“I am certainly developing the wisdom of the serpent, for when Mortimer pressed his questions to an inconvenient extent I asked him casually to what type Frankland's skull belonged, and so heard nothing but craniology for the rest of our drive. I have not lived for years with Sherlock Holmes for nothing.”
—Not for nothing, indeed.
From The Hound of the Baskervilles, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
“'You interest me very much, Mr. Holmes. I had hardly expected so dolichocephalic a skull or such well-marked supra-orbital development. Would you have any objection to my running my finger along your parietal fissure? A cast of your skull, sir, until the original is available, would be an ornament to any anthropological museum. It is not my intention to be fulsome, but I confess that I covet your skull.'”
—Don’t be embarrassed, Dr. Mortimer. Many of us covet one of Sherlock’s, uh, bones. Not many of us are so lucky as to run our fingers over it, though.
From The Hound of the Baskervilles, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
“[Dr. Mortimer] scribbled the appointment on his shirt-cuff and hurried off in his strange, peering, absent-minded fashion.”
—Wait, what? Is this… is this a thing people did?
From The Hound of the Baskervilles, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
