FLASHBACK...
In the huge dining room of their stately home, Sir Eustace Carmichael and his wife are eating breakfast with their two school-aged children, a girl and a boy.
"And what does your morning threaten, my dear?" Sir Eustace asked, taking a drink from his teacup. "A vigorous round of embroidering? An exhausting appointment at the milliner's?"
His wife cuts herself a bite of food and lifts it to her mouth.
"I hope you are teasing, Eustace." Lady Carmichael said, while Sir Eustace chuckles.
A footman brings in a silver plate on which are letters and a letter opener. Sir Eustace slits open the first envelope and looks inside. He freezes, staring at the contents in horror.
"What is it?" Lady Carmichael asked, as Sir Eustace doesn't respond, his gaze still locked on what he can see inside the envelope. "Eustace?" When Sir Eustace still doesn't react to her, Lady Carmichael puts down her knife and fork and looks across the table to the children. "Daniel, Sophie, go out and play."
"But Mama ..." Sophie said, sadly.
"Do as I tell you. Quickly, now." Lady Carmicheal said.
The children leave the table and go out of the room. Lady Carmichael gets up and walks over to her husband, gently pulling the envelope from his hands. She tips the contents into her hand and then looks at the five orange pips lying on her palm. She laughs.
"Eustace! What does this mean?" Lady Carmichael asked, chuckling, then notices Eustace's appalled expression as he gazes up at her.
"Death." Sir Eustace said, in a voice full of dread.
"What?"
"It means death." Sir Eustace said, his eyes are full of tears, but then he pulls himself together and tries to laugh. "Er, nothing. It's, er, it's nothing. I was mistaken."
Sir Eustace lays the letter opener on the tray. Putting down the envelope and the pips, Lady Carmichael reaches down and takes her husband's face in her hands.
"My dear, you've gone quite pale." Lady Carmichael said, and Eustace surges to his feet and glares down at her. "It's nothing." Sir Eustace turns and leaves the room causing Lady Carmichael to follow him. "Eustace ..."
221B SITTING ROOM...
"So did yer keep the envelope, then?" Shay asked.
"My husband destroyed it ..." Lady Carmichael said, while Watson and Shay frowns at her. "... but it was blank. No name or address of any kind."
"Tell me: has Sir Eustace spent time in America?" Holmes asked.
"No."
"Not even before your marriage?"
"Well, not to my knowledge."
"Hmm. Pray continue with your fascinating narrative." Holmes said, as he steeples his hands in front of his mouth.
"Well, that incident took place last Monday morning. It was two days later, on the Wednesday, that my husband first saw her." Lady Carmichael said.
"Who?" Watson asked.
FLASHBACK...
Lady Carmichael wakes up in the middle of the night and looks across the bed, realising that her husband is not lying beside her. Lifting her head she sees him standing at the window in his night shirt, staring out into the grounds.
"Eustace?" Lady Carmichael asked.
Still staring out of the window, Sir Eustace whimpers. Lady Carmichael approaches and takes hold of his arms and he gasps, spinning around to look at her with a face full of panic. Sobbing, he grabs at her.
"She's come for me, Louisa. Oh, God help me, my sins have found me out." Sir Eustace said.
"Who's come for you?" Lady Carmichael asked, and Sir Eustace sobs. "Eustace, you're frightening me."
Sir Eustace tightens his grip and shoves Lady Carmichael to the window, "Look! Look!"
Lady Carmichael looks out into the misty grounds but there's nobody in sight.
Sir Eustace sobs, "Don't you see her?"
"No, no. I see no-one." Lady Carmichael said.
Out in the grounds, the mist roils over the large hedge maze but wherever it clears, there is still no sign of anybody. Eustace looks again, then turns to his wife, smiling hopefully.
"Gone." Sir Eustace said, breaking down in tears and crumples to his knees, sobbing.
Lady Carmichael bends down and cradles her husband, "You keep so many secrets from me. Is this another? Who have you seen?"
Sir Eustace raises his head to look at his wife, "It was her. It was the Bride."
221B...
Watson's eyes widen and he looks across to Holmes and Shay, who glances back at him before looking at Lady Carmichael.
"And you saw nothing?" Holmes asked.
"Nothing." Lady Carmichael said.
"Did your husband describe ..."
"Nothing – until this morning."
FLASHBACK...
Once again, Lady Carmichael wakes up in the middle of the night and looks across to find the bed empty beside her. She sits up and looks around.
Outside, Sir Eustace has a dressing gown over his night shirt and is walking across the front of the house towards the maze in his slippers. Shortly afterwards, Lady Carmichael, also wearing slippers and a dressing gown over her night dress, runs out to try and find him.
"Eustace!" Lady Carmichael said, calling out to her husband.
Lady Carmichael runs towards the maze but stops when she sees something lying on the ground. Looking down, she realises that it is one of Eustace's slippers which must have slipped from his foot unnoticed. She walks forward a little and calls out again.
"Eustace?!" Lady Carmichael exclaimed, hurrying on into the maze. "Eustace?" She continues on, turning several corners within the maze. "Eustace!" Lady Carmichael trips over something on the ground. "Ah!" She falls to her hands and knees. "Blast!"
Lady Carmichael kneels up, looking down at her grazed hands ... and the Bride walks across the junction behind her. Unaware of this, Lady Carmichael cries out again, her voice desperate.
"Eustace! Where are you? It's me!" Lady Carmichael yelled, turning her head to look behind her as a female voice begins to sing.
"Do not forget me, Do not forget me ..." The bride said, singing, while Lady Carmichael rises to her feet. "Remember the maid, The maid of the mill."
Lady Carmichael walks back to the junction and turns right, and sees her husband standing there with his back to her. Facing him, just in front of a dead end, the Bride stands with her veil covering her face and her hands folded in front of her. Lady Carmichael walks slowly forward to stand just behind her husband. He is staring at the Bride in horror, his face deathly pale.
"Who are you? I demand you speak! Who are you?" Lady Carmichael asked.
The Bride tilts her head to the right but doesn't say anything. Lady Carmichael reaches out and seizes her husband's right arm to turn him to face her.
"Eustace! Speak to me!" Lady Carmichael said, taking hold of both of her husband's arms and shaking him gently. He gazes at her blankly. "In the name of God!"
Lady Carmichael shakes Sir Eustace again and slaps his cheek before her husband rouses slightly.
"She's ... she's Emelia Ricoletti." Sir Eustace said, half-laughing, half-cries.
They both turn and look at the Bride who, apparently without moving her feet, is slowly drifting forward towards them.
"No. Not you. No!" Sir Eustace said, despairing, before the Bride stops a few paces away from him, before he becomes terrified. "Please!"
"This night, Eustace Carmichael, you ... will ... die." The bride said, reaching up with both hands and starts to lift her veil.
Before her face can be revealed, however, Eustace's eyes roll up into his head and he faints. Lady Carmichael cries out and catches him, lowering him to the ground and gasping. When she looks up a few seconds later, the Bride has gone. The camera rises up into the air to show the whole maze. There is no sign of the Bride.
221B...
The straight lines of parts of the maze resolve into a close-up of Holmes' has ludicrously long fingers steepled in front of his mouth while he sits in his armchair.
"Holmes?" Watson asked.
"'olmes, isit?" Shay asked.
"Hush, Watson, Shay." Holmes said, annoyed.
"But Emelia Ricoletti, the Bride!" Watson said, out of the side of his mouth.
"You know the name." Lady Carmichael said.
"You must forgive Watson. He has an enthusiasm for stating the obvious which borders on mania." Holmes said, turning a pointed look towards Watson, who throws a dark look back at him.
"Sorry. I 'ave a question. 'ow is yor ole man this mornin'?" Shay asked, looking at Lady Carmichael.
"He refuses to speak about the matter. Obviously I have urged him to leave the house." Lady Carmichael said.
"Nope. 'e can't leave. Right. 'e must stay w 'e is." Shay said, sadly.
"Well, you don't think he's in danger?"
"Oh no, somebody definitely wants to kill him, but that's good for us. You can't set a trap without bait." Holmes said, smiling at Lady Carmichael causing her to gasp.
"My husband is not bait, Mr Holmes." Lady Carmichael said.
"No. But he could be if we play our cards right." Holmes said, as Watson raises his eyebrows. "Now, listen: you must go home immediately. Doctor Watson, Shay and I will follow on the next train. There's not a moment to lose. Sir Eustace is to die tonight."
"Holmes!" Watson yelled.
"Ugh. We should avoid 'avin' 'im die tonight." Shay said, rolling his eyes.
"... and we should ... probably avoid that." Holmes said, frowning.
"Definitely." Watson said, happily.
"Most definitely." Shay said, smiling.
"Definitely avoid that." Holmes said.
Lady Carmichael looks rather confused, but nods.
THE DIOGENES CLUB...
Mycroft Holmes is in The Stranger's Room.
"Little brother has taken the case, of course. I now rely on you to keep an eye on things, but he must never suspect you of working for me. Are you clear on that, Watson?" Mycroft Holmes asked.
Behind him, Mary Watson walks into view and smiles at his back.
"You can rely on me, Mr Holmes." Mrs Watson said.
TRAIN CARRIAGE...
Holmes, Watson, and Shay are sitting opposite each other in the window seats of a single compartment, with Shay sitting next to Holmes. Holmes has his eyes closed, while Watson is looking out of the window. After a while, he turns to his companions.
"You don't suppose ..." Watson said.
"I don't, and neither should the both of you." Holmes said.
"You don't know what I was going to say."
"You were about to suggest there may be some supernatural agency involved in this matter, and I was about to laugh in your face." Holmes said, his eyes still closed.
"But the Bride! Holmes, Emelia Ricoletti, again. A dead woman, walking the Earth!" Watson said, angrily.
"It's as bad as Charles Dickens meetin' ghosts on Christmas in Cardiff! Or well, Shakespeare meetin' witches in the bleedin' Globe Feater!" Shay yelled. "Maybe, possibly, Queen Victoria copping bit by a werewolf, i'n it?"
Holmes sighs heavily and opens his eyes, "You amaze me, Watson, Shay."
"We do?" Watson asked.
"Since when have either of you had any kind of imagination?" Holmes asked.
"Perhaps since Shay and I convinced the reading public that an unprincipled drug addict is some kind of gentleman hero."
"Yes, now you come to mention it, that was quite impressive." Holmes said, looking down thoughtfully for a moment, then raises his eyes again. "You both may, however, rest assured there are no ghosts in this world."
"Wot about the bleedin' ghosts Charles Dickens possibly met, then, eh, luv?" Shay asked, while Watson nods slightly and looks out of the window.
"That wasn't real, Shay. That cannot be real." Holmes said, lowering his eyes, before speaking quietly. "... save those we make for ourselves."
Holmes closes his eyes and leans his head back against the headrest.
"Sorry, what did you say?" Watson asked, looking round to Holmes.
"Unless there are ghosts in New York. Now that's a whole different story, Watson. Cor blimey guv, would I lie to you." Shay said, as Holmes keeps his eyes closed.
"Ghosts we make for ourselves? Ghosts in New York? What do you mean?" Watson asked.
Holmes and Shay don't respond. Watson sighs.
Stately home of the Carmichaels...
Sir Eustace is standing near the fireplace of a large drawing room. Watson stands facing him, Shay is leaning against the fireplace, while Holmes is pacing around the room.
"Somnambulism." Sir Eustace said.
"I beg your pardon?" Watson asked.
"I sleepwalk, that's all. It's a common enough condition. I thought you were a doctor. The whole thing was a bad dream." Sir Eustace said.
"Including the contents of the envelope you received?"
Sir Eustace tries to laugh, "Well, that's a grotesque joke."
"Well, that's not the impression you gave your wife, sir."
"She's an hysteric, prone to fancies." Sir Eustace said.
"Nope, do wot Guvnor! Yor wrong." Shay said, smiling.
"I'm sorry? What did you say?"
"No. She's not crazy. Yor trouble and strife is keen and is able ter spot finkbuggers uvvers couldn't." Shay said, looking at Sir Eustace.
"My wife sees terror in an orange pip."
"Your wife can see worlds where no-one else can see anything of value whatsoever." Holmes said, finally stopping his pacing and walking closer.
"Can she really? And how do you 'deduce' that, Mr Holmes, Mr Shay?" Sir Eustace asked, sarcastically.
"Well, she married yer, Sir Eustace." Shay said, and Watson smiled.
"I assume she was capable of finding a reason." Holmes said.
Sir Eustace angrily surges towards Holmes and Shay. Watson instantly steps closer to Holmes and Shay, ready to protect them if necessary, but Sir Eustace stops as Holmes speaks again.
"I'll do my best to save your life tonight, but first it would help if you would explain your connection to the Ricoletti case." Holmes said.
"Ricoletti?" Sir Eustace asked, hesitating slightly before speaking.
"Yes. In detail, please."
"I've never heard of her." Sir Eustace said, again pausing momentarily.
"Interesting. I didn't mention she was a woman. We'll show ourselves out." Holmes said, while Sir Eustace swallows nervously. "I hope to see you again in the morning."
Holmes, Watson, and Shay start to leave the room.
"You will not!" Sir Eustace said, angrily.
"Then sadly I shall be solving your murder. Good day." Holmes said, as he, Watson, and Shay walked into the entrance hall.
Holmes takes a notebook from his trouser pocket and writes a note onto one of the pages.
"Well, you tried." Watson said, sadly.
A footman walks across the hall towards them. Holmes addresses the footman.
"Will you see that Lady Carmichael receives this?" Holmes asked, handing the footman the note. "Thank you. Good afternoon."
"Yes, sir." The footman said.
Holmes, Watson, and Shay walk on.
"What was that?" Watson asked.
"Lady Carmichael will sleep alone tonight, on the pretence of a violent headache. All the doors and windows of the house will be locked." Holmes said.
They reach the place where their coats and hats have been hung up, and take them down.
"Ah, you think the spectre ..." Watson said, and Holmes throws him a disapproving look. "... er, the Bride will attempt to lure Sir Eustace outside again?"
Watson puts on his scarf and then his coat.
"O' course. Wot else would 'appen, eh?" Shay asked, putting on his scarf, then his coat, and finally his gloves and hat.
"Why else the portentous threat?" Holmes asked, putting on his coat. "'This night you will die'."
"Well, he won't follow her, surely?" Watson asked.
"It's difficult to say quite what he'll do. Guilt is eating away at his soul." Holmes said, putting his gloves from the pocket of his coat and puts them on.
"Guilt? About what?"
"Something in his past. The orange pips were a reminder."
"Not a joke." Watson said, putting on his gloves.
"Not at all. Orange pips are a traditional warning of avenging death, originating in America. Sir Eustace knows this only too well, just as he knows why he is to be punished." Holmes said.
Taking their hats from the pegs, they start to walk out onto the entrance porch.
"Something to do with Emelia Ricoletti." Watson said, putting on his hat.
"I presume. We all have a past, Watson." Holmes said.
"Hmm."
They stop in the porch.
"Ghosts – they are the shadows that define our every sunny day. Sir Eustace knows he's a marked man." Holmes said, while Watson glances back behind them into the house. "There's something more than murder he fears. He believes he is to be dragged to Hell by the risen corpse of the late Mrs Ricoletti."
Watson looks around thoughtfully for a moment, then turns back to Holmes and Shay, "That's a lot of nonsense, isn't it?"
"God, yes. Did you both bring your revolvers?" Holmes asked, looking between Watson and Shay.
"What good would that be against a ghost?" Watson asked.
"Exactly. Did you both bring them?" Holmes asked.
"Yeah, i'n it? I did, 'olmes." Shay said, happily.
"Yeah, of course." Watson said, frowning.
"Then come, Watson, Shay, come." Holmes said, putting on his deerstalker. "The game is afoot!"
They head off.
In a greenhouse in the grounds of the Carmichael house...
It is nighttime and Watson grunts and stands up from some lower position.
"Oh! Right! For God's sake, right, Watson! Struth! Cop the hell fire dahn!" Shay yelled.
"Sorry. Cramp." Watson said, quickly sitting down, grimacing, rubbing his leg. "Is the, er, lamp still burning?"
"Yeah. Right. It is. I'll get out me spoons. Thank goodness." Shay said, looking across to one of the few windows of the house which are still lit.
Almost immediately, the lamp in that room goes out.
"There goes Sir Eustace." Holmes said, looking across to another lighted window, which goes dark a moment later. "And Lady Carmichael. The house sleeps."
Watson shakes his head, apparently bored, then draws in a deep breath, "Mmm, good God, this is the longest night of my life."
"Have patience, Watson." Holmes said.
Watson takes out his pocket watch and looks at it.
"Only midnight." Watson said, putting the watch away. "You know, it's rare for us to sit together like this."
"I should hope so. It's murder on the knees." Holmes said, smiling.
Watson returns the smile.
"If there were a game based on murders, 'olmes would mess up big time, right? And we would call 'im out on it, right, Watson." Shay said, laughing a lot.
Holmes and Watson laugh along with Shay.
"Hmm. Three old friends, just talking, chewing the fat ..." Watson said, looking at Holmes and Shay. "... man to man to man." Holmes looks somewhat startled, then looks towards the house whilst fidgeting slightly. "She's a remarkable woman."
"Who?" Holmes asked.
"Lady Carmichael."
"The fair sex is your department, Watson. I'll take your word for it."
"No, you and Shay liked her. A 'woman of rare perception'."
"And admirably high arches. I noticed them as soon as she stepped into the room." Holmes said.
"Huh. She's far too good for him."
"You think so?"
"No, you think so. I could tell."
"On the contrary, I have no view on the matter."
"Yes, you have."
"Marriage is not a subject upon which I dwell." Holmes said, after a momentary pause.
"Well, why not?" Watson asked.
"What's the matter with you this evening?"
"That watch that you're wearing: there's a photograph inside it. I glimpsed it once ..." Watson said, pointing at the photograph inside the lid of the pocket watch. "I believe it is of Irene Adler."
"You didn't 'glimpse' it. You waited 'til I had fallen asleep and looked at it." Holmes said, a little angrily.
"Yes, I did."
"You seriously thought I wouldn't notice?"
"Irene Adler."
"Formidable opponent; a remarkable adventure."
"'A Scandal in Belgravia'. No, wait. It's 'A Scandal in Bohemia'. Right. God, tenses and time periods are so confusin' sometimes." Shay said, happily.
"Shay, you were away in 'A Scandal in Bohemia' due to Moriarty lingering around. Even so, Holmes, that is a very nice photograph." Watson said.
"Why are you talking like this?" Holmes asked.
"Why are you so determined to be alone?" Watson asked.
"Are you quite well, Watson?"
"Is it such a curious question?"
"From a Viennese alienist, no; from a retired Army surgeon, most certainly."
"Holmes, against absolutely no opposition whatsoever, Shay and I are your closest friends."
"I concede it."
"I am currently attempting to have a perfectly normal conversation with you." Watson said.
"Please don't." Holmes said, precisely.
"Why do you need to be alone?" Watson asked, equally precisely.
"If you are referring to romantic entanglement, Watson – which I rather fear you are – as I have often explained before, all emotion is abhorrent to me. It is the grit in a sensitive instrument ..." Holmes said.
Watson and Shay join in with what Holmes says next.
"... the crack in the lens." Holmes, Watson, and Shay said, almost simultaneously.
"Yes." Watson said, frowning.
"O' course yor'd fuckin' say that, right, 'olmes." Shay said, scoffing.
"Well, there you both are, you see? I've said it all before." Holmes said.
"No, I wrote all that. You're quoting yourself from The Strand Magazine." Watson said.
"Well, exactly."
"No, those are my words, not yours! That is the version of you that I present to the public: the brain without a heart; the calculating machine. I write all of that, Holmes, and the readers lap it up, but I do not believe it."
"Well, I've a good mind to write to your editor."
"You are a living, breathing man. You've lived a life; you have a past."
"A what?!"
"Well, you must have had ..."
"Had what?"
Watson pauses a little awkwardly, then points at Holmes, "You know."
"No." Holmes said.
Watson swallows, "Experiences."
"Me experiences are interestin'. But it's not that interestin'." Shay said, sadly.
"Shay, we do not have time for this." Watson said, rolling his eyes.
"One of you, pass me your revolver. I have a sudden need to use it." Holmes said, angrily.
"Damn it, Holmes, you are flesh and blood. You have feelings. You have ... you must have ... impulses."
Holmes closes his eyes in exasperation.
"Dear Lord. I have never been so impatient to be attacked by a murderous ghost." Holmes said, through his teeth.
"As one of your friends – as someone who ... worries about you – what made you like this?" Watson asked.
"Come on, 'olmes. Sumfink must 'ave made yer ter be an ass." Shay said, happily.
Holmes has opened his eyes and looks at his friends almost sympathetically, "Oh, Watson, Shay. Nothing made me."
From somewhere to Holmes' left, scrabbling claws can be heard together with a sound of a dog whimpering anxiously, or as if it is in pain.
Holmes turns his head in the direction of the sound, "I made me."
The scrabbling and whimpering continues.
Holmes frowns in confusion, "Redbeard?"
"Good God!" Watson said, terrified.
"'oly shit! Right!" Shay said, worried.
Holmes turns his head to look at Watson and Shay. Watson and Shay are staring towards the house. Holmes follows their gaze. Through a dark archway at the house, the illuminated veiled figure of the Bride floats slightly above the ground.
"What are we to do?" Watson asked.
The Bride raises her right hand as if encouraging her watchers to approach.
"Why don't we have a chat?" Holmes asked, nonchalantly jumping up.
Watson and Shay frown, but then follow and they run across the garden towards the house.
"Mrs Ricoletti, I believe." Holmes said, calling out as he runs along the front of the house.
Holmes, Watson, and Shay stop outside the front porch, a few yards away from the ghostly image. The Bride lowers her hand. Still floating above the ground in front of a nearby doorway, her other hand has its fingers splayed threateningly.
"Pleasant night for the time of year, is it not?" Holmes asked.
Watson seizes Holmes' arm as if to hold him back, "It cannot be true, Holmes. It cannot!"
The Bride floats backwards towards the door, holding out her hands towards the men as if in invitation.
"No, it can't." Holmes said, when the Bride begins to fade from view.
At the same moment, a man screams inside the house. Holmes, Watson, and Shay turn their heads towards the sound. Somewhere, a large pane of glass can be heard smashing. Holmes and then Watson and Shay turn back towards the other doorway but the Bride has vanished. Holmes runs to the front door and tries to open it.
"Is it locked?" Watson asked.
"As per instructions." Holmes said, coming back out of the porch.
"Oi. Did a window just break, then, eh?" Shay asked.
"There's only one broken window we need concern ourselves with." Holmes said.
They run to the nearest window beside the front door and Holmes jabs his elbow through the glass, then breaks out the rest of the glass with his gloved hand. He and then Watson and Shay climb inside, and Holmes strikes a match to light a lantern.
"Stay in here, Watson, Shay." Holmes said.
"What? No!" Watson said, angrily.
"Are yer crazy, luv? 'olmes! Struth! We can't let yer go alone! Oi!" Shay yelled.
"All the doors and windows to the house are locked. This is their only way out. I need both of you here." Holmes said, picking up the lantern, he hurries away.
"But the sound was so close, it had to be from this side of the house." Watson said, grabbing Shay's hand.
"Both of you! Stay here!" Holmes said, running into the house.
"This is just great. 'olmes is doin' it again. Leavin' us as 'e runs straight into danger. Wot a barney Rubble magnet 'e is." Shay said, while he and Watson looks anxiously at the window behind them.
"Agreed." Watson said, squeezing Shay's hand.
Holmes runs for the stairs just as a woman cries out in horror upstairs. As she continues to shriek, he reaches the landing and looks around, shining the light from his lantern around the nearby carpet. Two maids run up another set of stairs towards him, and Holmes heads off along the landing. Turning a corner, he finds Lady Carmichael standing there in her night dress. On the carpet in front of her is a pool of blood. Holmes looks up at Lady Carmichael as her maids hurry towards her. She stares savagely at him.
"You promised to keep him safe. You promised!" Lady Carmichael said, as the maids took hold of her arms. "You ..." Holmes stares wide-eyed at her as she begins to sob and he turns away. "You promised!"
Holmes makes his way along the landing, following a trail of fresh drops of blood.
Downstairs, in the entrance hall on the other side of a narrow corridor leading to Watson's and Shay's position, the floor creaks. Watson takes out his revolver, holds it up with the barrel pointing towards the ceiling, and cocks it. In the hall, the floor creaks again. Lowering his gun to his side, Watson slowly walks forward with Shay across the broken glass on the floor and enters the corridor. Watson and Shay stop.
"You're human, I know that. You must be." Watson said, and it is dark in the corridor.
"It can't be the bloody Gelth. I'll make us all a nice cup a' tea. It 'appened on Christmas in Cardiff. Cor blimey guv, would I lie to you. The bleedin' Rift there is closed." Shay said, while Watson puts his revolver onto a table beside him, on which is a candle and a box of matches.
Watson picks up the candle and the box of matches.
"Little use, us standing here in the dark." Watson said, striking a match and picking up the candle to light it. "After all, this is the nineteenth century."
On the floors above, Holmes runs up another flight of stairs and into the eaves of the house. He shines his lantern to the left and then to the right, and immediately sees a man lying on the floor on his side. There is something sticking out of the man's chest. Holmes walks forward and bends down to the man, his face full of dread. He gently rolls him onto his back and reveals Sir Eustace. A large ornately-handled dagger is in his chest, and Eustace's eyes are fixed and horrified. Behind him, a woman screams as she catches sight of the body.
Downstairs, a breeze blows out the candle which Watson is holding. Watson's eyes widened and he grabbed Shay's hand with the two breathing heavily. Watson looks down to strike another match and he re-lights the candle, blows out the match and then picks up his revolver again and turns towards the hall with Shay.
"'Allo? Is there anyone there, isit? 'olmes, guv?" Shay asked, and he and Watson, peered into the darkness, they are unaware that behind them stands the Bride. "Watson. I don't like this."
The Bride slowly drifts towards Watson and Shay.
"Do not forget me." The Bride said, whispering harshly in the same rhythm as the song.
Watson's and Shay's eyes widen. The Bride comes to a halt just a pace or two behind them.
"Do not forget me." The Bride said, in the same harsh whisper.
Both of their faces full of terror, Watson and Shay turn around. Instantly the Bride lifts both her arms high and displays her bloodstained fingers, the nails long and pointed as if they are claws, and she lets out a savage half-hiss half-scream. Dropping the candle, Watson and Shay turn and run into the hall, turning around to run backwards as they look for the Bride, just as Holmes races down the stairs. They bump into each other.
"Watson! Shay!" Holmes yelled.
"She's there! She's down there!" Watson said, pointing to the corridor.
"She's more creepy than a Weepin' Angel. I wasn't expectin' that." Shay said, looking at the corridor.
"Don't tell me that both of you abandoned your post." Holmes said, looking between Shay and Watson.
"What? Holmes, she's there!" Watson said, pointing with his revolver. "We saw her!"
Aiming his lantern ahead of him, Holmes runs into the corridor. Watson and Shay chases after him.
Holmes arrives at the broken window and angrily turns back to Watson and Shay, "Empty, thanks to you two! Our bird is flown."
"No! No, Holmes, it wasn't what you think. We saw her – the ghost." Watson said.
"THERE ARE NO GHOSTS!" Holmes said, furiously glaring at Watson and Shay for a moment, then calms down.
"What happened? Where is Sir Eustace?" Watson asked.
"Dead."
Some time later, a police photographer removes the cap from the lens of his camera and takes a photograph of Sir Eustace's body, still lying where it was found, with the dagger still stuck in his chest. Holmes, Watson, Shay and Lestrade are standing at the top of the nearby stairs.
"You really mustn't blame yourself, you know." Lestrade said.
Holmes pulls in a long breath through his nose, "No, you're quite right."
"I'm glad you're seeing sense." Watson said.
"Same 'ere." Shay said, happily.
"Watson and Shay equally culpable. Between us, we've managed to botch this whole case. I gave an undertaking to protect that man; now he's lying there with a dagger in his breast." Holmes said.
"In fact, you gave an undertaking to investigate his murder." Watson said, walking towards the body and squatting down to it.
"In the confident expectation I would not have to." Holmes said, angrily.
"Anything you can tell us, Doctor?" Lestrade asked.
"Well, he's been stabbed with considerable force." Watson said.
"It's a man, then."
"Possibly."
"A very keen blade, so it could conceivably have been a woman." Lestrade said.
"In theory, yes, but we know who it was. Shay and I saw her." Watson said, angrily standing up and walking back to Holmes and Lestrade.
"Watson." Holmes said.
"Shay and I saw the ghost with our own eyes." Watson said, loudly.
"You both saw nothing. You saw what you were supposed to see." Holmes said, angrily.
"Wossis, isit? The bloomin' 'Hound o' the Baskervilles', then, mate?" Shay asked, crossing his arms.
"Shay's right. Is that what you're referencing Holmes? You said yourself: We have no imagination." Watson said.
"Then both of you use your brain, such as it is, to eliminate the impossible – which in this case is the ghost – and observe what remains – which in this case is a solution so blindingly obvious, even Lestrade could work it out." Holmes said, looking between Watson and Shay.
"Thank you!" Lestrade yelled.
"Forget spectres from the otherworld." Holmes said, angrily, to Watson and Shay, before speaking more calmly. "There is only one suspect with motive and opportunity. They might as well have left a note."
"They did leave a note." Lestrade said.
"And then there's the matter of the other broken window." Holmes said, looking at Watson and Shay.
"What other broken window?"
"Precisely. There isn't one. The only broken window in this establishment is the one that Watson, Shay, and I entered through, yet prior to that we distinctly heard the sound of 'What did you just say'?"
"Sorry?"
"About a note. What did you just say?"
"I said the murderer did leave a note."
"No they didn't."
"There's a message tied to the dagger. You must have seen it!" Lestrade said, angrily.
"There's no message." Holmes said, walking towards the body.
"Yes!"
"There was no message when I found the body." Holmes said, stopping and looks down at Sir Eustace's corpse.
Looped around the hilt of the dagger is a piece of string, to which is attached a luggage label. He squats down, picks up the label and looks at the underside. His eyes widen and he lowers the label back down onto Sir Eustace's chest. Staring into the distance in disbelief, he slowly stands up.
"Holmes?" Watson asked, walking closer with Shay as Holmes slowly backs away, then turns and walks slowly towards the stairs. "What is it?"
Not answering, Holmes shows Shay the label and the two head down the stairs. Watson walks over to the body, squats down and lifts the luggage label and looks at the underside to show. Written in large letters is:
MISS ME?
Watson raises his head and frowns. On the stairs, Holmes is dragging Shay away as he seems to float down them as he stares ahead of himself in shock and bewilderment.
THE STRANGER'S ROOM OF THE DIOGENES CLUB...
"Do you?" Mycroft Holmes asked.
Holmes has been facing away from his brother with Shay but now turns to look at him.
"Do I what?" Holmes asked, while Mycroft held up the bloodstained luggage label with its MISS ME? message.
"Straight up? O' all the bloomin' finkbuggers, isit?, mate!" Shay said, looking at the bloodstained luggage label.
"How did you get that?" Holmes asked, breathing out a long 'h' at the beginning of the first word while pointing to the label. "We left it at the crime scene."
"'Crime scene'? Where do you pick up these extraordinary expressions? Do either of you miss him?" Mycroft asked, putting down the label on the table beside him and then folding his hands over his huge stomach.
"Moriarty is dead."
"Yeah. Right. 'e blew 'is own michael Caines out. No one survives that, Mycroft. Not unless it's me or Captain Jack 'arkness." Shay said, looking at Mycroft.
"And yet." Mycroft Holmes said.
Holmes has turned away from Mycroft again, "His body was never recovered."
"To be expected when two pushes a maths professor over a waterfall. Pure reason toppled by sheer melodrama: your lives in a nutshell." Mycroft said, looking between Holmes and Shay.
"'Where do you pick up these extraordinary expressions?'" Holmes asked, turning to face his older brother.
Holmes turns again and stops at the sight of a painting on the side wall. It is Turner's 'Falls of the Reichenbach.' For a moment it's as if he can see the water pouring over the top of the falls and plummeting into the drop.
Holmes blows out a breath and then sniffs harshly before turning to his brother, "Have you put on weight?"
"You and Jared saw me only yesterday. Does that seem possible?" Mycroft Holmes asked.
"No." Holmes said, slowly walking past his chair while looking at his older brother.
"Yet here I am, increased. What does that tell the foremost criminal investigator and the foremost investigative journalist nalist in England?" Mycroft Holmes asked, holding out his hands.
"In England?" Holmes asked, a little indignantly.
"You're in deep, Sherlock, Jared, deeper than you both ever intended to be. Brother, dear. Jared. Have both of you made your respective list?" Mycroft asked, looking between Shay and Holmes.
"Of what?" Holmes asked.
"Everything. We will need lists. Jared, your list usually contains a plan you had in mind. You started doing them off of inspiration from a certain girl." Mycroft Holmes said.
Taking a breath, Holmes takes a piece of paper from his pocket and holds it up.
"Just because I started makin' plans after thinkin' I lost Team RWBY at Atlas, i'n it?" Shay asked, taking a piece of paper from his pocket and held it up. "It don't mean I 'ave a look up ter Morgan Spencer, right, Mycroft. She's not real in me canon. Despite me likin' 'er attitude and the way she acts."
"Good boys." Mycroft Holmes said, happily.
Holmes walks towards his brother and Shay also walked towards Holmes' brother, who reaches for the papers, but Holmes lifts his paper away, screws it up and puts it back into his pocket. Meanwhile, Shay gave his piece of paper to Mycroft Holmes.
"No. I haven't finished yet." Holmes said.
"Moriarty may beg to differ." Mycroft Holmes said, and he unfolded Shay's paper to look at his plan. "Jared, are you sure this will work?"
"If we're gahn off o' the bloody canon o' this adventure. It should work in theory. As long as evryfink plays out as it is supposed ter." Shay said, while Holmes sighs sharply.
"What if it doesn't?"
"It will. I know it will. But this is Moriarty we're goin' on about 'ere. Cor blimey guv, would I lie to you."
"He's trying to distract us, to derail us." Holmes said, placing his palms together under his chin.
"Yes. He's the crack in the lens, the fly in the ointment ... the virus in the data." Mycroft Holmes said.
Lowering his hands, Holmes turns round and looks sharply at his older brother.
"We have to finish this." Holmes said.
"If Moriarty has risen from the Reichenbach cauldron, he will seek you and Jared out." Mycroft Holmes said.
"We'll be waiting." Holmes said, walking away and leaves the room with Shay, closing the door behind them.
Mycroft's face becomes sad.
"Yes." Mycroft said, softly looking across to the painting. "I'm very much afraid you both will."
221B SITTING ROOM...
Holmes, wearing a blue dressing gown over his clothes, is sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor facing the fireplace. The backs of his hands rest on his knees and he is touching the index finger of each hand to the thumb as if in a yoga pose for meditation. His eyes are closed. Newspapers lie on the floor all around him. In the corner behind his chair smoke is rising from is an incense burner. Shay is lying down on the couch with his eyes closed.
Mind Palace...
Holmes opens his eyes and torn-out cuttings from newspaper articles start to float past him in mid-air. He reaches out and grabs random cuttings as they pass, looking at the text on them and Shay walked over to him to look at the newspaper articles. Some of them read:
THE DEATH OF EUSTACE CARMICHAEL
STATEMENT FROM CAB DRIVER
"IT WAS MRS RICOLETTI"
ALARMING DISCOVERY IN ISLINGTON
ANOTHER BRIDE OUTRAGE
VISCOUNT HUMMERSKNOT DEAD
SORDID END TO BRILLIANT CAREER
RENOWNED PEER VICTIM OF VITRIOL ATTACK
SCOTLAND YARD BAFFLED
CAUSE OF DEATH
The mysterious death of Viscount Hummersknot on
Wednesday last has led to questions in the House.
Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard refused to say
whether the peer's death was anything to do with
the now notorious 'Bride' murders.
WHO WILL BE NEXT?
A strange discovery awaited Miss Eliza Bar-
ton on Monday last. Entering the Union Chapel, Is-
lington where she is employed as char, Miss Barton
found the corpse of Captain Leo Masterson, late of
Her Majesty's Navy, shot to death. Captain Master-
son had succumbed to his wounds following a shot-
gun blast to the head. Mysteriously, the body was
covered in a quantity of rice, though a wedding
had lately taken place...wedding had...the...blood upon the floor
was the...
221B SITTING ROOM...
The door to the (real) sitting room opens and Mrs Hudson and Inspector Lestrade peer in. Holmes is sitting in the middle of the floor with his eyes closed and his hands resting on his knees and Shay is lying down on the couch with his eyes closed as described above. They speak barely above a whisper throughout the following conversation.
"Two days they've been like that." Mrs Hudson said.
"Have they eaten?" Lestrade asked.
"Oh, not a morsel." Mrs Hudson said, shaking her head.
"Press are having a ruddy field day. There's still reporters outside."
"They've been there all the time. I can't get rid of them. I've been rushed off my feet making tea."
"Why d'you make 'em tea?"
Mrs Hudson looks round at Lestrade, "I don't know. I just sort of do."
They look back towards the unmoving Holmes and Shay.
"Holmes said there's only one suspect and then he just walks away, and now he won't explain." Lestrade said. "Neither does Shay, and he usually spills the beans to us if it is important."
"Which is strange, because they like that bit." Mrs Hudson said.
"Holmes said it was so simple, I could solve it."
"I'm sure he was exaggerating."
Lestrade looks at Mrs Hudson, then wrinkles his nose and looks towards Holmes and Shay again, "What're they doing, do you think?"
"They say they're waiting." Mrs Hudson said.
"For what?" Lestrade asked.
"The devil." Mrs Hudson said, while Lestrade stares at her. "I wouldn't be surprised. We get all sorts here."
"Well, wire me if there's any change."
"Yeah."
Lestrade turns and goes down the stairs. Mrs Hudson watches her lodgers for a moment longer, tuts sadly and then closes the door.
Sitting room...
Holmes lifts up a newspaper from the floor and moves it to reveal a small open case containing a syringe.
"'olmes, then, eh, luv? Are yer sure, eh, luv?" Shay asked, opening his eyes, and stood up from the couch, as Holmes reached down and gently caressed the syringe with one finger, then picked it up.
"I am sure, Shay." Holmes said, looking down at the syringe for a while, then lifts his eyes as if he has made his decision.
Some time passes and night is falling. Holmes still sits in the same place on the floor with his eyes closed. Shay is lying down on the couch with his eyes closed. A shadow falls across them and the floor creaks. Holmes frowns slightly and turns his head a little in the direction of the sound, his eyes still closed. The floor creaks again and quiet footsteps can be heard. After a moment, a familiar voice speaks.
"Everything I have to say has already crossed your minds." Moriarty said, softly.
"And possibly our answer has crossed yours." Holmes said, quietly, not moving.
"Like a bullet."
Holmes opens his eyes, then carefully gets to his feet, putting his right hand into his pocket. Shay sat up from lying down on the couch to sit down on it.
"Yeah. I'm still fuckin' terrified o' yer, Moriarty. As I am o' the Master. Always 'ave ter be prepared 'round yer both." Shay said, sadly.
Holmes and Shay turn to face Professor Moriarty, who is standing in front of the right-hand window.
"Fair point, Jared. You don't like being around me. It's a dangerous habit, to finger loaded firearms in the pocket of one's dressing gown. Or are you and Sherlock just pleased to see me?" Moriarty asked, smiling, then rolls his jaw and tilts his head to the right, crunching the bones in his neck.
"You'll forgive me for taking precautions." Holmes said.
"Same 'ere." Shay said.
"I'd be offended if the two of you didn't." Moriarty said, patting the pockets of his jacket, then reaches into the breast pocket and takes out a small pistol. "Obviously I've returned the courtesy." He looks down at the gun and cocks it, then spins it round with his finger through the trigger guard for a few seconds. Eventually he stops, holds it properly and wanders vaguely around the room. "I like your rooms. They smell so ..." Moriarty gestures with his free hand as if searching for the most appropriate description, then says the next word in a deeper voice than usual. "... manly."
Moriarty wanders closer and stops very close to Holmes.
"I'm sure you've acquainted yourself with them before now." Holmes said.
"Well, Sherlock, you are always away on your little adventures for The Strand. Tell me: does the illustrator travel with you? Do you have to pose ..." Moriarty said, lifting the pistol, he touches the end of the barrel to his chin while he steeples the fingers of the other hand against it. "... during your deductions?"
Moriarty lowers his hands and wanders towards the fireplace.
"We're aware of all six occasions you have visited these apartments during our absence." Holmes said, turning to keep Moriarty in sight.
"I know you both are." Moriarty said, running his fingers along the top of the mantelpiece.
"Sorry about not tidyin'. It's not right us finkbugger." Shay said, knowing that the mantlepiece is very dusty.
"It's fine, Jared." Moriarty said, looking down at his dusty fingertips. "By the way, Sherlock, you have a surprisingly comfortable bed." He looks round to Holmes and smiles, looking back at his fingertips. "Did you know that dust is largely composed of human skin?"
"Yes." Holmes said.
Moriarty opens his mouth, sticks his fingertips onto his tongue and licks them. Holmes, his hand still in his pocket, looks slightly appalled.
"Doesn't taste the same, though. You want your skin fresh ..." Moriarty said, waving the licked hand in the air as if trying to describe the flavour of his favourite recipe. "... just a little crispy."
Holmes sighs.
"Won't you sit down?" Holmes asked, gesturing to Watson's chair.
"That's all people really are, you know: dust waiting to be distributed. And it gets everywhere ..." Moriarty said, sticking out his tongue and waggles it as if trying to shake off the dust he just licked. "... in every breath you take, dancing in every sunbeam, all used-up people."
"Fascinating, I'm sure." Holmes said, cocking one eyebrow, and gesturing to Watson's chair again. "Won't you sit ..."
"People, people, people. Can't keep anything shiny." Moriarty said, talking over Holmes and now staring down into the muzzle of his gun, before blowing into the end three times, then lifts the gun and peers into it. "D'you mind if I fire this, just to clean it out?"
"Yes. I do. I don't want yer destroyin', Baker Street. That is 'olmes' bugger." Shay said, looking at Moriarty.
"It's mine now, Jared." Moriarty said, turning the gun and points it at Holmes.
Instantly Holmes snatches out his own gun and points it at his enemy. They stand there for several seconds, the ends of their pistols almost touching. Eventually and almost simultaneously – although Holmes makes the first move – they lift their guns to point the muzzles upwards. Moriarty slowly swings his pistol around to lower it to his side, while Holmes drops his own gun onto the nearby table.
"Exactly. Let's stop playing. We don't need toys to kill each other. Where's the intimacy in that? Jared is the only toy we need for this. " Moriarty said.
"Jared is not a toy. He is my friend and you're scaring him." Holmes said, walking closer to Moriarty. "Sit down."
"Why? What do you want?"
"You chose to come here." Holmes said, still walking closer to Moriarty.
"Not true. You know that's not true." Moriarty said, while Holmes has stopped a pace away from him. They stare into each other's eyes. "What do you and Jared want, Sherlock?"
"The truth."
"That's all we want, Moriarty. The chuffin' truth." Shay said, getting up from the couch and walking towards Moriarty who nodded.
"That." Moriarty said, starting to walk past them but turned to put his face close to Holmes' and Shay's. "Truth's boring." He walks slowly across the room as Holmes and Shay turns to watch him. "You both didn't expect me to turn up at the scene of the crime, did you? Poor old Sir Eustace. He got what was coming to him."
"But you couldn't have killed him." Holmes said.
"It's impossible, Moriarty. Yer couldn't 'ave done it, right?" Shay asked.
"Oh, so what? Does it matter? Stop it. Stop this. The two of you don't care about Sir Eustace, or the Bride or any of it. There's only one thing in this whole business that you find interesting." Moriarty said, turning back to face Holmes and Shay.
"We know what you're doing." Holmes said, in an intense whisper.
The room starts to rock as if an earthquake is taking place. The decanters and glasses rattle. Holmes shakes his head, closes his eyes, and Shay grabbed his hand. The disturbance stops.
"The Bride put a gun in her mouth and shot the back of her head off, and then she came back." Moriarty said, holding up his pistol near his chin, the muzzle pointed upwards, and he shrugs and moves the gun further away from his face. "Impossible." Holmes' eyes are open again and he squeezed Shay's hand. "But she did it, and you need to know how. How ...?" The room begins to rock again. "... don't you? It's tearing both your worlds apart not knowing."
The room continues to shake.
"You are trying to stop us ..." Holmes said, intensely, pulling in a deep breath through his nose, closes his eyes and shakes his head before opening his eyes again while squeezing Shay's hand. "... to distract us, derail us."
The room settles.
"Because doesn't this remind you and Jared of another case?" Moriarty asked, and Holmes closes his eyes. "Hasn't this all happened before? There's nothing new under the sun." Holmes grimaces, his eyes still closed, squeezing Shay's hand. "What was it? What was it? What was that case? Huh? D'you remember?"
"I do. I remember that case, right, Moriarty. I'll get out me spoons." Shay said, letting go of Holmes' hand.
Holmes raises his hands and runs them over his face.
"It's on the tip of my tongue." Moriarty said, whispering, pointing to his mouth and the room starts to shake again, causing the consultant criminal to whisper as he points towards Holmes and Shay. "It's on the tip of my tongue."
"It's on the tip of my tongue." Holmes said, whispering as he lowers his hands, grabbing Shay's hand, and he opens his eyes as the room continues to shake, then settles.
"It's on the tip ..." Moriarty siad, whispering, raising the pistol, opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, and rests the muzzle against his tongue.
Slowly, holding that position, Moriarty sinks down to sit on the low table in front of the sofa.
"... of my tongue." Moriarty said, whispering, his speech blurred.
The room shakes again. Holmes takes another sharp breath through his nose and the room settles.
"For the sake of Mrs Hudson's wallpaper, I must remind you that one false move with your finger and you will be dead." Holmes said, in a normal voice, whispering the last word.
Moriarty, the end of his gun still resting on his stuck-out tongue, speaks incoherently, "Ed ith the noo thethy."
"I'm sorry?" Holmes asked, closing and then opening his eyes.
"Wot, eh, mate?" Shay asked, and Moriarty removes the gun and pulls his tongue back into his mouth, holding the gun next to him pointing upwards.
"Dead ..." Moriarty said, pausing for a long moment, before speaking in a whisper. "... is the new sexy."
Holmes and Shay stare at Moriarty in shock. Again the room starts to shake and this time the tremors are much stronger. In a quick movement, Moriarty raises the gun again and opens his mouth, aims the pistol into it and pulls the trigger, firing the gun. He falls backwards and blood flies into the air.
The room settles and Moriarty stands up, shaking himself down. He has some blood spatter on his face.
"Well, I'll tell you what: that rather blows the cobwebs away." Moriarty said.
Holmes and Shay stare at Moriarty wide-eyed.
"But that's impossible. Yor not like me or Captain Jack 'arkness, right? And yor not a Time Lord, right, Moriarty." Shay said, sadly.
"How can you be alive?" Holmes asked, softly, but intensely.
"How do I look, huh?" Moriarty asked, slowly he turns around to reveal where the back of his head has been blown out. "Huh?"
Still Holmes and Shay stare in disbelief. Moriarty turns a full circle to face them again.
"You can be honest. Is it noticeable?" Moriarty asked, sounding a little anxious, moving his head around as if giving Holmes and Shay a good look at him.
"Yes. Yes, right, it is." Shay said, squeezing Holmes' hand.
"You blew your own brains out. How could you survive?" Holmes asked, softly, intensely.
"Well, maybe I could back-comb." Moriarty said, gesturing to his hair.
"We saw you die." Holmes said, narrowing his eyes. "Why aren't you dead?"
"Because it's not the fall that kills you, Sherlock, Jared." Moriarty said, stepping closer to speak in a whisper. "Of all people, you both should know that. It's not the fall. It's never the fall."
Glassware around the room begins to tinkle and smash. Moriarty spreads his arms wide on either side and stares manically at Holmes and Shay.
"It's the landing." Moriarty said, intensely.
The tremors start again, even stronger than before. On a cabinet in the corner, a small model of an elephant is shaken off the side and falls to the floor. The tremors throw Holmes and Shay stumbling back towards the fireplace.
Holmes falls backwards into his chair and Shay fell backwards into Watson's chair ...