A/N: Very short. Apologies for the melancholia.
Holmes and Watson were staring out of the window of Watson's rooms in Queen Anne Street at two young men walking down the street and laughing uproariously at some private joke.
"Were we ever that young, Holmes?" asked Watson wistfully after they passed.
"Yes, Watson we were," he replied. "Young, and reckless."
"And invincible," added Watson.
"And invincible," Holmes agreed.
They stood for a moment in companionable silence, each lost in memories of days gone by. Watson sighed and shook his head. "Not so anymore, my dear fellow. We're getting old." In an attempt to lighten the look on his friend's face, he added, "And in your case, old and crotchety."
Holmes smiled a little sadly. "And you'll be reminiscing about solving cases with 'the famous Sherlock Holmes, back in the good old days'."
"There are worse things to reminisce about," said Watson quietly, more to himself than his friend.
"Indeed." They lapsed again into thoughtful silence.
A/N: My muse seems to have been rather depressive of late.