The question is horrifying to him, if only because it's patently flawed. He wants desperately to get up, to take Watson in his arms, but he isn't sure if he'd be allowed.

"No -- no, Watson, if you meant little to me, I wouldn't have disappeared at all." He decides he can't make this point from the sofa, and he stands, taking a small step closer to Watson. "The whole point of Moriarty's scheme was to kill me while I lived. To be separated from you, to know that I could never talk to you again, never let you know that I lived..." He closes his eyes briefly and shakes his head.

"I confess that I was weak. That I let my... my despair control me. That was how I wound up nearly dead in Tibet. But the thought of you compelled me to recover, once my head was clearer, once I finally had the upper hand on Moran and I knew I could succeed without risking your life."

He takes another hesitant step and half-reaches for Watson, itching to hold him.

"There was nothing easy about disappearing. Never for one day was it easy."