- Synced and corrected by AlexandreMT - - www.addic7ed.com -
Lovely day for a walk, eh, Holmes?
Yes, just look at our great city, bustling with activity.
Even the chimney sweeps are hard at work.
It's all dirty in here.
I don't care. Keep going.
Shouldn't I wear some sort of protective suit?
Why? Don't you trust me?
I do, but our friend Bartholomew went in lots of chimneys
in the '80s, and now he's sick.
Holmes, there's something I have to tell you.
- I'm getting married... - I deduce, Watson,
- that you're getting married. - I just said that.
Yes, but I had deduced it first.
That's what happened.
So, congratulations.
Thank you.
I thought you might be upset
because we won't be able to solve mysteries...
Solve mysteries together.
Elementary.
Crown Jewels stolen!
"Another one bites the dust," says Queen.
And coming up, Russia and Prussia
still named basically the same thing.
Ghastly. Who would have the audacity to steal the crown
off the queen's head?
Only one man, Watson.
Professor Moriarty, the Napoleon of Crime.
I've had him on the run for a year now.
His criminal empire is in shambles,
but he won't go quietly.
I say, look, there's hotshot 20-year-old comedian
Benjamin Hill.
Oh. That'll be funnier when he's older and slower.
Watson, this is the boat to America.
How do you know that?
Because Neil Diamond is on board. Look.
? September morn ?
? We danced until the night became a brand-new day... ?
I really hoped he'd be singing "America."
Well, how will we know who Moriarty is?
We've never seen him before.
The science of deduction.
Hold it right there, Professor Moriarty.
Sherlock Holmes?
How did you know it was me?
When I see a man about to go on a sea voyage
and not wearing a topcoat,
with no watch fob, and whose spats are not fully buttoned...
And the jewels hanging out of my hat?
Yeah, and the jewels hanging out of your hat.
He's got a gun. Look out, Stew... Holmes!
God, this is gonna be so annoying.
Watson, the scepter!
Aah! Lucky shot.
There was no luck involved.
From the angle you were aiming the gun,
I extrapolated the path of the bullet,
and triangulated the deflection point...
Uh, is this... is this speech for me?
Because he's dead.
For the court's amusement,
we now present Sir William of Cosby.
Well, you see, the children of today are wearing
their pantaloons so low, gazoozle,
you can see the first three layers of their undergarments,
zazzle, zoozle.
I get away with this for another 122 years, you see.
Hello, Your Majesty, I have recovered the Crown Jewels.
Mum, may I say, it's been a pleasure serving you,
but I've decided to retire.
We are losing interest in this conversation.
It would be a wonderful cap on my career to have a knighthood.
Come, come, now, Holmes, you're not...
Sometimes the bigger ladies
take a little longer, you see.
Really, Holmes, why retire?
There will still be crimes to solve.
But with Moriarty gone, and with you, my biographer,
leaving me for marriage, there is little point.
Just gonna toss it in the old waste bin.
Yup. Good-bye, detective cap.
Yeah.
And you, old chap, are about to solve the biggest mystery
facing men of our time: the wedding night.
I know, I'm just, I'm just giddy with anticipation.
Lifting her nightgown, nightshirt, evening cape,
boudoir coverall, torso doily,
and the various corsets and trusses below.
Exposing her shame to God,
followed by brief missionary coitus with no eye contact.
And then, five months later,
a stillborn child the size of a digestive biscuit.
Constance.
John.
- Hey. - 'Sup?
So, my betrothed, how go the wedding plans?
Oh, John, my father is sparing no expense.
Boiled beef for every guest, fish head stew, old cheese,
and men's attire will be provided
by Gentlemen's Wearhouse.
You're gonna fancy the way you look, this I vouchsafe.
What is it, Holmes?
It's an urgent missive
from Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard.
Oh, darn, there's been a murder and he's begging for my help.
Oh, darn, darn, darn, this is embarrassing.
Now I've got to see if I can dig that hat out of the trash.
Come, Watson, the game is afoot.
"Afoot"?
"Starting," "beginning."
Well, then just say that.
Enjoying all the old-timey jokes?
Don't worry, next week, back to a normal episode.
Hmm, this is most curious.
It appears she was killed by our old nemesis, the Scottish Brute.
That's impossible, he's in prison.
I put him there myself one year ago.
Nevertheless, we can't ignore the evidence.
All his victims were prostitutes
whose names began with the letter "V."
This one's name is Veronica, as evidenced
by this satin softball jacket that bears her name.
These threads are from a Scotsman's plaid kilt.
The telltale locks of red hair.
But most significantly, the Scottish Brute replaced
his victims' intestines with bagpipes.
Want to give it a whirl?
How could he accomplish this murder from prison?
He couldn't.
There are only two possible explanations:
either there's a murderer who has copied
the Scottish Brute's methods, or I put the wrong man away.
What are you in for?
Ah, I Rathboned somebody's Cumberbatch.
Well, well, well.
If it ain't me old nemesis, Sherlock Holmes.
Hello, Brute, I've got some questions for you.
Who did you tell about the murders?
Nae a soul, 'cause I dinna commit no murders.
I'm innocent, you nosy parker.
How can I believe you?
You're a common criminal.
All the prostitutes were killed by a left-handed assailant.
- So? - So, I was born with...
two right hands.
Dear God.
That means he couldn't have been the killer.
That's right. You ever seen a man with two right hand...
Oh, this... this thing was open.
That shouldn't be open, right?
No, no, I wouldn't think so.
I hope you will accept my sincere apologies.
Oh, you've done more than made up for it, Mr. Holmes.
I'm just happy to be free.
Ah, the world's changed since I've been in there.
That puddle wasn't here.
That cloud wasn't there.
That window was open.
That lady was four feet that way.
All right, well, I hope you make a go of it.
Good luck with your fresh start.
Oh, where'd that bird come from?
That's new.
Watson, I found some important new clues.
These red locks of hair I found at the crime scene?
They don't belong to the Scottish Brute.
They belong to a woman.
How can you tell?
It's hard to explain, Watson.
Women are mysterious.
But don't ask me.
Ask contemporary personality Oscar Wilde.
I prefer a man with a future and a woman with a past.
Oh, splendid.
Well said, splendid.
All right, let's get out of here before we're all arrested
for the crime of "bum-fancy."
And now I will disguise myself as a prostitute named Valerie.
What the devil is that?
It's my own invention.
A steam-driven mechanical exoskeleton.
Observe.
It's cutting-edge technology, Watson!
Exchange money
for sexual services, guv'nor.
Are you a bobby?
You have to tell me.
Mind the gap.
Astounding.
Yes. Now, I'll stroll around the block,
and you'll proposition me, loud enough so the killer can hear.
Love for sale.
Appetizing young love for sale.
? Love that's fresh and still unspoiled ?
? Love that's only slightly soiled... ?
Love for sale.
Lookin' good, honey.
No blacks.
Love for sale.
Race-contingent love for sale.
Did I hear your name was Valerie?
Yeah, guv'nor.
Uh, have we met?
Your voice sounds very familiar.
What the hell is this?
Watson, hurry!
Watson?
Oh, my God, Sherlock!
Watson, help.
Watson.
All I would've done is be a perfect gentleman.
Sorry, got distracted.
Lot of rats in London.
That's for you.
Sorry we didn't catch the murderer, Holmes.
And I'm afraid you'll have to catch her without me.
My wedding is tomorrow.
Yes, about that, you know, I was thinking.
Maybe you should put that off for a little while.
You know, sow a few more wild oats.
Oh, I've done enough of that, my friend,
especially after that raucous bachelor party trip
you threw for me in Las Vegas.
So... when do the strippers arrive?
1952.
Watson, I don't know how to tell you this...
but the murderer we've been looking for...
it's your fiancée, Constance.
You lie! You're just jealous!
Well, let's go to her place and I'll show you.
Sorry, today was y'all's cleaning day.
Y'all want me to come back later?
M-Maybe, maybe, yeah.
M-Maybe, maybe another day.
That's fine, I'll pull out.
Just go easy, it really hurt on the way in.
Ow! Ow! Ow! Ow!
Ow! Ow! Ow!
Constance? Are you here?
She's... she's gone.
I'm sorry, Watson. Unfortunately,
it appears my deductions were correct.
Not so fast. Look, she left a note.
See, Holmes? It says here...
these are test results. She has gonorrhea.
I...
I can't believe it.
My beloved Constance is the murderer.
It's even worse than you think.
If she's a murderer from this time period,
that means there will be a terrible, pretentious musical
about her one day.
? Behold the tale of Constance ?
? The murderer in the bonnet ?
? The murderer in the bonnet. ?
Oh, I was wrong, I love it.
Will Watson and Holmes
track down Constance?
We'll be right back
after these turn of the century messages.
Another dull night at the gentlemen's club.
What we need is some room temperature gin.
'Ello, gents.
Fancy some Room Temperature Gin?
Shut up, you slag!
No women allowed.
Room Temperature Gin:
drink it without women,
have an eel pie, then go to bed.
Constance had the tickets for our honeymoon to Paris.
No doubt she'll be using those for her escape.
Very well. Then we're off to France.
That's right. We're off to Gay Paree.
- What's this now? - Gay Paree.
Some... some people call it "Gay Paree."
Oh, then I suppose I should change.
Let's get separate rooms just so we can spread our stuff out.
Quick, we've got to catch the train!
Porter!
Watson, do you have thruppence for the porter?
I have tuppence.
So you don't have thruppence?
I have tuppence. How much do you have?
I have nuppence.
You're gonna get a comeuppance.
Excuse me, sir, what's the next stop for this train?
Ugh, I hate when they let the infirm ride on the train.
Next stop, (BABBLING) Station.
Sir, you owe an apology to me and all the good people
of (BABBLING).
It's nice of the locals to act as their own train crossings.
Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding.
You know, I've never crossed the English Channel before.
I hope no one from the train is on this boat.
I'm wearing the same outfit.
I wouldn't worry.
Looks like it's just a bunch of minor celebrities.
? Love ?
? Exciting and new ?
? Come aboard. ?
Finally, Paris.
What an ordeal.
Yes, but how do we find Constance
in one of the biggest cities...
There she is.
Quick, after her. We have to chase her
through a series of shots where she has
an inconsistent lead on us.
This way, Holmes.
She's heading towards... Holmes?
I couldn't come here and not do this.
She has appendicitis, by the way.
She must have gone up this strange building.
What is it?
It's the brand-new Eiffel Tower.
Well, let's hurry.
- She's getting... - Oh, oh, hold on, hold on.
I think we may have just photobombed
that family's picture.
You'll never catch me.
Damn it, my heel is caught.
Constance!
Hang on, my darling.
John, I did it for him.
And you didn't mean to hurt me?
No, you're not getting what I'm saying.
I didn't care about you at all.
Who did you do this for?
Why were you killing prostitutes with the initial "V"?
The great Sherlock Holmes.
He said you'd never figure it out,
and that he'd be victorious.
Constance!
Ugh. Depardieu!
I can't believe she's gone, Holmes.
Oh, you'll find someone.
You're a good guy with a great body.
I still don't understand what she meant
by "he said you'd never figure it out, and..."
"That he'd be victorious."
Watson, that's it.
Didn't think I'd figure it out.
This calls for the old Sherlock Holmes celebratory smoke.
I'll just light my pipe.
What is the meaning of this?
I'll be replacing your innards
with these bagpipes, Queen Victoria.
Not before we put you in jail.
What's with this "we" crap?
It's just you.
Oh, no, it's "we."
We made it just in time.
And I was able to fool you, as I am a master of disguise.
Seems like you're just good at dressing up like a woman.
Ah, you caught me, Mr. Holmes.
I suppose it's back to jail for me.
You can dispense with the act, Professor Moriarty.
Holmes, what are you talking about?
Moriarty's dead. You killed him.
No, that was one of his lackeys.
Isn't that right, Professor?
Very clever, Holmes.
What gave me away?
Constance. She said that you'd be victorious.
That was the vital clue
that these murders were for my benefit.
I was dismantling your criminal empire,
and you wanted revenge.
You cannot catch what you cannot see.
So, you concocted an elaborate series of murders
with clues leading me
to the fictional Scottish Brute.
Meanwhile, two toothless, British homeless people
had filthy sex in an alleyway.
They would become the grandparents
of the guys from Oasis.
Meanwhile, you had your girlfriend
seduce my best friend.
She arranges for me to kill your imposter...
and commits an identical murder
so I would come to the inescapable conclusion
that I put the wrong man away.
Constance would lead us away from England
while you killed the last "prostitute"
with the name "V."
And I'd get the blame for freeing the man
who killed our beloved queen.
Brilliant.
Why do you think Queen Victoria's a prostitute?
She formed an alliance with the Dutch royals
for shared control of Guyana.
So... political.
One last mystery to solve.
Why do they call you Professor?
- I teach at Hogwarts. - Really?
No. But we should've done that instead of this.
Holmes, with this case,
you saved the entire British Empire.
Yes. Now it will last forever.
From South Africa to the Suez Canal,
from Cyprus to Australia,
all of Canada and Grenada,
even Antigua and Jamaica.
India, Jordan, Kenya, Kuwait,
Malawi, Bermuda, the Falklands.
Yes, all part of our empire.
I'll always miss...
The Maldives, Myanmar,
New Zealand, Nigeria, Pakistan.
Saint Kitts and Nevis.
Sri Lanka, the Sudan, Uganda,
and the United Arab Emirates.
God, England sucks now.
- Synced and corrected by AlexandreMT - - www.addic7ed.com -