All language subtitles for The.Sheep.Detectives.2026.2160p.AMZN.WEB-DL.Multi.DDP5.1.Atmos.DV.HDR.H.265-4kHDHub.Com.srt - eng(5)

Dearest Rebecca:

I know
you have many questions.

So do I.

After all,
life is a mystery.

But if there's one answer

to all the great
riddles of the universe,

one secret to happiness,

I propose
it would be simply this...

- Sheep.
-

No, seriously.

It really is sheep.

Okay, I'm coming.

Now
in your last letter,

you asked me if any
of my sheep were special.

Well, they're all special.

That's why I gave
each one a name.

- For instance:

There are these
rowdy twin rams

I've named Ronnie and Reggie.

And the very proud
and dignified Sir Ritchfield.

Cloud, the fluffiest.

- Bit of a diva, that one.

Zora, the most curious.

- Mopple, the most patient.

And Wool-Eyes...

Well, because I haven't
thought of a better name.

And, okay, I know I said
they're all special,

but I have to admit

that two of my sheep
are the most special.

There's Sebastian.

My biggest ram,

and like me, bit of a loner.

Sooner or later
he wanders away.

And sooner or later
he comes back.

And finally, Lily.

My smartest sheep.

The one
who always seems to know

what I'm thinking in my head

and feeling in my heart.

Above all others,

she brings me
the kind of peace

that only shepherds know.

A peace that comes

from taking care of
the kindest creatures

on earth.

Each day starts
by tending to their health.

I keep them
well-fed...

- well-groomed.

I do my best
to keep them entertained.

♪ When I wake up
Well, I know I'm gonna be ♪

♪ I'm gonna be the man
who wakes up next to you ♪

And I make sure
they get their medicine,

which I think
they'd say they enjoy...

if only they could speak.

Time for your medicine, mate.
There ya go.

And when my chores
are finished

and the sun starts to sink
low in the sky,

I choose a book
to read out loud to them.

Detective novels, mysteries,
whodunits. All my favorites.

"I know when

Rodney Hollingshead
was murdered,

and I know
who the real killer was."

- I like to pretend

that they
follow along with the story.

But I know in my heart that,
as special as they are,

they're still...

- sheep.
-

No, no more.

Go on, the lot of you.

I'll read the ending tomorrow.

Why would
he stop there?!

He was just about to say

who the killer was!

This is torture!
It was the maid, right?

Of course it's the maid.

No, no, no,
it was the gardener.

Always cutting the grass
but never eating any?

Yeah. Suspicious.

Are you all nuts?
The doctor did it.

No way.
It was the creepy aunt.

The creepy aunt
was three stories ago, genius.

How do we have
the same parents?!

Oh, here we go.

Right.

Oh, they're off again.

You're all wrong.

I figured it out
two chapters ago.

Mmm-hmm, mmm-hmm.
The maid, right?

Not the maid.

The nephew,
Bertie Hollingshead.

But, Lily,
didn't the detective prove

all the evidence against
Bertie Hollingshead

had been forged
by the real killer?

Exactly.

Don't you see?

To escape conviction, he
forged the evidence himself.

Bertie Hollingshead
was the real killer.

What'd
you do that for?

George is gonna
finish the story tomorrow.

You'll see.

I still think it's the maid.

"Bertie knew
all about the law

that said a person cannot be
prosecuted twice

for the same crime.

And so, to escape conviction,

he forged the evidence
himself.

Bertie Hollingshead
was the real killer."

Now most of my sheep
seem to spend their day

either eating,

or thinking about eating.

But I have three
rambunctious lambs

with boundless energy.

Happy,
carefree little creatures

who were born in the spring.

Actually, almost all lambs
are born in the spring.

And then, there's my one lamb
who was born in the winter.

Huh?

Oh. Hello.

- I'm Daisy.
- I'm Oliver.

- I'm Pickles.
- What's your name?

Mmm, I don't have a name.

Do you want to play with us?

No! Shoo!

You're not to play
with that winter lamb.

He doesn't belong
in this flock.

For reasons that
only make sense to a sheep,

- a flock will often reject...
-

...a lamb
born in the winter.

It's okay. Oh, come here.

- Just because a winter lamb...
-

- ...is different.
- You're okay.

Oh, that's it. Good.

I have a question.

Why is George always so nice
to that lamb?

George isn't a sheep.

No one's ever taught him
about winter lambs.

Oh,
and one last thing,

if you accept my invitation,

you should know that I live
near a town called Denbrook.

It has its own special types.

For instance...

Morning, Caleb.

Caleb,
also a shepherd.

Good morning, ladies.

Don't like him.

Ham, the butcher.

Really don't like him.

- Beth, the innkeeper.
-

Doesn't like me.

Ugh! I could kill that man.

- Tim, the policeman.

An idiot.

And Reverend Hillcoate,

who fancies himself
a shepherd of men.

We have
a complicated relationship.

And now today's reading:
the Parable

of the Lost Sheep.

George,
have you come to join us?

All are welcome
in the house of the Lord.

Even butchers, hmm?

I'm not here to join you.

I'm here to settle a debt.

Good ol' George.

Good ol' George.

But enough
about the people.

I want you to meet my flock.

They're longing to see you.

And so am I.

Please come soon.

Love, George.

Cloud?

- Mmm-hmm?
- I have a question.

Will dandelions
make my eyelashes

pretty like yours?

No, they do nothing
for the lashes.

But they do wonders
for the wool.

Just look at Wool-Eyes.

He eats nothing
but dandelions.

Oh, is that what these are?
Mm-kay.

We should save some of those
dandelions for Sebastian.

He's been gone for days.

Who cares?

Ever since George brought him
here from who knows where,

he keeps wandering off
into that town.

Let him go hungry.

Just because
he doesn't care about us

doesn't mean we shouldn't care
about him.

Sebastian's part of our flock.

Oh, oh, look! It's Caleb!

Doggies!

Doggies, doggies,

doggies, doggies, doggies.

Caleb!
Over here!

Oh, I always love
the way he smells.

It's his woolen sweaters.

Mmm...
They're so beautifully dyed.

- Can I come in?
- Go away!

I'm coming in.

It's so new
and beautiful and shiny.

Are you thinking
what I'm thinking?

- I wanna bash it!
- I wanna bash it so bad!

Reggie! Ronnie!

We've been over this.

We don't bash things
unless...?

Unless
there's a legitimate

cause for bashing.

There ya go.

This is Caleb's
third visit this month.

There's only one thing

they could be talking about
in there.

Combining flocks.

- Combining flocks!
- New sheep.

- New fields!
- Doggies?

I am
thinking about it!

I gave you a chance
and you lied to me, Caleb!

And don't come back.

Whoops, sounds like we won't
be combining flocks, then.

I felt so happy.

And now I feel sad and upset.

I want to forget
this happened!

You're right.
It's too disappointing.

Okay, everyone?

We will choose to forget
Caleb's entire visit

on the count of three.

One. Two--

But what about Mopple?
He can't forget things.

Why not?

Poor Mopple.

He was born
with a terrible affliction.

Unlike the rest of us,

he cannot choose
to forget things.

Oh, yeah.

Mopple, once we've forgotten,

please do not remind us
that this happened.

Are you sure, though?
It really wasn't that bad.

No. But it wasn't
that good, either.

So why bother?

Ready?

One.

Two.

Three.

- Cloud?
- Mmm-hmm?

I have a question.

Will dandelions
make my eyelashes

pretty like yours?

No, they do nothing
for the lashes.

But they do wonders
for the wool.

I'm fine.

I will be fine, I promise.

It's just...

I don't know.

Well, because I was hoping

things would
be different soon.

But you don't have to worry.

You'll be okay.

And I'll be okay too.

Hiya.

Oh. Hello, hello.
Anything exciting?

Not much post for a Monday.
Just bills and junk.

George.
Who's he sending letters to?

Well, I shouldn't
say anything, but...

A Miss Rebecca Hampstead.
In America.

Whoever she is,
they've been mailing

back and forth for months now.

And...

Go on.

Smell it.

Rose-scented paper.

They're love letters.

Can you believe it?

Grouchy-pants George Hardy,
a corny old romantic.

Who knew.

Corny George.

Yeah.

- Take care.
- Yeah, you too.

Bye!

- Hello! Hi!
- Hello!

I am just in from the city

for the
Denbrook Cultural Festival.

Oh, fantastic.

This is it.

Follow me.

This is what.

Welcome to the
Denbrook Cultural Festival.

-
You're joking.

What?
This is our town's heritage.

What...

Wha is... Return...
Return to Oz?

Yeah, that's the best film
ever made.

And they shot it
just 40 miles down the road.

Most people agree
it's better than the original.

Never seen it.

Who hasn't seen
Return to Oz?

Okay, I'm sorry. Why would you
make a huge banner for this?

I want people to come.

Hardly a festival
without people.

Oh no,
it's not a festival at all.

No. It's just some tables.

Are you telling me
how to run my business?

No.

You're right. I'm sorry.

We got off
on the wrong foot there.

Um...

My name is Elliot Matthews.

I'm a reporter
for the Gazette.

Junior reporter.

Okay. Fine.
I work on the obituaries desk.

But I've been looking
for a real story for so long,

and my features editor
gave me this:

The Denbrook
Cultural Festival.

- So? Sounds like a dream.
- Yeah, that's pretty cool.

I'm not gonna get a promotion
writing about this, am I? No.

- Too bad.
- Hmm...

Ten. Cash.

For what?

- Admission fee.
- Admission fee.

Oh...

Ten.

Take--

Take all of it.

Just--

Weirdo.

Where's George?
Where's our nighttime story?

He should've come out by now.

Aw, that sound is nothing
to be frightened of.

Sir Ritchfield?

Yes, it's time you were told,
little lambs,

for this is the way of things.

All those clouds
were once sheep,

just like you and me.

And when they see
the ground has become too dry,

they begin to dance.

Big booming noises

as they kick the rain
out of the sky

to make the grass
and clover grow.

Do all sheep become clouds?

Yes, Pickles. All of us.

I'll become a cloud one day,

just like my parents did
before me.

Even though...

for some reason,

I can't remember
what it was like

when my parents
turned into clouds.

Mopple,
you remember everything.

That day must
have been wonderful, right?

Um...

Well, yes. Of course.

They said goodbye

and joyously floated off
into the sky,

becoming two beautiful
fluffy clouds

looking down upon us all

with love.

Forever.

Thank you.

Mmm-hmm...

And there it is!

Just as it should be.

Yes.

Everything
is just as it should be.

On the bright side,

you picked the perfect time
to wind up here.

It's the Denbrook
Cultural Festival!

You lucky thing!

Well, I went
last weekend with my sister,

and we had some local cheese.

And it was much better
than anything

you could buy in those fancy
cheese stores in the city.

My sister said that I'm--

Did you see that?

See what?

Yay! You're awake!

I've asked you
a number of times

not to do this.

We forgot!

We forgot.

Of course you did.

Look at that!

- Wait for me!
- Wait, slow down!

♪ When I wake up ♪

♪ I'm gonna be the man
who wakes up next-- ♪

Lily? What are you--?

I think it's a game.
Don't move.

The first one who moves loses.

He's not playing a game.

Well, then, what's he doing?

Uh...

Lily.

He's...

He's dead.

George is dead.

Wha--? What do you mean dead?

That's not real.

That's just in books.

It is real?

People die?

Will he turn into a cloud?

No. Only sheep do that.

- "Dead"?
- "Dead"?

That's a real thing?

It appears so.

Does that mean sheep can die?

No, Pickles,
we turn into clouds, but--

George can't be dead.

I need my medicine.
I have orf.

What's orf?

This is orf.

That's gross!

I don't think any of you
understand what I'm saying.

George is gone.

He's never coming back.

But George was our shepherd.
What will we do?

Yes, you're the smartest sheep
in the world, Lily.

Tell us what to do!

There's only one thing
we can do.

We have to forget George.

What? But, Lily, it's George.
We can't just rem--

Remembering him
hurts too much. I can't do it.

She's right.

Sheep are not meant
to feel such things.

We must choose to forget.

On the count of three.

But hold on. Don't--

One.

No, please don't! It's George!

Two.

You'll
forget nothing.

Sebastian.

Did you really think
that I would let you

forget my shepherd so easily?

He was our
shepherd, Sebastian.

We all loved him.

It's too painful to bear.

And we're going to forget.

No, you won't.

You'll remember him
because it's right.

Because it's just.

Just what?

No, not ju-- I mean justice.

Just us what?

Jus-tice. Justice.

It means the good should
not be harmed by the bad.

The weak should not be harmed
by the strong.

And a friend
should never be forgotten.

George showed me justice once.

He deserves it in return.

It's true.

George was always
so kind to me.

To all of you.

It's why he raised you
only for your wool.

Why else
would anyone raise sheep?

No other reason.
Just the wool.

Only the lovely wool.

Ooh! I have a question.

What's the meaning
of human life

if it can all just end one day
in the blink of an eye?

In fact,
why are humans here at all?

And who made them?
And who made us?

And what's inside a tree

and where does the moon go
during the day?

And why was George murdered?

"Murdered"?
What do you mean "murdered"?

In the nighttime stories,

the dead people
are always murdered.

No, no, Zora.

Those are all pretend.
This is real.

Isn't that right, Lily?

Yes, exactly.

There's no reason
to think that George was--

His hat.

I came by to have him sign
some papers

and found him like this.

Would you like
to say a few words?

No.

Caleb.

What's the butcher doing here?

Five.

Six.

He wants the sheep.

Fifteen.

Sixteen.

Lily. What are you up to?

It may be nothing...

but I can't stop thinking

about George's hat
and raincoat.

What hat and raincoat?

Exactly.

He came out in a storm.
Why didn't he put them on?

Unless...

Boost me up.

What?

I said,
I wish I could forget this.

Do you see anything?

I see everything.

Excuse me?

Morning.

I'm sorry, what are you
still doing in town?

Car troubles. Who's this?

His name's George Hardy.
He's a shepherd.

What happened?

Probably a heart attack.

Not much of a story for you,
I'm afraid.

Unless there's anything
out of the ordinary. Right?

Nope.
And I've looked everywhere.

Around the caravan.

Underneath the caravan.

What about inside the caravan?

Mmm...

Worth a shot.

Oh, maybe it wouldn't do...

What?

There's fingerprints, innit?

Right. Forensics.

Yep.

Well, all looks in order.

Wait, hang on, hang on.

Why would a man
having a heart attack

just get up and walk outside?

Probably outside
when it happened.

No, no. It happened here.

He knocked his chair over.

And he wasn't alone.

And he wasn't alone.

Come on, mate.

It was a heart attack.

Seems to me that you're
willfully ignoring the fact

there is evidence
to suggest otherwise.

What are you saying?
That I'm scared it's a murder?

Are you?

Please.

I wish there was
a murder in Denbrook.

I wish there was
a murder a day.

Nothing would make me happier.

Look, I know you need a story
for your big newspaper career.

But I'm sorry...

George Hardy was not murdered.

George Hardy was murdered.

The policeman
said it was murder?

No. The policeman
said it was a heart attack.

But he's wrong.

Oh. So it's not really murder.

It's just a wild guess
made by a barnyard animal.

Okay.

George was visited by someone

he knew well enough
to offer a drink.

He then got sick.

The failure of his guest
to alert anyone

suggests that
they were responsible,

and the lack of visible injury
suggests poison.

The grassy green stain
on his hand

points to a struggle.

The killer escaped.

George succumbed
to the poison and died.

I never guess.

- Hmm...
- The policeman

is completely hopeless,
the way they always are

in the nighttime stories.

That's why someone else
has to come along

and solve the crime.

Who?

George fed us.

George cared for us.

George loved us.

We owe him everything.

What are you saying?

Our shepherd
has been murdered.

And we shall solve the crime.

What's so funny?

Oh, wow.

To start with...

you're sheep!

He's talking about you.

You all think you're
smart enough to solve a crime?

Do you know what humans call
stupid people

who can't think
for themselves?

Ducks!

Sheep!

And you. The "smartest
sheep in the world."

Where have you been
"in the world"?

Over here? And over there?

Please.

Just go back to your hay

and your dandelions
and your naps

and leave the murder cases
to the humans.

So. Shall we begin?

Look for clues.
Don't disturb any evidence.

And no eating the crime scene!

Hey, what is this?

Guys! I may be inside a clue!

Ow!

Oh, gosh. Hello?

Okay, let's just
forget about the clues.

Did anyone see anything
the night of the murder?

I did.

I saw you, Sebastian.

Sebastian did it!

Murderer!

Right. I did it.

I went in a door
I don't fit through,

sat in a chair
that won't hold me,

and I killed my own shepherd
for no reason

by delicately squeezing

droplets of poison
into his glass

using this.

- He has a point.
- What's happening?

Did any of you see any people?

I saw George's ghost.

- No, you didn't.
- I did.

The ghost got up
from his body.

I mean, I couldn't see it
very well in the dark,

but it smelled
like George and--

Please, Winter Lamb,

this is not the time.

Bells? But there were
bells two days ago.

They use the bells
to call town gatherings.

This is about George.

Of course!

In the nighttime stories,

there's always a gathering
to announce the murder.

And the killer
is always among them.

We need to be there.

You think you're brave enough
to leave home?

None of you
have ever left this meadow.

Your hooves have never touched
anything but grass.

What's so hard
about leaving home?

We're not scared.

- Mopple, what is that?
- I think it's a road.

But what is it made of?

Well, not grass,
I can tell you that.

Lily?

Yes!

Are you coming?

I'm just, um...

You go on ahead.

Why are you yelling?

I'm only a few feet away
from you.

But it feels so far.

All you have to do
is cross the road.

No. No, I can't.

It's impossible.

It's not your fault.

We are who we are.

Maybe if
you and I cross together.

For George?

For George.

Together.

- I wanna go back.
- So do I. Keep going.

We made it!
We left home!

See? Sheep can do things.

In fact, we can do anything.

Whoop-de-do.

Just two more miles to go.

Not a problem.

And how many miles was that?

I'll admit,
I'm impressed.

You won't solve the mystery,

but at least you're seeing
a bit of the world.

Of course
I'll solve the mystery.

I'll solve it by tonight.

George read us dozens

of these nighttime stories.

They follow

very simple rules.

Mopple?

Huh? Oh. One!

The killer always returns
to the scene of the crime.

- Two!
- The police always

think a drifter did it.

Oh, they're always going on
about a drifter.

Three.

An unexpected person arrives
and changes everything.

Four!

The victim
is the most important clue.

Well, that is simple.

But you'll find the real world

is a bit more complicated
than a book.

Speaking of...

Welcome to Denbrook.

What is this?

This is the church where
someone named "God" lives.

Who's God?

It's a bit
confusing.

God is a shepherd.

So he could be our shepherd?

No. Because he's also a lamb.

What?

And he's also invisible.

And he's made of bread.

And he damns things.

Dams things. Like a beaver?

Yes.

So God is a big, invisible
lamb-beaver made of bread?

Yes. And they eat him
on Sundays.

Poor God.

I know I was
supposed to be back,

but I may have stumbled

upon my first
small-town murder mystery.

I've gotta go, gotta go.

Come on.
They won't see us from here.

They already see you
and nobody cares.

For the 100th time,
you're sheep.

Citizens of Denbrook.

I know there are rumors

that George Hardy's death
was suspicious.

But I'm not allowed to comment
on the poisoning

until the investigation--

Wait! George was murdered?

Oh, crap.

Sorry, what kind of poison?

Look.

George was poisoned
by something called taxine.

It's found in the berries
of the yew tree.

And these trees,
do they grow around here?

Right there.

Then it was one of us
who killed him.

No, no. No. No.

Please. It was
almost certainly a drifter.

What's with them?

Officer Derry?

Officer Derry.

Yes.

Wha--? Uh, I am that person.

Lydia Harbottle?
Harbottle and Bloom?

We spoke earlier.

I am the late
George Hardy's lawyer.

Right. And you are?

I'm Rebecca Hampstead.

I'm, um, George's daughter.

He had a daughter?

George has a daughter?

An unexpected person arrives
and changes everything.

That's your
phone number right there

at the bottom of the page.

That's how I knew to call you.

I'm always detecting.

Hmm... You're not a detective,
though, are you?

I know, but--

You found this document
sitting out in the open

on a desk
in a miniscule caravan.

That's just
"noticing," isn't it?

Well...

So you noticed this document

the second time you went
into Mr. Hardy's caravan?

That's right.

So, I had to go back there,

give the scene
a good searching.

I put up the police tape.
Stickier than I expected.

Don't care,
nor would anyone ever.

Have you read it?
Have you even looked at it?

No. Not my business.

It very specifically is.

I'll do a reading of the will
later this afternoon.

The following people
are named,

so do make sure
that they are present.

The Reverend Hillcoate,
Caleb Merrow...

Write this down.

The Reverend Hillcoate,
Caleb Merrow, Beth Pennock,

Ham Gilyard, you,
and Rebecca Hampstead.

I'll be staying
at the Partridge Inn.

We'll do the reading there
at 5:00 p.m. sharp.

Five p.m. 1700.

You know, I told you
that Rebecca lives in America

and yet here she is
in Denbrook

on the very day you told me
that her father was dead.

Meaning that she was already
in this country

the night he was killed.

But you didn't
pick up on that, did you?

Yeah.

No. Yeah. Of course I did.

This is your first murder,
isn't it?

What?

You think I killed him?

Oh. Oh.

Yeah, you mean
my first murder case.

Well, it's all on your
shoulders now, Officer Derry.

I'll see you at 5:00.

See you at 5:00,
Miss Harbottle.

Madam Harbottle.

We have to get
to that will reading.

This is
the Partridge Inn.

I eat flowers here sometimes.

Although, I don't know how any
of this is meant to matter.

In the nighttime stories,

there's always a will,

and the people in the will
are always the suspects.

I need to see their faces.

Why?

Because humans often lie,

and you can see it
in their eyes.

Exactly.

Hmm...

Mopple,
while we work on the window,

look around and see
if there's a better one.

On it.

Shall we?

What do you know
about your birth mother?

In his letters, he said that
she died giving birth to me.

And that he was very young

and very scared
and very poor...

and he put me up for adoption.

By the church, actually.

Uh...

I have a question as well.

Sorry, mate. Um...

Nice to see you.

Uh, I just realized,

all by myself,

that you couldn't have
got here

today from America, right?

Which means you were already
in this country last night

when George was... murdered.

I'm not accusing you
or anything,

but that... Is that right?

That's so smart, detective.

No, I'm...
I'm not a detective.

I'm just an officer...

who is always detecting.

Well, I... I, uh...

I was in this country,

but I... I've never been
to Denbrook until today.

Follow-up question:

Do you have

a boyfriend?

Ugh! This is hard to watch.

What?
That's a standard question

any investigator would ask
in this situation.

So funny you ask that.
We just, uh...

We just broke up.

Oh, no.

Do you see what I see?

The daughter.

Her face is happy...

But her eyes
are scared.

So, what time did you
arrive last night exactly?

I got in around
7:00 p.m. and...

I'm sorry.

- That's all right.
- I was supposed

to meet him today.
And I'm just...

I'm so overwhelmed.

- Oh, thank you.
- Go on. Go on.

Thank you.

It's okay. Thank you so much.

Window, window, window.

If I was a window
where would I go?

Ooh!

Vegetables.

Hello. Just a little carrot.

Oh.
Oh, no. Oh no-no-no.

He also told me
that I have a brother,

a twin actually, um...

who was sent to South Africa,
I think?

A South African twin you've
never met. This is gold.

And who are you?

Uh, I'm Elliot Matthews.

I'm covering
this story for the--

Don't care. Out.

Well, actually,
as a journalist, I have--

Absolutely no rights
whatsoever. Get out.

Fine.

And no lurking.

I'll be in
the "Presidential Suite,"

basking in all
the luxurious amenities.

Lily!

Lily, Sebastian!

Help!

Mr. Van Vuuren,
this is Lydia Harbottle.

Can you hear me?

Ja. Very good
connection. Thank you.

Mr. Van Vuuren
is Mr. Hardy's son,

and he lives in South Africa,
hence is joining us by phone.

Now, Mr. Hardy
sent me a copy of his will

some two months ago.

But this is not the will
that I shall be reading today.

He wrote a new will.

- I found that.
- Shush.

Dated three days
before his death.

Of course.
There's always a new will.

"This is the last will
and testament

of Mr. George Hardy.

I have gathered
the seven of you here

because I have unfinished
business with each of you.

I have done wrong
to some of you,

and some of you
have done wrong to me.

Among you now,
in this very room,

is a Fool, a Bad Shepherd,

a Spring Lamb, a Winter Lamb,

a Victim,

and Two Murderers."

Two Murderers?!

Calling me a Bad Shepherd.

How am I supposed
to figure that out?

At least we know
who the Fool is.

I raise French sheep.
Finest breed there is.

And what's this
about another victim?

So one of us is next.

One of us
could be the murderer.

Why don't you ask questions

instead of flirting?

Two Murderers?

A Winter Lamb.

"This is what I leave to you."

Hey! Hey!

"This is what I leave to you.

The knowledge that I saw you
for who you really were.

And for most of you,
that's all you're getting."

What does he mean
that's all we're getting?

What am I doing here, then?

Sit down and shut up, Ham.

I will not.

No, that's the next line
in the will.

"Sit down and shut up, Ham."

- Oh...
- It seems George

knew you pretty well.

Have some class about you.

- Shut your face.
- You shut yours.

"To my son, Peter Van Vuuren,

the 300 acres currently leased
to Caleb Merrow."

Oh, that's very kind.

"To my daughter,
Rebecca Hampstead,

the adjoining 300 acres,
which I call home,

including my caravan, my barn,
their contents and my sheep."

Now, in the prior will,

Mr. Hardy left the remainder
of his assets

to a charity,

the Society for
the Protection of Animals.

In the new will, however, this
paragraph reads as follows:

"I bequeath
the remainder of my assets

to my daughter,
Rebecca Hampstead."

Yeah, don't get too excited.
The man had nothing.

Well, actually there is one
nonoperational muck spreader,

three pre-purchased bags
of fertilizer...

It could be very useful.

...and one
money market account

in the sum of approximately...

thirty million dollars.

Did she say
thirty million?

So, we have our motive.

Thirty million? How?

Two years ago,
George Hardy created a remedy

for a sheep disease
known as orf.

- Orf?
- Orf.

So you're telling me
that blue goop

he was always mixing up,
that was medicine?

He sold the patent

to a large agricultural
corporation for the sum of--

Thirty million.

For orf.

Hmm?

- There's someone out there.
- Tim.

Go get them. Go! Go.

Hey-Hey! Hey!

I'm fine. I'm fine.

Oh, it's back!

Get him out!

Out!

Lily, I found the window.

There you go.
Good boy.

There you are.

These sheep
will keep running amok

if they don't have a shepherd,
all right?

Especially that big one.

George got him
from a carnival.

He's practically wild.

Wait, Tim! Would you
like to make a statement?

No. No. No comment.
And call me officer.

What about leads?
Do you have any leads?

Yes. Yeah,
I have a ton of leads,

and I'm completely
on top of this.

Look. I need a story.
You need an arrest.

Wouldn't it be nice

to just have
some respect for once?

Hey. People respect me.

If you solve this,
you would be a hero.

We could work together.

I could help.

Last night when my car
was getting towed,

I saw a flashlight
around 9:00 p.m.

near George's field.

All right. All right.

That fits.

The coroner said George died
between 8:00 and 11:00.

You took pictures
of the body, right?

Because I really
should have done that.

I... I took so many pictures.
I'll send them all to you.

What do you say...

Officer Hero?

And then
she said a Fool,

a Victim, Two Murderers--

I still think it's the maid.

There is no maid!

That was a story,

and even in the story,
it wasn't the maid.

No more maids!

Ugh, sheep.

Caleb will be our
new shepherd, won't he, Lily?

Of course.

We... We just need to wait
for the mystery to be solved.

I have a question.

Why haven't you solved
the mystery yet, Lily?

You solve them

in the nighttime stories
right away.

I know, but the real world
is a bit more complicated

than a... book.

A book.

That might be the answer.

I just need to get inside
George's trailer and...

Look.

Is that Rebecca?

What is she looking for?

What's your name?

That's George's daughter?

She smells like him.
But she doesn't look like him.

I'll bet
she was born in winter.

That's why George
didn't want her around.

Of course. A winter lamb.
That proves it.

Rebecca did it!

Murderer!

We don't know that!

I knew it!

That's what
I've been trying to say.

Immediately,
I was like, "Rebecca,

I think she's trouble."

I said it
right from the beginning.

Sebastian?

Lily?

You were saying something
about George's trailer?

And a book?

All right. The last book
George read to us

was all about
how to narrow down a suspect.

I need to find that book
and bring it to the policeman.

If we're lucky, he'll read it
and learn something.

Oh! Oh! let me! Let me!

- Let me!
- No, no. Zora!

I want to be the detective!
Let me!

Well, all right. I just need
you to find the book

George had started
reading to us

with the chapter on means,
motive and opportunity.

I have a question.
What's a chapter?

It doesn't matter.

Just find the book
with the train on the cover.

I have a question.
What's a train?

It's a long
skinny line of trailers.

I have a question.

Wait a minute.
Wool-Eyes, what are you doing?

Stand back, everyone.

I'll find this book using
my keen sense of smell.

Oh, there's some tomatoes.
You can have those.

Come on,
Wool-Eyes.

Everyone's counting on you.

- No, we're not.

Uh, it was the
last book George touched, eh?

- Is it--? No, that's a carrot.

Oh my word.

Might come back
for that later, actually.

Ha-ha!

Is this
what you're looking for?

No!

Oh. What about this?

That's it!
Wool-Eyes, you found it!

Of course I did.

Lily, I expect, is it?

I am, after all,
a sheep detective.

Hmm?

It's nice up here.

But a bit lonely.

Oh, I gave a book
to the policeman

to help him solve the case.

What's a carnival?

It's nothing.
Go back to your flock.

Our flock.

It's music.

A carnival is music.

And rides.

Every day children would come
and pet me and feed me.

I loved that.

Until I grew too big.

And then when night fell,

the men from the carnival
would come

and lead me into a circle.

And in that circle was a dog.

And they would make me fight.

Fight until I bled.

Then one night...

he found me.

He paid them...

and took me away.

And that's what a carnival is.

But how did you even end up
in such a terrible place?

Why weren't you
with your flock?

I thought Lily
the Great Sheep Detective

would have
figured that out by now.

So you were a winter--

Sooner or later,
a winter lamb wants to leave.

There he is! Yes!

Oh, I hope
you're hungry, Tim.

Are we?

Hello?

Every time
something interesting

happens with this case,

there they are.

You've lost it.

You've lost it,
and you've done nothing! Tim!

Not quite nothing.

"Who killed George?"

Five suspects
named in the will.

Whoever killed George
needed three things.

Means, motive, opportunity.

It worked! He read the book!

Let's take them one by one,
shall we?

Means. Taxine from the berries
of a yew tree.

We've got yew trees
all over the church grounds.

Everyone had the means.

Motive. Why kill George?

Rebecca's got
the clearest motive.

But any of the others
could have a reason.

What are they hiding?

Opportunity. Do any
of these people have an alibi?

Means, motive, opportunity.

Find the one with all three

and catch
the Denbrook Poisoner.

Tim, this is actually
really good.

Yeah, well, it just sort of...

came to me in the night.

Okay. Let's get started.

Ham.

And which one are you
from George's will?

Probably the Murderer.

He was a vegetarian.

I can forgive that in a woman.
But in a man?

Disgusting.

Beth.

George's letter to Rebecca.
Why did you have it?

Maybe the postal
service made a mistake

for the first time in history.

And the day
before George died,

you told me
you could "kill that man."

I'm not the killer.
I'm the Victim.

And that's all I'm saying.

I know my rights!

Caleb.

And the morning
you found George,

you told me you were
bringing him some papers.

Yeah, he just
canceled my lease.

You know, I was bringing him
a proposal to reconsider.

So much for that.

Hold on. George canceled
your lease. Why?

You heard the will.
Apparently I'm a Bad Shepherd.

Hillcoate.

George never set foot
in your church.

And suddenly he walks in
on the day before he dies

and makes a large donation.

Why?

Why am I always
on the bottom?

- Shh!
- Ow!

George came to me a while ago
and told me about the church

putting his children
up for adoption.

But as soon as he got
back on his feet,

he started searching for them.

The church wouldn't tell him
where they were.

Strict policy, apparently.

And so, he asked
what it would take

for me to, uh,
get the information for him.

And if the church
found out,

I could have been defrocked.

- Ew.
- It means fired.

Mmm-hmm.

But that money
was never for me.

This church
is in dire need of repair.

George came to me in need,
and I took advantage.

Caleb is not the Bad Shepherd.

I am.

And Rebecca.

Miss Hampstead.

Enjoying the Denbrook
Cultural Festival?

Yeah. Very much so.

Easy. Easy questions.

Um, where were you
between the hours

of 8:00 and 11:00
on the night of the murder?

Uh, at the hotel
near the airport.

I, uh, checked in
and then was watching TV.

- Hmm.
- Couldn't sleep.

- Jet lag. You know?
- Yeah.

What
were you watching?

24-hour news channel.

- 24-hour news channel.
- 24-hour news channel.

All right. That...
That answers that.

Have a lovely day,
Miss Hampstead.

You too. Bye.

Or should I say Miss Crampfs?

Chastity Crampfs
is your real name, isn't it?

And could you think
of any reason

why someone would
wanna change their name

from Chastity Crampfs?

Fair enough. But I did run
a background check.

And it turns out,
at one point,

you were associating
with a known criminal.

Multiple counts of forgery.

Even shared
a bank account with him.

Okay.
I don't know anyone

who doesn't regret
a relationship.

And I didn't even know.
And it was three years ago.

Right. Oh, so not
a recent breakup, then.

- Not a real name.
- A bit of a pattern.

Bit of a pattern
emerging here.

So, tell me.

Have you ever been
near the yew tree

on the church grounds?

No. Absolutely not.

And what about
George's farm?

Ever been there?

Never.

Caleb had the lease...

Oh, but then Beth said...

Why is Rebecca lying?

And what's a vegetarian?

How does it all fit?

Think, you stupid sheep,
think!

Stop thinking so hard, Lily.
The daughter clearly did it.

'Course
it was Rebecca!

She's right.

No, she didn't!

You don't know her.
She's good.

She smells just like George,
and George loved me.

Loved you?
No one loves a winter lamb.

One winter lamb
sticking up for another.

That's how it is with them.

Wait. What did you say?

I said George loved me.

No. Before that.

You said Rebecca
smells just like George.

Someone said that before.

The wrong someone.

Who?

You.

What, me?

What do you mean, me?

Cloud did it!

Murderer!

No. But she has been
keeping a secret.

- Haven't you, Cloud?
- What do you--

Last night, you said Rebecca
smelled just like George.

But she was so far away,
you couldn't have known

- what she smelled like.
- But--

Unless Rebecca
had been here before.

But it's so beautiful!

What is so beautiful?

Uh...

The Thing With No end.

You see?

It's so beautiful
and it just never ends.

I've looked at it for hours,

going around
and around and around.

Cloud. Cloud!

Where did you get this?

Rebecca was here that night.

The night George was killed.

I woke up
and I felt hungry,

so I wandered into the meadow
and... and there she was.

And she saw me, and she said,

"Aren't you pretty?"
Because I am.

I mean, I am...
I am the most beautiful.

And... And she stroked
my wool,

and the Thing slipped off,
so I--

Oh.

I decided that...

that it should be mine.

So we're having things now.

Sheep don't have things!

I know, but...

It has no end.

And so it's solved.

Rebecca did it.

Murderer!

A bit of shiny metal
doesn't solve anything.

Of course it does.
It's evidence.

Evidence, huh?
Evidence of what?

She told the policeman
she'd never been here,

but she was here last night

and the very night
George was murdered.

She's a liar, she's a fake,
and she's a winter--

She's a what?

Say it.

You've hated her
from the start.

All of you!

And why?

Because she happened
to be born in winter.

The worst crime
imaginable.

Haven't you heard?

No one wants you.

You deserve nothing!

That's what a winter lamb
hears, over and over,

until one day,

he starts to believe
it's true.

- Sebastian--
- She didn't do it.

But how do you know?

Because I looked in her eyes.

Because it's obvious.

But not to you.

No.

Not to some flock of sheep.

We're your flock of sheep.

I told you.

I don't have a flock.

I never have.

Lily.

What should we do
about The Thing With No end?

Of course!

The chauffeur!

What?

What?

Hey!

Come on. Hey!

Hey!

Get back here!

That's my hat!

Stop! Stop it!

Thanks. Thanks for this.

Thank you, all.

I think I found
something of yours.

Matches your other ones.

Uh, it must have slipped off.
Thank you--

I found it in George's meadow.

You know, where
you've never been before?

I have a warrant
to search your room.

What are
you looking for?

I don't know.

Never been
near the yew trees, eh?

I knew it.

I haven't.
I wouldn't.

Tim, Tim,
you have to believe me.

Officer Derry.

Officer Derry, I...
I swear to you.

I didn't kill my father.

Rebecca Hampstead,
you're under arrest

for the murder
of George Hardy.

Suspect interview,

Chastity Crampfs,
aka Rebecca Hampstead.

Miss Crampfs, will you confirm
you're waiving your right

to have a lawyer present?

Yes. I don't care. I'm ready
to tell you everything.

Right.
Then let's start with this.

Were you on George Hardy's
property

on the night of his murder?

Yes.

All right, so all those
pretty smiles and,

"Oh, you're very smart,
Detective."

That's all been an act.
Hasn't it?

Fact is, you haven't said
a single true thing

since you showed up.

The letters.
That part was true.

He wrote that he had been
looking for me

for over 20 years,

and he was starting
to get things in order,

and he even sent me
a copy of his will.

The will where you get
30 million

or the will where you get
a bunch of sheep?

No, the one without the money.

He said that he wanted
to meet me.

So...

You fly in,

and then you drive to his farm
on the night of the murder.

And then what happened?

We talked.

About what?

Sheep.

We talked
about sheep.

And their names.

He said every sheep
should have a name.

And he picked each one
by looking in their eyes.

And he wanted me
to have them some day.

He picked me.

But, look, I'm not stupid.

I was alone with him the night
that he was murdered.

And the new will
and all of that money

and everything
that's happened in my past?

My only choice was to lie.

You have to believe me.

"I lied, so believe me."

Is that right?

In the morning, you'll be
taken to the county court

and officially charged
with the willful murder

of George Hardy.

So it was her.

Money.

What people won't do.

Apparently, George Hardy
picked the wrong lamb.

Oh, speaking of which,
Van Vuuren has agreed

to sell his sheep and land
to Caleb Merrow,

so we'll do the paperwork
for that tomorrow at noon.

Good.

I misjudged you, Officer.

I did.

It seems
you're not the Fool after all.

Well done.

Lily?

What are you doing out here?
Are you okay?

Yes. I'm more than okay.
I'm happy.

They arrested Rebecca.

Tomorrow, Caleb
will become our new shepherd.

That's wonderful.

She denies it all, of course,

but I'm right
and Sebastian's wrong.

Rebecca did do it, right?

Of course she did it.

Thank you.

Because you said she did it.

What?

Well, you always figure out
how the stories end

before they end.

I trust you.

But those were just stories.

This is a real person.
What if I'm--

Lily, look.

Caleb's meadow is just on
the other side of that fence.

Why don't we go over
and meet our new flock?

But we've never gone
into Caleb's meadow before.

Well, we never used
to cross roads before either.

Come on.

It's like we're in a cloud.

Do you think
we're in the wrong place?

I don't think so.

Hello?

Hello!

Uh, my name is Lily.

And this is Mopple.

We're from the other part
of the meadow.

Caleb's gonna be
our shepherd too.

What?

Run.

What? But I don't--

Hmm.

Maybe we shouldn't have
come over here, actually.

We should go.

Uh, okay.

Which way is back?

I think over there?

Look! There's a light.

This must be Caleb's barn.

We'll be safe in here.

Hmm.

I don't think
this is a barn at all.

- Maybe we should, uh...
- Wait.

What is this?

Lily, don't.
We should go.

Why is that sheep
like that?

What are they
doing to them?

Caleb?

He...

He...

Oh. Hello, doggies.

What's wrong with them?

We're not supposed to be here.

Run!

Faster, Lily!

I can't!
I'm not gonna make it!

Sebastian.

No!

Sebastian.

Oh, thank goodness you came.
I thought we were gonna--

Sebastian?

Sebastian, get up!

Lily.

I... I can't.

Why not?

I... I don't unders--

Lily.

He's dying.

What?

No, sheep don't die.

We turn into clouds.

Turn into a cloud, Sebastian.
Turn into a cloud.

I wish I could.

You shouldn't have come back.

Why did you come back?

I had to.

You're my flock.

I see him.

I see George.

No.

It's Caleb.

We have to go.

Now, Lily!

Wake up! Everybody, wake up!

- Wake up!
- Wake up!

- Wake up!
- Wake up!

Follow me!

- Follow her!
- Follow her!

Follow her!

Follow her!

Stop!

Don't stop!
We need to leave! Now!

Leave?
What are you talking about?

Sebastian is dead.

But you said
we turn into clouds.

I was wrong.

We die.

I saw Sebastian die.

And if we don't leave tonight,
we're all gonna die too.

Caleb turns sheep
into food and--

Stop it! Stop saying
these awful things!

I'm forgetting this happened.
Right now!

- No, you can't!
- Why?

Why would I want to remember
something so terrible?

Because it's true!

It's not true
if I don't remember.

- One.
- Wait!

Two.

Ronnie, Reggie, please.
Be brave.

Three!

Oh, hello, Lily.

I have a question.

What are we doing out here?

I don't like it.
Back to the meadow.

Back to the meadow.

No! Don't! Please don't!

Sebastian was right about us.

We're just stupid,
frightened sheep.

Tonight isn't the first time
I saw a sheep die, is it?

No.

How many times
have I forgotten?

More than I can count.

You've carried this all alone,
all this time?

Yes.

I remember every bad thing.

But I remember
good things, too.

I remember my mother's face.

I remember old friends
and how they loved me.

And you will
remember Sebastian.

It hurts.

Remembering hurts.

I know.

But if you forget,
you can't save the others

and Sebastian
will have died for nothing.

Caleb will come for you
tomorrow,

and you'll follow
your new shepherd

just like the other
"stupid, frightened sheep."

And... we'll all die.

I'm sorry, Lily. I am.

But it's our memory that keeps
the ones we love alive.

I'm sorry, Sebastian.

I'm not as strong as you.

One. Two.

You may be
the smartest sheep,

but Mopple's the wisest.

I lost someone once.

I know it hurts.

But, in time, all that's left
is all that's good.

Are you...
Are you really here?

'Course I am.

'Cause you didn't forget me.
See how that works?

Well, yes,

but it doesn't matter anymore.
Caleb is gonna--

Caleb isn't gonna do
anything to my flock

because you're gonna
save them.

But how?

You already know how.

If you figure out
who really did it, Lily,

Rebecca will get the flock
and you'll all be safe.

But what if I don't know
who really did it?

Honestly, I've read you
dozens of these stories.

They follow very simple rules.

But the rules haven't helped.

The police know
it wasn't a drifter.

Anyone could have returned
to the scene of the crime.

Rebecca was the unexpected
person and--

And?

The victim
is the most important clue.

Grassy green
stain on his hand.

So beautifully dyed.

Picked the wrong lamb.

I saw George's ghost.

Attagirl.

- Rebecca didn't do it!
- Lily, slow down.

I know who did.
And if I can prove it--

- Prove what?
- It wasn't a grass stain.

- And how am I supposed to--
- Wait, wait, wait.

Unless... Yes!

Oh, but I'm too big.
I can't fit.

I can fit places.

And I didn't forget.

Put your whole leg in.

Now put your other leg
into that one.

Okay. It's time to go.

That's it. Through there.

This is such a weird town.

Do you think it'll work?

I don't know.
All we can do is wait.

What did George say to you
the morning before he died?

I saw him whisper
something in your ear.

He said a winter lamb
is the best lamb.

- Hey, Ronnie.
- Yeah?

You ever get the feeling,
like, you forgot something?

You mean something that Lily
tried to tell us last night,

but then we chose to forget it

because we were,
you know, scared?

Well, not scared.
Definitely not scared.

But yeah. That's it.

What should we do, brother?

I have no idea,
but we can't do nothing,

so we gotta do... something!

That's genius.

Well, come on, then!
Are we lambs?

Or are we rams?

Who did this?

A lamb came in
through the transom.

A lamb came in
through the transom.

It gets worse.

It can't get worse
than a transom lamb.

I'm pretty sure

the lamb was taking orders
from another sheep.

Right.

What does it mean?

It means...

Nothing.

Nothing!

They're sheep.

They're sheep.

If you sign the transfer,
we'll be off.

All right.

It didn't work.

Give him a moment.

Officer Derry.

The form.

Don't do it.

Stop! Stop!

She didn't do it.
She didn't do it.

But I know who did.

I know who killed
George Hardy.

Mrs. Harbottle.

N... No, no, no!

It turns out I was the Fool,
but maybe not anymore.

From the moment Rebecca
Hampstead arrived in Denbrook,

she was the prime suspect.

She had the strongest motive.

Plus, she lied.

She was at George's farm
on the night of the murder.

Exactly what the killer
was counting on.

A killer we never considered

because they weren't
even a suspect.

The only person
named in George's will

who had an alibi.

A perfect alibi.

A not-even-in-the-country
alibi.

- You don't mean--
- Yes.

Peter Van Vuuren.

- Of South Africa.
- Of South Africa.

Rebecca, you said George
sent you a copy of his will.

But I'm betting he also
sent one to your brother,

who did some digging
and found out

what George was really worth,

and decided he was gonna
get that 30 million

even if he had to kill for it.

But he had
one massive problem.

Motive!

I wanted to say that.

Well, you just made it seem
like I was the murderer.

Motive!

If a murder victim leaves you
a fortune in his will,

then you're the prime suspect.

But if he leaves it
to your sister

and she goes down
for the crime...

The money automatically
goes to the--

Next of kin!

Would you, please?
I'm having a moment here.

I'm so sorry.

The next of kin!

The only question left...

is where is he hiding?

Who am I looking for?

Someone hiding in plain sight.

Someone who changed his name.

For example,
Chastity Crampfs...

became Rebecca Hampstead.

And Peter Van Vuuren...

And Peter Van Vuuren...

became Elliot Matthews.

- No!
- Oh!

George's ghost.

I never guess.

Tim, you're embarrassing
yourself.

I don't live in South Africa.
I live in this country,

and I work for a newspaper--

I know.

I assume you've been living
in this country

for some time now
as "Elliot Matthews."

Putting on an accent.

George told you

Rebecca was coming to visit,
didn't he?

A perfect opportunity
for you to frame her.

All you needed was some reason
to come to Denbrook.

- Like a cultural festival.

Your plan was simple.

First...

make a big show
of leaving Denbrook.

Then some convenient
car trouble brought you back.

Later that night,

- after Rebecca left...

...you did
what you came to do.

Come, come, come.

Peter.

Cheers.

You poisoned
your father...

...and planted the new will.

But your father was stronger
than you expected.

There was a struggle.

But you won out
in the end.

All that was left to do
was make sure

your sister took the fall.

You were clever.

The day Mrs. Harbottle
read the will,

you knew she'd kick you out.

Mr. Van Vuuren,

this is Lydia Harbottle.
Can you hear me?

Ja.

Very good connection.
Thank you.

As for the yew berries,

planting those
in Rebecca's room was a cinch.

Small-town inn.

Easy-to-pick locks.

It was nearly perfect, Elliot.

But what you didn't know

and what I didn't understand
until now

is that you left behind
a clue.

George's hands.

George's hands.

One was blue, one was green.

The blue made sense.
The stuff that made him rich.

But green? Why green?

And then some friends...

some friends who are
very good detectives...

made me think.

Blue and yellow.

Blue and yellow
mixed together make green.

Like the green stain
I saw on George's hand.

Like the green stain I saw

on a blue pillowcase
at the inn

that you slept on
the night you murdered George!

Both of George's hands
were stained blue that night

from the medication.

But then he grabbed
someone's hair.

Someone who used the kind of
quick, cheap yellow hair dye

that runs a little
in the rain,

- turning George's hand green.

Someone who hastily went blond
before coming to Denbrook

because he didn't want anyone
to think, even for a second,

that he looked too much
like his sister or his father.

Isn't that right, Peter?

Yes!

No!

No, it's nuts
and completely unproveable.

Then you won't mind

if I take this.

Not at all.

I must admit
I am not a natural blond.

Though I suppose
I must also confess

that I bleach my teeth
and wax my chest.

I'll bet he's a vegetarian.

So if you have the gall
to charge me with murder

because there's dye
in my hair,

you won't be
taking me to court.

I will be taking you.

You misunderstand.

It's not the dye
in your hair I want.

It's the DNA.

If you are George Hardy's son,

then you are Peter Van Vuuren,

and you are the real killer.

Gotcha.

Gotcha.

Bravo, Tim.

Oh! Ooh.

Hey!

Lily!

Ronnie! Reggie! You came!

Yes!

Why?

Hey! Stop! Stop!

Because there's a legitimate
cause for bashing.

Thank you.

- Finally!
- Yeah!

Justice?

No. Just us.

Yeah!

He had millions!
D'ya hear? Millions!

I'm his son.

Those millions
should have been mine.

I know
she's American,

but I knew it wasn't her.

Oh, well,
that's not true.

Oh.

Look.

On behalf of the entire
Denbrook Police Department,

our sincerest apologies.

Is that, uh,
anyone besides you?

No.

I'd like to apologize.

Thanks.

Aw.

Look.

Transom lamb?

Transom lamb.

Think you'll... you'll stick
around for a little while?

You know,
I just got out of prison,

so I might just...
kind of just need a moment.

I hope you do.

Maybe.

Rebecca.

Rebecca. I just want to say
I can't apologize enough.

On the house.

Thanks.

Wait.

I'm sorry.

I saw this.

It was in the mailbag
and, I mean,

I didn't know
you were his daughter.

And I bought him
that rose-scented paper, so...

You can imagine.

You were in love with him?

Well...

And was he in love with--

He tried.

But George loved your mother.

And there was no place
in his heart for someone else.

I used to wonder
what she looked like.

But now I don't have to.

I wish I asked him
more about her.

I don't even know her name.

Lily.

Her name was Lily.

Of course
the forged will is not valid.

But you will still get, um,
his sheep and all his land.

Miss Hampstead.

- So that's nice.
- Okay.

Sorry to bother you.

See, Ham and I

we've been trying to get
this new business going.

- We got a good bank behind us.
- Yeah.

And basically we wanna buy

your father's field
and sheep from you.

Two Murderers.

- Excuse me?
- Huh?

My father found out

you were slaughtering sheep
on his land.

You're the Two Murderers.

Well, the two businessmen.

That are offering
a good price.

Yeah.

Do you even know their names?

Huh?

He told me
their names.

There's Lily.

And Mopple.

And the big puffy one...
...is Cloud.

He said she's such a diva.

And the one with wool in
his eyes, he named Wool-Eyes,

which I thought was
a bit obvious, but he said,

"Hey, I've never heard
any complaints."

- Yeah, look, Miss Hampstead--
- Hardy.

Rebecca Hardy.
I'm changing it.

I don't do
name changes.

So sorry, Miss Hardy,
but good luck.

- Oh.
- Bye.

Wait.

What if I wanted
even more sheep?

Could I get a good bank
behind me?

Lily, how did
you manage to solve it?

Of course she solved it.

She's the smartest sheep
in the world.

Oh, well. I used to think
I was, but I'm not.

I made mistakes.

I should have listened
when the Winter Lamb said

he saw George's ghost,
but instead I--

Come on, guys. Come on.

What's your name?
Do you have any siblings?

How long have you been here?
I have a thousand questions.

Oh! Excuse me.

Where is your face?

You have orf.

I have orf!

Lily.

"Chapter one.

"It's a commonly held belief
that of all farm animals,

sheep are by far
the stupidest.

But, in fact,
that is not true.

Sheep are not
only intelligent,

but inspirational.

A nursery rhyme
from centuries ago begins.

Little Bo Peep
has lost her sheep

And doesn't know
where to find them

But leave them alone
And they'll come home

Wagging their tails
behind them"

It's nice up here.

But a bit lonely.

George.

That's your name.

Every sheep
should have a name.

George.

Hmm?

"A group
of sweet, fluffy,

adorable, all-white sheep.

It is often thought
that all sheep are alike.

But a single flock of sheep
will, in fact, contain animals

with many
different characteristics

and personalities.

There will be kind ones,
friendly ones

and standoffish ones.

Smart ones and foolish ones.
Shy ones and show-offs.

- Hi, what's your name?
- My name is George.

Hi, George!

"These gentle
animals have had a place

in virtually
every human culture,

frequently represented
in both language and imagery

as symbols of love,
innocence and peace.

For, like humans,

they cherish belonging
above all.

They allow themselves
to belong to us.

And so we find...

we belong to them."

♪ When I wake up ♪

♪ Well, I know I'm gonna be ♪

♪ I'm gonna be the man
Who wakes up next to you ♪

♪ When I go out ♪

♪ Yeah, I know I'm gonna be ♪

♪ I'm gonna be the man
Who goes along with you ♪

♪ If I get drunk
Well, I know I'm gonna be ♪

♪ I'm gonna be the man
Who gets drunk next to you ♪

♪ And if I haver
Yeah, I know I'm gonna be ♪

♪ I'm gonna be the man
Who's haverin' to you ♪

♪ But I would walk
Five hundred miles ♪

♪ And I would walk
Five hundred more ♪

♪ Just to be the man
Who walked a thousand ♪

♪ Miles to fall down
At your door ♪

♪ When I'm workin'
Yes, I know I'm gonna be ♪

♪ I'm gonna be the man
Who's workin' hard for you ♪

♪ And when the money comes in
For the work I do ♪

♪ I'll pass almost every penny
On to you ♪

- ♪ When I come home ♪
- ♪ When I come home ♪

♪ Oh, I know I'm gonna be ♪

♪ I'm gonna be the man
Who comes back home to you ♪

♪ And if I grow old
Well, I know I'm gonna be ♪

♪ I'm gonna be the man
Who's growin' old with you ♪

♪ But I would walk
Five hundred miles ♪

♪ And I would walk
Five hundred more ♪

♪ Just to be the man
Who walked a thousand ♪

♪ Miles to fall down
At your door ♪

- ♪ Da-da da da ♪
- ♪ Da-da da da ♪

- ♪ Da-da da da ♪
- ♪ Da-da da da ♪

♪ Da-da dum diddy dum
Diddy dum diddy da da da ♪

- ♪ Da-da da da ♪
- ♪ Da-da da da ♪

- ♪ Da-da da da ♪
- ♪ Da-da da da ♪

♪ Da-da dum diddy dum
Diddy dum diddy da da da ♪

♪ When I'm lonely ♪

♪ Well, I know I'm gonna be ♪

♪ I'm gonna be the man
Who's lonely without you ♪

♪ And when I'm dreamin' ♪

♪ Well, I know
I'm gonna dream ♪

♪ I'm gonna dream about
The time when I'm with you ♪

-♪ When I go out ♪
♪ When I go out ♪

♪ Well, I know I'm gonna be ♪

♪ I'm gonna be the man
Who goes along with you ♪

-♪ And when I come home ♪
♪ When I come home ♪

♪ Yes, I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man ♪

♪ Who comes back home
With you ♪

♪ I'm gonna be the man
Who's comin' home with you ♪

♪ But I would walk
Five hundred miles ♪

♪ And I would walk
Five hundred more ♪

♪ Just to be the man
Who walked a thousand ♪

♪ Miles to fall down
At your door ♪

-♪ Da-da da da ♪
♪ Da-da da da ♪

-♪ Da-da da da ♪
♪ Da-da da da ♪

♪ Da-da dum diddy dum
Diddy dum diddy da da da ♪

-♪ Da-da da da ♪
♪ Da-da da da ♪

-♪ Da-da da da ♪
♪ Da-da da da ♪

♪ Da-da dum diddy dum
Diddy dum diddy da da da ♪

-♪ Da-da da da ♪
♪ Da-da da da ♪

-♪ Da-da da da ♪
♪ Da-da da da ♪

♪ Da-da dum diddy dum
Diddy dum diddy da da da ♪

-♪ Da-da da da ♪
♪ Da-da da da ♪

-♪ Da-da da da ♪
♪ Da-da da da ♪

♪ Da-da dum diddy dum
Diddy dum diddy da da da ♪

♪ And I would walk
Five hundred miles ♪

♪ And I would walk
Five hundred more ♪

♪ Just to be the man
Who walked a thousand ♪

♪ Miles to fall down
At your door ♪

I still think
it's the maid.