OK so the idea I have here is to write a diary from Sherlock's point of view.
They will be done in monthly instalments as seen below, with three or four months in each chapter.
This is just a tester chapter to see what people think of the idea.
BUT I do need everyone's help, as I'm not really sure what Sherlock will do when he's not with John, as the books and TV series and films have John AND Sherlock, there is never just Sherlock.
So PLEASE feed back would be good, and ANY ideas would be AMAZING. You have no idea how much you would be helping me if you could think of anything. :D
This chapter has not had any spell/grammar checked, so please forgive me for all the spelling mistakes and so forth. These will be changed and sorted when the final product is produced. But I must admit, without help and ideas this story may fall through as I find it hard to keep up with long stories and ONESHOTS are my best.
ANYWAYS. Enough of my talking. Thank you and I can't wait to hear your feedback and idea's!
Pleasepleaseplease
Day 30.
I have been away from Baker Street for 30 days. That's a month. I've not seen nor heard from John in a month, but why would I? He thinks I'm dead. I know I'm hurting him, it's hurting me too. Being away from him, knowing if... when I go back he'll resent me. Hate me even. I know I did what was for the best and I hope that one day he'll see that and forgive me for everything. But I can only hope that he could forgive me, that's the most I can expect. If he would let me back in to his life I would, I couldn't even explain how I'd feel then.
It's strange, I'm Sherlock Holmes, and I always thought I was the outcast, the freak. But John... He made me feel different, he made me feel human. And all I have done is gone and betrayed everything. I've left him, alone.
Life's not been easy for him; I can't imagine what it's done to him over the last month. I've had to change my appearence, change almost everything about myself. I can't be myself, I can't be that alienated freak anymore, I have to act as though I know how to be "social." I have to act like I understand what it is to be human. But without my John by my side, I don't know how I am meant to do that.
Who'd have ever thought, the famous Sherlock Holmes, not knowing what to do. Nor understanding what it is he has to do. All I know at the moment is stay away, and keep John safe.
Day 60.
I've reverted back to the man I used to be, the man I was before I found John, the inhuman weirdo freak. That's what I am, that's all I ever was, a freak. I'm sure John never really cared, I'm sure it was just an act... maybe pity? I don't think he could have truly thought of me as a friend. No one else ever had. Not even my own family.
But no, I don't mean that. It's just what I wish was true sometimes, so I knew that this would be easy on John. If he didn't care, he'd have no reason to be sad. No reason to grieve, but from what I've heard from my stupid brother. He's hurting, he's hurting so bad. This is my fault, and I can't do anything to make him better. Not anything, not yet.
I've been working on cases, only a couple of small ones... Who stole a painting, how did they die? Nothing interesting, nothing that will bring me too much attention. My brother has sent them all my way, hoping that if I'm kept busy my mind will not wonder to John, I will not be tempted to go and talk to him, to phone him. To let him know I'm ok. I can't do that. Not now, I hope he'll understand.
There has been one good case. It was off a girl who has seemed to go missing, but her parents where scared to go to the police, afraid they'd find out about their drug use, and lack of contact with their daughter. She wasn't hurt though; there was nothing to keep my running, no time limit. But it was interesting; it was strange to see that people who seemingly don't care are those who care... sometimes the most. This made me think of Mycroft. Maybe that stupid brother of mine actually does care. Maybe that's why even when mother and father did; he never truly tuned his back from me.
Day 90.
I went back to Baker Street today, I didn't think anyone was in, I didn't dare knock, and I just looked. Looked at the window to the flat me and John once used to share, to the flat I spent days upon day complaining about being bored, never taking enough notice to my Dr, My dear John. Scared that if he noticed. He would know something was not right, he would be able to tell I felt something for him. A something that now isn't going away.
Once I'd seen Barker Street, I couldn't help myself; I went to my grave... John was there... I stayed back as I listened to him, to him try and talk to me. He was crying, begging me to come home. Saying there was something he'd never got the change to tell me and now it was too late. I wish he'd said it! But he never did.
Mycroft is going to kill me when he finds out where I've been... But I saw John. That is all that matters, which can keep me going for a bit. It won't be long now before I can go back to him, surely not? Surely Moriarty's assassins won't stay there forever, surely they think I am dead too?