Watson took a moment to consider this, looking at Holmes hard. It was an inconvenient angle, to say the least, and Holmes... well, Holmes was no surgeon, but Watson knew Holmes would be able to manage a competent stitching easily enough, and it did have to be stitched. If it came to the worst, then he would be watching and he could offer guidance.

He nodded, at last. "If you feel able to," he said, slowly, looking from the bullet on the table to Holmes's face "Pass me the brandy first, if you do." He did relax fractionally; it was a relief to be able abandon a little responsibility.