All language subtitles for Father Dowling Mysteries S03E21 The Consulting Detective Mystery.DVDRip.NonHI.en.CBS

Hello, Lloyd. Your partners want
the paperwork Camby gave you.

Heh, they're gone.

I'll just take what you
hid in the candlestick.

Why? So you can kill
me like you killed Camby?

No, listen to me.

When you broke the door,
you set off a silent alarm.

The security patrol
will be here any second.

Lloyd, Lloyd.

I'd tell you to grow up but
you're not gonna get the chance.

Mr. Eastland.

Security!

Mr. Eastland!

Hey, what are you
doing up there?

Stop! Hold it!

Who are you?

So you always unlock the
church at dawn, Father?

Morning mass starts at 6:00 a.m.,
sergeant. Every Monday through Friday.

St. Michael's has a lot of
working parishioners, sergeant.

So what happened?

Well, I opened up the front door and
I saw someone stealing a candlestick.

Get a look at the thief?

He was too far away for
an accurate description.

He was big, that's
all I could see.

But, I can tell you that
his name is Martin Kruicki?

And that he works in a machine
shop just a few blocks from here.

Frank, if you didn't really see the
guy then how do you know who he is?

Elementary, my dear Steve. Look.

- Oil.
- Hmm, and over here.

Metal shavings.

Same kind of metal shavings
you'd find in a machine shop.

Or a garage.

So how does this lead
you to this guy Kruicki?

I'll show you.

He ran out this door,

leaped over the railing and
left his footprint there in the dirt.

Judging from the direction of the
print I'd say he fled down the alley.

That makes sense.

I measured the, uh, footprint.

Judging from its
size and its depth,

I would say that the man is
about six feet tall, a little more,

weighs about 200 pounds,
wears a size 13 shoe.

Big guy, like you said.

I still don't see how that gets
you his name and address, Father.

The footprint, Clancy.

There's a name in here.

E-L-L-I-S Shoes.

Ellis Shoes. FRANK: Mm-hm.

After I phoned you to report
the robbery I called Ellis Shoes

and they told me they only had one
distributorship in this neighborhood

and that's Lake Shore Bootery.

And you called
Lake Shore Bootery.

And the manager told
me that he has only sold

one pair of Ellis work boots,
size 13, in the last few weeks,

to one Martin Kruicki and Kruicki
gave a residential hotel as his address.

I called the hotel and they said he works
in a machine shop over on Broadway.

Got it.

Let's go. No sirens.

You know, Father, sometimes
you're a regular Sherlock Holmes.

Well, thank you, Clancy.

- Frank, - Hmm.

I have to ask.

If you're Sherlock Holmes,
am I Doctor Watson?

Clancy just called.

They arrested Kruicki
at the machine shop.

Did they find the candlestick?
- Uh-uh.

But they're getting a search
warrant for his apartment.

Clancy really owes
you one this time, Frank.

I just used a little deductive
reasoning, Steve. That's all.

Now, don't be modest.

You sold Sergeant Clancy. You
know how hard she is to convince.

And besides, the guy fits the
description just like you said.

Wonder why he
wanted that candlestick?

Wait!

Hold it! Stop!

Steve, let him go.

Frank?

What?

Do you want me to call Clancy?

No, no, I'll do it.

But I'm telling you, Clancy.

The thief that Steve and I
chased away a few minutes ago

has got to be the man who stole our
candlestick from church this morning.

And since you've got Martin Kruicki
in custody, he can't be the thief.

That's right. He's innocent.

Uh, whatever you say, Clancy.

She'll be by later on
for a statement, heh.

Steve, I never heard
her so angry before.

But she's right, I
made a terrible mistake.

Are they gonna let Kruicki go?

Yeah, he'll be free as soon
as they process his papers.

Steve, I've got
to go talk to him.

I have got to let him
know how sorry I am.

Excuse me, do you know
if Martin Kruicki is around?

Yeah, he works here.

Not any more he don't.

I'm Kruicki.

Let me just guess
who you are, right?

You're the priest
who had me arrested.

Yes, I am.

I came by to apologize for any
difficulty I may have caused you.

Okay. Fine. You
apologized. Goodbye.

Well, I just really wanted
to apologize to you.

Terrific, okay? All right,
that makes everything okay.

Look, Father Dowling made a
mistake, all right? He's sorry about it.

Why don't you just
give him a break?

Oh, like he gave
me a break, right?

Hey, let me explain
something to you, okay, Father?

I'm an ex-con.

I had to sweat
blood to get this job

and my boss told me
if I get into any trouble,

he'd give me the axe.

Well, he just did it.

But you're innocent.

All he cares about is the cops waltzed
in here and they arrested me, okay.

As far as he's concerned
where there's smoke there's fire.

So thanks.

Thanks for everything.

Mr. Kruicki, maybe if
I spoke to your boss?

No, okay! You've
done enough already.

You know the thing
that really burns me?

You're a priest.

Frank?

Oh, Father Dowling, I'm so glad
you're here. I need your advice.

- Not now, Phil.
- Oh, this will only take a second.

The bishop has asked
me to select a retreat house

for the annual Diocesan
Prayer Weekend.

I can't decide between
St. Crispin's in Evanston

and the Blessed Name
Monastery outside Michigan City.

Father Prestwick, Father
Dowling has a lot on his mind.

I followed every principle
of deductive reasoning.

I examined the evidence.
I drew conclusions.

I weighed those conclusions
against objective fact.

That's right, Frank. You
did what you always do.

What are we talking about?

Father Dowling, I've got
your lunch about ready.

You know, far be it for
me to criticize, Frank, heh.

Well, then don't.

But in my opinion, one can rely
far too heavily on reason and logic.

Heh, I mean, the mind
is a highly fallible tool.

Look at me.

Reason tells me that St.
Crispin's Retreat House in Evanston

is much closer to Chicago

and thus from a logistics point
of view much more advantageous.

But logic points out that
the Blessed Name Monastery

has a larger kitchen.

Which can be, uh, an
important consideration

over a long summer weekend.

Which would you pick, Frank?

I don't know, Phil.
You make the choice.

What about lunch?

I'm not hungry, Marie.

I'll be in church.

Where do we start, Frank?

Where do we start what, Steve?

Where do we start looking for
the real thief? What's our next step?

There is no next step.

Steve, I can't play detective
with innocent people's lives.

Come on, Frank, you
made an honest mistake.

Martin Kruicki is out of a
job because of my mistake.

Who do I think I am,
Sherlock Holmes?

Here, you better take
this. I'm finished with it.

Your missal?

No, it's not my missal, it's
my second-favorite book.

At least it used to be.

Father Dowling, I thought
you went up to bed hours ago.

- Couldn't sleep, Marie.
- Yeah, I know what that's like.

I just fixed myself a glass of warm
milk. If you want I'll get you one.

No, thanks.

My body's ready for sleep.
It's my mind that can't find rest.

I bet you're worried about that
man the police arrested by mistake.

By my mistake, Marie.

Father Dowling, my first
husband, Mr. Sweeney...

He was a traveling salesman.

Mr. Sweeney used to say:

"You won't make a sale
every door you knock on

but if you never knock on a
door you'll never make a sale."

Marie, you lost me.

Father, ahem,

you can't be right all the time.

And if you don't allow
yourself to make a mistake

you'll never be right
some of the time.

A mistake like I made, Marie,
can ruin an innocent man's life.

And I'm not certain that's a
responsibility I wanna face anymore.

Well, don't stay up too late.

I won't. Good night, Marie.

Good night, Father.

Who's there?

Who are you?

How did you get in here?

In a way, my good sir,

you brought me here.

As for who I am,

you know my methods, Father.

I suggest you employ them.

You're Sherlock Holmes.

Elementary, my dear Dowling.

This is a practical
joke, isn't it?

I assure you, it is not.

You look like him
and you act like him.

My dear, Dowling, I
am not like anyone.

I am myself.

I am in fact precisely
whom I appear to be:

- Sherlock Holmes.
- Heh.

But Sherlock Holmes
is a fictional character.

You can't be him.
You can't be here.

Yet I am here.

Well, how is that possible?

You summoned me.

I did?

Not, perhaps, by
conscious thought.

Yet you sought my counsel as
you have so many times before.

But this time there
was a difference.

What difference?

You must have heard it said
that certain fictional characters

are so real to their readers
that they come alive.

Yes.

Your belief in my deductive
methods, and me, made me real.

But yesterday your faith
in my methods was shaken.

More than that.

Wait a minute.

Are you saying that if I stop
believing in you, you'll cease to exist?

Precisely.

And that is why I'm here.

To help restore your belief
in my methods and me,

as well as solve this case.

Now this investigation presents
several aspects of interest.

In fact, it possesses certain similarities
to the West End Candlestick Murder.

I don't remember that one.

That's not surprising, since Dr. Watson
rarely chose to chronicle my failures.

So this is your chance
to solve a mystery

that you failed to solve before?

View it in that
manner, if you wish.

I can't believe I'm
having this conversation.

I must be going out of my mind.

If you are, Father,

I would hardly be the proper
authority to assure you otherwise.

Now, where is your inkwell?

I don't have an inkwell.

My dear Dowling, how do you
propose to write without ink?

Well, It's a little difficult
to explain. You see...

Hi, Marie.

Shh, shh, shh, shh.

I heard you called while I
was out for a run. What's up?

- Who's he talking to?
- That's why I called you, Sister.

Nobody.

What do you mean, nobody?

You heard me, nobody.
You listen for yourself.

I still have the other one.

Ooh. Oh. Sorry.

- Hi, Frank.
- Heh.

Steve. Marie. Heh.

I, uh, suppose
you're wondering...

Were you talking to
somebody on the phone, Frank?

Uh, on the phone?
No, I was, uh, uh...

Somebody on the
phone, yes, that's right.

Uh, Steve, last night

before I went to bed I locked
the candlestick in the sacristy.

Would you get it for me, please?

Sure, Frank.

- Marie.
- Dooh!

Is Father Dowling there?

I have some more brochures
for the Diocesan Prayer Retreat.

He's busy.

- Who's he taking to?
- Nobody.

All right, it's just a guess
but what else have we got?

The thief stole one
candlestick yesterday morning

and then came back for the other
yesterday afternoon, now why?

What's so important
about a candlestick?

Not just any
candlestick, Dowling.

Ask yourself, what is important
about this particular candlestick?

So far I haven't
the faintest idea.

Hello, Sister.

Hello, Father.

- Ah, hello, Frank.
- Hi, Phil.

Oh, Steve, I need to talk to you

privately for a minute. - Oh.

Would you excuse
us please, Phil?

Let me see that.

Hmm, hello.

There's something in here.

What is it?

Looks like some kind
of a business card.

With numbers on the back.

Steve, where do we
get these candlesticks?

From Mrs. Lupino
from the Altar Society.

She bought a whole dining room
set a month ago at an estate auction.

Yeah.

She didn't want the candlesticks
so she donated them to St. Michael's.

Can you find out what auction
house Mrs. Lupino bought them from?

Sure. I'll get her number

- and give her a call.
- Hmm.

You here?

Mrs. Lupino told you that
somebody broke into her place.

- A couple of nights ago.
- But nothing was stolen?

No, but she said whoever did it
went through the letters in her desk.

Letters?

Steve, I wrote Mrs. Lupino a letter
thanking her for the candlesticks.

That must be how the thief
knew to find them at St. Michael's.

Let's talk to the auctioneers.

And now, ladies and gentlemen,

our next item is a lovely example
of late 19th Century woodcraft.

Opening bid is $2000.

Frank. MAN: $2000.

Do I have $2000 please?

- Excuse me, could I get some infor...
- Shh, shh, shh.

Do I have $2000 please?

Yes, I have 2000.

2010 thank you. Two thousand...

I guess we just have to wait.

No, Father, we're
leaving right now.

I'm gonna make a little
trade, you for the candlestick.

I'm leaving with him. You
go home and wait for my call.

You call the cops, he's dead.

Now, no fuss. Just
back up nice and easy.

$10,000!

- Hey, what are you doing?
- Excuse me, Sister, heh.

The bid is $2600.

Didn't you say it was a
marvelous piece of workmanship?

Isn't it worth $10,000?

That isn't the point.

Uh, the bid is $2600. I have 26.

- 20,000.
- What?

Well, uh, if she can
bid 10 I can bid 20.

- And if he can bid 20 I can bid 30.
- Excuse me.

- 30? 40,000.
- 50,000.

Excuse me.

60,000.

70 cents and that's my last
and final offer. Take it or leave it.

Father, Sister,

if you don't mind.

Please, show them the way out.

Come on, Father, let's go.

Frank, that was the guy we
saw running out of St. Michael's.

Whoever he is, thank
heavens he's gone.

Steve, we're not any
closer to finding out

where those
candlesticks came from.

And those auctioneers are
probably never gonna talk to us again.

- Maybe they don't have to.
- Hmm?

A very resourceful companion
your Sister Stephanie.

She reminds me of Watson the
night we pursued Jonathan Small

and his Cayman Island
friend up the Thames.

Heh, good man with
a pistol, John Watson.

He was an army doctor in Afghanistan
before he took a bullet in his shoulder.

Or was it his leg,
I've never been sure.

Pity Watson married. He
was an excellent companion.

As indeed are you, Dowling.

Thank you, I think.

- Holmes, what are you doing here?
- Helping you.

Now I fear this calling card
presents few opportunities

for an exercise in
deductive observation.

Obviously these numbers represent
an arithmetical code of some sort, but...

Are you sure?

My dear, Dowling,
of course I'm sure.

I wrote a monograph on the
deciphering arithmetical codes.

But this is, I must admit,

for the moment at
least, incomprehensible.

Well, what about
the card itself?

What indeed.

You know my methods.

Does the, uh, handwriting
suggest anything to you?

I'm not sure.

Great heavens, man, try.

You were quite
good at this once.

Well, the man who
wrote this is European.

Or at least was
schooled in Europe.

See, he uses the Continental
seven with the bar across the stem.

Yes. Middle-aged, recently
recovered from a mild stroke,

wears glasses, wrote by
artificial light and in a great haste.

You see these last few
numbers, they run together.

Other than those obvious
points, I can infer nothing.

Well, this may be obvious
to you but it's not to me.

No, I'm not discouraged,
I'm just frustrated.

Gotta figure this thing out.

Well, they have a very
neat filing system in there.

The candlesticks are from
the Lloyd Eastland estate.

I have the address of his widow.

Well, maybe she can
tell us what's so important

about this business card
and those candlesticks, huh?

- Frank?
- Hmm.

Just now it looked like, um,
you were talking to somebody.

- It did?
- Yeah, it did.

But there's nobody there, Frank.

Is there something going
on that you want to tell me?

Steve, I'll explain everything
to you just as soon as I can.

In the meantime, all I can ask
you to do is to please trust me.

I always have, Frank.

Those candlesticks weren't
the only thing I sold, Father.

I had to auction off almost everything
Lloyd left me to pay off his debts.

I'm sorry.

You sold everything?

Well, our stock and
bonds, most of our furniture,

and I've even had to put
this house on the market.

I really had no choice.

Unfortunately, Lloyd
didn't believe in insurance.

What kind of business
was your husband in

that he owed so much
money, if you don't mind?

Lloyd was an
investment counselor.

He, uh, arranged funding
for new companies.

What kind of companies?

Oh, he worked with computer
designers, chemists, engineers.

Pretty high-tech.

Yes, well, Lloyd used to
call them men of vision, heh.

- Hmm.
- Those men of vision went broke.

But Lloyd never lost faith.

Mrs. Eastland,

we think that the thief
who killed your husband

was the same man who stole your
candlestick from St. Michael's Church.

That's very interesting, Father,
but what's the connection?

I'm not sure.

Does this number
mean anything to you?

No, I'm sorry, I'm
afraid it doesn't.

Do you mind if we have a
look at your husband's records?

Oh. There are some in
these boxes and in the desk

and the rest I've boxed for storage.
You're welcome to take a look.

You go ahead, Steve.
I'll take the desk.

Right through here.

Holmes, you're making
this very difficult for me.

Yes, yes. Dowling.

Look at this.

Chi-Town Motors.

Aha.

Aha.

Mrs. Eastland, did your husband
know anyone at Chi-Town Motors?

Oh, I'm sorry, but I wasn't
involved with Lloyd's business.

I couldn't say.

Looks like a car
dealership, Frank.

Maybe it's time the
parish got a new car.

Maybe.

Would you mind sending
your husband's files

over to St. Michael's Rectory?

It might help us find the
person who killed your husband.

I'll send them over this afternoon.
- Mm.

Just out of curiosity,

was your husband
educated in Europe?

Why, yes.

Did he wear glasses

and had he recently
recovered from a mild stroke?

Yes, Father. How
did you know that?

Deductive reasoning.

Goodbye, Mrs. Eastland.

- Goodbye.
- Thanks for everything.

No problem, and good luck with
whatever it is you're looking for.

Thanks.

Here, look at this.

Doesn't look as if they do much
business around here, does it?

The way they keep their
cars, I'm not surprised.

What sort of dealings would
a visionary like Eastland

have to do with a
rundown operation like this?

Steve, I'd like to get a
look inside that office.

Got it covered, Frank.

- Hi.
- Hi.

Good tires.

Good car.

Good terms.

How about a test drive?

- Can't.
- Why not?

Won't run.

Nice talking to you, Sister.

What about, uh, this one here?

Bad axle.

- How 'bout that one?
- No headlights.

The truth is we lost Eddie
Camby, our head mechanic,

a couple of months ago and
now the place is falling apart.

Let's just try it.

Sister, I'm telling you,
this car is a lemon.

You know, my uncle
Jack always said,

"When the world gives you a
lemon, you make lemonade."

Lemonade?

What are you doing?

Fasten your seatbelt.

Piloting one of those vehicles

seems an absurdly
complicated procedure, Dowling.

And to what end? One shuts
oneself inside a metal box,

goes hurtling about the streets

frightening the horses and no
doubt ruining the cobblestones.

Well, I don't drive, myself.

We should look for something
with Eastland's name on it.

Dowling, what's this?

Oh, that's a
title slip for a car.

The slip shows who owns
a particular automobile.

It's a form of identification.

I understand that, Dowling,
but look at this number.

Does it remind you of anything?

Well, that's a vehicle
identification code.

Fifteen digits.

Mostly numbers, with letters
in this position here, and here.

Think, Dowling.

The number on the
back of this business card

that we found in
the candlestick.

It's a vehicle ID code.

When do you think
you'll be done?

Uh, it's kind of hard
to say, Mr. Gable.

Most of these wrecks, you
gotta tear down the whole engine

before you can
even see what's what.

Where's Stu?

Your salesman?

Oh, he took a friend
of mine for a test drive.

That must be her now.

Werner, get out there and find
out what Stu thinks he's doing.

You got it, Mr. Gable.

Larry Gable, Father.
This is my shop.

I'd, heh, love to sell
you a car but we're

having a little trouble
with our inventory.

Oh, that's too bad.

I'm Father Dowling from
St. Michael's Church.

I got the name of your
dealership from Lloyd Eastland.

I heard Lloyd passed away.

Yes, he was murdered.

The police think
a burglar did it.

My God.

- How awful.
- Hmm.

But it's beginning to look like
there's much more to it than that.

You and Mr. Eastland
did business together?

Lloyd arranged financing for
an expansion I was planning

a couple of months ago.

Unfortunately, the
deal fell through.

Oh, I thought he only
funded high-tech companies.

So?

Well, forgive me but a used car
dealership isn't exactly high-tech.

What kind of expansion
were you planning?

Father, my business
with Lloyd Eastland

- is none of your business.
- Hmm.

Mr. Gable, can you
think of a reason

why someone would
want to kill Lloyd Eastland?

Maybe he asked too
many annoying questions.

Goodbye, Father.

- You should be all set.
- Stu. Werner.

Bye.

Steve.

That's the guy from the church.

What's he doing here?

Elementary, my dear Sister
Stephanie. Elementary.

Why was he murdered?

Because he had something
that somebody wanted.

And what did he have?

A vehicle ID number on
the back of a business card.

What's important about
a vehicle ID number?

It identifies an automobile.

And what could be important
about one particular vehicle?

I don't know.

Dowling, what is a power train?

I have no idea.

Gear ratio?

I don't know.

Fuel injection?

Wait a minute.

I think all those things have
something to do with an automobile.

Aha.

Lloyd Eastland arranged
financing for inventors.

These papers among his files

refer to automobile
parts and tests.

Might not one of Eastand's inventors
have done something to an automobile

that could increase its value?

I wouldn't know.

- Look at this, Dowling.
- Hmm?

"Inventor found in
apparent suicide."

Steve, this clipping
was in one of the files

that Lloyd Eastland's widow
sent over. Listen to this.

"Inventor found in
apparent suicide.

Dennis Camby,
holder of three patents

for technical improvement
in automotive design,

was found dead of gas asphyxiation
near his home in Lincoln Park today."

"At the time of his death,

Camby was developing a
new high performance engine

rated at 600 miles
per tank of gas."

Frank, this is dated just a couple
of days before Eastland got killed.

Father Dowling, I want to talk
to you about these brochures.

I'll clear the table.

Phil, I really don't want to
talk about retreat houses now.

These aren't retreat
houses, Frank.

These are stress
reduction clinics.

Clinics? PHILIP: Mm-hm.

Phil, these are sanitariums.

You have been under a
great deal of strain, Frank.

Now, the bishop agrees
with me. You need a rest.

Do you think I'm having
a nervous breakdown?

Let's just say you need
your stress reduced.

Frank, there was a
guy named Camby

who was head mechanic
at Gable Motors.

How would you know that?

Stu, the salesman, he told me that
everything fell apart after Camby left.

He said some of
the cars don't run.

Steve, some of
the cars won't run

because Gable doesn't
want them to run.

What?

Frank, that doesn't
make any sense.

Phil, would you
excuse us, please?

Oh, no, no, no.

Dennis Camby was one
of Eastland's men of vision.

Camby invented this new
high mileage car engine.

Gable wanted the engine,
Camby wouldn't give it to him.

Therefore Gable had Camby killed
and made his death appear a suicide.

So Gable had Camby killed
and made it look like a suicide.

Oh, she's very good, Dowling.

Yes, she is.

What?

Camby installed
his enhanced engine

in one of the cars
on Gable's lot.

But he died before he told
Gable which car it was in.

Yes, but Camby must have
given Eastland the title slip

and Eastland wrote the vehicle
ID number on the back of this card

and then stuck it
in his candlestick.

Come, Dowling, the game's afoot.

Steve, we gotta find that car.

Frank.

Before we go anywhere,

you have been talking to
somebody that nobody else sees.

Now,

I wanna know what's
going on, Frank.

Well, I've been

getting a little help from
a consulting detective.

Who?

Sherlock Holmes.

The Sherlock Holmes?

Is there another?

Steve, I know how this sounds and I
know it's almost impossible to explain

but, uh, he's here right now.

You sure about this, Frank?

Look, I don't expect you to
understand or even believe this.

It's just too fantastic.

All I know is that before
he appeared I felt lost

and now I feel like
I've found myself again.

Frank,

ever since you caught me
shoplifting when I was 10 years old,

you believed in me,

you know, no matter what, no matter
who else did, you believed in me.

So I guess I can
believe in you and, um,

Sherlock Holmes.

Thanks, Steve.

Nice to meet you, Mr. Holmes.

Actually, he's over here.

Yes, yes, very good.
May we go now?

Let's go now.

Have you made a decision about
those stress reduction resorts, Frank?

Well, as a matter
of fact, Phil, I have.

Oh, excellent.

Yes, I've decided to
reduce my stress right here.

Marie, don't wait dinner
for us, we'll be late.

Come on inside,
we'll talk about it.

Yeah, no luck.

You got the car yet? - No, no.

Steve, we have to find the
car with this vehicle ID number.

The ID numbers are inside the
windshield on the driver's side, Frank.

So, you take those. I'll take
those over here, all right?

Holmes!

- Get down!
- Why?

Because somebody will see you.

I hardly think so.

But if you don't take care,
that man will certainly see you.

Dowling, isn't this the
number we're looking for?

What?

VC 943881893227?

Excellent.

Let us proceed.

What do you mean, "proceed"?

This car is the evidence
we're looking for.

We're taking it with us.

Frank?

- Uh-huh, marvelous.
- Holmes, you can't drive a car!

We can hardly know that
until I try, can we, Dowling?

Oh, Lord.

- Aha!
- Aah!

Quite lively, I must say,
Dowling. Like a well-schooled filly.

Slightest touch of the
rein and over she goes.

Go!

They're getting away!

Go!

Holmes, you're
gonna kill us both.

Nonsense. I think I'm
driving her quite adequately.

- The brake! The brake! Down there!
- I see it.

- And that will stop us?
- That's the idea.

Not a very good one,
though, I fancy, Dowling.

If you'll be good enough to glance
into the small looking glass up there

you'll observe that
we're being pursued.

- And by the very bounders...
- Holmes!

Tell me, where did you say
this braking apparatus is located?

Down there! Down there!

Freeze!

Hold it right there!

Hold it!

Good afternoon, officers.

I can understand where
this looks very peculiar to you

and I'm gonna try and explain,
but you're gonna have to be patient.

Very patient.

The Adventures of
Sherlock Holmes, indeed.

I cannot say I approve
of Watson's approach

to reporting the
cases we shared.

He tends to tinge the exact
science of detection with romanticism.

Which produces much the same
affect as if he'd worked a love story

into the Fifth
Proposition of Euclid.

Deduction is not that
exact a science, you know.

Sometimes we do make mistakes.

My dear Dowling, the only
fatal mistake a man may make

is the mistake
he fails to admit.

You've helped me
more than you know.

And you have been some
help to me, I must confess.

Dowling, my mind
rebels at stagnation.

Give me work.

Give me the most abstruse
cryptogram or the most intricate analysis

and I'm in my own
proper element.

But I abhor the dull
routine of existence,

as I suspect, do you.

Final edition!

Good evening, sir.

- Where are we?
- A few steps from Baker Street.

My world. My age.

And yours too, if you wish.

- Mine?
- You belong here, Dowling.

In a world simpler
than the one you know.

Here, where all
difficulties disappear

before the cold hard
beacon of a reasonable mind.

Come with me, Dowling.

Father Dowling?

Frank?

Perhaps another time.

As you wish.

But, by heaven,

it would have been wonderful.

Well, come on, Steve,
we got work to do.