0 A Scandal in Bohemia

该页暂无翻译

A Scandal in Bohemia To Sherlock Holmes, she is always the woman—the woman who outsmarted him. All my friend has to say is "the woman," and I know who he is talking about. Her name was Irene Adler. Let me introduce myself: My name is Dr. Watson. Holmes and I shared rooms together on 221B Baker Street until I got married. We lived there as friends for years, with me helping him in his investigations. Later I turned many of those adventures into stories for my readers. One night, I was walking about London when I found my self on Baker Street. It was

March 20, 1888. I looked up and saw Holmes in the second-floor window. I could see his tall, lean figure pacing back and forth. His head was lowered, but I could still see his hawk-like nose and strong chin. He held his hands behind his back. My old friend was hard at work. I hadn't seen him for a long time, so I rang the bell and went in. Holmes looked at me with his sharp, keen eyes and greeted me with a smile. He seemed relaxed, with his long, bony body stretched out on his favorite old sofa. I found myself at ease again as I breathed in the musty air of his parlor, where we had gone over the details of so many cases together. Then he spoke. "I see you are enjoying marriage, Watson," he said. "I would say you've gained seven and a half pounds since I saw you last. I also see that you have returned to your practice as a medical doctor. I'm sorry you were caught in the rain recently. And equally

sorry that you have a careless servant at home."

"My dear Holmes," I said with surprise, "I have put on seven pounds since I saw you last. And I was caught in a downpour in the country last Thursday. You are correct in thinking my wife and I are not pleased with the hired help at home. But how on earth did you know?" "Really? I was sure it was seven and a half," laughed Holmes. "It's simple, Watson. Your shoes reveal they were covered in mud recently. And I can see the scrape marks carelessly left by the person who cleaned those shoes. "I also detect the faint smell of antiseptic on you, some sort of black powder on your finger that can only be used to treat infections. And there is a bulge in your coat where you normally carry your stethoscope. These clues tell me you are once again a man of medicine."

"It always sounds so simple when you explain it, Holmes," I said. "Yet I never understand how you get from point A to point B, though I see everything that you see." "You see, but you do not observe," Holmes said, handing me a sheet of thick paper. "For example, what do you see in this note? Read it aloud, my friend." "'A tall, masked man will call upon you tonight,'" I began, "'who wishes to speak to you. You have helped royal persons in the past, so I know I can trust you. This from many reliable sources have we heard.'" "What do you make of the note, Watson?" Holmes asked. "It is expensive paper," I replied. "Whoever sent the note is not poor." I held the paper up to the light. "Also, there are marks on the paper."