He can't help a small, impatient sigh, if only because he finds the whole notion so ridiculously silly. There's no way that Watson could be some hapless spaniel at his heels; Holmes may treat Watson dismissively or cruelly at times, but he sees himself as dependent upon Watson. He knows how much he needs Watson, and he knows how little Watson's lingering war souvenirs matter to Holmes. He bends his head to kiss Watson's forehead, hugging him to his side.

"Allow me to reassure you that if I had wanted a spaniel to follow me at my heels, I would have actually acquired a spaniel." This is difficult to explain, as he is not entirely capable of putting into words very easily the process by which he fell in love with Watson.

"I admit that when you came into my life, I had not expected or even entertained the idea that I would truly be gaining a companion, but I quickly realized that you were, and are, the perfect compliment to my own nature. There is romantic talk of finding your other half in another person, and I had thought it all very idyllic and untrue. Until I met you."

He smiles down at Watson, feeling suddenly, stupidly sheepish.

"I have high opinions of myself, and among those I include the belief that I could not find my other half in a companion so ineffectual or hapless that he could be considered a dog."