As I have been told many times, running away from the real world is never the right solution to anything. However, if you are running for someone else, I think that the old saying comes into no use. An injury to one is an injury to all. Being away from my only friend in the entire world is actually torture. It feels like sky has been ripped in two but the sun still continues to rise each passing morning and the bird songs sound distorted, almost lonely, reflecting upon my traumatised pain. My friend, John Watson believes I'm dead and knows that he will never see me again. But deep inside, I know that he still has faith in me.
I keep tabs on him and make sure that he's safe. The only person apart from myself who is aware that I'm not dead is someone whom I have depended upon throughout my entire life but is never understanding each other's needs. Mycroft. He's my older brother and indeed, the only person who would keep my secret a secret, even though I couldn't. I pay him to take care of John and to make sure that he doesn't do something stupid like seeing how long it would take to starve to death. My "death" had hit him pretty hard and it was even harder, knowing that my best friend was hurting because of me and how I can't do anything about it. My hands are tied. Words cannot explain how much this kills me inside.