But there can be no grave for Sherlock Holmes or Doctor Watson. … Shall they not always live in Baker Street? Are they not there this moment, as one writes? … Outside, the hansoms rattle through the rain, and Moriarty plans his latest devilry. Within, the sea coal flames upon the hearth and Holmes and Watson take their well-won ease. … So they still live for all that love them well: in a romantic chamber of the heart, in a nostalgic country of the mind, where it is always 1895.
— Vincent Starrett, The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (University of Chicago Press, 1960)