Arthur Conan Doyle

"Of course I remembered him," said I as I laid down the letter. "Big Bob Ferguson, the finest three-quarter Richmond ever had. He was always a good-natured chap. It's like him to be so concerned over a friend's case."

Holmes looked at me thoughtfully and shook his head. "I never get your limits, Watson," said he. "There are unexplored possibilities about you. Take a wire down, like a good fellow. 'Will examine your case with pleasure.'"

--"Your case!"

--"We must not let him think that this agency is a home for the weak-minded."

Dogs don't make mistakes.

We must look for consistency. Where there is a want of it we must suspect deception.

I am sorry. I am accustomed to have mystery at one end of my cases, but to have it at both ends is too confusing. I fear, Sir James, that I must decline to act.

When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

Well, Watson, we can but possess our souls in patience and see what the hour may bring.

That the dog should die was after the beautiful, faithful nature of dogs.

In my profession all sorts of odd knowledge comes useful, and this room of yours is a storehouse of it.

"I have found out who our client is," I cried, bursting with my great news. "Why, Holmes, it is —""It is a loyal friend and a chivalrous gentleman," said Holmes, holding up a restraining hand. "Let that now and forever be enough for us."

A complex mind. All great criminals have that.

Cut out the poetry, Watson.

It is simpler to deal direct.