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Adventure VIII
The Resident Patient
Glancing over the somewhat incoherent series of
Memoirs with which I have endeavored to illustrate a
few of the mental peculiarities of my friend Mr。
Sherlock Holmes； I have been struck by the difficulty
which I have experienced in picking out examples which
shall in every way answer my purpose。 For in those
cases in which Holmes has performed some tour de force
of analytical reasoning； and has demonstrated the
value of his peculiar methods of investigation； the
facts themselves have often been so slight or so
commonplace that I could not feel justified in laying
them before the public。 On the other hand； it has
frequently happened that he has been concerned in some
research where the facts have been of the most
remarkable and dramatic character； but where the share
which he has himself taken in determining their causes
has been less pronounced than I； as his biographer；
could wish。 The small matter which I have chronicled
under the heading of 〃A Study in Scarlet；〃 and that
other later one connected with the loss of the Gloria
Scott； may serve as examples of this Scylla and
Charybdis which are forever threatening the historian。
It may be that in the business of which I am now about
to write the part which my friend played is not
sufficiently accentuated； and yet the whole train of
circumstances is so remarkable that I cannot bring
myself to omit it entirely from this series。
It had been a close； rainy day in October。 Our blinds
were half…drawn； and Holmes lay curled upon the sofa；
reading and re…reading a letter which he had received
by the morning post。 For myself； my tern of service
in India had trained me to stand heat better than
cold； and a thermometer of 90 was no hardship。 But
the paper was uninteresting。 Parliament had risen。
Everybody was out of town； and I yearned for the
glades of the New Forest or the shingle of Southsea。
A depleted bank account had caused me to postpone my
holiday； and as to my companion； neither the country
nor the sea presented the slightest attraction to him。
He loved to lie in the very centre of five millions of
people； with his filaments stretching out and running
through them； responsive to every little rumor or
suspicion of unsolved crime。 Appreciation of Nature
found no place among his many gifts； and his only
change was when he turned his mind from the evil…doer
of the town to track down his brother of the country。
Finding that Holmes was too absorbed for conversation；
I had tossed aside the barren paper； and leaning back
in my chair； I fell into a brown study。 Suddenly my
companion's voice broke in upon my thoughts。
〃You are right； Watson；〃 said he。 〃It does seem a
very preposterous way of settling a dispute。〃
〃Most preposterous！〃 I exclaimed； and then； suddenly
realizing how he had echoed the inmost thought of my
soul； I sat up in my chair and stared at him in blank
amazement。
〃What is this； Holmes？〃 I cried。 〃This is beyond
anything which I could have imagined。〃
He laughed heartily at my perplexity。
〃You remember；〃 said he； 〃that some little time ago；
when I read you the passage in one of Poe's sketches；
in which a close reasoner follows the unspoken thought
of his companion； you were inclined to treat the
matter as a mere tour de force of the author。 On my
remarking that I was constantly in the habit of doing
the same thing you expressed incredulity。〃
〃Oh； no！〃
〃Perhaps not with your tongue； my dear Watson； but
certainly with your eyebrows。 So when I saw you throw
down your paper and enter upon a train of thought； I
was very happy to have the opportunity of reading it
off； and eventually of breaking into it； as a proof
that I had been in rapport with you。〃
But I was still far from satisfied。 〃In the example
which you read to me；〃 said I； 〃the reasoner drew his
conclusions from the actions of the man whom he
observed。 If I remember right； he stumbled over a
heap of stones； looked up at the stars； and so on。
But I have been seated quietly in my chair； and what
clews can I have given you？〃
〃You do yourself an injustice。 The features are given
to man as the means by which he shall express his
emotions； and yours are faithful servants。〃
〃Do you mean to say that you read my train of thoughts
from my features？〃
〃Your features； and especially your eyes。 Perhaps you
cannot yourself recall how your reverie commenced？〃
〃No； I cannot。〃
〃Then I will tell you。 After throwing down your
paper； which was the action which drew my attention to
you； you sat for half a minute with a vacant
expression。 Then your eyes fixed themselves upon your
newly…framed picture of General Gordon； and I saw by
the alteration in your face that a train of thought
had been started。 But it did not lead very far。 Your
eyes turned across to the unframed portrait of Henry
Ward Beecher which stands upon the top of your books。
You then glanced up at the wall； and of course your
meaning was obvious。 You were thinking that if the
portrait were framed it would just cover that bare
space and correspond with Gordon's picture over
there。〃
〃You have followed me wonderfully！〃 I exclaimed。
〃So far I could hardly have gone astray。 But now your
thoughts went back to Beecher； and you looked hard
across as if you were studying the character in his
features。 Then your eyes ceased to pucker； but you
continued to look across； and your face was
thoughtful。 You were recalling the incidents of
Beecher's career。 I was well aware that you could not
do this without thinking of the mission which he
undertook on behalf of the North at the time of the
Civil War； for I remember you expressing your
passionate indignation at the way in which he was
received by the more turbulent of our people。 You
felt so strongly about it that I knew you could not
think of Beecher without thinking of that also。 When
a moment later I saw your eyes wander away from the
picture； I suspected that your mind had now turned to
the Civil War； and when I observed that your lips set；
your eyes sparkled； and your hands clinched； I was
positive that you were indeed thinking of the
gallantry which was shown by both sides in that
desperate struggle。 But then； again； your face grew
sadder； you shook your head。 You were dwelling upon
the sadness and horror and useless waste of life。
Your hand stole towards your own old wound； and a
smile quivered on your lips； which showed me that the
ridiculous side of this method of settling
international questions had forced itself upon your
mind。 At this point I agreed with you that it was
preposterous； and was glad to find that all my
deductions had been correct。〃
〃Absolutely！〃 said I。 〃And now that you have
explained it； I confess that I am as amazed as
before。〃
〃It was very superficial； my dear Watson； I assure
you。 I should not have intruded it upon your
attention had you not shown some incredulity the other
day。 But the evening has brought a breeze with it。
What do you say to a ramble through London？〃
I was weary of our little sitting…room and gladly
acquiesced。 For three hours we strolled about
together； watching the ever…changing kaleidoscope of
life as it ebbs and flows through Fleet Street and the
Strand。 His characteristic talk； with its keen
observance of detail and subtle power of inference
held me amused and enthralled。 It was ten o'clock
before we reached Baker Street again。 A brougham was
waiting at our door。
〃Hum！ A doctor'sgeneral practitioner； I perceive；〃
said Holmes。 〃Not been long in practice； but has had
a good deal to do。 Come to consult us； I fancy！
Lucky we came back！〃
I was sufficiently conversant with Holmes's methods to
be able to follow his reasoning； and to see that the
nature and state of the various medical instruments in
the wicker basket which hung in the lamplight inside
the brougham had given him the data for his swift
deduction。 The light in our window above showed that
this late visit was indeed intended for us。 With some
curiosity as to what could have sent a brother medico
to us at such an hour； I followed Holmes into our
sanctum。
A pale； taper…faced man with sandy whiskers rose up
from a chair by the fire as we entered。 His age may
not have been more than three or four and thirty； but
his haggard expression and unhealthy hue told of a
life which has sapped his strength and robbed him of
his youth。 His manner was nervous and shy； like that
of a sensitive gentleman； and the thin white hand
which he laid on the mantelpiece as he rose was that
of an artist rather than of a surgeon。 His dress was
quiet and sombrea black frock…coat； dark trousers；
and a touch of color about his necktie。
〃Good…evening； d