Author's Note: Hi, so this is my very first fanfic ever! (Bear with me ;D ) No, I hope you enjoy it, but I should say English isn't my native language, so please keep that in mind. If you do see any spelling errors, please let me know so I can learn from my mistakes. Thank you so much!

CHAPTER 1

John had never had a problem with updating his blog. Not after he'd met Sherlock. When he lived with Sherlock, not a day would pass without something interesting happening. A case here, an annoyed outrage of Sherlock there. Even if he didn't always like it, he never realised how much he would miss it.

But now Sherlock was gone and John had nothing to write about. Nothing happened to him anymore and he felt so alone. He felt like Sherlock had left him and he was mad at him for that. He was so mad, but even though he was mad, he was also very sad. He had lost a great friend. Maybe that is what worries him most. The fact that Sherlock will never know what a great friend he had been for John. John never told him and he knew Sherlock didn't think himself to be a good friend. But he was the best friend he had ever had.

It's so frustrating and unfair. Why did he have to commit suicide? He still doesn't believe Sherlock was a fake, but why would he have committed suicide? And why hadn't he told John about how he felt?

Stupid question, it's Sherlock we're talking about.

Still, John felt like, if he would have paid a bit more attention, maybe he could have prevented this from happening. He could have prevented hell from happening.

There were moments, very soon after Sherlock jumped, that John thought he would follow in his footsteps. Days when he couldn't bear all the people, all the feelings. Although alcohol helped him at times, he could not let himself go, having seen the result of that in Harry. He hated the way he felt, but couldn't stop feeling like it. Like everyone had left him.

Naturally, he had moved out of their flat. It was too much to see those familiar rooms every day. Moving out meant he hardly ever saw misses Hudson. Since he would be of no use to Scotland Yard without Sherlock, he didn't see much of Lestrade either. To be honest, John didn't make any efforts to stay in contact. It would be so much easier to just disappear. But he couldn't. He didn't dare. What if… What if Sherlock was still alive and he would come looking for him, only to realise John would be gone. No, John couldn't really leave London.

Why would Sherlock come looking for him should he still be alive? No, stop thinking like that. Sherlock is definitely… dead.

One stupid word, so much pain.

He had tried writing his blogs, but they always ended in him thinking of ways Sherlock may have faked his death. Every time after trying to write, he felt worse than before. Because he realised his ideas are stupid, because he knows it's not what happened, because it only makes him realise more that Sherlock is… dead. He doesn't know what to do. He worked for a couple of weeks after Sherlock jumped, but he was obviously depressed and was sent home. Money isn't an issue though, Mycroft makes sure of that. As much as he hates relying on other people, it is nice not having to worry about money.

But his life feels so pointless. With Sherlock, he had a purpose. Helping Sherlock, even if it was to feed his gigantic ego, made him feel like he was worth something. Now he's just so… useless. He doesn't know what to do. Nothing interests him anymore.

Last week that changed. He saw an ad on the internet about a website where you can write letters anonymously to someone else. Someone who's also anonymous. You can help them with problems they have or have had and they will try to help you. He thought about the concept for a while. First he thought he would never use something like that, but the more days that went by, the more he thought about doing it. And today he finally found the courage to sign up and take a look at the profiles.

As he logged on with his username AnonymousB122 he thought about the fact that it was illogical that all usernames had to contain the word anonymous in it. Surely this meant that the website could only hold so many usernames? Anyway, he was logged on and ready to take a look.

The first profile he clicked on looked like this:

Anonymous123

"Hi, I can't say my name because then my profile will be deleted, but I'm a man, 40 years old and I'm dealing with the death of my wife. If you have been through something similar, please respond. Thanks."

No, that is not what he is looking for. He clicks on the next profile.

ANONYMOUS-luvvly

"my story isnt very bad. i used to have quite a lot of friends and then we moved and now i dont have as many friends and i feel lonely. basically, im looking for someone to talk with about stuff but nothing too serious. im 15 by the way and a girl."

Yikes, he didn't think he could feel so horrible just because the way somebody spelled something. Apparently he could. Moving on.

AnOnYmOuS222

"Hello, I'm a woman, 52 and am currently going through a crisis. My husband is cheating on me, but if I admit that I know this to him, I'm afraid I will lose him. I still love him very much, but I don't want him to cheat on me. If anyone thinks they can help me, please contact me."

Damnit! This isn't what he is looking for. He had hoped to find… Yes, what exactly was he hoping to find? Just when he was about to log off, because he felt like he was wasting his time, another profile caught his eye.

AnonymouS_PosH_Girl

"Hello, I'm a 32 year old girl/woman and I have to get something off my chest. I feel like I have betrayed my best friend, even if it was for her own good. I don't really know what to do. If you feel like sharing your story with me, I won't stop you. I'm not sure if I will be able to help you in your situation, but I am happy to share my opinion."

Suddenly John felt an energy, something he hadn't felt for months. He wanted to write to her. Something about her story, he didn't know what, attracted him. Before he could really think about it, and change his mind, he clicked on the button "contact". This made a screen pop up, in which he could write a message to her.

He started typing:

Dear Anonymous Posh Girl,

I am very interested in your story. I myself am dealing with depression, because I lost someone. I would love to hear from you.

Sincerely,

John

No! He couldn't write that, this was stupid. Also, "sincerely, John"? He wasn't as stupid as to use his real name now was he… No, he had to think this through.

He tried again:

Dear Anonymous Posh Girl,

You sound like an interesting person, I would love to help you figure out your situation. I myself am dealing with depression, after having lost someone. I would really appreciate your opinion on my situation. If you are interested, please reply.

Sincerely,

Jack

John looked at his message with content. This looked good, not too desperate, not too clingy. Also, he was very proud of thinking of the name "Jack". Simple, completely different, yet close to his real name. With only a little bit of doubt he hit the "send" button. He leaned back in his chair, thinking about what he had done. He didn't really want to get his hopes up and he knew he could just be typing to some fake person, but still, he hoped he would get a reply. For the first time in months, he felt like he had something to wake up for the next day.

Author's Note: First chapter! I'm already working on the second one, I don't know when it will be done. I hope you enjoyed it and I would love to know what you thought about it!