A monologue from John to Sherlock, while visiting his grave.
"Hello Sherlock, how are you? I'm just...checking up on you, I suppose. It's been a while. I'm still living in Baker Street, with Mrs. Hudson. I can't bring myself to move out...your room still smells like you, did you know that? It's not like I spend loads of time in there, or anything, just...sometimes.
Please come back, Sherlock. I ask you every time I visit, but I won't stop. Ever. Things just aren't the same now. I don't know what to do with myself anymore. When I met you, things changed. I don't see the world the same way I used to. And it scares me Sherlock, my God, it scares me.
My limp has come back too. I remember when we met, and you got rid of it. To this day, I still don't know how. But it's back. It would be inconvenient if we had any cases, but we don't. We won't ever have any cases again, and I need to accept that. It's just...hard, y'know?
The world just seems to so foreign now. I see things differently, and that's because of you. It sometimes makes things harder, like how, when I meet someone, I look to you, waiting for you to start spouting some wonderful nonsense about them that nobody could possibly know, but then I remember that you're not there. You never will be.
And nowadays, Sherlock, without you, the world is such a horrible place. It's strange and lonely and so very, very boring."