All language subtitles for Sherlock.S02E01.A.Scandal.in.Belgravia.720p.NF.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H264-playWEB

Who are you?
Jim Moriarty.

Bye.

Consulting criminal.

I have loved this,
this little game of ours.

People have died.
That's what people do!

I will stop you.

If you don't stop prying...

I'll burn you.

I will burn the heart
out of you.

Catch you later.

No, you won't.

Sorry, boys.
I'm so changeable.

It is a weakness with me,
but to be fair to myself,

it is my only weakness.

You can't be
allowed to continue.
You just can't.

I would try to convince you,

but everything I have to say
has already crossed your mind.

Probably my answer
has crossed yours.

Do you mind if I get that?

Oh no, please.
You've got
the rest of your life.

Hello?

Yes, of course it is.
What do you want?

Say that again!

Say that again and know that
if you're lying to me,

I will find you
and I will skin you.

Wait.

Sorry,

wrong day to die.

Oh.
Did you get a better offer?

You'll be hearing
from me, Sherlock.

So if you have
what you say you have,
I will make you rich.

If you don't,

I'll make you into shoes.

What happened there?

Someone changed his mind.

The question is, who?

Well, now,
have you been wicked,
Your Highness?

Yes, Miss Adler.

- What are you typing?
- A blog.

- About?
- Us.

- You mean me.
- Why?

Well, you're typing a lot.

Right, then.
So, what have we got?

My wife seems to be spending

- a very long
time at the office.
-Boring.

I think my husband

- might be having an affair.
- Yes.

She's not my real aunt,
she's been replaced.
I know she has.

- I know human ash.
- Leave.

We are prepared to offer
any sum of money
you care to mention

- for
the recovery of these files.
- Boring!

We have this website,
it explains the true meaning
of comic books,

'cause people miss
a lot of the themes.

Uh,
but then all the comic books
started coming true.

Oh, interesting.

"Geek Interpreter",
what's that?

- That's the title.
- What does it
need a title for?

Do people
actually read your blog?

Where do you think
our clients come from?

I have a website.

In which you enumerate
240 different
types of tobacco ash.

Nobody's reading your website.

Right, then, dyed blonde hair,
no obvious cause of death

except for these speckles,
whatever they are.

Oh, for God's sakes!

- What?
- "The Speckled Blonde"?

They wouldn't let us see
Granddad when he was dead.

Is that 'cause
he'd gone to heaven?

People don't really
go to heaven when they die,

they're taken
to a special room
and burned.

Sherlock...

There was a plane crash
in Dusseldorf yesterday.

- Everyone dead.
- Suspected terrorist bomb.

- We do watch the news.
- You said
"boring" and turned over.

Well, according to the flight
details, this man was
checked in on board.

Inside his coat
he's got a stub
from his boarding pass,

napkins from the flight,
even one of those
special biscuits.

Here's his passport,
stamped in Berlin airport.

So this man should have died
in a plane crash in
Germany yesterday,

but instead he's in a car boot
in Southwark.

Lucky escape.

- Any ideas?
- Eight so far.

Okay, four ideas.

Maybe two ideas.

No, no, no,
don't mention
the unsolved ones.

People want to
know you're human.

- Why?
- Because they're interested.

- No, they're not.
Why are they?
- Hmm, look at that.

One thousand,
eight hundred and ninety-five.

- Sorry, what?
- I reset that
counter last night.

This blog has had
nearly 2,000 hits
in the last eight hours.

This is your living, Sherlock,

not 240 different
types of tobacco ash.

Two hundred and forty-three.

So what's this one?

- "Bellybutton Murders"?
- "The Navel Treatment"?

There's a lot of
press outside, guys.

Well, they won't
be interested in us.

Yeah, that was before
you were
an internet phenomenon.

Couple of them specifically
wanted photographs of you two.

For God's sake!

- John.
- Hmm?

Cover your face and walk fast.

Still,
it's good for
the public image,

big case like this.

I'm a private detective,
the last thing I
need is a public image!

Hello.
I think it's time,
don't you?

Oh!

Ugh!

Oh.

Oh, dear! Thumbs?

The door was...

Boys! You've got another one!

Oh!

Tell us from the start,
don't be boring.

Hey, are you okay?

Excuse me!

Are you all right?

Sir, phone call for you.

Carter.

Have you heard
of Sherlock Holmes?

- Who?
- Well,
you're about to meet him now.

This is your case,
it's entirely up to you,

this is just friendly advice,
but give Sherlock five minutes

on your crime scene and listen
to everything
that he has to say.

And as far as possible,

try not to punch him.

Okay.

Sir, this gentleman says
he needs to speak to you.

Yes, I know. Sherlock Holmes.

John Watson.
Are you set up for Wi-Fi?

You realise this is
a tiny bit humiliating?

It's okay, I'm fine.
Now, show me to the stream.

I didn't really mean for you.

Look, this is a six.

There's no point in my
leaving the flat for anything
less than a seven,

we agreed.

Now,
go back, show me the grass.

- When did we agree that?
- We agreed it yesterday.

Stop.

Closer.

I wasn't even at
home yesterday,
I was in Dublin.

It's hardly my fault
you weren't listening.

Shut up!

Do you just carry on talking
when I'm away?

I don't know,
how often are you away?

Now, show me
the car that backfired.

It's there.

That's the one that
made the noise, yes?

Yeah.
If you're thinking gunshot,
there wasn't one.

He wasn't shot,
he was killed by a single blow

to the back of the head
from a blunt instrument,

which then
magically disappeared,
along with the killer.

It's got to be an eight,
at least.

You've got two more minutes,
they want to know
more about the driver.

Oh, forget him, he's an idiot.

Why else would he
think himself a suspect?

I think he's a suspect.

- Pass me over.
- All right,
but there's a mute button

and I will use it.

Up a bit! I'm not talking
from down here!

Okay. Just take it, take it.

Having driven to
an isolated location and
successfully committed a crime

without a single witness,
why would he
then call the police

and consult a detective?
Fair play?

He's trying to be clever.
It's over-confidence.

Did you see him?

Morbidly obese,
the undisguised
halitosis of a single man

living on his own.
The right sleeve
of an internet porn addict

and the breathing pattern of
an untreated heart condition,

low self-esteem,
tiny IQ and
a limited life expectancy

and you think he's
an audacious
criminal mastermind?

Don't worry,
this is just stupid.

What did you say? Heart what?

- Go to the stream.
- What's in the stream?

- Go and see.
- Sherlock!

You weren't
answering your doorbell.

His room's through the back,
get him some clothes.

- Who the hell are you?
- Sorry, Mr Holmes...

-
Sherlock, what's going on?
- You're coming with us.

I've lost him.
I don't know what...

- Dr Watson?
- Yeah.

- It's for you.
- Okay, thanks.

Uh, no, sir, the helicopter.

Please,
Mr Holmes, where you're going
you'll want to be dressed.

I know exactly
where I'm going.

- Are you wearing any pants?
- No.

Okay.

At Buckingham Palace. Right.

I am seriously
fighting an impulse to
steal an ashtray.

What are we
doing here, Sherlock?
Seriously, what?

- I don't know.
- Here to see the Queen?

Oh, apparently, yes.

Just once can you two
behave like grownups?

We solve crimes,
I blog about it
and he forgets his pants.

I wouldn't hold
out too much hope.

I was in the middle
of a case, Mycroft.

What,
the hiker and the backfire?

I glanced at
the police report,
a bit obvious, surely?

Transparent.

Time to move on, then.

We are in Buckingham Palace,
at the very heart of
the British nation.

Sherlock Holmes,
put your trousers on!

- What for?
- Your client.

And my client is?

Illustrious, in the extreme.

And remaining,
I have to inform you,
entirely anonymous.

- Mycroft.
- Harry.

May I just apologise
for the state of
my little brother?

A full-time occupation,
I imagine.

And this must be
Dr John Watson,
formerly of

- the Fifth
Northumberland Fusiliers?
- Hello, yes.

My employer is
a tremendous fan
of your blog.

- Your employer?
- Particularly enjoyed the one

- about the aluminium crutch.
- Thank you.

And Mr Holmes the younger,
you look taller in
your photographs.

I take the precaution
of a good coat
and a short friend.

Mycroft,
I don't do anonymous clients.

I'm used to mystery
at one end of my cases,

both ends is too much work.
Good morning.

This is a matter of
national importance.
Grow up!

- Get off my sheet!
- Or what?

- Or I'll just walk away.
- I'll let you.

Boys, please. Not here.

Who is my client?

Take a look at
where you're standing
and make a deduction.

You are to be engaged
by the highest in the land.

Now, for God's sake!

Put your clothes on!

I'll be mother.

And there is a whole childhood
in a nutshell.

My employer has a problem.

A matter has come to light
of an extremely delicate

and potentially
criminal nature and in this
hour of need, dear brother,

- your name has arisen.
- Why?

We have a police force
of sorts, even
a marginally secret service.

Why come to me?

People do come
to you for help,
don't they, Mr Holmes?

Not to date
anyone with a navy.

This is a matter of the
highest security and
therefore of trust.

You don't trust your
own secret service?

Naturally not.
They all spy on
people for money.

I do think we
have a timetable.

Yes, of course.

What do you know
about this woman?

Nothing whatsoever.

Then you should be
paying more attention.

She's been at the centre of
two political scandals

in the last year and recently
ended the marriage of
a prominent novelist,

by having an affair
with both
participants separately.

You know
I don't concern
myself with trivia.

Who is she?

Irene Adler,
professionally
known as The Woman.

Professionally?
There are many names

for what she does,
she prefers "dominatrix".

- Dominatrix.
- Don't be alarmed.

- It's to do with sex.
- Sex doesn't alarm me.

How would you know?

She provides, shall we say,
recreational scolding

for those who enjoy
that sort of thing

and are
prepared to pay for it.

These are all
from her website.

And I assume this Adler woman
has some
compromising photographs?

You're very quick, Mr Holmes.

Hardly a difficult deduction.
Photographs of whom?

A person of
significance to my employer.

We'd prefer not to say
any more at this time.

You can't tell us anything?

I can tell you
it's a young person.

A young female person.

- How many photographs?
- A considerable number,
apparently.

Do Miss Adler
and this young female person

- appear in these
photographs together?
- Yes, they do.

And I assume
in a number of
compromising scenarios?

An imaginative range,
we are assured.

John, you might want to put
that cup back in
your saucer now.

- Can you help us, Mr Holmes?
- How?

- Will you take the case?
- What case?

Pay her, now and in full.

As Miss Adler
remarks in her masthead,
know when you are beaten.

She doesn't want anything.

She got in touch,
she informed us
that the photographs existed,

she indicated that she had
no intention to use them

to extort either
money or favour.

Oh, a power play.

A power play with the
most powerful
family in Britain.

Now, that is a dominatrix.
Ooh, this is
getting rather fun, isn't it?

- Sherlock...
- Hmm.

- Where is she?
- Uh, in London, currently.

- She's staying...
- Text me the details,

I'll be in touch by
the end of the day.

Do you really think
you'll have news by then?

No, I think I'll
have the photographs.

One can only hope
you're as good as
you seem to think.

I'll need some equipment,
of course.

Anything you require,
I'll have it sent over.

- Can I have a box of matches?
- I'm sorry?

Or your cigarette lighter,
either will do.

- I don't smoke.
- No, I know you don't,

but your employer does.

We have kept a lot of people
successfully in the dark

about this little fact,
Mr Holmes.

I'm not the Commonwealth.

And that's as
modest as he gets.
Pleasure to meet you.

Laters!

Okay, the smoking,
how did you know?

The evidence was
right under your nose,
John, as ever you see

- but do not observe.
- Observe what?

The ashtray.

Kate?

We're going to have a visitor.
I'll need a bit of
time to get ready.

- A long time?
- Hmm, ages.

What are you doing?

I'm going into battle, John,
I need the right armour.

- No.
- Nah.

- Works for me.
- Everything works on you.

- So, what's the plan?
- We know her address.

- We just ring her doorbell?
- Exactly. Just here, please.

You didn't even
change your clothes.

Then it's time to add
a splash of colour.

- Are we here?
- Two streets away,
but this will do.

- For what?
- Punch me in the face.

Shade?

- Blood.
- Punch you?

Yes, punch me, in the face.
Didn't you hear me?

I always hear "punch me in the
face" when you're speaking,

- but it's usually sub-text.
- Oh, for God's sakes!

Oh!

Ow!

Thank you,
that was, that was...

Okay,
I think we're done now, John.

You want to remember,
Sherlock, I was a soldier.

- I killed people.
- You were a doctor!

I had bad days!

- What are you going to wear?
- My battledress.

Ooh, lucky boy.

- Hello?
- Oh, um, sorry to disturb you.

Um, I've just been attacked.

Um, and I think they,
they took my wallet and, um,

and my phone.
Um, please, could you help me?

I can phone
the police if you want.

Thank you, thank you.
Could you, please?

Er, would you, would you mind
if I just waited here,
just until they come?

Thank you, thank you so much.

Thank you. Oh.

I saw it all happen.
It's okay, I'm a doctor.

- Now,
have you got a first aid kit?
- In the kitchen. Please.

- Thank you.
- Oh, thank you.

Hello, sorry to hear
that you've been hurt.

I don't think Kate
caught your name?

I'm so sorry, I'm...

Oh, it's always hard
to remember an alias when
you've had a fright.

Isn't it?

There now,
we're both defrocked.

- Mr Sherlock Holmes.
- Miss Adler, I presume?

Look at those cheekbones.
I could cut myself
slapping that face.

Would you like me to try?

Right, this should do it.

I've missed something,
haven't I?

Please, sit down.
Or if you'd like some tea,

I can call the maid.

- I had some at the Palace.
- I know.

Clearly.

I had a tea,
too, at the Palace.
If anyone's interested.

Do you know the big problem
with a disguise, Mr Holmes?

However hard you try,
it's always a self-portrait.

You think I'm a vicar
with a bleeding face?

No, I think you're damaged,
delusional
and believe in a higher power.

In your case, it's yourself.

Hmm, and somebody loves you.

If I had to punch that face,
I'd avoid your
nose and teeth too.

Could you put
something on, please?

Er, anything at all, a napkin?

Why? Are you feeling exposed?

I don't think John
knows where to look.

No, I think he
knows exactly where.

I'm not sure about you.

If I want to
look at naked women,
I borrow John's laptop.

- You do borrow my laptop.
- I confiscate it.

Well, never mind,
we've got better
things to talk about.

Now, tell me, I need to know.
How was it done?

- What?
- The hiker with
the bashed-in head,

how was he killed?

That's not why I'm here.

No, no, no, you're here
for the photographs,

but that's never
going to happen.

And since we're here
just chatting anyway...

That story's not
been on the news yet,
how do you know about it?

I know one of the policemen.
Well, I know what he likes.

Oh. And you like policemen?

I like detective stories.
And detectives.

Brainy's the new sexy.

Position of the car...
Uh, the position of the car

relative to the hiker
at the time of the backfire,
that and the fact

that the death blow
was to the back of the head,

that's all you need to know.

Okay,
tell me, how was he murdered?

He wasn't.

- You don't
think it was murder?
- I know it wasn't.

- How?
- The same way that I know

the victim was an excellent
sportsman, recently returned
from foreign travel

and that the photographs
I'm looking for
are in this room.

Okay, but how?

- So, they are in this room.
- Thank you.
John, man the door,

let no one in.

Two men alone in
the countryside, several yards
apart and one car.

Oh, I... I thought you were
looking for the photos now.

No, no, looking takes ages,
I'm just going to find them,

but you're moderately clever
and we've got a moment,

so let's pass the time.
Two men,
a car and nobody else.

Driver's trying
to fix his engine.
Getting nowhere.

And the hiker is
taking a moment,
looking at the sky.

Watching the birds?
Any moment now,
something's going to happen.

- What?
- The hiker's going to die.

No, that's the result.
What's going to happen?

- I don't understand.
- Oh, well, try to.

Why?

Because you cater to the whims
of the pathetic

and take your clothes off
to make an impression.

Stop boring me and think.
It's the new sexy.

- The car is going to backfire.
- There's going to
be a loud noise.

- So what?
- Oh, noises are important.

Noises can tell
you everything.

For instance...

Thank you.

On hearing a smoke alarm,
a mother would look
towards her child.

Amazing how fire
exposes our priorities.

I really hope
you don't have a baby in here.

All right, John,
you can turn it off now.

I said you can
turn it off now.

Give me a minute.

Thank you.

Hmm.

You should always use gloves
with these things, you know.

Heaviest oil deposit is always
on the first key used,

that's quite clearly a three,
but after that the sequence

is almost impossible to read.

I see from the make
that it's a six-digit code.

It can't be your birthday,
no disrespect,

but clearly you were born
in the '80s and
8's barely used,

- so...
- I'd tell you
the code right now,

but you know what?
I already have.

Think.

Hands behind your head,
on the floor,
keep it still!

- Sorry, Sherlock.
- Miss Adler, on the floor!

Don't you want me
on the floor too?

No, sir,
I want you to open the safe.

American. Interesting.
Why would you care?

- Sir, the safe, now, please.
- I don't know the code.

We've been listening,
she said she told you.

Well if you've been listening,
you'll know she didn't.

I'm assuming I
missed something.

From your reputation,
I'm assuming you didn't,
Mr Holmes.

For God's sake, she's the one
who knows the code, ask her!

Yes,
sir, she also knows the code
that automatically calls

the police and sets off
the burglar alarm.

- I've learned not
to trust this woman.
- Mr Holmes doesn't...

Shut up!
One more word out
of you, just one,

and I will decorate that wall
with the insides of your head.

That,
for me, will not be hardship.

Mr Archer,
at the count of three,
shoot Dr Watson.

- What?
- I don't know the code.

- One.
- I don't know the code.

- Two.
- She didn't tell me,

I don't know it!

I'm prepared to believe you,
any second now.

- Three!
- No, stop!

Thank you, Mr Holmes.
Open it, please.

Vatican cameos!

- Do you mind?
- Not at all.

- He's dead.
- Thank you.

You were very observant.

- Observant?
- I'm flattered.

- Don't be.
- Flattered?

There'll be more of them,
they'll be keeping an eye

on the building.

- We should call the police.
- Yes.

- On their way.
- For God's sake!

Oh, shut up, it's quick.

Check the rest of the house,
see how they got in.

Well, that's
the knighthood in the bag.

Oh, and that's mine.

All the photographs
are on here, I presume?

I have copies, of course.

No, you don't.

You'll have permanently
disabled any kind of
uplink or connection.

Unless
the contents of this phone
are provably unique,

you wouldn't be
able to sell them.

Who said I'm selling?

Well,
why would they be interested?

Whatever's on the phone,
it's clearly not
just photographs.

That camera-phone is my life,
Mr Holmes.

I'd die before I
let you take it.
It's my protection.

- Sherlock!
- It was.

- Must have come in this way.
- Clearly.

It's all right,
she's just out cold.

Well God knows,
she's used to that.
There's a back door.

Better check it, Dr Watson.

Sure.

You're very calm.

Well, your booby trap
did just kill a man.

He would have killed me.
It was
self-defence in advance.

What...? What is that? What...

Give it to me.
Now. Give it to me.

- No.
- Give it to me.

- Ah! No.
- Oh, for goodness' sake!

Drop it.

I said drop it!

Ah, thank you, dear.

Now, tell that
sweet little posh thing
the pictures are safe with me.

They're not for blackmail,
just for insurance.

Besides, I might
want to see her again.

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

It's been a pleasure,
don't spoil it.

This is how I want
you to remember me,

the woman who beat you.

Goodnight, Mr Sherlock Holmes.

- Jesus! What are you doing?
- He'll sleep for a few hours.

Make sure he doesn't choke
on his own vomit,

it makes for a
very unattractive corpse.

What's this?
What have you given him?
Sherlock?

He'll be fine.
I've used it on
loads of my friends.

Sherlock, can you hear me?

You know,
I was wrong about him.
He did know where to look.

For what?
What are you talking about?

The key-code to my safe.

- What was it?
- Shall I tell him?

My measurements.

- Got it!
- Oh.

No, don't get up.

I'll do the talking.

So the car's about to backfire

and the hiker,
he's staring at the sky.

No, you said he
could be watching birds,
but he wasn't, was he?

He was watching
another kind of flying thing.

The car backfires
and the hiker turns to look.

Which was his big mistake.

By the time
the driver looks up,
the hiker is already dead.

What he doesn't see
is what killed him,

because it's already being
washed downstream.

An accomplished sportsman
recently returned
from foreign travel

with a boomerang.

You got that from one look?

Definitely the new sexy.

I...

I...

Hush now, it's okay.

I'm only returning your coat.

John?

John!

- You okay?
- How did I get here?

Well, I don't suppose
you remember much, you weren't
making a lot of sense.

Oh, I should warn you, I think
Lestrade filmed
you on his phone.

- Where is she?
- Where's who?

- The woman, that woman.
- What woman?

The woman! The woman woman!

Oh, Irene Adler?
She got away, no one saw her.

She wasn't here, Sherlock.

What are you... What?
No, no, no. No. Back to bed.

You'll be fine in the morning.
Just sleep.

Of course I'll be fine,
I am fine.
I'm absolutely fine.

Yes, you're great.
Now, I'll be next
door if you need me.

- Why would I need you?
- No reason at all.

The photographs
are perfectly safe.

In the hands of
a fugitive sex worker?

She's not interested
in blackmail. She wants...
protection, for some reason.

I take it you've stood down
the police investigation

into
the shooting at her house?

How can we do anything
while she has the photographs?

Our hands are tied.

She'd applaud
your choice of words.

You see how this works,
that camera-phone

is her
get-out-of-jail-free card.
You have to leave her alone.

Treat her like royalty,
Mycroft.

Though not the way
she treats royalty.

What was that?

Text.

But what was that noise?

Did you know there were
other people after her,
too, Mycroft,

before you sent
John and I in there?

CIA trained killers,
I think excellent guess.

Yeah,
thanks for that, Mycroft.

It's a disgrace, sending your
little brother
into danger like that.

Family is all we
have in the end,
Mycroft Holmes!

Oh, shut up, Mrs Hudson!

- Mycroft!
- Hey!

- Apologies.
- Thank you.

Though do, in fact, shut up.

Oh, it's a bit rude,
that noise, isn't it?

There's nothing
you can do and
nothing she will do,

as far as I can see.

I can put maximum
surveillance on her.

Why bother?
You can follow her on Twitter.

I believe her
username is TheWhipHand.

Yes, most amusing.

Excuse me.

Hello?

Why does your
phone make that noise?

What noise?

That noise,
the one it just made.

It's a text alert,
it means I've got a text.

Hmm. Your texts
don't usually make that noise.

Well, somebody got
hold of the phone
and apparently as a joke,

personalised their
text alert noise.

Hmm, so every
time they text you...

- It would seem so.
- Could you turn
that phone down a bit?

At my time of life it's...

See,
I'm wondering who could have
got hold of your phone,

because it would have been
in your coat, wouldn't it?

I'll leave you to
your deductions.

I'm not stupid, you know.

Where do you get that idea?

Bond Air is go,
that's decided.
Check with the Coventry lot.

Talk later.

What else does she have?

Irene Adler.

The Americans wouldn't be
interested in her

for a couple of
compromising photographs.

There's more.

Much more.

Something big's coming,
isn't it?

Irene Adler is no longer
any concern of yours.

From now on,
you will stay out of this.

Oh, will I?

Yes, Sherlock.

You will.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I have a long
and arduous apology

to make to a very old friend.

Do give her my love.

- Lovely, Sherlock.
That was lovely.
- Mmm, marvellous.

- That was very good.
- I wish you could
have worn the antlers.

Some things are best left to
the imagination, Mrs Hudson.

-Mrs H.
- Oh, no thank you, Sarah.

Er, no, no, no, no, no,
he's not good with names.

No, no, no, I can get this.
No, Sarah was the doctor

and then there was the one
with the spots and then
the one with the nose

and then... Who was after
the boring teacher?

Nobody.

Jeanette!
Ah, process of elimination.

Oh, dear Lord.

Hello, everyone. Sorry, hello.
Uh,
it said on the door just to,

- just come up.
-Hello, Molly.

Everybody saying hello to each
other, how wonderful!

Let me, er... Holy Mary!

Wow!

So we're having
a Christmas drinkies, then?

- No stopping them, apparently.
- It's the one day of the year

where the boys
have to be nice to me,

so it's almost worth it.

- John?
The counter on your blog...
- Hmm?

- Molly, want a drink?
- It still says 1,895.

Oh no, Christmas is cancelled.

And you've got
a photograph of me
wearing that hat!

- People like the hat.
- No, they don't. What people?

- How's the hip?
- Oh, it's atrocious,

but thanks for asking.

I've seen much worse,
but then I do post-mortems.

Oh, God, sorry.

- Don't make jokes, Molly.
- No, sorry.

- Here you are.
- Thank you.

I wasn't expecting to see you.

I thought you were going to be
in Dorset for Christmas?

That's first
thing in the morning,
me and the wife,

we're back together,
it's all sorted.

No, she's sleeping
with a PE teacher.

And John, I hear you're off
to your sister's,
is that right?

- Yeah.
- Sherlock was complaining.
Saying.

First time ever,
she's cleaned-up
her act, she's off the booze.

- Nope.
- Shut up, Sherlock!

I see you've got
a new boyfriend, Molly,
and you're serious about him.

What? Sorry, what?

In fact, you're seeing him
this very night and
giving him a gift.

- Take a day off.
- Shut up and have a drink.

Oh, come on, surely you've all
seen the present at
the top of the bag.

Perfectly wrapped with a bow.
All the others are
slapdash at best.

It's for
someone special, then.

The shade of red
echoes her lipstick, either
an unconscious association

or one that she's deliberately
trying to encourage.

Either way, Miss Hooper
has love on her mind.

The fact that
she's serious about him
is clear from the fact

she's giving him
a gift at all. That always
suggests long-term hopes,

however forlorn,
and that she's
seeing him tonight

is evident from her make-up
and what she's wearing.

Obviously trying to compensate
for the size of her
mouth and breasts...

You always say
such horrible things.
Every time. Always.

Always.

I am sorry. Forgive me.

Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper.

- Oh, no!
That wasn't... I didn't...
- No, it was me.

- My God, really?
- What?

- My phone.
- Fifty-seven?

- Sorry, what?
-
Fifty-seven of those texts,

the ones I've heard.

Thrilling that
you've been counting.

Excuse me.

- What's up, Sherlock?
- I said excuse me.

Do you ever reply?

Oh dear Lord, we're not going
to have Christmas phone calls
now, are we?

Have they passed a new law?

I think you're going to find
Irene Adler tonight.

We already know where she is.

As you were kind enough to
point out, it hardly matters.

No, I mean you're
going to find her dead.

- You okay?
- Yes.

The only
who fitted the description.

Had her brought here,
your home from home.

You didn't need
to come in, Molly.

It's okay, everyone else
was busy with... Christmas.

The face is a bit sort of
bashed-up, so it might be
a bit difficult.

- That's her, isn't it?
- Show me the rest of her.

That's her.

- Thank you, Miss Hooper.
- Who is she?

How did Sherlock recognise her
from not her face?

Just the one.

Why?

Merry Christmas.

Smoking indoors,
isn't there one of those...

one of those law things?

We're in a morgue.

There's only so
much damage you can do.

How did you know she was dead?

She had an item
in her possession,

one she said her
life depended on.

She chose to give it up.

Where is this item now?

Look at them,

they all care so much.

Do you ever wonder if there's
something wrong with us?

All lives end,
all hearts are broken.

Caring is not an advantage,

Sherlock.

This is low tar.

Well, you barely knew her.

Huh.

Merry Christmas, Mycroft.

And a Happy New Year.

He's on his way.
Have you found anything?

No. Did he take the cigarette?

- Yes.
- Shit!

- He's coming, ten minutes.
- There's nothing
in the bedroom.

Well, it looks like
he's clean. We've tried
all the usual places.

Are you sure
tonight's a danger night?

No, but then I never am.

You have to stay
with him, John.

- I've got plans.
- No.

Mycroft...

I am really sorry.

You know my friends
are so wrong about you.

- Hmm?
- You're a great boyfriend.

Okay, that's good.
I mean, I always
thought I was great...

And Sherlock Holmes
is a very lucky man.

Oh, Jeanette, please.

No, I mean it.
It's heartwarming.

You'll do anything for him.

And he can't even
tell your girlfriends apart!

No, I'll do anything for you,

just tell me what it is
I'm not doing, tell me!

Don't make me compete
with Sherlock Holmes!

I'll walk your dog for you.

There, I've said it now,
I'll even walk your dog.

I don't have a dog!

No, because that
was the last one.

Okay.

- Jesus!
- I'll call you.

- No!
- Okay.

That really wasn't
very good, was it?

Oh, hi.

You okay?

I hope you didn't mess up
my sock index this time.

Lovely tune, Sherlock.
Haven't heard that one before.

- You composing?
- Helps me to think.

What are you thinking about?

The count on your blog
is still stuck at 1,895.

Yes.
Faulty, can't seem to fix it.

Faulty or you've been hacked
and it's a message.

Hmm?

Just faulty.

Right.

Right.

Well, I'm going out for a bit.

Listen,
has he ever had any kind of

girlfriend, boyfriend,
a relationship, ever?

I don't know.

How can we not know?

He's Sherlock.

How will we ever know what
goes on in that
funny old head?

Right. See you.

- John?
- Yeah?

Hello.

Hello.

So, any plans for
New Year tonight?

Um, uh, nothing fixed.

Nothing I couldn't
heartlessly abandon, yeah.

Any ideas?

One.

You know,
Mycroft could just phone me,

if he didn't have
this bloody stupid
power complex.

Couldn't we just go to a cafe?

Sherlock doesn't
follow me everywhere.

Through there.

He's on his way.

You were right,
he thinks it's Mycroft.

He's writing sad music.

Doesn't eat,

barely talks,
only to correct
the television.

I'd say he was heartbroken
but, uh, well, he's Sherlock.

He does all that anyway...

Hello, Dr Watson.

Tell him you're alive.

He'd come after me.

I'll come after
you if you don't.

Hmm, I believe you.

You were dead on a slab.

It was definitely you.

DNA tests are only as good
as the records you keep.

Oh, and I bet you know
the record-keeper.

I know what he likes.

And I needed to disappear.

Then how come I can see you
and I don't even want to?

Look, I made a mistake.

I sent something to Sherlock
for safekeeping

and I now I need it back,
so I need your help.

No.

- It's for his own safety.
- So is this.

Tell him you're alive.

I can't.

Fine, I'll tell him
and I still won't help you.

- What do I say?
- What do you normally say?

You've texted him a lot!

- Just the usual stuff.
- There is no
usual in this case.

"Good morning.
I like your funny hat."

"I'm sad tonight,
let's have dinner."

"Hmm, you look sexy on
Crimewatch,
let's have dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

"Let's have dinner."

You flirted with
Sherlock Holmes?

At him. He never replies.

No, Sherlock always replies,
to everything.

He's Mr Punchline.

He will outlive God
trying to have the last word.

- Does that make me special?
- I don't know, maybe.

Are you jealous?

- We're not a couple.
- Yes, you are.

There. "I'm not dead.
Let's have dinner."

Who the hell knows about
Sherlock Holmes,

but for the record,
if anyone out
there still cares,

- I'm not actually gay.
- Well, I am.

Look at us both.

I don't think so, do you?

Stop it!

Sherlock!

Oh, Sherlock. Sherlock.

Don't snivel, Mrs Hudson,

it'll do nothing to impede
the flight of a bullet.

What a tender
world that would be.

Oh, please, sorry, Sherlock.

I believe you have something
that we want, Mr Holmes.

Then why don't you ask for it?

Oh, I've been asking this one,
she doesn't seem
to know anything.

But you know what I'm asking
for, don't you, Mr Holmes?

I believe I do.

Please help.

- First get rid of your boys.
- Why?

I dislike being outnumbered,

it makes for too much stupid
in the room.

You two, go to the car.

Then get into
the car and drive away.

Don't try to trick me,
you know who I am,
it doesn't work.

Next, you can stop
pointing that gun at me.

So you can point a gun at me?

- I'm unarmed.
- Mind if I check?

Oh, I insist.

Don't do anything...

Moron!

- Oh, thank you.
- You're all right now,
you're all right.

Yes. Yes. Oh!

What's going on?

Jesus,
what the hell is happening?

Mrs Hudson has been attacked
by an American,

I'm restoring
balance to the universe.

Oh. Mrs Hudson, my God,
are you all right?

Jesus,
what have they done to you?

Oh, I'm just being so silly.

Downstairs,
take her downstairs
and look after her.

It's all right.

It's all right now,
I'll have a look at that.

I'm fine, I'm fine.

Are you going to tell me
what's going on?

I expect so, now go.

Lestrade?

We've had
a break-in at Baker Street.

Send your least irritating
officers and an ambulance.

Oh,
no, no, no, no, we're fine.

No, it's the,
uh, it's the burglar,

he's got himself
rather badly injured.

Oh, a few broken ribs,
fractured skull,
suspected punctured lung.

He fell out of a window.

Oh, it stings.

Oh, that was right on my bins.

And exactly how many times
did he fall out of the window?

It's all a bit of a blur,
Detective Inspector.
I lost count.

She'll have to sleep upstairs
in our flat tonight,

- we need to look after her.
- No.

- She's fine.
- No, she's not, look at her.

She's got to take some time
away from Baker Street.

She can go and
stay with her sister.
Doctor's orders.

- Don't be absurd.
- She's in shock,
for God's sake,

and all over some bloody
stupid camera-phone.

- Where is it, anyway?
- Safest place I know.

You left it in the pocket
of your second-best
dressing gown, you clot!

I managed to sneak it out when
they thought I
was having a cry.

Thank you.

- Shame on you, John Watson.
- Shame on me?

Mrs Hudson leave Baker Street?
England would fall.

- Where is it now?
- Where no one will look.

Whatever's on that phone is
more than just pictures.

Yes, it is.

So, she's alive, then.

How are we feeling about that?

Happy New Year, John.

Do you think you'll
be seeing her again?

- Is that a phone?
- It's a camera-phone.

- And you're x-raying it?
- Yes, I am.

- Whose phone is it?
- A woman's.

- Your girlfriend?
- You think she's my girlfriend

because I'm
x-raying her possessions?

- Well, we all do silly things!
- Yes.

They do, don't they?
Very silly.

She sent this to my address.
And she loves to play games.

She does?

Hey, Sherlock...

- We have a client.
- What, in your bedroom?

Oh.

So, who's after you?

- People who want to kill me.
- Who's that?

Killers.

It would help
if you were a tiny
bit more specific.

So you faked your own death
in order to get ahead of them?

It worked for a while.

Except you let John know that
you're alive and therefore me.

- I knew you'd keep my secret.
- You couldn't.

But you did, didn't you?

Where's my camera-phone?

It's not here.
We're not stupid.

Then what have
you done with it?

If they've
guessed you've got it,
they'll be watching you.

If they've been watching me,
they'll know that I took

a safety deposit box at a bank
on the Strand
a few months ago.

I need it.

Well, we can't just go
and get it, can we?

Molly Hooper,

she could collect it
and take it to Barts.

Then one of your homeless
network could bring it here,

leave it in the cafe

and one of the boys downstairs
could bring it up the back.

Very good, John,
excellent plan, full of
intelligent precautions.

Thank you.
So, why don't I phone...

So,

what do you keep on here?
In general, I mean?

Pictures, information,
anything I might find useful.

- For blackmail?
- For protection.

I make my way in the world,
I misbehave.

I like to know people will be
on my side exactly when I
need them to be.

- So how do you
acquire this information?
- I told you, I misbehave.

But you've acquired something
that's more
danger than protection.

- Do you know what it is?
- Yes.

- But I don't understand it.
- I assumed.

Show me.

The passcode.

- It's not working.
- No,

because it's a duplicate
that I had made

into which you've just entered
the numbers 1058.

I assumed you'd
choose something
more specific than that,

but thanks anyway.

I told you that camera-phone
was my life.

I know when it's in my hand.

- Oh, you're rather good.
- You're not so bad.

Hamish.

John Hamish Watson, just if
you were looking
for baby names.

There was a man,
an MOD official
and I knew what he liked.

One of the things he liked
was showing off.

He told me this email
was going to save the world.

He didn't know it,
but I photographed it.

He was a bit
tied up at the time.

It's a bit small
on that screen,
can you read it?

- Yes.
- Code, obviously.

I had one of the best
cryptographers in the country
take a look at it,

though he was
mostly upside-down,
as I recall.

Couldn't figure it out.

What can you do, Mr Holmes?

Go on, impress a girl.

There's a margin for error,
but I'm pretty
sure there's a 747

leaving Heathrow
tomorrow at 6:30
in the evening for Baltimore.

Apparently it's going to
save the world, I'm not sure
how that could be true,

but give me a moment,
I've only been
on the case for eight seconds.

Oh come on, it's not code,

these are seat allocations
on a passenger jet. Look!

There's no letter I because
it can be mistaken for a one.

No letters past K,
the width of
the plane is the limit.

The numbers always appear
randomly and not in sequence,

but the letters have
little runs of sequence all
over the place.

Families and
couples sitting together.

Only a jumbo is wide enough to
need a letter K
or rows past 55,

which is why there's
always an upstairs.

There's a row 13,
which eliminates the more
superstitious airlines.

Then there's the style
of the flight number, 007,

that eliminates a few more.

And assuming the British point
of origin,
which would be logical,

considering
the original source
of the information

and assuming
from the increased
pressure on you lately

that the crisis is imminent,

the only flight that matches
all the criteria and
departs within the week

is the 6:30 to
Baltimore tomorrow
evening from Heathrow airport.

Please don't feel obliged
to tell me that was
remarkable or amazing.

John's expressed that thought

in every possible variant
available to
the English language.

I would have you right here,

on this desk, until you
begged for mercy twice.

John, please can you check
those flight schedules,
see if I'm right?

Yeah, I'm on it, yeah.

- I've never begged
for mercy in my life.
- Twice.

Uh, yeah,
you're right, flight 007.

- What did you say?
- You're right.

No, no, after that,
what did you say after that?

007. Flight 007.

007, 007, 007, 007. Something.

Something 007, 007. What?

007, 007.

007. 007 what?

What, something, what?

Bond Air is go.

Bond Air is go.

Bond Air is go.

Bond Air is go.

Bond Air is go,
that's decided.

Check with the Coventry lot.

- Coventry.
- I've never been.

Is it nice?

Where's John?

He went out,
a couple of hours ago.

- I was just talking to him.
- He said you do that.

What's Coventry got to do
with anything?

It's a story.

Probably not true.

In the Second World War,
the Allies knew

that Coventry was going to get
bombed because they'd
broken the German code

but they didn't want
the Germans to know that
they'd broken the code

so they let it happen anyway.

Have you ever had anyone?

I'm sorry?

And when I say had,
I'm being indelicate.

- I don't understand.
- I'll be delicate, then.

- Let's have dinner.
- Why?

- You might be hungry.
- I'm not.

Good.

Why would I
want to have dinner

if I wasn't hungry?

Mr Holmes,
if it was
the end of the world,

if this was
the very last night,

would you have dinner with me?

Sherlock?

Too late.

That's not
the end of the world,
that's Mrs Hudson.

Sherlock,
this man was at the door,
is the bell still not working?

He shot it.

Have you come to
take me away again?

- Yes, Mr Holmes.
- Well, I decline.

I don't think you do.

There's going to be a bomb
on a passenger jet.

The British and American
governments know about it,

but rather than expose
the source of
their information,

they're going
to let it happen.
The plane will blow up.

Coventry all over again.

The wheel turns,
nothing is ever new.

Well,
you're looking all better.

How are you feeling?

Like putting a bullet
in your brain, sir.

They'd pin a medal
on me if I did, sir.

The Coventry conundrum.

What do you
think of my solution?

The flight of the dead.

Plane blows up midair,
mission accomplished
for the terrorists,

hundreds of
casualties but nobody dies.

Neat, don't you think?

You've been stumbling around
the fringes of
this one for ages.

Or were you too bored
to notice the pattern?

They wouldn't let us see
Granddad when he was dead.

She's not my real aunt.
I know human ash.

We ran a similar project
with the Germans a while back,

though I believe
one of our passengers
didn't make the flight.

But that's
the deceased for you,

late,
in every sense of the word.

How is the plane going to fly?

Oh,
of course, unmanned aircraft,
hardly new.

It doesn't fly.
It will never fly.

This entire
project is cancelled.

The terrorist cells
have been informed
that we know about the bomb.

We can't fool them now.

We've lost everything.

One fragment of one email
and months and
years of planning,

finished.

- Your MOD man.
- That's all it takes.

One lonely, naive man,
desperate to show off,

and a woman clever enough
to make him feel special.

You should screen
your defence people
more carefully.

I'm not talking about
the MOD man, Sherlock,
I'm talking about you!

A damsel in distress.

In the end,
are you really so obvious?

Because this was textbook.

The promise of love,
the pain of loss,
the joy of redemption.

Then give him a puzzle
and watch him dance.

- Don't be absurd!
- Absurd?

How quickly did you decipher
that email for her?

Was it the full minute?

Or were you really
eager to impress?

I think it was less
than five seconds.

I drove you into her path.

I'm sorry. I didn't know.

- Mr Holmes,
I think we need to talk.
- So do I.

There are a number of aspects
I'm still not quite clear on.

Not you,
Junior, you're done now.

There's more, loads more.

On this phone I've got
secrets and
pictures and scandals

that could topple
your whole world.

You have no idea how much
havoc I can cause

and exactly one
way to stop me.

Unless you want to tell your
masters that your
biggest security leak

is your own little brother.

We have people who
can get into this.

I tested that theory for you.

I let Sherlock Holmes
try it for six months.

Sherlock, dear, tell him
what you found when you
x-rayed my camera-phone.

There are four
additional units
wired inside the casing.

I suspect containing acid
or a small
amount of explosive.

Any attempt to open the casing
will burn the hard drive.

Explosive.

It's more me.
Some data is
always recoverable.

Take that risk.

You have
a passcode to open this.

I deeply regret to
say we have people
who can extract it from you.

Sherlock?

There will be two passcodes,

one to open the phone,
one to burn the drive.

Even under duress, you can't
know which one she's given you

and there would be no point
in a second attempt.

Oh, he's good, isn't he?
I should have him on a leash.

In fact, I might.

We destroy this, then.
No one has the information.

Fine. Good idea.

Unless there are lives of
British citizens

depending on the information
you're about to burn.

Are there?

Telling you would
be playing fair.

I'm not playing any more.

A list of my requests

and some ideas
about my protection
once they're granted.

I'd say it wouldn't blow much
of a hole in
the wealth of a nation,

but then I'd be lying.

I imagine you'd
like to sleep on it?

- Thank you, yes.
- Too bad.

Off you pop and
talk to people.

You've been very thorough.

I wish our lot
were half as good as you.

I can't take all the credit,
I had a bit of help.

Oh,
Jim Moriarty sends his love.

Yes, he's been in touch.

Seems desperate
for my attention, which
I'm sure can be arranged.

I had all this stuff,
never knew what to do with it.

Thank God for
the consultant criminal.

Gave me a lot of advice
about how to play
the Holmes boys.

Do you know what he calls you?

The Ice Man

and the Virgin.

Didn't even ask for anything,
I think he just
likes to cause trouble.

Now, that's my kind of man.

And here you are,
the dominatrix who brought
a nation to its knees.

- Nicely played.
- No.

Sorry?

I said no.

Very, very close, but no.

You got carried away.

The game was too elaborate,
you were enjoying
yourself too much.

There's no such
thing as too much.

Oh, enjoying the thrill
of the chase is fine.

Craving
the distraction of the game,
I sympathise entirely,

but sentiment?

Sentiment is a chemical defect
found in the losing side.

Sentiment?

What are you talking about?

- You.
- Oh, dear God.

Look at the poor man.

You don't actually think
I was interested in you?

Why? Because you're
the great Sherlock Holmes,

the clever
detective in the funny hat?

No.

Because I took your pulse.

Elevated.

Your pupils dilated.

I imagine John Watson thinks
love is a mystery to me

but
the chemistry is incredibly
simple and very destructive.

When we first met, you told me
that disguise is
always a self-portrait.

How true of you.
The combination to your safe,

your measurements, but this,
this is far more intimate.

This is your heart and
you should never
let it rule your head.

You could have
chosen any random number
and walked out of here today

with everything
you've worked for.

But you just
couldn't resist it,
could you?

I've always assumed that love
is a dangerous disadvantage.

Thank you for the final proof.

Everything I said,
it's not real.

- I was just playing the game.
- I know.

And this is just losing.

There you are, brother.

I hope the contents make up
for any inconvenience

- I may have
caused you tonight.
- I'm certain they will.

If you're
feeling kind, lock her up,
otherwise let her go.

I doubt she'll survive long
without her "protection".

- Are you expecting me to beg?
- Yes.

Please.

You're right.

I won't even last six months.

I'm sorry about dinner.

You don't smoke.

I also don't frequent cafes.

It's the file on Irene Adler?

Closed forever.

I am about to go
and inform my brother,
or, if you prefer, you are,

that she somehow got herself

into a Witness
Protection scheme
in America.

New name, new identity.
She will survive and thrive,

- but he will
never see her again.
- Why would he care?

He despised her at the end.

Won't even
mention her by name,
just The Woman.

Is that loathing or a salute?

One of a kind,
the one woman who matters?

He's not like that.
He doesn't feel
things that way.

I don't think.

My brother has the brain
of a scientist
or a philosopher,

yet he elects to
be a detective.

What might we
deduce about his heart?

- I don't know.
- Neither do I.

But initially he
wanted to be a pirate.

He'll be okay with this,
Witness Protection,

never seeing her again,
he'll be fine.

I agree.

That's why I
decided to tell him that.

Instead of what?

She's dead.

She was captured
by a terrorist cell in Karachi
two months ago and beheaded.

It was definitely her?
She's done this before.

I was thorough this time.

It would take Sherlock Holmes
to fool me

and I don't
think he was on hand,
do you?

So...

What shall we tell Sherlock?

Clearly you've got news.

If it's about
the Leeds triple murder,
it was the gardener.

Did nobody notice the earring?

Hi. Uh, no, it's um...

It's about Irene Adler.

Well?

Has something happened?
Has she come back?

No, no, she's... I just bumped
into Mycroft downstairs,

he had to take a call.

- Is she back in London?
- No.

She's, uh...

- She's in America.
- America?

Mmm-hmm. Got herself on
a Witness Protection scheme,
apparently.

I don't know how
she swung it but, uh...

- Well, you know.
- I know what?

Well, you won't be able
to see her again.

Why would I want
to see her again?

- Didn't say you did.
- Is that her file?

Yes, I was just going
to take it back to Mycroft.

- Do you want to...
- No.

Hmm.

Listen, actually...

No, but I will have
the camera-phone, though.

There's nothing
on it any more.
It's been stripped.

I know, but I...
I'll still have it.

I've got to give
this back to Mycroft,
you can't keep it.

Sherlock, I have to give this
to Mycroft,
it's the government's now.

- I couldn't...
- Please.

Thank you.

- Well,
I'd better take this back.
- Yes.

Did she ever text you again
after all that?

Once, a few months ago.

What did she say?

"Goodbye, Mr Holmes."

Oh.

When I say run, run.

The Woman.

The Woman.