Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and three of his five children.

Unpublished. Taken during his 1923 visit to America and Canada.

Lena Jean on left, Adrian behind her and Denis.

Photographer: Unknown, for the Chicago Daily News.

Photograph taken during a trip to America, a year earlier, here

Chicago Daily News negatives collection, DN-0003451

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via: tea-at-221b / 1 year ago with 277 notes


Swedish 1914 Sherlock Holmes short story collection. The publisher was B. Wahlströms Förlag and it contains: The Priory School, Black Peter, Charles Augustus Milverton. The book title “Det försvunna barnet” translates The Missing Child and refers to The Priory School. The cover artist, Simon Gate, later became one of Sweden’s most famous glassworks designers.

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via: mattias221b / 1 year ago with 27 notes

“All circumstantial evidence is conjecture, but it is often right.”

#A Study in Terror    #Other    #Q   
via: meiringens / 1 year ago with 49 notes
"“When a man is lost it is my duty to ascertain his fate, but having done so the matter ends so far as I am concerned, and so long as there is nothing criminal I am much more anxious to hush up private scandals than to give them publicity”." -

Sherlock Holmes

(Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of the Missing Three-quarter )

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via: thenorwoodbuilder / 1 year ago with 10 notes


Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles

#Other    #Sherlock BBC    #Q   
via: thenorwoodbuilder / 1 year ago with 338 notes


via: http://www.book.hipopotamstudio.pl/?p=1896

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via: polish-vintage / 1 year ago with 62 notes


Because the true story of the hound deserves to be posted:

“Know then that in the time of the Great Rebellion (the history of which by the learned Lord Clarendon I most earnestly commend to your attention) this Manor of Baskerville was held by Hugo of that name, nor can it be gainsaid that he was a most wild, profane, and godless man. This, in truth, his neighbours might have pardoned, seeing that saints have never flourished in those parts, but there was in him a certain wanton and cruel humour which made his name a byword through the West. It chanced that this Hugo came to love (if, indeed, so dark a passion may be known under so bright a name) the daughter of a yeoman who held lands near the Baskerville estate. But the young maiden, being discreet and of good repute, would ever avoid him, for she feared his evil name. So it came to pass that one Michaelmas this Hugo, with five or six of his idle and wicked companions, stole down upon the farm and carried off the maiden, her father and brothers being from home, as he well knew. When they had brought her to the Hall the maiden was placed in an upper chamber, while Hugo and his friends sat down to a long carouse, as was their nightly custom. Now, the poor lass upstairs was like to have her wits turned at the singing and shouting and terrible oaths which came up to her from below, for they say that the words used by Hugo Baskerville, when he was in wine, were such as might blast the man who said them. At last in the stress of her fear she did that which might have daunted the bravest or most active man, for by the aid of the growth of ivy which covered (and still covers) the south wall she came down from under the eaves, and so homeward across the moor, there being three leagues betwixt the Hall and her father’s farm.
“It chanced that some little time later Hugo left his guests to carry food and drink–with other worse things, perchance–to his captive, and so found the cage empty and the bird escaped. Then, as it would seem, he became as one that hath a devil, for, rushing down the stairs into the dining-hall, he sprang upon the great table, flagons and trenchers flying before him, and he cried aloud before all the company that he would that very night render his body and soul to the Powers of Evil if he might but overtake the wench. And while the revellers stood aghast at the fury of the man, one more wicked or, it may be, more drunken than the rest, cried out that they should put the hounds upon her. Whereat Hugo ran from the house, crying to his grooms that they should saddle his mare and unkennel the pack, and giving the hounds a kerchief of the maid’s, he swung them to the line, and so off full cry in the moonlight over the moor.
“Now, for some space the revellers stood agape, unable to understand all that had been done in such haste. But anon their bemused wits awoke to the nature of the deed which was like to be done upon the moorlands. Everything was now in an uproar, some calling for their pistols, some for their horses, and some for another flask of wine. But at length some sense came back to their crazed minds, and the whole of them, thirteen [675] in number, took horse and started in pursuit. The moon shone clear above them, and they rode swiftly abreast, taking that course which the maid must needs have taken if she were to reach her own home. “They had gone a mile or two when they passed one of the night shepherds upon the moorlands, and they cried to him to know if he had seen the hunt. And the man, as the story goes, was so crazed with fear that he could scarce speak, but at last he said that he had indeed seen the unhappy maiden, with the hounds upon her track. ‘But I have seen more than that,’ said he, ‘for Hugo Baskerville passed me upon his black mare, and there ran mute behind him such a hound of hell as God forbid should ever be at my heels.’ So the drunken squires cursed the shepherd and rode onward. But soon their skins turned cold, for there came a galloping across the moor, and the black mare, dabbled with white froth, went past with trailing bridle and empty saddle. Then the revellers rode close together, for a great fear was on them, but they still followed over the moor, though each, had he been alone, would have been right glad to have turned his horse’s head. Riding slowly in this fashion they came at last upon the hounds. These, though known for their valour and their breed, were whimpering in a cluster at the head of a deep dip or goyal, as we call it, upon the moor, some slinking away and some, with starting hackles and staring eyes, gazing down the narrow valley before them.
 “The company had come to a halt, more sober men, as you may guess, than when they started. The most of them would by no means advance, but three of them, the boldest, or it may be the most drunken, rode forward down the goyal. Now, it opened into a broad space in which stood two of those great stones, still to be seen there, which were set by certain forgotten peoples in the days of old. The moon was shining bright upon the clearing, and there in the centre lay the unhappy maid where she had fallen, dead of fear and of fatigue. But it was not the sight of her body, nor yet was it that of the body of Hugo Baskerville lying near her, which raised the hair upon the heads of these three dare-devil roysterers, but it was that, standing over Hugo, and plucking at his throat, there stood a foul thing, a great, black beast, shaped like a hound, yet larger than any hound that ever mortal eye has rested upon. And even as they looked the thing tore the throat out of Hugo Baskerville, on which, as it turned its blazing eyes and dripping jaws upon them, the three shrieked with fear and rode for dear life, still screaming, across the moor. One, it is said, died that very night of what he had seen, and the other twain were but broken men for the rest of their days.”

Arthur Conan Doyle, The Hound of the Baskervilles

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via: thenorwoodbuilder / 1 year ago with 15 notes

If you want to be picturesque about it…

via: romankacew-deactivated20130311 / 1 year ago with 73 notes
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via: r-a-szy-deactivated20131217 / 1 year ago with 12,883 notes


Baker street, 221b. музей Шерлока Холмса (The Sherlock Holmes Museum). 
Никогда не существовало дома по Baker street с таким номером, как и самого известного сыщика, персонажа Артура Конан Дойля - Шерлока Холмса. При создании музея специально была зарегистрирована фирма «221b Baker Street», дабы иметь возможность на законных основаниях повесить на «доме Шерлока Холмса», реальный номер которого 239, соответствующую табличку. Впоследствии, однако, дом всё же получил официальный почтовый адрес 221b, Baker Street, London

via: hitchcockers / 1 year ago with 44 notes

“The Adventure of the Clothes-Line”, Carolyn Wells

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via: joolabee / source: meiringens 1 year ago with 629 notes


My Mind Rebels at Stagnation by ~SmudgeThistle

My personal version of Sherlock Holmes. :) He’s not based on any particular version but it’s safe to say he’s influenced by many. I feel like I’m going to be spamming you guys with a lot of Sherlock Holmes related stuff, hope you don’t mind.

So this took A LOT of work to finish (it’s the mst complex digital work I’ve ever done!) and comments are greatly appreciated. Please tell me what you think!

Love this.

via: solitary-cyclist / source: smudgethistle 1 year ago with 30 notes


Wishbone A Dogged Expose

Story: A Scandal in Bohemia
Contemporary Story: Samantha tries to find out who is distributing embarrassing pictures of her.

Part 2 ¦ Part 3

Ohhhh no. I used to think Joe was so dreamy and mature when I was young… and he’s practically prepubescent. /The shame.

via: bakerstreetbabes / 1 year ago with 89 notes

“It’s not just a shadow but a ghost, a very sad ghost and he doesn’t know how to keep it all here in this room, how to bring him back together and to hold the pieces until they stick together.” (x)

via: sstanza / source: ghostbees 1 year ago with 1,254 notes


The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez 1904

Illustrator: Frederic Dorr Steele

Courtesy: U.M Library

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via: tea-at-221b / 1 year ago with 17 notes
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