All language subtitles for Without.a.Clue.1988.720p.BluRay.x264.YIFY

I told ya.

A quick tunnel job, then up the
stairs, as pretty as you please.

That's worth over ten
thousand pounds.

- We're gonna be rich!
- Not this time, gentlemen.

Sherlock Holmes!

Watson?

Right you are, Holmes.

Run, Archie, or we'll swing for it!

Don't let those ruffians escape!

I am Inspector Lestrade.
You are under...

There's no escape, my friend.

This will be a pleasure.

- Well done, Watson.
- Are you all right, Holmes?

Quite.

Which is more than I
can say for John Clay,

one of London's least
notorious thieves.

Inspector! I have your man.

Come on.

Well, Mr. Holmes...

I don't know how,
but you've done it again.

Thank you. That's
high praise indeed,

coming from such a workmanlike
detective as yourself.

And now, if you have
nothing further to add,

I hereby declare this case...

closed.

Good! We got kippers for breakfast.

Just a minute.

You idiot!

What?

Confound you!

What... what did I say?

What did I say wrong?

I did everything you said,
exactly as you said it.

All right, what did I do?

You're not going to
tell me, are you?

All right. You want
to know what's wrong?

- I said I did, didn't I?
- I'll tell you what's wrong.

Don't declare a case is closed...

Just a minute. My public awaits.

until I say it's closed!

- Good morning, gentlemen.
- Good morning, Mr. Holmes!

- May we have a word?
- Certainly.

How did you know somebody was
tunneling into the Royal Gallery?

That was very interesting.

There was fresh dirt in
the building next door.

Fresh dirt...

Would you like to
elaborate on that?

It was an elementary deduction
based on the clues at hand.

But didn't Scotland Yard
see the very same clues?

I see and observe.

Isn't that rather redundant?

Describe the front
of this building.

Without looking, describe
the front of this house.

Well, it's brick...

it's got black railings, I think,

and windows.

- How many windows?
- How many?

I don't know.

Quite so. He sees, but
he does not observe.

Whereas I see and observe,

and thus bring many notorious
blackguards to justice.

Hear, hear!

Did I put that
reporter in his place?

Just for the record...

how many windows are there
in the front of this building?

I haven't the foggiest idea.

There are fifteen
windows, you fool!

Fifteen!

Not only that...

Not only that, but the reporter
you just embarrassed...

he knows how to type, is
somewhat nearsighted,

and recently returned
from a holiday.

"And how do you know that, Watson?"

Elementary. From the
creases on his wrist

where a typist presses
against the table.

Do you think this is a
good likeness of me?

Wonderful story, by the way,

but on page two, you have
me admitting a mistake.

A writer must write
of which he knows.

Do you think that's
really necessary?

I mean, tarnishing the
image and all that?

Hello.

What have we here?

Something's afoot.

How many times have I told you to
stay away from my experiments?

Something wrong?

I seem to spend an increasing
amount of my precious time

correcting your blunders,
both private and public!

I see. It's the Clay case.

You still in a snit over that?

Well, if you want my opinion...

I beg your pardon?
Opinion, did you say?

Oh, my God. Not that speech again.

May I remind you, for
your information, sir,

that your opinions are my opinions.

Oh, piffle.

I created the character
of Sherlock Holmes,

and hired you merely
to play the part...

snatching you from the gutter.

Hardly the gutter, old boy.

After all, I was once
an actor of note.

Whose last play ran a total of
one-half of one performance.

I'll have you know Shadow of Death

with Reginald Kincaid

was a towering work,
decades ahead of its time.

Lesson number two. Advanced Bowing.

My only regret was that it ended
before the climactic third-act duel.

Too bad you didn't have
a chance to see it.

I've no use for
theatrical swordplay.

All I ask is that you
obey a few simple rules,

not the least of which is,

a case is not closed
until I say it's closed.

I think you underestimate my own
native deductive abilities.

Do you hear those footsteps?

I'd say this was a woman
about five-feet-five,

weight about
twelve-and-a-half stone,

age fifty-four. Voil�.

Blown yourself up again?

It's for you... your
Baker Street Irregulars.

Hello, boys.

Wiggins, give it back.

Just tryin' to earn a living.

We heard you was looking
for us, Doctor.

Yes, there's been some trouble

concerning the break-in
at the Royal Gallery.

What?

We heard that Mr. Holmes
declared the case closed.

That will prove, after
some creative writing,

to be merely a ruse
on Mr. Holmes's part.

Something's not right... John Clay
does not deal in works of art.

I need you boys to have a look
around... eyes sharp, ears quick.

A copper apiece for your trouble,
and a shilling for what you learn.

We'll do our best, won't we, lads?

Don't let us keep you, boys.
Come on... out.

Don't worry about a thing.

We know how much you could
use some real assistance.

You're making a laughingstock
of me. How can I be...

How can I be expected
to maintain a character

when you belittle me in
front of those hooligans?

Are we talking of the same
man who once declared

that the late Colonel Howard

had been bludgeoned to death
by a blunt "excrement"?

Is it my fault you have
such poor handwriting?

Anyway, it was just
a little mistake.

He's been at it again.

- I never liked that woman.
- Come in, Mrs. Hudson.

I found it under a loose
board in the stairwell.

Thank you.

An occasional libation enables
me to stiffen my resolve.

Your resolve should
be pickled by now.

I don't believe that either of you
realize what pressure I'm under!

Do you know what it's
like to commit to memory

a never-ending list of
clues and deductions

to be parroted back to
Lestrade and reporters?

Blood stains on a
toothpick? Cigar ash?

New soil in the garden next door?

Endless twaddle!

Twaddle!

Are you referring to the
systematic gathering of evidence

and the logical
deductions based thereon?

I am referring to twaddle!

You would be well served

to include fewer of these dreary
details in future chronicles,

and place greater emphasis on me.

I am, after all, the one the
public really cares about.

Would you be so kind as to
excuse us for a moment?

Careful, Watson! Remember
your blood pressure!

And good riddance to
bad rubbish, I must say.

Am I to understand that
you are giving me notice?

Let's just say that the
curtain has come down

on yet another
miserable performance.

Right.

I was once a figment
of your imagination.

But now, Sherlock Holmes
belongs to the whole world.

At last we're free of
that ungrateful baggage!

From now on, things are gonna be
much more pleasant around here.

An actor?!

Nothing the matter, nothing at all.

Back to work.

Hold my calls.

We'll start at the beginning...

shall we?

It was about nine years ago.

One of my patients was a
Scotland Yard inspector

investigating the
Paxton murder case.

I gave him the name
of the murderer,

but gave credit to a
nonexistent detective.

At the time, I was hoping
for an appointment

to the staff of a rather
conservative medical college.

I knew that they'd
frown on my little...

- Hobby?
- Exactly.

Well, I didn't get the appointment.

Instead, what I got was a quite
unanticipated public demand

to meet this Sherlock Holmes.

So you hired this Reginald Kincaid.

He was an actor.

Unfortunately, he was also
a gambler, a womanizer,

and a drunkard.

John, you have jeopardized the
integrity of English literature.

Still, I should have known.

He was always borrowing
large sums of money off me

and never paying me back.

The cad.

Don't worry. We deducted
it from your royalties.

- Who else knows of this?
- No one.

Except Mrs. Hudson
and the Irregulars.

But it's time now for the
public to learn the truth.

The truth?

Certainly.

No one will want to read
of that twit again.

His popularity will plummet.

They'll be desperate
for my new creation.

What new creation?

John Watson, the Crime Doctor!

I could have it ready for
your very next issue.

Sit down, John.

People buy the Strand magazine

expecting to read a story
in which Sherlock Holmes

solves the case, not
the Crime Surgeon.

Crime Doctor.

Crime Doctor, Crime
Surgeon, Crime Dentist...

who cares, really?

Let's face it, John,

Sherlock Holmes is worth a
fortune to the magazine.

You're stuck with him.

Norman, I'll write what I want.
There's nothing you can do.

The devil there isn't.

You can't go in there!

What is this?

Sorry, Doctor, but we found
something. Down by the docks.

- Excellent!
- Hello, ducks.

If you'll excuse us,
we have work to do.

Do you work here?

Watson, I'm warning you...

it's Sherlock Holmes, or we'll sue
you for everything you're worth!

And I mean everything!

Anyone seen my watch?

- There it is.
- Camden Paper Mill.

Burned about four this morning.

- Same time as the Clay robbery.
- On the button.

Good lad! Now we're
getting somewhere.

Let's take a look around.

Went up like a torch, they say.

Well, it's full of wood
pulp and paper, you see?

I'm sorry, sir. No one's
allowed in this area.

Quite all right, I assure you.
I'm Dr. John Watson.

Nobody's sick here.

You don't understand.

- John Watson.
- The Crime Doctor.

That's right. John Watson,
the Crime Doctor.

Crime Doctor? Never heard of him.

Though your name
sounds a bit familiar.

All right.

I am Dr. John Watson...

author of the Sherlock
Holmes mysteries.

The Sherlock Holmes?

Me and the wife has read
every one of his stories.

All right. Now, if
you'll excuse me...

I'm sorry, I still can't let you in.
Strict orders about that, I'm afraid.

But Mr. Holmes...
did he send you here?

He certainly did not!

Well, perhaps the next time you
should check with him first.

Save yourself a trip.

You try and fight
crime in this city,

and all you hear about
is Sherlock Holmes!

"What's he like? When
will you see him next?"

Never, that's when! Never!

Doctor, dear, keep your voice down.

- Why should I?
- Because you have visitors.

Inspector Lestrade and
a Lord Smithwick.

Of the Treasury?

Gentlemen, won't you come up?

Oh, yes, thank you very much.
Mr. Holmes is in, is he?

Dr. Watson will see you,

although he is quite busy
with his scholarly pursuits.

Gentlemen.

Good afternoon, Inspector.

This is Lord Smithwick,

Her Majesty's Chancellor
of the Exchequer.

My pleasure, sir.

His Lordship wishes
to see Mr. Holmes.

I'm sorry to say he's
not here at the moment.

Oh, how disappointing!

As I said before,
I really don't think

Mr. Holmes's involvement
in this case is necessary.

- I quite agree.
- You do?

However, the Crime Doctor
is at your disposal.

Who the deuce is the Crime Doctor?

What?

Most amusing, but this is a
matter of the gravest urgency.

When do you expect Mr. Holmes?

Not for a while. He's out of town.

Good afternoon.

Well...

too bad.

I'm sure we'll be able to get along
quite well without Mr. Holmes.

Wait!

Today's Friday, isn't it?

Of course it is. Silly me.

Holmes is supposed
to be back tonight.

How fortunate.

Very well. We shall
return at seven tonight.

Come along, Inspector.

Till then, gentlemen.

- We've made this trip for nothing.
- I must ask you once again...

Where did you get that hat?

Where did you get that tile?

Isn't it a knobby one?
It's just the proper style

I would like to have one
just the same as that

Where'er I go, they shout Hello!

And where'd you get that hat?

Where did you get that hat?
Where did you get that tile?

Good evening.

Have you seen Peter Bright?
He's disappeared.

Hello, Connie.

All right...

Who did it?

Come on... which one
of ya pinched me?

- Pinched, you say?
- That's right.

May I be of... some assistance?

The name is Holmes...
Sherlock Holmes.

Constance Peyton, sir.
Pleased to meet ya.

Charmed.

Now, let's see...

By careful observation of the
patrons of these premises,

I have been able to
deduce the identity

of the fiend who pinched you.

Me. Did it again!

- Thank you, my good man.
- Thank you, sir.

I'll make this brief.

I'll make this brief.

I'll need to see some money.
It's been five days now.

- Now, see here, my good man...
- Go ahead, sir, it's on me.

Thank you, sir.

- How are things?
- Couldn't be better.

Good health.

I'll meke this braif.

I'll make this brief...
I want you to come back.

Like I predicted... you need me.

I do not need you.

Then what are you here for?
I didn't call for you.

All right, I need you...
for this one blasted time.

One time, and that's all? You're
gonna have to do better than that.

Don't push me. You've
already run out of money.

This is because you lack
the necessary skills

to gain decent employment.

Wrong, Watson.

I have been honing my ability
of elementary deduction

to a razor's edge... observe.

Excuse me, sir.

How are things on the subcontinent?

I beg your pardon?

You are a reporter just back
from India, are you not?

I'm a barrister, and I've never
been to India in my life.

- But you do read the Times.
- Of course.

There you have it.

My card.

I'll ask you just once more.
Are you coming with me or not?

I would rather waltz naked
through the fires of hell.

I can see coming
here was a mistake.

Excellent deduction.
Keep up the good work.

Gentlemen. And what
can I do for you?

A mystery to be solved?

You might say that.

There's a little matter
of a gambling debt.

The mystery is why
you ain't paid it.

Gentlemen, you are dealing
with Sherlock Holmes,

a man of honor and
character beyond reproach.

There he is!

That's the bloke who
pinched me bum!

Pardon me! Pardon me!

Excuse me, luv.

- Didn't I say seven o'clock?
- Forgive me for being late.

Is Mr. Holmes with you?

Well, actually, Lord Smithwick,

a short time ago I received
a wire from Holmes

instructing me to
take down the details

and begin the investigation...
without him, as it were.

- What?
- Believe it or not,

I am every bit Holmes's
equal as a detective.

I happen to know that you recently
recovered from an illness,

that you smoke a pipe...
probably rosewood...

and you spent time in China.

This is no time for parlor games.

This is a matter for professionals.

You gotta help me!
There's two big men...

You're back! So good to see you!

Isn't this a clever disguise?
A drunken lout... very realistic.

This woman said I
pinched her bottom...

Pinched her bum! Ha ha!

Gentlemen... Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

It's good to see the department is
letting you out at night again.

Trouble at the Exchequer?

Well, to be honest...

Wait... how did you know?

The same way that I can tell
you've recently recovered

from an illness, smoke a pipe...
probably rosewood...

- and have spent some time in...
- China.

Amazing!

Thank you.

Before we start, perhaps
a little sherry?

I wish we could,

but the matter which brings me here

involves the fate of
the entire Empire.

I see. Perhaps a whiskey, then?

Perhaps later.

Tell me the details,
and omit nothing.

- Watson, pay close attention.
- Do you know what these are?

- I do.
- So do I.

Plates for the Bank of
England's five pound note.

- Undoubtedly.
- Or very good imitations.

- Precisely.
- Exactly.

Indeed.

That's cleared that up.
How about that whiskey?

- May I?
- I suppose so.

Just two nights ago,
these clever forgeries

were exchanged for
the genuine plates.

If the real plates are in the
hands of some foreign power...

Or someone even more treacherous,

the kingdom could find itself
awash in counterfeit notes.

And I don't have to tell
you what that would mean.

Yes, you do.

It would mean, quite simply,
economic ruin for England.

Nobody would know which
five pound notes were real

and which weren't.

Gentlemen, I accept this case.

My fee will be five
hundred pounds...

payable in ten pound notes.

Good evening.

We can all rest a little
easier now, Inspector.

Drive on, my good man.

I don't suppose it would
make any difference

if I said I have grave
doubts about Mr. Holmes.

I must confess,

I feel a bit prouder knowing
Sherlock Holmes is British.

Do you suppose he took
the case, Professor?

Watson?

My dear boy, how could he resist?

This is working out so very well.

Driver.

Gentlemen... I am here.

Mr. Holmes, at last!

Welcome to Her
Majesty's Royal Mint.

This is one of my long-time
employees, Mister...

- Hadlers, sir.
- Hadlers, yes.

Inspector Lestrade was
inquiring about the vaults.

It's my guess that it's an inside
job by someone with a key.

You have a key, don't you, Hadlers?

Me? No!

Inspector, please. Mr.
Holmes will take over now.

It's quite all right.

As a matter of fact, Lestrade,

- you can be of some help.
- Of course.

Hold my coat. It's hot in here.

So this is where the
printing plates are kept.

Very interesting...

No harm done.

Tell me, how many people
have access to this vault?

Three persons only...

myself, the Commissioner
for Seals and Engravings,

and the printing
supervisor, Peter Giles.

I should like to speak to
this, uh, third person.

He didn't turn up for
work this morning.

We've already done some
checking on this Giles.

He is a widower, with
one child named Leslie.

I've seen her once
or twice, myself.

A very pretty girl, in
an unusual sort of way.

- Pretty?
- Oh, yes, sir. Quite.

Watson, make a note of that.

Though Mr. Giles himself
seemed slightly uncomfortable

when I complimented him
on her appearance.

Surely you can't believe that
Peter Giles was involved!

The man's worked here
for over thirty years,

and he was very religious, too.
Wouldn't you say so, uh...

Hadlers, sir.

Oh, yes. He was always
quoting from the Psalms.

The Psalms... one of
my favorite books.

The... Bible, wasn't it?

I suppose you'll want to
speak to this Peter Giles.

I've never been one for
religious talk, myself.

On the other hand, no
leads must be overlooked.

You can rest assured,
your Lordship,

we shall be investigating
the daughter, as well.

I must be going.

Come here! You ninny, what
are you doing over there?

Amazing fellow, really.

All right, now go! Go!

Open this door!

Giles, open the door.
It's Sherlock Holmes.

Stand back, I'll break it down.

Half a tick, Mr. Holmes.

You can't go walking into
someone's residence,

pokin' about their
personal possessions,

disturbin' their privacy.

That's for Scotland Yard.

Anybody home?

Nobody home.

- You're treading on the mat.
- Sorry.

Nice, tidy little place.

- A French postcard.
- Really?

I knew a chap who
collected these once.

He had this wonderful
one of two women...

- Oh. It's just the Eiffel Tower.
- Quite a bit of correspondence there.

I'd say Giles hadn't been
home for several days.

Anything of interest in that card?

It says, "Having a gay time
here, but need a holiday.

Will see you on Monday. L."

I wonder who that can be?

"L"... is that an old friend?
A secret lover?

It's my guess it's
his daughter Leslie.

I'll wager you're right.

That's right... let him
deduce everything.

When Lestrade returns, go
about your sleuthing routine.

The full treatment?

Whatever it takes to keep him
occupied while I look around.

It would appear as if Mr.
Giles has taken a holiday.

I expected no less.

If you'll allow me.

- Very interesting up here.
- Excuse me.

My word.

Don't touch that!

There may be fingerprints.

The book of Psalms...

As I anticipated... the Bible.

All starting to fit together
rather neatly, I'd say.

Stay with me, Lestrade.

Investigating crime calls for
the searching out of patterns.

Now, take the patterns
in this carpet.

Rosettes and what
appears to be cherubs.

Is that a cherub?

What have you there?

Oh, this.

I just found this in the fireplace.

Careful. Might be evidence.

Really?

"E-R-M-E-R-E."

What do you make of it?

Are you blind, Lestrade?
Tell him, Watson.

Correct me if I'm wrong,

but this piece of paper
is part of a map.

A location.

Emere...

Cashmere...

Windermere! Lake Windermere!

Brilliant!

The lake district is a
perfect place to hide.

Nobody goes there
this time of year.

We'll wire Windermere

and see if Giles has
made his appearance yet.

And don't you worry, Mr. Holmes...

we'll have this case
wrapped up in no time.

Unique, actually.

- So much for the great detective!
- Very creative, Watson.

Something that would never have
occurred to the likes of me.

Imagine... a Sherlock
Holmes adventure

in which Lestrade
solves the bloody case!

Calm yourself.

There's a healthy chunk of
mystery yet to be solved.

It's to Windermere for us,

where, I assure you,
the game is still afoot.

Where, I assure you,
the game is still afoot.

"As was his habit, Sherlock Holmes

sat in the railway carriage,
lost in thought."

You must be a millionaire...

Are you Sherlock Holmes?

I am indeed, madam.
Would you like my autograph?

You put me old man
in jail, you did!

"From these moments of
quiet, intense reflection

"would inevitably spring

some new insight."

Stop it, you silly girl!

Go on back!

Sorry about that.

- What are you doing?
- Thinking.

Right.

I'm gonna think, too.

What shall we think about?

Allow me to introduce myself.

I am the Right Honorable
Gerald Fitzwalter Johnson,

Lord Mayor.

This is my daughter Christabel.

Hello, Mr. Holmes.

We're enthusiastic readers of
your articles in the Strand.

My daughter, in particular,
reads each one several times.

Don't even think about it.

I believe we have
something for you.

A man matching Mr. Giles's
description arrived two nights ago.

This is Andrews, a dock
worker here on the lake.

He remembers the man quite well.

Andrews, this is Mr. Holmes,
come to our fair community

to investigate a matter
of great importance.

You may begin, Mr. Holmes.

What makes you remember this
man so clearly, Mr. Andrews?

- I remember this man...
- Your hat.

I remember this man so clearly

because he was carrying
a brown leather suitcase.

The suitcase was fastened to his
wrist with a pair of silver handcuffs.

It was very heavy,

and he commented on the
weight several times.

- He asked Donald Ayers...
- A local boatman.

a local boatman, to transport
him across the lake

to a cottage he had rented.

Make a note of that.

I'm sure Holmes would like
to speak to this boatman,

Donald Ayers.

Yes, indeed.

The thing of it is, no
one has seen the fellow

or the man with the
suitcase since that night.

You mean they've gone missing?

My theory, if you'll
permit me, is this...

the storm may have
done both of them in.

- They went out in a storm?
- Watson, please.

They went out in a storm?

The lake can get very rough
at this time of the year.

Here we are, our finest hotel...
the Shakespeare Arms.

We're all so proud
to have you here.

The duke's absolutely
beside himself.

- The duke?
- Uh, the d-o-g.

- Sherlock Holmes and Doctor...?
- John Watson.

Now, if you'll just follow me,

I'll have your luggage
taken upstairs.

Stay down, now! Sit, boy, sit!

Now, then, Dukie,
you stay down here

while I take the
gentlemen upstairs.

He's taken quite a fancy to you.

He doesn't like
everybody, you know.

Fetch!

What he likes is the summer,

with all them ramblers!

The King Lear Room...
the finest we've got.

Yours is upstairs, Doctor.

Be careful of the carpet...
the mice have been at it.

We call this the Hamlet Room,

and it does have a
lovely view of the lake.

Now, if you'll excuse me, Doctor...

Watson.

I'll just go and see if
Mr. Holmes is all right.

Would you mind swapping
rooms with me?

I once played King Lear,
and, quite frankly,

that room would revive
memories of rotten fruit.

One room's the same
as another to me.

Thank you.

What a dreary place this is.

Excuse me, but you are
Sherlock Holmes, aren't you?

That depends.

Do you have a relative who
was recently sent to prison?

Me? Why, no.

Yes, then. I am Sherlock Holmes.

We could all consider it an honor
if you'd have a drink with us.

A drink.

I was just saying to my
good friend Dr. Watson here

what a lovely village this is.

I'll have a double whiskey.

Just to ward off the
chill of the evening.

A double whiskey for
Mr. Holmes, please.

A toast... to the greatest
detective in all the world.

Thank you, gentlemen. I am touched.

I can vouch for that.

You remind me of someone
I once encountered

during the curious affair
of the Manchurian Mambo.

Could I have a word?

I believe that was the
Manchurian Mamba.

Mamba, mambo...
what's the difference?

Very little, other than one
is a deadly poisonous snake,

and the other is a rather
festive Caribbean dance.

It was a night just like any other,
when someone knocked at the door.

I opened it, and there
were these Manchurians

doing this rather festive
Caribbean dance.

Manchurian Mambo...

Steady, Watson.

Just get through it one more time,

then you're rid of the fellow.

What a pleasant thought.

I feel much better.

Quite euphoric!

as the snake struck at me,

I danced out of the way.

And if it hadn't been for
my flawless footwork,

I'd be standing here
a dead man today.

What about another drink?

I have to be up early tomorrow,
and I need all my wits about me.

Perhaps just one more.

Holmes, sweet Holmes.

You're not the Hound of the
Baskervilles, you know.

Fresh air... that's what I need.

That's better.

Help!

Help me!

Watson, wake up!

Help!

My God!

Hang on, I'm coming!

Hang on, here I am!

Quickly!

Give me your hand.

- Are you there?
- Yes, I'm here.

Well done.

Pull, quickly! Pull harder!

Don't let go!

Well done.

Jolly good.

Oh, shit!

Fascinating... this railing appears
to have been cut by someone.

Get him off!

Good morning, gentlemen.

This is the cottage Giles leased
from a company in London.

Allow me to show you the way.

Mr. Mayor, don't move!

Not until Mr. Holmes
has had a chance

to inspect the area for clues.

By God, I've trained
you well, Watson.

Now follow me closely.

- What am I looking for?
- Footprints.

Right.

- Have I found any yet?
- No, not yet.

Let me know when I do.

Hello? Anyone at home?

If Giles was headed here...

it's obvious he never arrived.

They've found Donald Ayers.

Who?

Dreadful!

Stand back, lads. Leave it to me.

Constable, please.

Not until Mr. Holmes
has had a chance

to investigate the body for clues.

Yes...

it is my opinion that he is dead.

He's a genius!

Thank you.

Here you are. Two first-class
tickets to London.

Well, Mr. Holmes, any theories?

Indeed. Obviously Giles and
Ayers were caught in a storm

too far from the shore
to swim for it.

And with that heavy suitcase
attached to his wrist,

and the lake being so deep...

Quite. Pulled the poor
wretch to the bottom.

Struggling futilely,

flailing desperately

as the cold, black water
sealed his fate forever.

Well, it's certainly been a laugh.

Thank you very much.

We must be off. Pleasure
meeting you, Mr. Mayor.

The same, Doctor.

Now... now...

We know for a fact that
Giles was on the boat.

No, we don't.

Oh.

Well, we do know for a fact that
Giles arrived at Windermere.

No, he didn't.

He didn't? I thought he did.

Well, we really know that Giles

was behind the theft of
the printing plates.

No, he wasn't.

Fine.

Just trying to get things straight.

Tell me something...

is there anything we
do know for a fact?

Yes.

What?

That without a doubt

there is an evil mastermind
behind all of this.

Professor Moriarty?!

Oh, for God's sake.

You didn't tell me that homicidal
maniac was involved in this!

Because I knew you'd
behave this way.

Bravo! Another triumph
for deductive reasoning!

Don't you think
you're overreacting?

Pardon me.

Wasn't I the one he tried
to kill last night?

Merely a technicality.

- Maybe for you, mate.
- Think, man...

Who was supposed to
sleep in that room?

That's true... you were!

Moriarty knows I'm the only
match for his evil genius.

Are you sure he's not
trying to kill me?

Of course not.
He knows you're an idiot.

Thank God.

Whoa, there. Steady.

Stand. Here you are, miss.

Thank you.

It's all very nice, miss.

Miss Leslie Giles?

Yes?

Dr. John Watson, at your service.

And this is Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

But what do you want with me?

The government suspects
that your father has stolen

the printing plates for
the five pound note.

What?

They also believe he is at the
bottom of Lake Windermere,

drowned like a rat.

Father...

- Get some water, please.
- Of course.

Father...

Sorry for the fright, Miss Giles.

Unfortunately, you fainted
before Holmes could add

that he personally believes your
father not only innocent, but alive.

Really?

Holmes believes your
father has been abducted.

Abducted! By whom?

Abductors.

You see, Miss Giles,

your father was described to
us as fanatically neat...

a fact confirmed by the
immaculateness of this very place.

I took the opportunity
to have a look around,

and it is extremely tidy.

One must ask, therefore,

why such a compulsively neat
man would leave an unmade bed,

unless he was snatched
from that very bed.

Oh, dear God.

Then a man posing as your
father was sent to Windermere

where a mock drowning was staged,

unfortunately costing the life of
an innocent boatman named Ayers,

forcibly drowned.

- Murdered.
- Why?

Why, you ask.

Because...

Fill in the details.

Because someone
wanted us to believe

that your father and
the printing plates

were lost at the
bottom of the lake.

Thus Scotland Yard and that
poor, misguided fool Lestrade

would foolishly believe
that the case was closed,

leaving the true villain free

to wreak havoc with the
economy of the Empire.

All quite... elementary.

Let me go!

Have courage!

You're not getting away that easy!

Put me down!

You don't know who
you're dealing with!

My name is Sherlock Holmes!

Look out!

Sorry about this, Miss Giles.

Sorry about this, Miss Giles.

- Hurry!
- My bleeding shoe!

- They're gone.
- I know. I chased them away.

You brave, brave man.

Danger is my trade...
but not yours.

It's unsafe for you to
sleep alone tonight...

unattended.

Yes, we insist you stay with us.

- But surely I'd be an imposition.
- Think nothing of it, my dear.

Indeed, Holmes will be
working all night anyway,

so you can have his room.

Interesting... of
Italian manufacture.

What?

This shoe... brand-new.

Yes, very interesting.

Do you think... do you think
she's ready for bed yet?

And if I'm not mistaken,

caked with mud mainly found in
the vicinity of the Thames.

The Thames, yes. Poor girl.

Poor, beautiful girl.

Some sleep would do her good.

I can picture her lying there, her
eyes closed, gently breathing.

Her breasts heaving...

as her supple, nubile young body...

caresses the cool, limpid sheets...

Yes, the Thames it is.

Near Southwark...
interesting, isn't it?

To say the least.

Why would common ruffians
be wearing imported shoes?

Not secondhand, mind
you, but brand-new.

- What was that?
- What?

If it's not one thing...

Oh, I'm sorry.

I suppose I must be
still rather nervous.

You may rest easy. No one
will disturb you tonight.

- Isn't that so?
- Quite.

- Good night.
- Good night.

I'm sorry. I didn't realize
you were still asleep.

Sleep? Who can sleep when
there's work to be done?

- Dr. Watson seems to have gone out.
- Really?

I wonder where.

Who knows?

He has very little patience
with detective work.

Often becomes quite bored.

Your job must be very difficult.

One does get rather... tense.

I can imagine.

The hardest thing...

is to find ways to
relieve that tension.

So, you play the violin.

Only if worst comes to worst.

Well, I really don't want
to add to that tension,

so I think I'd better go and
finish getting dressed.

No, please, I assure you...

An occasional break
is quite refreshing.

My mind thrives on diversity.

What? What?

How many times have I
got to tell you to knock?

Have you no respect
for people's privacy?

Right! You've gone
quite far enough,

overstepping the
bounds of propriety.

Come along, my dear. You'll
be much safer with me.

- We'll have tea downstairs.
- Now, there's a good idea.

You have visitors.

Such carryings-on, and in
the middle of the day.

This is a respectable
Presbyterian house, I assure you!

Take no notice.
The woman drinks a bit.

Come in, welcome.

Good morning.

I've informed Lord Smithwick
of the findings in Windermere.

Though the case did not
turn out as we hoped,

Her Majesty did insist on
rewarding you for your efforts.

Who am I to go against
the wishes of the Queen?

Stunning, isn't it?

I'm overwhelmed.

Pity you had to go all
the way to Windermere

merely to confirm my theories.

Think nothing of it. If I
hadn't gone to Windermere,

I could not have
confirmed my theories...

namely, that your theories
are completely wrong.

- What's that?
- This is utter nonsense.

He refuses to accept that I
solved this case before he did.

Giles is dead, the plates
lost, case closed.

Neither Giles nor the plates were
ever in Windermere... case open.

- Really?
- What?

Well, gentlemen, I see Holmes has
taken you into his confidence.

Did he also tell you

that we expect to conclude
this case within three days?

I'll let you fill in
the details, Holmes.

Let me assure you, Lord Smithwick,

that come... Friday, you
shall have your plates.

You must succeed

before news of the theft leaks out

and causes widespread panic
throughout the Empire!

Steady, sir.

That is exactly why the
Empire now more than ever

needs all of us to remain
calm and composed.

You're right, of course.
We must remain composed.

- Composed.
- And calm.

Friday? Are you out of your mind?

Steady on. You've made some
excellent discoveries this morning.

Get your coat on.
We have a cab waiting.

- What discoveries?
- For one thing,

the Royal Mint purchased its paper
from the Camden paper mill.

You make these things
up, don't you?

Those men were here about
my father, weren't they?

Oh, good morning.

Is there any news, anything at all?

Sadly, no.

But take heart. Last night
something occurred to Holmes,

and he suddenly realized
how stupid he'd been.

Really?

- I didn't exactly say "stupid."
- Yes, you did.

And now he's off to
continue the investigation.

- Perhaps I could come, too.
- Ah. Now...

The moment he knows
anything, he'll tell you.

- Thank you.
- Cabbie.

What's that?

A reply to a telegram
I sent late last night.

You might let me in
on the joke, old boy.

In due time.

Cabbie, stop.

You was dead right, Doctor!

All of 'em, just sittin'
there waitin' for customs.

Wonderful! Just as I thought!

Hop in, lad!

Driver, Southwark docks!

Thanks, guv'nor.

Wiggins.

Here they are.

- We found 'em here this morning.
- Wonderful.

All these crates full
of imported shoes.

And the ship?

Got in this morning from Germany.
Two days late, she was.

Excellent. You've
done well, my boy.

We'll take it from here.

Picture it...

two, three, maybe four
of Moriarty's henchmen

waiting here under cover
of darkness for that ship.

But it's delayed.

They wait. They become bored.

Being men of no moral
fiber whatsoever,

they can't resist helping
themselves to a new pair of shoes.

Do you think they
have these in brown?

I hate Italian shoes.

Moriarty.

- Moriarty?
- Without doubt.

- This one.
- All right.

What's "tinte"?

German for "ink."

He smuggled it in to avoid the
attention of Scotland Yard.

Marvelous.

He already has the paper he needs.

He got it from The
Camden Paper Mill...

burning the place to the
ground to cover the theft.

The John Clay case was staged
simply to throw me off the scent.

What's the German for "pen"?

What's all this?

Blast!

You can't be movin' things about.

It has to be cleared
through customs.

Sorry, Professor. We thought
the dock was deserted.

Sorry, indeed.

I went to all this trouble...

for the sake of discretion.

Then you allow this to happen.

Well?

Do you have your revolver with you?

Yeah, somewhere.

Come on.

Let's not be all day about it.

Here it is.

Now, I'm gonna let you
have some bullets for it.

Try not to shoot yourself...

at least, not until
I give the signal.

Moriarty.

Damn.

What am I doing here?

Nobody told me Moriarty was...

- Holmes!
- What?

Come on!

Die, Moriarty.

Idiot!

Come on!

They can't follow
us down the canal.

How demeaning to be
set upon by nitwits.

What are you doing?

Damn!

Look out!

No luck, Sergeant.

- Anything?
- No, sir.

The tide may have carried
the body miles downriver.

Is it true?

I'm afraid it's true.

I am so sorry.

He was such a good man.

I can't believe he's gone.

I know it's difficult
at such a time,

but if it's any consolation,
we still have Mr. Holmes.

Did I say something wrong?

I seem to have overestimated
the amount of rope required.

One more thing I've botched.

What would Dr. Watson say?

He'd have volunteered to kick
the chair out from under me!

He would not!

He said this was gonna be
our last case together.

You mustn't blame yourself.

You can still avenge
the doctor's death

by capturing this Moriarty
and rescuing my father.

Oh, what a good idea.

While I'm at it, I'll bring
in the Loch Ness Monster.

I don't understand!

I am not a detective.
I never solved anything.

Dr. Watson did.

You're just upset.

I couldn't detect horse
manure if I stepped in it.

Please, Mr. Holmes!

Sorry.

- Another one?
- Yes, please.

Stop.

Perhaps not.

I'm afraid my grief... has
exceeded my resources.

- It's on the house.
- Thank you, Henry.

Thank goodness!

Mrs. Hudson said we
might find you here.

We want to offer you
our condolences.

Pity about Dr. Watson.

I trust, however,

it will have no bearing on
the outcome of the case.

What?

You vowed to solve
the case by Friday.

Well, you see,

the fact of the matter is,
you see, Lord Smithwick,

is... Dr. Watson...

I believe what Mr. Holmes
is trying to say

is that it was Dr. Watson who
first made that pledge, and...

with all due respect,

I'm sure he did not fully understand
the complexities of the case.

As I have tried to point
out to Your Lordship,

Her Majesty should
rely on the counsel

of trained criminologists
such as myself.

Though well-meaning,
the good doctor was...

no detective.

As I was about to
say, Lord Smithwick,

Dr. Watson was decidedly precise

in his estimate of the
closure of this case.

Have no fear...

you shall have the plates
in your hands come Friday.

What?

The game's afoot!

Dr. Watson always said,

start by listing
everything you know.

So, let us begin.

Number one.

Moriarty.

Isn't he wonderful?

He is behind all this,
that's one thing we know.

Very good. Progressing nicely.

Now, the next thing
we know... number two.

This might take a while.
I'll get some tea.

What?

All right...

let's go back to number one.

Perhaps the clue is
in Moriarty's name.

Clever people often do that.

Amity...

rarity...

I've got it!

His real name is Arty Morty!

What the hell am I talking about?

I found a five pound note
floating in the river.

Lucky you.

But it's only half printed!

I suppose it's only worth
two pounds-ten, then.

Everyone knows the
normal five pound note

carries a serial number
which contains five digits.

- Six digits.
- Six digits.

This one contains only three.

- Two-three-four.
- What's that mean?

Her father's a printer, ain't he?

Maybe he's trying to
tell us where he is.

What can these numbers mean?

Could be a measurement...
an address!

- An amount!
- A page number!

Did your father have
a favorite book?

He did!

- The Bible.
- Yes.

I have a Bible. It's at my bedside.

Is there something on page 234?

Page numbers vary
from Bible to Bible,

but chapter and verse is
the same in every Bible.

Did your father have a
favorite book of the Bible?

Yes, he did.

The book of Psalms.

Psalms 23rd, verse four.

"Yea, though I walk
through the valley of...

the shadow of death."

Does that mean something?

That means... the Orpheum Theater.

What are you talking about?

I'm sorry, but I just
don't understand.

The Shadow of Death.

The gripping drama was the last
play presented at the Orpheum.

It closed after only one night, but
not without garnering some praise.

Harris, in the Daily Telegram. Said,
"In an otherwise dismal evening,

Reginald Kincaid provided
some welcome laughs."

Laughs? You said it
was a gripping drama.

It's unimportant now, isn't it?

Are you sure you know
what you're doing?

- Cab!
- Oh, dear.

The Fleet River runs
under that part of town.

The Orpheum Theater stands
right on top of it.

You could be on to something.

There's tunnels and caverns
running all under there.

- Just a moment!
- We haven't got a moment!

Wiggins, fetch Scotland Yard.

Let me, Mr. Holmes.

I'm sure they'll be much more
inclined to listen to me.

Good idea. Wiggins, on the back.

The Orpheum Theater.
We haven't a moment to lose!

I kind of liked you better
when you was a coward.

The stage door's round
back. Go ahead.

- You go ahead.
- Wiggins, go ahead.

Here ya go, gents.

Here you go, my good man.
You may keep the change.

A fiver? God bless ya, guv'nor!

Think nothing of it.
I print my own.

"Print me own"...
that's a good one.

Still, we can't
afford to waste them.

We shall move the barge
out at high tide.

I shall miss this
place... somewhat.

Go around front.

When the police get here,
tell them what happened.

Right you are.

And...

the best of British luck to you
both. You're gonna need it.

And don't move until they get here!

Up we go.

- Hold on to that.
- Slowly.

Where are we?

Don't kick the...

- bucket.

Let go.

Are you quite serious?

Do you do this kind
of thing on purpose?

Listen.

It's nothing, Professor.
Probably rats.

Ah, yes... rats.

I think...

I think it's louder over here.

It might...

I am so dreadfully sorry.

On the contrary,

I think we're making
very good progress.

There's a hole in the wall.

I'm not stayin' around here.

Blimey.

Well, well.

The ink's not dry yet.

There's more paper line over here.

Hand over.

You've done a splendid
job, Mr. Giles.

The Queen herself could
hardly tell the difference.

However...

this one seems to have
been only half printed.

It was found on the
bank of the river.

I've got a pussycat

And I'm very fond of that

A reject.

Must have slipped away.

And the tide carried it out.

The tide, that's all.

Suppose we have a
look at this reject.

Shall we?

Two-three-four...

Oh, yes. Clever.

How many of these rejects
accidentally slipped away?

Well, I...

No matter.

Shame that the only person
capable of deducing your clue

is currently lying at the
bottom of the Thames.

What are you doing here?

I told you to keep an
eye on that imbecile!

- He may yet stumble onto something.
- He has.

They know all about this place.

Luckily for you, they sent
me to fetch Scotland Yard.

- All right, no Scotland Yard. Fine.
- What now, Professor?

No need to panic.

I need a good plan.

Attack!

Attack with what?

That's no good.

Start packing!

In spite of this latest
piece of foolishness,

you've done your job well.

Your reward will be a quick and
relatively painless departure.

Not so fast, Moriarty.

I've been waiting hours
for your arrival.

- Thank God you're here!
- Please, my dear.

Ingenious, planting
a spy in our midst.

That staged attack at
Giles' was quite realistic.

However, a cable to France
revealed a rather unique fact

about the real Miss Giles...

something of an embarrassment
to the Giles family, I should think.

Perhaps you would like to
meet the real Lesley Giles.

Lesley!

All right, back to
the first plan...

attack.

Pity you won't be able to
share my greatest triumph...

the forcing of an
empire to its knees.

But you will be allowed
to see these two die...

before you.

Right!

Don't anybody move.

Otherwise, there'll be
an impromptu roasting.

Has it occurred to you, Mr. Holmes,

that if you set fire to that money,

you will burn to death yourself?

You will burn to death yourself?

Of course it has.

Put out those flames!

Don't just stand there!

Look out!

- I thought you were dead.
- You may yet be right.

I'm not done with you yet!

- Put sand on it!
- Bring more buckets!

- Get some water in here!
- Clear those boxes!

Leave this to me.

There, there, my dear.

We're in a tinderbox!

What was that?

You cowards!

- Professor, the gas mains!
- What?

They could blow in the heat!

Keep them pinned down.
I'll get the plates.

It's all over now, my pretty one.

You're disappointed, aren't you?

Hell!

Brilliant.

Why didn't you kill him
when you had the chance?

Rock of ages

Cleft for me

Let me hide

Myself in thee

Rock of age...

Go on, hurry up!

- Get movin'!
- Come on, George!

- Let's get out of here!
- The back door!

It's safe, Professor.

Come on.

This is an escape, not a cakewalk.

Oh, please... don't
wait for me, will you?

Mercy me!

Oh, my dear...

that must have been so painful!

Hello?

All right...

There he is!

- You hold them off.
- Just like I told ya.

Oh, my head.

It's all right, dear.
It's still there.

- Sorry, Mrs. Hudson.
- Watson, there's a fire down here.

It became necessary for
me to stage my death

so I might work unobserved
for a few days.

And I must say, you've
caused quite a bit of grief.

You needn't bother with her...
she's an imposter.

She's not Leslie Giles?
Then who is?

I am.

There you have it.

Ladies and gentlemen...

you seem to be blocking my exit.

Kindly step aside.

Remove these people from the stage.

They're locked.

Ordinarily I do not bother
with half-wits and buffoons.

Buffoon, is it?

Buffoons, is it?

- He'll be killed!
- I quite doubt it.

He's in his element now.

I warn you... I've killed as
many as six men in a week.

Eight, if you count matinees.

"The brilliant swordsmanship
of Reginald Kincaid...

...was almost worth the
price of admission,"

raved the critic of the...

Cotswold Press.

All right, put your
shoulders to it, men.

Let's have it down. The rest
of you, round the back.

He really is quite good.

- Follow me.
- Follow him, lads!

Trying to be funny, eh?

Hold on! Don't anybody move!

The authorities are here!

Stay where you are, everyone.

Get down!

Right.

I have killed before,

and I can assure you I have
absolutely no compunction

about doing so again.

You are not dealing with
an amateur, you know.

Well played.

Once more unto the
breach, dear friends.

You're alive!

Astounding observation,
Inspector... we must discuss it.

Well done!

Stand back!

I'm about to bring the world's
greatest criminal to justice,

and nothing's going to stop me!

Have you forgotten the gas mains?

More pressure! Come on, boys!

More water! Come on!

Congratulations!

Her Majesty wishes to offer
you her sincerest appreciation

for a job well done.

And you too, Dr. Watson.

Mr. Giles tells me that you
both deciphered the clue.

I doubted if anyone
would understand it.

Child's play.

- 23rd Psalm.
- Shadow of death.

Elementary.

No, no, no... I was referring
to the serial number... 234.

The address of the theater...
234 Beacon Street.

Amazing!

Don't worry, I'll fix
it in the story.

The arrests were made, and the
rest of the story you know.

Don't mean to toot my own
horn, you understand.

Nice bit of work, this. But
as I was telling Miss Giles,

had it not been for the timely
arrival of Scotland Yard,

I doubt things would
have turned out so well.

Of course, I realize you would
never admit such a thing.

On the contrary.

Indeed, Holmes was telling me
how indispensable you were.

- He was?
- As a matter of fact,

it is to Lestrade,
and Lestrade alone,

that you owe your
deepest gratitude.

Really?

Miss Giles is on the
stage, you know, in Paris.

A revue called Les Femmmes Faux.

An actress... what a surprise.

There's more surprises yet to come.

Good morning!

Excuse me, sir. Is it true
that Moriarty is dead?

Never assume, gentlemen,
never assume.

How did you know where
Moriarty was hiding out?

It was an elementary deduction
based on the clues at hand.

But how is it that
Scotland Yard did not...

Perhaps...

Perhaps Scotland Yard did not
have the invaluable assistance,

the keen insight

and the extraordinary patience...

of Dr. John Watson.

My friend.

Hear, hear!

Now, gentlemen and ladies,

I have an announcement
of some consequence.

With the safe return of the
plates to the Royal Mint,

I must inform you

that this is my last case.

Sherlock Holmes is retired.

Surely not, sir. That cannot be!

Is it possible?

Of course it's not possible.
Mr. Holmes is merely pulling your leg.

Aren't you?

Sherlock Holmes retire, when there
is murder and mayhem at every turn?

Already several adventures
have begun to take shape

which can be solved by
no one else. Right?

Right you are.

And so, without further ado,

I hereby declare this case...

closed.