A Study In Scarlet | Page 8

my work."
I was on the point of asking him what that work might be, but
something in his manner showed me that the question would be an
unwelcome one. I pondered over our short conversation, however, and
endeavoured to draw my deductions from it. He said that he would
acquire no knowledge which did not bear upon his object. Therefore all
the knowledge which he possessed was such as would be useful to him.
I enumerated in my own mind all the various points upon which he had
shown me that he was exceptionally well-informed. I even took a
pencil and jotted them down. I could not help smiling at the document
when I had completed it. It ran in this way --
SHERLOCK HOLMES -- his limits.
1. Knowledge of Literature. -- Nil. 2. Philosophy. -- Nil. 3. Astronomy.
-- Nil. 4. Politics. -- Feeble. 5. Botany. -- Variable. Well up in
belladonna, opium, and poisons generally. Knows nothing of practical
gardening. 6. Geology. -- Practical, but limited. Tells at a glance
different soils from each other. After walks has shown me splashes
upon his trousers, and told me by their colour and consistence in what
part of London he had received them. 7. Chemistry. -- Profound. 8.
Anatomy. -- Accurate, but unsystematic. 9. Sensational Literature. --
Immense. He appears to know every detail of every horror perpetrated
in the century. 10. Plays the violin well. 11. Is an expert singlestick
player, boxer, and swordsman. 12. Has a good practical knowledge of
British law.
When I had got so far in my list I threw it into the fire in despair. "If I
can only find what the fellow is driving at by reconciling all these
accomplishments, and discovering a calling which needs them all," I

said to myself, "I may as well give up the attempt at once."
I see that I have alluded above to his powers upon the violin. These
were very remarkable, but as eccentric as all his other accomplishments.
That he could play pieces, and difficult pieces, I knew well, because at
my request he has played me some of Mendelssohn's Lieder, and other
favourites. When left to himself, however, he would seldom produce
any music or attempt any recognized air. Leaning back in his arm-chair
of an evening, he would close his eyes and scrape carelessly at the
fiddle which was thrown across his knee. Sometimes the chords were
sonorous and melancholy. Occasionally they were fantastic and
cheerful. Clearly they reflected the thoughts which possessed him, but
whether the music aided those thoughts, or whether the playing was
simply the result of a whim or fancy was more than I could determine. I
might have rebelled against these exasperating solos had it not been
that he usually terminated them by playing in quick succession a whole
series of my favourite airs as a slight compensation for the trial upon
my patience.
During the first week or so we had no callers, and I had begun to think
that my companion was as friendless a man as I was myself. Presently,
however, I found that he had many acquaintances, and those in the
most different classes of society. There was one little sallow rat-faced,
dark-eyed fellow who was introduced to me as Mr. Lestrade, and who
came three or four times in a single week. One morning a young girl
called, fashionably dressed, and stayed for half an hour or more. The
same afternoon brought a grey-headed, seedy visitor, looking like a Jew
pedlar, who appeared to me to be much excited, and who was closely
followed by a slip-shod elderly woman. On another occasion an old
white-haired gentleman had an interview with my companion; and on
another a railway porter in his velveteen uniform. When any of these
nondescript individuals put in an appearance, Sherlock Holmes used to
beg for the use of the sitting-room, and I would retire to my bed-room.
He always apologized to me for putting me to this inconvenience. "I
have to use this room as a place of business," he said, "and these people
are my clients." Again I had an opportunity of asking him a point blank
question, and again my delicacy prevented me from forcing another

man to confide in me. I imagined at the time that he had some strong
reason for not alluding to it, but he soon dispelled the idea by coming
round to the subject of his own accord.
It was upon the 4th of March, as I have good reason to remember, that I
rose somewhat earlier than usual, and found that Sherlock Holmes had
not yet finished his breakfast. The landlady had become so accustomed
to my late habits that my place had not been laid nor my coffee
prepared. With