Sherlock Holmes vs. Dracula

“Sherlock Holmes is my friend.”
He stood there, blinking, for several seconds after I had spoken. “That is your answer?”
“It is the only one I have. Moreover, it is the correct one.”

“Good old Watson! How can I help but take you for granted, when your character is so consistently strong?”

“Holmes,” I cried, “you are truly a genius!”
“My blushes, Watson!” said he

We were wondering who would die before the night was over.

“Mr. Sherlock Holmes?” His voice was as deep and devoid of emotion as the bass note of an organ in a cathedral. The detective nodded.
“I am Count Dracula

“My name is Sherlock Holmes and this is my friend and confidant, Dr. Watson; Forgive the intrusion, but we wish to ask you a number of important questions which may help us solve an unpleasant mystery.”

“I fear, Watson, that in your accounts of my little adventures you have greatly underrated your own part in drawing each case to its successful conclusion. Just as the brightest lantern is useless until it is ignited, the presence of genius without the necessary stimulant that sets it to working is a thing of little worth. Where would I be without you?”

“Admirable, Watson!” exclaimed my friend. “I am pleased to note that the years you have spent in observing and chronicling my methods have not been wasted.”
I confess to a feeling of pride upon hearing these words, for it was a rare instance in which I was able to elicit a compliment from this extraordinary man. “Then you agree with my conclusion?” I asked.
“No, you were dead wrong.”

“Mr. Holmes, there was not a drop of spilled blood to be found anywhere upon the ship!”

“Excuse me,” I said. “But has no one questioned the members of the crew regarding the mystery of the dead man and the dog?”
“That would be quite impossible, Doctor,” replied the journalist, his tone heavy with meaning. “You see, with the exception of the corpse at the wheel, there was no one aboard the ship.”