PART I.
1. CHAPTER I.  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 Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers as Assistant Surgeon.  
 The regiment was stationed in India at the time, and before 
 I could join it, the second 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 Candahar 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 Maiwand.  There I was struck on 
 the shoulder by a Jezail bullet, which shattered the bone and 
 grazed the subclavian 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 verandah, 
 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 "Orontes," 
 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. 
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