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Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Scarlet - Chapters One and Two | Full Audiobook · Chapter by Chapter — The Lost Library

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Welcome to this episodic audiobook presentation of
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Sherlock Holmes in this series. Each chapter brings the classic
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tales to life, unfolding the mystery, atmosphere, and
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adventure that have captivated readers for generations.
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Before we begin, a brief note. This presentation of Sherlock
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Holmes is a modernized retelling of the original Canon.
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The cases remain faithful to the stories that generations have
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loved, while the language and structure have been carefully
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refined to create a smoother, more immersive listening
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experience for today's audience. What you are about to hear is
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not a change to the mysteries themselves, but a restoration of
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their flow, allowing the world of Sherlock Holmes to unfold
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clearly for the modern ear. And now we open our first case,
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Book 1, A Study in Scarlet, Chapter 1.
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Mr. Sherlock Holmes In 1878, I earned my Doctor of Medicine
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degree from the University of London and proceeded to Netley
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to complete the required training for Army surgeons.
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After finishing my studies, I was assigned as Assistant
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Surgeon to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.
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The regiment was stationed in India and before I could join
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them, the Second Afghan War erupted.
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Upon arriving in Bombay, I discovered that my unit had
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already advanced through the passes and was deep in enemy
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territory. I followed along with many other
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officers in similar circumstances and eventually
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reached Kandahar safely, where I joined my regiment and began my
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duties. The campaign brought honours and
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promotions to many, but for me it was a series of misfortunes
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and disasters. I was transferred from my
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brigade to the Berkshires with whom I served at the ill-fated
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Battle of my Wand. There a gazelle bullet struck my
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shoulder, shattering the bone and grazing the subclavian
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artery. I would have fallen into the
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hands of the ruthless Ghazis if not for the bravery and
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dedication of Murray, my orderly, who managed to hoist me
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onto a pack horse and bring me safely back to the British
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lines. Exhausted by pain and weakened
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by the prolonged hardships I had endured, I was transported,
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along with a large number of wounded, to the base hospital at
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Peshawar. I had managed to rally and was
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well enough to stroll through the wards and even enjoy a bit
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of sun on the veranda when entering fever struck, a
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relentless scourge of our Indian territories.
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For months my survival was in doubt.
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When I finally regained consciousness and began to
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recover, I was so frail and wasted that a medical board
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insisted I'd be sent back to England without delay.
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Thus I was shipped off on the troop ship Arantes and arrived a
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month later at Portsmouth Jetty, my health irreparably damaged
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but with the government's blessing to spend the next nine
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months trying to restore it. With no family ties in England,
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I was as unencumbered as the wind, or at least as
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unencumbered as one can be on an income of 11 shillings and
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sixpence a day. Naturally, I drifted to London,
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that vast cesspool where all the Empire's Drifters and idlers
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inevitably converge. I took up residence for a while
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in a private hotel on the Strand, living a bleak, aimless
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life and spending my money far more liberally than was wise.
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My financial situation soon became so dire that I realized I
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had to either retreat to the countryside or drastically
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change my lifestyle. Opting for the latter, I
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resolved to leave the hotel and find a more modest and
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affordable place to live. On the very day I reached this
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decision, I was standing at the Criterion Bar when someone
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tapped me on the shoulder. Turning around, I recognized
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young Stamford, who had been a dresser under me at Bart's.
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In the vast wilderness of London, the sight of a familiar
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face is indeed a welcome relief for a lonely soul.
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In the past, Stamford and I had never been particularly close,
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but now I greeted him with genuine enthusiasm and he seemed
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equally pleased to see me caught up in the joy of our unexpected
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reunion. I invited him to lunch at the
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Holborn and we set off together in a handsome cab.
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What on earth have you been up to, Watson?
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He asked with open curiosity as we navigated the bustling
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streets of London. You're as thin as a rail and as
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tanned as a walnut. I gave him a brief account of my
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recent adventures, barely finishing by the time we arrived
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at our destination. Poor fellow, he said
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sympathetically after hearing about my hardships.
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What are you doing now? I'm looking for a place to stay,
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I replied, trying to figure out if it's possible to find
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comfortable lodgings at a reasonable price.
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That's interesting, my companion noted.
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You're the second person today to mention that to me.
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And who was the first? I inquired.
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A guy working in the chemical lab at the hospital, he replied.
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He was lamenting this morning because he couldn't find someone
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to split the cost of some charming rooms he'd discovered,
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which were beyond his budget. By chove, I exclaimed.
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If he's truly looking for someone to share the rooms and
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the expenses, I'm the perfect candidate.
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I'd much rather have a roommate than live alone.
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Young Stamford gave me a curious look over his wine glass.
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You haven't met Sherlock Holmes yet, he said.
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You might not find him to your liking as a constant companion.
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Why? What's wrong with him?
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Oh, I didn't mean there's anything wrong with him, he's
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just a bit peculiar in his ideas, quite passionate about
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certain scientific fields. From what I know, he's a decent
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enough chap. A medical student I assume?
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I inquired. No, I have no clue what he's
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planning to pursue. I believe he's quite
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knowledgeable in anatomy, and he's an excellent chemist, but
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as far as I know he hasn't enrolled in any formal medical
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courses. His studies are rather erratic
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and unconventional, yet he's gathered a wealth of obscure
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knowledge that would surprise his professors.
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Have you never asked him what he's aiming for?
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I asked. No, he's not someone you can
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easily coax into conversation, though he can be quite talkative
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when the mood strikes him. I'd like to meet him, I said.
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If I'm going to share a place with someone, I'd prefer a
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person with quiet, studious habits.
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I'm not yet strong enough to handle much noise or excitement.
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I had my fill of both in Afghanistan, enough to last a
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lifetime. How can I meet this friend of
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yours? He's bound to be at the
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laboratory, my companion replied.
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He either avoids the place for weeks or works there from dawn
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till dusk. If you'd like, we can drive over
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together after lunch. Certainly, I agreed, and the
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conversation shifted to other topics as we headed to the
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hospital. After leaving Holborn, Stamford
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shared a few more details about the gentleman I was considering
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as a roommate. Don't blame me if you don't get
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along with him, he said. I only know him from occasional
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encounters in the lab. You suggested this arrangement,
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so you can't hold me accountable.
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If we don't get along, it will be easy enough to part ways, I
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replied. It seems to me, Stanford, I
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added, scrutinizing my companion, that you have a
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reason for distancing yourself from this matter.
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Is this guy's temper really that terrifying, or what's the deal?
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Don't hold back, it's tough to put into words.
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He replied with a chuckle. Holmes is a bit too scientific
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for my liking, almost to the point of being unemotional.
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I can picture him giving a friend a dose of the latest
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plant based toxin, not out of spite mind you, but purely out
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of curiosity to understand its effects.
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To be fair, I think he'd try it on himself just as willingly.
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He seems to have an obsession with precise and exact
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knowledge. That's commendable, sure, but it
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can go too far when it involves hitting cadavers with a stick in
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the dissecting room. It takes on a rather odd form.
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Hitting cadavers, yes, to see how bruises can form post
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mortem. I witnessed it myself.
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And yet you say he's not a medical student.
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No, Who knows what his studies are really about, but here we
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are and you'll need to form your own impressions of him.
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As he spoke we turned down a narrow lane and slipped through
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a small side door, entering a wing of the sprawling hospital.
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The place was familiar to me and I needed no guidance as we
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climbed the stark stone staircase and walked down the
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long corridor lined with white wash walls and dull colored
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doors. Near the far end, a low arched
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passage branched off, leading us to the chemical laboratory.
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This was a high ceiling room, cluttered with countless
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bottles. Broad, low tables were scattered
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throughout, bristling with retorts, test tubes, and small
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Bunsen burners with their blue flickering flames.
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Only one student was present, bent over a distant table,
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absorbed in his work. At the sound of our footsteps,
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he looked up and leapt to his feet with a cry of joy.
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I found it, I found it, he shouted to my companion, rushing
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toward us with a test tube in hand.
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I've discovered a reagent that is precipitated by hemoglobin
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and nothing else. The delight on his face was as
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if he had unearthed a gold mine. Doctor Watson, meet Mr. Sherlock
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Holmes, Stamford introduced us. How do you do?
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Holmes greeted warmly, shaking my hand with a surprising
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firmness. You've been in Afghanistan, I
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gather? How could you possibly know
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that? I asked, taken aback.
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Never mind, he replied with a self satisfied chuckle.
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The matter at hand is hemoglobin.
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Surely you grasp the importance of my discovery.
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It's intriguing from a chemical standpoint, certainly, I
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replied. But in practical terms, why?
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It's the most significant medico legal breakthrough in years.
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Don't you see? It provides an unfailing test
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for blood stains? Come, have a look.
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He eagerly pulled me by the sleeve over to the table where
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he was working. Let's have some fresh blood, he
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said, pricking his finger with a long needle and collecting the
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drop in a pipette. Now I add this tiny amount of
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blood to a litre of water. You see, the mixture looks just
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like pure water. The blood concentration is no
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more than one in a million, yet I'm confident we can still
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detect the characteristic reaction.
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As he spoke, he tossed a few white crystals into the vessel,
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then added several drops of a clear liquid.
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Instantly the mixture turned a dull mahogany colour, and a
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brownish sediment settled at the bottom of the glass jar.
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He exclaimed, clapping his hands with the Glee of a child
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discovering a new toy. What do you make of that?
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It seems to be a very refined test, I observed.
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Exquisite, Exquisite. The old Zircum test was crude
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and unreliable. The microscopic examination for
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blood corpuscles is just as flawed.
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It's useless if the stains are more than a few hours old, but
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this test seems effective whether the blood is fresh or
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aged. Had this been invented earlier,
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countless men walking free today would have long since faced
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justice for their crimes. Indeed, I murmured, criminal
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cases often pivot on that single issue.
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A man might be suspected of a crime months after it occurred.
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His clothing is scrutinized, and brownish stains are found on
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them. Are they blood stains, mud
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stains, rust stains, or perhaps fruit stains?
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What exactly are they? This question has baffled many
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experts. And why?
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Because there was no dependable test.
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But now we have the Sherlock Holmes test, and such mysteries
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will no longer pose a problem. His eyes sparkled with
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excitement as he spoke, placing a hand over his heart and bowing
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as if acknowledging an imaginary audience's applause.
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Congratulations are in order, I said, genuinely taken aback by
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his enthusiasm. Consider the case of von
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Bischoff in Frankfurt last year. He would have certainly faced
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execution if this test had been available.
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Then there was Mason from Bradford, the infamous Muller,
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La Favre from Montpellier, and Samson from New Orleans.
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I could list dozens of cases where it would have been
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definitive. You seem like a living Almanac
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of crime, Stamford chuckled. You could start a publication
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along those lines. Call it the police Chronicles of
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yesteryear. It could make for quite
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fascinating reading, Sherlock Holmes remarked, applying a
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small piece of plaster over a prick on his finger.
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I must be cautious, he continued, turning to me with a
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smile. As I often experiment with
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poisons. He extended his hand as he
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spoke, and I noticed it was covered with similar plasters
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and stained with strong acids. We're here on business.
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Stamford said, settling onto a tall 3 legged stool and nudging
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another toward me with his foot. My friend here is looking for a
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place to stay, and since you mentioned you couldn't find
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anyone to share with, I thought it best to introduce you to
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Sherlock Holmes. Seemed quite pleased with the
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prospect of sharing his space with me.
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I've got my eye on a suite in Baker Street, he said, which
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would suit us perfectly. You don't mind the smell of
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strong tobacco, do you? I smoke ships myself, I replied.
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That's good to hear. I usually have chemicals around
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and occasionally conduct experiments.
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Would that bother you? Not at all.
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Let me think what else might be an issue.
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I get into moods sometimes and might not speak for days.
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Don't assume I'm being unfriendly when that happens.
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Just leave me be and I'll come around.
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Now, what about you? It's best for two people to know
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each other's quirks before they start living together.
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I chuckled at the interrogation. I have a bull pup.
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I said. And I avoid conflicts because my
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nerves are frayed, I wake up at all sorts of ungodly hours, and
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frankly, I'm incredibly lazy. When I'm in better health.
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I have a different set of vices, but those are the main ones for
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now. Do you count violin playing
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among the disturbances you dislike?
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He asked with a hint of concern. It depends on who's playing.
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I replied. A well played violin is divine.
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A poorly played one, however. Oh, that's fine.
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He interrupted with a cheerful laugh.
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I think we can consider the matter settled, assuming the
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rooms suit you. When can we see them?
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Meet me here at noon tomorrow and we'll go together to
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finalize everything. He said.
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Agreed. Noon sharp.
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I replied, shaking his hand. We left him engrossed in his
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chemical experiments and walked together toward my hotel.
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By the way? I asked, suddenly, stopping and
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turning to Stamford. How on earth did he know I came
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from Afghanistan? My companion gave a mysterious
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smile. That's just one of his quirks,
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he said. A lot of people are curious
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about how he figures things out. Oh, a mystery is it?
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I exclaimed, rubbing my hands together with anticipation.
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This is quite intriguing. I must thank you for bringing us
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together. As they say, the proper study of
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mankind is man. Then you must study him.
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Stamford replied as he took his leave.
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You'll find him a tough puzzle though.
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I bet he'll learn more about you than you will about him.
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Goodbye, goodbye. I replied and continued on to my
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hotel, feeling quite intrigued by my new acquaintance.
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In the previous chapter, Doctor John Watson recounts the events
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that brought him back to England after war, injury and illness.
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Alone in London and short on means, he begins searching for
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affordable lodgings. A chance meeting with an old
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acquaintance introduces him to an unusual figure, a brilliant,
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eccentric man working in a hospital laboratory.
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That man is Sherlock Holmes. Their first encounter reveals
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Holmes's extraordinary powers of observation, his passion for
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science, and a mind already immersed in the study of crime.
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Before the day ends, Watson finds himself considering not
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only a new place to live, but a new companion, one whose habits
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and intellect promise mystery, curiosity, and unforeseen
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adventure. In this chapter, their strange
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new association begins to take shape.
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Book 1A Study in Scarlet. Chapter 2.
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The Science of deduction. We met the next day as planned
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and went to see the rooms AT221B Baker Street, which he had
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mentioned during our meeting. The place comprised 2 cozy
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bedrooms and a large, airy sitting room, cheerfully
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furnished and lit by two wide windows.
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The apartments were so appealing in every respect, and the terms
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seemed so reasonable when split between us, that we sealed the
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deal on the spot and immediately took possession.
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That very evening I moved my belongings from the hotel and
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the following morning Sherlock Holmes arrived with several
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boxes and suitcases. For a day or two we were
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occupied with unpacking and arranging our things to best
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suit the space. Once that was done, we gradually
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began to settle in and adapt to our new environment.
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Holmes was certainly an easy man to live with.
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He was quiet in his manner and his routines were consistent.
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It was uncommon for him to be awake past 10 at night and he
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always had breakfast and left the house before I even got up
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in the morning. Some days he would spend his
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time at the chemical lab, other days in the dissecting rooms,
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and occasionally he would embark on long walks that seemed to
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lead him into the most impoverished areas of the city.
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His energy was unmatched when he was in the throes of work, yet
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there were times when a lethargy would overcome him, and for days
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he would lie on the sofa in the sitting room, barely speaking or
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moving from morning till night. During these periods I noticed
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such a distant vacant look in his eyes that I might have
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suspected him of indulging in narcotics if not for the
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temperance and cleanliness that characterized his entire
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lifestyle, which dismissed such a thought.
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As the weeks passed, my interest in him and curiosity about his
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life's purpose grew steadily. His very presence and appearance
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were enough to catch the eye of even the most indifferent
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passerby. He stood a little over 6 feet
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tall and his extreme leanness made him appear even taller.
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His eyes were sharp and penetrating, except during those
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spells of lethargy I mentioned, and his thin hawk like nose lent
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his expression an air of alertness and decisiveness.
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His chin was prominent and square, a feature that often
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signifies determination. His hands were perpetually ink
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stained and marked with chemicals, yet he possessed an
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extraordinary delicacy of touch, which I frequently observed when
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he handled his delicate philosophical instruments.
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You might think me an incorrigible meddler when I
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admit how much this man piqued my curiosity, and how often I
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tried to penetrate the veil of silence he maintained about his
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personal affairs. But before you judge, consider
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how aimless my life was. With so little to capture my
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interest, my health kept me indoors unless the weather was
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exceptionally mild and I had no friends to break the monotony of
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my daily routine. In such circumstances, I eagerly
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embraced the small mystery surrounding my companion and
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devoted much of my time to trying to unravel it.
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He wasn't studying medicine. He had confirmed Stamford's
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opinion on that matter when I asked.
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Nor did he seem to be pursuing any academic path that might
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lead to a degree in science or any other recognized gateway
24:03
into the scholarly world. Yet his passion for certain
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subjects was remarkable and within his peculiar range.
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His knowledge was so extraordinarily detailed and
24:13
extensive that his insights often left me astonished.
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Surely no one would work so diligently or acquire such
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precise information without a specific goal in mind.
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Casual readers rarely exhibit such precision in their
24:29
learning. No one fills their mind with
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trivial details without a compelling reason.
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His ignorance was as striking as his knowledge.
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In the realms of modern literature, philosophy, and
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politics, he seemed to know almost nothing.
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When I mentioned Thomas Carlyle, he innocently asked who that was
24:51
and what he had accomplished. My astonishment peaked when I
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discovered he was unaware of the Copernican theory and the
24:59
structure of the solar system. The idea that any educated
25:04
person in this 19th century could be oblivious to the fact
25:08
that the Earth orbits the sun was so extraordinary to me that
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I struggled to comprehend it. You seem surprised, he remarked,
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smiling at my astonished look. Now that I know it, I'll make an
25:21
effort to forget it. To forget it?
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I exclaimed. You see, he explained, I believe
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a man's brain is like a small empty attic, and you must
25:33
furnish it with the items you choose.
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A fool fills it with all sorts of clutter he encounters, so the
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useful knowledge gets crowded out or at best, mixed up with so
25:45
many other things that it's hard to retrieve.
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The skilled Craftsman, however, is very selective about what he
25:52
allows into his brain attic. He keeps only the tools that
25:56
will aid him in his work, but he has a wide variety of those, all
26:00
in perfect order. It's a mistake to think that
26:04
little room has elastic walls and can expand indefinitely.
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Trust me, there comes a point when for every new piece of
26:11
knowledge, you forget something you previously knew.
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It is crucial, then, to ensure that trivial facts don't crowd
26:20
out the essential ones. But what about the solar system?
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I objected. What does it matter to me?
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He cut in, clearly irritated. You say we orbit the sun.
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If we orbited the moon instead, it wouldn't make the slightest
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difference to me or my work. I almost asked him what exactly
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his work entailed, but something in his demeanour warned me that
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such a question would not be well received.
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Still, I mulled over our brief exchange, trying to draw
26:53
conclusions from it. He had stated he would only
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learn what was relevant to his purpose, thus all his knowledge
27:02
was tailored to be of use to him.
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I mentally listed the areas where he had demonstrated
27:08
exceptional expertise. I even took a pencil and noted
27:12
them down. I couldn't help but chuckle at
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the list. Once it was finished.
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It read as follows. Sherlock Holmes, His boundaries
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One. Knowledge of literature, none.
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2. Philosophy, none 3.
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Astronomy none Four. Politics weak 5.
27:42
Botany inconsistent. Well versed in belladonna,
27:46
opium, and poisons in general. Lacks any skill in practical
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gardening 6. Geology, practical yet limited.
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Can instantly distinguish different soils after walks.
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He has shown me stains on his trousers and identified their
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origin by colour and texture, pinpointing exactly where in
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London he acquired them. Seven Chemistry profound, 8.
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Anatomy precise but disorganized. 9 Sensational
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literature vast. He seems to know every detail of
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every atrocity committed in the century. 10 plays the violin
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skillfully. 11 is an expert in single stick boxing and
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swordsmanship. 12 has a solid practical understanding of
28:47
British law. After compiling this list, I
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tossed it into the fire in frustration.
28:54
If I can only figure out what he's aiming for by reconciling
28:58
all these skills and finding a profession that requires them
29:02
all, I thought to myself, I might as well abandoned the
29:07
attempt entirely. I mentioned earlier his skill
29:11
with the violin, which was indeed extraordinary, though as
29:14
unconventional as his other talents.
29:17
I knew he could handle complex pieces, having heard him play
29:21
some of Mendelssohn's leader and other favorites at my request.
29:26
Yet when left to his own devices, he rarely played
29:29
recognizable tunes. Instead, he would recline in his
29:34
armchair in the evenings, eyes closed, and absent mindedly draw
29:39
the bow across the violin resting on his knee.
29:43
The sounds he produced varied, sometimes deep and mournful,
29:49
other times whimsical and bright.
29:52
These melodies seem to mirror his inner musings, though
29:55
whether the music inspired his thoughts, what was merely a
29:59
product of his whims, was beyond my understanding.
30:03
I might have found these impromptu performances trying if
30:06
he didn't usually conclude them by playing a rapid succession of
30:10
my favorite tunes, as if to make amends for testing my patients.
30:15
In the first week or so we had no visitors and I began to
30:20
suspect that my companion was as solitary as I was.
30:25
However, I soon discovered he had a wide circle of
30:28
acquaintances from various walks of life. 1 frequent visitor was
30:33
a small sallow man with a rat like face and dark eyes
30:38
introduced to me as Mr. Lestrade who appeared 3 or 4 times in a
30:42
single week. 1 morning a young woman arrived, impeccably
30:47
dressed and lingered for over half an hour.
30:51
Later that afternoon an older man with graying hair, looking
30:55
rather shabby and resembling a Jewish peddler, visited.
31:00
He seemed quite agitated and was soon followed by an elderly
31:04
woman in disarray. On another occasion, an elderly
31:08
gentleman with white hair met with my companion, and at
31:11
another time a railway Porter in his velveteen uniform came by.
31:18
Whenever these peculiar visitors appeared, Sherlock Holmes would
31:22
request the use of the sitting room and I would retreat to my
31:26
bedroom. He always apologized for the
31:29
inconvenience. I need to use this room for
31:33
business, he explained, and these people are my clients.
31:39
Once more I had the chance to ask him directly about his work,
31:44
but my sense of propriety stopped me from pressing him to
31:47
share his confidences. I assumed he had a strong reason
31:52
for his discretion, but he soon dispelled that notion by
31:56
bringing up the topic himself. It was on the 4th of March, a
32:00
date I recall vividly, that I woke earlier than usual and
32:04
found Sherlock Holmes still at breakfast.
32:07
The landlady, accustomed to my late rising, hadn't set my place
32:12
or prepared my coffee with the unreasonable irritation common
32:16
to humanity. I rang the bell and tersely
32:20
indicated I was ready. Then I picked up a magazine from
32:24
the table, trying to pass the time with it while my companion
32:28
quietly crunched on his toast. One of the articles had a pencil
32:33
mark at the top, naturally drawing my attention to it.
32:37
It's rather grandiose title was The Book of Life, and it aimed
32:42
to demonstrate how much an observant person could discern
32:46
through a meticulous and systematic examination of
32:50
everything encountered. It struck me as a curious blend
32:54
of insight and absurdity. The reasoning was sharp and
32:58
intense, yet the conclusions seemed to me to be overreaching
33:03
and exaggerated. The author claimed that with
33:06
just a fleeting expression, a twitch of a muscle, or a glance
33:11
of an eye, one could delve into a person's deepest thoughts.
33:16
According to him, deceit was impossible.
33:19
For someone trained in observation and analysis.
33:23
His conclusions were as certain as mathematical proofs.
33:27
To those unfamiliar with his methods, his results would seem
33:31
so astonishing that they might consider him a magician until
33:36
they understood the processes he used to reach them.
33:39
From a single drop of water, the writer asserted, a logician
33:44
could infer the existence of an Atlantic or a Niagara without
33:48
having seen or heard of either. Thus, all life is a vast chain,
33:54
the nature of which is revealed whenever we are shown a single
33:58
link. Like all other arts, the science
34:02
of deduction and analysis is one that can only be mastered
34:07
through long and patient study, and life is not long enough for
34:11
anyone to achieve its highest perfection.
34:15
Before tackling the moral and mental aspects which present the
34:19
greatest challenges, let the seeker begin by mastering
34:23
simpler problems. Let him, upon meeting another
34:27
person, learn at a glance to discern the individual's history
34:32
and the trade or profession to which they belong.
34:36
Though it may seem childish, such an exercise hones one's
34:40
powers of observation, teaching where to look and what to seek.
34:45
A man's profession is clearly revealed by his fingernails, his
34:50
coat sleeve, his boots, the knees of his trousers, the
34:54
calluses on his forefinger and thumb, his expression, and his
34:59
shirt cuffs. That all these indicators
35:02
combined could fail to inform a skilled observer is almost
35:06
unimaginable. What utter nonsense.
35:10
I exclaimed, slamming the magazine onto the table.
35:13
I've never read such drivel in my life.
35:17
What is it? Sherlock Holmes inquired.
35:20
This article. I replied, gesturing at it with
35:24
my egg spoon as I settled down for breakfast.
35:27
I see you've read it. Given that you've marked it.
35:31
I won't deny it's cleverly written, but it annoys me.
35:35
It's clearly the theory of some armchair philosopher who
35:40
concocts these tidy little paradoxes in the comfort of his
35:44
study. It's impractical.
35:47
I'd like to see him placed in a third class carriage on the
35:50
underground and asked to deduce the occupations of all his
35:54
fellow passengers. I bet 1000 to one against him.
35:59
You'd be wasting your money, Sherlock Holmes said with a
36:02
serene confidence. As for the article, I penned it
36:06
myself, you did indeed. I have a knack for both
36:11
observation and deduction. The theories I've laid out
36:15
there, which you find so fantastical are actually quite
36:19
practical. So much so that I rely on them
36:22
for my livelihood. And how is that?
36:26
I asked, unable to hold back my curiosity.
36:30
Well, I have a unique profession.
36:33
I believe I'm the only one of my kind.
36:37
I'm a consulting detective, if you can grasp what that means.
36:41
Here in London we have plenty of government detectives and
36:44
private ones. When they hit a dead end, they
36:49
come to me and I usually manage to steer them in the right
36:53
direction. They present all the evidence to
36:57
me and with my extensive knowledge of criminal history, I
37:02
can typically set them straight. There's a certain pattern to
37:06
crimes and if you have the details of 1000 cases at your
37:11
fingertips, it's peculiar if you can't solve the thousand and
37:15
1st. Lestrade is a well known
37:19
detective. He recently found himself
37:22
baffled by a forgery case, which is what led him to seek my help.
37:29
And the others? They're mostly referred by
37:32
private inquiry agencies. They are all people grappling
37:37
with some issue, seeking a bit of clarity.
37:40
I listen to their stories, offer my insights, and then I collect
37:45
my fee. Are you telling me, I asked,
37:49
that you can untangle a mystery from your room that others,
37:54
despite seeing every detail first hand, can't solve?
37:59
Exactly. I have a knack for it.
38:03
Occasionally a case is more intricate and I need to get out
38:07
and see things for myself. You see, I possess a wealth of
38:12
specialized knowledge that I bring to bear on the problem,
38:15
which makes things much easier. Those deduction principles
38:19
outlined in the article you mocked are incredibly useful in
38:22
my work. Observation is second nature to
38:25
me. You seem surprised when I told
38:28
you during our first meeting that you had come from
38:30
Afghanistan. You must have been informed.
38:34
Not at all. I knew you were from
38:37
Afghanistan. Through long practice, my
38:40
thoughts move so swiftly that I reach conclusions without being
38:44
aware of the steps in between. But those steps are there
38:49
nonetheless. The chain of logic unfolded as
38:53
follows. Here stands a gentleman with the
38:56
demeanour of a military man, yet clearly of a medical profession.
39:01
An army doctor. Then his complexion is darkened,
39:05
suggesting recent time spent in the tropics.
39:08
Though his natural skin tone is lighter, as evidenced by the
39:12
fair skin on his wrists, his gaunt appearance speaks of
39:16
hardship and illness. His left arm is held stiffly,
39:21
indicating an injury. Where might an English army
39:25
doctor have faced such adversity and sustained an arm injury in
39:30
the tropics? Afghanistan is the obvious
39:33
answer. This entire thought process took
39:37
less than a second. I then mentioned your return
39:41
from Afghanistan and you were taken aback.
39:45
It's quite straightforward when you lay it out, I replied with a
39:49
smile. You remind me of Edgar Allan
39:52
Poe's Dupin. I never imagined such people
39:55
existed outside of fiction. Sherlock Holmes stood and lit
40:00
his pipe. You probably think you're
40:03
flattering me by comparing me to Dupin, he remarked.
40:08
In my view, Dupin was rather unimpressive.
40:12
His habit of interrupting his friends thoughts with a timely
40:16
comment after a long silence is flashy but ultimately shallow.
40:22
He possessed a certain analytical brilliance,
40:25
undeniably. Yet he was far from the prodigy
40:28
Poe seemed to envision. Have you read Gabriel's novels?
40:33
I inquired. Does Lecoq match your vision of
40:37
a detective? Sherlock Holmes scoffed with a
40:40
sardonic air. Lecoq was a hopeless bungler.
40:44
He retorted, his voice edged with irritation.
40:48
His only redeeming quality was his energy.
40:51
That book made me physically I'll The challenge was to
40:55
identify an unknown prisoner. I could have solved it in 24
41:00
hours. Lecoq took six months or more.
41:04
It could serve as a textbook for detectives on what to avoid.
41:08
I felt a surge of indignation at seeing 2 characters I admired
41:13
dismissed so offhandedly. I moved to the window, gazing
41:17
out at the bustling St. This man might be exceptionally
41:21
clever, I thought to myself, but he is undeniably arrogant.
41:28
There are no crimes and no criminals these days, he
41:32
complained, his tone petulant. What is the point of having
41:36
intellect in our field? I am well aware that I have the
41:40
potential to make my name renowned.
41:43
No one, living or dead, has devoted the same level of study
41:49
and innate talent to crime detection as I have.
41:54
And what's the outcome? There's no real crime to
41:58
uncover, or at best, some clumsy misdeed with motives so obvious
42:03
that even a Scotland Yard officer can figure it out.
42:07
I found his arrogant manner irritating and decided it was
42:10
best to steer the conversation elsewhere.
42:14
What do you suppose that man is up to?
42:17
I asked, gesturing toward a sturdy a plainly dressed man who
42:21
was slowly making his way down the opposite side of the street,
42:25
anxiously checking the building numbers.
42:28
He held a large blue envelope, clearly delivering a message.
42:32
You mean the retired Marine Sergeant?
42:35
Sherlock Holmes replied, full of himself.
42:40
I thought he knows. I can't confirm his guess.
42:45
No sooner had this thought crossed my mind than the man we
42:48
were observing spotted our door number and hurriedly crossed the
42:51
street. We heard a loud knock, a deep
42:55
voice below and the sound of heavy footsteps climbing the
42:59
stairs for Mr. Sherlock Holmes. He announced, entering the room
43:04
and handing the letter to my friend.
43:07
Here was my chance to deflate his ego a bit.
43:11
He hadn't anticipated this when he made that off hand remark.
43:15
May I inquire, young man? I said in the most amiable tone.
43:21
What line of work you're in, Commissioner, Sir?
43:26
He replied gruffly. Uniforms out for repairs.
43:31
And you were? I asked, casting a slightly
43:34
mischievous glance at my companion.
43:37
A Sergeant, Sir. Royal Marine Light Infantry,
43:40
Sir. No response.
43:43
Very well, Sir. He snapped his heels together,
43:47
raised his hand in a salute, and departed.
43:51
You've been listening to Sherlock Holmes The 221 B
43:56
Chronicles, an episodic audiobook presentation of
43:59
Sherlock Holmes. Thank you for joining us.
44:02
We'll be back with the next two chapters in our next release.
44:06
Until then, the case continues.