"Let me see--what are my other shortcomings. I get in the dumps attimes, and don't open my mouth for days on end. You must not think I amsulky when I do that. Just let me alone, and I'll soon be right. Whathave you to confess now? It's just as well for two fellows to know theworst of one another before they begin to live together."
I laughed at this cross-examination. "I keep a bull pup," I said, "andI object to rows because my nerves are shaken, and I get up at all sortsof ungodly hours, and I am extremely lazy. I have another set of viceswhen I'm well, but those are the principal ones at present."
"Do you include violin-playing in your category of rows?" he asked,anxiously.
"It depends on the player," I answered. "A well-played violin is a treatfor the gods--a badly-played one----"
"Oh, that's all right," he cried, with a merry laugh. "I think we mayconsider the thing as settled--that is, if the rooms are agreeable toyou."
"When shall we see them?"
"Call for me here at noon to-morrow, and we'll go together and settleeverything," he answered.
"All right--noon exactly," said I, shaking his hand.
We left him working among his chemicals, and we walked together towardsmy hotel.
"By the way," I asked suddenly, stopping and turning upon Stamford, "howthe deuce did he know that I had come from Afghanistan?"
My companion smiled an enigmatical smile. "That's just his littlepeculiarity," he said. "A good many people have wanted to know how hefinds things out."
"Oh! a mystery is it?" I cried, rubbing my hands. "This is very piquant.I am much obliged to you for bringing us together. 'The proper study ofmankind is man,' you know."
"You must study him, then," Stamford said, as he bade me good-bye."You'll find him a knotty problem, though. I'll wager he learns moreabout you than you about him. Good-bye."
"Good-bye," I answered, and strolled on to my hotel, considerablyinterested in my new acquaintance.
CHAPTER II. THE SCIENCE OF DEDUCTION.
WE met next day as he had arranged, and inspected the rooms at No. 221B,[5] Baker Street, of which he had spoken at our meeting. Theyconsisted of a couple of comfortable bed-rooms and a single largeairy sitting-room, cheerfully furnished, and illuminated by two broadwindows. So desirable in every way were the apartments, and so moderatedid the terms seem when divided between us, that the bargain wasconcluded upon the spot, and we at once entered into possession.That very evening I moved my things round from the hotel, and on thefollowing morning Sherlock Holmes followed me with several boxes andportmanteaus. For a day or two we were busily employed in unpacking andlaying out our property to the best advantage. That done, wegradually began to settle down and to accommodate ourselves to our newsurroundings.
Holmes was certainly not a difficult man to live with. He was quietin his ways, and his habits were regular. It was rare for him to beup after ten at night, and he had invariably breakfasted and gone outbefore I rose in the morning. Sometimes he spent his day at the chemicallaboratory, sometimes in the dissecting-rooms, and occasionally in longwalks, which appeared to take him into the lowest portions of the City.Nothing could exceed his energy when the working fit was upon him; butnow and again a reaction would seize him, and for days on end he wouldlie upon the sofa in the sitting-room, hardly uttering a word or movinga muscle from morning to night. On these occasions I have noticed sucha dreamy, vacant expression in his eyes, that I might have suspected himof being addicted to the use of some narcotic, had not the temperanceand cleanliness of his whole life forbidden such a notion.
As the weeks went by, my interest in him and my curiosity as to hisaims in life, gradually deepened and increased. His very person andappearance were such as to strike the attention of the most casualobserver. In height he was rather over six feet, and so excessivelylean that he seemed to be considerably taller. His eyes were sharp andpiercing, save during those intervals of torpor to which I have alluded;and his thin, hawk-like nose gave his whole expression an air ofalertness and decision. His chin, too, had the prominence and squarenesswhich mark the man of determination. His hands were invariablyblotted with ink and stained with chemicals, yet he was possessed ofextraordinary delicacy of touch, as I frequently had occasion to observewhen I watched him manipulating his fragile philosophical instruments.
The reader may set me down as a hopeless busybody, when I confess howmuch this man stimulated my curiosity, and how often I endeavouredto break through the reticence which he showed on all that concernedhimself. Before pronouncing judgment, however, be it remembered, howobjectless was my life, and how little there was to engage my attention.My health forbade me from venturing out unless the weather wasexceptionally genial, and I had no friends who would call upon me andbreak the monotony of my daily existence. Under these circumstances, Ieagerly hailed the little mystery which hung around my companion, andspent much of my time in endeavouring to unravel it.
He was not studying medicine. He had himself, in reply to a question,confirmed Stamford's opinion upon that point. Neither did he appear tohave pursued any course of reading which might fit him for a degree inscience or any other recognized portal which would give him an entranceinto the learned world. Yet his zeal for certain studies was remarkable,and within eccentric limits his knowledge was so extraordinarily ampleand minute that his observations have fairly astounded me. Surely no manwould work so hard or attain such precise information unless he had somedefinite end in view. Desultory readers are seldom remarkable for theexactness of their learning. No man burdens his mind with small mattersunless he has some very good reason for doing so.
His ignorance was as remarkable as his knowledge. Of contemporaryliterature, philosophy and politics he appeared to know next to nothing.Upon my quoting Thomas Carlyle, he inquired in the naivest way who hemight be and what he had done. My surprise reached a climax, however,when I found incidentally that he was ignorant of the Copernican Theoryand of the composition of the Solar System. That any civilized humanbeing in this nineteenth century should not be aware that the earthtravelled round the sun appeared to be to me such an extraordinary factthat I could hardly realize it.
"You appear to be astonished," he said, smiling at my expression ofsurprise. "Now that I do know it I shall do my best to forget it."
"To forget it!"
"You see," he explained, "I consider that a man's brain originally islike a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furnitureas you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that hecomes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him getscrowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things so thathe has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. Now the skilful workmanis very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic. He willhave nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but ofthese he has a large assortment, and all in the most perfect order. Itis a mistake to think that that little room has elastic walls and candistend to any extent. Depend upon it there comes a time when for everyaddition of knowledge you forget something that you knew before. It isof the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowingout the useful ones."
"But the Solar System!" I protested.
"What the deuce is it to me?" he interrupted impatiently; "you saythat we go round the sun. If we went round the moon it would not make apennyworth of difference to me or to my work."
I was on the point of asking him what that work might be, but somethingin his manner showed me that the question would be an unwelcome one. Ipondered over our short conversation, however, and endeavoured to drawmy deductions from it. He said that he would acquire no knowledge whichdid not bear upon his object. Therefore all the knowledge which hepossessed was such as would be useful to him. I enumerated in my ownmind all the various points upon which he had shown me that he wasexceptionally 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 ranin 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 allthese accomplishments, and discovering a calling which needs them all,"I said to myself, "I may as well give up the attempt at once."