Dearest John,
I have been gone for 3 weeks now, though somehow it seems like an eternity has passed. I watch you every day from behind a rather dull oak tree when you visit the cemetery. I see the flowers and other sentimental items you place beside the grave with my name - You still have a sense of humour John, even if you don't see it, with your delivery of a very useful small seismometer and telescope (which came in handy by the way). And then you sit, cross-legged, and talk, much as you would to me, and I here what you say, John, I do. You can't see or hear me and that may just one day cause me to give in, but not yet, not while it can be on your life, never while your in danger, I won't let it. Sometimes you fall asleep at my graveside and when I think it's safe not to wake you I will sit beside you and tell you what you tell me. A tear may betray me and I will brush it away before dragging myself back to safe distance as you stir awake and walk away, your limp returned. That image breaks my heart; your love and care shown in those precious moments does what no one has ever been able to show me, never mind make me return those feelings. I know you are waiting for me and that means so much than I can say, though I can say this; Please keep waiting, John. You may think I have left you but I won't leave you alone forever, I can't, it is physically impossible. I just have to keep you safe, please understand.
Yours always,
Sherlock
