The month was August. The year 1914.
John Watson leaned against the wall, looking at Sherlock Holmes. Slowly he lit a cigarette.
"So, you are returning to Mycroft's service?"
A sudden flicker of light told him that Holmes had also lit one.
"Yes."
The trail of smoke rose slowly and disappeared into the night sky.
"I'm sure you'll be fine." Watson's voice was soft and almost sad. Holmes didn't look at him.
"What of you?"He said, throwing his match upon the ground.
"I've re enlisted."
Holmes back stiffened slightly, then relaxed. Another flicker of light.
"I see."
Watson straightened and looked at the vehicle.
"I'll come back, you know."
Holmes also straightened and looked at Watson. For a moment, both friends looked at each other, then Holmes smiled.
"I'll hold your word to it then."
Watson nodded and together both friends strolled, hand in hand, to the vehicle and their unfortunate guest, to the end of an era…
Finished! Wow that was tough! How do you like it?