup with the words Royal Air Force in white from Catherine, an extra month's worth of pay from Barbara, a stuffed whale from Garrett, a selection of various German teas from Lesiel, and Sandra's album was an instant success. Catherine gave him some new socks, much to everyone's amusement. Finally they came to the last two presents.
Dylan picked up the larger one and handed it to Mark almost reverently. Mark sensed the change and was more careful in opening it. Inside was a brand new pilot's suit. It looked stunning and Mark's eyes shown with gratitude. “Wow...thank you so much!” he gasped.
Dylan nodded. “I paid a pretty penny for that. Here's the last one.”
Mark opened it promptly. A matching dark blue captain's hat was inside. “Now this is absolutely the best birthday!” he exclaimed, giving Dylan a fond hug. Dylan responded by tousling the pilot's hair, much to Mark's dismay. “Ok now we have one more surprise so go upstairs until we're finished.” Dylan ordered playfully.
Mark groaned but relented and bounded up the stairs. Dylan turned to the others. “Ok hurry hurry!” he shoed them off. A few minutes later they were ready. “Ok Mark! Come on down!” Dylan yelled up the stairs.
Mark returned in a hurry and his eyes widened. Everyone but him were wearing white t-shirts with a picture of him. The photograph had obviously been an unexpected shot as Mark's face was absolutely hilarious. A caption under the face read 'Our Hero'. “Seriously guys?!” Mark huffed, trying to keep from laughing.
The others burst into fits of giggles and soon Mark had joined them. “This is what we're going to wear when you take us on a tour of England!” Kelsey announced.
“Oh no you don't! I'm gonna get those.” he turned and began to chase Dylan. “You scamp! You set this up, I know you did!” the two disappeared around the corner and soon everyone was engaged in a giant whirl of fun. It had been a very happy birthday.