All language subtitles for Young.SH

Come on, boy!

Chestnuts!

Get some lovely, hot chestnuts!

Mr. Bobster, good evening.

How pleasant
to see you again, sir.

Here we are, Mr. Bobster.

Your favorite.

Hmm.

Oh, tidings of...

Mr. Bobster.

Are you all right, sir?

Oh.

It was a cold, snowy day
in early December.

Lack of funds had forced
my old school to close.

I was being sent to a new one

in the middle of term.

I was accustomed to the open,
relaxed expanse of the country,

and now I was
in the heart of London

at the height
of the Victorian Era.

The streets were teeming
with every activity imaginable.

I was very taken by what I saw.

As I stepped from my carriage,
the sight of my new school

filled me with fear
and apprehension.

Yet, I was swept
with a wave of curiosity.

However, nothing
could prepare me

for the extraordinary adventure
that lay ahead

or the extraordinary individual
who would change my life.

There you are, sir.

Stop!

Isn't it valuable?

What's more important?

It's value of my sanity?

I should have mastered
the damned thing by now.

How long have you been playing?

Three days.

Well...
perhaps you should be patient.

You're the new boy.

Yes, I transferred
from another school.

My name's...

Wait.

Let me.

Your name is James Watson.

You're from the north
of England.

Your father is a doctor.

You spend a considerable amount
of leisure time writing,

and you have a particular
fondness for custard tarts.

Am I correct?

My name isn't James, it's John.

Oh, James, John,
what's the difference?

A great deal.

Oh, very well,
so your name is John.

How did I do on the others?

You were correct.

On every count.

How is it done?

Is it some sort of magic trick?

No. No magic, Watson.

Pure and simple deduction.

The name tag on your mattress

reads "J. Watson."

I selected the most common name
that begins with "J."

James... or John... that would
have been my second choice.

Of course.

Your particular style

of shoes are not
made in this city.

I've only encountered
them once before,

during a brief visit to
the north of England.

The middle finger of your left
hand is indented with a callus...

the trademark of a writer...
and you were carrying

the Hunter's
Encyclopedia of Disease,

a handbook not available
to the general public,

only to practicing physicians.

Since someone of your age

obviously hasn't been
to medical school,

I concluded that
it was given to you

by an older person,
someone very dear to you

who is concerned
for your health...

your father, the doctor.

And the custard tarts?

Simple. There's a distinct stain
of yellow custard on your lapel

That particular
color of custard

is used in the making of
custard tarts, and, uh...

well, your shape convinced me

that you've eaten
many of them before.

There's no need to be rude.

Come on, we haven't
got all day.

But hang on.
Where are we going?

You wouldn't want to miss
chemistry class, would you?

By the way, what's your name?

Holmes.

Sherlock Holmes.

The deductive mind
never rests, Watson.

It's not unlike a finely
tuned musical instrument.

It demands attention
and practice.

How does one go about

fine-tuning a mind, Holmes?

With problems of logic,

mathematical equations,
riddles.

For example, Watson...

you're seated in a room
with an all-southern view.

Suddenly, a bear walks
by the window.

What color is the bear?

Red.

The bear is red.

Why on earth would
the bear be red?

The southern sun
is very hot.

The bear would
be terribly burned.

That is the most absurd answer
I've ever heard.

To successfully conclude
the ex-experiment...

uh, uh, uh... the experiment...

uh, uh, uh, experiment.

To-to reiterate,

experiment 14...

"T-Throw a small piece

"of potassium
onto some water...

"The liquid
will be rapidly

"de... com-composed, and
so violent will be the action

"that a large
amount of light

and..."

Thank you.

He's being particularly
boring today.

"The result
is the production of potasi...

...oxide of potass...
which will be dissolved..."

That was a girl.

Brilliant deduction, Watson.

Who is she, and what's she doing
in a boys' school?

Her name's Elizabeth.

Following the death
of her parents

a few years ago,
she came to live

on school grounds
with her uncle,

a retired Brompton
schoolmaster.

"...and such is modified by..."

Elizabeth was just admiring
my new timepiece.

Would you like to see?

Hmm. Very interesting.

All of the stylish
gentlemen are wearing them.

Expensive?

I bought it in
Bond Street.

I find that highly unlikely.

I beg your pardon?

Had you taken a moment
to examine the face,

you'd have discovered that
it is notably French in style.

And yet according
to this inscription,

the exterior was manufactured
in Switzerland.

Yes, my suspicion
was correct.

The works are obviously
Italian in origin.

Congratulations, Dudley,

your stylish timepiece
is a fraud.

Keep your opinions to yourself,
Holmes.

I look forward to resuming
our conversation...

when there's
a little more privacy.

Why did you do that?

Dudley is a
pompous ass.

He's very sweet.

Oh, really?

Is that why you
were standing

so close to him?

Flirting with him,
letting him dribble

all over your hand.

Do I detect
a sense of jealousy?

Sherlock Holmes, jealous?

My dear, that word does not

enter my vocabulary.

And neither does "punctuality."

Oh, I see.
You're angry because I'm late.

As always.

I'm sorry, but I can explain.

I understand.

You had something
more important to do.

How can you say that?

I was...

Elizabeth,

let me introduce you
to my new friend...

...the honorable
but clumsy Watson.

The, uh, ladder's a bit wobbly.

- Hello.
- How do you do?

Nearly broke a bone.

Elizabeth!

Elizabeth!

Holmes!

I think I've solved
all of the problem!

Who's that?

My uncle.

Rupert T. Waxflatter,

retired schoolmaster.

Degrees in chemistry
and biology,

well-versed in philosophy,
mathematics and physics.

Author of 27 books.

Incredible.

And most people think
he's a lunatic.

Why?

Oh, my God.

Oh. Oh...

Oh!

A very hopeful sign.

Hmm.

Very hopeful.

Ah, let me see,
that makes six...

six failed attempts.

Nevertheless,
we shall not be defeated.

We shall conquer.

I have made up my mind.

The conquest with a smile
is well within my grasp.

He's done this six times?

All I need to do is
to apply 20 more...

I live here with Uncle.

After he retired,

the school gave him the attic
as a workplace.

It's incredible.

I've spent
many happy hours here.

He's taught me more than ten
schoolmasters put together.

Uncas, say hello to Watson.

Say hello, Uncas.

Say hello.

Watson, he's not a parrot.

You've found
the weakness, sir?

I constructed the wings
out of an inferior material.

I shall have to rebuild
the entire machine.

The entire machine?

Mm...

Won't that be difficult?

Elementary, my dear Holmes.

Elementary.

Ha...

you'll...

you'll have to excuse me.

Come on, come on,
come on, come on.

I've got it, Holmes.

The bear is black.

What's that, old chap?

The bear in the riddle.

Its a black bear.

Wrong again, Watson.

I'd appreciate it
if you wouldn't disturb me

when I'm trying
to concentrate on the lesson.

Are you all right, Pencester?

I think I sprained
my ankle, sir.

Mrs. Dribb,

will you tend
to him, please?

Gentlemen,
we cannot permit ourselves

lapses in concentration.

We must work on technique,
on rhythm and on balance.

I can think of no better pupil

to help me illustrate
proper form and technique

than Holmes.

Study our stance, our movements

and our style.

En garde.

Touche.

Touche.

My game, Holmes.

Now, gentlemen...

Mr. Holmes lost

because of one
important factor.

His emotions took over.

He ignored discipline.

Never replace discipline
with emotion.

Well played, Holmes.

Thanks.

Per Christum
dominum nostrum, amen.

Amen.

I want to enlist in the army.

A general.

Generals don't make
any money.

I would prefer to be an author.

Authors don't make money.

I want to be a barrister.

Barristers make money.

I want to be a doctor.

Nobody asked you.

Sorry.

Holmes, what about you?

What do you want to be

when you grow up?

I never want to be alone.

Uncas.

Uncas!

Uncas...

Uncas.

Why did you do that?

Left me all alone.

Stay with me.

Hello? Is anybody there?

Ooh!

Get out of the way!

Ho!

Holmes is going
to solve the crime!

Holmes is going
to solve the crime!

Holmes is going
to solve a crime!

What did he say?

Come on, let's go!

Crime?

Did you hear?

Holmes is going
to solve...

It was the beginning
of my second week at Brompton.

With each passing day

my fascination with
Sherlock Holmes and his world

continued to grow.

On this occasion,

the entire school
was bursting with excitement.

Dudley had challenged Holmes
to a test of ingenuity,

skill and perception.

Dudley had snatched
the school's fencing trophy

and hidden it
in a secret place.

He gave Holmes 60 minutes
to find the trophy.

Holmes accepted the challenge
with confidence.

The game is afoot!

Hurray!

Good luck, Holmes!

Good luck!

But this is truly despicable.

Imagine, a cultured student

acting like a chimpanzee.

Master Snelgrove,

he's just having
a bit of fun.

I'm sure that you
can still remember

- what fun was.
- Fun?!

Besides, this Holmes boy
is too precocious,

too egotistical
for his own good.

He'll never find that trophy.

I'll wager a guinea he does.

Done.

Excuse me.

Holmes, you've only got
one minute.

Holmes, you've
only got one minute.

I heard you the first time.

Can't you see
I'm trying to concentrate?

Only seconds left, Holmes.

I assume
you're giving up.

Never assume anything,
my good fellow.

But Holmes,
I see no sign of a trophy.

But I do.

Stop!

Holmes, have you gone mad?

This is an antique!

Hooray!

Good job, Mr. Holmes.

Well done.

It was a wonderful,
heroic moment for Holmes,

but little could he know that
his amazing powers and talents

would soon be put
to a much greater test.

A test of terrifying
and deadly proportions.

I came through the skylight

into the kitchen.

I gave them quite a fright.

Anyway, it was then
that I noticed

the particles beneath the oven.

Particles of freshly baked
ceramic.

Quite odd for a kitchen

used only to prepare
student meals.

So, the clues:

Red and green paint, ceramic.

As I pondered the question,

I kicked the remaining
snow from my shoe.

As the snow crumbled,
my shoe was revealed.

The image struck a chord.

You heard music.

Watson, you buffoon.

I'm talking about a parallel.

The parallel between my foot
encased in snow

and the trophy encased
in some sort of ceramic;

a jar, a vase.

Painted with red
and green paint.

Exactly, Watson.

Holmes!

Holmes!

This time I've definitely
found the problem!

He's going to fly again.

Come on.

Mr. Lestrade?

Holmes!

Oh.

It's been a long time,
of course.

Three, four days
since your last visit?

This will only take
a minute of your time.

There are no murder reports
for you to study,

no casebooks

you haven't already read,
old boy.

I'm not here for research.

I believe I'm onto something.

Oh, not again.

This time I'm certain of it.

Really?

Just like last month
when you were convinced

that the French ambassador
had embezzled 300,000

from the Bank of England.

I was close.

It was the Russian
ambassador.

Oh, Holmes, please.

I don't have time

for any more
of your playpen crimes.

Just have a quick
look at these.

A suicide?

A carriage accident.

I suspect foul play.

Why?

The two instances are
completely unrelated.

Wrong. Both men graduated

from the same university
in 1809.

Coincidence.

Neither of their deaths

fit their personalities.

According to his obituary,
Bobster was a happy man,

content with his life,
his career, his family.

Why would he commit suicide?

He didn't even leave a note.

And Reverend Nesbitt is
described by friends as

"warm, loving, peaceful."

And yet the carriage driver
insists that he was crazed,

insane, in a state of panic

when he ran out
into the street.

Holmes,

a mere fluctuation of character
is hardly sufficient evidence

to begin an investigation.

And if you want my advice,

you'll keep your nose
out of the Times

and into your schoolbooks.

I appreciate your time,
Mr. Lestrade.

I suggest you hold onto these.

If I were
a detective sergeant

trapped in this room all day,

up to my neck
in boring paperwork,

I would be doing everything
in my power

to seek out that one case,
that one investigation

that would promote me
to inspector.

Good day, Holmes.

Holmes!

What you, what you doing?

Dudely, dropped this, sir.

I was just giving
it back to him.

I beg your pardon?

Your paper.

What?

It doesn't belong to me.

You dropped it.

It isn't even my handwriting.

These are the exam answers.

Well, Holmes, it appears
we have finally discovered

the secret of
your intelligence.

But, sir...

You better come with me.

The fools.

Their age has turned them
to granite.

They refuse to listen
to anyone but themselves.

I was certain

they would take my record
into consideration.

Oh, they did.

Unfortunately, it did
more harm than good.

Seeing a record
of that quality

only managed
to convince the Board

that you've been cheating
all along.

Oh, that's absurd.

Well, Holmes, you were caught

with the examination answers

in front of an entire classroom
of students.

And to make matters worse,

the answers were
in your own handwriting.

An excellent job of forgery.

Who'd have suspected Dudley
could pull it off?

I can prove my innocence.

If you would
give me some time...

The Board quoted
the school motto

at least five times during
the course of our meeting.

"Honesty, probity
and diligence."

Exactly.

In their eyes,
you have committed

the worst crime imaginable.

And I'm being given the worst
punishment imaginable...

expulsion.

Holmes, I will do everything

within my power to help you.

Now, keep an eye out
for this Dudley fellow,

and I'll write
a sterling recommendation

that will get you
into any school in England.

I appreciate that, sir.

And if there's
anything else I can do...

Oh, well, there is one thing.

Ah... one last duel.

Yes, sir.

Holmes, you all right?

Fine.

It's just a small cut.

I lost concentration
for a moment.

And I should have

removed my ring.

I'm sorry... it was
an unfair distraction.

The match is yours.

Let's call it a draw.

Come, let Mrs. Dribb
look at that wound.

Ahh...

Ooh.

There. There we are.

Thank you, Mrs. Dribb.

We're all going to miss you
around here, Mr. Holmes.

Oh, giddyup!

Dudley's going to pay
dearly for this.

Punch to the jaw,
jab to the ribs.

Now, now, Watson.

Revenge is sweetest
when it's served up cold.

Come.

Holmes!

You did this.

You're responsible, aren't you?

So that's where I dropped
my chemistry experiment...

into your tea.

Oh, don't worry, old chap.

It'll wear off shortly.

You should be back
to normal by summertime.

Bag of chestnuts.

Chestnuts, hot chestnuts.

Get your chestnuts!

Chestnuts!

Ding-dong, ding-dong.

Is your brother expecting you?

I'll break the news to him
when I arrive.

Get 'em off me!

Get them off me!

Get them off me, please!
Get them off!

Get them off me!

No, sir, no!

So, this is good-bye.

I really expected us
to become good friends.

What's going on?

Sir! You dropped this!

Ehtar.

Ehtar.

Just seemed to go mad.

He... snatched up a knife
and stabbed himself.

Ehtar, Holmes.

Ehtar.

Sir... no.

- Please, no.
- Holmes!

I might have known!

Mr. Lestrade,
this has something to do

with what we talked about.

Get these two schoolchildren
away from here!

Mr. Lestrade...
you've got to listen to me.

Ho! Whoa...

"Man that is born of a woman

has but a short time to live..."

A few days later,

they buried
Professor Waxflatter.

I had never been
to a funeral before,

though unfortunately,
I've been to many since.

Holmes could not publicly
attend the funeral.

His expulsion from Brompton
prevented such a thing.

The death
of his mentor and friend

had taken its toll
on Sherlock Holmes.

In my entire life,

I have only seen Holmes cry
on two occasions.

Today was the first.

Oh, Lord most mighty.

Oh, holy
and most merciful Savior.

Deliver us not into the bitter
pains of eternal death...

No. Uncle didn't kill himself.

He didn't?

Then what happened?

He was murdered.

Holmes,

what are you doing here?

You'll excuse my entrance.

I had to climb
up the fire escape.

I can't afford to be seen.

I only got halfway
to Mycroft's home

and something...
gnawing at my insides.

I ordered the driver
to turn round.

I'm going to miss him, too,
Elizabeth.

He was very important to me.

I'm so glad you're here.

I had to come back.

Do you really believe
Uncle was murdered?

I'm certain of it.

Come on, now, Holmes.

You saw Waxflatter's hand
on the knife.

You heard
the shopkeeper's story...

it was obviously a suicide.

Never trust the obvious, Watson.

There are too many puzzling
elements to all of this.

Firstly, a man hurls himself
out of a window.

Second, a reverend
throws himself

under an oncoming carriage...
all for no apparent reason.

And then Waxflatter
stabs himself,

which seems completely
unbelievable to all of us.

And then another question:

Why should Waxflatter be so
obsessed with their deaths?

Yes.

He'd saved
those newspaper clippings.

And he was always meeting
with that odd man.

Do you remember him?

That man attended
the funeral.

Do you know his name?

No. Whenever he came to visit,

Uncle would just usher me
out of the attic.

Oh, I asked him about him,

but he'd just
change the subject.

In some way, that man is
connected to all three murders.

We must find out who he is.

You've both been reading
too many detective novels.

This is not fiction, Watson.

There's a clever murderer
on the loose,

and I am going to find him.

How?

I'll live here, work here.

If that's all right with you.

Yes.

What if we're found?

Only the three of us know
that I'm here.

Someone may see you leaving,
or coming in.

I'll take my chances.

But you'll need food, supplies.

Me?

I can't.

You can run errands for me,
work as my assistant.

But I might get caught,
and that would mean trouble.

Trouble?

You would let trouble ruin
an opportunity for adventure?

I can't afford to jeopardize
my medical career.

Weasel.

I'm not a weasel.

I am practical.

Weasels are practical.

And I imagined you courageous,
stout of heart.

I am courageous...

and I'm stout of heart.

It's just that...

All right, I'll do it.

Thank you, Watson.

Uncle would have wanted you
to have this.

But I...

Please.

Put it on.

On second thought, take it off,
it looks very silly.

You can't wear hats.

I think it's very becoming.

- You're teasing.
- No, seriously.

The following day we set out

to try to solve
Waxflatter's murder,

but we had
very little to go on.

We only had two clues...

Waxflatter's
final words, "Ehtar,"

and the blowpipe

that was dropped
at the scene of his death.

As we walked
through the marketplace,

it occurred to me that when
the cloaked figure ran off,

I had heard
a peculiar jingling.

A jingling sound very much like

the sound I heard
in the library

on my first day at Brompton.

Holmes was intrigued,
and we decided to visit

the school library
later that night.

However,
our first stop that day

was at Engel's curio shop.

Nice.

How very nice.

Egyptian.

The markings, the design,

that's Egyptian craftsmanship.

Oh, I've only seen this
particular type once before.

Where?

On jewelry, on sconces.

I had it here in the shop.

Ah, but I sold the lot.

To whom?

An Egyptian.

Oh, keeps some sort of tavern.

And his name?

Let's see.

Ah...

Uh, you promised
to purchase something.

Watson, buy something.

Me?

I'm short of funds right now.

Rubbish, you're short of funds.

Watson, this is no time
to be a penny pincher.

That address could
lead us to our killer.

Oh. Well, how much
do I need to spend?

Just buy anything.

Why on earth
did you buy a pipe?

It looks distinguished.

It looks perfectly ridiculous.

You'll see.

I shall learn to smoke it,

and then you can't laugh.

You'll see.

What can I get for you boys?

Drink? Food? Women?

Do you have any soup?

Watson, please.

Are you the owner
of this establishment?

Have you ever seen

this before?

Ramatep.

Ramatep! Ramatep!

Ramatep!

Ramatep!

Is that the end of the song?

Where...?

Where did you get this from?

I happened upon it.

Go.
Take it away!

Get out of here!

Sir, it's very important.

Could you tell us
something about this?

You lad...

Now, get out of my tavern,

or these words
will be the last words

you will ever hear.

Sir...

We're leaving, we're leaving.

Right up there,
at the top shelf.

That's where I heard the sound.

Holmes, please hurry.

Don't you know what happens
were I caught?

Incredible.

Holmes, your voice,
keep it down.

Sorry, Watson.

My God, that is remarkable.

Holmes, please!

Oh, God... oh, God.

My chances
at medical school...

Quaint, little office
I've always dreamed of...

Watson, listen to this.

Holmes went on to explain
that the Ramatep

were a fanatical group
of religious followers

of Osiris,
the Egyptian god of the dead.

They were scorned by society

because of their distortion of
traditional religious beliefs

and their violent
and sadistic rituals.

The Ramatep use a blow pipe

and shoot a thorn
into their chosen victim.

The thorn is dipped
into a solution

made up of various plant
and root extracts.

When this solution
enters the bloodstream,

it causes the victim
to experience very realistic,

nightmare-like hallucinations.

But we can be certain
of one thing.

What's that?

The murderer is still here.

On school grounds.

My dear, that's quite
a rash statement,

considering that
this said jingling sound

has been heard only once.

Twice.

Twice?

Remember a few nights
ago in the courtyard?

Uncas heard a jingling
sound like you described.

He took a piece
of clothing from him.

Well, it might still be here.

We must search every inch
of this laboratory.

We must find
that piece of clothing.

We immediately
sprang into action,

searching every nook
and cranny for the cloth.

I accidentally turned on one of
Waxflatter's strange machines,

and not being at all
mechanically-minded,

I had the dickens of a time
trying to turn the thing off.

I found it.

I found it!

Holmes spent the entire night
and the following day

studying, examining,

scrutinizing
the section of cloth.

He conducted experiment
after experiment.

Not once did he stop for a rest.

His energy seemed boundless.

Following 18 straight hours
of work,

Holmes turned
to Elizabeth and myself

and those four familiar words
shot from his lips.

The game is afoot.

Holmes explained that the fabric
was Egyptian in origin

and contained so many
warp threads and weft threads,

things that to this day
I still don't understand.

He found that the cloth
was stained with paraffin,

paraffin manufactured
exclusively

at Froggit and Froggit, located
in the Wapping area of London,

a dark and dangerous place,

and I turned to Holmes
and I told him so,

in no uncertain terms.

Oh, Holmes,

perhaps we should come
back in the morning,

when it's lighter.

And when there are more people.

It's open.

Holmes, wait.

What if the murderer
is inside?

Then I shall
introduce myself to him.

I knew it, there's no one here.

Then back to school, eh?

Watson,

you'll be on your own.

Oh.

What do you suppose it is?

Some sort of Egyptian artwork?

Some sort of statue?

No, Watson.

I'm afraid this is only
the tip of the iceberg.

Oh, no!

This is an interesting
development.

There must be
a passageway inside.

I hear chanting.

Holmes, there's a door here.

Fancy him missing a door.

Watson, Elizabeth, over here.

It's some sort of temple.

I'm going down
for a closer look.

Holmes, let's get out
of here with our lives.

Just stay here.
I'll be back in a few minutes.

Stop! She's alive!

Get him! Get him!

Get him!

We got them!

Elizabeth?

Could you hear?

- Elizabeth!
- Elizabeth!

Now, what could have
happened to her?

She might have been hit
by a thorn.

Elizabeth!

I think I hear something.

You're right.

Please!

Please help me!

No!

Please!

Help me!

No!

Elizabeth.

No! Please.

Help me tie her down.

What with?

My scarf. Get my scarf. Quickly.

I don't want to die!

It's not real.

It's a hallucination.

Help me!

Listen to me... it's not real.

You're hallucinating.

Wake up!

- No!
- Wake up. You've got to wake up.

It's not real.

- No, Uncle, no!
- You're hallucinating.

Listen to me.

Please, help!

- They're hallucinations.
- Please, no!

Elizabeth, listen to me.

No! No!

- Now, Watson.
- No!

Watson?

Please, no!

Dear God, not Watson, too.

Please.

Watson!

Watson!

Watson!

No.

No.

Please don't cry, Mother.

Please.

Don't you understand, Mother?

Can't you hear me?

Can't you hear what I'm saying?

Mother!

You!

This is all your fault, son.

How could you do
such a thing to me?

To your own father?

Spying on me.

Forgive me, Father.

Please, I-I didn't realize.

My private life is my own.

Your mother need
never have known.

Father.

No. No!

No!

This is not real.

This is not real!

This is not real.

It's just a hallucination.

It's only in my mind.

It's only a hallucination.

Maybe not.

No. No.

Please, no.

Leave him right there,

or I'll blow
your bleeding heads off!

I've convinced them
to drop the charges.

Now, Holmes,
you and your little friends

have cost me a night's sleep.

That figures.
Good morning.

Mr. Lestrade,

these religious fanatics
are responsible

for God knows how many deaths,

and I have
good reason to believe

that they're also responsible
for the four young girls

who mysteriously
disappeared last month.

I beg of you,
begin an investigation.

Based on what?

Your imagination?

A great detective relies
on perception, intelligence

and imagination.

Where'd you get
that rubbish from?

It's framed, on the
wall behind you.

Oh, God...

Damn it, Holmes,

I really don't see why

I should have to explain
my actions to you.

I spent the last
seven years at Scotland Yard

studying, analyzing
hundreds of cases.

And you, with your background

of schoolbooks
and newspaper headlines,

you consider
that you know more than me.

I despise your arrogance.

And I despise your laziness.

Out!

All of you.

Simply leave.

If you have any investigative
power in you at all,

you'll have someone test these.

Maybe then you'll be convinced.

Out, Holmes.

Oh...

Ow.

Blast.

Holmes, could you please stop
that infernal tinkering?

I've still got a headache
from those hallucinations.

Tinkering helps me think.

Sleep helps me think.

There's no time
for sleep, Watson.

We've got to keep working.

We've got to find clues.

Something that could link
Waxflatter with the Ramatep.

Quite a picture, Holmes.

Clues, Watson,
I want clues,

not art critiques.

Clues, clues...

what do you think I've been
doing for the past hour?

Yes, Mr. French Pastry.

I've nothing
whatsoever to say to you.

I trust you have
nothing to say to me.

Watson!

Watson, what have you
done with that painting?

Do you realize
what you've found?

Waxflatter as
a young man.

No, not just that.

Bentley Bobster, Duncan Nesbitt,
Rupert Waxflatter...

All of these men have died
recently, except this man.

This is Chester Cragwitch.

He was here in the window.

And at the funeral.

He's the only man in this group
who's still alive.

Good Lord.

This is the clue
we've been looking for.

We're getting there, Watson.

We're going to solve this crime.

Good show, Watson.

Holmes, I did not expect
our foils to cross so soon.

How did you know
I was hiding

in Waxflatter's
laboratory?

You're forgetting
we share the same keen powers

of observation.

- You wanted to see me, sir?
- Yes.

I shall be needing
your assistance

with these students.

Mr. Holmes,

I thought you'd gone.

We were all under
the same impression,

Mrs. Dribb.

Now, unfortunately,

Mr. Holmes is in
a rather awful mess.

If the board knew of this,

they would probably
have you arrested,

and then you would
be sent to prison...

but there's no need
to tell the board.

Holmes, I'm willing to forget
about all of this.

Tomorrow, you will go home
as originally planned.

Watson, you will do the same.

I'm being expelled, sir?

Watson, if I were to take this
before the board,

you would be summarily expelled.

This will save you
any such disgrace.

Elizabeth, did you permit

Mr. Holmes to stay
in your uncle's study

these past few days?

Yes.

Oh, dear.

I find that extremely
unladylike behavior

in one so young.

Indeed.

Sir, may I suggest

that we have the dog
taken to the pound?

What?

I believe other schools
do not allow pets.

You can't take him away.

Oh, well, perhaps
in the circumstances

I should take care of him
myself.

Holmes...

it grieves me
that you have taken advantage

of my friendship.

I think that it is now time
to dispose of everything

within the Waxflatter
laboratory.

But, sir, the
laboratory is filled

with Mr. Waxflatter's
inventions...

his drawings, his experiments.

We mustn't cling to
things of the past.

It's the man's
whole life's work.

And his life is over.

You have no right!

Mr. Holmes, I'm surprised
at your tone of voice...

especially with me.

I apologize, sir.

I got a bit carried away.
I'm sorry.

Take your seat.

You'll have to
stay here overnight.

We cannot furnish transportation
at this late hour.

Mrs. Dribb,
place the boys in 14-B,

and keep the young lady
in your adjoining room.

Holmes?

Remember what
I always taught you:

Control your emotions,
or they will be your downfall.

Yes, sir.

Oh, I knew it.

The end of my medical career.

My father's going to be furious.

I always suspected

becoming a friend
of yours would end

in disaster.

What are you doing?

You trying to get us arrested?

We can leave now.

I'm staying here.

Please, I need you, Watson.

We're in this together;
we're a team.

Elizabeth.

Elizabeth, wake up.

This is Chester Cragwitch.

The man who visited Uncle.

The one you said ran
from the funeral.

Exactly...

but doesn't it
strike you as odd

that he's the only
surviving member of this group?

Now, Elizabeth,
you go back to the laboratory

and salvage
as many of your uncle's formulas

and inventions as you can.

We'll meet you there.

First, we got to get ourselves
out of here.

- Watson?
- Yes?

Holmes...

Be careful tonight.

This is too much.

Go away, Ramatep!

Bloody murderers, go away!

You won't get me!

Sir.

Mr. Cragwitch.

We were friends
of Mr. Waxflatter.

I know you.

You're the young fellow that
followed me at the cemetery.

Go away.

I'm a dangerous man
to be around.

I need your help.

I want to know why the Ramatep
killed five men.

Go in.

You can get up now, Watson.

The war's over.

We were to become
business partners...

all six of us.

Borrowed money from our fathers
and build a hotel.

It would be the most luxurious
hotel ever conceived.

And where but to build?

Egypt.

Labor and materials
were inexpensive,

and only a few years earlier

the British army
had driven out the French.

It seemed a land
of extreme opportunity.

What happened?

We engaged an architect,
and the work began...

but what started out
as a business venture

soon became
a major archeological find.

We discovered
an underground pyramid.

The ancient tombs
of five Egyptian princesses.

We removed all the
relics and treasures,

preparing to send them
to England...

...but... Ooh!

Bloody insect.

The place needs a good cleaning.

There was an uproar.

All the villages in the area

were convinced we'd desecrated
sacred ground.

Our lives were in danger.

The British sent the troops in.

Several people were killed.

The entire village
was burned to the ground.

Burned...

Fire...

Mr. Cragwitch,
are you all right?

They've hit Cragwitch
with a thorn.

I'm burning!

Listen to me.

Your name is Chester Cragwitch.

You're a banker.
Can you hear me?

Your name is Chester Cragwitch.

Answer me.
Who are you?

My name is... Cragwitch.

Chester Cragwitch.

I reside at Cragwitch Manor.

I was a...

I was a...

My God.

It was so real.

Real. So very real.

Yes, I mustn't forget.

I must pass on
this information.

It is time someone else
knew everything.

The Egyptian village...

has it been burned
to the ground?

Yes.

Yes! Yes!

Luckily we got out of Egypt
with our lives.

When we returned to England,

we went our separate ways...
all of us...

however, keeping in frequent
touch with Waxflatter

through regular correspondence.

When the murders began,

I met quite frequently
with my dear friend.

What does all of this
have to do with the Ramatep?

Almost a year
after the incident,

each one of us
received this letter.

It was sent by a young boy...

a young boy
of Anglo-Egyptian decent.

You'll notice that the
letterhead is adorned

by the symbol
of the Ramatep...

two golden serpents.

The boy who wrote the letter
and his sister

were staying in England
with their grandfather

when they learned
of the destruction

of the Egyptian village...

the village which
was their home.

Both their parents were killed
in the attack.

The boy vowed
when he grew to manhood

that the Ramatep
would take their revenge

and replace the bodies
of the five Egyptian princesses.

And the boy was called Ehtar.

Ehtar... those were
Waxflatter's final words.

Very good, Watson.

Ehtar!

You filthy murderer.

You wanted to kill
all of us.

- Well, you won't kill me.
- Watson!

Speak to him.

What? Oh.

Your-your name
is Craddy Critchwit.

I mean, the name is Ch...

Your name is...

What's his name?

Cragwitch.

Mr. Lestrade.

What are you doing here?

Oh, I accidentally stuck myself
on one of those damn thorns.

Goll, the hallucinations...
ghastly.

Took four policemen to stop me
from hanging meself.

Anyway, when it was over,

I thought I better look
into your story.

Now, Holmes, I wish you

and your podgy
little friend farewell.

I appreciate you getting me
started on the case.

Getting him started on the case.

Imagine that lot.

I've only done all the work
for him.

My God!

It's you.

Yes, my dear.

Mr. Rathe, you must stop her...
she's a murderer.

So, my dear,

you've discovered
our little secret.

Where are your two friends?

You'll never find them.

You'll never find them.

You'll never find them.

You'll never find them.

What shall we do with her?

She'll come with us.

We need a fifth princess.

Holmes, I know the answer
to the riddle.

The bear is white.

Good for you, Watson.

- Do you know why?
- Uh, well, um...

No.

It was the one color
I didn't choose.

Keep thinking, Watson.

Answers without
evidence are useless.

This riddle is going
to give me a headache.

Ehtar... Ehtar.

Can't you think
of anything else?

It's necessary.

It is annoying.

This silly bear puzzle,
Holmes...

I can't work it out.

I know the bear is white,

but I don't know why.

I'm not stupid
or anything.

Watson, you've got to think
the whole thing through.

Take it apart piece by piece.

Your face
is bleeding again.

This cut from Rathe's
ring never seems to heal.

The bear is white because...

Oh, God.

How could I be so stupid?

What?

It's Rathe, Watson.

It's Rathe!

Hyah! Hyup!

Yah!

Come on!

Ah! Faster!

Get up! Get up, there!

Hah! Hah!

- Rathe's got Elizabeth!
- Hah!

There's only one way
to catch them in time.

- How?
- Come on.

Where are we going?

This is madness, Holmes.

If we're get to the warehouse
in time,

it's our only chance, Watson.

Waxflatter worked
until the day he died,

and I've done a little
tinkering of my own.

Hopefully, all the
problems are sorted out.

Coming, Watson?

Oh, dear.

What have I got myself into?

The adventure of a lifetime,
Watson.

Uncas, pull.

It works, Watson.

It works.

We're flying.

Would you believe it, Watson?

We're flying!

Faster, giddyap!

Hah. On!

Faster!

Get on! Hurry up! Hah!

Holmes, down there!

Holmes, look out!

Oh!

My God, it's nearly
half past 12:00!

- I just realized something.
- What?

I have absolutely no idea
how to land this machine.

Oh!

Hold tight, Watson.

I'm holding.

This time we're
going to crash.

Oh, hurry, Holmes,
we're sinking back here.

All right.

Oh!

Oh, my God.

They're going to kill her.

Elizabeth.

Elizabeth.

Don't know what to do.

There are two of us
and a hundred of them.

What can we do?

Perhaps there's something
we learned at school

we can apply to this.

Oh, Watson, for goodness sake.

Well, I can't think
of anything.

I mean, you're always
so dashed sure of yourself,

why didn't you think
of something?

Watson, that's not helpful.

Sorry.

Why can't I think of anything?

You're flustered.
You must calm down.

Well, why can't you
think of anything?

I'm flustered!

Watson...

I've got it.

We must create a diversion.

Create a diversion?

Yes, why didn't
I think of that?

If my geometry serves
me correctly,

one beam misplaced
will bring down this whole thing

like a house of cards.

Watson, I have a plan.

Holmes!

Holmes!

Look out!

Holmes, are you all right?

Watson, get her out of here!

Oh, no.

Holmes!

Holmes,
Rathe has taken Elizabeth,

and the stairs are blocked.

What should I do?

Go around the other way, Watson!

You must stop him!

Holmes!

Holmes!

Holmes! Holmes!

Help!

No!

What am I going to do?

No!

Giddap!

Hyah!

Hah!

Yah! Yah!

Yah!

Good show, Watson.

Elizabeth,

are you all right?

Yeah, I think so.

Please...

What are we going
to do about Rathe?

Where is he?

He's...

He's gone.

The police will find him.

Elizabeth.

Strange.

Strange.

Let's just go back now.

Well, I don't know how

I'm going to explain
all this to my parents.

Don't worry.

It'll all be explained
in tomorrow's papers.

Do you think

they'll let you come
back to school now?

I don't know. Perhaps.

We'll have to find out
what they say.

Holmes!

No!

Damn!

Elizabeth.

Elizabeth.

Watson,
put my coat around her.

Where are you going?

I'm going to get him.

Holmes, you'll be killed!

Ehtar.

You're nothing
but a damn fraud!

And you, Holmes,
are letting your emotions

get the better of you again.

You cannot best me, Holmes.

Throw down your sword.

Never. I would rather die a
gruesome and horrible death.

Very well.
Then I will oblige.

Come, Holmes.

Is this the best
you could do?

You fight
like an undernourished child.

I've already won the battle.

You've lost every battle, Ehtar.

This will be no exception.

All of your dreams
have been shattered.

Your temple,
the Ramatep...

everything has been
destroyed forever.

Ha!

Ha! Ha!

Ha!

Ha!

Ha!

Ha!

Ha!

Ha!

Ha!

Elizabeth.

Elizabeth?

Yes, Holmes.

Let's tarry a while longer

as your Elizabeth's precious
lifeblood flows from her body.

Elizabeth, come on.

Elizabeth, wake up.

Open your eyes.

Elizabeth.

Elizabeth!

Oh.

Don't be sad.

Someday we'll be reunited
in another world,

a much better world.

I'll be waiting.

And you'll be late,
as always.

Elizabeth.

No.

No!

Elizabeth.

No.

Elizabeth.

Would you believe it?

You'd think he'd uncovered
the entire case on his own.

Exactly.

That what he wanted The Yard
to believe.

What other reason
would they have

for giving him a promotion?

Bye, Uncas.

Stay there, Uncas.

I'll be back in a minute.

You know, Holmes,
a few things still haunt me.

When did you first begin
to suspect

that Rathe was involved
with the Ramatep?

When Waxflatter first retired,

the board wanted him
to leave the school.

But Rathe argued and fought

until he convinced the board

to let Waxflatter remain
within the school grounds.

It seemed strange to me.

I could never understand

why Rathe wanted
Waxflatter to stay.

He was fond
of Waxflatter's inventions?

What's the matter with you?

Have you been asleep
through this entire case?

Sorry.

Holmes went on to explain
that Rathe spent years

plotting his revenge.

He established himself

as a respected member
of British society,

completely erasing
his former identity.

It took him a great deal

of time
to organize his followers,

made up of the poor,
the homeless,

the lost souls
of the London streets.

And then, of course,

it took time
to build a wooden replica

of the pyramid.

Mrs. Dribb was the Ramatep's
chief assassin.

But more importantly,
she was Rathe's younger sister.

Amazing, Holmes.

Simply amazing.

Of course, you did forget
one very important clue.

Oh?

Please enlighten me.

Well, Rathe is Ehtar
spelled backwards.

Very clever, Watson.

Well, I'm certain
I would have arrived

at that conclusion
sooner or later.

Sooner or later.

Are you coming back
after the holidays?

No.

I'll transfer.

There are
too many memories here.

Holmes, you have
your entire life ahead of you.

And I'll spend it alone.

Merry Christmas, Holmes.

I thought you might have
more luck smoking it.

Well?

It does seem to suit you.

But that coat...

Why do you insist

on wearing that
ridiculous cloak

of that unspeakable
person?

Consider it a trophy, Watson,
skin of a leopard.

Indeed.

I'm going to miss you, Watson.

I'm going to miss you,
too, Holmes.

You know you were
right about something.

About what?

It was
the adventure of a lifetime.

Holmes, wait!

I know why the bear's white.

And why is that, Watson?

Well, the only room

with an all southern view
would be on the North Pole.

- It's a polar bear.
- Bravo, Watson.

You have the makings
of a great detective.

As I watched Holmes settle
into his seat,

a sudden feeling came over me...

that I would most certainly
be seeing him again.

So ended my first adventure
with Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

As I watched his carriage
disappear into the distance,

I realized that I had forgotten
to thank him.

He had taken a weak,
frightened boy

and made him
into a courageous, strong man.

My heart soared.

I was filled with confidence.

I was ready
for whatever mystery

or danger lay ahead.

I was ready
to take on the greatest

and most exciting adventure
of them all,

and I knew it was bound
to involve Sherlock Holmes.

Can I help you?

I'd like a room, please.

Please.

To sign here.