A/N- A lovely little depressing Sherlock fic for you all. Sherlock's real letter.

Dear John,

I told you the phone call was my letter.

I lied.

I wasn't planning on writing this, putting it all down on paper makes it seem so lasting, which, I suppose, it is. However, leaving you with a simple phone call would have been cruel, that wasn't a goodbye it was an apology. And I truly am sorry.

Before I continue, I must ask you for an impossible thing. Something, I'm sure, that you are hesitant to give me. I ask your forgiveness. I understand if you can't or you won't forgive me. I did an unforgivable thing and I left you alone to deal with the repercussions.

I will not offer you an excuse, I know that you are much to smart to accept that, and I dare not insult your intelligence anymore. From now on, it is all you have to go on, assuming you continue to work with Scotland Yard.

I do want to tell you my reasons. It was a choice between your life and mine. And not just yours, but Mrs. Hudson's and Mycroft's and Molly's. Everyone's life was at stake, but please believe me when I tell you that you were are the forefront of my mind. Between you and me, who did you expect me to choose? Your happiness or you life, the choice was obvious.

Moriarty is real, but I know you believe in that. You know that I couldn't have made all of this up. And if you don't know that, then you're just going to have to take my word for it. He is real, and you are still not safe.

But his men won't hurt you, Sebastian wouldn't dare, and even if he tried, I have a plan in place.

I wish I could give you more than this, I wish I could give you some semblance of closure. However, I can't. I can only give you my words, and even these are a delayed reaction, giving false hope long after I have been buried.

Please let me go. I don't want you praying to a non-existent God for the rest of your life that you will see me again. I will not be there. I am dead. I gave my life for yours, go out and live it.

Tell Mycroft that the file he needs is in my violin case.

Molly is going to need the toes I kept in the freezer. She'll know what to do with them.

Lestrade's case? It was the banker.

Irene is alive. She will come to visit you. Whatever you need, she can help.

The rent is paid to Mrs. Hudson for the next three years, remember that she's not your housekeeper. She knows how sorry I am.

As for you John... Live. And if you ever meet a girl called Mary, say yes.

With my deepest apologies and regrets for things left unsaid, I bid you goodbye and a good life.

Sherlock Holmes