The Death of a Watson

Funeral

2 weeks later and John was laid to rest in a graveyard near where he had died. Sherlock had picked everything, from the message on his grave to the color of the flowers decorating the funeral home. They were red carnations since red had been John's favorite color. The carnations were the only flower they had in bulk for the week, so Sherlock figured they would be fine. He had the words, "The kindest and bravest man that you could ever meet. A blogger and family man loved for eternity." It had taken him 3 full days to figure out the wording and he thought that it was now perfect. Sherlock had also put a notice on John's blog that everyone was welcome to come to his funeral, and invited all of John's friends and family. In all, there were about 200 people there. The thought made Sherlock smile bittersweetly, realizing just how lucky he had been to know this amazing man.

"I'm so sorry for your loss Mr. Holmes," one man said. Sherlock turned and inclined his head to him before turning back and looking around again. He spotted John's family, huddled in a corner, crying. He decided to head there first. As soon as he got there, a sharp pain erupted in his face. It seemed as though Harry had punched him near the bridge of his nose, causing it to start bleeding.

"What the hell did you do to my baby brother?" she screamed, causing many heads to turn.

"Harry, please calm down. Everyone will stare, " Sherlock said in an attempt to calm her down.

"I don't care you son of a bitch, I want to know why my baby brother decided to take his own life. I think you made him. You wanted either more fame or you got bored of him and manipulated him into doing it." she continued. Sherlock was in shock. How could she even think that? John was Sherlock's best and only friend in this world, and she thought he could kill him? What little strength he had previously had slipped away, as the world spun away, rippling in waves of confusion. Sherlock had never felt this way before. The world as he knew it had permanently changed for the worse, which had just now fully seated itself inside of Sherlock's massive brain. He had lost his friend, his John, and people thought that he was responsible? How was that normal? How could people truly believe that he, Sherlock Holmes, the worlds only consulting detective, killed his best and only friend, the only person who really understood him? It was absurd.

"Harry, listen," Sherlock tried before getting cut off by her again.

"I don't care what you have to say you sick bastard, I just want my baby brother back," she said, choking out a sob. " I was never there like I should have been. Maybe if I had, he never would've done something so stupid," she said, walking back to her car.

Sherlock was still shell shocked, so he walked around trying to find someone he knew would support him. In another corner, Mycroft and Greg we're together speaking in hushed tones. Sherlock made his way over there, but as soon as Greg saw him he stopped talking and pointed to Sherlock, leading Mycroft to look and turn up his nose.

"Hello brother." Mycroft said condescendingly. "What ever happened to your face? Did someone decide to tell you what was on their mind after you deduced them? Or did someone find out what a dangerous person you are and come to the logical conclusion that you are the reason one of the only people in the world that cares enough about you to stay by your side and even live with you is dead?" Mycroft sneered at him.

"Wait, you think that too?" Asked Sherlock incredulously. "Why the fuck would I do that? As you said, he is the one person who cares.... I mean, cared about me so why would I do anything to him?" Sherlock asked.

"I don't know brother, did you get bored of him? Maybe think that he was too clingy for you? Tired of having him fix your life for you? The list goes on and on. I can't believe I'm saying this, but perhaps for once in your life Sherlock, caring would have been a strength," Mycroft said before grabbing Greg's arm and walking away.

Sherlock was spiraling. The world believed him capable of something so horrendous, and why shouldn't they? He was a sociopath, it all made sense. Sherlock was spiraling. How could he make it if John wasn't here to help him? Sherlock was spiraling, and he knew of only 1 thing that could help him feel better. He made a trip to see his drug dealer, Billy.