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Arthur Conan Doyle

A study in Scarlet

Mr Sherlock Holmes

MISTER SHERLOCK HOLMES

In 1878 I graduated from the University of London, receiving the title of doctor, and immediately went to Netley, where I took a special course for military surgeons. After finishing my studies I was appointed assistant surgeon to the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. At that time the regiment was stationed in India, and before I could reach it, the second war with Afghanistan broke out. Having landed in Bombay, I learned that my regiment had crossed the pass and advanced far into enemy territory. Together with other officers who found themselves in the same situation, I set off in pursuit of my regiment; I managed to reach Kandahar safely, where I finally found him and immediately began my new duties.

While this campaign brought honors and promotions to many, I received nothing but failure and misfortune. I was transferred to the Berkshire Regiment, with whom I participated in the fatal battle of Maiwand. A rifle bullet hit me in the shoulder, broke the bone and hit the subclavian artery.

Most likely I would have fallen into the hands of the merciless Ghazis if it had not been for the devotion and courage of my orderly Murray, who threw me over the back of a pack horse and managed to deliver me safely to the location of the English units.

Exhausted by the wound and weakened by prolonged privations, I, along with many other wounded sufferers, was sent by train to the main hospital in Peshawer. There I began to gradually recover and was already so strong that I could move around the ward and even go out onto the veranda to bask a little in the sun, when suddenly I was struck down by typhoid fever, the scourge of our Indian colonies. For several months I was considered almost hopeless, and having finally returned to life, I could barely stand on my feet from weakness and exhaustion, and the doctors decided that I needed to be sent to England immediately. I sailed on the military transport Orontes and a month later landed at the pier in Plymouth with my health irreparably damaged, but with permission from the paternal and caring government to restore it within nine months.

In England I had neither close friends nor relatives, and I was free as the wind, or rather, like a man who was supposed to live on eleven shillings and sixpence a day. Under such circumstances, I naturally gravitated to London, to that huge dustbin where idlers and lazy people from all over the empire inevitably end up. In London I lived for some time in a hotel on the Strand and eked out an uncomfortable and meaningless existence, spending my pennies much more freely than I should have. Finally, my financial situation became so threatening that I soon realized: it was necessary either to flee the capital and vegetate somewhere in the countryside, or to radically change my lifestyle. Having chosen the latter, I first decided to leave the hotel and find some more unpretentious and less expensive accommodation.

The day I came to this decision, someone tapped me on the shoulder in the Criterion bar. Turning around, I saw young Stamford, who had once worked for me as a medical assistant in a London hospital. How nice it is for a lonely person to suddenly see a familiar face in the vast wilds of London! In the old days Stamford and I had never been particularly friendly, but now I greeted him almost with delight, and he, too, seemed glad to see me. Out of excess of feelings, I invited him to have breakfast with me, and we immediately took a cab and drove to Holborn.

What have you done to yourself, Watson? - he asked with undisguised curiosity as the cab's wheels clattered along the crowded London streets. - You have dried up like a sliver and turned yellow like a lemon!

I briefly told him about my misadventures and barely had time to finish the story before we reached the place.

Eh, poor fellow! - he sympathized when he learned about my troubles. - Well, what are you doing now?

“I’m looking for an apartment,” I answered. - I’m trying to solve the question of whether there are comfortable rooms in the world at a reasonable price.

It’s strange,” my companion noted, “you are the second person from whom I hear this phrase today.”

Who's first? - I asked.

One guy who works in the chemical laboratory at our hospital. This morning he was complaining: he had found a very nice apartment and could not find a companion, and he could not afford to pay for it in full.

Damn it! - I exclaimed. - If he really wants to share the apartment and expenses, then I’m at his service! I also find it much more pleasant to live together than to live alone!

Young Stamford looked at me vaguely over his glass of wine.

“You don’t know yet what this Sherlock Holmes is,” he said. “Perhaps you won’t want to live in constant proximity with him.”

Why? Why is he bad?

I'm not saying he's bad. Just a little eccentric - an enthusiast of some areas of science. But in general, as far as I know, he is a decent person.

He must want to become a doctor? - I asked.

No, I don’t even understand what he wants. In my opinion, he knows anatomy very well, and he is a first-class chemist, but it seems that he has never studied medicine systematically. He deals with science completely haphazardly and somehow strangely, but he has accumulated a lot of seemingly unnecessary knowledge for the business, which would surprise the professors quite a bit.

Have you ever asked what his goal is? - I asked.

No, it’s not so easy to get something out of him, although if he’s passionate about something, sometimes you can’t stop him.

“I wouldn’t mind meeting him,” I said. - If you are going to have a roommate, then it would be better if he was a quiet person and busy with his own business. I am not strong enough to endure noise and all sorts of strong impressions. I had so much of both in Afghanistan that I’ll have enough for the rest of my earthly existence. How can I meet your friend?

Now he’s probably sitting in the laboratory,” my companion answered. - He either doesn’t look there for weeks, or hangs out there from morning to evening. If you want, we'll go to him after breakfast.

Of course I want to,” I said, and the conversation moved on to other topics.

While we were driving from Holborn to the hospital, Stamford managed to tell me some more features of the gentleman with whom I was going to live together.

“Don’t be mad at me if you don’t get along with him,” he said. - I only know him from random meetings in the laboratory. You decided on this combination yourself, so don’t hold me responsible for what happens next.

If we don’t get along, nothing will stop us from parting,” I answered. “But it seems to me, Stamford,” I added, looking intently at my companion, “that for some reason you want to wash your hands of it.” Well, this guy has a terrible character, or what? Don't be secretive, for God's sake!

Try to explain the inexplicable,” Stamford laughed. - For my taste, Holmes is too

Current page: 1 (book has 9 pages in total) [available reading passage: 6 pages]

Arthur Conan Doyle
A study in Scarlet

Part I
Mr Sherlock Holmes

CHAPTER I.
MISTER SHERLOCK HOLMES

While this campaign brought honors and promotions to many, I received nothing but failure and misfortune. I was transferred to the Berkshire Regiment, with whom I took part in the fatal battle of Maiwand. 1
At the Battle of Maiwand during the second Anglo-Afghan War (1878 - 1880), the British were defeated.

A rifle bullet hit me in the shoulder, broke the bone and hit the subclavian artery.

Most likely I would have fallen into the hands of the merciless ghazis 2
Ghazi is a Muslim fanatic.

If it weren’t for the devotion and courage of my orderly Murray, who threw me over the back of a pack horse and managed to deliver me safely to the location of the English units.

-What have you done to yourself, Watson? – he asked with undisguised curiosity as the cab’s wheels rattled along the crowded London streets. “You have dried up like a sliver and turned yellow like a lemon!”

I briefly told him about my misadventures and barely had time to finish the story before we reached the place.

- Eh, poor fellow! – he sympathized when he learned about my troubles. - Well, what are you doing now?

“I’m looking for an apartment,” I answered. – I’m trying to solve the question of whether there are comfortable rooms in the world at a reasonable price.

“That’s strange,” my companion remarked, “you are the second person from whom I have heard this phrase today.”

-Who's first? – I asked.

– One guy who works in the chemical laboratory at our hospital. This morning he was complaining: he had found a very nice apartment and could not find a companion, and he could not afford to pay for it in full.

- Damn it! – I exclaimed. – If he really wants to share the apartment and expenses, then I’m at his service! I also find it much more pleasant to live together than to live alone!

Young Stamford looked at me vaguely over his glass of wine.

“You still don’t know what this Sherlock Holmes is,” he said. “Perhaps you won’t want to live in constant proximity with him.”

- Why? Why is he bad?

- I'm not saying he's bad. Just a little eccentric - an enthusiast of some areas of science. But in general, as far as I know, he is a decent person.

– He probably wants to become a doctor? – I asked.

- No, I don’t even understand what he wants. In my opinion, he knows anatomy very well, and he is a first-class chemist, but it seems that he has never studied medicine systematically. He deals with science completely haphazardly and somehow strangely, but he has accumulated a lot of seemingly unnecessary knowledge for the business, which would surprise the professors quite a bit.

-Have you ever asked what his goal is? – I asked.

- No, it’s not so easy to get something out of him, although if he’s passionate about something, sometimes you can’t stop him.

“I wouldn’t mind meeting him,” I said. – If you are going to have a roommate, then it would be better if he was a quiet person and busy with his own business. I am not strong enough to endure noise and all sorts of strong impressions. I had so much of both in Afghanistan that I’ll have enough for the rest of my earthly existence. How can I meet your friend?

“He’s probably sitting in the laboratory now,” my companion answered. “He either doesn’t look there for weeks at a time, or hangs out there from morning to evening.” If you want, we'll go to him after breakfast.

“Of course I want to,” I said, and the conversation moved on to other topics.

While we were driving from Holborn to the hospital, Stamford managed to tell me some more features of the gentleman with whom I was going to live together.

“Don’t be mad at me if you don’t get along with him,” he said.

“I only know him from random meetings in the laboratory.” You decided on this combination yourself, so don’t hold me responsible for what happens next.

“If we don’t get along, nothing will stop us from parting,” I answered.

- that for some reason you want to wash your hands of it. Well, this guy has a terrible character, or what? Don't be secretive, for God's sake!

“Try to explain the inexplicable,” Stamford laughed. - To my taste. Holmes is too obsessed with science - this already borders on callousness. I can easily imagine that he would inject his friend with a small dose of some newly discovered plant alkaloid, not out of malice, of course, but simply out of curiosity, in order to have a visual idea of its action. However, to be fair to him, I am sure that he would just as willingly give this injection to himself. He has a passion for accurate and reliable knowledge.

- Well, that's not bad.

– Yes, but even here you can go to extremes. If it comes to the fact that he beats the corpses in the anatomy with a stick, you must agree that it looks quite strange.

- Does he beat up corpses?

– Yes, to check whether bruises can appear after death. I saw it with my own eyes.

- And you say that he is not going to become a doctor?

- Apparently not. Only God knows why he is studying all this. But here we are, now you can judge it for yourself.

We turned into a narrow corner of the courtyard and through a small door entered an outbuilding adjacent to a huge hospital building. Everything was familiar here, and I didn't need directions as we climbed the darkish stone stairs and walked down a long corridor along endless whitewashed walls with brown doors on either side. Almost at the very end, a low arched corridor went off to the side - it led to the chemical laboratory.

In this high room, countless bottles and vials glittered on shelves and everywhere. There were low, wide tables everywhere, thickly laden with retorts, test tubes, and Bunsen burners with flickering tongues of blue flame. The laboratory was empty, and only in the far corner, bent over the table, a young man was intently fiddling with something. Hearing our steps, he looked back and jumped up.

- Found! Found! – he shouted jubilantly, rushing towards us with a test tube in his hands. – I finally found a reagent that is precipitated only by hemoglobin and nothing else! “If he had found gold placers, his face probably wouldn’t have shone with such delight.”

“Doctor Watson, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” Stamford introduced us to each other.

- Hello! - Holmes said affably, shaking my hand with a force that I could not at all suspect in him. – I see you lived in Afghanistan.

- How did you guess? – I was amazed.

“Well, it’s nothing,” he said, grinning. – Hemoglobin is another matter. You, of course, understand the importance of my discovery?

“As a chemical reaction, this is, of course, interesting,” I answered, “but practically...

– Lord, this is the most practically important discovery for forensic medicine in decades. Don't you understand that this makes it possible to accurately identify blood stains? Come on, come here! “In the heat of impatience, he grabbed me by the sleeve and dragged me to his desk. “Let’s take some fresh blood,” he said and, pricking his finger with a long needle, pulled out a drop of blood with a pipette. - Now I will dissolve this drop in a liter of water. Look, the water seems completely clear. The ratio of blood to water is no more than one to a million. And yet, I guarantee you that we will get a characteristic reaction. “He threw several white crystals into a glass jar and dripped some colorless liquid into it. The contents of the jar instantly turned a dull purple color, and a brown sediment appeared at the bottom.

- Ha, ha! “He clapped his hands, beaming with joy, like a child who has received a new toy. - What do you think of it?

“This is apparently some kind of very strong reagent,” I noted.

- Wonderful! Wonderful! The previous method with guaiac resin is very cumbersome and unreliable, as is the study of blood globules under a microscope - it is generally useless if the blood was shed several hours ago. And this reagent works equally well whether the blood is fresh or not. If it had been opened earlier, then hundreds of people who are now walking free would have long ago paid for their crimes.

- That's how it is! – I muttered.

– Solving crimes always comes up against this problem. A person begins to be suspected of murder, perhaps several months after it has been committed. They look through his underwear or dress and find brownish stains. What is it: blood, dirt, rust, fruit juice or something else? This is the question that has puzzled many experts: why? Because there was no reliable reagent. Now we have the Sherlock Holmes reagent, and all difficulties are over!

His eyes sparkled, he put his hand to his chest and bowed as if responding to the applause of an imaginary crowd.

“We can congratulate you,” I said, quite amazed at his enthusiasm.

– A year ago, the complicated case of von Bischoff was being investigated in Frankfurt. He, of course, would have been hanged if my method had been known then. What about the case of Mason from Bradford, and the famous Muller, and Lefebvre from Montlelier, and Sampson from New Orleans? I can name dozens of cases in which my reagent would play a decisive role.

“You’re just a walking chronicle of crime,” Stamford laughed. – You should publish a special newspaper. Call it "Police News of the Past."

“And that would be very interesting reading,” said Sherlock Holmes, covering a tiny wound on his finger with a piece of plaster. “You have to be careful,” he continued, turning to me with a smile, “I often tinker with all sorts of toxic substances.” “He extended his hand, and I saw that his fingers were covered with the same pieces of plaster and stains from caustic acids.

“We came on business,” Stamford said, sitting down on a high three-legged stool and pushing another one towards me with the tip of his boot. “My friend is looking for a place to live, and since you complained that you couldn’t find a companion, I decided that it was necessary to set you up.”

Sherlock Holmes obviously liked the prospect of sharing an apartment with me.

“You know, I’ve got my eye on an apartment on Baker Street,” he said, “that will suit you and me in every way.” I hope you don't mind the smell of strong tobacco?

“I smoke ship’s smoke myself,” I answered.

- So that's great. I usually keep chemicals at home and do experiments from time to time. Will this bother you?

- Not at all.

- Wait a minute, what other shortcomings do I have? Yes, sometimes the blues come over me, and I don’t open my mouth for whole days. Don't think that I'm sulking at you. Just ignore me and it will pass soon. Well, what can you repent of? Before we move in together, it would be good to know the worst about each other.

This mutual interrogation made me laugh.

“I have a bulldog puppy,” I said, “and I can’t stand any noise because my nerves are upset, I can lie in bed for half a day and in general I’m incredibly lazy.” When I am healthy, I have a number of other vices, but now these are the most important.

– Do you also consider playing the violin to be noise? – he asked with concern.

“It depends on how you play,” I answered. – A good game is a gift from the gods, but a bad game...

“Well, then everything is in order,” he laughed cheerfully. “In my opinion, we can consider the matter settled if only you like the rooms.”

- When will we see them?

- Come pick me up tomorrow at noon, we will leave from here together and agree on everything.

“Okay, then, exactly at noon,” I said, shaking his hand.

He went back to his chemicals, and Stamford and I walked to my hotel.

“By the way,” I suddenly stopped, turning to Stamford, “how did he manage to guess that I came from Afghanistan?”

My companion smiled a mysterious smile.

“This is its main feature,” he said. “Many people would give a lot to find out how he guesses everything.”

– So, there’s some kind of secret here? – I exclaimed, rubbing my hands. - Very interesting! Thank you for introducing us. You know, “to know humanity, you need to study man.”

“Then you must study Holmes,” said Stamford, taking leave.

“However, you will soon see that this is a hard nut to crack.” I bet he'll see through you faster than you can see through him. Farewell!

“Goodbye,” I answered and walked towards the hotel, quite interested in my new acquaintance.

CHAPTER II. THE ART OF MAKING CONCLUSIONS

The next day we met at the agreed hour and went to look at the apartment at Baker Street, No. 221-b, which Holmes had spoken about the day before. The apartment had two comfortable bedrooms and a spacious, bright, comfortably furnished living room with two large windows. We liked the rooms, and the rent, divided between two people, turned out to be so small that we immediately agreed to rent and immediately took possession of the apartment. That same evening I moved my belongings from the hotel, and the next morning Sherlock Holmes arrived with several boxes and suitcases. For a day or two we fiddled with unpacking and arranging our belongings, trying to find the best place for each thing, and then we gradually began to settle into our home and adapt to the new conditions.

Holmes was certainly not a difficult person to get along with. He led a calm, measured lifestyle and was usually true to his habits. He rarely went to bed after ten in the evening, and in the mornings, as a rule, he managed to have breakfast and leave while I was still lying in bed. Sometimes he spent the whole day in the laboratory, sometimes in the anatomy department, and sometimes he went for a long walk, and these walks apparently took him into the most remote corners of London. His energy knew no bounds when a work verse came upon him, but from time to time a reaction would occur, and then he would lie on the sofa in the living room for days on end, not uttering a word and hardly moving. These days I noticed such a dreamy, such an absent expression in his eyes that I would have suspected him of being addicted to drugs if the regularity and chastity of his lifestyle had not refuted such thoughts.

Week after week I became more and more interested in his personality, and more and more curious about his goals in life. Even his appearance could strike the imagination of the most superficial observer. He was over six feet tall, but with his extraordinary thinness he seemed even taller. His gaze was sharp, piercing, except for those periods of numbness mentioned above; his thin aquiline nose gave his face an expression of lively energy and determination. A square, slightly protruding chin also spoke of a decisive character. His hands were always covered in ink and stained with various chemicals, but he had the ability to handle objects with amazing delicacy - I noticed this more than once when he tinkered with his fragile alchemical instruments in front of me.

The reader, perhaps, will consider me an inveterate hunter of other people's affairs if I admit what curiosity this man aroused in me and how often I tried to break through the wall of restraint with which he fenced off everything that concerned him personally. But before you judge, remember how aimless my life was then and how little there was around that could occupy my idle mind. My health did not allow me to go out in cloudy or cool weather, friends did not visit me because I had none, and nothing brightened up the monotony of my daily life. Therefore, I even rejoiced at some of the mystery surrounding my companion, and greedily sought to dispel it, spending a lot of time on this.

Holmes did not practice medicine. He himself once answered this question in the negative, thereby confirming Stamford's opinion. I also did not see that he systematically read any scientific literature that would be useful for obtaining an academic title and would open the way for him to the world of science. However, he studied some subjects with amazing zeal, and in some rather strange areas he had such extensive and accurate knowledge that at times I was simply stunned. A person who reads randomly can rarely boast of the depth of his knowledge. No one will burden their memory with small details unless there is a good enough reason to do so.

Holmes' ignorance was as amazing as his knowledge. He had almost no idea about modern literature, politics and philosophy. I happened to mention the name of Thomas Carlyle, and Holmes naively asked who he was and why he was famous. But when it turned out that he knew absolutely nothing about either the Copernican theory or the structure of the solar system, I was simply taken aback with amazement. For a civilized person living in the nineteenth century not to know that the Earth revolves around the Sun - I simply could not believe it!

“You seem surprised,” he smiled, looking at my confused face. – Thank you for enlightening me, but now I will try to forget all this as soon as possible.

- Forget?!

“You see,” he said, “it seems to me that the human brain is like a small empty attic that you can furnish as you like.” A fool will drag all the junk he can get his hands on there, and there will be nowhere to put useful, necessary things, or at best, you won’t be able to get to them among all this rubbish. And a smart person carefully selects what he places in his brain attic. He will take only the tools that he needs for his work, but there will be a lot of them, and he will arrange everything in an exemplary order. It is in vain that people think that this small room has elastic walls and they can be stretched as much as they want. I assure you, the time will come when, acquiring something new, you will forget something from the past. Therefore, it is terribly important that unnecessary information does not crowd out necessary information.

“Yes, but not to know about the solar system!” I exclaimed.

- Why the hell do I need her? – he interrupted impatiently. - Well, okay, let, as you say, we revolve around the Sun. If I knew that we were orbiting the Moon, would that help me or my work much?

I wanted to ask what kind of work this was, but I felt that he would not be happy. I thought about our short conversation and tried to draw some conclusions. He does not want to clutter his head with knowledge that is not needed for his purposes. Therefore, he intends to use all the accumulated knowledge in one way or another. I mentally listed all the areas of knowledge in which he showed excellent knowledge. I even took a pencil and wrote it all down on paper. After re-reading the list, I couldn't help but smile. The “Certificate” looked like this:

SHERLOCK HOLMES - HIS CAPABILITIES

1. Knowledge in the field of literature – none.

2. –//– –//– philosophies – none.

3. –//– –//– astronomy – none.

4. –//– –//– politicians – weak.

5. –//– –//– botanists – uneven. Knows the properties of belladonna, opium and poisons in general. Has no idea about gardening.

6. –//– –//– geology – practical, but limited. Identifies different soil samples at a glance. After walking, he shows me splashes of mud on his trousers and, based on their color and consistency, determines what part of London it is from.

7. –//– –//– chemistry – deep.

8. –//– –//– anatomy – accurate, but unsystematic.

9. –//– –//– criminal chronicles – huge, Knows, it seems, all the details of every crime committed in the nineteenth century.

10. Plays the violin well.

11. Excellent fencing with swords and espadrons, an excellent boxer.

12. Thorough practical knowledge of English laws.

Having reached this point, I threw the “certificate” into the fire in despair. “No matter how much I list everything he knows,” I said to myself, “it is impossible to guess why he needs it and what kind of profession requires such a combination! No, it’s better not to rack your brains in vain!” I have already said that Holmes played the violin beautifully. However, there was something strange here, as in all his activities. I knew that he could perform violin pieces, and quite difficult ones: more than once, at my request, he played Mendelssohn’s “Songs” and other things I loved. But when he was alone, it was rare to hear a piece or anything resembling a melody at all. In the evenings, placing the violin on his lap, he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and casually moved his bow along the strings. Sometimes sonorous, sad chords were heard. Another time there were sounds in which one could hear frantic joy. Obviously, they corresponded to his mood, but whether the sounds gave rise to this mood, or whether they themselves were the product of some bizarre thoughts or just a whim, I could not understand. And, probably, I would have rebelled against these nerve-scratching “concerts” if after them, as if rewarding me for my patience, he had not played several of my favorite things one after another.

During the first week no one came to see us, and I began to think that my companion was as lonely in this city as I was. But I soon became convinced that he had many acquaintances, from very different walks of life. Once, three or four times in one week, a frail little man with a yellowish-pale rat-like face and sharp black eyes appeared; he was introduced to me as Mr. Lestrade. One morning an elegant young girl came and sat with Holmes for at least half an hour. That same day, a gray-haired, shabby old man appeared, looking like a Jewish ragpicker; it seemed to me that he was very excited. Almost right behind him came an old woman in worn-out shoes. Once an elderly gentleman with gray hair had a long conversation with my roommate, then a station porter in a uniform corduroy jacket. Every time one of these strange visitors appeared, Sherlock Holmes asked permission to occupy the living room, and I went to my bedroom. “We have to use this room for business meetings,” he once explained, asking, as usual, to excuse him for the inconvenience. “These people are my clients.” And again I had a reason to ask him a direct question, but again, out of delicacy, I did not want to forcibly find out other people’s secrets.

It seemed to me then that he had some good reasons for hiding his profession, but he soon proved me wrong by talking about it on his own initiative.

On the fourteenth of March - I remember this date well - I got up earlier than usual and found Sherlock Holmes at breakfast. Our landlady is so used to the fact that I get up late that she has not yet had time to install the appliance for me and make coffee for my share. Offended by all of humanity, I called and said in a rather defiant tone that I was waiting for breakfast. Grabbing a magazine from the table, I began leafing through it to kill time while my roommate silently chewed toast. The title of one of the articles was crossed out in pencil, and, quite naturally, I began to skim through it.

The title of the article was somewhat pretentious: “The Book of Life”; the author tried to prove how much a person can learn by systematically and in detail observing everything that passes before his eyes. In my opinion, it was an amazing mixture of reasonable and delusional thoughts. If there was some logic and even persuasiveness in the reasoning, then the conclusions seemed to me very deliberate and, as they say, pulled out of thin air. The author argued that by a fleeting facial expression, by the involuntary movement of a muscle, or by a glance, one can guess the innermost thoughts of the interlocutor. According to the author, it was simply impossible to deceive a person who knows how to observe and analyze. His conclusions will be as infallible as Euclid's theorems. And the results will be so amazing that uninitiated people will almost consider him a sorcerer until they understand what process of inference preceded this.

“With one drop of water,” the author wrote, “a person who knows how to think logically can conclude about the possibility of the existence of the Atlantic Ocean or Niagara Falls, even if he has not seen either one or the other and has never heard of them. Every life is a huge chain of causes and effects, and we can understand its nature one by one. The art of inference and analysis, like all other arts, is learned by long and diligent work, but life is too short, and therefore no mortal can achieve complete perfection in this field. Before turning to the moral and intellectual aspects of the matter, which present the greatest difficulties, let the investigator begin with the solution of simpler problems. Let him, by looking at the first person he meets, learn to immediately determine his past and his profession. It may seem childish at first, but such exercises sharpen your powers of observation and teach you how to look and what to look at. By a person’s nails, by his sleeves, shoes and the fold of his trousers at the knees, by the bulges on his thumb and index finger, by his facial expression and the cuffs of his shirt - from such little things it is not difficult to guess his profession. And there is no doubt that all this taken together will prompt a knowledgeable observer to the correct conclusions.”

-What wild nonsense! – I exclaimed, throwing the magazine on the table. “I’ve never read such nonsense in my life.”

- What are you speaking about? - asked Sherlock Holmes.

“Yes, about this article,” I pointed at the magazine with a teaspoon and began to eat my breakfast. “I see you’ve already read it, since it’s marked in pencil.” I don’t argue that it’s written famously, but it all just makes me angry. It’s good for him, this slacker, lounging in an easy chair in the silence of his office, composing elegant paradoxes! I wish I could squeeze him into a third-class subway car and make him guess the professions of the passengers! I'll bet a thousand against one that he won't succeed!

“And you will lose,” Holmes said calmly. - And I wrote the article.

- Yes. I have a penchant for observation—and analysis. The theory that I have outlined here and which seems so fantastic to you is in fact very vital, so vital that I owe my piece of bread and butter to it.

- But how? - I burst out.

– You see, I have a rather rare profession. Perhaps I am the only one of my kind. I'm a consulting detective, if you know what that is. There are many detectives in London, both public and private. When these fellows reach a dead end, they rush to me, and I manage to guide them on the right track. They introduce me to all the circumstances of the case, and, knowing well the history of forensic science, I can almost always tell them where the mistake is. All atrocities have a great family resemblance, and if you know the details of a whole thousand cases like the back of your hand, it would be strange not to solve the thousand and first. Lestrade is a very famous detective. But recently he was unable to figure out a case of forgery and came to me.

- And others?

– Most often they are sent to me by private agencies. These are all people in trouble and looking for advice. I listen to their stories, they listen to my interpretation, and I pocket the fee.

“Do you really mean to say,” I couldn’t bear it, “that without leaving the room you can unravel the tangle over which those who know all the details better than you struggle in vain?”

- Exactly. I have a kind of intuition. True, from time to time something more complicated comes across. Well, then you have to run around a little to see something with your own eyes. You see, I have special knowledge that I apply in each specific case, it makes things amazingly easier. The rules of deduction that I set out in the article about which you spoke so contemptuously are simply invaluable for my practical work. Observation is second nature to me. You seemed surprised when, at our first meeting, I said that you came from Afghanistan?

- Of course, someone told you about this.

- Nothing of the kind. I immediately guessed that you came from Afghanistan. Thanks to a long-standing habit, the chain of inferences arises in me so quickly that I came to the conclusion without even noticing the intermediate premises. However, they were there, these parcels. My train of thought was as follows: “This man is a doctor by type, but he has a military bearing. So, a military doctor. He has just arrived from the tropics - his face is dark, but this is not the natural shade of his skin, since his wrists are much whiter. The face is emaciated - obviously, he has suffered a lot and suffered from illness. He was wounded in his left hand - he holds it motionless and a little unnaturally. Where in the tropics could an English military doctor endure hardships and get wounded? Of course, in Afghanistan." The whole train of thought did not take even a second. And so I said that you came from Afghanistan, and you were surprised.

For this wonderful work, the young and little-known author received a fee of 25 pounds. And this was happiness for him, because he still had to run around the editorial offices, listen to polite and not so polite refusals. But nevertheless, “A Study in Scarlet” was published, and Dr. Doyle became the owner of a sum that was, in the full sense of the word, ridiculous in comparison with his later fees...

25 pounds? Of course, some minor reporter subsisted on £2 a week, but there was nothing strange in the fact that a beggar talented in the art of begging (remember the imaginary Hugh Boone from the story “The Man with the Cut Lip”) could beg significantly during the same time more...

It is quite obvious that the provincial doctor, who had suffered all sorts of hardships and was trying to become a professional writer, did not yet have particularly warm feelings towards London, which he intended to make himself applaud. And already at the very beginning of this story, the capital of Albion, through the lips of Dr. Watson, was compared to a huge garbage bin, where slackers and lazy people from all over the empire inevitably end up...

And Dr. Watson's first impressions of Mr. Holmes aren't much better. The doctor does not believe in the deductive method and considers Holmes either an arrogant braggart or a vain actor who strives to hear applause everywhere. And in general, the doctor believes that his life is essentially over, no one needs a person who is lame and tired of strong impressions, and he just needs to drag out the burden of earthly existence, without counting on anything significant...

And Mr. Holmes, before meeting Dr. Watson, is not suitable for the role of a person who has succeeded in life. He is confident that no great achievements threaten him, because now there are no longer even real criminals and real crimes. And all that remained was sheer boredom and pettiness, which even such slow-witted people as Lestrade and Gregson could easily cope with. And although he still continues to consider himself a genius, this genius unknown to the world is ready to put up with the fact that these same Lestrade and Gregson allow him to unravel some complex case, and then take all the credit for themselves. “For in this world it does not matter how much you have done. The most important thing is to be able to convince people that you have done a lot.”

And I am sure that Holmes at first considered Watson just a random circumstance that had little influence on the course of his life, but it turned out that they both saved each other from mortal melancholy and hopelessness...

Watson has found a person to admire, who will make the very course of life diverse, who will reveal to his companion the most mysterious corners of human souls. Holmes has found a devoted friend who will not abandon him in difficult times, who will not allow him to turn into a walking adding machine, thanks to whom he will become a real defender of the weak of this world...

Therefore, those who, in a pair of Holmes and Watson, see only how a brilliant detective, with or without reason, uses the deductive method, are wrong, while a dull doctor with a notebook trails behind him and is thrilled with the happiness of being the chronicler of the deeds of the great Sherlock Holmes...

Never mind that Mr Doyle only received £25 for A Study in Scarlet. And the plot of this story itself is not even important, as well as complaints about the implausibility of this whole story about the evil Mormons and the revenge of Jefferson Hope. What is important is that in 1887 three people achieved immortality. A certain Holmes, a certain Watson and a certain Doyle...

Rating: 9

Thanks to this book, I will probably always feel admiration for the time of Victorian England - a little prim, but so attractive, when graceful and taciturn gentlemen and charming ladies walked along the foggy streets of London. And in the dark alleys of the English capital, behind the high wrought-iron fences of castles and the windows of small apartments, dark secrets were hidden and the most terrible crimes were committed, which only the unsurpassed mind of the great Sherlock Holmes could solve.

And even if there were no entertaining plot, impressive descriptions of the life of foggy London, “A Study in Scarlet” would already be remarkable for the first meeting with these two heroes - the great detective Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson, whose very existence changed the detective genre forever. And how many books have been written about them, films made, comics drawn, jokes invented! Lord, the very name Holmes is already a household name, known even to those who have never picked up a single book in their lives!

And this novel is one of the best examples of a classic detective story, written in bright, figurative language. How easy it is, while reading these pages, to imagine yourself as a participant in the investigation of mysterious murders, to listen with Watson to the story of Holmes’ method, and - a rare case - to sympathize with the criminal who turned out to be simply an unfortunate person who has lost faith in human justice and who has endured great suffering and trials. . Experience with him the death of loved ones and secretly rejoice at the retribution that has overtaken the villains.

Rating: 10

The very first work about Sherlock Holmes, and this is its charm. Conan Doyle is only 28, his main masterpieces are still ahead, and the writer cannot even imagine what a nightmare the detective from Baker Street will become for him. Holmes and Watson had just met and had not acquired the cliches that would inevitably appear in the next 40 years. Mrs. Hudson is also not invented, only the nameless “landlady” is briefly mentioned. In addition, “Etude...” is perhaps the only work in the series about Holmes where the background of the crime is given in such detail and it is such a pity for the man whom one cannot even call a criminal.

Spoiler (plot reveal) (click on it to see)

And further! What a genius the Soviet series about Holmes was, but even there words were put into Watson’s mouth about how bad it was to devote your life to revenge. And I’m closer to the words of Jefferson Hope himself - he acted as any real man should act.

Rating: 10

I re-read it many years later (I was drawn to something, some kind of nostalgia or something) and somehow it was immediately reminiscent of either childhood or youth - I can’t tell, but the emotions were the most positive.

I remember reading in my youth and being most amazed and captivated by the deductive method and the genius of Holmes. Now, having gained a little of my own life experience, the deductive conclusions are already somewhat faded. There is, of course, a rational grain in them, but I would already question the unambiguity of some conclusions or observations :). In general, such techniques are no longer as impressive as they were for a young, fragile mind :).

Now the second part of the work made the greatest impression, namely the description of life’s difficulties and troubles that people once went through in search of their promised place on Earth. Now, having my own children, I involuntarily put myself in Fera’s place (if I’m not mistaken) and wonder what I would do in the place of the hero, finding myself lost in the desert and without water... (there are some issues that I don’t have to resolve with them, but glory God, at least such a mess is not threatening us yet. Although who knows what cataclysms nature and the political games of those in power may bring us...)

Well, the most favorable feeling remains from the style and language of the author, unattainable for most modern detectives...

Rating: 9

Wonderful! This is actually the first work that opened the way to literature for me. Before that, I tried to read what my friends advised: that is, Stalker, Metro, Perumov, Golovachev, Tarmashev and other disgusting modern hacks. None of them took me, I read it like that out of boredom. But when I finished reading “A Study in Scarlet,” I had only one thing in my head: “WOW!” It's just a brain dump. True, then I was still small and did not understand that this sharp departure into the past of our criminal needed to be read (then I missed it, but a couple of years later I re-read it and the picture became whole).

Overall, the story is wonderful! Especially for me (although it came in third place before the Valley of Horror and The Hound of the Baskervilles). And Sherlock Holmes - a highly intelligent sociopath - became my favorite literary character.

Rating: 10

Introduction of the main characters. And the first Holmes investigation, witnessed by Dr. Watson. The work is simply brilliant, the standard of a classic detective story. There is everything here: an abandoned house, corpses, a bloody inscription on the wall, poisoned pills, love, revenge, and ambiguous characters... The story consists of two parts: the first is Holmes's acquaintance with Watson and the investigation of the crime, and the second is a narration of the events preceding the crime. The first part captures the gloomy atmosphere and the impossibility of crime. Reading the second part, you feel sorry for the criminal; he is much more charming than his victims.

I give it ten points, because this story is a brilliant combination of detective, psychological, love and adventure lines. Later, many detective stories appeared, in which there was nothing more than an investigation. And “A Study in Scarlet” is a full-fledged literary work.

Rating: 10

The name of Sherlock Holmes has long become a household name, films are being made about his adventures, fans are writing sequels, and fans of the great detective continue to re-read the now classic complicated cases with pleasure. Nowadays, the image of Holmes has not become bronzed at all and still attracts a wide audience, which is confirmed by the release of new series like “Sherlock”, “Elementary” in which, following the postmodern tradition, old stories are retold in a new way.

On this wave, of course, many readers will be interested in learning (or refreshing their memory) how it all began, and for this it is simply necessary to turn to the novel “A Study in Scarlet,” on the pages of which the first acquaintance of the legendary detective and his faithful Dr. Watson's companion. We are about to travel to the era of Victorian England - we will visit Baker Street, meet the hospitable hostess Mrs. Hudson, the zealous but narrow-minded Scotland Yard detectives Lestrade and Gregson, together with Watson we will consistently follow the investigation of a mysterious double murder that has baffled the best criminologists London.

The first thing I would like to note is the author’s ability to accurately recreate the atmosphere of the era, without unnecessary details or unnecessary descriptions, the reader is easily and simply transported to the slums of the British capital, visiting dirty drinking dens, cheap hotels and abandoned tenement buildings. The architecture of that era, transport, fashion - all this is described casually, unobtrusively and paints a rich picture in front of your mind's eye without undue strain on the imagination.

The images of the main and secondary characters are very successful - bright, memorable characters, each of them is a personality who tends to make mistakes, experience the whole gamut of human feelings, each has their own advantages and disadvantages. It was interesting to compare the images of the characters in the original text with the wonderful Soviet film adaptation; if Holmes on the screen turned out to be very similar to his literary prototype, then Watson in the novel appears to us less correct and restrained - he can easily flare up, is sometimes prone to laziness and apathy, i.e. e. in the novel the image turned out to be more profound.

The compositional structure of the novel is designed to most fully reveal the author's intention. The novel is divided into two parts, the first is devoted to the introduction of the main characters and the investigation of the entire case - from the introductory briefing to the capture of the real killer. The second part of the novel is retrospective - the author introduces us to the background of the conflict, then the narration is told from the perspective of the criminal, and in the end Holmes reveals to us the entire chain of his logical conclusions that helped him solve the case.

In my opinion, the only drawback of this novel is the presentation of the background story of the conflict between the killer and his victims. The abrupt change in the setting and set of characters at first even made me doubt that this was a continuation of the novel, and not the beginning of something new. We have just been in London and suddenly we find ourselves in the Wild West, following a story of love, human meanness, and witnessing real drama and tragedy. No, the backstory, of course, is important in order to understand - the criminal had his own truth and good reasons for carrying out his deed, the story itself, if taken out of the context of the novel, is quite good, although it looks somewhat archaic and melodramatic. But in the aggregate, all these Mormons, cowboys, and tragic beauties are more suitable for a western than a classic detective story.

The main cherry on the cake, without a doubt, should be recognized as the descriptions of Holmes' deductive method - the chain of reasoning when the overall picture is formed from minor details is simply amazing. All this seems simple at first glance, but if the reader tries to apply Holmes’ method in practice, he is unlikely to succeed the first time - this is what makes him read and re-read the painfully familiar plot again and again, once again marveling at his powers of observation and the mental alertness of the famous detective.

I can recommend this novel to everyone without exception, the gloomy atmosphere and non-trivial mysteries will attract an adult reader, and the adventures and dynamics will win the hearts of young ones, fortunately the novel is quite chaste and not bloodthirsty. This is a work from the category of eternal classics; it will be read by many, many generations of our descendants. The novel is very cozy, while reading you feel like you are in the company of old friends, sitting by a crackling fireplace with a glass of whiskey and listening for the umpteenth time to a story that can be retold endlessly.

Rating: 9

So, a significant event - I turned to the series about Sherlock Holmes, for the first time in 10 years I decided to re-read at least part of the stories, which are also part of my childhood. Back in the era when I moved from fairy tales and children's classics to more adult literature, in the late 1990s, I watched Igor Maslennikov's wonderful film adaptation, admired the polished, bright acting of Vasily Livanov and the good-natured, gentle manner of Vitaly Solomin's skill. Of course, at the age of ten, even earlier, in my opinion, the first couple of approaches to Arthur Conan Doyle ended in failure, but the very title of the first story fascinated and attracted me.

"A study in Scarlet"...

Our first acquaintance with a young man, a one-of-a-kind consulting detective who does most of their work for the police. And filigree, it must be said, work. Conan Doyle tries to abstract himself from his predecessors, criticizing the works of Gaboriau through the mouth of the detective, and even passing through his obvious prototype - Auguste Dupin. I don't know the history of the genre very well, I'm just not interested in it, but perhaps this really was a detective story on a new level - continuing the line of Edgar Allan Poe with his logic games, but in a broader format and with detailed coverage.

But let's go back to my childhood. The first thing that fascinated me was the previously unfamiliar feeling of a visible and gloomy atmosphere. It’s as if gray, damp and dank London gradually crept into me, although there doesn’t seem to be much of it in the story. The second is, of course, the bright Sherlock Holmes, who is, on the one hand, a living adding machine, a computer that is created to solve the chains of complex puzzles and solve logical problems. However, if you look at it differently, then this is, of course, a passionate nature, and the detective is sincerely passionate about his affairs, immersing himself in them not only with his brain, but also with his feelings. Sherlock Holmes - I think there is no doubt that it is precisely for the sake of his bright type that people read the author’s stories over and over again, write sequels and variations, and shoot one film adaptation after another.

What I remember is the endless surprise of a small brain’s ability to notice little things, through observations and comparisons to collect the overall picture of a crime. Conan Doyle is well aware of the skepticism this can cause in a reader who does not yet know that this story is destined to become a detective classic. Therefore, we see all this through the eyes of the detective’s companion, Dr. Watson, to whom Holmes himself proves the effectiveness of his deductive method. Here everything is written out, in detail, intelligibly, chewed, put in the mouth and even swallowed right away. No questions.

And what can I, today and almost an adult, say about “Etude...”? The enjoyment of the detective story remains much the same, although in some places I can see the hesitant hand of the novice writer. The fragment dedicated to the Mormons, on the one hand, is drawn out, but not written out expressively enough, which makes the tragedy of Jefferson Hope somewhat picturesque. In any case, the very setting, that the killer deserves pity much more than the victim, makes us respect the young author.

In general, a good detective story, a little stretched in terms of volume, but no less outstanding. And thanks to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, firstly, for a happy childhood, spent partly with his character, and secondly, for such a great contribution to art in general. After all, it is unlikely that even the intelligent Hercule Poirot can compare in his overall cultural significance with the great detective from 221B Baker Street.

Rating: 8

Etude! A preparatory sketch for a future major work, crimson - often associated with the color of blood, tone - an emotional trace, shade. Before us is one of the best works of this classic genre. It is in this work that we first meet the famous detective and begin to follow the solving of mysterious crimes, thanks to the notes of his constant companion. Ominous, foggy, full of lurking menace, London: “a cesspool where slackers and idlers from all over the empire are drawn.” 1881 We have two parts that are different in theme and even in style, united by a time period of thirty years and a thirst for revenge. A fascinating mystery, an intricacy of events, ambiguous facts and paradoxical sensations were ingeniously woven into this story, a heart-warming dramatic story of love and bloody revenge that ended with several murders in London, which baffled the local police. This is how detective adventures begin, without which several generations of fans of this genre cannot imagine their lives...

Enjoy reading!

PS: Interesting facts. Mormons in the story are depicted from a rather unsightly side. But it's deserved! Mormons did participate in mass murder. In particular, they were responsible for the so-called “Massacre” at Mountain Meadows in 1857 - the murder of one and a half hundred peaceful settlers heading from Arkansas to California to prevent the settlement of Utah by non-Mormon populations. The Mormon Legion disguised themselves as them to discredit the Indians, but due to the fear that someone would suddenly guess who was really behind these five-day attacks, an order was given to exterminate the settlers. In total, about 120 men, women and older children were killed. Seventeen children, all under seven years old, were rescued by local families.

Rating: 10

I have heard the name Sherlock Hill many times, watched films, but never read it. I never liked detective stories, but I liked the stories about the brilliant Sherlock Holmes and his faithful companion Dr. Watson. My first acquaintance with Holmes, like Vason, made an indelible impression. A genius, a professional in his field, amazes with his deductive abilities every time. Probably only he can deal with the Jefferson Hope case. Not a simple crime that is tied to love and revenge. Which originates many kilometers from England and which has been looking for the moment to happen for many days. The plot is amazing.

I really like the ending for its detailed explanation of the crime. The rating is of course 10!

Rating: 10

An excellent detective story, with an interesting plot, charismatic characters in the surroundings of London at the end of the 14th century.

A retired veteran of the Afghan war, Dr. John Watson is looking for housing to rent, but he cannot afford to rent an apartment alone. A friend introduces him to a man who finds himself in the same situation and invites them to rent an apartment together, fortunately Watson’s neighbor is a respectable citizen named Sherlock Holmes.

The characters immediately find a common language and become friends. A young detective consultant (as Holmes himself calls himself) introduces John to his method of investigating crimes - deduction (the ability to form the goal of logical conclusions from one link). Having learned about a murder in one of the districts of London, Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson begin their exciting adventures, loved by millions of people around the world.

Rating: 10

The first work of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, where the main character is supervised by the charming tandem of the meek and sedate Doctor Watson and the eccentric, consistent and charismatic Sherlock Holmes. It was here that this great character was first introduced to the public, and need I say how much people loved him... I don’t think so. But the fact that already here we were given the essays of Master Doyle that are characteristic of the following detective works - I will still say this: the ambiguity of the crime, the mystery of the motives and the unusually skillfully prepared assassination attempt - this is all clear, something else is of interest. Namely, the very essence of the killer: Conan Doyle, in his characteristic manner, reveals the seemingly notorious bandit from the most humane and sympathetic side to the reader, which is why in the end the understanding comes that you empathize more with him than with the murdered ones. This opens up the question of moral choice, and of human morality, honor and general justice. The story itself is based on the themes of faith, love and revenge, showing how poor spirituality can be and how high the human spirit can be - wonderful.

That is, what I want to say is that “A Study in Scarlet” is not only a strong, interesting and captivating detective story, “seasoned” with a uniquely felt ambience of the narrow, foggy streets of the “city on the Thames”, but also a sententious text that gives ground for thinking about issues that are still relevant today, which is why this creation should undoubtedly be called a classic, not just of a certain genre, but of literature in general.

Rating: 9

An eccentric detective finds his case

It is probably difficult to find a person who cannot say anything about Sherlock Holmes. Someone read, someone watched (be it Russian films, be it the creations of Guy Ritchie or the BBC). Most likely, most are familiar with Holmes from the films. Still, Arthur Conan Doyle’s books about Sherlock are distinguished by their age and volume. Many may be put off by the form of the works - novellas, short stories and several novels (which, according to some, are not novels, but stories; the opinion, it must be said, is very logical and well-founded). Still, it is advisable to know the original source of the “classic detective” genre so that you can adequately evaluate numerous film adaptations. And Conan Doyle did a lot for the genre, even if detectives now focus, as a rule, on either the noir component or suspense. In extreme cases, on the personality of a maniac (precisely a maniac, because now it’s not interesting who stole what, it’s much more interesting who killed whom). That is why “A Study in Scarlet” is a great opportunity to get acquainted with the creations of the famous Englishman.

The novel (story) is written from the perspective of Watson (after all, he is Watson, not the Russian Watson) - a doctor who comes to London. Watson is looking for housing, and this becomes the point of his acquaintance with Sherlock. Holmes appears to the reader as an eccentric young man who may not know about the cosmology of the Universe, but can easily understand what kind of person is in front of him at one glance - profession, habits, and so on. Sherlock is by no means chasing fame and fortune. He easily solves those cases that baffle all the renowned Scotland Yard cops. Holmes is also not embarrassed by the fact that his achievements are credited to the cops, not to him. It is Watson who becomes Sherlock's biographer, and he also writes “reports” for the press, although Holmes does not ask for this.

Tandem Watson - Sherlock is an excellent example of a duet of heroes. Fire and ice, intuitiveness and rationality, cunning and straightforwardness. Both characters complement each other perfectly. One feels that they both need each other - both Sherlock Watson and Watson - Sherlock.

The writing style is also surprising. Old books are very unique. It is not easy to read them in modern literature. Now the mainstream is long novels, with an emphasis on the descriptive part. Previously, on the contrary, books were laconic, there were a lot of dialogues, but the descriptive part was sparse. Nowadays this is called “dry style”. A Study in Scarlet is an example of how stereotypes are not laws. This book is not as laconic and dry as it might seem when you look at the volume of the work.

Conclusion: “A Study in Scarlet” is an excellent novel (story). Easy to read and interesting. I didn’t quite like the composition, which divides the work into two parts. The beginning (Sherlock) and a retrospective through the eyes of the killer. The second part is not so interesting to read; it could easily have been packed into a couple of chapters. Perhaps, if not for her, I would have given 9, or even 10 points. The benefit of the book for the cross-cutting plot is acquaintance with Sherlock, the formation of friendship between Holmes and Watson. I'm moving on to the next part of the Sherlock Holmes story - The Sign of Four.

Rating: 8

I took on this story for two reasons. Firstly, I just rewatched the English TV series “Sherlock”... yes, yes, I’m one of those who read books under the impression of their successful film adaptation, probably among the people they have some kind of name, perhaps not even a very disingenuous one ... And secondly, I, of course, had read stories about Sherlock Holmes before (that was quite a long time ago), but I always wanted to read the “canon” in its entirety and in order, and as luck would have it, the first story kept eluding me (by the way, This is not the only such case, I very rarely come across the first things in cycles), and then - oh, a miracle! - here it is, “Study in Scarlet” - it would have been a shame not to take it! But, still, I can’t resist comparing the book with the series. I have already said that I had been reading stories about Holmes for a long time, and for me this story was like a rediscovery of him. For me there has always been one Sherlock Holmes - Livanov, even when I watched Sherlock. But then I realized that Cumberbatch is closer to the book hero. Our domestic Sherlock is truly “ideal”, it’s as if all the vices of the real book Holmes have been washed away from him - his brilliant egoism, his pride, his highest conceit, which allows him to speak sarcastically about everyone around him (and he “dragged” Watson into the case because the fact that he spoke unflatteringly about his newspaper article, revealing the essence of his method), openly wanting recognition, loving flattery (how he liked it when someone admired his actions), addiction to opium, in the end (I remember this from those most stories). In a word, perhaps the author’s main success is not in this wonderful deductive method, with which he broke a hole in the genre through which a fresh, amazing wave poured in, but in the creation of a beautiful, amazing character in its purest form, with a lot of negative traits, but incredibly charming. His incredible charisma, his mercurial sharp movements, his rhythm, it’s like a heart - it beats so hard that involuntarily everything is measured out by these beats, everything itself begins to live in this rhythm (by the way, in “Sherlock” this rhythm is also captured very well). Not only an amazing way of solving crimes (it’s not so fantastic, “Murder in the Rue Morgue” already happened before), but also a brilliantly executed charismatic hero - that’s what made the series an all-time thing, and the very name of Sherlock Holmes a household name ... But, stop, stop! It seems I got carried away... To the story itself! So, “A Study in Scarlet” captivated me right away, from the first pages. Charm, dynamics, intriguing incidents and a sharp mind. And yet, once again I caught myself thinking that a detective story is, to some extent, a kind of “scary story” - there is death, mystery, and this gives off a sense of grave and otherworldly horror; “There is a mystery in this tragedy that affects the imagination: only the imagination can awaken real fear” (the words of Holmes himself). And in places this complicated affair was truly creepy. In a word, I swallowed the first part in one big piece - delicious, incredibly tasty! But then - bang! - The second part. She (for me) slammed on the brakes so abruptly that it even became sad... Here it is, charming originality, pace, mystery... and here - no, not bad in essence, but obvious, banal: an adventure typical of its time - salvation, love , ill-wishers, death, revenge... In some places it was pretty good, for example, the letter pinned to John Ferrier’s blanket, but somehow it didn’t reveal itself further... There was also information - I, for example, gained more knowledge about who the Mormons are and about their way of life, that Salt Lake City was founded by them (I didn’t know all this before... because, in general, I wasn’t interested). However, for me it was still a blow to the brakes, and a rather noticeable blow. All the originality and charm of the first part was taken away and evaporated for the sake of a lengthy melodramatic backstory of a strange double murder. Even the return to the figure of Holmes at the end and the revelation of his train of thought did not really straighten everything out for me; somehow I was discouraged by that completely uncharacteristic thing from the brilliant beginning of the story as the second part. And somewhere in the depths of my soul, I was also disappointed that the criminal turned out to be not a ruthless, cunning killer, but in some sense a man of honor (goodbye, fear!). The second part let me down. I feel, I know that it was not bad, but part one blinded me so much that everything was a decline for me, a slight but tangible deception of expectations... I couldn’t help myself! At least cut me!

Happy reading everyone.

Arthur Conan Doyle

A STUDY IN SCARLET

Illustrations and cover Grisa Grimly

* * *

To my editor, Jordan Brown

Part one
(which is a reprint from "Memoirs of John H. Watson, M.D., Retired Army Physician")

Chapter I
Mr Sherlock Holmes

In 1878 I received the degree of Doctor of Medicine from the University of London, after which I took a course of training for military doctors at Netley. On completion of my studies I was commissioned as second doctor in the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers. The regiment was stationed in India at that time, but I had not yet reached my duty station when the Second Afghan War broke out. Having landed in Bombay, I learned that my corps had gone beyond the passes and was deep in enemy territory. Together with many other officers who found themselves in the same position, I set off in pursuit; We reached Kandahar safely, where I finally overtook my regiment and immediately began my new duties.

This campaign brought glory and honor to many, but for me it brought only sorrow and misfortune. From my brigade I was transferred to the Berkshires, and it fell to me to participate with them in the ill-fated battle of Maiwand. A large-caliber bullet hit me in the shoulder, shattered the bone and pierced the subclavian artery. I would certainly have fallen into the hands of the bloodthirsty ghazis if it had not been for the devotion and courage of my adjutant Murray - he threw me over the back of a pack horse and managed to deliver me alive to our positions.

Exhausted by pain, exhausted by prolonged hardships, I was finally transported with a convoy of other wounded sufferers to the Peshawar hospital. Here I recovered a little and was already strong enough to walk from ward to ward and even get out onto the veranda to lie in the sun, but then I was struck down by typhoid fever, the curse of our Indian possessions. For many months I was between life and death, and when I finally came to my senses, I looked so weak and exhausted that the medical commission decided to send me back to England without delay. I then boarded the transport ship Orontes and disembarked a month later at Portsmouth Docks; My health was irreparably damaged, but the paternally caring government gave me permission to spend the next nine months restoring it.

I had not a single soul in England, and therefore I was as free as the wind—or rather, as a man with an income of twelve and a half shillings a day. It is not surprising that under such circumstances I rushed to London, this cesspool where slackers and idlers from all over the empire are drawn. For some time I lived in a private boarding house in the Strand, leading an uncomfortable, meaningless existence and spending my modest means much less wisely than I should have. As a result, my financial affairs took such a threatening turn that I realized: I would either have to leave the metropolis and settle somewhere in a remote province, or completely change my lifestyle. I leaned towards the second option and decided to start by leaving the boarding house and moving to some less refined and less expensive housing.

On the very day when this decision finally matured, I was standing in the bar of the Criterion restaurant, and someone suddenly tapped me on the shoulder; turning around, I recognized young Stamford, who had once worked under me as an orderly at Bart. To see a familiar face in the endless desert of London - what a joy for a restless person! In the old days Stamford and I were not particularly friendly, but here I greeted him with undisguised delight, and he seemed sincerely glad to see me. Encouraged by the meeting, I invited him to the Holborn for lunch, and we went there in a carriage.

What have you done to yourself, Watson? - he asked with undisguised surprise as the wheels of the carriage rumbled through the crowded streets of London. - You are now as thin as a sliver, and your skin is dark as a nut.

I began to briefly tell him about my misadventures and barely managed to get to the end when we reached the place.

What a poor fellow! - he sympathized after listening to my sad story. - What are you doing now?

“I’m looking for an apartment,” I answered. - I’m trying to solve a problem: is it possible to find comfortable housing at a reasonable price?

That’s strange,” my companion was surprised. - And you are the second person from whom I hear this phrase today.

And who is first? - I asked.

One young man who tinkers in the chemical laboratory in our hospital. This morning he complained that he didn’t have a friend with whom he could live together: he found an excellent apartment, but he couldn’t afford it alone.

Damn it! - I exclaimed. “If he wants to share housing and expenses, I’m just right for him.” I also find it more fun to live in company than alone.

Young Stamford looked at me suspiciously over his glass of wine.

“You don’t know Sherlock Holmes yet,” he said. - Maybe you won’t like this company at all.

Is there something wrong with him?

Well, I wouldn't say there's anything wrong with him. He's just a little strange - a sort of enthusiast in certain areas of science. But in principle, as far as I know, he is a completely decent person.

Studying to become a doctor? - I asked.

Not really. I have no idea what he plans to do with his life. As far as I know, he has a good understanding of anatomy, and he is a first-class chemist. However, as far as I know, he never systematically studied medicine. His knowledge is terribly unsystematic and one-sided, but at the same time he picked up all sorts of irrelevant information that would certainly surprise the teachers.

Have you ever asked why he does all this? - I asked.

No, you can’t get anything out of him that easily, but sometimes, depending on the mood, he becomes very talkative.

“I’d like to meet him,” I said. - If you’re going to share an apartment with someone, let it be a person with quiet, academic pursuits. I am not yet strong enough for all sorts of shocks and troubles. I suffered so much in Afghanistan that it will last me until the end of my earthly life. Where can I find this friend of yours?

1 Original language: Original published: Publisher:

"A study in Scarlet"(English) A Study in Scarlet listen)) is a detective story by Arthur Conan Doyle, published in 1887. It is in this work that Sherlock Holmes first appears. The first edition of the book was illustrated by Arthur's father, Charles Doyle, and the second by George Hutchinson.

Plot

Part 1. “From the memoirs of Dr. John G. Watson, retired military medical officer”

A body is found in an empty house. This man is one Enoch Drebber, an American. Consulting detective Sherlock Holmes, at the request of his “colleagues” Lestrade and Gregson, easily establishes the cause of death of the unfortunate man: it is poison. In the dead man's pockets they find a telegram "J. X. in Europe "(a wedding ring was found at the crime scene), and on the wall next to the body there was a message left in blood - rache(German for “revenge”).

Lestrade soon gets on the trail of the deceased's secretary, Stangerson, and pays him a visit, during which it turns out that he was killed - stabbed to death in his hotel room. Two pills are also found in the room. The experiment carried out by Holmes showed that one of the pills was harmless, and the second was poisonous, so the killer wanted to give equal chances to himself and the deceased.

Holmes advertises the missing ring in the newspaper (in the name of his companion John Watson) in the hope of finding the criminal, but the detective is cleverly deceived by the killer's accomplice, disguised as an old woman. During surveillance, Holmes misses an accomplice. As a result, with the help of hired street urchins, he finds out that the killer works as a cabman and, under the guise of moving from home, calls him to his house. With a request to help bring things in, he invites the unsuspecting killer to his place, where at that moment two of Holmes’s comrades (Lestrade and Gregson) are investigating this case, Dr. Watson and Holmes himself. When the cabman bends down for Holmes's suitcase, he handcuffs him and announces to those present - Lestrade, Gregson and Watson: "Gentlemen, allow me to present to you Mr. Jefferson Hope, the murderer of Enoch Drebber and Joseph Stangerson!" The killer tries to get out through the window, but four friends subdue the criminal.

Part 2. “Land of Saints”

A group of 22 people wandered in search of a better life in the Wild West. As a result, only two remain alive - a certain John Ferrier and a little orphaned girl Lucy, whom Ferrier now considers his daughter. A Mormon convoy discovers Ferrier and the girl in the desert. The travelers were tired of long wanderings without water and food and were already desperate to find a way out of their hopeless situation. The Mormons promise to take the unfortunates with them to the colony if they accept the Mormon faith. Ferrier agrees. Soon a group of Mormons reaches Utah, where they build their own city. Ferrier becomes a famous and rich man, raising his adopted daughter alone, remaining a bachelor, for which he often receives reproaches from fellow polygamists.

One day, Lucy is saved by a young man, Jefferson Hope, a respectable Christian, the son of an old acquaintance of Ferrier. He stays at his house. Hope mines silver in the mountains and sells it in Salt Lake City to earn money for the development of the deposits he discovered. Soon, Hope announces to Lucy that he needs to leave for two months, but first he asks her to marry him. The girl agrees, her father is also very happy with his daughter’s decision, because he would never have decided to marry her to a Mormon - John Ferrier considers polygamy a shameful matter. When Hope leaves, the elder of the colony, Brigham Young, comes to Ferrier. He obliges Ferrier to marry his daughter to either Drebber's son or Stangerson's son. After talking with his daughter, Ferrier decides to wait for Hope’s return and the three of them flee the colony. The next day, Stangerson and Drebber's son come to Ferrier to woo him. Ferrier rudely sends them both away, which according to the customs of the colony is considered a deadly offense. Soon Young sends Ferrier a note:

You are given twenty-nine days to atone for your guilt, and then...

The day before the end of the allotted period, Hope returns. The fugitives manage to pass the guard, supposedly having permission from the Council of Four (Drebber, Stangerson, Kemball and Johnston). They go in pursuit. On the second day, food supplies are depleted and Hope goes hunting. At night he returns to camp with the loot. Neither Ferrier nor Lucy are there. Hope realizes that something irreparable has happened. He finds a grave with the inscription:

Hope returns to the colony, where she learns from the Mormon Cowper that Lucy was forcibly married to Drebber. A month after the wedding, Lucy dies. During the funeral, a feral, ragged Hope makes his way to the coffin and removes the wedding ring from her finger. He goes to the mountains, wanders, leads a wild life. After some time, Hope returns to his previous activities, but only to save up some money and take revenge on the scoundrels who killed his fiancée and her father. In Nevada, he learns that the younger members of the Mormon colony, including the sons of Drebber and Stangerson, rebelled, abandoned the Mormon faith and left. For years he wandered around the cities. He knew that Drebber and Stangerson had left America and moved to Europe. They were in St. Petersburg and Copenhagen, and soon the unfortunate hero finds them in London and commits his act of revenge.

Without waiting for trial, Jefferson Hope dies from an aortic aneurysm (the fact of the disease was certified by Dr. John Watson during the capture of the criminal at 221 B Baker Street).

Translations into Russian

The first edition of the novel in Russian appeared in 1898 in the December issue of the magazine “Svet” under the title “Late Revenge (Doyle’s Criminal Novel)”; it was translated from German by Vl. Bernasconi. Since then, more than 10 translations have been made.

Notes

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Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, (English)

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Read Conan Doyle's sketch of crimson. Arthur Conan Doyle Study in Scarlet

Arthur Conan Doyle A study in Scarlet

Part I Mr Sherlock Holmes

CHAPTER I. MISTER SHERLOCK HOLMES

CHAPTER II. THE ART OF MAKING CONCLUSIONS

* * *

Part one (which is a reprint from "Memoirs of John H. Watson, M.D., Retired Army Physician")

Chapter I Mr Sherlock Holmes

Plot

Part 1. “From the memoirs of Dr. John G. Watson, retired military medical officer”

Part 2. “Land of Saints”

Translations into Russian

Notes

Links

See what “A Study in Scarlet” is in other dictionaries:

Arthur Conan Doyle
A study in Scarlet

Part I
Mr Sherlock Holmes

CHAPTER I.
MISTER SHERLOCK HOLMES

Part one
(which is a reprint from "Memoirs of John H. Watson, M.D., Retired Army Physician")

Chapter I
Mr Sherlock Holmes