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avoid confusion.
Your brother pawned the watch
4 times. But he bought it out,
otherwise you wouldn't
have it.
Now look at the key-hole.
It has tiny scratches all
over it.
People usually wind watches
in the morning,
and in the morning his hands
were shaking.
And that happens to people
who drink very much.
And finally the fact, that
now you have it,
says to me that your brother
died.
You're right, Holmes.
Right as usual.
I'm sorry I offended you
with mistrust.
That's nothing.
Checkmate.
What are you planning
on doing now?
I'll go study pharmacology.
Everyone has something to do.
If you only knew how I hate
days like this?
Even the most brilliant mind
gets rusty without work.
Watson, how about some
deduction training?
Come here.
See that gentleman?
What can you say about him?
Well... he's a Londoner,
goes his usual way.
- Doesn't look around.
- Logical.
A well-off man with
good appetite.
- You can tell by the clothes
and the paunch. - Bravo.
That's about it.
I can add something else.
He's 48, married, has a son,
loves his dog - a red setter -
and works at the Foreign
Ministry.
After the story with the watch
I can believe your every word.
But how, goddammit?!
Elementary, my dear Watson.
You see, this man happens to be
my brother, Mycroft Holmes.
You pulled my leg, Holmes.
But I asked for it. I shouldn't
be so credulous.
But seriously, Holmes.
There goes a man,
ordinary looking.
The one who crosses the street.
What can you say about him?
- The retired navy sergeant?
- Retired sergeant, eh?!
He must be your brother too.
Have mercy on me, Holmes.
You know I can't check that,
and you play jokes on me.
There's a man to see you. Looks
like a retired sergeant.
Please, come in, sir.
There's a letter for Mr. Holmes.
Please.
If I may ask, have you ever
served with the navy sir?
- I have, sir.
- In what rank?
Sergeant of the
Royal Marine Corps, sir.
Thank you.
- How did you know?
- Know what?
That he was a sergeant and
served in the navy?
Oh that... It's a long story,
not worth wasting our time.
A very interesting letter.
Mrs. Hudson.
How did you know the messenger
was a retired sergeant?
I really don't know.
He had a picture of a blue
anchor on the back of his hand.
- A tattoo.
- That's right, a tattoo.
So I figured he was a sailor.
Side-whiskers trimmed in a
military fashion.
So I thought - navy sailor.
Conducts himself with dignity,
but doesn't look like an officer
- So I...
- Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.
Watson!
Here, read this.
"Dear Mr. Holmes,
Tonight in an abandoned house
on Brixton Road
our police officer found a dead
man's body.
No signs of violence.
But drops of blood could be
seen near the body.
Knowing that you like riddles
like that I invite you to take
part in the investigation.
With respect. Tobias Gregson."
The most intelligent detective
in all Scotland-Yard.
They have this guy Lestrade,
but he's like a fox-terrier,
Abundance of energy and very
little intellect.
You know, I was too soon to
get disappointed.
There'll still be enough crimes
for our lifetime.
What do you make of that
letter?
Me either. We're going to
Brixton Road.
Good day.
Inspector Gregson here?
I'm Sherlock Holmes.
He's with me.
Not bad.
Now we can go into the house.
I'm glad you came.
No one touched anything.
Everything's kept the way it was
Except the path to the
entrance.
As if a herd of bisons trampled
down on it.
I hope you had a chance to
examine it before that.
There was so much I had to do
inside the house.
Besides, frankly I didn't give
it too much thought.
There he is, sir.
Find anything in his pockets?
A gold watch with a chain,
a golden tie-pin.
A wallet with business-cards
in the name of a mister
E. Drebber from Cleveland.
- An American, that's what I
thought. - Me too.
Money. 7 pounds 30 shillings.
There. 2 letters.
One addressed to E. Drebber, the
other to Joseph Stangerson.
Both
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