Molly,
I'm not big on words, you know that as well as anyone. It's been a year since Myc's suicide. I've been writing different drafts of this letter since John's death and now I'm done. I did as Mycroft asked. I bought side by side grave plots a few rows back from Sherlock and I gave money to my kids and I set up funds for my funeral and burial and all that. I even got sober just after John reminded me in his letter about Mycroft asking me not to drink. Molly, just take care of anyone left would you? I know we're not leaving very many close people left to take care of but we're dominoes I guess. Doomed to take each other out from the start. Well uh. Myc, I'm coming for you my love. I chose our bed as my final breathing place so I could be with you one last time. The knife should pierce my heart. I've seen enough victims to know exactly where it should go. The irony is that's what it felt like to look at your note and your casket. I didn't look at your body like you asked. Only Molly saw, didn't you Molly? I'm coming Myc. Hold my hand would you? Bye Molly.
The Bumbling Drunk Who Watched Everyone Die,
Greggory (Graham if you're Sherlock) Lestrade
AN: I have had a rather busy and hectic week. I apologize for the time between chapters as I am very anxious to actually keep this story on time to a certain extent until I finish it. Thanks! -DeductionWizard