Hello Detective

Gregson Part 1

"Are you leaving?" He asked.

"It's getting late, Mycroft will worry." I said.

"Call me if you need anything." He said and I nodded as I walked out the door.

After walking a little more it began to rain again, just my luck. I had made it back to Mycroft's house and walked in the door, soaking wet.

He jumped to his feet when I arrived, rushing to me.

"Well?" He asked, curious.

I pulled the note out of the inside of my coat where it had managed to only get a little wet. I placed it on the table next to me and walked past Mycroft to hang my coat up and change into some dry clothes.

When I reemerged, newly dry, Mycroft was waiting for me, with the letter in his hand.

"Where did you find this?" He asked.

"At his flat." I said simply, moving towards an armchair.

"Yes, but where?" He pushed as I curled up in the chair.

"In his room, his wardrobe. In a box of jewelry that used to be in my flat, but somehow ended up in his." I said. He eyed me suspiciously and I wondered what he was thinking.

"What kind of jewelry?" He asked, why was he so curious?

"It was a necklace that he had given me for Christmas. Why do you care?" I asked.

"Just curious. Are you okay?" He asked.

"Of course I'm not okay! I've just lost the love of my life, and I'm pregnant with his child! Mycroft I know human nature is a mystery to you, but don't you think it's a bit obvious!" I yelled. He sighed and rubbed his temple.

"I think you should see someone, someone who can help you." Mycroft sighed.

"Like a shrink?" I scoffed.

"A therapist. Adelaide, please, do it for me." Mycroft pleaded.

And I did, the next day I found myself sitting in front of a therapist for the first time. Surprisingly I had never been to one. She told me that I was having trouble coping with Sherlock being gone, but I knew that. She also told me that a good way to handle that was to write letters to him, to say the things I wanted to and never did.

That night I sat at the desk in my room, pulled out a pen and piece of paper and began to write what was on my mind. Tears stained the page as I held it up to read it before tucking it away.

Sherlock,

My therapist thinks this will help, writing to you, saying the things I wanted to and never did. Yes, I went to a therapist, the same one John uses I think. How ironic. I doubt this will help though, nothing helps. Nothing numbs the pain, and believe me I've tried everything. No one really understands, they try but at the end of the day they go back to their perfect little lives and I'm left all alone. And let me tell you, the nights are the worst. Sometimes all you can do is lie in bed, and hope to fall asleep before you fall apart. I think my mind is still having trouble wrapping itself around the fact that you're gone.

I used to think I couldn't go a day without seeing you. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back. Then, that day arrived and it was so damn hard but the next was harder. And I just know it's going to get worse and I won't be okay for a very long time. People don't realize that losing someone isn't an occasion or an event. It doesn't just happen once. It happens over and over again. I lose you every time I pick up your favorite coffee mug; whenever I hear a violin, or when I see a deerstalker.

I lose you every time I think of kissing you, holding you, or wanting you. I go to bed at night and lose you when I wish I could tell you about my day. And in the morning, when I wake up and reach for the empty space across the sheets, I begin to lose you all over again.

I missed you every hour. And you know what the worst part was? It caught me completely by surprise. I'd catch myself just walking around to find you, not for any reason, just out of habit, because I'd seen something that I wanted to tell you about or because I wanted to hear your voice. And then I'd realize that you weren't there anymore, and every time, every single time, it was like having the wind knocked out of me.

It's sad Sherlock, how you were such a big part of my life and now you're just gone. Missing you comes in waves, and tonight I'm drowning. I had so much left to say to you, and that's the worst part. It's 2:00 AM and I'm still trying to figure out how everything went wrong so fast. Was there something I could have done? If only I had been smarter, if only I had figured out his plan sooner I could have helped you, I could have prevented this from happening.

Sherlock, I miss you so much. I miss you when the lights go down, because it illuminates all my doubts. My therapist told me that we place all love in the dark, and I'm not sure how true that is, but at moments like this I began to believe her. She tells me I need to move on, but how can I? If you weren't the one for me, then how come I hate the idea of being free? And part of me keeps holding on, hoping for a miracle. As each day passes, that hope gets smaller and smaller. I'm terrified that one day I'll wake up and forget the sound of your voice, the color of your eyes, or the curl of your hair.

I remember all of the things that I thought I wanted to be, I was so desperate to find a way out of my world and to finally breathe. Only when I moved to London and when you followed me into Speedy's did things start to feel right. Right before my eyes I saw my heart come to life. And it wasn't easy loving you, but then again when it's real it's not meant to be easy. Every story has its scars, and ours always seems to lead to pain and scars. But that didn't scare me when I had you by my side. When I had you I felt safe. Since you're the only one that mattered, tell me who do I run to?

But when the pain cuts too deep, and the nights keep me from sleeping that's when I realized you were my remedy. It was always you that pulled me back to what really mattered. You keep me right, though I'm sure you would argue the opposite. When the world seems so cruel, and my heart makes me feel like a fool I wonder if maybe you were right. Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side. We lost... I lost. When has it ever worked out for me? This disappointment we call love? You were my one chance at happiness. You were my remedy and without you I am broken.

Not much is certain in this world, death and taxes and all that, but among all the lies, the one truth I could always hold onto was your love, and I will always love you.

Adelaide Gregson

I folded the letter and placed it in an empty envelope that would soon fill to capacity. Tomorrow was Sherlock's funeral, I was supposed to say something, to stand in front of everyone and speak. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, and I hadn't even thought about what I was going to say.