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.

41. 21 11 2012

Dear Sherlock,

Facing the knife again this week was a challenge for me, so I'm back on my full dosage by personal choice. I was looking for a knife to peel apples to make apple crumble, and I just happened to pick that one up. I've had enough time now to be able to hold back the screaming, but the knife ended up being dropped on the floor with a bit of a shriek. Like I was a teenage girl dropping something that had a spider on it. So I haven't been so great. Maybe I'll just skip over this particular story. You know what this is for me so I don't have to explain it again.

On a lighter note, then, I went out for a few drinks the other night with Mike and Greg. We had quite a good time, even though I have an alcohol limit of 2 units. With all the drugs and the depression, I wouldn't expect any less. Not that it stopped Greg and Mike drinking bucketloads. I thought adults were supposed to be responsible drinkers, and they they both were, getting out of their minds when they had work in the morning. Mike's a teacher and Greg's a detective inspector, so neither are jobs where you can be intoxicated. Not the wisest decision of their lives.

They both called me during their breaks and they sounded awful. Mike's students were taking the mick, and Greg even said that he had to get Sergent Donovan to drive him to work because he was still riddled with alcohol. He told her he'd twisted his ankle badly so he couldn't use the clutch in his car. He put a bandage on it to make his story more believeable. Not that she couldn't smell the drink on him or anything. But she hasn't ratted out on him as far as I know. I'm assuming she will eventually, going by her records. Oh look, yet another person responsible for your death. What a pleasant woman.

Anyway, I've been seeing Molly again. She seems to be coming around more often, which is good. Today she dropped off a loaf of fresh bread straight from the baker's. I am under the impression that she's dating his son, so she's been getting more bread than she knows what to do with. She's well, and she's happy, and it was nice of her to bring us bread. We're having it with dinner tonight. Leek and potato soup, if you were wondering.

Love,

Your John.