Tonight was a bad night.
I've been getting better.
Sometimes I go days, weeks at a time, now, without thinking of him. You. These were supposed to be 'Letters to Sherlock' after all.
In which case I have to say, Sherlock, you're a bloody bastard, finding ways to interrupt my dates from beyond the sodding grave.
I met this girl online. Hermione's been pushing me to try dating again, which is ripe, coming from her, since she's not seriously dated anyone that I know of since I've known her. Anyway, her name is Caroline, though I don't know why I'd bother telling you. It's not like you ever would have used it. (That's right, I know you knew their names. Hermione spilled the beans on you ages ago.) She's new to London, a post-doc arts student from America. She studies classical influences in modern architecture, I think. The details were a bit over my head, to be honest. She's a fair bit younger than me, but she didn't seem to mind.
We went out to dinner at that little Korean place you showed me off Piccadilly, and then walked around the city for a while.
It was going really well until we came across this kid busking with a violin. Well, I say busking, but really it was more like he was playing for himself and we all just happened to be there as well.
He reminded me of you.
Didn't look anything alike, mind, but the way he played, and the way he didn't seem to give a damn about anyone or anything around him – It was just like being back in our flat, on the days when you were happy, but between cases.
I imagine that's what you were like as a kid. You did drugs and lived rough for a while, I know. I can't help wondering if you were ever that teenager playing on a street corner somewhere, secretly basking in the admiration of passers-by even as you pretended to ignore them.
Anyway, Caroline noticed I was distracted, after. The night didn't end well, as you can probably guess – sorry "deduce" – since I'm writing a letter to a dead man instead of being at her place right now.
So, congratulations, you utter jackass. You're still the most important person in my life, even though it's been eight months since you died. And you've managed to ruin yet another date for me, and I didn't even get to go chase a murderer out of it.
Bloody hell, I just wrote that I wanted to go chase down a murderer. You were obviously contagious, and now I've got whatever you had. Git.