prof_pangaea: the master (Moriarty)
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The Boscombe Valley Mystery

Watson: The strains of such an existence had not escaped the attention of Mary, my wife, whose habit of drawing conclusions from small details was sometimes disconcertingly familiar.

Mary: Well, John, what does Mr. Holmes have to say?
Watson: How on earth did you know this was from Holmes?
Mary: A telegram from a patient would have had you rushing from the room at once -- and there's a distinctly nostalgic look in your eyes... shall you go?
Watson: Good lord, you're doing it again!
Mary: Oh, John, stop it, you're sounding like one of your own stories.

Holmes: I see you're blending into the country setting Lestrade -- those leather leggings are extremely fetching.

Watson: [incredulous] You got him bail.
Holmes: It was the logical thing to do.
Watson: You weren't, of course, motivated by their feelings for each other.
Holmes: Oh really, doctor.

Watson: Holmes and Lestrade, at each other's throats. I don't know which one is the worst.
Mary: I think I could probably guess.
Watson: [laughs] I think you probably could.
Mary: Come along now, or your homecoming meal will be spoiled. ...John?
Watson: Oh, I'm sorry. I was just thinking about Holmes... buried away on his own. Do you think we should invite him to dinner sometime?
Mary: Would he come?
Watson: No... probably not. [sighs] Oh well.
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