Original subtitles

The murder weapon.

Wise of you to keep it.

Lucia Rojas, my mother, she was another victim of the Red Thread

We are preparing to commit the greatest offense ever conceived.

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 Wylie.

Alias adopted by the son of a very dangerous criminal,

also known as Dan Moriarty.

I think spying's 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.

Come in, Mrs. Halligan, and bring Detective Swan

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 Swan, promised

will be here by 9 AM, has inexplicably arrived

at half past 3 in the afternoon.

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

Mr. Pete Pound, at your service.

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.

No, no, no, Mrs. Hulligan.

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 marvellous.

Excuse me, sir.

I just need to make some measurements.

Sorry, sir.

When I opened the door, these

hoodlums ran past me.

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 Wylie you were looking for.

Wonderful. Wonderful.

Detective Swan.

I assume you can finish this installation without me?

Yes, of course, Mr. Holmes.

And, uh, Mr. and Mrs. Halligan, I will leave you in command.

And now, Shaw, if you and your friends

could please introduce me to Mr. Wylie.

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-- No, no, my agreement was with

someone called Michael Wylie.

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.

That's how you begin an apology, for lying?

No, no, no, no, of course, I regret very much

that I lied, but...

Mrs. Halligan, please make sure that neither Detective

Swan nor Mr. Pound enter this room for the next few minutes.

Of course, sir.

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 people's 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.

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 Wylie.

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.

Mr. Holmes, please, I beg you, hear me out.

Ah, hello.

Detective Swan of the Scotland Yard Scientific Division.

Um, nice to meet you.

I'm Amelia Ross.

Are you here to consult Mr. Holmes?

No, I work for him.

Well, I'm here to supervise the installation

of his new telephone.

Have you ever used one before?

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.

And since visiting him in prison is 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 appointment.

I will 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. Wylie.

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

He insists you visit him.

I am 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. Wylie?

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.

You nearly finished, Mr. Pound.

Oh, sure.

Extremely close.

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?

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.

Now 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,

you can call me at once.

Alright.

I'll do what I can.

Thank you.

And, Amelia,

remember Lord Withersea killed himself to escape the Red Thread

and to spare his family.

So please, please stay on your guard.

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 slumped 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.

Now, while maintaining your balance,

suggest a suitable topic for a lady to discuss

with the gentleman.

Clara?

Art.

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

The 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.

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.

Though 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.

Oh my gosh.

Clara, help me!

Please!

Somebody help!

Clara! She's dead.

Oh my gosh.

Please! Clara, why?

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 was following your orders.

She pursues a personal cause in connection with the case.

What could Miss Rojas possibly have to do with 50,000 pounds

worth of stolen jewels?

And you asked the same question of Lord Withersea

a few days ago, and three murders and one suicide later.

I had no idea Withersea was in financial distress.

Today, I'll admit his involvement

seems more probable.

Withersea's complicity was never less than conspicuous,

but I hardly think he killed three men

before shooting himself.

It's a pity his coachman, Rolirio Belfast, was murdered.

He would have made an excellent suspect.

The police say he's a revolutionary, dedicated

to overthrowing the crown.

That's an odd sort to be employed by a lord.

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

Alas, 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.

As 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 Withersea

estate, Misters.

Weams and Magott, 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 have 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, I 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.

Suddenly, my clues no longer seem 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, uh, promising.

Uh, 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.

Be careful, little girl.

Like the lion in the jungle, we did not turn the

world into an empire without a very sharp claws.

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

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 of the

driveway headed to London.

I think this button

was lost by the gentleman en route,

but there's no way to tell.

Oh, but 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.

Well done, dear old friend.

Well done.

It'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 is 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.

Good luck.

Friends with Sherlock Holmes, eh?

Imagine that.

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

Dead, just like that.

And Lady Violet seemed 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...

I did not ask you to grease the top step

of your library ladder so the 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 am focused on my part of this enterprise.

Use your authority so that the insurance company

pays me immediately for my losses,

or I'll suffer the consequences.

I bid you goodnight.

Hello, operator?

Can you ring Mar-Mar-Le-Beau 15?

You mean Mar-Le-Beau?

Yes, yes.

One moment.

I'm sorry, the telephone you're trying to call

is not a working number.

Mr. Pound, I must demand an explanation.

You told me this telephone would be operational yesterday.

If you don't want me to finish,

call the other telephone company.

Oh wait, there is no other telephone company.

Your friend seems to take great pride

in ridiculing his customers.

Oh, I don't think he is 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 Withersea, and the other documenting

all the calls in Chief Inspector Whitlock's office.

Now, we will cross-reference the numbers to see which

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, Swan, 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.

One, two, three, one, two, three, one, two, three, one,

two, three, one, two, three.

Very good.

Or good enough.

Now, 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

charitably refer to as your dancing.

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.

Like this, see?

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.

Clumsy oaf.

I did not ask you to grease the top step

of your library ladder so the 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, um, helpful.

I have.

Yes, and it occurs to me with such specialised 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.

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 483?

I cannot believe I have 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 what

you reported missing.

Mr. Holmes!

Oh, who have I 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.

It wasn't a lie.

It was a simple misdirection.

A note.

It yielded the information we seek.

A name attached to one of the many telephones

used to call both Withersea and the Chief Inspector's office.

Let's try again.

Uh, no.

Yes, operator, could you please, uh, 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?

They're both called the same stockbroker.

The game's 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.

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.

Dr. Kalia.

Wait, there's more.

If you did subscribe to "Horse and Hound,"

we would have the strength to have quite the

eclectic waiting room.

What? Oh.

Green and Crest Asylum for the Criminally Insane.

Sorry, Doctor.

Well, perhaps for visitors.

Amelia, there you are.

I want to introduce-- Michael Wylie.

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.

I'm 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.

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 nursery maid 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.

Hello?

I said hello.

Oh, hello, Mom.

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.

Oh, how very kind.

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 responsibilities 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.

Do you not find these debutante balls to be a

series of pretentious bores?

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.

4pm please, au revoir.

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

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

I don't believe it would be proper for me

to mind, Mr. Holmes.

Ah, that will be Mr. Birtwistle.

Please show him up.

Good afternoon, Sherlock.

Ah, Bertie.

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,

though no official investigation followed.

And the poor woman did have a girl.

Farther 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 lesser 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's daughter,

I cannot say.

You must at least consider her to be an imposter.

For a near penniless girl, she did quite well

out of all these arrangements.

Nevertheless, I'm grateful to you

for establishing as many of these facts as possible.

Very grateful.

Oh, it's my pleasure.

And there was also a series of telegrams sent overseas.

Yes.

Oh, yes.

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?

Yes. You're holding out

on me, Sherlock.

I am.

No 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.

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.

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 the chaperone.

Foreign girl must stay outdoors during the ball.

I'd like her to come inside with me.

Miss Anderson.

No, I'd like her inside.

If you would be so kind, Miss Anderson, please.

Please. But I need her.

Just 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.

Come inside.

It's fine.

There's a bench over there.

Go. Go.

The daughter of the American ambassador to

the court of St. James, Miss Clara Anderson.

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.

Miss Anderson.

We meet again.

We do indeed.

Mr. Wylie, 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're 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 is 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.

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...

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.

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.

You 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.

And I'm sure someone's watching us.

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

Quite right.

It won't be long.

Mr. Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street, London.

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.

I'm 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. Wylie.

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?

Oh, no!

What do you mean Amelia was denied entry?

Unacceptable. Excuse me, I just spoke to...

I just spoke to...

Wait.

I beg your pardon, Miss Anderson.

Help!

Help me!

Help!

Help! Hey!

Anyone, please!

Help!

Come on!