Without A Clue Page #2

Character? Are we talking of the same man

who once declared with total conviction

that the late Colonel Howard had been

bludgeoned to death by a blunt excrement?

is it my fault

if you have such poor handwriting?

(Knock at door)

Anyway, it was just a little mistake.

- He's been at it again.

- I never liked that woman.

Come in, Mrs. Hudson.

- I found it under a loose board in the stairwell.

- Thank you, Mrs Hudson.

An occasional libation enables me

to stiffen my resolve.

Your resolve should be pickled by now.

I don't believe that either of you realise

what pressure I'm under.

Do you know what it's like

to commit to memory

a never-ending list of clues and deductions

to be parroted back to Lestrade and reporters?

Bloodstains on a toothpick, cigar ash,

new soil in the garden next door.

Endless twaddle!

Twaddle? Are you referring

to the systematic gathering of evidence

and the logical deductions based thereon?

I am referring to twaddle!

And you would be well served to include fewer

of these dreary details in future chronicles,

and place greater emphasis on me.

I am, after all, the one

the public really cares about.

Would you be so kind

as to excuse us for a moment?

HOLMES:
Careful Watson Careful

Remember your blood pressure.

MRS HUDSON:
And good riddance

to bad rubbish I must say

Am I to understand

that you are giving me notice?

Let's just say that the curtain has come down

on yet another miserable performance.

Right. Watson...

..I was once a figment of your imagination.

But now Sherlock Holmes

belongs to the whole world.

At last we're free of that ungrateful baggage,

eh, Mrs. Hudson?

From now on, things are going to be

much more pleasant around here.

An actor?!

Nothing the matter. Nothing at all.

Back to work.

Hold my...

Hold my calls.

We'll start at the beginning...

..shall we?

It was about nine years ago.

One of my patients was a Scotland Yard

inspector investigating the Paxton murder.

I gave him the name of the murderer,

but gave credit to a nonexistent detective.

At the time, I was hoping

for an appointment to the staff

of a rather conservative medical college.

I knew that they'd frown on my little er...

- Hobby?

- Exactly.

Well, I didn't get the appointment.

Instead, what I got was a quite unanticipated

public demand to meet this Sherlock Holmes.

So you hired this Reginald Kincaid?

He was an actor.

Unfortunately, he was also a gambler,

a womaniser and a drunkard.

John, you have jeopardised

the integrity of English literature.

Still, I should have known.

He was always borrowing

large sums of money off me and...

..never paying me back.

- The cad.

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