I don't know why I went back. It didn't make sense why I was back in the combat zone. Sherlock would say that it made sense, but he wasn't here anymore. Not after that day. I don't know why I ever returned to 221B Baker Street after that day. After I watched doctors and medics take Sherlock away from me. After I felt no pulse in his body. Only God knew why I went back. I only stayed six months. When I came back after that afternoon, after that fall, I walked into his room, wrapped myself in one of his jackets, cried myself to sleep in his bed. When I woke up, I thought that he was alive but I was dismayed when I found out that I was alone. I knew that he was gone. I left things as they were, not even attempting to pack up some of the items in the flat. My limp, which Sherlock once told me was psychosomatic, had returned. So had the nightmares. However, they weren't about my first tour of duty. They were about Sherlock's death. I would watch as he stood up on the roof and fall, knowing that I couldn't do a thing to save him. He would hit the ground with a sickening thud and I would jolt myself awake, covered in sweat and my heart pounding. There were days on end that I didn't sleep, for fear of the dreams that would haunt me. It was during a long string of sleepless nights that I knew what I must do. My limp and the nightmares had come back because I lost the one person that I depended on. Sherlock was someone I had gone through thick and thin with. I knew the only solution. Before I left, I slid a note under Mrs. Hudson's door.

I have decided to go back into the army. I need a distraction and this is the only way that I know how. I can't spend anymore time in London right now. Everywhere I go, I think of him. I haven't even left the flat in six months, in fear that his memory will swallow me whole. His death haunts me in every waking moment of my life. I plan on returning after my nine month tour. I know that you may not approve, but I feel as if I have no other choice. Thank you for all you have done these many years. - John Watson.With that note, I left 221B Baker Street behind me. I had made sure to leave time for me to do one last thing before my flight. When I arrived at my destination I stood under the shade of a tree, looking down at an elegant black headstone. "Sherlock, it will be awhile before we speak like this again." I began. "I have to fill this void that you left behind. I need to be distracted. I've gone back to the army. Before I leave, I have to ask one thing. Just one favor. While I'm gone, please make one more miracle happen for me. Don't be dead." I stood in silence for a few seconds before saluting his marker and turning away. I was going off to war.