Dear John: In response to your last

A/N: One-shot inspired by the amazing fic of wendymarlow called "Dear John", particularly Chapter 33 – "Sunday, January 18th."

On AO3: /works/2647979/chapters/6744731

On FFN: s/10838084

While I believe that this little snippet of mine can stand on its own, do not deprive yourself of the pleasure of reading her stunning prose and spot-on dialogue, and do read her story.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sometime Monday night/Tuesday morning, January 19th – 20th.

Dear John:

In response to your last, you asked me to tell you "something true" about myself.

In truth, I don't know what to say. So much of what must be said must wait until we are face-to-face.

Other 'truths' are so basic and mundane, they are not worth the time to type. Several of those you already know, as I have been as open as possible about my past, given my job and our circumstances.

Still, you have asked, and I will never deny you anything that is within my power to do or say or give.

A Truth: I despise the name "William". It is too common; the diminutives too absurd. It means 'desire to protect' more often translated as 'protector of the realm'. I never wanted to protect the realm. As a little boy, I sided with the rebels. I would rather have been ambushing the unwary and arrogant, amassing treasures and adventures the world over, than stuck inside with the stuffy and responsible. And yet, now that I have you in my life, I find myself growing fonder of the name and its meaning. I finally have something, someone in my life worth protecting.

Another: I can hardly wait to hear you say my name. The sound and shape of it in your mouth – do you have a London accent?

William

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sometime Monday night/Tuesday morning, January 19th – 20th. – 1 hour after the previous post:

Molly

Send this to John immediately when I ask, but not a second sooner – SH

John – What I really wanted to send 19.01.2015

Dear John:

In response to your last, you asked me to tell you "something true" about myself.

In truth, I don't know what to say. I cannot give myself away to you yet. Moriarty is dead, his masterweb unraveled, but I cannot risk you, I cannot risk Mrs. Hudson or Lestrade, not when we are so close to victory. Too soon a reveal, and you are all dead.

Orpheus did not fail his Eurydice until he felt the sun on his face; I will not make his mistake, I will not turn from my course until I know that the battle is over. And yes John, I do know the great myths as I know the great religions; it was for a case, and religions, past or present, often figure in crime.

Still, you have asked me for a truth and I will never deny you anything that is within my power to do or say or give. I may delay it, but I will never deny it. (You asked me not to be dead, and it took all my willpower not to reveal myself, knowing that dismantling Moriarty's network might yet kill me. I am sure that I am explaining it to you, badly as usual.)

So a Truth:

John.

You are the truth of me.

You have called me your Universe; I, frightened by that grave responsibility, asked for perhaps a bit less, because I am every hard name that anyone has ever called me, and all that I have called myself. I am unworthy of such an honor, but I swear that I will do my utmost to be worthy of that title.

You on the other hand, have nothing to worry about; you are already my Universe, my Conductor of Light. The Light in my darkness; you illuminate with understanding everything that I see, but don't observe, if I see it at all. Without you, I fumble in the darkness of my own ignorance.

Without you, I am blind.

Another Truth:

Because of my mental blindness, I will hurt you when I bang around and about, all elbows and knees and feet. I will blunder, I will bluster, I will flail uselessly as I try to make sense of feelings that the average 5 year old will have mastered.

Only one of many many reasons that I need you in my life. YOU are my interpreter of what to me is an alien world, a foreign tongue. You are my Braille book, my Rosetta Stone, my Bible, my 'bit not good'.

I will invariably hurt you, and I certainly will be begging for forgiveness on a regular basis. But please, John, my John, forgive me anyways, because I am nothing without my Blogger.

A Third:

I love the name 'John'. Yes, it is even more common than William, with diminutives that are the reverse of shortening a name for friendly effect and affect. Still, I find the name sounds strong, no-nonsense, deceptively simple, but with a wealth of hidden meaning. It means "grace of God" and I can think of no finer nor fitter name that perfectly sums up the totality of you in a single syllable.

You are the grace of God to me, Captain John H. Watson, MD, RAMC.

A Final:

The worst part about being apart was that you were in pain, that I caused that pain, and was unable to honestly and completely alleviate that pain.

All because I wasn't there.

I seldom if ever make promises; they are too easily broken. But now I make one to you, my first and last vow, even if you never forgive me (but please please DO and allow us to start again).

John: whatever it takes, whatever happens, from now on I swear I will always be there, always.

Please John, let me come home and live again. For you.

Your Sherlock

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: Here's hoping that I did right by fic and fandom! Currently un-betaed, but I had to get this down and out. Thank you again WendyMarlowe for your kindness in allowing this fic to proceed. 4Th & 3rd paragraph from the end is of course a quote from the end of the wedding before the general dancing in Series 3, Episode 2, The Sign of Three, slightly paraphrased to suit.

Comments welcome.