"Yes," Holmes says heavily. "Watson wrote it up of course, but due to the personages involved, it was deemed best not to publish. Drowning in drivel is more like it!" he exclaims, getting to his feet. "Do you see all of that?" he asks (rhetorically), waving his hand at the reams of paper and boxes of books. "He's become a cottage industry. And not one has come up with any valid theory. Some years ago, as an exercise, the FBI put together a profile of the Ripper*. An associate was good enough to send me a copy." He rummages amongst the papers and pulls one out. "He was a white male, single, in his mid or late twenties, of average intelligence, who in all probability lived alone. Now why didn't I think of that?!" he enquires sarcastically, spots of colour appearing on his cheeks. "And what's there isn't nearly as telling as what isn't," Holmes continues. "The records have been deliberately purged of files I know damned well were there!" He paces about the room, furious with everything.
* True story. Sorry about the rant. This is a very sore subject with him. :(