A/N: Dammit, I need to stop disappearing so much. I keep getting stuck in the middle of these. I got three-quarters finished Lestrade's, and then I realized it was very bad and I shouldn't post it. But here's Harry, at any rate. Enjoy if you so choose. (They're getting longer and longer, too. Odd.)

Sherlock and John had been together for just over a month. They weren't perfect, but then, nothing was. Sherlock still forgot that people who were not John had feelings, and John still got mad at him for it. But John was smiling more often, and his limp had not returned once. Sherlock determined that John was very happy with their current arrangements, and if he wasn't displaying it in outward changes, it was only because so little had changed with the- the deepening of their relationship that the many differences they had wrought in each other's lives were finished months ago. They had already fit themselves together, rearranged their lives around one another so completely that the progression to a sexual relationship was a mere detail.

Sherlock was incandescently happy. He had never imagined needing someone this much, wanting to be near John and to keep him safe and thinking about him nearly all the time. Indeed, if someone had suggested it to him just a few years ago, he would have reacted with revulsion. Come to think of it, he still would. The thought of depending on someone who was not John was unimaginable as always. But John was not just someone, John was everyone. He fit exactly in Sherlock's heart, leaving no room for anyone else.

Sherlock wanted to shout it to the rooftops. He wanted everyone to know that John was his, that John had chosen him, that he would never have to share. He had wanted that before he had truly realized it. It was why he had never objected to them being referred to as a couple, just as how John would always deny it. John had explained that that had probably been because it had felt to him like they were rubbing it, that he would never get Sherlock, so it was fine.

Now that it really was true, though, Sherlock didn't want anyone to have to make assumptions. He wanted there to be no doubt in their minds that he and John came as a unit now, that you could no longer have one without the other (and even the idea of that gave Sherlock a little thrill).

But John didn't seem to want that, and Sherlock had didn't know why. He hadn't said a thing on his blog, and Sherlock had first thought that he hadn't wanted all his army mates to know that he was with a man. But that couldn't be it, because he had mentioned it in emails and phone calls to a few of his army mates, and none of them had seemed particularly bothered. Which made sense, because Sherlock couldn't imagine John hanging around with the sort of people who would be, they would just clash on such a fundamental level.

And John hadn't seemed to be bothered by the Yard knowing. Lestrade… well, Lestrade finding out had been an accident, but John didn't seem to be embarrassed by the DI knowing, just by the circumstances in which it happened. Of course, the whole Yard had found out the day when- well, Anderson hadn't been there, but someone must have told him. John seemed just as comfortable at crime scenes as he had been before.

And even in public, surrounded by strangers, John would want to hold his hand. The only times he would shy away from Sherlock, make sure they were standing at a respectable distance was when they ran into one of his old friends. Not from the army, not from uni, but from his youth. They had happened upon his old neighbor in the Piccadilly tube station, and John had introduced Sherlock as his colleague. Sherlock had gone with it, of course, but he wasn't sure why it had happened in the first place.

Or a few days before, when John had gone out drinking with his uncle who was in town for a business deal. Sherlock had let him have a few hours with the man, and then gone to fetch John so they could interrogate a suspicious nanny. Sherlock had entered the bar, and he had started to reach down for John's lapel, so he could pull him up and kiss him before stealing him away. But John had raised a single finger at him. Not enough to be noticed by most people, but Sherlock was hardly most people. So instead he had brusquely told John that they needed to go, and then waited for him outside. John had made up for it by snogging him in the cab, but Sherlock had wondered.

In retrospect, he should have worked out what was going on right away. If it had been anyone else, he would have in an instant. But John was his one blind spot.

They were in Tescos. John being in Tescos wasn't out of the ordinary, but Sherlock being there definitely was. They had just finished a case, left a crime scene just down the road, and John had insisted that they needed. Sherlock had protested ineffectively, and now he was sulking by the bananas.

It seemed only fitting that on the rare occasion that was getting Sherlock into a grocery store, strange things would happen. And, sure enough, a distracted woman walked into the store that could be none other than John's sister Harry. Sherlock watched as she walked through the produce aisle. He let her walk right by him, and of course she had no idea who he was, having never seen a picture of or met John's sociopathic flatmate. Judging by the hurry she was in, and fact that John was currently stopped in the condiments aisle, Sherlock predicted that they would run into each other in approximately 75 seconds, just in front of the inexplicably massive Kool-Aid display. He positioned himself behind it accordingly.

Seventy-three seconds later, Harry looked up from her grocery list.

"John?" she said?

John turned, startled, from where he had been regarding the large variety of jam. "Harry." he said, with an odd lack of inflection.

"How are you, Johnny-boy?" Harry asked, with a certain amount of something nasty in her voice.

"I'm… I'm well. And you?"

"As good as can be expected, considering. I still miss Clara, but I'm moving on." She said the word Clara with an odd sort of force, and Sherlock could not figure out why. Maybe she blamed the breakup on John? But no, that didn't make sense, or she wouldn't have given him the phone.

"Yes, well, we've all got to do that sometimes." John said, it what was clearly an attempt at a conciliatory tone.

"You're right. I should just move on to someone else, then. Someone more appropriate than her, is that what you want?"

Sherlock was very confused, and he sensed there was a dynamic to this conversation that he was missing completely.

"Appropriate? What do you… I liked Clara! She was nice!"

"How are mum and dad, Johnny? Have you seen them lately?"

"Harry, you-"

"Had a nice little chat with them about how I'm going to hell?"

Harry's voice rose until she was practically shouting the last few words. A little old lady who was looking at the marmite backed away hastily from them.

"Harry, you're making a scene!" John hissed at her.

"Oh yes, that's what you don't want." Harry said, in a quieter but no less venomous tone. "Little Johnny-boy, never wanting anything out of place. Just like our parents. You didn't stand up for me when they kicked me out, you just pretended nothing was happening. Like always."

Of course.

John looked stricken. "Harry, you know that's not true."

"You've barely even texted me since you were discharged."

"Harry, what would it have done to Mum if I had sided with you? Losing both her children on the same day? It would have killed her, you know it-"

"John, I don't care what excuses you make. You're letting your latent homophobia poison our relationship."

"I'm not homophobic, Harry! You made me choose, and they needed me more! And now you're shutting me out."

Sherlock made a split-second decision. Obviously, John had been reticent because he hadn't wanted his parents to find out that he was in a homosexual relationship. But Sherlock saw no harm in his sister knowing, and perhaps this would help fix whatever had broken between them. That would make John happy, and so it would make Sherlock happier too. Although- why hadn't John told her himself? Perhaps he though she wouldn't believe him. Well, Sherlock was sure he could overcome her doubts.

He backed up a bit, and then loudly walked around the giant Kool-Aid man statue. "I couldn't find the chocolate chips, John." he said, pretending that he hadn't just been eavesdropping. "This place is like a maze, how are you supposed to find anything?"

He walked over to his friend, and deliberately draped his arm over John's shoulder.

"You follow the signs, Sherlock. It's really not that difficult, once you practice." John said.

"You would know." Sherlock said, giving John's shoulders an unnecessary squeeze. "You must be Harry." he added. "I'm Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes. John's partner."

He relished the surprise on Harry's face, and the amusement mixed with exasperation on John's. John was reluctantly enjoying this, although Sherlock wasn't sure if he would get another chat about boundaries later or not. Somehow, outing your boyfriend to his sister seemed like something most people wouldn't do, although given that said sister was a lesbian herself it wasn't as much of an issue.

"I'm sorry?" Harry said, after a pause to collect her thoughts.

"Ah, yes. He hasn't said. Well, I'm a sociopath with no understanding of how to relate to normal people. Can't imagine why he wouldn't want everyone to know." Sherlock said with a smile.

"Sherlock! Don't say that. He's awful, isn't he?" John said to Harry, rolling his eyes.

Harry frowned. "You're shamming."

John raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Why on earth would I do that?"

"You're trying to convince me you're not homophobic, so you're making this bloke pretend to be your boyfriend."

Sherlock really couldn't understand how normal people could do anything in their tiny, tiny brains. A plan like that was simply ludicrous.

"Harry, that doesn't make any sense." John said, confirming his status as the smartest person Sherlock knew, with a possibly exception of his infuriating brother.

"I don't care. Prove it."

Sherlock grinned. "With pleasure, Miss Watson." He leaned down, and captured John's lips with his own.

Obviously, most of his attention was taken up with the exquisite sensation that was John's tongue pressed up against his. But he was also aware of Harry's eyes widening as they held the kiss, as John sat down the basket and wrapped an arm around Sherlock's shoulders. He also saw the old woman who had been looking for marmite (77, her husband was in a nursing home and she was stopping here on her way home because she didn't want to have to see her son) come down the aisle again, and then leave just as quickly when she noticed John and Sherlock. There was a 63% chance that she would try again in a few minutes, if she didn't just decide it wasn't worth it.

Twenty-seven seconds later, John pulled away. Sherlock made an irritated noise in his throat, but he allowed it. John left his other hand on Sherlock's arse, so at least there was that.

Harry's shopping list was sitting by her feet, where she'd dropped it.

"That… was hot." she said incredulously. "I mean, you're my brother, and I don't even like men. But- damn. All right, I believe you. But why, John? Why didn't you tell me?"

John extricated himself from Sherlock, and reached down to pick up the basket. He grabbed Harry's list, too, and handed it to her.

"I'll go get the oatmeal." Sherlock said, deducing that perhaps the two siblings would talk more frankly without him there. Besides, it wasn't as though he wouldn't listen in anyways. He hurried down another aisle, and stopped when he was out of their range of visibility. He picked up the nearest package (stewed beans, disgusting) and pretended to be reading the nutrition information (horribly bad for you) as he eavesdropped.

"I tried." John said. "Harry, I tried. I missed you, but you wouldn't believe me."

"But you never even told me you were gay! I could have kept it a secret, if I could have just told you I wouldn't have needed to tell mum. If I had known you were there for me, I wouldn't have needed to out myself."

"Harry…" John said pleadingly. "Harry, I didn't even know myself. Not until Sherlock came along."

"Is that why you sided with mum? You didn't say a word when they kicked me out, John. Not a word. And that hurt the worst, because I had expected it from them, but I hadn't expected it from you."

"No! Harry, I've always regretted standing by. If I could do it over again… but you know that. I've always hoped you can forgive me, but I can understand if you can't."

Sherlock cocked his head. So Harry had come out of the closet to their parents, and they had kicked her out of the house. John had decided that his parents needed him more than Harry had, and had consequently not taken Harry's side. He had tried to apologize to her, but she would have none of it. Then he had gone to Afghanistan, and when he came back she had given him the phone as an attempt at reconciliation. But it had been so long, neither knew what to say to the other. John had chosen not to tell Harry about Sherlock because he wasn't sure how she would react, given all the misconceptions she had about his prejudices.

It explained why John rarely spoke about his parents. He visited them often enough, although not overly often for a man of his demographic. But he avoided the subject, never bringing it up unless it was so Sherlock could factor his visits into his plans. Like he enjoyed visiting them, but there was some sort of bad taste in his mouth about the whole thing… obvious, in retrospect.

"Look, John, we need to talk." Harry said finally. "I can't just forget you choose our parents over me. But maybe I understand why you did it, a little. I've gotta run, but maybe I can come over for tea sometime?"

"Yeah, that'd be good. Although we should just go out. Sherlock's got our flat filled with biohazards that he calls experiments. There's always a danger that he's filled the teabags with cyanide."

Sherlock made an affronted noise. Filling the flat with important experiments was one thing, but he would never mess with John's tea.

"Okay, then. You have my number." Harry said. "And don't think you're going to get out of sharing all the details about him."

Sherlock realized to his horror that the him she referred to was, in fact, him. That was an unexpected development. Would he ever be able to predict Watsons?

"Don't tempt me." John said.

"I'll see you around, then. I've got to dash, I have an appointment in a few minutes."

Sherlock heard Harry's footsteps receding into the distance, and then saw John coming around the corner.

"You need to work on pretending that you're not eavesdropping." John said matter-of-factly. "And a man your height can not hide behind a Kool-Aid display that comes up to your shoulder."

"She doesn't really have an appointment." Sherlock said, falling into step beside John. "She wanted to go collect herself before talking to you again. She's missed you quite a bit."

"Really?" John asked.

"Of course. I gather you two were good friends in childhood, and your perceived slight hurt her. Even if she had other friends to fall back upon, you were her brother. Shutting you out cost her more than she would like to admit."

John sighed. "Do you think I did the right thing, Sherlock? Siding with our parents? Mum would have had a heart attack if I had. She's still so lonely up in Brighton, and I don't know who she spends time with when I'm not visiting."

"John. You're asking me about doing the right thing?"

John snorted. "I guess you've got a point."

"If you hadn't, you would still be on good terms with your sister. When you returned from Afghanistan, you would have stayed at her flat until you could find one of your own. You wouldn't have needed a flat share, and we likely never would have met."

"You're right." John said, emptying his basket onto the conveyor belt. "At least there's that."

He paid for their groceries, and the two of them left the store. John was clearly thinking, and Sherlock didn't interrupt.

"Thanks, Sherlock." John said finally. "I think you did the right thing."

"I'm getting better at that, aren't I?"

"Yes. You are."