This is just a quick one shot that came to my mind last night. Involves character death just to warn you! Takes place three years after the events of the Reichenbach Fall (Series 2)
To all who may read this, now and in the future,
It has been three years since everything happened. Since Moriarty, and Sherlock, and the fall. Not a day goes by where I don't think about it, not a day goes by where I wish things had been different.
It's only been very recently that I've come to terms with the fact that Sherlock Holmes is never coming back. For almost three years I sat there, part of my mind insisting he wasn't really dead and he was just in hiding. He was possibly the cleverest man in the world, if an ordinary person can fake their death why can't he? But slowly and surely my mind rewatched the scene through dreams and nightmares and I saw it happen.
I saw Sherlock Holmes jump from the top of St Bartholomew's hospital and I saw him hit the ground. Hell, I even heard it. Everything from those few minutes are engraved in my mind and nothing, not even three years of therapy have made it any easier.
I have tried to continue with my life as best as normal. I got a job as an actual doctor, it's only part-time but I needed something to keep my mind off everything. My therapist suggested maybe moving out of London, maybe to the countryside where I could get fresh air and there wouldn't be memories at every turn.
But I couldn't leave all these people behind. Mrs Hudson, Molly Hooper, hell even Mycroft. You're all going through the same thing as I am and yet your able to continue.
Everything you've said to help has really meant a lot guys.
Mrs Hudson, in these past few years you have been a rock for me. You're the one person I can talk to and complain too and shout at, yet still have you there waiting for when I've calmed down.
Molly Hooper, when we first met, I didn't think much of you, I'll be honest. But as time went on I realised just how close an asset you proved to be for Sherlock and in turn myself. You have been a huge support to me recently and I want you to know how much I appreciate that.
Mycroft Holmes, I think it is safe to say that we have never and probably will never be close friends. But Sherlock was your brother and despite the fact you insist feelings don't affect you, I know you're grieving. We haven't really talked since everything happened, but I know you've been helping. Sherlock's help with the rent hasn't come from beyond the grave now has it…
Thank you
To all those who have had an impact in Sherlock's life; Inspector Lestrade, DS Donavan, Miss Adler, the various members of Sherlock's homeless network, and yes, even you Anderson –
I want to issue a thank you. I know in all our own ways we have been grieving the loss of this man, this great man.
And now I come to my final paragraph, the reason behind this letter. The past three years have been very hard for me and no matter how hard I have tried to move on, nothing seems to have changed.
So I have made the ultimate decision.
Goodbye, friends.
Doctor, John Watson.
A gun trigger is pulled.
A text alert bleeps.
'John, it's me, I'm not dead. SH'
It's too late.
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