My sweet William,
It is Christmas eve and you are currently attempting to sneak away with a couple of ginger nuts. I can hear your mum scolding you. I love how you're like a little kid sometimes. When we arrived at your parents' home earlier, I was surprised at your enthusiasm at decorating the tree together. Even Mycroft joined in. I see such a huge difference from how things used to be with your family and I'm so happy that you're all getting along. I had so much fun with you, even if you did insist on sprinkling tinsel in my hair. I tried to do the same to you but I couldn't reach that high. I find it hard to believe that it was purely coincidental that the mistletoe was placed at the archway of the hall that leads to the bedroom we're staying in (your old one, apparently).
Speaking of your old bedroom, I'm glad that's where we are sleeping. I can see so much of the little boy you used to be. The walls are painted a sky blue and your bookshelf contains topics of pirates, forensics, chemistry and mystery novels. There are photos of you and your family when you were little. I see you frequented cosy jumpers and rain boots and your curls were more auburn at the time. Mycroft snuck me away moments ago to help him find the original copy of the home video that was ruined with your prank some months ago. He showed it to me once we found it. He explained it was after Eurus had been taken away and you had already begun convincing yourself she didn't exist. You still looked happy though, tackling your brother in the sand.
If Eurus wants to see me again, I wouldn't mind, but it is ultimately up to you. I am happy that you found it in your heart to forgive her. That takes a lot of strength, Sherlock. I am still shocked that she considers me as a sister. I find it to be bittersweet that you sometimes wonder about you and your family being, as you say, 'normal.' I can understand why you'd wish Eurus didn't suffer from such criminal intelligence. I love that you're different, but I do know that even if you weren't the brilliant man you are who was born with beautiful gifts, I would still love you. The fact you think that Victor would have liked me is a sweet thought. I am so sorry that you lost him so young.
You and I found the pirate hats and wooden swords you and him played with up in the attic. They were in a small storage chest that you told me was used as the buried treasure. You asked me what I thought about taking them back to Baker Street with us, so that we'd have them if we ever decided to start a family. I'll repeat my answer here in that it's a lovely thought but only as long as you feel comfortable with it. If so, I think that it's what Victor would have wanted, if you don't mind me saying.
Now, you're sitting beside me, attempting to read over my shoulder, but I'm not having it. I told you no more snogging tonight if you don't quit trying to spoil my letter. That seemed to work just fine. I find your eagerness endearing. When I started these letters, I never imagined you would enjoy reading them, let alone enjoy writing your own. Call me crazy, because not only do we do it out of love for one another, but I think it helps us work out the bigger problems we face. It is easier to compose your thoughts when you put them down on paper. Seven months and still going strong. I truly believe we can make it through anything, especially after what we went through the years before. I love you, Sherlock, always and forever.
Happy Christmas, my love,
Molly xxx