Sherlock Holmes (Шерлок Холмс)

The diary of John Hamish Watson,

late of the Army Medical Department.

In 1878 after graduating from the University of London,

and finishing a course of a military surgeon in Netley,

I got the title of military doctor and was sent near to Kandahar,

to the 5th Northumberland fusiliers.

The second Afghan campaign brought honours and promotions to many.

But for me it had nothing but misfortune and disaster.

Because of the hot climate, shortage of medicine, supplies and drinking water,

two thirds of the patients whom we managed to save on the operating table,

subsequently died of blood poisoning and local fever.

During the fateful battle of Maiwand I was concussed,

and barely alive, I was captured by merciless Ghazi.

If it hadn't been for the bravery of Lieutenant Peter Small,

my companion in misfortune, I wouldn't be writing these lines.

By some miracle we managed to escape during the attack of the royal troops.

In the flurry we stole a horse and got to the location of our units.

Jaded by the consequences of the concussion and weakened by constant pain attacks,

I was deducted for disability pension with many other crippled sufferers,

and sent back to homeland, with irretrievably ruined health,

but with permission from a paternal government

to spend the next nine months in attempting to improve it,

paid by her majesty the queen,

and with a further alimony of 11 shillings and 6 pennies a day.

Financial difficulties didn't bother me.

The first thing I did when I arrived in the capital,

was to buy a fashionable French perfume “Le Jovial”.

Maybe despite my age and experience,

I was still a curious and adventurous young man in my heart.

I had neither friends nor relatives in England,

in other words I was alone and left to myself,

so it wasn't surprising why I came to London, to this huge cesspool,

that attracts all loungers and idlers of the empire.

Some come here for easy money, others are looking for adventures,

young ladies dream of a good marriage, boys dream of government service,

and everyone thinks that the capital will give them a chance.

I came to London with two intentions -

to open a private practice and if it's possible - to become a writer.

“Doctor of medicine with a diploma and a license John H. Watson,

opens up a medical practice and looks for clients.

Discounts for veterans and the disabled.” But what's wrong?

The address. Where are you opening the practice?

Neither veterans nor disabled persons will find you, sir.

I didn't really think it through.

Alright when I find an apartment, I will come back for sure.

But in the next issue we are printing out a two-week schedule of races

at the hippodrome, so people will keep the newspaper for two weeks.

If you submit the notice tomorrow or any other day,

it will live for a day and you will lose a bunch of clients.

Oh well, what to do?

But the story I want to tell you should not begin with this.

The first story. Baker Street 221b.

Leave me alone! Go away!

Lady Nelligan.

Sit. You don't need to stand up.

Colonial Ferguson, he will be my witness.

The letters.

Just one letter?

And the rest? Where are the rest?

And where is my money?

Don't you dare to talk like that to a lady!

Hey, hey, heey, stop!

A thousand apologies.

A thousand devils!

Thief!

Help! He's killed!

Doctor! Quickly bring a doctor here!

It was a cabman who hit him, for sure!

Check him. Look what you've done.

Is there a doctor?

Let me pass. Constable, help me to turn him over, quick.

He's got 30 seconds, maximum 40.

I'm afraid there's no need for a doctor anymore.

Mister, what's happening? Who are you?

I'm a friend of inspector Lestrade. Have you heard of him?

- So, you are not a doctor? - Of course not.

Hold it. Excuse me.

So, he quickly needs to be transported to the hospital, his heart is still pumping.

It's going to stop now.

So what to do? A mercy is nothing for you in this case?

Just an inevitability. We are all mortal.

I saw it! It was the cabman for sure!

Excuse me. Constable!

Save the living, not the dead.

It wasn't me sir, no, no, it wasn't me!

- Call the coroner. - We did it, sir.

Arrest him! It was him for sure, I saw it with my own eyes!

What did your passenger look like?

My passenger… sir, I didn't have time to see his face.

didn't have time to see his face. No wonder, your smell is spreading for miles.

A sober cabman in London is the same rare phenomenon as a sunny day.

Why did you stop your cab?

Because this poor man suddenly started screaming.

The only poor man here is you.

Try to remember better, otherwise you'll be hanged.

When you stopped the cab, did your passenger go out to see the victim?

Yes, sir, yes! He jumped out, ran to him and started helping him, sir.

I remember now!

He hadn't had a finger on his hand for sure!

You are standing a few steps away from a gibbet. Try to remember, on which hand?

The right, the left one? What finger?

One moment, sir.

I saw it myself! It was him for sure!

I can't remember, sir, I got drunk yesterday.

A step closer.

The cabman hit him!

Constable, could you please turn him over.

"Le jovial"

Excuse me, what?

The second and the third vertebras are broken.

Too filigreed for such a cumbersome instrument of crime

like a horse-drawn carriage.

You are an army doctor, you should know it.

I'm telling you it was the cabman, he hit him!

If I were you, constable,

I would arrest this noisy gentleman, and ask his name and profession.

Take him. Bring him to the station.

So, what happened here?

It wasn't an accident, it was a wilful murder. After you.

- Sir, the coroner has arrived. - Take the body.

The criminal has fixed the door, so it wouldn't open during the ride.

Then he leaned out the carriage,

and when he reached the victim, he dealt the blow.

Disperse the crowd, I need to look carefully here.

Everyone disperse. We need to inspect the scene of crime.

There it is! An iron fence.

Sir, we're loaded the body.

From the Wilhelm's era.

Now we can go.

No, from the Elizabeth's... The murder weapon.

Constable, let's go to the police station.

Wait, wait, where are going?

Doctor, would you join us, another witness will never be an excess.

- Let until the evening. - Yes, sir.

Doctor, I have to ask you to describe the criminal

as tall, broad and wearing a marine jacket.

But if he was small, fat and wore a coat?

He looked exactly like I'm describing him.

It's a lie.

Sir, somebody searched him before me.

Think of it as a lie for good.

Listen...I am a catholic.

Especially!

- Sir, it's not me, sir! - I said be quiet!

Your bag.

Sit down!

Excuse me, mister, don't know what's your...

Listen to me as a catholic and as a doctor,

do you really want an innocent man to suffer?

Don't hurry to make hasty conclusions.

- Attention! - Oh sit down, lazybones.

Mr. Holmes, I will ask the judge to double fine you for damaging the investigation.

I don't understand.

Sergeant Wilkinson had almost resolved this road accident,

but you appeared and twisted everything.

I wrote down all my thoughts about the road accident on the paper.

"The criminal was above the average height, in a marine jacket, broad.

Before leaving the scene of crime, he searched the victim carefully."

That's what he told you?

No, his turned inside out pockets did. Tracey, confirm it.

Yes, sir.

Also, this button was firmly grasped in the hand of the victim.

It means that he was holding the criminal while he was searching him.

The murder was committed for robbery.

Here you failed, Mr. Smart!

The coroner searched through him and found this.

So your robbery version...

And if he wasn't looking for money?

Who are you dammit?

I'm a scientist.

Yes, I didn't know that. In what sphere?

In the sphere of deduction, it is a science.

A science of messing up an investigation.

It's a synthesis of facts and logic that build up the facts

to a continuous chain, which leads you to the right conclusion.

Looks like a brochure advertising charades.

Actually solving charades is the thing that I'm pretty good at.

This is something new. Last time we met you claimed you were a detective.

I am a detective.

There is only one professional detective here!

Why wouldn't you take a closer look at the victim then?

Why not to examine, for example, the nature of the injury?

Why are you quiet, doctor?

Sir, it wasn't me, I promise!

Quiet! Be quiet!

I won't spend Scotland Yard's precious time on this trifling case!

Do you know why this body is here in the station?

Because the morgue is full!

This morning we had four robberies, two big raids and two firefights,

in the evening each of you do-

That's fiddle bow!

Fiddle bow?

Yes.

Sir, it's not me, sir!

Don't shake like that, mate!

The court will shorten your sentence, now I will take care of that myself.

That's how the famous pickpocket Jack Izzy, nicknamed Fiddle Bow looks like!

Look at his fingers, he has an anatomic form of the middle finger and forefinger.

It was created especially for robbery, you understand?

A dozen cases closed!