Watson sank down onto the bed again, his expression solemn. There was a tiny part of his heart that had been feeling crushed since yesterday, and it was doing no better now. He wanted so badly to shake Holmes, sometimes, to make him understand.

"I would have gladly shouldered some of the danger to be relieved of some of the grief," he said, gently. "Do you have any idea what is to lose a lover," he hesitated, not liking the word, "to lose a spouse, and not be able to tell the world that? I do consider you that," Watson added, rather awkwardly, "of a sort, and I'm sorry if you don't like the term."