A scandal in Bohemia.
To Sherlock Holmes, she is always the woman.
The woman who outsmarted him.
All my friend has to say is, the woman, and I know who he is talking about.
Her name was Irene Adler.
Let me introduce myself.
My name is Dr. Watson Adler.
Holmes and I shared rooms together on 221 B Baker Street until I got married.
We lived there as friends for years, with me helping him in his investigations.
Later, I turned many of those adventures into stories for my readers.
One night I was walking about London when I found myself on Baker Street.
It was March 20th, 1888.
I looked up and saw Holmes in the second floor window.
I could see his tall, lean figure pacing back and forth.
His head was lowered, but I could still see his hawk-like nose and strong chin.
He held his hands behind his back.
My old friend was hard at work.
I hadn't seen him for a long time, so I rang the bell and went in.
Holmes looked at me with his sharp, keen eyes and greeted me with a smile.
He seemed relaxed with his long, bony body stretched out on his favorite old sofa.
I found myself at ease again as I breathed in the musty air of his parlor, where we had gone over the details of so many cases together.
Then he spoke.
I see you are enjoying marriage, Watson, he said.
I would say you've gained seven and a half pounds since I saw you last.
I also see that you have returned to your practice as a medical doctor.
I'm sorry you were caught in the rain recently and equally sorry that you have a careless servant at home.
My dear Holmes, I said with surprise.
I have put on seven pounds since I saw you last and I was caught in a downpour in the country last Thursday.
You're correct in thinking my wife and I are not pleased with the hired help at home.
But how on earth did you know?
Really, I was sure it was seven and a half, laughed Holmes.
It's seven.
Apple Watson, your shoes reveal.
They were covered in mud recently and I can see the scrape marks carelessly left by the person who cleaned those shoes.
I also detect the faint smell of antiseptic on you, some sort of black powder on your finger that can only be used to treat infections.
And there is a bulge in your coat where you normally carry your stethoscope.
These clues tell me you are once again a man of medicine.
Always sounds so simple when you explain it Holmes, I said
Yet I never understand how you get from point A to point B, though I see everything you see.
You see, but you do not observe, Holmes said, handing me a sheet of thick paper.
For example, what do you see in this note?
Read it aloud and A tall, masked man will call upon you tonight, I began.
Who wishes to speak to you?
You have helped royal peasants in the past, so I know I can trust you.
This from many reliable sources have we heard.
What do you make of this note, Watson?
Holmes asked.
It is expensive paper, I replied.
Whoever sent the note is not—
I held the paper up to the light.
Also, there are marks on the paper.
The marks reveal much, said Holmes.
They tell me the name of the company that manufactured this particular sheet.
I found out that it is located in the kingdom of Bohemia.
That is not all, he continued.
The person who wrote this note is German.
Did you notice the odd sentence?
This is from many reliable sources, have we heard?
Someone who spoke French or Russian would not have written a sentence like that.
It could only be written by a German-speaking person, and if I am not mistaken, here he comes now.
From outside came the sound of horses' hooves and carriage wheels.
Moments later, someone rang the bell.
This was followed by the soft thud of footsteps on the stairs and a loud knock on the door.
A very large man entered the parlour.
He was over six feet tall and very muscular.
He wore a fancy coat and a deep blue cape.
The cape was fastened at his neck with a large gemstone.
Our visitor's boots were high and topped off with fur.
He held a large hat in one hand.
With his other, he adjusted an eye mask that covered the upper part of his face.
Please, sit down, said Holmes.
This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson.
Anything you say to me, you may say to my trusted companion.
Mr. Holmes.
Holmes, said the stranger, I am Count von Kron.
I am a Bohemian nobleman.
I need to speak to you about a matter of extreme importance, and I prefer to speak to you alone.
I got up to leave, but Holmes grabbed my arm.
If you will not speak to both of us, then I cannot help you.
Very well, answered our visitor.
But I must begin by asking you both to keep this matter secret for two years.
After that, it will not matter.
But for now, the fate of Europe depends on your silence.
Holmes and I promised to keep the matter secret.
Our visitor continued.
Please forgive the mask.
The person who sent me must keep his name unknown.
I haven't even given you my real name.
I know, said Holmes.
The masked man continued.
These events could create a terrible scandal for the royal family of Bohemia.
I know that also, added Holmes.
Please, your majesty, continue.
Our guest suddenly became upset and paced the room nervously.
Then he grabbed the mask, tore it from his face, and threw it to the floor.
You're correct, Mr. Holmes, he cried.
I can hide nothing from you.
I haven't been sent by a member of the royal family.
I am the king.
I am Wilhelm Gotzreich, Sigismund von Ormstein, Grand Duke of Castle Wellstein, King of Bohemia.
My problem is so serious that I could not risk sending another in my place.
I trust only myself to tell you my story.
Then please, said Holmes, tell me.
It all began five years ago.
I was visiting Warsaw, Poland, and met a woman named Irene Adler.
Perhaps you know of her.
Please, doctor, Holmes said to me.
What does the index have to say about Miss Adler?
Holmes kept a large book filled with every sort of newspaper clipping and bit of information he could find.
He called the book The Index.
The index from the shelf found the name Irene Adler and handed it to Holmes.
Let me see, he said.
Born in Liverpool in 1858, an opera singer, I see.
Sang with the Imperial Opera of Warsaw.
Retired from singing and living in London.
He looked up at the king.
And so, you fell in love with this woman in Warsaw.
It's correct, Mr. Holmes, said our royal visitor.
But now I am to be married to another Norwegian princess.
If her family were to find out about Miss Adler, it would ruin everything.
But that is the problem.
Miss Adler does not want me to marry.
She threatens to send our love letters to my fiancée.
You could say the letters were forged, offered Holmes.
She has a framed photograph of the two of us together, said the king.
Oh dear, that is a problem, said Holmes.
You must get it back, even if you have to steal it or buy it.
The king replied.
I tried to get it back, Mr. Holmes.
My men broke into her house, but they couldn't find it and she won't take any amount of money for it.
She says.
She's going to send the photograph and the letters on the day my fiancé and I announce our engagement.
That will be in three days.
Then we must get to work, said Holmes.
I will need the name of your hotel and Miss Adler's address.
I am at the Langham Hotel under the name of Count von Kron said the King and Miss Adler is at Bryony Lodge on Serpentine Avenue.
Very well, said Holmes.
I will contact you at your hotel when I have news and Watson, be so good as to call me tomorrow at 3 pm.
I would appreciate your help in this matter.
I was at Baker Street at three the next afternoon, but Holmes was not.
I had been waiting for about an hour when the street-level door opened.
A man entered dressed in dirty, ragged clothes.
His chin was covered by a scraggly beard, and he walked with a limp.
It was Sherlock Holmes.
I knew my friend was a master of disguise, but it was still hard to recognize him.
Holmes went into the bedroom and returned looking like himself again.
He sat down by the fire and laughed.
What a morning I've had, Watson, he said.
As you can guess from my disguise, I visited Miss Adler's house in order to watch her.
There was nothing unusual about Briony Lodge, but I did observe a large sitting room on the main floor with very large windows.
I also spoke with several individuals on the street, he said.
"'I learn that Miss Adler goes out every day at five and returns home at seven.
"'So there is a handsome gentleman who often visits.
"'His name is Godfrey Norton, and it seems Mr Norton is a lawyer.
"'Does this mean he is working for Miss Adler, or their friends?
"'What is their relationship?
"'If he is working for her, perhaps he has the photographs.
"'It wasn't long before a horse-drawn cab arrived at Briny Lodge.'
"'continued Holmes.
"'It was Mr. Norton.
"'He rushed from the cab and into the house.
"'Next I saw him pacing up and down in the sitting-room.
"'I did not see Miss Adler, but I'm guessing she was with him.
"'After a half-an-hour he emerged from the house in a great rush.'
Before he got back in his cab, I heard him tell the driver to hurry to the church of St.
Monica.
Then they were gone.
I was wondering what to do next when another horse-drawn carriage pulled up.
It was Miss Adler's turn to rush from the house.
"'I only caught a brief glimpse of her, Watson, but she is a lovely woman.
"'I can understand why the king followed his heart and not his brain.'
"'Miss Adler climbed into the carriage and told the driver to rush to the same church.
"'I hailed a cab and followed.
"'By the time I reached St.
Monica, they were already there.
"'I entered quietly and saw the couple at the front of the church.'
They were with the minister.
I tried to get closer, pretending that I had just wandered in off the street.
To my great surprise, Godfrey Norton ran to me and dragged me to the altar.
He said that they needed a witness to make the wedding legal.
And before I knew it, I had helped the couple become newlyweds.
They thanked me and handed me some coins.
I heard Miss Adler tell her new husband that she would return home at seven as usual.
Then they left the church in different carriages.
What a morning indeed, Holmes, I said.
But now what?
Now, Watson.
He answered, ''I need your help.
We must be at Bryony Lodge at seven this evening when Miss Adler, or should I say Miss Norton, returns home.
I have already made arrangements for others to help us there.
I will enter the house.
Someone will then open the window to the sitting room.
When I signal to you from inside, you must throw this through the window.''
Holmes handed me a small tube and explained that it was a smoke bomb.
Then he continued, You will yell fire as loudly as you can.
Others will join you in raising the alarm.
Finally, you will wait for me at the end of the street.
You can rely on me, Holmes, I said.
My companion and I had a quiet lunch.
Then Holmes disappeared into his bedroom.
When he returned, he was in disguise again.
This time he was dressed as a minister in a black hat and baggy pants.
But it was his manner and expression that had changed the most.
I had always thought Holmes would be a great actor.
Here was proof.
We left Baker Street and were at Briny Lodge before seven.
To my surprise, there were many people on the street.
There was a group of poorly dressed men standing on the corner.
Two gentlemen were talking with a young woman.
Several other people walked up and down the street.
Now that the couple are married, said Holmes, the photograph is even more important.
The king does not want his fiancée to see it.
I'm sure that Irene Adler would not want Mr. Norton to see it either.
But the question remains, where is the photograph?
It is not small enough for her to carry it with her.
She could have given it to her banker or lawyer, but I don't think she did.
It's too valuable to entrust to anyone else.
She would also want to put her hands on it at a moment's notice, so it must be in her house.'
The king's men already searched the house, I said.
They didn't know where to look, replied Holmes.
Then how will your search be any different, I asked.
I won't look for it.
I'll get the woman to show me where it is.
But why on earth would she do that, Holmes, I asked.
Suddenly Irene Adler's carriage pulled up in front of the house.
As she was getting out, two men rushed to hold the carriage door open for her.
They began to push and argue.
Others joined in, and soon the woman was in the middle of a fight.
In disguise, Holmes rushed to help her, but as he reached her, he gave a cry and fell to the ground.
He lay motionless, blood running from his face.
The men who had been fighting ran off down the street.
Irene Adler pushed past the crowd.
Then, just as she was about to disappear inside, she turned and asked Is the poor gentleman all right?
I'm afraid not, said one of the crowd.
It's a shame.
He saved you from having your purse and watch stolen by that gang.
Can you take him in so he can rest?
Of course, replied the lady.
Bring him into the sitting room and lay him on the sofa.
I stood outside and watched as Holmes was carried into the sitting room.
After a minute, I saw him sit up and motion toward the window.
A maid opened it and left the room.
A moment later, Holmes signaled.
I quickly threw the smoke bomb into the house and yelled, fire.
Within seconds, people around me were crying out the same word.
Clouds of smoke poured from the room.
Then I heard Holmes's voice call out above the noise.
False alarm.
Turning the corner, I was soon joined by my friend.
"'Do you have the photograph?'
I asked.
"'No,' Holmes replied as we slowly made our way home.
"'But I know where it is.
"'As expected, she showed me exactly where it is hidden.'
"'Me explain, Watson.
By now you know that people on the street were helping us.
"'I had told them to start a fight when the lady returned home.
"'I pretended to fall, and with the help of some red paint I faked an injury.
"'I suspected that the photograph was in the sitting-room,' he said.
"'I also knew what would happen when she heard the cry of fire.'
She would try to rescue her most valued possession, the photograph.
So, as the room filled with smoke, she rushed to a hidden panel in one of the walls.
She opened the panel and pulled out the photograph.
When I called out the false alarm, she returned the photograph to its hiding place.
At the time, I noticed that she caught a glimpse of the smoke bomb.
After that, she disappeared.
I would have taken the photograph then and there, but a servant came into the room and I had to make my escape.
Brilliant, Holmes, I said as we turned on to Baker Street.
But now what?
I will send a message to the king and tell him what we have found, he answered.
I will ask him to join us tomorrow morning.
Then we will call at Briny Lodge again.
We will be shown to the sitting room.
There we will recover the photograph.
We had reached the door of 221B and were just about to enter when someone from the crowded street called out Good night, Mr Holmes.
Sherlock and I turned, but we could not see who had spoken to us.
"'I've heard that voice before,' said Holmes, looking down the street.
"'Who on earth could it have been?'
The next morning the king arrived.
As we rode to Briny Lodge in his carriage, we told him what had happened.
"'Irene Adler is married,' explained Holmes.'
Married?
Then to whom? cried the king.
To an English lawyer named Norton, replied Holmes.
She could not love him, answered a royal companion.
I hope she does, said Holmes.
If she loves her husband, that means she does not love you.
If she doesn't love you, she probably won't bother you again.
We were soon at Briony Lodge.
As we approached the house, an elderly woman opened the front door and greeted us.
Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe, she said.
Yes, I am Holmes.
My companion looked puzzled.
It was an expression I did not see on his face very often.
Madam Norton told me you would be here, the woman said.
She left for Europe this morning with her husband, never to return to England.
And the photograph?
The letters? asked the king with a groan.
All is lost.
We shall see, said Holmes.
We entered the house and rushed to the sitting room.
Holmes went to the hidden panel and opened it.
He reached in and pulled out a photograph and a letter.
The photograph was of Irene Adler.
The letter was addressed to Sherlock Holmes.
My friend tore open the envelope and read the letter inside.
Dear Mr. Holmes, I congratulate you on a job well done.
You almost had me completely fooled.
Someone had warned me that the king would ask for your help.
Even with the warning, you still managed to fool me into showing you where the photograph was.
It was only after the alarm that I began to suspect that things were not as they seemed.
I wanted to make sure it was you, so I followed you and your companion home.
As a stage performer, I have my own disguises and costumes.
So I dressed myself as a young boy.
When you arrived at Baker Street, I knew for sure that I was dealing with the great detective Sherlock Holmes.
It was careless of me, but I could not resist wishing you a good night.
My husband and I decided to leave right away.
As for the photograph, tell His Majesty he has nothing to fear.
He treated me badly, but my husband and I love each other.
I will not use the photograph against him, but I will keep it to protect me from anything the king might do.
He may want something to remember me by.
So I am leaving this photograph very truly yours, Miss Irene Norton.
If only she and I could have married, cried the king, what a queen she would have made.
Mr. Holmes, I am in your debt.
I have nothing to fear from the photograph.
Now tell me how I can reward you.
There is one thing your majesty has that I would like, said Holmes.
Name it, the king replied.
This photograph, answered Holmes.
Sherlock took the photograph of Irene Adler and bowed to the king.
Then we left Bridey Lodge.
All the way home, Holmes was strangely quiet.
The king had been saved from a scandal, but my friend had been fooled by a very unusual woman, Irene Adler.
