"The first time we met, he seemed so together. Like he had it all, he wasn't missing anything. He didn't smile, but you knew when you looked in his eyes, he'd be happy. He loved his work, his friends, but more than that, he loved life." Molly was grateful for the stand in front of her. Her hands were shaking too hard to hold her speech steady. "He loved living. The day to day stuff, seeing strangers on the street, the weather news, even the new types of cigars, he lived for that."
To anyone stopping by at random, the speech would sound fake, generic. But to the people sitting in the pews in front of her, it made perfect sense. She saw Mycroft nod, Mrs. Hudson dab at her eyes, even Lestrade looked sad. The figure she'd focused on throughout her speech though, John, didn't look up.
"Sherlock Holmes, for all his wonders, was still human. He had flaws. He flew, like so many humans do. But what a glorious flight! He was the most wonderful human I have ever met."
She'd reached the end of the paper. It didn't seem right, ending her portion of the funeral like that. There was something missing, an unsaid feeling that hung in the air. She turned to the coffin behind her Closed of course. "You may have never seen it, but I loved you Sherlock, and I will never forget you."
It was John's turn next. He unfolded from his stone-like position in the front row and met her on the way down. She gave his shoulder a clench. He surprised her by pulling her into a hug. "Thanks for coming Molly. It would have meant a lot to him."
Molly started crying then, silent tears staining her cheeks. It was too hard. She'd seen it coming, known what he was going to do and yet...Here they were. Without him. "Of course John. Of course it would have."
John made his way to the pulpit as Molly went to her seat. He didn't look out over the church, but instead down at Sherlock's casket. She could see from her close seat in the second row that he was making and releasing fists over and over again in both hands.
"Sherlock..." John patted the area of the casket beside Sherlock's picture. "Sherlock..." He moved to stand in front of the pulpit, whole body seeming to shake.
"Come on John, hold it together." Molly could see he'd already lost it though.
He held himself in that place for a good thirty seconds before he fell to the side, hand over his face. "I'm sorry..." Molly caught him as he stumbled down the stairs. He was shaking, full body jerking back and forth against her arms. "I can't. I can't."
A murmer went through the small crowd as Molly half carried John to the bench. She sat next to him, their arms still around each others shoulders. She rocked him as the priests stepped forward to finish the short service.
"I can't. Molly, I just can't." John repeated again and again. "I can't go on. I can't."
She looked up as the priest began to slowly chant. The curly black hair, the sad, sorry twinkle in his eyes. "Oh Sherlock..." John didn't seem to hear her words, just hiccuped and leaned his head on her shoulder. Molly whiped tears from her won face and felt a tiny smile on her lips. Only he'd have the cheek to pretend to be a priest at his own funeral.
"It'll be alright, John. It'll be alright."