Hello again! Small one-shot (again!) and lots of feels (at least for me). Please let me know how you liked it.
I was often told I did not have a heart, and I partly agreed. But now I can fully deny that. This pain that wounds me is not physical, but is deep in my chest. I have never ever felt anything similar. It flares up with the mere thought of him. John. My flatmate. My blogger. My friend. My partner. Once again I wish I did not have this intellect of mine, so that we would not be targeted by the spider, Moriarty. But now I have to deal with the consequences. Now, for the first time, I am reluctant to do something to prove my point, prove I am right. I'm sorry John. This will keep you safe.
Please, there's just one more thing. One more thing. One more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't be... dead. Would you do that, just for me? Just stop it, stop this...
My heart throbs and my chest feels tight. Where is my self control? This is my Work. John came after. But no, I existed before him, when he came I lived. Now I am lost. I know this has killed you and still will, but I never knew the effect your pain and sadness would have on me. What do I do now John? How do I help you? The pain on your face and in your rough voice cuts me to the bone.
What am I thinking. He is a normal person. He will move on.
No! He is my John. John is special. He commands respect and control where I could not, even from me. He killed the cabbie for me. He is a soldier, he can survive, he will survive. I hope we still recognize each other when this is done, Forgive me. This is the only way to keep you safe.
Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?
Do what?
This phone call, it's... it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note.
Leave a note when?
Goodbye (I'm sorry, forgive me), John.
~~~~~~Fin
I'm sorry if Sherlock seems out of character, this is my first time writing his thoughts.