JohnLock - One-shot [English]

Dear John

Dear John,

Today, it's been a year. One year ago, I was plunging towards my destiny. At that time, I couldn't see your face. But I heard your screams. Sometimes, when the nights are too short, I still hear you screaming my name.

If you only knew how sorry I am. I'm sorry I had to do that in front of you. I'm sorry I let Moriarty destroy my reputation. I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye. I'm sorry I left you like that.

I don't know what you're doing, Mycroft won't let me hear from you. If I knew what country I had just crossed the border from, I could have gone to London, right outside 221B, to see the lights on.

I miss this apartment. Its two armchairs, its couch so conducive to reflection, Mrs. Hudson's screams when I shoot the walls.

And you.

John, I miss you terribly.

There is not a day that goes by without you occupying my thoughts. I see your face, every detail of your habits in my mental palace. When I'm caught it's what keeps me going. I think of our reunion too.

As soon as the fieldwork is over, I'll come back to see you John. I'll come to 221B Baker Street, to meet you in your chair, with a cup of tea in hand.

We'll go back and investigate together. We can run through the streets of London again, and come home breathless to eat Mrs. Hudson's lunch. We'll be able to search until the early morning light.

I even miss your moral lessons. I want to skip meals, just to hear your voice reproach me. Or leave body parts somewhere in the kitchen for you to find when you wake up.

I realize that I have not been a very good roommate.

But you were the best. I don't know how you put up with me for so long John. If I believed it, I'd say it was a miracle. But since I'm more of a scientist, I'd say it was masochism.

Do you miss the killings, John? Is your leg hurting again?

Or have you already forgotten me? Have you left our apartment? Are you still alive John, sitting in your chair, waiting for me to come back?

I don't know what I'm saying, what I'm writing. My heart aches as I write these words. And it wants to shout so many others.

I never told you that, John.

And I don't know if I'll ever be able to do that. So allow me to be selfish, to do so between the lines of this letter, which you may read one day.

I love you John Watson.

I fell in love with you, because you are you. Because you stayed by my side, no matter how bad my character was. Because you ran with me, all over London, and never complained. Because you were ready to sacrifice your life for me, without question. Because we didn't know each other for more than 24 hours, you had already killed a man for me. Because I heard you crying as I lay on the sidewalk in front of the hospital.

Because, John Watson, if I believed it, I would say that you are my soul mate.

I hope we'll meet again soon, my friend, and that you'll forgive me this extra folly.

See you soon, I hope.

SH