Don't worry, dear. Suicide is not in his repertoire. He's far too fond of himself for...

[Watson and Mary enter Baker Street to find Holmes hanging from a noose] Dr. John Watson: Don't worry, dear. Suicide is not in his repertoire. He's far too fond of himself for that. [pokes Holmes sharply] Dr. John Watson: Holmes! Sherlock Holmes: [wakes up] Oh, good afternoon. I was attempting to determine the means by which Blackwood survived his execution - clearing your good name, as it were - but it had a surprisingly soporific effect, and I found myself carried off into the arms of Morpheus like a caterpillar in a cocoon. [to Mary] Sherlock Holmes: Good afternoon, dear. Dr. John Watson: Get on with it, Holmes. Sherlock Holmes: Well, cleverly concealed in the hangman's knot was a hook... oh, my, I think my legs have fallen asleep. I should probably come down. Mary Morstan: John, shouldn't we help him down? Dr. John Watson: No, no, I hate to cut him off mid-stream. Carry on. Sherlock Holmes: Well, the executioner attached it to a harness which allowed the weight to be distributed around the waist and the neck to remain intact. Oh, lord, I can't feel my cheeks. Might we continue this at ground level? Dr. John Watson: How did you manage it, Holmes? Sherlock Holmes: I managed it with braces, belts and a coat-hook. Please, Watson, my tongue is going, soon I'll be of no use to you at all. Dr. John Watson: Worse things could happen.