Dear Sherlock,
All this extra money is making life very comfortable for me. I haven't dropped any work at the hospital, because it's best to have the constant, reliable income that it gives me, but I have fewer worries and life is easier on all of us. Mrs Hudson is definitely appreciating me lessening her money stresses. Although I don't think Nina has even noticed the increase in wealth in the household. Sometimes I forget how rich she is because she's always hanging around in frayed jeans, paint-spattered converses and vintage T-shirts. I swear she even has a pair of old denim dungarees. And of course everything she owns is covered in paint and ink. Just like a typical artist.
I would have liked to have heard more from Mycroft. It's cruel to ignore me for nearly half a year and then send me a letter and hundreds of thousands of pounds without as much as a word afterwards. It's rude. And to be honest, I would have liked the link back to you. He reminds me of you. And I know that's something that no brother ever wants to hear, but you were both observant and genius, and the way you interacted with the world was just the same. It's so hard to miss someone like this. It's tearing me apart.
Even after all this time. Even after all the therapy and the letters and the support, I have not changed. I have not improved. Half a year and I still feel the same pain. I can't help but wonder whether these scars will continue to rip my soul to pieces for as long as I will live.
"Keep your eyes fixed on me," you said. I promise, Sherlock, that even though my eyes can no longer find you, I will always keep my heart fixed on you.
And until the end of my days, I will miss you and love you and cry over you. Half a year, and I am a wreck. How can I survive without you? I can't. I just can't do it anymore, Sherlock.
Love, always,
Your John.