For Sherlock Holmes, there was only one woman in
the world. He did not love her, because he never loved
women. But after their meeting he never forgot her.
Her name was Irene Adler.
One night in March I visited my old friend at his
home in Baker Street. I was married by now, so I did
not often see him.
'Come in, Watson,' he said. 'Sit down. I'm happy to
see you, because I've got something to show you. What
do you think of this? It arrived in the last post.' It was a
letter, with no date, name or address. It said:
'Tonight someone will visit you, to talk about some
very secret business. You have helped other important
people, and you can, we hope, help us. Be in your
room at 7.45 p.m.'
'The paper — what do you think about the paper?'
asked Holmes.
I tried to think like Holmes. 'It's expensive, so this
person is rich. It's strange paper.'
'Yes, it's not English. If you look at it in the light,
you can see that it was made in Bohemia. And a
German, I think, wrote the letter. Ah, here comes our
man now.' We could hear the horses in the street.
'Shall I leave, Holmes?' I asked.
'No, no, I need your help. This will be interesting,'
my friend answered. There was a knock at the door.
'Come in!' called Holmes.
A tall, strong man came into the room. He was
wearing expensive clothes, and a mask over his face.
'You can call me Count von Kramm. I come from
Bohemia,' he said. 'My business is most important.
Before I tell you about it, do you agree to keep it a
secret?'
'I do,' we said together.
'A very important person, who belongs to a royal
family, has sent me to ask for your help,' he went on. 'I
wear a mask because nobody must know who that
person is. I must explain how important this business
is. If you cannot help, there will be difficulty and
trouble for one of the most important families in
Europe — and perhaps a very big scandal. I am talking
about the famous House of Ormstein, Kings of
Bohemia.'
'I know, Your Majesty,' said Holmes. He quietly
smoked his cigarette.
The man jumped up from his chair, 'What!' he cried.
'How do you know who I am?' Then he pulled the
mask off his face and threw it on the ground. 'You are
right. Why do I hide it? I am the King. I am Wilhelm
von Ormstein, King of Bohemia. I came to see you
myself because I could not ask another person to tell
my story. It must be a secret. You understand?'
'Very well. Go on,' said Holmes. He closed his eyes
and listened.
'Five years ago I met a woman called Irene Adler.
We . . .'
'Ah,' said Holmes, 'Irene Adler, born in 1850,
singer, lives in London, a very beautiful woman,
I hear . . . ' He looked at the King. 'You and she . . . You
loved her, for a while, and then left her. But before you
left her, you wrote her some letters perhaps. And now
you want to get these letters back.'
'That's right.'
'Did you marry her?'
'No.'
'If she asks you for money and shows you the letters,
you can say that you didn't write them.'
'But Mr Holmes, she also has my photograph.'
'You can say that you didn't give her a photograph.'
'We were both in the photograph.'
'Oh dear. That was a mistake, Your Majesty.'
'I know. I was stupid . . . but I was very young!'
'You must get the photograph back. Can you steal it
from her house?'
'I have tried five times but my men couldn't find it.
What can I do?'
Holmes laughed. 'This is very interesting. What does
she plan to do with the photograph?'
'Soon I am going to marry Clotilde Lothman von
Saxe-Meningen, daughter of the King of Scandinavia.
You know, of course, that we are two of the most
important royal families in Europe. Clotilde will never
marry me if she learns that I have been a . . . friend of
Irene Adler. You do not know Irene Adler. She's a
beautiful woman, but she can be as hard as a man. She
was angry when I left her, and so she doesn't want me
to marry another woman. I know that she will send
this photograph to the Saxe-Meningen family, and
then there will be a terrible scandal. We must find the
photograph before she sends it!'
'I am sure that we will find it,' said Holmes. 'You
are, of course, staying in London? I will write to you to
tell you what happens. And, the money . . .?'
The King put a large heavy bag on the table. 'I must
have that photograph,' he said. 'There is one thousand
pounds here. If you need more, you must ask at once.
The money is not important.'
'And the young woman's address?' asked Holmes.
'Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St John's Wood,
London.'
'Good night, Your Majesty,' said Holmes. 'I hope to
have some good news for you soon.' The King left, and
Holmes turned to me. 'And good night, Watson. Please
come back tomorrow at three o'clock in the afternoon.'
When I arrived the next day, Holmes was not there, so
I waited in his room. At four o'clock the door opened,
and a very strange servant came in. He wore old, dirty
clothes, and I had to look very hard before I saw that it
was my old friend.
'Holmes!' I cried. 'Where have you been?'
'I've had a very good day,' he replied with a smile.
'I've been outside Miss Irene Adler's house. Servants
are always happy to talk, and so I have heard a lot
about the young woman. For example, she has a goodlooking
man friend called Godfrey Norton, a lawyer,
who often visits her. Now why? If he's her lawyer,
perhaps she's already given him the photograph. But if
he loves her, she won't show him the photograph.'
'Most interesting, Holmes!' I said.
'While I was there, Mr Norton himself suddenly
arrived. I watched them through the windows. When
he left, he jumped into a taxi. "To the church of St
Monica, as fast as you can!" he shouted. Two minutes
later Miss Adler ran out of her house, jumped into
another taxi and called, "To the church of St Monica,
quickly!" I couldn't miss this, Watson, so I jumped
into a third taxi. When I arrived, I went into the
church. Godfrey Norton looked round and saw me
"Thank God!" he shouted. "Come here quickly!"
"Why?" I asked. "Come on, man, we need you!" And
so I helped Godfrey Norton to marry Irene Adler.
They needed a witness, and a servant from the street
was better than nobody.'
'So she's married him! What shall we do now?' I
asked.
'Well, tonight, my dear Watson, I need your help.
Will you do what I ask? Without questions?'
'Of.course, Holmes, if you think that it's important,'
I answered.
'Later, we'll go to Briony Lodge. Irene Adler, or
Irene Norton, will arrive home at seven o'clock, and
she will ask me to go into the house. You must wait
outside near the sitting-room window, and when it
opens, watch me inside. When I hold up my hand,
throw this thing into the room and shout "Fire!"'
I took the small thing out of his hand. 'What is it,
Holmes?' I asked.
'It's a smoke-stick. The room will very quickly be
full of smoke. After that, wait for me at the corner of
the street.'
'Right, I'll do what you want,' I said.
That evening Holmes again wore different clothes, and
a large, black hat. But it was not just the clothes that
were different. He changed his face, his hair -
everything. He was a different man.
We walked together to Serpentine Avenue. Outside
the house there were a lot of people who were
smoking, laughing and talking. Holmes and I walked
up and down in front of the house.
'You see,' said Holmes to me, 'I think she doesn't
want her new husband to see the photograph. But
where is it? At her bank? No. Women like to keep
important things themselves. I'm sure it's in her house.'
'But the King's men tried to find it!' I said.
'Yes, but they didn't know where to look!' said
Holmes.
'But how will you know?' I asked.
'I won't look. She'll show me. She'll have to.'
Just then a taxi arrived. One of the men in the street
ran to open the door, then another man pushed him.
Other men were also pushing and shouting, and a fight
began. Irene Norton was in the middle of it, but
Sherlock Holmes ran to help her. Then suddenly he fell
to the ground, with blood running down his face. Irene
Norton hurried to her front door, but she looked back
'How kind of him to help me! Is the poor man hurt?'
she called.
'He's dead,' cried some voices.
'No, he's only hurt,' cried others.
'Bring him into the sitting-room,' she said.
Some people carried Holmes into the house. I waited
outside the window and watched. I saw how beautiful
Irene Norton was. Then Holmes put up his hand, and I
threw the smoke-stick into the room. Immediately the
people in the street and in the house all began to shout
"Fire!" very loudly. The house was full of smoke. I
walked away, and ten minutes later Holmes came to
meet me.
'Well done, Watson,' he said.
'Have you got the photograph?' I asked.
'I know where it is. She showed me,' he answered.
'But why did she show you?'
'It's easy,' he said, and laughed. 'You saw all those
people in the street? I paid them to help us. It wasn't a
real fight and the blood wasn't real. When people
shout "Fire!", a woman runs to the most important
thing in her house, her baby, her gold, or ... a
photograph. Mrs Norton ran to find her photograph,
which is in a cupboard in the sitting-room. I saw it. But
I did not take it. Tomorrow we will go to her house
with the King. We'll go very early, before she gets up.
The King himself can take the photograph from the
cupboard. And then we'll go.'
While Holmes was talking, we were walking home
to Baker Street. When we arrived at my friend's house,
a young man hurried past us, and said: 'Good night,
Mr Sherlock Holmes.'
'I've heard that voice before,' said Holmes to me. He
looked down the street. 'But who was it?'
4
A Photograph
The next day we went to Irene Norton's house, with
the King. An old servant opened the door. 'Mr
Sherlock Holmes?' she asked, and smiled.
'Yes,' said my friend. He looked very surprised.
'Mrs Irene Norton and her husband left England this
morning. They will never come back to this country.'
'What?' cried Holmes, his face white and angry.
'And what about the photograph?' cried the King.
We all hurried into the sitting-room. Holmes ran to
the cupboard and opened it. Inside was a photogra