A/N: For the September 12th prompt - "In a cemetery." Rated a hard T. The morning after Reminisce.

Sherlock woke the morning of "his" funeral to his sleeping wife still in his arms. She still held him as well, her mouth distractingly close to his. He would have kissed her, he desperately wanted to kiss her, but he knew that would be ungentlemanly. Instead, he softly stroked her hair.

I love you, Molly. I know today isn't going to be easy for either of us, but I will be there for you.

She cuddled closer to him in her sleep and Sherlock froze as he felt his morning erection pressing against her stomach. God, I need you… I'm being as patient as I can and it's absolutely killing me. I want to show you just how much I love you.

"Good morning, husband," she murmured sleepily against his neck.

Sherlock shivered. "Good morning, wife."

Molly lifted her head to gaze at him. "Are you sure you want to go through with this? I can tell your mother you're too upset."

"I owe it to Ford to be there." He lifted a hand to stroke her cheek. "Are you sure you want to go?"

"I'm sure. How do you feel, physically?"

"Shaky, craving a fix. That'll only get worse as the day goes on – my mother could drive a saint to drink."

She nodded. "If you can't take it, tell me and we'll make our excuses." She shifted a bit, her stomach pressing against his cock more. "Sherlock-"

"Sorry, Molly," he murmured, embarrassed. "It just … happens."

"Sherlock Holmes," she said gently but firmly, "you do not need to be embarrassed by anything your body does. It's perfectly natural, just like the pregnancy hormones making me incredibly horny is perfectly natural."

He grinned, delighted. "Incredibly horny, huh?"

Molly laughed softly. "Leave it to you to pick up on that part. Yes, Sherlock, I'm really aroused, but the time still isn't right."

"I'll be patient," Sherlock promised. "You're worth waiting for."

"So are you."

"I'm just going to need to … er … take care of myself until then. Like now."

She smiled a bit. "I'll leave you to that while I make breakfast." She kissed him softly then got up and left the room.

After they each showered and dressed, Sherlock drove them to the church. There was a group of his old friends in the car park, smoking. He swallowed hard.

Molly looked at the group then back at him. "You can do this, Sherlock," she said gently. "I'll be right there with you."

He nodded and they got out of the car. Molly took his hand as they walked out of the car park. He could feel his friends' eyes on them.

"Bloody hell," one of them muttered. "I forgot Sherlock was a twin."

As soon as they stepped inside the church, his mother pounced.

"Ford, Molly, there you are." Violet herded them to the front pew. Siger and Mycroft were already there. Mycroft's PA, Anthea, sat in the second pew, right behind her boss.

"Did you see those hooligans outside?" Violet asked, her disapproval loud and clear. "Sherlock's crowd. He always did associate with the wrong people."

Sherlock was about to say something but Molly beat him to it. "It's not nice to speak ill of the dead, Violet."

She tsked. "He was my son, I can speak of him however I like."

You always did, Sherlock thought darkly.

They sat down, Sherlock between Molly and Mycroft. She took his hand and squeezed it gently.

The service started but he couldn't focus on what was being said. He kept looking at the closed coffin holding his brother's body, and the large framed photograph of himself on a stand beside it. At one point, everyone turned to him expectantly. He belatedly realized he was expected to speak.

Sherlock got up and made his way to the end of the pew then he walked over to the coffin. He turned back to the assembly and took a deep breath. "Sherlock was a lot of things – son, brother, friend. There were a lot of things he did wrong, but what he did right, he excelled at. If you earned his loyalty, it was for life. If the chips were down, really down, you could count on him to help you." He met Molly's eyes. "When he loved, it was with his whole heart." She smiled at him softly and he turned back to the others. "He was my twin, he was my best friend, and there will never be another like him."

For the rest of his days, Sherlock would swear he heard his mother mutter, "Thank God."

He mentally rolled his eyes as he went back to his seat. Molly took his hand again and whispered, "You did well." That was all that mattered.

At the cemetery, Molly still held his hand as the priest said a few more words. People started leaving. Eventually, it was just them and the gravediggers, who kept a polite distance.

Sherlock murmured, "Are you ready, angel?"

She nodded and they walked back to the car.

At his parents' house, Sherlock noticed that despite the large number of people, none of them were particularly close to him. My friends stayed away. Smart move.

He tolerated the small talk for as long as he could then he escaped to his and Ford's childhood bedroom, only to find his father already there, sitting on Ford's bed. The old man looked heartbroken and Sherlock couldn't help feeling touched by that.

Sherlock sat down on his bed, smiling weakly. "Couldn't take it either, huh?"

"No one was saying a thing about Ford," Siger said quietly. "I had to get away."

Ford? "Dad, I'm Ford."

Siger rolled his eyes. "I may not be a genius like the rest of you but I know which son I buried today."

Oh shit… "Dad…"

"Does Molly know, Sherlock?"