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Come on, Roscoe.

Ah.

Brother, brother,
you have sinned.

Meaningful.

Power of attorney.

Now let's see.

You're muttering to
yourself again, Watson.

Oh, yes, yes, sorry.

It's just a word quiz from
the Philological Society.

You have to find
the words suggested

by a series of cryptic clues.

I won the last one, you know.

Oh, really?

And what clue are
you struggling over?

Well, it simply
says meaningful

and power of attorney.

And-- and from this, you have
to find a word that means both.

Significant.

Eh, what?

Significant, a
synonym for meaningful,

which can be deconstructed
into the phrase

"sign if I can't,"
hence power of attorney.

Holmes,
I must say it,

you never cease to amaze me.

What nonsense.

No, no, really.

I-- I often think that
you are truly a genius.

No, no, no, I wasn't
contradicting you, Watson.

I was simply responding
to this announcement.

"The famed spiritualist,
Madam Karavsky,

will give a demonstration
of her ability

to communicate with the spirits
of our dearly departed."

Have you ever
heard such rubbish?

Yet the woman attracts
a rash of paying

customers whenever she speaks.

Well, it's not entirely
surprising, you know?

I mean, don't we
all hope to find

some proof of an afterlife?

Don't
include me in that we.

The great hereafter.

I can assure you there
is nothing but the great

here and now.

Well, I am not entirely
convinced of that.

What?

How can you, a man
of science, believe

in any of that mumbo jumbo?

Now be careful,
Holmes, such hubris

could come back to haunt you.

I have no fear of
offending the gods,

Dr. Watson, for I know
there are no gods to offend.

Yes, Mrs. Hudson, what is it?

This just arrived
for you, sir.

The messenger said
it was from the abbey

in Whitechapel, where that
Monk was found dead last week.

Really?

He says the people are saying
it was the work of a vampire,

so they're awful nervous
down the East End right now.

And who wouldn't be with
a vampire on the loose?

Well, they may have
no fear on that account.

A vampire is a
scientific impossibility.

If a Monk was murdered, it was
at the hands of the living,

not the undead.

Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.

There are some things that
science can't explain, sir.

Indeed there are, Mrs. Hudson.

Indeed there are.

Mm, have it your own way, sir.

Well?

What is it?

It's from a Brother Marstoke.

He begs me in the
name of God to help

him solve what he calls this
"dark and mysterious business."

Ah!

Oh, you can't expect me
to believe that there is

any connection between
my recent rejection

of all things supernatural and
the arrival of this letter.

One must never thumb one's
nose at the gods, Holmes.

Nonsense.

It's merely a coincidence.

Oh, really?

I recall a recent occasion
where you told me you

don't believe in coincidences.

Yes, well.

It's a small sampling

from the South American
pantheon of gods and demons.

Not at all the
sort of collection

one would expect to
find in an abbey.

I daresay, there are those who
would consider it a sacrilege.

Quite so, Dr. Watson, but I am
not one of those who considers

ours the one true religion.

God manifests himself in
many ways, as does the devil.

No doubt you are skeptical
of such beliefs, Mr. Holmes.

Hm?

Oh!

I must confess to
being somewhat, um,

agnostic on such issues,
Brother Marstoke.

Of
course, but should you

accept the task I have in mind,
I suspect that your belief

system may be severely shaken.

I acquired the carving you
were inspecting during my stay

at our mission in Guyana.

It represents Desmodo.

According to the
native peoples, Desmodo

is a fearsome demon who usually
appears as a giant vampire bat.

Belief in him has become more
widespread in recent years

due to the rise in
deaths attributed to him.

And, um, how exactly do
his presumed victims die?

Horribly and slowly,
wracked with thirst

and painful convulsions.

Well, as I recall, rabies is
on the rise in the Americas.

That was our assessment.

And due to the large number
of vampire bats in the region,

it seemed only logical
to connect the two.

I assume you had no
access to the anti-rabies

serum developed by Mr. Pasteur.

None at all.

We were at the
mercy of the disease

until the arrival
of Brother Abel.

He had made a study
of tropical diseases

and the prevention from which
he learned a new technique.

Coating a captured
bat with toxins.

Precisely.

Are you familiar with the
technique, Mr. Holmes?

I assume vampire bats are
social creatures that spend

a great deal of time
in mutual grooming,

so any bat coated
with poison will

be licked clean by other
members of the colony,

and thereby killing them.

Correct.

Unfortunately, the
theory and practice

do not always coincide.

Our efforts killed bats but
seemed unable to prevent

the spread of the disease.

Then the ritual murders began.

The first to die
was Brother Lee.

He was discovered in the
chapel by the mission

housekeeper, Senora de la Rosa.

He was
slumped against the foot

of the altar with a large
vampire bat upon him.

When it flew off, she realized
it had been feeding from two

open wounds on his neck.

On the wall, a terrifying
message was scrawled in blood.

It read, "From hell as you
have sinned against me,

so shall I exact my revenge.

The blood of yours for
the blood of mine."

A
terrifying message,

indeed, but my
suspicion is still

inclined towards a human hand.

Understandably,
but I have seen

far too much of the devil's
work not to believe in him.

Two nights later,
he struck again.

Word of the horrific
events had spread

terror amongst the locals.

We were holding a
meeting to try and calm

their fears when Senora de la
Rosa's son, Hector, burst in.

He had been to the
infirmary to visit

Brother Abel, who was
making a remarkable recovery

from the disease.

What he saw terrified him.

On the floor between
the beds, he could just

make out a large, bat-like
silhouette crouching

over the body of a man.

As the creature turned
to look at him, he saw--

W-- what exactly did he see?

He says he saw
the face of Desmodo,

as clearly as we
can see it here.

And Brother
Abel, dead in the same manner

as his Brother Lee I suppose?

Brother Abel was
sick and sleeping.

It was Brother Thomas,
who was watching over him.

Needless to say, after
this, the local people fled.

Two days later, we
closed the mission.

The other members returned
home, bringing Senora de

la Rosa and her son with them.

I went on a pilgrimage and
prayed that the nightmare

was at an end.

And so I thought, until my
return to England last month.

One night shortly
after my arrival,

I awoke to find a large
bat hanging from the mirror

above my washstand.

On the mirror, scrawled in
blood, was another message.

It read, "The wanderer returns.

My time has come."

Then the solution is simple.

If it is your absence
that guarantees the safety

of the others, you must leave.

The other members
will not hear of it.

They believe that with prayer,
we can fight this demon.

After last week,
I am not so sure.

I was at the home of
a friend, Dr. Chagas,

when Senora de la Rosa
arrived with a message

from Brother Sinclair urging
me to return to the abbey.

But when we arrived
back, we found

him dead by the altar in the
same fashion as the two others.

Do you truly believe that
some supernatural entity

is the cause of these murders?

I am a man of God,
not easily frightened,

but it is why I have
called you, Mr. Holmes.

And how may I succeed where
your prayers have failed?

If there is a human
hand in this affair,

you are the man to find it.

And Scotland Yard,
I presume that you've

told them what you've told us?

Inspector Jones
suspects that my brain

has become addled by too
many years in the jungle.

The coroner's report on
Brother Sinclair no doubt

confirmed his suspicions.

Yes, I recall
reading "The Times,"

that the cause of his death
was a massive coronary failure.

But, um-- but what
did Inspector Jones

make of the marks on his neck?

He's inclined to
believe they were

caused when Brother Sinclair
fell onto his crucifix.

A credible theory, but
wrong, I assure you.

There are forces beyond the
grasp of our understanding.

And some of them are
most decidedly evil.

After
supper, Brother Sinclair

returned to work on the nativity
scene in the children's chapel.

I was in the refectory
when he suddenly

burst in and asked
me to go immediately

for Brother Marstoke.

And that is all?

He simply asked you to
bring back Brother Marstoke

from the home of Dr. Chagas?

Si, Signor, that is all.

Were the front doors
locked that evening?

Si, Signore.

They are only
unlocked on weekends

for the public services.

Hm.

And it's the only
way in besides the door

we've just come through?

Uh, no, Signor, there is
also a door from the graveyard

into the crypt, but
it is always locked.

Well, uh, thank you, senora.

Uh, we shall find
out our way back.

Oh, uh, by the way, I
couldn't help but notice

your reaction a
moment ago when I

mentioned the name Dr. Chagas.

What is it, Signora?

Why does the mention of
that name make you afraid?

One must never argue
with the dhampiro.

It is he who brought the
curse on this church.

It is he--

Oh, again.

What on Earth was that?

An Earth tremor perhaps?

But she seemed to imply
it had happened before.

Yes.

And what of her
reaction to Dr. Chagas?

It was strange, wasn't it?

She referred to
him as dhampiro.

Does this word say
anything to you?

Mm, other than its
phonetic resemblance

to the word vampire, no.

Well, to certain
European cultures,

the dhampiro is reputed
to be the offspring

between a vampire and a woman.

I'm surprised you're also
well-versed in vampire lore,

Watson.

I've done some
reading, you know.

And like Monsieur Voltaire,
I don't believe in vampires,

but I am afraid of them.

Holmes, all I'm trying
to say is that you

shouldn't take this talk
of vampires and demons too

lightly.

There could be a kernel of
truth at the heart of it.

Mm, perhaps, but until I
see evidence to the contrary,

I shall continue to
believe that vampires

and demons are
simply the products

of fearful imaginations.

Mm.

"From hell, I am he.

Not the good shepherd,
not the redeemer.

He who comes for
the blood of those

who have sinned against him."

Ah, it seems our vampire
has left his calling card.

That looks like blood.

Yes.

See if you can scratch
some off, will you?

I'm going to have a
look down in the crypt.

It is not the dead
you must fear,

my friend, nor the undead.

It is the living.

Mm.

Hibernating bats?

Yes.

Well, that would explain
the origin of the bat

on Brother Marstoke's mirror.

And as for Brother
Sinclair's visitor, either

he came through the belfry,
a rather formidable feat

unless you could
fly, or he entered

the church the same way we did.

Down this corridor.

Then the killer is right
here in the Hermitage.

Precisely.

It is therefore
impossible to say

whether the message
threatens all or just those

of you who were in Guyana.

So all must remain
on their guard.

Finally, Brother
Marstoke informs me

that it is the
custom of the order

to go out on nightly
missions to minister

to the poor of the East End.

Until further notice, I
recommend that these missions

be curtailed.

And just what do you
know about it, Mr. Holmes?

If these walls and St Justinian
himself cannot shield us,

then what difference
can it make if we

venture out into the
streets of Whitechapel?

Simply put, it makes it
easier for me to protect you.

For you to protect us?

Good, Lord!

What arrogance!

Let me tell you
something, Mr. Holmes,

I have seen this demon's
work both in Guyana

and here in London.

And the one who
can protect us has

far greater powers than you.

Brother Caulder, no one doubts
that there is a demon at work

here, but we must not
rule out the possibility

of a human accomplice.

If so, Mr. Holmes is
certainly our man.

You are grasping
at straws, Brother.

We all know what we're
fighting and why.

It was you who first brought
the demons wrath upon us.

And it is only since your
return that we have once again

been cursed by its presence.

No, if Mr Holmes can be
of any service to us,

it would be to convince
you to leave these walls

and never return.

Absolutely not, Brother!

We cannot allow this
fear to divide us!

Brothers-- Brothers, Sisters,
I no longer have the use

of my eyes, but I can see
clearly that the devil

is trying to divide us.

Yes.

We must
not let this happen.

We must remain united.

Absolutely.

Yes, we must.

We must!

But-- but Brother Caulder
has brought up a good point.

Serving the Lord is our
life's work, Mr. Holmes.

And that work cannot
be done by hiding.

Sister Helen is right.

If we hide in our rooms, the
devil has half the battle won.

We must continue our missions.

Yes, that's right.

Very well then.

But may I suggest
that none go out

alone and to be vigilant at all
times, even in broad daylight.

For your enemy, whoever
or whatever it may be,

is certainly the most ruthless
and resourceful of foes.

Come along then, Sister.

Brother Marstoke, you
must remain with us.

You must--

I will think on it.

I will think on it.

It appears that the
Brothers and Sisters

are not entirely of one voice.

Brother Marstoke, uh, besides
Brother Sinclair and Caulder,

which other members of the
order were with you in Guyana?

Uh, Brother John,
Sister Helen, Sister--

Sister Margaret,
Sister Margaret,

where is Brother Abel?

He was sleeping
so peacefully, I--

I thought it better to
leave him in his room.

We must go to him.

Yes.

Brother Abel never
fully recovered,

so we moved him to
the nuns' quarters

where Sister Margaret
cares for him.

Brother Abel?

Uh, the first door on
the left, Mr. Holmes.

In the name of--

Hector, what on
Earth are you doing?

I--

I was just coming
to ask Brother Abel

if you wanted his tea before
the door was locked, Signor.

And then I heard some screaming.

I was sleeping,
sleeping, and it woke me.

It grabbed me by the throat.

What
was it, Brother Abel?

A great dark
thing and he tried to bite me.

But I screamed.

Yes, I screamed and then
it went out the window.

Out the window.

Out the window.

Nothing, at least
as far as I can see,

but it's very dark out there.

Did you see this
thing, Hector?

No, Senor, I did not.

What do you think
now, Mr. Holmes?

Is this demon real or not?

I do not know
what to think yet.

I assume this is the
door Hector mentioned?

Yes.

At what time
does it get locked?

Sister Margaret locks it
at 8 o'clock every evening.

So it would have been locked
at the time of the murder.

Yes.

Does anyone else have a key?

No one.

I pray that you can
be of assistance to us

in this matter, Mr. Holmes.

Mm, you mentioned your
visit to an old acquaintance

on the night of the murder.

Ah, Dr. Chagas.

Yes, he is now in London
to oversee the publication

of his research.

When I mentioned his
name to Senora de la Rosa,

she had a rather
remarkable reaction.

Yes, and she used the
most interesting word

to describe him.

Dhampiro?

Yes.

Like all her people, Senora
de la Rosa has an ancient fear

of Dr. Chagas's field of study.

Dr. Chagas is a naturalist.

He studies bats, vampire bats.

I should also tell
you that we once

had an acrimonious
disagreement over my decision

to poison the bats, but that
rift has long since healed.

And all my instincts
tell me that he

is a most honorable man.

Well, um, our instincts
are not always reliable,

Brother Marstoke.

Then I suggest
you speak with him.

He rents lodgings at 4
Renfield Place in Whitechapel.

Very well.

But do not fail to summon me
should anything else occur.

Good night, then.

Well, it seems we have a rare
little mystery on our hands.

Rare, indeed.

And our day's work
is not yet done.

But I depend on you
to inform Inspector

Jones of the macabre note
in the children's chapel.

That should ratchet up his
theorizing a notch or two.

And then rouse your friends
at the Hematology Institute.

See if you can get an
analysis of that blood sample.

And you going to see
Dr. Chagas, I assume?

Remember
Christ our savior

was born on Christmas day.

Holmes, what is it?

Save us all
from Satan's power--

Hm?
Mm?

Oh, uh, nothing, nothing.

Yes, I shall visit Dr. Chagas.

And then we'll
resume our pursuit

at Baker Street in the morning.

Driver!
Come along, Watson.

Right.

Thank you, my man.

Who is it?

Dr. Chagas,
my name is Sherlock Holmes.

I've been asked by
Brother Marstoke

to look into the death
of Brother Sinclair.

May I come in and
speak with you?

I cannot help you.

Good night, Mr. Holmes.

Perhaps I can help you.

There have been developments.

The police will soon be
knocking at your door.

It's a question of motive,
you see, and your quarrel

with Brother Marstoke.

I take it you're
referring to the vampires?

The bats, that is.

Is there any other kind?

Come in.

Desmodontida Teniotis.

Are you familiar with their
feeding habits, Mr. Holmes?

Um, natural history is
not my forte, I'm afraid.

Then permit me
to enlighten you.

The vampire bat
first lands close by.

Then crawls forward
onto its sleeping host.

Its movements are so gentle
and its teeth so sharp,

the slumbering host never
wakes or feels a thing.

I assume these
habits are also what

make the bat so easy to catch.

Yes.

Which brings me
to your disagreement

with Brother Marstoke.

What exactly took place?

Bats are some of the
most feared and least

understood of god's creations.

Such ignorance has given them
a most unwarranted reputation.

Yet it is a fact they often
carry infectious diseases.

Was Brother Marstoke wrong in
wanting to destroy the roost

in Guyana?

I'd studied those
bats for seven years

and never saw any sign
that they were infected.

And yet they were destroyed.

Yes, I can see how that
would be most disturbing.

Disturbing?

Yes, Mr. Holmes, it is most
disturbing to see your children

killed for no apparent reason.

Of course, I use
the word loosely,

but they were like
children to me.

You realize your past
history and your presence

here places you high on
the list of suspects.

Mr. Holmes, my
presence in your country

seems to place me high on
every list of suspects.

It must be because I'm so tall.

Do you really
suppose that I could

be responsible for
these brutal murders?

I make it a habit
not to suppose.

I draw deductions
from the facts.

Then you know that I was
here with Brother Marstoke

on the night in question.

And no one can be in two
places at once, can they?

Not unless one were a vampire.

But you do not
believe in vampires.

I didn't say that.

I simply asked if there
were any other kind.

Indeed.

One must never be entirely
dismissive of ancient beliefs.

Anyone who scoffs at them should
spend some time in the tropics.

It can be a most enlightening
experience for the closed mind.

Good night, Mr. Holmes.

Good night, Dr. Chagas.

A raw night for such
work, my good man.

Oh, that's a fact, sir.

No joy in it on a
night like this.

Mm-hmm.

Uh, tell me, are you
familiar with Dr. Chagas,

who lives at number 4 there?

Who might be asking?

My name is Sherlock Holmes.

Oh, what are you doing
down here then, Mr. Holmes?

Is it about them
vampire murders?

I been suggesting him.

Murder it
most certainly was,

but by a vampire,
most certainly not.

Don't mind me contradicting
you, sir, but we locals,

we got friends up there.

And somebody told us they seen
them two marks on that monk's

neck with their own eyes.

You think it's him, then?

No, not at all.

Well, he's a
queer one, isn't he?

He stays in there alone all day.

And never lets anybody
have an eyeball inside.

And he only comes out at night.

Oh, there, see what I mean?

Oh, we've all been
wondering about him.

Much more since there's
another killer on the loose.

You have every reason to be
wary of strangers, my friend.

But of this, I can assure you
the good people of Whitechapel

are not the intended victims.

Well, with all
due respect, sir,

you don't live
down here, do you?

Well, goodnight, then.

Thank you, kindly,
Sister, Brother John.

And best wishes for the
coming festive season.

God bless you, Mrs. Duncan.

And best wishes to you, too.

Good night, then.
- Good night.

Good night.

Come along, then, Sister.

Come, children, come on.

Come on, dear. Inside.

Come on.

- What was that?
- What?

Ssh!

Listen.

Hello, in there!

Are you hurt?

Over here.

Wait here.

Careful, Brother.

Don't be afraid.

I should be right back.

Hello?

Hello?

Where are you?

I-- I can't see you.

Over here.

Over here.

Hello?

Are you there?

Help me, please?

I see you now.

I'm coming.

Over here.

There-- there, my friend.

What is it?

Brother, you have sinned!

Brother John?

Brother John?

Brother John?

Are you there?

Brother John?

Brother John?

Brother, is that you?

Sister.

Who-- who is it?

Who's there?

Sister,
you have sinned.

Oh!

In the name of God, be gone!

Hey, you!

Get away from her!

Sister, you all right?

Yes, but Brother John.

How is Brother John?

Who?

I don't see any--

What is it?

What?

Vampire.

Vampire!

Whoa.

Thank you, my good man.

Uh, Mr. Holmes!

I came as soon as I
got to your message.

How is Sister Helen?

Sleeping.

After the police
finished their questions,

Sister Margaret
gave her a sedative.

I must speak with her
as soon as she wakes.

Did any other members of
the order go out last night?

Why, yes, several of them.

All in pairs?

All except for
Brother Caulder.

I see.

And the exact spot where
the murder took place?

An alley opposite
to 128 Demeter Street.

Were any other members
of the mission in the area

at the time?
- Of course.

Whitechapel is our parish.

And you yourself
did not go out?

Why, no.

But Mr. Holmes, you
persist in thinking

that the killer is one of us.

And yet--

And yet your shoes are
scuffed and splattered

with dirt and mud.

Not the shoes of a man who
remained indoors last evening.

Very clever, Mr. Holmes.

But I went with the--

police to identify
Brother John's body.

Yes, of course.

I was simply making a point.

Truth is often a flexible
concept, Brother Marstoke.

Point taken.

But surely, Mr.
Holmes, you can't

suspect that I am in any way
involved in these killings.

Simply a question
of being thorough.

Surely why you hired me.

Remain on your guard, Brother.

I wish I could

say it was good to
see you, again, sir,

but that might be inappropriate
given the circumstances.

Indeed.

It certainly doesn't help
the mood of things down here.

That's why we're keeping
out of the papers for now.

This is it.

And the monk's body
was found over there.

The sister was pinned
against the wall there.

And the man who came upon the
scene, what exactly did he say?

Oh, not much.

He said the clock was
striking 9:15 as he

went to put the rubbish out.

And what he saw was
a tall, dark figure

with what looked like giant
wings leaning over the nun.

Now before he could get
a good look, whatever it

was fled the way we just came.

Fled, not flew.

Well, so much
for the giant wings.

I guess.

Well, I don't know much about
this vampires thing, sir.

I mean, people around
here, they certainly

seem to have their minds made
up about this foreign gentleman,

Dr. Chagas.

What about Dr. Chagas?

Well, they seem
convinced it's him, sir.

And he was seen entering his
premises an hour before dawn.

I believe Inspector Jones is
questioning him right now.

They say an arrest
is in the offing.

Yes.

Thank you, Inspector.

Right, sir.

Step back, please?

Back off, now!

Sherlock Holmes to
see Inspector Jones.

Oh, Mr. Holmes.

Very good, sir.

This way, sir.

For the last
time, out with that, man!

Where were you?

You prefer to--

Holmes.

Who let you in here?

Jones, I must speak with you.

Well, there's
nothing to discuss.

I thanked Dr. Watson
for telling me

of your discovery in
the children's chapel,

but I believe I already
have the man who wrote it.

So I won't be needing
any more help.

Now kindly close the
door on your way out.

As a return favor, might I
at least ask on what grounds

you're making your assumptions?

Assumptions?

No, facts.

In order of discovery, fact
one, his long and bitter dispute

with Brother Marstoke
gives him motive.

Inconclusive.

Fact two, he was observed
leaving his house shortly

before Brother John's murder.

And did not return
until just before dawn.

Is it a crime to
stay out all night?

No, but fact three,
he refuses to say

where he was all that time and
has no one to provide an alibi.

He had someone.

Who?

Me.

I was right here with
him talking of vampires.

The, uh, bat variety,
of course, not humanoid.

Mm, if you're trying
to fool me, Holmes--

Not at all.

Uh, the workman told you
he disturbed the killer

at precisely 9:15, correct?

Aye, correct.

Yet I was here until
shortly after that clock

there struck 9:00,
after which I saw

him leave and go north
towards Whitechapel road,

some 2 or 3 minutes later.

In the opposite direction
to Demeter Street.

And no man could
backtrack and cover

that distance in 10 minutes.

Unless, of course, you
think he could fly.

You hear that
out there, Holmes?

I don't pay much heat to all
this talk of vampires and such.

And I little think
that if we dragged

Dr. Chagas out
into the sunlight,

he would dissolve into dust.

But I intend to put an
end to all this hysteria

before it gets out of hand.

So you'll arrest
an innocent man.

Fact four, the gloves
he was wearing.

Notice the streaks of
blood on the right hand.

Oh, we'll wait and see
what the analysis tells us.

And then maybe--
maybe we'll send

someone out to synchronize the
nation's clocks and watches.

Sergeant.

Sergeant!

Quickly! s

Come on, come on!

You two, down the alley!

You, around into this street!

Sergeant, come with me!

Step aside!

Step aside!

If things get out
of hand, Holmes,

I'll hang it round your neck.

He holds
you responsible.

I hold myself responsible.

At least I shall if there
are murderous consequences.

And you are convinced
that Dr. Chagas is our man.

No, but neither am I
convinced that he is not.

But it will make
little difference

if the mob catches up to him.

Homes, you mustn't
torture yourself over

something you cannot control.

Do what you always do.

Stick to the chase,
follow through logically,

and as ever, you will prevail.

You're right, of
course, my friend.

Uh, but what happened to keeping
my mind open to the possibility

of the supernatural?

Well, keeping one's
mind open to one

possibility doesn't mean
ignoring all others,

especially the logical ones.

Right you are
again, Dr. Watson!

Come along then.

Very well.

Uh, where to?

To see Brother Marstoke.

Did you get the results from
the Hematology Institute?

Definitely not human blood.

Just as I thought.

Bat's blood most likely.

What did the coroner
conclude, Dr. Watson?

Well, it's massive
heart failure.

It seems he was quite
literally frightened to death.

In the same manner
as the others.

Mm-hmm.

Look here, Watson,
what do you make of it?

Two circular incisions
approximately 1/2 an inch

in diameter and 1
inch and a 1/2 apart.

Hm.

Yes?

Curious.

Whatever it was that
bit Brother John

is missing a lower mandible.

What on Earth do you mean?

There are no signs of
abrasion or contusion

from the lower
teeth, which there

would be had he been bitten.

So either as
assailant was missing

a lower mandible or those wounds
were made by some other means.

Perhaps whatever
attacked him had

teeth sharp enough to pierce
the skin without biting.

It's possible, but it
is not the natural order

of things for any creature
to attack in such a way.

I wasn't referring to the
natural order of things.

Hm.

Yes, well, uh, we
must remain divided

on that score, Brother Marstoke,
at least for the time being.

And now if she's awake,
I think it's time for us

to speak with Sister Helen.

Of course.

Forgive me if I do
not accompany you.

I-- I must attend
to my devotions.

You might find Inspector
Jones still there.

He got here shortly
before your arrival.

I see.

Thank you.

Does it occur to you,
Watson, that Brother Marstoke

seems rather too insistent with
his fears of the supernatural?

I think not.

I think he wishes for
you to keep an open mind.

I do, which is
why of late I've

begun to entertain the thought
that he doth protest too much.

You can't possibly think
he has a hand in all this?

My studies of
the criminal mind

have taught me that
the more violently

twisted the mind, the more
violently twisted the logic.

And what reason would he have?

That remains to be seen.

Hm.

Sister.

Vigilant,
as ever, I see, hm?

Oh, yes, quite.

Not the lumpy
kind, nor the brown kind,

the tiny, white crystals.

Do you understand?

Yes, Signor.

What did I say?

Not the
lumpy kind, not the brown kind,

but the white crystals.

Oh, right, right.

Good.

Off you go, then.

Oh, hello.

What's this then?

Visitors?

Uh, good day, Brother Abel.

May we come in?

Yes, yes.

Come in, come in.

They want to have a
word with me, Hector.

Go on then.

Signor.

I do hope you're
feeling better today.

Oh, thank you.

What?

Oh, better.

Oh, yes, much
better, much better.

Good.

Then perhaps you wouldn't mind
if we asked you a question

or two about the fright
you received last night?

Oh, fright.

Yes, yes.

A terrible fright.

A terrible fright.

I'm going to paint the
bell tower, you know?

Oh, yes, I see you're
working on a new model,

the Hermitage, is it?

Mm!

No, this is St. Justinian's.

Oh, yes, of course, it is.

It's very good, too.

Yes, this is St. Justinian's.

And, um, I'm painting
the bell tower.

Mm-hmm, yes, well, we
must be going, Brother Abel.

Goodbye.

Goodbye.

Oh!

Goodbye, then.

Oh, well, good day, Inspector.

I'm glad to see you can
still smile, Mr. Holmes.

But if I were you,
I'd be a worried man.

And since you're here, you
might try praying that we find

Chagas before he kills again.

I appreciate the
advice, but, um, prayer is

one thing I'm not very good at.

Come now, it's not that hard.

All it takes is a
little humility.

Then, again, you're not very
good at that either, are you?

I know you're here as a
guest of Brother Marstoke,

but just make sure you
limit your interferences

to the grounds of the abbey.

I'll be keeping my
eye on you, Holmes.

Well.

Blessed be the name

of St. Justinian,
who through our Lord

shall deliver us from this evil.

Our Father who art in
heaven, hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come,
thy will be done--

Dear God!

And the voice,
can you describe it?

Well, it was only a whisper.

A deep, male, gravelly whisper.

Inspector Jones seems
convinced that it was Dr.

Chagas camouflaging his voice.

And what do you think?

It may have been, but it
was unrecognizable to me.

So it could have been
Inspector Jones himself

or even me for that matter.

Exactly.

And what of
the killer's accusation?

How do you think you might
have sinned against him?

Surely Brother
Marstoke has given

you gentlemen all the details?

Suffice it to say that
Brother John and I both

supported his decisions
about the bats.

Forgive my bluntness,
Sister, but Dr. Watson

was not referring
to hypothetical sins

against gods or demons.

I-- is there
any way you and the others

may have grievously
offended someone else,

either within the
order or without?

I take it you do not
admit the possibility

of diabolical intrusions into
human affairs, Mr. Holmes?

That doesn't answer
the question, Sister.

I can think of
no other offense

to either gods or humans that
we may be responsible for.

One last thing, and then
we should let you rest.

I want you to think
back to the exact moment

when the door opened and
surprised your assailant.

Before the worker called
out, did you hear anything?

Such as?

I have no wish to
prompt you, Sister.

But, please, go
back and your mind.

Think.

I heard a sharp groan.

And then nothing.

Try again.

No.

No, nothing.

And again.

No, nothing.

Oh, wait.

There was something.

A short, sharp sound, like--

like something scraping.

Excellent.

Well, thank you, Sister.

We shan't disturb
you any longer.

Oh, Mr. Holmes, there was one
more thing now that I recall.

Yes?

It's not much, but
there was a faint odor

when the thing drew near me.

A slight pungent and oily smell.

Good.

Very good.

Well, thank you, again, Sister.

What was that all about?

I was merely
confirming a deduction.

Which was?

Ha, ha, not yet,
my friend, lest it

tempt us into theorizing before
we have all the evidence.

Sister Helen's
reactions, however,

did suggest a line of inquiry.

Something you yourself observed
at the assembly meeting.

Ah, yes, Brother Caulder.

I suspect that beneath the calm
surface of St. Justinian's,

turbulent waters flow.

Exactly.

Let's plumb those
depths, shall we?

Mr. Holmes,
surely you are off the mark?

Yet, when I put a similar
question to Sister Helen,

she had a most peculiar
nervous reaction.

And reflexes do not lie.

And what might
her reaction imply?

Some collusion in a grievous
disagreement that has impelled

one of us to kill the others?

Surely that is the
stuff of Penny fiction.

It is the stuff
of "The Daily News."

Brother Marstoke,
I understand that a code

of loyalty binds
you, but if there

is any internal conflict here--

Mr. Holmes, our order
encourages lively debate,

but I do not believe that
any of our differences

has any bearing on this matter.

Ultimately, we all
strive to be selfless.

If I may be so bold.

Brother Caulder's
reaction at the meeting

last night was not
entirely selfless.

Brother Caulder's reaction
was not a sign of enmity,

it was a sign of fear.

And who can fault
him for his fear?

Then I assume you have no
objection if I speak with him?

None at all, but,
um, he is not here.

He told me before
leaving last evening

that he had decided
to stay the weekend

with his sister in Bloomsbury.

Does anyone else know
of his whereabouts?

No one.

And the Sister, do
you know her address?

Madam Karavsky?

Uh, Blenheim Row, I believe.

Yes, well,
thank you,

Brother Marstoke.

Good day, then.

Madam Karavsky?

Well, Holmes, you must
admit this case certainly

has its share of
bizarre convergences.

Mm, it does indeed.

And so on the pretext of
meeting with Madam Karavsky,

I shall now speak
with her brother.

- Alone?
- Yes.

But we must now take turns
keeping nightly vigil.

I hope you don't mind taking
tonight's watch, Watson?

Not at all.
Not at all.

But first, I want

you to drop into the
offices of the London

Transport Commission.

Transport
Commission, whatever for?

Remember last night

when I pulled up at the site--

My
brother has told

me this affair at the abbey.

And as brought me certain
objects that I may help him.

When I lay my hands upon them,
I receive certain insights.

Really?

Such as?

This,
for example, this

belonged to Brother Sinclair.

I had to pass my hand over
it and, immediately, I

knew that this was a man of
a very nervous and careless

disposition.

It
is true, Mr. Holmes.

She has never laid eyes on him.

And yet she immediately
identified his most

noticeable characteristic.

Most noticeable, yes.

For even without the
benefit of a sixth sense,

I can see that the watch case
is polished smooth, indicating

that its owner would handle it
often turning it compulsively

in his nervous grasp.

Yet the crystal is cracked
and the case dented in places,

indicating that it often fell
from those same trembling

hands.

I have no wish to play parlor
games with you, Mr. Holmes.

Nor I with you.

Let's just say we reached
the same conclusion

but by different means, hm?

But, um,
Brother Caulder,

I must ask you about
your relationship

with Brother Marstoke.

I make no secret of
my opposition to him.

Yes, you do hold him
responsible for the curse,

do you not?

One does not invite the
devil across one's threshold,

Mr. Holmes, and then expect him
to quietly leave afterwards.

Even now, Brother
Marstoke insists

on lining his walls with these
diabolical primitive artifacts.

It is an outrage which would
offend any true Christian.

I take it you believe
he is an unworthy leader.

Was it so in Guyana?

Brother Marstoke
lacked missionary zeal.

But I was alone in
my objection to him

until Brother Abel
arrived from England.

How different things
would have been had he not

been cut down by
this dreaded disease.

How might they
have been different?

Brother Abel was
outraged by the sacrileges

that Brother Marstoke
allowed to continue.

And it was he who
pinpointed the bats

as the source of the
plague and insisted

that they be eradicated.

It was Brother Abel, who
wanted the pets destroyed,

not Brother Marstoke?

Oh, absolutely.

But Marstoke wouldn't
listen to him.

Instead, he allied himself
to the devil's disciple

and did nothing until Brother
Abel himself was stricken.

The devil's disciple.

I take it you mean Dr. Chagas?

Indeed.

What sort of a man
would live with bats

and call them his children?

I fail to understand.

If Brother Marstoke was
allied to the devil,

why are he and his followers
now being stalked by the same?

One doesn't renege on
the devil, Mr. Holmes.

One doesn't even
negotiate with him.

Well, I, uh--

I thank you for your time.

And I assure you, I shall
bring this devil's to heel

before he kills again.

Stay on your guard,
Brother Caulder.

Madam, I shall see myself out.

A moment, Mr. Holmes.

I've just had a most peculiar
sensation, like a flash.

I saw a church.

The church may yet be your
salvation, Mr. Holmes.

Miracles do happen.

Madam.

Well, this is most reassuring
having you here, Dr. Watson.

Ah.

Should I have a
bed made up for you?

Oh, thank you, no.

That won't be necessary.

Right, well, if
there's anything,

don't hesitate to summon me.

Thank you.

Oh, there is one thing.

When the Brothers or
Sisters go out at night,

how do they get back In

Ah, they, uh,
simply ring the bell,

and Senora de la
Rosa lets them in,

but there will be
no ringing tonight.

They have all stayed in.

Good night, Dr. Watson.

Good night.

Happy Christmas.

There you go, sir.

Lovely, hot chestnuts.

Thank you very much, sir.

Get your hot chestnuts!

Hey, there!

Watch yourself, sir!

Ha!

Watch yourself!

My god, sir, you dodged a
coffin by a cat's hair, you did.

Are you all right then?

Yes, I'm fine.

Thank you, my man.

Call on me, sometime.

Thank you, sir.

Frederick, come here.

Frederick, come here!

Programs!

Programs!

Programs!

Excuse me.

Oh, excuse me, Madam.

I do beg your pardon.

You there, stop!

Good evening, Dr. Watson.

Brother Caulder.

But I thought you were
staying with your sister?

I intended to, but I
decided to return early

for Brother John's funeral.

And is it always your custom
to come in through the crypt?

The crypt?

I came in as
always through the main door.

But I didn't hear the bell.

There was no need to ring.

Hector was outside taking air.

Said he couldn't sleep.

And where is he now?

I assume the air
did its job because he

went to bed, as I intend to.

Good night, Dr. Watson.

For as much
as it hath pleased almighty God

of his great mercy to
receive unto himself

the soul of our dear
brother, we, therefore,

commit his body to the ground.

Earth to Earth.

Ashes to ashes.

Hector confirmed his story.

Always willing to lie for him.

Do you think it
was Brother Caulder?

One could certainly
construct a case against him,

but it is equally
true of others.

Mm.

- Jesus Christ.

Who shall change our
mortal body that it

may be like unto
his glorious body

according to the mighty working,
whereby he is able to subdue

all things to himself.

Oh, merciful God, the Father
of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Who
is the resurrection--

I must speak with you later.

- in whom whosoever

believe it shall live, though--

After the service,
take Brother Marstoke

aside, will you, my friend?

- and believe--

Find out how the de la
Rosas came into his employ.

Right.

Who
also hath taught us--

I have told you who
is responsible, Signor.

And yet I see you look
with suspicion at my son.

Until a case is
closed, Senora, I

have a habit of looking at
everyone with suspicion.

He's just a
simple-minded child.

Perhaps.

But as Dr. Watson
will attest, murder

is not the private
domain of adult geniuses.

Anyone can do it.

Indeed.

What would be the reason?

The monks have always
been generous to us.

And what do you suppose
prompted this generosity?

Christian charity
or guilt, perhaps?

I don't know what
you mean, Signor.

Yes, you do.

Brother Marstoke was most
candid with me about how

you came into his employment.

Were you not left
penniless and without

support after Hector's
father and brothers

were carried off by the disease?

And was not Hector himself
bitten but miraculously

survived?

Surely such tragic losses made
you and your son angry, Senora.

And if you believe the bats are
responsible for the disease,

then just as surely that
anger must extend to those

who allow them to survive.

I begin to see a thread, Watson.

But a little
verification is in order.

Good
day, Brother Abel.

Oh!

Gentlemen, come in.

I'm having tea.

Tea that Hector brought.

And I'm just
finishing painting--

painting.

Yes, just
about finished, I see.

Oh, yes, almost finished.

Almost finished.

St Justinian's, is it?

Yes, that's right.

That's right.

Well, uh, keep
up the good work.

Good day.

Oh, yes.

Good day.

Good day.

Good day.

Good day.

Good day.

Yes, Brother John and I
always went out together.

And were there any people
you visited on a regular basis?

Of course.

And since your return
from Guyana, have you

ever had the impression
that you're being followed?

Followed?
Mm-hmm.

By someone from the abbey?

Yes.

Why, no, at least
not that I'm aware.

Brother John never mentioned
any such suspicion.

What about Hector?

Did you ever encounter him while
you were out in the evening?

Hector, yes.

Brother John did mention
seeing him once or twice.

But he's always running errands.

Yes, of course.

Sister, if you don't
mind, I should like

to perform a little experiment.

As you can see, the
pieces of the puzzle

are almost in place, my friend.

And I have an inkling how to
find the one man who can surely

provide the missing link.

You're going
after Chagas, then?

Yes, and you--

Good day, sir.

Hello.

Good day.

And you are going to the
shop of Mrs. Heward and Parker

in Pudding Lane.

Heward and Parker?

Mr. Holmes.

I've been expecting you.

Myotis myotis, the greater
mouse-eared bat, I believe.

Following our first
meeting, I spent a evening

poisoning myself with
tobacco and reading

Professor Litinski's "Bats
of the Ancient World."

A seminal tome.

And what else did you learn?

The sad facts
of their decline.

One of the largest species
in Northern Europe and one

of the rarest.

Possibly due to contamination
of their habitat by wood

preservatives used
on antique timbers.

If only others would express
such interest, Mr. Holmes.

But bats have few friends.

And are not perceived as useful.

So sad, is it not?

Sad, indeed.

Then you can understand
why they need my protection.

And yet you knew
your discovery

must be kept secret at all
costs lest they be destroyed.

Hence your silence
and lack of alibi when

questioned by the police, hm?

Yes.

But, sadly, their days
here are already numbered.

This whole building
will soon be torn down

to make room for the future.

And the future seems to
have no place for them.

You're a noble
man, Dr. Chagas.

And I wish I could help with
your mission, but I cannot.

However, I can clear your name.

I simply need to know the
truth about your dispute

with Brother Marstoke.

The truth?

The truth is simply this--

Arrest him!

I warned you, Holmes.

I warned you!

No, Jones, listen to me.

I can prove you
have the wrong man

if you give me this one night.

No more deals.

Take him away.

The blood on my glove,
it's not human blood, is it?

Is it?

So you sensed
that someone was behind you?

Yes.

We will get to
the bottom of this

and without further loss
of life, I assure you.

I wish I shared
your confidence, Dr. Watson.

An urgent message
for you, Signor.

Mm, thank you.

It's from Holmes.

Hm.

Brothers and Sisters,
I've received some rather

alarming news from Mr. Holmes.

It appears he's been arrested.

What?

And is therefore no
longer able to help

you through your ordeal.

But, more importantly, he
states that, contrary to all

his beliefs, he has
become convinced

that some demonic presence is
indeed bent upon destroying us.

For this reason, I
have decided that

the only safe course of
action is for me to leave St.

Justinian's.

No!

Brothers, Sisters,
Brothers, it is I who

brought this curse upon you.

Therefore, I beg
your forgiveness.

And we'll spend
the night in prayer

that, when I leave
in the morning,

this demon leaves with me
and leaves you in peace.

God be with you.

Brother!

You're tempting fate
being out here alone.

I must pray before I
leave, Brother Caulder.

Go back inside and
keep yourself safe.

Brother.

Huh?

Brother
you have sinned.

Ha!

Let he who has not cast
the first stone, Brother.

Well, well, Mr. Holmes.

Stop or I'll shoot!

Good Lord!

It's happening again!

Watch out!

What in Gods--

See you in hell.

Oh, come along, quickly.

Are you all right, Holmes?

Yes, yes, I'm fine.

That was a close call!

Help him, lads.

What in all creation was that?

An earthquake?

It was
not an Earth tremor.

Here is your vampire, gentlemen.

Brother Abel!

Good, god!

And here are
his fangs, a simple garden claw

with the middle tine removed.

New pipe, Holmes?

Yes, I lost my favorite
in that little fracas

the other night.

Oh, pity.

But if not an earthquake,
what was it, Mr. Holmes?

A subsidence.

Mm.

Would you can't
explain, Dr. Watson?

Oh!
Oh, yes.

Yes, of course.

Well, you see knowing that the
London Transport Commission is

currently expanding
its underground line

to Whitechapel, I
went to their offices

to inquire about the
direction of the line.

And, well, as Mr.
Holmes deduced,

their tunneling runs
beneath the nave

and weaken the
foundations causing

the occasional shifting.

Good heavens.

I-- is it in danger of collapse?

Well, let us hope not.

But the tunneling
has been stopped.

And the commission
has given assurances

that their engineers will
immediately devise a method

of structural reinforcement.

Oh, praise be to God.

At least for His
timing, it certainly

saved your life, Mr. Holmes.

Indeed, Brother Marstoke.

The Lord works in strange ways.

It was the most remarkable--

event.

Mm-hmm.

All the more
remarkable since it

was the second of such
events in a matter of hours.

Oh, and the first?

The first was when Inspector
Jones changed his mind

and agreed to my plan.

It's not easy for a proud
man to admit he was wrong.

Yet for the first time in
our long and antagonistic

relationship, Inspector
Jones suddenly

converted to my point of view.

It is almost a miracle.

And what
caused this conversion?

Dr. Chagas, perhaps you
would explain about the gloves?

Of course.

My bloody gloves
convinced Inspector Jones

that he had the right man.

Afraid that I would
not get justice

and presented with an unexpected
opportunity, I therefore fled.

Fortunately, as I was
doing so, Mr. Holmes was

making an important discovery.

Before Inspector
Jones's arrival,

I had just finished
preparing a specimen.

Mr. Holmes saw the
specimen and drew

the logical conclusion
that the blood

was therefore bat's blood.

Ah.

Uh, but, uh of
all people, what

made you suspect Brother Abel?

Due to his condition and the
attack he cleverly feigned,

I initially dismissed
him as a suspect.

But then I saw him drinking tea.

Tea?

I-- I fail to see
the connection.

The instant I saw the
message in the children's

chapel, one thing became
immediately apparent.

The writing tilted
slightly to the left

suggesting that the
writer was left-handed.

The next day, I noticed not only
Brother Abel holding his cup

in his left hand, but
he had a smudge of ink

on the edge of his
palm suggesting that he

also wrote with the same.

And so Brother Abel soon
became my prime suspect.

Further observations soon
confirmed my suspicions.

When Sister Helen's aggressor
reached out to touch her,

she became aware of
a pungent oily smell.

And so we contrived
a little visit.

During which we
conspired to take

a small sample of the
oil paints Brother Abel

used on his models.

Sister Helen later
confirmed that it

was indeed the same odor.

At the same time, I
noticed on his workbench

a receipt from a builder's
supply shop on Pudding Lane.

It suggested a solution
to my remaining dilemma.

To move freely back and forth
through the connecting door,

Brother Abel would need a key.

But how did he get it?

I noticed Sister Margaret's
habit of wearing her key

on a cord around her waist.

It would be easy enough
to remove for a short time

while she slept,
then duplicated.

Ah, hence my visit to the
locksmith in Pudding Lane.

Precisely.

Among the various items listed
on the receipt was putty.

It, therefore, occurred to me
that Brother Abel had simply

made an impression
and instructed

Hector to have a duplicate
made on his next journey

for supplies.

That explains all but
one thing, Mr. Holmes.

You seem to know his
technique for imitating

the vampire's bite, how so?

I didn't with certainty the
actual technique he employed.

But my visit to the crime
scene suggested a possibility.

I noticed on the
brick wall two marks

made recently and by something
sharp, possibly metallic.

Sister Helen later
confirmed hearing

a short, sharp, metallic sound
when her attacker was startled.

I, therefore, deduced that he
had something in or attached

to his hand with
which he could easily

duplicate his vampire's bite.

The next day at the
funeral, the sight

of a gardener with
a similar impediment

confirmed my suspicions.

And there you have
it, gentlemen.

The Whitechapel vampire
has been laid to rest.

Well, Mr. Holmes, I--

I hope you don't
think I intentionally

misled you about my
quarrel with Brother Abel.

You told me
what you thought was pertinent,

but I knew Dr. Chagas could
provide the missing link.

Perhaps you'll do
so again, since Dr.

Watson wasn't present.

By all means.

Brother Marstoke told you that
we had argued over his decision

to eradicate the bats.

Brother Caulder said
it was Brother Abel who

argued for their destruction.

An outright contradiction.

But both are true.

It was only after Brother Abel
was stricken with the disease

that Brother Marstoke
changed his mind.

And then we came
into confrontation.

And therein lies the
crux of the matter.

Brother Abel was
already outraged

by your liberal attitudes and
jealous of your leadership

and support, was he not?

Ah, indeed, he was.

When he was finally stricken
with a terrifying disease,

he became a bitter, broken
man with an unrepenting

lust for revenge.

So ferocious and
unfailing was his rage

that feigning madness
and incapacitated,

he waited over a year for your
return and the opportunity

to exact his vengeance.

But why did you not tell me
of your conflict with him?

Uh, guilt has a
remarkably binding effect

on the tongue, Mr. Holmes.

Well, I thank you deeply
for your efforts, Mr. Holmes.

I leave a troubled
but wiser man.

Such is life,
Brother Marstoke.

A series of lessons with
the greatest for the last.

Mm.

And I, too, would like to
thank you for your efforts

on my behalf, Mr. Holmes.

My pleasure.

And good luck with your quest.

Gentlemen.
- Dr. Watson.

Good day.

Hm, mm, mm, mm.

A series of lessons
with the greatest for last.

So very good, Holmes.

Very good, indeed.

But tell me have you drawn
any lessons from this?

An awareness of forces
beyond the realm

of the senses, perhaps?

I'm beginning to suspect that
you are in the employ of Madam

Karavsky, my learned friend.

No, I'm simply
curious to know if you

now consider such things.

After all, you did admit that
the timing of the subsidence

was remarkable.

Remarkable, yes, but proof
of divine intervention?

Mm-mm.

I still think not.

And what of Madam
Karavsky's prediction

that you would be
saved by the church?

I've been told the same by
every churchman I ever met.

Ah!

Yes, Mrs. Hudson.

A tradesman just dropped
this off for you, sir.

Says he saved your
life the other night.

Saved your pipe, too.

My pipe!

What a sterling fellow.

Please, show him in.

Can't do that, sir.

He's gone already.

Oh, dear.

Did you get his address?

His name?

Any way to contact him?

He says his name
is Church, sir.

Mr. Reginald Church.