Al 221 B di Baker Street in una notte qualunque capita una bella straniera smemorata, da qualche vago indizio il celebre investigatore privato rintraccia la sua storia ed inizia una delle sue avventure accompagnato dal fido Watson, dove incontreranno spionaggio, personaggi della storia, leggendari mostri, ma si rivelerà anche un caso anomalo, contorto, dove nulla è come appare e che lo porterà ad una sconfitta e non solo da detective. Billy Wilder maestro del destrutturare qualsiasi tema con sprezzo del pericolo e grande ironia si confronta con il mito letterario per antonomasia : Sherlock Holmes, il personaggio più utilizzato al cinema e nei i tantissimi romanzi apocrifi. E se lo reinventa a modo suo naturalmente, non più only rational criminologist penny represents it as a cinema, but a very complex character capable of overcoming the centuries to us with his enigmatic personality. Unmasking of a film: the charming widow is a spy, the monster of Loch Ness a submarine, the historic castle and a military base Holmes, genius, misogynist, imperturbable, pretending the whole film: cold and cynical, then gay married totally uninterested in the beautiful Belgian but confuses him for the first time in his life and suffers when the woman will be executed by the Japanese, that's terrible suffering in silence because of heart-rending notes of violin and 7% solution of cocaine - 5 as Watson also adulterous one - way out to a higher mind forced to live with the pain of loneliness that involves being different from others. This film can be witty, funny, irreverent, funny, poisonous, intriguing, strange, but also has a melancholy background that brings a warm glow of humanity even to the genius of cold rationality, bringing the pain of all. Wilder sees within the human being, its miseries, its greatness, can look even in the darkest characters finding a light that shines forever. 
Sherlock Holmes: Dear Mrs. Hudson, the criminals are as unpredictable as colds: you never know when you take it. Sherlock Holmes-Watson: I do not despise women. Only, I do not trust them, all languid eyes and arsenic in the soup.
Mycroft Holmes: Watson The last doctor warned me that drinking crossing Piccadilly has slipped on a banana peel and fell under a car. To yours!
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