Original subtitles

Hello, Mr. Ripper. Allow me to introduce myself.

Sherlock Holmes.

Holmes!

Holmes, shoot!

He's not worth your death.

Let him go!

And I'll let you go.

Holmes, no!

John, no!

Take care of him!

Holmes!

Lestrade, that way!

All right, come on, boy! Let's go!

Come on! Let's go!

Anything?

They've lost the trail.

Keep looking.

Don't bother.

It's tobacco with pepper.

It covers all the tracks.

Get everyone you've got out on the streets.

Look for a Slav, six-foot-tall, athletic build.

He's got gashes on his face.

I know you've got your reasons, but this case is too important.

So I'm asking, damn it, Holmes, how?

I gave him those gashes.

Thank you.

In the fight, he used the techniques of Russian plastoon fighting.

This is a Bukhara chuck knife,

popular with the Russian officers after Turkestan.

And the pepper is mixed with nicotiana rustica.

Russian tobacco.

He's Russian, Lestrade.

Russian?

SHERLOCK: THE RUSSIAN CHRONICLES

John!

We've done all we could.

Your friend is in a coma.

But... you said you did everything you could. That means... It means nothin

Yes, we've done everything we could. But you shouldn't jump to conclusion

Mr. Watson is receiving the best care available.

How can we help him?

You could try to read to him aloud.

-Read? -Yes. A familiar voice can help him keep in contact with real

Thank you, Doctor.

You've found another one.

Move! Police. Police at work. Careful.

Mother of God!

The heart?

As always. Take a look, Holmes

Holmes, you let me get away although I ripped your friend.

That means I owe you my life, and a whore death, HAHA!

Now half my prey is yours. Here's a gift in parting.

He's nailed something up with a knife, it's...

Half a heart.

The letters are smudged. He wrote in a hurry.

He's nervous. In a rush. Scared.

We won't see him again here. He's fled.

Send people to the stations and ports. Check the coaches for Dover.

I don't know where he'll go, but I can guess where he'll end up.

Write to the Russian police.

I can go there.

I know the language.

Dear friend, the doctor asked me to read to you

and the Lestrade's raspy voice is just as familiar to you as mine.

I must leave the metropolis for some time.

I've allowed Ripper to escape me

and that means I'm responsible for his future victims.

I confess to experiencing certain qualms, but I've been challenged, and I accept it.

Even if it will cost me death.

Orchestra, cue music!

-Out of the way, citizen! -Sorry.

Shit!

Cabby!

Cabby!

To the police department.

You do have a police department?

Thank you.

DETECTIVE DEPARTMENT

Hello. I'm looking for Mr. Trudniy.

Pardon, what is your name again?

Sherlock Holmes. Consultant detective.

Those are the letters of recommendation from your colleagues at Scotland Yard.

Here. I took the liberty of translating it.

And what exactly...

brought you to our neck of the woods, Mr. Holmes?

Holmes.

Nothing other than a bloody trail of a killer called Jack the Ripper.

The Ripper. Yes. A bloody trail of Jack the Ripper.

"A bloody trail of Jack the Ripper"... That's quite poetic, isn't it?

Where did you learn Russian?

I read your writers.

They managed to penetrate deeply into the psychology of a criminal.

Sure. And whom have you been reading?

Dostoevsky.

But what difference does it make?

Dostoevsky...

Dostoevsky is grossly overrated.

Anyone else?

I see.

You can leave your complaint about the Ripper with our clerk.

A "complaint"? Why on Earth would I be complaining?

The killer is here, and I can help you.

Nah, we'll manage on our own.

We can penetrate the psychology of a criminal without your Dostoevsky.

Anything else?

Let me at least buy your novel.

Maybe it will help you reconcile with your wife.

How did you know?

An ink smudge on your left finger.

Your elbow is greasy.

You're left-handed and you write a lot.

While listening to me,

you've been moving your fingers as if taking notes.

Finally, you see Dostoevsky as your rival. You're jealous.

What? He is not my rival! What do you think you're...

Fine. But what about the wife thing?

There are books behind the folding screen. Unpacked, unsold.

You keep them here.

Forbidden to keep them at home

by the only person a man of your age and position is afraid of: a wife.

The couch isn't made.

Your stubble is sloppy, from shaving in an unfamiliar place.

She threw you out and now you live here.

Get out!

Attention everyone! We have a murder.

Akashin, Rizhkov! We're leaving immediately.

Come with me!

What are you doing? Your washing away the evidence!

What's going on?

Stay.

We're not washing away any evidence. There's nothing, we've checked.

There is always evidence.

May I?

What's the harm?

Please, stop it!

The horror...

I need the autopsy results.

I mean, she's already kind of autopsied.

We need to determine the cause of death.

Think she might have died of old age?

The cause is written on her face... I mean, on her throat.

Killed with a K-N-I-F-E.

I value your conclusions,

but the nature of the wounds can tell us a lot about the killer.

We have no doctor.

Well, hire one.

-Listen here, Mr. Englishman... -I know a doctor!

He's a good doctor, and cheap. Kartsev Ilia Philimonovich.

-He lives here, on Pekarskaia. -A whore's doctor!

Can you lead the way?

I will.

It'll take five minutes. Ilia Moiseev, Petersburg Bulletin.

I've read Watson's story, A Study in Scarlet. It was brilliant.

I admire you.

Watson has a very vivid imagination.

-You're being humble. Is he here? -He's in London.

If ever you need help I'll gladly become your Watson.

I know the city.

I'm good at writing.

I self-publish a newspaper on the social issues of the working-class.

One might be a cripple, but can still have a kind heart.

And for how long have you been in jail, "kind heart"?

H-how...

My God, you are, after all, Holmes.

Let me.

I drag my leg as if I was wearing shackles.

My body is affected by encephalitis, the carrier being the Siberian fly.

Don't forget the glasses.

Your vision was affected by the same disease.

You publish a newspaper about workers,

which, giving the execution of the previous tsar by the socialists,

sounds like suicide.

So how long?

Seven years.

I was sent to prison at 17.

Yes, they broke me physically, but my spirit is strong.

That's his house.

Thank you.

Holmes!

Ilia Moiseev, Petersburg Bulletin.

Mr. Kartsev!

Yes?

I need a doctor.

Of any kind. A girl was murdered.

I can't help you. The undertaker lives down the street.

You can help me catch a murderer.

Tree rubles. Money upfront.

Hey! It's for the apartment!

Wh...

It's insane!

British?

You don't like the English?

I don't care for people in general, the British more so.

Your father wasn't killed by the British, but by who sent him to the Crimean war.

So, if he volunteered, is it considered a suicide?

How did you...

You are a former officer, judging by your posture, a military doctor.

Something personal brought you into the army.

You wanted to save lives, not to take them.

You don't like the British,

but our sides fought more than 30 years ago.

The conclusion is obvious: you...

Lost someone close to you in that war.

Your father.

My father

drinks away the remnants of his fortune in the Tver province.

It was my uncle, a military doctor, who died in the war.

Shot by your sniper from 300 steps which was as efficient as it was vile.

And you will pay for it.

You can start with the cabby.

Doctor, wait. You are far better than you want to seem.

You followed me out of a sense of justice, not for money.

The throat was cut to the bone. All in one hit with a sharp knife.

From left to right.

He's left-handed.

The peritoneum is cut open, the entrails and heart were extracted.

The rest of the wounds were inflicted on the corpse.

She still has her earrings, so it wasn't a robbery.

She had grapes in her hand.

-Grapes? -Yes.

Same as in London.

That person offered her grapes.

Why did you decide it was a person? Look here.

A crime.

But one with no rhyme or reason.

Committed using tremendous strength,

several times greater than that of a human.

Cutting right to the bone in one cut is no joke.

Anyway, why would anyone even want to rob that slut?

She has no penny to her soul.

A jealous lover would've probably strangled her.

So, gentle sirs, I believe it wasn't a human.

But a gorilla.

Yes, gorilla!

A huge orangutan.

He escaped from the zoo, or a boat, saw this girl--

Apparently, you are a big fan of Alan Poe's work.

-But our killer is no giant ape. -You have a closed mind.

Which is why you reject my conclusions.

And whatever do you mean by "our killer"? He's my killer! I am in charge.

Who made you a boss, Mr. Englishman?

So, do you think a monkey offered her grapes?

She bought it herself!

The gorilla! No! The Whore!

How expensive are grapes this time of year?

Only the wealthy can afford it.

And, according to you, the victim wasn't wealthy.

There were no pennies to her name.

Our killer is skillful with the knife and knows anatomy.

We need to be looking for a surgeon, a butcher, or a hunter.

-Not a gorilla. -That's it!

I am the one in charge of this case. You are a nobody. A migrant. Now get out.

Both of you.

-Stichkin! -Here!

Get them out of here.

Now, go and check all the gorillas and orangutans in the zoo

and on the ships.

And also check the bears at the gypsies'.

She was like a sister to me.

Such an incredible stupidity!

Kind sir!

Kind sir... Avdotia was like a sister to me.

It's not right burying her in an unmarked grave.

What do you want from me?

Can they please keep her overnight? I'll get the money tomorrow.

I believe I can guess the method.

You are unusually devout for a lady of your profession.

Excuse me.

You tend to jump to conclusions, Briton.

The reality is more complex than your math.

The girl is a virgin.

Her parents died from a fever a couple of days ago.

Left her penniless.

Netochka, along with her kid sister, were thrown out on the street.

She is looking for someone to buy her body only to save her sister.

You see her as a fallen woman. I see... a saint.

Why didn't you help her? With all your compassion.

You can't help everyone. The world is incurable, Holmes.

Excuse me! My lady.

Forgive me, I...

I have a proposal for you.

-This? -Oh, God, no! No, no!

You belong to the circles to which I have no access.

When your friends come back to the streets you'll become my eyes and ears.

You are now working for me. Listen, watch, ask.

About whom?

About a man in a top hat, a dark cape, tall and thin.

Will this cover the funeral?

More than! Thank you! I'll smash myself into a pancake!

-"A pancake"? Whatever for? -Yes!

She says she'll work hard.

-My eye is quite sharp. -She has an eagle eye.

Give thanks!

"Give thanks"? To whom?

Oops!

Who would have thought that the Britons can be humane.

Are you looking for a place to stay?

Yes. Only now, I have no Russian money left.

Pardon the mess.

We'll be sharing the living and dining rooms.

The study and the bedroom are all yours.

It was the owner's late husband's.

Don't ask.

Madam Manuilova brings breakfast and lunch.

The rest of the time the place is ours.

-Don't come into my half. -I saw a door to the basement.

It's also mine. And it's locked.

If everything's clear, you can pay up.

Pounds will do.

Erofei, he's a neighbor's kid.

Pretty bright for his age.

-The usual. -A bottle of Vodka it is.

Hey, boy!

I would also like to take advantage of your services.

You need to send a letter to London.

At your service.

Dear Watson,

I hope that this letter finds you in good health.

As for myself, everything is a mystery in this astonishing country.

Apart from the identity of the murderer.

You will no doubt be surprised to learnthat the Ripper

who we sought out in vain in Londonfor a whole month,

was found by myself on my very first day in Saint Petersburg.

Or, to be more accurate, he found me.

What's that?

Bull's heart. It's good for the liver.

No, thank you. No need.

That's what I've been telling you. you need a companion.

All alone. Gutting your corpses day after day,

Madam Manuilova is talking about my experiments in the basement.

One can easily go crazy like that.

Am I right, Sheilok?

It's "Sherlock", Madam Manuilova.

He's not Russian, but that's fine.

Madam Manuilova, I speak better Russian than you.

and, perhaps, than the doctor.

I only have troubles with certain idioms and cas-ees.

It's "cay-ses", not "cas-ees"

Thank you.

One time my husband brought home a parrot.

A beautiful creature with pink feathers.

Well, it knew the Book of Psalms by heart!

Please, eat.

What are you planning to do?

To patrol the streets.

Alone, at night and dressed like that?

I've been to the London slums, I believe I can handle yours.

London slums versus Ligovsky is like English pugs versus Russian bears.

There you are protected by the police and a gentleman status.

Here it comes down to a knife... and a prayer.

I'll accompany you.

The Ripper attacks, literary speaking... under the guise of the night.

But the sun has yet to set.

I wonder how you would interpret the title of Dostoevsky's White Nights?

As a metaphor.

This proves, once again,

that you Russians never say and write what you think.

I'll let you in on a secret, we also never think what we really think.

It makes no sense. You'll rescue those girls,

but in a year, they'll die from syphilis or alcohol poisoning.

Why do you treat them then?

To be able to cover my rent. And alcohol.

Six feet, a top hat, and a cape.

It's like looking for a snowflake in a blizzard. Look.

They all look like that.

Fathers and pillars of society by day, demons by night.

And one of them has been following us.

I will go ahead, and you follow him.

Why the hell were you following me?

It was left outside the newspaper house.

-The ink is smudged. -I remember what it said.

"You arrived in my city, Holmes,

and as a gracious host I have to give you a gift."

What was inside?

A piece of a heart?

Are you still willing to help?

Just like Watson?

Get the police. The Ripper has lured me into a fight.

But how will you manage alone?

We have an old score to settle. Go.

You brought me here so no one would disturb us?

Wasn't this your intention as well?

The masks are off.

Who was she?

The one who broke your heart.

None of your business.

Was she your wife?

You'll never kill again!

Wait! Do you think I'm the Ripper?

Get him!

Get him!

Hey!

Anyone?

Call Trudniy!

He ordered to keep you here till morning, so you'd cool down.

Pardon? Whatever! Come morning, someone will be dead.

Call Trudniy!

I know he's here!

Why did you think it was me?

Shit!

A left-handed ex-military doctor who knows his way around a cold weapon.

There are tons of those here.

I wasn't talking about your weight.

-Why would I talk about your weight? -I'll explain later.

When I met you, you were wearing an apron.

-Apron? -And there was blood on your shoes.

And traces of brown clay, which can be found in the harbor slums.

The same clay I found near Avdotia's corpse.

You speak English, treat prostitutes.

They trust you and will follow you to the backstreets.

-Why would I cut them? -As an act of pity.

You believe life will eventually kill them.

So you kill them mercifully, by cutting the artery.

And then, you're trying to mask your warped humanism by your atrocities.

"Atrocities"?

What...

I was delivering a baby in the filthy flophouse by the harbor,

that's where the blood and clay came from.

I can't afford a change of scrubs, so I wear an apron.

Indeed, I was in Britain for Darwin's lectures.

And I've learned your language to be able to read medical magazines.

What about the alcohol-preserved hearts in your sinister closet?

Hmm?

Ania.

My wife.

She died of the heart defect, I couldn't save her.

Everything has lost sense to me. I...

I lost my practice. My home.

The respect of my colleagues, but... I wanted to conquer that illness.

So now, I study the organs of those who died from it.

You, Holmes, have too much trust in your calculations.

The reality is complicated.

-Why should I believe you? -Who said I believe you?

The murders happened in London while you were there.

Now you're here as well as the murders.

-Why would I be killing? -Because you're crazy!

I see signs of a personality disorder in you.

Dilated pupils, hand tremors,

nightmares, sleepwalking. -That's all your...

You've stolen my Laudanum, Holmes!

Can't deny that, can you?

You?

I was waiting for you to pluck up the courage.

Wake up! Out!

DETECTIVE DEPARTMENT

Where did you learn to fight like that, Sherlock?

In the basements of London.

Underground fights for the title of champion of London.

To tell you the truth, I am terribly hungry.

Same here, I wouldn't mind something to eat.

The freshest. Don't doubt it, master.

-What's that? -Kulebyaka with trebukha.

Those are not real words.

It's pie with tripe.

I won't eat that.

It's really tasty though.

Do you know who you remind me of? This same city, Saint Petersburg.

Just like this city,

you are trying to deal with the chaos through order.

Like this city, you are failing.

So, what should I do?

Embrace the chaos, Holmes.

Until you dissolve in it.

Wait.

-I haven't examined the body yet. -Don't let him through!

I've put up with you long enough. You're of no use, you only cause harm.

Out of the way!

You need to get out of here. Out of Russia! Go to hell! Get out!

Wait up, Trudniy.

Polizeimeister, sir.

The Englishman is getting in our way.

Hello, Holmes. I am Znamenskiy.

I've read about you in an English newspaper.

Pardon my subordinate, he's Russian,

and they have an innate fear and distaste of everything western.

Including you.

Unfortunately, we still have plenty of those.

But I'm an Anglophile.

You've spent three years in Oxford.

Your main goal is to turn Russia into another England.

Bravo!

Someday, you should tell me what gave me away.

Cut to the chase, what do you think of the criminal?

He is daring, skillful, confident in his invulnerability.

He's enjoying the process. And will kill again.

Today. And will keep killing every night.

No. We'll catch him. With God's... and your help.

Why do you think he's doing it?

He leaves bodies in plain sight, which means he's not ashamed.

On the contrary, he is proud. It's a challenge.

-Is he challenging us? -No, the world.

He's making it pay for its suffering.

What would you do first?

I would spread the information.

Maybe there are witnesses

and we are obliged to warn possible victims.

The prostitutes?

Proceed with your investigation, but no publicity. Are we in harmony?

-"In harmony"? -It means "okay".

Petr Vasilievich, but it's my case!

The news of the crime has reached the court.

The emperor ordered to catch the criminal in 24 hours.

Will you manage on your own or will you use your colleague's help,

given he can be blamed for the failure?

Doctor, please go to the unit and examine the bodies.

So you trust me now?

You are correct, I am not well.

But my disease is of a different nature.

My brain's built in a way that I'm able to notice things that others cannot.

And for that, I have to pay.

Laudanum helps me to avoid... overloads.

Take it away, hurry.

Last night I wanted to kill you. Still do. But you might just be able to stop him.

Out of the way!

Make way, she needs air.

-I'm sorry. -No, I'm sorry.

Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes!

The killer came in an expensive black carriage.

Oh! You've earned a raise.

Shoot! I must have left my money at home.

Here, take it.

Take it.

Thank you.

You don't look like a rich girl

who uses charity to cleanse her consciousness.

I'm not rich. It was my daily allowance, but it's bigger than hers.

Or yours.

Anyway, I am glad that the money went to a good cause.

-Sofia Kasatkina. I... -Teach in the school for deaf children.

Chalk crumbs on the dress, strict clothing, commanding tone,

you're a teacher.

Kant and Fourier in your bag. I think you're reading them for yourself.

But I'm curious, where a teacher can earn so much in a day.

And the school for the deaf?

You were 20 feet away and couldn't hear us.

You were reading our lips.

You're doing it even now. A force of habit.

But you're also watching my lips. Is it also a habit?

You got me.

Madam.

It seems you need to be escorted to your outskirts.

How do you know where I live?

The rain stopped at 6 a.m., but you still have your umbrella.

Was still raining when you left home. Came from afar.

Your gift is unnerving. I don't think people like you very much.

The feeling is mutual, but there are exceptions.

Why are you doing this?

Murders, blood... It's just horrible.

For me, a crime is a violation of the world's harmony.

To restore it, I have to find the criminal and punish him.

Otherwise, I won't be able to sleep, eat, live, or do anything else for that matter.

Sounds like an obsession.

Aren't you scared?

I am afraid to submit to fear. To conquer it one needs to face it.

No one cares about these unfortunates, but I cannot just give up on them.

Even if I'll be left alone.

You're not alone.

We're here.

Will we see each other again?

You tell me.

You are a genius.

We will.

Just look at what this scoundrel left in my coach, Holmes!

That's your Ripper, I tell you!

You've decided to stay, which means you like it.

In that case, I will change the tradition and start killing every night.

Holmes, I wanted to ask you for some time now... what's your plan?

...Fight the Beast of the Night...

To the raid!

Fight the Beast of the Night!

Fight the Beast of the Night!

Mr. Holmes, I wanted to thank you!

Now, I have no need to engage in this profession.

Someone found me a companion job.

Who?

My benefactress.

You're full of surprises.

-You're supposed to... -Stay home and hide behind a savior?

You're not alone, Holmes. You've inspired me. Now I also care.

My sisters, women, are getting murdered. And my duty is to help them.

How can you help them?

You shouldn't underestimate women, Mr. Holmes.

-Don't leave my sight. -Don't you dare to patronize me.

I am just delighted to see you.

Girls!

Listen! Right now, we should all stick together.

Glashka is gone. Glashka is gone!

Glashka!

Glashka!

Glashka!

Glashka!

Oh, my God, it's you!

I was so scared!

Forgive me, but have you seen Glashka?