— Now, serviettes... Swan or Sydney Opera House?
— Where did you learn that?
— Many skills are required in the field of criminal investigation.
— Fibbing, Sherlock.
— I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of a fold...
— I'm not John, I can tell when you're fibbing.
— OK, I learn it on YouTube.
— If I try and hug him, stop me.
— Certainly not.
— God, I have six months of bristly kisses for me and then his nibs turns up...
— I don't shave for Sherlock Holmes.
— You should put that on a T-shirt.
— Oh, no, you're...
— Oh, yes.
— Oh, God!
— Not quite.
— You died, you jumped off a roof.
— No.
— You're dead.
— No, I'm quite sure, I checked.
PS, I know you two. And if i'm gone, I know whay you could become, because I lnow who you really are. A junky who solves crimes to get high. And the doctor who never came home from the war. Will you listen to me? Who you really are, it doesn't matter. It's all about the legend. The stories, the adventures. There is the last refuge for the desperate, the unloved, the persecuted. There is a final court for appear for everyone. When life gets too strange, too impossible, too frightening, there is always one last hope. When all else fails, there are two men sitting arguing in a scruffy flat, like they've always been there, and they always will. The best and wisest men I heva ever known. My Baker Street boys. Scherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.
— How did you find me?
— I'm Sherlock Holmes.
— Really though, how? Every movement I made was entirely random. Every new personality, just on the roll of a dice.
— Mary, no human action is ever truly random. An advanced grasp of the mathematics of probability mapped on to a thorough apprehension of human psychology and the known dispositions of any given individual can reduce the number of variables considerably. I myself know of at least fifty eight tecniques to refine the seemingly infinite array of randomly generated possibilities down to the smallest number of feasible variables. But they're really difficult, so instead I just stuck a tracer on the inside of the memory stick.
— Sorry, that was one more deduction than I was really expecting.
— Deduction?
— Increased appetite, change of taste perception... you were sick this morning... You assumed it was just wedding nerves. You got angry with me when I mentioned it to you. All the signs are there.
— The signs?
— The signs of three.
— What?!
— Mary, I think you should do a pregnancy test. Well, the statistics for the first trimester are...
— Shut up! Just shut up.
= Sorry.
— How did he notice before me? I'm a bloody doctor.
— It's your day off.
— It's your day off!
— Stop. Stop panicking.
— I'm not panicking.
— I'm panicking, I'm pregnant!
— Don't panic! None of you panic. Absolutely no reason to panic.
— Oh, and you'd know, of course!
— Yes, I would.
— You will look after him for me, won't you?
— Don't worry. I'll keep him in trouble.
— That's my girl.
— No, you can't come, you're pregnant.
— You can't go, I'm pregnant!
— Keep up. He's fast.
<...>
— He's not moving.
— He's thinking.
— He's really not moving.
— Slow but sure, John, not dissimilar to yourself.
— You just like this dog, don't you?
— Well, I like you.
— ... He's still not moving.
— Fascinating.
You'd be amazed what a receptionist picks up. They know everything.
— John's cousin, top table?
— Hmm, hates you. Can't even bear to think about you.
— Seriously?
— Second class post, cheap card. Bought at a petrol station. Look at the stump, three attempts at licking, she's obviously unconsciously retaining saliva.
— Ah, let's stick her by the bogs.
- 1
- 2