I hear it still. As I lay down my pen and take to my bed, I am aware of the bow being drawn across the bridge and the music rises into the night sky. It is far away and barely audible - but there it is! A pizzicato. Then a tremelo. The style is unmistakable. It is Sherlock Holmes who is playing. It must be. I hope with all my heart that he is playing for me . . .

There are many things in life that cannot be explained.

Some things can't be changed. They'll always happen the way they were supposed to.

What were you going to do with it?” McCain asked. "I just thought it might come in useful.” "Were you planning to attack me?” "No. But that’s a good idea.

Alternatively you can twist the cylinder round twice clockwise; that turns it into a hand grenade. Five-second fuse. I tested it on one of my assistants. Poor old Bennett... he should be out of hospital in a couple of months.

I love the idea that magic and witchcraft and battles between supernatural creatures could be raging all around us but just out of our sight.

You must have been going very fast." "I was, until I hit the fence.