Dear Sherlock,
My birthday came and went even though you weren't there to share it with me. I am a year older but in my head I am still there, in the past, in the world where I existed with you. I can't stop time passing and I couldn't stop this birthday simply because of your abscence, and I have to accept that, but I feel like my life is being wasted because I'm not enjoying it. My hours are not spent making memories, but rather lingering upon old ones.
Mrs Hudson gave me a shirt as a present, which is very nice and I've been wearing it a lot lately. It's quite smart, so it's better for going out with Greg or Sarah than just hanging around the house or wandering around London, visiting places that we have been together.
Nina somehow found out when my birthday was, so she baked and decorated a cake for me that tasted as good as it looked. And it looked divine. But I wouldn't have expected anything less of her, seeing how amazing she is at art. And she bought me this stationery so that I can write your letters on some good-quality paper. It's nice that she understands how I like to put effort into these.
Greg decideded to get me a crate of beers instead. I've already finished them all. It's like he knew that I would need them, and got me them because I had to face the day without my Sherlock.
So it all went okay, and everyone was great. It just couldn't be the perfect day.
Something weird happened, though. A little blue notebook turned up on the doorstep when I got back from dinner with Sarah. It didn't have a note, and it wasn't wrapped, but my name was printed on the first page. It's probably from one of your fangirls. But anyway, it doesn't matter.
Your John