Sherlock Holmes, His Limits: Literature
"There once was a man from Nantucket," John began, reading from a small volume.
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Really, John, what kind of drivel is that?"
"It's not drivel!" John exclaimed. "It's a limerick, Sherlock. It's poetry."
"Oh," Sherlock said thoughtfully. "That might explain why it's so awful."
"Poetry is not awful; it's expressive."
"It's also unmanly," he pointed out.
"No it's not," John argued. "All the best poets have been men."
"Name one." Sherlock sat smugly back in his chair, arms folded.
"I'll name several. There was Robert Frost, Robert Burns, and good ol' Will Shakespeare."
"Who's Will Shakespeare?"
