AN. This story has been inspired by Empty Chairs At Empty Tables and On My Own, both from Les Mis. If you enjoy this then I urge you to leave a review. I may be writing more letter like stories in the future, after all I do have ideas. Warning this will mess with feelings.

Sherlock,

I do feel extremely foolish writing this, yet Ella (you probably don't remember her), my therapist urged me to try this. Try writing to him she said, it'll make you feel better. I ended up going back to her after you.. Well. I won't mention that word, it actually hurts to much still.

It's been one year since it happened. Since you jumped. Why Sherlock? Why would you do that? All I keep hearing in my head is your last words. Do you even know how torturous that is? This phone call – it's, er ... it's my note. It's what people do, don't they – leave a note? Goodbye John. You were wrong you know, hero's do exist. You were a hero and always will be. How could you possibly be a fake? All those people's lives you saved, all those peoples families you gave closure to.

Life is just strange now. It's hard to think of a life without you. I look back on memories from before Baker Street and you've just added yourself into them. Both the negative and positive memories now have you in them. You know what Sherlock, I'll never forget nor regret your presence in my life. You took me, a broken man, and you saved me and turned my life around.

I have to admit I do feel somewhat obliged to mention the others, those who were there. Molly, bless her little heart, she's seems broken without you. Well I assume she is, the only few times I've seen her, she's been a stuttering mess. Mrs Hudson's still around. She misses you so much, you were like her son. Lestrade, well he's struggling now. He's still solving cases and stuff, even without you but it took a while. Partly blames himself, if he hadn't allowed you into that case none of this would have happened. He was in a load of shit as well, with this higher ups, for letting you near any of the cases. Pathetic.

Strangely enough, Anderson deserves his own paragraph. You, well we, both thought he was an idiot. I guess that was you rubbing off on me. Remember: Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the IQ of the whole street. But now.. Sherlock he has got it into his mind that you're still alive. He's taken it so far that he's been fired. Conspiracy theories galore and everything. He's been arrested a few times as well! Remember that teen from the Blind Banker? The graffiti one, that I ended up taking an ASBO for. What am I saying, you'd never forget that, the amount of times you took the piss out of me for it. Well back on track, Anderson was with him, they've been graffiti-ing everywhere. I Believe In Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty Was Real among them.

They've proven you innocent now, you know? They proved you were correct throughout everything. Mycroft and co even proved Moriarty was real. So WHY Sherlock?! Why did you jump?! It's not because you were a fake, after all you weren't! Why?!

I feel that I should tell you about this woman. Her names Mary, she's so sweet. Sometimes I just wonder what you'd make of her, if you'd like her or not, if she'd actually like you. After all, you did have a tendency to be a a massive dick all the time.

You'd absolutely hate this, but I've left Baker Street now. It was horrible staying there, where ever I looked, in every corner I remembered you. Fuck, even the groves and acid burns brought back the painful memories.

Some nights I just walk, at the dead of night when London is dead. In those moments I hear your voice echoing through me, I feel the phantom touches of you on my arm. It seems that at night, I'm okay enough to imagine you. As unhealthy that it, I find it helps a lot.

Last night I found myself outside St Barts, I have to admit I sat there, where you fell, and cried constantly. Once I cried in front of you and you were horrified. You told me to never cry in front of you again, made me promise. I broke that a few times. Once when it happened, again at your funeral and again countless amount of times at your grave.

I'll always love you Sherlock, in our own strange friendship. Ella was right, this does help, this has helped me so much. Thank you for everything Sherlock. I doubt anyone would even be able to read this, both this paper and my face have been stained. Stained with tears.

I'll never forget you.

John.