Holmes: “What are you writing, Watson?”
Watson: “My casebook. Recently it’s started to make rather interesting reading.”
Doyle: “The man who hired me never told me his name.”
Holmes: “What did he look like?”
Doyle: “Tall, nice clothes, a gentleman.”
Holmes: “And where did you meet him?”
Doyle: “Backstage at the playhouse. He came to see me.”
Holmes: “What colour was his hair?”
Doyle: “I don’t remember. He was wearing a hat. A grey one.”
Holmes: “And his shoes?”
Doyle: “Brown, I think.”
Holmes: “You’re lying, Miss Doyle.”
Doyle: “About his shoes?”
Holmes: “About everything.”
—-
Watson: “So you think she was lying?”
Holmes: “No gentlemen wears brown shoes with a grey hat.”
Mycroft: “Brilliant. Quite brilliant.”
Sherlock: “Well, I have my moments.”
Mycroft: “I was referring to the professor. He stayed one step ahead of you all along.”
Stapleton: “She calls herself a medium, peasants call her witch.”
Watson: “And you, what do you call her?”
Stapleton: “Why, I call her Mrs Mortimer.”
Harrington: “Funny thing about newspapers, Mr Holmes: One day you’re all over them, next day they’ve forgotten you and you’re nobody all over again. But they need headlines, just as much as you do, and the one I’m dying to see, the one the whole of London is dying to see: “Sherlock Holmes catches multiple murderer.”“
Holmes: *sniffs* “I prefer serial killer.”
Holmes: “He was good - but…”
Lady: “You won? He’s dead?”
Holmes: “Single shot through the heart.”
Lestrade: “Surname?”
Holmes: “Holmes. With an l.”
Lestrade: “Christian name?”
Holmes: “Sherlock.”
Lestrade: “Occupation?”
Holmes: “Detective.”
Lestrade: “You’re one of us?”
Holmes: “Private detective.”
Lestrade: “Is that supposed to impress me?”
