All language subtitles for Sherlock.and.Daughter.S01E04.For.Kith.and.Kin.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-Kitsune_Subtítulos01.ENG

You stole your own
mother's jewels.

A private investigator
is on the way.

This detective hired by
the insurance company--

Birtwistle, sir

He can go where you can't.

And his interrogation will
provide a theory of the crime.

I will have the
truth, or 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

How it must gall 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 your head off.

I could legally shoot
you in self-defense,

but I'd rather talk.

Shall I call for a constable,
or would you prefer to explain

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.

Well, they looked a lot better
before you mashed them up.

Sorry, I meant no insult.

Why would you give me flowers?

To ease an awkward
introduction.

I'm sorry.

Shall I try again?

You're very nice, thank you.

You're most welcome.

You could have 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 serving girl has ever
put me on my back before.

You're far from ordinary.

And neither is your employer.

Oh. So the flowers
have 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?

Hmm?

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's 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 want to 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 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 Tea House
on Park Road at 4 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.

Amelia, where are you?

Amelia! I need you!

Beg your pardon, sir.

Miss Rojas has not returned
from fetching your horse.

"Done on 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

in helping with a
task, and it 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

upsets 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?

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's, uh, is, after
all, our last living

link to the red thread.

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

Fast as a telegraph signal.

However, before his
untimely demise,

I did manage to ring 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.

And 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?

is 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, oh.

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.

Time for something harder.

You've improved.

That's the first time
you hit even 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 of
them, and also half English.

This frightens people.

But why if we're a
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,
You're 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 closer 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.

Yeah. 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-- 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 will station yourself at
the best local chop house

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 likenesses.

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 someplace 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 have 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,
where's 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 inquiry's 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
and the 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 my telephone in Richmond.

My family will be so relieved.

Thank you so much.

I must go tell them right away.

Thank you.

Excuse me, sir.

Where to, milord?

Richmond. Quick
about it.

Now where, Miss Rojas?

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 advanced
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 are 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 finger marks,

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 year
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.

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?

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 a 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.

Can I help right now?

No.

No, we're fine.

Thank you.

All without moving from my desk.

How convenient.

Perhaps I should have one
installed for myself.

They're 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 sent 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.

Hmm? 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 in it, of course.

Just the numbers well dialed
and the duration of each call.

Cruising 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.

Ah, 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 lost my touch.

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

And it would be my
honor to assist you.

Stop.

Mr. Halligan, drive to the
nearest telegraph office

and send a message
to Mr. Holmes.

Tell him that Lord Withersea
It doesn't just own

the coffin factory,
but it also has a

mansion in Richmond.

Amelia, I am Mr.
Holmes's gentleman,

and not an errand boy.

Here, take these
two sovereigns,

send a message, and after
that, enjoy the finest chop

house you can find.

But hold on to the change.

My word, where did you come
by two whole sovereigns?

Never mind, 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.

It was a bad experience with
the 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.

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.

Sure, I want you
to gather what's

left of the Baker
Street Irregulars

and search through
all the usual haunts

of the clerks of the exchange
for a young Australian,

newly arrived, age 25.

Goes by the name
of Michael Wylie.

As you find him, you can
have two shillings a piece.

Mr. Holmes, that'll take
us all night and day.

We're not 11 anymore.

Another half a crown, but I need
results by sundown tomorrow.

Something 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, Governor.

It's on me way home.

Well, I'll double the
fare, 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.

We'll only be 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.

Add a deal of quicklime to
hasten their journey.

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 open.

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.

Yay.

Lords always giving orders.

From Ireland to India.

Go.

Now, before I lose my patience,
take the dog with you

and put it in the kitchen
and close the door.

I don't want it
running in here again.

Now that our lordship
is gone, my lady.

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

This is it.

Stop!
Stop!

Stop!

You expected, sir?

Certainly hope not.

Stop, sir.

Are you of age?

I've heard quite enough
about my age for one

day, thank you very much.

For your information,
I've just turned...

...forty.

I have to say, sir,
you don't look it.

Thank you.

Walk on!

Walk on!

I say, dear girl...

you all right?

H-He tried to --

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.

Front carriage.

The coffins.

I can't question them.

Still, they'll
bother us no more.

I always carry a little flask of
brandy for medicinal purposes.

It's a remarkable restorative.

Would you care to...

Now, I...

I understand these stables
may seem impressive.

But might you wait for me here
with your weapon at the ready?

Yes. But if you're going
to confront Withersea,

I'm sorry.

It's okay.

Be careful, he's one of them.

Well, judging by
Weams and Magott,

I think it's Withersea
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 put you in
such grave danger.

Very sorry indeed.

Wait there.

Please hold. I'll 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.

Should have expected
you, I suppose.

The girl in the stable
is one of 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
pick pockets, 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't
need 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.

There's nothing to worry about.

The elder Moriarty is presently
in prison and mostly harmless.

I'm Amelia Rojas.

I'm Michael Wylie.

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

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

at Mrs. Bailey's Tea House
on Park Road at 4 p.m.

We shall call this
your monthly day off.

I want you to keep
the money that Mr.

Halligan returned to you.

And find something
completely unsuitable

on which to spend it.

Be
free.

Do whatever you want.

Nice long walk will do you good.

Preferably along the park.

Stick to the most
public areas 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.

Oh, someone at the door.

I see my lessons in deduction
have not been entirely wasted.

Out of deference to Mrs.
Halligan's sensibilities,

if you could please leave
by the servant's entrance.

I, um--
Yeah.

Thank you for your
kindness, Mr. Holmes.

I appreciate it very much.

Good morning, ma'am.

I'll 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 grisly
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.

Well, the case solves itself?

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.

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

than 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
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?

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 was 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 Emilia'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...

Well, here.

Oh, 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.