6 January is Sherlock Holmes's fictional birthday - and with The Abominable Bride scoring the highest festive audience we clearly haven't tired of Baker Street's finest.

But while millions enjoy the exploits of Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman, when did you last read Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's original stories? Dark, funny and ingenious, these miniature masterpieces are among the most iconic in literature. Here are six of the best.

A Scandal in Bohemia

The first Sherlock Holmes short story - the detective had already appeared in two novels - is notable for the appearance of Irene Adler, a rare female character of the series and the woman who famously beat him. It isn't conventional mystery, more of an assignment. Several years ago the lovestruck King of Bohemia sent a number of compromising letters and a photograph to Adler. Now engaged to another woman, the King requires Holmes to recover the potentially embarrassing evidence. The great detective adopts several disguises to spy on Adler at her house and is even a witness to a secret marriage. He thinks the photograph can be swiftly recovered - but a nasty surprise awaits.

Best Holmes deduction: Disguised as a clergyman, Holmes stages a false fire alarm at Adler's house to discover the hidden photograph. In the event of a fire, a person automatically checks on their most valued possession.

Solution: Adler realises Holmes's trick and tracks him to Baker Street to confirm her suspicions. She and her new husband promptly flee the country. A couple of hours later Holmes, Watson and the King arrive to find no Adler and no photograph - only a letter from Adler to Holmes explaining her escape.

The Red Headed League

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An early pioneer of what became a classic criminal trick: create an elaborate, often extraordinary cover story to distract from the more mundane crime. (Agatha Christie used this device in The ABC Murders, and Doyle recycled it for

The Three Garridebs.) Here the literally red herring is the job offered to flame-headed pawnbroker Jabez Wilson: sit in an empty office and copy out the Encyclopædia Britannica word-for-word. Why? Due to the bequest of an American millionaire, instructing easy, well-remunerated employment be offered to men who, like himself, were red of hair. For weeks Wilson diligently copies out the 'As' until one morning he finds the office locked and a sign stating the Red Headed League is dissolved. Wilson starts asking question but can find no trace of the organization ever existing - despite it paying him £4 a week to copy letters from a book. The baffled pawnbroker takes his case to Holmes, who quickly deduces foul play is afoot.

Best Holmes deduction: Immediately noticing his client "has done a considerable amount of writing lately". How? Wilson's shiny right cuff (from moving against the paper) and "the smooth patch near the [left] elbow where he rests it upon the desk."

Solution: The Red-Headed League is a ruse to remove Wilson from his pawnshop, allowing a pair of thieves, one of whom is moonlighting as Wilson's assistant, to tunnel into the vault of the neighbouring bank. Holmes apprehends the criminals on the night of their heist.

The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle

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The original Christmas special. In December a man carrying a dead goose gets into an altercation on Tottenham Court Road. He flees, leaving behind the goose and his battered old hat. Both are taken to Holmes.

After Holmes has examined the hat and made some remarkable deductions about its wearer - "his wife has ceased to love him" - a brilliant blue jewel is discovered inside the dead bird: the recently stolen carbuncle of the Countess of Morcar. Holmes tracks down the hat owner (the goose was labelled "For Mrs Henry Baker"), who appears oblivious a priceless stone was hidden within his Christmas dinner. Holmes and Watson follow a trail back to the goose salesman - but they aren't the only ones asking questions.

Best Holmes deduction: The hat monologue is rightly celebrated as Holmes outlines a ridiculous number of hypotheses, some more far fetched than others. The neatest? The numerous sweat marks upon the lining betray the wearer's poor physical condition. And the wife? Only an indifferent spouse could allow her husband to sport such an ill-kept piece of headwear.

Solution: The carbuncle was stolen by a hotel attendant named James Ryder. Terrified of arrest Ryder visited his sister, an egg and poultry supplier, and feeds the stone to one of her geese. However, the incompetent Ryder accidently takes the wrong goose, and realises the Carbuncle-filled bird has gone to the salesman. There he encounters Holmes and quickly confesses his crime. The detective lets Ryder go; it's Christmas after all.

The Adventure of the Speckled Band

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An exotic chiller, frequently cited as the best Holmes story by connoisseurs and Conan Doyle himself. The wealthy and recently engaged Helen Stoner lives with her eccentric stepfather Dr Roylett. A cheetah and a baboon roam the grounds: Roylett has an unusual taste in pets. Two years ago Helen's twin sister, Julia, died in mysterious circumstances. Sleeping in a locked bedroom, Julia had spoken of hearing strange whistles in the dead of night.

Later, in the middle of a gale, Helen is woken by her sister's scream. She finds Julia petrified, crying "It was the band! The speckled band!" before expiring seemingly from sheer terror. Now Helen has moved into her sister's old room. And one night she hears the sound of a low whistle... Can Sherlock Holmes save the second sister from the dreadful fate of the first?

Best Holmes deduction: The new bell-rope beside Helen's bed doesn't work. It hangs above a ventilator that leads to Dr Roylett's bedroom. Holmes quickly establishes the significance of these singular points (see below for how).

Solution: The speckled band is a swamp adder trained by Dr Roylett. He fed the deadly snake through the ventilator, hoping it would climb down the bell-rope and bite Julia. The whistles were Roylett summoning the snake back. (It took several nights until the snake bit the intended victim.) Now the doctor is using the same trick on Julia in fear of losing her fortune. Holmes and Watson lie in wait for the reptile and drive it back into Roylett's room where it bites the doctor. Poetic justice of the highest order.

Silver Blaze

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This beautifully plotted little mystery is one of Doyle's most satisfying. Famed racehorse Silver Blaze has disappeared on the eve of a race. His trainer is found dead on the moor, knife in hand, head shattered by a savage blow. Questions abound. A local gambler named Fitzroy-Simpson was seen hanging around the stables on the afternoon of the theft - but how was the stranger able to drug the stable boy's curried mutton? Why have several sheep recently gone lame? Most famously, what of the curious incident of the dog in the night-time, the dog supposed to guard Silver Blaze?

The dog did nothing in the night-time. That, of course, was the curious incident, one which holds the secret to the case.

Best Holmes deduction: Realising the silent dog means the thief must be someone familiar to the animal. Thus it did not bark an alarm.

Solution: The horse thief is the murdered trainer, John Straker. He took Silver Blaze to the moor in order to maim the race favourite and win a fortune betting against it. (He practiced on the sheep.) Who killed Straker? Why the horse of course, striking out with a frightened hoof as Straker reached for its leg. A rival owner then discovered the horse on the moor;

Holmes ensures its safe return for the race.

The Final Problem

One of the shorter stories casts the longest shadow.

For Holmes faces Professor Moriarty, the Napoleon of crime. After a long game of cat-and-mouse (occurring entirely off-stage), Holmes at last has the upper hand. Moriarty and his vast operation will shortly be arrested. The Professor warns Holmes their destruction shall be mutual, and after Moriarty evades the police Holmes and Watson retreat to Switzerland, staying nearby the Reichenbach Falls.... Essentially a fast-paced thriller, Doyle wrote The Final Problem to kill off his hero by pitting him against a suitable nemesis. Oddly, Moriarty appears only to Holmes, never to Watson (and thus the reader). Their famous meeting is recounted by the detective, and Watson only catches brief glimpses of a distant figure at Victoria Station and the Reichenbach. Thus the often posited theory: Moriarty never existed, and is merely a figment of Holmes's imagination. (Either deliberate or drug-induced.) Even if you ignore this surprisingly plausible theory, it is remarkable that arguably the most famous villain in literature sprung from only a handful of pages. And we never truly meet him at all.

Best Holmes deduction: Sherlock is on the run throughout - no time for deductions! Some great comebacks, though. Moriarty: "All that I have to say has already crossed your mind". Holmes: "Then possibly my answer has crossed yours."

Solution: Moriarty tracks Holmes to Switzerland, and lures Watson from the waterfall with a fake letter. Upon realising the deception, Watson rushes back - only to find a goodbye letter from his friend. Two sets of footprints at the cliff edge suggest the archenemies fought and plunged into the waterfall together, locked in a deadly embrace. (Only Doyle later recanted, revealing Holmes wriggled free while Moriarty toppled to his death.)

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