A Scandal in Bohemia, Chapter 2, part 14

ən ˈnaʊ aɪ ˈɑːst

ɑː ˈkwests ˈpræktɪkli ˈfɪnɪʃt || aɪ ʃl̩ ˈkɔːl wɪð ðə ˈkɪŋ təˈmɒrəʊ | ən wɪð ˈjuː | ɪf ju ˈkeə tə ˈkʌm wɪð əs || wil bi ˈʃəʊn ɪntə ðə ˈsɪtɪŋ ˈruːm | tə ˈweɪt fə ðə ˈleɪdi | bət ɪts ˈprɒbəbl̩ | ðət ˈwen ʃi ˈkʌmz | ʃi meɪ ˈfaɪn ˈnaɪðər ˈʌs | ˈnɔː ðə ˈfəʊtəɡrɑːf || ɪp ˈmaɪp bi ə ˈsætəsˈfækʃn̩ | tu ɪz ˈmæʤəsti | tə rɪˈɡeɪn ɪt | wɪð ɪz ˈəʊn ˈhænz

ən ˈwenl̩ ju ˈkɔːl

ət ˈeɪt ɪn ðə ˈmɔːnɪŋ || ʃil ˈnɒp bi ˈʌp | ˈsəʊ ðət wi ʃl̩ ˈhæv ə ˈklɪə ˈfiːld || bɪˈsaɪdz | wi ˈmʌs bi ˈprɒmt | fə ˈðɪs ˈmærɪʤ | meɪ ˈmiːn ə kəmˈpliːt ˈʧeɪnʤ | ɪn ɜː ˈlaɪf ən ˈhæbɪts || aɪ ˈmʌs ˈwaɪə tə ðə ˈkɪŋ | wɪˈðaʊt dɪˈleɪ

wid ˈriːʧ ˈbeɪkə ˈstriːt | ən əd ˈstɒpt ət ðə ˈdɔː || hi wəz ˈsɜːʧɪŋ ɪz ˈpɒkɪts | fə ðə ˈkiː | wen ˈsʌmwʌn ˈpɑːsɪŋ ˈsed

ˈɡʊd ˈnaɪp ˈmɪstə ˈʃɜːlɒk ˈhəʊmz

ðə wə ˈsevrəl ˈpiːpl̩ ɒn ðə ˈpeɪvmənt ət ðə ˈtaɪm | bət ðə ˈɡriːtɪŋ əˈpɪəd tə ˈkʌm frəm ə ˈslɪm ˈjuːθ | ɪn ən ˈʌlstə | hud ˈhʌrib ˈbaɪ

aɪv ˈhɜːd ˈðæt ˈvɔɪs bɪˈfɔː ˈsed ˈhəʊmz | ˈsteərɪŋ ˈdaʊn ðə ˈdɪmli ˈlɪt ˈstriːt || naʊ aɪ ˈwʌndə ˈhuː ðə ˈʤuːs ˈðæk kəd ə ˈbiːn

Doyle, Arthur Conan. The Original Illustrated Sherlock Holmes. “Reproduced from the original publication in The Strand Magazine with the classic illustrations by Sidney Paget.” Edison, New Jersey: Castle Books, [after 1954]. Internet Archive version of a copy donated by Friends of the San Francisco Library.   http://www.victorianweb.org/art/illustration/pagets/9.html

“And now?” I asked.

“Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the King to-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be shown into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is probable that when she comes she may find neither us nor the photograph. It might be a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain it with his own hands.”

“And when will you call?”

“At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall have a clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may mean a complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to the King without delay.”

We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He was searching his pockets for the key when someone passing said:

“Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes.”

There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had hurried by.

“I've heard that voice before,” said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit street. “Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been.”