The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes Page #4

l thought l would

never find you.

Oh. Oh, Emile.

Hold me tight.

lt's been

such a long time...

so many nights.

Do you know what l did

before l left Brussels?

What?

l hope you're not going

to be angry with me.

l bought myself

an expensive negligee.

Did you?

A pink negligee

with marabou feathers.

Don't you think it's

a little bit foolish...

for a married woman?

Come on.

Where is the negligee?

ln my luggage. Come here.

And where is your luggage?

Oh, l don't know.

Come, Emile.

Come, come here.

Please. Oh, please.

Come here.

What is it, Emile?

What are you doing?

Dr. Watson.

Porridge is getting lumpy.

Hadn't you better get up?

l would like to

very much, but--

Mrs. Hudson, would you mind...

planting your knee

in the small of my back?

Yes, l would.

Please. l'm in

excruciating pain.

A bit higher...

just below

my seventh vertebra.

That's good.

Put your arms under mine.

Now fold them behind my neck.

Now give it a good snap.

No. No. Show no mercy.

Bear down on me.

Bless you.

That darn couch.

Oh, you better see

if our patient is awake.

Dr. Watson...

she's gone.

Gone?

Holmes! Holmes!

She's gone!

Well, l never.

Mmm, l smell porridge.

Lumpy as usual, l suppose.

Ah, there you are, Holmes.

We were just

wondering how, uh...

We certainly were.

Mrs. Hudson,

why don't you...

go down to the kitchen,

get a towel, and wipe...

that look of disapproval

off your face.

Liberties in my house.

You can't

really blame her.

l mean, the way it looks.

lf l didn't know you better...

l might suspect you'd taken

advantage of the young lady.

As a matter of fact,

l did take advantage of her.

Would you hand me

the butter knife, please?

Of course.

You did what?

Thank you.

Holmes, this is reprehensible.

Where are your

professional ethics?

Have you no sense

of decency, no shame?

None whatsoever.

lf you must know...

l found her body

quite rewarding.

You cad!

Especially the palm

of her right hand.

l'd rather not hear about it.

Very well.

Then l won't bother...

to tell you how

l traced her suitcase.

That's her suitcase?

Remember that piece

of soggy cardboard...

with our address on it?

lt was a luggage ticket.

The number had

rubbed off on her hand.

And since she must've

arrived from Brussels...

by the boat train,

l concluded that she had...

checked her belongings

at Victoria Station.

By Jove, if you're right...

we should find a clue

to her identity.

Or at least a pink negligee

with marabou feathers.

Voila.

Well, let's see.

What else is in here?

Now we're getting somewhere.

Oh. Who do you

suppose this is?

Good morning, Madame Valladon.

You are Gabrielle Valladon?

Yes.

And this is your husband

Emile Valladon.

Yes.

Sorry to have

ransacked your valise...

but since you

came to us for help...

Where am l?

221-B Baker Street.

Oh, yes.

Which one of you

is Sherlock Holmes...

and which is Dr. Watson?

Dr. Watson

is the handsome one.

That's the way

he affects most women.

Coffee. You want

some strong coffee.

lt's all so confusing.

Well, let's try to sort it out.

You came to London

looking for your husband, right?

Yes.

He's a mining engineer.

We were married

five years ago in the Congo.

Where your husband was

working in a copper mine.

How did you know?

Your wedding ring--

it's made of copper.

Last year, he invented

a new kind of air pump...

and was hired by an English

company--Jonah, Limited.

Here we are.

Jonah, Limited. Go on.

We've been writing

to each other regularly...

then suddenly...

three weeks ago,

his letters stopped.

l kept on writing,

but no answer.

So, finally l decided

to go to that address.

''32 Ashdown Street.''

Yes. lt's just

an empty store...

nobody there.

So, l tried to find

Jonah, Limited.

No such company exists.

How decidedly odd.

Madame Valladon, can

you think of any reason...

why your husband

should've lied to you...

about these things?

Emile? Never.

He loves me, and l love him.

l gathered that much.

l went to the police.

They said they would...

send out a missing

persons report...

but they didn't

sound too encouraging.

Then l went to

the Belgian embassy.

They suggested

l should consult you.

You could've done worse.

l was on my way here.

Then suddenly there were

footsteps behind me...

and a hand over my mouth...

and a smell of chloroform,

and the next thing l knew...

l was in the water.

And then a man was

wrapping me in a blanket.

Madame Valladon...

somebody tried to

kill you last night.

Do you have any idea

who could've done it?

l don't understand any of it.

Oh, what does it all

mean, Mr. Holmes?

Where is my husband?

You must help me find him.

We'll do our best,

l assure you.

Madame Valladon,

l want you to send...

one more letter

to your husband.

To Emile Valladon...

Ashdown Street--

what was that number?

Thirty-two.

What do you want me

to say in the letter?

Nothing.

Nothing?

Holmes...

you're sending

an empty sheet of paper...

to an empty shop?

That empty shop is

obviously being used...

as an accommodation

address or letter drop.

But what gets dropped

must be picked up.

The question is how

and by whom...

and why?

Hammer.

Chisel.

Here.

lt's so strange to think...

l've been writing to a place

like this all these months.

Look. Canaries.

Suppose this could've

been a pet shop?

Maybe.

Shh.

Here comes our letter.

Well, now we are faced with...

the most nerve-racking part

of a detective's job--

doing nothing...just waiting.

-Mr. Holmes?

-Mm-hmm.

l don't know how l'm

going to pay for all this.

The purse with my money in it...

is somewhere at

the bottom of the Thames.

lt could be worse.

You could be

at the bottom of the Thames...

much to your discomfort

and much to my chagrin.

l don't understand how anybody

picks up letters here.

There's no footprints,

just tracks.

What does it mean?

l would surmise somebody

was using ice skates...

if it weren't for

a conspicuous absence of ice.

What do we do now?

This way.

Oh.

Good morning, my pretties.

Here's Mum with your breakfast.

You think l'd forgotten you?

Some of you will be going

on a little trip soon.

l hate to lose you...

but even an old woman's

got to live.

Though you might well ask why.

Oh. Oh!

You never told me.

We have a letter.

Ooh!

-Got it?

-Yeah. All right.

Come on, you old body.

Right. l'll be taking them.

Morning, duchess.

Good morning.

What have you been

doing with yourself?

What do you think?

Taking dancing lessons.

How many do you

want this time?

Two dozen.

What are you doing

with all those canaries?

What's going on up there?

Now, duchess, we don't know,

and we don't want to know.

When you work for Jonah...

it's better not

to ask questions.

Come on.

Six, eight, ten--get in there.

Fourteen, seventeen--in you go.

Twenty, twenty-four.

How about that letter?

Does that go, too?

No. This is going to be

picked up in person.

Go on.

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