Chapter Text
30 November, 9:54 pm
I can't bring myself to delete you out of my phone, you know.
Why would...
What an annoying dick you are, Sherlock. I can't even ask you why you did what you did. You had to know how out of my mind it was going to drive me.
I guess Mycroft can't bring himself to shut your phone off anymore than I can bring myself to delete you, because all these texts are going through. Maybe he's still monitoring your activity.
Hi, Mycroft, if you are.
I know you're just as gutted as I am right now, probably more.
No, not more. I can't imagine anyone continuing onward feeling worse than I feel.
I suppose someone else could have been issued this number, though.
Hello, if you are a stranger seeing these, I'm sorry. Text me "wrong number" and I'll stop.
I'd almost be happy if there was someone on the other end of these.
Nothing.
Well, at least I'm not bothering anyone.
10 December, 5:50 pm
I miss you, you know.
25 December, 8:47 pm
What a shitty Xmas it is without you to deduce the gifts.
What a shitty Xmas it is without you.
1 January, 12:01 am
And a shitty New Year, too.
I thought I could do it, living at the flat without you, but I couldn't. Do you have any idea what it was like?
No, probably not. Half the time you didn't know if I was there or not, anyway.
14 January, 6:44 pm
I make too much food, now. I forgot how to cook for one. Although it is nice not to have to have a five minute argument getting someone to eat before a meal--ha ha.
That is a lie. It is not nice. I miss it.
There's little I wouldn't give to have the privilege of trying to convince you it is time to slow your arse down long enough to gulp a couple bites of something.
20 January, 7:07 pm
I had Dim Sum the other night. It almost made me cry.
Okay, fine. It did make me cry.
You won't tell anyone will you, Sherlock? No, you wouldn't. You'd embarrass me in front of dates, but you never revealed the worst that you knew about me, not really.
God, what I wouldn't give for you to embarrass me in front of someone right now. You could even tell Lestrade about the time you caught me shaving my chest.
Or tell Mycroft about my tattoo. Of course, Mycroft has probably seen it...along with the one you never saw.
Hi, Mycroft.
29 January, 6:57 pm
Do you know how depressing it is, always knowing how full the milk is?
I even miss the toes.
Okay, so I don't miss the toes all that much.
I do miss the violin, though.
2 February, 11:13 pm
This is so fucking hard.
Do you know why it is so hard, Sherlock? Ella tried to get me to say it, but I couldn't. If I couldn't say it to you, I'm not going to say it to anyone. Especially not my bloody therapist.
Why couldn't you have let me in? Told me you were having these dark thoughts? I wouldn't have let you be alone. Ever.
I believe in you. I never stopped, not once, not when you had the gun on me, not for a second.
I was so wrapped up in you, in who I was when I was with you. God, what a team.
3 February, 1:29 am
Can you believe I enjoyed being handcuffed to you? Yet another impossible adventure with Sherlock Holmes.
No, not just Sherlock Holmes.
With my friend, Sherlock.
My best friend, Sherlock.
6 February, 10:02 pm
I would have faced it with you, you know. Whatever came our way with all that mess--the police, Moriarty, and all that. The truth was on our side. I tried to help exonerate you, but without you I had no access, no authority. How fucking ironic. All I have are my blog and my memories.
And my regrets.
I regret that you felt there was no other way. I regret that maybe, somehow, Moriarty or Brook or whomever the hell that lunatic was, maybe he killed you somehow. Maybe you couldn't tell me on the phone, but if I had been there, maybe? Maybe I could have stopped him, or shot him. I would have killed that bastard in a second if I thought he was going to take your life away.
I probably would have gone to jail, but it would be better than this.
The world needs Sherlock Holmes.
I need him, too.
9 February, 2:33 pm
I don't know if I told you, but I'm working full time at a different clinic, now. I'm not filling in for maternity leaves or anything like that anymore.
I can hear you in the back of my mind whenever it gets tedious, screaming, "Bored!" Don't think I should be shooting up walls in the exam room, though.
15 February, 6:15 pm
I let myself run out of milk and bread just to pretend I was annoyed with you about it. It only made me feel more pathetic.
16 February, 12:22 pm
I'm going to the shops after work today. Harry thinks different clothes would make me feel better. I told her that was a female thing to say and she called me a sexist pig.
I think I fished for that insult on purpose, just to get something other than sympathy for a change.
People have been tiptoeing around me since you've been gone. Well, when they talk to me at all. I'll see Lestrade now and again, but I never hear from Mycroft. I suppose that should come as no surprise, though. It wasn't as though he were my brother, too.
Hi, Mycroft.
16 February, 4:21 pm
Lestrade's ears must have been burning. He just asked to come around later. I can always put off going to the shops. I confess, it will be nice seeing a friendly face.
17 February, 01:07 am
Lestrade looks rough. Anderson has apparently gone a bit 'round the bend, too. Seems he has decided you were the real deal, after all, and is convinced somehow that
You know what, forget it. I can't allow myself to think that.
17 February, 1:25 am
You fucking git, if you are still alive, I might very likely kill you again.
Okay, so I won't, but fuck. Is that what this is? Is that why the phone hasn't been turned off yet? Does Mycroft know where you are?
ARE YOU GETTING EVERY ONE OF THESE, YOU BLOODY BASTARD?
Fuck you, Mycroft.
17 February, 3:03 am
I'm sorry, Sherlock.
And Mycroft, too, I suppose.
17 February 4:23 pm
I will confess a part of me has been hoping, wishing, even praying that this was all some elaborate plan to get the upper hand on James Moriarty. I keep waiting for the secret sign, for Mycroft's car to whisk me away for debriefing, for anything.
Even an empty text, maybe with just a . or a % or something.
You'd laugh if you were here, Sherlock. I stared at my phone for probably ten minutes, waiting to see if you would.
18 February, 1:22 pm
I understand Anderson in a weird way. It is easier to hope you lied about death than to see it as the truth.
I can't imagine how I'd feel if I thought I was the one who put you on that roof.
That's a lie.
I've wondered if I had, if our last row...
I can't think of it, even now.
23 February, 11:46 pm
Isn't it funny? Finally got around to the shops. I came home with a new coat, some shirts, a scarf that suddenly seems to look a lot like yours...
I'll admit it, I'm fucking pathetic. I bought a scarf like yours on purpose. And your expensive shampoo.
I'm neither confirming nor denying I sat in the corner of the shower and cried when I used it.
But I slept well, breathing you in.
That's not a normal thing for a bloke to say to another bloke, is it?
25 February, 6:39 pm
I ran into Angelo at Tesco, of all places. He didn't say much. He just looked at me sadly and gave me an enormous hug. I've never seen him at a loss for words before.
I should probably get around to seeing Mrs. Hudson, too. I miss her so much, but going back? I don't know if I can. Seeing her is probably going to be hard enough. She'll start in with the weeping and you know I never could stand to see her cry. Maybe I'll put it off until next week.
1 March, 12:21 am
I drank the other night. I drank myself half blind. I tried to text you only god-knows-what, but I was so drunk I accidentally turned off my phone instead. Probably better that way. Who knows what I might have said?
I had dragged out all my clippings and photos I saved from our time together. Thank goodness I didn't rip anything.
It didn't help my hangover, having to face it all sober the next day.
I put it all away except for one of the photos we had taken for the paper after a case. I look like a knob but you...
Did you know? How bloody damn gorgeous you were? Did you?
You must have. Someone who thinks, say, they look like a knob wouldn't wear clothes tailored so perfectly to the contours of their body like that.
That was weird, wasn't it? I probably shouldn't have said that.
Damn, I'm not even drunk this time.
I'm really, really hoping your brother isn't reading these now. That would be a difficult one to explain.
Hi, Mycroft.
4 March, 12:18 pm
I went out after work the other day, met up with an old Army buddy, and he convinced me to try a little skirt chasing again. I wound up snogging a pretty brunette in an alley outside the pub, but I choked when it was time to "seal the deal," as they say. I wanted to, and God knows I probably needed to, but it felt wrong.
Sometimes, I wish you were still here to deduce me.
Sometimes, I'm so glad you aren't here to deduce me.
6 March, 10:42 am
Work is boring. I watch the clock each and every day. It is a far cry from working on a case with you and looking up to realize it is already dawn.
It didn't even have to be a case for me to lose all track of time with you. I guess it is like that with one's friends.
My best friend.
8 March, 7:13 pm
I went to see Ella again. She was harping on me not continuing my blog, so I confessed I was texting your old number. She made a face, but I couldn't tell what it meant. I bet you could've.
She thinks the blog is more important, though. What does she know, anyway?
10 March, 3:23 am
Tonight is a difficult night for me, Sherlock. I'm feeling your absence something fierce. If it were you, if it were Mycroft and I talking about it, we would describe it as a "danger night."
You know I was never deep into the hard drugs, though. Do you know what my "danger nights" were before I met you?
Sitting in my beige little bedsit with my gun in my hand. Sometimes I would run the length of the barrel across my lips, just to feel the smoothness of it.
Don't get concerned, though. I never put it in my mouth.
That's a lie. I'm sorry.
I don't have the gun out tonight, don't worry.
You saved my life, you know? Meeting you. I should have sent Mike a thank you note and some chocolate or fruit or something.
It wasn't just the danger and excitement, though. It was living there with you, knowing I wasn't alone, knowing we were sort of in this together somehow. It was bugging you to eat and sitting around watching telly. It was breakfast and the paper. It was the faint smell of chemicals when you had been home working on this thing or that all day. It was you pretending you could predict fortune cookies and watching you pick the peanuts out of your takeaway so you could eat the whole pile when you were done.
Do you have any idea how much I miss you?
Do you have any idea how much I loved you?
10 March, 8:31 pm
Funny the confessions one will make in the middle of the night, yeah? What is it about 3 or 4 in the morning that acts like truth serum?
I wasn't able to tell Ella, and I never could tell you, not when it mattered, but there's no point in trying to play it off now, not when I've known for so long.
I love you.
As in, in love.
I'm in love with you.
And I need you to come home.
If you are alive, if you are anywhere in the world, please. I need you to be alive almost more than I need to breathe air myself.
I wouldn't push you or pressure you. I wouldn't even hug you if you didn't want me to.
That's a lie, I would absolutely hug you.
I'm sorry that you had to die for me to find the courage to tell you. I wish you would have known before. I'm not so arrogant to think it would have made the difference for you...but then again, maybe I am. Who knows?
I love you, Sherlock.
Hi, Mycroft.
*****
10 March, 8:33 pm
Don't even think about it.
Leave me alone.
I'm serious, Sherlock. Not so much as single word from you.
Then bring me home.
You are not done yet.
I don't care.
Have you forgotten why you did this? You are not finished yet, and as long as you are not finished, John is in peril.
He needs me.
He needs you to finish this more.
I need him.
Radio silence, so to speak, is important. If there is any clue, any hint that John knows anything about you being alive or your whereabouts, it is not only the mission that is compromised. His very safety will come into question.
Fine.
I promise, the sooner we complete our task, the sooner you may put this behind you.
Then let's get it over with.
You will be getting word tonight on the next contact. Good night, brother mine.
*****
I love you too, John.
Sherlock stared at his confession, hovering in the text box, unable to send it.
"Soon, John," he whispered to himself. "Soon."
He wasn't quite sure he believed it.