A year passed after Sherlock's death. He was the closest thing he had to a friend. Ever.
Four more years passed, John got married. He wished Sherlock was there. He missed him, his dear friend, terribly.
Another ten years passed, and not a day went by when he didn't think about Sherlock. Whenever he went out, it felt as if there were someone following him around. He swore one day he saw Sherlock in a crowd. A double-decker bus drove by, and he was nowhere to be found.
Several years later, he received a text:
I've been watching you, John. I'm sorry for what I did. I'm never far away. I'm always close with you.
-SH
