Hi :) This is just my take on some of the things John may have been feeling after the fall. This is my first attempt at writing a Sherlock fanfic so I'm sorry if anything seems OOC.

Dear Sherlock,

I'm not even sure why I'm writing this letter. Maybe I thought it might help; I guess it's like a secret blog, though we both know how much you hated that thing. This is just between you and me though, well my memory of you.

I suppose this letter is my way of saying sorry. I'm sorry for not reminding you that you were brilliant everyday, I'm sorry for getting angry when I found body parts around the flat, I'm sorry for not telling you how much you truly meant to me, but most of all I'm sorry for letting you think for one second that I doubted you. I remember you once told me not to make people into heroes; but you were too late. You became my hero the day I met you, you saved me from myself just by being you and for that I am forever in your debt.

Before I joined the army I had my life planned out; once I came back I would find a wife, buy a house and start a family. I would live out the rest of my days in a perfect contentment, as far away from the battlefield as I could get. However, it didn't quite happen like that because I met you. In a matter of minutes you had completely messed up my life plan. You offered me the excitement and adventure I didn't know I craved. You knew me better than I knew myself.

People used to warn me about you. They used to say that you were robotic and weird. When in reality you were the complete opposite. You felt emotions just like everyone else did, you just didn't show them often. You knew that it could be a weakness, especially where your enemies were concerned. That's all other people saw, the tough exterior. Maybe that's because they expected you to always be like that, but I saw more. I saw a lonely man, he was a little bit broken and battered and he needed a friend. He needed love. Like me. I like to think I helped you find that. I like to think I helped you even half as much as you helped me.

Now you've gone and I don't know what to do. I feel like a part of me is missing and however hard I look I know I'll never find it. I know it's horribly sentimental but it's the truth. I used to think that Afghanistan was the worst part of my life, but I would suffer those nightmares forever if it meant that I could spend my days with you. If it meant that I would never have to hear you say goodbye. I've tried to move on believe me I have, but I can't. No one measures up to you Mr Holmes and I wish I told you I loved you when I had the chance.

You were a miracle Sherlock. My miracle. So please, do one more miracle, for me don't be... dead.

Forever your blogger,

John H Watson

Thank you for reading, if you could review it would be really helpful:)