Day Fourteen
Well, after those comment outbursts yesterday, I am being extremely cautious in my activities. This means that I won't be socializing any time soon. If someone is coming after me, they can get me. Is that clear enough? God, I am so tired of this. When can this nightmare be over?
That brings me to my next point. This blog. It's getting harder and harder to keep things interesting. Apart from people trying to kill me my life is frightfully dull without my best friend. Still living in Baker Street is not helping. All his stuff is still here. I don't know what to do with it, so I leave it.
Also, I think I may be going insane. No big deal, just thought you would like to know.
Comments
What do you mean you're going insane? Ur the sanest person I know. – Molly
Caution is wise under these circumstances.
Thank you? – JW
Don't even think about moving out John Watson! – Mrs. H
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John read the comments, with a slight smile on his face. They all cared so much. If only they knew the things that had been going on in his mind. He was hearing things. HE would wake up from a nightmare (he fell so fast) and he would hear the echo of gunshots ripping into the wallpaper. Sitting alone in his flat his mind filled with cries of "bored!" and "John!" it was getting worse. When he was shot at he could have sworn he heard a whisper (Vatican Cameos). When he was working at the hospital he heard his voice (I'm sorry). On a date with Patricia his mind wandered (Who was after the boring teacher?). He was having trouble keeping his mind together. He hated it. At the same time, he loved it. He loved the second it took for his mind to remember that Sherlock was gone. He loved that he could still picture every action and every look so clearly. He was so afraid to let it go and move on, so he didn't.
He was in too deep. Every step he took was filled with danger. On the bright side, his mind had never been so clear, had never known such mental elation. The web he was untangling was as beautiful as it was terrible. The mastery behind every move was something to be saluted. A small part of his brilliant mind worried. Mostly, he worried about John. He worried about the close call he had already had. The smallest of thoughts was what would come next. How John would react to his reappearance. What he would do after Moriarty was gone, knowing that no one else could match their dance. Although he wouldn't admit it, he longed for Baker Street. The game was almost done. He could feel it. Just a few more things to be done.