"I was... I was rather pleased how that one turned out, myself," Watson murmurs, then shakes his head. "Here. Hold on. Those are my books, I wrote them. I don't know how I was meant to recognise Holmes in your pin, but... oh, hang it."

He presses his hand against his forehead a moment, trying to think.

"...Is he really the most iconic detective... of all time?"

It's entirely impossible for Watson not to smile a little, pleased and nostalgic and proud and a little sad, all at once.