Sherlock has never been much of a writer, but somehow the words come easily to him when writing to John. Having never had cause to write to somebody before, Sherlock is not entirely sure what one normally writes about, but John doesn't seem to mind his lengthy ramblings on the various types of tobacco ash currently in production. Nor does he appear squeamish or unsettled by Sherlock's explicit descriptions of bodies be it part of an experiment or murder investigation. (Even if he does draw the line at letting Sherlock sending pictures of them to him for reference).
John is not an excellent writer, his letters are often far too short to be considered decent in Sherlock's personal opinion, but the way he writes about little things he misses and the things he looks forward to the most is endearing. John writes about what he can, namely his good days, the days when (almost) everybody lives. John doesn't talk about the bad days, the days when friends die, the days when help comes a little too late. Sherlock isn't really sure if he is allowed to. Even though he only writes half the story, John's letters are never boring. Despite his dismal writing John is an amazing storyteller, so much so that Sherlock often feels that he is there with John, beside him under the burning sun, watching John's men defuse a bomb as the timer ticks down, or observing John fighting to prevent some unlucky soldier from bleeding out.
Astonishingly John seems particularly fascinated by Sherlock's work as a Consulting Detective, often asking Sherlock to explain the details of his latest cases. Were it anybody else Sherlock might have assumed they were taking the piss out of his job (as is usual) but John is different. Through their slow yet dedicated correspondence it becomes apparent that John is a truly exceptional man, a curious mix of brave soldier and gentle caring doctor. From his letters Sherlock is able to deduce that John is funny and honest and strange only in that he has no ulterior motives in mind while actively seeking Sherlock's correspondence. He simply desires Sherlock's friendship.
Having lived all his 29 years without having someone he could call friend, to find one quite by accident is somewhat comical. Having waited so long to have a friend, Sherlock is far from disappointed in John. To put it simply John is unique for he does not even try to force Sherlock to change himself but rather accepts everything about Sherlock. As a result Sherlock finds himself trusting John whole heartedly, letting him deep within Sherlock's inner fortress and sharing secrets of utmost importance with John.
Lestrade and the other Yarder's came over today to perform a drugs bust, not that I had anything for them to seize, I've given that all up John, I promise. Anyway I knew that one of them would try to steal some food from the kitchen while investigating (its happened before) so I obtained some fingers off of Molly and put them in a biscuit tin in order to freak them out a little, and it worked! Well for the most part, anyway. They did seem a little concerned when they found them, only one of them (Anderson) said something to my current landlord and now I have to find another place to live by the end of next week. I think I might try for something nearer the Thames this time...
In no time at all John somehow becomes Sherlock's most favourite person in the world above both his brother and Lestrade (not that he tells either man for fear of hurting them). So much so that when John asks if Sherlock would like to converse via phone he leaps at the chance, even though it means Sherlock has to keep every fourth Wednesday evening free just on the off chance that John might be able to call. Whole evenings are spent miserably waiting by the phone like some girl waiting for a crush to call. Worse still are the frustratingly short telephone calls cut short by John's higher ups.
"So who's winning X Factor then?"
"What's X Factor?"
"John why are you laughing?"
"John answer me!"
Clunk
"Are you still there? Hello John, John? Damn it"
As annoying as it is Sherlock can't help but treasure each and every call they share as he gets to hear John's voice and know that for the moment John is safe and well. It's curious how vital John simple existence has become to Sherlock's life, considering that six months ago they were nothing more than strangers. Now they are best friends.
Despite the vast geographical distance between them, John becomes Sherlock's new hobby, his new addiction, the thing that keeps him sane and occupied in the lull between cases. Hours are spent simply rereading letter after letter until the pages are thin and worn.
Hey I hope you like this chapter. I actually plan on making this quite long fic with a total of 8 or so chapters. That said I have quite a lot of work to do in preparation for exams and such so don't be mad if I take forever to up date as I do plan on coming back eventually. Hopefully I will be able to do one more chapter before putting this on hiatus for a bit okay. But no promises.