Original subtitles

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

- Lucia Rojas.

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

- They are preparing to commit

the greatest offense ever conceived.

(gun fires)

- Now that our lordship is gone, my lady,

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

He tried to...

- It is telephony that I wish to study.

- Telephones serve no useful purpose in detection.

Take my rescue of the American ambassador's daughter.

- You also recovered the ambassador's stolen jewels?

- Not yet, no.

I am personally taking over this investigation,

so I'm confident the jewels will be found.

- I'm Michael Wiley.

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

also known as Dan Moriarty.

- I think spying is an ugly word.

- What are you interested in then?

- Your employer's relationship to Professor Moriarty.

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

I'll wait for you tomorrow

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

(dramatic orchestral music) (horse hooves clopping)

(knuckles rapping)

- Come in, Mrs. Halligan,

and bring Detective Swann and his friend with you.

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

- I heard three sets of feet on the stairs,

and it took no great effort to deduce

that the telephone installer Detective Swann promised

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

at half past three in the afternoon.

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

- Mr. Pete Pound, at your service.

(bag thuds)

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

you could always call ahead on my new telephone.

- As you say, sir.

Now, where do you want the device installed?

- Somewhere over here by the desk.

- Mr. Holmes, reconsider.

Bringing that contraption into your rooms

will be the end of your privacy.

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

Imagine connecting to the whole wide world

while sitting comfortably in your parlor.

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

or even speak to distant relatives and friends.

It's quite marvelous.

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

(footsteps pounding)

- Sorry, sir.

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

- It's no problem, Mr. Halligan.

I was expecting these young men.

Yes, sure. What is it?

- Sorry to come unannounced, Mr. Holmes,

but we found that Michael Wiley you were looking for.

- Wonderful, wonderful.

Detective Swann,

I assume you can finish this installation without me.

- Yes, of course. Mr. Holmes.

- And Mr. And Mrs. Halligan,

I will leave you in command and now,

Shaw, if you and your friends

could please introduce me to Mr. Wiley.

(dramatic orchestral music) (diners chattering)

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

Am I permitted to say how much I

was looking forward to seeing you?

- You can keep your flowers.

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

anything about Mr. Holmes.

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

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

Your name is Dan Moriarty and your father

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

who was talking about you

as I walked out the door this morning.

- Please, please. People will hear.

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

- No, no, no, no.

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

(knuckles rapping)

(dramatic orchestral music)

- Mrs. Halligan,

please make sure that neither Detective Swann nor Mr. Pound

enter this room for the next few minutes.

- Of course, sir. (footsteps tapping)

- Now I demand an explanation

for your reprehensible behavior.

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

Now on our journey over here,

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

Do you deny it?

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

Before you leave here today,

I must be satisfied with your answers.

- It's a long story Mr. Holmes.

- Well, feel free to summarize.

As your father has learned, to his cost,

my ability to extrapolate

from limited information may surprise you.

- It's with my father the story begins.

After my mother died,

my father was consumed with grief and work.

Left to my own devices,

I was adopted by a band of thieves who tricked me

into picking peoples' pockets for their benefit.

- Another missing chapter from Oliver Twist.

- I had little skill as a thief,

and at the age of nine I was arrested.

- But you were just a child.

- The Crown saw it differently.

They bundled me off to Australia and I was sold

as an indentured servant to an isolated sheep farm.

- Well, how could they do such a thing?

- There was a plague of juvenile delinquents

in London and a labor shortage in Australia,

and the decision to solve one of these problems

with the other was both inhumane and extremely popular.

Politics. - They emptied the jails, yes,

but they also emptied the poor houses and the orphanages.

Little kids torn from their families,

exiled halfway around the world,

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

- I know a lot about forced child labor.

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

- Surely you were never treated so badly.

- I could have been...

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

How long were you living in forced servitude?

- Took me 14 months to escape

and change my name to Michael Wiley,

and 14 years of constant application in order to obtain a

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

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

Not long after arriving here, however,

I discovered that Professor James Moriarty

was not teaching mathematics,

but is the master of a vast criminal empire,

and sentenced to prison.

- Where he insists you visit him.

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

I hope that Father and I will be reunited,

but should I visit him under his current circumstances,

my employer might discover who I really am and--

- Your job and your future would be forfeit.

- Imagine, abandoned by your father.

Growing up the child of a man

who didn't seem to know you existed.

- Yes. How awful.

Amelia, please go upstairs and pack your belongings.

- What? Why?

- Well, as we discussed,

you'll be moving to the ambassador's household

as chaperone to his daughter.

- But I thought--

- We will review this great good change

in your personal fortunes once you have packed.

(inquisitive orchestral music) (door slams)

- Mr. Holmes, please.

I beg you. Hear me out.

- Oh, hello.

Detective Swann of the Scotland Yard Scientific Division.

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

- Are you here to consult Mr. Holmes?

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

to supervise the installation of his new telephone.

Have you ever used one before?

- No. - No?

- Not yet. - Oh!

Well, if you'd ever like to practice,

just call this number.

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

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

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

Sorry to delay you. (footsteps tapping)

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

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

should you bring more accusations against him,

which I believe you would, if you could.

- On that point, you speak truthfully.

If the law allowed,

I would keep the professor behind bars forever.

That, alas, is beyond my ability.

What I can do, however,

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

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

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

I am ordering you--

- Under what authority?

- You just released her from your employment.

- I'll not argue the point!

A foreigner of mixed heritage without rank or position

cannot afford to associate herself

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

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

He insists you visit him.

- I'm only a clerk on the exchange.

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

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

you can manage to see your father.

- Sir! I told him to stay outside.

- Perhaps I should finish another day.

I'll be available again three weeks from tomorrow.

This is preposterous that a paying customer

should be so ill-used.

Very well, Mr. Pound, continue your work.

Any last words, Mr. Wiley?

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

Mr. Holmes, mistaking current circumstances

for future prospects.

Perhaps time will reveal just

how much you underestimated my abilities.

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

I should like to say that Amelia

refused a considerable sum to spy on you.

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

to say under the circumstances.

Mrs. Halligan, please show our guest out.

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

- You nearly finished Mr. Pound?

- Oh sure. Extremely close.

(footsteps tapping)

(curtains rattling)

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

It's completely unfair.

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

Well, you keep things from me all the time.

- Your move to the ambassador's household was settled

long before I discovered you with Mr. Moriarty,

about whom I will say only this.

You're newly arrived in London and young men

will take ruthless advantage of naive young girls.

I beg you do not encourage his attentions.

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

I know we talked about me working with the Andersons,

but this just feels like you're punishing me

for jumping down after you told me not

to confront anyone for following me.

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

and you ought to have admitted it sooner,

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

It is an accommodation with the Andersons

that I could not refuse.

Once you're inside the ambassador's household,

then you will no longer be overtly connected to me

and the risk to your life should diminish.

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

Now remember, she was released by her kidnappers

in exchange for keys, but keys to what?

Now, we must protect Clara.

We don't know which keys the ambassador

traded for her return,

and Charlie, the coachman, is lost to us.

So Clara is our best connection to The Thread,

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

and identify your mother's killer,

then we must seize every opportunity thrown our way

and your position in the ambassador's household

increases our reach.

Now, this will be my telephone number

whenever this interminable installation ends.

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

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

And Amelia, remember, Lord Willacy killed himself

to escape The Red Thread and to spare his family,

so please, please stay on your guard.

(sentimental orchestral music) (footsteps tapping)

(door unlatches) (door latches)

- Each of you is either a foreigner

or a merchant's daughter,

disadvantaged by birth and class.

You may depend on it when I tell you posture is

synonymous with nobility.

Men of rank can spot a slump shoulder

from across a ballroom.

Everyone one step forward,

two steps back.

Again. Head erect, faint smile.

One step forward, two steps back.

This is what it means to be a lady.

Now-- (book thuds)

Now,

while maintaining your balance,

suggest a suitable topic for a lady

to discuss with a gentleman.

Clara? - Art.

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

Gentleman may disagree with what you like.

Emma. - Politics.

- Absolutely not.

The gentleman might share his opinions. They often do.

Ladies are above these mundane concerns.

Over brandy and cigars, men

believe they control the world,

but we will control them, ladies,

and that is our path to power.

(books thudding)

God. That will be all for the day.

Clara, I should like to talk

with you privately for a moment.

Someone gather up all the books

and put them back where they belong.

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

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

There you are,

still first in line in case one appears

and the season might extend,

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

I have a plan.

(Emma shrieks) (body thuds)

(all gasping)

- Oh, my gosh! Clara, help me!

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

- Somebody, help Emma! (bell rings)

- She's dead. - Oh my gosh.

(dramatic orchestral music) (women chattering nervously)

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

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

- Oh, how so? - The young woman

who helped rescue the ambassador's daughter

is none other than your maid.

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

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

- What can Miss Rojas possibly have to do

with 50,000 pounds worth of stolen jewel?

- Well you asked the same question

of Lord Willacy a few days ago,

and three murders and one suicide later.

- I had no idea Willacy was in financial distress.

Today I'll admit his involvement seems more probable.

- Willacy's complicity was never less than conspicuous,

but I hardly think he killed three men

before shooting himself.

- It's a pity, his coachmen,

O'Leary of Belfast, was murdered.

He would've made an excellent suspect.

The police say he is a revolutionary dedicated

to overthrowing the crown.

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

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

- Alas, no.

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

You suggested we share information,

yet I've done all the talking

and you've done nothing but listen.

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

Nevertheless, I'll take my turn.

Well, the two other dead men you found

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

in fact, Clara Anderson's fellow hostages,

but accomplices to her kidnapper,

all murdered by the largest

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

attempting a crime which appears to be,

absurd as it may sound, beyond my imagination.

- This is the same syndicate with whom your maid

has some personal enemies.

- They also murdered her mother whilst the two

of them were living in California.

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

for the missing jewels you have

ever come across a weapon such as this?

- I'm afraid not.

Why haven't you followed up these allegations yourself?

- People are watching me, Bertie.

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

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

quite so thrilling.

- Well, they are to me.

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

- Five pairs of footprints and a button.

- Well, that sounds promising.

- May well be, Mr. Holmes.

May well be. Follow me.

- I understand the wilderness

was poor training for civilization,

but a servant may never demand help of an employer.

- Emma just died. (dramatic orchestral music)

- Be careful, little girl.

Like the lion in the jungle,

we did not turn the world into an empire

without very sharp claws.

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

(footsteps tapping)

- You can see the first set of prints belonged

to a man with a slight limp.

The second set belonged to a woman

who stumbled once or twice in her journey.

These two sets of prints vanished

next to the tracks of a large carriage,

which rolled out the driveway headed to London.

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

but there's no way to tell.

- Oh, well there is.

The button is not weathered. Yes?

So freshly lost, but not by accident.

Note how the thread broke.

This has been yanked deliberately from a man's waistcoat

and left behind as a talisman for us to follow.

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

- That's kind of you to say.

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

- Not what, but whom.

You see how the button is mother of pearl

and the fabric to which it was sewn was broadcloth?

So this comes from the wardrobe of a professional fellow,

and you see how there is a dent across the front

where it WAs regularly bumped against metal,

such as one might find on a stethoscope?

This button, Bertie, is proof of life,

and I shall regard the moment you gave it to me

as the first truly hopeful sign in many weeks.

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

Shall we proceed together?

- If whilst continuing your search for the missing jewels,

you could quickly verify the recent murder of Lucia Rojas

outside the city of Los Angeles

and confirm that Amelia is indeed her daughter,

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

Until then,

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

And on that note, I bid you farewell.

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

(door latches)

Friends with Sherlock Holmes, eh?

Imagine that.

(inquisitive orchestral music)

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

Dead, just like that.

And Lady Violet seems so indifferent.

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

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

and at dancing too.

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

so I can one day show my own daughter.

Emma's was quite beautiful

and she was so looking forward to the 18th.

Now...

(Clara sobbing) (tense orchestral music)

- I did not ask you to grease the top step

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

Clara could wait another year to debut,

except for your intrigues, which I have advised against.

No, you listen to me.

My daughter will not have her ball on the 18th

unless I have received the full settlement

for the jewels two days prior.

I have focused on my part of this enterprise.

Use your authority so that the insurance company pays me

immediately for my losses, or else suffer the consequences.

I bid you goodnight. (telephone slams)

(tense orchestral music) (footsteps tapping)

(door unlatches) (door creaks)

(candle sizzling) (door latches)

(floor creaking)

(door unlatches) (door creaks)

(door latches) (tense orchestral music)

(telephone rattles) (numbers rattling)

- Hello, operator? Can you ring Marlybone 15?

- You mean Marylebone? - Yes. Yes.

- [Operator] One moment.

I'm sorry,

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

(telephone clicks)

- Mr. Pound. I must demand an explanation.

You told me this telephone will be operational yesterday.

- If you don't want me to finish,

call the other telephone company.

Oh, wait. There is no other telephone company.

(inquisitive orchestral music)

- Your friend seems to take great pride

in ridiculing his customers.

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

than the other installers, sir.

- While he finishes,

let us compare these two telephone bills,

one listing calls to and from the late Lord Willacy,

and the other documenting all the calls

in Chief Inspector Whitlock's office.

Now, we will cross reference the numbers

to see which of them appear on both

and perhaps we can begin

to identify some of our conspirators.

- But sir, should we not have a warrant

to study private telephone bills?

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

I recognize no authority higher than my own curiosity,

and this bill was handed to me

by Chief Inspector Whitlock himself.

We are on firm legal ground.

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

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

Now, (hands clap)

as you know, the residence of the Italian ambassador

lacks a proper ballroom,

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

starting in the late afternoon due to the ambassador's

inability to comprehend our customs.

For now, however,

I have invited some young men with whom you might practice

what we shall-- - Young men!

- Charitably refer to as your dancing.

(girls giggling)

While these boys are not marriageable in any sense,

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

they know the steps.

Come. (footsteps tapping)

Like this, see? (lively violin music)

Isn't it lovely?

Eleanor, please hold your head up when you move

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

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

(Violet gagging)

You clumsy oaf.

(footsteps tapping)

- I did not ask you to grease the top step

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

- All done, sir,

you may now use your telephone at your leisure.

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

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

with such specialized knowledge you might know how

to identify a customer from their telephone number alone.

- As it so happens, I can do that.

- Ah, wonderful. Please explain.

- Just call them up and ask their name.

Will there be anything else, sir?

- Apparently not. See yourself out.

(telephone rattling)

- Some inconvenience, but think, sir,

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

- Hello, operator, could you please connect me

to Belgravia 4-8-3?

I cannot believe I've paid a company

to treat me with such incivility.

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

Oh, hello, this is the Department of Lost Property

at Paddington Station.

I was calling about that three volume novel

which you reported missing.

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

No, the Dowager Duchess of Lincolnshire!

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

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

and here you are lying to a complete stranger.

- Wasn't a lie.

It was a simple misdirectional note.

It yielded the information we seek,

a name attached to one of the many telephones used

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

Let's try again. (telephone dial rattling)

- No. Ugh.

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

Those of a delicate sensibility

might want to leave the room.

Oh yes, yes.

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

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

about cleaning his carpets with my new patented...

Hello?

(telephone slams)

They both called the same stockbroker.

The game is afoot. - Justice is no game,

Mr. Holmes.

You've taken an invention designed

to more closely connect the world

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

- Criminals have already corrupted your precious telephone.

With lives at stake,

I have little choice but to follow their example.

(telephone dialing)

Yes. Hello?

Operator, could you please connect me to Kensington 19?

Go and prepare yourself for greater shocks.

There is worse to come.

Go on. (exciting orchestral music)

(door slams)

(telephone dial rattling) (chalk scraping)

(telephone slamming)

(dramatic orchestral music)

(chalk scraping)

Dr. Collier. Wait, there's more.

If you did subscribe to horse and hound,

we would add the strand.

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

Oh, Ravencrest Asylum for the Criminally Insane.

Sorry, doctor. Well, perhaps for visitors?

(telephone receiver clacks)

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

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

- Nice to see you again, Miss Rojas.

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

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

(inquisitive orchestral music)

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

in exchange for this weird dancing.

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

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

these snobby girls,

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

I only accepted for a chance of seeing you,

and then you left. (footsteps tapping)

You upset with me?

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

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

to play nurserymaid to a boy-crazy girl?

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

without considering it could do you harm.

I offer my sincerest apologies.

Are you at least better paid

than when you were with Mr. Holmes?

- Not everybody chooses their job based on their salary.

Besides, I work too much to spend it.

(telephone ringing)

- Hello?

I said hello.

- Oh, hello, ma'am.

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

and I was wondering if you might offer--

- Why Sherlock Holmes, you rascal!

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

- Oh, how annoying.

I was hoping my vocal disguise would hold up long enough

to receive one of your legendary reprimands.

- I should tell you off,

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

- Well to say how wonderful it was

to see you in person last week.

- [Violet] Oh, how very kind.

- [Sherlock] And also to ask if Miss Rojas

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

- I would hardly describe the girl as sophisticated,

but she does take her responsibility seriously.

Would you care to see your former maid in action?

I'm throwing an afternoon ball

for the daughter of the Italian ambassador's debut.

I will send you an invitation at once.

- An afternoon ball? - Come, please.

- Very well. I'll come.

But do you not find these debutante balls

to be a series of pretentious bores?

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

of aristocrats,

except by surrounding them with pretentious bores?

Now I must go.

I look forward to seeing you, Sherlock.

4 P.M., please. Au revoir.

(telephone slams)

(dramatic orchestral music)

(footsteps tapping)

(knife clangs)

(chalk scraping)

(inquisitive orchestral music)

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

but it'll do you good to be

amongst the quality for an afternoon, Mr. Holmes.

Dancing?

Music? - Yes.

Without stimulating conversation,

perhaps because the afternoon will be spent without it.

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

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

- I don't believe it would be proper

for me to mind, Mr. Holmes.

(buzzer ringing)

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

(footsteps tapping) (floor creaking)

(Sherlock sighs) (footsteps tapping)

(chalkboard rattling)

(knuckles rapping)

- Good afternoon, Sherlock. - Ah, Bertie.

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

- Yes. Yes.

Sadly, I have been asked out for the afternoon.

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

- Indeed, I have.

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

then no official investigation followed.

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

possibly an Englishman,

I suppose since the girl was born six months

after the Wild West Show completed its London run.

- Six months? Are you certain?

- Quite certain.

I was able to determine the date through an exchange

with no less a personage than Buffalo Bill himself,

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

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

It was her Wild West show nom de guerre.

Excuse me.

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

I cannot say.

We must at least consider her to be an imposter.

For a near penniless girl,

she did quite well out of all these arrangements.

- Yes.

Nevertheless, I'm grateful to you for establishing

as many of these facts as possible.

Very grateful. - Oh, it was my pleasure.

And there was also a series of telegrams sent overseas.

- Yes. (throat clears)

Oh yes. (coins clinking)

There we go. - Thank you.

You learned anything else?

- No.

Just that there is some connection between the theft

of the jewels and someone of rank at Scotland Yard.

- Well, I'm not surprised.

With 50,000 pounds to distribute,

I mean, one could bribe the entire police force.

Couldn't one? (Sherlock laughs)

- Yes.

- You are holding out on me, Sherlock.

- I am.

Though others might consider you a pompous windbag,

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

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

Come along. (door slams)

The jewels will only be found by bringing

down the criminal syndicate that has stolen them,

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

dear fellow, watch your step.

(horse hooves clopping)

(Clara gasps)

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

It's like a fairy tale!

- Only you, Miss Anderson, not your servant.

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

- The foreign girl must stay outdoors during the ball.

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

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

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

- Miss Anderson please. - Please.

- But I need her--

- Don't draw attention to yourself, Clara.

It's just a party.

Just don't dance with the same boy twice,

or get pulled away from the crowd.

Okay? - Okay.

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

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

(lively orchestral music)

- The daughter of the American Ambassador

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

(horse hooves clopping)

(inquisitive orchestral music)

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

- That's the least of it.

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

She's deeply--

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

- No, it's much more than that.

- Come.

(gravel crunching) (inquisitive orchestral music)

(lively orchestral music)

- Miss Anderson.

We meet again. - We do indeed.

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

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

- Of course, but only one dance.

I've been ordered to mingle.

- And you are certain

about the weaponry in Lady Violet's parlor?

The same design as the knife

left behind in your mother's body?

- As certain as you are

that the button found by Mr. Birtwistle

belongs to Dr. Watson.

- We're closing in on them, Amelia.

Perhaps separating you from Clara

was more than just snobbery.

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

Clara is...

So impressionable.

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

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

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

She was really kind to me when we met.

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

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

Even if it was just for a minute.

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

Anyway. (horse hooves clopping)

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

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

Extremely sorry. Yeah.

- It's all right Mr. Holmes.

I'm still getting to know you,

so I didn't take it personally.

Also, you told me someone needs to

keep watch over Clara and I can't now.

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

We will save the subject of Lady Violet for later.

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

- These people don't spend time

talking to servants, Mr. Holmes.

I'm sure someone's watching us.

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

- Quite right. I won't be long.

(birds chirping) (gravel crunching)

- Mr. Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street, London.

- It's him! - Oh, my.

- Holmes. - Sherlock Holmes.

(lively orchestral music)

(guests chattering)

(footsteps tapping)

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

- Well done. Now, excuse me briefly.

I must check the ballroom

and chide my students on their wretched dancing.

Chase me down later.

- On that, you have my word.

(coachman gasping)

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

- Are you okay?

- Shall we visit the ballroom

and take your first waltz?

- Thank you, Mr. Wiley.

I will always remember you were the first

to ask me to dance,

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

- Miss Anderson, you cannot be leaving so quickly.

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

but I'm afraid, I must say farewell.

My chaperone was forced to remain with the carriages,

and I cannot enjoy myself inside

while my friend is outside in the cold.

- Are you okay? (Amelia groaning)

(dramatic orchestral music)

(reins jingling)

(Amelia grunting) (feet pounding)

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

Excuse me.

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

I beg your pardon, Miss Anderson.

(glass shattering)

- Help! Help me!

Help! (dramatic orchestral music)

Help! Hey! Anyone, please!

Help! - Come on!

- [Amelia] Help!

(gun fires) (horse nickers)

(gravel crunching)

(dramatic orchestral music)

(Amelia gasping)

(inquisitive orchestral music)

- Ah.

(Amelia sighs)

(lively orchestral music)