Rue de la Pise
F-06360 Eze Village
France
11 April, 201-
Dear John,
While you know I've never been one to give into sentiment, I do appreciate your expression of it. Let me first address the last part of your letter: I am truly sorry for being the source of your nightmares, yet again. It was not my intention. I know how much my actions in the past, no matter how pure my intent, have hurt you. My therapist has pointed out that I have not considered you in most of my decisions and this selfishness has led to some unfortunate misunderstandings.
We can indeed continue our correspondence, in fact, my therapist is nearly insisting upon it. It seems easier to discuss certain subjects this way, especially those of a difficult nature for me such as feelings.
I do not wish to discuss my brother with you. He has no place in our personal letters, this is a space for just you and me.
Things aren't any more exciting here, either. I quite enjoyed the last time I was in the French Riviera—though that was for holiday and this is obviously not. The Zen spa "music" they insist on blasting through the facility common rooms is getting on my nerves. Wish I had my violin, if nothing else I'd like to compose. I've been inspired as of late, but I need to play in order to work out the music.
Send me the details and I will solve Lestrade's case for him. It's good to know that he can't seem to function without me. Contemplating his puzzle will be much more entertaining than continually reflecting on my feelings.
I don't understand—how is it that a duck, of all things, is considered lucky?
You'll appreciate this; one of the other patients was foolish enough to engage us in a game of Cluedo, you can image how well that turned out. These people think I'm a show pony, here to perform some bloody tricks for them at the drop of a hat. Though there are times I find myself turning to share a deduction I know will make you laugh and it's… disappointing… that you're not there. You're more entertaining than this sorry lot here. Save me from my boredom—you know that bad things happen when I'm bored.
Sincerely yours,
Sherlock
{o0o}
221b Baker Street
London NW1 6XE
16 April, 201-
Dear Sherlock,
Thanks, that's… good—that's very good. I've some to accept the fact, yes, you're a selfish git, but nevertheless I wouldn't have you any other way. Your acknowledgment of these things does go a long way in tamping down my anger towards you and certain situations. Seems your therapist is good for you.
You scared the hell of out me, Sherlock. I can't tell you what I was feeling when I walked into the drug house and saw you there, needle in your arm... I've been to war, I was shot for God's sake, and I was never as terrified as when I found you... even thinking about it now makes me want to get sick.
Oh—how are your wrists, by the way? I didn't think, I have some great salve that could have helped reduce the scarring, but at this point it wouldn't do you any good. I should have sent it with you when you left, but I wasn't thinking at the time.
I've never been to the French Rivera, but I would love to go some day. Perhaps we should take a holiday soon—I'd love to lounge on a beach for a week. I will see if Mycroft can talk to the facility about getting your violin to you, I know how therapeutic it is for you to play and compose. In the meantime, just try and tune out the music or avoid those spaces as much as you can if it bothers you that much.
Now you know that I can't send you cases, Sherlock. And I would like to point out that "Scotland Yard and Gregory Lestrade's career functioned perfectly fine before you came along. Though your contributions are highly appreciated, you git"—direct quote from Greg. He finally had a break in the case—turns out that it was an elaborate heist scheme based out of an art gallery.
While I have you as a captive audience, what is your favorite color? Your favorite book? I know you're fond of classical music and that Wagner is your favorite, but is there another type of music you like: rock, pop, jazz? I feel like I know so much about you but so little at the same time.
A duck is lucky because it flies south for the winter? To better climates?
When I read that line about you reflecting on your feelings, I could mentally hear the disdain in your voice :) I know that it's something you try to avoid, but it will be worth it in the end. Dealing with your emotions will ultimately get at the heart of the problem and it will help you finally overcome your addiction.
Oh that poor sod… he had no idea what he was getting into with that damned game, did he? I almost feel sorry for him! I've gotten rid of our copy, by the way. You weren't here to stop me; I have no regrets. And since when do you not what to show off? Sherlock, that's what you do. You enjoy being in the spotlight.
I think we both miss each other, we work together and live together—you're my best mate after all. I do appreciate your acknowledgment though. I can't believe I'm writing this and I will never admit this out loud, but I miss the sound of your voice. You do know that I enjoy hearing your deductions when we're out, it helps to pass the time. And I've managed to further embarrass myself, perhaps this letter business isn't the best idea as I can't seem not to make a fool of myself.
I look forward to your next letter.
Best,
John
{o0o}
Rue de la Pise
F-06360 Eze Village
France
22 April, 201-
Dear John,
You know that I have never been good at dealing with my emotions. I am starting to work through them, though. And despite my earlier misgivings about counseling, I am finding it helpful to process my thoughts and feelings with my psychologist (who reminds me a lot of Mrs. Hudson—I don't know what it is, I sit down and before I can stop myself I have divulged my innermost thoughts to her. It's puzzling).
As to "getting to the heart of the problem", I came across this quote while reading and thought it very poignant: "If you want to know where you heart is, look to where your mind goes when it wanders". I have spent a significant amount of time here contemplating this very thing.
My wrists have healed completely, but there has been some scarring, as you had predicted. It's sort of mottled and splotchy, but not too bad. My shirt cuffs cover it up and nobody's the wiser.
I appreciate the thought nonetheless regarding the salve. Always looking after me, John—even from afar… you really do deserve sainthood. "John Watson, The Patron Saint of Difficult Flatmates".
You know everything of importance, John. Things like my favorite color and food are trivial in the grand scheme of things, but since I have nothing better to do, I shall indulge you and answer your queries. Purple is the color I like best. My favorite book is Treasure Island. You already know that my favorite movie is Pirates of the Caribbean, despite its glaring inaccuracies. Ahh—you were paying attention! You are quite correct, I do enjoy Wagner the best. As for other forms of music, I do enjoy jazz, but more what's considered "Old School Jazz", like Louis Armstrong and Miles Davis. I like its complexity. I am also a fan of rock. If we are to exchange personal trivia, I pose the same questions to you then.
Are you asking or telling me? That still does not explain how ducks are any more fortunate than the next waterfowl. Insinuating such leaves a whole host of other creatures "unlucky", and frankly I don't see what geese did to warrant being excluded from favorable circumstances…
While I do enjoy proving my unique genius to the general masses, it is starting to become tedious. One fellow addict keeps badgering me every time I see him, I've resorted to checking around corners and escaping group therapy as quickly as possible to avoid him. I feel as if I'm in one of your horrendous spy movies. It's like I'm stuck in a never-ending scene from Mission Impossible! I don't know how long I'm going to be able to dodge him… perhaps he'll relapse and they'll be forced to send him away… maybe I shall clue him into who here has his drug of choice… this idea warrants further contemplation.
What do you mean you got rid of Cluedo?! No matter, I will buy another copy of the game upon my return and we shall engage in a battle of deductions. You will most assuredly lose. Prepare yourself.
You like the sound of my voice? Thank you, John. I didn't expect that. I admit that I miss talking to you as well. It's strange how one simply gets used to things, I never thought I would ever be considered someone's best friend, let alone take that person's presence in my life for granted. Don't feel embarrassed.
It is imperative that we keep up our correspondence—I may simply die of boredom here otherwise.
I look forward to hearing from you soon.
Sincerely yours,
Sherlock
{o0o}
221b Baker Street
London NW1 6XE
28 April, 201-
Dear Sherlock,
That's great—it means that it's working. I hope you're finding it cathartic.
Yes—by Imam Ali. I've always thought that it's a beautifully expressed sentiment. I've always thought that it has proven to show me what the most important thing in my life is. What has your revelation on the subject yielded?
LOL! Thanks, but I don't know if I quite qualify for sainthood. Besides, I hear that's a lengthy process and I'm almost positive that you need to be dead first. Though you could petition your brother on my behalf for knighthood. I think "Sir John" has a nice ring to it.
Really? Purple? Somehow, I find that surprising-though your 'purple shirt of sex' should have given me a clue. And why Treasure Island? What it is about that story in particular that makes it your favorite? As for myself, I am rather fond of green. My favorite book is the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. Yes, you're right—I did know that was your favorite movie; it's because of the pirates, isn't it? And that probably explains the book, too. I'd have to say that Skyfall is my favorite movie, though it's a close call between it and The Godfather. I like jazz—in fact, Dippermouth Blues by Louis Armstrong is one of my favorite songs. I listen to rock mostly—love The Beatles but I'm a huge fan of Def Leppard.
It's just an expression, Sherlock! I didn't make it up! You know what—never mind. Not important. Just forget about the duck.
The thought of you scurrying around like Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible is hysterical and completely plausible since I've already seen you do it. No one as bloody tall as you deserves to look that graceful darting about like a ninja. And might I remind you that while you complain about having to resort to subterfuge, you love it. Don't pretend otherwise, we both know the truth.
Are you serious?! Sherlock—you can't go and have that man relapse simply because he's taking the piss out on you! A bit not good. Christ… how did you ever survive social encounters before I came along? Based on that comment alone, I'd agree with your self-diagnosis of a sociopath if I didn't know you better than that.
No Cluedo—period, end of sentence. I'm never playing that with you again. I was serious and nothing you can say or do will change my mind.
You know that it's not physically possible for anyone to actually die of boredom, yes? Though knowing you, you'd get into something that would bring about your untimely demise… best not chance in, shall we? As long as you keep writing, I will respond. I've got an early shift at the surgery tomorrow so I best sign off now.
The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!'
John
I was hoping to give you guys more, but I am currently waiting on my beta to edit the next few chapters. As soon as she looks at them, you'll have them! Unless someone out there in cyberspace is grammar nazi and has some free time... Either way-hope you enjoy the story so far. Happy Friday!