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I.A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA

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    I. ToSherlockHolmessheisalwaysthewoman.Ihaveseldomheardhimmentionherunderanyothername.Inhiseyessheeclipsesandpredominatesthewholeofhersex.ItwasnotthathefeltanyemotionakintoloveforIreneAdler.Allemotions,andthatoneparticularly,wereabhorrenttohiscold,precisebutadmirablybalancedmind.Hewas,Itakeit,themostperfectreasoningandobservingmachinethattheworldhasseen,butasaloverhewouldhaveplacedhimselfinafalseposition.Heneverspokeofthesofterpassions,savewithagibeandasneer.Theywereadmirablethingsfortheobserver—excellentfordrawingtheveilfrommen’smotivesandactions.Butforthetrainedreasonertoadmitsuchintrusionsintohisowndelicateandfinelyadjustedtemperamentwastointroduceadistractingfactorwhichmightthrowadoubtuponallhismentalresults.Gritinasensitiveinstrument,oracrackinoneofhisownhigh-powerlenses,wouldnotbemoredisturbingthanastrongemotioninanaturesuchashis.Andyettherewasbutonewomantohim,andthatwomanwasthelateIreneAdler,ofdubiousandquestionablememory. IhadseenlittleofHolmeslately.Mymarriagehaddriftedusawayfromeachother.Myowncompletehappiness,andthehome-centredinterestswhichriseuparoundthemanwhofirstfindshimselfmasterofhisownestablishment,weresufficienttoabsorballmyattention,whileHolmes,wholoathedeveryformofsocietywithhiswholeBohemiansoul,remainedinourlodgingsinBakerStreet,buriedamonghisoldbooks,andalternatingfromweektoweekbetweencocaineandambition,thedrowsinessofthedrug,andthefierceenergyofhisownkeennature.Hewasstill,asever,deeplyattractedbythestudyofcrime,andoccupiedhisimmensefacultiesandextraordinarypowersofobservationinfollowingoutthoseclues,andclearingupthosemysterieswhichhadbeenabandonedashopelessbytheofficialpolice.FromtimetotimeIheardsomevagueaccountofhisdoings:ofhissummonstoOdessainthecaseoftheTrepoffmurder,ofhisclearingupofthesingulartragedyoftheAtkinsonbrothersatTrincomalee,andfinallyofthemissionwhichhehadaccomplishedsodelicatelyandsuccessfullyforthereigningfamilyofHolland.Beyondthesesignsofhisactivity,however,whichImerelysharedwithallthereadersofthedailypress,Iknewlittleofmyformerfriendandcompanion. Onenight—itwasonthetwentiethofMarch,1888—Iwasreturningfromajourneytoapatient(forIhadnowreturnedtocivilpractice),whenmywayledmethroughBakerStreet.AsIpassedthewell-remembereddoor,whichmustalwaysbeassociatedinmymindwithmywooing,andwiththedarkincidentsoftheStudyinScarlet,IwasseizedwithakeendesiretoseeHolmesagain,andtoknowhowhewasemployinghisextraordinarypowers.Hisroomswerebrilliantlylit,and,evenasIlookedup,Isawhistall,sparefigurepasstwiceinadarksilhouetteagainsttheblind.Hewaspacingtheroomswiftly,eagerly,withhisheadsunkuponhischestandhishandsclaspedbehindhim.Tome,whoknewhiseverymoodandhabit,hisattitudeandmannertoldtheirownstory.Hewasatworkagain.Hehadrisenoutofhisdrug-createddreamsandwashotuponthescentofsomenewproblem.Irangthebellandwasshownuptothechamberwhichhadformerlybeeninpartmyown. Hismannerwasnoteffusive.Itseldomwasbuthewasglad,Ithink,toseeme.Withhardlyawordspoken,butwithakindlyeye,hewavedmetoanarmchair,threwacrosshiscaseofcigars,andindicatedaspiritcaseandagasogeneinthecorner.Thenhestoodbeforethefireandlookedmeoverinhissingularintrospectivefashion. “Wedlocksuitsyou,”heremarked.“Ithink,Watson,thatyouhaveputonsevenandahalfpoundssinceIsawyou.” “Seven!”Ianswered. “Indeed,Ishouldhavethoughtalittlemore.Justatriflemore,Ifancy,Watson.Andinpracticeagain,Iobserve.Youdidnottellmethatyouintendedtogointoharness.” “Then,howdoyouknow?” “Iseeit,Ideduceit.HowdoIknowthatyouhavebeengettingyourselfverywetlately,andthatyouhaveamostclumsyandcarelessservantgirl?” “MydearHolmes,”saidI,“thisistoomuch.Youwouldcertainlyhavebeenburned,hadyoulivedafewcenturiesago.ItistruethatIhadacountrywalkonThursdayandcamehomeinadreadfulmess,butasIhavechangedmyclothesIcan’timaginehowyoudeduceit.AstoMaryJane,sheisincorrigible,andmywifehasgivenhernotice,butthere,again,Ifailtoseehowyouworkitout.” Hechuckledtohimselfand
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