"She loves you," Sherlock says, with an emphasis that implies it is the most important fact possible. "If she were to be the potential recipient of poisoned fare, I would have done exactly what she did. Her love is a gift. One that it took me a long time to recognize and longer to acknowledge. And your love for her is a gift. I can assure you that she is aware of and grateful for that gift. Our partnership is vitally important to us both, but her happiness is paramount to me. And you...you make her happy. She has never been keen to stay in London, and yet now she can't imagine leaving."

He sighs softly as he looks at her. He does love her, with all of his being, and knows that she loves him, too.

"It is unfortunately true that Watson will shoulder blame that does not truly belong to her, and sometimes that weighs her down, keeps her from moving forward. She is better than when I met her, however. When we met...I was dying. And she was drowning. We saved each other. Made each other better. But I am aware that there is much that I cannot give her, that you can give her."

He finally looks at Ted.

"You are not an intruder," he tells him softly. "You aren't even merely an invited guest any longer. You are family."