'It really is too bad, Watson.'

 

'Don't worry, Holmes, there is so much crime in London these days, the police are sure to call on your services soon.'

 

'You misunderstand me, my friend.  Such is the state of my melancholy that I was driven to read some of your journals.'

 

'They displease you?'

 

'I had thought that a medical man such as yourself would have a mind that can observe and record my deductive processes.  Instead, I find such romantic drivel it would more likely interest a housemaid than anyone in the scientific community.'

 

'Well, I'm sorry, Holmes.  I write as accurately as I know how.'

 

'But it is not good enough.  Take this account of a case we had a year ago.  You give it the rather fanciful title of "The Club Footed Man".  The fact that one of the parties involved had a malformed foot completely overlooks the analysis of the green powder.  One of my finest analytical achievements.'

 

'So you would rather I called it "The Case of the Green Powder"?'

 

'You miss my point, Watson.  My methods are based on the highest, most scrupulous, scientific principles.  If the more official detectives were to use these methods, there would be far fewer unsolved crimes.'

 

'Then you would be out of work.  Much as at present.'

 

'Really, Watson.  I despair of you sometimes.  I can only be in one place at a time.  Remember the incident the papers called the "Edinburgh Necktie Murders"?'

 

'Indeed I do.  You were asked to assist if I remember rightly.'

 

'As I was.  However, as I was engaged in the unmasking the Prussian spy, Heinrich Schwarzkopf, I was unable to go to Edinburgh.'

 

'I begin to see, Holmes.'

 

'At last!  A glimmer of understanding!  There is hope for you yet, Watson.  You should think of your journal as a study of the scientific method.  A text book with which to train and instruct detectives if the future.'

 

'What of that report, "The Case of the Club Footed Man"?'

 

'A lame entry, my dear Watson.  A lame entry.'