I feel trapped, Sherlock. All I have are psychologists, doctors, friends, not-friends, just everyone, telling me what to do. You Are Dead. I don't know what to do! You were the only one that could make me do whatever you wanted- I trusted you. With my life, Sherlock. I want to end it. Grab my gun out of the draw and just fire. Or maybe I'll go your way- off a building. Classy. Fly before you die, that sort of thing. It's ironic- I always knew that if I was to kill myself, I would jump. I've always wanted to fly. Do you think I could, Sherlock? -JW
You confuse me. I... I didn't think you cared about me. After all, I was only your flatmate, your sidekick. But when you pulled those bombs off of me, in the pool, when you put your life at risk, for me, I knew. I knew you had some emotion in you, Sherlock. I feel so many different emotions towards you- anger. annoyance. confusion. hurt. care. and a few others I cant place just yet. God. Why? Why me? Why did all of this happen to me! Why did I have to meet you, like you, and lose you? Why? -JW
I know what the other emotions are now. Respect. Admiration. Love. Yes Sherlock, you fool. That one emotion you don't feel. Love. It all make sense now, of course. I always felt a little happier when you praised me, when shop keepers mistook us for a couple. Ugh! Why did I have to realise this after you were gone?! Of course. You probably knew I did, didn't you?! Pupils dilating, all that. God damn it Sherlock! Why?! That stupid fall. I hope the fly was worth it. -JW
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