Watson thought of his own brother, and his strained relationship with him, drunkard that he was. They had never seen eye to eye, not ever, less so now, not after everything that had come to pass between them. Even were they to somehow reconcile, there was no chance of his approving of Watson's... inclinations.

"Possibly," he said, "he just prefers to have a queer brother than no brother at all. You're very lucky for that, you know." He picked up the tea and took a sip, casting a slightly mischevious glance in Holmes's direction. "If nothing else, what family I have now I am very reluctant to lose."

To make his point, he reached over and squeezed Holmes's thigh.