[Monday January 7th 2013]

Sherlock. Stop this. –JW [6:35pm]

Sherlock, please. –JW [7:00pm]

It's almost been a year now, Sherlock. I know you're alive. –JW [9:00pm]

John sighed and slammed his phone shut. Where was Sherlock? He was alive. He had to be.

[Saturday January 18th 2014]

Two years Sherlock. Two years and I still have no explanation. –JW [9:00pm]

Maybe I should try the Irene approach. –JW [10:00pm]

I'm bored. Let's have dinner. –JW [10:10pm]

No. No I don't like that at all. –JW [10:12pm]

John reached for his tea and glared at his visitor. "I told you he wouldn't reply. He's dead, John," Mycroft said. John stood suddenly. "I'll show you out," he replied, gesturing to the door. "Start seeing you therapist John, she'll help." John shut the door on Mycroft, and slid down into a heap, his head in his lap. "No," he whimpered, "No she won't."

[Thursday January 15th 2015]

Three years. Really Sherlock? –JW [12:00am]

I know you're out there. –JW [12:15am]

Mycroft still wants me to see my therapist. –JW [12:20am]

Molly misses you. –JW [12:30am]

We all miss you. –JW [12:31am]

Except for Anderson. He thinks you're a fake. –JW [12:35am]

He's an idiot. –JW [12:37am]

Please, Sherlock. Anything. Just reply to me, please. Let me know you're alive. –JW [1:00am]

John checked his phone again at 2:00am. There was still no response from Sherlock. He clenched his hands at his sides and launched himself out of bed. "God damn it, Sherlock!" he screamed. He strode over to his window and threw it open.

"I know you're out there!" he shrieked. "I know you're alive! So tell me! Tell me you're alive!" He paused for a breath. "That's the least I deserve! Come back home, Sherlock!" He stopped, and stepped away from the window. He put a hand to his face. Tears, he thought.

He turned around at the creek at the front door. Had he forgotten to lock it again? He had started doing that recently, in hope for Sherlock, until Mrs. Hudson asked him to stop.

"Hello?" John paused, the soldier in him coming out. "Is anyone there?"

"You know," came a high-pitched male voice from the doorway, "he can't hear you."

John grabbed his gun from the dresser and hid near the doorway, to his bedroom, careful not to make a noise.

"I know how he did it, and where he is! I would be more than happy to tell you, but…" the man was right near John's bedroom door.

"… It would have to be our little secret." The man finished as John came around the doorway, his gun level with the man's head. He let out a gasp as he realized who it was.

"Tsk, tsk Johnny boy. Put that down. We both know that will get you no where."

John did what he was told. He had too. He was face to face with Jim Moriarty, and he knew where Sherlock was.