Holmes Quotes in The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes (1970)

Watson: Holmes, let me ask you a question. I hope I'm not being presumptuous, but... there *have* been women in your life, haven't there?

Holmes: The answer is yes...

Watson: [Watson breathes a sigh of relief]

Holmes: ...You're being presumptuous. Good night.

Holmes: [after he learns Madame Petrova wants him to impregnate her] This is all very flattering, but surely there are other men, better men.

Nikolai Rogozhin: To tell truth, you were not the first choice. We considered Russian writer, Tolstoy.

Holmes: Oh, that's more like it. The man's a genius.

Nikolai Rogozhin: Too old. Then we considered philosopher, Nietzsche.

Holmes: Well, absolutely first-rate mind.

Nikolai Rogozhin: Uh-uh. Too German. Then we considered Tchaikovsky.

Holmes: Oh, you couldn't go wrong with Tchaikovsky.

Nikolai Rogozhin: We could, and we did. It was catastrophe.

Holmes: Why?

Nikolai Rogozhin: You don't know? Because Tchaikovsky, how shall I put it? Women not his glass of tea.

[Holmes is about to inject cocaine]

Watson: Where's your self-control?

Holmes: Fair question.

Watson: Aren't you ashamed of yourself?

Holmes: Thoroughly. This will take care of it.

Watson: [the doorbell rings] Were you expecting someone?

Holmes: Not at this time of night.

Watson: Perhaps Mrs Hudson is entertaining.

Holmes: I've never found her so.

Holmes: Look at this: an urgent appeal to find some missing midgets.

Watson: Did you say "midgets"?

Holmes: Six of them, the Tumbling Piccolos, an acrobatic act of some circus.

Watson: [Reading the letter] Disappeared between London and Bristol. Well don't you find that intriguing?

Holmes: Extremely so. You see, they're not only midgets, but also anarchists.

Watson: Anarchists?

Holmes: By now, they have been smuggled to Vienna, dressed as little girls in organdy pinafores. They are to greet the czar of all the Russias when he arrives at the railway station. They will be carrying bouquets of flowers, and concealed in each bouquet will be a bomb with a lit fuse.

Watson: [Breathlessly] You really think so?

Holmes: Not at all. The circus owner offers me five pounds for my services. That's not even a pound a midget. So obviously, he's a stingy blighter and the little chaps simply ran off to join another circus.

Watson: [Crestfallen] It sounded so promising.

Holmes: We all have occasional failures. Fortunately Dr. Watson never writes about mine.

[about Madame Petrova]

Watson: They say twelve men have died for her.

Holmes: Really?

Watson: Six commited suicide, four were killed in duels and one fell out of the gallery of the Vienna Opera House.

Holmes: That's only eleven.

Watson: The man who fell from the gallery landed on top of another man in the orchestra.

Holmes: That makes an even dozen... in a messy sort of way.

Holmes: Some of us are cursed with memories like flypaper. Stuck there is a staggering amount of miscellaneous data, most of it useless.

Holmes: [talking about women] Take my fiancée, for instance.

Ilse von Hoffmanstal, aka Gabrielle Valladon: Your... fiancée?

Holmes: Mmmm, she was the daughter of my violin teacher. We were engaged to be married, the invitations were out, I was being fitted for a tailcoat, and 24 hours before the wedding, she died of influenza. It just proves my contention that women are unreliable and not to be trusted.

Nikolai Rogozhin: Mr. Holmes, what you have seen tonight is last, and positively final performance of Madame Petrova. She is retiring.

Holmes: What a shame.

Nikolai Rogozhin: She's been dancing since she was three years old, and after all, she is now thirty-eight.

Holmes: I must say, she doesn't *look* thirty-eight.

Nikolai Rogozhin: That is because she is forty-nine.

Watson: You call yourself logical? You're the least logical man I know.

Holmes: Am I?

Watson: How can you say it's a figment of my imagination when for years you've been saying I have no imagination whatsoever?

Holmes: Mrs Hudson! MRS HUDSON!

Mrs. Hudson: Yes? What is it? What have I done now?

Holmes: There is something missing from my desk!

Mrs. Hudson: Missing?

Holmes: Something very crucial!

Mrs. Hudson: What?

Holmes: Dust! You have been tidying up against my explicit orders!

Mrs. Hudson: Oh look, I made sure I hadn't disturbed anything.

Holmes: Dust, Mrs Hudson, is an essential part of my filing system. By the thickness of it I can date any document immediately.

Mrs. Hudson: Well, some of the dust was THIS thick.

Holmes: That would be March 1883.

Holmes: [Discussing Watson's portrayal of Holmes in 'Strand' Magazine] I don't dislike women, I merely distrust them. The twinkle in the eye and the arsenic in the soup...

Watson: You see it's touches like that which make you colourful.

Holmes: Lurid, more like!

Mycroft Holmes: And this is my brother Sherlock, ma'am.

Queen Victoria: Ah, yes! Sherlock Holmes. We have been following your exploits with great interest.

Holmes: Thank you, ma'am.

Queen Victoria: Are you engaged in one of your fascinating cases at the moment?

Holmes: In a manner of speaking, ma'am.

Queen Victoria: When can we expect to read Dr Watson's account of the case?

Holmes: I hope never, ma'am. It has not been one of my more successful endeavours.

Holmes: Criminals are as unpredictable as head colds. You never know when you're going to catch one.

Holmes: You've painted me as a hopeless dope addict just because I occasionally take a five-percent solution of cocaine.

Watson: A *seven-percent* solution...

Holmes: Five percent. Don't you think I'm aware you've been diluting it behind my back?

Watson: As a doctor, as well as your friend, I strongly disapprove of this insidious habit of yours.

Holmes: My dear friend, as well as my dear doctor, I only resort to narcotics when I'm suffering from acute boredom, when there are no interesting cases to engage my mind.

Holmes: Madame must not be too hasty. She must remember that I am an Englishman.

Nikolai Rogozhin: So?

Holmes: You know what they say about us: if there's one thing more deplorable than our cooking, it's our lovemaking. We are not the most romantic of people.

Nikolai Rogozhin: Perfect! We don't want sentimental idiots, falling in love, committing suicide. One week in Venice with Madame, she goes back to St. Petersburg with baby, you go back to London with fiddle.

Holmes: From the sound of your footsteps, I gathered that you were not in a particularly amiable mood.

Holmes: It wasn't YOU he tried to kill!

Watson: Think man, think... Who was SUPPOSED to be in that room?

Holmes: That's right! You were!

Watson: Moriarty knows... I'm am the only match for his evil genius.

Holmes: You mean he's not trying to kill me?

Watson: Of course not. He knows you're an idiot.

Holmes: Oh, thank God.

Holmes: How can I be expected to maintain the character when you belittle me in front of those hooligans?

Watson: Character? Are we talking about the same man who once declared with total conviction that the late Colonel Howard had been bludgeoned to death with a blunt *excrement*?

Holmes: Is it my fault you have such poor handwriting?

Holmes: I'm reminded of the curious case of the Manchurian Mambo...

Watson: Holmes, could I have a word?

Holmes: Yes, what is it?

Watson: I believe that was the Manchurian Mamba.

Holmes: Mambo, mamba. What's the difference?

Watson: Well, very little, except that one is a deadly, poisonous snake, while the other is a rather festive Carribean dance.

Holmes: It was a night like any other, when suddenly a knock came at the door. I opened it, and there were these Manchurians, doing a rather festive Carribean dance...

Holmes: As a matter of fact, Lestrade, You can be some help.

Inspector Lestrade: Of course!

Holmes: Hold my coat, it's hot in here.

Holmes: [coming back drunken to the hotel] Holmes, sweet Holmes!

Holmes: An occasional libation enables me to stiffen my resolve.

Mrs. Hudson: Your resolve should be pickled by now!

Watson: I'll ask you once more: Are you coming with me?

Holmes: I would rather waltz naked through the fires of Hell.

[Holmes and Watson are walking through some woods. Holmes is looking up into the trees]

Holmes: What am I looking for?

Watson: Footprints.

Holmes: Ah.

[Holmes looks down]

Holmes: Have I found any yet?

Watson: Not yet.

Holmes: Well let me know when I do.

Holmes: Lovely story, Watson. But on page 2 you have me admitting a mistake.

Watson: A writer must write of which he knows...

Holmes: I couldn't detect horse manure if I stepped in it!

[Holmes has just tried and failed to hang himself]

Mrs. Hudson: Mr. Holmes! What would Dr. Watson say?

Holmes: He would have offered to kick the chair out from underneath me!

Holmes: MORIARTY?

Watson: Oh, for God's sake...

Holmes: You didn't tell me that homicidal maniac was in on this!

Watson: That's because I knew you'd behave this way.

Holmes: Bravo! Another triumph for deductive reasoning!

Watson: Lord Mayor! Don't move until Holmes has searched the area for clues!

Holmes: My GOD I've trained you well, Watson!

Watson: Last night, Holmes realized how stupid he had been.

Holmes: Now, I didn't say stupid...

Watson: Yes, you did.

[Holmes is approached by two menacing-looking thugs in a pub]

Holmes: Ah, gentlemen. And what can I do for you? A mystery to be solved?

Thug: You might say that. There's a little matter of a gambling debt, and the mystery is why you ain't paid it.

[Sherlock Holmes and Professor Moriarty prepare to have a swordfight on the stage of the Orpheum Theater]

Professor James Moriarty: Ordinarily I do not bother with half-wits and buffoons.

[Holmes reaches to draw a sword from nearby, but grabs Mrs. Hudson's umbrella by accident]

Holmes: Buffoons, is it?

[Moriarty looks annoyed. Realizing his mistake, Holmes quickly tosses the umbrella aside and draws a sword for real this time]

Holmes: Buffoon, is it?

Mrs. Hudson: [Looking on with Dr. Watson] He'll be killed!

Dr. Watson: I quite doubt it, Mrs. Hudson. He's in his element now.

[Holmes and Watson enter a home and Watson picks up the mail]

Dr. Watson: Oh, a French postcard.

Holmes: Really?

[he takes the card from Watson]

Holmes: I know a chap who collected these once. He had this wonderful one... two women... oh, it's just a picture of the Eiffel Tower.

Holmes: The Shadow of Death. The gripping drama was the last play presented at the Orpheum. It closed after only one night, but not without garnering some praise. Harris in the Daily Telegram said, 'In an otherwise dismal evening, Reginald Kincaid provided some welcome laughs.'

Wiggins: You said it was a gripping drama!

Holmes: It's unimportant now, isn't it?

Local #1: A toast to the greatest detective in all the world.

Holmes: Thank you, gentlemen. I am touched.

Watson: I can vouch for that!

Lord Mayor Gerald Fitzwalter Johnson: Well, Mr. Holmes. Any theories?

Holmes: Obviously, the victim had been caught in a storm too far from shore to swim for it.

Lord Mayor Gerald Fitzwalter Johnson: Yes, and with that heavy suitcase attached to his wrist, and the lake being so deep.

Holmes: Quite. Pulled the poor wretch to the bottom, struggling futilely, flailing desperately as the cold, black water sealed his fate forever Well, it's certainly been a laugh. Thank you.

Watson: Have you got your revolver with you?

Holmes: Yeah, sure.

[fumbles around]

Holmes: Here it is.

Watson: Right, now I'm going to let you have some bullets for it. Try not to shoot yourself - at least, not until I give the signal.

Commissioner of Scotland Yard: Before going further, Dr. Watson, I must inform you that this matter is not to be mentioned outside of this room.

Watson: [Indignantly] Of course not. Do I look like a man who'd gossip?

Holmes: Let's not go into that now, old fellow, shall we?

Holmes: The truth is only arrived at... by the pain staking process of eliminating the untrue.

Watson: I say, Holmes?

Holmes: What?

Watson: It's morning.

Holmes: Allow me to congratulate you on a brilliant bit of deduction.

Watson: Humph, Irene Adler, what a striking looking woman from the brief glance I had of her. Seems only yesterday. What charm. Hmmmm. What poise. And what a mind! Sharp enough and brilliant enough to outwit the-the great Sherlock Holmes himself!

Holmes: I take it that the new issue of the Strand Magazine is out containing another of your slightly lurid tales.

Watson: It is indeed!

Holmes: And what do you call this one?

Watson: I call it "A Scandal in Bohemia." Not a bad title, huh?

Holmes: Hmm. If you must record my exploits, I do wish you would put less emphasis on the melodramatic and more on the intellectual issues involved.

Watson: More on the intel... what do you mean by that?

Holmes: Well I do hope you've given, um, *The* Woman a soul, she had one, you know.

Watson: By *The* Woman, I suppose you mean Irene Adler?

Holmes: Yes... I shall always remember her... as *The* Woman.

Holmes: Elementary, my dear fellow, one of the first principles in solving crime is never to disregard anything no matter how trivial.

Holmes: [Holmes and Watson are in a pub to see Joe Cisto, a piano player. Holmes introduces Cisto to Watson] I want you to meet a friend of mine, Dr. Watson. Joe Cisto.

Joe Cisto: Oh, well, any friend of Mr. Holmes is a friend of mine.

Watson: How are you, Joe?

Joe Cisto: He did me a good turn once that I'll never forget.

Holmes: Yes, I cleared Joe of a most unpleasant charge.

Joe Cisto: Murder no less.

Watson: Oh, really?

Holmes: By proving to the satisfaction of the police that he was busy at the time blowing open someone's safe.

'Stinky' Emery: [remarking on one of his music boxes] Charming, isn't it?

Holmes: Quite!

Watson: [bored] They all sound to me like a lot of mice running about a tin roof.

Watson: [remarking on the stolen music box] But that box is only worth two pounds!

Holmes: It's worth a man's life, Watson!

Watson: Holmes! You all right?

Holmes: Perfectly, thank you, old fellow, but I think this gentleman on the floor requires some medical attention. We must see that he looks his best, you know, when he's hanged.

Holmes: However, it's a mistake to accept something that's true merely because it's obvious.

[last lines]

Inspector Hopkins: I still don't understand how you solved it, Mr. Holmes.

Holmes: It's entirely due to Doctor Watson. He gave me the clue when he mentioned Doctor Samuel Johnson.

Inspector Hopkins: Well, congratulations, Doctor.

Watson: Oh, thank you, Inspector. I don't think I could have done it entirely without Mr. Holmes' help, you know.

Lestrade: On the way I'll tell you all I know.

Holmes: We're not going very far then, are we?