Stop, police!
Stop that girl!
-Excuse me!
-Terribly sorry. -Oi!
-Watch where you're sodding going!
Stop her!
Perhaps I should explain.
My name is Enola Holmes.
You may remember me.
After solving my first case…
Hello.
…I started a business.
A detective agency.
Open and ready for my first clients.
I was going to join the pantheon of great Victorian detectives.
-Detective Field. -Yes.
-Mackenzie Macintosh. -Hi.
-Sir Alfred Hornblower. -Tally-ho!
-And the infamous Reginald Swain.
And best of all, I would be joining my brother.
I would be his equal.
A detective in my own right,
worthy of the Holmes name.
Congratulations.
-Or so I thought.
Am I addressing the secretary?
You're how old?
-Stone the crows, you're young. -My age is an advantage.
I can go to places others can't, explore where others won't.
And I can fight. I know jujitsu.
But you're a girl.
Yes, I am. Um…
What experience have you had?
-The Tewkesbury case? -Well, that was Sherlock Holmes.
-That was Sherlock-- -Sherlock--
-Sherlock Holmes, wasn't it? -I assure you, it was mine.
Good man, that Tewkesbury. Brave lad.
-Tell me--
-Yes?
Might your brother be free?
Read all about it! Read all about it!
Sherlock Holmes and the case of the Brixton corpse.
So, my brother.
While I had not a single case, Sherlock has been drowning in them.
Though his latest appears to be vexing him.
My mother, meanwhile, is still on the run.
And trying not to draw attention to herself.
Though that's never been her forte.
Yes, and then there is… him.
My lords, reform is not a task to be accomplished,
nor a bill that can be passed.
Rather it is a constant need for change.
Lord Tewkesbury, the champion of change and progress.
A man to approach with the noblest cause.
♪ Till we have built Jerusalem ♪
But I had no time for distractions.
And besides, he's still a nincompoop.
Too many people make it their sole purpose in life
to fit into the world around them.
This is a mistake.
It's your path, Enola.
Sometimes, you'll stumble.
Sometimes, you'll fall.
But no matter how lost you feel,
if you stay true to yourself,
the path will always find you again.
But my path, it seemed, had come to an end.
I was a failure.
All I could do now was go home.
Enola Holmes?
Yes?
I've come to the right place then.
Is it true you find lost people?
Where did you get this?
It's months old.
I found it on the street.
Who have you lost?
My sister.
Watch the gap.
She disappeared a week ago.
Everyone says she's run away, but Sarah wouldn't do that,
not to me.
She's my only family now.
This way.
The other girls are still at work.
Tea?
Thank you.
Might I see her bedroom?
Ours, you mean?
You're standing in it.
We're lucky. Most girls here are five to a room.
This might help.
Oh. Sarah likes to leave cheese out for 'em.
She's soft.
What does she look like, Sarah?
About this tall.
Pretty.
Very pretty.
Green eyes, red hair, freckles--
Red hair?
We weren't sisters in the usual way.
Found sisters.
Sarah took her in.
Who's this, Bess?
-Enola Holmes. -She's a detective.
She looks like she'll blow over in the wind.
Mae!
So, Bessie, what was Sarah wearing the day she disappeared?
-What's she doing? -Shh.
She's wasting her time.
It was her other dress, the green one.
Does she like reading?
Oh yes. She taught herself.
Sarah said you had to learn about the world if you're gonna live in it.
Makeup.
Did she have a suitor?
Nah. But there's plenty have taken an interest.
She weren't much of a gardener.
Look, how about you quit sniffing round?
Quiet, Mae! Just let her do her job.
The 12th of March. Does that date mean anything to you?
That's enough.
We don't need help from people like you.
I found her, so she's staying.
-Bloody girls poking their nose in.
-And she didn't leave a note? -Just this.
She worked two jobs, you see. We couldn't get by without it.
Washed glasses at a pub.
Some place called The Stag Antlers.
You can have it.
Oh. No, it's all right. We'll figure that out later.
So tell me, when was the last time you saw her?
A week ago, at the match factory.
She had a fight with Mr. Crouch, the foreman, in his office.
-What about? -He said she was thieving.
But Sarah's honest.
The match factory, is that where she works?
Where we all work. We're match girls, ain't we?
-Then that's where we'll start. -So you'll take it? You'll take the case?
Thank you, Miss Holmes.
Thank you.
At last, my first case.
Well, actually, my second.
I shall find you, Sarah Chapman.
Red hair, green dress, makeup, science books, 12th March.
Whatever you've been up to…
…the game is afoot.
Stay with me. Follow my way.
-How many girls work here? -Five hundred, maybe six.
How do I look?
-Is my neckerchief all right? -Oh, well, it's around your neck.
Morning, Bessie.
Morning, Doris.
Mouth.
-Mouth. -Come on.
-Next. -Out.
-Please, Mr. Crouch. -I said, out.
-Mouth. -What are you looking at?
Oi, new girl. Name in the register.
Mouth.
-What are you looking for? -Typhus.
That's the phosphorus.
Don't worry, you get used to the smell.
Is this where she worked?
Put the matches on the comb…
slide 'em along,
up and into the box.
Simple enough.
-You try.
That is a penny off your wages.
She's just learning the way, Mr. Crouch.
She better learn quicker, or it's a penny off yours too.
Anyone else want a money dock?
How about you, eh?
No, didn't think so.
Right, back to work.
I need to get up into that office.
Not a hope.
No talking.
All it takes is one small thing
to change the rules of the world.
Oi. Faster fingers, faster fingers.
Hurrah!
How did that bloody happen, eh?
Well, pick 'em up.
Oi, pick 'em up.
Pick 'em up, pick 'em up.
Right! Back to work.
Why were you here?
Come on, girls.
Red.
Time's a-wasting.
Don't you look at me like that, girl.
-Oi, stop talking!
-Green eyes, red hair.
So you did steal something.
Charles! This is not what I was expecting when we made our arrangement.
This is blatant extortion.
Criminal!
-My pockets are empty. -You think mine full?
You gave me your word you'd find whoever was doing this to us.
You sound almost threatening, Mr. Lyon.
This is not what I expected when we began our arrangement.
And now theft, on top of everything else.
-You heard the man. Get this dealt with. -Come along, William.
Sir, do you have any suspicions as to who this perpetrator might be?
Would I be asking you if I did?
But, sir, perhaps if we were to consider whether this theft is connected.
-I have ideas-- -Did I ask for your advice?
Or did I simply tell you to get it done?
I'll make sure the right people know, sir.
Miss Troy!
Yes, sir.
Our ladies are working at the highest level of production and efficiency.
-Are they not, William? -Yes, Father.
-Please, if you will…
Doris, how are you? How's your sister? Is she, um, still unwell?
Uh, yes, Mr. Lyon.
Typhus.
Really is the plague of our time.
Two years it's been killing these girls.
Breaks my heart.
Well, Lord McIntyre, if I might suggest a little lunch. I think we've earned it.
How did Sarah do it? Get into the office?
There was a fire at one of the stations. Foreman got distracted.
Whose station?
Mae's?
Yes.
You're a good detective, Enola Holmes.
Everyone thinks detecting is a profession littered with rules,
but in truth, there's only one.
Pull on every loose thread you find.
She's a loose thread.
So I'm pulling at her.
-Oh. -Hello, sir.
-What a pleasant evening. -Young lady, I'm afraid I'm married.
Hello, dearie. Forgot your ticket?
That's tuppence for a sweet, cheating face like yours.
Ha'penny a piece.
-Genuine toffee. -Out of my way, girl.
Ha'penny a piece.
Where are you, Mae?
Excuse me, sir.
I've never seen anything like it!
And here she comes!
One, two, a-one, two, three four.
♪ Where did you get that hat? Where did you get that tile? ♪
♪ Isn't it a nobby one And just the proper style? ♪
♪ I should like to have one Just the same as that ♪
♪ Where'er I go, they shout "Hello, where did you get that hat?" ♪
♪ Where did you get that hat? Where did you get that tile? ♪
♪ Isn't it a nobby one And just the proper style? ♪
♪ I should like to have one Just the same as that ♪
♪ Where'er I go, they shout "Hello, where did you get that hat?" ♪
And now, all the way from Shanghai,
Mr. Li and his world of illusions!
My next trick…
You the foozler who took my pan stick?
Um, no. I'm looking for a girl called M--
Uh…
Hm.
She worked two jobs, you see.
Some place called The Stag Antlers.
♪ Where'er I go, they shout "Hello, where did you get that hat?" ♪
You got five seconds to tell me why you're here.
Did Sarah work here?
She did, didn't she? And Bessie doesn't know.
There's plenty Bessie don't know. And plenty you don't need to tell her.
I know you helped her into that office. She took those pages. Why?
-What's happened to her? -Just leave us be, all right?
Posh girls like you don't belong in this fight.
Posh or not, one thing I am good at is fighting.
Now tell me, where is she hiding and what does she know?
You got more to you than I thought.
Whatever this is, Mae is on stage in 30 ticks,
and she's still dressed as a gent.
So let go of her, now.
-Get her out of here. -Be my pleasure.
Come on.
Where did Sarah Chapman do her makeup?
Full of secrets that one, and not a bad actress.
I'd have given her the boot if she weren't so good,
but she did attract the men with big pockets.
Always useful that. Shift it.
Which men?
There was this one gent, society type, and he came regular.
Very keen on him she was. He'd send flowers, letters.
His name?
Never gave one.
You see, they all think there's hope. That love is coming their way.
But it never is.
Blokes like that, they want cheap,
but they marry dear.
"As we two ate of the fruit of love…"
The fruit of love? Ugh.
"A bell did ring in the sky above"
"So wander that place With its blossoms white"
"A chapel awaits us out of sight"
And a poppy.
Is that his name?
Why did she leave?
Did she run away with this fellow?
Or is she running from him?
I hope it's the latter. His poetry is extremely bad.
Be away with you, boy.
All right.
-Sherlock? -Enola.
What are you doing here? It's not safe.
There are scary people about.
-Yes, let me know when you meet one.
-Brother, are you quite yourself? -I'm fine.
It was just a disagreement over a glass of wine
and whose wine it was.
And, uh…
I find after wine, it's very difficult to make your arms and legs move.
Let's get you home.
I don't usually imbibe, but I'm on a case, you see.
-It's proven rather tricky. -Cab.
-Hello. -Hello.
-Where are we going? -221 Baker Street.
As it turns out, my brother is medievally heavy.
It's like carrying a dead horse on which sits another dead horse.
That's A, and I'm B.
I didn't know you had steps.
One should always have steps to avoid people stepping on you.
That's a tip. You should probably write that down.
All right. Lift your right leg.
Mm-hmm.
Now your left.
Better leg, the left. You should write that down.
Ha! Home. Well done, Sherlock.
I can do it.
See?
Baker Street.
-Oh, but it's such a mess. -It's perfect. Don't touch anything.
What are you investigating?
None of your business. I work alone. It's private.
Now shh, I'm thinking.
One should never be interrupted when thinking.
-Oh. You should-- -Write that down?
-Shh!
Don't go in there.
No.
Sherlock's latest case.
Fascinating.
And why, pray, have you moved everything?
-Nothing looks different to me. -Nothing looks different? Ev--
Your head is sore? I can't think why.
This is why I don't have people in my rooms.
Look what you've done. My papers are entirely out of order.
Your case, it's vexing you.
Seems to be an awful lot of question marks on that map of yours.
Dundee cake. Door.
-I will see you again. -Is that why you're drinking?
I'm more than certain… …it's not so old.
-Maybe I can help. -You can help by leaving.
Huh. Yes. The world will be a much safer place
if we don't see the inside of Sherlock Holmes, only the out.
Crazy idea.
Have you ever considered a flatmate?
-For what purpose? -To stop you descending into this.
Strange
how those seeking advice so often like to dispense it.
Did I ask for advice? I found you on the street, drunk.
-Now what may I observe about you? -We're not playing this game.
Shoes a state. Hair's not much better.
-You and Mycroft are so similar. -You need to wash your clothes.
-Unwilling to look past-- -You are pale--
-Stop! -And then there's your fingernails.
-Why are you working in a match factory? -What?
Last night, they were dirty with green traces. This morning, they are black.
The phosphorous from the match-making has mixed with oxygen.
I wasn't in such a state as to not see that.
-How did you-- -And your neck is red.
Someone has gripped it or held a knife against…
Are you involved in something dangerous?
You are still my ward.
If you need my help, my offer remains on the table.
Don't be so desperate to prove yourself, Enola.
I am not desperate, and I don't need your or anyone's help.
But this I will have.
How dare he? How dare he lecture me?
When he can't even solve his own case
and he lives in a bed of flummoxing papers and bewildering mold.
How dare he claim I'm desperate? It is not true.
-And this is not fair. -Enola?
It is you.
And it is you.
How are you?
Are you well? You look…
I'm on a case. Undercover. Forget I told you that piece of information.
It's the strangest thing. I could have sworn I've seen you here before.
Is that right?
Well, this is my… My route through to the Lords.
Is it? How lovely.
Well, I… I breakfast here on occasion.
I mean, yes, it's a lovely place. I-I know the gardener here.
We've been discussing what to sow for next year's crop.
Some fine sunflowers.
Uh, Sweet Williams, for their lovely vivid reds.
I've seen all you're doing.
Oh. Well, it's… It's nothing.
In the society pages.
You are quite the eligible bachelor.
Don't believe all you read.
I wrote to you.
You didn't reply.
Uh…
I… was busy.
Starting my own business. A perpetual challenge.
Perhaps, not something you'd understand.
-Well, Enola, if you need help-- -I do not.
Should my problem become horticultural, I shall seek you out.
Right.
Well, you know where to find me
should a plant go missing.
I hope you enjoy your breakfast.
Yeah.
Is he looking back?
Oh. Good, he isn't.
I don't come here every day.
Just on days when I feel a need.
And sometimes he doesn't take this path. Sometimes he takes the parallel one.
-You know where to find me.
"You know where to find me."
"Out of sight"
"The chapel awaits us With its blossoms white"
Whitechapel.
"As we two ate of the fruit of love"
"As we two ate…"
"Two ate." Two-eight.
Twenty-eight.
"A bell did ring in the sky above"
Bell?
"So wander that place"
Bell. Place. "Out of sight"
28 Bell Place, Whitechapel!
Shh!
-Oh, sorry.
The game has found its feet again.
I will not lie.
There is a certain satisfaction that you feel as a detective
when your case comes closer to resolution.
Like sewing a new skirt…
…which I don't do, or teaching a dog to sit.
You begin to glow with the acknowledgement of a job well done.
There's a new Holmes in town.
That's right. Sherlock Holmes has met his match.
My name will be known, and Bessie will have a sister once again.
And that is a job well…
done.
Sarah?
What happened here?
Mr. Poppy.
-Oh, Mae.
What happened? Who did this to you?
-Was it him, Sarah's man? Mae!
No, no. It's all right.
I'll fetch a doctor for you.
No! No, no, no.
No.
Come back.
Miss Holmes?
-Inspector Lestrade.
-Enola Holmes. -Lestrade.
-She… She's-- -Dead.
How'd that happen?
Oh, no, no, no. I'm investigating a case. A disappearance of a girl.
-What, that girl? -No. No, no, no. H-Her name is Mae.
She worked at the Paragon Theater, the matchstick factory.
-She was a dancer. She's friends--
Superintendent Grail.
-Good morning. -Good morning, sir.
I was sent to investigate a possible disturbance.
Someone heard some screams, and then I discovered this young lady.
Her name?
Enola Holmes.
Uh, his sister.
A detective too.
Good God, another one.
Shouldn't you be in finishing school?
Investigating the disappearance of a…
-Sarah Chapman. -Yeah.
Sarah Chapman? Well, well, how intriguing. So am I.
-She's wanted for theft and blackmail. -Blackmail?
Yes, detective.
Still warm. No rigor mortis.
-When were the screams heard, inspector? -Ten past the hour, sir.
When did you arrive, detective?
A-Around the same time.
Even more intriguing.
Uh, no, I was trying to suppress the blood. I-I was trying to save her.
Or trying to get information out of her.
Give her a search, inspector.
Oh, I couldn't. I can't pat her down, sir.
Come along, Lestrade. Let's not be coy about this.
-She's a detective. She knows the rules. -Yes.
Um…
Give me that bag!
What's this?
My evidence.
And that?
It's nothing.
Then why are you hiding it?
Found at a murder scene with a freshly dead corpse,
harboring evidence isn't gonna look good.
Superintendent Grail, you can't believe--
What can't I believe, missy?
That young ladies don't have the hands for killing?
Now, give them here.
-Oh!
-Go on! -After her, all of ya!
Why ever would she ever do that?
-Get out of the way! Move!
-Stop that girl!
You've seen this before.
Ah. Lestrade of Scotland Yard. You remember me, I hope.
We're looking for your sister. She's caused a bit of trouble.
May I?
Is it, sir?
Is it?
Take it. I have others.
Take it? I can't.
I can.
I can't.
Perhaps I can.
And this, the famous fiddle?
That I do not have two of.
Perhaps you can explain what you believe Enola has done.
I wish I was at liberty to say, sir.
Do you mind?
Oh, your latest case.
What's it concerning?
Is it another Brixton Strangler?
Or a Periwinkle?
Don't tell me it's a Clerkenwell.
What evidence do they have against my sister?
Perhaps, uh, you tell me yours and I'll tell you mine.
Government case, some missing money.
Now you.
Super wants to talk her.
-Why? -Just following orders, Mr. Holmes.
Or may I call you Sherlock?
Graydon. Graydon Lestrade.
My father thought it distinguished, and it is rather.
Well, anyway, should you ever wish to call me that…
Right.
As you were.
Oh dear.
Whoa!
My mistake. I should have warned you I was opening it.
No.
Dare I ask?
Good afternoon.
May I ask a favor?
Never mind. Tell me everything.
-A government case? -No.
Is it another Brixton Strangler?
Or… Or a Periwinkle?
"You tell me yours and I'll tell you mine."
He's a ninny. I needed to know what he had on you.
Money. Unaccounted transfers going in and out of government offices.
My theory is either bribery, extortion, or blackmail.
And what have you found?
Separate filings from five different accounts
going via the Treasury into one private bank.
-So someone is getting rich from this? -Yes.
-Who? -No name.
Just a number.
I visited the bank and inquired. The money disappeared,
arriving at another bank, and then another,
and another, and another, and another, and another.
Every one of them hidden using different account numbers.
Twenty-seven in total.
-Well, what can you deduce from that? -Three things.
Firstly, the man's a game player, perhaps a genius in mathematics,
capable of covering his traces at every turn.
Secondly, the sources are varied.
Five banks, south of the river, but no clear link between them.
All anonymous.
All going into one pocket.
And the third?
He knows I'm onto him.
What? How?
Every time I pull a thread, it loosens, vanishes,
reappears somewhere else. He's leading me a merry dance.
It's…
It's infuriating.
So no leads whatsoever?
One. A week before the first transfer,
there was a break-in at the Treasury office
by a man in a taper crown hat.
A taper crown hat.
-What was taken? -A document.
They won't talk about it. Sensitive information presumably.
But how it connects to all of this has so far eluded me.
Your turn. I hope the blood's not yours.
I'm looking for a girl, Sarah Chapman.
Her sister employed me. Bessie.
She worked at Lyons match factory by day, and the music hall at night.
She has a lover,
whose flat I visited.
He'd given her this.
28 Bell Place?
Whitechapel, yes.
And there I found her friend,
murdered.
And who killed her? This poppy fellow?
I suspect so.
Perhaps he kidnapped Sarah and her friend discovered it.
Love.
What it does to people.
-How was she killed? -A kitchen knife.
-Did you touch this weapon? -No.
Then why did you run?
I found more evidence on her.
This policeman wanted it.
-He has this walk. -Grail.
We have a history.
This was in her pocket.
It's as bad as the poem.
-Leave it with me. -No.
It's mine, and it's important.
Grail said she had stolen something and that she was blackmailing them.
-Though Sarah wouldn't do that. -You don't know this person.
I feel I do.
You came here running from the police.
Someone is already dead,
and you are now a suspect in a murder case.
You've let your emotions get the better of you.
Stay here. Don't leave. I will look into this.
But Sarah Chapman is my responsibility. No one else cares for these girls.
I promised her sister.
The first mistake a detective makes
is to make it about themselves and not the case.
Enola, I know you're not a fan of unnecessary advice,
but please…
…don't turn into me.
I should probably write that down.
Matches, matches! Come buy your matches!
Only a penny a box.
Matches, matches! Only a penny a box.
Come buy your matches!
Posh girls like you don't belong in this fight.
We don't need help from people like you.
See, they all think there's hope. That love is coming their way.
But it never is.
Gents like that, they want cheap,
but they marry dear.
So, Poppy, you're a gent, are you?
And a well-heeled one to afford a love nest like that.
-Sir-- -Don't be ridiculous.
There was a break-in at the Treasury office
by a man in a taper crown hat.
Five banks, south of the river, but no clear link between them.
"Match makers ball."
"Hosted by Henry and Hilda Lyon. 12 Marchmont Square."
Does that date mean anything to you?
It's not a date at all.
"Their eldest son, William Lyon, will be leading the first…"
Sweet Williams, for their wonderfully vivid reds.
Our ladies are working at the highest level of production and efficiency.
-Are they not, William? -Yes, Father.
And all along, I thought you were a poppy.
Let's see how sweet you are, Sweet William.
I'm going to a ball.
Ugh.
'Tis I.
'Tis not I.
Which, when you're wanted by the police, is most useful.
Pray silence for his Lordship Viscount McIntyre.
I-I'm sorry to break apart this glorious occasion,
but, well, I'm a politician.
Any chance to stand on a stage, I'll always take it.
And I must speak to thank our host
and applaud his achievements.
No masks, no matter.
For Henry Lyon turns all before him into gold.
Ha, nonsense! Pewter at best.
What he has done with matches is legendary.
In two years, he's turned red into black.
Or should I say,
red into white?
And to have this humble man turn his attention
to typhoid and the working poor,
raising funds, diagnosing cases in the community,
I'm overwhelmed. I'm simply overwhelmed.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Henry Lyon.
And to his fine son, his heir, William.
To the future.
-To the future. -May it ever be bright.
Right, Henry, light us up.
Gladly.
Now go and enjoy yourselves.
I believe I've seen that dress somewhere before.
-Oh yes, last year.
I think it's charming, elegant.
I think you are kind.
Gentlemen.
Ma'am.
Good evening.
This is a wonderful occasion, is it not?
I mean, the guests are just… delightful.
And the orchestra is most tuneful.
I was wondering if
I might be able to speak to you, Mr. Lyon.
-Uh, have I said something wrong? -Where is your chaperone?
Chaperone?
My dear, you can hardly expect my son to talk to you unaccompanied.
-Oh.
I cannot talk to you without a chaperone?
No, of course not.
Honestly?
Who is this woman?
Well, they are talking.
They are dancing.
Good evening, my dear.
Yes.
How foolish of me.
Good evening.
It could be claimed, with some justification,
that I might have prepared more thoroughly.
But dancing is not one of my core strengths.
Well, except…
♪ Knees up Mother Brown Under the table you must go ♪
♪ Ee-aye, ee-aye, oh! ♪
You see my situation.
Who are you?
The man's a game player.
Separate filings from five different accounts.
Capable of covering his traces at every turn. One private bank.
Vanishes and reappears. No name. Just a number.
Perhaps a genius in mathematics.
Leading me a merry dance.
It's a cipher.
The polka.
The promenade. The two-step.
They're all dances.
Dance, dance, dance, dance.
Twenty-seven, turn on…
Yes. The Language of the Dance.
"Twenty-seven dances."
I've got you.
Dance one, then 14. 22.
Terrible, aren't they? These things.
All pompidou and popinjay.
Have we met somewhere before?
I feel I recognize you from somewhere.
I simply have one of those faces.
Mira Troy,
private secretary to Lord McIntyre,
Treasury Minister.
Tabitha.
Tabitha Timothy.
You mustn't let them concern you.
It's just a performance.
Everyone here is playing a part.
Testing each other.
Winning.
Losing.
And it's fun,
once you know the rules.
What are they doing with those fans?
Sending messages.
Saying everything that is forbidden,
or too embarrassing to say aloud.
Thank you for the lesson.
It's a lesson hard learned.
Without power, we women must rely on our wits for our fortune,
because our chances are short. Here.
Take my fan.
I have no use for it.
And if you wish to speak to William,
you could always try with that.
No, not… No, not you. Oh.
Help.
It would be my delight.
Really, there's no need to be rude.
I-I didn't mean to.
Tewkesbury!
-Your timing's impeccable! -Enola?
Don't speak to me here, otherwise you'll be thrown onto the street.
-I need you to teach me to dance. -Teach you to dance? When?
-Teach me to dance now. -Wh…
You understand I've been learning since I was five?
Good. I'd feared you'd be a terrible teacher.
-What are you doing here? -I'm looking for a murderer.
Though I shouldn't have told you. Forget I told you that.
-I'm trying to save a girl's life. -Through dance?
Please, Tewkesbury.
All right. Hold your back straight.
And I'll place my hand here and here.
Oh. Yes.
Hold your arm out.
Good.
Now, I will lead and you will follow.
-That seems like a mistake. -Face over my shoulder.
And now, one, two, three.
Two, three. Two, three.
Four, two, three. One, two, three.
Two, three.
Good.
You seem different since last we spoke.
Tell me why you've been coming to the park.
Why… Why watch me walk to the Lords?
Simply keeping an eye on you,
in case you get yourself into any more scrapes.
-Getting thrown out of trains. -Enola--
You cannot be trusted to take care of yourself.
I'm a man now.
You're a man when I tell you you're a man.
And the scrapes I find myself in are far less visceral.
Now, come on.
Two, three. Two, three.
Look into my eyes.
The rhythm is always there.
Dancing is a trust, it's a union.
That's why I've always loved it,
even when I was being tutored by my uncle.
That man likes a pork mustard pie.
His breath…
Turn, two.
Turn. Feel it?
I can feel it.
Good.
-You dance well. -Perhaps I have a fine teacher.
Though his breath has less mustard on it than I'd hoped.
-We have an urgent situation.
I should go.
You'll need a dance card.
But I don't know enough.
-What does that mean? -You'll learn.
Don't touch the ginger cake. Plays hopscotch with your bowels.
Oh.
Hello.
-Mr. Lyon. -Yes.
I was wondering if we might have a dance this evening.
My dance card is full.
May I see it?
Your last waltz is still free.
How fitting.
Would you mind?
Until then.
'Tis he.
You admire Lord Tewkesbury?
No!
No.
We are old friends.
I hear he's a good man, and a great reformer.
Hm.
Well, if you wish to dance with him, you may have to wait.
There's quite a queue.
Yes, I mustn't lose my chance.
Good evening, Miss…?
Tabitha.
Cicely.
Forgive me for interrupting. My name is Cicely.
Um, your friend Tabitha suggested we might dance.
Did she?
Ladies and gentlemen, please take your partners for the last waltz.
You know, I swear I know your face.
What must it be?
We have never met before,
but I've seen you looking. Why?
Of course. The Paragon Music Hall.
I saw you talking with a young woman there.
Sarah Chapman.
Dislocate from me and I will scream.
The police are onto you, Mr. Lyon. As it happens, they are onto us both.
You were not invited here. What do you want?
I'm a private detective, hired by Sarah's sister to find her.
Bessie hired you?
You know Bessie?
Leave me be, please,
or you will ruin everything.
-How? What will I ruin? -They're watching.
If you must persist with this, meet me in the library at midnight.
Say nothing more now.
Midnight it is.
"Moriarty."
Who are you?
-My word, you do get in awkward places. -Why are you holding a poker?
You must leave. I'm waiting for another.
Another you're scared of such that you need a weapon?
You are always here when I don't want you to be.
And sometimes here when you do.
-What's the matter with you? -Nothing that need concern you.
I like the look of the one you were dancing with. What's her name, Cicely?
She would make you an excellent wife.
Enola, I am concerned only for you.
Tewkesbury, if you're still here, you may scare him away.
-"Scare him"? All of this is over a man?
Just leave.
Lord Tewkesbury.
Enola Holmes, you're under arrest.
Try to escape, and we will make this difficult.
Let's make it quiet and spare the fine people any embarrassment.
-Sir, whatever this is about, I'm sure-- -Murder, sir.
It's about murder.
Tewkesbury, it's all right.
Constable, go on.
Keep them safe.
-Please. -Come along.
Ow.
-Oh, I say. -I knew she didn't belong here.
-Despicable. -Disgraceful.
Quite a party.
You danced with young Master Lyon, I hear.
May I ask, impertinently, I'm sure,
did you want to kiss him,
or find out more about your case,
this Sarah Chapman?
Look, if you're trying to protect her,
know this.
I will protect her better.
There's someone wants to talk to her,
and they're not as kind as me.
"Someone"?
Who?
Why were you following me that night?
You were following Mae too, weren't you?
That's why you found the flat.
Nice shirt.
Silk?
On a policeman's salary?
Who's paying you, Superintendent Grail?
Who's paying you to kill match girls?
Where's Sarah Chapman?
-I don't know. -She's a thief and a troublemaker.
You don't want to risk your skin for her.
Well, if I can't find it out from you, I'll find it out from someone else,
like her sister, little Bessie.
She's just a little girl.
Oh, but that's how it starts, Enola Holmes!
With little girls like her, and you, and Sarah Chapman,
asking questions, doubting those in charge,
not seeing their protection for what it is,
trying to tear it down.
Well, it only takes one little flame to start a fire,
and my job is to keep crushing those bloody flames out.
Now, I'll be kind
and give you one last chance.
Where is she?
I don't know.
Then you're for the noose.
Some detective you were.
Should have stuck to needlework.
Sir?
-Sir. -Don't be ridi--
Superintendent Grail.
Mr. Holmes.
I'm here for my sister.
If you can arrange her release,
I'd much appreciate it.
She is my ward and a minor.
And a murderer.
Any evidence you think you have against her--
I have plenty.
She was seen arguing with the victim, following the victim,
fighting with the victim, and lastly, standing over the victim's dead body.
And when we find her there, with blood on her hands,
she bloody runs.
I saw your murder site.
Marks on and around the door show that it was forced open,
and recently.
There were signs of a scuffle
and boot marks from three separate intruders.
One of them heavyset,
judging by the height and extent of the subsequent damage.
Traces of fabric and spots of blood
suggests that there was another occupant, likely female,
who seems to have fought back,
using a sharp and improvised weapon…
before escaping through the window.
This was a targeted search and interrogation
in which two women were discovered,
and then my sister arrived,
and you were curiously fast to arrive after her.
Now, are you going to release her, or shall I?
-Sergeant Beeston, if you please. -Sir.
Fingerprint matching.
New invention, Swiss.
-You have heard of it? -I have.
Would you care to look?
Makes our work so much more efficient,
especially in a murder case.
My sister never touched that weapon.
Then why are her prints on it?
It's a great age we live in, isn't it, Mr. Holmes?
Have you any sense what time it is?
-Hello, Edith. -You're lucky, I almost broke your legs.
Then I recognized the shoulders.
-You have very recognizable shoulders. -Enola's been arrested.
For why?
Murder.
What she's got tangled with,
it may go wider than I thought.
And there's something about this case that…
Deduction alone will not solve?
I may need your…
I need your help.
We need your help.
Exercise for 15 minutes.
Well, like my mother always said,
"Those who can turn to others when they're in need
are the truly brave amongst us."
Your mother sounds very different to mine.
I did try to stop her,
but she's full of this fight.
There we go. Finally.
You can't control Enola Holmes.
She's a force of nature,
a law unto herself.
Go easy on her, girls.
Yes, she is.
And I fear she will hang.
Hm?
Come on, girls!
In there.
'Tis I.
-Yah!
Oh, it is good to see you.
-Yah!
Hang on!
Yah!
They're onto us!
-Yah! -Be ready in there!
So this case of yours, how's it going?
I don't know.
I was trying to help a girl find her sister, and I've made things worse.
Nonsense.
You stirred up a hornet's nest. You are onto something.
-Standby! -Why else would they try and silence you?
Don't worry, it's completely harmless.
-On your left! -My left or yours?
Yours!
This match factory, what do you know about it?
It's a roaring success.
In two years, it's doubled its profits.
-And now there's typhus. -Typhus?
Yes, the girls are going down with it. They're dying.
That's a loose thread.
-What? -They're back!
Yah!
Here they come! Brace yourselves!
We know about these factories.
Come on, come on!
Girls like Sarah Chapman, they're expendable.
They go missing, too often they die, no one cares.
But this girl, they care about. And greatly.
So, what does she know?
-Get up here now!
She stole something. Some papers.
Aha! So what's she gonna do with them? What's her plan? She's not a thief.
She's not a blackmailer. She is a troublemaker.
She knows something,
and that is infinitely more dangerous.
Come on, lads!
-Stand by to the right! -Would you mind?
-Wait for it. -W-W-Where?
-Wait for it! -Straight.
Now!
Get it out! Get it out of here!
Now, whatever Sarah's hiding, Enola,
it's a secret.
You need to look for what she knows, Enola.
Find that out, and everything else will follow.
She's probably under your nose.
-Huh? -Get down!
That's just rude.
-Grail.
You all right, Edith?
Just about! Yah!
Yah!
Oh, for goodness sake!
Oh!
That's not good.
Get 'em to the bank!
You all right? You all right?
-All right? -I'm all right, yeah.
Oh no.
Sir.
Glory be.
It's the Holy Trinity.
I'll make commissioner for this.
Take 'em.
Must we?
I fear so.
♪ Hallelujah ♪
-♪ Hallelujah ♪
♪ Hallelujah, halle-lu-jah ♪
♪ Hallelujah ♪
♪ Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah ♪
♪ Hallelujah, halle-lu-jah ♪
♪ For the Lord God omnipotent reigneth ♪
♪ Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah ♪
♪ King of Kings, and Lord of Lords… ♪
-Enola.
♪ And Lord of Lords ♪
♪ And He shall reign… ♪
Enola… this is not harmless.
Run!
♪ King of Kings, and Lord of Lords ♪
♪ Hallelujah, hallelujah Hallelujah, hallelujah… ♪
♪ Hallelujah ♪
Good thing I never valued my pelvis.
How about you, Edith?
-How are the kidneys? -Fine.
I quite enjoyed it.
Hm. You enjoy everything. It's most irritating.
Come on, this way. Better get a move on.
All right.
So, um, how's that useless boy of yours?
I hear he's doing good work.
-He is. -Uh-huh.
Well then, perhaps not so useless after all.
I wouldn't say he's "my boy."
You know, I sometimes think I brought you up to be too independent.
-Mother! -I did it with all of you.
Your purpose must be to find who you are.
You, Sherlock, Mycroft.
Strong, formidable, individual children,
but, well, perhaps a little lonely.
You will do very well on your own, Enola.
But with others, you could be magnificent.
Who do you think organized all of this after all? Hm?
Me?
No, you find your allies.
Work with them, and you will become more of who you are.
You speak with one voice,
and you will make more noise than you could ever have imagined.
Come on. She should go. We'll put them off her scent.
So, you dust yourself down…
…keep facing forward.
And if you ever get condemned for murder again, you give me a shout.
I will.
Thank you, Edith.
Be careful.
And get a haircut.
It's a mess.
I think my hair is fine.
Come on.
I need you to pack your things.
I need you to be in a safer place.
Is… Is my sister gone?
-Like Mae? -No.
-Is she-- -No.
I'm sure she's all right.
I'm closer to finding her.
Doris,
she'll take me in.
She's got a spare bed now.
Her sister?
Dead.
Typhus.
Dead.
There's traces of something in this soil.
One has red, and one has white in it.
The matches you make, when did they change from red to white?
I dunno. Around two years ago.
In two years, he's turned red into black. Or should I say red into white?
Typhus. The plague of our times.
Two years it's been killing these girls.
Out.
What are you looking at?
I need your help.
Don't make me repeat it! May I come in?
Firstly, I would like to apologize for so much.
I have failed to see allies in plain sight.
-And I have-- -Enola.
There's something I wish to say too.
-All right. -If you'd just--
All day, every day, all I do is compromise.
If I vote for this lord's bill that will allow him to pump bilge water into a lake,
then he will vote for my forestry reform.
I want to stand up and say, "This isn't right," but I have no allies.
So to do so would be to risk all that is good,
so I lie awake trying to work out which path to follow,
alone.
There is no search for a wife,
because politics consumes me constantly.
That is the speech I stored up for you.
You're a good man.
I'm a man now?
On occasion.
But I understand your struggle, because I struggle too.
I am sorry we cannot talk more, because I have--
A case to solve?
The girl I'm looking for, Sarah Chapman,
she has proof that girls are dying
from the phosphorus they work with every day.
And the factory are trying to cover it up as typhus.
She knows it,
and someone is going to kill her for it.
Then what can we do?
We?
-Don't open it. it could be the police. -You're still wanted by the police?
-Of course. I escaped jail. -You escaped?
Forget I told you that.
The lights are on. If I don't answer, they'll suspect more. Hide.
-Coming.
-Miss Cicely. -I'm sorry it's so late.
No, no, not at all. I-I told you to come. I-I want to help.
-Is anyone else here? -No.
-Um-- -Good.
Better we are alone, for it is imperative that I speak with you.
Sir, I feel that you're a man of great character
and that I can trust you.
Which is why I fear I may have to unburden myself, and it may prove shocking.
Miss Cicely--
It's just, I've been wanting to speak with you about… a relationship.
Oh, that. Yes. Uh, perhaps we can discuss this another time?
Please, sir.
I'm terribly sorry. Let me assure you, I do share your interest.
-We will talk again. -Thank you.
She's gone. She was flustered.
Do not think of doubting me. Cicely was here for my help.
She told me at the ball that she's working on a bill to change factory law.
She's unearthed something, some corruption or other.
She's doing what?
Enola, if you have any concerns, I tell you categorically, I…
I have no eyes for anyone, but…
Well, no, this is not quite how I wanted to say that.
But to say, in terms of romantic interests,
yes, my interest is…
The reason I don't have to search, I'm busy with politics, like I said…
You admire Lord Tewkesbury?
I hear he is a good man and a great reformer.
The woman I would be most interested in--
I mustn't lose my chance.
You're not listening.
Good evening, Lord Tewkesbury.
She didn't have a chaperone.
You got five seconds to tell me why you're here.
I have been blind!
The phosphorus in the match-making has mixed with oxygen.
I have missed everything.
She's probably under your nose.
Cicely.
Sarah is Cicely.
Cicely is Sarah!
-Enola!
Enola, what on Earth…
Enola, did you understand what I said?
Or rather what I didn't say? Did you understand… what I didn't say?
Yes. You were saying that you…
You'll learn.
That message you sent me with the fan at the ball,
what did it mean?
It means I love you.
Ladies and gentlemen, to the future.
Of course.
They were working together, in love.
They had a plan.
To expose the corruption in that factory and stop what his father was doing.
They wanted your help.
William Lyon invited you to that ball.
He's a radical just like you.
They needed my help. You're right.
But, Enola, we must return inside.
The police are pursuing you, and we have much to talk of.
No! I know we have much to talk of, my dear, dear lord.
You love me.
And as it turns out, I love you too.
You love me too?
You really are a nincompoop.
Now hail a cab.
-Shh. You're walking loudly. -But it's gravel.
-You've got large feet. -I know.
Wait here. Keep guard.
If anyone comes, just tell them you're a lord.
I am a lord.
Then they'll likely believe you.
All right.
You.
-How ridiculous you are. -I'm ridiculous?
I told you to stay safe and stay away.
Now you're breaking out of prison and have the police after you.
Oh. Are you hurt? I am sorry.
Are you not hurt?
It seems not.
Hm.
I wonder who taught you to fight like that.
Another thing our mother has to answer for.
She should have fed me as well as you is what I think.
Hang on. Why are you here? Is it my case, or your own?
Both. I know how Grail got your fingerprints.
Oxidized phosphorus dust
lifted from the table and applied to the knife.
You're innocent.
You doubted it?
Nothing's certain till it's proved.
And your case?
My adversary, his trail,
it leads here.
It seems our cases are connected.
Shall we?
William Lyon.
Sarah's love.
And my thief in a taper crown hat.
Stay unemotional. There's nothing more we can do for him now.
Need to keep our minds fresh and our eyes sharp.
He was seized.
-Yes, and searched. -For the document he took?
A knife?
No, bigger.
A cutlass.
Heavy boot scuffs,
and scratch marks from a cane that has a metal ferrule.
Grail.
But at whose behest?
There was another in this room.
This cigar had a holder.
And traces of wool.
Astrakhan, the finest.
Well, Lord McIntyre, if I, um, might suggest a little lunch.
Leave me be, please. They're watching.
Where did William steal from?
-The Treasury Office? -Yes.
The office of Lord McIntyre, Treasury Minister.
How did you come to that?
I think what William stole was proof
that Lyon and McIntyre were conspiring together.
-Corruption. -Yes.
Fueled by greed.
McIntyre has been secretly profiting from the factory.
They changed the match formula to a cheaper phosphorus,
and it's deadly.
Enola?
Enola, I was concerned for you.
You left me out there in the dark, and I nearly tore my…
-Sherlock Holmes? How do-- -Not the time.
Oh my…
-Is he-- -Stay unemotional.
-Who did this? -Lord McIntyre.
-No. -But it all fits.
No one has sat in this chair. No marks on the carpet, no indentation.
The cigar has been smoked, but cold.
And look, no ash.
-No lips have touched that glass. -Exactly.
These clues have been planted for us to find,
to mislead us from the true villain.
This has all been staged.
By who?
Not McIntyre, but by someone who had a lot to lose without that document.
Someone who knew what they were up to and was blackmailing them.
My opponent.
Someone who likes a game.
-Did they get what they wanted? -No, I don't think so.
Poor William.
Hm.
-They did get something. -Mae's terrible music.
"The Truth of the Gods."
Could be biblical, mythical.
Theatrical?
The Gods is the top row of the theater.
The balcony.
Doesn't everyone know that?
This isn't music.
It's a map.
Just to be clear as to what we might be about to face…
There may be some violence. You've faced it before.
Yes.
I did have part of a suit of armor on.
But yes, fighting will be…
Yes.
-You've been in a fight before? -Yes, plenty of fights.
Fenced for my school.
Mm.
Fine. Can you teach me to fight?
What, right now? In a carriage?
Did I not teach you to dance in five minutes in a bathroom?
All right. Fine.
There are two secrets to fighting. Avoid the punch, make the counterpunch.
I don't see how two secrets-- Ow!
Your first lesson.
Ow.
Ow!
Your second. You didn't avoid the punch.
-You can hardly expect me to hit a girl. -Oh dear.
I'm not some-- Ow!
Ow! Will you stop that?
I can't stop.
-We're approaching.
I may need more of those lessons.
X marks the spot.
Sarah.
It's all there.
All the proof we need.
The contract between Lyon and McIntyre
to change the phosphorus.
What William stole for you.
And the pages from the factory register.
That's what you stole from the office.
These are the names of the girls they killed.
I couldn't let 'em be forgotten.
And it's proof that match girls are dying from working in that factory,
and they knew it all along.
You're a bloody good detective, Enola Holmes.
You are too, Sarah Chapman.
I will share this with the world, I promise you.
Thank you.
Now we must find William. He was supposed to meet me six hours ago.
I'm afraid William won't be coming.
What?
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
I told him we had everything we needed.
That we should just go public.
He said nobody would care unless we had someone in power who would listen.
He was just trying to keep me safe.
And now I've lost him.
We must move quickly, or we'll lose you too.
Losing this…
losing that.
-Seems you've lost everything. -Bessie!
You've all been very careless.
I'll take those.
Let go of her.
Give me the papers and I will.
Run, Bessie!
-Don't just stand there!
Ow!
-Get after them!
Ow.
Avoid the punch, make the counterpunch.
Tewkesbury!
Argh!
Argh.
No!
Bessie!
Run.
I said run!
Enola!
-You got more to you than I thought.
Huh.
What places we find ourselves in.
What places indeed.
I've always loved the theater.
Got it?
I used to dream I'd end up on the stage.
You're not rid of me yet,
Viscount Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether.
Enola!
-Hurrah!
Are you all right?
You were made to fight.
Congratulations.
Lord McIntyre. What are you doing here?
I was summoned.
Your brother knew that I would want to see the right people shown justice.
And I don't know how to thank you
for retrieving this government property
and, uh, bringing this killer to light.
A rot amongst our ranks.
The world shall know the name Enola Holmes,
I'll make sure of it.
Lestrade, arrest that girl.
-She's done nothing wrong.
On what charge, sir?
-Theft. -All she stole from you was the truth.
She took personal information,
which she used for extortion and blackmail.
Which is why she will serve her time.
Ah.
But you are mistaken.
She was not your blackmailer.
I summoned you here to draw that very person out.
The accounting was masterful.
A tangle of roots, but all pointed to one pocket.
One person receiving the fruits of their schemes
with no one noticing.
Hearing everything, seeing everything.
Ignored for years.
Playing them all.
It's all a game.
And it's fun, once you know the rules.
Miss Mira Troy.
Absurd.
Oh, I don't believe it.
It's remarkable what can be done
when people underestimate you.
And then came the problem.
William stole the contract.
He threatened to cut off your money train.
And you couldn't have that.
You hired Grail to retrieve the document,
but things got out of hand,
so you tried to point us to Lord McIntyre.
A rare misstep in your game…
Moriarty.
Such a shame our divertissement has to end, Mr. Holmes.
I was so enjoying it.
And you, Enola.
Miss Troy, you have been behind this?
Of course, you never can find the proper staff.
I only wanted the agreements back.
Though I couldn't be seen to question William myself,
you were so obliging.
If you wish to speak with William, you could always try with that.
Just a pity he was smarter and braver in the end than I'd expected.
They both were. Their deaths were so unnecessary.
But Superintendent Grail was somewhat of a blunt instrument.
You!
How dare you take advantage of your position!
I take advantage?
What were my advantages?
Treated like a common servant when I have twice the mind of yours.
Any of yours.
Why shouldn't I have a share of your ill-begotten riches
and punish you at the same time?
Why shouldn't I be rewarded for what I can do?
Where is my place in this… society?
I am a woman.
I cannot join clubs,
I cannot own shares,
I cannot advance myself as they can.
So…
I found my own way.
And it was fun.
Lestrade,
take her away.
Yes, sir.
On what charge, sir?
-Extortion. -Uh, yes, yes.
Blackmail, murder.
Go.
Such a shame our little dance has to end.
For now at least.
Perhaps we shall take to the floor again.
No!
Well, there. That's that then.
I accidentally burnt my own property. What of it?
You are corrupt, sir.
And complicit in the deaths of hundreds of match girls.
Where is your proof?
Good.
So… back to business.
-Sir, you cannot-- -Tewkesbury.
Patience.
Glory be.
All those names, those lives,
I failed 'em, Enola.
Don't say that.
Mae gone…
William gone,
and they're gonna get away with it.
You heard the man. "Where's your proof?"
What do we have now?
We have each other…
and we have the truth.
You're late, Bess Chapman. Docking you a penny.
Oi.
You're not welcome here no more.
What are you doing? Oi!
Get down.
Get down!
Let her speak!
A few weeks ago,
Mae Izley, William Lyon, and I
set out to prove something.
To prove that this factory was killing people,
and they knew it.
But they decided that profit mattered more than we did.
-You're coming with me. -Shh!
It ain't typhus that's killing us. It's the phosphorus.
What we work with every day.
You lying little toerag.
That's a penny off your wages!
These were our friends…
our sisters…
and our children.
Well, it stops now.
It's time for us to use the only thing we have. Ourselves.
It's time for us to refuse to work.
It's time to tell 'em no.
-Right, get back to work. -No!
You leave here, there is no coming back.
You will not get employed here again.
Well, will you join me?
Think of your families.
Don't do it, girls.
It is not worth the risk.
Well,
will ya?
This is how the world works.
Please, girls.
I know you're scared. I am too.
But it's the only power we have!
Right,
get that machine back on and get back to work.
Right.
No.
This can't be their future.
I'm sorry, Enola.
-Stop that.
Be one voice.
-That's enough!
Stop that!
Can't anyone control these bloody women?
Come on, girls.
-Where are you going? -Westminster!
There they go.
That's a whole lot of noise.
She likes causing trouble, doesn't she?
It's as if she was molded that way.
She still needs that haircut.
Seems your boy has learned how to fight.
Lord McIntyre.
Indeed.
He's not my boy.
"Pay what you can."
And what will people pay you in? Potatoes and gratitude?
If that's all they have.
You can deal with the hoits and toits. This is where I should be.
Edith said she'll be kind with the rent.
You know, you are aware, should you wish some finer surrounds, I could, uh…
I was thinking…
Holmes and Holmes?
A partnership?
That is the kindest offer.
But if I did that, I would always be in your shadow.
Hm. Yes.
Though I do like this new version of you.
No one should be alone all the time.
A friend would do you well.
Perhaps I should write that down.
I shall drop by to check on you.
I would like that.
Perhaps you could come to Baker Street from time to time…
to check on me.
Perhaps we can fix on Thursday, 4 p.m.
Thursday at- 00 it is.
It seems I shan't be the last to interrupt you today.
And he has flowers.
-Sherlock. -Tewkesbury.
-See you on Thursday. -Bye, Sherlock.
-Sherlock? -Yes.
Your paper.
Thank you.
And…
thank you… for everything.
Tewkesbury, when did I give you the impression that I like flowers?
They're called Spreading Bellflowers. Wild, of course.
Attracted to ancient woodland, wiry, deceptive,
refuse to behave according to any rules,
but their petals are so delicate, and their flowers--
Two things.
Your metaphor is tortured, and I don't have delicate petals.
Oh, and, and, and…
It is an invitation to a ball being given by--
Uh, I am not going to a ball with you. I got arrested at the last one.
Well, all the more reason to dance again, wouldn't you say?
-You're a nincompoop. -And you are a coward.
How dare you speak to a lady like that? You are a disgrace, sir.
And yet you still hold my arm.
And yet I still hold your arm.
Sherlock Holmes?
Yes.
I'm here for my appointment.
You're seeking a flatmate?
-You must have the wrong address. -Really?
The young lady was very clear as to the place a-and the time.
-"Thursday at- 00," she said.
-You are Sherlock Holmes? -Hm.
Yes.
Please, do come in, Mr…?
Doctor.
Watson.
John Watson.