Woman's voice: Sherlock Holmes.
( rock music playing )
Woman's voice: Bring Sherlock Holmes back to life...
back to life...
Sherlock: It's elementary, my dear Watson.
< Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd century <
< Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd century... <
Sherlock Holmes is on the case.
Moriarty?
( evil laughter )
( laughhs )
< Sherlock Holmes in the 22nd century <
Sherlock: Elementary, my dear Watson.
Man's voice: London, England; May 25th, 1 891 .
My name is Dr. John Watson.
What I'm about to tell you is beyond belief, but rest assured
every word is true.
The legendary detective Sherlock Holmes and I were on vacation.
We were hiking in the Swiss Alps,
on a trail overlooking Reichenbach Falls,
when a messenger from the lodge caught up to us.
Messenger: Please, sirs, hold awhile!
I have urgent need of Dr. Watson!
What do you make of this, Watson?
A spry goat for his age.
Watson: What is it, my man?
Are you sick?
Not I, kind sir. A fair lady back at the lodge.
You are the only doctor for miles! You must come!
Go on ahead, Watson. The poor man is winded.
I'll accompany him down the trail.
Watson's voice: I should've known something was amiss.
But Holmes was unconcerned.
Well, Professor James Moriarty. So we meet again.
- How did you know? - Elementary, sir.
I simply used my eyes and my brain.
For example, eyes: you hunched over to appear short and stooped,
yet you walked most rapidly for an old man,
with unseemingly long strides.
Then, in your effort to appear old and shabby,
you found well-used clothes which were
far too small for your great height.
Brain? No one at the lodge knew Watson was a doctor.
Finally, eyes again:
you should never let your enemies see you sweat.
Especially, when you're wearing make-up.
Eyes and brains, Moriarty. Eyes and brains.
Ahh, you're a cool one, Holmes.
It shall be your undoing.
Eyes and brains aren't everything.
- ( tthhud ) - ( g roaning )
Sherlock!
Ahh!
Nooo!
Aargh!!
( splashhing )
Watson: No man could survive that lethal abyss.
The world had lost its greatest detective.
''And I, my best friend.''
Or did I?
- ( clock chhi mes ) - ( police siren wails )
Computer: New London, May 25th, 21 03.
Subject identified: Martin Fenwick.
Parole violation, failure to report
for crypnotic programming renewal.
Upper vehicle reported stolen, 0200 from Piccadilly Circus.
Computer: Collision alert!
Huh?
- Computer: Impact registered! - Duh!
Damage reported in uplink to New Scotland Yard.
Woman: Thanks, Watson.
Snitch!
This is Inspector Lestrade of New Scotland Yard.
Set down at once!
Go, master. I'll draw her fire.
( police sirens approachhing )
( g roans )
- ( evil laughter ) - Huh?
Moriarty?
My master. Your worst nightmare.
Man: Three down lightstanders,
extensive damage to private property,
a 50 year-old acacia tree flattened, and...
Lord Nelson's hat!
All to catch one homeless rogue geneticist?
- Are you crazy?! - Sorry, Chief Greyson.
Inspector Lestrade, we're here to protect New London, not destroy it!
Y-you're absolutely right, sir. But catching Fenwick was important.
We have to find out why his crypnotic programming didn't take.
Take it up with the Science Division.
Computer: Criminal tendencies reprogramming begins in 1 0...
- Lestrade: Memo to Greyson. - Recording.
Chief, the psychotest explains Fenwick's crypnotic failure
on a computer glitch.
If you ask me, some whooped genius has figured out how to fix the system.
Ha, ha! You fools! You can try it, but it won't stick in me.
Aahhh!
- Ahh, merci, merci... - Computer: Crypnosis complete.
- Prisoner released. - Crypnosis successful.
Get the man an Oscar.
No one that's been crypnotized overacts like that.
He's faking it! And I'm gonna find out why.
Computer: 221-B Baker Street, the Sherlock Holmes Museum.
Temporarily closed due to lack of attendance and budgetary constraints.
Lestrade: What's Fenwick want in there?
Aahh!
- ( beeping ) - ( g roaning )
- Lestrade: We're moving in. - Argh!!
Police! Halt! This is your last warning!
Come out with your hands up, Fenwick!
Get me if you can, Yardie! Ha, ha, ha!
Computer: Internal directive 1 2-C:
an unaccompanied officer may not enter the underground area
without prior authorization. Access denied.
I'm not that crazy. There's rats down there.
( sqpueaking )
Come on, let's see what Fenwick stole from the museum.
''The disguise worn by professor James Moriarty
at Reichenbach Falls just before he attacked Sherlock Holmes.''
He stole Moriarty's disguise?
What do you make of this, Watson?
Inadequate external security. Infrared alarm system non-functional.
Internal security compromised due to obsolete non-shatter-proof glass.
So glad I asked.
That guy in the hovercraft, Fenwick's buddy, who tried to run us down.
Lestrade: Mmmm.
This is not possible!
Professor James Moriarty died over 200 years ago!
Breaking news: Crypnosis failure shocks New London.
- Details on demand. - More.
Crypnosis, the process by which criminal urges are de-programed
from the human psyche, appears to be losing its effectiveness.
Confidential sources inside New Scotland Yard
blamed today's bold hover-jacking of the Royal craft
on a crypnotized youth who's been placed on probation forjoyhoping.
And finally, from the Journal of DNA Science,
cellular rejuvenation may enable dead cells to be re-animated,
according to Nobel Prize winner, Sir Evan Hughribs.
Hmmm. I'll have to talk to him.
Maybe he can shed some light on this strange business.
James Moriarty, Professor of Mathematics.
According to Holmes, the greatest code-breaker the world has ever known.
Well, that could explain the crypnosis problem.
Hmm... Thank you, Watson.
Syntax unclear. Please re-phrase.
I meant the real Watson, not you.
I am not crazy. I saw Moriarty!
Greyson: I'm sending you to the Braintex.
But sir!
Greyson: Two isolated instances of crypnotic failure?
And you're blaming it on some so-called ''criminal genius,''
who's been dead for over 200 years?
Chief Greyson, I saw him! He was as real as you are.
Appearances can be deceiving, Lestrade.
Look at this Elastimas the lab techs whipped up.
Ohh, I see what you mean, sir.
Alert! Stolen hovercraft recovered. Investigating officer required.
Thank you, Watson. With all due respect, madam-- or sir,
Let's see what the DNA scans have to say.
Right. And quit calling that thing Watson, Lestrade.
( old laddy's voice ) Itt's a cco mpudroid, nott a person!
Oh-- what's wrong now?
It came off so easily when the techies were showing me!
Lestrade: Unidentified DNA?
Get me Greyson!
This better be good, I'm busy.
Hi, Granny-- er, Chief.
Guess what? No DNA or fingerprint records on file.
This subject is unknown.
But that's impossible, everyone's DNA is recorded in the database.
Everyone's! It's the law!
Not if you were born more than a 1 00 years ago...
Or 200, for that matter.
Lestrade: Memo to Greyson:
I believe James Moriarty has been brought back from the dead.
I believe Moriarty stole his former disguise from the Holmes Museum
so we wouldn't be able to link his DNA scans to the stolen hovercraft.
Hiyaaa!
In the history of crime, there has been no greater criminal genius.
Moriarty met his match but once.
If we are to save the modern world from his evil,
we must bring back his most formidable opponent.
The only man who ever defeated him--
Sherlock Holmes.
Doesn't look like much, does he?
- Ambiguous. Please re-phrase. - You see, Watson,
the world thought Holmes had lost his life at Reichenbach Falls.
But, somehow, he outwitted death and Moriarty both.
In fact, he died of old age many years and many cases later.
Oh, yeah. I have one more thing to add to that memo to Greyson.
Watson: Unavailable. File uploaded.
What?! You've sent it already?!
Have you lost your holo-chips, Watson?
Negative. All holo-chips present and accounted for.
Get in the cruiser, you worthless bucket of zed.
You're supposed to help me!
Not those suits upstairs. Arrgh!
Lestrade: We're out of here.
Sir Evan,
you're my only hope for stopping Moriarty.
Only you can bring Sherlock Holmes back to life.
I know your rejuvenation process is still in the experimentation stage.
But please,
you have to try.
Very well.
It is a challenge I cannot refuse.
If only to reassure you
I had nothing to do with this villain Moriarty's return.
Good thing he was preserved in honey,
or there would have been nothing to re-animate.
Let's see how he's coming along.
- ( electtric buuzz ) - ( gasping )
He is--
incredible!
The best is yet to come!
If it works, that is.
Lestrade: Sherlock?
At your service.
Welcome to the 22nd century, Holmes!
You call this food, Inspector Lestrade?
How--
how did you know my name?
Eyes and brains, my dear. The family resemblance is strong.
I knew your ancestor only too well, I'm afraid.
Sherlock: Besides, you're still wearing your badge.
So, you're having a crime wave.
Ahh... how did you know?
You brought me back for more than just my good looks and sparkling wit.
By the way, who or what is that metallic gentleman sitting in the back?
Does he do anything?
Debatable. He's a compudroid snitch I call Watson.
He belongs to New Scotland Yard, and he reports to them too.
So, I turned him off.
Breaking news: Crypnosis failures stun New London.
Crisis declared. News on demand.
More.
The number of crypnotic failures has reached seven.
New Scotland Yard has made no comment, but informed sources
say the crypnosis program no longer seems to work.
Lestrade: There's the problem, you're the solution.
Because this is the perpetrator!
Sherlock: Moriarty?!
He was laid to rest centuries ago.
I saw him myself.
The man is... dead.
So were you, remember?
I thought you'd wait for the facts before you jumped to conclusions.
Maybe it's time you started your re-education.
This is a holo-learner. You put in a vid,
and you put on the goggle-phones, and you learn stuff.
You still have to think, of course, but you should be good at that.
Let's begin with the 20th century, the Golden Age of Crime.
I expect you to be fully caught up by the time I get back.
Surely that isn't too much to expect of the world's greatest detective.
Flying cars? Talking picture screens?
A lot of learning devices? Women in charge?
What's the world come to?!
Greyson: Dead detectives?
What next, Lestrade?! I won't have it!
Then you'll have to solve your little crime wave without his help.
Or mine! I quit!
I'm sure someone in the media will advance me
a few million credits for
an exclusive interview with ''the'' Sherlock Holmes.
Especially when they hear how New Scotland Yard turned down his help
in the midst of ''the'' crypnosis crisis...
Ohh...
cut the melodramatics, Lestrade.
You win.
I'll try anything at this point.
Even expired PIs.
Meanwhile, Galileo City is officially open to eager crowds.
- Hmmm. - Lestrade: Holmes?
Meet Watson.
Greetings, human. I am a Model VII law enforcement compudroid.
I belong to New Scotland Yard. Currently registered
to Inspector B. Lestrade who calls me Watson.
Well, there are similarities.
The waistline.
And an unfortunate tendency to overblown pomposities.
Too bad there's not more.
Come on, Holmes. We have a date downtown.
Lestrade: Stay, Watson. See that pile of books by the computer?
- Affirmative. - Read-- er... scan them.
Maybe you'll learn something.
Holmes is going to need an ''informed'' assistant.
Sherlock: Lestrade, I looked at those books.
They were my friend Watson's journals. Where did you get them?
Lestrade: Family heirlooms. Do you miss him?
Sherlock: More than I care to admit.
These psycho-techs are the only ones who know anything.
And even they can't figure it out.
Sherlock: It is my business to know what other people don't.
( g roaning )
Computer: Crypnosis complete.
- Excuse me. - Greyson: That's the deceased detective
who's going to save civilization as we know it.
I am underwhelmed.
Give it a rest. He's just starting to figure things out.
Lestrade, we must follow this young man.
His crypnosis will not hold. And I think I know why.
Oh, you do, do you?
I am Chief Inspector Charles Greyson, Mr. Holmes...
I'm sure you can succeed when New Scotland Yard cannot.
It wouldn't be the first time.
( gasp )
Closer, Lestrade. I must see who's driving.
Fenwick, follow that hovercraft.
No, back to the Yard. The main computer's under attack.
The main computer?!
Holmes, I demand an explanation.
Lestrade: One word: Moriarty.
There is definitely a brilliant, yet warped, mind at work.
But not Moriarty, in my estimation.
Sherlock: By the way, might I suggest you go to manual override?
What are you talking ab--?
- Lestrade: Whoa! - Sherlock: Whoa!
- All: Whoa! - ( alarm sounding )
- It's not responding! - Got it.
Thanks for turning off the autopilot, Holmes.
You're welcome, Lestrade.
Next time, pay attention when I make a constructive suggestion.
I do not say these things lightly.
What happened?
Your police cruisers, like you crypnosis machines,
are all linked to the master computer at the Yard.
And intruder can not only cause the crypnosis programs to fail,
but would also be able to wreak havoc
wherever the long arm of the law might reach,
as even you can see.
Lestrade: Ah, looks like he's been and gone.
No, that is where our intruder is!
Hey, stay out of there. That's the heart of the computer!
Holmes: Cease and desist, whoever you are!
( evil laughter )
- Freeze! - Lestrade! No!
Enough!
( gasp )
( evil laughter )
Greyson: The mastermind is Fenwick. There's no one else.
- There cannot be! - Sir,
I must respectfully disagree.
That man is no longer capable of independent thought.
You're both wrong!
It was Moriarty.
I saw him as clearly as I see you, Holmes.
Lestrade, it may think like Moriarty,
it may even look like Moriarty,
but Moriarty it is not.
No matter how much he wants us to think so.
Eyes and brains, Lestrade.
You once said, ''When you have eliminated the impossible,
whatever remains, no matter how improbable,
must be the truth.''
Are you telling me there's no chance I'm right?
Time will tell, Lestrade.
This much I do know, and with absolute certainty:
We've not seen the last of him,
whoever he is.
He shall prove a most worthy adversary.
And I, for one, look forward to his next move.
You have resurrected the computer network
with stronger safeguards?
As we speak.
The crypnosis crisis is over!
One lucky guess does not a New Scotland Yard detective make.
All the more reason to remain in private practice.
What prompted you to come to our aid, Watson?
My dear man. Surely, you know the answer to that.
I'm after all your faithful servant, Dr. John Watson.
- And I should endeavor to-- - Lestrade!
What have you done?
This machine thinks it's Watson!
Elementary, my dear Holmes!
PA: Welcome to the Pimlico Zoo.
All our animals are robotronic.
For African Safari, press one.
For Jurassic Jungle, press two.
For Movie Monsters, press three.
( roaring )
( alar m so unding )
He, he, he, he, he!
Ah!
- ( siren so unding ) - ( gasp )
Lestrade: Hang on!
PA: Vacation at Galileo City. It's out of this world!
Lesttrade, repo rtt i m mediately!
We need every inspector on duty now!
Lestrade: What's going on?
I've never seen this city like this before!
Greyson: There's a whole new criminal element.
Most don't have any criminal records at all!
We've got burglaries and looting all over town!
This hasn't happened in over a century!
Very clever.
Clever?
What's a wormeaten 19th century Rent-A-Cop know
about 22nd century crime riot?
Well, first, this is no random crime wave.
What?!
You've been stewing in honey too long!
- Greyson: How could you know that? - Careful observation
and perceptive thought.
Eyes and brains.
Look, these looters bypassed all the luxury department stores
and went straight for Bond Street Jewels,
easy to trade for services.
Then, notice all the microchip warehouses that were hit,
passing up equally valuable commodities in other warehouses.
Rubbish and drivel.
Why did they break into the zoo? To steal the rides?
Some of them, yes, I presume.
Ha, ha!
And to what purpose are all these criminals working in tandem?
They are simply following their master's orders.
( laughhing )
And now you're going to tell me where to find this man?!
Sherlock: Elementary, my dear Chief Inspector.
The Underground.
The crimes have all occurred near manholes
or other entrances to the Underground subway.
And since this crime wave began here,
that shall be our starting point.
Coming, Lestrade?
The robot can come too, if it likes.
All right, go!
But stay in touch!
( glass breaking )
Girl: Hey, sir. This here map's for all the alternative web spots
and anti-grav dance clubs. Only six credits!
Then perhaps a holo-watch? Tickets to the Robo Ball finals?
- Your loss, Zed-head. - ( beeping )
Got three live ones at the northeast corner, Oxford Circus.
On them!
You'll be lost without a proper map, sir.
Just 1 0 credits off your E-Bank card.
Lestrade: Hove it, kid.
The name's Deidre, Officer, not ''kid.''
Hey, man, I can't let you go down under alone,
even with the Yardie.
1 00 credits, that ought to buy the best guide in the city.
And that would be you?
( beeping )
Yo, Tennison, he's a swift one. I can see that right away.
Could you? 1 00 quid... uh, credits...
says I can tell you more about you
than you can about me.
Man, you're on. Let's do it.
You used to play soccer for Brixton and had big dreams,
but a knee injury ended all that.
You've taken up boxing, and despite the knee,
are quite good, though you favor your left.
You liked raspberry sours, linguine, and a girl named Jacey.
whom you don't get to see as much as you'd like.
Your turn.
No way, man, you win.
All I could say about you is you used that funky word ''quid.''
And you've got messed up styles,
almost like from another century.
The kid's not bad.
How did you do that? You've been following me?
Observation and deduction, my boy.
I simply used my eyes and my brains.
Your scarf tells me you're from Brixton.
You expertly kicked that can to the rubbish bin using your instep.
- A soccer move. - Please, that's obvious.
But it caused you pain in your knee.
I deduced it was a logical reason for giving it up.
You have a cut on your left eyebrow, a common boxing injury.
Your left forearm is larger than your right,
plus you have some ink staining the side of your left hand.
Lefties usually favor their predominant side.
There's a piece of linguine on your shoe.
The raspberry sours have stained your tongue purple.
As to Jacey,
there's her name and number.
And since you're here instead of with her, I simply deduced--
Zed! Who do you think you are, Sherlock Holmes?
One and the same.
And I suppose he's Watson?
Pleased to make your acquaintance.
Pay no heed, the robot's delusional.
It believes it's Watson
just because it's downloaded a few old books.
He looks like Sherlock Holmes.
A long story I shall gladly tell you later.
Now, as to our wager,
I'd like to procure your services to guide us through the Underground.
- Agreed? - Agreed.
The name is Wiggins.
But I have to warn you,
there's been some nasty doings down there lately.
Sherlock: Precisely why we must go there.
Woman: Oh, a couple of tourists lost their way?
If you want to stay healthy, hand over the good stuff.
Inspector Lestrade, New Scotland Yard,
at your service.
A Yardie? She'll have one of them cool holo-trackers.
We can track all the Yardies with it.
Get her!
Watson: Really, Holmes, as gentlemen don't you think we--
Clearly the lady can take care of herself.
And please, you're not a gentleman,
you're a robot.
Watson: Dear me, I'm quite rusty at this.
Now, be specific, Wiggins.
I need to know the precise epicenter
of all this criminal activity.
Oh, well, ah...
Has London changed so radically?
I've never heard of ''Ohwellah.''
- Nicely done, Inspector. - Thanks, Watson.
I have three felons to be picked up at the Oxford Underground.
Wiggins, please, concentrate.
Yeah, Piccadilly, that's where it all began.
Then we must go there without delay.
No, no, no, man, the noise around town is,
you go in, you don't come out yourself again.
I'm quite certain I can use you
and your companion's services another time.
Sweet.
It's straight on that way. Watch your back, all right?
Lestrade, let's go!
He sure acts like Sherlock Holmes.
Do you hear that?
The tunnel's vibrating.
Mmmm...
I'm detecting illegal levels of ozone, and rising.
- What could that mean? - Man: You'll soon find out.
- ( evil laughter ) - Lestrade: Fenwick! Of course!
This crime wave is your doing!
Look out!
Holmes! Look out!
Hey--
No!
Emergency...
system...
failure.
Just step to your left.
Holmes: Perfect.
- Inventive. - ( gasp )
But not near enough.
Sleep well.
What-- no! You-- you won't get away with this, Fenwick.
I already have!
And little Miss Crime Fighter's going straight to number one
on the Yard's most wanted list!
- But first, a nap! - ( gasp )
( evil laughter )
I'm taking no chances with my little Yardie.
In fact, I'm going to crimnotize her personally.
( g runtting )
That's a nasty bit of the 22nd century I just as soon have missed.
As for the handcuffs...
( g runtting )
Oh, I suppose I must ask the female.
All right!
I'm awake!
Tell me what wires to attach where
and I can get Watson back in service.
Lestrade: The blue wire's to the right copper circuit,
and the red one's to the left.
Watson: Dear me, let me get those handcuffs.
Thanks!
Good to have you back.
My department.
Watson: Perhaps I should try?
That won't be necessary.
Watson: What are you doing?!
Holmes: Getting us out of here.
This time, I'll bust it wide open!
( g runtting )
Whoa!
Excellent. The track's still alive.
Lestrade, get this train running.
Holmes: We'll need a quick getaway
once I eradicate the source of this crime wave.
Mmmm...
Okay, ''Grand-mére,''
go burglarize the Chase computer company.
Here's what you are taking. Nothing else.
As I suspected,
they are changing ordinary citizens into criminals.
And they are definitely on a shopping spree.
But to what purpose?
Mmm. Decidedly low-tech,
but effective.
- ( Watson shouts ) - Watson!
No!
Behind you! Stun him!
Holmes, are you all right?
Me?! It's you who are injured.
- Does it hurt? - I'm made of metal, remember?
Holmes: Let's go! These boilers will blow any minute.
What blasted antiques!
( Lesttrade g runtting ) Even tthhe g reatt Shherlock Holmes
couldn't get this rust bucket moving!
What's needed is a little 19th century technology.
Sherlock: Full speed ahead, Lestrade!
( screaming )
( Lesttrade g runtting )
The power's gone. No brakes!
- Sherlock: Hold on! - Lestrade: Whoa!
Lestrade: Now, where are we going?
Sherlock: Due south.
So that would mean our next stop is--
A brick wall!
- Sherlock: Prepare for a swim. - What?!
If I'm nott misttaken, tthhe Thhames river isJustt behhind tthhatt.
Sherlock: Watson!
Watson! Where's Watson?!
Lestrade: Compudroids are pretty heavy.
Sherlock: Watson!
Watson, blast you, where are you?
You can't be at the bottom of the river.
- I'll call the dredgers. - Dredgers?!
What good would they be?
You know how polluted this river is.
Just as it was, even in my time!
If they find him at all,
he could be a useless heap of corroded circuitry.
Watson!
We'll get you a new compudroid.
I don't want any compudroid!
- I want Watson! - Watson: Holmes?
- Is that you? - Watson?
Honestly, Watson,
we've got to get you waterproofed
if you're going to continue with this tomfoolery.
Oh...
you called me Watson.
It is your name, isn't it?
Look, old boy,
I suppose I didn't realize until...
I thought I'd lost you,
how much I have come to depend on you.
One mustn'tjudge the mettle of a person by his outside--
which, in your case, is metal--
but by what's inside,
which is most decidedly Watson!
Through and through.
Watson: Huh, not completely.
( laughhing )
( beeping )
Lestrade, I've just got the damage report.
You have got some explaining to do.
I want you in my office A.S.Immediately!
( chuckling ) Right away, sir.
Lestrade: They finally found a way to de-crimnotize all those people.
It looks like they got the criminal element back under control.
Sherlock: For the moment.
221-B Baker street.
Ah... it's still here.
( inhhaling )
Ah...
Someone's been eating fish and chips in here!
Probably the workmen I sent over to air things out.
Lestrade: It's yours, if you want to live here.
I'd like nothing better.
But where is Watson?
What have you done with him? He should be here!
Watson: Coming, Holmes!
Sherlock: Watson?!
- Why, you look-- - Like the Dr. John Watson of old?
I certainly hope so,
thanks to that new Elastimas technology
New Scotland Yard's been working on.
I'm... speechless.
It's remarkable.
I have one more surprise.
New Scotland Yard would like to retain you
- as a consultant. - Superb!
Send my new cases over straight away!
Uh... no.
You'll be working under me.
You?! Balderdash!
What sort of a world has this become?!
A better one...
for women.
And men?
That rather depends on the man,
wouldn't you say?
Touché, Watson.
I'd better head back to the Yard.
- I'm overdue to go offline. - The Yard?
Why, yes. Where else would I go?
It's elementary, my dear Watson.
This is your home,
here with me.
- Ah, I would be honored. - Good.
Sherlock: Because this crimnotizing caper is far from over.
The real villain remains at large.
( evil laughter )
Reporter: And to update that strange story
about a phantom hound attack on the moon,
all that remains of the three teenagers are their shredded spacesuits,
surrounded by huge hound-like tracks.
There's been sitings of this phantom hound for weeks now.
It's just like all the old legends.
Hounds on the moon?!
Watson, you've been watching too much of the tabloid network!
Missing, Troy Winslow IV, only son of British shipping magnate John Winslow;
Benjamin Jessep, son of the American shoe manufacturer;
and Kelsy James of Tucson.
Sadly, it is not the first time James has been in the spotlight.
Her parents were among the dead in the aftermath
of last year's tragic Shuttle 1 0000 crash.
Wait!
We just get over the biggest crime wave in New London's history,
and now the chief's sending us to the moon
in search of non-existant hounds
and runaway teenagers! Where's Holmes when we need him?
- Computer: Incoming transmission. - Lestrade.
Something urgent has come up. I'll be back in touch in a few days.
Holmes!
Wait!
I'm his supervising officer!
I'm supposed to tell him when and where he can go!
Argh!
I wouldn't worry about Holmes.
Watson: I have a strong suspicion he's already on his way.
Wattson: He never cco uld resistt a good mystery.
( howling )
Good gracious!
It is the hound!
( howling )
Impossible!
Please, Officer!
That's my son stuck in the elevator!
- ( gasp ) - Good heavens! The guard's panicked!
If he fires that ionizer,
- he's shatter the dome! - ( growling )
Watson: No one will survive the decompression!
Come on!
Give me a boost. ( grunting )
Lestrade: Don't fire! That's an order!
- ( beeping ) - Huh?
Sherlock: Terribly sorry. How clumsy of me.
No problem. Here.
Wait! No!
If you crack the dome,
you'll finish us all.
Inspector Lestrade, New Scotland Yard.
I'll get you out of here.
Computer, turn off the public address system.
Computer: PA system is currently offline.
Mmmm... then how are we hearing that confounded hound?
The moon is a complete vacuum.
We shouldn't therefore be hearing anything.
No air, no soundwaves.
Computer, is there another broadcast system online?
Computer: Emergency broadcast system is online.
showing communication satellite feeds and hookups.
Are any satellites currently transmitting into the resort?
If so, for how long?
Computer: GR 702 has been transmitting a signal
into lunar satellite dish 9B2 for 1 3 minutes, three seconds.
Transmitting directly into the emergency broadcast system...
I suspect-- could it be?
Computer: Question does not compute.
Indeed, it does.
Disconnect from transmission.
( howling sto ps )
It stopped, Mommy, it stopped!
Lestrade: But it's still there. Weird.
I want a closer look at that thing.
- Holmes: Stop shooting! - Watson: It's Holmes!
I knew he'd be here!
Go back inside and resume crowd control duties.
Ah, Lestrade, Watson! You're just in time!
Sherlock: This hound's a very sophisticated piece of work.
- Ah! - No!
Watch it!
Sherlock: It's a harmless illusion.
Observe. It leaves no footprints.
- I wager I could walk right through. - Lestrade: Holmes!
Ah!
Oh pity.
And I was just making some real progress.
Oh well, there's plenty more evidence to be examined.
Holmes! Wait!
You're under my supervision here.
- Where are you going? - To the site of the attack, of course.
Coming?
Argh!
Lestrade: I don't get it.
Why would the hound leave footprints here
- but not back at the resort? - Eyes and brains, Lestrade.
There are obviously two hounds.
This one and the holographic one.
But what about the old lunar legend?
Why, even the workers who built the mining complex
claim to have seen a phantom hound.
No, drivelling poppycock, Watson.
A trick of light, an overeager imagination,
a publicity stunt.
Use your eyes, man.
This hound is definitely a tangible, three-dimensional creature.
But interestingly, its footprints are all identical.
Watson: Meaning?
It's non-organic.
The prints of living creatures have continual variety.
But what does all this have to do with those missing kids?
Excellent question.
One thing is certain.
Someone has gone to great length to make this hound credible
and used your lunar hound legends to very good effect.
To what end? Scare people witless?
The tourists are leaving in droves.
Presumably that was the desired goal.
I must see those shredded spacesuits straightaway.
Lestrade: What a tragedy. How awful.
I know the suits are costly, but I wouldn't call their loss a tragedy.
I meant the kids, Holmes.
But they weren't in these suits when they were smashed and shredded.
If they had been, the sudden decompression
would have exploded the face plate out, not in,
taking the person inside with it--
creating a very nasty mess indeed, I might add.
So, these shredded spacesuits were left behind...
to throw us off!
Meaning this was a simple kidnapping with some weird window-dressing!
Don'tjump to conclusions, Lestrade.
It's far from simple.
We must examine all the facts to determine the motive.
Computer, I want to see everything on Troy Winslow,
Kelsy James and Benjamin Jessep.
We have three missing teenagers,
including two of the richest kids in the world.
There's your motive.
Then where is your ransom demand?
It'll come. Don't worry.
I think not.
Computer, what do you have on Kelsy James?
Watson: Ah, the James girl.
Regrettable, losing her parents too young.
Sherlock: And left very little to live on.
We know, Holmes.
We read her bio on the shuttle.
Then you must have wondered how she got to Galileo City.
- It is an expensive trip. - I checked it out.
She won the Lucky Lunar Getaway contest.
What are the odds of winning such a contest?
- A million to one? - I don't follow, old boy.
- What is your point? - Do me a favor, Watson.
Scan the Internet. Find out everything you can about that contest.
Scanning now.
Waste of time, Holmes. It's not the girl
our kidnapper is after.
The girl is only 1 5.
- Did she bring a chaperon? - Why?
Oh... I don't know.
Curious.
The contest seems legitimate enough,
but the company that sponsored it
was created just two weeks ago in New London.
When I tried to get bios on the corporate officers,
the names turned out to be fictitious.
Wait.
You think this whole contest was staged
just to get this girl to the moon?
Ah! Ridiculous! Why?
Again, Lestrade, excellent question.
Computer, what's the room number of Kelsy James?
Computer: Kelsy James is not registered at the hotel.
- Then where is she staying? - With one of the employees, perhaps.
Computer, show me the funeral photo.
Magnify crowd members.
Ah, here's our man!
Jim Garrett--
according to this news clipping, Kelsy James' uncle
and the systems manager for the entire lunar complex.
Good heavens, man! How on earth did you deduced that?!
Elementary, Watson!
I ran into him not an hour ago.
He was wearing an identity badge.
He seemed highly agitated
and was carrying what appeared to be a book of security codes.
PA: Emergency.
Total systems failure in 30 minutes.
- PA: Evacuate immediately. - This is Garrett's doing, isn't it?
We must get to the lunar power plant as quickly as possible!
Watson, get us a vehicle.
Impossible. The whole complex is locked down.
I knoww whhere wwe can bbo rroww one. Co me on!
( PA, disto rted ) E merg ency-- tottal systems fail--
( pantting )
- ( howling ) - Did you hear that?
It's on the override frequency.
( g rowling )
It's on a hologram, right?
Right?!
I'm getting readings for titanium alloy, steel,
magnesium, trilithium, plastic--
Time to take evasive action!
Lestrade: Aaah!
Let's go!
All: Aaah!
( g rowling )
- Sherlock: Look out! - Watson: Oooh!
Sherlock: Distract the beast, Watson.
Lestrade: Aaah!
( g rowling and howling )
Get away!
Whoa!
( howling )
Zed!
That thing is on some kind of anti-ionizer shield.
Aaah!
Lestrade!
Can't you go any faster?
Sherlock: Not with 20th century technology.
Steady, Watson!
Sherlock: The creature is top-heavy.
Stand ready for my signal.
The joints are his weakness.
- ( howling ) - Sherlock: Aim for the joints!
Lestrade: It's working!
Oh no!
Be ready, Lestrade.
I'm aiming for those rocks!
Lestrade: Whoa!
Sherlock: Now, Watson, now Lestrade!
Aim for the joints!
Ah, just as I suspected.
''Property of the Pimlico Zoo.''
The zoo? Wait!
This was what that big crime spree in New London was all about.
Precisely.
And here are all the stolen computer parts.
Then, criminalizing all those people--
Fenwick, the kidnappings,
this whole lunar systems failure...
They are all part of a larger, more nefarious plan.
Quickly, Lestrade. To the power plant!
Now, Watson, join us as fast as you can!
No time to waste!
Sherlock: I presume we're expected.
( bbotthh gasp )
Lestrade: The kids!
- Are you okay? - Man: Yes,
but only until the turbines reactivate.
Greetings, Holmes.
I wondered when you and Lestrade would arrive.
Moriarty?
But, we saw his body. How can he--
When you eliminate the impossible,
what remains, no matter how improbable,
must be the truth.
It's not the man himself, Lestrade,
but a clone--
as evil as the original, I'm afraid--
complete with his memories intact.
Isn't technology wonderful?
So nice to see you, Holmes,
after all these centuries.
Amazing that your wits are still with you.
Garrett gave you the security codes.
He and the kids are of no importance to you now.
- Why not release them? - Oh no.
They may still be of some use.
Bribing would not work on Garrett, would it?
So you concocted a Lucky Lunar Getaway
to get to him through his niece!
Clever, wasn't I?
Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Lestrade.
( evil laughter )
Inspector Lestrade, you clonehead!
- ( evil laughter ) - Once you had the codes,
you could control the entire lunar colony.
Today, the moon; in less than five minutes,
the world.
I've reprogrammed the lunar defense network
to unload its fire-power on Earth's major communications facilities.
Moriarty: Once Galileo City is vacated,
it will become my base of operation,
from which I shall rule the world.
- Ahem! - ( evil laughter )
Lestrade: Gotcha!
Ah, it's our little love rat,
Martin Fedwick.
Lestrade: He may know something about cloning,
but not about sneaking up on people!
Lestrade: You're under arrest.
PA: Exhaust turbines reactivating.
How quickly the tables turn.
- What's that sound? - The exhaust turbines.
Look!
( evil chhuckle )
Sherlock: Get the kids out of there!
And so it begins...
again.
Hang on, guys, I'm on my way.
Lestrade: Gotcha!
Hold on!
Computer: Lunar nuclear defense system online.
Traject target applicable.
Lestrade: Stop the countdown!
Sherlock: I can't. He changed the print recognition.
It ends here.
( evil laughter )
You're wrong, Holmes.
Here it begins...
- all over again! - Watson: Sherlock!
Aaah!
Garrett: I'm locked out! It won't accept my print!
Computer: Target, New London. Position phase complete.
We need a clear print of Moriarty's.
Computer: All systems locked on target.
Got it!
Destructive, but effective, Lestrade.
Computer: Commencing final firing sequence.
1 0,
nine,
eight,
seven,
six, five,
four,
three,
two,
- one. - Well done.
Computer: Galileo life support system shut down.
Galileo City! The systems failure.
Can you stop it?
( alar m so unding )
Done.
All systems in Galileo City are back online.
( laughhing )
Great!
But you have some explaining to do.
Indeed!
How did you know about the cloning?
Elementary, my dear Watson.
When I examined Moriarty's body at Reichenbach Falls,
I noticed a microscopic drill hole in the ice,
down to the surface of Moriarty's hand.
It suggested to me that someone had taken samples of his DNA.
Then, when this man kept popping up everywhere--
Lestrade: Of course! Dr. Martin Fenwick,
notoriously unethical genetic engineer,
repeatedly arrested for his unlawful cloning experiments!
Fenwick hoped Moriarty would become his brilliant slave!
But, slave turned on master.
Precisely!
Then...
when all the technical equipment went missing,
Moriarty had a plan.
The hound!
First, the moon,
then complete domination of the Earth itself.
- Too bad he got away. - Ah, but he didn't.
I attached a computer override device to the bottom of his shuttle.
He should be arriving at the New Scotland Yard shuttleport
in about two hours, Inspector Lestrade.
Inspector Lestrade?
You are my supervising officer, aren't you?
Ah, this whole thing might work out after all, Watson.
Chief Inspector Greyson, New Scotland Yard.
Open the hatch and surrender!
The parachute is missing.
Computer: Lifepods jettisoned during re-entry.
Find him! Find him!
Greyson: Find him!
Watson: 20 years later, a young lady came to Holmes and me.
She found herself in most peculiar circumstances.
And you know Holmes.
He simply could not resist getting involved.
This case already presents an interesting challenge, Watson.
I say, Holmes, this is too much!
How do you know the young lady's not selling vacuum cleaners, or some such?
Eyes and brains, sir. Eyes and brains.
Sherlock: First, look how worried she is.
There is some sort of mystery in her life,
but it is not a matter for the police.
Otherwise, she would be there, not here.
Second, observe her luggage:
new and not much of it. She's undertaking a shortjourney,
which may be the source of her concern.
Third, new clothing and a ring.
Difficult to afford such luxurious items selling vacuum cleaners.
Well, what are you waiting for?
Ask her in. Offer her some tea.
Yes, of course.
Now, where is it?
Miss Morston, may I present Mr. Sherlock Holmes?
Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Mr. Holmes.
I hoped to hire you. I'll pay whatever fee you ask--
within reason, of course.
That will not be necessary, Miss Morston.
This is one case I will take for the sheer pleasure of it.
Watson, I've eliminated the impossible and the improbable,
and I can still not deduce where, amongst my notes,
you have hidden my lunar passport.
I must find it. We are accompanying Miss Morston to the moon.
( gasp ) How did you know?
- I've told no one. - Ah, here it is.
That is my job, Miss Morston,
to know what other do not. How do I do it?
Simple, really.
I deduced you were going to the moon because you are wearing these.
Lunar striders, shoes which are heavily weighted
to give you stability in the low lunar gravity,
but cause no end of discomfort while on earth
and cannot help but make noise whenever you walk.
And not to mention the fact that there is
a lunar shuttle ticket protruding from your bag.
Finally, I deduced that you needed my help
from the very fact that you came here to Baker Street.
Call a hover cab, Watson.
We have a shuttle to catch.
Holmes: The lunar shuttleport, my good man. And with haste.
Holmes: If I'm to help you, Miss Mortson, I must know everything.
Why don't you start at the beginning?
Okay. Butt tthhere's nott really muchh to tell.
I'm an orphan. My mother died in childbirth.
My father travelled to the moon before I was born.
He went missing and was never heard from again.
A few days ago, I received an envelope containing this ring.
With it, was this mysterious letter
from someone named Thad Shalto. He said...
( Shalto's voice ) ''You've been done a great wrong.
I will explain everything when we meet in person.''
He asked me to come to the moon.
He even included a lunar shuttle ticket.
And he said if I felt nervous about going alone,
I should bring someone I trusted.
So I came to you, Mr. Holmes.
You did the right thing, Miss Morston.
Most interesting. The letter was mailed in New London.
This leads me to believe that the man who sent it
is the same man who followed us to the shuttleport.
Both: Huh?!
You two proceed to the windows and have a look.
I shall be along shortly.
So this Shalto fellow said he would meet you here?
Yes. He said to wear this ring.
Holmes: Mr. Thad Shalto, I presume?
Uh, yes. And you are?
Sherlock Holmes.
At your service. Pardon me, but one cannot be too careful.
What was in that envelope you sent Miss Morston?
A Copernican ring, a shuttle ticket and a letter.
- Why do you ask? - Just making sure
you are the same man who sent the letter.
Come. Miss Morston is most anxious
to hear what you have to say about all this.
I came to Earth to make sure
you would receive the Copernican ring without any problems, Miss Morston.
Which is why the package was mailed in New London, I presume.
Now you will learn what all the mystery is about.
The story I'm going to tell you may seem unbelievable,
but I swear every word is true.
20 years ago, my father became partners
- with a miner named Morston. - My--
- my father! - Yes,
your father.
Shalto: But they never got around to filing the partnership papers.
And then it was too late.
The mine collapsed in a lunar quake.
- Mr. Morston: Don't leave me here! - I'll come back for you!
I promise!
Shalto: And your father was lost.
I knew there was a reason why he never came back for me.
My father abandoned the mine.
After he passed on, my brother and I inherited the property.
When we started to clear out the rubble,
we found a small fortune in Copernicans, which my father had hidden.
And we found this.
The original partnership papers,
in which Morston bequeathed his share of the mine
to the daughter he'd left behind on Earth.
Since the papers were never filed,
there is no legal obligation.
However, even though my own brother does not agree with me,
I feel we have a moral obligation to you.
Shalto: So I brought you to the moon to claim your inheritance,
the treasure in gems our fathers mined but never sold.
They are, by all rights, half yours.
Thank you, Thad.
You were right. It is an unbelievable story.
And not over yet.
Please, Mr. Shalto, tell us about your brother.
Edward?
He is, well... greedy.
He wants everything for himself.
If I weren't his brother, he'd probably try to cut me out too.
Morston: It's...
incredible.
Shalto: And here we are.
Home, sweet home.
Excuse the mess.
My brother's usually a better housekeeper.
He must be avoiding us. I'll go talk to him.
Make yourselves comfortable.
Are you familiar with lunar survival basics?
I am, sir. But, Miss Morston?
This is my first trip.
The only thing you really need to know about are the airpods,
those things that look like coffins over there.
Shalto: In case of a sudden air loss from a meteorite strike,
all you have to do is climb inside and you'll be perfectly safe.
- I'll be right back. - Sherlock: Mmmm...
Well, Miss Morston, it's been an exciting day.
I fear that it is not nearly over, however.
I have a feeling something is quite amiss here.
I feel it too. What do you think is going on?
I'm not sure yet, Miss Morston.
We can only wait and let the story unfold as it will.
I have my suspicions, Holmes.
This mysterious Edward is up to no good.
- Mark my words. - Give it back or I'll blast you!
- I'm warning you! - We must do something!
Shalto: What are you doing?!
- Watson: Oh no! - To the airlock!
- Mr. Holmes! - Take my hand.
No!
The coffee table, Watson. Block the hole with it.
Brilliant, Holmes!
- Get us to the airlock, Watson! - Hold on!
You must suit up! The oxygen generators
will automatically shut down as the pressure drops.
Stay in here, Miss Morston. Watson and I will look upstairs.
Holmes: I imagine this would be Thad's brother Edward.
See what your medscan picks up.
The data shows he's in suspended animation
induced by the activation of the emergency airpod.
These must be the older models.
The newer ones don't put you out automatically.
Then, he's your key.
My brother attacked me.
He took the gems.
I tried to stop him...
- He's losing consciousness. - Vital signs sinking.
He's going into suspended animation.
But I don't think he's in any danger of cardiac arrest.
Man: But in eminent danger of another kind of arrest.
Inspector Fairley, of the Lunar Police.
- Stand aside, please. - Good heavens!
I believe the atmosphere is now present.
Along with the local constabulary.
Most observant of you, Watson.
Allow me to introduce myself, Inspector Fairley.
- I am-- - I know who you are.
But you have no authority up here.
We can solve our own cases, thank you.
Fairley: Take him to the hospital for revivification
along with his brother. Keep them under armed guard.
Wait! Young Thad did nothing.
It was his brother Edward behind it all.
His brother, who is unconscious in an airpod and cannot defend himself?
His brother, who called us fearing for his life? Really?
What do you mean, ''fearing for his life''?
We are the ones who were almost sucked into the vacuum of space.
Listen for yourself.
Andrew's voice: This is an emergency. My life is in danger.
My brother's outside. He's trying to steal my gems
and get rid of me. You have to help me!
Operator's voice: Please remain on the line.
An operator will--
We may be provincial here on the moon,
but we try not to overlook the obvious.
Have a nice trip back to Earth, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
And give my regards to New Scotland Yard.
You can't let them do this, Holmes.
Fret not, Watson. That recording proves nothing.
Come. We must examine the real evidence, starting here.
This remote control device was apparently
not obvious enough for Inspector Fairley.
Watson, please perform a complete analysis.
Scan for any DNA residue,
and see if you can discern what functions it controls,
if any.
Ah, there is DNA present,
but its identifying pattern is not in any of the New Scotland Yard databases.
It most certainly did not come from Thad Shalto or his brother.
As for the remote function, the device it controls
no longer responds.
I believe it is an older model control,
originally used in mining endeavors.
Thank you, Watson. Most enlightening.
The police took Thad.
I unsuccessfully tried to stop them.
Little has changed in the last 300 years, I'm afraid.
Don't worry. Our friend Thad will soon be free.
Excuse me.
What is he doing?
Detecting, Miss Morston.
Or as he would say, ''Using his eyes and brains.''
Watson, what do you make of this?
I say it's as if the ionizer blast came from outside the window.
But that's impossible!
Watson: THe window material is melted on the outside edge,
butjagged and broken on the inside.
And there are traces of lunite,
a commercial mining explosive
commonly used in airless environments.
Most observant. Come with me.
I believe the answer to this conundrum lies in the mine,
not here.
Morston: Is this where my father was lost?
Holmes: Yes.
Watson, this area would not have been affected
by the explosion in the living quarters.
Scan the area for any recent traces of lunite residue.
I believe it will lead us to the answers we seek.
Interesting.
There are traces of lunite residue
on and around the spacesuit, but nowhere else.
However, my scanners detect something
far more intriguing.
A biological life form hiding behind this air grid.
Stop! We're coming after you!
Hold on, Watson. Let me see.
Oh, Holmes, you make things so complicated sometimes.
You go left, I'll go right. Just be careful.
That is exactly what I'm doing.
Observe.
There are footprints made by dust from the cavern which lead to the right.
Yet, none lead to the left. Odd, don't you think?
Not at all!
There's only one of him, Holmes.
How can he be in two places at once?
Holmes: Misdirection, Watson.
The left side has been swept clean.
- So that is the way we shall go. - I don't understand.
The man sweeps the floor once in the while.
All the more reason to follow the footprints.
Exactly what he wants us to do!
Hand me that shovel.
A trap!
Eyes and brains, Watson!
Follow me.
- We're cut off, Holmes! - Not necessarily.
Our quarry got across, and so shall we.
Hold on tightly, Miss Morston.
We are about to make a great leap of faith.
Give us a push.
Ready?
Steady? Go, Watson!
Watson!
When we get back to Earth,
I'm making an appointment with a body shop.
Holmes: You'll have earned it. But it's not over yet.
Stay back, Miss Morston.
( gasp )
- Get back! - Give it up, man.
We are not going away.
My temper is as frail as the rest of me, sir.
- So I suggest you-- - I said, get back!
Don't shoot, Watson. You might hit Miss Morston.
My aim is impeccable, Holmes.
I repeat, do not hurt Miss Morston.
Miss Morston? My daughter?
Father. You're alive!
Fairley: New Scotland Yard insisted I bring the lads back here.
Inspector Lestrade assures me you have solved the mystery.
I am convinced that is the guilty party.
But I'm ready to hear your case against Edward.
What if neither is the culprit?
What are you talking about?
It couldn't be. Thad set me up.
He's trying to get my share.
There's a lot of money at stake, you know?
You liar, Edward!
He's just greedy. He wants it all!
Quiet!
One ofyo u is cri minally responsible ffo r tthhis mess.
And I'm going to find out whom.
Who, Inspector. Who.
Gentlemen, may I introduce the original owner of this Copernican mine?
- Mr. Philip Morston. - Brothers: What?
Holmes: I know this comes as a bit of a shock.
So, keep an open mind while I recreate
the exact sequence of events for you.
Our story begins 20 years ago,
with the cave-in, in which Morston was presumed lost.
He in fact survived, held in suspended animation
inside an emergency airpod for the entire time.
Finally, the power supply gave out.
Morton was released from his 20-year slumber,
and like Rip Van Winkle, he awoke to find the world
had changed around him.
Morston overheard Edward and Thad argue
over their father's Copernicans.
He had no way of knowing they were arguing
over whether to give some of the gems to his daughter.
Morston felt the gems were rightfully his,
and came up with a plan to get them back.
Just before Thad was to return,
Edward Shalto was startled to see
someone in a spacesuit looking outside the window.
Who else could it be but his brother?
But it was Morston, booby-trapping one of the windows
with a remote-controlled explosive charge of lunite.
Thinking it was his brother come back to ambush him,
Edward did not notice that he had spilled his soft drink in his haste.
He locked the door to buy himself some time
and ran upstairs to call for help.
Morston got in through the airshaft system.
He overpowered Edward
and forced him into the emergency airpod,
which put him into suspended animation.
While Morston was searching for the Copernicans,
Thad arrived with the rest of us.
Morston was not expecting anyone and had his space suit audio off.
So he did not hear us.
Thad went looking for Edward and discovered the intruder.
Thad thought Morston was his brother.
He grabbed the ionizer to subdue him, and it accidentally went off.
Thad was winning and Morston was desperate.
Not realizing there was anyone else downstairs,
he detonated the lunite explosive,
causing the decompression
that forced Thad to retreat into the airpod.
While Miss Morston and I were fighting for our lives,
Morston retreated through the airshaft system
to the security of his secret lair in the mine,
never knowing anyone else was there.
There, in the airshaft system, we later chased him down
and brought this 20-year-old mystery to an end.
Miss Morston: You're alive!
You spin quite a tale, Mr. Holmes.
But you are wrong.
Explosives? What explosives?
One of these bickering deliquents
shot out the window with an ionizer gun.
One of them was trying to do away with the rest of you.
- It's obvious! - It's impossible.
The broken window was melted on the outside edge
by the heat of the lunite explosion.
If the ionizer blast were the cause,
the melting would have occurred on the inside edge.
You two owe each other an apology, I think.
There's no villainy in this story,
only misunderstanding.
Sorry, Inspector,
but Thad and Edward are guilty of nothing more
than a bad case of sibling rivalry.
Just one thing, Mr. Holmes,
how did you know that Morston
was still alive after all these years?
I didn't.
But who else knew there was a treasure hidden here?
Who else had opportunity, motive and inside access?
When you've eliminated the impossible,
whatever is left, no matter how improbable,
- must be the truth. - You must think
we're a little slow up here on the moon.
No more or less than anyone else in this room, sir.
We all have eyes, and we all have brains.
it is how we use them that counts.
And how we shall use them in the years to come.