"What?" Disbelief tinged Sherlock's voice. A roaring filled his head, and he was grateful to be sitting down. He concentrated on not squeezing Willa too hard.

Harry traced a pink flower on the wallpaper with a fingertip. "I had noticed the way John looked at the other boys on his rugby team. I could tell he was forcing his interactions with girls. When I told him I had a girlfriend, he confided his confusion about his own sexuality to me."

Sherlock's eyes flickered back and forth, processing this new information. How did I miss this? Why can't I ever read John?

"One night after dinner, John and I offered to make tea. We sat around the dining room table, ate our biscuits for fortitude and to delay the discussion. But with John at my side, I had the guts to go on. As the older sibling, of course, I told our parents first. Then our mother cried, and our father repeatedly hit me for lying." She turned back toward Sherlock and her niece. Sherlock could see the deep melancholy in her face. "He'd never raised a hand to either one of us before. I think I was in more shock than pain." She focused on the little girl in Sherlock's lap. "John remained silent. I hated him."

In a broken whisper, Sherlock asked, "What happened next?"

Willa made soft burbling noises, and Sherlock raised her to his shoulder.

"I left." Harry retrieved her niece and said, "Let me take her. Don't want her to burp up on a shirt that expensive."

Sherlock remained seated, still feeling wobbly. "You left?"

"Well, more technically, my parents threw me out." Dancing around the room with the baby in her arms, Harry continued, "I can't even remember how many weeks went by before I talked to John again. I was so angry."

"He was just a teenager. You both were."

Harry smiled ruefully. "As a woman of a certain age now, I know he had it rough. I left him behind with mom and dad, and he felt compelled to be the good child, the one who didn't disappoint them. Medical school, Army, all Queen and Country. The perfect son. I resented him for years for still having their love, but I think he resented me more for getting out."

Harry placed Willa in her cot and covered her with a blanket. As she rubbed her niece's back, lulling the baby into sleep, she said, "John later told me he had lied about his feelings. That he had told me he was struggling with his sexuality to boost my courage to come out to our parents."

Sherlock finally found the strength to stand and walked to Harry's side. "Did you ever think that might be the truth?"

She looked directly into Sherlock's eyes. "No. I can tell when John is lying. Apparently you can't, though."

Sherlock replied sadly. "You know I have lost the right to accuse anyone of being a liar."

"John has always been attracted to men. There was at least one in the Army." Major James Sholto. Sherlock could still hear his words: Mr. Holmes, you and I are similar, I think. Sherlock thought so, two men devoted to John Watson, yet destined not to be at his side. But perhaps Sholto had been more to John than Sherlock had ever imagined.

At Sherlock's pained expression, Harry laughed. "Oh, I'm not saying John did anything about it. He's too repressed for that. But I think he liked having the admiration of a man, maybe even encouraged his affection without returning it in full. So, it was not a surprise to me that his attraction to you was evident so early on in his blog."

"No." No, no, no, no.

"Yes, Sherlock." Harry nodded her head. "And from the way he was completely destroyed by watching you fake your death in front of him…" She stopped briefly, clearly struggling with her lingering anger on her brother's behalf. "I've never seen him love someone like that."

"I am his best friend. Of course, he was upset."

"Why are you fighting this so hard, Sherlock?"

"Because it isn't true!" Sherlock's raised voice prompted a tiny cry from the sleeping baby. He quickly moved to caress her head, dwarfed by his large hand. He whispered, "It's okay, my little love. I'm not upset with you."

"So who are you upset with?"

Sherlock took a deep breath. "I may not be known for my social graces, but even I understand you may have told me a secret that John chose not to share with me. I must honor his choices and try to forget what you have said."

"Can you do that? With the way you care about him?"

Sherlock silently turned his attention back to the little girl in the cot.

"I think that's why he never wanted us to meet. John knew I'd see the way he feels about you."

"Harry, I..."

"But never in a million years did I think I'd see you look at my brother the way you do."

Two years away not having to hide his feelings for John. One year of loving him in plain sight, ever the devoted best friend and best man. Sherlock had lost his ability to dissemble when it came to John.

Harry moved closer to Sherlock. "Why aren't you fighting for him?"

"I am fighting for him. I'm fighting for his happiness and his security." Oh, Harry, the things I've done for your brother.

As Harry placed a hand on Sherlock's shoulder, she said, "But he loves you."

"John says he is not gay." Sherlock covered her hand with one of his. "And you and I are both keenly aware that people need to respect others' expressed sexual identities."

Harry squeezed his hand and said, "You know, a part of me hopes I'm wrong. Because I do want him to be happy, especially with this little sweetheart in his life."

"As do I. His happiness is the most important thing to me." It used to be the work. Now it's John, and I can't even bring myself to regret that fact.

"You love him, though?"

Unshed tears shimmered in her eyes as Harry once again rubbed Willa's back. Divorced, childless and regrets being estranged from John, her only close family. Committed to Olivia, sobriety, and her niece. Sherlock felt confident that he was reading Harry correctly, perhaps the only Watson he currently saw with any clarity. He worried the window was transparent in both directions.

Sherlock carefully blanked his expression and responded, "He professes to love Mary and to want this life with her. It is my role to support his wishes."

"Sherlock…"

A quick knock interrupted Harry, and then Victor slowly opened the door to the nursery. "There you are."

Glancing around the brightly decorated room, Victor walked over to stand next to Sherlock by the cot. He looked at the slumbering child. "Oh, she's a lovely as everyone says she is."

Sherlock tenderly smiled down at Willa, and Harry said, "You are a good judge."

"Yes, I am. Speaking of which…" Victor looked at Sherlock with a knowing smirk. "…For a married straight man, John sure seems jealous."

Sherlock closed his eyes and wished he could shut out Harry's laughter.