"We are very mad," Watson said, speaking almost into Holmes's mouth, his voice low. "Time travel is impossible, and men from other planets highly improbable, and islands populated by impossibilities equally so, as is the idea that you love me and could marry me, and the idea that we could ever hope to do this without meeting our ruin."

He leaned forward to rest his head against Holmes's shoulder, closing his eyes briefly, as long as he could bear to. "But I believe all those things anyway, so we must be very mad." He turned his head and kissed the side of his jaw. He was trying to catalogue all the little ways Holmes had changed over the years, but couldn't trust his memory enough to be sure of any of it.