A/N: I need chapter titles really, but can't really think of anything. Maybe dates, I don't know, what do you think?
March 21st 2012
It's been a month, and I'm no closer to finding Moriarty or finding out the truth of what happened that day than I was the day I had lunch with Molly. To be honest I think I was half counting on him to find me. I mean, he was so determined to destroy Sherlock, I figured as a close friend of his I would be next on Moriarty's list. But no, apparently it isn't just me who thinks I'm nobody without Sherlock.
I did try to track him down myself, but I had no idea how to go about it, or even where to start. I've been constantly scanning the news and police reports, looking out for anything suspicious, anything that sounds like him. I must have picked up a little from Sherlock, I do occasionally spot something the police missed, and phone Lestrade straight away to tell him about it. He's always grateful for my help, even if it rarely comes to much. Either it's a detail of minor importance or we just run into a dead-end without Sherlock's help.
At first searching through police reports made me feel a bit better, like I could carry on without him. Now though it's just a reminder of how useless I am without him. It's soul draining, searching and getting nowhere. And I feel like I'm letting him down.
Some days I get so depressed about it. What makes it worse is that my moroseness has started getting to my sister. She's drinking again. And I just don't have it in me to stop her. Hell, sometimes I just want to join her, wash all my misery away with a bottle. I gave in last night, went down the pub, got smashed. Made a lot of noise getting in, woke Harry up. I think she helped get me to bed, but I'm not sure, it's a bit of a blur. All I remember is her disappointed, pitying face. And she'll have smelt it on me, it will have made her want some too. I haven't dared leave my room yet, knowing what I'll find out there, the mess I caused. All those years I held her drinking against her, now I've become the very thing I hated, and I'm taking her back down with me.
She'd better much better off if I weren't here. But where else will I go? Back to 221b? I just can't. I know Mrs Hudson would welcome me back. She said I wouldn't even have to worry about the other half of the rent, she could afford to let it slide, she would just be happy to have one of her boys back. 'Her boys'. She thinks of us as sons. Losing Sherlock must have been like losing a son to her, and I just abandoned her too. I really am a selfish man. Maybe I should just visit her there, and see how it feels.
March 21st 2012. Later.
It hurt. That's how it felt. So empty and yet so full at the same time. So full of memories, his things still half boxed all around the room. I don't understand how Mrs Hudson can stand it. She did look thinner than before, older. I had to get out of there, so I suggested we go elsewhere to catch up. She said she understood, but I could see the disappointment in her eyes. I got her hopes up then dropped them again. I should probably just leave the old woman alone from now on, give her a chance to move on. I don't want to be on my own though, so looks like I'm staying here for now.