"You're forcing this decision on me!" Watson cried.
"Doctor it is for your own good." I replied. Though I knew my brother would have my head if I let Watson go, I would not be able to withstand the pained look on the man's face much longer. "You'll be free to leave in the morning."
"Free to see him at the morgue then?" Watson hissed.
"Do you really credit his abilities so little?" I asked, astonished. Watson spoke so highly of Sherlock that I was surprised he was already counting him as dead.
"The only reason he wouldn't want me along is because he fears that I will be hurt or killed. So he's in the same danger himself!" Watson argued.
His logic was flawless. Sherlock had made a rather clever man out of him. Watson had been smart, but now he was keen and that made him a match for my brother. He was able to bully Sherlock into allowing him to accompany him most of the time, but now when he was denied the privilege he was outright furious. Rightly so, perhaps, since it fell to him to patch my brother up after accidents.
"He knows what he's doing, you must see that. If he is killed it will not be in ignorance of the dangers he is braving."