This one is for PGF, who gave me the idea.
"Um, thank you, Watson, but – what is it?"
I scratched my head, trying to remember what the clerk had told me.
"I think it's called a deerstalker, Holmes."
"A what?"
"Deerstalker. I suppose deriving its name from hunting –"
"Yes, yes, I can make that deduction for myself, Watson. But – my dear fellow, whatever possessed you to get me a hat for my birthday?"
Sherlock Holmes had unwrapped the package and was now inspecting the item with a deal of interest.
"You've been blathering on for weeks now, Holmes, about how you have no comfortable country wear that suits your peculiarly shaped head," I reminded him.
Holmes looked dubiously at the close-fitting headgear with its earflaps fastened upon its top, glancing from it back to me.
"If you don't like it, I can take it back," I said, a trifle disappointedly.
"No, no, Watson," he said hastily, catching a glimpse of my fallen countenance, "it is perfect. See?"
Holmes hastily put the hat on and grinned at me expectantly. I stifled a snicker.
"How does it look?"
"I'll take it back."
"No! I like it!"
"Holmes!"
"I like it – you are not to touch it, Watson!"
I moaned. "What have I done?"
Holmes snickered with glee and hopped over to look at himself in the mirror.
I sighed.
"Then Happy Birthday."