The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Page #2

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back and all.

Nothing is as important

as the care of my flowers.

Through your neglect

this flower has died.

- You've murdered a flower.

- I'm sorry, sir.

And to think that for

merely murdering a man

I was incarcerated for six whole

weeks in a filthy prison cell.

A pity, sir.

- A travesty on justice.

- Quite so, sir.

But for this crime, Dawes,

you should be flogged,

broken on the wheel,

drawn and quartered.

- Yes sir, will that be all, sir?

- And boiled in oil.

Thank you, sir.

- Go away.

- Yes, sir.

Well Billy, when you finish

sweeping you can dust.

Yes, ma'am.

- Well, good morning, Dr. Watson.

- Good morning, Mrs. Hudson.

Is Mr. Holmes in?

- Go right up, doctor.

- Ah good.

Is he busy?

Well you might say he was busy

- and then again,

you might say he was not busy.

- Huh?

Say he was busy,

not say he was busy...

Well, well, well, well, Billy.

That's a fetchy little froth

that you're wearing.

Mrs. Hudson made me put it in, sir.

I was afraid Mr. Holmes

or you would see me.

I think it's very becoming.

Come in, Watson.

I trust I don't come

inopportunely.

My dear fellow,

as if you ever could.

Come on, pull up a chair.

As a matter of fact, you're

just in time to help me decide

a matter that is certainly delicate

- and possibly of the

greatest importance.

- Of course, anything I can do.

I received this note

last night.

"My dear Mr. Holmes.

I'm taking the liberty of

calling on you at eleven

o'clock tomorrow morning."

That's very soon now.

"To ask you what may appear

a silly question

whether or not I should go to

a garden party on Saturday

at Lady Conyngham's.

I beg you to see me. I'm in

desperate need of advice.

Sincerely yours, Ann Brandon."

What you make of it, Watson?

Somebody's pulling your leg.

No, no, no.

I checked on the young lady.

She lives in town with her brother.

She's very rich, mining fortune.

Her father died somewhat

mysteriously about ten years ago.

As for Miss Brandon's dilemma,

Lady Conyngham is

imminently respectable

but she gives the kind of

parties that one comes away

from with a feeling

that one hasn't been anywhere.

Oh, how can you trifle with

such inconsequentialities

when Moriarty's lose on London?

My dear Watson, you astound me.

It's the very

inconsequentialities of

Miss Brandon's message

that engages my interest.

But Moriarty, what of him?

I've taken the most efficient steps

of keeping in touch with Moriarty.

- You're having him followed.

- Oh, don't be so crude, Watson.

Well, what are you doing?

Nothing.

Nothing?

My dear Watson,

you needn't check me back

as if I didn't have a voice.

I said "Nothing."

That's the best thing I can

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