What You Do In This

Watson. Come At Once If Convenient. If Inconvenient, Come All The Same.

It Seems To Leave The Darkness Rather Blacker Than Before.

If I Could Be Assured Of Your Destruction, I Would In The Interest Of The Public, Cheerfully Accept My Death.

...holmes, Who Loathed Every Form Of Society With His Whole Bohemian Soul, Remained In Our Lodgings In Baker Street, Buried Among His Old Books, And Alternating From Week To Week Between Cocaine And Ambition, The Drowsiness Of The Drug, And The Fierce Energy Of His Own Keen Nature.

I Cannot Live Without Brainwork. What Else Is There To Live For? Stand At The Window Here. Was Ever Such A Dreary, Dismal, Unprofitable World? See How The Yellow Fog Swirls Down The Street And Drifts Across The Duncoloured Houses. What Could Be More Hopelessly Prosaic And Material?