Sorry I haven’t updated in a while, I haven’t been able to get to a computer - things have just been crazy since I got to London. I’ve met up with the members of the movement, and done so much. Hm, I guess it’s what I wanted, but I could’ve never guessed it’d go so far.
Hopefully I’ll be able to update you all later tonight.
I’ve just got back to my hotel after going to see the grave.
It was … surreal. I found it at sunset, the sky was an intense pink, reflecting off the polished black gravesone.The soil was still upturned, and a boquet of red flowers were laid beside the gravesone. Someone must have replaced them this afternoon.
I don’t know why I went there, or why I cried. The grave is fake. And I guess… I guess I cried at the … injustice. Sherlock didn’t deserve this.
Do you know how I found that tiny grave amongst so many others?
The words, spray painted on a tree nearby. - ‘I believe in sherlock’
I’m on the train now to London. I’m looking forward to meeting others.
I’m not sure how to contact the movement, but hopefully I’ll be able to track them down once I arrive.