It's been a year, a whole year since you left. I have to say you left because to say, to acknowledge the truth, well it hurts. Even after all this time, it still hurts. Mrs Hudson's visiting you today, she wanted me to go with her, but I can't. I haven't gone back there since. I just can't go back there.

I know you would tell me to stop being pathetic, that it happens to everyone eventually, but it was too soon. You were taken from me too soon and I still don't know how to cope. Everyone else seems to have accepted, to have moved on, except I haven't.

You once told me I was your friend, if that were true you come back. You come back and tell me it was a lie. I need you to tell me it was a trick. Please. I need you to come back.

I put down the pen and read through the letter before folding it and slipping it into the envelope. I grabbed the knife and the letter and walked up the stairs to my room. The click of the lock seemed distant, the air in the room felt stale. The letter clutched tightly in my hand I walked over to the nightstand and placed it in the drawer, on top of the pile of letters, before sliding the drawer shut.

I sat on the bed, the knife heavy in my hand. I could imagine you telling me to stop being an idiot as I brought the blade to rest against my wrist. I could hear my heart pounding, my breath going in and out. I applied a little pressure. I would always get this far, each time I would stop just because I hoped you would return. It's been too long though, you're really gone and I don't want to be like this anymore.

I saw the blood before I realised I had done it and I felt a wave of relief. Soon it would all be over, I'm going to see you again and everything will be okay. I closed my eyes as I laid back and waited to be able to see you again.

I stared at the wall; the bandages were thick around my wrist. Mrs Hudson had found me, called the ambulance, the silly woman just had to come back to convince me to go see him. She couldn't just leave me alone.

I think Lestrade came but I can't be sure, I didn't bother looking at the person but it sounded like him. I thought he had come when I heard someone muttering to some nurse about something being obvious, it was just Mycroft. I don't know why he came, he didn't try to get me to talk, and I don't suppose he needed to. He didn't stay long, left before Mrs Hudson had come back.

They never leave me alone, I'm always being watched. I know they talk to me but I just want to be left alone, I just want to hear his voice and thanks to them I won't. The nurses watch me at night, constantly checking on me, pointless though, the window is locked and there's nothing in the room for me to use to try again.

I had been asleep when I felt someone touch my hand, I didn't open my eyes, it would just be a nurse checking on me, and instead I rolled over. There it was, the exhale of breath, relief that they hadn't lost a patient,

"I'm sorry" my eye's shot open at his voice, I looked at him. It was really him, standing there looking down at me,

"Sherlock?" he stood there staring at me,

"John" I got out the bed and stepped towards him, reaching out to touch his face. He was solid, warm, soft, and solid. I could feel the tears on my cheeks,

"You're actually here" I could feel my heart pounding in my chest at the thought of him being here,

"Of course I'm actually here, where else would I be" a spurt of laughter burst out my mouth, there was no doubt he was really him. I felt my knees give way and then hitting the floor,

"John!" his voice had panic; he knelt down beside me and grabbed my shoulder. I looked at him, the laughter gone, and the pain of him having left taking place of the surprise,

"You left me" he didn't say a thing, just looked at me, "You bloody left me Sherlock!"

"I'm sorry John" he pulled me against him, "I am so sorry"