Dear Sherlock
Mycroft came to visit me today. It was... interesting. Well, when I say interesting... he came to see me, and we sat in silence for half an hour before he made an excuse and left. He misses you too. He would never admit it, but he does. Why else would he have come?
I heard that he's come out as gay. Not that you hadn't already guessed that. I suppose you don't really want to know any more details. Your brother's personal life never exactly fascinated you. I suppose I always assumed that he was asexual, like you.
It's been two months now. Two months since...
Actually, you know what? Let's talk about something else. Let's talk about Anderson's divorce with his wife, or Mycroft's new partner. Let's talk about Donovan's expulsion from the force. Let's talk about Mrs Hudson's new blue sofa. The suspicious suicides of three teenagers. The human fingers I found under my bed. The fact that Mrs Hudson gave away your scientific equipment.
Don't blame me for that, by the way. I wanted to keep it. She said that St Joseph's secondary school would love the equipment.
I'm considering applying for a job there, actually. Science teacher. I'll have to polish up on my physics, but I'm easily qualified enough in biology and chemistry. I know the face you would be giving me now. A "Why would I want to work with children?" look. They're the next generation. The next you and me, Sherlock. Stamford thinks he might be able to get me a job .
I haven't told him about you yet. He probably knows already, though. He hasn't mentioned you, though.
When I think about it, no one has mentioned you. I think Mycroft might have got Mrs Hudson to ambush people before they go anywhere near me. Warning them to not say anything. Like I'm going to break down. Well.
Oh, stop giving me that look. You know I hate that look. If I want to...
Anyway.
Just remember to still be alive for me. Just... remember that.
Please.
John H Watson