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作者:英-Arthur Conan Doyle 当前章节:15433 字 更新时间:2026-6-16 13:47

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THE COMPLETE SHERLOCK HOLMES

Arthur Conan Doyle

Table of contents

A Study In Scarlet

The Sign of the Four

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

A Scandal in Bohemia

The Red-Headed League

A Case of Identity

The Boscombe Valley Mystery

The Five Orange Pips

The Man with the Twisted Lip

The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle

The Adventure of the Speckled Band

The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb

The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor

The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet

The Adventure of the Copper Beeches

The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes

Silver Blaze

The Yellow Face

The Stock-Broker's Clerk

The "Gloria Scott"

The Musgrave Ritual

The Reigate Puzzle

The Crooked Man

The Resident Patient

The Greek Interpreter

The Naval Treaty

The Final Problem

The Return of Sherlock Holmes

The Adventure of the Empty House

The Adventure of the Norwood Builder

The Adventure of the Dancing Men

The Adventure of the Solitary Cyclist

The Adventure of the Priory School

The Adventure of Black Peter

The Adventure of Charles Augustus Milverton

The Adventure of the Six Napoleons

The Adventure of the Three Students

The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez

The Adventure of the Missing Three-Quarter

The Adventure of the Abbey Grange

The Adventure of the Second Stain

The Hound of the Baskervilles

The Valley Of Fear

His Last Bow

Preface

The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge

The Adventure of the Cardboard Box

The Adventure of the Red Circle

The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans

The Adventure of the Dying Detective

The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax

The Adventure of the Devil's Foot

His Last Bow

The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes

Preface

The Illustrious Client

The Blanched Soldier

The Adventure Of The Mazarin Stone

The Adventure of the Three Gables

The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire

The Adventure of the Three Garridebs

The Problem of Thor Bridge

The Adventure of the Creeping Man

The Adventure of the Lion's Mane

The Adventure of the Veiled Lodger

The Adventure of Shoscombe Old Place

The Adventure of the Retired Colourman

A STUDY IN SCARLET

Table of contents

Part I

Mr. Sherlock Holmes

The Science Of Deduction

The Lauriston Garden Mystery

What John Rance Had To Tell

Our Advertisement Brings A Visitor

Tobias Gregson Shows What He Can Do

Light In The Darkness

Part II

On The Great Alkali Plain

The Flower Of Utah

John Ferrier Talks With The Prophet

A Flight For Life

The Avenging Angels

A Continuation Of The Reminiscences Of John Watson, M.D.

The Conclusion

PART I

(Being a reprint from the reminiscences of

John H. Watson, M.D.,

late of the Army Medical Department.)

CHAPTER I

Mr. Sherlock Holmes

In the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the

University of London, and proceeded to Netley to go through the

course prescribed for surgeons in the army. Having completed my

studies there, I was duly attached to the Fifth Northumberland

Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon. The regiment was stationed in India

at the time, and before I could join it, the second Afghan war had

broken out. On landing at Bombay, I learned that my corps had

advanced through the passes, and was already deep in the enemy's

country. I followed, however, with many other officers who were in

the same situation as myself, and succeeded in reaching Candahar in

safety, where I found my regiment, and at once entered upon my new

duties.

The campaign brought honours and promotion to many, but for me it had

nothing but misfortune and disaster. I was removed from my brigade

and attached to the Berkshires, with whom I served at the fatal

battle of Maiwand. There I was struck on the shoulder by a Jezail

bullet, which shattered the bone and grazed the subclavian artery. I

should have fallen into the hands of the murderous Ghazis had it not

been for the devotion and courage shown by Murray, my orderly, who

threw me across a pack-horse, and succeeded in bringing me safely to

the British lines.

Worn with pain, and weak from the prolonged hardships which I had

undergone, I was removed, with a great train of wounded sufferers, to

the base hospital at Peshawar. Here I rallied, and had already

improved so far as to be able to walk about the wards, and even to

bask a little upon the verandah, when I was struck down by enteric

fever, that curse of our Indian possessions. For months my life was

despaired of, and when at last I came to myself and became

convalescent, I was so weak and emaciated that a medical board

determined that not a day should be lost in sending me back to

England. I was dispatched, accordingly, in the troopship Orontes, and

landed a month later on Portsmouth jetty, with my health

irretrievably ruined, but with permission from a paternal government

to spend the next nine months in attempting to improve it.

I had neither kith nor kin in England, and was therefore as free as

air--or as free as an income of eleven shillings and sixpence a day

will permit a man to be. Under such circumstances, I naturally

gravitated to London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers

and idlers of the Empire are irresistibly drained. There I stayed for

some time at a private hotel in the Strand, leading a comfortless,

meaningless existence, and spending such money as I had, considerably

more freely than I ought. So alarming did the state of my finances

become, that I soon realized that I must either leave the metropolis

and rusticate somewhere in the country, or that I must make a

complete alteration in my style of living. Choosing the latter

alternative, I began by making up my mind to leave the hotel, and to

take up my quarters in some less pretentious and less expensive

domicile.

On the very day that I had come to this conclusion, I was standing at

the Criterion Bar, when some one tapped me on the shoulder, and

turning round I recognized young Stamford, who had been a dresser

under me at Bart's. The sight of a friendly face in the great

wilderness of London is a pleasant thing indeed to a lonely man. In

old days Stamford had never been a particular crony of mine, but now

I hailed him with enthusiasm, and he, in his turn, appeared to be

delighted to see me. In the exuberance of my joy, I asked him to

lunch with me at the Holborn, and we started off together in a

hansom.

"Whatever have you been doing with yourself, Watson?" he asked in

undisguised wonder, as we rattled through the crowded London streets.

"You are as thin as a lath and as brown as a nut."

I gave him a short sketch of my adventures, and had hardly concluded

it by the time that we reached our destination.

"Poor devil!" he said, commiseratingly, after he had listened to my

misfortunes. "What are you up to now?"

"Looking for lodgings," I answered. "Trying to solve the problem as

to whether it is possible to get comfortable rooms at a reasonable

price."

"That's a strange thing," remarked my companion; "you are the second

man to-day that has used that expression to me."

"And who was the first?" I asked.

"A fellow who is working at the chemical laboratory up at the

hospital. He was bemoaning himself this morning because he could not

get someone to go halves with him in some nice rooms which he had

found, and which were too much for his purse."

"By Jove!" I cried, "if he really wants someone to share the rooms

and the expense, I am the very man for him. I should prefer having a

partner to being alone."

Young Stamford looked rather strangely at me over his wine-glass.

"You don't know Sherlock Holmes yet," he said; "perhaps you would not

care for him as a constant companion."

"Why, what is there against him?"

"Oh, I didn't say there was anything against him. He is a little

queer in his ideas--an enthusiast in some branches of science. As far

as I know he is a decent fellow enough."

"A medical student, I suppose?" said I.

"No--I have no idea what he intends to go in for. I believe he is

well up in anatomy, and he is a first-class chemist; but, as far as I

know, he has never taken out any systematic medical classes. His

studies are very desultory and eccentric, but he has amassed a lot of

out-of-the way knowledge which would astonish his professors."

"Did you never ask him what he was going in for?" I asked.

"No; he is not a man that it is easy to draw out, though he can be

communicative enough when the fancy seizes him."

"I should like to meet him," I said. "If I am to lodge with anyone, I

should prefer a man of studious and quiet habits. I am not strong

enough yet to stand much noise or excitement. I had enough of both in

Afghanistan to last me for the remainder of my natural existence. How

could I meet this friend of yours?"

"He is sure to be at the laboratory," returned my companion. "He

either avoids the place for weeks, or else he works there from

morning to night. If you like, we shall drive round together after

luncheon."

"Certainly," I answered, and the conversation drifted away into other

channels.

As we made our way to the hospital after leaving the Holborn,

Stamford gave me a few more particulars about the gentleman whom I

proposed to take as a fellow-lodger.

"You mustn't blame me if you don't get on with him," he said; "I know

nothing more of him than I have learned from meeting him occasionally

in the laboratory. You proposed this arrangement, so you must not

hold me responsible."

"If we don't get on it will be easy to part company," I answered. "It

seems to me, Stamford," I added, looking hard at my companion, "that

you have some reason for washing your hands of the matter. Is this

fellow's temper so formidable, or what is it? Don't be mealy-mouthed

about it."

"It is not easy to express the inexpressible," he answered with a

laugh. "Holmes is a little too scientific for my tastes--it

approaches to cold-bloodedness. I could imagine his giving a friend a

little pinch of the latest vegetable alkaloid, not out of

malevolence, you understand, but simply out of a spirit of inquiry in

order to have an accurate idea of the effects. To do him justice, I

think that he would take it himself with the same readiness. He

appears to have a passion for definite and exact knowledge."

"Very right too."

"Yes, but it may be pushed to excess. When it comes to beating the

subjects in the dissecting-rooms with a stick, it is certainly taking

rather a bizarre shape."

"Beating the subjects!"

"Yes, to verify how far bruises may be produced after death. I saw

him at it with my own eyes."

"And yet you say he is not a medical student?"

"No. Heaven knows what the objects of his studies are. But here we

are, and you must form your own impressions about him." As he spoke,

we turned down a narrow lane and passed through a small side-door,

which opened into a wing of the great hospital. It was familiar

ground to me, and I needed no guiding as we ascended the bleak stone

staircase and made our way down the long corridor with its vista of

whitewashed wall and dun-coloured doors. Near the further end a low

arched passage branched away from it and led to the chemical

laboratory.

This was a lofty chamber, lined and littered with countless bottles.

Broad, low tables were scattered about, which bristled with retorts,

test-tubes, and little Bunsen lamps, with their blue flickering

flames. There was only one student in the room, who was bending over

a distant table absorbed in his work. At the sound of our steps he

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