Having completed my studies there, I was duly attached to the Fifth Northumber- land Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon. The regiment was stationed in India at the. Free site book and epub digitized and proofread by Project Gutenberg. A Study in Scarlet is an detective novel by British author Arthur Conan Doyle. Written in , the story marks the first appearance of Sherlock Holmes and.
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A Study in Scarlet. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. A man lies dead in an empty room and the mysterious word RACHE is written in blood on the wall. To solve this case. A Study In Scarlet. CHAPTER I. Mr. Sherlock Holmes. In the year I took my degree of. Doctor of Medicine of the University of. London, and proceeded to. Sherlock Holmes - A Study in Scarlet A Study in Lavender- Queering Sherlock Holmes A Study in Sherlock: Stories Inspired by the Holmes Canon.
Gradually, the story gained popularity and before long, Conan Doyle was commissioned to write a sequel The Sign of the Four. He soon began churning out a stream of short stories featuring Holmes for the Strand Magazine and his fame, fortune and popularity exceeded his wildest dreams.
In the decades to follow, Sherlock Holmes came to represent the definitive detective. Scotland Yard and other investigative agencies soon adopted methods employed by the eccentric genius of B Baker Street.
A Study in Scarlet is set in It begins with Dr.
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Watson, a wounded Afghan war veteran who is looking for shared lodgings in London. An old friend recommends that he try B Baker Street, which is presently occupied by an eccentric acquaintance, Sherlock Holmes.
At their very first meeting, Holmes dazzles the company with his detective skills as he makes a casual remark about Watson's previous experiences. Watson moves in and discovers that Holmes is in fact a consulting detective.
Watson accompanies Holmes on a crime scene visit and from here on, the plot takes a series of bizarre twists and turns, leading the reader through flashbacks, across various continents and different periods.
Rance stared at Sherlock Holmes with the utmost amazement upon his features. Go on, what did you do next? That brought Murcher and two more to the spot.
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The man whom you saw is the man who holds the clue of this mystery. Come along, Doctor. If it is true that this man tallies with your idea of the second party in this mystery, why should he come back to the house? There's the scarlet thread of murder running through the colourless skein of life, and our duty is to unravel it. And now for lunch, and then for Norman Neruda. He threw the paper across to me and I glanced at the place he indicated. It was the "Found" column.
Apply Dr. Watson, B, Baker Street. If my view of the case is correct, this man would rather risk anything than lose the ring.
You had better clean your old service revolver. He will be a desperate man. When I returned Holmes was engaged in his favourite occupation of scraping upon his violin.
There was a sharp ring at the bell. Instead of the man of violence whom we expected, a very old and wrinkled woman hobbled into the apartment. The crone drew out a paper, and pointed at our advertisement. Sawyer," I interrupted, "I am glad to be able to restore it to the rightful owner. Sherlock Holmes sprang to his feet and rushed into his room. He returned in a few seconds enveloped in an ulster.
The instant he entered I saw by his face that he had not been successful. I perched myself behind and hopped off before we came to the address, and strolled down the street.
I saw the driver jump down, and when I reached him he was groping about in the empty cab. It must have been a young man, and an active one, too, besides being an incomparable actor. Take my advice and turn in. I left Holmes seated in front of the smouldering fire, and long into the watches of the night I heard the low, melancholy wailings of his violin. He presented a shilling, waved his hand, and they scampered away downstairs like so many rats.. Here is Gregson coming down the road, bound for us, I know.
We have the man under lock and key. He had sent the hat to a Mr. Thus I got at his address. When I asked if they had heard about the mysterious death of Enoch J. Drebber, her features turned perfectly livid. Drebber had been staying there with his secretary, Mr. It seems that Drebber had returned drunk and made to force himself upon young Alice Charpentier. Alice's brother, a most violent man, had gone off after Drebber.
I soon found out where Lieutenant Charpentier was, took two officers with me, and arrested him. Why, by Jove, here's the very man himself! Joseph Stangerson? Lestrade answered, seating himself. This morning I reached Halliday's Private Hotel. On my enquiry as to whether a Mr. Stangerson was living there, they at once answered, 'No doubt you are the gentleman whom he was expecting.
He is upstairs in bed. From under the door there curled a little red ribbon of blood. The door was locked on the inside, but we put our shoulders to it, and knocked it in. Beside the open window, all huddled up, lay the body of a man in his nightdress. The cause of death was a deep stab, which must have penetrated the heart. What do you suppose was above the murdered man? Lestrade continued "The milk boy had seen a man descend a ladder raised against one of the windows of the second floor. The boy imagined him to be some carpenter or joiner at work.
He has an impression that the man was tall, had a reddish face. There were no papers in the murdered man's pocket, except a single telegram, dated from Cleveland about a month ago, and containing the words, 'J. There was a small box containing a couple of pills. Gregson, could contain himself no longer. Sherlock Holmes," he said, "we are all ready to acknowledge that you are smart. Can you name the man who did it? Just ask him to step up, Wiggins. At that instant there was a sharp click, the jangling of handcuffs, and Sherlock Holmes sprang to his feet.
Upon the fourth of May, eighteen hundred and forty-seven, a solitary man and a little girl-child lay dying, lost in the arid and repulsive desert of the great North American Continent. John Ferrier and his adopted daughter, Lucy, were saved by the pilgrim band of Mormons under their resolute holy prophet Brigham Young, in return for John promising to adopt their religion. John prospered in Mormon Utah, and kept his promise.
Apart from one thing; he steadfastly refused to enter into a polygamous marriage as Mormonism demands, and equally refused to hand his daughter over to the Mormon Elders Stangerson or Drebber when she had her heart set on marrying the young prospector Jefferson Hope. Ferrier was murdered. Lucy was captured and forced into a multiple marriage with Elder Drebber. She died soon afterwards, though Jefferson Hope, now fugitive, managed to prevent her being buried with her sham wedding ring.
At Scotland Yard a police Inspector read the charge and said; "Mr. Jefferson Hope, have you anything that you wish to say? I must warn you that your words will be taken down, and may be used against you.
If I die to-morrow, as is likely enough, I die knowing that my work in this world is done. I followed those fiends here, and got employment as a cab driver. Who talks of murdering a mad dog? He cowered away with prayers for mercy, but I drew my knife and held it to his throat until he obeyed me.
He swallowed the poison, and I laughed, and held Lucy's ring in front of his eyes.
The blood had been streaming from my nose, and I had the mischievous idea of setting the police upon a wrong track. Then I walked down to my cab and put my hand into the pocket in which I usually kept Lucy's ring, and found that it was not there.
I had to go on to do much the same for Stangerson. You may consider me to be a murderer; but I hold that I am as much an officer of justice as you are. A higher Judge had taken the matter in hand. What you do in this world is a matter of no consequence, the question is, what can you make people believe that you have done. Never mind, simple as the investigation was, there were several most instructive points about it. There was no wound upon the dead man's person, but the agitated expression upon his face assured me that he had foreseen his fate before it came upon him.
Having sniffed the dead man's lips I detected a slightly sour smell, and I came to the conclusion that he had had poison forced upon him. Robbery had not been the object, for nothing was taken.
Was it politics, or was it a woman? The ring settled the question. I had already come to the conclusion that the blood which covered the floor had burst from the murderer's nose in his excitement, hence a ruddy-faced man. I telegraphed to the police at Cleveland, enquiring about the marriage of Enoch Drebber. The answer was conclusive; Drebber had already applied for the protection of the law against an old rival named Jefferson Hope, and that Hope was at present in Europe.
I had already determined that the man who had walked into the house with Drebber, was none other than the man who had driven the cab. The marks in the road showed me that the horse had wandered on in a way which would have been impossible had there been anyone in charge of it.
All these considerations led me to the irresistible conclusion that Jefferson Hope was to be found among the jarveys of the Metropolis. There was no reason to suppose that he was going under an assumed name. Why should he change his name in a country where no one knew his original one? I therefore organized my Street Arab detective corps, and sent them systematically to every cab proprietor in London until they ferreted out the man that I wanted.At the beginning of the novel, John Watson has just come back to England from the Second Afghan War, which began in after the British invaded Afghanistan in order to prevent Russian expansion into India.
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.
Watson, a wounded Afghan war veteran who is looking for shared lodgings in London. I must warn you that your words will be taken down, and may be used against you.
He threw the paper across to me and I glanced at the place he indicated. Gregson, could contain himself no longer. The marks in the road showed me that the horse had wandered on in a way which would have been impossible had there been anyone in charge of it.
Apart from one thing; he steadfastly refused to enter into a polygamous marriage as Mormonism demands, and equally refused to hand his daughter over to the Mormon Elders Stangerson or Drebber when she had her heart set on marrying the young prospector Jefferson Hope.
Stop, driver, stop! There were the marks of the horse's hoofs, too.