June 11 - 11:16 am
I saw you at the cemetery with Mrs. Hudson. That's good. I want you to go back to the flat and stay with her. She will make sure that you eat regular meals and help you to manage; she can be soothing in her own way and she's very fond of you, as I know you are of her. At least you will have each other.
Don't worry about money. The rent's paid on the flat for 18 months, although I hope I am home before that time is up. I put the funds into Mrs. Hudson's account before I left, she won't ask you for rent so hopefully you will forget about it. I know you think I never consider domestic details but you are wrong, of course. I just don't want you to worry about them, that's why I ignore you when you go on about shopping and rent.
I also placed an automatic top−up feature on your bank account. When the balance falls between £419.91 and £323.42 there will be a random amount deposited into your account from mine. Hopefully I'll be back before you figure this out. If you haven't killed me already, you can have another go then. Given your success record with electronic banking though, I'm not too worried.
On that point, I also left £1000 in an evidence bag with your name on it under the leprous foot in the refrigerator. You'll find it when you return the foot to Molly. That will be soon I would think so it will tide you over until you feel you can tackle a chip-and-pin machine again (the note attached says it's your lottery ticket winnings which I collected for you (that's not strictly true, I admit).
I've wanted to tell you for some time that I have more than enough money for both of us, but I know how proud you are John, and I didn't know how to say it. Perhaps I should have explained that I only needed a flat-mate for a month or two while mother's estate was being sorted. I refused to borrow money from Mycroft, but I wanted the flat. That's all. After that, I thought if I told you, you might feel you should leave, so I said nothing.
Anyway, there is no need for you to worry about money. Still, a job might be good for you, boring, but good. Something to do at least until I get back. For God's sake though, not working with Sarah at the surgery. The woman is all wrong for you. And I know you know it. By God, you are a stubborn man.
While we are on the subject, I'll also say that you not working with women at all would be preferable from my point-of-view. I'll continue to press this point with you until you show some sign of absorbing it. But take your time, if you must. The women you bring about the flat have been no trouble; in fact, they are surprisingly quick to take a hint. Unlike you, John.
June 14 - 7:48 pm
Things are going well. I hope now that maybe I can come home sooner than I first thought. I saw you today, you look a bit better. You should have been wearing a heavier coat though. That one is too light for this weather. You need a new one. I'll see what I can find.
I've been thinking. Mycroft has it all wrong. Not surprising since he gets pretty much everything wrong, most all of the time. It's incredible how spectacularly ignorant he is about important things. He certainly couldn't be more wrong about love.
Love is a vicious motivator (yes, well, I may have known it when I said it to the murderous cabbie, but I didn't understand it until now). Let me explain: the man in possession of Moriarty's bullet, the one meant for you, John, will find death to be untimely (from his point of view at-any-rate) and very…difficult. The same goes for the killers in possession of the bullets intended for Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade, of course. Yours first though, definitely. I am highly motivated in this little task that I have set for myself. It will be fun. The most fun I will have had in ages. Don't deny me this John and for heaven's sake don't worry about my eternal soul, either. After all, this was a promise I made to Moriarty at the time of his unfortunate passing. And one should always keep death-bed promises.
Yes, I said Moriarty's unfortunate passing. Unfortunate because I was so dearly looking forward to killing him myself, slowly, but he denied me the pleasure. Selfish to the bitter-end, that was Jim.
Still, it doesn't matter, as long as you are safe. How stupid I was before, thinking that winning a game was more important than people's lives: why didn't you tell me this John? If you'd said something, you might have spared us all this inconvenience. (Oh, don't look like that; it's just a little joke. Come on John, I'm getting better at jokes, admit it.)
I've been thinking. When I get back I have an idea about Molly that I want your help with; it involves Lestrade...er, Greg. I want to make up for the pain I've caused her (and him for that matter). She has appalling taste in men (oh, shut up!), so the sooner we get her settled with somebody decent, the better.
She deserves to be happy and he's a good man, better than me though obviously not as intelligent. I understand that women find him attractive and did you see his face when she took off her coat that evening at our flat last Christmas? I didn't need to take his pulse or gauge the pupils of his eyes to know what was happening to him at that moment.
This could really work, John. Just think of all the things they would have to talk about: injuries, murders, violent deaths. If Lestrade…er Greg's wife hasn't divorced him by the time I get back, she will soon. And that's not me being insensitive, John. Molly is better for him in every way and she won't cheat on him with the P.E. teacher, so it's for the best. Even you can't disagree with that, surely?
Next, what about Mrs. Hudson? I want everyone to be as happy as we will be, John. Her last husband was pretty dreadful though, so it's going to have to be someone exceptional. Preferably someone who doesn't already have two wives, although we may have to think out-of-the box on this one. Keep your eyes peeled.
