See 2 in a week, just like I promised. In my first handwritteny one, this chapter was roughly one sentence long, that's changed a little bit, enjoy :)

It was safe to say that the day of Sherlock Holmes' funeral was in the diary of many and looked forward to by none, excluding, in John's words, the 'low-life-interfering-inaccurate-scum' of the press. Mycroft's influence and a decoy funeral the other side of London made sure there was little interference from the press, 'Fraud's Forgiven? Funeral Friday' being the least offensive of the many alliterative headlines, so the day ran as smoothly as a funeral could.

It was a simple affair, held in a small church Mycroft and Sherlock used to attend and investigate as young children, the sentiment would have been detestable to the man himself, but the time they had spent as brothers calling upon the faux pas' of the parish, was the time where no grudges were held and the spark of knowledge and deduction both had held close, connected them. Neither brother had believed in a higher power other than themselves, but the funeral was the least Mycroft could do to ease his guilt and give a chance to the few friends Sherlock had somehow collected, and the mother they both held dear, to grieve and gain some form of closure.

There were no more than 20 attendees, but some faces neither John nor Molly recognised, having been introduced to Sherlock's limited family they assumed the rest of the congregation were clients of the great man, and had not suffered the brunt of his wit. This was, of course, confirmed as Mrs Hudson pointed to each of the nameless faces and gave them their miniature backstory that fell upon the unresponsive ears of Watson and Hooper.

Most of the day was a mindless blur to John, his stance ridged and eyes awash with unshed tears, he barely heard a word that fell from the stiff upper lips of those around him, mumbled as if he were underwater. He could remember at one point rising from the pew, legs aching and body somehow exhausted as he brushed past the glossy black of the polished coffin, standing in front of the faces he had forgotten or never known, words of no coherence to him forming neat sentences to those listening.

"Sherlock was a great man, with a great ego. Most felt uncomfortable around his confidence, or fell for his false charm. But to those who saw through that, those who truly knew him, you would know he was a good man. Sometimes it was hard to see, and many times it was barely there, but he saved lives for a living. And those skills he worked tirelessly to maintain, to alleviate himself from the boredom that so easily consumed him, could have turned any lesser man to the side of the villain. He was a hero, no matter how much the world, himself, or at many points, I denied it." He didn't remember saying anything past ego, the next moment he was aware, his arm is around Molly as she stifles the tears his speech provoked, he couldn't even remember sitting down, but he had. To his amazement, but not his surprise, Molly also decided to say a few words, for the first time in a long time stuttering under the presence of Sherlock Holmes.

Molly had felt numb at her mother's funeral, a young girl of 11, not sure how to cope with no mother and a broken father; at the age of 26 as her father finally succumbed to his illness, his funeral was filled with the tears for both parents loss. At Sherlock Holmes' funeral she was somewhere in between, aware of her own sadness, but battling with threatening tears, she wanted to say a final goodbye, something that wouldn't cause Sherlock to turn up his nose, but sentiment won over, as it always would, and she stumbled over her words.

"I... Ummm... Sher- Sherlock Holmes was my friend. I'm more than quite certain that he would have denied that, but he was. I'd known him for 2 years before he decided my name was worthy of space in his vast intellect, but I like to think I earned my place. It was 2 more years before he met John, and pushed through to the good that I suspected was maybe always there. He'd hate this, me talking beyond the realms of pathology and CODs, but he'll just have to put up with it, because it's done. I'll miss him, but if there's even a chance he's up there accidentally insulting my parents, I'll know." A few faint laughs could be caught by some of the back rows as she finished and took her seat. As the service drew to an end, a sleek coffin nestled in the ground and only 4 were left standing around the cool marble of the nondescript gravestone, the silence that had taken over dissipated with the solemn DI. "Sorry, mate. Goodbye." The glare he had received from John told him to say no more and he left as quietly as the crunch of leaves would allow.

Molly, fully aware that John and herself were in needs of moments alone, before they went back to the flat, left earlier than the army doctor and non-housekeeper. "I think I'd best be going, the fridge is a veritable blank canvas." Leaning down she placed a gentle kiss to the cold marble above Sherlock's name. Whispering "and don't you dare complain." Leaving without another word.

Another moment of silence, a moment of Mrs. Hudson's pent up frustration, and then John was truly left alone. He felt he should say a final goodbye, maybe thank the man lying breathless and cold, beneath the layers of grass, dirt and deep mahogany, for his friendship and for Molly. What he wanted to say had tumbled from his mouth in the church, but he wanted to say it with eloquence. John wanted tell Sherlock Holmes that he was the best man he had ever known, that he, against popular belief, was fantastically human at his heart. And most of all John wanted for all of this to be an elaborate lie, for this man to stop his lies, to stop playing the game. Finally gathering the courage, he spoke.

"You... You told me once, that you weren't a hero..."

Her key scratched the surrounding lock as she struggled with bag-laden arms. It was verging on late, but she was assured that John and most certainly herself had needed that time apart. The Tesco shop had been an interesting one, Molly had a tendency to grief shop and eat, and the bags that were weighing her down were filled with chocolate, ice cream and several packets of gingernuts.

Walking into the blackness of her flat, placing her bags on the dining room table she spun round and turned on the lights. As they flickered into life she was more than certain she would find John somewhere alone in the darkness, and she was proven right at the sight of a man still fully clothed, his coat still around his shoulders, back stiff, head bowed, and eyes closed. His gentle breathes made it clear he was asleep, which shocked Molly a little, although as she thought about his lack of sleep over the past 2 weeks and the emotional release of the funeral it was about time he fell into something akin to sleep. But he deserved to sleep in comfort, in his bed.

"John..." Her voice was soft at first; shocking an ex-military man was never a good idea. "John sweetie..."

He stirred awake, not as asleep as he'd appeared. "Oh... Umm... Molly, you're back early, or is it late."

"It's late, but you were asleep, which is good. Although I think it would be best if you went to bed, I can't imagine a stiff neck would be desirable."

"No, yeah. I'll do that."

As John went to tidy himself up, get ready for bed, Molly put all of the perishable food in the fridge and multiple biscuit packets in the top cupboards. Sighing she lent against the worktop and gathered her thoughts, hearing John's footfalls pulled her out of her stupor.

"Molly?"

"Yeah, John." A small smile graced her lips.

"Just, thank you. For today. For the past two weeks. For everything." He left her with a soft kiss on her cheek and a calmness she hadn't felt in weeks.

Hello again. To the lovely guest who said hello again, I'm so glad you're enjoying this and excited about more to come :) you made my day/year/life, saying this was some on the good John/Molly, I'm so glad you think so Jolly needs more love and fics and that I'm even a small part of that makes me happy. And the Amy and Rory I couldn't resist. Just thank you :)

and to the other love guest/teddybearfluff: your excitement and enthusiasm about this was overwhelming and lovely. I'm so glad there are Jolly shippers in the world who are enjoying my ramblings. I'm so pleased you like the balance although I apologise for possible angst overload in this chapter :P I will try my hardest to keep being awesome, but as I was unsure that I was being awesome that may prove difficult :P