My dear Sherlock,
I must admit that my heart flutters when I read the words you write me. I should probably tell you that the first letter you read from me was not the first letter I had written you. There's a shoebox full of old letters I wrote addressed to you during the two years you were absent. It was my way of coping. If you hold any interest in reading them, I wouldn't mind. In fact, even if you don't read them, I still want you to have them should you ever need words of love and encouragement at a time that I am not around.
Dinner was wonderful tonight. I adore your parents. After all these years, they're still so in love and young at heart. You look so much like your father but you have your mother's eyes. Do not worry about the teasing your family gave you; they mean well. Would it be wrong of me to assume that, cold as your brother may act, he approves of me? I have always suspected so.
I am so delighted that my bringing your violin over made you quite happy. I did not expect such a display of your affection in front of your family, but then again, you always seem to surprise me. I become so unaware of my surroundings when your lips are mine. I do hope it will help you communicate with your sister. By your estimation, you said 221B should be restored to its former glory soon…literally. I know you aren't much for change, so I wasn't surprised you had requested the same wallpaper. The fact that you and John redrew the smiley face and placed the exact same bullet holes in the wall amused me so. I promise to stop by soon.
It was kind of your parents to offer me the guest room for the night. I am writing this as you lay beside me since you found your way into my temporary bedroom. You've said my name in your sleep twice now. I love you so much, Sherlock. Always and forever.
With all my love,
Molly xxx