Sherlock Holmes - Character Illustrations
26/07/09 14:36 Filed in: Character Illustrations
“I think he’s in bed and asleep,” he said.
It was seven in the evening of a lovely summer’s day, but Dr. Watson was sufficiently familiar with the irregularity of his old friend’s hours to feel no surprise at the idea.
“That means a case, I suppose?”
It was seven in the evening of a lovely summer’s day, but Dr. Watson was sufficiently familiar with the irregularity of his old friend’s hours to feel no surprise at the idea.
“That means a case, I suppose?”
“Why, we had the Prime Minister and the Home Secretary both sitting on that very sofa. Mr. Holmes was very nice to them. He soon put them at their ease and promised he would do all he could.” (Billy)
“I can’t stand his Lordship. Neither can Mr. Holmes, sir. You see, he don’t believe in Mr. Holmes and he was against employing him. He’d rather he failed.”
“And Mr. Holmes knows it?”
“Mr. Holmes always knows whatever there is to know.”
“That will do, Billy,” said he. “You were in danger of your life then, my boy, and I can’t do without you just yet.”
“Well, Watson, it is good to see you in your old quarters once again.”
“Even my limited sense of humour could evolve a better joke than that.”
“....you will, for you have never failed to play the game. I am sure you will play it to the end.”
He (Watson) knew only too well the immense risks taken by Holmes and was well aware that what he said was more likely to be under-statement than exaggeration.
“It is a small point, Count Sylvius, but perhaps you would kindly give me my prefix when you address me. You can understand that, with my routine of work, I should find myself on familiar terms with half the rogues’ gallery.”
Holmes‘s eyes, as he gazed at him, contracted and lightened until they were like two menacing points of steel.
Holmes clapped his hands with amusement, and then pointed a derisive finger. “Then you do know. You have admitted it!”
Holmes looked at him thoughtfully like a master chess-player who meditates his crowning move.
“Gently, Count. Restrain that eager mind! Let me get to the points in my own humdrum fashion. I have all this against you; but, above all, I have a clear case against both you and your fighting bully in the case of the Crown diamond.”
“We want the stone. Give that up, and so far as I am concerned you can go free so long as you behave yourself in the future. If you make another slip well, it will be the last.”
“It is no use your fingering your revolver, my friend,” he said in a quiet voice. “You know perfectly well that you dare not use it, even if I gave you time to draw it.”
With a single spring Holmes had leaped from the dummy’s chair and had grasped the precious jewel. He held it now in one hand, while his other pointed a revolver at the Count’s head. The two villains staggered back in utter amazement. Before they had recovered Holmes had pressed the electric bell.
Holmes seldom laughed, but he got as near it as his old friend Watson could remember.
“My old friend here will tell you that I have an impish habit of practical joking. Also that I can never resist a dramatic situation. I took the liberty — the very great liberty, I admit — of putting the stone into your pocket at the beginning of our interview.”
“I can’t stand his Lordship. Neither can Mr. Holmes, sir. You see, he don’t believe in Mr. Holmes and he was against employing him. He’d rather he failed.”
“And Mr. Holmes knows it?”
“Mr. Holmes always knows whatever there is to know.”
“That will do, Billy,” said he. “You were in danger of your life then, my boy, and I can’t do without you just yet.”
“Well, Watson, it is good to see you in your old quarters once again.”
“Even my limited sense of humour could evolve a better joke than that.”
“....you will, for you have never failed to play the game. I am sure you will play it to the end.”
He (Watson) knew only too well the immense risks taken by Holmes and was well aware that what he said was more likely to be under-statement than exaggeration.
“It is a small point, Count Sylvius, but perhaps you would kindly give me my prefix when you address me. You can understand that, with my routine of work, I should find myself on familiar terms with half the rogues’ gallery.”
Holmes‘s eyes, as he gazed at him, contracted and lightened until they were like two menacing points of steel.
Holmes clapped his hands with amusement, and then pointed a derisive finger. “Then you do know. You have admitted it!”
Holmes looked at him thoughtfully like a master chess-player who meditates his crowning move.
“Gently, Count. Restrain that eager mind! Let me get to the points in my own humdrum fashion. I have all this against you; but, above all, I have a clear case against both you and your fighting bully in the case of the Crown diamond.”
“We want the stone. Give that up, and so far as I am concerned you can go free so long as you behave yourself in the future. If you make another slip well, it will be the last.”
“It is no use your fingering your revolver, my friend,” he said in a quiet voice. “You know perfectly well that you dare not use it, even if I gave you time to draw it.”
With a single spring Holmes had leaped from the dummy’s chair and had grasped the precious jewel. He held it now in one hand, while his other pointed a revolver at the Count’s head. The two villains staggered back in utter amazement. Before they had recovered Holmes had pressed the electric bell.
Holmes seldom laughed, but he got as near it as his old friend Watson could remember.
“My old friend here will tell you that I have an impish habit of practical joking. Also that I can never resist a dramatic situation. I took the liberty — the very great liberty, I admit — of putting the stone into your pocket at the beginning of our interview.”