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.

39. 07 11 2012

Dear Sherlock,

I've caught a cold since Halloween, and I think it's something to do with the fact that I wrote your last letter outside. So I'm a bit ill, and feeling a bit down. Not suicidal down, so that's okay. Unfortunately I can't take anything for it in case it interferes with my medication. But that's alright, because I'm in charge of my drugs now. They're in the bathroom cupboard, not locked away anymore. Mrs Hudson doesn't check to see if I take them, so I've been reducing my dosage without her knowing. I've been keeping the pills I don't take, disguised in an empty Vaseline pot that's on the top shelf in the cupboard. They're there for emergencies, just for when I might need them. I have enough for now, but when they take me off them I won't be getting any refills. And they'll take me off them before I'm ready because I do such a good job of keeping my true feelings hidden. I don't need all that they're prescribing right now anyway; I'm managing on this lower dose. So I'm making a stash. A secret supply. Your secret supply of cigarettes is still there.

Don't tell anyone about my drug abuse. It's our little secret.

I've been out and about recently, and that's due to my apparently improving condition and therefore Mrs Hudson is more relaxed about policing my activities. She was so worried before, and that's plenty reason to keep me close, but I'm glad for the freedom and Greg's been bringing me cases again.

I asked him whether he'd heard from Mycroft at all since you died, because they had some level of contact before then, and I wondered if it'd continued to any extent. I wanted to hear something from him, I suppose. He was your family, after all. The only family you had left. And now he's all alone, without mother or brother. God, it must be hard for him. But Greg didn't really answer me properly, so I'm assuming not, although he did get a bit tense. Reasons?

It doesn't matter anyway. Just wondered and I'm still confused as to why Mycroft's ignoring me still. I could always barge into his office again. I might, actually.

Okay, I'm running out of paper now. Would have liked to write more but I'm in the margin now.

I love you.

Your John.