So this is one of the Follow-Ups, please tell me if you want any more.
And Please DON'T kill me, just because I killed HER!
The funeral was supposed to be a quiet family affair, however, Sarah Jane was well liked in her own private circles.
There was Rani and Clyde, and their parents. The Doctor, and his accomplices that had known Sarah Jane, (there was a bit of unlawful time travelling here), not to mention all the people from UNIT and Torchwood.
All in all, well over one hundred people stood by the grave.
Sarah Jane had never been very religious, and so Luke felt it fitting, for the graveside words to be said by those whom attended, rather than listen to a priest prattle on about how she would be spending time with God.
As Luke threw some dirt onto Sarah's mahogany coffin, he cried. His mum. His very own, darling mum. Was gone...
Rani and Clyde followed suit, and it seemed, that everyone whom had known Sarah Jane had loved her well. For every handful of dirt that went onto the Grave, was followed by a tear.
The Doctor had tried to go back in time, and change things, however Mrs Wormwood had by some strange means, time-locked the event. With a heavy heart, he threw in his dirt onto her coffin, and shed a tear.
He could have sworn his second heart stopped beating.
The Brigadier threw a handful dirt onto the grave, as well a rose onto her grave-marker, to which Harry Sullivan copied.
Long after everyone else had left to go the reception, The Doctor stayed, sitting against the, rather fitting, Angel grave-marker that told the world of Sarah Jane's death.
It was a mighty Angel, wings spread, and arms to the heavens.
It read, 'Sarah Jane Smith, 17 May 1951 - 25 September 2010. A caring and kind mother, Beloved Friend, and Guardian to all manner of life-forms. Our Sarah Jane will live in our hearts forever.'
The Doctor read this with the hint of a smile on his lips, "My Sarah Jane." He shook his head, tears running down his face as he looked more closely at the Angel.
Clyde, it seemed, was not just an artist on paper. The angel bore Sarah Jane's resemblance so well, that The Doctor half wondered if the weeping angels had got to her.
The Doctor eventually left, after a call from Luke asking him to come to the reception.
Night fell, and the stars shone brightly, almost as if they were shining their the tale of the Universe's loss.
Out of the dark, a shadow moved towards the open grave. A cloaked figure stopped just the edge, and whispered her words of sweet sorrow to the silent corpse.
Taking one last look at the stars, she fired, not caring of the consequences.
Much, much later that night, or early in the morning, however you want to view it, the Doctor returned.
A heart-warming, cold sight greeted him.
Gathering all his courage, and swearing to the statue of Sarah Jane that he would never tell what had happened, he began to fill in the Grave.
As the Doctor left, two Ghosts danced happily in the moonlight. One had brown hair, wore a waist jacket and knee high boots, the other had auburn hair, no hairpins, and a hooded purple robe.