Disclaimer: fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat, fat

Yay, insanity :). I have conquered our ingenious play, so now I'm back again, in good spirits and the hope for loads of new chapters to be published. But it really is only a silly hope, since I'll have a two week placement in a bookstore, starring this Monday. So time will be, as it always is. Precious.

Please do enjoy and be happy. ;) That's all I care for. *hugs*

I must say, I don't look bad in my little suit. If Mum wouldn't scold me for it, I'd probably be squeaking with happiness right now. But since my Gramps 'passed away' as they call it, I guess that'd be a bit inappropriate.

I was told by Mommy that we're going to give him his last peace, or something, and am glad we do. I like him a lot, he's my big bear. Grumpy bear, though I love him all for it. He doesn't talk much, but he's always there. I hope he'll be back soon. At least for my birthday.

But for now, giving him some peace seems only fit.

Mummy opens the door and I step out into the world. Rainy world. Really rainy. Dad calls it 'funeral'.

Mom and Daddy stand in front of a big stone, their hands clutch tight. They don't look happy, which I don't understand. Giving somebody peace should be a good thing, no? Then why's my Dad crying?

I've never seen this before; Daddy's always the strong one. He's just Dad, Daddy's don't cry. Adults don't cry. Or at least that's what I thought. I don't get this.

All in all, people don't seem very happy. This is not what I had thought of when giving peace. I wouldn't really want this for myself, for when I'm gone for a while. It's a bit weird, isn't it? With everybody being so sad. I'll have to ask Mummy about this later, I'm so confused.

Granny's thumb strokes the stone for a last time, as a tear rolls down her cheek. Yet another thing I don't understand. Why do people cry because of a simple stone? Mummy sniffles, Daddy too. And I can feel it too somehow. Not a nice feeling.

I don't like funerals; they make people sad, including me. Mum really owes me an explanation.

"John? JOHN?" It sounds desperate but also far away. I don't think I have to- "Wake up!?"

"John, can you hear me?" I hear another voice. This one sounds calmer. "It seems he hasn't-"

It's distressing, this feeling; I don't wanna stay here anymore. But then I'm back again, in the darkness. I don't know which one is worse.

It tastes like chocolate, but also like caramel, so sweet and- ugh, really hard to bite. I don't know how to describe it, it just tastes good. Very good. Sweet. Hmm...

"What is this?" I ask, making my sister's grin only grow wider. "It taftez duhlicioufz."

"Chocolate fudge. I brought it from my new boyfriend, Kell-ian. S-He thought you might like it." Harry still holds up a brave smile, but I can see a bit of her concern.

I nod and grin. "Thanks."

My eyebrows meet. "She?"

"No, of course no-" Her cheeks grow slightly red, as she tries to avoid my eyes. "No, him. Kilian."

I gratefully ignore the sudden name change. "When will we get to meet him? I wanna say thanks."

"S-soon." Now I can finally see her become nervous.

"Harry- darling, can I borrow the laptop for a sec?" I hear Mom from up above. It's more of a rhetorical question; she'll take it either way. We all know her far too well.

"Yes, of cou-" Harry's irises widen. "MUM, NO!"

"MUM!?" She shouts running up the stairs in a hurry.

For a few seconds I hear nothing. Then something shatters to the floor, hopefully not the laptop. I would really like to know what's going on.

Warm. A hand. Feeling-

"John?" It's small, very small. And warm. Good. "I'm here, you know. Sherlock."

It wriggles a bit, as the other searches for my forehead. "You're very warm, are you sure you're okay?"

I don't answer, but squeeze the hand instead. It seems content enough with it. The touch fades for a second and it's cold. My eyes jerk open. I can't see anything and it's dark. And cold.

Thankfully, I do now see a face framed with curls only so far away from me. And open hands, with something as fluffy filling them up. A soft toy. A dog.

"Here, take Redbeard. I don't need him anyhow." I feel his hand again. "He always helps me feel better."

Something soft is placed by my pillow and I can feel it tickle my cheek."Goodnight!"

Now the touch is finally gone, but I don't feel too bad. I still have this soft little thing. As my eyes start to close again, I can't help but wonder. Since when do people care?