There was a crash as Holmes's pistol came down on the man's head. I had a vision of him sprawling upon the floor with blood running down his face…
"Well, what of it?"
"It's utterly ridiculous," came the response over the scratchy connection – how I wished I'd never had the blasted telephone installed, for Holmes's fascination with the device was bordering on obsessive, calling me at all hours when his bees were no longer sufficiently entertaining.
"I know, but that's what happened!"
"Watson!" either the connection was growing worse, or he was developing something of a distinct whine. "I don't want people thinking it was like that!"
"What, that you actually are capable of emotion?"
"No, you idiot – that I was stupid enough to lunge for the man instead of shooting him!"
I laughed outright. "I thought it was rather adorable, after all your teasing me about being reckless, impulsive, a knight-errant charging into the fray…"
"Thank heaven you saw fit to leave that analogy out of the story."
"What, you don't want people thinking you're adorable?"
"You have gotten rather sentimental in your old age, my friend."
"And you've only gotten more caustic. Now is that all you wanted to call about?"
"Yes. Seriously, do the people actually like that?"
"Doesn't matter. If they don't, they'll just rewrite the book."