Somewhere that night, a headline read:
"Britney Spears Slayed the Entire World at the 2016 Billboard Music Awards and We Will Never be the Same"*
In that place of always eighteen ninety-five, where he and Watson would survive though the world explode, Sherlock Holmes looked up from indexing his commonplace books as if expecting a knock at the door.
No knock came.
"Watson," he spoke, looking across the bearskin rug to where his friend was reading yet another Clarke Russell novel, "did you ever consider the fact that if the entire world was slain by some malefactor, there would be no one to send for us to solve it?"
Watson paused for a second to consider the matter.
"I don't know that there would be anything to solve, Holmes. You and I would have an alibi in each other. The assassin would be the only other left. The world would not be the same as when your powers were needed to separate the criminal from the innocent masses."
"Yet there would be justice left to be dealt," Holmes replied. "And how would we know that we needed to deal it?"
Watson sighed. "I'm sure we'd find out. Unless the culprit was in America."
The two men shared a laugh.
"We are fortunate that no such criminals exist, Watson. I would miss the occasional dinner at Simpson's."
*Actual E! Online headline in the year 2016.