John Watson looked in the mirror one day as he shaved. He was surprised at what he saw. The man looking back wasn't the same person that he had been after he'd left the army. The darkness had gone from round his eyes and he looked and felt younger than he had before. When he smiled, it actually reached his eyes and that was something that he hadn't seen in a long, long time. When he wrote his blog, it wasn't to make him feel better (as his pshycologist had suggested), it was written because he wanted to share what he had with Sherlock.
What he had with Sherlock was brilliant. Because of him he no longer needed the stick that he used as pshycological crutch. He didn't mind the pain in his arm any more. When it ached these days it was most likely to be because he'd done something to himself chasing Sherlock around London as they chased criminals. It was heaven. Sherlock had given him back the excitement in his life and had given him something more. He'd given him a reason to carry on living. He would always love him for that.
He had to admit that when he'd first met Sherlock, he wasn't really sure about the man. After all he was an arrogant high functioning sociopath who had nothing in common with him. If it hadn't been for the fact that he was needing a better flat he would never have met the man. And, despite the fact that the man drove him nuts on a regular basis, he would have been a lot worse off.
Sherlock Holmes was the reason that he could look at himself in the mirror and that wasn't a bad thing at all.