Holmes & Watson: Madrid Days

Do you want the future?

Hello. Some flowers?

- Does the gentleman want a coach? - Yes please.

And not because of its sculptural beauty.

But because, where they see them,

they managed to escape from the great Abdel, of the vizier of Baghdad,

Ali Canmunuza

Helped by darkness

and for the narcotic that was given to the chief eunuch of the palace.

And traveling half the world they have arrived in Madrid

to present us his incomparable belly dance.

"Halili, pull it!"

What do you mean: "Music, teacher!"

Give me a card of those your guessing the future.

-Good luck beautiful. -Thank you.

Take, goalkeeper.

Angela, open Scott.

Mr. Holmes. Angela.

You are the same as the last time.

Now I understand what it means that after, how much? Two years?,

I still suffer you just as nice.

"Avanti."

I know you went to see my "Traviata" in Paris.

By the way, Scott,

And Mrs. Hudson? How is it?

I remember a lot about her.

Mrs. Hudson still retains both her physical features

as the perfect state of daily instruction of 221 B.

She also reminds you often.

Effectively,

I've been in Paris for a while

very busy in a case I could not distract myself from,

but I enjoyed greatly with your "Amami, Alfredo".

But take off your coat, please. Be comfortable.

Just relax.

And Watson?

Watson remarried last year.

Again?

In the church of St Mark, in Camberwell,

with Miss Mary Morstan.

29 years old, very attractive.

Delicate gestures, but firm. Intelligent and with a beautiful voice.

Every now and then he comes home for breakfast.

Watson, of course.

"La Traviata".

It was exactly the year your wedding became

in the social event of the season.

There was no talk of anything else in Saint Martins.

And Mr. Adler?

You just have to know that he is not here now.

Tomorrow I'm going on tour.

I know. I knew you knew.

And that's why you would not come until the last day.

You always fear the dawn when we are together.

We could see each other in Madrid next month.

Do you know Madrid?

Do not. It will like you.

The people of Madrid have a very old saying.

"From Madrid to the sky".

But I think it would be more appropriate to say

"From Madrid, the sky".

Why?

Because it's hot.

Especially in the fall.

You are the genius

more idiot in the world.

Tell me, detective, What is the mystery?

Why someone like me is capable of losing common sense,

even dignity,

by someone like you?

Good morning, Mr. Holmes! Good morning, Mrs. Hudson.

I'll add breakfast and the Times in a few minutes. "

Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.

Mr. Holmes!

He has not played the violin for more than three weeks.

Y?

Y? And that he hardly eats.

Surely his brain is scheming something.

I know those silences very well.

And even more his contempt for my books.

Something has been going on for a few days,

Right, Mr. Holmes?

Or a lot I'm wrong

or habemus case.

Good...

Is nothing.

Give you a spoonful of this syrup at bedtime

and tomorrow another one when waking up.

The syrup is not very good, but... Watch out. Sorry.

Three when going to bed and three when waking up. Goodnight.

False alarm.

Fathers and mothers are very exaggerated.

They do not understand that children can have a very high fever today

and tomorrow you have to tie them to stop jumping.

For Mrs. Watson and her magnificent dinner.

For Mrs. Watson. Thank you.

Well, Holmes, What was that surprise?

What do you think of dreams, Watson?

Dreams?

What kind of dreams?

Do you think they can be premonitory? Do not.

I do not think we can dream something that will happen next.

Sometime, maybe, by chance.

In any case, I am not a specialist in the field.

Dear, I believe that Mr. Holmes

it may refer to that way of daydreaming

that the lamas call meditation.

Or things of the unconscious.

Do not.

That of the unconscious has always seemed silly to me.

A magic word to try to explain

the only mystery worthy of remaining unexplained.

For a few weeks,

I dream of crimes that happen on streets I've never seen.

In places where they speak another language.

Where?

Spain.

Madrid.

Honey, I think you're going to go hunting soon enough.

By the way, how about your Spanish?

It will help me to handle myself very well on a day to day basis.

I do not ask for yours

because I guess it will be as good as his Swahili.

Watson, I verify that you have married an extraordinary woman.

Did I think that I was going to oppose the trip?

My dear Mrs. Watson,

Loving relationships are true high politics.

The other great competition that is played without rules.

The heart and the brain of women

they are, for me, a greater enigma than the unconscious one.

Maybe it's because that

It is the only mystery he has never dealt with.

It would be hypocritical not to admit that, like most women,

I have

certain tendencies on the opposite side.

But I've never felt the slightest interest in using that power.

It's more,

I prefer that my adversary,

whom I love,

be the owner at all times of your will.

But not by generosity, shall we say, feminine,

but to defend my own.

Tea, Holmes? With two lumps.

And you, dear?

You too?

Any infusion? Yes.

If that?

Yes, you also want tea?

Yes you want it with two lumps or do you want an infusion?

Yes I love you.

For Mrs. Watson.

For Mrs. Watson.

Say what the newspapers say,

the new Scotland Yard is not ready yet.

But the crimes do not stop

and we have to work among debris.

And dead of cold.

Already knows.

The effluvia paint is very pernicious.

Of course.

Thank you. You're welcome.

Of the aromatic hydrocarbons,

benzene, in reaction to the sulfur oxide derivative,

could cause a similar effect

the one that causes the Swandam Lane smoker,

how well we both know.

Gentlemen, please Could you go out for a moment?

And close the door. Thank you.

One.

There was never fog, no night.

Two.

The shadow, armed with a butcher knife,

the killer in the top hat and the black briefcase,

they were an invention of the tabloid press.

Like the man in the leather apron.

Three, the letters received here

signed by Jack the Ripper,

They were sent by journalists from the Central News Agency.

Four.

Maybe

the note accompanied by half a human kidney,

he said maybe,

It was Jack's.

One.

Walter Sick.

As an artist, a horror. As a suspect, it is clean.

A weird guy

I'm sure he loved the idea

that some would think of him as Jack.

Two.

William Gull.

The honorable doctor of our eternal Queen Victoria

It is also clean.

Three.

Michael Ostrom

Russian offenders like that or Polish or Hungarian

that could have suspects at first,

They are all clean.

We never find anything.

Four. And this may not know it.