There’s a scene in the second series of the BBC’s Sherlock in which the detective goes to visit Irene Adler – the woman who will become the woman. She is accused of blackmailing a princess with kinky photographs, so Sherlock decides to dress up as a vicar in order to gain access to her flat. But Irene is ahead of him; she knows who her visitor is and she knows what he does. When her assistant asks her what outfit she will wear to greet him, she replies simply: “The battle dress.”
A moment later, she is standing in front of Sherlock. She is completely naked. His eyes scan her body, drawing only a confused blank where he would expect the detail of a cuff or the bulge of a pocket to give up its secrets. She turns the tables on him, pointing out the ridiculous subterfuge of his clerical collar. “Do you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr Holmes? However hard you try, it’s always a self-portrait . . . I think you’re damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, it’s yourself.”
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