"Just take some of the casserole, it's Aunt Edna's. Oh, and you have to get some of the potatoes my cousin Jeanie made those."

"I told you I wasn't hungry," Sherlock said staring at distain at the food that John was shoveling onto his plate.

"I know but just get some," John whispered back.

"But I'm not going to eat it. You should know that."

"I do know that," John said exasperated. Of course he knew Sherlock wouldn't eat anything; he hardly ever did anyway.

"Then why am I getting any?"

"Because if they see that we don't have any of it they'll be insulted."

"So? I don't even know who these people are." Sherlock found the whole situation ridiculous and he was sure that he was not doing a good job of concealing the fact that this was the way he felt.

"Just get some of it!" John snapped. Then thinking about it he added in a kinder voice "Please."

Sherlock took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to remain calm. He was trying to be a good friend for John but at the moment John was making it difficult. John had not said that a meal was to follow the funeral and as bad as Sherlock thought the funeral was it was nothing compared to this. There were people everywhere, pressed into the small house, entirely too close for comfort and also talking way too loudly than was needed for such a small space. He hated mingling and talking with people.And he had no intention of eating any of this food, made by people he did not know, and surrounded by dozens of other people.

Sherlock didn't even know why they were here. John had been extremely wound up since the moment they had gotten here. Sherlock had known John for over a year now and this was the first time that he had met any of John's family. John's mother and father had both died some years ago and he had been obviously estranged from his one sibling, Harry. John was obviously not close with any of his extended family since he never mentioned them or saw them. He seemed to be as, or maybe even more, uncomfortable with the situation than Sherlock was.

"John, why are we even here?"

John looked incredulously at Sherlock as if the question didn't even require an answer. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted.

"Oh, John, there you are," said an older woman coming up and putting her hand on John's shoulder. "It's been so long since I've seen you."

"Oh, hi Aunt Edna," John said with a polite (yet obviously fake) smile, giving her a small hug. Sherlock observed that John was not happy to see this relative and he could also see why. She looked innocent enough. She had graying hair, was well dressed, and overwhelming perfume. But she had a glint in her eye that didn't seem to have John's best in mind. "We were just talking about your casserole," he said gesturing towards his plate. "This is my flatmate Sherlock Holmes," John said gesturing Sherlock.

Sherlock inwardly groaned at John for directing the attention at him. Luckily for him, it didn't seem to slow down the older woman who would not be deterred from focusing her attention on John. "Oh, flatmate? So, you still aren't married yet?" she said eyeing Sherlock curiously.

"Ah, no not yet," John said uncomfortably.

The woman was like a vulture circling around a dead body. "Just planning on enjoying the bachelor's life forever?" she said with a laugh.

John gave uncomfortable laugh "Well, maybe. I don't know. Just haven't found the right girl yet."

"Well, you just have to put yourself out there."

Sherlock gave uncontrollable scoffing laugh beside John. This woman really knew nothing about John did she? John just glared at him from the corner of his eye.

"We'll see. Right now, I'm fine where I am."

Aunt Edna just shook her head. "It's just a shame. You should have a family of your own. You'd have such beautiful children."

John's face blushed in red and Sherlock was surprised that he was at a loss for words. Was this common? Was it ordinary for family members, who you had not seen for years to ask questions about such personal matters? Was it ordinary for those same people that really knew nothing about you to make judgments about your life? Sherlock didn't know much about family interactions but even he thought that sounded strange. "Well…I…uh," John stuttered out.

"Your mother would have been sad if she knew that she was never going to have any grandbabies," the woman said sadly.

"You're happy about it," Sherlock suddenly exclaimed.

"What?" the woman said innocently. It was an insult to Sherlock's intelligence for her to think he would be so easily fooled.

"Nothing," John interjected. "We actually need to go Sherlock-"

"I said you're happy about it. You're happy by John's life choices because you think your sister, his mother, would be disappointed. Do you deny it?"

Aunt Edna's mouth dropped open. "How dare you imply such a thing!"

"I'm not implying anything. I'm stating it as fact."

"Sherlock!" John warned beside him but it was no use.

"The fact is that you are disappointed with your own children and the choices they have made. You are hoping that your sister's children would be just as much a disappointment to her. And even though she is deceased you are still trying to 'one up' her. You think that because of John's age and the fact that he is still single, you assume he will never marry or have a family of his own. A little soon to making such an assumption I would say considering John is still young and lives a rather social life. That coupled with the fact that her only other child is now dead and had no children, leads you to believe that your sister will never have any grandchildren of her own and that makes you feel quite deviously happy. Does it not?" he finished with a smile.

John just stared uncomfortably at the floor and shook his head. Aunt Edna was fuming. "How dare you! How dare you say that I am happy! And at my own niece's funeral. You should be ashamed of yourself," she said glaring at Sherlock. Then turning towards John, "And John, I do hope you will decide to keep better company. Your flatemate is quite undesirable in my opinion," she said turning and walking stiffly away.

Sherlock just stood there looking at John and waiting. John just shook his head. "I shouldn't be surprised. After all this time I shouldn't be surprised but I am."

"By what?" Sherlock asked innocently.

"You. It's my fault. I brought you home to my family. I should have known."

"I simply made a deduction."

"Yeah, Sherlock but you don't need to be mean about it."

Sherlock thought about the conversation he had just had and could not see the problem. "I didn't say anything to her that wasn't the absolute truth."

"I have no doubt about that but you didn't need to say it."

"Why not? That woman was being intrusive and it was obvious that you were not going to say anything. I took it upon myself to speak for you."

"Of course you did."

After a pause, Sherlock asked quietly "Do you want me to leave?"

"No," John said, now he was confused. "Of course not."

"Alright then."

"Just try to keep your deductions to yourself."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at John. "I'll try but I make no guarantees. You know it doesn't work like that and your family…" he said shaking his head.

"What?"

"There's just a lot to read."

"Just try. It's a funeral. It's not decent."

"Well, I've never been to a funeral."

"Never?" John said taken aback.

"No."

"But you came with me?" John said quietly, all the anger and frustration gone from his voice.

"Yes. Obviously," Sherlock said. "Something wrong with that?"

"No," John said shaking his head. Realizing Sherlock's uncomfortableness he brushed it off. "Let's find somewhere to sit down."

They were making their way through the crowded rooms and had not gotten very far when another voice was calling out to get John's attention.

"Johnny. Hey Johnny," a man said waving at John as they passed by. Sherlock looked at the man to see if he was calling to John because no one called John 'Johnny'. But the grimace on John's face said that he was indeed the one this man was calling for. To Sherlock's surprise John just kept walking and pretended not to notice even though it was clear that John had heard the man.

"Who is that?" Sherlock whispered.

"That's Mark, my dad's annoying older brother. He still calls me Johnny like I'm eight years old."

The man just kept calling and loudly at that so John knew they weren't going to lose him. He turned around with another plastered smile on his face. "Hey Mark. How are you?"

The man was loud and boisterous and grated on Sherlock's nerves. He slapped John on the shoulder. "Oh you know same old, same old. What about you, Johnny? I haven't heard much about you since you returned to London."

"I'm doing well. This is my flatmate Sherlock Holmes," he said introducing Sherlock.

Sherlock reluctantly shook the man's hand and was glad when his attention focused back on John. "So, I heard you got injured."

"Yeah, I got shot. It wasn't that bad though."

"Well, we did tell you that might happen didn't we Johnny? War, it's a dangerous mess isn't it? It's no place for an educated man like yourself."

Sherlock could see on John's face that this was not a new argument. Apparently, John's family had not been in support of his going into the army. It was unusual for Sherlock to think about. John was so much a part of his life that it was hard to imagine that John had a life before that Sherlock knew little about.

Sherlock could also see on John's face that he was trying not to get angry with this man. Sherlock could understand why it would be frustrating. He couldn't imagine why John's family had been opposed to the idea. John was a doctor and had lots of potential options open to him. The fact that he had chosen to use that expertise to help in the army seemed to Sherlock like a very noble choice.

"They do need doctors in the army," John said in a forced jovial tone.

"Yeah, of course they do. But you have a lot more profitable and safer options open to you."

"Well, I suppose that's true. But I feel like my time spent in the army was profitable in others ways. I did get hurt but it wasn't that serious and I'm fully recovered now."

Sherlock was glad to hear that John was starting to stand up for himself and his choices. But his uncle was not to be deterred. He gave John a punch on a shoulder and gave a laugh. John didn't seem to appreciate either.

"Well that's good. Real good, Johnny. So, what are you up to these days? Working at the hospital again?"

"No. I'm actually not practicing medicine at the moment. I've been helping Sherlock. He's a consulting detective."

"What does that mean?"

"He's a detective for hire; he solves crimes for people and with the police force. He's becoming quite famous actually. You might have seen the articles in the newspapers."

"No, I don't think so," he said dubiously. "So, you're not doctoring anymore?"

"No, not at the moment."

"So, you're unemployed?"

"Well, I guess technically you could say that."

"Doesn't that bother you?"

Sherlock didn't like this. "He's not unemployed. He works with me," Sherlock said stiffly.

"Yeah, but you don't have a proper job."

"The work that John does is real," Sherlock said with a frown. Who did this man think he was?

"Actually," John said interrupting what he saw to be an imminent fight. "It doesn't bother me."

"But you're a doctor; doesn't it bother you at all that you're unemployed?"

Sherlock noticed that the crease that always showed up on John's forehead when he was mad was very present on his forehead at the moment. "No, it doesn't. I'm enjoying what I'm doing right now."

"Wow, that's great," Mark said condescendingly. He didn't at all think it was great and all three of them knew it.

"Actually it is great," Sherlock said. "Just because your life hasn't gone as planned and it's left you bitter and cynical doesn't mean that John's has left him the same."

The man looked shocked and a bit uncomfortable at Sherlock's deduction. "What are you talking about?"

"Sherlock," John warned beside him. It was the inflection that John used when he was warning Sherlock not to do the very thing that he had in mind to do. Sherlock decided to proceed anyway, as he usually did; he was done with these people and their comments about John and the way he was using his life.

"I'm talking about your dissatisfaction with your dead end career and your loveless marriage. It's rather obvious that you are dissatisfied with your life and this is not at all how you thought it would end up. You try to cover up your depression and dullness with a large personality but I should tell you've gone a little overboard with it. I would wager that you are bound for a full blown mid life crisis any day now. Already you've considered looking for someone else that might make you happier since you know that your wife has fallen out of love with you."

"Sherlock!" John said sternly beside him. John's uncle just looked at Sherlock with a red face stuttering but unable to form a word.

"John, on the other hand," Sherlock continuing on with his point, "Is rather satisfied with the way that his life has taken a turn for the unexpected. True, he thought he would spend the rest of his career in the medical field but after the war he was looking for something more exciting and he's found it," he said looking at John with a smile. "John's work is so important and his write ups about it so interesting in fact that even the queen reads his blog about it. I'd dare anyone else in this family to do any better."

Sherlock walked on, leaving John's uncle behind burning with anger but silenced for once. John, also a bit angry, was temporarily stunned but shook it off and followed after Sherlock. "Sherlock!"

"What?"

"What was that?"

"It was another deduction, John," Sherlock said with a smirk.

"What did I say?"

"I told you I could make no promises. Why does it bother you anyway?"

"What?"

"Why does it bother you that I insulted him? You don't even like that man."

"Well, yeah, but he's still my uncle."

"So what? You never talk to him and he just waltzes up to you and wants to make judgments about how you're spending your life. He was insulting you with things that weren't true; I simply insulted him with the painful truth."

John was silent for a few moments before grinning. "What?" Sherlock asked.

"It bothered you."

"What bothered me?"

"It bothered you that he insulted me."

Sherlock shifted a bit uncomfortably. It did bother him that these people were insulting John. He didn't like seeing them make John feel bad about himself. Even more, he hated the insinuations that the work that John did was not important. John's presence was so invaluable to Sherlock in so many ways that it was pure ignorance to act as if he was just a tag along. Sherlock may have been in the spotlight and John wasn't but that did not mean that John wasn't ever bit as important as he was. Not that he was going to admit that anyone.

"Well, it's just that he did not know what he was talking about. People's ignorance really bothers me," he said as he tried to brush off. The grin did not fade off of John's face though. "Doesn't it bother you?" directing the attention back on John.

"That's just how families are I suppose," John said shrugging. "They have their opinions and they make them known."

"But these people haven't even seen you since before you left for the war. I don't know how they could think they really can form an opinion about you after all this time."

"Well, unfortunately, families are usually the most critical of our life choices. They formed their opinions about me and the way my life should go a long time ago and they're sticking to them even though I've changed over the years. I really just try to not let it get to me. I'm happy with where I am and that's what's most important."

"Now you see why I never interacted with my own family. It seems to be more and more the correct choice."

John chuckled quietly beside Sherlock. "Yeah, I can see your point a little. But are you going to insult all of family today?"

Sherlock gave John a half smile. "Only if they deserve it."