The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Poster

(1976)

Nicol Williamson: Sherlock Holmes

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Alan Arkin and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Joel Grey and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Alan Arkin and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Robert Duvall and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Robert Duvall and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Alan Arkin, Robert Duvall, Vanessa Redgrave, and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Alan Arkin and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Alan Arkin, Robert Duvall, and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Alan Arkin, Robert Duvall, and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Robert Duvall, Anna Quayle, and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Robert Duvall and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Alan Arkin and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Alan Arkin, Robert Duvall, Vanessa Redgrave, and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Robert Duvall and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Alan Arkin, Robert Duvall, and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Robert Duvall, Joel Grey, and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Alan Arkin, Vanessa Redgrave, and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Robert Duvall and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Jeremy Kemp and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Vanessa Redgrave and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Alan Arkin and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) Robert Duvall and Nicol Williamson in The Seven-Per-Cent Solution (1976) 6 more photos

Quotes 

  • Sigmund Freud : Who am I that your friends should wish us to meet?

    Sherlock Holmes : Beyond the fact that you are a brilliant Jewish physician who was born in Hungary and studied for a while in Paris, and that certain radical theories of yours have alienated the respectable medical community so that you have severed your connections with various hospitals and branches of the medical fraternity, beyond this I can deduce little. You're married, with a child of... five. You enjoy Shakespeare and possess a sense of honor.

  • Sherlock Holmes : I never guess: it is an appalling habit, destructive to the logical faculty. A private study is an ideal place for observing facets of a man's character. That the study belongs to you exclusively is evident from the dust: not even the maid is permitted here, else she would scarcely have ventured to let matters come to this pass.

    Sigmund Freud : Go on.

    Sherlock Holmes : Very well. Now, when a man collects books on a subject, they're usually grouped together, but notice, your King James Bible, your Book of Mormon, and Koran are separate, across the room in fact, from your Hebrew Bible and Talmud, which sit on your desk. Now these books have a special importance for you not connected with a general study of religion, obviously. The nine-branched candelabra on your desk confirms my suspicion that you are of the Jewish faith; it is called a menorah, is it not?

    Sigmund Freud : Yah.

    Sherlock Holmes : That you studied medicine in Paris is to be inferred from the great number of medical texts in that language. Where else should a German use French textbooks but in France, and who but a brilliant German could understand the complexities of medicine in a foreign tongue? That you're fond of Shakespeare is to be deduced from this book, which is lying face downwards. The fact that you have not adjusted the volume suggests to my mind that you no doubt intended referring to it again in the near future. (Hm, not my favorite play.) The absence of dust on the cover would tend to confirm this hypothesis. That you're a physician is evident when I observe you maintain a consulting room. Your separation from various societies is indicated by these blank spaces surrounding your diploma, clearly used at one time to display additional certificates. Now, what can it be that forces a man to remove these testimonials to his success? Why, only that he has ceased to affiliate himself with these various societies and hospitals and so forth, and why do this, having once troubled to join them all? It is possible that he became disenchanted with one or two of them, but NOT likely that his disillusionment extended to all. Rather, I postulate it is THEY who became disenchanted with YOU, doctor, and asked you to resign, from all of them. Why, I've no idea. But some position you have taken, evidently a medical one, has discredited you in their eyes. I take the liberty of inferring a theory of some sort, too radical or shocking to gain ready acceptance in current medical thinking. Your wedding ring tells me of your marriage, your Balkanized accent hints Hungary or Moravia, the toy soldier on the floor here ought, I think, to belong to a... small boy of five? Have I omitted anything of importance?

    Sigmund Freud : My sense of honour.

    Sherlock Holmes : Oh, it is implied by the fact that you have removed the plaques from the societies to which you no longer belong. In the privacy of your study, only you would know the difference.

  • [as Holmes' boat pulls away] 

    Dr. John H. Watson : But how will you live?

    Sherlock Holmes : When my arm is better, you would do well to follow the concert career of a violinist... named Sigerson!

    Dr. John H. Watson : But your readers - my readers - what will I tell them?

    Sherlock Holmes : Anything you like! Tell them I was murdered by my mathematics tutor; they'll never believe you in any case!

  • Sherlock Holmes : No, Watson! The Queen wouldn't like it!

  • [Last lines; after meeting unexpectedly on the boat] 

    Lola Deveraux : Journeys alone are always so tedious, don't you find? 'Specially when they are long.

    Sherlock Holmes : Will this be a long journey?

    Lola Deveraux : That all depends. But I do think it will seem shorter if there are two of us... don't you?

    Sherlock Holmes : I hope it will not seem too short.

  • Sherlock Holmes : Elementary, my dear... Freud.

  • [first lines] 

    Dr. John H. Watson : [Watson rings the doorbell of 221-B Baker Street]  It was October the 24th, in the year 1891. that I heard for the first time in four months from my friend Sherlock Holmes. On this particular day, a telegram from his landlady, Mrs. Hudson, had been delivered to my surgery, imploring me to return to my former rooms without delay.

    Mrs. Hudson : [Mrs. Hudson opens the front door]  Oh, Dr. Watson, thank heavens you've come; I'm at my wit's end.

    Dr. John H. Watson : Why, what has happened?

    Mrs. Hudson : Since you left us these last few months, he's been very strange. He's barricaded himself up there, he won't take his food, he keeps the oddest of hours. I think he's taking...

    Sherlock Holmes : [from his bedroom]  Mrs. Hudson! I know there's someone down there with you! I heard the cab stop before the door!

    Mrs. Hudson : He keeps babbling on about some...

    Sherlock Holmes : [from his bedroom]  Mrs. Hudson, if that gentleman answers to the name Moriarty, you may show him up, and I will deal with him!

    Dr. John H. Watson : I better go to him.

    Mrs. Hudson : [Watson goes up the staircase]  Oh, be careful.

    Dr. John H. Watson : Moriarty was a name I'd only known him to mutter... when in the thrall of one of his cocaine injections.

    [Watson knocks at Sherlock's bedroom door] 

    Sherlock Holmes : [from within his bedroom]  Is that you, Moriarty?

    Dr. John H. Watson : It is I, Watson.

    Sherlock Holmes : [in his bedroom]  Watson?

    Dr. John H. Watson : [Sherlock slightly opens his bedroom door a crack, unlocking it]  You see it is I. Holmes, let me enter.

    Sherlock Holmes : [he closes his door again]  Not so fast! You may be Moriarty in disguse. Prove you're Watson.

    Dr. John H. Watson : How on earth am I to do that?

    Sherlock Holmes : Tell me where I keep my tobacco!

    Dr. John H. Watson : Tobacco? Well, as a rule, it's in the toe of your Persian slipper. Holmes...

    Sherlock Holmes : [Sherlock opens and unlocks the door]  Very well, I'm satisfied.

    [Watson enters Holmes's room] 

  • Sherlock Holmes : [stopping Watson abruptly]  Mind the vanilla extract!

  • Sherlock Holmes : [to Doctor Watson]  You insufferable cripple.

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