All language subtitles for Elementary.S07E01.The.Further.Adventures.1080p.AMZN.WAJP69

Previously on Elementary...

Hannah Gregson just found

her roommate strangled
in her house.

Getting away with murder
is an incredible feeling.

- Special Agent Mallick.
- So you're covering

the Michael Rowan
investigation for the Bureau?

You think I killed Michael. Why?

In a word-- obsession.

I spent the better part of today
thinking that Michael's killer

was Special Agent Mallick.

No. It's Hannah,

your daughter.

You have to tell the FBI.

You're the door that this
lunatic walked through, okay?

If it weren't for you,

Maddie Williams
would be alive today,

and my little girl
wouldn't be a killer.

I never meant

for any of this to
come down on Joan.

What if we didn't do anything?
Just took our chances,

see what happens?

Your partner--
he confessed to the murder.

That's wrong.
Sherlock did not kill anyone.

I'm the only one who could
confess without going to prison.

The Brits won't extradite him.
They made that very clear.

He isn't allowed to set foot
in the U.S. ever again.

Sherlock Holmes isn't
America's problem anymore.

Bernardo "Beppo" Pugliesi.

Welcome to Baker Street.

Well, we both know why
you're here, so have at it.

The Black Pearl
of the Borgias.

Centerpiece of Lucrezia Borgia's
favorite necklace.

You stole it from a collector
in Rome little over a year ago.

Quite a haul.

If only you hadn't committed
a completely unrelated crime

just one day later.

Stabbed a man in a bar fight.

And when the police

tracked you to your brother's
ceramics factory,

you hid the pearl in one
of exactly 1,000 busts

he planned to sell at the
upcoming royal wedding.

They were so ugly, of course,
he only managed to sell six.

How do you know so much
about me, huh?

You're a thief of some renown.

You were long suspected
of stealing the pearl,

but no one could ever prove it.

Several weeks ago,
when someone

started breaking into homes
and stealing nothing,

but leaving a trail
of ceramic destruction,

it all became clear.

Your brother
sold six busts.

After you were paroled,
you destroyed five of them.

I couldn't be sure the pearl
was in that one, of course.

You could've recovered it
at your last stop.

But I bought it
all the same.

I made quite
a show of it.

I assumed you'd be keeping an
eye on the woman who owned it.

Who are you?

I'm the man who's going
to bring you to justice.

Typically,

I don't find your brand
of criminal worth my time.

But when the owner of the
fifth bust discovered you

in his home, you strangled him.

That won't do, Beppo.

Do you really think
you can stop me from leaving?

I know I can.

I mean, I'd much rather you

surrendered peacefully,
of course.

I suffer from

post-concussion syndrome.

A single blow to the head could
do terrible damage to my brain.

Well, the thing is...

I don't think you're
going to land a single blow.

I bet the owner's
gonna be happy

to have that back.

That's the only part of
the case I don't like.

Jacopo Cremonesi ran
the Calabrian Mafia

for a stretch in the '80s.

This pearl was paid
for with blood.

Watson.

Nice of you to join us, Doc.

I was working today
in Whitehall, remember?

The Lucas homicide?

Just as well.

Your partner obviously
didn't need any help tonight.

Notice the absence
of bullet holes.

When you don't
shoot the suspect,

you can actually
send him to prison.

Once again, just
because I'm American

does not mean
that I love guns.

Right. I suppose you don't call
football "soccer," either.

Just a bit of colored glass.

- A fake?
- No, not exactly.

The Black Pearl of the Borgias
was always made of glass.

How else could Lucrezia Borgia
have hidden this inside it?

Historians have long
suspected her

in the poisoning deaths of
many of her family's enemies.

When she fell out of favor

with certain members of
the Vatican, it's rumored

that she was urged to dispose
of her favorite murder weapon,

a hollow ring

which she used to put poison

in her victims' drinks.

Looks like she found
a way to keep it.

My God, Holmes.

You didn't get the goods on
one murderer tonight, but two.

You're an idiot.

- If he had hit you...
- He didn't.

- Yeah, but if he had...
- But he didn't.

Whitehall. The murder
of Eduardo Lucas.

You didn't tell me,
uh, what happened.

It's over. We closed it.

Your hunch was correct?

The killer wasn't Lady Hilda.
It was Eduardo's wife.

She thought
he was having an affair.

We found blood evidence
on a carpet.

Outstanding.

Yeah. I'm sure DCI Jones
will be very impressed.

Watson, we've been
over this many times.

Athelney Jones
is not your enemy.

Do you hear the way she
calls me "Doc"? It's a dig.

Is she a bit
of an Ameri-phobe? Yeah.

A bit?

The point is, she respects
your work, which is outstanding.

Think of the year
that we've had so far.

We've had
the Boscombe Valley Mystery,

that Adventure at Abbey Grange.

We're just as productive
as we ever were in New York,

if not more so.

Keep going like this,
I might get knighted.

You could be a dame.

Truth be told, it still hurts.

Not as much as it did, but
there's still an ache, you know?

Tonight? I can't.

I'm going to a birthday party.

My friend's daughter
is turning six.

I just bought her
a very posh doll.

- Miss?
- Wets itself and everything.

- Excuse me, miss?
- Are you talking to me?

♪ Elementary 7x01 ♪
The Further Adventures
Original Air Date on May 23,

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

They've got her full
If of hydromorphone,

so she's sleeping now.
I shouldn't disturb her.

I don't think she got
a good look at the man anyway.

What, did she say that?

No. Ms. Quinn was in shock
when they wheeled her in,

wasn't speaking
at all, but, well...

Right. Hard to
imagine she saw much.

She was a beautiful girl.
Such a shame.

Could hardly recognize her.

You know the victim?

You probably do, too,
unless you fancy real news.

She's Lola Quinn.

She's a minor celebrity
in these parts,

one of the last
tabloid models.

Metro Flash still runs
them on page three.

Lola's been a favorite
the past few years.

Sorry. Have to get that.

Excuse me, do you
have a moment?

- Yes.
- Athelney Jones.

This is Sherlock Holmes
and Joan Watson.

- Are you Ms. Quinn's doctor?
- Well, I'm one of them.

Uh, Garret Halsey. I'm head
of plastic surgery here.

How is she?

Well, she's stable
now, but...

she has first- and second-degree
chemical burns

all over her face.

She might lose the left eye,
and then there's the risk

of infection.
Please tell me

you have a lead on the bastard
who did this to her.

I'm afraid not.

The whole thing
was caught on CCTV,

but there's nothing on tape
to help us make an I.D.

Part of why we came.

We were hoping
she could describe him.

Do us a favor.

She wakes up,
give us a call.

We're gonna want
to talk to her.

With all due respect,

you lot have got
to do something about this.

This plague. I get
called in to consult

on another acid attack
every couple of months.

It's bloody madness.

We're gonna find the
person who did this.

I promise you that.

I'm afraid he's right.

The city can't take
much more of this.

There have been what,
over 200 acid attacks

in London this year?

First, it was
the religious zealots.

Then the gangs picked it up.

Now we've got muggers

dousing people
for phones and handbags.

Outcry's bound
to get worse

now that a famous face
has been ruined.

We need a quick closure.

Think you can
give me that, Holmes?

Doc.

Detective Bell,
my favorite cop.

Tony.

So, why'd you call me in
this time, huh?

I've been keeping an eye
on your social media.

Saw you were getting married.

Wanted to say congrats
in person.

Wasn't easy, you know?

Falling in love again after
Yancy left me the way she did?

Your wife didn't leave you,
Tony. She was murdered.

You find her body
and not tell me, Detective?

'Cause, uh, unless you did,
she left me,

just like I told you a year ago.

I wanted to talk to you about
the anger management classes.

This again?

Seriously? Just 'cause a guy
takes some classes

doesn't make him a killer.

You were sentenced
to those classes.

Yancy went to her sister's
to get away from you.

You kicked her
front door in.

I never laid a hand
on either of 'em.

What's it gonna take
to convince you?

I didn't kill my wife.

I believe you.

Your fiancée's last name,
"Tugnutt," isn't too common.

When I saw it, I remembered
a double homicide

at a Tugnutt Stationery
last year.

The detective who caught it
liked a guy named Ray Tugnutt.

The two vics, you see--
they were Ray's parents.

A few months before, they
were supposed to retire

and give their store to him,

but then
they changed their minds.

He got so angry,
he trashed the place.

Got himself arrested
and sentenced to--

wait for it--

anger management classes.

That's where you got
to know him, right?

At some point,
he introduced you to his cousin.

Now you're marrying her.

I don't know which of you idiots
saw Strangers on a Train.

I was always partial
to ThrowMomma myself,

but, obviously,
you traded murders.

You killed his parents,
he killed Yancy.

I'm talking to him next.

Question is, if there's a shot
at a deal with the D.A.,

which of you
is gonna flip first?

Got him with five
days to spare.

I remember a few months ago
when the federal hiring freeze

slowed everything down
for you and the Marshals...

My bags were
literally packed.

Could you blame me
for being ticked?

I said, "Marcus, think of
all the extra time

"you're gonna have to nail
that piece of garbage.

Think of how good
that's gonna feel."

You were right, okay?

It feels great.

You sure you still want to go?

I mean, look at everything
you're missing.

The smells,
the stale coffee...

fluorescent light bulbs
that won't stay lit.

Ooh.

"Because every good
marshal needs one."

Who's that from?

Sherlock and Joan.

Yeah. Should've known.

Congrats, okay?

I really miss Captain Gregson.

He was never anything
but respectful,

even before I became
a detective.

But this DCI, I swear to God,

if she calls me "Doc"
just one more time...

I don't think I ever gave you
enough credit

for your move to New York.

I mean, working with police
you'd never met before.

It's a lot harder
than I thought it'd be.

What can I say?

I am pretty great.

Archie.

Those are not to play with.

I don't need an alibi, do I?

Acid in the face.

Sort of my M.O.

Pretty sure that Lola Quinn
is not a serial killer.

Poor thing.

Do you want to work
this case with us?

Wouldn't mind the company.

Sorry. I've got my hands full
at work.

There's no shortage
of missing girls out there.

And all of my free time
goes to this guy.

So when are you gonna tell
Sherlock?

Tell him what?

That you aren't happy in London.

I didn't say I wasn't happy.

I just said I was having
a problem at work.

Then explain the hair.

W-What?

I love it, don't get me wrong.

But I know a woman looking
to shake things up when I see one.

Yeah, I'm sure you do.

Every time you
look in the mirror.

I did this on a dare,
and you know it.

You loved it here
in the beginning.

I mean, who wouldn't?
But I don't think

I've seen you truly happy
in quite some time.

I'm fine.

Maybe it isn't New York
you're missing,

but the idea
of starting a family.

You put a lot
of work into it,

then you walked away.

I didn't just walk away.

I decided long before I thought
about moving to London

that I was not
going to adopt a baby.

The work we do,
it's just too dangerous.

Michael Rowan proved that.

Hey.

The getaway vehicle
used in the acid attack,

it's been found.

Watson.

We're sure it's
the same moped?

There's no question.
It's over here.

I thought no one at the scene
got a look at the license plate.

That's true.

But it's the same make,
model, color.

And then there are
the handlebars.

Or lack thereof.

They've been dissolved
with sulfuric acid.

That's one way to get rid
of fingerprints.

I'd call it
an abundance of caution.

These are from a midsize car.

Did our guys make them?

So it must've been him.

It rained last night.

I suppose he left it here
in advance.

He must have always intended
to ditch the moped here.

That's a pretty complicated plan
for a mugging.

What is that smell?
Do you smell that?

It smells like a forest.

No. On top of that.

I'm getting... dirt.

With hints of other dirt.

He poured acid over everything
in her purse?

Including her phone.

Was he determined to destroy
all evidence of his crime?

I would think the phone
and the wallet

were the whole point
of the crime.

Holmes, what have you got?

Progress. We found some of
Lola Quinn's belongings.

This wasn't a robbery
after all.

We're going to have
to re-approach

from a different angle.

Doesn't sound like progress.

Take heart, Chief Inspector.

A motive more personal
than greed

should narrow
our focus considerably.

We need to speak to Lola Quinn
as soon as she wakes up.

She may have some idea
who wanted to harm her.

There's the problem, I'm afraid.

We're never going to get
to speak to Ms. Quinn.

She's dead.

Doctor said she was stable.

She didn't die from her wounds.

She jumped down a lift shaft

that's under repair
at the hospital.

I suppose the thought of losing
her looks and her livelihood

was too much to bear.

So, if you're right, if someone
was just out to hurt her...

they did a far better job of it
than they could have imagined.

It's official.
Lola Quinn's moved

from page three to page one.

I'm getting calls
every five minutes

from bosses I never knew I had.

The press is breathing down
all our necks now.

Yeah, we saw the
mob of reporters

out front this morning.

It's an absolute frenzy.

They've got the public
in a lather, too.

Another day goes by
without an arrest,

I half expect Elton John
will rewrite the lyrics

to "Candle in the Wind" again.

We don't need any
additional motivation.

Ms. Quinn's case
has our full attention.

A fat lot of good
that's done us so far.

Everything they're saying
in the papers is true.

- We're nowhere.
- It's been one day.

We didn't find anything useful
at the crime scene,

and CCTV didn't give us
anything to go on.

We have the getaway vehicle,
we've got Ms. Quinn's

stolen belongings,
and we've got a fingerprint

which may well belong
to her assailant.

A partial print, incomplete.

And since it wasn't
in the system,

it's of no use
for the time being.

Nevertheless,
the fact that it was found

on Ms. Quinn's handbag,
which was still stuffed

with cash and credit cards,
is very telling.

This acid attack is not
like all the others.

He wasn't driven by ideology
or greed.

Lola Quinn was targeted in a way

that would disguise
a personal motive.

So we've lined up interviews
with her friends and family.

Someone will know
who wanted to hurt her.

DCC Forensics may be
a step ahead of you there.

There was a threat made
against her online?

The techs were able

to access her e-mail.

Last month, she got in a spat

with a paparazzo
named Derek Casey.

Lola sent him a note
out of the blue.

Called him a tosser for
following her with his camera.

He didn't take it so well.

"Beauty is fleeting, dear.
Before you know it,

people will see you
for what you really are."

Sounds like someone

- we should invite in for a chat.
- I agree.

At the very least,
it will reduce the number

of agitators outside by one.

Any leads
at all, Inspector?

Right, Chief
Inspector Jones. Over here.

Over here.
Do you have a suspect?

What do you have to say to
Lola's fans, Chief Inspector?

How long are they going
to have to wait?

You going to answer
questions today, mum?

No, son. You are.

Hey, hold on.

- What's this about?
- Come on!

Where are you taking him?

- You've been in my e-mails?
- You seem troubled

that someone's invaded
your privacy.

I get it. It's quite rich
since I'm a pap, right?

Yeah, well, there's a difference
between a journalist

observing people
in public spaces

and the government sniffing
their nose in your DMs.

Nobody hacked into
your accounts, genius.

But we have been reading
Lola Quinn's correspondence.

The victim, who you threatened.

I didn't threaten her.

What would
you call it, then?

Last month, she
wrote you a note.

"I heard you have a picture
of me after the premiere.

What will it take
to buy it exclusive?"

And you responded,
"Bugger off.

You can't afford it."

Your correspondence
got more heated from there.

At one point, you
promised to ruin Lola.

Someone surely did that.

It wasn't me.

That's not terribly convincing,
Derek.

Look, I'm...

I wish I hadn't have said
those things.

Well, sure.

You wouldn't be
here if you hadn't.

Look, y-you can believe I'm
sorry for what I wrote or not,

but I was with my girlfriend
and her dad the day it happened.

We watched Arsenal lose
in the pub.

Uh, Kings Road in Islington.
Go check.

We will, but that doesn't prove
that you weren't involved.

You could have paid someone

to make good on
your threats.

They weren't real threats.

It was just...
I wanted her to drop it.

Right, there was no way that I
was gonna sell her those photos.

What were the photos of?

Lola, sloshed, slinking into
the back of a limo

after some film premiere.

Her skirt wasn't doing its job,

if you take my meaning.
She was a mess.

You wouldn't let her buy the
pictures to bury them. Why not?

- She couldn't afford your price?
- Oh, come off it.

She's not a real celebrity.

The reason why the picture
was worth so much

was who she was with.

Ruby Carville.

I got her pulling Lola
into the backseat with her.

The Ruby Carville?

Owner of The Metro Flash?

Yeah. And about half
the other rags I sell to.

It was too perfect.

Tabloid media's ice queen
romping with a page-three hussy.

I don't believe you.

You don't have to.

You can see for yourself
if you give me my camera.

Yeah, Ms. Carville's who
I sold 'em to.

She thought she bought
every copy, but I kept some.

Just in case.

Smartest thing I ever did, huh?

You know, it's been
whispered for ages

that she runs around
on her husband

with pretty young things.

Nobody ever got proof before.

All this proves is that she let
Lola into her car.

You ask me,
she's your next stop.

There's a reason they call her
the witchiest woman in England.

And who knows how she treats her
toys when she's done with them.

I'm gonna warn you right now.

Don't get too excited about
Ruby Carville as a suspect.

Oh, it's too late. The woman
is practically a Bond villain.

She's more than capable.

And if she didn't do it,

she's got plenty of
enemies who might have.

Maybe, but she's also
got more lawyers

than the Yard has officers.

If we're gonna take aim at the
bear, we can't afford to miss.

We don't miss, generally.

I could approach
her quietly.

- She might...
- You're not hearing me.

I want you to promise me
you won't go near her

till we have more evidence
she was involved.

Holmes.

Watson and I will not
approach Ruby Carville

without your say-so.

You have my word.

Ice cream?

- Seriously?
- I'm the boy's godfather.

I can treat him
every now and again.

It's 10:00 in the morning.

How did it go?

I did everything
you asked.

I told the receptionist
that I was a housekeeper

at Buckingham Palace and this
was the queen's rubbish.

And I said
I would only open it for Ruby.

Took some doing, but they
brought me to her office.

And then, when she tried
to negotiate a price,

I asked her about Lola Quinn
and said

I'd heard a few rumors
about the two of them.

- And?
- She just...

stared at me a moment, daggers.

And then she told me to get out,
take my rubbish with me.

Suspicious.

But not incriminating.

In you go.

Mind your little head.

There we go.

You talk to Watson lately?

She's my partner.
We talk all the time.

No. I mean... talk to her.

I said to her yesterday
that I didn't think

she'd taken to London very well.

Have you not been paying
attention the last 12 months?

She's been thriving.

I'm not talking about work.

I'm talking
about everything else.

Don't tell me
you haven't noticed.

Does she occasionally
miss New York?

Yes, of course she does.

That's to be expected
after a major relocation.

I know from experience.
My move to New York--

it was challenging,
but as time wore on,

I grew to love my new home.

It's not the same thing--
what you did, what she's done.

You were running away
from something.

She's run to something.

Watson doesn't run
to anything, let alone me.

She came here so that
we could be partners again.

I'm just saying, it's different.

Thanks again
for helping me today.

I know you want her here.

I want her here, too.

Doesn't mean
that she belongs here.

Got a minute?

Yeah, sure.

What's up? You okay?

There's something
I've been wanting

to talk to you about
for a while now.

Keep putting it off,
and now I only have

a few days left here, and I...

What? Go ahead.

Everything that went down

between you
and Sherlock and Joan--

you gotta get past it.

More than that.
You gotta fix it.

- Marcus...
- No.

They never did anything
but right by us.

Now, whenever anyone
mentions them,

it's like nails
on a chalkboard to you.

I'm supposed to be happy
that Sherlock

confessed to killing
Michael Rowan?

That he threw away
everything he had here?

He was trying
to save his partner.

The Feds' case against Joan
was a joke.

You know it, I know it,
but would he listen? No.

He had to do
what he always does.

He had to play cowboy.

I know, okay?

I know.

You know?

You know what?

I know who really
killed Michael Rowan.

I don't know what
you're talking about.

I'm not stupid.

I was with you
when we got the news

Sherlock confessed
to Rowan's murder.

You were angry,
but you weren't surprised.

We're not having
this conversation.

I figured, okay, maybe I shouldn't
have been surprised, either.

Sherlock was
doing right by Joan.

I didn't like it, but I got it.

I accepted it. You?

You acted like
they never existed.

Like they weren't
part of our family.

Took me a while, but I
finally figured it out.

It wasn't anger
you were feeling.

It was guilt.

You were protecting
someone, too.

I don't like anything about what
happened with the Rowan case.

Not one damn thing.

I hate knowing what I know.

But I get it.

And to be clear,

I don't think anyone else
needs to know about it.

But Sherlock and Joan,
they were your friends.

They were there for you,

for me, always.

It's time you made things
right with them.

How?

How the hell am I supposed
to do that?

I don't know.

But I bet "I'm sorry"
would be a good start.

Oh, hey. I was gonna
go to the store.

Do you need anything?

I'm not hungry,
but thank you.

You okay?

Oi, you Holmes
and Watson?

What's it to you?

This is for you.

You're not gonna take it?

You can leave it there.

- What, in the street?
- Yeah.

On your way.

It's from Ruby Carville.
She wants to talk.

Forgive the mess.

This place hasn't seen much
attention since my father died.

He used to host
orgies here

for his decrepit friends.

Think Eyes Wide Shut,
but with more ear hair.

That would explain
some of the smells.

To what do we owe the
pleasure, Ms. Carville?

A strange but intriguing woman
tried to sell me a bag

of Her Majesty's rubbish
this morning.

When it became clear
it was just a pretense

to ask me questions of
a very private nature,

I told her to leave.

Then I put it to some
of my reporters

at The Metro Flash
to identify her.

It may be a rag,
but it's an investigative rag.

Her name led to your names,
and here we are.

You know we're helping
Scotland Yard investigate

what happened to Lola Quinn.

That's why I wanted to meet
away from prying eyes.

Your little helper

made reference to some rumors
about Lola and me.

I assume they're the reason
I'm a suspect.

Do you deny you were lovers?

Actually,
I did love Lola very much,

but not in the way you think.

She wasn't my lover, you see.

She... she was my daughter.

I never told anyone about Lola.

Not for 25 years.

You gave her up for adoption?

It was my third year
at Oxford.

I was persuaded a baby
would ruin my life.

Not a day goes by
I don't wonder.

You don't believe me.

No, that would be
a horrible thing to lie about.

Not as horrible as what
you've come to accuse me of.

Proof, then.

Her birth certificate.

You were 18 during
your third year at Oxford?

I was precocious,

but my father said
I was still a child,

that I couldn't raise her.

It was a harsh truth, but then,

that's how he made
our family fortune.

Harsh truth is our brand.

Children out of wedlock aren't.

No one ever knew?

Dad arranged for me
to study abroad for a term.

They took her
from the delivery room.

I never even saw her.

- Until?
- Four years ago.

She sent me a letter,
perfectly polite.

No hard feelings.
She didn't even want my money.

She just wanted to know me.

I wanted to help her--
that's why I kept

our page-three spreads going,

so I could put her
in my newspapers.

As a glamour model?

Teaching her the value
of a chaste image

didn't really feel
like my place.

Still, she was a secret
you went to

extraordinary lengths to keep.

And that hasn't changed.

She would never have exposed us.
Even if she had,

I could never hurt my daughter.

You made a lot
of enemies lover the years.

Can you think of anyone
who would want to harm Lola

to get back at you?

Nobody knew she existed.
Of that I'm quite certain.

This isn't about
my relationships.

It could be about hers.

Bad boyfriend?

She had terrible taste in men.

Every single one
she took up with,

they were uniformly awful.

Violent?

Mostly just dull.

But there was one...

Farid Khan.
He owns a few nightclubs.

Lola was very taken with him

until earlier this year,
when he started hitting her.

There's the faint outline
of a bruise

beneath her sunglasses.

"With my guy at the movies."

Check his feed

or any of the gossip magazines.

They were an item at the time.

- We'll look into him.
- Good.

If you come to believe
he did this

but you can't quite prove it,
let me know.

I've never had anyone
killed before,

but I don't think I'm above it.

So, Ruby Carville
was right.

Farid Khan is a
loathsome human being.

But he didn't have anything
to do with the attack.

Alibi?

Well, amongst other
disqualifying factors,

he was at a meeting
at the time of the attack.

He was signing a deal
to invest in a line

of licorice-flavored vape juice.

I think I am onto something.

These are all from
Lola's social media?

Yeah.

Watching Ruby scroll past
so many posts

to find the one
that she showed us,

it struck me how active
Lola was on this site.

She posted at least
five times a day, every day.

She was a model.

Self-promotion is second
only to carbohydrate avoidance.

It seemed like an opportunity.

I thought we'd find
another suspect or two

somewhere in her feed.

Yet she doesn't seem
to have shared the lens

with anyone else.

Anything in the comments?

Just a lot of thirsty guys
and eggplant emojis.

But if you look long enough,
you'll catch something.

She's been airing reruns
for her followers.

That most recent photo

was posted in April.

Yeah.

That's not the only one.

She hasn't posted a new photo
since two Fridays ago.

I think that's when it started.

So, for some reason,

she didn't feel camera-ready
these last two weeks.

I'd like to know why.

You should know,

I'm gonna have a conversation
with DCI Jones.

The "Doc" business, it's...
it's got to stop.

She can dislike Americans
on her own time.

Our relationship
needs to be more professional.

- Thanks.
- And the business

with the water heater in 221A,
that's being addressed today.

So your showers
will no longer be an adventure.

Why you being so nice to me?

Aren't I always nice to you?

Did Kitty talk to you about me?

We may have had a conversation
about you

and concerns she has
about your well-being.

So, is she right?

Are you having second thoughts
about being here in London?

It's not just about DCI Jones.

- What is it?
- Well, you know,

it's a lot of things.

My family's in New York,
all my friends.

- You know what I mean.
- Uh-huh.

You know I can never go back
to New York.

I'll be arrested
for the murder

of Michael Rowan--
a murder that you might remember

I did not commit.

Well, no one asked you
to confess.

Well, you didn't really give me
any choice.

Excuse me?

The FBI only had eyes for you,

and you forbade me
from going to them

and telling them that the killer
was Hannah Gregson.

I mean, y-you were going to
end up in a federal prison.

If you don't like
the nickname "Doc,"

imagine the names
they would devise for you there.

Wow. So is this
why you confessed?

So you could hold it over
my head for the rest of my life?

Of course not.

Then what the hell is this?

Uh...

I just, I-I'm disappointed.

You know,
L-London is... is my home.

It-it means something to me.

It's not just that I can't
go back to New York.

It's that I'm happy here.

You know,
it-it's where I want to be.

Yeah, well,
that makes one of us.

Things that bad
between us?

You're emptying out your
desk a few days early?

Been at the 11th a long time.

It's gonna take a few trips.

This is just the first.

I'm gonna call them tomorrow.

Apologize.

See how it goes.

That's good.

Ever since this thing
with Rowan...

We don't have to
talk about it, ever.

Thank you.

For what you said yesterday.

I needed that.

You know, it's funny,
I thought I knew exactly

how much I was gonna miss you
when you were gone.

I was wrong.

Virgin?

Excuse me?

He means the drink, Watson.
This is Chip.

He's a bartender at
the Saticoy Hotel.

I think a little
too much ginger.

You think?

Anyway, thanks for coming.

And for the libations.

Cheers, love.

Is that why you invited me over?

Libations?

Chip is more than
a simple mixologist.

He's also a witness
in our investigation.

You were very
nearly correct

when you said that all
of Lola's recent posts were old.

There was one
exception.

That's from a week ago.

Whatever she was hiding
from her viewing public,

it wasn't from
the waist down.

When I
recognized that

as the rooftop pool
at the Saticoy,

I contacted the bar there.

They connected me with Chip.

He made her that
drink, you see.

Right slap-bang in the middle of
her self-imposed media blackout.

When I asked him about her,
he said that she had bandages

on her face.

Across her nose
and beneath her eyes.

Very tidy bandages.

She had plastic surgery.

She shouldn't have.

It's the reason she was killed.

I was told this was just
an informational interview.

Should I have
my solicitor here?

It's not necessary,
Dr. Halsey.

This is an
informational interview.

We are going
to lay out

the case we have against you.

You don't have to say a word
if you don't want to.

I don't understand.

What case?

It was you who splashed
Lola Quinn with acid.

We're certain of it.

Two weeks ago,

on Friday the 11th,
Lola checked herself

into the Dunsmuir
Outpatient Surgery Center.

She was permitted to check in
under an assumed name

for privacy, but of course,

she used her National
Insurance number.

Now, you are listed there

as her surgeon.

When we first met,
you failed to mention

you'd recently performed
an elective procedure on her.

I didn't see how
that was relevant.

And I still don't.

Oh, we can help you with that.

Her intake form indicates she
was there for a blepharoplasty.

She wanted to reduce
the bags under her eyes.

Is that correct?

I don't recall.

"I don't recall" is a useful
phrase, but it's not true.

You did not perform
a blepharoplasty on her.

You did an entirely
different procedure.

A rhinoplasty,
to reshape her nose.

You performed the wrong surgery.

We think she
was beginning

to suspect as much,
and might have mentioned

her desire
to seek a second opinion.

I'm sorry. Do you really think
something like that

wouldn't have come to light
in all the time since?

I mean, I get that
you're not doctors, but...

Actually,
I used to be one.

So I know that Lola

would have come out
of anesthesia

having no idea
what had been done to her.

Both operations
would have left her

with dull pain
in her face

and stitches near
the bridge of her nose.

There would be swelling,
bruises and bandages

covering up what you had done.

When you realized your mistake,
you considered your options.

A malpractice suit
was a given.

Your wallet and your reputation
would also take a hit.

Look, this is all ridiculous.

You don't...

You don't have proof
of anything.

That was the point
of the acid.

You weren't angry at Lola,

you weren't
ideologically motivated,

and you didn't want to rob her.

You wanted to destroy evidence
of your malpractice.

I think we've strayed far enough
for an informational interview.

This is
pure fiction.

You share any of it
with the press, and I will sue.

You shouldn't have
pointed at the DCI.

Oh, what, now you're
the manners police, are you?

I'm not accusing you
of being rude.

We just got a very good look
at the chemical burn

on your finger.

You spilled some
of the acid on yourself.

The fingerprint
we pulled off Lola's bag.

We thought we just
had a partial.

Turns out...
we had the whole thing.

Uh, come in.

You wanted to see me?

Those are for you.

You got me flowers?

No, not me.

Chip.

The bartender.

Fancies you.

Said he went to your place
earlier, but you weren't in.

Thanks.

I never expected you
to come to London.

When I confessed
to killing Michael,

I knew what I was doing.

I knew what I was sacrificing,
and...

I was ready to go it alone.

Now...

I didn't say I was leaving.
I said I was struggling.

I just need a little time, okay?

What?

What?

Are you gonna answer it?

Captain.

Actually, it's me, Marcus.

Sorry I'm calling like this.
I'm just dialing

everyone he's close to
that's in his phone.

I didn't have all the numbers.

The captain,

he's been shot.

- It's bad.
- How bad?

They found him last night
on a street out in Flushing.

Nobody saw
what happened.

The doctors, they, uh...

they're not sure
he's gonna pull through.

Thought you guys should know.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man