((Author's Note/Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from Sherlock, nor do I own Sherlock at all, though I and many others probably wish we did. _ Also, warning, there is SLASH FICTION if you don't like, please don't read. I don't want complaints, yeah? Thanks. Love you all, Enjoy!))
WARNING! I am currently still in the process of editing this and typing it out, please bare with me while this takes place! Sincerely, -The Writer
Chapter 1: Sherlock's Funeral (SH/GL)
Lestrade walked into the morgue, and nodded at Molly. "Mrs. Hooper. Let me see the body, please." he said, ordering her.
Molly frowned. "Detective Inspector Lestrade!" she exclaimed. "What do you–? What body?" she asked, nervously.
The body on the slab gasped in a breath, the slight colour coming back to its skin. The movement of the body made Lestrade jump. "What is the meaning of this?" he exclaimed.
Molly flinched. "I'm sorry to keep you in the dark sir, but…"
"Oh hush Molly." a voice said from under the sheet. A voice that should have been dead hours ago.
"Sherlock?" Lestrade exclaimed and pulled the sheet back to see a smiling Sherlock Holmes, lying naked on the slab, but alive and well. Lestrade's cheeks got hot and his eyes widened.
"Hello Gregory." Sherlock said and smiled a mischievous smile. "Miss me?" he asked and sighed.
"But you're dead! I was the one who recognized your body." he said and frowned. "You're not…" he blinked.
"Oh please, I don't have time for this. I have my name to clear, so I can come back freely." he said and pouted. Sherlock sat up and grabbed the sheet. He stood and wrapped it about himself. "I need new clothes. A disguise…I can't be Sherlock Holmes just yet…" he sighed. "Which of you is willing to get me clothes?" he asked and smiled.
Molly blushed and glanced at Lestrade. "Fine…I'll get you clothes, Sherlock. But…so then…I was right to believe in you? You didn't make it all up?" Lestrade asked.
Sherlock shook his head, his curly hair hitting his eyes. "Honestly Lestrade, if you have to ask that…Of course I didn't make it up. I'm not that stupid." he grumbled.
"I…yes of course." Lestrade murmured. He looked at his feet. "They found Brooks body on the rood. A gunshot wound killed him." he said and sighed. "But since he had the gun, people are starting to believe in your guilt. They think you forced him to kill himself…"
Sherlock growled. "That's absurd!" he said. "Granted, I did want him dead after all he'd done. But I did not pull that trigger." he said, glaring at Lestrade. "Now, if you're done speaking nonsense, I am in need of clothes. I have a funeral to attend." he smirked.
Hours later, Lestrade brought Sherlock some new clothes. "Alright, so what's your plan then?" he asked, as Sherlock quickly dressed in front of him.
"My plan?" he asked. "I thought that was obvious. I'm going to my own funeral t check on John, then I'm unsure what comes next." he sighed.
Lestrade frowned. "Sherlock…you can't let them know you're alive…" he said and frowned.
Sherlock laughed. "I'm not stupid." he said again. "That's why I needed a disguise." he chuckled. "Now then…let's go to my funeral!" he exclaimed, dressed in his new clothes, smiling like a madman.