It's Such a Mystery...
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When the next letter came John didn't even open it just sat and stared at the familiar scrawl of his name on the front. 'Dr J. H. Watson' made John want to cry and rip up the letter and laugh all at once. Oh god, why did this have to happen? Why couldn't the bloody sod leave him alone even after he died? He had to keep making John remember, he couldn't just leave him to be depressed.
He hated everything that had happened in the last two months from the moment the last words left Sherlock's mouth to the moment this new hell was unleashed upon him; the monthly letters that were just torture.
This fresh hell wouldn't let him forget but that's the only thing John wanted to do.
So of course John put the letter with the other one; in the box, under his bed so he could forget it. And he did, well, that's what he told himself he did.
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John was sat at his desk in the surgery shrouded in darkness with only his lamp to show him the files he was working on. The door opened and light flooded the room but a moment later it was blocked out as someone- Sarah- stood in front of his desk.
"John, go home."
John didn't even look up from the files he was working his way through. "No Sarah."
"Why not, you're obviously exhausted!" He could hear frustration and worry in her voice but he just couldn't bring himself to care.
"I have to finish these files."
He was lying- he knew it. He set his pen down on top of the open patient profile. Without the scratching of it working over the paper the room seemed empty, despite Sarah's panicked voice, which sounded muted to John's ears.
"No you don't! For God's sake John you really don't! Not for months." Sarah sounded desperate and worried. "You're scaring all of us John."
"Us?" He still refused to look up.
"Molly phoned; she said Greg phoned her as well. People at the yard are worried, so is Mrs Hudson for that matter." Sarah sounded desperate now.
John finally looked up with blank, dead eyes that made Sarah flinch. He saw, he didn't care. "Why should any of you care?"
"Because we're you're friends John!"
John stood quickly and turned away. "Leave it well alone Sarah."
"No, John! Please, John, see sense!-"
"What sense is there?!" John felt irrational anger spring from nowhere; Sherlock was dead, his best friend was dead and everyone was expecting him to be unchanged!
"Oh for God's- John! When he jumped off that bloody building it's like you hit the ground with him!"
John fell back against the wall as if he'd been physically hit, he could feel colour rising in his cheeks. He hissed out from between gritted teeth, "And what? You thought I'd be fine? You thought I'd be unchanged because of this?" John clenched his teeth together and stood up straight heading to the door. "You know what, Sarah? Fuck you! Leave me alone and tell everyone to stop worrying because, oh yes, I'm fine."
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John,
Do you realise just how strange- how wrong- it is for me not to see you every day? To have to live my life without you? I understand that I won't be living for much longer but even the idea of being without you- of having to face the world alone- is horrific, repulsive even.
I cannot imagine what you are going through having to face this waking nightmare of not having a friend with you. Though I cannot presume to be your friend; I cannot even presume that you will miss me. I can only hope, John, I hope and pray- in fact since I have realised I must die (and yes unfortunately I must John- I can't think of any other way and believe me I have tried to think of another way because leaving you is so painful John, so very painful.) I have been doing a lot of praying; I don't know who to- maybe Mycroft (don't tell him that; we don't need his head to explode)- but the truth is, John; if I got into some trouble I couldn't fix myself Mycroft would and always could fix it. That little kid who he always saved is me and I need saving from myself John.
But I'm not stupid and you know that now, don't you? I jumped because of my intellect but I am incredibly stupid because now- now when I realise this all- it is too late to stop. Too late to go back. Too late to tell you anything.
All I want is to be back in 221b with you watching crap TV and trying to figure out the mystery that is you, Dear John, that's all I want and instead I'm planning how to die.
I'm so sorry for that; I will regret it for the rest of my life, however short that is.
Yours forever,
Yours always,
Sherlock.
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So this is the new chapter of This Life (finally) and we (C) know(s) that we're (I'm) meant to be working on This Is Your Heart and Coming Down and new stories and everything but we (I) thought we'd (I'd) give you a present.
Anyway M's playing minecraft so I'm writing (help me; she says she's found coal...)
So yeah, we have a tumblr! So come and visit us! We're always there to chat, answer questions, fill requests and post chapter updates:
cute - will - kill . tumblr
Reviews are appreciated! They always make us smile!
From M and C.