"Give me one good reason why I should take part in this ridiculous –"
"You're Scottish, my dear fellow," Holmes said simply, as if that were explanation enough to cover all the facts. I stared at him incredulously.
"That doesn't mean – "
"Oh, come now, Watson. I thought all you Scots played them."
"That's as ludicrous a stereotype as saying we're all heavy drinkers and we all wear kilts as everyday attire!"
"You mean to tell me you've never tried?"
"To wear a kilt?"
"No, no, no. For heaven's sake, Watson!"
"I am not playing them, I've only touched a set once."
"But I need you to, it's a part of my plot to retrieve –"
"I don't care about your plot!"
"I have to have a diversion!"
"Then get out there and play your violin; I am not doing this!"
Holmes glared at me, but I remained inexorable. Forcefulness not having had any success in swaying me, he resorted to wheedling.
"Please, Watson?"
"No."
"Watson, for heaven's sake, it's just meant as a distraction so I can get in there and rifle the safe, that's all. MacIntire will come out to talk to you, and I shall slip in behind him – the work of ten minutes."
"No."
"But –"
"Holmes, for the last time. I'm a doctor, not a bagpiper!"