22nd June
Private Entry visible to: John Watson, Sherlock Holmes
So, yeah, people have freaked out about the blog posts. "What's going on John?" "Why can't I see it John?" "What are you writing John?" "Are you okay John? I'm worried about you." It's all a little bit tiring, people didn't even care this much when I was in Afghanistan.
Anyway, I've left this for a few days because it was your funeral and everything started to sink in a little bit. I've lost my best friend, my flatmate, half of the rent, the food bill card…
I was talking to Mycroft, though, because I don't feel like you've gone. I expected to feel something, a huge upheaval or something. You know? Some way of letting me know that you were gone. Some kind of emptiness. But I haven't and that's given me hope.
All Mycroft said was that he was your brother and surely if someone was going to feel anything it would be him. And he's felt nothing.
I'm not giving up, though. No matter how much of a tit I feel whenever I get an email, thinking it's a comment, or sitting here talking to what is essentially a ghost.
But anyway, Mycroft and me went out for lunch at this scarily posh restaurant and he had a salad. I didn't comment, but I did have a raised eyebrow. He shrugged, said he liked the taste and then pointed out how many calories the dressing had as I was tucking into steak and chips. We then had a ridiculous pudding of ice cream, cheesecake, pie, pretty much everything on the menu. So his diets obviously going well.
I think it helped him. He's trying to help me, anyway, so it's good to know I'm getting through. I mean, the funeral helped him too. It's a good outlet for grief, but he's under a lot of stress and a friendly face always helps. He isn't you, but you're from the same tree.
I said I'd visit your mother with him. I met her at the funeral, she was nothing like I'd expected. She was warm and soft and very kind. She clutched myself and Mycroft's hands when she sat between us on the front row, Mrs Hudson, Greg and Molly behind. Some of your homeless network skulking in behind and standing at the back. Henry showed up with Dr Stapleton and so did some of your other ever-faithful customers. The ones who haven't lost faith. They told me, your mum and your brother when they were leaving that they'd never give up. It was a comfort to your mum, which was nice, and she said I must come round for tea.
It's one of the only times I felt no need to point out that we weren't a fucking couple! I mean, she's a Holmes, she must have known, but even if she didn't I would rather not crush that last bit of hope because, well, come on. We were living together, eating together and solving crimes together. So to an outsider…
Anyway, I'm seeing Molly soon so I better go change my jeans and put a decent shirt on. And don't even start, it's nothing like that!
I'll say it again, if you're around, get in touch. Don't keep me hanging here, Sherlock.
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