A year and three months since Sherlock's jump from the roof of St Bart's. It was something John thought about every day. So many unsaid things... John just wondered that if maybe he had said all of the things he wanted to, maybe Sherlock would still be alive. He sighed, annoyed. For the past half hour, John had been trying to go over his notes for the days office visits, but thoughts of Sherlock kept distracting him. The quiet of the room was broken by a knock at the door.

"Come in."

In walked Veronika, the newest nurse at the clinic.

"Am I interrupting?" she asked, with her not quite placeable accent.

"Oh, no. Not at all."

She looked at him a few minutes.

"Something is bothering you, I can tell."

"What? No, I'm fine."

"No, you're not. It's written all over your face. Tell me, John... what is it? What's got you so pre-occupied that you can't seem to concentrate?"

John sighed. "It's that obvious, isn't it?"

"Mmhmm."

"It's been over a year since I lost Sherlock. He was my best friend... but, there's just so much I wanted to tell him, that I never got the chance. It bothers me..."

Veronika opened her mouth to say something, but John interrupted.

"Yes, I've been back to see my therapist. I knew you were going to ask that."

"What if I told you there may be a way to have that chance...?" Veronika said, nervously fidgeting her hands.

"What?! Veronika... it's impossible. Only way of communicating with Sherlock would be to use an Ouija board, and even then I know it wouldn't work."

Veronika had to laugh.

"Oh, John... have faith. And no, there are no Ouija boards involved. Wednesday is my next day off, and according to the schedule, you're off too. How about we meet up for dinner, and I'll tell you more then?"

"I don't know... I feel like this might be just a cruel joke of some kind."

"Don't be absurd. I would never do that to you... as I said, just have faith."

"Alright, I'll listen to whatever little plan you have. Wednesday at 7 p.m., then?"

"Of course."