Sherlock Holmes

Look, father, we have been through all this before...

Do as I tell you, boy, you damn, disobedient little bastard!

Give me the gun!

It's my life and I'm going to run it the way I like!

Get off out of it!

Good morning!

Caught anything?

Not yet.

Holmes, what on earth are you doing here?

Looking for you.

Well, carry on my dear fellow, don't let me disturb you.

What on earth are you doing here?

A case has brought me this way.

What sort of case?

The newspapers are calling it the Boscombe Valley mystery.

I expect you've read something of it?

Not a word. I haven't seen a paper for days.

A farmer, Cole McCarthy, Australian by birth,

met his death by a mere at the bottom of his farm.

They seem to have established a very serious case

against the son of the murdered man.

There's a big one just under that rock.

So then it's-

a murder?

Well, it's projected to be so.

Of course, I shall take nothing for granted

until I've had a chance to look into it personally.

Naturally.

I don't wish to spoil your holiday

but I was wondering if I could persuade you to join me

for a couple of days?

Well, of course.

Are you sure?

I shall be delighted.

Then we must move quickly, our local train leaves in 35 minutes.

Your water, sir,

Watson, all of this fresh air will kill me.

Well, the London Press don't seem much interested.

Not very full accounts.

Yes. Useless!

So much for the London Press.

It all seems depressingly simple.

What persuaded you to take an interest in this case?

This.

"Boscombe Valley mystery."

"There has been a grave miscarriage of justice."

"The matter is urgent. We need your help."

"Please come if you can, Alice Turner." Good heavens.

Who is Alice Turner?

She is the daughter of Mr. Turner, also Australian,

who owns this whole estate.

Oh, well, it's a "mystery", not "murder" to Miss Turner.

"We need your help."

If ever there's a cry from the heart that is it... it leaps from the paper.

Have you seen this lady?

No, not yet. Do you remember a certain Sergeant Summerby?

Summerby? Oh, yes, the case of the counterfeit Spanish dollars.

Mexican.

A pleasant fellow much admired your methods, did he not?

Probably his reason for promotion to Inspector.

He is in charge of the case and it was he who organized-

this accommodation for us.

Us? You presumed that I would come?

No, not presumed, Watson, hoped, very much hoped.

Well, Mr. Holmes.

And you, Doctor, it's a pleasure to see you again.

Congratulations on your promotion, Inspector.

Thank you, Doctor.

It's a quiet district as a rule, but nonetheless, my own.

I have a carriage waiting.

McCarthy, the murdered man

rented a farm called Hatherley from a Mr. Turner

who is one of the largest London proprietors in this part of the country.

He made his money in Australia.

I presume that both being colonials they had much in common.

Old friends, I believe.

Well, Mr. Turner has been in failing health for some time.

He has a daughter called Alice?

An only child and a most charming one.

We surmise that Miss Turner and the McCarthy boy are friends?

Great friends.

It was Miss Turner who brings me here.

Oh, I know, Mr. Holmes,

and to be quite honest with you I'm surprised you came.

The case is as plain as a pikestaff,

and the more one goes into it the plainer it becomes.

So I have warned Miss Turner that this time-

not even Mr. Sherlock Holmes will be able to work miracles...

Beautiful countryside.

Yes, yes, indeed. This is Boscombe Valley.

And over there at the bottom is Boscombe Mere

where the murder took place.

A peaceful place for a tragedy.

Any witnesses?

I expected that question, Mr. Holmes.

The principle witness is William Crowder,

one of Mr. Turner's gamekeepers.

It was after I had my dinner, last Monday it was, the...

the third of June.

Oh, that's right.

Now I fed the young pheasants, pullets we call them.

You were planting out lettuces.

Oh, that's right.

I was setting out some lettuces, those lettuces over there.

When my little girl, Patience, she comes running up.

Dad, dad, the McCarthy's are fighting.

Well, it won't be the first time.

Well,

don't you worry about it, Patience. It ain't no concern of ours.

Go on, in you go.

That, Mr. McCarthy,

he has a temper, that one, you know.

You know, if he thought another gun had poached his bird out shooting,

he'd let fly in a real fury.

Was the boy the same way inclined?

No milk for me, please.

No. No, not that I've noticed anyway.

No, he always seemed a nice enough boy.

I'm surprised him doing such a thing.

But, then again,

he was provoked.

No doubt, who's to say.

You tell the gentlemen what happened next.

You haven't forgotten what you said in evidence at the inquest.

Forgotten?

I shan't forget that day, not so long as I live.

I, I just sent Patience into her mother,

and I hadn't planted out no more than another half a box,

when Hugh McCarthy come running up looking like he'd seen a ghost.

My father's met with a terrible accident. Please come with me, I need your help.

Where is he?

Down by the mere.

Is he alive?

You just come along with me.

I brought him back here.

And I sent my wife down to the trap for the police.

Did the boy say anything?

No, no, not a word.

He just sat there where you are, sobbing and moaning

and I didn't take my eyes off him until they came for him, that's the truth.

Did you examine the gun at all, the butt for instance?

Ah... No. No, not especially.

But, there was a bit of mud on it.

He wiped it.

He wiped it?

Well, I might've done.

I mean it would've been natural wouldn't it?

There was Mr. McCarthy lying there dead with his head bashed in,

and he hadn't got that way swatting wasps, had he?

And you believe that the boy killed his father?

Well, of course, I do, sir. I mean who else could've done it?

I can tell you this much, gentlemen.

All right, now, I'm a gamekeeper, all right?

And when a man's got a gun in his hand strange things can happen.

Now I've seen men, quiet law abiding gentleman,

you put a gun in their hands, they turn into near maniacs.

Thank you so much, Mr. Crowder,

for giving so much of your valuable time.

Oh, it's been a pleasure gentlemen.

It's not the first time I've been able to help the cause of justice,

no, not by a long chalk.

Well, last year at Candlemas time, you remember, Inspector?

No, I'm a liar, it were two years ago.

Well, we must be on our way.

Well, I'm on the side of law and order, sir, the Inspector will tell you that.

Indeed you are, Crowder, thank you.

Goodbye.

They're all the same, these country people.

Once they get an audience they'll talk the hind leg off a donkey.

Now if you follow me I'll take you down to the scene of the crime.

No need for the moment.

That's very true, no need in the circumstances.

It's a sad case, but a pretty clear one.

The glass is high,

weather set fair.

I shall like to call on James McCarthy.

I can arrange it if you wish.

Tomorrow.

One more thing I should tell you, Mr. Holmes.

When the boy was charged with the murder,

he didn't appear in the least surprised.

In fact, he said it was no more than his deserts.

Those were his very words.

A confession?

You might think so.

Did he also protest his innocence?

Yes. But then again, they always do, don't they?

I think we best be getting back to the hotel.

I have some calls to make on the estate.

Until tomorrow, then.

Boscombe Arms.

The boy said he got no more than his deserts.

Well, that's a pretty suspicious remark.

I mean, coming after such a damning series of events.

On the contrary the brightest rift I can see in the clouds at present.

Self-approach contrition displayed by his remark

appears to be signs of a healthy mind, rather than a guilty one.

Many men have been hanged on far slighter evidence.

So they have and many men have been hanged wrongfully.

Oh, look, a pheasant.