Original subtitles

You'll be moving to the ambassador's household

as chaperone to his daughter.

Clara is our best connection to the thread.

She was released in exchange for keys, but keys to what?

Your position in the ambassador's household

increases our reach.

It took me 14 months to escape and change

my name to Michael Wylie.

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

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.

Men believe they control the world,

but we will control them.

One step forward.

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

Dad, and Lady Violet seem so indifferent.

Be careful, little girl.

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

world into an empire without very sharp claws.

Help! Come on!

Who on earth do you think you are?

Issuing orders on my property.

I forbid you to keep important members of London society

from taking their own carriages.

I apologize, Lady Violet, but a man has been shot,

and there was an attempted kidnapping.

How ridiculous!

Why would anyone abduct a foreign chaperone?

How much inconvenience must we endure

over some quarrel between servants?

Chief Inspector?

Pardon my interruption, Lady Violet.

One moment, milady.

Mr. Holmes.

You are, of course, in charge, and I may only offer my advice,

but under no circumstances should you let any

of these carriages go.

Mr. Holmes, consider no one attending the ball.

No, no, no, no, no.

Forget the guests.

A coachman, now deceased, kidnapped the American

ambassador's daughter.

A coachman now deceased was part of the murder-suicide

at Lord Withers' Richmond estate.

And a coachman, now deceased, was just

shot to death in the middle of committing

another heinous crime.

Surely you would not suggest a conspiracy?

I suggest nothing.

I point out the obvious.

Two dead coachmen could be a coincidence.

Three is a pattern.

Do not let any of these drivers depart without questioning

them closely.

Dammit, Holmes.

Who would bother kidnapping an ordinary maid?

She's not just an ordinary maid.

She's...

She is the chaperone to the daughter of the

American ambassador.

Who suffered a theft of 50,000 pounds worth of

jewelry stolen by a coachman.

You guessed it.

Now deceased.

Yes. Thank you, Bertie.

Now, I must soon leave if I, uh...

I might make one more suggestion about what

to do with the killer.

I don't know how to thank you.

Mr. Holmes must be given the credit.

He stopped the coach with his own body.

Very daring.

Are you all right?

I think so.

It's just I've fired my weapon many times

but I've never killed anyone before.

I understand better than you think.

Well, I would like to thank you.

I'm not sure how that's done in London.

I hardly dare but are you free

for dinner tomorrow?

Oh.

If my employer's let me, then I'd love to join you.

Pardon me, sir.

You must accompany these men while we satisfy ourselves in

the details of this shooting.

Might I suggest the young man be held at Newgate Prison

until you can question him properly?

Excellent idea.

All right, men.

See that he gets there in good order.

But I save Amelia, and you're having

me taken to prison?

You'll be free by tomorrow afternoon.

In the meantime, you could always visit your father.

Another button from Watson's waistcoat

found on the floor of the carriage

used in your attempted abduction.

But whose carriage was it?

No one claims it, nor recognizes the driver,

nor even notice the other fellow who escaped.

The police have agreed to take the vehicle

to an associate of mine who specializes in such problems.

How are you holding up?

Me?

I'm furious.

Lady Violet just tried to have me kidnapped.

Yes. She was certainly involved.

Her butler would never have denied you entry

without her orders.

And this bench on which you are seated outside,

though situated on gravel, it has mud and ivy,

a dearly helix, if I'm not very much mistaken,

clinging to its frame, proving it was very recently moved

from the garden, probably, to its present position

just so you could sit on it.

Right, I'd like to go find Lady Violet

and punch her in her stupid face.

Right, in that case, we should leave.

Scotland Yard will be here for the next few hours,

and I have contrived to have Bertie,

that is, Mr. Birtwistle, add our inquiries to his own

so that my hand in these affairs remains invisible.

Now, he will report what he learns of the Coachman to you

tomorrow at the Ambassador's house.

He already has a midday appointment.

In the meantime, we now have, if anything,

Too many clues.

I have one more to add to the list.

Ah, poor Emma, who will no longer be

requiring her debutante ball.

Is it possible Lady Violet arranged this young girl's death

just to open up a date for Clara Anderson's debut?

Yeah, that's what happened.

Clara's ball will take the place of Emma's.

Let's forget about Lady Violet for the moment.

Do you recall any distinguishing feature of this driver

who tried to kidnap you?

He had an accent that I didn't recognize.

Could you give it a try?

Help-- help me in the--

for the love of God, my chest-- chaste-- my chaste--

my chaste.

South Africa?

I said it was rather good.

Thanks. So, not only do we have

three dead coachmen, they all hail from three

different countries.

And what about this other fellow who tried to kidnap you

and jumped off the carriage and ran away?

He took me completely by surprise.

I didn't see him or hear him.

Can we go back to Lady Violet, please?

This jade-handled knife left in Mama's body,

it came from the set of weapons on display

in Lady Violet's parlor.

She's responsible for Emma's death.

She tried to have me kidnapped.

And there's more.

It pertains to motive in an important aspect of this case.

Of the many mechanical designs stolen after your

mother's murder,

I'm convinced one was a blueprint

for a fearsome weapon of war.

How do you know that?

You said you never met her.

Well, I did.

But you said that her name meant nothing.

When we first spoke, you referred to her as Lucia.

And when in London, she called herself Little Dove.

Look.

Amelia. Look here.

See there?

That's me.

And next to me, the woman I had been asked to escort.

Lady Violet?

The daughter of the Duke of Somerset,

for whom I'd done a small favor.

Yes, Buffalo Bill's Wild West show.

It really was the theatrical event of the century.

And after this command performance,

there was a garden party.

With further presentations of sharp shooting,

Roman riding, hog tying, all of which I found

completely exhausting.

So I escaped, and I wandered into a tent

displaying the most amazing part of the show.

Because for me, nothing exceeded the genius of the scenery.

All designed by the most unlikely person on earth.

Mama.

As you say.

These are not mere theatrical backdrops.

These are feats of modern engineering.

Is there any chance I could meet their creator?

That would be me.

Oh, these are your designs?

Well, they're remarkable.

Where did you learn these construction techniques?

My grandfather was a military engineer.

Lacking any male descendants, he imparted his skills to me.

The blending of machinery and art is my own innovation,

Mr. Holmes.

Made necessary by our show's epic scale.

Now you have me at a disadvantage.

You know my name.

Who in London would not?

Well, very true.

But, you know, your name should be equally celebrated.

I'm Little Dove of the Apache tribe,

though I now reside in a state called California.

In addition to the show, will you be treating

us to a travelogue?

There you are, Lady Violet.

I was just admiring the handiwork of

our scenic designer, Little Dove.

What an ordeal it must be to imagine backdrops

commemorating the defeats of America's native tribes.

You must have arrived after the reenactment

of Little Bighorn, but I thank you for acknowledging

the attempts at annihilating my people.

That's so well spoken too, isn't she?

Why, you are a marvel of the Savage West.

I can't wait to tell my friends all about you.

Don't linger here.

The festivities are winding down,

and Her Majesty will need us in our seats before sundown.

I'll join you at the table in a moment.

Thank you.

As you wish.

I must apologize for the dullness of court customs.

May I?

Oh, uh, of course.

Ingenious.

Really. Do you have any more of these?

I do.

This invention I call the mechanical earth mover.

To clear land for cultivation or powering the earth

mover using liquid gas.

Liquid gas?

That's a contradiction in terms, surely.

Oh.

I never thought of it like that.

What's this one?

A cannon mounted atop an armored vehicle,

entirely covered in metal and driven from within,

capable of moving through difficult terrain while

remaining on the offensive, and also able to withstand

direct hits from any rifle.

England's current Secretary of War

just happens to be the father of Lady Violet,

that rather patronizing young lady to whom I introduced you

at the command performance of the show.

Her Majesty's government would want to control

a weapon such as this.

So Lady Violet knew this weapon existed

and that my mother designed it.

Wait.

No, don't say another word until you've explained

why you denied knowing my mother.

What proofs did you offer?

A portrait you might have drawn of a passerby,

a letter on the back of a photograph

you referred to her as Lucia Rojas,

and I'd only ever known her as Little Dove.

You see, Amelia, over the years I have been mobbed

by pretenders posing as my children,

my siblings and other distant relatives,

some of whom presented far more compelling evidence

than I have thus far seen from you, to be brutally frank.

You cannot even verify, beyond question,

that you are indeed the real Amelia Rojas

and not just some clever imposter.

So then why bother with me at all?

Because I was able to corroborate

the story of Lucia's murder.

And having come to know you,

I would rather err on the side of good faith than suspicion.

But as to who I am...

I am in want of facts, Amelia.

I do not draw conclusions based on my feelings or my hopes.

Right. You never guess.

So you shared this story with me because these weapon designs

give Lady Violet a motive for murdering my mother.

Exactly.

In two decades, this weapon has gone from theoretical

to possibly indispensable.

It could determine the outcome of a battle or even a war,

which, of course, makes it enormously valuable.

But what do these designs have to do with the

Ambassador's missing jewels?

And to Emma's death?

Or to your kidnapped friends?

It's not I, but the red thread that binds

these crimes together.

And now we know how the thread communicates.

But how do we get them to talk to us?

I may have a partial solution to that,

but first you must return to the Ambassador's residence

to meet Bertie Birtwistle.

And I must pay another visit to Professor Moriarty

to see how he's getting on with his son

and return to a very special carriage shop.

And before tomorrow is done, I too must be kidnapped.

I'm sure her hair could benefit from some serious

professional attention, and of course she'll

require a gown.

Though she can't wear white, someone might

mistake her for a lady.

That's very unlikely.

Clara will have a dress that can be refitted for her.

Well, if you want to meliorate your own daughter's ball,

it will be remarkable for the guests

to witness in person this quaint custom

of Americans sticking together despite vast social differences.

Maybe it's a preview of the future

where notions of class are based on character.

And good breeding only refers to horses and dogs.

Then you would no longer need cross the ocean

in search of noble husbands.

Yet, while aristocracy still matters,

I've arranged a special guest for Clara's debut.

Oh?

And who might that be?

Lord Robert Arthur Talbot Gascoigne Cecil,

Third Marquis of Salisbury, and the current Prime Minister

of Her Majesty's Government.

Oh, how wonderful!

Lord Salisbury's the most famous man in the world.

Now everyone will come to my ball.

You are as ever fixated on the wrong things.

A practice which caused me years of suffering

directly attributable to your neglect.

You disobeyed me.

Whilst I was away in business, you went to and

from your school, ignoring the young woman who

I had hired to care for you.

That woman was a drunk.

Intoxicated from morning till night

and capable of looking after herself,

much less a child of nine.

Men must work.

I had both my profession as a mathematician

and my greater enterprise to maintain.

Greater enterprise?

Well, by which you mean the exploitation of human weakness

through opium dens, gambling, and houses of ill repute.

Run by men for whom loyalty is a vice best remedied by greed.

Profit, not morality, is a pursuit of business.

Well, what a heartwarming chat.

I'm sure Inspector Bullivant will be calling.

We need to get Dan back into his own cells.

Silence!

I have waited 15 years to lay eyes on my son again.

And in the lengthy period of my absence,

he seems to have fallen victim to the pedals of idealism.

Idealism? Or hope for a better world.

The same hope that sees me saving a small sum of my salary

every month to appeal your sentence.

What? I beg your pardon?

An appeal?

Are you as foolish as you are naive?

No, no, no, no, no, no.

An appeal would bring heightened scrutiny to your father's

various intrigues.

This is so, Father.

Oh, you've not already made enough money

to live comfortably for the rest of your life?

It's not about the money.

Well, it's a bit about the money.

It's quite a lot about the money.

Do you seriously suppose that I could

be held here against my will?

I endure prison for another year and two months,

after which I receive my parole license

I can go free with no further obstacle to my endeavors.

And yet again you choose a life of crime.

A life of crime over your family.

That is unfair!

I spent a fortune searching for you everywhere!

And yet you failed.

Since I am not cause enough for you to desire freedom,

I better leave to go.

We can...

regain our family, boy.

You need merely to return here for visits.

I will not return...

except to escort you from this wretched place.

And since you would rather stay,

I ask again to be excused.

I cannot believe you are my son.

Feel free to continue to ignore me.

I'll return the favor.

Is it possible he failed to inherit any of my abilities?

Perhaps he prefers to employ his talents to improve the world.

Improve? We are the greatest

empire in history.

Whatever alters the status quo will always be worse

than what came before.

Therefore, it's imperative that we change as little as possible.

Another good reason to fight the red thread,

which would upend the world as we know it.

By kidnapping your former maid.

What nonsense?

Why would they not just kill you?

How goes your own struggle with the Thread?

They have slowed their advance into my territory.

Perhaps one day, you could go back to hiding

from me instead of them.

Oh, it would be a relief to resume our former animosity.

Until then, I must ask you for another favor.

Oh, my favors do not come free.

Whatever your former mate knows, Dan killed an agent

of the Thread to save her.

I demand to be protected from retaliation.

I'll do what I can.

Perhaps you should not take Dan's harsh

words so much to heart.

Your consolation is worse even in our temporary alliance.

Instead of your loathsome pity, ask your favor,

whatever it may be.

Thanks very much for helping me out.

Oh, do you want the chicken or a block of cheese?

They're both a day from going off.

Um, I'll have whatever you don't want.

Hmm, cheese it is then.

Hey, don't worry about that fireplace.

I don't mind laying to the end, 'cause we'll get more staff.

But we ain't chimney sweeps, eh?

Are you coming or what?

See, the cheese is good.

I wouldn't mind eating it all

We'll take our main meal tonight for a change.

Oh, I'm going out this evening.

Oh, what a life you lead.

Balls and kidnappings and now dinners.

Where is it, this dinner?

And who's paying the freight?

One moment.

That terrible insurance investigator is back.

I don't want him bothering Clara.

What an odd little man he is.

How quickly you rise.

Only in England could trading one servant's job

for another be considered a promotion.

Nonsense.

You're better settled than my own children.

And despite appearances, we both know you

still work for Holmes.

Did you find anything out from the coachman

after we left?

I did.

There were two sullen drivers from New Zealand.

One working for no lesser personage

than the Duke of Leicester, owner of the world's

largest shipyard.

Those companies fallen in hard times.

The other driver was employed by Sir Nigel Parks,

a broker who suffered staggering losses during the panic.

So men like Lord Withersea, titled without cash,

both of whom might have been interested

in sharing the proceeds from Mrs. Anderson's jewels.

One would have to sell the gems to split the money.

A fence would pay but 30% of their value.

So very little to be shared among so many.

The insurance company has to pay the ambassador in full.

Unless I find the jewels by tomorrow afternoon,

the ambassador collects 50,000 pounds of fortune,

equal to his losses, in the Railroad Bank rhapsody

Excuse me, Amelia.

Is there a reason you delay Mr. Birtwistle

from our appointment?

I beg your pardon, sir.

I was just trying to talk him out of questioning Clara again.

Mr. Ambassador, if the girl were any more protective

of your daughter, she'd be one of your Pinkertons.

Delay is a familiar tactic of insurance companies.

Or so I hear.

This way, sir, if you please.

Not unreasonable, Ambassador Anderson.

Especially considering the vast sum involved

that I be allowed to interview everyone at least twice.

Nevertheless, I demand all inquiries

from my family come through me.

And now, I believe if you cannot find the jewels,

it is time to arrange restitution.

Or shall I call my American lawyers?

No, such a mess.

I'm sorry, I came in to see if the room needed

straightening and...

These buttons go up the side of my new frock.

Let's not lose any of them.

What happened here, I wonder?

Can't tell you everything, Mr. Holmes,

but this carriage that was used to kidnap your maid,

this is a new construction, not built to last the ages.

I guess it wouldn't stick out on the streets,

but I've not seen their light before.

Even if this carriage displays inferior workmanship,

the lamps on the outside door handles

are perfectly shaped and exactly alike.

Now, would that not indicate the use of a mold?

And would one create molds for a single carriage or even two?

Bless me, sir, but you're right.

Still, I would want a fleet of carriages like this

with no--

I don't think it's on the inside.

I believe we'll find its legitimate purpose

was as an ambulance for the patients of the Green and Crest

Asylum for the criminally insane.

But these carriages could serve in other capacities.

Now, is this a false bottom?

It is.

Added after manufacture?

Part of the original design.

This is fantastical.

Surely they didn't mean for me to see this, did they?

They?

Who would they?

A criminal consortium of unrivaled malice.

I must stop them, Clarence, and you must help me.

Tomorrow night, in fact.

Perhaps the following morning.

Shall we say 20 pounds?

10 for you, 10 for your men?

20 pounds?

Its that dangerous?

I don't know, Mr. Holmes.

For queen and country, Clarence.

Thank you.

I'll send my man, Shaw, around with directions.

Oh, and Clarence.

Yes, Mr. Holmes?

Be on your guard, especially around any coachman,

You might see.

Before we have dinner, I thought you might be interested

in a project I've been working on.

But first, let's talk about yesterday.

Did anyone discover why the driver tried to kidnap you?

No idea.

And there was another man involved who got away,

which is curious.

Honestly, I think men are only interested in me

because I worked for Mr. Holmes.

That may be how we first met, But I think we've moved

past that, have we not?

Well, saving someone's life changes things a bit.

This is a club I joined recently,

made up of men and women working to obtain the vote

for all adult citizens of the British Empire,

including ladies who have never had a voice in government.

Careful, Mr. Wylie.

You don't want to sound as if you're hauling a guillotine

to Piccadilly.

Besides, one cannot decapitate the entire upper class

and their gentry accomplices.

That has been tried.

Pay no attention to Herr Bernt.

Our club offers a peaceful alternative

to violence and revolution.

I only want the right to vote.

Once we have universal suffrage, I know righteousness

will prevail.

How good to see you all again.

We begin this evening by announcing

our petition for universal suffrage

has reached the Prime Minister with nearly 50,000 signatures.

To celebrate, I shall read our petition out loud.

Given the major improvements to Birmingham's welfare,

we humbly request the expansion of Home Rule

to encompass every city, county, and colony

of Her Majesty's Empire.

Tell me, Jeremy, what do you make of this petition's request?

Me, Prime Minister?

Well, I know it'll be the devil to make six copies of it.

But what about extending Home Rule?

Oh, sir, that...

that could never pass Parliament.

Congratulations, Jeremy, on twice refusing to

answer the question.

That shows great promise.

Thank you, Prime Minister.

Let us see who signed this damnable appeal.

I suspect it's the usual Fabians and rabble-rousers.

My lord, Salisbury.

Sir, excuse me, but...

were you expecting a large rug to be brought here this evening?

I had a request from a boy this afternoon suggesting

just such delivery.

This way.

Ah, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Welcome, and meet my private secretary, Mr. Jeremy Stevens.

Otherwise, we're quite alone, as requested.

Thank you, Prime Minister.

It's an honour to meet you, Mr. Stevens.

Just-- just a moment.

You will inform the professor of my profound irritation

and the roughness with which his favor was executed.

Now, get out!

Just be glad I have no time to pursue you.

Go on!

Thank you.

Prime Minister, I, uh, thank you for making time

in your very busy schedule, and I do apologize

for the rather theatrical nature of my entrance,

but it was vital I not be seen visiting you.

You have been so useful to Her Majesty

in our various governments that I dare not refuse your appeal.

Just a little bit on your left there.

Thank you.

Thank you.

Now, without wishing to alarm you,

I have a serious problem that only you can solve.

What do you require?

Only that you be helpful and frank.

Only helpful and frank?

These are no small requests for a career politician.

Yes, yes, I understand, and I do hesitate to ask.

It's just I'm in the midst of solving a crime

of enormous magnitude, not to mention the

dismantling of a secret cabal representing the worldwide

industrialization of crime.

Our Prime Minister is completely untrustworthy.

But once women get the vote, all that will change.

That is the hope, Mrs. Mawson.

So, what did you think?

I don't know much about politics.

But surely you see the fairness of home rule.

Do you think that the United States would give

the Apache tribe home rule?

When you demand home rule for Australia,

is it for the natives?

Or is it for the colonizers?

I see your point.

The injustice goes deeper than we can address all at once,

but I believe a fairer world would make fairer choices,

and I am committed to a better world.

And lately, my idea of a better world includes you.

I don't see how.

Do you not?

I'm sorry.

I forget myself.

It's OK.

It's a lot more fun than listening

to petitions being read.

Is it?

It's no use creating taboos.

Criminals will not abide by them,

and they hinder our pursuit.

And I infer from the size of the conspiracy,

the crime I'm trying to solve is one

of international significance.

I offer you a compromise.

Compromise? I expected this.

You must use your skills, Mr. Holmes, and I must use mine.

The information produced from this-- this instance

of state-approved eavesdropping must be handled

by an officer of the court.

The conversation can never be used in evidence.

That's fair.

I believe you have deduced my predicament.

Right at the moment, I am more in the business

of identifying criminals rather than bringing them to justice.

Jeremy, prepare to write a warrant for--

what do you call it?

A wiretap, my lord.

Wiretap is how they secretly refer to it in New York.

Wire tap.

It's marvelous, isn't it?

How technical terms drain all the outrage out of

questionable activities.

Yes, well, begin the document as per usual, Jeremy,

and Mr. Holmes here will help you word the rest.

If you could tell me the name and position of the

person whose telephone you intend to monitor.

Yes, indeed, I have it here.

Dear God.

Steady on, Jeremy.

This request is from Sherlock Holmes.

So, do you think you could summarize

everything we have left to do in order to solve the case of

the Red Thread in its entirety?

As I see it, we have to figure out

how these coachmen from different countries

all became accomplices to their bosses,

Determine what keys Ambassador Anderson was forced to give up

in exchange for Clara.

Solve the mystery of why Weems and Maggott were murdered.

Name the person at Scotland Yard using Chief Inspector

Whitlock's telephone.

Find the missing jewels, locate the hostages.

Figure out what a fleet of new ambulances

for the criminally insane are supposed to be carrying

in their false bottoms.

Connect all of that to my mother's murder

and bring Lady Violet to justice.

Yes, yes, yes, yes.

You left three questions unasked.

Number one, why the attempted abduction

of the Italian ambassador's son?

Done after the murder of your maid,

to see if you would back off after finding a red threat.

Excellent. Superb.

My deduction precisely attests to make sure

I will not break from their distractions again.

Number two, during your attempted abduction,

a man jumped from the carriage and raced away to

a waiting coach, while the driver who kidnapped

you chose to stay behind and missed a chance to get away.

Now, why did he do that?

I have no idea.

No, nor I.

Now, number three, a little more serious.

Before Lord Withersey killed himself,

he went so far as to suggest that the Red Thread were

planning a crime beyond my imagination.

And I fear he may have been right.

Oh, sorry, hydrogen sulfide.

That's a necessary evil, I'm afraid.

If you say so.

Maybe if we just answer one or two of these questions,

then the thread would unravel.

Yes, but don't forget, the thread would have

killed me long ago were I not somehow

vital to their success.

So how am I supposed to help them?

We're not stopping until we can figure that out, are we?

No, no, no, no, no, no.

We will soldier on, and once we have rescued

Watson and Mrs. Hudson, then the true power of

my genius can be put back to its proper use.

and then let the thread beware.

Now, what do you think of my work with the telephone calls

made during our rescue of Clara Anderson?

Mm-hmm.

That's very good.

Thank you.

A few minutes after I reported Charlie the Coachman,

someone at Chief Inspector Whitlock's office

called the Coffin Factory.

Then Whitlock's office immediately rang

up Lord Withersea.

Warning him he was about to welcome Watson and Mrs. Hudson,

not to mention the ambassador's jewels.

Well, now that you have all these names and addresses,

it seems perfectly reasonable to assume

that Dr. Watson and Mrs. Hudson must be at one of them.

I guess you can't ask Scotland Yard for a search warrant

because someone there is involved.

Exactly.

Well, you've arranged the telephone numbers

between the members of the thread in the shape of a tree.

Why not shake it, see what falls out?

Superb suggestion, yes.

An excellent description of my plan.

Shake the tree, but first we must move beyond

how the thread communicate with each other

and get them to talk to us.

I've found a place in Ambassador Anderson's house

where I can hear every word he says in his study.

Amelia.

I'm so proud of you.

Listening to criminals without their knowledge

can be key to solving a mystery.

So after we shake the tree, as you so vividly put it,

the kidnappers must communicate with each other.

And then Watson and Mrs. Hudson will once more be on the move.

Our allies and friends are already strategically placed.

and I will light up the sky with two signals.

One color, representing where Watson and Mrs. Hudson

have been kept, and the other color,

representing where they are going.

So it will be red, the Earl of Dorchester,

where Clarence waits.

Green, the Dowager Duchess of Lincolnshire,

where the big street irregulars are on watch.

Orange, the Brokers and Nigel Parks,

where the Halligans have parked my carriage.

Yellow, the Duke of Leicester, where Bertie guards the drive.

And Violet, well, Lady Violet, who I will place in

your capable hands.

And whilst you go about unnerving her,

I will journey to Scotland Yard and bait the red thread into

helping us rescue my friends.

Swann, I trust I'm not too early.

No, sir, you are just in time to witness the end of my career.

Nonsense, you're not old enough to have a career.

Did you see the name on the warrant,

signed by Lord Salisbury himself?

Yes, and I obeyed it, sir, certain in the knowledge

that no gentleman shall ever speak to me again.

Nonsense. You should not be so lucky.

Now, does this contraption work?

Yes, sir.

I can hear and record every conversation

from the telephone of the chief inspector.

Wonderful. Wonderful.

Wonderful. Now, all that remains

is for me to go and give one of the most

amazing performances in theatrical history.

I regret you cannot attend, but the audience for this spectacle

must be very small.

Afterwards, someone will pick up the telephone

in Chief Inspector Whitlock's office

and ask the operator to dial a number.

You must write this number down, yes?

Yes, sir.

And then, while still recording the conversation,

you must compare this number to all the other numbers

on the list to see to whom they belong.

Do you understand?

The Duke of Leicester?

The Dowager Duchess of Lincolnshire, sir?

This-- Don't fret.

Don't fret.

It will all be over soon.

And now to go upstairs and provoke your superiors.

You are moving up in the world.

Last week you were a scullery maid.

Now, suddenly, dropping in on the daughter of a duke

without so much as an appointment.

I wouldn't dream of disturbing you.

But during the ball for the Italian ambassador's daughter,

Clara misplaced her fan, And some silly girl told

her that you picked it up.

I'm not a housekeeper.

That's more your line of work.

Never mind.

Describe this fan, if you will.

Well, it's very unique.

It -- It unfolds into the designs of a weapon.

A strange armored vehicle with a cannon on top.

The drawing is very detailed.

Almost like a blueprint.

Clara was certain that it would be here.

I am equally certain it is not.

But the fan does sound unique.

If we find it, I will secure it.

Well, you could always tie it shut with a red thread

and call me to pick it up.

Oh, I shall try very hard to see that you get it.

Allow me to have Mr. Hopper show you to the door.

No need.

I know where the door is.

Hopper, have my carriage brought around immediately.

You should have reported these kidnappings to the police.

Happily, I am only an hour or so

from locating Watson and Mrs. Hudson

and ending this dreadful ordeal.

Thank God.

How may we help?

Well, once again, Chief Inspector, you anticipate me.

First, I must return to Baker Street

and await the call of my informant.

In the meantime, if you could have a few

six-man squads standing by.

Surely we should be working together.

I can assume-- - Nonsense, Bullivant.

Why would you demand control over an investigation

you know nothing about?

Of course.

How... How foolish of me.

Rest assured, Mr Holmes, we will put teams of

officers all over the city that we might instantly

respond to your summons.

My thankfulness knows no bounds.

Now that I have your support, Chief Inspector,

our success is assured.

Expect my call shortly.