~Letters~

-From Sherlock to John-

Dear John,
I am barely sure of how many people I can trust, but if I had the chance, I would never jump off that roof without telling you the truth.
I said I was a liar, and I guess I am: why am I here writing this piece of paper, if I'm not going to send it to you? Why faking my death?
I won't tell you directly, because I'm not that kind of person. I'm not the one a normal friend would turn to, because I'm used to solve crimes, but friendship problems? That's not my thing.
But I can tell you at least this: you were in danger, and I didn't want you to die. Don't ask me why. Or, don't ask me because you already know the answer.
Trust me, jumping was the hardest thing I've ever chosen to do.
And let me tell you that seeing you near my grave... That was, I don't think I know the right word, but it was unexpected. I mean, you care about me? That much?
I thought nobody would ever come to visit me, after you know, my "departure". But there you were.
I'm alone John. I've always been. I'll always be.
I've never had the chance to make it different.
At least, that was my life before you entered it: you brought happiness, I hope you know that. And for someone who just can't stand being near people, that was quite something.
You know what really makes me sad? The fact that you won't read this.
Nobody will.
And I'll be the lost man again, I'll be the shadow that everybody feels but doesn't look at. I'll be walking those roads without you by my side. I'll be running, thinking, getting angry and frustrated. All that, without you.
How could I do that before? How?
You're such an interesting human being, John. I wish I had more time to spend with you. I wish we could have lived day by day, always watching our backs.
One day, John, one day you'll look back on the road you're walking and see a little dark spot: never doubt that I won't be there, hiding from all the things that could have been.
Farewell, dear friend.
Sherlock