What can you tell about me? You? I don't think that's... I don't know if that's... Not at...

Mary Morstan: What can you tell about me? Sherlock Holmes: You? Dr. John Watson: I don't think that's... Sherlock Holmes: I don't know if that's... Dr. John Watson: Not at dinner. Sherlock Holmes: Perhaps some other time. Mary Morstan: I insist. Sherlock Holmes: You insist? Dr. John Watson: You remember we discussed this. Sherlock Holmes: The lady insists. [Holmes sits quietly a few seconds, studying Mary] Sherlock Holmes: You're a governess. Mary Morstan: Well done! Dr. John Watson: Yes, well done. Shall we... Waiter? Sherlock Holmes: Your student... is a boy of eight. Mary Morstan: Charlie is seven, actually. Sherlock Holmes: And he's tall for his age. He flicked you with ink today. Mary Morstan: Is there ink on my face? Dr. John Watson: There's nothing wrong with your face. Sherlock Holmes: There are two drops on your ear, in fact. India blue is nearly impossible to wash off. Anyway, very impetuous act of that boy, but you're too experienced to react rashly, which is why the lady for whom you work lent you that necklace. Oriental pearls, diamonds, a flawless ruby... hardly the gems of a governess. However, the jewels you are not wearing tell us rather more. Dr. John Watson: Holmes! Sherlock Holmes: You were engaged. The ring has gone, but the lighter skin where it once sat suggests that you spent some time abroad, wearing it proudly. That is, until you were informed of its true and rather modest worth, at which point you broke off the engagement and returned to England for better prospects. A doctor, perhaps? [Mary throws her wine in Holmes' face] Mary Morstan: [badly shaken] Right on all counts, Mr. Holmes, apart from one: I didn't leave him. He died.