Here is the 2nd chapter it's a bit longer than the first one. I don't own Sherlock or any of the characters. You'll probably recognize the scene at Sherlock's grave, I also do not own that dialog. Hope you like it, let me know what you think :)

-B

I awoke to the sound of rain and wind beating hard against my window and crawled deeper under the covers. I covered my face and felt the dark sheets drown out the light of the room. Maybe I could just stay under these covers forever, maybe everyone would forget I was even here. I sat there awhile feeling pretty convinced that I could stay under there forever when I heard a knock on the door. I sat there and debated whether or not to answer it before giving up and dragging myself out of bed. I opened the door giving the visitor my grumpiest face as I stood there wrapped only in Sherlock's sheets. It was Mycroft and he returned my look of dissatisfaction in his own smug way.

"What?" I blurted a little bit too angry, although he was most likely there to ask me about Sherlock's funeral.

"I'm assuming Lestrade has already told you, but Sherlock's funeral is today and we would like you to come and maybe speak about him. That is if you would like to… No pressure" His voice was cold and straight to the point.

I stared blankly at him before turning around and walking away, leaving him standing in the doorway. I shuffled in my blanket to the kitchen where I turned on the kettle. When I turned back around Mycroft had moved from the doorway and was now sitting on the couch, the couch where my beloved Sherlock once laid. I consider for a second to tell him to move, but thought better and silently shuffled to the bathroom. I showered and dressed and when I opened the door I noticed Mycroft was still there. I gave him a questioning look and he just stared back coldly. I assumed this was his way of saying that I was going to go to the funeral, even if he had to drag me there. I pulled on my coat and walked to the door, still refusing to speak. Mycroft followed silently and we both left the flat. As I opened the door out to the busy London streets, I noticed a black car already waiting for Mycroft and I. "Of course", I mumbled to myself as I opened the door and slid inside.

The car ride was mostly silent and I felt a sort of anger towards Mycroft. I knew he had helped Moriarty and I wasn't sure if I should lash out or give him the silent treatment. For now I decided on the silent treatment and the ride to the cemetery soon became awkward.

We finally arrived and I noticed Mycroft jump out of the car a bit too excitedly. I myself was happy to be out of the car, but then I remembered why I was there. I stopped dead in my tracks, not sure if I wanted to do this anymore. My mind told me to turn around and run the other direction but my legs began walking forwards again. I noticed a group of people in the middle of the cemetery, Molly, Lestrade, , and even Anderson and Sally had shown up. They all looked up at me as I walked over and I went and found a spot to stand next to Lestrade. It was silent for a minute before I realized that everyone was looking at me expectantly. I froze. They were expecting me to say something but I didn't know if I could do it. What if the words didn't come out right? What if I started crying? Screw it… I thought and my mouth opened.

"Hi, ummm thanks for coming, I'm sure Sherlock would have appreciated it", I stopped for a moment before saying "actually he probably wouldn't have cared who showed up." That got a few smiles out of everyone and I took the time to try and compose myself.
"He told me once that I was his friend, his only friend. It was the best day of my life when he told me this and I was never really sure what I thought about it. I guess you never really know what you have till it's gone and that is exactly the case with Sherlock. Everyone finds him annoying and a bit of a smart arse, but I got to know the real him. Underneath the stone cold, deducing detective, there was a heart, and somehow only I had eyes for it. The day he died I realized I was in love with this man, and sadly didn't realize it until he was gone. I realized in that short time that the world needed Sherlock. His brilliance, his critiques, his deductions, his stark remarks, and his heart. Things fall apart without him. Crimes will be left unsolved, people who need help won't know where to turn to, and a heart that needs to be loved will be left shattered without him. It's hard to make people see what I see in the man but I wish that people could have seen him for the good man he was on the inside, underneath that trench coat and that big head of his." I stopped for a moment and felt the tears fill my eyes as I looked down at the cold dark headstone, almost too ironic for the situation. I went from speaking to everyone around me to speaking to him. "I love you" I spoke softly to the grave, and the tears began streaming down my face.

I felt Lestrade's hand on my shoulder and I looked up to see everyone in tears as well, even Anderson and Sally had watery eyes. A few other people said some words but I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn't even here them. Before I knew it everybody was leaving and Lestrade, Mycroft, and I were the only ones left.

"We better be off" Mycroft sighed to Lestrade.

"What about you John? Do you need a ride home?" Lestrade asked me in a shaky voice.

"No, actually I would like some time alone with Sherlock if you wouldn't mind." I answered as best as I could in my slowly fading voice.

Lestrade only nodded is understand and turned to leave with Mycroft. I stood there silently in the rain, waiting till they had gotten in the car and driven away. I didn't want anyone around to witness how sad I was about to look. I tried to hold myself together but failed miserably and burst into tears. I slowly sank down to my knees and ignored the mud and water that seeped through my pants. I looked at the gravestone in front of me and began to speak.

"You told me once that you weren't a hero… um… there were times I didn't even think you were human, but, let me tell you this: you were the best man and human… human being I've ever known, and no-one will ever convince me that you told me a lie, that's… uh. There. I was so alone, and I owe you so much." I paused for a second trying to compose myself before reaching forward putting my hand on the grave.

"Look, please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't. Be. Dead. Would you do that, just for me, just… stop it. Stop this! "I burst into tears harder than before and rested my head against the cold stone in front of me.

I laid there for what felt like an eternity and soon felt myself completely soaked by the rain and shivering. I could tell I was getting sick and I felt dizzy as a fever began to take over my body. I was beginning to lose my vision when I felt a slight tap on my shoulder. When I looked behind me I saw an all too familiar figure standing behind me. As I went to reach for the figure I found my world suddenly go black and a baritone voice whispering my name.

"John, it's me."