Sherlock Holmes - Character Illustrations
11/08/08 14:35 Filed in: Character Illustrations
So moved was I that even had it been a difficult matter I should have tried it, but of course I knew well that Holmes loved his art, so that he was ever as ready to bring his aid as his client could be to receive it.
Then he threw himself down into the chair opposite and drew up his knees until his fingers clasped round his long, thin shins.
He walked past the couch to the open window and held up the drooping stalk of a moss-rose, looking down at the dainty blend of crimson and green. It was a new phase of his character to me, for I had never before seen him show any keen interest in natural objects.
Holmes was sunk in profound thought and hardly opened his mouth until we had passed Clapham Junction.
He sank back into the state of intense and silent thought from which he had emerged; but it seemed to me, accustomed as I was to his every mood, that some new possibility had dawned suddenly upon him.
“On the contrary,” said Holmes, “out of my last fifty-three cases my name has only appeared in four, and the police have had all the credit in forty-nine. I don’t blame you for not knowing this, for you are young and inexperienced, but if you wish to get on in your new duties you will work with me and not against me.”
He had, when he so willed it, the utter immobility of countenance of a red Indian, and I could not gather from his appearance whether he was satisfied or not with the position of the case.
This tale of our client’s appeared to have an extraordinary effect upon Sherlock Holmes. He rose from his chair and paced about the room in uncontrollable excitement.
Holmes strolled round the house with his hands in his pockets and a negligent air which was unusual with him.
I have noticed that when he is off the trail he generally says so. It is when he is on a scent and is not quite absolutely sure yet that it is the right one that he is most taciturn.
“It was too bad to spring it on you like this, but Watson here will tell you that I never can resist a touch of the dramatic.”
“I assure you it is just as hateful to me to fail in a case as it can be to you to blunder over a commission.”
“He looked murder out of the only eye he could see with when we had finished, but he listened to reason and gave up the papers.”
He walked past the couch to the open window and held up the drooping stalk of a moss-rose, looking down at the dainty blend of crimson and green. It was a new phase of his character to me, for I had never before seen him show any keen interest in natural objects.
Holmes was sunk in profound thought and hardly opened his mouth until we had passed Clapham Junction.
He sank back into the state of intense and silent thought from which he had emerged; but it seemed to me, accustomed as I was to his every mood, that some new possibility had dawned suddenly upon him.
“On the contrary,” said Holmes, “out of my last fifty-three cases my name has only appeared in four, and the police have had all the credit in forty-nine. I don’t blame you for not knowing this, for you are young and inexperienced, but if you wish to get on in your new duties you will work with me and not against me.”
He had, when he so willed it, the utter immobility of countenance of a red Indian, and I could not gather from his appearance whether he was satisfied or not with the position of the case.
This tale of our client’s appeared to have an extraordinary effect upon Sherlock Holmes. He rose from his chair and paced about the room in uncontrollable excitement.
Holmes strolled round the house with his hands in his pockets and a negligent air which was unusual with him.
I have noticed that when he is off the trail he generally says so. It is when he is on a scent and is not quite absolutely sure yet that it is the right one that he is most taciturn.
“It was too bad to spring it on you like this, but Watson here will tell you that I never can resist a touch of the dramatic.”
“I assure you it is just as hateful to me to fail in a case as it can be to you to blunder over a commission.”
“He looked murder out of the only eye he could see with when we had finished, but he listened to reason and gave up the papers.”