All language subtitles for Watson.S01E08.WEB

Previously on Watson...
On two occasions now,

I've had hallucinations.

Each time,
it's happened right after

I've refilled tamsulosin.

What, someone's switching out
your medication?

I need to tell you something.

Dr. Watson.

Someone is watching you.

Your prescriptions
come in,

and I have been trading
one for the other.

You don't have to do this, mate.

I know what happened here.

He's not down there
anymore. I have him now.

He's alive, Shinwell.

Moriarty is alive.

Here we go.

Another festival of misanthropy

and loneliness.

We are picking out
points of genetic interest,

not living a life in the
day of Stephens Croft.

You mean a day in the life
of John Watson.

He's the one who spots
disease everywhere he goes.

Yes, it's both a burden
and privileged way

of seeing the world, Dr. Croft.

Skunk stripe.

What's the matter with you?

S-Sorry. Sir...

"Poliosis" is the medical term.

His white forelock,

absurdly blue eyes,

broad nasal root all points

to Waardenburg type 1.

Could also have
congenital hearing loss.

Mm, good news, he
totally heard you.

That's one point to Adam
in the festival

of misanthropy and loneliness.

Dermal melanocytosis.

It's gorgeous.

And incredibly rare.

See how it runs along
the lines of Blaschko?
Uh-huh.

Excuse me.

I'm sorry
to stop you,

but may I ask about
the birthmark

that's on your back?

I run the
Holmes Clinic

of Diagnostic Medicine.

You do realize
that you're hot, right?

If you want my number,
you can just ask.

Thank you,
but it's-it's not about that.

Yeah, okay.

I'm gonna give it
to you anyway.

Who are you?

John Watson.

Irene Adler.

Wha...

W-What are you doing here?

I can see what you're doing.

Out here picking up women?

Aren't you going
to introduce us?

Dr. Derian,

Dr. Lubbock, Crofts.

Fellows, this is Irene Adler.

Trust her fashion advice,
but do not

trust her with your
Social Security numbers.

I will meet you

back at the clinic.

Irene, so I haven't
seen you since...

You were attached
to Sherlock's hip?

So, what are you doing
in Pittsburgh?

Did you run out of yachts
to lounge on,

or did some lesser-known royal
kick you off?

I find the lower branches
of the peerage

are lacking in vigor these days.

Almost as if there's something
to all this inbreeding business.

Actually, I'm here
because my son is sick.

I-I didn't know you had a son.

Angus?

John Watson,
internist and geneticist.

Angus Adler, medical mystery.

So, I mean, y-you came
all this way to see me?

Why didn't you just
call me first?

Certain conversations
are best had in person.

Knock me down
with a cuckoo's feather.

I thought this was a
proper establishment.

Don't tell me, Shinwell Johnson
is your... receptionist?

Health-care professional.

He's actually studying to be
a nurse, as a matter of fact.

Saving lives
instead of taking them.

You here
on health insurance fraud,

are you, or to scam

an octogenarian on his deathbed?

Those days are far behind me.

Well,

I had no idea someone had tamed

Scheme-Machine Irene.

- I pity the man.
- Mother?

Hmm?
Aren't receptionists
supposed to be welcoming?

He's got you there, Shinwell.

This way.

Dr. Lubbock,
could you please take

Irene and Angus here
to the exam room?

I'll be there shortly.
Course.

Hi, I'm Dr. Lubbock.
It's so nice to meet you.

Come with me.

Hello.

What fresh hell is this?

She asked me to take
a look at her son.

I at least want to know what
brought them all this way.

Are my pupils constricting?

Yes, they are indeed.

Most kids don't know
your iris is a muscle.

It controls your pupil's size.

Did you know, after you die,
all your muscles relax,

so dead bodies
have dilated pupils.

You're very clever.

Thank you, Doctor.

Doctors can make Angus
nervous, but not you.

You must have
children of your own?

No. I don't.

So, Angus, uh, need you

to stand so I can check
your balance, okay?

Angus, do as Dr. Watson says.

Angus?

Angus.

Can you stand so I can
check your balance?

Has he done this before?

He's often in his own world.

Angus.

Darling.

Stand up for Dr. Watson.

He called her an "old friend."

I thought it was a euphemism.

For "foe"?

Oh, you mean sex.

After last week, Watson probably
could use an old friend.

Do you mean sex?
Everyone means sex.

I mean he must be
shaken up still. I am.

And we didn't even
witness the suicide.

Do we believe

- he was just a pharmacist?
- Stop staring

at the spot like it'll bring
the guy back from the dead.

The problem's
with the living.

After last week,
I don't trust anyone

walking in off the street.

Especially not someone
from Watson's past.

Did anyone ever
mention to you that

Angus's staring spells
could be absence seizures?

What?

I had no idea.

I feel terrible.

Don't, because those
often go undiagnosed for years.

And his muscular
weakness could be caused

by a number of pathologies.

His doctor back home

suspects limb-girdle
muscular dystrophy, but...

He'd have to have

two mutated copies
of his CAPN3 gene.

He has one.

He got it from me.

He also has

a "variant
of unknown significance."

What were his father's results?

His father's no longer with us.

He was a man
with many enemies, and...

...one of whom finally brought
about his demise last year.

He wished
to be cremated, so...

can't exactly
acquire a sample.

I'm sorry for your loss.

I'm sorry for yours.

Shinwell...

You must see it.

Angus's father, he was...

Sherlock Holmes.

Everything discussed
in this room

stays in this room.

Understood?

This must be so surreal for you.

You really had no idea

that Sherlock
had a son?

You don't believe it's his kid.

I remain objective.

So, we have two tasks at hand.

Two teams to tackle
two branching possibilities.

Adam and Sasha. Hopeful Healers.

Take the patient
at face value.

Based on Angus's
presenting symptoms, his labs

and his past
medical records,

draw up a differential
for us to discuss.

Ingrid and Stephens.

Cynic Squad.

What?
Hell yeah.

Take Irene aside

and get a very
detailed history.

Find out everything
you can,

but keep an ear out
for inconsistencies.

Whether to confirm diagnosis

or disprove paternity,
we'll need Holmes's DNA.

How do we get the DNA
of a dead man?

You can leave that to me.

And I need you all to remember:

Irene Adler
is the only living person

to ever outsmart
Sherlock Holmes.

She cannot know
that I doubt her story.

Kid's got his
grimy fingerprints

all over
these game pieces.

Trace DNA. We can test him.

But we have the actual kid.

Plus, Irene already

brought in his testing results.

Well, I wouldn't trust anything

from the hands of Irene Adler.

I'm trying to remain objective.

But yes, I did swab Angus
to run my own test.

In terms of Sherlock's DNA,

it's gonna be quite
a challenging hunt.

He was always quite paranoid
about his genetic footprint.

So, then, not exactly
the type to sow his seeds.

Well, if he did, it
would've been with her.

To Holmes, she was always
the woman.

If it is his,

he wouldn't have kept
that secret from you, would he?

She mustn't
have told him.

Mary never told me
about her miscarriage.

And she was my wife.

I warned the
fellows that Irene

was the only
person alive

to ever outsmart Sherlock.

But now there are two,
aren't there?

You don't think
they're connected?
Eh.

Moriarty couldn't be bothered
with the likes of her,

and she's too self-serving.

Yeah, I guess you're right.

It's quite possible she's just
a mother looking for our help.

We trawling
for skin cells, then?

Uh, not exactly.

For genetic testing,
the trace skin cells

are much less reliable
than saliva or blood.

Remember...

how Mr. Holmes used to scratch
his head with this

whilst thinking?

How about a strand of hair?

Yeah. There you are.

Look at that.

I thought I was well traveled,

but this kid has been
everywhere.

Maybe he got sick abroad.

A viral myositis?
Show me the list of countries.

I'll look into
potential exposures.
Hey.

Beautiful portrait.

You don't think it's strange?

Having a painting of yourself?

Hmm, I support it.
Embrace the self-love.

At my age, my dad's desk was
full of pictures of my mom,

and all of us kids, but--

No. No. Don't do that.

Don't hold yourself to
someone else's timeline.

You do you.

Hmm. We are Hopeful Healers.

Get back to work.

I forgot you're even
more competitive than Ingrid.

I'm just, um...

I'm just doing me.

Let's go over this
one more time.

The first "spell" you "may"

remember was last year
when Angus was playing "footy"?

The air quotes are a little,
uh, aggressive.

He collapsed,
like he was "paralyzed."

The medics told you

to take him to the pediatrician,

and not the hospital?

Correct.

And you didn't think
to question that?

No.

Do you have any family history
of muscular dystrophy,

myasthenia gravis
or other autoimmune diseases?

Not on my side of the family.

The paternal side?

I wish I knew.

What can you tell us
about Sherlock?

How old was he when he died?

Too young.

May I have some water, please?
Not yet.

Get her some water, please.

You're wearing gloves now.

What's between your fingers?
Did you find something?

I may have...

Could you use a lab assistant?

I have a very eager one here.

Angus, this could be

a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity
to witness a genius at work.

And more importantly,

your father's best friend.

Promise you won't
touch anything?

No, no, no, no! Don't touch.

Looks like you might
have a future geneticist

on your hands.

He's insatiable.

Always wanting to see,
do, learn.

I never once worried about
what his future might hold.

Until now.

I understand
you may not trust me.

You don't need to.

You just need to help my son.

Did you know that each strand
of DNA holds the secrets

to our past,
our present and future...

...all in one little molecule?

To a great mind,
nothing is little.

Did your father tell you that?

My mother did.

Maybe she heard it from him.

What's your opinion on
nature versus nurture?

Did my dad have a dog?

Holmes did. Sir Charles Barkley.

He was a Yorkshire terrier.

He trained it to do--
A Yorkie! Of course.

Their hair is almost
identical to ours.

The real mystery is how
it got onto the violin.

Just as I suspected.

See? The more
prominent medulla?

The medulla is the
scale pattern on the cuticle.

Yes, I know what a medulla is.

So then you know the hair is

clearly a dog hair.

Don't feel silly.

You were looking
for a human hair,

so that's what you thought
you found.

Sometimes we only
see what we wish to.

The hair belonged

to Sir Charles Barkley!

The basketball player?
Isn't he very bald?

Sir Charles was my dad's dog.

A cunning little beast.

No luck acquiring
any human DNA, then?

No. Not yet. We'll have
to try again tomorrow.

Oh, it's late.
I didn't think about lodging.

We came straight
from the airport.

Can't we stay with you?

Me?

Well, I, um...

I do have a spare bedroom.

That would take
one thing off my plate.

Thank you, John.

How is that
"remaining objective"?

What happened in there?

I saw him.

I saw Sherlock.

Like "saw" saw him, or...

It was like I was talking
to an old friend.

I think he's Sherlock's son.

He's never fallen
asleep so fast.

It was a long day.
For both of you.

I reckon he's about to start
calling you Uncle.

Did Sherlock
ever know about him?

Sorry to be so blunt,

but I just can't imagine him
being a father.

Yeah, I can't either.

He didn't know.

They never even met.

Before you judge me,
what do you know

about my relationship
with Sherlock?

It was more off than on,
over the years.

Sherlock was never
forthcoming, but...

I did get the feeling

that you were
the one thing in his life

that he couldn't control.

The struggle for power
was our undoing.

I also knew he didn't
want to be a parent,

so when I got pregnant,
I had a choice.

So I ended things with Sherlock
and eight months later...

I had no regrets,
keeping Angus a secret.

Until Sherlock passed.

Now I have a few.

Do you think he didn't want
to have children

because he knew
he carried that gene,

that mutation?

That's plausible.

It was a Holmes family trait.

That's it.

Mycroft Holmes,
the older brother

of Sherlock Holmes.

Sometimes referred to
as the Unfindable Man.

If I wanted to stay unfindable,

I'd change my name to something
other than Mycroft.

I occasionally crossed paths
with Mycroft on cases.

Not even Gregson
at Scotland Yard knows

his residence
or current occupation.

In a time

when everyone leaves behind
digital fingerprints,

Mycroft has none.

Even James Bond is
not that off-the-grid.

Wait, is Adam right?

Is Mycroft
in the British Secret Service?

Well, he could be in the BSS,
or he may be the BSS,

or it could all be BS.

Two questions.

Do the points from yesterday
carry over?

Who's been tallying those?
Let it go.

...and did Sasha get
a head start?

Yes, she did get a head start.

Dr. Lubbock is
running tests on the patient.

Yeah, I'd rather be
doing real medicine

than tracking down a spy.

Well, it's too bad you're
on the Cynic Squad.

I know someone in the CIA.

If he says that he's in the CIA,

he's either lying

or he's a terrible agent.

Here is your first clue.

I emailed--
doubt I'll hear back--

but Sherlock used to say

the Diogenes Club
is a pretentious place

Mycroft founded
to "luxuriate in silence."

Whatever that means.

There's no listed number
or address,

but if there's anyone here
who is old money enough

to track down
a secret society...

I would say it's a Croft.

I was in a secret society
in college.

Oh, my God.
But I can't tell you which one,

so do not ask.

You can't get me to tell you.

Do you know any violin teachers?

Thought maybe Angus or someone
might want to take some lessons.

Violin lessons?

Mate, how long you think
this kid's gonna be around?

Depends on the treatment
and diagnosis.

Irene's done your head in
already,

hasn't she?

Look.

Don't get me wrong,

any kid would be lucky
to have you as a surrogate dad.

But the timing, guv.

Right after
you've been through it.

Learning of your own kid
that almost was.

And meeting this one

reminds you of everything
you've lost.

I can separate the two.

All right.

Well...

I flagged all the cases
involving Mycroft.

Let's at least
get the DNA before you start

planning vacations
with the little twerp.

All right.

I'll be sure to keep you in mind

if I need a muffler.

Bye.

Guessing that wasn't
your CIA friend.

Or he's deep undercover.
Old number, I guess.

One of my college buddies
will have Thatch's new one.

Thatch. Of course
his name is Thatch.

I think I lost you

in the elevator.

I'm still looking
to book the MRI.

Dr. Derian,

can you watch Angus
for a minute?

I have to pop outside.

She picked
the wrong babysitter.

Why don't you
sit here and read your book.

So, what are you all up to?

Trying to find
Sherlock's brother.

Watson thinks
it's our best chance

of confirming Angus's diagnosis.

Or proving that Irene...

No idea what that was.

Um...

Where's your, uh, your teammate?

Somewhere losing.

What were the EMG results?

Inconclusive.
He was too anxious.

But I did set him up
with an MRI for tomorrow,

so we'll see how that goes.

Better than a muscle biopsy.

Tough choice.

Claustrophobic death tube

or cut a chunk of meat

out of his leg.

So far, all I can find is

some illegible correspondence
with Sherlock,

and a copy of an incident report

where Mycroft tried to get
some junior detective fired.

Punching down was
always his strong suit.

And look...

here's a picture of him.

Mycroft's legs.

We're really closing in.

It's quite
a different life you led,

consulting on
these cases.

All the violence. Extortion.

Are we ever gonna talk
about what happened last week?

How you said Shinwell was
switching your prescriptions,

or that a pharmacist
crawled into our office to die?

All you need to know is that
I was wrong about Shinwell.

I was wrong to
ever doubt him.

Sorry to interrupt.

I was wondering
where my teammate was.

Oh, yeah.
Here's the kid.

I'm gonna go
take care of... that.

Great idea.

What's in the boxes?

Case files.

My dad's files?
Mm-hmm.

You mean, you solved

all of these
with him?

Yes, I did.

Can we talk?

Or am I still being punished
for being

the recipient
of Watson's attention?

It's not too late
to join the light side.

Find anything on
the mystery man?

He worked with Watson
and Holmes on a case about

missing submarine plans,

which is why
they have this.

Are those
Mycroft's feet?

Check out his shoes.

Definitely Winton Whittakers.

Fancy Oxfords.

Ornate broguing.
Peculiar gussets.

I could never
afford Whittakers.

It's £4,000 a pair,

if you can
score a commission.

Their client list

has more British elites
than Buckingham Palace.

Maybe we can track down
his contact information

from his orders.

It's, um, 3:30 p.m. in London.

Who's gonna call?

Already messaged them.

I'm gonna pass on

Watson's number,
see when they reply.

Did you bore my child to death?

Hopefully just to sleep.

Are you okay?

You look a bit...
lost.

I just got the results

from the targeted testing
we did for Angus.

He does have
the mutation,

but there's no variant
of unknown significance

in his CAPN3 gene.
What does that mean?

Does he do this often?

He's never been a sound sleeper.

Is this a good time to point out

that Dirty
Rotten Scoundrels lady

brought us
incorrect test results?

Variants of unknown significance

is already
an imprecise classification.

There's always human error, too.

Well, for now,
let's focus on

the pediatric
neuromuscular disorders

associated with
sleep disturbances.

I've already started
running Angus's whole genome.

Someone left a message
for you, guv.

Get to work.

You're still trying
to win, aren't you?

Yes.

But the cynicism is genuine.

Ah, well, okay.

Please tell him to bring
the trophy from Tooting Bec.

He'll know what
I mean. Thanks.

Mycroft's assistant.

I assumed that
he got my email,

but someone from
the shoe company

told him I was
reaching out?

I hate grandiloquent
spy babble.

Yeah, well, you've had
your doubts about Angus.

Now's your chance
to prove it.

I need you to
go to London.

By tomorrow,

we'll know the truth.

Ah, The Diogenes Club.

You know, they call this
the queerest club

in London.
I don't think

they mean that in
the fun way, eh?

Eh?

Judas Priest,
that is.

I was never
a fan myself.

Elton John
has my heart,

and always will do.

But it's a fine antidote
to silence,

don't you think?
Turn it off!

So, Ilsa,

I'm going to see
Mycroft Holmes,

here, and not elsewhere,

or I'm gonna press "play" again,

and shut this place down
till the rozzers get here.

And them two young ballerinas
over my shoulder,

I promise you, they won't
get this out of my hand.

Ilsa, so what's it gonna be?

Mr. Holmes, thank you
for the audience.

You know, I know what
you're thinking, guv.

Sherlock Holmes,
getting Irene Adler

in the family way.

The man had his blind spots,

but that doesn't sound like
Sherlock Holmes to me.

I will say this,
if it is a con,

it's a good one.

The boy could pass for a Holmes.

Dr. Watson, he either
believes it's true,

or wants to
believe it's true.

So, if you

can help, that...

Wow.

Is that...

Do let me know
if that parasite is lying.

I'd love to make life
inconvenient for her.

♪ Blasting the cannons of truth
to each man of this Earth. ♪

Irene.

What are you looking for?

My gloves.

My... my hands
are freezing.

Your gloves?

For what?

Irene?

Irene.

What's going on?

You tell me.

I must've been sleepwalking.

Sleepwalking...

or you're caught snooping.

My grandmother used to sleepwalk

right out of the house
and into the streets of Grimsby.

Thank God you have
bars on your door.

I'd be halfway to
Philadelphia by now.

So, are your hands
still freezing?

They don't feel cold.

Must've been part of the dream.

I'll clean up
the glass.

No, I've got it.

You should get some sleep.

Where'd you pull that from?

Watson texted it
to me at 3:30 a.m.

Why is Watson texting you
at 3:30 a.m.?

'Cause Stephens
is a "Pick Me Girl."

How does
"Pick Me Girl" apply here?

Seeking male attention
and validation

at the expense of other women.

"Other women" is key here,
and Ingrid,

I say this with love,
but you have been

in the most
hellacious mood all week.

I came up with
my own theory last night.

The Solo Cynic Squad.

Factitious disorder
imposed on another,

formerly known as...

Munchausen by proxy.

My teammate wants to play?

You think Irene

is making Angus sick? Why?

Sympathy. Attention.

Proximity to Watson.

She does seem
emotionally fragile.

You know,
muscle weakness

can be caused by low potassium.

Maybe she's giving him
potassium binders

to cause
the symptoms.

His electrolytes
were normal.

But the toe-walking,
muscle weakness,

absence seizure-like
behaviors,

all that could be totally faked.

I mean, what if he's in on it?

Seems like Watson would be

the first to consider all this.

He was suspicious.
Then he became attached.

Even brilliant people
reject evidence

when it threatens
what they want to believe.

FDIA is serious.

We'd be accusing Irene
of child abuse.

Yes, which is why
we'd have to be certain.

And all it takes
is a little shove.

Excuse me?

A kid with Angus's
neuromuscular symptoms

is more likely
to fall flat on his face

if pushed.

How is that not child abuse?

If he catches himself,
we know he's faking it.

We aren't
shoving a kid.

It is time to let go
of Hopeful Healing.

Seconded.

Not the "shoving the kid" part.

But the only thing

that Irene Adler
has ever wanted...

financial stability.

And the way I see it,

proving paternity
gives her claim

to all of Sherlock's estate,

including this clinic.

But it is a load of bullocks,

and I've got the box

to prove it.

Shinwell, how'd it go?

Rollicking time, guv.

Except after,

I tried the Criterion
for a pint.

Can you believe
it was shuttered?

No.
Yeah.

Time is
a cruel mistress.

Clyde's running
a sample now.

Your name goes in
the book of deeds.

There are worse books
to be in, guv.

Any new theories, team?

Not yet.

Angus, darling,

be a good boy
while I make a call.

Ingrid,

keep an eye
on him, yeah?

I'd love to.

Don't.

Angus, you know
what we never tried?
What?

The six-minute walk test where
we gauge your muscle endurance.

Sorry.

I'm not used
to being a slow walker.

My favorite mode of
transportation is elephant.

Elephant.

That's funny.

So have you and your mom
always traveled so much?

Well, we used to stay
in London more.

And then Mum decided every day
should be an adventure.

When was that?

Maybe a year ago.

Did anything else
change around then?

Anything unusual like
her sleepwalking or...

Uh, yes, actually.

And the noises in her sleep.

Like you did in my office
the other day?
Yes.

So you remember that?
I thought you were asleep.

I was.
My mum told me what happened.

Has it been
six minutes yet?
Almost.

Hey, I bet I can guess a country
you haven't been to.

Austria.

Nope. Been there.

I don't like schnitzel.

Did you happen to meet
my old friend

Aldebert Gruner
while you were there?

Uncle Gruner.

Well, not a real uncle.

He's Mum's friend, though, too.

Let's definitely hit up
Jackson Hole this winter, man.

Get after that fresh pow.

Love you, bud.

Thatch?
Thatch.

Don't tell me he's actually CIA?

I can't tell you that,

but I did get a complete
rundown on Irene Adler.

Most recently linked to
multiple cases of charity fraud.

I suspect that she's using
Angus's illness for profit.

Like a GoFundMe kid?
That screams Munchausen's.

Where's Angus?

Exercise assessment
with Dr. Watson.

I have good news.

The MRI tech was able
to squeeze Angus in today.

We could also try
a muscle biopsy, too.

Great. Today is wide open.

Anyone else fancy a cuppa?

"A cuppa"? What if
she's not even English?

Mission accomplished.

I would like to speak to you
about something in your office.

I'll also be part
of that conversation.

Be right back.

They can't take
all the credit.

Sorry, kid.

Look, I know
you've been going through

a real tough time
lately, but--
Irene's been
lying to you.

Well, to all of us, and--

Watson--
The kid's faking it!

Ingrid pushed him.

Yes, and he caught himself,
he didn't fall flat on his face

which means that Angus is not
sick, not Sherlock's kid, or--

I know.

Know what?

This entire scheme

was concocted by Ms. Adler

to gain Sherlock's DNA.

I was waiting to show my hand

until I got confirmation
from the test,

which is what
this is for.

Well done, darling.

Fancy an ice cream?

Yeah, they're definitely gone.

I've looked everywhere.
I'll head back up.

I knew that kid
was Satan's spawn.

Hang on now, he's just doing
what his mother told him to do.

Yeah. More like
training her protégé.

It's official.

Preliminary sequencing
shows that Sherlock

can't be Angus's father.

So he's a pickpocket
and a fake?

She designed it all so that
whether we believed her or not,

we'd deliver Sherlock's DNA
right to her.

It's an immaculate plan.
I'm deeply impressed.

Was he faking
being sick, too?

All of it. The gait,
the muscle weakness,

the staring spells, sleep apnea.

The only thing he didn't fake
was his preternatural wit.

You can't train that.

I know Sherlock was special,

but why go to such extremes
for his DNA?

Ah, yes, here we all are,

nice and cozy,

elucidating
and pontificating,

but perhaps we at least try

to catch her before
she hops on a plane?

You put a tracking
device on her?

I know, so unlike me.

But as I told Dr. Watson,

I never trusted the lass.

I'll wait here, guv.

Glad I could catch you
before your next adventure.

Uh-oh.

Why don't we speak in private?

Inventing a secret son
of my dead best friend,

faking a genetic mystery,

one tailored to my
unique skill set,

that could only be solved
by Sherlock's DNA...

that's wicked,
and was brilliant.

Thank you.

You also knew that
the moment we had that DNA,

your lie would be exposed.

But that wouldn't matter,
now would it?

Because by then you'd be
all the way to Austria.

How did you know?

Small Venn diagram

of people rich enough to
throw away money on such things,

and clever enough to recognize
Sherlock's real value.

Austrian aristocrat

Adelbert Gruner
sits smack in the middle.

Baron Gruner moved on
from collecting women

to collecting megaminds,

banking their genetic sample
to study.

Sherlock would've been
his Holy Grail.

I'd say so,
given Gruner's offer.

I need to collect it, Watson.

Why would you risk jeopardizing
your son for one huge payday?

It's not because
Angus is sick.

You are.

Sleepwalking,

that's triggered
by stress and fatigue.

Freezing hands that aren't
cold to the touch,

that's a sign of neuropathy.

Bruises on your arm just
from carrying a purse,

that's a common side effect
of chemotherapy.

What type of cancer do you have?

Multiple myeloma.

Incurable.

I failed
every treatment.

My doctors say I have two,
maybe three good years left.

I'm all Angus has.

That payout would provide

everything he needs
after I'm gone.

What if I can give you
more time?

CAR T-cells are genetically
engineered to bind

to and kill cancer cells.

They're not widely available
in the UK for myeloma,

but here the FDA
just approved it.

I have a friend at MD Anderson,

he says the data is promising.

He can facilitate a transfer of
care from your doctor in the UK

to their cancer center
in Texas.

Texas?

Yes, it's a lifestyle
adjustment,

but being rooted in one place
would be good for Angus.

What if it doesn't work?

Will you be his guardian if
I don't live to see him turn 18?

If he's okay with it,
I'll accept.

I'm sorry I lied to you.

It's okay.

As long as you're honest with me
from now on, we're good.

I promise.

You're a very special
young man, Angus.

I hope you'll let me visit you
in London, or even Texas.

Please.

But don't bring
your receptionist.

Deal.

The twins take off already?

Slackers.

So how long you been
sleeping with your ex?

You're vain, but not so vain

that you'd buy a painting
of yourself to display at work.

Wasn't at the gallery show.

Sleeping with the artist,
aren't you?

Turns out, I'm still his muse.

Good. Better than Stephens.

Rebounds are messy and I'm not
interested in cleanup duty.

I'll keep this short.

I am sorry
about everything.

I understand why you called me
a "Pick Me Girl."

And I vow to be more conscious
about excluding you.

And...

...if there are ever teams
again, I want to be on yours

because being against you
is... terrifying.

She attacks children.

Um...

Would you mind
giving us a second, please?

Of course.

Children!

It is depressing

how many trophies have
gone to die at Goodwill.

But... this one is yours.

Can't believe he's gone.

You'll see
the little turd again.

I meant Sherlock.

This ring
is a family heirloom

that Mycroft was wearing during
an infamous fight with Sherlock.

He kept it to mark the one time
he kicked his brother's ass.

A story that he told me
all three times I met him.

That's how you knew
to call for it.

The Tooting Bec Trophy.

Yeah, the things we hold on to.

Mind if I do the honors?