First rule of battle, little one … don’t ever let them know where you are… WHOO-HOO! I’M RIGHT HERE! I’M RIGHT HERE! YOU WANT SOME O’ ME?! YEAH YOU DO! COME ON! COME ON! AAAAAH! Whoo-hoo! … ‘Course, there’re other schools of thought. Well, my time of not taking you seriously is coming to a middle.
I have always held, too, that pistol practice should be distinctly an open-air pastime; and when Holmes, in one of his queer humours, would sit in an armchair with his hair-trigger and a hundred Boxer cartridges and proceed to adorn the opposite wall with a patriotic V.R. done in bullet pocks, I felt strongly that neither the atmosphere nor the appearance of our room was improved by it. Show Holmes a drop of water and he would deduce the existence of the Atlantic. Show it to me and I would look for a tap. That was the difference between us. Holmes and Watson are on a camping trip. In the middle of the night Holmes wakes up and gives Dr. Watson a nudge. ‘Watson’ he says, ‘look up in the sky and tell me what you see.’ ‘I see millions of stars, Holmes,’ says Watson. ‘And what do you conclude from that, Watson?’ Watson thinks for a moment. ‘Well,’ he says, ‘astronomically, it tells me that there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three. Meterologically, I suspect that we will have a beautiful day tomorrow. Theologically, I see that God is all-powerful, and we are small and insignificant. Uh, what does it tell you, Holmes?’ ‘Watson, you idiot! Someone has stolen our tent!’

Just get us on the ground! That part will happen pretty definitely! Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!