A/N: I don't think this is getting any happier. I'm really sorry guys, I am apparently just very angst-filled.
DISCLAIMER: Nothing in this story belongs to me. I hope you don't think I write Sherlock. Please don't sue me!
He wasn't sure if Mycroft was even aware that Christmas existed. The elder Holmes was no kinder and no more generous. He was only focused on the eventual death of Sebastian Moran, which was weighing heavily on Sherlock's mind as well.
He tried not to let it consume him, but the thoughts kept creeping in, despite his best efforts.
Eventually he got frustrated and decided to conduct an experiment. Every time he thought about pulling the trigger and seeing a spatter of blood and brain matter at the other end of the gun, he consciously replaced the thought with a thought of John. After a while, he did it automatically.
By the end of the day, all thoughts of Sebastian Moran had ceased to exist.
John,
The nerves are starting to get to me, I fear. I keep worrying that I'll miss his head and he'll kill me, or that I'll serve merely to incapacitate him and allow Mycroft to dispose of him.
I have made it perfectly clear to my brother, several times, that Moran is mine.
To get rid of the thoughts I tried to replace them with ones of you, or you and I. Mostly just you. It relaxed me enough to allow me a bit of respite from the panic that has been trying to eat me alive all this time.
It's always you, John.
Always.
Sherlock
A/N: SO MANY FEELS I AM THE WORST HUMAN. Thank you so much for reading! Please review and...
DFTBA darlings, :)