"Oh, no. No, not at all." He wanted to be interrupted, in this task if any. He was glad to see Lestrade, ridiculously glad, because it was at least one person in the world who knew at least something of the depth of Watson's grief, and the reason why. "Come in, please. Sit down."

He couldn't seem to look at Lestrade, but he cleared a few things away and then moved to the sideboard to fetch some brandy. "Can I get you a drink?" Watson offered. "I could... well, frankly, I could use one myself."