[The first piece of toast disappears, and she starts spreading blackcurrant on the second slice.

From what Evelyn has gathered so far, dealing with Sherlock Holmes requires the patience of a saint. One must offer equal parts of humouring the man, and calling him out.]

I don't think you'd like him very much. It's nothing short of a miracle he survived so long without the assistance of Watson.

[She smiles crookedly.]

I think he's constructed of pure, unadulterated condescension.

[Evelyn is used to that, though. Working in a male-dominated profession does tend to desensitise one to heaping mounds of bullshit.]