Letters To Sherlock

by jessisnotdeadyet

These are the letters that John wrote to Sherlock during the time when he was 'dead'. He left the letters on his grave every week on a Wednesday, starting from one month after the Fall. Includes Johnlock, and these letters lead on to a fanfiction in story form rather than letters which I am currently working on. Mystrade included in such fanfiction. Rated M for later chapters.

2. 22 02 2012

Dear Sherlock,

This week has gone by without a single worthwhile story to tell. I've worked, I've read, I've slept. It's all so... mundane. And boring, Sherlock. How can I ever settle into this dull existence when all I think abuot is how fast the hours flew when I was with you.

I don't fall asleep at my desk anymore, and I don't ever get hungry because there's no you to drag me out in the middle of the night to a crime scene or interrupt my meals with the words "Come on, John." To anyone else, it might seem like a release, but to me it just enhances the longing I have to get back into that life.

You told me that I didn't fear the War, but that I missed it. And this is exactly the same. I miss everything about you, from your violin to your 'we-both-know-what's-going-on-here' face. God, what I wouldn't give to have you back, Sherlock.

If you wanted to know, Mrs Hudson is fine. She's still running the shop, doing well, and out of the kindness of her heart, she is letting me stay here on Baker Street even though I can only afford half of the rent.

She doesn't talk about you around me. In fact, no one does. Instead they whisper behind my back and then look at me with pity every time I stumble because some memory of you has pushed its way to the forefront of my mind. I hate that. I don't want pity, Sherlock. You'd understand how I feel.

I'll try to keep you up to date, considering that you can't read the papers anymore. Maybe there'll be something that catches your interest. Or maybe there won't. Either way, I'll still tell you.

Your John.