"I'm sure they'll find other bullets among Moran's belongings. It would be better if our names stayed out of the court proceedings, so I doubt they'll have need of that one."

He takes his brandy over to the other chair and sits as he considers how odd it may or may not be to see that bullet dangling from Watson's watch chain. Strangely morbid perhaps, but the more he considers it, the more he finds himself in favor of the idea. Like carrying around a trophy of Watson's survival, Moran's decline, and the success that the past three years managed to find, despite everything.

"Now we've both faked our death," he says with a tentatively amused smile.