Warning (which may contain spoilers for the story): Suicidal thoughts and intentions.
* Beep *
I know it seems silly, calling you like this. You're the one person who can't answer, but it just didn't seem right calling anybody else. I miss you, you know. I don't know if you thought no one would miss you, or if you thought you didn't have any friends... but you were always my best friend, you still are truthfully; no amount of time will change that. You were so brilliant, so amazing... You saved me from myself and without you here there's a hole in my heart that no one else will ever be able to fill... Every day I wake up and I see you standing by the window complaining that I'm sleeping too much. When I go out for a walk, I see you pass right by me with that silly scarf of yours tied around your neck. You're always smiling when I see you, always happy... My dreams are much worse. I've always had nightmares, but nothing like these. I see you jump off that building, I see you hanging from the ceiling, I see your prone body lying in the tub with a razor in your hand, your blood on the floor, and I am always too late to save you. I wake up screaming for you, and there's no one in this empty flat to hear me. I think that makes it worse. My dreams give me that faint hope that you might be alive, that maybe you will get this message, and then I go up to your room and sit in that empty silence... and I know that you're never coming back. I don't know why I can't just accept it. I mourn you every day, I can hardly go out anymore. My therapist thinks that I just need to move out, find a new place and new life, but this flat is the last hold I have on you, and I can't bring myself to get rid of that. Sometimes I feel like your clutter around the place is the only thing keeping me sane. Mycroft doesn't think I'm doing too good a job at that. He still checks in on me. I just saw him out in fact. I think he knows what's coming and he's trying to clear his conscience. Lately I've been wondering what you would do in my position. I want to know how you'd handle it, but... well, we both know that you were always stronger than I am. I'm sorry, I'm rambling... I really called to tell you that I can't do this anymore, I'm sorry. I know you'd want me to go on, I know this isn't what you meant to happen when you did it, and believe me when I say I don't blame you, but... this is the end. You know it's funny. Everywhere we went people always assumed we were a couple, and I was always so quick to deny it but... ha, it's so hard to be honest with you even when you're not here to make fun of me for it. I love you. I was afraid to tell you, I was afraid it would make things awkward and that you'd insist on moving out. I know it's pointless telling you that now, but it needed to be said. It was always the one thing I regretted not doing. Maybe things would have been different if I'd said it sooner. Who knows, maybe it wouldn't have mattered. All the same, I hope you're waiting for me. I'll see you soon...