I hate when it gets dark. It seems like as the day slowly dims, I miss you more. I miss your smile, and your laugh, your weirdness and your utter craziness. I miss everything about you. I never imagined I'd be here. I never imagined a man could change me so much. You changed me so much, though. More than I ever thought possible. I still, just barely, remember what it felt like before you... before you... I can't even think it. I can't say it, I can't write it down.

You can't be gone. But you are. I just want to be with you again. I want you back here with me, but I know it'll never happen. You're gone. I still feel like you're going to walk back through the door. I still wake up expecting to hear you playing downstairs. I often pour two cups of coffee out of habit. My mind just won't let me forget. I'm not sure if any of this even existed at all, I mean, what if all of this was just a figment of a PTSD soldier's imagination. I don't have the answers to all these questions. How do I begin again? I don't know. All I know right now is I'm unsure.

The nights are so lonely, and so much colder without you. I can't bring myself to go into your room, where I spent nearly every night. I can't force myself to go into that room. I want to, as if laying in the bed we shared would fix something in me. But I can't even step inside.

Why did you do this? What made you do this? What did Moriarty say? What the hell happened, Sherlock? I've never felt like this before in my life. I've never had to say goodbye like this, never been so attached to someone and then had them ripped away from me.

Are you still here, somehow? Is this another one of your games? Please let this be a game. Please let this end soon. I need you back home. I'm going out of my head and out of my mind and I can barely think without you with me. The silence of this place is killing me. I miss your phone going off every two seconds. I miss your fast rambling speech and your cruel sarcasm and your stupid nicotine patches. I miss you, I miss you so much.

I still remember. I still remember everything. You stood up there, and you stared into my eyes. You were lying. That was your lying face. You're a bloody terrible liar. You were not a fake. You were never a fake. Never. How could you have known everything you did?

I wish you'd have just told me. I told you I'd always be there for you. Did you ever believe that? You must've. I'm still holding out hope, whatever little I might have left in me. You have to come back. I'd follow you to the ends of the earth, if only you'd come back.

You're the love of my life, Sherlock. I wanted to grow old with you.

Please don't be gone.

-JW