Dear Sherlock,
I miss you so much. I feel like every time I leave you, it hurts more and more. Either I just forget during my time with you how hard it is just to live with the memory of you, or it really gets harder each time. Whichever it is, or if it's both, you can be sure that every time it hurts me to leave you. Only when I am gone do I realize painfully how much I love everything about you, even your nightly violin playing or when you leave the apartment with a waving coat.
Every morning, half asleep, I search for your presence before I am so awake that I realize that I have to do without it for the time being. During the day I hardly have a free minute to think about you. For the moment this is quite comforting, but afterwards it hits me all the more. At the moment the situation is very tense, but the conflicts are still far away.
I hope you are doing well and the criminals are not boring you too much. Please try not to miss me too much. I am aware that this is a very difficult plea, because I know how hard it is for me not to wish myself every spare second back to you in London. Don't cause Greg too much trouble and don't let Mycroft get you down.
Love,
your John