Just a Fluffy Johnlock

The Funeral

A/N: Hi! I want to take a minute to thank all my readers. I never would have thought that this story would get 2 reads, not even thinking about 700+! You all are so supportive and kind, and please continue to comment and ask questions! Also, if you wanna chat, DM me on Instagram, I'm tardis_turtles! :)

The next week, Sherlock and John were both in their apartment getting ready for Mr. Holmes funeral.

"John?" Sherlock called from his bedroom.

"Yeah, Sherlock?"

"Can you come here for a moment?"

"Yeah, hold on a second.."

And few moments later, John swung into Sherlock's room and asked, rather breathily, "What do you need?"

Sherlock stood in the middle of the room in a sleek, black suit that hugged his slender frame, with a dark grey shirt and a black tie hanging around his neck.

As Sherlock bashfully pawed at his neck, he explained: "I never really learned to tie a tie... so...uh...can you do it for me please?" he flushed.

John laughed quietly as he walked over to his friend, "Sure." John stood in front of him, grasping the tie gently and proceeding to tie it.

Sherlock smiled slightly, looking down at the shorter man tying his tie with extreme concentration and steady hands. He had known that he could've probably figured out how to tie a tie if he had tried, but it felt wonderful to be so close to John, to have his soft, warm fingers scrape along his neck.

It was comforting having him there, even if only for a moment, because he knew John wasn't homosexual, and that's as close as he would ever get.

"It's funny-"

Sherlock was jerked from his thoughts by John muttering

"Sherlock Holmes, famed detective, the man who can find a murderer from a type of shoe print, doesn't know how to tie his own tie."

"My father was never around to teach me and Mycroft didn't give a damn."

"Sorry mate. Maybe I can teach you after the funeral."

"That would be fine."

John stepped back and examined his work.

"It's a tad crooked but it will have to do, we're going to be late."

Sherlock nodded in agreement, and the two rushed out the door.

When they arrived at the church where Mr. Holmes funeral was being held, John leaned across the seat of their cab and adjusted Sherlock's tie.

"I forgot to ask, do you have a speech prepared like Mycroft asked you to?"

"Yes."

"Good." John said, mildly suspicious of what this speech may consist of.

Sherlock and John strode into the messily crowded church, a quietly bustling center of people in black. John noticed Lestrade standing by a painting in the back of the entry way.

"Inspector Lestrade! What are you doing here?" John asked, making his way through the mosh pit of people.

"I-ah. Mycroft asked me to come for... security reasons." Lestrade lied.

"Oh. Well nice seeing you." John replied walking into the church as the program was starting. He sort of believed the inspector, but he could've sworn that he saw him wink at Mycroft as he turned and walked away.

Once all the people filed into the church and had been seated, and the organ began playing "The sheep may softly graze" the pastor from Mr. Holmes church came out to deliver the ceremony.

Sherlock made a quiet sigh and glanced at the time on his phone. He had been to his fathers church before, and expected this to be tedious and rather dull.

After about 45 minutes of the pastor talking about what a wonderful, caring man Mr. Holmes was, it was time for Sherlock and Mycroft's speeches.

Mycroft went first. It was almost a tedious as the pastors sermon and was basically the family history read back describing good genes on their fathers side of the family.

And after a seem less eternity for everyone present, it was Sherlock's turn. As Sherlock got up from the bench, John gave him a gentle clap on the back and whispered "Good Luck, mate."

When Sherlock got to the podium, he straightened his tie, cleared his throat and said is a clear, booming voice; "My father, Jonathan Holmes was a horrible family abandoning bastard who doesn't deserve any of your admirations, nor this ceremony." He cleared his throat again, pausing until the gasps and "Well I never..."s died down. "Thank you for your time."

A/N: Okay! What a funeral am I right. For those of you who watch Hetalia, while I was writing this all I could think was "I'm Sherlock, and this is my wife, John." Anyways, sorry it's short. You can expect more soon!! :3