Disclaimer: You know, you'd think that after eight chapters people would understand that I own nothing, except an excellent umbrella.
Existence
Crime may be my raison d'ĂȘtre, but without you, my dear, I could not exist. You are my support, my strength when I cannot be strong. You are my assistant, my partner, my love. You are a light in the darkness with which I surround myself. Watson, you are my healer, taking care of me when I am ill, tending me when I am wounded. More than that, you are my savior. Had I not met you that day at Bart's, I would now surely be a hopeless cocaine addict, beyond help and recovery. However, you, my dear friend, you convinced me to give up the drugs. Rather, you did not convince me, as by the time I gave them up, I was so in love with you that I could refuse you nothing. If you could but see all this! If you could only know my feelings without my having to speak about it! I know not what to say, what to do. Tender words, gentle gestures, love; these things are not my forte.
It is as well. You, my dear doctor, could never reciprocate my feelings. This is fine with me. Having you remain by my side is enough to keep me from despair, to give hope to my dreary existence.
For now.
