I'm not sure how far from the canon this is…. But it's what I got in my head so…
Holmes lack of sentimentality gave him a sort of inhuman deficiency of emotion. I had never seen him possess anything of personal value except for the picture on the mantle and his cherished pipe which he always kept stored in his front pocket. So it was with some surprise that I saw him unwrap an object from a box with a feeling similar to that of reverence.
"What is that?" I had inquired.
"A gift." He responded cryptically.
"What for?" I pressed.
"A man."
"Who?"
"My, Watson! Aren't you curious this morning. No one in particular." And with that, he placed the object on the table and walked away in search of whatever new thing had struck his interest.
Overcome with curiosity, I quietly crept closer and lifted the object, examining it closer. It gave no clue as to its owner or importance , but remarkable in its simple beauty. Indeed, I admired it greatly and placed it back on to the table with the same reverence which I had seen in my companion.
It wasn't until later that I learned the importance of the gift and it was from Mycroft that it came. Family had been few to Sherlock, having either rejected him, or died. The one true tie he had to his home was in that simple silver basin.
