"Play the game," he says, coiling the chain around his fingers to close his hand around the tags, "and they're yours."

It was theatrical, but he would have sworn he felt the tags in his hand burning, the name on them-- John Watson-- leaving a scar on his flesh. They were the one personal item that had stayed. That hadn't vanished with John.

His jaw hurt just thinking about the punch he'd get if John knew how he was using them.

"If you win."

And you can't win.