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Indubiously
Setting: a large airy sitting-room in Upper Baker Street, furnished with a disparate selection of comfortable chairs covered in scarves and blankets, a man paces around the tall double bay window as he attempts to resolve an internal conundrum. Another man sits on a couch and waits patiently for the other to finish his ponderings.
Watson: One thing I just don't understand Holmes
Holmes: Yes?
Watson: If the neice knew all along about the timepiece and where the swallow eggs had been kept...
Holmes: Faithful companion, you are forgetting about one thing.
Watson: Great Scot! Of course! But then...
Holmes: Indeed
Watson: And the...
Holmes: Correct
Watson: But then that means...
Holmes: And furthermore?
Watson: That she, and he...
Holmes: Yes, an obvious conclusion to draw
Watson: With one left unaccounted for in the...
Holmes: My first assumption
Watson: Which leaves only...
Holmes: I daresay
Watson: And the pen which ran dry...
Holmes: A ruse
Watson: But the raging incontinence at Scotland Yard!
Holmes: Yes?
Watson: Impossible!
Holmes: Incontrovertible
Watson: With the writer's block...
Holmes: And the colour blue
Watson: Thundering Betsy's britches! It all points to one clear culprit!
Holmes: Yes
Watson: But how...
Holmes: I was bored.
The housekeeper enters with a tray of tea and biscuits, as is customary, one of the biscuits is laced with strychnine. She hasn't killed either of them yet but she'll get one of them eventually, these chauvinistic woffling junkie nancy-boy detective poofs who think they're so clever.
Aug.16.2007