All language subtitles for Sherlock.Holmes.A.Game.Of.Shadows.2011.720p.BrRip.x264.YIFY

The year was 1891.

Storm clouds were brewing over Europe.

France and Germany
were at each other's throats...

the result of a series of bombings.

Some said it was Nationalists...

others, the anarchists.

But as usual...

my friend Sherlock Holmes

had a different theory entirely.

Bombing in Strasbourg!
Read all about it!

- Thank you.
- Anarchists suspected...

in Strasbourg bombing!

Bombing in Strasbourg!

When did you start working
for the postal service?

That was you back there.

Shame your activities
have landed you in the gutter.

A curious parcel.
Who's the intended recipient?

Why don't we discuss that
over dinner tonight?

- I'm free for lunch.
- Hmm. I'm not.

How about the Savoy, 8:00?

- Splendid.
- Hmm.

And will you be coming as yourself?

Most likely.

Three men have been following you
for the last half mile...

their motives highly unsavory.

No.

Oh, and, by the way, they're not pursuing me,
they're escorting me.

And instead of three,
there seems to be, uh, four.

Steady hands with that, Irene.

Oh, I don't think it's my hands
you have to worry about.

Be careful with the face, boys.
We do have a dinner date tonight.

Don't fill up on bread.

I forgot the rest.

Oh, it's coming back now.

Peelers!

We now come to Lot 34...

Egyptian sarcophagus
of outstanding provenance...

retrieved from the Valley of the Kings.

Your payment, doctor.
He sends his thanks.

Who will bid...

100 pounds?

One hundred. Thank you, sir.

Please, give this to him.
He's expecting it.

Tell him our friend thinks
I delivered it to his sister.

Uh-- Stay...

while I check the contents.

I was assured full payment
would be there.

Yes, but assured by whom?

Have you ever met him in person?

Or like me, have you been--?

Hold it, hold it.
Please, don't move it.

Judging from size and weight,
it's not the payment you were expecting.

I'd wager the contents
are rather more incendiary.

- Who is this?
- It's--

Hello, darling.

Oh, dear. I told you not to move it.
It seems a secondary charge has been activated.

Sweet thing, I might need your help
in the disposal of this parcel.

One thousand six hundred, 1700, 1800.

- Well, good luck.
- One million pounds.

Oh, and by the way, fire.

Fire!

Leave my side,
you'll be dead in an hour.

And don't be late for dinner.

My schedule will be quite tight
because of these activities here.

- I've never been late in my life, only early.
- Fashionably.

Very witty.
So confident, even in retreat.

I'll hold onto that.
We'll read it together over an aperitif.

Fine. Dinner and a show.

Stay. Trust me.
This is what I do for a living.

Herr Hoffmanstahl,
you should count yourself lucky.

This faceless man with whom you find yourself
in business is no ordinary criminal.

He's the Napoleon of crime.
Fortunately, you now have me as an ally.

I'm a consulting detective of some repute.

Perhaps you've heard of me?
My name is Sherlock--

Holmes.

A fresh pot of tea.
Thank you, George.

Yes, Miss Adler.

Fine choice, this place.

Do you have the letter?

It was taken.

Taken? Now, that is unfortunate.

During the chaos created
by your package.

Thank you.

Perhaps if you had shared your plans.

You wish to know my plans now, do you?

Did you imagine, Miss Adler,
that something would happen to you?

Is that why you chose to meet here
in a public place?

Your favorite restaurant?

I don't blame you.

I blame myself.

It's been apparent to me for some time that
you had succumbed to your feelings for him.

And this isn't the first occasion Mr. Holmes
has inconvenienced me in recent months.

The question is...

what to do about it.

But that's my problem to solve now.

I no longer require your services.

Mrs. Hudson?

Oh, Mrs. Hudson?

Holmes, you in there?

Your hedge needs trimming.

Where am I?

I don't care where you are
as long as you're ready.

I'm waiting.

I'm not gonna play this game.

Remember, I have to catch the last--

train.

- That's you dead, I'm afraid.
- You win.

I lose. Game over.

Still don't see me?

I'm not going out with you
dressed like that.

Would you prefer I joined you
in the fashion faux pas...

of wearing fine military dress
with that heinous handmade scarf...

clearly one of your fianc�e's
early efforts?

Oh, how I've missed you, Holmes.

Have you? Why?

I've barely noticed your absence.
Then again, I'm knee-deep in research.

Extracting fluids from the
adrenal glands of sheep...

and designing my own urban camouflage...

all the while verging
on a decisive breakthrough...

in the single most important case
of my career, perhaps of all time.

Mrs. Hudson, how are you?

Oh. I'm so pleased to see you, doctor.
Thank you for inviting me tomorrow.

And thank you for looking after Gladstone.

Dear, dear sickly-sweet Nanny,
might I have a word?

Yummy. Feed the snake, woman.

You feed it.

Touchy, touchy.

Doctor, you must get him to a sanatorium.

He's been on a diet of coffee, tobacco,
and coca leaves.

He never sleeps. I hear multiple voices
as if he's rehearsing a play.

- Leave him to me.
- Don't you have a goat that needs worming?

Oh, how kind of you to remind me.

So much to look forward to.
What would I do without you?

Good luck with your patient, doctor.

Why are you here?

I'm getting married tomorrow.

Oh! Embrace me.

Watson's getting married.

- You've lost a few pounds, Holmes.
- Yes, and you've picked them up.

Noshing on Mary's muffins, no doubt.

Pour us a brandy.
The stag party has begun.

It is our last adventure, Watson.

I intend to make the most of it.

I see you've made good use
of my old office.

- Do you like my spider's web?
- Is that what you call it?

Follow that strand.

Question: What do a scandal involving
an Indian cotton tycoon...

the overdose of a Chinese opium trader...

bombings in Strasbourg and Vienna...

and the death of a steel magnate in America
all have in common?

Well, according to your diorama,
Professor James Moriarty.

Indeed.

Mathematical genius.
Celebrated author and lecturer.

Boxing champion at Cambridge...

where he made friends
with our current prime minister.

Do you have any evidence
to substantiate your claim?

This. Now do you see?

- Dr. Hoffmanstahl's death?
- Yes.

I've heard you speak of him,
extolling his virtues.

Hoffmanstahl was at the forefront
of medical innovations, a true pioneer.

Just the other day, I averted an explosion
that was intended for him.

Says here he died of a heart attack.

Has all my instruction been for naught?
You still read the official statement and believe it.

It's a game, dear man, a shadowy game.

We're playing oat and mouse,
the professor and I. Cloak and dagger.

I thought it was spider and fly?

I'm not a fly, I'm a cat.

Not a mouse, but a dagger.

You're drinking embalming fluid.

Oh. Yes. Care for a drop?

You do seem--

- Excited?
- Manic.

- I am.
- Verging on--

- Ecstatic?
- Psychotic.

- Should've brought a sedative.
- I'll give my life to see his demise.

He must be stopped before
his evil machinations come to a crescendo.

And how will he do all this?

Don't be a dingy bird.
Bad people do bad things because they can.

No one, not the victims, the police,
the governments, not anyone--

- Except the great Sherlock Holmes...
- Correct.

- on this diet, will work it all out.
- Right.

- Or thereabouts.
- Thereabouts, not quite there.

Here's to your good health.

Dingy bird.

What have you done to Gladstone now?

Ricinus communis.
The fruit is highly toxic.

He's barely breathing.

What an excellent opportunity.

This may be just the thing.

Sorry, do you mind terribly
if I try my adrenal extract?

How many times are you going
to kill my dog, Holmes?

Took off like a monkey from a box.

- Hmm.
- I may need one of those in a few hours.

Consider it a wedding gift.

Watson, might we use an alternative exit?

Is there something different about you?

I'm under observation.

As you should be.

You drive.

Will your beard be with us all night?

I'll remove it once
we're south of Trafalgar Square.

If you believe Moriarty
has you under observation...

isn't this a bit conspicuous?

It's so overt, it's covert.

Trafalgar Square.
You must be safe by now.

Why are you looking at me
with such concern?

I'm so very worried.
Your vitality's been drained from you.

- Marriage is the end, I tell you.
- I think of it as the beginning.

- Armageddon.
- Rebirth.

- Restriction.
- Structure.

- Answering to a woman.
- Being in a relationship.

A life in matrimony,
the possibility of a family.

Who wants to die alone?

We'll have a good old-fashioned romp tonight...

you'll settle down, have a family,
and I'll die alone.

Yes, that's about it.

Perhaps it's better for one to die alone
than to live life in eternal purgatory.

Anyway...

Not bad, that.

So where are we going?

In the future, there'll be one of those machines
in every town in Europe.

Loitering in the woodshed again,
are we, Myccie?

- Good evening, Sherly.
- Well.

I see your bootmaker is ill, dear brother.

As I detect that you've recently changed
the brand of soap with which you shave.

The chimney in the front room
at Baker Street...

still needs a damn good sweeping up.

Were you aware that the hackney carriage
by which you arrived had a damaged wheel?

Yes, the left. And it's plain
to the meanest intelligence...

that you have recently acquired
a new bow for your violin.

Same bow, new strings.

And may I deduce, Mycroft--?
Good evening, by the way.

No.

- He doesn't.
- May I deduce that you...

who rarely strays from the path
that runs from your home to the Diogenes Club...

and never on a Monday when they serve
your favorite potted shrimps...

must be here for some
far more important reason than my stag party?

You know, he's nothing like as slow-witted
as you'd been leading me to believe, Sherly.

No, you're quite right, Dr. Watson...

but with all the conflict in Europe
at the moment, the whole situation could--

Excuse me... suddenly erupt.

I am here to avoid a dire catastrophe.

If the concerns of two nations...

which shall remain nameless...

but I can tell you they speak
French and German...

are not dealt with tonight,
I shall be forced to go to Switzerland...

to attend the ghastly peace summit
in Reichenbach.

The worst thing about Switzerland
is the altitude.

It gives me nosebleeds,
exacerbates my asthma--

I'm so glad you invited your brother.

This looks promising.

And your poison of choice, gentlemen?

We'll start with the champagne.
We may need several more chairs.

Perhaps a good cigar.

And don't bother with the chairs.

What is it your brother does exactly?

He's the keeper
of the broom cupboard of state.

No ambition, no energy...

yet I'm repeatedly told that he's
indispensable to the British government...

particularly the Foreign Office.

- I would like to propose a toast.
- Really?

To my dear friend, Dr. John--

um, Hamish Watson...

I'm right here.

on the eve of his wedding. He--

has been the best companion.

Shouldn't we be waiting
for the boys from my rugby club?

He has always kept us--
They couldn't attend.

flat-footed on the ground.

All of them? Hmm.
The chaps from my medical school?

- They declined.
- The lads from the regiment?

- No man's better worth having at your side--
- Who is it you're looking for?

Because I don't know
a single damn person here, do I?

There's no need for hysterics.
You know me and Mycroft.

- Don't be a ponce, Watson.
- Ponce?

You completely forgot about my stag party,
didn't you?

- Why are we here?
- Your very good health, doctor.

Shame none of your friends
could make it.

I'm going to the gaming tables.
I refuse for this night to be a total loss.

- Give me my money.
- Happily. Give me the wedding ring.

So now you're interested
in being the best man.

You're supposed to keep the ring anyway.

Just as you're supposed
to organize my stag party.

- Don't want to lose it on a bet.
- And invite my friends...

of which, by the way, there are many.
You're the one with no friends...

Sherly No Mates.

He's all "me, me, me," isn't he?

I win!

Please, sit.

Put your money on the table
and we will begin.

Welcome. I am Madam Simza.

Cards can illuminate your past...

clarify your present,
and show you the future.

If you have a specific question,
hold it in your mind.

I'm holding.

Let me know when you're ready.

Actually, I'd prefer to read...

your fortune.

Temperance inverted.

Indicative of volatility.

A woman who has recently
taken her comfort in drink.

From what does she seek solace?
What does she not wish to see?

- A fool embarrassing himself?
- Hmm.

- Hmm.
- Oh, yes. The Fool.

Someone has been led astray,
involved in something without their knowledge.

Not bad, but you have
to make me believe you.

I have to see it in your eyes.

- Right. I can do better.
- Uh-huh.

The Two of Cups, a powerful bond.

But between whom?
A brother and sister perhaps?

And I see a name. Yes, it's...

Rene.

What do you want?

The Devil.

Why are we playing this game?

Where did you get this?

I stole it from a woman in an auction room,
but I believe it was intended for you.

"Found my purpose in life."

So the question I've been holding is,
what purpose is Rene fulfilling?

Time is up.

I have other clients.

Though you may not have detected
the wisp of astrakhan fur...

snagged on a nail
over my left shoulder...

you couldn't have failed to notice
the overpowering aroma...

of herring pickled in vodka...

in tandem with a truly unfortunate body odor.

There's a man concealed
in the rafters above us.

A Cossack, renowned for
their infeasible acrobatic abilities...

and are notorious for moonlighting
as assassins.

So it's safe to presume
that your next client is here to kill you.

Anything else? No?

First, pillage the nest.

Clip wings.

Now blunt his beak.

Crack eggs.

Scramble. Pinch of salt.

Touch of pepper.

Flip the omelet.

Additional seasoning required.

Breakfast is served.

Come with me.
I need you alive. Now.

Oh!

Didn't see that in the cards, did you?

Oh...

Coming down, folks, coming down.

Looks like we've got ourselves
our next cockfight.

Five, four, three, two, one...

let him go!

Get up there!

All mine?

Now, wait a minute.

You're right. He did stink.

Hey, you can run--

Where's you?

Just had a fight.

- Just had a fight.
- Yes.

- Where were you?
- I'm glad to see...

you're taking your best-man duties
so seriously.

I was on my own!
Not gonna get my monies!

She was biting my leg.

I'll have Carruthers put some fuel
into that motor carriage of yours.

You do have a wedding to attend.

Oh, I'll drive.

Hmm.

Ho-honk.

- Let's have another drink.
- No, no, I think you've had quite enough.

Present arms!

I've been to a wedding here before.

Funeral too.

The professor wants to meet.

I'd expected to hear from him sooner,
in light of recent events.

He was wondering if it'd be convenient
for you to come by the college this afternoon.

His lecture concludes at 4.

Looking forward.

One side, chummy.

"Fischerweise," Schubert, 1826.

- "Give up your foolish trickery."
- "This fish you cannot cheat."

I hope I'm not intruding.

Excuse me.
Matthew, take these up to Mr. Williams.

And make sure he packs
my white tie and tails.

- I'll take care of it, professor.
- Thank you. I do apologize.

I'm off on a blasted lecture tour.
Would you care for some tea or coffee?

- Neither.
- Something stronger, perhaps?

No, but might I trouble you
for an inscription?

I read that the good doctor
was to be married today.

How was the service?

Definitive.

He'll no longer be party to my investigations.
He's out of the equation.

I trust you'll take this
into consideration.

And what considerations
will you grant me?

Have you actually read the book?

I found it compelling...

though I'm primarily interested
in your more recent endeavors.

I take that as a compliment.

I have the utmost regard for your talents.

It's a pleasure to finally meet you...

officially.

Are you familiar
with the study of graphology?

I've never given it
any serious thought, no.

The psychological analysis of handwriting.

The upward strokes on the P, the J, and the M
indicate a genius-level intellect.

While the flourishes on the lower zone...

denote a highly creative
yet meticulous nature.

But if one observes the overall slant
and the pressure of the writing...

there's a suggestion of acute narcissism,
a complete lack of empathy...

- and a pronounced inclination toward--
- No.

moral insanity.

In answer to your previous request
regarding Dr. Watson not being involved...

the answer is no.

The laws of celestial mechanics dictate
that when two objects collide...

there is always damage
of a collateral nature.

Exempli gratia.

Two gentlemen find themselves
at cross-purposes.

A young woman torn between them.

The strain proves too much for her,
and she suddenly falls ill...

with tragic consequences.

A rare form of tuberculosis.

She succumbed in a matter of seconds.

Now...

are you sure you want
to play this game?

I'm afraid you'd lose.

Rest assured, if you attempt
to bring destruction down upon me...

I shall do the same to you.

My respect for you, Mr. Holmes,
is the only reason you're still alive.

You've paid me several compliments.

Let me pay you one in return when I say that
if I were assured of the former eventuality...

I would cheerfully accept the latter.

I'll be sure to send my regards
to the happy couple.

Another time, then.

All aboard for Brighton!
All aboard!

Which coach are we?

We should be just here.

First class.

All aboard for Brighton!
All aboard!

Hurry up, Dr. Watson,
your wife needs you.

Coming, Mrs. Watson.

Oh. First class, champagne.

You do know how to spoil a girl,
Mr. Watson.

You're not just any girl.

I'm sorry, madam. You can't use the lavatory
while the train's in the station.

You're Mrs. Watson.

Give me that bottle.

John, there is nowhere else in the world
I would rather be.

There's no one I'd rather be with.

Why do you have a gun stuffed down
the back of your trousers?

Old habits.

Come in.

- Oh, yes, please.
- We didn't order that.

With our compliments, sir.

Thank you. Put it there.

Open the door, John.

I think it's time for you to leave.

Sit down.

Shh.

I agree it's not my best disguise,
but I had to make do.

- My God.
- They'll be back.

- John, shut the door.
- They'll only shoot through it.

- He's right, you know.
- Oh, my God.

- I understand.
- Do you?

Terribly inconvenient.

We don't have much time.

- How many are we expecting?
- Half a dozen.

- Who are they?
- A wedding present from Moriarty.

Lovely ceremony, by the way.
Many a tear shed in joy.

Oh, John?

Yeah, just a minute, darling.

- Do you trust me?
- No.

Well, then I shall have to do
something about that.

Who's up to bat next, you bastards?

Send out the fast bowler!

John, do shut the door.

It had to be done.

She's safe now.

In my own defense,
I timed it perfectly.

Did you kill my wife?!

Did you just kill my new wife?!

Of course not!

What do you mean? How do you know that
when you just threw her off a train?

I told you, I timed it perfectly.

What does that mean?!

- Calm down.
- Explain!

By the time I've explained,
we'd both be dead!

I'm sorry, madam. You can't use the lavatory
while the train's in the station.

That was no accident.

It was by design.

Now, do you need me to elaborate...

or can we just crack on?

Come on!

Don't worry, old boy,
she's as safe as houses.

She's with my brother.

I'm on my honeymoon!

Why did you lead them here?!
Why did you involve us?!

They aren't here for me!
They're here for you!

Fortunately...

so am I.

Now mind the door.

Good evening.

I think you'll find that second class
is more comfortable.

The coast is clear.

To the south, quick march.

Lie down with me, Watson.

- Why?
- I insist.

What are we doing down here?

We are waiting. I am smoking.

- Patiently waiting.
- For what?

Your window of opportunity.

Make it count.

I said make it count.
How many windows must I provide?

Who'd have known that honeymooning in Brighton
was such a dangerous notion?

Is that what this is about?

By your own admission,
you've never enjoyed it there.

I've never been to Brighton.

Or you're just too fragile
to remember at present.

Oh, shut up.

Tell me my wife's safe.

I can't do both.

I promise. As I said,
I timed it perfectly.

Over here, madam!

I believe congratulations are in order,
Mrs. Watson.

I'm the other Holmes.

You mean there's two of you?

How marvelous.
Could this evening get any better?

Why were Mary and I targeted at all?

Excellent question.
The answer is twofold.

He's after us because of you.

I'm afraid you must bear
half the responsibility.

- Here it comes. So predictable.
- Had you and Mary...

not been hell-bent on wedding,
we could've solved this case.

- Oh, it's my fault now.
- The argument could be made...

- No, it couldn't.
- that your nuptials were poorly timed.

Thus, our relationship--

Relationship?

Very well, partnership.

has not yet run its course.

My dear fellow, if you could be bothered
to see this through to the end...

I shall never again ask you
to assist me.

Once more unto the breach.

That's the spirit.
Now, to the question.

This is so deliciously complicated.
You may be asking yourself...

what does a criminal mastermind want
with a simple gypsy fortune teller?

It's her brother, I tell you.
When we find him, and we must--

After you find my luggage.

Go on.

Wait.

Where is it we're going?

Paris, the most sensible
honeymoon destination of all.

- So why Paris?
- Peaches.

Outside the city at Montreuil...

there's a Gypsy camp famous
for its dried fruit, especially peaches.

And there we shall find our fortune teller...

and return her bag.

And my ticket?

Unfortunately, you won't be needing yours.

That's a shame, professor.
I was looking forward to Don Giovanni.

Follow Meinhard.

Wake up, we're here.

Brace yourself.
We're about to be violated.

Don't be so cynical.

- They're taking my luggage.
- Laugh them away, Watson. I have her bag.

You had her bag.

Now they have my coat.

Where is Madam Simza?

This is Simza.

Sim is a goose.

I am Sim.

Nice scarf. I like.

- You hungry?
- Famished.

Madam, this is a glorious hedgehog goulash.

I can't remember ever having had better.

Do tell me, when was the last time
you had a hedgehog goulash?

I told you, Watson,
I can't remember.

Perhaps you've repressed it.

That's where we differ.
Unlike you, I repress nothing.

Perfectly normal.

How dare you be rude to this woman
who has invited us into her tent...

offered us her hedgehog?

Says the man who throws women from trains.

Who are you two?

Concerned citizens.

Why did someone try to kill me?

Your brother has become involved
with a very dangerous man...

who clearly believes that Rene
has told you something you shouldn't know.

I don't know anything.

I've been looking for him for over a year.

That was why I was in London.

- It's the last place anyone saw him.
- It's clear that your brother loves you.

He'd never send you a message
that would put you in harm's way.

Any information, therefore, would be,
by default, unintentional.

Has he sent you anything else?

Just a few drawings.

Let's just see what they have to tell us.

Unusual choice of paper.
Thicker gauge, designed for a printing press.

- And it's the same stock as the letter.
- Mm.

They smell musty.

Must have been stored
somewhere cold and damp.

What's that? Blood?

Wine. So a wine cellar located
near a printing press.

That should narrow it down.

There's a wine cellar used
by the anarchist group Lapin Vert.

Rene was close to their leader.

Claude Ravache.

- A bomb maker.
- I sampled some of his work last week.

I was a part of the movement.
So was Rene.

Until it became too extreme for us.

Ravache knows me.

If my brother's back there,
he will see us.

We will send a message.

Whatever you do,
don't let these gypsies make you drink.

Of course.

You dance?

For God's sake, don't dance.
It'll be the death of you.

You know what happens when you dance.

Oh, good morning, Mrs. Watson.

- Have you had breakfast?
- I--

Stanley here does
a wonderful deviled kidney.

- Carruthers?
- Morning, sir.

Telegram for Mrs. Watson.

Uh....

It just doesn't make any sense.

Allow me.

Oh, yes.

"My most loathed Mary, I do not love you.
I never wish to see you again.

Every moment I count away from you
is a blessing."

Fret not.
It's a double encryption, my dear...

that Sherly and I have used
since we were boys.

If the first letter of the message
is a consonant...

then what follows is the mirrored truth.

- I see.
- Hmm.

Stanley!

You know, although our time together
has been but a brief interlude...

I'm beginning to understand
how a man of particular disposition...

under certain circumstances,
extreme ones perhaps...

might grow to enjoy the company of...

- a person of your gender. Hmm.
- Hmm.

Thank you so much.

Most charming.

May--? Terribly sorry.
Thank you.

Where are you going, Stanley?

Whoa, whoa.

Still hiding in basements?

I'm not here to see you.

Yeah.

...with your English friends.

1789, a seminal vintage.

The year of our glorious revolution.

- Is he here?
- When freedom triumphed over tyranny.

Is my brother here?

I haven't seen him for a long time.

You're lying.

Sit, please.

A letter was received from Rene
using this same paper.

Of course. He took it with him
wherever he went.

He's telling the truth.
Rene isn't here.

- He was given another assignment by an--
- An anonymous benefactor.

Another Englishman...

with money, power,
who supported our cause.

And now...

he dictates our every move...

demanding I take responsibility
for his acts of terror.

I made a deal with the devil.

But after tonight...

it will be over.

My job is almost done.

He's had you plant another bomb,
hasn't he?

Claude, please.

These men can help you.

I wish they could.

You see, gentlemen...

he has my wife and children.

If you tell us where the bomb is...

- I'll find a way to help your family.
- That's already taken care of.

We have a deal.

He and I.

No loose ends.

There's only one thing I can do
to keep my family safe.

- You have less than 10 minutes.
- Don't!

He has no further need of that pistol.
Why don't you take it and cover the stairs?

There's only one way out of this place.

Right you are.

Ah. Ingenious.

That's the one.
Quickly as we can.

You know what to do with that sandbag, Watson.

Quick now.

Doctor, could you secure that lever?

You could have told me.

Ravache was strong. He lived for liberty.
He would never take his own life.

Calm yourself.

My brother, he's weak.

Sim, I need you to take a deep breath...

and follow us.

To the opera.

I was mistaken.

- What?
- I made a mistake.

He took the shot from here.

Using a tripod and a shooting stick.

And realized there was a better position.

There's a faint scrape
where he dragged his tripod and set it up here.

- Six hundred yards?
- Or 650?

Not to mention a seven-
or eight-mile-an-hour wind.

He would've needed a wind gauge.

Which he placed here.

And put a cigarette down here.

Can anyone shoot that far?

Not more than half a dozen men
in all of Europe.

How many of those men served in Afghanistan?

- Why?
- Hirschsprung with a touch of Tekel.

Must have fallen out
when he was rolling up.

Wasn't that the blend you all smoked?

- Didn't I read something about a colonel?
- Sebastian Moran.

Best marksman in the British army.

Dishonorable discharge.

He's likely now a gun for hire.
This is the second victim of his that I've encountered.

What better way to conceal a killing?

No one looks for a bullet hole
in a bomb blast.

- He's 20 minutes late.
- He must come soon.

I don't have any papers.

And I am a foreigner.

This climate is exactly what Moriarty wants.

The omelet fines herbes was divine...

but they spared every expense on the tea.

Now shall we compare moods,
or consider what we know?

Last night's bombing
was clearly meant...

to look like Germany's retaliation
for Strasbourg.

However, the bomb was also meant
to conceal the murder of just one man.

The man killed by the gunshot
was none other than Alfred Meinhard.

He makes guns. Big guns.

Only days ago, a large share of his company
was bought by an unknown investor.

Moriarty.

The clues point in one direction,
but to avoid repeating last night's debacle...

I was obliged to collect more sufficient data,
hence my tardiness.

Train departs in 40 minutes, sir.

Whoa!

- Just the bags.
- But....

We have enough time for me
to indulge my little habit.

Yes.

His habit of feeding that urban species,
the feral pigeon.

So there are seven
mainline railway stations in Paris.

But taking 10 minutes to get
to the Jardin des Tuileries...

where the largest concentration
of the winged vermin may be found...

reduces there to one,
the Gare du Nord...

where he will be just in time
to catch the 11:04 train to Berlin.

It makes several stops along the way,
one of which is--

Heilbronn.

Exactly where we must go.

Where Meinhard's factory is.

It's Moriarty's factory now.

Unfortunately, due to the bombing...

the crossing between France and Germany
is to be closed.

I'm afraid our pursuit is over
unless we can happen upon a comrade...

who knows their way around borders.

Too English.

However, you do make a fantastic gypsy.

Certainly smell like a fantastic gypsy.

Now, now, no need to be demeaning.

It is a nice scarf.

No, no, too English.
It'll suit you more.

Black one is yours.
Gray one is mine.

- And this is for you.
- Um... Hmm.

Right.

- Where are the wagons?
- The wagon is too slow.

Can't you ride?

It's not that he can't ride.

How is it you put it, Holmes?

They're dangerous at both ends
and crafty in the middle.

Why would I want anything with a mind of its own
bobbing about between my legs?

Then I shall require a bicycle,
thank you very much.

It's 1891.
Could've chartered a balloon.

How can we make this more manageable?

Where's the fire?

It's not as if Germany is going somewhere.

We know another way.

Slow and steady wins the race.

Come on!

We slip in through the loading bay,
find out what he's doing...

and we get out.

Getting out might be tricky.

We will get you out.

If my brother's in there,
get him out alive.

Are you happy?

- What?
- At this moment...

are you as happy as you would be
on your honeymoon in Brighton?

I'm not going to grace that question
with an answer.

- Are you happy?
- I think we're here for another reason.

- Okay.
- Shall we get on--?

- Simple question.
- Will we do something?

- Or wait for them to come back round?
- What time is it?

- Three-fifteen.
- Over there...

in the residential part of the complex
should be a telegraph office.

Send this to Mycroft.
Be back here on the hour.

That's what you get, Mr. Holmes,
when industry marries arms.

Now put your gun down.

It's a bit old-fashioned.

What you need is one of these.

Go on.

Pick one.

Machine pistol, self-repeating.

Takes 7.63 caliber rounds...

in one of these.

A 10-shot box magazine.

- Easy enough to load.
- Hmm.

I'd imagine one would have to retract the bolt
to engage the first round.

Easier done than said.

Take him to the surgery.

I'll find the doctor.

"Come at once if convenient.

If inconvenient, come all the same."

This is schnapps.

A telegram was sent from here.

This isn't schnapps, it's aquavit,
distilled from potato mash.

A common misconception.
Thank you, by the way.

Who was it sent to?

My horror at your crimes
is matched only...

by my admiration at the skill
it took to achieve them.

Who was it sent to?

You used the anarchists and their bombs
to create a crisis in Europe...

nation against nation.

Under various pseudonyms,
you bought, schemed, or murdered your way...

into numerous industries,
assuring that none of it could be traced to you.

Cotton, opium, steel,
now arms and chemical weaponry.

All to be shipped across Europe
in less than a week.

Everything from bullets to bandages.

Now that you own the supply,
you intend to create the demand.

A world war.

You are familiar with Schubert's work.

The Trout is perhaps my favorite.

A fisherman grows weary
of trying to catch an elusive fish.

Out the way, out the way.

So he muddies the water.

I'm warning you.

Confuses the fish.

You were warned.

It doesn't realize until too late
that it has swum into a trap.

Let's try this again, shall we?

To whom did you send the telegram?

To my....

To my brother Mycroft.

What are you playing at?

That's not fair.

I've just got one more question for you.

Which one of us is the fisherman...

and which the trout?

Holmes?

Holmes?

Take your time. Take your time.

Uh....

Always good to see you, Watson.

- What were you thinking?
- Wait.

Wait?

Well, if you must know, I was thinking
I had him right where I wanted him.

Right. Crack on, then.

Professor.

I'm all right, I'm all right.

Don't waste time attending to me.

I'll find them. I'll find them.

Turn in three, two, one.

Come on, hurry up!

Go!

- Did you see my brother?
- No, but I'm certain he's been here.

- Where are we going?
- Over that wall.

- How did you know I'd find you?
- You didn't find me.

You collapsed a building on me.

- Where are the horses?
- They're behind.

- We need them.
- You wanna go back?

What's our way out?

That's our way out.

Go! Go!

Come on!

Marko! Marko!

He's not breathing.

Cradle his head.

Raise his legs.

Bloody well not gonna die on me.

I'm not gonna make this easy on you.

Come on. Come on.

Come on.

Come on.

I know you can hear me,
you selfish bastard.

Come on!

I know you can hear me, you bastard.

His wedding gift.

Terrible dream.

You, Mary, Gladstone and I
were in a restaurant.

That satanic pony was there as well,
a massive fork in his hoof...

and he turned on me!

What have you administered?

Your wedding present.

Who's been dancing on my chest?!

Me.

Why is my ankle so itchy?

You have a large piece of wood
sticking out of it.

Good Lord. You, Tamas.

I have an important job to discuss with you.
Remind me of it later.

Sit down. Drink this.

I need to get that out
before it turns septic.

- Did you call me "selfish bastard"?
- Probably.

Just leave it in. Leave it--!

You are a--

- Oh, you are some sort of--
- Be nice.

I'm sorry you didn't get to Brighton.

Me too.

- I think we should go home.
- I concur.

We're going home.

Via Switzerland.

What better place to start a war
than a peace summit?

We'll drop in and see my brother.
I'm sure he's missed you. Hm?

I don't understand why you don't
cancel the summit.

Fact is it's gonna happen
whether we like it or not.

Everyone has already arrived.

Although these gentlemen
may be talking peace...

believe me, they're readying
their armies at home.

To cancel the summit now
would be tantamount to war.

- The telegram, wasn't it clear?
- We have doubled the security, sir.

Oh, doubled security.
That's comforting.

You don't understand
the delicacy of the situation.

I passed the telegram on to my superiors.

But they brought Moriarty in to advise
on the peace process in the first place.

He has positioned himself brilliantly.

He's one of our foremost intellectuals,
he's a personal friend--

Of the prime minister.
Yes, we all know that.

I believe you,
but where's your evidence?

He's too good to leave evidence.

He doesn't leave loose ends.

Oh, he's alive.

Sherly, put that down.

What is this contraption? May I have it?
The effect is most invigorating.

That's my private and personal supply of oxygen,
and you're not to touch it.

This argument is getting us nowhere.

I've arranged for documents to be prepared
which allow you into the ball. Carruthers.

Stanley, Stanley.

You haven't aged a day.
Is that my favorite chutney?

Fact is, we don't really know
what he's planning.

- It won't be another bomb.
- No, it wouldn't be.

It doesn't make sense.

Why would he attack all the nations
only to unite them?

It'll be an assassination.

By a lone gunman at close range.

Rene.

Unfortunately, yes.

- You knew.
- I had my suspicions.

But having seen who would be attending,
I'm now certain.

Well, at least we know
who to look out for.

Rene will be the evidence.

If we can find him and stop him,
we will perhaps not only save his life...

but prevent the collapse
of Western civilization.

No pressure.

Welcome, ambassador.

Professor James Moriarty.

Now we're all present...

I can tell you that the targets are the
German chancellor and his ambassador...

the French prime minister and his man.

And the other nations are really working out
which side to take should hostilities erupt.

Prince Michael, a cousin of the czar,
and the Russian ambassador.

The Archduke Karl Ludwig
and the Austro-Hungarian ambassador.

The Romanian Prime Minister
and his ambassador.

And of course our prime minister
and the British ambassador.

He'll choose a moment when the dignitaries
are assembled, preferably standing still.

Is there to be an official photograph?

Indeed, yes. In 38 minutes.

In which case, we might as well dance.

I've never done this before.

Just follow my lead.

- What do you see?
- Everything.

That is my curse.

But you don't see
what you're looking for.

I thought you'd never ask.

Over my shoulder.

Young man, German uniform,
ceremonial sword.

Got him.

Professional opinion?

Trauma.

Major injury.

But excellent repair work.

Dr. Hoffmanstahl.

You did say he was
at the forefront of a medical innovation.

We've already seen an example
of his skills.

Those twins weren't twins.

My suspicions were aroused in Heilbronn...

when one failed to go to
the aid of the other.

I also noticed the discreet
but unmistakable puckering behind the ear...

where his skin had been drawn back.
I should've realized then...

that they were a surgical experiment.

To see if it is possible
to make one man look like another.

His face is no longer his own.

What better way to guarantee his world war
than to make the assassin--

One of the ambassadors.

That narrows down the possibility
to one of six.

You and Sim shall find her brother.

- Of this I have no doubt.
- Holmes.

You know my methods.

And I know where you'll be.

No possible solution could be
more congenial to me than this.

By the way,
who taught you how to dance?

You did.

Well, I've done a fine job.

Be careful.

Shall we go to work?

Ladies and gentlemen,
please, gather for the portrait.

I'm sorry.

Is this a bad time?

Never better.

Would you bring that clock?

We get to play that game after all.

Here we are.

Don't want you to catch a cold.

A five-minute game?

If you think you can manage it.

We both have two bishops.

I may be absent from the room,
but my methods are not.

You can't mean Dr. Watson, surely.

That doesn't seem fair.

Right. The surgery will have left scars.

Only four of them have the hairline
to hide them.

The ambassador that you replaced with Rene,
is he still alive?

Would you like me to recommend
your next move?

They're all my brother's height,
right build...

but their eyes.

Their eyes are wrong.
Rene has blue eyes.

He could be wearing glass lenses
to change the color.

In which case, his eyes will be hurting.

Rene is left-handed.

Perhaps the assassin will take measures...

to ensure he doesn't give himself away.

Like a gambler concealing a tell.

I think it might be him.

You think?

Your clock is ticking.

You have to be sure.

May I remind you,
this is blitz chess.

A single miscalculation
will cost you the game.

If I tackle the wrong man to the ground,
I could start a war.

Maybe it's less obvious.

A nervous tic.
A flutter of anxiety.

I expect everyone has a reason
to be nervous tonight.

I don't know.

So perhaps it's the opposite:

A failure to behave naturally.

An actor so consumed
with his performance...

that the one characteristic
he cannot accommodate...

is spontaneous reaction.

Carruthers, protect the prime minister.

Germany will pay!
Mark my words!

That doesn't bode well, does it?

Seems your bishop
was of some benefit after all.

The game is still young.

Actually, it's in its adolescence.

There are more of us!

Germany will pay!

No loose ends.

What happened to him?
I'm a doctor. A doctor!

What happened?

- Curare.
- What's wrong with him?

It's poison.

Do something!

Doctor, do something!

No.

I think you've just lost
your most valuable piece.

But a winning strategy
sometimes necessitates sacrifice.

A war has been averted.

Mm. Oh, I disagree.

How so?

Didn't you find it strange
that the telegram you sent...

didn't inspire any action to stop me?

You see, hidden within the unconscious...

is an insatiable desire for conflict.

So you're not fighting me so much
as you are the human condition.

All I want to do is own the bullets
and the bandages.

War on an industrial scale is inevitable.

They'll do it themselves
within a few years.

All I have to do is wait.

I like Switzerland.

They respect a man's privacy here.

Particularly if he has a fortune.

Bishop takes knight. Check.

The game is over.

You should get that shoulder looked at.

About that fortune of yours.

I believe it's just
been substantially reduced.

King to rook two.

I attended several of your lectures.

The equations of motion,
which you will find in my book.

The energy that is required
to release these explosions is--

It was in Oslo when I first caught
a glimpse of your little notebook...

red leather-bound from
Smythson of Bond Street.

Rook to king's rook three. Check.

Bishop to rook three.

Its importance was not
fully apparent to me...

until I observed your penchant
for feeding pigeons.

Then it occurred
that with an empire so enormous...

even you must keep a record
of it somewhere.

Bishop takes bishop.

Rook to bishop four.

I then only required the notebook itself.

You didn't make it easy.

Just the bags.

I would need to endure
a considerable amount of pain.

Mycroft...

care of Her Majesty's Secret Service.

But the notebook would undoubtedly be encoded,
so how then to break the code?

- Rook takes rook.
- Pawn takes rook.

Bishop to bishop seven.

Queen takes knight pawn.

Does The Art of Domestic Horticulture
mean anything to you?

How could a man as meticulous as you
own such a book...

yet completely neglect the flowers
in his own window box? Irony abounds.

Never mind, it's safe, in London...

where my colleagues are making
good use of it.

The most formidable criminal mind in Europe
has just had all his money stolen...

by perhaps the most inept inspector
in the history of Scotland Yard.

Any chance of a cup of tea?

Box 0403.

- Tick.
- Box 0801.

How much more is there?

That's the end of page two.

Page three.

He'll be making an anonymous donation
to the Widows and Orphans of War Fund.

Bishop to bishop eight.
Discover check.

And, incidentally, mate.

I seem to have injured my shoulder.
Would you mind?

Be my pleasure.

Once we've concluded our business here...

it's important you know...

I shall endeavor to find
the most creative of endings for the doctor.

And his wife.

His advantage, my injury.

My advantage, his rage.

Incoming assault feral,
but experienced.

Use his momentum to counter.

Come now.

You really think you're the only one
who can play this game.

Trap arm. Target weakness.

Follow with haymaker.

Ah. There we find
the boxing champion of Cambridge.

Competent, but predictable.

Now allow me to reply.

Arsenal running dry.
Adjust strategy.

Wound taking its toll.

As I feared.
Injury makes defense untenable.

Prognosis increasingly negative.

Let's not waste any more
of one another's time.

We both know how this ends.

Conclusion, inevitable.

Unless...

A few words may suffice
to tell the little that remains.

Any attempt at finding the bodies
was absolutely hopeless.

And so there...

deep down in that dreadful caldron
of swirling water and seething foam...

will lie for all time...

the most dangerous criminal...

and the foremost champion of the law
of their generation.

I shall ever regard him as the best...

and the wisest man
whom I have ever known.

John?

- John.
- Mm-hm.

You should probably pack.

It's half past 2...

- and the carriage is coming at 4.
- Mm.

It's gonna be a beautiful week in Brighton.

Yes, it'll be fun.

I'm looking forward to it.

You know I miss him too...

in my own way.

He would have wanted us to go.

He would have wanted to come with us.

When's Mrs. Hudson coming for Gladstone?

Oh, soon.

Three o'clock.

Mary?

Who delivered this parcel?

The postman.

The usual chap or--

did he look peculiar?

(English - US)