All language subtitles for Sherlock.and.Daughter.S01E06.720p.x264-FENiX

You'll be moving to the
ambassador's household

as chaperone to his daughter.

Clara is our best
connection to the thread.

She was released in exchange
for keys, but keys to what?

Your position in the
ambassador's household

increases our reach.

It took me 14 months
to escape and change

my name to Michael Wylie.

Since my father had not found
me, I resolved to find him.

Professor James Moriarty was
not teaching mathematics,

but is the master of a
vast criminal empire

and sentenced to prison.

Where he insists you visit him.

Men believe they
control the world,

but we will control them.

One step forward.

I can't get the sight
of Emma out of my head.

Dad, and Lady Violet
seem so indifferent.

Be careful, little girl.

Like the lion in the
jungle, We did not turn the

world into an empire
without very sharp claws.

Help!
Come on!

Who on earth do
you think you are?

Issuing orders on my property.

I forbid you to keep important
members of London society

from taking their own carriages.

I apologize, Lady Violet,
but a man has been shot,

and there was an
attempted kidnapping.

How ridiculous!

Why would anyone abduct
a foreign chaperone?

How much inconvenience
must we endure

over some quarrel
between servants?

Chief Inspector?

Pardon my interruption,
Lady Violet.

One moment, milady.

Mr. Holmes.

You are, of course, in charge,
and I may only offer my advice,

but under no circumstances
should you let any

of these carriages go.

Mr. Holmes, consider no
one attending the ball.

No, no, no, no, no.

Forget the guests.

A coachman, now deceased,
kidnapped the American

ambassador's daughter.

A coachman now deceased was
part of the murder-suicide

at Lord Withers'
Richmond estate.

And a coachman, now
deceased, was just

shot to death in the
middle of committing

another heinous crime.

Surely you would not
suggest a conspiracy?

I suggest nothing.

I point out the obvious.

Two dead coachmen could
be a coincidence.

Three is a pattern.

Do not let any of these drivers
depart without questioning

them closely.

Dammit, Holmes.

Who would bother kidnapping
an ordinary maid?

She's not just an ordinary maid.

She's...

She is the chaperone
to the daughter of the

American ambassador.

Who suffered a theft
of 50,000 pounds worth of

jewelry stolen by a coachman.

You guessed it.

Now deceased.

Yes. Thank
you, Bertie.

Now, I must soon
leave if I, uh...

I might make one more
suggestion about what

to do with the killer.

I don't know how to thank you.

Mr. Holmes must be
given the credit.

He stopped the coach
with his own body.

Very daring.

Are you all right?

I think so.

It's just I've fired
my weapon many times

but I've never killed
anyone before.

I understand better
than you think.

Well, I would like to thank you.

I'm not sure how
that's done in London.

I hardly dare but are you free

for dinner tomorrow?

Oh.

If my employer's let me,
then I'd love to join you.

Pardon me, sir.

You must accompany these men
while we satisfy ourselves in

the details of this shooting.

Might I suggest the young
man be held at Newgate Prison

until you can question
him properly?

Excellent idea.

All right, men.

See that he gets
there in good order.

But I save Amelia,
and you're having

me taken to prison?

You'll be free by
tomorrow afternoon.

In the meantime, you could
always visit your father.

Another button from
Watson's waistcoat

found on the floor
of the carriage

used in your
attempted abduction.

But whose carriage was it?

No one claims it, nor
recognizes the driver,

nor even notice the other
fellow who escaped.

The police have agreed
to take the vehicle

to an associate of mine who
specializes in such problems.

How are you holding up?

Me?

I'm furious.

Lady Violet just tried
to have me kidnapped.

Yes. She was
certainly involved.

Her butler would never
have denied you entry

without her orders.

And this bench on which
you are seated outside,

though situated on gravel,
it has mud and ivy,

a dearly helix, if I'm
not very much mistaken,

clinging to its frame, proving
it was very recently moved

from the garden, probably,
to its present position

just so you could sit on it.

Right, I'd like to
go find Lady Violet

and punch her in
her stupid face.

Right, in that case,
we should leave.

Scotland Yard will be here
for the next few hours,

and I have contrived
to have Bertie,

that is, Mr. Birtwistle, add
our inquiries to his own

so that my hand in these
affairs remains invisible.

Now, he will report what he
learns of the Coachman to you

tomorrow at the
Ambassador's house.

He already has a
midday appointment.

In the meantime, we
now have, if anything,

Too many clues.

I have one more to
add to the list.

Ah, poor Emma, who
will no longer be

requiring her debutante ball.

Is it possible Lady Violet
arranged this young girl's death

just to open up a date for
Clara Anderson's debut?

Yeah, that's what happened.

Clara's ball will take
the place of Emma's.

Let's forget about Lady
Violet for the moment.

Do you recall any distinguishing
feature of this driver

who tried to kidnap you?

He had an accent that
I didn't recognize.

Could you give it a try?

Help... help me in the...

for the love of God, my
chest... chaste... my chaste...

my chaste.

South Africa?

I said it was rather good.

Thanks. So, not
only do we have

three dead coachmen,
they all hail from three

different countries.

And what about this other
fellow who tried to kidnap you

and jumped off the
carriage and ran away?

He took me completely
by surprise.

I didn't see him or hear him.

Can we go back to
Lady Violet, please?

This jade-handled knife
left in Mama's body,

it came from the set
of weapons on display

in Lady Violet's parlor.

She's responsible
for Emma's death.

She tried to have me kidnapped.

And there's more.

It pertains to motive in an
important aspect of this case.

Of the many mechanical
designs stolen after your

mother's murder,

I'm convinced one
was a blueprint

for a fearsome weapon of war.

How do you know that?

You said you never met her.

Well, I did.

But you said that her
name meant nothing.

When we first spoke, you
referred to her as Lucia.

And when in London, she
called herself Little Dove.

Look.

Amelia.
Look here.

See there?

That's me.

And next to me, the woman I
had been asked to escort.

Lady Violet?

The daughter of the
Duke of Somerset,

for whom I'd done a small favor.

Yes, Buffalo Bill's
Wild West show.

It really was the theatrical
event of the century.

And after this
command performance,

there was a garden party.

With further presentations
of sharp shooting,

Roman riding, hog tying,
all of which I found

completely exhausting.

So I escaped, and I
wandered into a tent

displaying the most
amazing part of the show.

Because for me, nothing exceeded
the genius of the scenery.

All designed by the most
unlikely person on earth.

Mama.

As you say.

These are not mere
theatrical backdrops.

These are feats of
modern engineering.

Is there any chance I
could meet their creator?

That would be me.

Oh, these are your designs?

Well, they're remarkable.

Where did you learn these
construction techniques?

My grandfather was
a military engineer.

Lacking any male descendants,
he imparted his skills to me.

The blending of machinery and
art is my own innovation,

Mr. Holmes.

Made necessary by our
show's epic scale.

Now you have me at
a disadvantage.

You know my name.

Who in London would not?

Well, very true.

But, you know, your name
should be equally celebrated.

I'm Little Dove of
the Apache tribe,

though I now reside in a
state called California.

In addition to the show,
will you be treating

us to a travelogue?

There you are, Lady Violet.

I was just admiring
the handiwork of

our scenic designer,
Little Dove.

What an ordeal it must
be to imagine backdrops

commemorating the defeats
of America's native tribes.

You must have arrived
after the reenactment

of Little Bighorn, but I
thank you for acknowledging

the attempts at
annihilating my people.

That's so well
spoken too, isn't she?

Why, you are a marvel
of the Savage West.

I can't wait to tell my
friends all about you.

Don't linger here.

The festivities
are winding down,

and Her Majesty will need us
in our seats before sundown.

I'll join you at the
table in a moment.

Thank you.

As you wish.

I must apologize for the
dullness of court customs.

May I?

Oh, uh, of course.

Ingenious.

Really. Do you have
any more of these?

I do.

This invention I call the
mechanical earth mover.

To clear land for cultivation
or powering the earth

mover using liquid gas.

Liquid gas?

That's a contradiction
in terms, surely.

Oh.

I never thought of it like that.

What's this one?

A cannon mounted atop
an armored vehicle,

entirely covered in metal
and driven from within,

capable of moving through
difficult terrain while

remaining on the offensive,
and also able to withstand

direct hits from any rifle.

England's current
Secretary of War

just happens to be the
father of Lady Violet,

that rather patronizing young
lady to whom I introduced you

at the command
performance of the show.

Her Majesty's government
would want to control

a weapon such as this.

So Lady Violet knew
this weapon existed

and that my mother designed it.

Wait.

No, don't say another word
until you've explained

why you denied
knowing my mother.

What proofs did you offer?

A portrait you might have
drawn of a passerby,

a letter on the back
of a photograph

you referred to her
as Lucia Rojas,

and I'd only ever known
her as Little Dove.

You see, Amelia, over the
years I have been mobbed

by pretenders posing
as my children,

my siblings and other
distant relatives,

some of whom presented far
more compelling evidence

than I have thus far seen from
you, to be brutally frank.

You cannot even verify,
beyond question,

that you are indeed
the real Amelia Rojas

and not just some
clever imposter.

So then why bother
with me at all?

Because I was able
to corroborate

the story of Lucia's murder.

And having come to know you,

I would rather err on the side
of good faith than suspicion.

But as to who I am...

I am in want of facts, Amelia.

I do not draw conclusions based
on my feelings or my hopes.

Right. You
never guess.

So you shared this story with
me because these weapon designs

give Lady Violet a motive
for murdering my mother.

Exactly.

In two decades, this weapon
has gone from theoretical

to possibly indispensable.

It could determine the outcome
of a battle or even a war,

which, of course, makes
it enormously valuable.

But what do these designs
have to do with the

Ambassador's missing jewels?

And to Emma's death?

Or to your kidnapped friends?

It's not I, but the
red thread that binds

these crimes together.

And now we know how the
thread communicates.

But how do we get
them to talk to us?

I may have a partial
solution to that,

but first you must return to
the Ambassador's residence

to meet Bertie Birtwistle.

And I must pay another
visit to Professor Moriarty

to see how he's getting
on with his son

and return to a very
special carriage shop.

And before tomorrow is done,
I too must be kidnapped.

I'm sure her hair could
benefit from some serious

professional attention,
and of course she'll

require a gown.

Though she can't wear
white, someone might

mistake her for a lady.

That's very unlikely.

Clara will have a dress
that can be refitted for her.

Well, if you want to meliorate
your own daughter's ball,

it will be remarkable
for the guests

to witness in person
this quaint custom

of Americans sticking together
despite vast social differences.

Maybe it's a
preview of the future

where notions of class
are based on character.

And good breeding only
refers to horses and dogs.

Then you would no longer
need cross the ocean

in search of noble husbands.

Yet, while aristocracy
still matters,

I've arranged a special
guest for Clara's debut.

Oh?

And who might that be?

Lord Robert Arthur
Talbot Gascoigne Cecil,

Third Marquis of Salisbury,
and the current Prime Minister

of Her Majesty's Government.

Oh, how wonderful!

Lord Salisbury's the most
famous man in the world.

Now everyone will
come to my ball.

You are as ever fixated
on the wrong things.

A practice which caused
me years of suffering

directly attributable
to your neglect.

You disobeyed me.

Whilst I was away in
business, you went to and

from your school, ignoring
the young woman who

I had hired to care for you.

That woman was a drunk.

Intoxicated from
morning till night

and capable of looking
after herself,

much less a child of nine.

Men must work.

I had both my profession
as a mathematician

and my greater
enterprise to maintain.

Greater enterprise?

Well, by which you mean the
exploitation of human weakness

through opium dens, gambling,
and houses of ill repute.

Run by men for whom loyalty is
a vice best remedied by greed.

Profit, not morality, is
a pursuit of business.

Well, what a heartwarming chat.

I'm sure Inspector
Bullivant will be calling.

We need to get Dan back
into his own cells.

Silence!

I have waited 15 years to
lay eyes on my son again.

And in the lengthy
period of my absence,

he seems to have fallen victim
to the pedals of idealism.

Idealism? Or hope
for a better world.

The same hope that sees me
saving a small sum of my salary

every month to appeal
your sentence.

What? I beg your pardon?

An appeal?

Are you as foolish
as you are naive?

No, no, no, no, no, no.

An appeal would bring heightened
scrutiny to your father's

various intrigues.

This is so, Father.

Oh, you've not already
made enough money

to live comfortably for
the rest of your life?

It's not about the money.

Well, it's a bit
about the money.

It's quite a lot
about the money.

Do you seriously
suppose that I could

be held here against my will?

I endure prison for another
year and two months,

after which I receive
my parole license

I can go free with no further
obstacle to my endeavors.

And yet again you
choose a life of crime.

A life of crime
over your family.

That is unfair!

I spent a fortune searching
for you everywhere!

And yet you failed.

Since I am not cause enough
for you to desire freedom,

I better leave to go.

We can...

regain our family, boy.

You need merely to
return here for visits.

I will not return...

except to escort you from
this wretched place.

And since you would rather stay,

I ask again to be excused.

I cannot believe you are my son.

Feel free to continue
to ignore me.

I'll return the favor.

Is it possible he failed to
inherit any of my abilities?

Perhaps he prefers to employ his
talents to improve the world.

Improve? We are
the greatest

empire in history.

Whatever alters the status
quo will always be worse

than what came before.

Therefore, it's imperative that
we change as little as possible.

Another good reason to
fight the red thread,

which would upend the
world as we know it.

By kidnapping your former maid.

What nonsense?

Why would they not
just kill you?

How goes your own
struggle with the Thread?

They have slowed their
advance into my territory.

Perhaps one day, you
could go back to hiding

from me instead of them.

Oh, it would be a relief to
resume our former animosity.

Until then, I must ask
you for another favor.

Oh, my favors do not come free.

Whatever your former mate
knows, Dan killed an agent

of the Thread to save her.

I demand to be protected
from retaliation.

I'll do what I can.

Perhaps you should
not take Dan's harsh

words so much to heart.

Your consolation is worse even
in our temporary alliance.

Instead of your loathsome
pity, ask your favor,

whatever it may be.

Thanks very much
for helping me out.

Oh, do you want the chicken
or a block of cheese?

They're both a day
from going off.

Um, I'll have whatever
you don't want.

Hmm, cheese it is then.

Hey, don't worry
about that fireplace.

I don't mind laying to the end,
'cause we'll get more staff.

But we ain't chimney sweeps, eh?

Are you coming or what?

See, the cheese is good.

I wouldn't mind eating it all

We'll take our main meal
tonight for a change.

Oh, I'm going out this evening.

Oh, what a life you lead.

Balls and kidnappings
and now dinners.

Where is it, this dinner?

And who's paying the freight?

One moment.

That terrible insurance
investigator is back.

I don't want him
bothering Clara.

What an odd little man he is.

How quickly you rise.

Only in England could
trading one servant's job

for another be
considered a promotion.

Nonsense.

You're better settled
than my own children.

And despite appearances,
we both know you

still work for Holmes.

Did you find anything
out from the coachman

after we left?

I did.

There were two sullen
drivers from New Zealand.

One working for no
lesser personage

than the Duke of Leicester,
owner of the world's

largest shipyard.

Those companies
fallen in hard times.

The other driver was
employed by Sir Nigel Parks,

a broker who suffered staggering
losses during the panic.

So men like Lord Withersea,
titled without cash,

both of whom might
have been interested

in sharing the proceeds from
Mrs. Anderson's jewels.

One would have to sell the
gems to split the money.

A fence would pay but
30% of their value.

So very little to be
shared among so many.

The insurance company has to
pay the ambassador in full.

Unless I find the jewels
by tomorrow afternoon,

the ambassador collects
50,000 pounds of fortune,

equal to his losses, in
the Railroad Bank rhapsody

Excuse me, Amelia.

Is there a reason you
delay Mr. Birtwistle

from our appointment?

I beg your pardon, sir.

I was just trying to talk him
out of questioning Clara again.

Mr. Ambassador, if the girl
were any more protective

of your daughter, she'd be
one of your Pinkertons.

Delay is a familiar tactic
of insurance companies.

Or so I hear.

This way, sir, if you please.

Not unreasonable,
Ambassador Anderson.

Especially considering
the vast sum involved

that I be allowed to interview
everyone at least twice.

Nevertheless, I
demand all inquiries

from my family come through me.

And now, I believe if you
cannot find the jewels,

it is time to
arrange restitution.

Or shall I call my
American lawyers?

No, such a mess.

I'm sorry, I came in to
see if the room needed

straightening and...

These buttons go up the
side of my new frock.

Let's not lose any of them.

What happened here, I wonder?

Can't tell you
everything, Mr. Holmes,

but this carriage that was
used to kidnap your maid,

this is a new construction,
not built to last the ages.

I guess it wouldn't stick
out on the streets,

but I've not seen
their light before.

Even if this carriage displays
inferior workmanship,

the lamps on the
outside door handles

are perfectly shaped
and exactly alike.

Now, would that not
indicate the use of a mold?

And would one create molds for
a single carriage or even two?

Bless me, sir, but you're right.

Still, I would want a fleet
of carriages like this

with no...

I don't think it's
on the inside.

I believe we'll find
its legitimate purpose

was as an ambulance for the
patients of the Green and Crest

Asylum for the criminally
insane.

But these carriages could
serve in other capacities.

Now, is this a false bottom?

It is.

Added after manufacture?

Part of the original design.

This is fantastical.

Surely they didn't mean for
me to see this, did they?

They?

Who would they?

A criminal consortium
of unrivaled malice.

I must stop them, Clarence,
and you must help me.

Tomorrow night, in fact.

Perhaps the following morning.

Shall we say 20 pounds?

10 for you, 10 for your men?

20 pounds?

Its that dangerous?

I don't know, Mr. Holmes.

For queen and country, Clarence.

Thank you.

I'll send my man, Shaw,
around with directions.

Oh, and Clarence.

Yes, Mr. Holmes?

Be on your guard, especially
around any coachman,

You might see.

Before we have dinner, I
thought you might be interested

in a project I've
been working on.

But first, let's talk
about yesterday.

Did anyone discover why the
driver tried to kidnap you?

No idea.

And there was another man
involved who got away,

which is curious.

Honestly, I think men
are only interested in me

because I worked for Mr. Holmes.

That may be how we first
met, But I think we've moved

past that, have we not?

Well, saving someone's
life changes things a bit.

This is a club I
joined recently,

made up of men and women
working to obtain the vote

for all adult citizens
of the British Empire,

including ladies who have never
had a voice in government.

Careful, Mr. Wylie.

You don't want to sound as if
you're hauling a guillotine

to Piccadilly.

Besides, one cannot decapitate
the entire upper class

and their gentry accomplices.

That has been tried.

Pay no attention to Herr Bernt.

Our club offers a
peaceful alternative

to violence and revolution.

I only want the right to vote.

Once we have universal
suffrage, I know righteousness

will prevail.

How good to see you all again.

We begin this evening
by announcing

our petition for
universal suffrage

has reached the Prime Minister
with nearly 50,000 signatures.

To celebrate, I shall read
our petition out loud.

Given the major improvements
to Birmingham's welfare,

we humbly request the
expansion of Home Rule

to encompass every city,
county, and colony

of Her Majesty's Empire.

Tell me, Jeremy, what do you
make of this petition's request?

Me, Prime Minister?

Well, I know it'll be the devil
to make six copies of it.

But what about
extending Home Rule?

Oh, sir, that...

that could never
pass Parliament.

Congratulations, Jeremy,
on twice refusing to

answer the question.

That shows great promise.

Thank you, Prime Minister.

Let us see who signed
this damnable appeal.

I suspect it's the usual
Fabians and rabble-rousers.

My lord, Salisbury.

Sir, excuse me, but...

were you expecting a large rug
to be brought here this evening?

I had a request from a boy
this afternoon suggesting

just such delivery.

This way.

Ah, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

Welcome, and meet my private
secretary, Mr. Jeremy Stevens.

Otherwise, we're quite
alone, as requested.

Thank you, Prime Minister.

It's an honour to meet
you, Mr. Stevens.

Just... just a moment.

You will inform the professor
of my profound irritation

and the roughness with which
his favor was executed.

Now, get out!

Just be glad I have no
time to pursue you.

Go on!

Thank you.

Prime Minister, I, uh,
thank you for making time

in your very busy schedule,
and I do apologize

for the rather theatrical
nature of my entrance,

but it was vital I not
be seen visiting you.

You have been so
useful to Her Majesty

in our various governments that
I dare not refuse your appeal.

Just a little bit
on your left there.

Thank you.

Now, without wishing
to alarm you,

I have a serious problem
that only you can solve.

What do you require?

Only that you be
helpful and frank.

Only helpful and frank?

These are no small requests
for a career politician.

Yes, yes, I understand,
and I do hesitate to ask.

It's just I'm in the
midst of solving a crime

of enormous magnitude,
not to mention the

dismantling of a secret cabal
representing the worldwide

industrialization of crime.

Our Prime Minister is
completely untrustworthy.

But once women get the
vote, all that will change.

That is the hope, Mrs. Mawson.

So, what did you think?

I don't know much
about politics.

But surely you see the
fairness of home rule.

Do you think that the
United States would give

the Apache tribe home rule?

When you demand home
rule for Australia,

is it for the natives?

Or is it for the colonizers?

I see your point.

The injustice goes deeper than
we can address all at once,

but I believe a fairer world
would make fairer choices,

and I am committed
to a better world.

And lately, my idea of a
better world includes you.

I don't see how.

Do you not?

I'm sorry.

I forget myself.

It's OK.

It's a lot more
fun than listening

to petitions being read.

Is it?

It's no use creating taboos.

Criminals will not
abide by them,

and they hinder our pursuit.

And I infer from the
size of the conspiracy,

the crime I'm trying
to solve is one

of international significance.

I offer you a compromise.

Compromise? I
expected this.

You must use your skills, Mr.
Holmes, and I must use mine.

The information produced
from this... this instance

of state-approved
eavesdropping must be handled

by an officer of the court.

The conversation can never
be used in evidence.

That's fair.

I believe you have
deduced my predicament.

Right at the moment, I
am more in the business

of identifying criminals rather
than bringing them to justice.

Jeremy, prepare to
write a warrant for...

what do you call it?

A wiretap, my lord.

Wiretap is how they secretly
refer to it in New York.

Wire tap.

It's marvelous, isn't it?

How technical terms drain
all the outrage out of

questionable activities.

Yes, well, begin the document
as per usual, Jeremy,

and Mr. Holmes here will
help you word the rest.

If you could tell me the
name and position of the

person whose telephone
you intend to monitor.

Yes, indeed, I have it here.

Dear God.

Steady on, Jeremy.

This request is from
Sherlock Holmes.

So, do you think
you could summarize

everything we have left to do
in order to solve the case of

the Red Thread in its entirety?

As I see it, we
have to figure out

how these coachmen from
different countries

all became accomplices
to their bosses,

Determine what keys Ambassador
Anderson was forced to give up

in exchange for Clara.

Solve the mystery of why Weems
and Maggott were murdered.

Name the person at Scotland
Yard using Chief Inspector

Whitlock's telephone.

Find the missing jewels,
locate the hostages.

Figure out what a fleet
of new ambulances

for the criminally insane
are supposed to be carrying

in their false bottoms.

Connect all of that
to my mother's murder

and bring Lady
Violet to justice.

Yes, yes, yes, yes.

You left three
questions unasked.

Number one, why the
attempted abduction

of the Italian ambassador's son?

Done after the
murder of your maid,

to see if you would back off
after finding a red threat.

Excellent. Superb.

My deduction precisely
attests to make sure

I will not break from
their distractions again.

Number two, during your
attempted abduction,

a man jumped from the
carriage and raced away to

a waiting coach, while
the driver who kidnapped

you chose to stay behind and
missed a chance to get away.

Now, why did he do that?

I have no idea.

No, nor I.

Now, number three, a
little more serious.

Before Lord Withersey
killed himself,

he went so far as to suggest
that the Red Thread were

planning a crime
beyond my imagination.

And I fear he may
have been right.

Oh, sorry, hydrogen sulfide.

That's a necessary
evil, I'm afraid.

If you say so.

Maybe if we just answer one
or two of these questions,

then the thread would unravel.

Yes, but don't forget,
the thread would have

killed me long ago
were I not somehow

vital to their success.

So how am I supposed
to help them?

We're not stopping until we
can figure that out, are we?

No, no, no, no, no, no.

We will soldier on, and
once we have rescued

Watson and Mrs. Hudson,
then the true power of

my genius can be put
back to its proper use.

And then let the thread beware.

Now, what do you think of my
work with the telephone calls

made during our rescue
of Clara Anderson?

Mm-hmm.

That's very good.

Thank you.

A few minutes after I
reported Charlie the Coachman,

someone at Chief Inspector
Whitlock's office

called the Coffin Factory.

Then Whitlock's office
immediately rang

up Lord Withersea.

Warning him he was about to
welcome Watson and Mrs. Hudson,

not to mention the
ambassador's jewels.

Well, now that you have all
these names and addresses,

it seems perfectly
reasonable to assume

that Dr. Watson and Mrs.
Hudson must be at one of them.

I guess you can't ask Scotland
Yard for a search warrant

because someone
there is involved.

Exactly.

Well, you've arranged
the telephone numbers

between the members of the
thread in the shape of a tree.

Why not shake it,
see what falls out?

Superb suggestion, yes.

An excellent
description of my plan.

Shake the tree, but first
we must move beyond

how the thread communicate
with each other

and get them to talk to us.

I've found a place in
Ambassador Anderson's house

where I can hear every
word he says in his study.

Amelia.

I'm so proud of you.

Listening to criminals
without their knowledge

can be key to solving a mystery.

So after we shake the tree,
as you so vividly put it,

the kidnappers must
communicate with each other.

And then Watson and Mrs. Hudson
will once more be on the move.

Our allies and friends are
already strategically placed.

And I will light up the
sky with two signals.

One color, representing
where Watson and Mrs. Hudson

have been kept, and
the other color,

representing where
they are going.

So it will be red, the
Earl of Dorchester,

where Clarence waits.

Green, the Dowager
Duchess of Lincolnshire,

where the big street
irregulars are on watch.

Orange, the Brokers
and Nigel Parks,

where the Halligans have
parked my carriage.

Yellow, the Duke of Leicester,
where Bertie guards the drive.

And Violet, well, Lady
Violet, who I will place in

your capable hands.

And whilst you go
about unnerving her,

I will journey to Scotland Yard
and bait the red thread into

helping us rescue my friends.

Swann, I trust I'm not too
early.

No, sir, you are just in time
to witness the end of my career.

Nonsense, you're not old
enough to have a career.

Did you see the name
on the warrant,

signed by Lord
Salisbury himself?

Yes, and I obeyed it, sir,
certain in the knowledge

that no gentleman shall
ever speak to me again.

Nonsense. You should
not be so lucky.

Now, does this contraption work?

Yes, sir.

I can hear and record
every conversation

from the telephone of
the chief inspector.

Wonderful.
Wonderful.

Wonderful. Now,
all that remains

is for me to go and
give one of the most

amazing performances
in theatrical history.

I regret you cannot attend, but
the audience for this spectacle

must be very small.

Afterwards, someone will
pick up the telephone

in Chief Inspector
Whitlock's office

and ask the operator
to dial a number.

You must write this
number down, yes?

Yes, sir.

And then, while still
recording the conversation,

you must compare this number
to all the other numbers

on the list to see
to whom they belong.

Do you understand?

The Duke of Leicester?

The Dowager Duchess
of Lincolnshire, sir?

This...
Don't fret.

Don't fret.

It will all be over soon.

And now to go upstairs and
provoke your superiors.

You are moving up in the world.

Last week you were
a scullery maid.

Now, suddenly, dropping in
on the daughter of a duke

without so much as
an appointment.

I wouldn't dream
of disturbing you.

But during the ball for the
Italian ambassador's daughter,

Clara misplaced her fan,
And some silly girl told

her that you picked it up.

I'm not a housekeeper.

That's more your line of work.

Never mind.

Describe this fan, if you will.

Well, it's very unique.

It... It unfolds into
the designs of a weapon.

A strange armored vehicle
with a cannon on top.

The drawing is very detailed.

Almost like a blueprint.

Clara was certain that
it would be here.

I am equally certain it is not.

But the fan does sound unique.

If we find it, I will secure it.

Well, you could always tie
it shut with a red thread

and call me to pick it up.

Oh, I shall try very hard
to see that you get it.

Allow me to have Mr. Hopper
show you to the door.

No need.

I know where the door is.

Hopper, have my carriage
brought around immediately.

You should have reported these
kidnappings to the police.

Happily, I am only an hour or so

from locating Watson
and Mrs. Hudson

and ending this dreadful ordeal.

Thank God.

How may we help?

Well, once again, Chief
Inspector, you anticipate me.

First, I must return
to Baker Street

and await the call
of my informant.

In the meantime, if
you could have a few

six-man squads standing by.

Surely we should
be working together.

I can assume... -
Nonsense, Bullivant.

Why would you demand control
over an investigation

you know nothing about?

Of course.

How... How foolish of me.

Rest assured, Mr Holmes,
we will put teams of

officers all over the city
that we might instantly

respond to your summons.

My thankfulness knows no bounds.

Now that I have your
support, Chief Inspector,

our success is assured.

Expect my call shortly.