Right After John's Funeral.
Sherlock stepped up to John's shiny grey grave. He sighed and cleared his throat.
"Ehm, ah. Well. That didn't go very well now did it?" He laughed a little. "Um, I don't know what to say. Just, thank you. Thank you, so much. I was so alone, I blocked everyone out, I had no friends. Then you came along and-" Sherlock paused to take a shaky breath. "You taught me how to live. How to have friends but still be myself. Thank you." He was quiet for a moment. A gentle breeze blew through the trees, blowing a few leaves off.
"I'm sorry. What happened…never should have happened. You were my best friend, and…I don't know what I'm going to do now that you're gone." Sherlock walked over and placed his hand on the cold stone.
"Sherlock? I thought you weren't coming!" Sherlock sniffed and turned around to see Molly standing there, wearing a simple black dress with her hair pulled into a ponytail.
"Oh Molly. How could I not?"