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The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online
at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,
you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.

Title: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes


Author: Arthur Conan Doyle

Release date: March 1, 1999 [eBook #1661]
Most recently updated: October 10, 2023

Language: English

Credits: an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer and Jose Menendez


* START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES *




The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

by Arthur Conan Doyle


Contents

I. A Scandal in Bohemia
II. The Red-Headed League
III. A Case of Identity
IV. The Boscombe Valley Mystery
V. The Five Orange Pips
VI. The Man with the Twisted Lip
VII. The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle
VIII. The Adventure of the Speckled Band
IX. The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb
X. The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor
XI. The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet
XII. The Adventure of the Copper Beeches




I. A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA


I.

To Sherlock Holmes she is always _the_ woman. I have seldom heard him
mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and
predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion
akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one particularly,
were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He
was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that
the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a
false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe
and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer—excellent for
drawing the veil from men’s motives and actions. But for the trained
reasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely
adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might
throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive
instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not
be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his. And
yet there was but one woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene
Adler, of dubious and questionable memory.

I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us away
from each other. My own complete happiness, and the home-centred
interests which rise up around the man who first finds himself master
of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorb all my attention,
while Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole Bohemian
soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, buried among his old
books, and alternating from week to week between cocaine and ambition,
the drowsiness of the drug, and the fierce energy of his own keen
nature. He was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime,
and occupied his immense faculties and extraordinary powers of
observation in following out those clues, and clearing up those
mysteries which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police.
From time to time I heard some vague account of his doings: of his
summons to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up
of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, and
finally of the mission which he had accomplished so delicately and
successfully for the reigning family of Holland. Beyond these signs of
his activity, however, which I merely shared with all the readers of
the daily press, I knew little of my former friend and companion.

One night—it was on the twentieth of March, 1888—I was returning from a
journey to a patient (for I had now returned to civil practice), when
my way led me through Baker Street. As I passed the well-remembered
door, which must always be associated in my mind with my wooing, and
with the dark incidents of the Study in Scarlet, I was seized with a
keen desire to see Holmes again, and to know how he was employing his

The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and

most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions

whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms

of the Project Gutenberg License included with this ebook or online

at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States,

you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located

before using this eBook.

Title: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

Author: Arthur Conan Doyle

Release date: March 1, 1999 [eBook #1661]

Most recently updated: October 10, 2023

Language: English

Credits: an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer and Jose Menendez

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES ***

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

by Arthur Conan Doyle

Contents

I. A Scandal in Bohemia

II. The Red-Headed League

III. A Case of Identity

IV. The Boscombe Valley Mystery

V. The Five Orange Pips

VI. The Man with the Twisted Lip

VII. The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle

VIII. The Adventure of the Speckled Band

IX. The Adventure of the Engineer’s Thumb

X. The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor

XI. The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet

XII. The Adventure of the Copper Beeches

I. A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA

I.

To Sherlock Holmes she is always _the_ woman. I have seldom heard him

mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and

predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion

akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one particularly,

were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He

was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that

the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a

false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe

and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer—excellent for

drawing the veil from men’s motives and actions. But for the trained

reasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely

adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might

throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive

instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not

be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his. And

yet there was but one woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene

Adler, of dubious and questionable memory.

I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us away

from each other. My own complete happiness, and the home-centred

interests which rise up around the man who first finds himself master

of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorb all my attention,

while Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole Bohemian

soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, buried among his old

books, and alternating from week to week between cocaine and ambition,

the drowsiness of the drug, and the fierce energy of his own keen

nature. He was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime,

and occupied his immense faculties and extraordinary powers of

observation in following out those clues, and clearing up those

mysteries which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police.

From time to time I heard some vague account of his doings: of his

summons to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up

of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, and

finally of the mission which he had accomplished so delicately and

successfully for the reigning family of Holland. Beyond these signs of

his activity, however, which I merely shared with all the readers of

the daily press, I knew little of my former friend and companion.

One night—it was on the twentieth of March, 1888—I was returning from a

journey to a patient (for I had now returned to civil practice), when

my way led me through Baker Street. As I passed the well-remembered

door, which must always be associated in my mind with my wooing, and

with the dark incidents of the Study in Scarlet, I was seized with a

keen desire to see Holmes again, and to know how he was employing his