I'm...not sure if anyone has this number now. But...I hope not. I just...I want to say I miss you. It's been three years now, you know. I still dream about you jumping sometimes. JW
I only wish I could've said goodbye. JW
John blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall, wondering what on earth he was doing, texting a dead man's number as if he ever expected a reply. Desperation, he supposed, certainly denial. After three long, miserable years, the doctor was still suffering from the loss of his friend. He'd moved out from the flat he had shared with Sherlock and back into the one he had lived in before. The dull room with pale, sparsely decorated walls and plain, neat furniture; the bare minimum and disgustingly ordinary. Life was impossibly boring and Sherlock's death brought with it the loneliness that John was all too well-acquainted with.
He heaved a long sigh and set his mobile down onto his bed. It was probably best that he didn't tell his therapist about this, she wouldn't understand. It hardly seemed as though anyone did. Sherlock Holmes? His name was rarely uttered. Everyone, John had grown to realize, acted as though that brilliant man had never existed. Those who loved him seemed to try to erase his memory out of pain, and those who had despised him spoke nothing of him, unable to care less that he was gone. In the end, everyone seemed satisfied to one degree or another. They were satisfied enough to move on.
But John wasn't satisfied, he never had been from the very moment Sherlock had called him just before that fatal jump, choking out a confession that the former soldier couldn't or wouldn't allow himself to believe. Sherlock Holmes had been a wonderful, brilliant, intelligent, completely impossible man. A man who could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb, all at a glance. He wasn't a fake and John was certain that there had been some other element to Sherlock's suicide, something that his best friend couldn't or wouldn't tell him.
Sherlock Holmes was not a fake.
So, John couldn't help but wonder...
...why had he jumped?