“By heavens, Holmes,” I said, half rising, “I believe that they are really after us.”
“No, it’s not quite so bad as that. It is the unofficial force—the Baker Street irregulars.”
“My mind,” he said, “rebels at stagnation. Give me problems, give me work, give me the most abstruse cryptogram or the most intricate analysis, and I am in my own proper atmosphere. I can dispense then with artificial stimulants. But I abhor the dull routine of existence. I crave for mental exaltation. That is why I have chosen my own particular profession, or rather created it, for I am the only one in the world.”