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.

16. 30 05 2012

Dear Sherlock,

We've got someone coming round at the weekend to look at 221C, which is exciting and rewarding for us all. Mrs Hudson is so anxious to make a good impression that she's ordering in all of this furniture that isn't exactly cheap. But she says it'll all be worth it in the end when she's bringing in all this extra rent.

The person who's coming is apparently a young woman who's trying to find somewhere to live so that she can work here in London. She came into the shop on Monday and saw the advert, and thought that it was ideal. I wasn't there at the time, but Mrs Hudson tell me that she seemed perfectly nice. I hope she does decide to move in - it would be a relief for us.

I've been going to see my therapist again, since you died. It hasn't really helped, but I felt like I needed to do something. She knows, I think, that she won't be able to fix me, but she's doing everything she can, and I appreciate that. Would you believe that I hadn't seen her in eighteen months? I didn't have any reason to go back to her after you stopped my limp. That last time I went to see her, before I met you, I told her that nothing ever happened to me. How wrong I was.

My blog took off when it was filled with you, but I'm getting no more views now. No one wants to hear about "the fake genius, Sherlock Holmes". I'm not writing it anymore, because I have nothing to write about. Now you're dead I have nothing to say because nothing does happen to me anymore.

So these letters are composed of nonsensical rubbish and nothing of importance. They're probably boring you. But it's a sort of therapy for me, much better than anything my therapist could offer me.

I wish I didn't have to write these. I wish that you were here and bringing back into my life that which you did in the beginning. My existence is dull. Please help me, Sherlock.

Your John.