5 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days

It's been 5 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days, not to mention the hour and minutes.  It's been that long since…he…left.  I don't know why I'm writing this- I know I'm not going to post it on the blog, I'll just exit out in the end and that will be the end of it, but at least this, this  is something.  This is better than the endless moping I did after he was gone.
I'll admit it- I was defeated.  I didn't talk for the first week, I was just…present.  I tried to stay out of reality.  I even stayed with Harry for a while, I couldn't afford the endless hotels I was staying in, I didn't have enough money.  But if I had the money, I would've.  Somehow, though, I ended back up here, 221B.
It's too quiet, he wouldn't have liked it, at all.  There's a fine layer of dust atop all his things.  Well, most of his things.  I had to have a lot of his hazardous chemicals and body parts taken out- some of those chemicals (I knew from experience) couldn't sit stable for too long, and I found it horrifying to have a bag of who-knows-what decomposing slowly in the fridge.  So out they went.
But most of its still here, and hell, I think he's gone.  That bloody BASTARD!  Does he even KNOW?  He didn't kill himself- he killed ME!  ME!  All he ever thought about was himself, that SELFISH, IGNORANT, PIECE OF-
And I miss him, so much.  It's so quiet here.  I will still, even now, wake up some mornings expecting to go downstairs and find him sprawled on the sofa, asleep, with his laptop (dead) atop of him.  Then I feel like I've been punched in the gut, and double over.  I realize-
What happened…
But he's coming back, I can feel it.  I would know if he was dead, and even though people are trying to convince me, it won't work.  He can't be dead, he'd never just do that.  Of course, Sh- HE had a plan, he always did.  I'm just afraid, what if-
-what if he's really…dead?  I scare myself at night thinking about it, but I have to move on.  I can keep that hope, but I know now that I have to shove it behind me, it can't get in the way.  Just tell the others he's dead and they'll be satisfied.  I know, I'll never really feel happy again unless he comes back, unless, unless…
…Sherlock isn't dead.
Because I'll always believe in Sherlock Holmes.