Sherlock Holmes

As he lay back, eyes half closed, his long, thin fingers caressing the instrument, a wave of nostalgia swept over me.

I thought of the many years that we'd spent together and the exciting adventures that we had shared during the old days in Baker Street.

Beautiful.

Quite beautiful.

Thank you, Watson.

You look uncommonly wistful, dear chap.

You thinking of the old days?

Yes, Holmes.

I was.

So was I. Uh-huh.

Oh, well.

Those were exciting times, but it's comforting to think that now we will not be disturbed by a dangling doorbell followed shortly by some poor devil in trouble.

Nowadays, my greatest excitements are connected with the segregation of the Queen Bee and the nighttime proclivities of Charles Augustus, my tomcat.

I still find it hard to think of you in retirement, Holmes.

Do you ever consider returning to active practice?

Oh, I consider it occasionally and then reject the idea.

You should work only up to the peak of his ability.

I'm past mine.

Nonsense, Holmes.

You're just as alert as ever you were.