A/N: Based on this prompt for tumblr: Mycroft asks for John's input while planning Sherlock's "funeral".
Set post-Reichenbach.
Hope you enjoy!
Anthea shows up outside their (no not theirs, not any more) house Monday morning. She grunted at him vaguely without looking up from her Blackberry. The car took him to the Diogenes Club. He walked through to the room where he knew Mycroft would be.
"Thought I'd never have to see you again." He knew he sounded like a sulky child, but he doesn't care. He still blames him for what happened.
"Yes, well. This is something you might want to take part in." He slides some papers over the table in between them. "The funeral."
The words hit him like a battering ram in the chest. "Th-the funeral."
"Yes. Mother thought you would like to have a say in it. I agreed."
"What-what do you have already?"
"There's a family mausoleum. It's in Highgate. We're planning to bury him there."
"No. He'd hate that. Completely. We- there was a case. We had to run through a cemetery. St. Woollos. A plot under a tree there. This." He points to a slab of marble on a page. "Black headstone. Just… his name."
He sighed. "I think-I think that's what he would have wanted."
"Guests?"
"Just a few. Lestrade, Molly, Mrs. Hudson. People who didn't completely hate him." He chuckled lightly at that.
Mycroft nodded. "That's all, I believe."
"A reception. Just.. something small. At Baker st."
Mycroft tilted his head slightly, in a way that reminded him so much of Sherlock it was like being shot all over again. "I'll make the arrangements."
His breath was still short. "Y-yes. Of-of course."
He left the club, reeling. When he arrived back in the flat (with that stupid, stupid skull still staring at him), he called his therapist. "Yes, I'd like to arrange an appointment."