When his sobs finally subsided, Florence slipped her arm around his shoulders and held him close, allowing herself to be the weight he needed to lean on. She hadn't always known how friendships worked. And John had show her that. Both in his kindness to her and in his loyalty to Sherlock. It was something she'd never considered before. Being so completely devoted to someone. As much as she loved her husband, she still felt she needed a strain of independence that she wouldn't have if she threw herself as completely into his every word as John did for Sherlock.
As John had for Sherlock. The past tense thing was going to take time.
"It was how he wanted it, John," she reminded him softly, hesitating. "If you had been with him, Moriarty would probably have just gotten you, too. And that's not what he wanted, love. Not for you." She wanted to believe that, at least. That Sherlock Holmes was a better man than that. She couldn't swear to it, because they'd talked so rarely and most of the times they had hadn't been the most pleasant of conversations. But she knew the one thing that man did care about was John Watson and his devotion to him.