1 month after losing Sherlock, John is not coping well at all. He decides to write letters to Sherlock, saying all he wished he would of said to him before, and everything that's happened since Sherlock had... well, you know.
Dear Sherlock,
It has been exactly a month since you fell. I know, because I've counted the days without you. Hell Sherlock, I've counted hours. Nothing's been the same since you left. Criminals are getting bolder because London's miracle detective is gone. Sherlock, Molly has more bodies in the morgue than she knows what to do with. She can't think straight without your constant nagging. Lestrade is in despair. He's lost without you. Cases are piling up like nobody's ever seen. Even Sally misses you! What a world this has become! Its as if you somehow created a world of logic and now, without you, the world has come crashing down around us. I try to help when I can, but I'm not you Sherlock. I'm not a genius. Most days, I can't even bring myself out of our flat. Or rather, my flat I suppose now. You created a legacy, Sherlock, one of which no one can recreate. The fact that everything is so bloody different doesn't surprise me much. No cors Sherlock. Just disarray. I wish everyone's visits to me of apologies would just chivvy along. Its getting dull Sherlock. It wasn't their fault you jumped off that roof without hesitation. It is not their fault the world fell when you did. Its not their fault that London's gone up in the flames of hell. But bloody hell Sherlock, why? Why would you leave me, I mean all of us, like that without a proper explanation? Don't you dare give me that "I'm a fake" shite. I don't believe it. You're a bloody genius Sherlock. Sally and Anderson were dim and you know it. They talked absolute rubbish constantly; they still are, and so far there's nothing in bloody hell I can do about it. I wish people could just understand what a genius you are. But you might not care anymore. You just might be thinking about how the world is filled with bloody idiots that understand nothing about true knowledge. You could be thinking that my sorrow over you is a complete waste of time and thoughts. But listen and know all I say is true. Ever since I first met you I have been nothing but impressed with you. Your brilliance, genius, erudite, your everything. I was never bored. You kept me sane. The last time I visited the morgue was when I was asked to confirm your identity. After that, I haven't been able to be on the same block without having a mental breakdown. I keep having flashbacks. Seeing you laying on the concrete, blood surrounding your head in a halo, curls soaking it up, your face bruised and battered. The image that I so desperately want to get rid of, is forever etched into my mind, and it will never disappear. I will always see you like that. Forever. Until I draw my last breath. I used to think you were an absolute pain in the arse. You were always so bored, constantly turning down cases because they were too dull and predictable. You kept severed heads and thumbs in the fridge, for God's sake! You argued constantly with detectives and people who you just thought were absolute idiots. But you were like no one else. You were the one and only, Sherlock Holmes. So why did it have to end this way? Why did you... fall? Why... why did you.. why did you leave me? I'm... alone. Again. Without you, my world doesn't make much sense anymore. When you fell, so did I. Oh god sherlock I wish I was with you when you fell. Bloody hell I wish it had been me and not you. Me up on that roof with Moriarty, not you. But that would have been impossible. He wanted you, not me. He wanted you dead. Gone forever. Well, he got what he wanted, I suppose. With you dead, he finally has the streets of London in chaos. He got what he wanted, even if he had to die for it to happen. I suppose I'll never understand why you had to jump. Why you had to die. Why you came crashing down. Oh god no Sherlock, I can't take you being dead much longer. I can't take you not being here. My companion, my best friend, dead. And I don't know why. Every time I close my eyes, you're there. But then I open my eyes and realize you're not. Your gone. After everything we went through together, all the shite, all the cases, the friendship, you're gone. I'm alone. Again. God Sherlock I miss you. I miss you with everything I've got, which will never be enough. I don't think I can take this much longer; you not being here. Please Sherlock, I'm begging you, come back. Don't. Be. Dead. Please. I can't do this. I can't take it. I miss you too much. I ache here alone without you. Be alive. Come back to the flat and let's have dinner. I'm lost without you Sherlock. I need my detective. I need my detective back. I need you back in my life. Please oh god, please come home. One more miracle, for me. I miss you Sherlock Holmes, the greatest detective the world has ever known.
Love, your best friend,
John H. Watson