So, as it was too perfect to waste, on Hakuba's birthday, here goes a fic about Hakuba. Has anyone else realized how little detail is gone into about him? Thus after a intriguing conversation with CrescentMoonTenshi, here it goes, a way to explore unseen possibilities.

Hakuba was sitting in his living room, with a book in hand, pushing through the pages as if he had found a new toy, and intended to have as much fun with it as he could. Of course, it wasn't new, but you wouldn't guess that by looking. The book still appeared to have just been purchased, even though he had already owned it for years, and read it at least a hundred times. But no one gets tired of their favorite book, or rather, book series. Yes, With Sherlock Holmes, he would never be tired of it.

It was his birthday, at 11 o' clock in the morning, or to be specific, 11:03 and 43 seconds. When he had woken up he had found no one in the house. 'Strange...' He had thought, but just left it at that. As rare as It was for there to be no one but himself there at that time of day, for his father usually didn't leave until 12 and Baaya never failed to be the first thing in sight on his birthday, He just decided to leave it at that. Not that he minded much, it was just as well. They all knew he would have ended up with a book in hand not long after his eyes opened. It was almost as sure as clockwork. He had done exactly that, too. Upon waking up and the temporary dismay of no one in sight, he had made a cup of tea and settle down with The Sign of Four.

But when the clock chimed out that it was 2 o' clock in the afternoon, by which time he had almost completed the book, and no one had even taken a peek through the doorway, he had grown worried. Deciding to take a more thorough look around the house he set the book down and headed to the kitchen first, before carrying his search through the reminder of the large house. When no one came up, however, he knew something was terribly wrong. It was one thing if they had been hiding from him somewhere in the house, intending to surprise him for his birthday, but it was another when it appeared as if they had both vanished. Whenever he looked in their respective rooms, they felt abandoned. As if they had been there one second then gone the next. And to back that up, he had a nagging feeling in his gut, like he had missed seeing the most important clue. He had all of the surrounding edges of the puzzle but was missing the middle piece. The piece that made it possible to tell what it was a puzzle of.

When he pulled out his signature pocket watch he saw that the time was now 6:53 and 27 seconds. To long had passed for him to believe that nothing had happened. Then he heard a noise outside and flew to the door. He hoped that they would both be out there with a smile on their faces saying things like "Did we scare you? Sorry we had to get something for dinner and the nearby stores didn't have the ingredients." But as the door opened, all he saw was the rain and an overturned trashcan, with it's furry little attacker fleeing for the bushes. He took the chance to put on his shoes and grab an umbrella, deciding it might be a good idea to ask the cashier at the store if she might have seen them. He realized it wasn't very likely, but it was the only thing he could do.

He exited the store with his head hung low, not even bothering to open the umbrella. The sky had faded into a dark shade and it had long since turned to night, and the rain poured down as if it was afraid that it would never have the chance to again. They hadn't been there, and he couldn't help but feel as if something had happened to them. He had no proof, so it wasn't as if he could actively do anything, but... Maybe they would be at the house when he got back? With renewed vigor he hightailed it back to his house, a three-mile run. And yet again his search appeared fruitless. He was cold and hungry, and he felt abandoned.

Then, as if sensing his darkened thoughts, he heard a noise in the living room. The sound of feet bumping into the corner of the table to be exact. But there wasn't any light in the room, almost as if the figure didn't want anyone to know it lurked there. He carefully snuck over to the room but didn't sense any movement, and flicked on the light. If anyone was there, they were not going to stay under the cover of darkness, not if he had any say in the matter at least. But the more he looked around the room, the less he found signs that anyone had even been in there since he had left the room earlier that afternoon. His tea still sat calmly next to his copy of the The Sign of Four, with none of the previous heat radiating from the cup. He relaxed a bit, deciding that the sound he had heard must have been his own imagination, overacting in his fear of the missing two.

He sauntered over to the cup and was just about to pick it up to return it to the kitchen, when a hand placed itself over his mouth with enough pressure to force him to step back into the body connected to it. Instinctively he held his breath. He could feel the cloth in between himself and the hand and knew exactly what must have been on that cloth. Chloroform. He had been careless. Chalked up the noise to his imagination and let his guard down. And now he was being knocked out and likely kidnapped by an intruder. Whomever it was had a good grip on him and he was practically unable to move, he couldn't hold his breath any longer and breathed in the chloroform, he could feel his brain giving in to the drowsiness that followed and the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was the clock on the wall, and the time echoed in his head, 11:51 at night.

The owner of the hand could feel his captive lose conciousness, and he couldn't help the smile that creeped it's way onto his face. "What an unhappy birthday..." he mocked.

Okay. Well then, that turned out a little different then I had intended, but I like it nonetheless. Can't wait to see where it goes from here. ^-^ Hey, an author is no different then the readers, we have no idea what our words will turn into when we write them down, and often have to read over the work, then realizing what happened, are just as surprised as any of you. This will be continued.

~Ceru Holmes