Sherlock,
I've finally moved into a new flat; it's small and rather dull but I suppose it will do for now. Packing up my things from your apartment was hard and I cried. I cried and cried until I had cried away all my tears and was left standing there with my clothes in hand, looking around the room and thinking of the many times you woke me from my sleep as we went on cases together in the middle of the night or you woke me with your horrific experiments… It shouldn't hurt this much, you know? The pain should have subsided until now, it should have gotten better but it hasn't. I feel a dull ache in me all the time and it beats in me even harder when I think of you or pass 221B… Why did you have to leave such a big impression on me? Why did you have to be the person who changed my life?! I don't get it… I feel as though sometimes the world is playing a sick joke on me and shoving it in my face that nothing I lo- care about stays with me, and there's nothing I can do about it. I miss you so much that, the other day while sitting by the window of the café, I was drinking coffee and could have sworn that when I turned my head to look out the window I saw you pass by. The man looked so much like you! He had a long, navy-blue coat like yours, bouncy and curly hair and the way he walked was so much like the way you used to walk; striding across the pavement. I could have sworn that man was staring at me for a while but I hadn't noticed. Am I going crazy now? Seeing you in people who may not even resemble you?! Oh god… I don't know what to do with myself; there is no fun, no meaning in anything. You used to make life seem so interesting with your deductions and you made life feel so dangerous and adrenaline pumping; now all I see when I look around is sad people with little to know logic or knowledge of anything and who are oblivious to everything worth looking at. No danger, no fun, no nothing…
I'm still angry at you for jumping off the building, and I still don't understand why you did it. What happened that you had to kill yourself? What happened to Moriarty?! Why did you do this? You were worth so much more than a suicide you bloody fool! You were worth so much more than you got…
I saw Molly the other day; she seems a lot more timid than usual. Maybe she's more shaken than I am or it's her way of coping with it. Your brother I still pretty impassive about everything; when he came to see me just after you… died, I was angry at him. He was the reason Moriarty knew so damn much about your life and about you. Your brother is a bloody idiot, you know? British government or not I gave him a few choice words after I practically broke down in front of him. I haven't seen Lestrade since you…. Yeah. I don't know if I have the heart to see him again; the fact that he actually doubted you is just… is just idiotic! You know, it's times like these that I see how you thought everyone around you was a completely ignorant fool, and idiot. Even I'm an idiot for not having been honest with you while you were still here. Part of me still refuses to believe you're dead (especially since I seem to see you about whenever I leave the house, but it's probably my imagination playing tricks on me) and I still have a small twinkling hope that one day I'll wake up and open up my front door to you smiling and to say to me, "You going to let me in, we've got work to do…" Oh dear, Sherlock… I feel as though I'm mourning over you as a lost soul mate rather than my best friend. No wonder people think I'm gay! I can't hold onto a girl for more than a few months or even remember their names properly but I counted how many messages that damn woman sent to you during Christmas! Jesus…
You know what they had written about you in the papers after you jumped, after you died?! "Suicide of fake genius" HA! SUICIDE OF FAKE GENIUS. Everyone believes that you really lied about everything because the lie was so well wrapped in actual truth people actually believed it. That horrible reporter woman even won some sort of prize for her article. She's rolling in fame and appreciation after what she did to you, after she believed Moriarty, or in her eyes, Richard Brook, after destroying you… I know you pretended not to care like you always do, you pretended it didn't matter. You thought that I can't see anything, but you're wrong. I saw the way your eyes beat with pain when you saw what she was doing, I saw the temporary doubt in your eyes when Moriarty was lying and saying he was paid by you, I saw you crumble in on yourself and I saw the anger flash through your eyes. I never believed you were heartless, Sherlock, never. More than that you react to everything and anything, more than a normal person reacts to. Irene Adler was a perfect example, hell, even I am a perfect example! Don't think I didn't see how you began to humanize yourself after we met. I know I helped you too… You didn't have to say much for me to see but I just wish we could say this to one another now! It kills me that I'll just never be able to look into your other-worldly eyes, open my mouth and say the words that have been stuck in my throat for too bloody long!