All language subtitles for Sherlock.and.Daughter.S01E04.720p.HDTV.x264-SYNCOPY

You stole your own
mother's jewels.

A private investigator
is on the way.

This detective hired by
the insurance company.

Birtwistle, sir.

You can go where you can.

His interrogation will provide

a theory of the crime.

A will of the truth,

but you will be paid
nothing for your claim.

You weren't kidnapped, but
willingly left with Charlie,

who is now in prison
and liable to hang.

To destroy the Red Thread

would be to the advantage
of us both, Moriarty.

I must call you to
beg for my assistance.

Exercise great caution.

You must learn to hunt
while looking like prey.

Let me up, or I'll
blow you head off.

I could legally shoot
you in self-defense,

but I'd rather talk.

Should I call for a constable?

Or would you prefer explaining
why you bushwhacked me?

Should I call for a constable,

or will you explain why
you've been following me

all afternoon?

Promise not to attack me again?

They looked a bit better
before you mashed them up.

Sorry, I meant no insult.

Why would you give me flowers?

To ease an awkward introduction.

Shall I try again?

They're very nice, thank you.

You're most welcome.

You could've introduced
yourself earlier.

I was anxious about how
I might be received.

Not entirely without reason.

Maybe I jumped the gun.

I'm Amelia Rojas.

I'm Michael Wylie.

And I'm very much in
need of your help.

What could a maid like me
do for a gentleman like you?

No servant girl has ever
put me on my back before.

You're far from ordinary.

And neither is your employer.

Oh, so the flowers are
something to do with Mr. Holmes?

You have that American way of
getting right to the point.

And you have a way

of not answering
direct questions.

Why do you need my help?

How does it involve
my employer, huh?

A few years ago,

Mr. Holmes helped put
a famous criminal,

Professor James
Moriarty, behind bars.

You ever heard of him?

No, but I've only started
working for Mr. Holmes recently.

Oh?

And what's he like?

I'm no spy, Mr. Wylie.

I think spying is an ugly word.

And I'm not interested
in his personal habits.

What are you interested in then?

Your employer's relationship
to Professor Moriarty.

But I don't wanna talk
about him behind his back.

Who doesn't talk about
their boss behind his back?

I only wonder if Mr. Holmes
intends to accuse

Professor Moriarty
of more crimes.

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

I would pay you a full
pound for your trouble.

That's a lot of money.

How do I get in
contact with you?

I'll wait for you tomorrow,
and every day after that,

at Mrs. Bailey's Teahouse
on Park Road at 4:00 p.m.

just in case you
learn something.

Five shillings extra
for meeting me tomorrow.

And to put some
butter on the bacon,

I'll even plunk down for tea.

I'll think about your
offer, Mr. Wylie.

Thank you for the flowers,

and for not shooting
me in the head.

Maybe I shouldn't
say so, Miss Rojas,

but it is such a lovely head.

I'm glad my gun wasn't loaded.

Until tomorrow then.

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Amelia, where are you?

Amelia, I need you.

I beg your pardon, sir,

but Miss Rojas has not returned
from fetching your horse.

Done in your orders, she says,

but those orders should
have come through me.

If it hasn't occurred
to you by now,

Amelia is not only my maid,
she is also my assistant,

and helping with a task

that involves the
return of your sister.

What the devil's wrong with her?

You know, my wife is
a woman of virtue,

and the thought of a young girl

involved in the grisly
horrors of this kidnapping

upset her past the point
of feminine endurance.

Well, I do apologize,
Mrs. Halligan,

if I've challenged your
notion of propriety,

but in the name of,
oh, there you are.

What kept you?

Never mind, I'm in
a frightful hurry.

I'll ask for your report

while I remove these
verminous rags.

He's taking off his clothes.

Clara is terrified
for her reputation,

but she accepts that only
we can keep her safe.

Mrs. Anderson even asked
me to accept a post

as Clara's chaperone.

Mr. Birtwistle, the
insurance investigator,

he offered me a job
as his apprentice.

Bertie Birtwistle, ha-ha.

What a pompous ass.

Imagine working for him.

Listening to him
pontificate all day.

What an insufferable bore.

Still, he has sometimes
applied for me for advice.

So he's not a complete fool.

This other offer, however,

chaperone to the American
ambassador's daughter,

that's a job worth considering,

not just for your
safety, but for Clara.

She is after all, our last
living link to the Red Thread.

I can't believe how quickly
they got to poor Charlie.

As fast as a telegraph signal.

However, before his
untimely demise,

I did manage to wring from him
the names of his accomplices,

Mr. Weams and Magott,
if you can believe it.

Aliases, no doubt, as well as
their possible destination,

but with this information, I
hope soon to have their faces.

Yes?

You already do.

Ah.

I saw them leaving
the coffin factory,

right before Charlie.

Yes, well, Charlie suggested

they'd been warned to
escape by a police officer.

Someone of rank, no doubt.

How did you manage to
reach Charlie unseen?

Oh, with the help
of an old prisoner,

in exchange for finding
his prodigal son.

A task that will take
me to Scotland Yard

without crossing the Thread.

And is he this prisoner?

He's completely unconnected
to our present business,

which for you means tracking
down Weams and Magott.

It's our most
dangerous mission yet,

and you may not go unarmed.

So, allow me to demonstrate
the basics of this, uh, uh.

It's kind of old, isn't it?

Some other issues, but you've
kept it in decent shape.

I'll need more bullets.

Six is quite enough.

How did you become so
proficient in firearms?

My mother taught me with
a machine she built.

Remember, watch for the recoil.

And aim ahead of the target.

Pull.

Time for something harder.

Pull.

You've improved.

That's the first time
you've even hit one pigeon

when two were flying.

But why learn this?

And don't say it's
the wilderness

because I already know
how to hunt wild animals.

And protect myself
from them, too.

You're right, Amelia.

Wolves and bears are
not your enemies.

Well, then who is?

I am the daughter
of an Apache mother,

and a ranchero father.

And my grandfather was
a soldier of Spain.

You are part of all them
and also, half English.

This frightens people.

But why?

If we're part of everyone.

Part of everyone,
all of nothing.

We're a tribe of two.

Well, maybe one day we
can be a tribe of three.

I could marry someone
strong and handsome.

He could help us.

Shall we wait, then?

Depend on someone
we haven't met yet?

Or shall we be ready
to protect ourselves?

Pull.

So, your mother
taught you all this,

but she did not teach you

how to keep your
balance in a fight?

Excuse me?

Your assailant had
you on the ground,

where he rolled
you at least once.

I say he, because this
mark on your shoulder

comes from the hand of a man,

though clearly not a gentleman.

The general distress
of your clothes,

and this trail of debris

strewn across Mrs. Halligan's
newly cleaned floor,

indicate a close relationship
with grass and mud

than one would
normally encounter

in the course of returning
a horse, and this.

This, look at this.

Primula vulgaris.

Yes, common primrose.

So, pray explain this struggle,
which I urged you to avoid.

Well, it wasn't my fault.

There was a man, an
older man, near your age,

he tried to steal Chance
while I watered him.

I slipped and rolled
out of Chance's way,

but I jumped up and I
struggled with the man,

who ran away when he
saw that I'd fight back.

Why did you not give chase?

Because I didn't want to
leave your horse behind,

in case the thief
had an accomplice.

Uh, well, we'll take
that as answered,

though you did not
account for the primrose.

Now, in what remains
of the afternoon

you will have Mr. Halligan
drive you to the coffin factory

to ascertain if there is a
telephone on the premises.

A telephone is a rather new-

I know what a telephone is.

Oh, well, just making certain.

Afterwards, you will
press on to Richmond,

in search of Weams and Magott.

You'll station yourself at
the best local chophouse,

and offer to sketch
portraits at sixpence apiece.

Now you can use these pictures
of Charlie's accomplices

as examples of your work.

Oh, and then, if anyone

has seen either of
these men, then-

Yes, they're likely to comment

on the quality of the likeness.

It's amazing how quickly
you apprehend my solutions.

Very interesting.

Now, here are two
sovereigns, for expenses.

Now if you manage to
locate the kidnappers,

or some place they have
confined Watson and Mrs. Hudson,

you must send me a
telegram forthwith.

And where are you off to?

Oh, Scotland Yard.

I'm there to play the fool.

I've no time to lose.

Where's my coat?

Oh, I left it on the stairs.

Don't forget the gun.

Thank you for such
a pleasant ride.

You're welcome, Amelia,
though it seems improper

that you should put
yourself in danger

for the wages of
a scullery maid.

Oh, I have good reason
to help Mr. Holmes.

As do you and Mrs. Halligan.

I wish I didn't
upset her so much.

Oh no, it's not like that, no.

From before we were married,

during our days in service
to the Earl of Compton,

the missus has been keenly
aware of social decorum.

Mr. Holmes and his ways are
sometimes a bit unorthodox.

I respect Mrs.
Halligan's opinions.

I would not mention the
word opinion to her.

In my wife's mind, she has
no opinions, only the facts.

Contradicting her is like
trying to float upstream.

That coach over there bears
Lord Withersea's coat of arms.

How odd.

Not at all, Mr. Halligan.

It's a bit of luck, finally.

Excuse me, this won't take long.

But Lord Withersea,
we can't just leave.

Crack on, will you.

Your investigation hasn't
stopped people from dying.

Our inquiries are
not yet complete.

We were closed for
minor refurbishments.

No one was aware the
kidnappers were hiding here.

We must finish our own work
before you can resume yours.

If you refuse to leave,

I will file a complaint
with your superiors.

As you wish, Lord Withersea.

Get me Scotland
Yard on the double.

Chief Inspector
Whitlock's office.

Madam, the factory is closed.

Sorry, sir, my brother
is a joiner here,

but he's fallen very ill.

I'm sorry to hear it.

Unfortunately, these
coffins are not for sale.

Oh no, sir, I wanted only to
know when work was to resume.

Oh, don't worry, Miss.

If your brother
is well by Sunday.

When you are done,

call me on your
telephone in Richmond.

Oh, my family will
be so relieved.

Thank you so much.

I must go tell them right away.

Thank you.

Excuse me, sir.

Where to, my lord?

Richmond, and be quick about it.

Now where, Miss Rojas?

To Richmond, follow
that carriage.

Of course, I can show you
a telephone, Mr. Holmes.

And while you're here
this visit, as always,

I can introduce you
to some of the Yard's

newest crime
fighting innovations

from our Advance
Scientific Division.

Oh, for example, though
they're not exactly new,

and there are already quite
a few on the streets, but.

One day, sir, electric
lights will replace gas lamps

with a brilliance
you can only imagine.

Banishing the darkness of night,

and keeping the
criminals at bay.

Or making it easier for
them to see their victims,

Detective Swann.

And, look at this.

Samples from the pen of
every known blackmailer,

and swindler in the land.

We're almost at a
point where we can put

a name to a criminal by
his penmanship alone.

Well, let's hope these criminals

remain ignorant
of the typewriter.

And, thanks to the
work of Mr. E.R. Henry,

and several foreigners,

the Science Division is in the
midst of developing an index

that can create, capture,
and enlarge fingermarks,

since no two are alike.

Well, you must remind me
to invest in glove making.

Now, Detective Swann, fascinating
as this tour has been,

it is telephony that
I wish to study.

Right, and you are
in luck, Mr. Holmes.

For it has proven such
a boon to policing

that we have not one,

but four telephones
in our headquarters.

Here's one of them.

I had hoped to see
a working model.

Certainly.

I'll take you to Chief
Inspector Whitlock's office.

And may I say, sir,

how admirable it is that
a gentleman of your years

still seeks to remain au
courant with innovation.

It is difficult to find people

with such a lively curiosity
in their late middle-age.

Detective, this sort of praise

is usually reserved
for one's eulogy.

Oh, heartfelt, sir,
you can be sure.

Oh, this way, the
telephones are upstairs.

You could try our new elevator.

This way, Mr. Holmes.

I hate that blasted contraption.

Telephones serve no useful
purpose in detection.

Take my rescue of the American
ambassador's daughter.

Oh, that was you?

Well, your public
modesty is remarkable.

We have yet to release the news,

but the coachman who
kidnapped the girl

has done the decent thing and
hanged himself in his cell.

Case closed, all without
the use of a telephone.

Case closed.

So you also recovered the
ambassador's stolen jewels?

Not yet, no,

but the culprit had very
little time to dispose of them.

I am personally taking
over this investigation,

so I'm confident the
jewels will be found.

Can I tell you anything else
about telephones, Mr. Holmes?

Aside from Bullivant's
complaints,

do you find them useful?

I do.

If a suspect flees London
by rail, for example,

I can just call ahead

and have officers
present on the platform

before the wretch
steps off the train.

Operator.

No, no, we're fine, thank you.

All without moving from my desk.

How convenient.

Perhaps I should have
one installed for myself.

They are still quite expensive

for use in a private residence.

In the pursuit of justice,

I allow myself to
be extravagant.

I've just come from
wasting half the day

visiting that old
reprobate, Moriarty.

Had I been able to conduct
the interview by telephone,

then I might have saved
myself both the journey,

and several hours in
his loathsome company.

Moriarty.

What did the villain
have to say for himself?

Oh, he was reciting some
pathetic story about his son,

Daniel, sent to Australia

as a juvenile
offender in the '80s.

And now the young man
has returned to London,

but has avoided
visiting his father.

Yes, I saw a brief mention
of him two months ago.

Every day, the home
office send me a list

of potential revolutionaries,
misfits, and former felons.

How I'm supposed to keep on
top of it all, I'll never know.

And is Daniel
Moriarty on that list?

Yes, changed his
name to Michael Wylie

whilst in Australia, and who
could blame him for that?

Works as a clerk for some
broker on the stock exchange.

Would you like him brought
in for questioning?

This young Moriarty?

No, no, I think it might be best

to deal with the
matter unofficially.

And should you
suddenly have an idea

as to the whereabouts of the
ambassador's missing jewels?

I suppose I could just ring you.

I wonder, chief inspector,

does one buy the telephone,

and all that comes
with it outright?

Or do they continue to
charge you by the call?

Both, of course.

Would you happen to have a
statement I could examine,

just so I could estimate
my monthly costs?

I do have a copy, yes.

The bill doesn't have
names on it, of course.

Just the numbers one dialed,
and the duration of each call.

Peruse it at your leisure.

Thank you, chief inspector.

Happy to help, Mr. Holmes.

You've proven
useful in the past,

and may yet do so in the future.

That's very thoughtful
of you to say.

I shall take my leave and
allow you two gentlemen

to resume your more
important duties.

Au revoir.

Uh, Mr. Holmes, going down?

Yes.

Always a pleasure
to see you, sir.

I could use your help regarding
all the newest advances

in our mutual field of endeavor,

but only if I can depend
on your discretion.

I wouldn't want your
superiors to know

that we were in communication.

They might think
I'd lost my touch.

I'm sure you've got some
good years still left, sir.

And it would be my
honor to assist you.

Mr. Halligan, drive to the
nearest telegraph office

and send a message
to Mr. Holmes.

Tell him that Lord Withersea

doesn't just own
the coffin factory,

but he also has a
mansion in Richmond.

Amelia, I am Mr. Holmes'
gentleman, and not an errand boy.

Here, take these two
sovereigns, send the message,

and after that, enjoy the
finest chophouse you can find,

but hold onto the change.

My word.

Where did you come by
two whole sovereigns?

Nevermind, I will ponder that
question over a pork roast,

and all the trimmings,

but if you have not come
to town in three hours,

I will return and
wait outside the gate.

There was a bad experience
with a hound many years back.

I think it would be safer
if you came with me.

Don't worry, Mr. Halligan.

If it finds me, I know
how to handle a dog.

I think Dr. Watson and Mrs.
Hudson are being held here,

and Mr. Holmes needs
to know, urgently.

Now go get the message
out and enjoy dinner.

Quiet.

Sit, sit.

Stay, stay.

Stay, stay.

It's been a while since
I've had to assign you boys

such a complicated task.

I'm afraid it requires
a bit of legwork.

Shaw, I want you to gather

what's left of the
Baker Street irregulars.

And search through
the usual haunts

of the clerks on the exchange
for a young Australian,

newly arrived, aged 25, goes
by the name of Michael Wylie.

If you find him, you can
have two shillings apiece.

But Mr. Holmes, that will
take us all night and day.

We're not 11 anymore.

Another half a crown,

but I need results
by sundown tomorrow.

Is everything satisfactory, sir?

I hope so, Mrs. Halligan.

I'll be out for dinner.

Cab.

Right, another half-a-crown each

if you make sure I'm not
followed from this place.

Richmond, Lord
Withersea's Estate.

That's some distance, guv'nor.

I was on my way home.

Well, I'll double the fare,

and then you can wait
for me and bring me back.

For God's sake, man, drive.

This is an emergency.

Come on, boys.

Time to go.

Excuse me, sir, hold
on a second there.

If you'll just allow me two
minutes, not even two minutes.

Honest to God, two minutes.

Please don't make any noise.

Sherlock Holmes sent
me, I'm here to help.

Just,

just give me a second.

Don't make a sound.

Show me where they are.

We must find an
eternal resting place

for our guests by tonight.

My wife and the other servants

will be back late
tomorrow morning.

I'll dig a hole for them,

and add a deal of quicklime
to hasten their journey.

A shame to waste
the coffins, though.

They're worth less than they
will be a week or two hence.

O'Leary, did you
open these caskets?

No, sir, I did not.

The lids have been forced.

Stand up.

Stand up, slowly.

Show me your hands.

One twitch and I'll
make room for you

in one of them
coffins you opened.

All right then, my lady.

Who are you when you're at home?

My name doesn't matter.

Just the name of my mother,

Lucia Rojas.

Sorry, never heard of her.

She was another victim
of the Red Thread.

Murdered by men like you.

Men like him, you mean.

How came you to be here?

How did you know where we were?

Too late for
explanations, my lord.

She's already seen them.

And seen us.

Hold your fire.

First, I must call
for instruction.

And you would do well
to remember your place.

Yeah.

Lords, always giving orders,
from Ireland to India.

Go, now, before I
lose my patience.

Take the dog with you,

and put him in the kitchen
and close the door.

I don't want him
running in here again.

Now that our lordship
has gone, my lady,

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

This is it, stop.

Stop, stop.

Are you expected, sir?

I certainly hope not.

Stop, sir, at your age?

I've heard quite enough
about my age for one day.

Thank you very much.

For your information
I've just turned, 40.

I have to say, sir,
youdon't look it.

Thank you.

Walk on, walk on.

I say, dear girl,

you all right?

He tried.

There's no need to speak of it.

I understand.

Are you safe here?

Are we alone?

No, no.

The servants and
the family are away,

but Withersea is in the house.

In fact, the
carriage, the coffins.

A pity we can't question.

Still, they won't
bother us no more.

I always carry a
little flask of brandy

for medicinal purposes.

It's a remarkable restorative.

Would you care to?

Ah, now I understand these
stables may seem oppressive,

but might you wait for me here

with your weapon at the ready?

Yes, but if you're going
to confront Withersea,

be careful, he's one of them.

Well, judging by
Weams and Magott,

I think it's Withersea
who ought to be careful.

Where's Mr. Halligan?

He's finishing his dinner.

He'll be back in
less than an hour.

Right.

Well.

Good work, very good work.

Sorry to have put you
in such grave danger.

Very sorry indeed.

Wait there.

Please hold,

and I will try to connect you.

Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Pleasure to see you again.

Very good of you
to say so, my lord.

I admit to a certain ignorance

regarding the proper
etiquette in this situation,

but perhaps you could talk to
me instead of your telephone.

Allow me to put
the receiver down.

Please, don't move.

I am standing perfectly still.

I should've expected
you, I suppose.

And the girl in the
stables is one your spies?

Yes, she is, and alive and well.

The same cannot be said
of your confederate.

The world will little
grieve his absence.

You, on the other hand.

Killing me would be a
very bad idea, my lord.

Even for one who has
made as many poor choices

as you have of late.

The police are en route.

No, they're not, but what
would they find, Mr. Holmes?

When they finally appear?

That remains to be seen.

If Watson and Mrs. Hudson
are present and alive,

and in good health,

the authorities will
find their kidnappers

dead in the stables.

And, perhaps, they
could recover the jewels

stolen from the home of
the American ambassador.

I could convince them

that you are ignorant
of the entire scheme.

And your station and former
wealth might give them pause.

Former wealth, Mr. Holmes?

I do note, without pleasure,

the faded spaces on your walls

where valued paintings
used to hang.

And your coat, which was
fashionable four years ago,

has had its colors refreshed
in places with ink.

And your tie is jagged along
the edges from overuse.

And this rug on which I'm
standing, is pocked with scars.

Now I know of only two vices

that can create
such circumstances,

and since your face
is unblemished,

your challenges would seem
to do less with drink,

and more to bad luck at cards.

Just so, Mr. Holmes, just so.

Gambling lured me into wagering
my happiness, and I lost.

Well, I beg you, my lord,

roll the dice once
more, bet on me.

Help rescue my friends
and all may yet be well.

Your friends are long gone
from here, Mr. Holmes.

The Red Thread has them, and
I cannot help you save them.

Strike back against
the Thread, sir.

Help me bring these
criminals to justice.

My, but you entertain a
high opinion of yourself,

Mr. Holmes.

Bring them to justice?

You might as well try and
sweep the sand from the Sahara,

or clear the oceans of salt.

You honestly have no idea what
you're up against, do you?

This is no gang of
pickpockets, sir.

The Red Thread represents

the very industrialization
of crime,

and they are preparing to
commit the greatest offense

ever conceived by
the human mind,

or at least, beyond
your poor imagination.

No, I have a much better idea.

Killing me would be pointless.

Helping you would be worse.

Not only would it lead
to my own execution,

but that of my
wife and children.

Oh, yes, they would not
scruple even at that.

Believe me when I say, it is
impossible for you to escape.

No, Mr. Holmes.

It is you who cannot escape,
but I can, and I will.

Farewell.

Oh, you look very
well, considering.

Are you sure you won'tneed
me this afternoon?

Uh, no.

Further investigation
of the Thread

awaits installation
of my telephone.

In the meantime, I've
started a new search

for a young rascal
called Dan Moriarty,

also known as Michael Wylie.

Michael Wylie?

Yes, it's an alias
adopted by the son

of a very dangerous criminal

whose father sometimes
tries to kill me.

It's nothing to worry about.

The older Moriarty is
presently in prison,

and mostly harmless.

I'm Amelia Rojas.

I'm Michael Wylie.

And I'm in very much
need of your help.

I'll wait for you tomorrow
and every day after that

at Mrs. Bailey's Teahouse
on Park Road at 4:00 p.m.

We shall call this
your monthly day off.

I want you to keep the money
Halligan returned to you.

And find something
completely unsuitable

for which to spend it.

Be free, do whatever you want.

A nice long walk
would do you good,

preferably along the park.

Stick to the most
public area as possible.

In fact, don't go too far
outside the neighborhood.

I'm glad I can do
whatever I want.

Just stay safe, please.

It's very odd how
concerns for your safety

suddenly affect
my concentration.

Especially with
people suggesting

we might be facing offenses
beyond my imagination.

Ah, there's someone at the door.

I see my lessons in deduction

have not been entirely wasted.

Uh, out of deference to Mrs.
Halligan's sensibilities,

if you could please leave
by the servants' entrance.

I, uh.

Yeah.

Uh, thank you for your
kindness, Mr. Holmes.

I appreciate it very much.

Good morning, may I help you?

Hello, Mrs. Hudson.

I'm here on business
with Sherlock Holmes.

Do you have an appointment?

Lady Violet.

My dear Mrs. Hudson, people
make appointments with me.

Ah, there you are, Sherlock.

How delightful to see you again.

How little your rooms have
changed in the last 20 years.

And so lovely that
your dear, old landlady

still guards the door.

And where is the
loyal Dr. Watson?

On a walking tour of Italy.

And that was not Mrs. Hudson.

She's visiting her
husband's family

in the Scottish Highlands.

That was her twin
sister, Mrs. Halligan.

An uncanny likeness.

I half expected you might
be helping the police

with this grizzly
affair in Richmond.

Oh?

You haven't heard?

Lord Withersea killed his
coachman and then himself.

And they found two more
criminals in Withersea coffins

shot through the
head in his stables.

The case solves itself.

I certainly hope not.

Sensational murders could
liven up the season,

which has been even
duller than usual.

I came here

straight from the American
ambassador's residence.

I believe you know him?

We have been introduced.

His wife is most
insistent on hiring away

one of your servants,
a Miss Amelia Rojas,

as chaperone for
their daughter, Clara.

Oh, what have the ambassador's
domestic arrangements

to do with you?

Since I was once
presented at court,

I am sometimes enlisted
to help young ladies

follow in my footsteps.

Clara Anderson is
one of my protégées.

The Andersons paid my expenses
to and from the United States

in order to prepare their
immature daughter, Clara,

for her introduction to society.

I can't say exactly
when that will be

since the appropriate dates
for balls are all spoken for,

but I will work something out.

For a fee, I suppose?

In terms of income, I am
dependent on my younger brother,

whose generosity is
even less pronounced

that his intelligence,

but back to your maid.

Should not Amelia have
some say in this matter?

I don't see why.

I am much opposed
to this movement

of treating one's servants
as part of the household.

No.

The only question is would
she be aware of her place?

She is after all-

She is, after all, what?

An American.

They are famed for over
familiarity and coarse manners.

I've known some to be a
little short of passionate,

which I always find
very vulgar in a woman.

Well, if you deem Amelia

too unpolished for
polite society,

perhaps she should
remain in my employ.

Why, Sherlock.

Where on earth did you
come by this photograph?

Oh, just look at them.

Cowboys, cutthroats,
Indians, and sharpshooters.

And in the back row, us.

Oh, dear, we were so young.

Oh, and there's that woman with
whom you became so enamored.

She was a designer, no?

I'll never forget you
comparing her to da Vinci.

All her improbable inventions.

What was her name?

Little Pigeon.

Little Dove.

She was, in fact, an
accomplished engineer.

Oh, yes, I remember now.

You wanted me to
submit her designs

for some terrifying
weapon, was it not?

To my father when he was
running the Ministry of War.

You were quite keen on getting
a working model constructed.

It's a souvenir, nothing more.

But it has bearing
on my business,

as you must surely know.

Indeed, I suspect that's
why you hired the girl

in the first place.

Is the picture out
for her benefit?

How sentimental you have become.

The telegram I just handed you

contains the details
of Amelia's birth.

Her mother, according
to the Pinkertons,

is none other than
the same Little Dove

of whom we were speaking,

though she changed her name
to Lucia Rojas and, I note,

Amelia's unnamed father

is described as an
explorer, deceased.

Yes, Amelia said
something like that to me.

Perhaps the girl was the
offspring of one of those

whirlwind romances for which
theatrical types are so famous.

Born a mere 18 months after her
mother departed from London.

18 months?

That's rather, uh.

Uh here.

No, keep it.

It's only the
background information

collected by the Pinkertons.

There are no official documents,

and I've copied all
the relevant details.

Now, don't make a fuss over
losing the girl's services

just because you were
fond of her mother.

This new arrangement will
improve her station in life,

and is most definitely for
the good of the country.

My regards to Dr. Watson
and Mrs. Hudson.

If my mother said so,
then I am your daughter.

18 months.