So I've just been rewatching clips of this awesome programme and also the trailer for the thrid series has left me feeling...stunned and of course numb...:) Cannot. Wait.
Disclaimer: If I did own this then I would make sure the 3rd series get here faster...but I don't. All rights go to BBC/Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss. And of course...the legendary man that started it all off;
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.
John had just walked back to 221B after finally deciding he should sort out his friend's science equipment. The science equipment he would never use again. A month it had now been and he had replayed the fall over and over in his head like a movie reel. His therapist had given up trying to help knowing it had to be him moving himself forward, sadly this was the only suggestion she could give to help. He took it.
Taking out his keys he drew out a long breath opening the door putting his coat on the rail like usual then visualised his friend passing him doing the same but on the banister. Walking up the stairs he stopped halfway catching a breath and putting one hand on his leg as if the old pain had crept back up. He continued his journey. Reaching the living room finally all of his best friend's things popped up at him;
The yellow smiley face with holes
The deer stalker hat
His nicotine patches
All the notes to Mrs Hudson
The rent
Everything that had such small matters but turned out to be quite big really, the silence was eery now and his eyes just kept moving back and forth to that smiley face. He wished he wasn't so bored or tired, he started to tidy up trying to not knock anything over. Starting to hum a small tune he reached out for the nearest thing he could not looking at it for fear that a memory could resurface. Finally he looked at what his hand had grasped, his friend's blue shirt which oddly still had his scent on it, he then heard a small crunch come from one of the pockets, he dug into it and found the culprit to be an envelope, turning it over he gasped in shock for the only reason was that it contained the name;
John.
Dazed he flipped it over five times before taking another long breath and opened it gently. He knew it was Sherlock's writing. He checked the date he wrote it, a week before his untimely fall, the fall no no-one saw coming even him. Cursing his curiosity he decided to read the letter preparing himself for the worst and whatever the message had in store. Mrs Hudson had also entered into the house at this point and saw his figure there, she retreated almost crying.
John turned around but saw no one there and started to blame his own imagination for thinking this was just suddenly a dream. No such luck, he started to read;
John,
I do not know whether your average mind will be able to find this seeing as I have hid it somewhere intelligent. I suppose so if you are now in fact reading it. I guess I should start from the beginning, when I first met you, I didn't know what you could bring but over time I learnt. My reason for being so out of sync was because my life, my childhood might have been a little different as to your and far more interesting. My love of Science for one, Mycroft as the other, other kids always thought I was a freak much like Sergeant Donovan and I soon learnt to stay away, they were not clever enough to understand me and instead underestimated me. As you can guess, I triumphed. My dear Watson, you cannot possibly understand the complex situation but when Mike introduced me to you and you clearly were impressed by what I said those childhood memories went away slowly. I knew from the moment you gave me an actually valid answer, you'd be of some importance to me.
John stopped to take a small breather from what could only be a quarter of the written letter and watched small tears appear on his face sliding down his cheeks. Even if Sherlock was still insulting everything and everyone here including him, he didn't care. It was like he had his friend in the room again with him trying to think something out. He turned his head towards the window then then resumed.
When I mentioned needing an assistant I didn't think it would come to this, having to need someone. After your exasperating blog (which I will forever detest) I grew to understand you more as a person, your face whenever I said the wrong thing always kept me on my toes, wanting to somehow become more…human, less…machine. I finally understood what it meant to need someone, need a friend. I don't know why I can't say this to you in person but maybe it's better this way, one of us would try to overcompensate and make this a much bigger deal than it is. I meant to give this to you earlier but with all these cases and my genius being used so frequent, I lost track of time I suppose. I always want Mrs Hudson to know how much I am grateful for her and if anyone harms her, I shall be disappointed and seek revenge. Get Lestrade to help with that, cover the tracks. Please tell Molly….I think she counts more than she might know and if she ever thinks different, tell her that from the both of us. Goodness knows she needs it.
John laughed a small bit at this paragraph knowing that was exactly how his friend pictured everyone but that dissolved as soon as he went more into the emotional side he barely ever let show, John's heart clenched and more tears appeared while he struggled to stop. Sherlock Holmes, world's most famous consulting detective and wanted everyone to know it. His friend who only knew his real side and what he was thinking. He tossed the idea he should finish the letter later but the inner voice told him to read on. It's what he would have wanted.
I'm not giving this to you directly, more of the sort of hiding place, this idea is surely the best. I'm quite certain you'll be able to find it, it's where you hide most of your things, down the side of you armchair. Please give my fierce regards to everyone who deserves it most. You are one of the best people I have ever met and a great assistant to work with and your friendship is invaluable to me and always will be. I hope you find this soon, no one with your brain could leave it to find until the last minute like Anderson would. If anything bad happens within you finding this, make sure you know this. Put everything back in the right place and make sure Anderson knows that I've got his number. John Watson, I hope that I will never be able to miss you. Regards
SH
John folded the letter putting it back in the envelope and onto the coffee table before sighing deeply still quietly sobbing and determined to get back to work. His life forever changed and didn't know how to adjust back into 'being ordinary'. He went back to humming the tune from earlier only a little sadder and gave glances to and fro the letter only giving half-smiles. Somehow he had gone from Watson, injured soldier to being Sherlock Holmes confidante and best friend. Little did he know that Sherlock had been watching the whole ordeal from outside the window and started to cry himself not knowing how either of them could recover from this.