I had to do this, these challenge answers were getting rather depressing...
Well, well!" said he coolly as he scrambled to the surface. "I guess you've been one too many for me, Mr. Holmes. Saw through my game, I suppose, and played me for a sucker from the first. Well, sir, I hand it to you; you have me beat, and--"
In an instant he had whisked out a revolver from his breast and fired two shots. I stared in some surprise as the bullets sped harmlessly into the wall several feet from me.
There was a crash as Holmes's pistol came down on the man's head. I turned back to watch disinterestedly as my friend theatrically pistol-whipped the fellow and then did a thorough search of his person. Deduction, indeed – if Evans had pulled a gun from such an inconvenient place as his shirt, then that probably was the only one he had.
"I say, he's a terrible shot, Holmes."
"No, Watson, he is actually quite a good one."
"Then he was aiming for the wall," I replied dryly.
"Not so. Come here, and observe."
I hate it when he says that…
"Here, you see? I perceived when he was in Baker Street the indentations on each side of his nose. The man wears spectacles, Watson."
I blinked.
"Precisely. And lucky for us, without them Evans is blind as a bat."