Watson took the bag, and looked down at himself, feeling bizarrely lost. "If you've emulated me in disguise, I wouldn't be able to tell. I don't feel like myself at all."

He took his instructions with a sort of peculiar fatalism. It felt like three years ago, like any number of countless investigations, countless adventures. He could feel himself sliding into it, as though there hadn't been a gap of years and what still felt like a hole in his chest where his heart used to be. He belonged here, in this situation, for all that the hole was still there.

"I have many questions," Watson said, "but none that are pertinent." He shuffled a bit, and gave a sigh. It was hard to drag himself away, away from Holmes right now in this moment, but at the same time... he suspected he could use the space to mull things over. "I expect I will see you soon, then."

He hesitated a moment before managing to force himself away, and he turned to leave.