"Move back to Baker Street?" I exclaimed.
"You have to admit that Mrs. Hudson's table far outshines your present housekeeper's," Holmes said, making himself busy with tobacco and pipe the way he often did when he had suggested something outrageous.
"How would my patients find me?" I protested. "It isn't as if they're never struck ill in the middle of the night."
"So sell the practice to someone else," he continued, far too casually.
I didn't have the energy yet to be indignant. "Holmes," I said, in my most reasonable voice. "Whatever happened to 'work is the best antidote for sorrow'?"