01x01 & 01x02 - 221B Baker Street

Episode transcripts for the TV show, "Sherlock Holmes". Aired: November 18, 2013 to November 2013.*
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Russian television crime drama series based on the Sherlock Holmes detective stories by Arthur Conan Doyle and aired in November 2013. Some of the stories have never been adapted before.
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01x01 & 01x02 - 221B Baker Street

Post by bunniefuu »

The diary of John Hamish Watson, late of the Army Medical Department.

In after graduating from the University of London, and finishing a course of a m*llitary surgeon in Netley, I got the title of m*llitary doctor and was sent near to Kandahar, to the th Northumberland fusiliers.

The second Afghan campaign brought honours and promotions to many.

But for me it had nothing but misfortune and disaster.

Because of the hot climate, shortage of medicine, supplies and drinking water, two thirds of the patients whom we managed to save on the operating table, subsequently d*ed of blood poisoning and local fever.

During the fateful battle of Maiwand I was concussed, and barely alive, I was captured by merciless Ghazi.

If it hadn't been for the bravery of Lieutenant Peter Small, my companion in misfortune, I wouldn't be writing these lines.

By some miracle we managed to escape during the att*ck of the royal troops.

In the flurry we stole a horse and got to the location of our units.

Jaded by the consequences of the concussion and weakened by constant pain att*cks, I was deducted for disability pension with many other crippled sufferers, and sent back to homeland, with irretrievably ruined health, but with permission from a paternal government to spend the next nine months in attempting to improve it, paid by her majesty the queen, and with a further alimony of shillings and pennies a day.

Financial difficulties didn't bother me.

The first thing I did when I arrived in the capital, was to buy a fashionable French perfume “Le Jovial”.

Maybe despite my age and experience, I was still a curious and adventurous young man in my heart.

I had neither friends nor relatives in England, in other words I was alone and left to myself, so it wasn't surprising why I came to London, to this huge cesspool, that attracts all loungers and idlers of the empire.

Some come here for easy money, others are looking for adventures, young ladies dream of a good marriage, boys dream of government service, and everyone thinks that the capital will give them a chance.

I came to London with two intentions - to open a private practice and if it's possible - to become a writer.

“Doctor of medicine with a diploma and a license John H. Watson, opens up a medical practice and looks for clients.

Discounts for veterans and the disabled.” But what's wrong?

The address.

Where are you opening the practice?

Neither veterans nor disabled persons will find you, sir.

I didn't really think it through.

Alright when I find an apartment, I will come back for sure.

But in the next issue we are printing out a two-week schedule of races at the hippodrome, so people will keep the newspaper for two weeks.

If you submit the notice tomorrow or any other day, it will live for a day and you will lose a bunch of clients.

Oh well, what to do?

But the story I want to tell you should not begin with this.

The first story.

Baker Street b.

Leave me alone!

Go away!

Lady Nelligan.

Sit.

You don't need to stand up.

Colonial Ferguson, he will be my witness.

The letters.

Just one letter?

And the rest?

Where are the rest?

And where is my money?

Don't you dare to talk like that to a lady!

Hey, hey, heey, stop!

A thousand apologies.

A thousand devils!

Thief!

Help!

He's k*lled!

Doctor!

Quickly bring a doctor here!

It was a cabman who hit him, for sure!

Check him.

Look what you've done.

Is there a doctor?

Let me pass.

Constable, help me to turn him over, quick.

He's got seconds, maximum .

I'm afraid there's no need for a doctor anymore.

Mister, what's happening?

Who are you?

I'm a friend of inspector Lestrade.

Have you heard of him?

- So, you are not a doctor?

- Of course not.

Hold it.

Excuse me.

So, he quickly needs to be transported to the hospital, his heart is still pumping.

It's going to stop now.

So what to do?

A mercy is nothing for you in this case?

Just an inevitability.

We are all mortal.

I saw it!

It was the cabman for sure!

Excuse me.

Constable!

Save the living, not the dead.

It wasn't me sir, no, no, it wasn't me!

- Call the coroner.

- We did it, sir.

Arrest him!

It was him for sure, I saw it with my own eyes!

What did your passenger look like?

My passenger… sir, I didn't have time to see his face.

didn't have time to see his face.

No wonder, your smell is spreading for miles.

A sober cabman in London is the same rare phenomenon as a sunny day.

Why did you stop your cab?

Because this poor man suddenly started screaming.

The only poor man here is you.

Try to remember better, otherwise you'll be hanged.

When you stopped the cab, did your passenger go out to see the victim?

Yes, sir, yes!

He jumped out, ran to him and started helping him, sir.

I remember now!

He hadn't had a finger on his hand for sure!

You are standing a few steps away from a gibbet.

Try to remember, on which hand?

The right, the left one?

What finger?

One moment, sir.

I saw it myself!

It was him for sure!

I can't remember, sir, I got drunk yesterday.

A step closer.

The cabman hit him!

Constable, could you please turn him over.

"Le jovial" Excuse me, what?

The second and the third vertebras are broken.

Too filigreed for such a cumbersome instrument of crime like a horse-drawn carriage.

You are an army doctor, you should know it.

I'm telling you it was the cabman, he hit him!

If I were you, constable, I would arrest this noisy gentleman, and ask his name and profession.

Take him.

Bring him to the station.

So, what happened here?

It wasn't an accident, it was a wilful m*rder.

After you.

- Sir, the coroner has arrived.

- Take the body.

The criminal has fixed the door, so it wouldn't open during the ride.

Then he leaned out the carriage, and when he reached the victim, he dealt the blow.

Disperse the crowd, I need to look carefully here.

Everyone disperse.

We need to inspect the scene of crime.

There it is!

An iron fence.

Sir, we're loaded the body.

From the Wilhelm's era.

Now we can go.

No, from the Elizabeth's...

The m*rder w*apon.

Constable, let's go to the police station.

Wait, wait, where are going?

Doctor, would you join us, another witness will never be an excess.

- Let until the evening.

- Yes, sir.

Doctor, I have to ask you to describe the criminal as tall, broad and wearing a marine jacket.

But if he was small, fat and wore a coat?

He looked exactly like I'm describing him.

It's a lie.

Sir, somebody searched him before me.

Think of it as a lie for good.

Listen...I am a catholic.

Especially!

- Sir, it's not me, sir!

- I said be quiet!

Your bag.

Sit down!

Excuse me, mister, don't know what's your...

Listen to me as a catholic and as a doctor, do you really want an innocent man to suffer?

Don't hurry to make hasty conclusions.

- Attention!

- Oh sit down, lazybones.

Mr. Holmes, I will ask the judge to double fine you for damaging the investigation.

I don't understand.

Sergeant Wilkinson had almost resolved this road accident, but you appeared and twisted everything.

I wrote down all my thoughts about the road accident on the paper.

"The criminal was above the average height, in a marine jacket, broad.

Before leaving the scene of crime, he searched the victim carefully." That's what he told you?

No, his turned inside out pockets did.

Tracey, confirm it.

Yes, sir.

Also, this button was firmly grasped in the hand of the victim.

It means that he was holding the criminal while he was searching him.

The m*rder was committed for robbery.

Here you failed, Mr. Smart!

The coroner searched through him and found this.

So your robbery version...

And if he wasn't looking for money?

Who are you dammit?

I'm a scientist.

Yes, I didn't know that.

In what sphere?

In the sphere of deduction, it is a science.

A science of messing up an investigation.

It's a synthesis of facts and logic that build up the facts to a continuous chain, which leads you to the right conclusion.

Looks like a brochure advertising charades.

Actually solving charades is the thing that I'm pretty good at.

This is something new.

Last time we met you claimed you were a detective.

I am a detective.

There is only one professional detective here!

Why wouldn't you take a closer look at the victim then?

Why not to examine, for example, the nature of the injury?

Why are you quiet, doctor?

Sir, it wasn't me, I promise!

Quiet!

Be quiet!

I won't spend Scotland Yard's precious time on this trifling case!

Do you know why this body is here in the station?

Because the morgue is full!

This morning we had four robberies, two big raids and two firefights, in the evening each of you do- That's fiddle bow!

Fiddle bow?

Yes.

Sir, it's not me, sir!

Don't shake like that, mate!

The court will shorten your sentence, now I will take care of that myself.

That's how the famous pickpocket Jack Izzy, nicknamed Fiddle Bow looks like!

Look at his fingers, he has an anatomic form of the middle finger and forefinger.

It was created especially for robbery, you understand?

A dozen cases closed!

Indeed, Fiddle bow is ours!

Who are you?

John Watson.

Irish?

I'm a doctor.

Have you written your testimony?

Not yet.

Finish and leave the station.

Fiddle bow!

Sir, he jumped out so suddenly that I didn't... nothing.

You did it all!

Fiddle bow is ours!

Oh, mister!

I don't know your name, but my wife can help you cleaning your house on Tuesdays… You don't need to do that.

So what, the justice changed its mind?

Yes, you know, sir, this noble gentleman wrote that the m*rder*r was wearing a marine jacket!

You know, sir, I indeed saw a man in a marine jacket.

You are free!

Yes, sir, I'm free!

Even though freedom is not about us!

So you did change your testimony after all.

But how do you know that I'm a doctor?

You arrived in London today.

By the way, at this time all hotels are full...

- Excuse me...

- ...full and prices are high enough.

If you're looking for a cheap apartment, you need...

How do you know that it was today, that I'm a doctor, who are you?

By the way... Baker Street b, it's half-board, there is one free room for living on the second floor, big enough, nice neighbours, the owner is Mrs. Hudson, very nasty, but cooks very well.

Excellent, sir, and the notice.

Mrs. Hudson...

If you are Mr. Gram, then get out!

Your student is not at home!

And tell your renege that we won't tolerate any violin screeching above our heads anymore!

Excuse me, I'm your new tenant, John Watson, I came from Essex, I'm a doctor, John Watson.

Why are you screaming like a steamship siren?

I hear you perfectly Mr.....Watson.

- John Watson.

- Come in.

- Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.

Come in.

But I'm not Mrs. Hudson, I'm Miss Bokley.

Mrs. Hudson is away.

I mistook you for this horrible Mr. Gram!

He comes on Tuesdays to our neighbour upstairs, to give him lessons on this horrible violin, and today is Tuesday.

If you want, I can warn your tenant and if it will help I...

Like a gentleman!

You will do us a favour.

Bathroom, pantry, your neighbour’s room and this is your room.

Thank you.

Stop!

Stop!

Bring him here.

Do you need any help, gentlemen?

Pit, he called you a gentleman!

Maybe you could turn around, because it is a bit uncomfortable to b*at you from behind.

Drop him, he won't escape anywhere.

Doctor!

What have you done?

I needed to interrogate them!

Hello!

Help!

Police!

Oh well, the police will be here in three minutes.

Lestrade will definitively put you in jail.

Listen… Excuse me, but how did you want to interrogate them?

You didn't have any weapons, couldn't fight and even...

I take boxing lessons!

Go through this alley, it leads to the docks, it's easy to disappear there.

And if I were you, I wouldn't lose any time.

I won't run anywhere, especially following your...advice.

Just as you like!

So when they will regain consciousness, they will blame you for the att*ck.

Well, a retired officer with no money got engaged in robbery - a normal case.

According to statistics, a third of the criminal world are retired m*llitary men who didn't find themselves a peaceful life.

Finally!

Lestrade really loves statistics.

Listen, you, how do you know that I'm a retired officer?

Your curiosity, doctor, is causing my sympathy.

Run, doctor, run.

Run!

What took you so long, Watson?

The police will catch us!

I wanted to take some boxing lessons from you.

How you stink of this French perfume!

- Good night.

- Good night.

What do you have?

Gin.

Just a gin.

I suggest starting with Glenmorangie.

My name is Sherlock Holmes.

And my… well, you know my name already.

Not only your name.

I know everything about you, or almost everything.

You hold yourself like an army man, so I think you're an officer.

The colour of your face says that you came from countries with hot climate.

You were wearing a scarf made of camel-hair.

- it's a work of masters from the east, we don't have these here, and your bag had a ripped off sticker of the Punjab railway, so you came from Afghanistan.

By the way, are you concussed?

A very tasty smell from your pipe.

Like a devil.

This is my brother, Mycroft Holmes.

You know, we will die and nobody will remember us after a year, but he will be remembered for ever.

At least that's what he thinks.

The button.

You told the inspector, that this button belonged to the m*rder*r of Jack Izzy.

- You have a very good memory.

- Thank you.

Also I noticed that you found something in the victim's clothes, and didn't tell anything to the inspector.

You are also an attentive person above all!

I will reveal a little secret.

You know, pickpockets never carry anything valuable in their pockets, they hide it in the stockings.

Considering that the wallet was with Jack Izzy, the m*rder*r wasn't looking for money, but for these letters.

I've read them.

Someone's letters?

Reading someone's letters and searching through someone's dirty clothes is not the worst thing in my profession, I can tell you.

Listen.

"My dear, my soul, my life, my passion!" Listen, "anguish took me and my heart and I decided to take this step, but I failed.

I was crying for a whole hour until I realised, that these were the tears of happiness.

I heard that he's alive,

- my soul, he's alive!"

- These are just love letters.

What are these stains?

- Looks like dried blood.

- Well.

But no, not this, no, it's not blood.

It's a concoction of onion peel mixed with iodine.

Yes, yes, yes, yes.

This potion is used, to induce abortion by all kinds of unintelligent...

- but I can tell you there are more household poisonings because of this medicine rather than abortions.

- You are great!

- Excuse me, what?

You are great!

You said everything right!

She indeed wanted to induce an abortion, but failed, and from this letter I understood, that her aunt is against her marriage with a young man called Roger.

She is under house arrest for a month now.

So what?

You want to say that the thief was hunting these love letters?

- Look at this thing.

- Yes, yes, yes.

- It is a very expensive thing.

- Yes, yes, yes, yes...

you mean… so, the thief was hunting for this jewellery and the m*rder*r was.

- Logical, logical.

- Logical.

Don't make quick conclusions.

Logic can lead you to a dead end.

Why?

You know, I went to all the publishers, and posted a notice, that I had found a pack of letters tied with a scarlet ribbon, and I hope this person won't take long.

And this person will be our m*rder*r.

Why not?

What do you think?

What can you tell me about this?

What?

Eeh, it's a fence!

It was cut off from an Elizabethan fence.

There are two dozen of them in our city, I think, and we must find it.

Excuse me, Holmes, but you said it yourself, a fence, more than two dozen, and how many of these...

Imagine climbing the fence and start sawing it.

Very uncomfortable.

Not clear for what, when you could find many more dangerous weapons.

Yes.

We need to find a fallen fence.

Look, the cut is fresh.

I think the fence is still there.

And near it our m*rder*r is standing, with his hands stretched out for the shackles.

After the fifth portion of Glenmorangie you have a remarkable sense of humour.

- But why not?

This is what I found in the pockets of one of our opponents.

The Ethan Drake's warehouses, the fallen fence with its top cut off, is situated yards away from this place.

So what does it mean?

A pub "White Whale" is situated in the same place, so do the sailors, its frequent customers.

They know the fingerless owner of this button.

If you hadn't disturbed me, I would have questioned one of them, and today I would at least know a name.

I'm not quite sure about this.

Can you tell me why did you need this entire masquerade, if it's not a secret?

It's not a secret.

The sailors come to this place, and they don't like gentlemen who are up for something.

They don't open their souls in front of them.

I plead you, spare my nose, throw out and never buy the French perfume "Le Jovial".

Only gigolos and pimps use it.

And private detectives?

Promise me to do the same.

And take a bath, this smell has attracted all the bees, and not only bees, but the policemen as well.

This guy is standing here since lunchtime.

It seems like the inspector of Scotland Yard Lestrade has seriously got it in for my modest persona.

Why do you think that he is from Scotland Yard?

The workers of Scotland Yard are dressed by two tailors: "Cheerstwone" and "Harris".

His coat is Harris'.

Only one coat flap, mousey, loose-fitting for walking fast or even running, but the most important thing is that during all this time, he only transferred the weight of his body from one foot to another.

and this is the stamina of the m*llitary or policemen.

You define people with such ease.

Did you want a boxing lesson?

So Mr. Holmes, are you ready?

- Ready?

- Ready!

Is it a lesson or do you just want to b*at me up?

It was a cross from the right in the head.

It was a cross from the right in the torso.

Did you think I'd show you some tricks and you would become an iron fighter?

Learn how to take blows.

Stand up.

What?

Enough?

Let's continue?

Why not, let's continue.

Be ready for the next hit – jab.

I know jab.

What was that?

It was a hook from the right.

Is it enough or should we continue?

Continue.

Hook from the right, slowly.

- Are you ready?

- Ready.

Not bad.

Don't worry, I'm only using half of my strength, so.

Why half?

What would your full strength be?

The hook is performed both from the right hand and from the left one.

Mrs Softley, I need your help.

- Jeez, doctor, you are great!

- Bravo!

Finally this monster got what he deserves!

Mrs Softley!

Mr. Holmes, your leg is in my room!

Move it, please!

Mrs Softley, you're an admiral's widow, what can you tell about this button?

Cad!

- Please let me...

- No, I'm fine!

Hell of a mischievous old woman, but she knows everything about the navy.

St. Marten's whaling!

How are you?

We will continue later.

- Excuse us, we were… Mrs. Hudson.

- I'm not Mrs. Hudson, Mr. Holmes.

Holmes is me.

Excuse me, Mrs.?

Lady, with your permission.

Lady Emma Nelligan.

I came here because of your notice in the newspaper.

Come in, Lady Nelligan, and you, doctor.

I would want to receive the letters you found.

As far as I know, they don't belong to you.

Do you want to say you've read them?

No, I've looked through them.

So you know everything.

The letters were written by your niece, Louise Berkett, the receiver is a young man named Roger.

Thank you.

They had a whirlwind romance.

You are against this romance, because Louise will marry count Lengton in a month, all newspapers were writing about it.

So it means…?

It means that the romance should be a secret, otherwise there will be no wedding.

Someone who knows Louise and Roger appeared and has evidence of their romance - the letters that are here.

Don't worry, the secret will be left in this room, if you tell us everything, all the truth, we will try to help you.

Isn't that so, doctor?

- Yes.

The blackmailer is someone from your servants, am I right?

A maid Mrs.

Carry.

Louise was passing her letters through her to Roger.

There should be letters in total.

So... everything was in Mrs Carry's… Strange that neither Louise nor Roger suspected anything, and just continued endless writing...

If you loved, you would know that a love message without an answer, gives life to another one, and if this one is left with no answer, you write more and more in hope of getting some lines of support!

How did you learn about their romance?

One beautiful morning I received this letter.

"Dear Lady Nelligan, my name will tell nothing to you, when I discovered...

the future marriage of your niece Louise Berkett and count Lengton...

I turned...

Lady Nelligan, your only heir, your strongly loved niece Louise Berkett has an intrigue with some young man, even though of a nice appearance, his advantages end with this.

I hope, Lady Nelligan, you will be aware and take action to suppress this romance, which can destroy not only the reputation of your ward, but of your whole family." Yes, a usual anonymous.

When you received this very letter, you put your niece under house arrest?

- Yes.

- After this very moment, their romance gained a somewhat epistolary nature, right?

- Absolutely.

- I must tell you...

this is not a woman's handwriting - a man's.

It is unlikely that your maid wrote this.

And it wasn't her.

Mrs.

Carry was just an implementer.

There are only letters, so the other half is in the hands of, Peter Carry.

He found out about Louise and Roger and started blackmailing me.

If it's not a secret, how much does Peter Carry want from you?

pounds.

pounds?

It's an indecently huge sum for a mortal.

And also for a lady.

I don't have this money.

You know what?

If you will pay us pounds, we with my assistant guarantee that by tomorrow evening all the letters of your niece will be in your hands.

It is indeed so sudden… I wouldn't want to.

Well, if you don't agree we won't insist.

Please.

Deal?

Mr. Holmes, I really rely on your decency.

It was a pleasure to meet you.

Me too, doctor.

Can I ask you a question?

Yes.

Did anything disappear recently from your house: Jewellery, diamonds, maybe rings?

No, why are you asking, Mr. Holmes?

Well, it's my profession to ask silly questions.

Lady Nelligan!

The last question.

Who is Peter Carry?

He was just a sailor on the ship of my late husband admiral Nelligan, then he became a captain.

He even had his own whaler.

A whaler… Isn't he missing one of his fingers?

I don't remember this.

Good bye, Mr. Holmes.

Why didn't you return the letters to her?

The things are much more serious than I thought.

Stay here and welcome people, notice everything: how are they dressed, their faces, and don't talk too much.

I don't have a habit like this.

Where did he go?

Take it.

Thank you.

Go!

It is a big jewellery set, this necklace is a part of a bracelet, a ring and two earrings.

The cost of the whole set is pounds.

Yes, it is a big set.

Yes, you are bad, captain.

Don't tell me what to do, Strotter.

Give the letters back.

It is not your game.

Not mine.

But now we are going to play by my rules.

This old fart will fork out and I finally will redeem my midget ship.

...and go back to the sea, yes.

Is it all you wanted to tell me?

No, not all!

Tell the man who sent you, that this was Black Peter who messed him up.

And if you come here once more, I will hang you on this hook by your ribs, and I will find the one who sent you, and disembowel him like a flounder!

Understood.

So go to hell, Strotter.

Well, captain, let's drink in honour to the ones...

who d*ed in the North seas.

Let's.

Yes, sir.

I hope you didn't touch anything.

No, sir, but the first one on the spot was constable Bython.

Bython!

Report.

At half past nine I finish my perambulation, sir, and I always go to Mrs. Carry and her husband Peter at this hour, you know, to drink.

What is alcoholism I know veeeeeery well, constable, continue.

So that's what I find.

Sir.

Put a lantern here.

Continue.

Let's go to the outbuilding, sir, you will see yourself.

Holmes let's go.

Go!

Come in, sir.

All footprints are trampled on.

Come in, sir.

Who is this?

It's Peter Carry, an ex-sailor.

We need to take our shoes off.

I think we will need.

Mr. Holmes, I think you won't need anything.

Tracey!

Yes, sir.

Bring the criminal in.

- Yes, sir!

The criminal is already arrested?

Give it to me.

Mr. Holmes!

All fingers are here.

It's not Peter Carry.

Mr. Holmes!

Holmes, at least you say something to these gentlemen!

Wait!

Wait!

Everything you are going to say might be used against you.

Were you barefoot the whole time?

Yes.

John Watson was arrested on suspicion of m*rder, and if you won't tell me everything, you will be arrested as well as an accomplice.

What do you want to hear?

Brodigan!

Brodigan!

Hello.


Help Mr. Holmes to remember who visited him yesterday afternoon.

Lady Nelligan visited Mr. Holmes.

Whose house is it?

This is the house of Peter Carry.

His wife Jessica Carry works as a maid in Lady Nelligan's house.

Peter Carry was m*rder*d and his wife has disappeared, but we found your neighbour here, Mr. Holmes, - John Watson.

He was lying on the doorstep of this outbuilding, covered in blood and unconscious.

Take a look at the stains.

The detainee's face is all covered with blood.

It means, that there was a fight between John Watson and Peter Carry.

I think that the events of yesterday's morning - the m*rder of Jack Izzy - are connected to this crime.

I also think that there's a connection between you and John Watson.

I think that the attempt of robbing your flat, is connected to these murders.

You will wet your feet.

I think this is Jessica Carry.

It's her!

Tracey, call the coroner.

Yes.

John, tell me, did they interrogate you?

Sadly, yes, I.

Well, what to do?

Let's compare my thoughts to your testimony.

So!

Peter Carry had a guest, and not just a guest, but a man whom he knew.

The conflict began here, with the blow by this mug!

A fight had begun, not a fight exactly, but a b*ating.

It looks like Peter Carry was very drunk, and couldn't properly protect himself.

The opponent of Peter Carry, considering the amount of hits, their accuracy and strength, and his footprints, was a master of pugilism!

Thank god the night is humid, the soil is wet, the guest has left his footprints everywhere, which will tell us the whole story!

Look at how he was moving.

He wasn't just moving, he was dancing, and hitting from the left and from the right like a predator!

He was attacking from everywhere, not giving the victim a single chance of surviving.

He acted like a professional fighter, like a shark that circles around its prey, biting piece after piece!

I don't know what was the reason for the conflict, but where are the letters, you shark sh*t?

...but I, can tell you what happened next.

The m*rder*r wanted something from Peter Carry.

Where are the letters?

Where did you hide them, old fart?

When he k*lled Peter Carry, he started searching through his house, and maybe he found what he was looking for, and maybe not.

The noise of the fight and then of the search, woke up Peter Carry's wife, Jessica Carry.

Obviously scared by the shouting and rumble, she released the dog, the barking of which scared the m*rder*r, and didn't let him finish what he had started, He stopped searching and had to leave the hospitable house.

When he was running away he knocked out poor Watson by one single punch.

Sir!

It is true what the suspect is saying.

Yes, of course.

Does Watson look like a m*rder*r?

His w*r injury, could Watson stand up against Peter Carry?

I have my doubts.

Also there are no traces of bare feet, but there are other ones.

There are a woman's footprints, there they are.

Obviously, these are the footprints of Jessica Carry, who came in with a g*n, but there wasn't anybody to sh**t at.

Peter Carry, be cursed on the ground and in the sky!

But there are other footprints - a man's.

Exactly the same footprints of fashionable model shoes, you can find near the dog's body.

And I think it was him who m*rder*d her.

This man was standing away from the house, as was Watson the whole time, and waiting for the outcome.

You?

Wait a second...

I'm sure that these two crimes were committed by one man.

Wrong!

Just look at the footprints: The first one was a huge, strong man.

He, pierced Peter Carry with one hit like a butterfly with a pin.

If he wanted to, he could twist the poor woman's neck with one touch, but he preferred to s*ab, s*ab and s*ab her with a Kn*fe.

Did he hate her that much?

Is it a m*rder because of jealousy?

I don't think so.

Coroner, what can you say?

You should serve with us, sir.

- No, thanks.

- No, thanks.

May be, you can tell what was in the hiding place?

No, I can't.

Uno, duo, tres!

Just fourrr blows, but so many consequences.

The left eardrrrum is busted, concussion of the brrrain and frrractured jaw.

The body: kidneys werrren't touched, even though they've got enough, but the rrribs...

the third and sixth ones are broken, and here is a wonderrrful brruise in the rright upper quadrant.

The liver: the hit was so strong that it started off a bleeding.

Lestrade, look, between the marks of forefinger and the ring finger there's emptiness.

The criminal who m*rder*d Peter Carry didn't have one finger.

Where do I find the m*rder*r?

- I know where, let's go.

Hello, Charlie!

Take the new one.

The guy wants to fight with Shark!

Where did you find him?

In the "White Whale" I don't like him!

But you check him!

I see, boy, you are from the ones who bring problems, and I am from the ones who solve them.

So if there are too many problems, I will simply sh**t you.

Why are you standing here?

Go!

Name!

Name!

Name!

Barbarian.

I'm not asking your nickname, but your name!

C'mon!

Basil Rathbone!

You will be Barbarian Rathbone.

Go, you're next.

He liked you!

Holmes, listen, are you really going to fight?!

I told you I take boxing lessons.

Listen, this is insane!

He will k*ll you!

Let me do it.

You can't forgive him the double knockout?

Watson, I saw your proposition as a beginning of our friendship, but I'll have to refuse.

Barbarian Rathbone versus Shark Strotteeeeeeeer!

Police!

Take it!

Quick, quick, John!

- Thank you.

Who finked me?

Did you think the one who ordered you the m*rder would spare you?

Why?

Did you take him?

We did.

But he ingeniously confessed and was released on bail.

Look how generous the laws are in England nowadays.

Fine, take the handcuffs off first.

Stop!

Wilkinson, do a run with the guys for some order.

You think your plan will work?

I'm sure.

You know, there's not much time left, and we with Watson should pay a very important visit.

Till this evening!

If not, you will be accused of everything, Mr. Holmes!

This Mr. Holmes is a very interesting gentleman.

Louise, don't worsen your falling with tobacco, your mother is watching you from the sky.

Aunt, there's nothing in the sky apart from clouds and birds.

I want to be free like a bird and not like you, auntie.

Everybody knows about your romance with the colonial Ferguson.

Why do you still make it like he comes to us just for a cup of tea?

Dear, it is harmful to smoke in your condition.

It can harm...

the foetus.

Harm the foetus?

All and these nerves I lost during this month, they didn't harm the foetus?

I will open it myself.

Impossible...

Roger!

Roger!

I don't believe we are together again!

- Roger!

Roger!

Roger!

Your aunt called me for some reason.

Some very important business.

What business?

- I don't know.

Come in.

Come in.

Come in.

Everyone come in!

Let me introduce to you Mr. Sherlock Holmes, a notary, Mr. John Watson, his assistant, colonial Ferguson, and finally my niece Louise Berkett and Mr. Roger Smith.

There!

I imagined you exactly like this.

You - me?

I think that the fiancé of this beautiful lady must be like a prince.

Fiancé?

Yesyes, Mr. Smith, if everything had happened so, let it be.

I am as a respectable Christian don't have neither strength nor desire to oppose the heaven.

That's why I invited all of you to announce my final decision.

Aunt!

Mr. Smith, do you agree to marry my niece Louise Berkett?

You… But what about that wedding?

I will cancel it.

You didn't answer the important question: Do you agree to marry Louise?

It's… it's such...

- Aunt!

- ...a sudden decision… I need… I don't even feel well, I need to think it through, to be.

Are you leaving, Mr. Smith?

Don't hurry.

You won't ever come back here, is it right?

But why?

Well, you are a handsome young man, why do you have to lose your independence and freedom?

I think this married life, napkins, worries, it is not for you.

I propose a deal to you. Watson.

Could you sit down?

Please sit down.

You will immediately write an acknowledgement, in which you renounce Louise once and for all, and you're free.

What do I have to write?

- Roger!

- Louise!

Dear Lady Nelligain, I, Roger Smith claim that I have never been connected to your niece Louise Berkett, I don't have any pretensions to her, neither love nor property ones.

Yours respectfully, Roger Smith.

Finished?

The anonymous letter received by Lady Nelligan a month ago was written by you.

What is happening here?

So what, does it prove anything?

Absolutely nothing.

Except that you are a finished scoundrel.

You planned it all well, starting with the letter you sent to Lady Nelligan, by which you brought panic to her heart, leading her to lock up Louise to start writing letters to each other, and finally the letters themselves, with which you wanted to blackmail this honourable woman.

But you were disturbed weren't you?

You know by whom?

The husband of the maid, Peter Carry.

He didn't just steal the letters, he stole the whole idea of blackmailing.

After this you contacted someone called Jack Strotter, who, as it appeared to be, was serving for a long time in Peter Carry's ship, and they had an old conflict based on battling for the rank of the captain.

You paid Strotter money, so he would in any way take the letters from him.

Strotter k*lled Peter Carry.

He escaped from the crime scene, but didn't find the letters.

The moment the wife of Peter Carry opened up the hiding place, you came in and m*rder*d her, inflicting s*ab wounds!

Sorry.

My god!

What monstrous drivel you are saying, Mr. Holmes!

Do you have the testimony of this...

Your handkerchief, ...that you left on the place.

Are there my initials or something?

No, there are no initials, but it smells of your fashionable French perfume, which is not only familiar to me, but also to my assistant.

Moreover, the letter you sent to Lady Nelligan has the same scent.

Even though a month has passed, the letter still smells.

You know what?

Some scent can't be a good...

basis...

for my guilt.

Maybe I can go?

Get the hell out, but listen to my advice.

Go straight to the police, and confess everything, because your life depends on that.

Lady Nelligan.

If the letters are still in the hands of malefactors, you will still have to pay, otherwise there will be a scandal.

Good bye.

No, but what a scoundrel!

Aunt, I'm scared!

I said that the letters were in my safe, but I was always carrying them with me.

I guess the second half is in Smith's pocket.

Are you in a hurry?

Too bad you finked me to the police, sir.

A cab, sir!

Cheap, pennies to any end of the city.

To Baker Street.

Damn.

French cologne.

I can't stand the French.

Call the coroner, Tracey.

Why?

We have Watson.

The second and the third cervical vertebrae are broken.

But he has been...

dead...for no more than minutes.

Yes, Lestrade, I promised you to catch Strotter in the act.

Yes.

But for that we had to sacrifice a life of another Londoner.

Not the best one.

Believe me.

Begin the search.

Holmes!

What did you take there?

News!

News!

Breaking news!

Hmm, all is well that ends well.

I wouldn't say so.

Look at the bride, the newly formed Mrs. Lengton.

She doesn't love her husband.

And I bet if Roger Smith rose from the dead right now, she would run away with him straight from the wedding.

Especially when the future heir of the count Lengton is not exactly… his.

I assure you, usually these stories have a continuation.

You promised to tell about the m*rder of Jack Izzy.

Lady Nelligan.

Hired Jack Izzy.

What?

Yes, she didn't have money to pay the blackmailer and she hired, the best thief in the city, so he would steal the letters from Peter Carry.

So you want to say, the thief agreed to do this job for free?

Oh no, of course no.

An honourable woman, who tries to break into a more honourable society, made a deal with a thief, and gave him an expensive necklace from her jewellery set, and you think this act is worth public reprimand?

Oh leave it, doctor.

When it comes to personal matters, nobody cares about society.

Don't say, don't say.

So you want to give the necklace back to her?

Mr. Holmes, I was away for a few days, and you smoked throughout the whole house.

And you are Mr. Watson?

Yes, excuse me, and your name is?

Mrs. Hudson.

Mr. Holmes, I wanted to discuss with you some questions.

First of all, you owe me a rent for .

months.

Secondly, till when should I tolerate the complaints of the tenants from the ground floor about your horrible musical skills?

Thirdly, we agreed with you that you won't carry out these horrendous chemical experiments in my house.

Fourthly...

Welcome back, Mrs. Hudson!

Baker Street 221B.
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