The Inevitable: Johnlock Fanfiction

Mary's Funeral

POV: Watson

"John?"

"Yes?"

"It's time."

Groaning, I take a deep breath and step into the light of the church. It's the moment I've been dreading, Mary's funeral.

 _____________________________________________

Three Weeks Ago:

"Please Sherlock, can't we wait?" I pleaded to the detective frowning at me

"No John, it's been almost two months. You need to get out there and face Mary's death." He said firmly.

Cringing slightly at the mention of death, I tightened my firsts, feeling a flip in my stomach. Feeling the emotions rolling in me again, I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned away.

"Fine."

He turned me around to face him, and his eyes softened slightly at my obvious pain.

"I'm sorry, but we have to do this eventually. The funeral, and..." Sherlock trailed off, his eyes piercing into mine.

My breath caught slightly in my throat, when I noticed again how extraordinary his eyes were. They were three different colors, yet the gold, green and blue blends in perfect harmony.

I found myself yet once again entranced by him. Noticing a sudden heat creep up my neck, I realized I was staring at him. Shaking the strange thoughts away, I looked away embarrassedly.

"John? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, just... I'm just worried." I muttered.

"All right." Pausing to study me once again, "we can start the search for a place to hole the ceremony tomorrow. Judging by the average time it takes to plan a funeral, we'll probably be able to schedule one in seven months, but I know a service that owes me a favor so we can get one planned in a month or so."

Biting my lip, I looked away again. Four weeks... That's not a lot of time for me to be ready. I'm not prepared to face the harsh reality of this all, and Baker Street for me has done such a good job of concealing everything. I could still pretend that Mary was still out there somewhere, and I was just on a visit to my best friend's.

Letting out a shaky breath, I nodded in agreement.

_________________________________________

Present:

The sympathetic looks from everyone in the church are the first thing I see when I step into the room. It is almost funny in a dark, twisted ironic way. These faces are of the same ones that came to my wedding, only a year ago. A year ago, before everything changed. Before Mary's secret, before Sherlock's crime, and before Moriarty's return.

Clearing my throat, I open up the eulogy that I wrote last week. Looking up again, I see the encouraging look from Sherlock, and it gives me enough strength to temporarily forget my own sorrows; and to focus on this speech.

"Ladies and gentleman," I start, catching the attention of the small crowd. "Thank you for being here today." Pausing, I prepare myself to not break down during the speech. "We're all here to remember Mary Morstan, but what is there to remember? There aren't many things that are worth remembering. Remembering that her favorite thing to do was to play the piano doesn't do anything. The only thing that truly matters is that I will remember the print that she's left on my life, the print that I will carry for the rest of my days."

"I only spent two short years with her, but those two years changed my life in ways you cannot understand. There used to be only one person that was important to me, and when that person left me, I stopped knowing who I am. I didn't break down, I was still John Watson, I was still a doctor coming from Afghanistan. Yet, there was a part of me that died when he did." I don't bother to conceal that I am talking about Sherlock; everyone already knew.