Day One:

I suppose a lot of you are surprised to see this. I know I am. I have been talking to (my therapist, he writes. He deletes that phrase) a friend of mine, and they encouraged me to keep on writing my blog, so here I am. I suppose the thing I should do first is to send a thank you to all of the staff at St. Bart's, I know you did all you could to save Sherlock. You kept him alive, although in a coma for longer than I would have believed possible. It was thanks to you that his family had a chance to say goodbye.

Second, I would like to speak to all of the reporters and whoever else is covering this for the public. Stop. Just Stop. I don't care what you think he did, or what you think he was. No matter how many clouds cover the truth there is one thing that can't be contested, and that was that there are people out there who care deeply for Sherlock Holmes and walking out of their houses every day the very last thing they want to see is Sherlock Holmes, Fraud, Dead. Just let it rest. (John swallowed convulsively at the word rest)

Third, for those of you who want me to disclose the whereabouts of his grave, no. That is a place for family and close friends only and I don't want every curious passerby trampling the grass. If you are mourning his death, do it at home, or wherever you want. I'm sorry and I feel your pain but that is not something I want getting out.

Fourth, I will be continuing this blog, but don't expect it to be the same. God knows that I'm not.

Comments:

Hang in there John, I'm sorry. –Lestrade

He was such a great man. RIP Sherlock –Molly Hooper

God knows I'll miss that boy. –Mrs. Hudson

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John finished typing and pushed his chair out from his desk. It was late, and the only light was shining up from downstairs. He took a steadying breath, hoping he could keep himself together. Just for one night. The funeral had been yesterday, and he was over feeling numb. He wanted the numbness back. He stood to get ready for bed. All of a sudden his leg was on fire. He fell to the floor, with a mercifully soft thud. The first thought he had was that he was glad Mrs. Hudson didn't hear. Then he broke. He wept into the carpet with coughing sobs, wishing he could die. Wishing it could have been him, because God knows, Sherlock would have been fine. Right?