All language subtitles for Sherlock.and.Daughter.S01E05.1080p.x265-ELiTE

- The murder weapon.
Wise of you to keep it.

- Lucia Rojas.

My mother, she was another
victim of The Red Thread.

- They are preparing to commit

the greatest offense
ever conceived.

(gun fires)

- Now that our lordship is gone,
my lady,

perhaps we can think of a
better way to get acquainted.

He tried to...

- It is telephony that I
wish to study.

- Telephones serve no
useful purpose in detection.

Take my rescue of the American
ambassador's daughter.

- You also recovered the
ambassador's stolen jewels?

- Not yet, no.

I am personally taking
over this investigation,

so I'm confident the
jewels will be found.

- I'm Michael Wiley.

- Alias adopted by the son
of a very dangerous criminal,

also known as Dan Moriarty.

- I think spying is
an ugly word.

- What are you
interested in then?

- Your employer's relationship
to Professor Moriarty.

If you could find out,
I'd be very grateful.

I'll wait for you tomorrow

at Mrs. Bailey's Tea
House on Park Road.

(dramatic orchestral music)
(horse hooves clopping)

(knuckles rapping)

- Come in, Mrs. Halligan,

and bring Detective Swann
and his friend with you.

- Sorry, Mr. Holmes, but how
did you know who was visiting?

- I heard three sets
of feet on the stairs,

and it took no great
effort to deduce

that the telephone installer
Detective Swann promised

would be here by 9 A.M.
has inexplicably arrived

at half past three in
the afternoon.

- Good day, Mr. Holmes, and
allow me to introduce you to--

- Mr. Pete Pound, at
your service.

(bag thuds)

- I suppose in the future,
whenever you're delayed,

you could always call
ahead on my new telephone.

- As you say, sir.

Now, where do you want
the device installed?

- Somewhere over here
by the desk.

- Mr. Holmes, reconsider.

Bringing that contraption
into your rooms

will be the end of your privacy.

- Oh, no, no, no, Mrs. Halligan.

Imagine connecting to the
whole wide world

while sitting comfortably
in your parlor.

Why, you could summon
the police, or a doctor,

or even speak to distant
relatives and friends.

It's quite marvelous.

- Excuse me sir, I just need
to make some measurements.

(footsteps pounding)

- Sorry, sir.

When I opened the door,
these hoodlums ran past me.

- It's no problem, Mr. Halligan.

I was expecting these young men.

Yes, sure. What is it?

- Sorry to come unannounced, Mr.
Holmes,

but we found that Michael
Wiley you were looking for.

- Wonderful, wonderful.

Detective Swann,

I assume you can finish this
installation without me.

- Yes, of course. Mr. Holmes.

- And Mr. And Mrs. Halligan,

I will leave you in
command and now,

Shaw, if you and your friends

could please introduce me to Mr.
Wiley.

(dramatic orchestral music)
(diners chattering)

- I began to think you
weren't going to come.

Am I permitted to say how much I

was looking forward
to seeing you?

- You can keep your flowers.

I'm only here to say that
I won't tell you

anything about Mr. Holmes.

- But I thought we'd
agreed that you'd--

- No, my agreement was with
someone called Michael Wiley.

Your name is Dan Moriarty
and your father

is a dangerous criminal who's
tried to kill Mr. Holmes,

who was talking about you

as I walked out the
door this morning.

- Please, please.
People will hear.

- What? That's how you
begin an apology for lying?

- No, no, no, no.

Of course I regret very
much that I lied, but--

(knuckles rapping)

(dramatic orchestral music)

- Mrs. Halligan,

please make sure that neither
Detective Swann nor Mr. Pound

enter this room for the
next few minutes.

- Of course, sir.
(footsteps tapping)

- Now I demand an explanation

for your reprehensible behavior.

- I didn't--
- Not you. The Moriarty.

Now on our journey over here,

Miss Rojas claimed that you
pressured her into spying on me.

Do you deny it?

And I warn you, sir, this
is not mere curiosity.

Before you leave here today,

I must be satisfied
with your answers.

- It's a long story Mr. Holmes.

- Well, feel free to summarize.

As your father has learned,
to his cost,

my ability to extrapolate

from limited information
may surprise you.

- It's with my father
the story begins.

After my mother died,

my father was consumed
with grief and work.

Left to my own devices,

I was adopted by a band
of thieves who tricked me

into picking peoples'
pockets for their benefit.

- Another missing chapter
from Oliver Twist.

- I had little skill as a thief,

and at the age of nine
I was arrested.

- But you were just a child.

- The Crown saw it differently.

They bundled me off to
Australia and I was sold

as an indentured servant
to an isolated sheep farm.

- Well, how could they
do such a thing?

- There was a plague
of juvenile delinquents

in London and a labor
shortage in Australia,

and the decision to solve
one of these problems

with the other was both
inhumane and extremely popular.

Politics.
- They emptied the jails, yes,

but they also emptied the poor
houses and the orphanages.

Little kids torn from
their families,

exiled halfway around the world,

in conditions it would be
improper for a young lady to
hear.

- I know a lot about
forced child labor.

Maybe the British got the idea
from California's missions.

- Surely you were never
treated so badly.

- I could have been...

If my mother and I had
not had our own ranch.

How long were you living
in forced servitude?

- Took me 14 months to escape

and change my name to
Michael Wiley,

and 14 years of constant
application in order to obtain a

position in a trading company
with a branch here in London.

Since my father had not found
me, I resolved to find him.

Not long after arriving here,
however,

I discovered that
Professor James Moriarty

was not teaching mathematics,

but is the master of a
vast criminal empire,

and sentenced to prison.

- Where he insists
you visit him.

- One day, once he's
paid his debt to society,

I hope that Father and I
will be reunited,

but should I visit him under
his current circumstances,

my employer might discover
who I really am and--

- Your job and your
future would be forfeit.

- Imagine, abandoned
by your father.

Growing up the child of a man

who didn't seem to
know you existed.

- Yes. How awful.

Amelia, please go upstairs
and pack your belongings.

- What? Why?

- Well, as we discussed,

you'll be moving to the
ambassador's household

as chaperone to his daughter.

- But I thought--

- We will review this
great good change

in your personal fortunes
once you have packed.

(inquisitive orchestral music)
(door slams)

- Mr. Holmes, please.

I beg you. Hear me out.

- Oh, hello.

Detective Swann of the Scotland
Yard Scientific Division.

- Nice to meet you. I'm
Amelia Rojas.

- Are you here to consult Mr.
Holmes?

- No, I worked for him.
- Well, I'm here

to supervise the installation
of his new telephone.

Have you ever used one before?

- No.
- No?

- Not yet.
- Oh!

Well, if you'd ever
like to practice,

just call this number.

I've just had it connected
so I will answer.

I spend most of my days
in my office. All hours.

- Can I just...?
- Oh yes, of course.

Sorry to delay you.
(footsteps tapping)

- And since visiting him in
prisoners out of the question,

I'm worried my father's release
could be further delayed

should you bring more
accusations against him,

which I believe you would,
if you could.

- On that point, you
speak truthfully.

If the law allowed,

I would keep the professor
behind bars forever.

That, alas, is
beyond my ability.

What I can do, however,

is demand that you stay as far
away from Amelia as possible.

- You have no right to
make a demand like that.

- Now listen to me very
carefully, Mr. Moriarty.

I am ordering you--

- Under what authority?

- You just released her
from your employment.

- I'll not argue the point!

A foreigner of mixed heritage
without rank or position

cannot afford to
associate herself

with a man who uses an alias,
Mr. Wiley.

Besides, you can no longer
keep your father at a distance.

He insists you visit him.

- I'm only a clerk on
the exchange.

My hours are determined by
Sir Nigel Parks, my employer.

- If you can find the time
to take tea with my maid,

you can manage to see
your father.

- Sir! I told him to
stay outside.

- Perhaps I should
finish another day.

I'll be available again
three weeks from tomorrow.

This is preposterous
that a paying customer

should be so ill-used.

Very well, Mr. Pound,
continue your work.

Any last words, Mr. Wiley?

- I'm surprised to find
someone of your intellect,

Mr. Holmes, mistaking
current circumstances

for future prospects.

Perhaps time will reveal just

how much you
underestimated my abilities.

Oh, before I take my leave, Mr.
Holmes,

I should like to say that Amelia

refused a considerable
sum to spy on you.

- Well, that's just exactly
what I would expect you

to say under the circumstances.

Mrs. Halligan, please
show our guest out.

- Yes sir. Mr. Holmes.
(footsteps tapping)

- You nearly finished Mr. Pound?

- Oh sure. Extremely close.

(footsteps tapping)

(curtains rattling)

- I told Mr. Halligan
you're sending me away.

It's completely unfair.

Just because I didn't tell
you that Dan was following me?

Well, you keep things
from me all the time.

- Your move to the ambassador's
household was settled

long before I discovered
you with Mr. Moriarty,

about whom I will say only this.

You're newly arrived
in London and young men

will take ruthless advantage
of naive young girls.

I beg you do not encourage
his attentions.

- I'm a stranger to London,
not boys.

I know we talked about me
working with the Andersons,

but this just feels
like you're punishing me

for jumping down after
you told me not

to confront anyone for
following me.

- You disobeyed me, true,
and you should not have,

and you ought to have
admitted it sooner,

but your new job as Clara's
chaperone is not a punishment.

It is an accommodation
with the Andersons

that I could not refuse.

Once you're inside the
ambassador's household,

then you will no longer
be overtly connected to me

and the risk to your life
should diminish.

- I can take care of myself.
- Can Clara?

Now remember, she was
released by her kidnappers

in exchange for keys,
but keys to what?

Now, we must protect Clara.

We don't know which keys
the ambassador

traded for her return,

and Charlie, the coachman,
is lost to us.

So Clara is our best
connection to The Thread,

and if we want to find
Watson and Mrs. Hudson,

and identify your
mother's killer,

then we must seize every
opportunity thrown our way

and your position in the
ambassador's household

increases our reach.

Now, this will be my
telephone number

whenever this interminable
installation ends.

If you learn anything new about
The Thread, call me at once.

- Alright. I'll do what I can.
- Thank you.

And Amelia, remember, Lord
Willacy killed himself

to escape The Red Thread
and to spare his family,

so please, please stay
on your guard.

(sentimental orchestral music)
(footsteps tapping)

(door unlatches)
(door latches)

- Each of you is
either a foreigner

or a merchant's daughter,

disadvantaged by
birth and class.

You may depend on it when
I tell you posture is

synonymous with nobility.

Men of rank can spot a
slump shoulder

from across a ballroom.

Everyone one step forward,

two steps back.

Again. Head erect, faint smile.

One step forward,
two steps back.

This is what it means
to be a lady.

Now--
(book thuds)

Now,

while maintaining your balance,

suggest a suitable
topic for a lady

to discuss with a gentleman.

Clara?
- Art.

- Good. Especially if you never
take too strong an opinion.

Gentleman may disagree
with what you like.

Emma.
- Politics.

- Absolutely not.

The gentleman might share
his opinions. They often do.

Ladies are above these
mundane concerns.

Over brandy and cigars, men

believe they control the world,

but we will control them,
ladies,

and that is our path to power.

(books thudding)

God. That will be all
for the day.

Clara, I should like to talk

with you privately for a moment.

Someone gather up all the books

and put them back
where they belong.

- Where would you like them?
- Those go on the top shelf.

My dear girl, I'm sorry to
be the bearer of bad news.

There you are,

still first in line in
case one appears

and the season might extend,

but we don't yet have
a date for your ball.

I have a plan.

(Emma shrieks)
(body thuds)

(all gasping)

- Oh, my gosh! Clara, help me!

- Is she okay?
- Oh, Emma? Please.

- Somebody, help Emma!
(bell rings)

- She's dead.
- Oh my gosh.

(dramatic orchestral music)
(women chattering nervously)

- I'm not surprised you
want to share evidence,

for your interest in this
case is well known to me.

- Oh, how so?
- The young woman

who helped rescue the
ambassador's daughter

is none other than your maid.

You don't deny she's
following your orders.

- She pursues a personal cause
in connection with the case.

- What can Miss Rojas
possibly have to do

with 50,000 pounds worth
of stolen jewel?

- Well you asked the
same question

of Lord Willacy a few days ago,

and three murders and one
suicide later.

- I had no idea Willacy
was in financial distress.

Today I'll admit his
involvement seems more probable.

- Willacy's complicity was
never less than conspicuous,

but I hardly think he
killed three men

before shooting himself.

- It's a pity, his coachmen,

O'Leary of Belfast,
was murdered.

He would've made an
excellent suspect.

The police say he is a
revolutionary dedicated

to overthrowing the crown.

- Well, that's an odd sort
to be employed by a Lord.

Did you find the missing
jewels at Willacy's estate?

- Alas, no.

I did find two clues that
might interest you, however.

You suggested we
share information,

yet I've done all the talking

and you've done
nothing but listen.

- That's a habit you would
do well to cultivate, Bertie.

Nevertheless, I'll take my turn.

Well, the two other
dead men you found

at the Willacy estate, Misters
Weems and Maggart were not,

in fact, Clara Anderson's
fellow hostages,

but accomplices to
her kidnapper,

all murdered by the largest

and most nefarious criminal
syndicate I've yet to encounter,

attempting a crime which
appears to be,

absurd as it may sound,
beyond my imagination.

- This is the same syndicate
with whom your maid

has some personal enemies.

- They also murdered her
mother whilst the two

of them were living
in California.

By the way, you don't
suppose during your search

for the missing jewels you have

ever come across a
weapon such as this?

- I'm afraid not.

Why haven't you followed up
these allegations yourself?

- People are watching me,
Bertie.

If I'm seen to meddle in these
affairs, it could cost lives.

- Well, suddenly my clues
no longer seem, well,

quite so thrilling.

- Well, they are to me.

I can't stay long. What
have you discovered?

- Five pairs of
footprints and a button.

- Well, that sounds promising.

- May well be, Mr. Holmes.

May well be. Follow me.

- I understand the wilderness

was poor training for
civilization,

but a servant may never
demand help of an employer.

- Emma just died.
(dramatic orchestral music)

- Be careful, little girl.

Like the lion in the jungle,

we did not turn the world
into an empire

without very sharp claws.

You may want to remember that
when next you cry for help.

(footsteps tapping)

- You can see the first
set of prints belonged

to a man with a slight limp.

The second set
belonged to a woman

who stumbled once or twice
in her journey.

These two sets of
prints vanished

next to the tracks of a
large carriage,

which rolled out the
driveway headed to London.

I think this button was lost
by the gentlemen en route,

but there's no way to tell.

- Oh, well there is.

The button is not weathered.
Yes?

So freshly lost, but
not by accident.

Note how the thread broke.

This has been yanked
deliberately
from a man's waistcoat

and left behind as a
talisman for us to follow.

Hah! Well done dear,
old friend. Well done.

- That's kind of you to say.

I'm happy the button tells
us more of what happened.

- Not what, but whom.

You see how the button is
mother of pearl

and the fabric to which it
was sewn was broadcloth?

So this comes from the wardrobe
of a professional fellow,

and you see how there is
a dent across the front

where it WAs regularly
bumped against metal,

such as one might find on
a stethoscope?

This button, Bertie, is
proof of life,

and I shall regard the
moment you gave it to me

as the first truly hopeful
sign in many weeks.

- So, this investigation is
big enough for the both of us?

Shall we proceed together?

- If whilst continuing your
search for the missing jewels,

you could quickly verify the
recent murder of Lucia Rojas

outside the city of Los Angeles

and confirm that Amelia
is indeed her daughter,

I'll share more with you
on this case tomorrow.

Until then,

I suggest you carry a revolver
with you at all times.

And on that note, I bid
you farewell.

- Good day to you, Mr.
Holmes. And good luck.

(door latches)

Friends with Sherlock Holmes,
eh?

Imagine that.

(inquisitive orchestral music)

- I can't get the sight
of Emma out of my head.

Dead, just like that.

And Lady Violet seems
so indifferent.

- Did she dislike Emma?
- No, not at all.

Emma was better at her
lessons than the rest of us,

and at dancing too.

I've saved my invitations
for every ball of the season

so I can one day show
my own daughter.

Emma's was quite beautiful

and she was so looking
forward to the 18th.

Now...

(Clara sobbing)
(tense orchestral music)

- I did not ask you to
grease the top step

of your library ladder so
a girl would slip and fall.

Clara could wait another
year to debut,

except for your intrigues,
which I have advised against.

No, you listen to me.

My daughter will not
have her ball on the 18th

unless I have received the
full settlement

for the jewels two days prior.

I have focused on my
part of this enterprise.

Use your authority so that
the insurance company pays me

immediately for my losses, or
else suffer the consequences.

I bid you goodnight.
(telephone slams)

(tense orchestral music)
(footsteps tapping)

(door unlatches)
(door creaks)

(candle sizzling)
(door latches)

(floor creaking)

(door unlatches)
(door creaks)

(door latches)
(tense orchestral music)

(telephone rattles)
(numbers rattling)

- Hello, operator? Can
you ring Marlybone 15?

- You mean Marylebone?
- Yes. Yes.

- [Operator] One moment.

I'm sorry,

the telephone you're trying to
call is not a working number.

(telephone clicks)

- Mr. Pound. I must demand
an explanation.

You told me this telephone
will be operational yesterday.

- If you don't want
me to finish,

call the other
telephone company.

Oh, wait. There is no
other telephone company.

(inquisitive orchestral music)

- Your friend seems to
take great pride

in ridiculing his customers.

- Oh, I don't think
he's any worse

than the other installers, sir.

- While he finishes,

let us compare these two
telephone bills,

one listing calls to and
from the late Lord Willacy,

and the other
documenting all the calls

in Chief Inspector
Whitlock's office.

Now, we will cross
reference the numbers

to see which of them
appear on both

and perhaps we can begin

to identify some of our
conspirators.

- But sir, should we not
have a warrant

to study private
telephone bills?

- As to that Swann, I am
not an officer of the court.

I recognize no authority
higher than my own curiosity,

and this bill was handed to me

by Chief Inspector
Whitlock himself.

We are on firm legal ground.

- 1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3.

1, 2, 3. 1, 2, 3. Very
good, or good enough.

Now,
(hands clap)

as you know, the residence
of the Italian ambassador

lacks a proper ballroom,

so his daughter's debut
will be held here tomorrow,

starting in the late afternoon
due to the ambassador's

inability to
comprehend our customs.

For now, however,

I have invited some young men
with whom you might practice

what we shall--
- Young men!

- Charitably refer to
as your dancing.

(girls giggling)

While these boys are not
marriageable in any sense,

on the floor of the ballroom,
and to the proper music,

they know the steps.

Come.
(footsteps tapping)

Like this, see?
(lively violin music)

Isn't it lovely?

Eleanor, please hold your
head up when you move

so your chin doesn't
spread out over your neck.

Deborah, you are supposed
to be led, not dragged.

(Violet gagging)

You clumsy oaf.

(footsteps tapping)

- I did not ask you to
grease the top step

of your library ladder so
a girl would slip and fall.

- All done, sir,

you may now use your
telephone at your leisure.

- Thank you. Oh, Mr. Pound,
you've been so very helpful.

- I have?
- Yes, and it occurs to me,

with such specialized
knowledge you might know how

to identify a customer from
their telephone number alone.

- As it so happens, I
can do that.

- Ah, wonderful. Please explain.

- Just call them up and
ask their name.

Will there be anything else,
sir?

- Apparently not. See
yourself out.

(telephone rattling)

- Some inconvenience, but think,
sir,

you will be the first to
use a telephone like this.

- Hello, operator, could
you please connect me

to Belgravia 4-8-3?

I cannot believe I've
paid a company

to treat me with
such incivility.

This decline in decorum will
be the end of common decency.

Oh, hello, this is the
Department of Lost Property

at Paddington Station.

I was calling about
that three volume novel

which you reported missing.

- Mr. Holmes!
- Oh, who I've called then?

No, the Dowager Duchess
of Lincolnshire!

Well, how about that.
- Mr. Holmes, sir!

You've just complained about
the decline of common decency,

and here you are lying
to a complete stranger.

- Wasn't a lie.

It was a simple
misdirectional note.

It yielded the
information we seek,

a name attached to one of
the many telephones used

to call both Willacy and the
chief inspector's office.

Let's try again.
(telephone dial rattling)

- No. Ugh.

- Yes, Operator, could you
please connect me to East 31?

Those of a delicate sensibility

might want to leave the room.

Oh yes, yes.

Hello? Oh, am I speaking to
the head of the household?

Well, you see, I did speak
to Sir Thomas last year

about cleaning his carpets
with my new patented...

Hello?

(telephone slams)

They both called the
same stockbroker.

The game is afoot.
- Justice is no game,

Mr. Holmes.

You've taken an
invention designed

to more closely
connect the world

and you've abused its purpose
with more lies and deceit.

- Criminals have already
corrupted your precious
telephone.

With lives at stake,

I have little choice but
to follow their example.

(telephone dialing)

Yes. Hello?

Operator, could you please
connect me to Kensington 19?

Go and prepare yourself
for greater shocks.

There is worse to come.

Go on.
(exciting orchestral music)

(door slams)

(telephone dial rattling)
(chalk scraping)

(telephone slamming)

(dramatic orchestral music)

(chalk scraping)

Dr. Collier. Wait, there's more.

If you did subscribe to
horse and hound,

we would add the strand.

We'd have quite the
eclectic waiting room. What?

Oh, Ravencrest Asylum for
the Criminally Insane.

Sorry, doctor. Well,
perhaps for visitors?

(telephone receiver clacks)

- Amelia, there you are.
I want to introduce--

- Michael Wiley. I've
already had the pleasure.

- Nice to see you again,
Miss Rojas.

- I bet there's a story here.
Excuse me.

I want to go see if Eleanor
has her ostrich feathers yet.

(inquisitive orchestral music)

- I am surprised you can
get away from your busy job

in exchange for this
weird dancing.

- My employer is friends
with that witch lady, Violet.

She offered two shillings for
young men to dance with these,

these snobby girls,

along with a free dinner if
we come for the ball tomorrow.

I only accepted for a
chance of seeing you,

and then you left.
(footsteps tapping)

You upset with me?

- Upset? Because Mr. Holmes
has lost his trust in me?

Upset because I've lost a
job that I love in order

to play nurserymaid to a
boy-crazy girl?

- I only asked for what I
thought was a small favor

without considering it
could do you harm.

I offer my sincerest apologies.

Are you at least better paid

than when you were with Mr.
Holmes?

- Not everybody chooses their
job based on their salary.

Besides, I work too
much to spend it.

(telephone ringing)

- Hello?

I said hello.

- Oh, hello, ma'am.

I represent the Fund for
Police, Widows, and Orphans,

and I was wondering if
you might offer--

- Why Sherlock Holmes,
you rascal!

I was about to hang up
until I realized it was you.

- Oh, how annoying.

I was hoping my vocal disguise
would hold up long enough

to receive one of your
legendary reprimands.

- I should tell you off,

but I'm more interested
in why you really called.

- Well to say how
wonderful it was

to see you in person last week.

- [Violet] Oh, how very kind.

- [Sherlock] And also to
ask if Miss Rojas

has been a suitable chaperone
to the ambassador's daughter.

- I would hardly describe
the girl as sophisticated,

but she does take her
responsibility seriously.

Would you care to see your
former maid in action?

I'm throwing an afternoon ball

for the daughter of the
Italian ambassador's debut.

I will send you an
invitation at once.

- An afternoon ball?
- Come, please.

- Very well. I'll come.

But do you not find these
debutante balls

to be a series of
pretentious bores?

- [Violet] How else to prepare
young girls to be the wives

of aristocrats,

except by surrounding them
with pretentious bores?

Now I must go.

I look forward to seeing you,
Sherlock.

4 P.M., please. Au revoir.

(telephone slams)

(dramatic orchestral music)

(footsteps tapping)

(knife clangs)

(chalk scraping)

(inquisitive orchestral music)

- It might seem strange being
dressed up in broad daylight,

but it'll do you good to be

amongst the quality for
an afternoon, Mr. Holmes.

Dancing?

Music?
- Yes.

Without stimulating
conversation,

perhaps because the afternoon
will be spent without it.

Mr. Halligan, I will want
you to drop me at the gate

and come back one hour
later, if you don't mind.

- I don't believe it
would be proper

for me to mind, Mr. Holmes.

(buzzer ringing)

- Ah, that will be Mr.
Birtwistle. Please show him up.

(footsteps tapping)
(floor creaking)

(Sherlock sighs)
(footsteps tapping)

(chalkboard rattling)

(knuckles rapping)

- Good afternoon, Sherlock.
- Ah, Bertie.

- Ah, you seem a little
overdressed to receive my
report.

- Yes. Yes.

Sadly, I have been asked
out for the afternoon.

Yes. Perhaps you have been up
to something of more interest?

- Indeed, I have.

First, there was a notice
for Lucia Rojas's murder,

then no official
investigation followed.

And the poor woman did have
a girl, father unknown,

possibly an Englishman,

I suppose since the
girl was born six months

after the Wild West Show
completed its London run.

- Six months? Are you certain?

- Quite certain.

I was able to determine the
date through an exchange

with no less a personage
than Buffalo Bill himself,

though he did not refer to
the mother as Lucia Rojas,

but as--
- Yes, yes. Little Dove.

It was her Wild West show
nom de guerre.

Excuse me.

- Whether Amelia is, in
fact, Lucia Rojas' daughter,

I cannot say.

We must at least consider
her to be an imposter.

For a near penniless girl,

she did quite well out of
all these arrangements.

- Yes.

Nevertheless, I'm grateful
to you for establishing

as many of these
facts as possible.

Very grateful.
- Oh, it was my pleasure.

And there was also a series
of telegrams sent overseas.

- Yes.
(throat clears)

Oh yes.
(coins clinking)

There we go.
- Thank you.

You learned anything else?

- No.

Just that there is some
connection between the theft

of the jewels and someone
of rank at Scotland Yard.

- Well, I'm not surprised.

With 50,000 pounds
to distribute,

I mean, one could bribe
the entire police force.

Couldn't one?
(Sherlock laughs)

- Yes.

- You are holding out on me,
Sherlock.

- I am.

Though others might consider
you a pompous windbag,

I know you to be an extremely
serious would-be investigator.

- Well, thank you. I think.
- Yes,

Come along.
(door slams)

The jewels will only be
found by bringing

down the criminal syndicate
that has stolen them,

so I say to you, advisedly,
Bertie, watch your step,

dear fellow, watch your step.

(horse hooves clopping)

(Clara gasps)

- Oh my goodness, Amelia.
Isn't it beautiful?

It's like a fairy tale!

- Only you, Miss Anderson,
not your servant.

- She's not my servant.
She's a chaperone.

- The foreign girl must stay
outdoors during the ball.

- I'd like her to come
inside with me.

- Miss Anderson.
- No, I'd like--

- If you would be so kind.
- Her to come inside, please.

- Miss Anderson please.
- Please.

- But I need her--

- Don't draw attention to
yourself, Clara.

It's just a party.

Just don't dance with the
same boy twice,

or get pulled away
from the crowd.

Okay?
- Okay.

- Go inside. It's fine.
(birds chirping)

- There's a bench over there.
Go. Go.

(lively orchestral music)

- The daughter of the
American Ambassador

to the Court of St. James,
Miss Clara Anderson.

(horse hooves clopping)

(inquisitive orchestral music)

- Why are you out here instead
of looking after your charge?

- That's the least of it.

Wait until you hear what I
found out about Lady Violet.

She's deeply--

- Deeply involved with The
Red Thread. Yes, I know.

- No, it's much more than that.

- Come.

(gravel crunching)
(inquisitive orchestral music)

(lively orchestral music)

- Miss Anderson.

We meet again.
- We do indeed.

Mr. Wiley, was it?
- How kind of you to remember.

May I be allowed to write
my name on your dance card?

- Of course, but only one dance.

I've been ordered to mingle.

- And you are certain

about the weaponry in
Lady Violet's parlor?

The same design as the knife

left behind in your
mother's body?

- As certain as you are

that the button found by Mr.
Birtwistle

belongs to Dr. Watson.

- We're closing in on them,
Amelia.

Perhaps separating
you from Clara

was more than just snobbery.

- You always said they would
try to approach her again.

Clara is...

So impressionable.

- Do I detect a growing
fondness for your young charge?

- Now that I'm seeing
how she was brought up,

I know it's not Clara's
fault she's the way she is.

She was really kind to
me when we met.

Maybe I'm just jealous
that she still has a mother

to talk to, and I'd give
anything to speak to mine again.

Even if it was just
for a minute.

Even if it was just to tell
her I'm doing what she wanted.

Anyway.
(horse hooves clopping)

- Amelia, I wanted to tell
you that if I seemed distant

when I sent you to the
ambassador's house, I am sorry.

Extremely sorry. Yeah.

- It's all right Mr. Holmes.

I'm still getting to know you,

so I didn't take it personally.

Also, you told me
someone needs to

keep watch over Clara
and I can't now.

- Your mind never strays far
from the case. Commendable.

We will save the subject
of Lady Violet for later.

Meanwhile, I will look after
the young lady in your absence.

- These people don't spend time

talking to servants, Mr. Holmes.

I'm sure someone's watching us.

There's more I want to
tell you, but later.

- Quite right. I won't be long.

(birds chirping)
(gravel crunching)

- Mr. Sherlock Holmes
of Baker Street, London.

- It's him!
- Oh, my.

- Holmes.
- Sherlock Holmes.

(lively orchestral music)

(guests chattering)

(footsteps tapping)

- You arrived on time.
- I had hoped to surprise you.

- Well done. Now,
excuse me briefly.

I must check the ballroom

and chide my students on
their wretched dancing.

Chase me down later.

- On that, you have my word.

(coachman gasping)

- I am dying! Help me! Help!
In the name of God, someone!

- Are you okay?

- Shall we visit the ballroom

and take your first waltz?

- Thank you, Mr. Wiley.

I will always remember
you were the first

to ask me to dance,

but I'm afraid my principles
do not allow me to stay.

- Miss Anderson, you cannot
be leaving so quickly.

- Mr. Holmes, how lovely
it is to see you,

but I'm afraid, I must
say farewell.

My chaperone was forced to
remain with the carriages,

and I cannot enjoy myself inside

while my friend is
outside in the cold.

- Are you okay?
(Amelia groaning)

(dramatic orchestral music)

(reins jingling)

(Amelia grunting)
(feet pounding)

- What do you mean, Amelia was
denied entry? Unacceptable.

Excuse me.

- I just spoke to her. Wait, Mr.
Wiley--

I beg your pardon,
Miss Anderson.

(glass shattering)

- Help! Help me!

Help!
(dramatic orchestral music)

Help! Hey! Anyone, please!

Help!
- Come on!

- [Amelia] Help!

(gun fires)
(horse nickers)

(gravel crunching)

(dramatic orchestral music)

(Amelia gasping)

(inquisitive orchestral music)

- Ah.

(Amelia sighs)

(lively orchestral music)