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The Private Life Of Sherlock Holmes Movie Script

Writer(s) : Billy Wilder, I.A.L Diamond

Genres : Comedy, Drama, Mystery

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THE PRIVATE LIFE OF SHERLOCK HOLMES


                by

  Billy Wilder and I.A.L Diamond

THE PRIVATE LIFE OF SHERLOCK HOLMES

FADE IN:

BRASS PLAQUE - DAY

Engraved on it are the words: COX & CO., Bankers.
Reflected in its shiny surface are double-decker red
buses, and other present-day London traffic.


INT. BANK VAULT - DAY

An iron gate opens, and two bank guards come in. One of
them switches on the lights. On the shelves which line
the walls are dusty strong-boxes, document cases, wrapped
packages, etc. The guards move along the shelves
searching for something.

                        WATSON'S VOICE
           Somewhere in the vaults of a bank in
           London is a tin dispatch box with my name
           on it. It is not to be opened until
           fifty years after my death.

The guards find a battered tin dispatch box with the name
JOHN H. WATSON, M.D., painted on it. They remove it from
the shelf, set it down on a table. The box is tied with
heavy cord, the knots sealed with wax. Strung on the
cord is the key.

                        WATSON'S VOICE
           It contains certain mementos of my long
           association with a man who elevated the
           science of deduction to an art -- the
           world's first, and undoubtedly most
           famous, consulting detective.

While one of the guards dusts the box off, the other cuts
the cord with a pair of scissors. He then inserts the
key in the lock, turns it, raises the lid -- revealing
the dusty contents of the box.

OVER THIS, SUPERIMPOSE THE MAIN TITLE.

The guards now start to remove the objects from the box,
one at a time: -- A daguerreotype of Holmes, standing,
and Watson, seated, in a a stiff studio pose; Holmes'
deerstalker hat, his curved pipe, his magnifying glass;
Watson's stethoscope, Holmes' revolver; a small enamel
sign with the number 221B; a pair of handcuffs;

                                                          2.


a sheet of music paper which is unrolled to disclose a
violin piece composed by Holmes, titled FOR ILSE von H.;
A pocket watch, the back of which is opened to reveal a
photograph of Gabrielle Valladon; a signet ring bearing
the initials S.H. -- under which is concealed a compass;
a worn morocco case -- inside which is an early-model
hypodermic syringe; a crystal ball which, when shaken,
produces a snowstorm - and when the snow settles, we see
a bust of Queen Victoria.

OVER THESE OBJECTS, THE REST OF THE CREDIT TITLES ARE
SUPERIMPOSED.

The last item out of the box   is a thick stack of
manuscript paper, bound with   green ribbon. The guard
undoes the ribbon, dusts off   the top page, as CAMERA
MOVES IN CLOSER.  Written in   ink, in the cursive
penmanship of the period, is   the following paragraph:

          To my heirs:

          In my lifetime, I have recorded some
          sixty cases demonstrating the singular
          gift of my friend Sherlock Holmes --
          dealing with everything from The Hound of
          the Baskervilles to his mysterious
          brother Mycroft and the devilish
          Professor Moriarty. But there were other
          adventures which, for reasons of
          discretion, I have decided to withhold
          from the public until this much later
          date. They involve matters of a delicate
          and sometimes scandalous nature, as will
          shortly become apparent.

OVER THIS, WE HEAR THE VOICE OF DR. WATSON, reading the
text.

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


YORKSHIRE LANDSCAPE - DAY

A passenger train of the late Nineteenth Century is
chugging through the early morning mist.

                       WATSON'S VOICE
          It was August of 1887, and we were
          returning from Yorkshire, where Holmes
          had solved the baffling murder of Colonel
          Abernetty.

                                                         3.




INT. COMPARTMENT - MOVING TRAIN - DAWN

There are but two passengers in the compartment --
sitting by the window, facing each other. In fact they
are dozing. One wears a deerstalker and an Inverness
cape; the other is in a dark overcoat and a black bowler,
a furled umbrella between his legs, a medical bag on the
seat beside him. The rest of their luggage is on the
racks above. They are, of course, SHERLOCK HOLMES and
DR. JOHN H. WATSON. This being 1887, they are thirty-
three and thirty-five respectively.

                          WATSON'S VOICE
             You may recall that he broke the
             murderer's alibi by measuring the depth
             to which the parsley had sunk in the
             butter on a hot day.

                                                DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. BAKER STREET - DAY

A hansom cab, with Holmes' and Watson's luggage strapped
to the rack on top, is proceeding down the busy street.

                          WATSON'S VOICE
             He was the most brilliant man I have ever
             known -- and I dare say people have
             envied me for sharing that flat with him
             in Baker Street.

The cab draws up   in front of 221B. The front door opens
and MRS. HUDSON,   a plump, motherly woman in her fifties,
wearing an apron,   hurries down the steps. She greets
Holmes and Watson   warmly as they alight.

                          WATSON'S VOICE
             I'll grant you he was stimulating -- but
             he could also be moody, unpredictable,
             egocentric, and more often than not,
             completely infuriating -- as our
             landlady, Mrs. Hudson, can attest --
             bless her kind soul.

The cabbie   starts to unload their luggage. As Holmes,
Watson and   Mrs. Hudson proceed inside, CAMERA TRAVELS UP
THE FACADE   OF THE BUILDING, past the number 221B, to the
bay window   on the second floor.

                                                         4.




INT. LIVING ROOM - 221B BAKER STREET - DAY

It's all there -- the fireplace, the coal scuttle, the
Persian slipper with the tobacco; the velvet wing chair,
the basket chair with the writing-arm, the couch with the
cushions; the sideboard with the tantalus and the
gasogene; the acid-stained deal-topped table with Holmes'
chemical equipment on it, the dining table, the small
Moorish table; the bookshelves and the violin case; the
gas fixtures and the oil lamps; the dumbwaiter connecting
with the kitchen in the basement; and Holmes' desk, piled
high with papers, clippings, research material, etc.

Holmes is pulling up the window shades. Watson has
removed his hat and coat, and is putting his medical bag
down on the sideboard; the cabbie, having deposited their
luggage, is just leaving.

                       MRS. HUDSON
          I do wish you'd give me a little more
          warning when you come home unexpected.    I
          would have roasted a goose -- and had
          some flowers for you.

                       HOLMES
          My dear Mrs. Hudson -- criminals are as
          unpredictable as head-colds. You never
          quite know when you're going to catch
          one.

He has picked up a dagger, starts opening his mail, which
is on the dining table.

                       MRS. HUDSON
          I'll unpack your bags.

She exits into one of the bedrooms.   Watson has now taken
a magazine out of an envelope.

                       WATSON
          Here's an advance copy of Strand
          Magazine.
                 (shows it to Holmes)
          They've printed 'The Red-Headed League!'

On the cover is a colored illustration from the story,
featuring in obligatory Inverness and deerstalker.

                                            5.



             HOLMES
       (offhand)
Very impressive.

             WATSON
       (leafing through the
        magazine)
Would you like to see how I treated it?

             HOLMES
I can hardly wait. I'm sure I'll find
out all sorts of fascinating things about
the case that I never knew before.

             WATSON
Just what do you mean by that?

             HOLMES
Oh, come now, Watson, you must admit that
you have a tendency to over-romanticize.
You have taken my simple exercises in
logic and embellished them, exaggerated
them...

             WATSON
I deny the accusation.

             HOLMES
You have described me as six-foot-four,
whereas I am barely six-foot-one.

             WATSON
A bit of poetic license.

             HOLMES
       (removing Inverness and
        deerstalker)
You have saddled me with this improbable
costume, which the public now expects me
to wear.

             WATSON
That's not my doing.
       (indicating cover of Strand)
Blame it on the illustrator.

             HOLMES
You've made me out to be a violin
virtuoso. Here --

                                            6.


       (holds out a letter he's been
        reading)
-- a request from the Liverpool Symphony
to appear as soloist in the Mendelssohn
Concerto.

             WATSON
       (excited)
Oh, really?

             HOLMES
The fact is that I could barely hold my
own in the pit orchestra of a second-rate
music hall.

             WATSON
You're much too modest.

             HOLMES
       (busy with the mail)
You have given the reader the distinct
impression that I am a misogynist.
Actually, I don't dislike women -- I
merely distrust them. The twinkle in the
eye and the arsenic in the soup.

             WATSON
It's those little touches that make you
colorful --

             HOLMES
Lurid is more like it. You have painted
me as a hopeless dope addict -- just
because I occasionally take a five per
cent solution of cocaine.

             WATSON
A seven per cent solution.

             HOLMES
Five per cent. Don't you think I'm aware
you've been diluting it behind my back?

             WATSON
As a doctor -- and as your friend -- I
strongly disapprove of this insidious
habit of yours.

                                                      7.



                       HOLMES
          My dear friend -- as well as my dear
          doctor -- I only resort to narcotics when
          I am suffering from acute boredom -- when
          there are no interesting cases to engage
          my mind.
                 (holding out one of the open
                  letters)
          Look at this -- an urgent appeal to find
          six missing midgets.

He tosses the letter down is disgust.

                       WATSON
          Did you say midgets?

He picks up the letter.

                       HOLMES
          Six of them -- the Tumbling Piccolos --
          an acrobatic act with some circus.

                       WATSON
          Disappeared between London and Bristol
          ... Don't you find that intriguing?

                       HOLMES
          Extremely so. You see, they are not only
          midgets -- but also anarchists.

                          WATSON
          Anarchists?

                       HOLMES
                 (nodding)
          By now they have been smuggled to Vienna,
          dressed as little girls in burgundy
          pinafores. They are to greet the Czar of
          all the Russias when he arrives at the
          railway station. They will be carrying
          bouquets of flowers, concealed in each
          bouquet will be a bomb with a lit fuse.

                       WATSON
          You really think so?

                       HOLMES
          Not at all. The circus owner offers me
          five pounds for my services -- that's not
          even a pound a midget.

                                                          8.


          So obviously he is a stingy blighter, and
          the little chaps simply ran off to join
          another circus.

                         WATSON
                   (crestfallen)
          Oh.    And it sounded so promising --

                       HOLMES
          There are no great crimes anymore,
          Watson. The criminal class has lost all
          enterprise and originality. At best they
          commit some bungling villainy, with a
          motive so transparent that even a
          Scotland Yard official can see through
          it.

He has crossed to the desk, suddenly notices something.

                       HOLMES
                 (angrily)
          Mrs. Hudson!
                 (even angrier)
          MRS. HUDSON!

Mrs. Hudson comes hurrying out of the bedroom.

                         MRS. HUDSON
          Yes?    What is it? What have I done now?

                       HOLMES
                 (sternly)
          There is something missing from my desk.

                        MRS. HUDSON
          Missing?

                       HOLMES
          Something very crucial.
                 (picks up a small feather)
          You have been tidying up against my
          explicit orders.

                       MRS. HUDSON
          Oh, I made sure not to disturb anything.

                       HOLMES
          Dust, Mrs. Hudson, is an essential part
          of my filing system. By the thickness of
          it, I can date any document immediately.

                                                       9.



                       MRS. HUDSON
          Some of the dust was this thick.

She demonstrates with her thumb and forefinger.

                       HOLMES
                 (promptly)
          That would be March, 1883.

He blows the feather away.

                                             DISSOLVE TO:


INT. LIVING ROOM - EVENING

START on Holmes' foot, operating a bellows. CAMERA PANS
UP to the top of the chemistry table, on which an
elaborate apparatus of brass, glass and rubber tubing has
been set up. Inserted into the ends of the rubber tubes
are half a dozen cigarettes, four cigars of different
shapes and colors, and four pipes, all lit. Activated by
the bellows, they are puffing away like mad, wheezing
loudly and filling the screen with smoke. Seated at the
table is Holmes, in shirt-sleeves. Occasionally he
knocks off an ash onto a glass slide, studies it under a
microscope.

Watson, in a dressing gown, is sitting in the chair with
the writing arm, documenting the latest Holmes adventure
for Strand Magazine. The open mail has now been affixed
to the center of the wooden mantelpiece, with a dagger.

Mrs. Hudson is clearing the dinner dishes from the table,
and loading them onto the shelf of the dumbwaiter. The
accumulation of smoke in the room makes her cough.

                       MRS. HUDSON
          How can you stand this? Why don't you
          let me air the room out?

                       WATSON
          Please, Mrs. Hudson -- he's working on a
          definitive study of tobacco ash.

                       MRS. HUDSON
                 (drily)
          I'm sure there's a crying need for that.

                                                      10.



                       WATSON
          In our endeavors, it is sometimes vital
          to distinguish between, say, the ashes of
          a Macedonian cigarette and a Jamaican
          cigar. Sor far he has classified 140
          different kinds of ashes.

                       MRS. HUDSON
          All of which will end up on my rug.

She is now pulling on the rope which lowers the
dumbwaiter.

                       WATSON
          That'll be enough, Mrs. Hudson.

                       MRS. HUDSON
                 (heading for door)
          All right. If you gentlemen want to stay
          here and suffocate...

She exits, shutting the door. For a while, the two go on
working. Then Holmes rises abruptly from the chemistry
table.

                         HOLMES
          She's right.    I am suffocating.

                       WATSON
          Let me open a window.

                       HOLMES
          Not from lack of air -- from lack of
          activity. Sitting here week after week --
          blowing smoke rings -- staring through a
          microscope -- there's no challenge in
          that.

                       WATSON
          Personally, I consider it a major
          contribution to scientific criminology...

Holmes has opened his violin case and taken out his
fiddle.

                       HOLMES
          How I envy you your mind, Watson.

                         WATSON
          You do?

                                                          11.



                         HOLMES
            It's placid, imperturbable, prosaic. But
            my mind rebels against stagnation. It's
            like a racing engine, tearing itself to
            pieces because it's not connected up with
            the work for which it was built.

He has tucked the violin under his chin, starts to
improvise a nervous pent-up melody. There is nothing
amateurish about it -- he plays quite well.

Watson resumes working on his manuscript. Suddenly the
music stops. Watson looks up apprehensively. Holmes has
put down the violin, and is crossing to the sideboard.
He opens Watson's medical bag, takes out a bottle of
cocaine, starts toward his bedroom. Watson pushes the
writing arm to the side, rises from his chair.

                           WATSON
            Holmes --

Holmes   pays no   attention, continues into the bedroom.
Watson   crosses   to the open door. Inside the bedroom,
Holmes   has put   down the cocaine bottle on the washstand,
and is   rolling   up his left sleeve.

                         WATSON
            Holmes, where is your self-control?

                         HOLMES
            Fair question.

From a drawer he takes a morocco case, opens it, removes
a hypodermic syringe.

                         WATSON
            Aren't you ashamed of yourself?

                           HOLMES
            Thoroughly.    But this will take care of
            it.

He has removed the stopper from the cocaine bottle, and
inserting the hypodermic needle into it, starts to draw
up the liquid.

                                                  DISSOLVE TO:

                                                        12.




EXT. BAKER STREET - DAY

It is raining. A bus comes down the street, the open top
deck sprouting umbrellas like black mushrooms.

                       WATSON'S VOICE
          Naturally, I don't mean to imply that my
          friend was always on cocaine -- sometimes
          it was opium, sometimes it was hashish.
          And once he went one of these dreadful
          binges, there was no telling how long it
          would last.


INT. LIVING ROOM - 221B BAKER STREET - DAY

Rain beats on the windows.    Holmes and Watson are in the
middle of an argument.

                       WATSON
          The only reason you moved in with me is
          to have a steady supply of stimulants.

                       HOLMES
          Now, now, Watson -- you mustn't
          underestimate your other charms.

He starts into the bedroom.

                       WATSON
          Holmes, I warn you. If you lock yourself
          in there once more --

                       HOLMES
          I intend to do nothing of the sort.

He takes the hypodermic out of the drawer in the
washstand, starts back into the living room with it.

                       HOLMES
          Not until you replace this needle.    It is
          getting rather blunt.

As Watson glares at him, the door opens and Mrs. Hudson
comes bustling in. Holmes hides the hypodermic behind
his back.

                       MRS. HUDSON
          I made you some tea and cress sandwiches.

                                                         13.



She opens the door of the dumbwaiter, starts to pull it
up.

                       WATSON
          Mrs. Hudson, I want you to pack my bags.

                       MRS. HUDSON
          Are you going away for the weekend?

                        WATSON
          And beyond.   I'm moving out.

                        MRS. HUDSON
          Moving out?
                 (she looks at Holmes)

                       HOLMES
          I'm just as surprised as you are.

                       WATSON
          You heard me, Mrs. Hudson.     And let's not
          waste any time.

Mrs. Hudson sighs, exits into Watson's bedroom.

                       HOLMES
          May I be so bold as to ask where you'er
          going?

                       WATSON
          I don't know yet. But I intend to resume
          my practice. I am, after all, a doctor.
          And quite a competent one, if I say so as
          shouldn't.

                       HOLMES
          You'll find it very dull -- snipping out
          tonsils and flushing out kidneys --

Watson is glancing around the room, searching for
something.

                       HOLMES
          If you're looking for your medical bag,
          you hid it under the Moorish table.
                 (as Watson crosses to it)
          Which shows a little more imagination
          than last time -- when it was under your
          bed.

                                                        14.



Watson picks up the Moorish table, disclosing the medical
bag, standing on end. He sets the bag down on the
fender, opens it.

                       WATSON
          I will, of course, continue to pay my
          half of the rent until you find someone
          to share these rooms with you.

                       HOLMES
          Where am I going to find anyone who will
          put up with my rather eccentric habits?

                       WATSON
                 (taking hypodermic needle out
                  of bag)
          Here's a fresh needle -- and here's my
          farewell present to you.

He takes out three bottles of narcotics, puts them on the
mantel.

                       WATSON
          If you want to destroy yourself, go right
          ahead. But I won't sit by and watch you
          doing it.

He snaps his bag shut, carries it toward his bedroom.

                       HOLMES
          Watson...

Watson disappears into the bedroom, slamming the door.
Holmes looks after him, then looks at the bottles of dope
on the mantelpiece. He starts pacing. After a moment he
stops at the chemistry table, studies the assorted
glassware on the shelves above.


INT. WATSON'S BEDROOM - DAY

There are two open valises on the bed. Watson is moving
around the room, collecting various odds and ends, while
Mrs. Hudson packs his clothes.

                       MRS. HUDSON
          It's so sad. You and Mr. Holmes -- after
          all these years --
                 (she sobs)

                                                       15.



                       WATSON
          Please, Mrs. Hudson -- none of that.

Mrs. Hudson takes a clean handkerchief from the open
valise, blows her nose.

                       MRS. HUDSON
          I'll wash this and send it on to you.

                       WATSON
          I'll be at Brown's Hotel.

                       MRS. HUDSON
                 (still sniffling)
          I know how it feels -- I once went
          through a divorce myself.

                       WATSON
                 (removing diploma from wall)
          Actually, I'm rather looking forward to
          it. Leading a normal life again.
          Regular office hours -- nine to three --
          and if occasionally there's an emergency
          call in the middle of the night, I know
          it's going be appendicitis and not an ax
          murder. Let Holmes go mucking about in
          the fog and the sleet, looking for a
          bloodstained collar-button out on the
          moors, with some demented hound snapping
          at his behind --

From the living room comes the sound of a revolver shot.
Mrs. Hudson screams and Watson looks off in alarm. Then
he races out of the room, diploma in hand, followed by
Mrs. Hudson.


INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY

As they burst into the room, they see Holmes sitting on
the stool beside the chemistry table, a revolver in his
hand. He has shattered one of the narcotics bottles on
the mantelpiece, and is aiming at a second one.

                       MRS. HUDSON
          Mr. Holmes...

Holmes fires, smashing the second bottle. As Mrs. Hudson
takes a step forward, he waves her away with the gun.

                                                         16.



                       HOLMES
          Please, Mrs. Hudson.    You're in my line
          of fire.

Watson jerks Mrs.   Hudson back as Holmes lets go with
another shot. The    bullet disposes of the third bottle,
splattering glass   and liquid all over the place. Holmes
rises calmly from   the stool, crosses to the desk, puts
the revolver away   in a drawer.

                       MRS. HUDSON
                 (outraged)
          How many times have I told you I will not
          tolerate pistol practice on my premises?
          I should have evicted you when you shot
          them holes in my wall.

She points up to a spot near the ceiling. Neatly traced
in bullet holes are the initials V.R., with a small crown
above them.

                       HOLMES
          Merely celebrating Her Majesty's Golden
          Jubilee.

                       MRS. HUDSON
          Look at that mess you made --

Watson is looking at Holmes with a little smile on his
face.

                       WATSON
          It's all right, Mrs. Hudson. I'll clean
          it up --
                 (hands her the diploma)
          -- while you unpack my things.

                         MRS. HUDSON
          Unpack?

                       HOLMES
          You heard him.

A bewildered Mrs. Hudson goes back into the bedroom.
Watson crosses to the fireplace, picks up the whiskbroom
and the coal shovel, starts cleaning up the broken glass.

                       WATSON
          Thank you, Holmes. I know how difficult
          it must've been for you --

                                                      17.



                       HOLMES
          Not really. It was simple choice between
          a bad habit and a good companion.

                       WATSON
          You've made me very happy.

                       HOLMES
          I've often been accused of being cold and
          unemotional. I admit to it. And yet, in
          my cold, unemotional way, I'm very fond
          of you, Watson.

                       WATSON
          I know that. But one likes to hear these
          things occasionally.

He notices the violin, which has been splattered with the
liquid from the shattered bottle, picks it up.

                       WATSON
          Look at this. Covered with that nasty
          stuff. I'd better dry it off.

                        HOLMES
          I'll do it.

He takes the instrument, and dabbing it with a
handkerchief, carries it toward the violin case.

                       WATSON
          For a moment, I was worried that you were
          going to let me walk out -- that you
          weren't even going to try to stop me.

                       HOLMES
          Now, Watson -- you know there's nothing I
          wouldn't do to keep you here.

With a side-glance at the busy Watson, he opens the
violin case. Neatly stashed away around the edges are
the three original bottles of narcotics. The ones he
shot up, of course, were substitutes from the chemistry
set. He places the violin carefully among the bottles,
closes the case, snaps the locks. As he moves off, we
STAY on the violin case.

                                                         18.



                       WATSON'S VOICE
          It was not the first not the last time he
          tricked me like that. Normally, I was
          inclined to forgive him...

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY

Watson, in his dressing gown, is sitting at the table,
finishing his coffee. In front of him is a letter, on
blue note-paper, and a pair of theatre tickets.

                       WATSON'S VOICE
          But on one occasion, he did something
          that was so utterly unforgivable, that I
          would gladly have murdered him -- had it
          not been for my saintly disposition.

Watson sets down his coffee cup, picks up the letter and
the tickets, rises from his chair. He starts to pace --
addressing Holmes, who is off-scene.

                       WATSON
          Why are you being so stubborn, Holmes?
          Why won't you go? It's the final
          performance of the Imperial Russian
          Ballet -- the house has been sold out for
          months --

He moves towards the door of --


HOLMES' BEDROOM - DAY

Holmes is sitting in a hip-bath with a high back, soaping
himself. Watson appears in the doorway.

                       WATSON
          -- seats are going for a guinea apiece --

                       HOLMES
          That's precisely it. Why should someone
          send up two free tickets? Anonymously,
          at that.

                       WATSON
          Whoever sent them must be in great
          distress. The note says --

                                                         19.


                 (reading it)
          'Please! You are the only man in the
          world who can help me.'

                       HOLMES
          I suspect it's some sort of plot.

                       WATSON
          You mean somebody wants to lure us into a
          trap...?

                       HOLMES
          Somebody wants to kill me.

                       WATSON
          Kill you?

                       HOLMES
          That's right. It's a plot to bore me to
          death. I detest ballet.

                       WATSON
          But this isn't just any ballet.     It's
          Swan Lake.

                                                     CUT TO:


INT. THEATRE - NIGHT

START ON THE CONDUCTOR, in the orchestra pit,   as he gives
the downbeat for the second acto music of SWAN   LAKE.
CAMERA PULLS BACK TO INCLUDE THE STAGE, with a   mechanical
sway crossing the mist-shrouded lake. CAMERA    CONTINUES
TO PULL BACK, REVEALING Holmes and Watson, in   evening
clothes, occupying a box in the upper tier.

                       WATSON
                 (confidentially)
          You know, of course, Holmes -- that swan
          isn't really a swan -- it's an enchanted
          princess.

                       HOLMES
                 (bored)
          H'mmmm.

On the stage now, the hunters appear, carrying lighted
torches.

                                                       20.




BOX

Watson trains his opera glasses on the stage, Holmes
stifles a yawn.


STAGE

PETROVA, as the Queen of the Swans, makes her entrance to
loud applause. She is in her forties, but splendidly
preserved, undoubtedly the greatest ballerina around.


BOX

Watson nudges Holmes, who has dozed off.

                       WATSON
          Fabulous woman, don't you think so,
          Holmes?

                       HOLMES
                 (coming to)
          Who?

                       WATSON
          The great Petrova.

He hands the glasses to Holmes, who focuses them
indifferently on the stage.


STAGE

Petrova is making an exit, backwards, on points.


BOX

Holmes lowers the glasses, returns them to Watson.

                       HOLMES
          Very strong arches, I must admit.

                       WATSON
          They say twelve men have died for her.

                       HOLMES
          Really.

                                                         21.



                       WATSON
          Six committed suicide, four were killed
          in duels, and one fell out of the gallery
          in the Vienna Opera House.

                       HOLMES
          That's only eleven.

                       WATSON
          The man who fell from the gallery landed
          on top of another man in the orchestra.

                       HOLMES
          That makes an even dozen -- in a messy
          sort of way.

Watson resumes watching the stage through the glasses.


STAGE

Petrova and the dancer playing the Prince go into the
famous pas-de-deux.


BOX

Watson enjoying himself immensely, Holmes sitting there
dourly. The red plush curtain at the rear of the box
parts, and a man in evening clothes and a top hat enters.
He is in his middle fifties, extremely soigne, and
somewhat sinister. His name is ROGOZHIN, and he is
Russian. Holmes and Watson look around.

                       ROGOZHIN
          Mister Holmes?

                       HOLMES
          Yes.

                       ROGOZHIN
          I am Nicolai Rogozhin, director-general
          of the Imperial Russian Ballet. So glad
          you accept invitation.

Holmes and Watson start to get up, but he motions them
back into their chairs.

                       HOLMES
          This is Dr. Watson.

                                                     22.



                       ROGOZHIN
          Pleased to meet you.
                 (seating himself behind them)
          You are enjoying?

                       WATSON
          Immensely.

                       ROGOZHIN
                 (abruptly)
          Tell me, Mr. Holmes, how is your health?

                        HOLMES
          My health?   Better consult my doctor.

                       WATSON
                 (to Rogozhin)
          Oh, he's in excellent shape.

                       ROGOZHIN
                 (to Holmes)
          Any insanity in your family?   Diabetes?
          Asthma?

                       HOLMES
          Would you mind telling me what this is
          all about?

                        ROGOZHIN
          Certainly.   Madame Petrova, she has
          problem.

                       HOLMES
          Could you be more specific?

                       ROGOZHIN
          Certainly not.

                       WATSON
          A liason with a crowned head?
          Compromising letters? Blackmail?

He glances toward the stage.


STAGE

The pas-de-deux finished, to a rousing ovation.

                                                         23.




BOX

Rogozhin rises, turns to Holmes.

                       ROGOZHIN
          After performance, there will be little
          celebration backstage -- and Madame
          requests your presence.

                       WATSON
          We'd be delighted.

                       ROGOZHIN
                 (to Watson)
          You are invited, also.

With a parting look he exits, pulling the plush curtains
closed.

                                                    CUT TO:


STAGE

The performance is over, the curtain is up, the party is
on. Tables have been set up, with caviar, vodka and
champagne. The members of the orchestra are now playing
balalaikas, and crew and cast (the ballerinas still in
costume, the male dancers in tights) seem in high
spirits.

Holmes and Watson, in silk hats with canes, appear from
the wings, stop, survey the scene. Watson's eyes are
shining with anticipation. In contrast, Holmes' face is
sober and quizzical.

Rogozhin spots the two, detaches himself from a group,
hurries over to join them.

                       ROGOZHIN
          There you are, Mr. Holmes. Madame is
          expecting you in her dressing room. Dr.
          Watson, you will amuse yourself meanwhile
          -- we have vodka, caviar, girls.

                       WATSON
          No, thank you.

                                                        24.



                        ROGOZHIN
            No girls?

                         WATSON
            No caviar. Makes me break out in hives.

Rogozhin turns to a group of ballerinas, claps his hands.

                         ROGOZHIN
            Dievushki. Siude, siuda, dievushki.
            Posnakomtes s docktorum Watsonom.

Half a dozen ballerinas descend on on Dr. Watson. They
are giggling and chattering in Russian. Rogozhin leads
Holmes off, while Watson takes in the bevy of beauties
around him.

                         WATSON
            Any of you girls understand English?

                        GIRLS
            Nyet.

                         WATSON
            Not one single word?

                        GIRLS
            Nyet.

                         WATSON
            In that case, I don't mind telling you
            that you all have lovely po-pos.

He pats a couple of the po-pos with his cane.


BACKSTAGE

Rogozhin is leading Holmes toward Madame Petrova's
dressing room.

                         ROGOZHIN
            Mr. Holmes, I must prepare you -- this is
            no ordinary case.

                         HOLMES
            It is only the extraordinary that
            interests me.

                                                        25.



                       ROGOZHIN
          Good. Because you will find this extra-
          extraordinary.

They have now reached the door of Madame's dressing room.
Rogozhin knocks. The door is opened by an elderly
Russian maid.

                       ROGOZHIN
          Madame Petrova prinimaet?

                       MAID
          Pozhaluista voidite.

Rogozhin leads Holmes inside.    The maid steps out, shuts
the door.


INT. DRESSING ROOM - NIGHT

It is small, elegant and sensuous. There is vodka in an
ice-bucket, next to a Recamier chaise, a paravent, masses
of flowers, and finally Madame Petrova, still in costume,
sitting at a dressing table with multiple mirrors,
undoing her hair. Candles, in two elaborate candleabra,
give Madame's face a special glow.

                       ROGOZHIN
          Ja priviol vam Mistera Sherlock Holmesa,
          doragaia.

                       PETROVA
                 (to Holmes)
          Otchen rada.

She extends her hand, and Holmes takes it.

                       HOLMES
          Madame.

He kisses her hand. Petrova appraises him from head to
toe, and back again.

                       PETROVA
                 (to Holmes)
          Vi menshe rostom chem ja ozhidala.

                       HOLMES
          Madame says you are shorter than she
          thought.

                                                       26.



                       HOLMES
          I didn't mean to be.

                       PETROVA
          No eto nie vazhno. Menia interessujut
          glavnim obra som vashi mosghi.

                       ROGOZHIN
          Short, tall, who cares?   It is the brains
          that count.

                       HOLMES
                 (to Rogozhin)
          Thank you.
                 (catching himself, to
                  Petrova)
          Thank you.

Petrova rises, crosses to the paravent.

                       PETROVA
          Ja prochia vsie vashi prikliuchenia.
          Zamiechatelno! Os sobenno sobaka
          Baskervillei.

                       ROGOZHIN
          Madame is great admirer of yours. She
          has read every story -- her favorite is
          Big Dog from Baskerville.

                       HOLMES
          I'm afraid it loses something in
          translation.

Petrova is now behind the paravent, undressing, only her
head visible.

                       PETROVA
          Nikolai, pokazhite iemu skripku.

Rogozhin picks up a violin case, opens it.

                       ROGOZHIN
          Mr. Holmes, you know about fiddles.
                 (takes violin out, hands it
                  to him)
          What is your opinion of this?

Holmes holds the violin up, peers through one of the
sound holes.

                                                         27.



                       HOLMES
                 (reading)
          'Antonius Stradivarius Cremonesis, Anno
          1709.' Well, the label is authentic.
                 (examines violin, plucks
                  strings)
          Judging from the shape, the color of the
          varnish, and the tone, I would say it is
          a genuine Stradivarius of the best
          period.

                       ROGOZHIN
          You like?

                       HOLMES
          It's magnificent.

                       PETROVA
                 (from behind paravent)
          Skazhite jemu chto eto podarok ot menia.

                       ROGOZHIN
          Here -- take it. Madame says it is
          yours.

                       HOLMES
          Mine?

                       ROGOZHIN
          For services you will render.

                       HOLMES
          My fees as a detective are not exactly
          trifling -- but a Stradivarius -- you're
          not serious.

                        ROGOZHIN
          I am not.   But Madame is.

Petrova emerges from behind the paravent, in a brocade
dressing gown.

                       PETROVA
          Nalejte vodki i obiasnite jemu v chom
          dielo.

She drapes herself on the chaise.

                                              28.



              ROGOZHIN
All right.   I will pour vodka and
explain.
       (starts pouring vodka; it is
        pink)
Mr. Holmes, what you have seen tonight is
last and positively final performance of
Madame Petrova. She is retiring.

             HOLMES
What a shame.

             ROGOZHIN
She has been dancing since she was three
years old. And after all, she is now
thirty-eight.

             HOLMES
       (gallantly)
I must say she doesn't look thirty-eight.

             ROGOZHIN
That is because she is   forty-nine.
       (he hands her a   glass of
        vodka, with an   exaggerated
        smile)
So Madame has decided   to leave ballet and
spend life bringing up   her child.

             HOLMES
How admirable.

             ROGOZHIN
       (hands him vodka)
Problem now is to find father.

              HOLMES
Oh?   Is he missing?

             ROGOZHIN
Correct.

             HOLMES
And that's why you called me in?

             ROGOZHIN
Also correct. We must have father,
because without father, how can there be
child?

                                                           29.



                       HOLMES
          I see. The whole thing is still in the
          planning stage --

                       ROGOZHIN
          Correct again. Madame would like child
          to be brilliant and beautiful. Since she
          is beautiful -- she now needs man who is
          brilliant.

Holmes' eyes wander slowly toward Petrova.    She raises
her glass.

                         PETROVA
          Za zdorovie.

                       ROGOZHIN
                 (raising his glass)
          Za zdorovie.

                         HOLMES
          Za zdrovie.

Petrova and Rogozhin down their vodka bottoms up.    Holmes
takes one swallow, then stops.

                       HOLMES
          What's in it?

                       ROGOZHIN
          What does it taste like?

                         HOLMES
          Red pepper.

                       ROGOZHIN
          That's what's in it.

While Rogozhin refills Petrova's glass and his own,
Holmes takes another tentative sip.

                       PETROVA
                 (to Holmes)
          Kogda mi smozhem dvinutsa v putj?

                       HOLMES
          I beg your pardon?

                                             30.



             ROGOZHIN
Madame wants to know how soon you can be
ready.

            HOLMES
Ready?

             ROGOZHIN
To leave for Venice. All arrangements
have been made. You will spend one week
there with Madame...

             HOLMES
Well, this is all very flattering. But
surely there are other me -- better men --

             ROGOZHIN
To tell you truth, you were not first
choice. We considered Russian writer,
Tolstoi --

             HOLMES
That's more like it.   The man's a genius.

             ROGOZHIN
Too old... Then we considered the
philosopher, Nietzsche --

             HOLMES
Absolutely first-rate mind...

             ROGOZHIN
Too German... And we considered
Tschaikowski --

             HOLMES
Oh, you couldn't go wrong with
Tschaikowski --

             ROGOZHIN
We could -- and we did.   It was
catastrophe.

            HOLMES
Why?

             ROGOZHIN
You don't know? Because Tschaikowski --
how shall put it? Women not his glass of
tea.

                                            31.



              HOLMES
Pity, that.

             PETROVA
       (to Rogozhin)
Skazhite jemu chto je otchen dovolna etim
resheniem.

             ROGOZHIN
Madame is very happy with final choice.

             HOLMES
Madame mustn't be too hasty.   She must
remember I'm an Englishman.

              ROGOZHIN
So?

             HOLMES
You know what they say about us. If
there's one thing more deplorable than
our cooking, it's our love-making. We
are not exactly the most romantic of
people --

             ROGOZHIN
Perfect. We don't want sentimental
idiots -- falling in love, committing
suicide. One week in Venice -- she goes
back to St. Petersburg with baby -- you
go back to London with fiddle.

             HOLMES
An equitable arrangement.
       (puts down violin)
About my medical history -- when you
asked me -- I neglected to mention a
small detail. There is hemophilia in my
family. We're all bleeders.

             ROGOZHIN
       (to Petrova)
On govorit, chto v jevo semie stradajut
ghemofilijei.

             PETROVA
Pust nie bezpokoitsa.    Ja ostrighu sebe
noghti.

                                                       32.



                       ROGOZHIN
          Madame says not to worry.    She will not
          scratch you.

                       HOLMES
          That's reassuring to know.    But --

                       PETROVA
                 (to Rogozhin)
          Pochemu on kolebletsa? On nie nahodit
          menia dostatochno privlekatelnoi?

                       ROGOZHIN
          Madame says you talk too much.    You find
          her attractive or no?

Before Holmes can answer, the door opens and Watson
sticks his head in. He is flushed and slightly
inebriated, and there is a flower tucked behind his ear.
From off comes the SOUND of wild balalaika music.

                       WATSON
          Excuse me.
                 (to Rogozhin)
          What does prokanzik mean?

                       ROGOZHIN
          It means 'You little devil.'

                        WATSON
          It does?   I am? Thank you.

He hurries off, shutting the door.

                       ROGOZHIN
                 (to Holmes)
          I repeat question. You find Madame
          attractive or no?

Holmes is still looking at the door where Watson exited,
an idea forming in his mind.

                       HOLMES
                 (turning to Rogozhin)
          Oh, I find her most attractive -- for a
          woman, that is.

                       ROGOZHIN
          Then no problem.

                                                33.



             HOLMES
Maybe a slight one.       You see, I am not a
free man.

              ROGOZHIN
Not free?   You are a bachelor.

             HOLMES
A bachelor -- living with another
bachelor -- for the last five years.
Five very happy years.

             ROGOZHIN
What is it you are trying to tell me?

             HOLMES
I hoped I could avoid the subject. But
some of us -- through a cruel caprice of
Mother Nature --

             ROGOZHIN
Get to point.

             HOLMES
The point is that Tschaikowski is not an
isolated case.

             ROGOZHIN
You mean, you and Dr. Watson -- ?
       (Holmes nods)
He is your glass of tea?

             HOLMES
If you want to be picturesque about it.

             PETROVA
       (slightly agitated)
Chto on govorit? Pri chom tut
Chaikovsky?

               ROGOZHIN
On pederast.

             PETROVA
       (on her feet now; flaring)
Jescho odin? Eto stanovitsa odnoobrasno!
Kakoi vi idiot!

                                                          34.



                          HOLMES
                   (picking up his silk hat and
                    cane)
            Believe me, Madame, the loss is all mine.
            But I would prefer to disappoint you know
            than disappoint you in a gondola in
            Venice.

He takes her limp hand, kisses it.   Then he crosses to
the door.

                         HOLMES
                   (imitating Rogozhin's accent)
            It would have been catastrophe.

He exits.   Rogozhin starts to pour himself another glass
of vodka.   Petrova slaps the glass out of his hand.

                         PETROVA
                   (screaming)
            Potchemu vi nie vijasnili eto eto ranshe,
            prezhde chem posoritj menia!


STAGE

The party has built into a real wingding by now. It's
wild -- drinking, laughing, singing. Everybody is turned
on -- especially Watson. He is dancing with a dozen of
the ballerinas to madly accelerating balalaika music.
Flower behind ear, hair mussed, tie undone, short of
breath -- he is in paradise.

Holmes makes his way through the revelers, approaches
Watson.

                         HOLMES
            Watson!
                   (Watson pays no attention)
            Watson, are you coming?

                         WATSON
                   (without missing a step)
            What is it, old boy?

                         HOLMES
            We're going home.

                                                       35.



                       WATSON
          Home? Not a chance. Not the slightest --
          not the remotest chance. Toodle-ooo.

He waves goodbye, and goes on swirling dizzily with the
girls. Holmes puts on his silk hat and leaves.

A shaken Rogozhin comes up to the buffet, pours himself a
stiff drink of vodka. As he drinks his eyes follow the
dancing Watson balefully.

Watson spins off several of the girls, grabs another
group. His ex-partners wind up close to Rogozhin. He
whispers something to them. Their eyes widen, and they
stare at Watson with disbelief. Watson again switches
partners, and the first girls now whisper intensely to
those who just left the floor. The same reaction.
Watson, oblivious to all this, is whirling around with
another set of girls.

By now some of the girls who are in on the secret are
whispering to the male dancers in tights. Their reaction
is slightly different. They are seeing Watson in a new
light. And before Watson knows what's happening, he has
been abandoned by all the girls, and is joined first by
one pair then another pair of male dancers, till he is
dancing only with gay guys in tights. It gradually dawns
on Watson that there is something wrong with this state
of affairs. After some difficulty, he breaks away from
them.

                         WATSON
          Hold on!    Just a moment!

Spotting Rogozhin, he crosses to him.   The girls shrink
away at his approach.

                       WATSON
                 (bewildered)
          What's going on? What happened to the
          girls?

                        ROGOZHIN
          Why?   Do you not prefer it this way?

                        WATSON
          What way?

                                                         36.



                       ROGOZHIN
          You don't have to pretend. Mr. Holmes
          told us everything -- about you and him --

                       WATSON
          About me and him?

                       ROGOZHIN
          Come now, no need to be bashful. We are
          not bourgeois. Maybe with doctors and
          detectives is unusual -- but in ballet,
          is very usual.

                       WATSON
          What is?

                       ROGOZHIN
          Caprice of Mother Nature. Look at Pavel
          and Mischa and Boris and Dmitri --

Watson looks around at the boys in tights, who are
standing in a half-circle, grinning at him insolently.
It is beginning to dawn on him. He pales.

                       ROGOZHIN
          -- And Ilya and Sergei --
                 (breaks off, rocks his hand
                  back and forth)
          Sergei -- half and half.

He pours himself another vodka. Watson grabs the glass
away from him, downs it with a gulp.

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


INT. LIVING ROOM - 221B BAKER STREET - NIGHT

In contrast to the frenetic ambiance of the back-stage
party, the room seems doubly placid. Holmes, his dinner
coat replaced by a smoking jacket, is sitting in the wing
chair, having a quiet pipe after the evening's peculiar
adventure. Only the desk lamp is lit. From the street,
there is the sound of hurried, angry footsteps
approaching the house. Holmes turns his head languidly --
he knows who is coming.

                                                         37.




EXT. BAKER STREET - NIGHT

An enraged Watson, cane and opera glasses in hand, and
the flower still behind his ear, is jogging down the
center of the deserted street.


INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Holmes rises casually, twists the wing chair so that its
back is to the door, crosses to the lamp on the desk,
turns the wick down. From off comes the sound of
Watson's key rattling in the front door lock.


STAIRCASE - 221B BAKER STREET - NIGHT

The front door opens and Watson storms into the
vestibule.

                       WATSON
          Holmes!

He races up the stairs and across the landing, flings
open the door of the flat.

                       WATSON
          Holmes!


INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Watson, grim and breathless, stands in the open doorway.
Over the back of the wing chair, he sees smoke curling up
from Holmes' pipe.

                       WATSON
          There you are, you wretch! You rotter!
          You blackguard! Of all the vile,
          unspeakable fabrications. What do you
          have to say for yourself?

No answer from Holmes. We now see -- but Watson does not
-- that the chair is occupied by a section of Holmes'
smoking machine, with the pipe attached.

                       WATSON
          Don't just sit there -- speak up, man!

                                                       38.



Still no answer -- just a little pipe smoke drifting up
from the wing chair. Incensed, Watson raises the opera
glasses, tosses them toward the chair. There is a loud
thud, the pipe falls to the floor, then there is silence.
Watson suddenly becomes concerned.

                        WATSON
          Holmes...?   Are you all right, Holmes?

He approaches the chair apprehensively, shoves  it aside --
and there on the floor is the smoking machine,  still
wheezing slightly. Watson picks it up, and his   eyes
travel to Holmes, standing in a shadowy corner,  working
the bellows with his foot.

                       HOLMES
          From the sound of your footsteps, I
          gathered that you were not in a
          particularly amiable mood.

                       WATSON
                 (with renewed fury)
          How could you do a dastardly thing like
          that to me? What the deuce were you
          thinking of?

He dashes the smoking machine to the floor.

                        HOLMES
          Watson, you  have my most abject
          apologies.   But have you ever been
          cornered by  a madwoman?  It seemed like
          the only way  to get out of it without
          hurting her  feelings.

                       WATSON
          What about my feelings? And my
          reputation? Do you realize the gravity
          of what you have done? The possible
          repercussions?

                       HOLMES
          So there'll be a little gossip about you
          in St. Petersburg...

                       WATSON
          These things spread like wildfire. I can
          just hear those malicious whispers behind
          my back. I'll never be able to show my
          face in polite society...

                                                      39.


          And if it ever got back to my old
          regiment -- you don't know the Fifth
          Northumberland Fusiliers -- they'll
          strike me off the rolls -- they'll cut
          off my pension...

                       HOLMES
          Watson, you're running amok.

                       WATSON
          Dishonored, disgraced, ostracized.   What
          am I to do?

                       HOLMES
          Well, for one thing, I'd get rid of that
          flower.

He points to the flower behind Watson's ear. Watson
grabs the flower, hurls it into the fireplace.

                       WATSON
          You may think this is funny, but we're
          both in the same boat. We must take
          desperate measures. We must stop this
          talk...
                 (a beat, then an idea)
          Maybe if we got married...

                       HOLMES
          Then they'd really talk...

                       WATSON
                 (starts pacing)
          Obviously, we cannot continue to live
          under the same roof. We must move apart.

                       HOLMES
          Of course, we can still see each other
          clandestinely -- on remote benches in
          Hyde Park, and in the waiting rooms of
          suburban railway stations --

                       WATSON
                 (a change in attitude;
                  defiant)
          The whole thing is ridiculous.   We have
          nothing to hide.

                       HOLMES
          That's what I've been trying to tell you.

                                                          40.



                       WATSON
          Let somebody start a rumor -- just one
          ugly word -- and we'll sue them for
          slander.

                       HOLMES
          Nobody would dare. After all, you have
          an enviable record with the fair sex.

                       WATSON
          Damn right. I can get women from three
          continents to testify for me. And you
          can get women to vouch for you, too --
          can't you, Holmes?

No answer from Holmes.   Watson is becoming a little
concerned.

                       WATSON
          Can you, Holmes?

                       HOLMES
          Good night, Watson.

He starts toward his bedroom.

                       WATSON
          Holmes, let me ask you a question --
                 (Holmes stops)
          I hope I'm not being presumptuous -- but
          there have been women in your life?

                       HOLMES
          The answer is yes.
                 (a relieved sigh from Watson)
          You're being presumptuous.
                 (Watson's face falls)
          Good night.

He walks into his bedroom, shutting the door.    Watson
takes a tentative step after him.

                         WATSON
          Holmes...

                                                DISSOLVE TO:

                                                      41.




INT. LIVING ROOM - 221B BAKER STREET - NIGHT

There is a cheery fire burning in the grate. Holmes is
stretched out full-length on the couch, playing a set of
Corelli variations on his violin. Watson is in his usual
chair, reading the Evening Standard.

                       WATSON'S VOICE
          What, indeed, was his attitude toward
          women? Was there some secret he was
          holding back -- or was he just a thinking
          machine, incapable of any emotion?


EXT. BAKER STREET - NIGHT

Wisps of fog swirl along the street, making yellow haloes
around street lamps.

                       WATSON'S VOICE
          I was not to get the answer until we
          became involved in what I consider to be
          the most outrageous case in all our years
          together.

Out of the mist comes a hansom cab, with the dim figure
of a woman visible in the passenger seat. The cab stops
in front of 221B, and the driver starts to get down.
From upstairs comes the faint sound of violin music.


INT. LIVING ROOM - NIGHT

Watson steps up to the window, pulls the curtain aside,
looks down toward the street.


EXT. 221B BAKER STREET - NIGHT

The cabbie crosses the pavement, consults an address in
his hand, glances up at the number of the house, then
rings the bell.


INT. LIVING ROOM - 221B BAKER STREET - NIGHT

Watson turns away from the window, as the BELL downstairs
rings again. Holmes stops playing.

                                                       42.



                       WATSON
          Were you expecting someone?

                       HOLMES
          Not at this hour.

                       WATSON
          Maybe Mrs. Hudson is entertaining.

                       HOLMES
          I never found her so.

Watson crosses to the door, opens it, steps out.   Holmes
resumes playing Corelli.


VESTIBULE AND STAIRCASE - 221B BAKER STREET - NIGHT

Mrs. Hudson, in a robe and night-cap, is talking to the
cabbie in the open street door when Watson appears on the
landing above.

                       WATSON
          What is it, Mrs. Hudson?

                       MRS. HUDSON
                 (looking up)
          There's a cabbie here -- he says you owe
          him two-and-six.

                       WATSON
          For what?

                       CABBIE
                 (to Watson)
          For the fare, guv'nor. The young lady
          doesn't have any money.

                       WATSON
          What young lady?

                       CABBIE
          This one.

He reaches out the door, pulls in the young lady in
question. She is in her early thirties, with strikingly
handsome features, but at the moment she is somewhat
worse for wear. She is wrapped in a blanket, her hair is
wet, and there is a bruise on her temple.

                                                         43.


She is wearing and wedding ring and her name, we will
subsequently learn, is GABRIELLE.

                       WATSON
          Well.  What have we here?
                 (he starts down the stairs)
          Who are you, miss? What happened to you?

                       GABRIELLE
                 (slight accent)
          I don't know.

                       CABBIE
          That's all she keeps saying -- I don't
          know, I don't know.

The violin music stops o.s.   Watson has now reached the
foot of the stairs.

                       WATSON
          Where did she come from?

                       CABBIE
          From the river. I was driving down the
          Embankment, just below Westminster
          Bridge, and there she was in the water --
          drowning.

Holmes appears on the landing above, violin and bow in
his hand.

                       CABBIE
          It wasn't easy, guv'nor -- what with the
          cold water -- and her fighting me --

                       HOLMES
                 (from the upper landing)
          Why did you bring her here?

                       CABBIE
          Because I found this in her hand --
                 (gives a square of soggy
                  cardboard to Watson)
          -- 221B Baker Street -- that's right,
          isn't it?

Watson examines the cardboard, nods.

                                                        44.



                       HOLMES
                 (to Gabrielle)
          Young lady -- what did you want at this
          address?

                       GABRIELLE
                 (looking up, trying to focus)
          I do not remember.

                       WATSON
                 (to Holmes)
          Rather perplexing, wouldn't you say?

                        HOLMES
          Rather.

                       CABBIE
          Well, gentlemen, you want her? -- it's
          two-and-six -- or shall I throw her back
          in the river?

                        MRS. HUDSON
          Mr. Holmes.   You can't let him --

                       HOLMES
          Watson, you'd better accept delivery.

Watson fishes some coins out of his pocket, hands them to
the cabbie.

                       WATSON
          Keep the change.

                       CABBIE
          Thank you, guv'nor.

He snatches the blanket off Gabrielle, revealing that her
dress is clinging to her damply.

                       CABBIE
          No extra charge for the use of the horse-
          blanket.

He exits into the street, shutting the door.    Gabrielle
hugs herself for warmth.

                       WATSON
          You're shivering, my dear.
                 (he puts his arm around her)

                                                      45.


          Come along. Let me get you out of those
          wet clothes.

He starts to lead her up the stairs.


EXT. BAKER STREET - NIGHT

The cabbie has tossed the blanket into the hansom, and is
mounting the driver's seat. Across the street, a man
steps out of the fog into a pool of light cast by one of
the street lamps. He is a craggy-faced Prussian of about
fifty, and his name is VON TIRPITZ. He looks up toward
the Holmes flat. As the hansom makes a U-turn and comes
abreast of him, he hops into the cab. The hansom
disappears into the fog.


INT. LIVING ROOM - 221B BAKER STREET - NIGHT

Watson is leading Gabrielle to a chair by the fireplace.
Holmes is putting his violin down on the table.

                       WATSON
          Sit here, my dear.

He settles her in the chair. Holmes comes over, plucks
the square of cardboard from Watson's hand.

                       WATSON
          She's suffering from shock and exposure.

He starts to massage her wrists to restore her
circulation.

Holmes is examining the soggy cardboard. On one side is
their address, written in pencil. He turns it over,
disclosing some smudges of green ink on the other side.

                       HOLMES
          There was some printing on the back of
          this -- but it seems to have come off in
          the water.

Watson is now studying the bruise on Gabrielle's temple.

                       WATSON
          Look at this -- she's had a nasty blow on
          the head.

                       HOLMES

                                                      46.


          Could she have hit her head when she fell
          or jumped into the river?

                       WATSON
          No. The blood has already coagulated.
          So it would appear that she was the
          victim of a deliberate attack... Get my
          bag, will you?

As Holmes fetches the medical bag, Gabrielle looks from
one to the other.

                         GABRIELLE
          Who are you?

                       WATSON
          I'm Dr. Watson -- and this is Mr.
          Sherlock Holmes. Do the names mean
          anything to you?

                         GABRIELLE
          No.

                         WATSON
          Think.

                         GABRIELLE
          I'm trying.

                       HOLMES
          Can you think of your own name?

                          GABRIELLE
                   (a beat, then shakes her
                    head)
          No.

                       WATSON
          She's obviously had a concussion -- which
          often leads to temporary amnesia.

He has now taken some cotton and a bottle of antiseptic
out of the medical bag, and is swabbing her wound.

                       HOLMES
          So all we know is that she was coshed on
          the head, dumped into the Thames, and
          subsequently dumped into our laps.

                                                      47.



                       WATSON
          We know a lot more than that. From her
          accent, we know she is foreign -- from
          her ring, we know she is married -- and
          there is one other clue we have...
          Something I deduced while I was helping
          her up the stairs. No corset.

                       HOLMES
          Good work.

He glances down at Gabrielle's shoe, which has slipped
off her foot. Inside, slightly worn away, are the words:
LA FEMME ELEGANTE.

                       HOLMES
                 (to Gabrielle)
          Are you French?
                 (in Berlitz French)
          Vous etes Francaise?

                       GABRIELLE
                 (concentrating -- then)
          Non, je ne suis pas Francaise.

                       WATSON
          How can she say she's not French, in
          French?

                       HOLMES
          Vous etes Suisse?

                       GABRIELLE
          Non.

                       HOLMES
          Alors, vous etes Belge.

                       GABRIELLE
                 (haltingly)
          Je suis pas sure.

Holmes reaches behind her, turns back the collar of her
dress. Sewn inside is a label reading: BAZAAR MODERN,
Bruxelles.

                       HOLMES
          Vous etes Belge -- de Bruxelles!

                                                      48.



                         GABRIELLE
          Bruxelles?    Oui... Je pense que oui.

Mrs. Hudson has come in with a loaded tea-tray, starts to
put it down on the table.

                       MRS. HUDSON
          Oh, dash. Will someone remove the
          violin, please?

Watson takes the violin off the table, and she sets down
the tray.

                       WATSON
          We just found out that she's Belgian.

                        MRS. HUDSON
          Poor thing.

                       WATSON
          From Brussels.

                       HOLMES
                 (taking Gabrielle's hand)
          If you don't mind.

He slips the wedding ring off her finger, picks up a
magnifying glass, examines it. It is made of copper, and
engraved on the inside is the inscription: Gabrielle -
Emile.

                       HOLMES
          Your name is Gabrielle, is that right?
          Gabrielle?

                       GABRIELLE
          I don't know.

                       HOLMES
          And your husband's name is Emile?

                       GABRIELLE
                 (vaguely)
          Emile...

                      HOLMES
          Where is he? What are you doing in
          London?

                                                         49.



                       GABRIELLE
          I don't know.

                       HOLMES
          When did you arrive from Brussels?     Where
          are you staying?

                       GABRIELLE
          I don't know.

                       HOLMES
          What happened at the river?   Think!
          Pensez! Concentrez vous!

Gabrielle bursts into sobs.

                        WATSON
                 (stepping forward)
          That's enough, Holmes. I will not permit
          you to question her in this condition.
                 (helps the sobbing Gabrielle
                  out of the chair)
          Mrs. Hudson, put her to bed. My bed.
                 (Mrs. Hudson gives him a
                  look)
          I'll sleep on the couch.

                       MRS. HUDSON
          Come, my dear.

She puts her arm around Gabrielle, who is still crying,
leads her into Watson's bedroom.

                       WATSON
          I'd better mix her a sleeping potion.

He gets a packet of white powder out of his medical bag,
and during the following, stirs a spoonful into her tea-
cup.

                       HOLMES
          Watson, I think we should arrange to have
          her removed to a hospital.

                       WATSON
          Under no circumstances.

                       HOLMES
          She should have medical attention.

                                                        50.



                       WATSON
          She can get that from me. But more
          importantly, she must be protected --
          there has already been one attempt on her
          life.

                       HOLMES
          This temporary amnesia -- how temporary
          is it?

                       WATSON
          It depends on the extent of the injury.
          It's like veils shrouding her memory. It
          could clear up in a few days -- or a few
          weeks.

                       HOLMES
          Watson, this is a very small flat -- we
          don't want to clutter it up with women...

                       WATSON
          Holmes, we've never had a case like this.
          A woman comes to us with a problem -- we
          don't know who the woman is -- and we
          don't know what the problem is. Don't
          you find that challenging?

                       HOLMES
          Quite. But we can't afford to wait for
          those veils to lift -- we must break
          through them as quickly as possible.

                        WATSON
          You   really feel it's that urgent?

                       HOLMES
          I do. The sooner we solve the case, the
          sooner we can get rid of her.

                       WATSON
          Oh.

He picks up the cup of tea with the sedative in it,
carries it toward the door of his bedroom.

                                                DISSOLVE TO:

                                                         51.




EXT. BAKER STREET - DAWN

The street lamps are still lit. A policeman, on patrol
duty, is strolling along the sidewalk, swinging his
truncheon. Suddenly he sees something up ahead.
Alarmed, he ducks into the doorway of a building,
flattens himself against the door.

From the opposite direction comes a horse-drawn water-
sprinkling wagon. The spray covers the sidewalks as well
as the street.

The policeman waits till the wagon is past, then steps
out of the doorway relieved, resumes his patrol.


INT. LIVING ROOM - 221B BAKER STREET - DAWN

Watson is asleep on the couch, covered with a blanket.
He doesn't look as if he were in a very comfortable
position.


INT. HOLMES' BEDROOM - DAWN

Holmes, in a dressing gown, is standing by the window,
studying the square of cardboard with the green smudges
on it. His bed has not been slept in.


INT. WATSON'S BEDROOM - DAWN

Gabrielle is asleep in Watson's bed. The door opens
slowly, and Holmes looks in. He studies the sleeping
Gabrielle for a moment, then quietly pulls the door shut.
As the latch clicks into place, Gabrielle awakes and sits
up in bed, her back to CAMERA. She is nude.

                       GABRIELLE
          Emile?

She starts to get out of bed.


INT. HOLMES' BEDROOM - DAWN

Holmes is back in his room, once more examining the
cardboard by the light of the window. The door of
Watson's bedroom opens, and Gabrielle comes out.

                                                      52.



                       GABRIELLE
          Emile?

Holmes looks up as Gabrielle appears in the open doorway.

                        GABRIELLE
          Emile?   Is that you, Emile?

                       HOLMES
                 (stepping into shadow)
          Yes, Gabrielle.

                       GABRIELLE
                 (hurrying toward him)
          Ah, Emile. I thought I'd never find you.
                 (embracing him)
          Hold me. Hold me tight.
                 (Holmes puts his arms around
                  her)
          It's been such a long time. So many
          nights. You know what I did before I
          left Brussels?

                       HOLMES
          What?

                       GABRIELLE
          I hope you won't be angry with me. I
          bought myself an expensive negligee.

                       HOLMES
          Did you?

                       GABRIELLE
                 (moving toward bed)
          A pink negligee with maribou feathers.
          Don't you think that's a foolish thing
          for a married woman?
                 (she gets into bed, beckons
                  to him)
          Come.

                       HOLMES
          Where is the negligee?

                       GABRIELLE
          In my luggage... Come here.

                                                         53.



                       HOLMES
                 (moving toward her)
          And where is your luggage?

                       GABRIELLE
                 (impatiently)
          I don't know. Come, my love.   Come.
          Please.

As she extends her right hand to him, in a beckoning
gesture, Holmes notices something on the palm. He takes
her hand in his. There, in the same green ink as the
smudges on the cardboard, are what appear the be the
letters "I", "O", and Greek "E". Crossing to the wash-
stand, he picks up his magnifying shaving mirror, returns
to the bed, holds it up against the palm of Gabrielle's
hand.

                       GABRIELLE
          What is it, Emile? What are you doing?

Clearly reflected in the mirror is the reverse image of
the lettering on Gabrielle's palm -- the number "301".

                                                DISSOLVE TO:


INT. LIVING ROOM - 221B BAKER STREET - DAY

The table is set for breakfast, and Mrs. Hudson is
opening the curtains, flooding the room with sunlight.
Then she moves over to the couch, where Watson is
sleeping in an awkward position.

                       MRS. HUDSON
          Dr. Watson!
                 (she claps her hands and he
                  wakes up)
          Your porridge is getting lumpy. Hadn't
          you better get up?

Watson tries to rise, falls back with a moan.

                       WATSON
          I would like to very much. But --
                 (he turns over on his
                  stomach)
          Mrs. Hudson, would you mind planting your
          knee in the small of my back?

                                                         54.



                       MRS. HUDSON
          Yes, I would.

                        WATSON
          Please!   I'm in excruciating pain.

Mrs. Hudson tentatively rests her knee on Watson's back.

                       WATSON
          A bit higher -- just below my seventh
          vertebra --
                 (Mrs. Hudson follows
                  instructions)
          That's good. Put your arms under mine --
          fold them behind my neck --

Mrs. Hudson presses down harder, and there is a distinct
snap.

                       WATSON
          Bless you.
                 (he rises, rubbing his neck)
          That damn couch.
                 (crossing to table)
          You'd better see if our patient is awake.

He seats himself at the table. Mrs. Hudson crosses to
the door of Watson's bedroom, opens it, starts inside,
then stops.

                        MRS. HUDSON
          Dr. Watson.   She's gone.

                        WATSON
          Gone?

He jumps up from the table, joins Mrs. Hudson, looks past
her. The bed is empty. Gabrielle's clothes are in
evidence, but there is no sign of her.

Watson strides towards Holmes' bedroom.

                        WATSON
          Holmes!   Holmes! She's gone!

He throws the door open, is about to step inside when he
sees something that makes him freeze.

                                                        55.




INT. HOLMES' BEDROOM - DAY

Gabrielle is asleep in Holmes' bed, covered by just a
sheet, and obviously naked underneath. Holmes is not in
the room.

Mrs. Hudson comes up behind Watson, in the open doorway,
peers over his shoulder.

                       MRS. HUDSON
                 (scandalized)
          Well, I never!

There is the sound of the hall door opening, and they
both turn.


INT. LIVING ROOM - DAY

Holmes breezes in, carrying a large suitcase, with
leather straps around it. Tucked under the straps is a
white parasol. And attached to the handle of the
suitcase is a cardboard tag with the number 301 on it, in
green.

                       HOLMES
                 (inhaling deeply)
          Mmmmm. I smell porridge.   Lumpy as
          usual, I suppose.

He sets the suitcase down on the couch, as Watson and
Mrs. Hudson approach.

                       WATSON
          Oh, there you are, Holmes. We were just
          wondering -- how --
                 (points from his bedroom to
                  Holmes')

                       MRS. HUDSON
                 (sternly)
          We certainly were.

                       HOLMES
          Mrs. Hudson, why don't you go down to the
          kitchen -- get a towel -- and wipe that
          look of disapproval off your face.

                                                        56.



                       MRS. HUDSON
          Liberties -- in my house!

She exits huffily.

                       WATSON
          You can't really blame her -- I mean, the
          way it looks -- if I didn't know you
          better, I might suspect you'd taken
          advantage of the young lady.

                       HOLMES
          As a matter of fact, I did take advantage
          of her... Would you hand me the butter-
          knife, please?

                       WATSON
          Of course.

He picks up the butter-knife from the table, suddenly
turns back with a delayed reaction.

                       WATSON
          You did what?

                       HOLMES
                 (taking butter-knife from
                  him)
          Thank you.

He starts to pry open the locks of the suitcase with the
butter-knife.

                       WATSON
                 (spluttering)
          Holmes, this is reprehensible! Where are
          your professional ethics? Have you no
          sense of decency, no shame --

                       HOLMES
          None whatsoever. If you must know, I
          found her body quite rewarding.

                       WATSON
          You cad!

                       HOLMES
          Especially the palm of her right hand.

                                                         57.



                       WATSON
          I'd rather not hear about it!

                       HOLMES
          Very well. Then I won't bother to tell
          you how I traced her suitcase.

                       WATSON
          That's her suitcase?

                       HOLMES
          Remember that piece of soggy cardboard
          with our address on it? It was a luggage
          ticket -- the number rubbed off on her
          hand. And since she must have arrived
          from Brussels by the boat train, I
          concluded that she had checked her
          belongings at Victoria Station.

                       WATSON
          By Jove! If you're right, we should find
          a clue to her identity.

Holmes has now forced open the locks.

                       HOLMES
          Or at least a pink negligee with maribou
          feathers.

He opens the suitcase, lifts out the top piece of
clothing, holds it up -- a pink negligee with maribou
feathers.

                       HOLMES
          Voila!

                       WATSON
          Let's see - what else is in here?

They start sorting through the clothes in the suitcase.
Holmes removes a tied bundle of letters.

                       HOLMES
          Now we're getting somewhere.

As he examines the envelope, Watson takes out a framed
photo of a rather attractive man of fifty.

                       WATSON
          Who do you suppose this is?

                                                         58.



Gabrielle appears from Holmes' bedroom wearing Holmes'
dressing gown. She is unsteady on her feet and somewhat
dazed. Holmes looks up.

                       HOLMES
          Come in, Madame Valladon.
                 (Gabrielle stops)
          You are Gabrielle Valladon.

                        GABRIELLE
          Yes.

                       HOLMES
                 (holding up photo)
          And this is your husband, Emile Valladon?

                        GABRIELLE
          Yes.

Her eyes fall on the open suitcase.

                       HOLMES
          Sorry to have ransacked your valise.     But
          since you came to us for help --

                        GABRIELLE
          Where am I?

                       WATSON
          221B Baker Street.

                       GABRIELLE
          Oh, yes...
                 (a beat, as she orients
                  herself)
          Which of you is Mr. Holmes and which is
          Dr. Watson?

                       HOLMES
          Dr. Watson is the handsome one.

Watson, pleased, twirls the end of his mustache.
Gabrielle sways slightly.

                       HOLMES
          That's the way he affects most women.

He helps her into a chair.

                                                      59.



                       WATSON
                 (to Gabrielle)
          Coffee. You want strong coffee.

He hurries over to the breakfast table.

                       GABRIELLE
          It's all so confusing.

                       HOLMES
          Let's try to sort it out. You came to
          London looking for your husband...

                       GABRIELLE
          Yes. He's a mining engineer. We were
          married five years ago, in the Congo.

                       HOLMES
          Where your husband was working in a
          copper mine.

                       GABRIELLE
          How did you know?

                       HOLMES
          Your wedding ring -- it's made of copper.

He picks it up from the chemistry table, hands it to her.
Gabrielle starts to put it on.

                       GABRIELLE
          Last year he invented a new kind of air
          pump, and was hired by an English
          company, Jonah Limited.

                       WATSON
                 (handing her cup of of
                  coffee)
          Here you are.

                       HOLMES
          Jonah Limited. Go on.

                       GABRIELLE
          We've been writing to each other
          regularly. Then suddenly,  three weeks
          ago, his letters stopped.  I kept writing
          ... but no answer. Finally  I decided to
          go to that address --

                                                       60.



She indicates the bundle of letters. Holmes glances at
the return address on the back of the envelope.

                       HOLMES
          32 Ashdown Street.

                      GABRIELLE
          Yes. It's just an empty store -- nobody
          there. Then I tried to find Jonah
          Limited. No such company exists.

                       WATSON
          How decidedly odd.

                       HOLMES
          Madame Valladon, can you think of any
          reason why your husband should have lied
          to you about theses things?

                        GABRIELLE
          Emile?   Never. He loves me -- and I love
          him.

                       HOLMES
          So I gathered.

                       GABRIELLE
          I went to the police -- they said they
          would send out a missing persons report --
          but they didn't sound too encouraging.
          Then I went to the Belgian embassy and
          explained the situation to them -- and
          they suggested that I consult you...

                       WATSON
          You could have done worse.

                       GABRIELLE
          I was on my way here -- and suddenly
          there were footsteps behind me -- and a
          hand over my mouth -- and the smell of
          choloroform -- and the next thing I knew
          I was in the water -- and then a man was
          wrapping me in a blanket --

                       HOLMES
          Madame Valladon, somebody tried to kill
          you last night. Do you have any idea who
          could have done it?

                                                        61.



                       GABRIELLE
          I don't understand any of it.
                 (rises, goes to Holmes)
          What does it all mean, Mr. Holmes? Where
          is my husband? You must help me find
          him.

                       WATSON
          We'll do our best, I assure you.

                       HOLMES
          Madame Valladon, I want you to send one
          more letter to your husband.

He crosses to the desk, picks up a sheet of paper and an
envelope, then leads Gabrielle over to the chair with the
writing arm, seats her in it.

                       HOLMES
          To Emile Valladon -- Ashdown Street --
          what was that number?

                       GABRIELLE
                 (addressing envelope)
          32. What do you want me to say in the
          letter?

                       HOLMES
          Nothing.

He folds the blank sheet of paper, and as Gabrielle
finishes addressing the envelope, he inserts the paper in
it, starts to seal it.

                       WATSON
          You're sending an empty sheet of paper to
          an empty shop?

                       HOLMES
          That empty shop is obviously    being used
          as an accomodation address,    or letter-
          drop. But what gets dropped     must be
          picked up. The question is     how? -- and
          by whom? -- and why?

                                                DISSOLVE TO:

                                                         62.




EXT. ASHDOWN STREET - DAY

This is a run-down district in the northwestern part of
London. On the corner is No. 32 -- a dilapidated
abandoned shop, with windows painted halfway up.

As CAMERA APPROACHES the building, we hear sawing from
inside.


INT. EMPTY SHOP - DAY

It is dusty, cobwebby, quite forbidding. In the rear
wall is a closed sliding door, indented about a foot into
the shop. Nearby stands a large, square object, covered
with a tarpaulin.

High up in the rear wall is a slanted skylight, fitted
with an iron grill. From outside, Holmes, in deerstalker
and Inverness, can be seen sawing through the iron bars.
Watson and Gabrielle are beside him.

                       HOLMES
          Hammer... Chisel.

Watson hands him the indicated tools. Holmes chips away
the cement from the top and bottom of the last bar, then
using it as a hinge, swings the grill open. He lets
himself through the skylight, drops to the floor. Watson
now helps Gabrielle through the skylight, lowers her
toward Holmes, who puts his arms around her waist, eases
her to the floor. For a brief moment he keeps his arms
around her. Watson has now squeezed through the
skylight.

                        WATSON
          Here!

He hands the tools to Holmes, jumps to the floor.
Gabrielle is looking around the shop.

                       GABRIELLE
          It's so strange to think I've been
          writing to a place like this all these
          months.

Watson crosses to the square tarpaulin-covered object.
He lifts up one corner of the tarp -- and is greeted by a
loud twittering of birds.

                                                      63.


What he has uncovered is a large cage -- and about a
hundred canaries, suddenly disturbed, are flapping around
unside.

                       WATSON
          Look at all these canaries. Do you
          suppose this could have been a pet shop?

                       HOLMES
          Maybe.
                 (pointing off)
          Here comes our letter.

Through the front window, the silhouette of a postman can
be seen approaching. He drops a letter through the slot
in the front door, moves on. The letter lands on a
section of floor which is solidly covered with dust --
except for a series of double tracks, running to the door
and curving back.

                       HOLMES
          Now we are faced with the most nerve-
          wracking part of the detective's job --
          doing nothing.

He reassembles the three tools, fitting each section into
another, to form a cane.

                       GABRIELLE
          Mr. Holmes --

                       HOLMES
          Yes?

                       GABRIELLE
          I don't know how I'm going to pay you for
          all this. The purse with my money is
          somewhere at the bottom of the Thames.

                       HOLMES
          It could be worse. You could be at the
          bottom of the Thames -- much to your
          discomfort -- and much to my chagrin.

                       WATSON
          I don't understand how anybody picks up
          letters here.
                 (pointing)
          No footprints -- just tracks. What does
          it mean?

                                                         64.



                       HOLMES
          I would surmise somebody is using ice-
          skates -- if it weren't for a conspicuous
          absence of ice.

They become aware of a squeaking noise outside the rear
of the shop, growing louder as it gets nearer. The noise
stops, there is the sound of a lock turning, then the
rattle of a chain.

                       WATSON
                 (in a frantic whisper)
          What do we do now?

                       HOLMES
                 (unfazed)
          This way.

He leads Gabrielle and Watson toward the rear wall, right
next to the door. They flatten themselves with their
backs to the wall, just as the door slides open --
concealing them from view.

Revealed is the mews behind the shop. In the door is an
old BIDDY with straggly hair, sitting in a wheelchair.
In her lap are a bulky paper bag and a tin pitcher filled
with water. As she wheels herself inside, the unoiled
wheelchair squeaks loudly. She stops in front of the
cage, pulls on a rope which runs through a pulley in the
ceiling -- and the tarpaulin rises into the air, exposing
the canaries.

                       WOMAN IN WHEELCHAIR
                 (addressing birds)
          Good morning, my pretties. Here's Mum
          with your breakfast. Did you think I'd
          forgotten you?

She pours grain from the paper bag into a feeder hanging
inside the cage, pours water from the pitcher into a
trough.

                        WOMAN IN WHEELCHAIR
          Some  of you will be going on a little
          trip  soon -- I hate to lose you -- but
          even  an old woman has to live. Although
          you  might well ask, why?

She cackles to herself, glances toward the front door.

                                                         65.



                        WOMAN IN WHEELCHAIR
          Oh.   You never told me we had a letter.

She starts to wheel herself toward the front of the shop.

Through a crack in the door behind which our three are
hiding, we see Holmes' eye watching her.

The old woman reaches the letter, picks it up, studies
the address. Then she hears something, glances toward
the open rear door.

A horse-drawn wagon with a canvas top is just pulling
into the mews. Two CARTERS jump down from the driver's
seat, and one of them takes a small bird-cage from the
back of the wagon. As they start in through the door,
the old woman drops the letter into her lap, wheels
herself toward them.

                       FIRST CARTER
          Morning, Duchess.

                       WOMAN IN WHEELCHAIR
          Morning.

                       SECOND CARTER
          What have you been doing with yourself?

                        WOMAN IN WHEELCHAIR
          What do you think? Taking dancing
          lessons.
                 (she stops in front of the
                  cage)
          How many do you want this time?

                       FIRST CARTER
          Two dozen.

He opens the door of the small cage, the bottom of which
is covered with newspaper, starts transferring canaries
into it from the large cage.

                       WOMAN IN WHEELCHAIR
          What are they doing with all those
          canaries? What's going on up there?

                       SECOND CARTER
          Look, Duchess, we don't know -- and we
          don't want to know.

                                                         66.



                       FIRST CARTER
          When you work for Jonah, it's better not
          to ask questions.

Through the crack in the door behind which he is hidden,
we see Holmes' eye studying the small bird cage, as the
canaries are being transferred into it.

We MOVE IN CLOSE on the small cage, and see the soiled
newspaper spread on the bottom. The masthead reads:
INVERNESS COURIER.

                       FIRST CARTER
                 (counting as he transfers
                  canaries)
          ... twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-
          four.

He closes the doors of the cages, picks up the small
cage. His companion indicates the letter in the woman's
lap.

                       SECOND CARTER
          How about that letter? Does that go,
          too?

                      WOMAN IN WHEELCHAIR
          No. That's going to be picked up in
          person.

She chuckles. The carriers exit into the mews, stash the
cage in the back of the wagon, mount the driver's seat.

                       WOMAN IN WHEELCHAIR
                 (to birds)
          All right, my pretties. Back to sleep
          you go. See you tomorrow.

She pulls the rope and the tarpaulin drops back over the
cage. Then she deposits the letter on top of the covered
cage, wheels herself out the rear door. As she slides it
shut from outside, our trio is revealed in their hiding
places behind the door. There is the sound of the chain
rattling, the lock snapping, and the squeaky wheels
moving off.

                       WATSON
                 (a sigh of relief)
          I really thought we were done for.

                                                         67.



                       HOLMES
                 (casually)
          The art of concealment, my dear Watson,
          is merely a matter of being in the right
          place at the right time.

They step forward, and through the painted shop window
watch the old woman wheel herself down the street.

                       GABRIELLE
          Did you hear what she said? You really
          think Emile is going to pick up the
          letter himself?

                       HOLMES
          It certainly would simplify things,
          wouldn't it?

                       WATSON
                 (shaking his head)
          Maildrops and canaries and wheelchairs...
          And what was all that about Jonah? And
          what do you suppose they're doing up
          there? And where is up there?

                       HOLMES
          My guess would be Scotland.   Inverness,
          to be more precise.

                       WATSON
          Inverness?

                       HOLMES
          Didn't you notice the paper at the bottom
          of their cage? The Inverness Courier.

Gabrielle glances casually at the letter the old woman
left lying on top of the cage, and her expression
changes.

                       GABRIELLE
          Mr. Holmes! This letter --
                 (she picks it up)

                       HOLMES
          What about it?

                       GABRIELLE
                 (holding it out to him)
          It's addressed to you.

                                                           68.



Holmes takes the letter, examines the envelope.    It is
indeed addressed to him.

                        HOLMES
           Nevertheless --

With the saw-end of his cane, he slits the envelope open,
removes the enclosure, unfolds it. We see the letter in
his hand as he reads it out loud. The letterhead says:
DIOGENES CLUB, St. James's, London.

                        HOLMES
                  (reading)
           My Dear Sherlock: I expect you and Dr.
           Watson to join me at the club immediately
           upon reciept of this note. According to
           my calculations, that should be at 11:40
           a.m. Your brother, Mycroft.
                  (looking up)
           What time do you make it, Watson?

                          WATSON
                    (consulting watch)
           11:43.

                        HOLMES
           Either your watch is wrong, or Mycroft
           has miscalculated. And knowing Mycroft,
           I suggest you reset your watch.

Watson automatcially obeys.

                                                DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. DIOGENES CLUB - DAY

Holmes, cane in hand, and Watson are swiftly ascending
the steps of a building with an imposing Palladian
facade. Beside the entrance is a discreet sign reading:
DIOGENES CLUB. Members Only. As they reach the top of
the steps, Watson stops Holmes.

                        WATSON
           I don't mind telling you I'm a bit
           apprehensive about this.

                                                      69.



                       HOLMES
          I'm rather curious myself as to what is
          going on in that Machiavellian mind of
          his.

                       WATSON
          I don't mean Mycroft, I mean Madame
          Valladon.

                         HOLMES
          Don't worry.    She's perfectly safe with
          Mrs. Hudson.

He opens the door and they start in.


INT. LOBBY - DIOGENES CLUB - DAY

Dominating the lobby is a large statue of Queen Victoria.
Presiding over the reception desk is a uniformed PORTER
of military bearing, with one arm and a chest full of
campaign ribbons. Holmes and Watson stride in.

                       HOLMES
                 (to porter)
          To see Mr. Mycroft Holmes.

                        PORTER
          Right you are. He's expecting you in the
          upstairs study. Now if you gentlemen
          will sign in --
                 (opens leather-bound
                  register, turns it toward
                  them)
          Surname, Christian name, address, nature
          of business --

He holds out the pen to them, but they are gone. He
looks around in consternation, sees them hurrying up the
majestic staircase, steps out from behind his desk.

                       PORTER
          Gentlemen...!


READING ROOM - DIOGENES CLUB - DAY

A huge room, with more marble than a mausoleum, and just
about as lively.

                                                        70.


A dozen elderly Establishment types are sunk deep in the
leather armchairs, buried behind their copies of The
Times.  Holmes and Watson are proceeding toward the
study.  Suddenly Holmes stops beside one of the old
fossils, who has fallen asleep in his chair, The Times in
his lap, and between his fingers a lighted cigar with an
ash four inches long. Holmes picks up an ashtray, holds
it under the cigar -- just in time to catch the falling
ash. As  he replaces the ashtray, he scrutinizes the ash.

                        HOLMES
           Jamaican, no doubt -- either Tropical or
           Golosina -- I'm not quite sure.

He and Watson continue toward the study door.


INT. STUDY - DIOGENES CLUB - DAY

It is a very elegant room   -- shelves of leather-bound
volumes reach to the high   ceiling, there are antique
terrestrial and celestial   gloves, scientific instruments
in polished brass, marble   busts of English statesmen.

MYCROFT HOLMES is standing at a refectory table, with his
back to the door, engaged in a curious operation. A
dusty bottle of wine is held in an ingeniously engineered
cradle. As he turns the crank, the bottle tilts forward
gently, and he decants the wine into three glasses
without disturbing the sediment.

Mycroft is an impressive figure of a man, seven years
older than Sherlock, impeccably dressed. Behind his
snobbish airs and bantering manner, one senses tremendous
reserves of strength and authority.

The door opens, and Holmes and Watson enter.

                        MYCROFT
                  (without turning)
           Come in, come in, Sherlock -- Dr.
           Watson... Sit down.
                  (Holmes and Watson seat
                   themselves)
           You're looking very fit, both of you.

                        WATSON
           Thank you.

                                                        71.



                       HOLMES
                 (putting down hat and cane)
          And how are you, Mycroft? How's your
          gout?

                       MYCROFT
          Under control. Except for the occasional
          twinge.

He brings over two of the glasses of wine to Holmes and
Watson.

                       MYCROFT
          I have a treat for you -- a very old
          Madeira -- 1814. There are  only six
          bottles left in the world.  I have two of
          them, and am negotiating for a third.

                       WATSON
          If you don't mind my saying so, anybody
          who's susceptible to gout shouldn't be --

Mycroft has moved back to the table and picked up his
glass of Madeira.

                       MYCROFT
          The last doctor who warned me about that
          was crossing Piccadilly, slipped on an
          orange peel, and was run over by a
          delivery van from the Fortnum and Mason.
          Your very good health.

He and Watson sip their drinks, but not Holmes.

                       HOLMES
          Why are you wasting this precious stuff
          on us?

                       MYCROFT
          Well, I see you so rarely. How long has
          it been? Not since the case of the Greek
          interpreter.
                 (to Watson)
          Isn't it ridiculous? Two brothers living
          in the same town...

                       HOLMES
          In the same town, perhaps -- but not the
          same world.

                                              72.



               WATSON
         (taking another sip)
Mmmm.    Superb. How old did you say it
was?

               MYCROFT
1814.    One year before Waterloo.

             WATSON
One year before Waterloo?    Think of that.

             MYCROFT
You do know where Waterloo is, don't you,
Doctor?

             WATSON
Belgium, isn't it?

              MYCROFT
Quite.
       (turning to Holmes)
And speaking of Belgium, it has come to
my attention that you are interested in
the whereabouts of a certain engineer.

              HOLMES
Yes, I am.

             MYCROFT
Well, I can save you a lot of trouble.

             HOLMES
I'd be grateful for any suggestion --

             MYCROFT
My suggestion is that you pursue it no
further.

             HOLMES
Any particular reason?

             MYCROFT
Because it involves the national
security. We are handling this matter
ourselves.

              WATSON
We?   Who's we?

                                                         73.



                       HOLMES
          The Diogenes Club, of course.

                       MYCROFT
          I didn't say that.

                       HOLMES
          I have always suspected that there was
          some underground connection between this
          stodgy and seemingly calcified
          establishment and the Foreign Office in
          Whitehall.

                       MYCROFT
          That's neither here nor there.

                       HOLMES
          It seems to me that The Diogenes Club is
          here, there and everywhere. When there
          are rumblings of revolt in the Sudan, an
          expedition subsidized by your club
          conveniently shows up to study the source
          of the Nile. When there is trouble along
          the Indian frontier, some of your fellow
          members pop up in the Himalayas,
          alledgedly looking for the Abominable
          Snowman.

A YOUNG MAN in morning coat and striped trousers comes
in, holding a telegram. Mycroft crosses to him.

                       MYCROFT
                 (to Watson)
          What a fertile imagination my brother
          has. At the age of five, by
          carefully observing a neighbor's house,
          he deduced that babies were brought not
          by the stork, but by the mid-wife in her
          satchel.

                       WATSON
          As good an explanation as any.

Mycroft has taken the telegram, and is coming forward
with it. The young man clears his throat.

                       MYCROFT
          Yes, Wiggins?

                                                      74.



                       YOUNG MAN
          An immediate answer is requested, sir.

Mycroft inserts a monocle in his eye, opens the telegram,
moves toward the desk reading it.

                       MYCROFT
          Tell them that the three boxes go to
          Glennahurich, and the red runner goes to
          the castle.

                       YOUNG MAN
          The three boxes to Glennahurich, the red
          runner to the castle. Very good, sir.

He exits. Holmes glances toward the telegram as Mycroft
puts it down on his desk. Catching his look, Mycroft
turns his telegram face-down, lets the monocle drop from
his eye.

                       HOLMES
          Why don't you crumple it up and swallow
          it -- to make sure.

                       MYCROFT
          My dear Sherlock, there  are certain
          affairs that do not come  within the
          province of the private  detective. They
          have to be dealt with on  an altogether
          different level.

                       HOLMES
          In other words, you want me to stay
          within my limits.

                         MYCROFT
          I do indeed.

                       HOLMES
          Speaking of limits, what exactly is Jonah
          Limited?

                       MYCROFT
          Sherlock, when I said drop this case, it
          was not merely a suggestion -- it was an
          order!

                       HOLMES
          By whose authority?

                                                         75.



                       MYCROFT
          By the authority of Her Majesty's
          government. I hope I've made myself
          clear.

                          WATSON
          Perfectly.

In his nervousness he drops his bowler, which rolls along
the floor.

                       MYCROFT
          Now if you'll excuse me, gentlemen --

                       WATSON
          Goodbye, sir.

                       HOLMES
          A pleasure, as always.

He and Watson retrieve their hats, move toward the door.

                       MYCROFT
                 (to Holmes)
          Just a minute.
                 (picks up Holmes' cane)
          You forgot your tool-kit.

He tosses the cane to Holmes, who catches it.

                                                DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. BAKER STREET - DAY

Holmes and Watson are walking toward 221B.   Holmes is
whistling 'Loch Lomond.'

                       WATSON
          You will be gentle, won't you, when you
          tell her you're dropping the case?

                       HOLMES
          Watson, what does the word Glennahurich
          suggest to you?

                       WATSON
          Absolutely nothing.

                                                      76.



                       HOLMES
          It's Scottish.

                       WATSON
          Is it?

                       HOLMES
          And like all Scottish names, it's really
          a word picture. Glen means valley, na
          means of the, and Hurich, if memory
          serves me, means yew tree.

                       WATSON
          You're just trying to impress me.

                       HOLMES
          So the three boxes go to the Valley of
          the Yew Tree.

He resumes whistling. They start to cross the street,
skirting a parked hansom. Feeding the horse is the same
cabbie who fished Gabrielle out of the river, and in the
passenger seat is Von Tirpitz, the craggy-faced Prussian
we saw before. He stares fixedly after Holmes and
Watson.

Holmes and Watson come up to the door of 221B, and Watson
fishes his key out. Holmes is still whistling.

                       WATSON
                 (singing along)
          And I'll be in Scotland before ye...
                 (breaks off, looks at Holmes
                  apprehensively)
          You are dropping the case, aren't you,
          Holmes?

                       HOLMES
          Open the door.

Watson turns the key in the lock, starts to open the
door, but is stopped by a chain on the inside. Through
the opening a revolver appears, aiming at them point-
blank.

                       HOLMES
          Don't shoot, Mrs. Hudson -- you're liable
          to lose two excellent tenants.

                                                       77.




INT. DOWNSTAIRS - 221B BAKER STEET - DAY

Mrs. Hudson withdraws the gun, unhooks the chain. She is
also holding an embroidery hoop. She opens the door, and
Holmes and Watson step into the vestibule.

                      MRS. HUDSON
          Oh, at last. It's been a ghastly
          experience.

                        WATSON
          Why?   What happened?

                       MRS. HUDSON
          Did you ever try doing embroidery with a
          gun in your hand?

                       HOLMES
                 (taking gun from her)
          You'll be relieved to know it was not
          loaded.

He starts up the stairs, followed by Watson.

                       WATSON
          Holmes, you didn't answer my  question.
          Are you planning to disobey  Mycroft's
          orders? He's not just your   brother, you
          know. You'd be defying Her   Majesty's
          government...

No reaction from Holmes. As they reach the landing,
Gabrielle is waiting for them in the open doorway of
their flat.

                        GABRIELLE
          Any news?   Did you find out anything?


INT. LIVING ROOM - 221B BAKER STREET - DAY

Holmes and Watson step inside.

                       HOLMES
          Let's just say I know what the next step
          will be.

                                                         78.



                       GABRIELLE
                 (anxious)
          Yes?

                       HOLMES
          I want you to pack your things.

                       GABRIELLE
          Where are we going?

                       WATSON
          Holmes, let me caution you ---

Holmes has put the gun down, and is crossing to one of
the book-shelves.

                       HOLMES
                 (to Gabrielle)
          At 7:30 this evening, Dr. Watson and I
          are going to take you to Victoria
          Station, and put you on the boat-train.

                       GABRIELLE
          The boat-train?

                       WATSON
          Well, that's better.

Holmes has taken a railway guide from the shelf and is
consulting it.

                       GABRIELLE
          You're sending me back to Brussels?   Is
          that it?

                       WATSON
          Madame Valladon, you must understand...

                       GABRIELLE
                 (to Holmes, agitated)
          I came here to find my husband -- you
          were going to help me --

                       WATSON
          Yes, my dear. But circumstances have
          changed --

                       GABRIELLE
          The great detective! Well, maybe this
          case is too small for you --

                                                      79.



                       WATSON
          On the contrary. It's being handled at a
          much higher level --

                        GABRIELLE
          Well, I won't go back to Brussels. Maybe
          you're giving up, but I'm not.
                 (tears welling up in her
                  eyes)
          I'm going to go on looking for him. And
          nobody's going to stop me -- even if they
          try to kill me.

                       HOLMES
                 (looking up from railway
                  guide)
          Are you quite finished? If you recall,
          what I said was that we're going to put
          you on the boat-train -- I didn't say you
          were going to stay on it.

                       WATSON
          She's not?

                       HOLMES
          At 7:30, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson will
          be seen waving goodbye to Madame Valladon
          at Victoria Station. At eight-twelve,
          Mr. and Mrs. Ashdown accompanied by their
          valet John --
                 (a glance at Watson)
          -- will appear at Euston Station, and
          board the Highland Express to Inverness.

                       WATSON
          Mr. and Mrs.... ?

                       GABRIELLE
                 (moving toward Holmes)
          Thank you. I'm sorry for what I said.
                 (kisses him on cheek)

                       HOLMES
          That's not necessary.

                       GABRIELLE
                 (smiling through tears)
          I'll go and pack.

She hurries off toward Watson's room.

                                                         80.



                       WATSON
                 (acidly)
          Maybe I should do it, since I'm the
          valet.

Holmes replaces the railway guide on the shelf.

                       WATSON
          Holmes, what exactly are you up to?

                       HOLMES
          As you like to put it in your chronicles,
          the game is afoot.

                       WATSON
          But what game? Are you really that
          interested in the Belgian engineer?

Without answering, Holmes heads for his bedroom.

                       WATSON
          Or the wife of the Belgian engineer?

Holmes, by this time in his bedroom, shuts the door.
Gabrielle reappears from the other bedroom, carrying a
glove.

                       GABRIELLE
          You don't like me very much, do you?

She moves toward the couch.

                       WATSON
          Nothing of the sort. Quite the
          opposite... But there's more to this
          case than meets the eye --

By this time Gabrielle has picked up her parasol from the
couch, and is obviously searching about.

                       WATSON
          Looking for something?

                       GABRIELLE
          My other glove.

                       WATSON
          Let me help you.

                                                        81.



He peers under the couch. Gabrielle moves toward the
window, shakes the parasol, opens it a few times.

                          WATSON
          Here it is.

He comes up from under the couch with the missing glove.

                          GABRIELLE
          Thank you.

She slowly starts to shut the parasol.


EXT. BAKER STREET - DAY

Through the upstairs window of 221B we see Gabrielle
shutting the parasol. CAMERA PULLS BACK TO INCLUDE the
hansom parked across the street, and von Tirpitz
watching. He signals to the cabbie, who is back on his
perch. The cabbie flicks his whip, and the hansom takes
off down the street.

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. COUNTRYSIDE - NIGHT

The Highland Express is speeding northward through the
moonlit landscape, its steam whistle hooting mournfully.


INT. SLEEPING COMPARTMENT - NIGHT

The upper and lower berths have been made up in the
small, gaslit compartment. Gabrielle's dress is on a
hanger, but there is no sign of her at the moment.
Holmes is just pulling a night-shirt over his head.

                         HOLMES
          All right.    You can look now.

Gabrielle's head appears from under the covers of the
lower berth.

                       GABRIELLE
          Am I embarrassing you, Mr. Holmes?

                                                         82.



                       HOLMES
          Not at all. Would it surprise you if I
          told you I once spent the night with 121
          women?

                       GABRIELLE
          Oh?

                       HOLMES
          On a very interesting case -- in a harem
          in Constantinople.

He starts to climb up the ladder to the upper berth.


INT. THIRD CLASS CARRIAGE - NIGHT

There is the normal complement of passengers, men, women
and children, of the middle and lower classes. The only
unusual occupants are a group of seven MONKS, in brown
habits and cowls.

Watson, in valet's livery, comes down the aisle, proceeds
toward a window-seat where he has left his umbrella and
bowler. The resf of the bench is occupied by monks, as
is the facing bench. As Watson tries to squeeze between
them, he steps on the foot of one of the monks.

                       WATSON
          Sorry, father -- I mean, friar -- or is
          it abbot?

There is no answer from the monk. Watson picks up his
bowler, settles himself in his seat, starts to fan
himself with his hat. He turns sociably to the monk
beside him, who is absorbed in his Bible.

                       WATSON
          Going to Scotland, you gentlemen?   So are
          we...

As he fans himself the ear-pieces of his stethoscope,
which is coiled inside the crown of his bowler, dangle
down. He quickly shoves them back inside.

                       WATSON
          I'm a valet. My master and mistress and
          I are our way to Inverness. Ever been
          there? Beautiful country.

                                                        83.



The monk looks up from his Bible, points to his lips,
shakes his head.

                       WATSON
          Oh, forgive me. You must be one of those
          orders that's taken the vow of silence.
          Trappists, I believe you're called.

The monk doesn't answer. Watson turns away, looks out
the window -- but there's nothing to be seen. Then he
folds, bored. He glances casually at the Bible in the
monk's hands.

The Good Book is opened to a page headed: JONAH.

                       WATSON
          I see you're reading the book of Jonah.
          Funny - we were just talking about Johan
          this morning...
                 (realizes the hopelessness of
                  the conversation, breaks
                  off)
          Never mind.

He pulls down the shade, closes his eyes, tries to
compose himself into sleep.


INT. SLEEPING COMPARTMENT - NIGHT

Holmes is stretched out in the upper berth, which is in
darkness. In the lower, Gabrielle is propped up against
a pillow, reading a magazine by the light of a gas lamp.
Other magazines are scattered across her blanket.

                       GABRIELLE
          Women are never to be trusted entirely --
          not the best of them.

Holmes raises himself on his elbow, glances down over the
edge of his berth.

                       HOLMES
          What did you say?

                       GABRIELLE
          I didn't say it -- you did. According to
          Dr. Watson.

                                            84.



            HOLMES
Oh.

             GABRIELLE
He gave me some back issues of Strand
Magazine.

             HOLMES
The good doctor is constantly putting
words into my mouth.

             GABRIELLE
Then you deny it?

             HOLMES
Not at all. I am not a whole-hearted
admirer of womankind.

             GABRIELLE
I'm not very fond of them myself.

             HOLMES
The most affectionate woman I ever knew
was a murderess.

            GABRIELLE
Oh?

             HOLMES
It was one of those passionate affairs --
at odd hours -- right in my laboratory.
And all the time, behind my back, she was
stealing cyanide to sprinkle on her
husband's steak and kidney pie.

             GABRIELLE
You mustn't judge all women by --

             HOLMES
Of course not. Only the ones I was
involved with. And I don't just mean
professionally -- kleptomaniacs,
nymphomaniacs, pyromaniacs. Take my
fiancee, for instance --

             GABRIELLE
Your fiancee?

                                                       85.



                       HOLMES
          She was the daughter of my violin teacher
          -- we were engaged to be married -- the
          invitations were out, I was being fitted
          for a tail-coat -- and twenty-four hours
          before the wedding, she died of
          influenza.

                       GABRIELLE
          I'm sorry.

                       HOLMES
          It just proves my contention that women
          are unreliable and not to be trusted.
                 (a beat)
          Good night, Mrs. Ashdown.

He pulls the curtain across his berth.

                       GABRIELLE
          Good night, Mr. Ashdown.

She closes her curtain, as the train whistle sounds.


INT. THIRD CLASS CARRIAGE - NIGHT

Most of the passengers in the car have fallen asleep, in
various uncomfortable positions, including Watson. The
monk beside Watson looks at him, to make sure he's out,
then rises and moves toward a monk seated apart from the
others.

                       MONK
                 (in a whisper)
          Die Spur fuehrt nach Inverness. Die
          steigen dort aus. Dort muessen wir ihn
          finded -- den Valladon!

The other monk looks up.   Under the cowl we recognize the
face of von Tirpitz.

                                              DISSOLVE TO:

                                                         86.




EXT. INVERNESS STATION - DAY

The Highland Express is pulling out of the station. As
the last car disappears, and the steam clears from the
tracks, we see Holmes, Gabrielle and Watson on the
platform. A BAGGAGEMAN is loading their luggage on a
hand-cart, under Watson's supervision.

                       WATSON
          Let's see -- two, three, four --

Gabrielle removes her parasol, which has been inserted
under the straps of her suitcase.

                       GABRIELLE
          I'll take that.

                       HOLMES
                 (to baggageman)
          How do you get to Glennahurich?    How far
          is it?

                       BAGGAGEMAN
          Glennahurich?

                       WATSON
          You know -- a valley -- with a yew
          tree... ?

Gabrielle casually opens her parasol.

                       BAGGAGEMAN
          It's about a mile out of town.
                 (a beat)
          Why would you be wanting to go there?

                       WATSON
          Well, if it's got a view, it might be a
          nice place for a picnic.

                       BAGGAGEMAN
          It's got a view, right enough -- but it's
          no place for a picnic.

                       HOLMES
          Why not?

                       BAGGAGEMAN
          Because it's a cemetary.

                                                         87.



Gabrielle looks at Holmes. CAMERA PANS UP TOWARD an iron
footbridge, spanning the railway tracks. Moving across
it in single file are the seven cowled Trappist monks,
with von Tirpitz in the lead.

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. GLENNAHURICH CEMETARY - DAY

Under a leaden sky, the yew trees which give the place
its name brood over ancient gravestones.

Holmes, Gabrielle and Watson come down an overgrown path,
stop and look off.

A rather meagre funeral procession is moving along the
avenue which runs between the rows of graves. It
consists of one normal-size pine coffin and two smaller
ones, loaded on a cart which is being wheeled by a couple
of workmen. Bringing up behind is a MINISTER, with an
open prayer book in his hands.

                       WATSON
                 (a note of excitement)
          The three boxes. Is that it, Holmes?

                       HOLMES
          I would think so.

                       GABRIELLE
          The two small ones -- they must be
          children's coffins.

Holmes starts to cut across between the graves, Gabrielle
and Watson following.

At the grave-site, the workmen are removing the coffins
from the cart. There is one large grave, two smaller
ones. A couple of grave-diggers stand by respectfully,
caps in hands.

Holmes, Gabrielle and Watson come up behind a nearby
headstone, stop and watch.

At the grave-site, the minister is finishing the service.

                       MINISTER
          ... earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust
          to dust.

                                                         88.


          In sure and certain hope of the
          resurrection to eternal life through our
          Lord, Jesus Christ. Amen.

The workmen trundle the cart off, the minister following.
The grave-diggers don their caps, pick up their shovels.

From their vantage point, Holmes, Gabrielle and Watson
are watching.

                         GABRIELLE
          It's so sad.

                       HOLMES
          Sad -- and rather odd. There are no
          flowers -- and no mourners.

The grave-diggers have finished filling in the graves
when Holmes, Gabrielle and Watson come up.

                         HOLMES
          Morning.

                       GRAVE-DIGGER
                 (looking up)
          Morning.

                       HOLMES
          Working you hard, Dad?

                       GRAVE-DIGGER
          Not really. This is healthy country.
          Sometimes you sit around for weeks with
          nothing to do. Then you get three in one
          day.

                       HOLMES
          What happened?

                       GRAVE-DIGGER
          An accident. Aye. Father and two sons,
          they say -- they were found floating in
          the loch.

                       HOLMES
          Local people?

                       GRAVE-DIGGER
          No. Nobody around here knows them. The
          story is that their boat capsized in a
          swell -- but I don't believe it.

                                                       89.



                       HOLMES
          What do you believe?

                       GRAVE-DIGGER
          You may think I'm an old fool or an old
          drunk -- but I've living around Loch Ness
          all my life...

                       WATSON
          Are you trying to tell us it was the
          monster?

                       GRAVE-DIGGER
          Damn right. MacLarnin saw the kids'
          faces when they were pulled out of the
          water -- looked like old men -- must've
          died of fright.

                        WATSON
          Incredible.

                       GRAVE-DIGGER
          Is it? Last Easter Sunday my wife and
          me, we were on our way to services, when
          suddenly... But what's the use?

He picks up a white-washed wooden cross, plants it at the
head of the grave. The other grave-digger has inserted
smaller crosses into the other two mounds of earth.

                       HOLMES
                 (taking some coins out of his
                  pocket)
          Here you are, Dad.
                 (hands them to the grave-
                  digger)

                       GRAVE-DIGGER
          Thank you... You look like nice people.
          If you're wanting a holiday in Scotland,
          go to Loch Lomond, go to Holy Loch -- but
          stay away from Loch Ness.

He and his partner shoulder their shovels, move off.

                       WATSON
                 (snorting)
          To think that people still believe in
          that nonsense. Here we are, living in
          the Nineteenth Century --

                                                       90.



                       GABRIELLE
          I'm ashamed to admit it -- but I was
          relieved when he mentioned a father and
          two boys. It could possibly have
          anything to do with Emile.

                       HOLMES
          It would appear not.

                       WATSON
          However, there still remains the clue of
          the castle and the red runner -- wherever
          it may be.

They are about to get under way when suddenly Holmes
stops them.

Coming down the avenue toward them are four small boys,
in knickerbockers and caps, carrying bouquets of flowers.

Without a word, Holmes draws Gabrielle and Watson back to
their hiding place, behind the headstone.

The four boys approach the freshly-filled graves. They
remove their caps, lay their flowers on each of the two
small graves, then kneel down and bow their heads in
prayer.

From their position behind the headstone, Holmes, Watson
and Gabrielle are watching the four boys, who have their
backs to them.

                       WATSON
          If they're unidentified graves, why are
          those boys bringing flowers?

                       HOLMES
          Because it's their brothers who have just
          been buried.

                       WATSON
          Their brothers?

                       HOLMES
          And they're not boys. They're as tall as
          they'll ever grow. Hand me some pebbles,
          will you?

                       WATSON
          Pebbles.

                                                        91.



He picks some up from the ground, hands them to Holmes,
who tosses them in the direction of the graves. The
pebbles strike a granite cross. At the sound, the four
boys simultaneously turn their heads over their
shoulders. Despite their slight bodies they have the
features of mature men.

Gabrielle and Watson react to the sight.

                       GABRIELLE
          They are -- how do you say it in English?
          -- nains.

                        WATSON
          Midgets.

                       HOLMES
                 (nodding)
          Boys with the faces of old men...

                       WATSON
          I still don't see --

                       HOLMES
          Would it help if I told you they were
          acrobats?

                        WATSON
          Not at all.

                       HOLMES
          Do you remember a tumbling act -- six
          brothers -- missing from the circus?

                       WATSON
          Oh, yes -- that case you turned down -- I
          completely forgot.

                       HOLMES
          Some of us are cursed with memories like
          flypaper. And stuck there is a
          staggering of miscellaneous date, mostly
          useless.

The four midgets have now risen, and putting on their
caps, move off down the avenue. Holmes, Gabrielle and
Watson emerge from their place of concealment.

                                                       92.



                       GABRIELLE
                 (worriedly)
          Mr. Holmes, is those are not children,
          then -- ?

                       HOLMES
          Quite. The question now is -- who's in
          the third grave?

                                                   CUT TO:


EXT. GLENNAHURICH CEMETARY - NIGHT

The point of a crowbar digs under the edge of a coffin
lid, which starts to give with a squealing protest of
nails. CAMERA PULLS BACK TO REVEAL Holmes, standing in
the large grave, from which the earth has been removed.
Kneeling beside the grave, watching anxiously, are
Gabrielle and Watson, the latter holding a bullseye
lantern.

Holmes pries the lid open, disclosing the corpse of a
middle-aged man. His arms are folded across his chest,
and on the third finger of his left hand is a wedding
ring similar to Gabrielle's. From the picture of him we
have seen earlier, we recognize the face as that of Emile
Valladon.

Gabrielle lets out a piercing scream, collapses in a
faint. Watson catches her.

                        WATSON
          Holmes!   She's fainted.

                       HOLMES
                 (preoccupied)
          Hand me that lantern.

Watson passes down the lantern, and Holmes slowly shines
the beam along the length of the coffin.

                       WATSON
          It is Valladon, isn't it?

                       HOLMES
          Obviously. What is not so obvious is why
          his wedding ring has turned green --

                                                        93.



The lantern beam now reveals that laid out at Valladon's
feet are three canaries -- their plumage bleached a grey-
white color.

                       HOLMES
          -- and why there are three dead canaries
          in the coffin. White canaries.

                                             DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. CALEDONIAN HOTEL - DAWN

An open carriage is proceeding along the driveway toward
the hotel, scatting a flock of sheep grazing nearby.
Watson is sitting beside the coachman. Holmes and
Gabrielle are in the passenger seat, their luggage is
strapped to the back. Through the trees which line the
road we glimpse Loch Ness, which is partly obscured by a
low-lying mist.

The carriage pulls up in front of the hotel, which is
identified by a sign above the entrance, and Holmes,
Watson and Gabrielle get out.


CLOSE SHOT - HOTEL REGISTER

Holmes' hand is writing: Mr. And Mrs. Ashdown and valet,
London.


INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAWN

The MANAGER, in kilts, is just opening the curtains --
disclosing a view of the mist-shrouded lake through the
window.

The room is on the second floor, and is furnished in a
style which has been described as Scotch Baronial -- twin
beds with a night-table between them, wardrobe,
chiffonier, desk, a couple of chairs, and several mounted
stags' heads.

Holmes and Gabrielle are in the room, Watson is bringing
their bags through the door.

                                                         94.



                       MANAGER
          You have a lovely view of the loch from
          here -- as soon as the morning mist rolls
          away.
                 (crosses to desk, picks up
                  guide book)
          If you've a mind to do any sight-seeing,
          here's a guide to the local points of
          interest.

                        HOLMES
          Thank you.

The manager starts toward the door, nodding to Watson.

                       MANAGER
          This way, please. I will show you to your
          room.

Watson picks up his suitcase, follows him.


INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR - DAY

The manager and Watson come out, the latter shutting the
door.

                       WATSON
          I suppose you're putting me in the
          basement.

                       MANAGER
          No, your room is in the attic.

                        WATSON
          Good.

                       MANAGER
          It's the privy that's in the basement.

Watson grunts as the manager leads him up a narrow flight
of stairs.


INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY

Holmes removes his coat, turns to Gabrielle.

                       HOLMES
          May I have your wedding ring, please?

                                                       95.



Gabrielle tearfully removes her ring, hands it to Holmes.
From his vest pocket he now produces Valladon's ring --
the copper has a greenish tinge to it. He crosses to the
window, compares the two rings in the light. Gabrielle
sinks down on the edge of one of the beds.

                       HOLMES
          Just as I thought. There is a distinct
          difference in color between your ring and
          your husband's.
                 (a sob from Gabrielle)
          Which leads me to believe that the cause
          of death was not drowning...
                 (Gabrielle is now crying)
          I wish you would stop that.
                 (crossing to her)
          Stop it!

                       GABRIELLE
          I'm sorry.

                       HOLMES
          I know it's not easy. But you must
          remember that we're that nice couple from
          London, on Holiday in the Highlands.

                       GABRIELLE
                 (a final sniffle)
          I'll try.

                       HOLMES
          That's much better.

                       GABRIELLE
          Thank you.

She manages a tentative smile.   Holmes looks at her for a
long moment, then --

                       HOLMES
                 (gruffly)
          Now, if I may proceed without further
          interruptions --

                       WATSON'S VOICE
                 (from off)
          Mr. Ashdown!

                                                       96.




INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR - DAY

Watson comes dashing down the narrow stairs from the
attic, races toward teh door of Holmes' room.

                         WATSON
          Mr. Ashdown!

He flings the door open.


INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY

Watson bursts in breathlessly.

                      WATSON
          Holmes! I saw it! I saw it from the
          attic! It's out there in the lake!

                       HOLMES
          You saw what?

                       WATSON
                 (looking around desperately)
          The telescope. Where's the telescope?

                       HOLMES
          What did you see?

                         WATSON
          The monster!

                         HOLMES
          The monster?

Watson fishes a small telescope out of Holmes' suitcase,
rushes through the open French window to the balcony.


EXT. BALCONY - DAY

Watson focuses the telescope on the lake.


LOCH NESS THROUGH TELESCOPE - DAY

Through the swirling mist which clings to the surface of
the lake, a shadowy figure with a long, monster-like neck
can be see gliding along.

                                                       97.




EXT. BALCONY - DAY

Watson almost drops the telescope in excitement.

                         WATSON
          There it is!    There it is!

Holmes joins him on the balcony.

                       WATSON
          Look for yourself.

He hands the telescope to Holmes. Gabrielle comes up to
the window behind them. Holmes trains the telescope on
the lake.

                         WATSON
          See it?    See it?


LOCH NESS - THROUGH TELESCOPE - DAY

Holmes' eye slowly scans the lake, but there is no sign
of Watson's monster -- just the rolling mist.


EXT. BALCONY - DAY

Holmes lowers the telescope.

                       HOLMES
          I see nothing.

                         WATSON
          Nothing?

He grabs the telescope from Holmes, looks toward the
lake.

                         WATSON
          It's gone.

                        HOLMES
          Gone?   Maybe it was never there.

                       WATSON
          I swear to you -- I saw it -- clear as
          anything --

                                                      98.



                       HOLMES
          Watson, as you so succinctly put it, we
          are living in the Nineteenth Century --

He steps back into the room.


INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY

Watson comes halfway through the French window.

                       WATSON
          Maybe that grave-digger was right -- the
          swell, and the boat overturning --

                       HOLMES
          Monsieur Valladon may have been found in
          the lake -- but he did not drown. He
          died of asphyxiation.

                       GABRIELLE
          Asphyxiation.

                       HOLMES
                 (holding up wedding rings)
          There is only one substance that can turn
          a copper ring green and bleach the color
          out of canaries -- chlorine gas.

                       WATSON
          That may be. But the fact remains that I
          saw something out there.

                       HOLMES
          A figment of your imagination. Now let
          us be logical. The only concrete lead we
          have is the reference to the castle --
                 (picks up guide book from
                  desk, opens it to map)
          The question is, which castle?

                       WATSON
          You call yourself logical?   You're the
          least logical man I know.

                        HOLMES
          Am I?

                                                          99.



                       WATSON
          How can you say it's a figment of my
          imagination, when for years you've been
          saying I have no imagination whatsoever!

He looks at Holmes almost triumphantly.

                                                      CUT TO:


SERIES OF SHOTS - DAY

Holmes, Gabrielle, and Watson bicycling away from the
hotel. Holmes, in knickerbockers and a Norfolk jacket,
and Gabrielle, holding her parasol, are on a tandem.
Watson is behind them, on a bicycle with a picnic basket
attached to the rack. He is in his valet's outfit, with
metal clips around his trouser cuffs.

The three of them bicycling past a long stone wall.

They pedal up to an imposing castle.   Holmes dismounts,
knocks on the front door.

Our trio bicycling through a copse of trees.

They approach another castle.

On a steep road, they ride through a flock of sheep.

They are proceeding along a causeway, away from a third
castle.

                                                      CUT TO:


EXT. LAKE SHORE - DAY

Holmes and Gabrielle are sitting on a blanket, the
contents of the picnic basket spread before them, having
lunch. Watson is pouring the wine. Their bicycles are
resting nearby.

                       WATSON
          We have so far investigated  eight drafty
          castles -- had our bicycles  attacked by
          sheep and our ears assaulted  by bagpipes
          -- and we are exactly where  we started.

                                                      100.



                       HOLMES
                 (to Gabrielle)
          Would you like some cranberry sauce,
          dear?

                         GABRIELLE
          Yes, dear.

                       HOLMES
          Would you pass the cranberry sauce,
          please, John?

                         WATSON
          Yes, dear.

As he does so, he catches sight of something o.s.

                       WATSON
                 (calling)
          I say there. Good afternoon.     Remember
          me?

On the road above, approaching a bridge which spans the
lake where it narrows into a stream, are the seven
Trappist monks, walking slowly in single file.

Watson waves to them, but the monks pay no attention to
him.

                       WATSON
                 (to Holmes)
          Some chaps I met on the train. We had a
          long conversation -- or rather, I had a
          long conversation -- because they're not
          allowed to talk -- Trappists, you know.
          Just study their Bibles. You'll never
          guess what the one next to me was reading
          -- the Book of Jonah -- isn't that odd?

                         HOLMES
                   (looking after the monks)
          Quite.

As he turns back, he notices that Gabrielle is
manipulating her parasol in the air.

                       HOLMES
          What is it, dear? What's the matter?

                                                      101.



                       GABRIELLE
          A bee.

She continues to work the parasol, alternately opening it
and partially closing it.

On the bridge von Tirpitz, who is at the rear of the file
of monks, glances back toward the lakeshore.

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. URQUHART CASTLE - DAY

On a promontory jutting into Loch Ness stand the remains
of a medieval fortress. Around the Tower, the Motte, and
the ruins of the East wall, wooden scaffolding has been
erected, and a couple of dozen men are engaged in what
appears to be repair work. Amidst the rubble of the
Nether Bailey, an encampment of tents has been set up.

Holmes, Gabrielle and Watson come bicycling up along a
fence on the heights overlooking the castle, dismount in
front of the locked gates. Attached to the gatepost is a
sign reading: WARNING: No Unauthorized Person Permitted
Beyond This Point.

                       WATSON
          Well, I don't think we have to bother
          with this castle. It's just a pile of
          rubble.

                       GABRIELLE
          Then why are they taking precautions?

She points to the sign -- and to a guard coming up the
driveway, with a couple of huge mastiffs on leashes.

                       HOLMES
          Why, indeed?
                 (turning the tandem around)
          Let's go.

                       WATSON
          Go where?

                       HOLMES
          When rebuffed at the front door, one's
          only choice is to try the tradesmen's
          entrance.

                                                     102.



They move off.

                                             DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. URQUHART CASTLE - DAY

Holmes, Gabrielle and Watson are coming up a path from
the lakeside, leading their bicycles. They lean the
cycles against a ruined wall, start across the courtyard.
A middle-aged MAN in kilts emerges from the tumbled-down
gatehouse, comes toward them.

                        GUIDE
          Sorry.   No visitors allowed.

                       HOLMES
          Are you the guide here?

                       GUIDE
          Yes. The castle is closed to the public
          while work is going on.

                       HOLMES
          What are they doing?

                       GUIDE
          It's being restored by the Society for
          the Preservation of Scottish Monuments.

                       HOLMES
          Too bad. I particularly wanted my wife
          to see Urquhart Castle. The tower is one
          of the most interesting examples of --
          about 1400, wasn't it?

                       GUIDE
          That's right.

                       HOLMES
          Let me see -- was it built under James
          the Second or James the Third?

                       GUIDE
          The Thrid... If you come back next year,
          we'll be all done here, and I'll be glad
          to show you around.

                       HOLMES
          Thank you.

                                                      103.



As the three of them move off, a canvas-topped wagon
comes through the stone archway, stops at the front of
the steps leading to the inner courtyard.

                       WATSON
          Pleasant sort, isn't he?

                       HOLMES
          Pleasant, but ignorant. He was off one
          hundred years and one James.
                 (taps guide-book in his
                  pocket)
          It's actually 1500 and James the Fourth.

                       GABRIELLE
          If he's an official guide, shouldn't he
          know... ?

                       HOLMES
          If he's an official guide.

They have now reached the wall against which they left
their bicycles. Suddenly Holmes stops, attracted by the
sound of birds chirping.

                        HOLMES
          Listen...   Do you hear anything, Watson?

                       WATSON
                 (concentrating)
          No. Those birds are making too much of a
          racket.

                       HOLMES
                 (looking off)
          They're not just birds -- they're our old
          friends.

Watson and Gabrielle follow his gaze.

From the back of the wagon, the carriers have removed the
small bird-cage we saw in the mail-drop on Ashdown
Street. They hand it to a workman, who starts up the
steps with it. To another couple of workmen they pass
down an open-sided crate in which rest two heavy glass
bottles protected by wicker. Stencilled on the wooden
slate of the crate are the words: SULPHURIC ACID -
CORROSIVE.

                                                         104.



Holmes is watching thoughtfully, Gabrielle and Watson are
puzzled.

                          WATSON
             Sulphuric acid?

                          GABRIELLE
             The more we find out the less sense it
             makes.

                          HOLMES
             To a graduate chemist it makes a great
             deal of sense. Sulphuric acid, when
             exposed to salt-water, produces chlorine
             gas.
                    (a beat)
             Would you mind clasping your hands,
             Watson?

                          WATSON
                    (obeying)
             Like this?

                          HOLMES
             A little lower... Thank you.

Watson has lowered his clasped hands, and Holmes uses
them as a foothold to go scrambling up the scaffolding of
the nearby wall. Reaching the top, he looks off in the
direction of the tower.

The workman carrying the canary cage, and the two
carrying the crate of sulphuric acid are approaching the
tower. A draw-bridge comes down, and the three men cross
the moat and enter the tower.

                          HOLMES
                    (looking off)
             That tower may be more interesting than I
             thought -- and not just architecturally.

Out of the ruined gatehouse comes the guard with the two
mastiffs on leashes. The dogs start to snarl viciously.

                          WATSON
             Holmes, I have a feeling we're redundant
             here.

                                                      105.



Holmes leaps down from the scaffolding, wheels the tandem
around, starts back in the direction from which they
came. Gabrielle follows. Watson hurries after them with
his bicycle, casting anxious glances over his shoulder as
the dogs continue barking.

                                             DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. LOCH NESS - EARLY EVENING

The sun has just gone down behind the hills, but there is
still light in the sky. An ominous mist is beginning to
settle on the water.

Gabrielle is sitting in the stern of a rowboat, her
parasol in her lap. She is wearing Holmes' Norfolk
jacket over her dress to ward off the chill.

On the rowing seat, facing her, are Watson and Holmes,
the latter in his waistcoat. Their oars are pulled in,
and they are watching Urquhart Castle, on the opposite
side of the lake.

                       WATSON
          We have now observed the castle from the
          front, from the back, from the side, from
          land, from water... what now?  Are you
          planning to spend the night out here?

                       HOLMES
          If necessary.

                       WATSON
          You're going to catch your death of cold.
                 (to Gabrielle)
          Wouldn't it be ironic if Holmes' last
          case were a case of pneumonia?
                 (with an embarrassed chuckle)
          Sorry.

Gabrielle glances past them, and her eyes widen.

                       GABRIELLE
                 (pointing off)
          What's that?

Holmes and Watson turn their heads.

                                                      106.



About half a mile away, moving in and out of patches of
drifting mist, is Watson's monster, its long reptillian
neck cutting through the water.

Watson leaps to his feet.

                        WATSON
          Holmes!

Holmes grabs his arm, pulls him back into his seat.

                       HOLMES
          Quick, Watson. After it!

He grabs his oar, and Watson belatedly joins in. They
strain at the oars, setting a course which will intercept
the monster.  Gabrielle leans forward in her seat, trying
to peer past them through the curtains of mist.

The monster is much closer now -- no more than a quarter
of a mile away.

Suddenly Watson stops rowing.

                       WATSON
          Holmes, what are we doing?   We should be
          going away from it.

                       HOLMES
          Keep rowing, dammit!

Watson resumes pulling on his oar.   As they row, Holmes
looks over his shoulder.

The monster has started to submerge. Its head disappears
beneath the surface of the water, and the wake it leaves
behind soon trails off into the mist.

Holmes ships his oar.

                       HOLMES
          We've lost it.

                       WATSON
                 (stops rowing)
          At least you admit there's an it, not
          just a figment of my imagination.

                        HOLMES
          Quiet.

                                                      107.



He listens intently. There is only the sound of water
slapping against the side of the boat. The mist is
heavier now, and billowing around them.

                       HOLMES
                 (to Watson)
          Do you have your stethoscope with you?

                       WATSON
          Never without it.

He removes his bowler, unwinds the stethoscope from the
inside the crown, hands it to Holmes. Holmes plugs in
the ear-pieces, leans over the side of the boat, extends
the other end of the stethoscope to the surface of the
water.

                        WATSON
          What is it?

                       HOLMES
          I can hear something...

We become aware of the faint beating of engines,
accompanied by a bubbling sound.

                       HOLMES
          It's getting closer -- closer --

Suddenly the surface of the water breaks, about twenty
yards away from them, and the head and neck of the
monster rear up from the depths. Watson is first to
notice it and jumps to his feet, making choking noises.
Gabrielle sees it and screams. Watson grabs an oar,
throws it at the monster as it comes past. The backwash
hits the boat broadside, rocking it, and Holmes, Watson
and Gabrielle are spilled into the lake.

The monster moves away from them, heading in the general
direction of the castle. It disappears into the mist.

Holmes is the first to come up, looks around, sees
Gabrielle surfacing a few yards away, swims to her.

                       HOLMES
          Are you all right?

                       GABRIELLE
          I lost my parasol.

                                                        108.



                       HOLMES
          Where's Watson?

He glances around, sees Watson's bowler floating nearby,
swims over to it.

                       HOLMES
          Watson?

He lifts the hat -- but Watson isn't under it.

As Gabrielle hoists herself into the boat, Watson
clambers over the other side. After a moment Holmes
joins them, and they sit there, sopping wet and breathing
heavily.

                       WATSON
          I have come face to   face with man-eating
          tigers -- I was once   caught in a stampede
          of wild elephants --   India, you know --
          but I wasn't half as   frightened. This
          beast seems to have   a personal grudge
          against us.

                       GABRIELLE
          I just hope it doesn't come back.

                       HOLMES
          I don't think it will.
                 (pointing off)
          Look!

They glance in the indicated direction.

There is no sign of the monster. But the mist has
momentarily lifted to reveal the castle, and an odd sight
greets their eyes -- the wooden scaffolding in front of
the tower is slowly rising into the air.

                       WATSON
                 (amazed)
          What strange goings-on.

                       HOLMES
          Not really. My guess is that the
          monster, after a hard day's work, has
          returned home for his supper.

                                                        109.



The scaffolding in front of the tower slowly descends
back into the place, as mist once more engulfs the
castle.

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT

Holmes, in a different suit   of clothes, is pacing across
the room, whistling the main   theme from "Swan Lake." He
stops before the open French   window, gazes out toward the
lake. Gabrielle is propped    up in bed, a blanket drawn up
to her chin, watching him.    Watson, who has changed into
a pair of kilts, is standing   in front of the fireplace,
warming his backside.

Gabrielle glances at Watson, suppresses a giggle.

                       WATSON
          Yes, I know. But would you believe that
          you can't borrow a decent pair of
          trousers in this place?

Holmes resumes pacing, and Watson becomes aware of his
whistling.

                       WATSON
          Would you like to confide in us?

No answer from Holmes.    Watson turns to Gabrielle.

                       WATSON
          Whenever he starts whistling, I know he's
          getting close to a solution.

                       HOLMES
          It's nothing new, actually. We've come
          across this situation before.

                        WATSON
          We have?   Where?

                       HOLMES
          At the ballet.

                          WATSON
          Ballet?

                                            110.



             HOLMES
There's a lake -- and there's a castle --
and there's a swan that isn't really a
swan -- or, in this case, a monster that
isn't really a monster --

             WATSON
Then what is it?

             HOLMES
What is it indeed that feeds on canary
birds and sulphuric acid, and has an
engine for a heart?

             GABRIELLE
An engine?

             HOLMES
The stethoscope is a very sensitive
instrument, and water is an excellent
conductor of sound. There is no doubt
that what we are dealing with is a
mechanical monster.

             WATSON
Oh?

             HOLMES
Not only is it equipped with an
artificial heart, it also has artificial
lungs. Judging from the bubbles on the
surface of the lake, it uses some form of
air pump.

             GABRIELLE
You think my husband was involved in all
this?

             HOLMES
Yes, Madame Valladon.    I'm sure of it.

             WATSON
But why would anybody build a mechanical
monster? Just to scare people?

             HOLMES
Not very likely.

                                                      111.



                       GABRIELLE
          Why did they try to keep me from finding
          my husband? And why was he buried
          anonymously?

                       HOLMES
          I think I have a pretty good notion of
          what they're up to -- the Society for the
          Preservation of Scottish Monuments --
          better known as the Diogenes Club.

                       WATSON
          The Diogenes Club?

There is a knock on the door.

                       HOLMES
          Come in.

The door opens and the hotel manager enters, holding a
magnum of champagne.

                       MANAGER
          Mr. Ashdown, I have a bottle of champagne
          for you.

                       HOLMES
                 (crossing to him)
          A bottle of champagne? I didn't order
          it.

                       MANAGER
          No, indeed. You are to deliver it.
          These are my instructions.

He hands the magnum to Holmes.

                       HOLMES
          Instructions from whom?   Deliver it
          where?

                       MANAGER
          I wouldn't know, sir. But there's a
          carriage waiting for you downstairs.

                       HOLMES
          Are you sure you have the right Mr.
          Ashdown?

                                                       112.



                       MANAGER
                 (flatly)
          Quite sure, Mr. Holmes.

He turns and exits.   Holmes taps the bottle of champagne
thoughtfully.

                       HOLMES
          Well, Watson, I would say the curtain is
          going up on the last act.

                       WATSON
          I don't like the sound of it.

                       GABRIELLE
          Please be careful.

As Holmes starts toward the door, Watson reaches into his
sporran.

                       WATSON
          You'd better take this with you.

He produces a revolver, holds it out to Holmes.    Holmes
ignores it, exits.


EXT. CALEDONIAN HOTEL - NIGHT

A gig is waiting in front of the entrance, and leaning
against it is the guide we saw earlier at Urquhart.
Holmes comes out, carrying the champagne bottle.

                       HOLMES
          Who's minding the castle?

                       GUIDE
          You'd better get on.     It's late.

Holmes climbs into the gig, and the guide moutns the seat
beside him.

                       HOLMES
          Where are we going?    Some sort of party?

                       GUIDE
          You won't be disappointed in the guest
          list.

                                                       113.



                       HOLMES
          Who's the host?

                          GUIDE
          Jonah.

He flicks the reins. The horse starts off at a trot, and
the gig turns into the driveway.


EXT. MOVING GIG - NIGHT

As they drive along, Holmes glances at the guide, who is
grim and uncommunicative.

                                             DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. ROAD LEADING TO CASTLE - NIGHT

The gig, with its two passengers, proceeds along the
lakeshore, approaching the entrance to Urquhart.


EXT. URQUHART CASTLE - NIGHT

A workman is lighting a couple of torches attached to the
ruined gatehouse when the gig comes through the archway.
The guide reins up the horse in front of the steps
leading to the inner courtyard -- which are now covered
with a narrow red carpet.

The guide nods to Holmes, who dismounts, starts up the
steps, examining the red carpet. As he reaches the top,
he looks off.

The strip of red carpet runs across the courtyard, lit by
torches planted in the ground. A couple of workmen are
are unrolling the rest of the carpet toward the entrance
of the tower.

As Holmes passes one of the tents, the flap opens and
Mycroft steps out, dressed in his inevitable frock coat.

                       MYCROFT
          Mr. Ashdown, I presume.

                       HOLMES
                 (turning)
          The red runner, I presume.

                                                       114.


                 (indicates carpet)
          You shouldn't have gone to all this
          trouble just for me.

                       MYCROFT
          It's not for you.
                 (calling into tent)
          McKeller.
                 (to Holmes)
          May I have the champagne, please?

                       HOLMES
                 (handing him bottle)
          1886 -- not a very good vintage, is it?

                        MYCROFT
          Mediocre.   But then again, it's not for
          drinking.

A black-suited MAN emerges from the ten, and Mycroft
gives him the champagne.

                       MYCROFT
          Tie it up, will you?

The man moves off toward the tower.   Mycroft pulls back
the flap of the tent.

                       MYCROFT
          In here.

Holmes passes inside, Mycroft following.


INT. TENT - NIGHT

It is lit by a kerosene lamp suspended from the ridge-
pole. There are several cots, one of them with the
bedding rolled up. Resting on the stripped cot is a
trunk with the name E. VALLADON painted on it. Lying on
a table, among a group of engineering models, are
Gabrielle's parasol and Watson's stethoscope. There are
also a couple of drafting tables, with plans and
blueprints tacked to them.

Holmes moves around the tent, taking all this in.

                       HOLMES
          Interesting -- and educational.

                                             115.



             MYCROFT
Despite my most emphatic warning, you
persisted in meddling. It would have
served you right if you'd all drowned.

             HOLMES
Sorry to be so unobliging.
       (stops beside torch)
E. Valladon... H'mm.

             MYCROFT
       (indicating parasol   and
        stethoscope)
I imagine this belongs to    the pretty
lady, and this belongs to    your valet...
We found them floating in    the lake.

             HOLMES
Speaking about things floating in the
lake --

             MYCROFT
How much do you know -- or think you
know?

             HOLMES
I think you're testing some sort of
underwater craft -- camouflauged to
mislead the gullible. I think it's an
experimental model, operated by a crew of
midgets. I think it is powered by
sulphuric acid batteries, and uses
canaries to detect escaping gas...
Altogether a strange contraption.

             MYCROFT
Not quite that unique. Right now, four
countries are trying to develop what we
call a submersible. But none of them
could solve the critical problem -- how
to stay submerged long enough to make it
effective.

             HOLMES
What does the Good Book say? "And Jonah
lived in the belly of that fish for three
days and three nights."

                                            116.



             MYCROFT
That was our goal. And thanks to
Valladon's air-pump, we got a jump on the
rest of them. It's a highly complex
system of filtration -- so we had a
series of trials --

             HOLMES
And at least one error.

             MYCROFT
During a test run in Moray Firth,
pressure caused a leak in the hull. Sea
water mixed with the acid in the
batteries to produce chlorine gas.
Before they could reach the surface,
Valladon and the crew were dead.

             HOLMES
So you had them buried in unmarked
graves, to preserve your secret.

             MYCROFT
It was essential to keep the information
from your client.

             HOLMES
You went to all those lengths to prevent
Madame Valladon from fiding her husband?

             MYCROFT
Your client isn't Madame Valladon -- it's
the Imperial German Government. They
were after the Belgian engineer -- or
rather, his invention. They knew he was
employed by us, but they couldn't find
out where -- so they enlisted the best
brain in England to help them. You, my
dear brother, have been working for the
Wilhelmstrasse.

             HOLMES
And Madame Valladon -- what part did she
play in all this?

             MYCROFT
Madame Valladon is dead.

            HOLMES
Dead?

                                                       117.



Mycroft crosses to the trunk, opens the lid.

                       MYCROFT
          The Germans disposed of her three weeks
          ago, in Brussels. This is Gabrielle
          Valladon.

He hands Holmes a small, framed photograph. Holmes looks
at it with apprehension, as well he should: the picture
is of a somewhat matronly woman, not the glamorous
Gabrielle. Holmes lowers  the photograph. Behind it,
Mycroft is glaring at him with customary arrogance.

                       MYCROFT
          The woman who was brought to your house
          in the middle of the night -- apparently
          fished out of the Thames -- and
          apparently suffering from amnesia -- is,
          in fact, Ilse von Hoffmanstal, one of
          their most skillful agents. Am I going
          too fast for one of the "best brains in
          England?"

                        HOLMES
          Go on.

As Mycroft continues, Holmes picks up Ilse's water-soaked
parasol and examines it.

                       MYCROFT
          They planted her on you quite neatly, I
          must admit, so that you could lead them
          to their objective, the air pump. Very
          much like using a hog to find truffles.
          And now perhaps you'd care to join me. I
          am expecting a certain royal personage
          from Balmoral.


EXT. CASTLE - NIGHT

A coach and escort approach the castle. Painted on the
door of the coach are the initials "V.R."


INT. CASTLE COURTYARD

The entourage enters the castle courtyard and stops.
Footmen open the door and bow to the lone passenger.

                                                     118.



Waiting on top of the steps, outside the tent, are
Mycroft and Holmes. Lined up on the other side of the
torch-lit red carpet are half a dozen scientists, in
their best clothes.

Out of the coach steps a familiar figure -- Her Majesty,
QUEEN VICTORIA, Defender of the Faith, Empress of India.
She is 69 years old, and dressed entirely in black.

Mycroft comes down the carpeted steps to meet her.

                       MYCROFT
          Your Majesty.

He bows. The Queen extends her hand to him, and he
touches it.

                       MYCROFT
          I trust you had a pleasant journey,
          Ma'am.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          It was long and it was tedious. And it
          had better be worth our while, Mr.
          Holmes.

                       MYCROFT
          I can assure you, Ma'am, it will be.

A lady-in-waiting and a uniformed equerry have now
descended from the coach. Mycroft leads the party up the
steps.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          Now what is this curious ship we are
          supposed to christen?

                       MYCROFT
          We call it a submersible, Ma'am.    It
          travels under water.

                         QUEEN VICTORIA
          Under water?    What a fantastic idea.

They have now reached the top of the steps.

                                            119.



             MYCROFT
Ma'am, may present some of the scientists
who were responsible for this
achievement. J.W. Ferguson, naval
architect --

             FIRST SCIENTIST
       (bowing)
Your Majesty.

             MYCROFT
Professor Simpson, our leading expert on
hydraulics --

             SECOND SCIENTIST
       (bowing)
Your Majesty.

             MYCROFT
W.W. Prescott, co-inventor of the
revolving periscope --

             THIRD SCIENTIST
       (bowing)
Your Majesty.

             MYCROFT
And this is Sir Arthur Grisby, our
authority on maritime ballistics --

             QUEEN VICTORIA
We don't claim to understand any of this.
But England is proud of you, gentlemen.
To think that man can now observe fish in
their native habitat --

             MYCROFT
       (trying to correct her)
Well, not exactly, Ma'am --

             QUEEN VICTORIA
-- and underwater plants and coral
reefs --
       (noticing Holmes)
Young man -- what was your contribution
to this project?

             HOLMES
I'm afraid it was rather negligible, Your
Majesty.

                                                     120.



                       MYCROFT
                 (to the Queen)
          This is my brother, Sherlock, Ma'am.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          Ah, yes. Sherlock Holmes. We have been
          following your exploits with great
          interest.

Holmes bows, touches the Queen's extended hand.

                       HOLMES
          Thank you, Ma'am.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          Are you engaged in one of your
          fascinating cases at the moment?

                       HOLMES
          In a manner of speaking, Ma'am.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          When can we expect to read Dr. Watson's
          account of the case?

                       HOLMES
          I hope never, Ma'am. It has not been one
          of my more successful endeavors.

Mycroft signals to a bagpiper, who starts playing HIELAN'
LADDIE.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          Ah, the ceremonies are about to begin.
                 (to Mycroft)
          Now where is this underwater ship of
          yours?

                       MYCROFT
                 (pointing to tower)
          In the dungeon, Ma'am.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          The dungeon? What a peculiar place to
          keep it.
                 (turning to the others)
          Well, let us get on with it, gentlemen.

                                                     121.



Mycroft leads the Queen along the red runner toward the
tower. Holmes follows, then the lady-in-waiting and the
equerry, then the scientists.

As they cross the inner courtyard, the Highland piper
falls in ahead of the procession, leads them toward the
drawbridge. Then he steps aside,  as the royal party
crosses the drawbridge and passes through the door of the
tower.


INT. DUNGEON - NIGHT

A high-ceilinged rock chamber, with a spiral iron
staircase leading down. The floor is a concrete ramp,
the lower end of it covered with water. Beyond is the
entrance from the Loch, camouflaged by scaffolding and
vegetation.

On the upper part of the ramp is a small, primitive
submarine, resting on wheels. Prominently lettered on
the bow is the name H.M.S. JONAH, and suspended by a rope
from the prow is the magnum of champagne which Holmes
delivered. Along the sides are torpedo tubes, and fitted
over the conning tower is the head and neck of the
"monster" we saw in the lake.

Present are half a dozen naval personnel, commanded by an
officer. As the royal party comes down the spiral
staircase, the officer snaps to attention. Mycroft is in
the lead, followed by the Queen, Holmes, the lady-in-
waiting, the equerry and the scientists.

                       MYCROFT
          There she, Ma'am. Her Majesty's Ship
          Jonah.

The four surviving midgets appear on the deck, in wool
jerseys and navy caps. They start pulling on a chain
which slowly raises the detachable head-and-neck of the
monster toward the ceiling, disclosing the conning tower
and the periscope.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          And what, may we ask, is the purpose of
          that hideous gargoyle?

                       MYCROFT
          It's merely a decoy, Ma'am.

                                                      122.



                      QUEEN VICTORIA
          Oh. To frighten away the sharks, we
          imagine.

                       MYCROFT
          Something of the sort... The crew will
          now demonstrate the workings of the
          submersible.

A SAILOR of normal height appears on the deck of the sub.

                       SAILOR
          Stand to.

The midgets scramble down the hatch.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          Aren't they rather small for sailors?

                       MYCROFT
          They are. But because of the size of the
          craft, the Navy made an exception.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          They should make it a rule. It's quite
          fatiguing to pin on all those medals
          while standing on our toes.

There is the sound of the engines starting. Mycroft
leads the Queen to an open bulkhead in the side of the
sub, with Holmes and rest of the party close behind.

Inside, all is noise and confusion. Metal rods are
dipping into glass jars of sulphuric acid, complicated
machinery is driving the propeller shaft, bellows are
inflating and deflating, etc. The midgets are at their
stations in the cramped quarters, pulling switches,
oiling the engines, operating the periscope. Overhead is
a cageful of canaries, all chirping away. Mycroft points
out the various features to the Queen.

                       MYCROFT
          This is the main engine, which propels it
          under water at the rate of two knots --
          the stabilizing mechanism -- the multi-
          stage compressor -- the ballast tank
          trimmer -- the air-pump which filters and
          recirculates the air --

                                                      123.



                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          How charming.

                       MYCROFT
          The air pump, Ma'am?

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
                 (pointing)
          The canaries. Must make the crew feel at
          home.

                       MYCROFT
          Yes, Ma'am. These are the levers for
          firing the torpedoes, which are accurate
          up to as much as 120 feet -- the
          periscope for scanning the surface of the
          water --

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          But where is the glass bottom?

                       MYCROFT
          The what, Ma'am?

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          The glass bottom.

                       HOLMES
          You know -- to see the fist --

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          -- and the plants and the corals --

                       MYCROFT
          That's not quite the idea, Ma'am. H.M.S.
          Jonah is being commissioned as a warship.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          A warship?
                 (waving her hand)
          Stop that noise. Stop it!

At a signal from Mycroft, the sub engines are turned off.

                       MYCROFT
          Ma'am, if I may explain --

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          You had better.

                                                     124.



                       MYCROFT
          The Admiralty regards this craft as the
          ultimate weapon in naval warfare. It can
          seek out enemy ships and destroy them --
          with these torpedoes -- while remaining
          completely invisible.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          You mean in can fire at other vessels
          while under water?

                        MYCROFT
          Yes, Ma'am.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          Without any warning?

                       MYCROFT
          That is correct, Ma'am.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          And without showing her colors?

                       MYCROFT
          Indeed, Ma'am.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          Mr. Holmes, we are not amused.
                 (Mycroft stares at her)
          It is unsportsmanlike, it is un-English,
          and it is in very poor taste. We will
          have none of it!

                       MYCROFT
          I beg your pardon, Ma'am?

He exchanges a look with Holmes.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          Sometimes we despair of the state of the
          world. What will scientists think of
          next?

                       MYCROFT
          That's precisely it, Ma'am. At this very
          moment the Germans under Count von
          Zeppelin, are experimenting with a
          dirigible --

                                                      125.



                      QUEEN VICTORIA
          A dirigible? And what, pray, is that?

                       MYCROFT
          A rigid balloon, which could fly over
          London and drop a bomb on Buckingham
          Palace. It is being developed at the
          express orders of Kaiser Wilhelm the
          Second.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          Nonsense. We refuse to believe that our
          grandson Willie would do a thing like
          that.

                       MYCROFT
          We have conclusive proof, Ma'am. Our
          agent in Friedrichshafen, a man named
          Ibbetson, actually saw the dirigible, and
          made a drawing of it. Unfortunately, he
          was apprehended before he could cross the
          border.

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
                 (indicating sub)
          Nevertheless, we don't want any part of
          this beastly invention. Get rid of it!
          Scuttle it! The sooner the better.

                       MYCROFT
          May I point out, Ma'am --

                       QUEEN VICTORIA
          And don't concern yourself about that
          dirigible dropping bombs on us. We shall
          write a very sharp note to the Kaiser.
                 (to equerry)
          Now we wish to return to Balmoral.

She starts toward the spiral staircase. The equerry
precedes her up the stairs, the lady-in-waiting follows,
the scientists trail after them. Mycroft and Holmes
linger behind.

                       HOLMES
          Well, Mycroft, it seems we have both been
          undone by a woman.
                 (Mycroft is staring at the
                  sub)
          What a shame.

                                                        126.


          All that superb engineering, and all that
          cunning espionage, for nought.

                       MYCROFT
          Not necessarily. If the Germans want
          that submersible so badly, why don't we
          give it to them?

                       HOLMES
          Give it to them?

                       MYCROFT
          Invite them aboard for the final journey
          -- seven hundred feet -- straight down.

                       HOLMES
          And how are you going to arrange that?

                       MYCROFT
          I'm rather counting on you to do it.
          Since you are on such intimate terms with
          Fraulein von Hoffmanstal.

O.s., the bagpiper resumes playing.

                       MYCROFT
          Shall we say goodbye to Her Majesty?

He starts up the spiral staircase.    Holmes follows slowly
and thoughtfully.

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. CALEDONIAN HOTEL - DAWN

The gig, with the quide driving and Holmes beside him,
comes up the driveway, stops in front of the entrance.
Holmes hops down, and twirling Gabrielle's parasol in his
hand, walks into the hotel.


INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAWN

In the half-light, Gabrielle can be seen asleep in her
bed. She is wearing the pink negligee with the maribou
feathers, which has slipped halfway off her shoulders.
The other bed has not been slept in.

The door from the corridor opens and Holmes steps in,
carrying the parasol.

                                                      127.


He crosses to Gabrielle's bed, looks down at her for a
long moment, adjusts the negligee with the tip of the
parasol. The he moves to the French window, opens it,
glances out.


LAKEFRONT - FROM HOLMES' ANGLE - DAWN

The seven Trappist monks are standing on the shore,
silhouetted against the water, watching the hotel.


INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAWN

Holmes withdraws from the window , looks at the sleeping
Gabrielle, then casually swings the parasol, hitting a
metal lamp-shade overhead. Gabrielle sits up abruptly in
bed, clutching her negligee around her.

                       HOLMES
          Sorry about that. But as long as you're
          up -- what is the German word for castle?
          Schloss, isn't it?

                       GABRIELLE
                 (carefully)
          I think so.

                       HOLMES
          And how would you say under the castle?
          Unter das Schlss? Or die Schloss?

                       GABRIELLE
          I don't know. My German isn't that good.

                       HOLMES
                 (indicating)
          Your Trappist friends are out there
          waiting to hear from you -- it's a chilly
          morning -- we don't want to keep them
          standing around too long, do we, Fraulein
          Hoffmanstal?
                 (Gabrielle looks at him
                  without answering)
          Come now. It's too late to play cat and
          mouse.

                       GABRIELLE
                 (flatly)
          Unter dem Schloss.

                                                        128.



                         HOLMES
            Thank you.
                   (holding out parasol)
            Here's your signalling device -- it's a
            bit damp, I'm afraid -- would you care to
            let them know where they can find the
            submersible?
                   (Gabrielle makes no move to
                    take the parasol)
            No? Then I'll just have to do it myself.
                   (moving toward window)
            I only hope my Morse code is adequate to
            the occasion.

Keeping well to one side of the open window, he extends
the parasol outside, opens it, starts sending out a
series of long and short signals.


LAKEFRONT - DAWN

von Tirpitz and the other monks strain their eyes in the
direction of the hotel.


HOTEL - FROM MONKS' ANGLE - DAWN

Outside the hotel window, Gabrielle's parasol can be seen
flashing the message UNTER DEM SCHLOSS in Morse code --
but it is not apparent that Holmes is doing the
signalling.


INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAWN

As Holmes continues opening and closing the parasol,
Gabrielle gets out of bed, comes up beside him. Holmes
finishes the message, shuts the parasol, draws it back
into the room. Then he looks out the window.


LAKEFRONT - FROM HOLMES' ANGLE - DAWN

The monks turn away from the hotel, and with von Tirpitz
in the lead, move off along the shore.


INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAWN

Holmes steps back from the window, faces Gabrielle.

                                             129.



             HOLMES
Well, it's up to the good monks now. You
can consider your part of the mission
accomplished, Fraulein Hoffmanstal.

             GABRIELLE
You're all wrong about me.   My name isn't
Hoffmanstal.

            HOLMES
It isn't?

             GABRIELLE
It's von Hoffmanstal.

             HOLMES
I stand corrected.

             GABRIELLE
       (glancing toward window)
I suppose once they're in the castle...
It must amuse you, Mr. Holmes, Trappists
walking into a trap.

             HOLMES
It's more amusing than that. Once in the
castle, they will encounter surprisingly
little resistance -- it will take but a
small bottle of chloroform to overcome
the guards.

             GABRIELLE
       (skeptically)
You mean you're going to let them have
the air-pump?

             HOLMES
Better than that. We're going to let
them have the submersible. They will
find it with its engines running, all set
to go. I assume they're all expert
sailors? And since there is a German
battleship cruising off the coast of
Scotland, I expect they'll try to sail it
out of the lock and rendezvous at sea.

             GABRIELLE
Did you say try to?

                                                      130.



                       HOLMES
          I would suggest you get your things
          together. Mycroft will be here to take
          you into custody.

He opens her suitcase, which is on the baggage rack at
the foot of the bed. Gabrielle watches him for a beat,
then crosses to the wardrobe, starts taking her clothes
out.

                       GABRIELLE
          I never had you fooled for a moment, did
          I? You knew right from the beginning --
          when the cabbie brought me to Baker
          Street.

                       HOLMES
          Let me see -- not quite that soon.

He stretches out on the bed.

                       GABRIELLE
          It's so funny. I asked for this
          assignment, you know. I was scheduled to
          go to Japan, but I couldn't resist the
          challenge of coming up against the best.
          I'm sorry I didn't give you a closer
          game.

                       HOLMES
          Close enough.

                       GABRIELLE
          You're just being kind.   I failed
          miserably.

                       HOLMES
          We all have occasional failures.
          Fortunately, Dr. Watson never writes
          about mine.

                                               DISSOLVE TO:


INT. HOTEL CORRIDOR - DAY

Watson, back in his valet's outfit again, comes bounding
down the narrow stairs from the attic, races toward the
door of Holmes' room.

                                                       131.



                        WATSON
          Holmes!   Holmes!


INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY

Bright sunlight now floods the room.   Gabrielle, fully
dressed, is standing in front of the  mirror, putting on
her hat. Her packed bag has been set   out in the middle
of the room, and resting on it is the  parasol.

The door bursts open and Watson dashes in.

                        WATSON
          Holmes!

In his haste he trips over the bag, goes down. As he
picks himself up again, Gabrielle points toward the
balcony.


EXT. BALCONY - HOTEL - DAY

Holmes is leaning against the parapet, scanning the lake
through his telescope. Watson appears through the open
French window behind him.

                       WATSON
                 (excitedly)
          Holmes, I saw it again -- that thing --
          it came from the castle -- it's out there
          --


LOCH NESS - THROUGH TELESCOPE - DAY

A trial of bubbles is moving along the surface. Suddenly
there is a muffled explosion from below, and a geyser of
water shoots up into the air.


EXT. BALCONY - HOTEL - DAY

Holmes slowly lowers the telescope.

                       HOLMES
          It was out there. Now it's gone.

                        WATSON
          Gone?

                                                      132.



                        HOLMES
          Forever.   Look for yourself.


LOCH NESS - THROUGH TELESCOPE - DAY

There is a great turbulence in the water. Up to the
surface pops the bottle of christening champagne, with
rope and ribbons still attached. Then a copy of the
Bible pops up.


EXT. BALCONY - HOTEL - DAY

                       WATSON
          A bottle of champagne?... and a Bible?...

                       HOLMES
          That's all that's left of H.M.S. Jonah.

He steps through the window as a puzzled Watson lowers
the telescope.


INT. HOTEL ROOM - DAY

Watson follows Holmes in from the balcony.

                       HOLMES
          It would seem that somebody carelessly
          loosened the bolts of the submersible.
          What a fitting end for Trappists -- now
          they are resting in eternal silence at
          the bottom of the lake.

                       WATSON
                 (to Gabrielle)
          Do you know what he's talking about?

Through the open doorway comes Mycroft.   In the corridor
behind him is one of his aides.

                       MYCROFT
          Fraulein von Hoffmanstal?

                       GABRIELLE
          Yes, Mr. Holmes. I'm all ready.

                                                      133.



                       MYCROFT
          If there's one thing I like about the
          Prussians, it's their punctuality.

                       GABRIELLE
          If there's one thing I dislike about the
          British, it's their climate. I
          understand your jails are quite damp --
          and your heating facilities totally
          inadequate.

                       MYCROFT
          They are. But you're not going to jail.
          You're going back to Germany.

                       GABRIELLE
          Germany?

                       MYCROFT
          You will be conducted to the Swiss-German
          border, and be exchanged for one of our
          agents -- a man named Ibbetson.

                       GABRIELLE
          Thank you.

                       MYCROFT
          Don't thank me. Thank my brother.      It
          was his idea.

Gabrielle looks at Holmes, but he avoids her eyes.

                       MYCROFT
                 (to Gabrielle)
          Frankly, I think we are making a very
          poor deal. You much better than most
          operatives working for British
          intelligence.
                 (turning to Holmes)
          Don't you agree, Sherlock?

                       HOLMES
                 (with a small but gallant bow
                  to Gabrielle)
          And better than some consulting
          detectives.

Mycroft signals to his aide, who comes in from the
corridor and picks up Gabrielle's bag.

                                                       134.



                       MYCROFT
                 (to Gabrielle)
          Shall we?

                       GABRIELLE
                 (reaching for parasol)
          I'll take that.
                 (to Holmes and Watson)
          Gentlemen.

She turns and walks out the door, Mycroft following.
Watson's bewilderment has now reached monumental
proportions.

                       WATSON
                 (folding his arms)
          All right, Holmes -- you don't have to
          explain anything to me, if you don't want
          to.

                       HOLMES
          I appreciate that, Watson.

                       WATSON
          After all, I'm only your official
          biographer --

                       HOLMES
          Anyway, I don't think she'd care to have
          this story spread all over Strand
          Magazine.

                       WATSON
          The public has a right to know these
          things. If she's a German spy, why
          should we concern ourselves about her
          feelings?

Holmes crosses to a small window overlooking the
courtyard of the hotel, opens it, looks out.


EXT. HOTEL - DAY

Mycroft's aide comes out of the hotel with Gabrielle's
suitcase, loads it into an open carriage waiting in front
of the entrance. Gabrielle emerges, carrying her parasol,
and accompanied by Mycroft. He helps her into the
carriage, gets in beside her.

                                                     135.


The aide joins the coachman, and the carriage drives off.
Gabrielle does not look back toward the hotel.


EXT. SMALL WINDOW - HOTEL - DAY

Holmes is framed in the open window, watching the
carriage. Watson comes up behind him.

                       WATSON
          If I promised not to write a word about
          it, would you enlighten me? As your
          friend -- as your valet --

                      HOLMES
          Quiet. I'm trying to read a personal
          message.

                       WATSON
          A message?


EXT. DRIVEWAY - DAY

The carriage is moving away from the hotel. Gabrielle
has her parasol over her shoulder, and it opens and
closes, opens and closes.


GABRIELLE - IN MOVING CARRIAGE - DAY

She continues to signal with the parasol, unnoticed by
Mycroft.


EXT. SMALL WINDOW - HOTEL - DAY

Watson is straining forward to see out the window.

                       WATSON
          What is she saying?

                       HOLMES
                 (slowly)
          Auf Wiedersehn.

                       WATSON
          Auf Weider---? The nerve!

                                                       136.




EXT. DRIVEWAY - DAY

The carriage disappears down an avenue of trees,
Gabrielle's parasol still flashing its message.

                                                DISSOLVE TO:


EXT. BAKER STREET - DAY

There is snow on the ground, and drifts of it piled up
along the curbs. Traffic is light. Householders are
shovelling the snow off the sidewalks, and pedestrians
are hurrying along bundled up against the cold.


INT. LIVING ROOM - 221B BAKER STREET - DAY

Holmes, in his dressing gown, and Watson, in his smoking
jacket, are at the breakfast table. There is snow on the
window-sills, and a cozy fire is burning in the grate.
Watson is reading the morning paper. Holmes is sorting
through his mail.

                       HOLMES
                 (holding up envelope)
          H'mmm. A letter from the Diogenes Club.

                       WATSON
          Maybe Mycroft is putting you up for
          membership.

                       HOLMES
          If only to have the distinct pleasure of
          blackballing his brother.

He has slit open the envelope. Watson watches him
curiously as he reads the letter, but Holmes' face
remains expressionless. Slowly he puts down the letter,
rises, crosses to the window, stands there staring out
into the wintry street.

                       WATSON
          Aren't you going to finish your
          breakfast?

Holmes doesn't answer. Watson takes a lump of sugar out
of the bowl with a pair of tongs, drops it into his
coffee.

                                                        137.


Then glancing over his shoulder to make sure Holmes isn't
watching, he swivels the letter around with the tongs.
It is written on Diogenes Club stationery, and reads:

                                   9th December, 1888
          Dear Sherlock,
            My sources in Tokyo inform me that Ilse
          von Hoffmanstal was arrested last week by
          the Japanese counter-intelligence service
          for spying on naval installations in
          Yokohama harbour. After a secret trial,
          she was summarily executed by a firing
          squad.

            It might interest you to know that

The page ends at this point. Watson turns the sheet of
paper over with the tongs. The letter continues on the
other side.

          she had been living in Japan these past
          few months under the name of Mrs.
          Ashdown.

                       Sincerely,

                       Mycroft

Watson looks toward Holmes, who is still standing with
his back to the room, gets up from the table.

                       WATSON
          Holmes -- I'm terribly sorry about this.

                       HOLMES
                 (quietly, without turning)
          Where is it, Watson?

                       WATSON
                 (after a beat)
          In the files. May to July, 1885.

Holmes turns to the bookshelves above the desk.   From a
row of similar volumes, he slides out the three  files
marked MAY, JUNE, and JULY 1885. Actually, it's   the
medical bag, standing on end, with the spines of  three
volumes pasted on the bottom.

                       HOLMES
          You're getting better.

                                                      138.



He sets the bag down on the desk, opens it, takes out a
bottle of cocaine. Watson watches him with compassion as
he crosses to his bedroom with his cocaine, goes in,
shuts the door.

Footsteps are heard hurrying up the stairs, and after a
moment there is a knock on the door. Watson approaches
the door, opens it to reveal INSPECTOR LESTRADE -- a
short, nervous man whose features are sharper than his
mind. He is wearing an overcoat, his bowler is in his
hands, and his fingers are drumming on the crown.

                       LESTRADE
          Good morning, Watson.
                 (stepping in)
          Just happened to be in the neighborhood,
          and I thought --

                       WATSON
          What is it this time, Inspector Lestrade?

                       LESTRADE
          We've had three rather nasty murders in
          Whitechapel. All ladies of  easy virtue.
          You may read something about it -- the
          newspapers are referring to the killer as
          Jack the Ripper.

                       WATSON
          Yes, I think I have.

                       LESTRADE
          Some of us at Scotland Yard were
          wondering if perhaps Mr. Holmes would be
          willing to --

                       WATSON
                 (a glance toward the bedroom)
          I'm sorry, Lestrade. But at the moment,
          Holmes is working on another problem.

                       LESTRADE
                 (trying to hide his
                  disappointment)
          Oh... Well, I just thought it was the
          kind of case that might interest him. I
          dare say we can solve it without his
          help.

                                                     139.



                       WATSON
          Oh, I'm sure you will.

From Holmes' bedroom comes the sound of a melancholy tune
being played on the violin. Watson starts to ease
Lestrade out of the door.

                       WATSON
          Good day, Lestrade.

He shuts the door after him, listens to the sound of the
violin for a moment. Then he crosses to the wicker
chair, seats himself. He takes some sheets of paper out
of the rack and places them on the writing arm, dips his
pen in the inkwell, starts to write.

The violin music continues OVER SCENE, infinitely
romantic, infinitely sad.

                                                FADE OUT.


                         THE END