I started this story after I found the wonderful blogs of both John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. You can eaily find them if you Google them (since I can't post links through this site!). Check them out if you get the chance! I followed the style of the blog there for this story. This is a new format for me. The journal/blog style seems to be more of a screenplay style, but obviuosly in this day and age, the blogger is the world's best friend...His responders maybe not so much...
July 15th
It's been a month. A simple, but long interminable month. It's taken me this long to admit it has happened. My best friend, Sherlock Holmes is dead. I've only said it once since he…since he fell. I refuse to say he jumped, as so many are wont to do. Even now, writing it here, it doesn't seem real. I haven't been able to allow anyone to say the words without getting angry. I can't bring myself to go to the places we went. I can't talk to anyone we've both known. But there it is: Sherlock Holmes is dead and there's nothing I can do about it….except grieve.
Molly Hooper: I'm so sorry for your loss, John. He was a wonderful man and a perfect prat. I'll miss his visits to St. Bart's
John Watson: Thanks, Molly.
Harry Watson: So sorry, kiddo. Call if you need me.
John Watson: Thanks, Sis.
Mike Stamford: So sorry to hear, mate. He was a pretty decent bloke.
John Watson: Thanks, Mike.
Greg Lestrade: So very sorry, John. Ring me when you feel up to a pint in his honor.
Anonymous: You'll make it through this, John. It'll all turn out for the best.
John Watson: How can you say that? He's gone. He's never coming back. I've gotten to that point that I can admit that much. But with him gone, nothing will be for the best.
Anonymous: I just meant to have faith.
John Watson: Faith in what? Hard to have faith when I'm pretty damn sure there's no God of any sort.
Anonymous: Then have faith in him. You always did. Sherlock wouldn't want you to hurt like this.
John Watson: Then he bloody well shouldn't have killed himself, should he?!