WATSON: I say, Holmes...
HOLMES: What is it now, Watson?
WATSON: Did you read that article by Rochester in the Times?
HOLMES: That confounded old wind bag? What's he been saying now?
WATSON: Says we can't be held responsible for gaps in other people's education what what what.
HOLMES: A-ha! Some sense from the big lump of lard at last!
WATSON: But he does take a pop at you, old thing.
HOLMES: What's that?!
WATSON: Claims you make the solving of crimes over-complicated and difficult to follow.
HOLMES: (sighs) The man's riddled with contradictions. The triumph of the oiks is upon us, I can see it coming.
WATSON: Quite, but he does have a point, old man. I mean, that last case, The Mysterious Mr Peg Leg & His Performing Piccolo... well, I'm blowed if I could follow the counter revolutions.
HOLMES: Convolutions, Watty Botty. The fault lay not in the explanation, which was an outstanding example of lucid thinking and deductive reasoning, but in the 15-second attention span of both you and the masses at large.
WATSON: What's that, old bean? Oh, yes, quite. Well, you see, since my bicycle accident when I fell into the mire and swallowed that trout, I find the ringing in my ear and in my posterior impedes my ability to concentrate.
HOLMES: It doesn't exactly aid your ablutions either, but that's another kettle of sea bass. Just be grateful dear Hudders is so understanding.
WATSON: She's an absolute treasure, that woman. What would we do without her?
HOLMES: Yes, candlelit Su Doku does have its limitations.
WATSON: I say, you're a bit frosty today, old boy. It wouldn't have anything to do with the contents of that letter delivered by hand but five minutes ago?
HOLMES: Watson, you never cease to amaze me. Just when I think your cerebral activity has fallen below that of a dehydrated sickle cell, you pull another rabbit out of the hat.
WATSON: Let it out, old bean. It's the best of therapies.
HOLMES: In all honesty, I am not inclined to "let it out" as you suggest, but I suppose that you will have to be told sooner or later.
WATSON: Holmes, you're crying.
HOLMES: Nonsense, Watson. I have merely suspended the act of blinking so that an eyelash may be removed from the tear duct in my left eye.
WATSON: Oh, for Pete's sake, man. Tell me what's in the letter. You'll get me at it in a minute.
HOLMES: Well... old... chum... it's... Samantha Hardcastle.
WATSON: Samantha Hardcastle?! That fallen waif of the night who met an untimely fate at Limehouse down by the docks?
HOLMES: Yes... she's... been found in a field in Kent eating grass and responding to the name Daisy.
(Holmes turns away and hides his face in his bathing towel)
WATSON: Holmes, you mustn't blame yourself. You did all you could to save her.
HOLMES: I... just... think... if I hadn't prized her away from that blackguard Gerald Bonkerbottle, she'd still be...
WATSON: A fallen woman with boils, jagged teeth and rancid gums. You found her a dentist, paid for the dermatologist, hired a dress maker to give her a new start.
HOLMES: I know... and now she thinks she's a cow!
WATSON: Yes, well, you know, you win some, lose some.
HOLMES: Thank you, Watson, you've been a great comfort.
WATSON: Good Lord! Have I? Yes, I suppose I have. Well, maybe the lesson here is that you should, um, stick to solving crime and leave the social engineering to someone else... someone more qualified.
HOLMES: Indeed. The oiks have it again. As Plato once said, if the tree is meant to fall, leg it.
WATSON: Clever chap, that Plateau.
HOLMES: Farewell, dear Samantha. May your glades be forever moist and supplemental.
WATSON: Um, quite.
HOLMES: Buttercups at eleven.
WATSON: Arf, arf!