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You don't know about me nor Sherlock Holmes without you've read some stories by Mr. Arthur Doyle, but that ain't no matter. "A Study in Scarlet" was wrote by Mr. Doyle (I don't hold with all this "Sir" flapdoodle), and in it he told the truth, mainly. It warn't nothing like the folderol he got into later about fairies and such.
I was living with Sherlock Holmes free and easy as you please at Baker Street. Warn't nothing the two of us had to do all day but smoke, and tell stories back and forth, and eat Miz Hudson's good cooking, and go look at dead bodies; so we was comfortable as could be.
But one day this pretty gal came to us looking for her pa's treasure. I took one look at her and forgot how to talk good. All the time we ran all over London after peg-legs and pygmies and such, I couldn't stop thinking of her. Holmes didn't like her none, but I couldn't think of nothing better than walking out with that gal.
But then we found her treasure, and that was a whole lot prettier. She give us each a big handful of di'monds and gold and left.
Holmes and I reckon we can use the treasure to light out for Sussex and farm bees.