Disclaimer (is it really necessary? Aren't they public domain?): nobody's mine, but ACD's.
A.N.: just something that struck me one day. I had to get it off my chest.
Yarders are idiots
As it usually happens, Holmes is right. What about? About the Yarders' low level of cleverness (let's be euphemistic). We only disagree on the reasons of their idiocy, which helps us greatly during our work. Holmes will tell anyone who happens to be around (more often than not the Yarders themselves) how blind and stupid they are, because they keep missing what's glaringly obvious.
Given that for him it's glaringly obvious to determine a man's height, weight and, on occasion, wealth from his footprints; as well as the tobacconist one buys their cigarettes from and where he was in the past to acquire that specific taste in the lucky case of a peculiar blend, when Holmes snaps my sympathy for them is totally genuine. Good, since – according to him – I can't lie to save my life.
There is something else that's glaringly obvious, though – and they don't seem to see it. The Yarders do not like Holmes, but they like me – that much is evident. Now, what do we do?
Holmes answers their requests for help, works his magic – sorry, deducts whatever there is to deduct – offers them the culprit's name, and more often than not the culprit him/herself conveniently trapped and trussed up.
After which, he disappears until next time, leaving them to reap the honours. I'll admit, during the case he's not a tactful or particularly pleasant person – but he never is, and it is their own inability which drives them to need his help, in the first place.
And I? I follow Holmes around, obey his instructions without question, do my best to protect him. I smooth the edges, not quite apologizing for his behaviour, but sympathizing, occasionally calming, consoling, taking care of distraught clients and whatever else comes my way.
After the case? As soon as I have my leave (from Holmes, clients, Mycroft if politics are involved) I write my little things, as appealing to the public as I can manage, and have them published. I make sure everyone willing to spend a little on the Strand – and trust me, these are a lot – will know exactly how the Great Scotland Yard uses to consistently bark under the wrong tree until my friend sets its Inspectors right. I'm shaming them publicly – and they like me. Bunch of fools, indeed.