 A Study in Scarlet by Sir Arthur Cunning Doyle, recorded by Casey Robertson. Part 1 Being a reprint from the reminiscences of John H. Watson, M.D., late of the Army Medical Department. Chapter 1 Mr. Sherlock Holmes In the year 1878 I took my degree of Doctor of Medicine of the University of London and proceeded to Netley to go through the course prescribed for surgeons in the Army. Having completed my studies there I was duly attached to the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers as assistant surgeon. The regiment was stationed in India at the time, and before I could join it the 2nd Afghan War had broken out. On landing at Bombay I learned that my corps had advanced through the passes and was already deep in the enemy's country. I followed, however, with many other officers who were in the same situation as myself, and succeeded in reaching Kandahar in safety, where I found my regiment and at once entered upon my new duties. The campaign brought honours and promotion to many, but for me it had nothing but misfortune and disaster. I was removed from my brigade and attached to the Berkshires with whom I served at the fatal battle of my wand. There I was struck on the shoulder by a Jezail bullet which shattered the bone and grazed the sub-Claivian artery. I should have fallen into the hands of the murderous Ghazis had it not been for the devotion and courage shown by Murray, my orderly, who threw me across a pack horse and succeeded in bringing me safely to the British lines. Worn with pain and weak from the prolonged hardships which I had undergone I was removed with a great train of wounded sufferers to the base hospital at Peshawar. Here I rallied and had already improved so far as to be able to walk about the wards and even to bask a little upon the veranda when I was struck down by enteric fever that curse of our Indian possessions. For months my life was despaired of, and when at last I came to myself and became convalescent I was so weak and emaciated that a medical board determined that not a day should be lost in sending me back to England. I was dispatched accordingly in the troopship Orantes and landed a month later on Portsmouth Jetty with my health irretrievably ruined but with permission from a paternal government to spend the next nine months in attempting to improve it. I had neither kith nor kin in England and was therefore as free as air or as free as an income of eleven chillings and six pence a day will permit a man to be. Under such circumstances I naturally gravitated to London that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the Empire are irresistibly drained. There I stayed for some time at a private hotel in the Strand leading a comfortless, meaningless existence and spending such money as I had considerably more. Sample complete. Ready to continue?