Life as a Johnsexual

#1

It has been exactly a year since Mary's death. I have moved into 221B Baker Street again, with my baby Rosie. I don't think I will ever get over the death of my beautiful wife, but I am surely a lot happier. 

Living with Sherlock, has made things a lot better for me. People always think that Sherlock is a freak, he is a person with no emotions whatsoever, but I know differently. The way he talks to me when I am upset, the way he plays with little Rosie, it shows that he isn't a machine after all. 

Once in a while, I have nightmares and Sherlock comes running to me, with pure worry on his face. I always tell him that my nightmares were to do with Mary getting shot, but little does he know that my nightmares are actually about him. I often dream about him falling off the roof of St Bart's. Other times, I just dream about losing him, him dying in my dreams.

I do have nightmares of Mary dying, but they are never as bad as my nightmares that involve Sherlock. It's almost as if losing Sherlock is more difficult than losing Mary. Actually, it is. When Sherlock died, I was never happy, I never laughed a genuine laugh. Even after two years, I was never able to get over it, but somehow, Mary's death seems bearable. I have known this for a while now.

After Mary died, I was extremely depressed, but it was almost as if I was depressed because I didn't have Sherlock anymore and it had nothing to do with Mary's death. This was one of the main reasons to why I was always so reluctant to see Sherlock. I felt very guilty that I was thinking about my best friend rather that mourning my wife's death. Hell I thought about him more than I though about Rosie. 

I really wish I had an explanation to all this. I keep telling myself that Sherlock is my best friend, that I knew him before I knew Mary, and Sherlock doesn't really have any other friends so I am very protective by instinct. However, there is a tiny part of me that's saying maybe it's something more that my heart isn't willing to accept.