— I wish you could have worn the antlers.
— Some things are best left to the imagination, Mrs Hudson.
— OK, the smoking, how did you know?
— The evidence was right under your nose, John, as ever you see, but do not observe.
— Observe what?
— The ashtray.
— How's the hip?
— It's atrocious, but thanks for asking.
— I've seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems.
Amazing how fire exposes our priorities.
— I'm not stupid, you know.
— Where do you get that idea?
— Listen, has he ever had any kind of girl-friend, boyfriend, a relationship, ever?
— I don't know.
— How can we not know?
— He's Sherlock. How will we ever know what goes on in that funny old head?
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