John's Blogs-100 Days Of Watson

by Melon Writes

"It's hard. Coping. You never know how much you'll miss them. You take them for granted while they're there. You miss them like hell when they've gone. You hope they'll come back. That they will walk through the door with that smile on their face and say that it's alright, and that it wasn't real. That it was fake." Set after Reichenbach. Hope you like it! Xxx

6. Wednesday, 25th

Wednesday, 25th.

I didn't get that power-nap I said I wanted. Instead, I was greeted by unanswered questions which seemed to pile up infront of me. I got up at 4am and gave up trying to sleep. I looked the seal up on the internet and found a few websites somehow linked to it, but none that would help me. I was about to give up and throw my laptop out the window when I saw I had an e-mail. Well, it wasn't for me. It was still logged on in his name, so it was technically for him. I looked at it to see who would be e-mailing a dead man, but it was a notification thing, saying that he had a comment on a blog. I looked at the blog and couldn't believe my eyes.

I had been on his website on numerous occasions, seen every blog he posted up there, even commented on a few, but this blog was new to me. After looking at the date, I realised it was new to everyone. The date said it was published on the 22nd. I hadn't seen the new e-mail up until then, so I figured it may have been a problem with the system, that it must have been the 22nd last month. Impossible. He died two months ago. Okay, the 22nd of a few month's ago. No matter how much I argued against myself, I still couldn't convince myself it was a misunderstanding, a small problem.

I concentrated on the blog again and started to read it. I nearly collapsed. The whole blog was about the seals he had found on the cases. He explained in fine detail how they all tied up with the evidence around him. He even went to the extreme and posted several helpful websites. It was clear that it took him ages to do all of it but you could see he had loved every minute of it. I silently thanked him, putting all doubts to the back of my mind.

I called Mycroft, told him I had the envelope and that he needed to go on his website. He called me back a little later and told me to meet him again, this time for a small chat. I declined and hung up. Even though I had dug him an even bigger hole to get out of, I couldn't throw myself in too. It was too late for him. It wasn't too late for me. No. It isn't too late for me.

John.