To: Sherlock Holmes
Subject: Apology
I wanted to say sorry for my last message. I know you can't hear me, but I feel horrible about it.
And that last failed message had a typo. Guess even computers can make mistakes.
John woke up the next day to find his hand bandaged and the flat a mess and his head felt like someone had been beating it with a sledgehammer. There was a dim memory of Lestrade talking to him and telling him that he really shouldn't be drinking, but that could have just been a manifestation of his conscience telling him to stop drinking because he knew exactly how that could be detrimental to his health. He chose to ignore that.
He managed to shower and stagger into clean clothes that didn't smell like alcohol. By the time he got around to sweeping up the flat, some of the cobwebs had cleared away from his brain and he didn't feel quite as bad as he had felt before. He wasn't, however, conscious enough to notice the glass he was sweeping up came from the shattered picture frame or that there were teeth from Sherlock's decorative skull.
Then again, he might have been ignoring that as well.
To: John Watson
Subject: Error
Delivery to the following recipient has failed permanently: Sherlock Holmes.