I cannot live without brainwork. What else is there to live for? Stand at the window there. Was there ever such a dreary, dismal, unprofitable world? See how the yellow fog swirls down the street and drifts across the dun-coloured houses. What could be more hopelessly prosaic and material? What is the use of having powers, Doctor, when one has no field upon which to exert them?
Thanks for this, Nakahara! It's good to see the article in full. Some interesting stuff about Sherlock, I don't know whether to post here or a more appropriate thread.
