This is part 2 to my stor Letters to a Soldier. Picking up a few weeks after the other one ended. I will be starting off in letter format again but there may be other scenes in between if I think that it's needed or something. I hope you all enjoy it as much as you enjoyed the first part!

I do not own anything Sherlock, I am just playing in Doyle, Moffat and Gatiss' sandbox. :)

As always, any reviews/comments are welcome, and after this all Author's Notes will be at the bottom.

The night was quiet, when John finally got a chance to write to Sherlock. He had thought about the man a lot, perhaps more than he cared to admit, but he didn't mind admitting that he missed the eccentric young man. Still, the doctor glared at the page in front of him, the remnants of two failed letters shredded around him. Finally, John forced himself to calm down and focus, slowly starting his letter.

~oOo~

Dear Sherlock,

Sorry that it took for long for me to write, by the time you get this it will be almost a month since I left. I hope you're doing well and haven't gotten into too much trouble, by yourself. Things were sort of a mess when I came back, we had gotten some new people in who didn't get proper orientation to the camp or the infirmary, which means I had to spend a week correcting everything that had been misplaced. I'm not exactly sure how they were able to mess things up so bloody thoroughly, but it was a right mess.

I know we didn't mention it but I think we should discuss New Year's eve and the, ah, kiss. We were both intoxicated and I'm sure it was just some experiment on your part. I just don't want it to make things weird between us. It was just something that happened, no need to make anything more of it than that, I say. Anyway, I just didn't want you to think I was upset over it or something.

It's been unbearably hot here, especially after the cold of London. I long to be cold again. I suppose I shouldn't say unbearably, you will probably scold me and say that apparently I am bearing it just fine. The nights are the best time, here. They are cool and quiet, since most everyone is asleep. I can't sleep tonight though. Not entirely sure why. I think my mind just won't shut off. I keep thinking about London and the differences in how I felt there versus how I feel about being back here.

Oh. I do have a new nurse. I doubt you'd like her. She's very smart and witty. She always finds a way to make me smile or laugh when I've had a particularly bad or long day. Being around her is relaxing. Kind of like being around you in an odd sort of way. But also completely different.

I hope you didn't get rid of any of those board games, either. I still want to play Cluedo with you next time I get leave. Not sure when that will be, certainly not in the near future. I hope that you're not forgetting to eat or anything, and that you figured out whatever had you in your mind palace for almost a week straight. That was a touch odd. Not that I know you well enough to say that. But then, think of it, I think I do, yeah. You never talk about your Mind Palace much, I would love to hear more about it.

I'm not sure that I have anything important to tell you besides that. Oh. I did forget my Christmas presents there in my rush. You can mail them, if you want, or if you could look after them for me, that would be great too. Let me know how you're doing. I worry a bit about you. Would hate for you to get into trouble. Well, I'm off for bed so I will say goodnight. I look forward to your letter.

Sincerely,

John

~oOo~

Shaking his head a little as he read the letter, Sherlock reads it again just to make sure he didn't miss anything. To be perfectly honest with himself, the flat felt empty without the good doctor bustling around, scolding him or just generally chatting. It was annoying at first but he became accustomed to it in a short time. Gently, the detective puts aside the letter to think on his reply before he goes back to his laptop to look at the listing for flats he has been looking at recently.