THESE TWO ♥
The Empty House
The Scene that broke not only Watson’s heart.
From Bending the Willow by David Stuart Davies:
At one moment it almost seems as though he is about to respond with a cry of ‘Watson’, but then he stops himself.
‘That was deliberate. It wasn’t in the script but I just wanted to show that Holmes had affections for Watson and for a fleeting second they almost get the better of his practical mind. But they don’t. [Large Brett grin.] It is a moment.’
“Your street hawker’s job was to do away with you, under certain contingency.”
“And you let Moriarty go because of me?”
“I had no choice. I can’t afford to lose you, old fellow.”
Favorite Characters | John/Joan Watson
“It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but that you are a conductor of light. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it.” — Sherlock Holmes
All the afternoon he sat in the stalls wrapped in the most perfect happiness, gently waving his long, thin fingers in time to the music, while his gently smiling face and his languid, dreamy eyes were as unlike those of Holmes the sleuthhound, Holmes the relentless, keen-witted, ready-handed criminal agent, as it was possible to conceive.
The Red-Headed League
An anomaly which often struck me in the character of my friend Sherlock Holmes was that, although in his methods of thought he was the neatest and most methodical of mankind, and although also he affected a certain quiet primness of dress, he was none the less in his personal habits one of the most untidy men that ever drove a fellow-lodger to distraction. Not that I am in the least conventional in that respect myself. […] I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime ; and when Holmes, in one of his queer humours, would sit in an armchair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V.R. done in bullet-pocks. I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it.
— The Musgrave Ritual, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1893)