I told him to stop, but he only laughed at me.
'My dear fellow, I wish I could! Only bring me an interesting case, a difficult problem, and I shall forget my cocaine!' One day in 1888 a note arrived from Scotland Yard.
When Holmes opened it, he laughed and jumped to his feet.
'Inspector Lestrade wishes to see me,' he said.
'The police need my help, Watson.
You know, of course, that someone is murdering women in White chapel?'
'Of course,' I replied.
'The newspapers are full of it.
Three women are dead, and the police seem unable
to find the killer.
Everybody knows this.
Life is cheap
on the streets of White chapel for women of that kind. What can interest you in their miserable
deaths?'