Arthur Conan Doyle nous livre une autobiographie très agréable à lire.

Ma vie aventureuse

In the third week of November, in the year 1895, a dense yellow fog settled down upon London. From the Monday to the Thursday I doubt whether it was ever possible from our windows in Baker Street to see the loom of the opposite houses. The first day Holmes had spent in cross-indexing his huge book of references. The second and third had been patiently occupied upon a subject which he had recently made his hobby--the music of the Middle Ages. But when, for the fourth time, after pushing back our chairs from breakfast we saw the greasy, heavy brown swirl still drifting past us and condensing in oily drops upon the window-panes, my comrade's impatient and active nature could endure this drab existence no longer. He paced restlessly about our sitting-room in a fever of suppressed energy, biting his nails, tapping the furniture, and chafing against inaction.

"Nothing of interest in the paper, Watson?" he said.

The Adventure of the Cardboard Box, The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans, The Adventure of the Red Circle, The Adventure of the Dying Detective

About to spring out upon my appalled senses, lurked all that was vaguely horrible, all that was monstrous and inconceivably wicked in the universe'. A dense yellow fog descends upon London. Tricksters, thieves and murderers stalk their prey undetected. Lawlessness abounds but it is no match for the penetrating mind of Sherlock Holmes as he investigates the strangest of cases.  A woman receives a gruesome package - two human ears in a box.  A vital government secret is threatened with exposure.  Miss Brenda Tregennis is found scared to death - could she really have died from fright alone? And when the stability of the country is threatend, Holmes' unrivalled talents are called upon once again ...

Sherlock Holmes: His Last Bow (Sherlock Complete Set 8)

La Boite en carton - La Figure jaune - L'Employé de l'agent de change - Le «Gloria-Scott» - Le Rituel des Musgrave - Les Propriétaires de Reigate - Un estropié - Le Malade à demeure - L'Interprète grec - Le Traité naval - Le Problème final.

LES MEMOIRES DE SHERLOCK HOLMES

Le samedi 23 avril 1895, Mme Violet Smith vient au 221B Baker Street pour s'entretenir avec Sherlock Holmes d'une affaire qui l'intrigue. La jeune femme explique être une enseignante en musique issue d'une famille pauvre depuis la mort de son père plusieurs mois auparavant.

La Cycliste Solitaire

Deux jours après Noël, Sherlock Holmes est contacté par le commissionnaire Peterson. Celui-ci a découvert dans la rue un chapeau et une oie, dans le gosier de laquelle il a trouvé une escarboucle. Holmes et Watson se lancent à travers la ville pour retrouver le propriétaire du chapeau, qui n'a rien à voir avec le vol de la pierre précieuse. Ils remontent alors la piste jusqu'au voleur alors qu'un jeune plombier du nom de John Homer est suspecté par la police.

Les aventures de Sherlock Holmes - Occasion

We owe The Hound of the Baskervilles (1902) to Arthur Conan Doyle's good friend Fletcher "Bobbles" Robinson, who took him to visit some scary English moors and prehistoric ruins, and told him marvelous local legends about escaped prisoners and a 17th-century aristocrat who fell afoul of the family dog. Doyle transmogrified the legend: generations ago, a hound of hell tore out the throat of devilish Hugo Baskerville on the moonlit moor. Poor, accursed Baskerville Hall now has another mysterious death: that of Sir Charles Baskerville. Could the culprit somehow be mixed up with secretive servant Barrymore, history-obsessed Dr. Frankland, butterfly-chasing Stapleton, or Selden, the Notting Hill murderer at large? Someone's been signaling with candles from the mansion's windows. Nor can supernatural forces be ruled out. Can Dr. Watson--left alone by Sherlock Holmes to sleuth in fear for much of the novel--save the next Baskerville, Sir Henry, from the hound's fangs? Many Holmes fans prefer Doyle's complete short stories, but their clockwork logic doesn't match the author's boast about this novel: it's "a real Creeper!" What distinguishes this particular Hound is its fulfillment of Doyle's great debt to Edgar Allan Poe--it's full of ancient woe, low moans, a Grimpen Mire that sucks ponies to Dostoyevskian deaths, and locals digging up Neolithic skulls without next-of-kins' consent. "The longer one stays here the more does the spirit of the moor sink into one's soul," Watson realizes. "Rank reeds and lush, slimy water-plants sent an odour of decay ... while a false step plunged us more than once thigh-deep into the dark, quivering mire, which shook for yards in soft undulations around our feet ... it was as if some malignant hand was tugging us down into those obscene depths." Read on--but, reader, watch your step! --Tim Appelo

Le chien des Baskerville

How he put his fist through the oak-panel of the game-room door; how, when Long Merridew was carrying the ball, he caught up Merridew, ball and all, and ran swiftly past every opponent to the goal. It did not seem fit to us that such a one as he should trouble his head about spondees and dactyls, or care to know who signed Magna Charta. When he said in open class that King Alfred was the man, we little boys all felt that very likely it was so, and that perhaps Jim knew more about it than the man who wrote the book. Well, it was this business of the burglar that drew his attention to me; for he patted me on my head, and said that I was a spunky little devil, which blew me out with pride for a week on end. For two years we were close friends, for all the gap that the years had made between us, and though in passion or in want of thought he did many a thing that galled me, yet I loved him like a brother, and wept as much as would have filled an ink bottle when at last he went off to Edinburgh to study his father's profession. Five years after that did I bide at Birtwhistle's, and when I left I had become cock myself, for I was as wiry and as tough as whalebone, though I never ran to weight and sinew like my great predecessor. It was in Jubilee Year that I left Birtwhistle's, and then for three years I stayed at home learning the ways of the cattle; but still the ships and the armies were wrestling, and still the great shadow of Bonaparte lay across the country. How could I guess that I too should have a hand in lifting that shadow forever from our people?

La Grande Ombre

Les Hêtres-Dorés est une nouvelle extraite du recueil Les Aventures de Sherlock Holmes, paru dans le Tome 1 des Aventures de Sherlock Holmes chez Omnibus, en 2005. Version intégrale

Ma vie aventureuse

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