All language subtitles for Sherlock - 4x01 - The Six Thatchers.720p.WEB-DL.RARBG.en

My brother is a murderer.

No chance for you to be a hero
this time, mr Holmes.

Oh, do your research.

I'm not a hero.

I'm a high-functioning sociopath.

Merry Christmas!

I am not given to outbursts
of brotherly compassion.

You know what
happened to the other one.

- Miss me?
- Did you miss me?

Did you miss me?
Did you miss me?

I've only been
gone four minutes.

Well, I certainly hope
you've learnt your lesson.

What you're about to see is
classified beyond top secret.

Is that quite clear?

Don't minute any of this.

Once beyond these walls,
you must never speak of it.

A d-notice has been slapped
on the entire incident.

Only those within this room,
codenames Antarctica, langdale, porlock and love,

will ever know the whole truth.

As far as everyone
else is concerned,

going to the prime minister
and way beyond,

Charles Augustus...
Are you tweeting?

-No.
-Well, that's what it looks like.

Of course I'm not tweeting.
Why would I be tweeting?

-Give me that.
-What? No.

-What are you doing? Get off. What?
-Give it here.

-"Back on terra firma..."
-No, don't read them out.

-"Free as a bird."
-God, you're such a spoilsport.

Will you take this
matter seriously, Sherlock?

I am taking it seriously.
What makes you think I'm not taking it seriously?

"Hashtag, oh what
a beautiful morning."

Look, not so long ago i was on a mission
that meant certain death,

my death, and now I'm
back in a nice, warm office,

with my big brother and...
Are those ginger nuts?

-Oh god.
-Love ginger nuts.

Our doctor said you were clean.

I am, utterly.

No need for stimulants now, remember?

I have work to do.

You're as high as a kite.

Natural high. I assure you.

Totally natural.

What shall we do next?
What's your name?

-Vivian.
-What would you do, Vivian?

-Pardon?
-It's a lovely day.

Go for a stroll, make a paper aeroplane,
have an ice lolly?

-Ice lolly, I suppose.
-Ice lolly it is.

What's your favourite?

Oh, really, I shouldn't...

-Go on.
-Do they still do mivvies?

-Mr Holmes.
-Yes?

We do need to get on.

Yes, of course.

Do your research.

I'm not a hero,

I'm a high-functioning sociopath.

Sociopath.

Sociopath.

-I see.
-Sociopath.

Who is supposed to
have shot him then?

Some over-eager squaddie with an
itchy trigger finger, that's who.

That's not what
happened at all.

It is now.

Remarkable. How did you do it?

We have some very talented
people working here.

If James Moriarty can hack
every TV screen in the land,

rest assured, we have the tech
to doctor a bit of security footage.

That is now
the official version,

the version anyone we want to
will see.

No need to go to the trouble of getting
some sort of official pardon.

You're off the hook, mr Holmes.

You're home and dry.

Okay, cheers.

Obviously,
there's unfinished business.

Moriarty.

I told you, Moriarty's dead.

You say he filmed that video message
before he died?

-Yes.
-You also say

you know what he's
going to do next.

What does that mean?

Perhaps that's
all there is to it.

Perhaps he was
just trying to frighten you.

No, no, he would never
be that disappointing.

He's planned something,
something long term.

Something that would take effect if
he never made it off that rooftop alive.

Posthumous revenge.
No, better than that.

Posthumous game.

We brought you back
to deal with this.

-What are you going to do?
-Wait.

Wait?

Of course, wait.
I'm the target. Targets wait.

Look...

Whatever's coming,
whatever he's lined up,

I'll know when it begins.

I always know
when the game is on.

-You know why?
-Why?

Because I love it.

"There was once a merchant

"in the famous market
at Baghdad.

"One day he saw a stranger
looking at him in surprise.

"And he knew that the stranger
was death.

"Pale and trembling,
the merchant fled the marketplace

"and made his way
many, many miles

"to the city of Samarra.

"For there he was sure death
could not find him.

"But when, at last,
he came to Samarra,

"the merchant saw,
waiting for him,

"the grim figure of death.

"'Very well,'
said the merchant.

"'I give in. I am yours.

"'But tell me, why did
you look surprised

"'when you saw me this
morning in Baghdad?'

"'because,' said death,

"'I had an appointment
with you tonight,

"'in Samarra.'"

if this gets any better,
I'm gonna get two knives.

It pays to advertise.

So, what about moriarty then?

Oh, I have a plan.

I'm going to monitor the underworld,
every quiver of the web

will tell me when the spider
makes his move.

So basically, your plan is just to
sit there solving crimes like you always do.

Awesome, isn't it?

He drowned, mr Holmes.

That's what we thought.

-But when they opened up his lungs...
-Yes?

-Sand.
-Superficial.

Come back, it's the wrong thumb.

-Sherlock.
-It's never twins.

Hopkins, arrest Wilson.
Dimmock, look in the lymph nodes.

-Wilson?
-Lymph nodes?

Sherlock...

Yes, you may have nothing
but a limbless torso,

but there'll still be traces
of ink left

in the lymph nodes
under the armpits.

If your mystery corpse had tattoos,
the signs will be there.

Bloody hell.
Is that a guess?

I never guess.

-Sherlock...
-So, he's the killer.

The canary trainer?

-Of course he's the killer.
-Didn't see that coming.

Naturally.

Sherlock, you can't go on
spinning plates like this.

That's it, the place
was spinning.

The heart medication
you are taking

is known to cause
bouts of amnesia.

Yes, I think so.

-Why?
-Because the fingerprints

on your brother's neck
were your own.

-A jellyfish.
-I know.

You can't arrest a jellyfish.

-You could try.
-We did try.

-Oh, god.
-Mary?

Fifty-nine missed calls.

We're in a lot of trouble.

Ow! Oh, my god!

Oh, my god!

Relax.
It's got two syllables...

I'm a nurse, darling.
I think I know what to do.

All right, then.
Come on.

-Re...
-Lax.

Oh, just drive. Please go.
Just drive. God, drive.

Sherlock? Mary.

That's it, Mary. Re...

Don't you start.

Lax.

John? John?

I think you have to pull over.

-Mary, Mary.
-Pull over!

Oh, my god.

Has that come out?

-They never come out when I take them.
-Let's have a look.

Oh, she's so beautiful.

Have another go.

-What about a name?
-Catherine.

-Oh, yeah, we've gone off that.
-Have we?

-Yeah.
-Oh.

-Well, you know what I think.
-It's not a girl's name.

Molly, mrs H. We would love
you to be godparents.

-Oh!
-If you...

-Really?
-That's so lovely.

And, uh...

-You too, Sherlock.
-You too, what?

Godfather. We'd like
you to be godfather.

God is a ludicrous fiction
dreamt up by inadequates

who abnegate all responsibility
to an invisible magic friend.

Yeah, but there'll be cake.
Will you do it?

-I'll get back to you.
-All right.

Father, we ask you to send
your blessings on this water,

and sanctify it
for our use this day,

in Christ's name.

Now, what name have you
given your daughter?

-Rosamund Mary.
-Rosamund?

Means "rose of the world."

Rosie, for short.

Didn't you get John's text?

No, I delete his texts.

I delete any text
that begins, "hi."

No idea why people think
you're incapable of human emotion.

Sorry.

Phone.

And now, godparents.

Are you ready to help
the parents of this child

in their duties
as Christian parents?

We are.

Sorry, I didn't catch that.

Please repeat the question.

As ever, Watson,
you see but do not observe.

To you, the world remains
an impenetrable mystery,

whereas to me it is an open book.
Hard logic versus romantic whimsy.

That is your choice.

You fail to connect actions
to their consequences.

Now, for the last time.

If you want to keep the rattle,

do not throw the rattle.

Good girl, good girl, good girl.

I'd better finish this, hadn't I?

-Hi.
-Afternoon.

He says you've got
a good one, Greg.

Oh, yeah.

It was David
Welsborough's 50th birthday.

I'm 50?

Where does it go? I know for a fact
I was only 21 this time last week.

Yeah, well, that's impossible,
that's before you...

-Met me.
-Oh, no, no.

There never was such a time.

She's looking at me
disapprovingly again.

No.

-She's just jealous.
-No. Well.

I think we both are.

Oh.

No, no, don't.
Come on, you promised.

No.

Oh no, it's a Skype call.

Oh, then it must be Charlie.

At least he's phoning, I suppose.

-Oh, look, hello!
-Hey, dad.

Happy birthday.

Sorry to miss the party,
but travel broadens the mind, right?

No. Picture's frozen.

Yeah, signal's rubbish.
But I can still hear you.

Why is it rubbish, where are you?

How is he? Is he eating?
Ask him if he's eating.

David. Emma.

No, no, hang on a sec.
I'll find somewhere quieter.

So, Charlie, where are you?

Are you there?

Sorry, I'm here.

-I'm just a bit...
-You all right?

It's nothing.

Probably just the altitude.

Altitude?

I'm in Tibet.
Didn't you see the mountains?

Oh, never mind mountains. Your mother
wants to know if you're eating properly.

Look, dad,
could you do me a favour?

-What?
-Could you just check something on my car?

-Your car?
-To settle a bet.

The guys here don't believe I've got
a power ranger stuck to the bonnet.

Could you take
a photo and send it?

Ah, yes, I can do that.

All done. You got it?

Charlie...

A week later...

Yeah?

Something really weird happens.

Drunk driver, he's totally smashed.
The cops are chasing him.

And he turns into the drive of the
Welsborough house to try and get away.

Unfortunately...

The drunk guy survived.
They managed to pull him out,

but when they put the fire out
and examined the parked car...

Whose body?

Charlie Welsborough, the son.

-What?
-The son who was in Tibet.

DNA all checks out.
Night of the party the car is empty.

Then a week later...

The dead boy is found
at the wheel.

Yeah, I thought
it'd tickle you.

You got a lab report?

Yeah, Charlie Welsborough's
the son of a cabinet minister,

so I'm under a lot of
pressure to get results.

Who cares about that?
Tell me about the seats.

-The seats?
-Yes, the car seats.

Made of vinyl.

Two different types
of vinyl present.

Was it his own car?

Yeah, not flash.
He was a student.

-Well, that's suggestive.
-Why?

Vinyl's cheaper than leather.

Yeah, right.

-There's something else.
-Yes?

According to this,
Charlie Welsborough

had already
been dead for a week.

What?

The body in the car,
dead for a week.

Oh, this is a good one.
Is it my birthday?

You want help?

-Yes please.
-One condition.

-Okay.
-Take all the credit.

It gets boring if I just
solve them all.

Yeah, you say that,
and then John blogs about it,

and you get all the credit anyway.

-Yeah, he's got a point.
-Which makes me look like some kind of

prima Donna who insists on getting
credit for something he didn't do.

Well, I think you've
hit a sore spot, Sherlock.

Like I'm some
kind of credit junkie.

-Definitely a sore spot.
-So, you take all the glory, thank you.

-Okay.
-Thanks all the same.

Just solve the bloody thing will you.
It's driving me nuts.

Anything you say, Giles.

Just kidding.

It's obvious though,
isn't it, what happened?

John, you amaze me.
You know what happened?

Not a clue, it's just you normally
say that at this point.

Hmm-mmm.

Well, then, let's help you solve
your little problem, Greg.

-You hear that?
-I know.

So how's it going then, fatherhood?

Oh good, great. Yeah, amazing.

-Getting any sleep?
-Christ, no.

You at the Beck and call of
a screaming, demanding baby,

woken up all hours
to obey his every whim?

Must feel very different.

-I'm sorry what?
-Yes, well, you know how it is.

All you do is clean up their mess.

-Pat them on the head...
-You two having a little joke?

Never a word of thanks.

-Can't even tell people's faces apart.
-This is a joke, isn't it?

Yeah, and it's all, "oh, aren't you clever?
You're so, so clever."

Is it about me?

-I think he needs winding.
-You know, I think that really might be it.

No, don't get it.

Charlie's family are pretty cut up about it,
as you'd expect.

-So go easy on them, yeah?
-You know me.

-Hey, hello.
- Yeah.

Got 'em, don't worry. Pampers,
the cream you can't get from boots.

Yeah, never mind about that.
Where are you now?

-At the dead boy's house?
-Yeah.

What does he think, any theories?

Uh, I texted you the details.

Yeah, two different
types of vinyl.

How do you know about that?

Oh, you'd be amazed at what
a receptionist picks up.

They know everything.

-Solved it, then?
-I'm working on it.

Oh Mary, motherhood's
slowing you down.

-Pig.
-Keep trying.

So, what about it then?

What, an empty car that suddenly has
a week-old corpse in it.

And what are you
gonna call this one?

-Oh, "the ghost driver."
-Don't give it a title.

-People like the titles.
-I hate the titles.

Give the people what they want.

No, never do that.
People are stupid.

Uh, some people.

All people are stupid.

-Most people.
-Bizarre enough, though, isn't it, to be him?

I mean it's
right up your strasse.

Mr and mrs Welsborough.

I really am most terribly sorry
to hear about your daughter.

-Son.
-Son.

Mr and mrs Welsborough,
this is mr Sherlock Holmes.

Thank you very much for coming.

We've heard
a great deal about you.

If anyone can throw any light into
this darkness, surely it will be you.

Well, I believe that I...

Can.

Well, Charlie was our
whole world, mr Holmes. I...

Sherlock?

-Mr Holmes?
-Sorry, you were saying?

Well, Charlie was our
whole world, mr Holmes. I...

I don't think
we'll get over this.

No. Shouldn't think so.

So, sorry, will you excuse me a moment?
I just...

I'll just, erm...

-Now, what's wrong?
-Not sure. I just...

"By the pricking of my thumbs."

- Seriously, you?
- Intuitions are not to be ignored, John.

They represent data
processed too fast

for the conscious mind
to comprehend.

What is this?

Uh, it's a sort of shrine,
I suppose, really.

Bit of a fan of mrs T, big hero of mine
when I was getting started.

Right. Yes.

-Who?
-What?

-Who, who is this?
-Are you serious?

Sherlock.

It's Margaret Thatcher.

The first female prime minister
of this country.

Right.

-Prime minister?
-Hmm.

-Leader of the government.
-Right.

-Female?
-For god's sake, you know perfectly well who she is.

Why are you playing for time?

It's the gap, look at the gap.
It's wrong.

Everything else
is perfectly ordered.

Managed.

This whole thing's
verging on ocd.

My respects.

This figurine is routinely repositioned
after the cleaner's been,

and this picture's
straightened every day.

Yet this ugly gap remains.

Something's missing from here,
but only recently.

-Yes, a plaster bust.
-Plaster bust.

Oh, for god's sake,
it got broken.

What the hell has this
got to do with Charlie?

-Rug.
-What?

Well, how could it get broken?

The only place
for it to fall is floor.

And there is a big, thick rug.

-Does it matter?
-Mrs Welsborough, my apologies.

It is worth letting him do this.

Is your friend quite mad?

No, he's an arsehole,
but it's an easy mistake.

Look, no, we had a break-in.

Some little bastard
smashed it to bits.

We found the remains
out there in the porch.

The porch where we came in?

How anybody could
hate her so much,

they'd go to the trouble
of smashing her likeness.

I'm no expert,
but possibly her face.

Why didn't he smash
all the others?

Perfect opportunity. And look at
that one, she's smiling in that one.

Oh, inspector this is
clearly a waste of time.

-If there's nothing...
-I know what happened to your son.

You do?

It's quite simple.
Superficial, to be blunt.

But first, tell me,
the night of the break-in.

-This room was in darkness?
-Well, yes.

And the porch where it
was smashed, I noticed

the motion sensor was damaged.

-So, I assume it's permanently lit?
-How did you notice that?

I lack the arrogance to ignore details.
I'm not the police.

So, you're saying,
he smashed it

-where he could see it.
-Exactly.

-Why?
-Don't know. Wouldn't it be fun if I knew?

Mr Holmes, please.

It was your 50th birthday, mr Welsborough.

Of course you were disappointed

that your son hadn't made
it back from his gap year.

After all, he was in Tibet.

-Yes.
-No.

No?

The first part of your conversation was,
in fact, pre-recorded video.

Easily arranged.

It's a Skype call.

The trick was meant
to be a surprise.

-Trick?
-Obviously.

Could you take
a photo and send it?

There were two types of vinyl

in the burnt out
remains of the car.

One, the actual passenger seat,
the other a good copy. Well, good enough.

Effectively a costume.

You're joking.

I'm not.

All he wanted was for you to
get close enough to the car

so he could spring the surprise.

Oh, my god!

Surprise!

That's when it happened.

I can't be certain, of course,
but I think Charlie

must have suffered
some sort of a seizure.

You said he'd felt unwell.

-You all right?
-It's nothing.

Probably just the altitude.

He died there and then.

No one had any cause
to go near his car,

so there he remained in
the driver's seat, hidden until...

When the two cars
were examined,

the fake seat had melted in the fire,
revealing Charlie,

who'd been sitting there,
quite dead, for a week.

Oh, god.

Poor kid.

Really, I'm so sorry.

Mr Welsborough, mrs Welsborough.

This is where it was smashed.

-That was amazing.
-What?

The car, the kid.

Ancient history. Why are
you still talking about it?

What's so important about a
broken bust of Margaret Thatcher?

Can't stand it. Never can.

There's a loose thread
in the world.

Doesn't mean you have
to pull on it.

What kind of a life
would that be? Besides...

-I have the strangest feeling.
-Miss me?

That's mine.
You two take a bus.

Why?

I need to concentrate
and I don't want to hit you.

The mall, please.

-I met her once.
-Thatcher?

Rather arrogant, I thought.

- You thought that?
- I know.

Why am I looking at this?

That's her,
John and Mary's baby.

Oh, I see, yes.

Looks very...

Fully-functioning.

Is that really
the best you can do?

Sorry, I've never been
very good with them.

Babies?

Humans.

Moriarty.

Did he have any
connection with Thatcher?

Any interest in her?

Why on earth would he?

I don't know, you tell me.

In the last year of his life,

James Moriarty was involved with
four political assassinations,

over 70 assorted robberies
and terrorist attacks,

including a chemical weapons
factory in north Korea,

and had latterly shown some interest in
tracking down the Black Pearl of the borgias.

Which is still missing,
by the way,

in case you feel like applying yourself
to something practical.

It's a Pearl, get another one.

Something important about this.

I'm sure, maybe it's Moriarty.

Maybe it's not.

But something's coming.

Are you having a premonition,
brother mine?

The world is woven
from billions of lives,

every strand
crossing every other.

What we call premonition
is just movement of the web.

If you could attenuate
to every strand of quivering data,

the future would be
entirely calculable.

As inevitable as mathematics.

Appointment in Samarra.

I'm sorry?

The merchant who can't outrun death.
You always hated that story as a child.

Less keen on predestination
back then.

I'm not sure I like it now.

You wrote your own version,
as I remember.

Appointment in sumatra.

The merchant goes to a different city,
and is perfectly fine.

Good night, Mycroft.

Then he becomes a pirate,
for some reason.

Keep me informed.

-Of what?
-Absolutely no idea.

Ammo!

Ammo!

Oh, hi, Stella.

-Greg.
-You, erm...?

Yeah, he's just got a client, so...

Right, right, right.

Er, so you see a lot
of each other, do you?

It's nothing.

I mean, it's nothing serious.

-No, no.
-I just pop around every now and again for a chat.

Yeah, of course.

I mean, he loves
a really tricky case.

Yeah, he does.

So, what are you here for?

Well, Interpol think the Borgia Pearl trail
leads back to London, so...

Borgia Pearl, are they
still after that, are they?

Yeah.

So, how did you two first meet?

Oh, it was a case about...

Ten years ago,
nobody could figure it out.

-There was an old lady found dead in a sauna.
-Oh, yeah?

-How did she die?
-Hypothermia.

-What?
-I know.

But then I met Sherlock.
It was so simple the way...

Would you please keep it down?

-Sorry.
-Sorry.

Now, you haven't always been
in life insurance, have you?

You started out in manual labour.

Oh, don't bother being astonished.

Your right hand's almost an
entire size bigger than your left.

Hard manual work does that.

Oh, I was a carpenter,
like my dad.

Are you trying to give up
smoking unsuccessfully?

And you once had a Japanese girlfriend
that meant a lot to you,

but now you feel
indifferent about.

How the hell...

Yes.

E-cigarettes.

Not just that, ten individual
e-cigarettes.

If you just want to smoke indoors,
you would have invested

in one of those irritating
electronic pipe things.

But you're convinced you
can give up, so...

You don't want to buy a pipe, because that
means you're not serious about quitting.

So instead, you buy
individual cigarettes,

always sure that each will be your last.
Anything to add, John?

-John.
-Uh, yeah, yeah, listening.

-What is that?
-That is me.

Well, it's a me substitute.

Don't be so hard on yourself,
you know I value your little contributions.

Yeah? It's been there
since 9:00 this morning.

Has it? Where were you?

Helping mrs H with her sudoku.

-What about my girlfriend?
-What?

You said I had an ex.

You've got a Japanese tattoo in the crook
of your elbow in the name akako.

It's obvious you've
tried to have it removed.

But surely that means
I want to forget her,

not that I'm indifferent.

If she'd really
hurt your feelings,

you would have
had the word obliterated.

But the first attempt wasn't successful
and you haven't tried again.

So it seems you can live with this
slightly blurred memory of akako.

Hence, the indifference.

I thought you'd
done something clever.

Oh, no. No, but now you've explained it.
It's dead simple, innit?

I've withheld this information from you
until now, mr Kingsley,

but I think it's time
you knew the truth.

What do you mean?

Have you ever wondered if your wife
was a little bit out of your league?

-Well...
-You thought she was having an affair.

I'm afraid it's far worse than that.
Your wife is a spy.

-What?
-That's right.

Her real name is
Greta Bengsdotter.

Swedish by birth, and probably
the most dangerous spy in the world.

She's been operating deep under cover
for the past four years now

as your wife,
for one reason only

to get near the American embassy,
which is across the road from your flat.

Tomorrow the us president will be at
the embassy as part of an official state visit.

As the president greets
members of staff,

Greta Bengsdotter, disguised
as a 22-stone cleaner,

will inject the president in the back
of the neck with a dangerous new drug,

hidden inside a secret compartment
inside her padded armpit.

This drug will then render
the president entirely susceptible

to the will
of that new master.

-None other than James Moriarty.
-What?

Moriarty will then use
the president as a pawn

to destabilise the United Nations
General Assembly,

which is due to vote on a nuclear
non-proliferation treaty,

tipping the balance in favour of a
first-strike policy against Russia.

This chain of events will then
prove unstoppable,

thus precipitating
world war three.

Are you serious?

No, of course not. His wife
left him because his breath stinks

and he likes to
wear her lingerie.

I don't.

-Just the bras.
-Get out.

So.

What's this all about, then?

-Having fun.
-Fun?

-While I can.
-Mmm-hmm.

-Sherlock.
-Borgia Pearl. Boring, go.

-But...
-Go.

Oh, this had better be good.

Oh, I think you'll like it.

That is the bust, isn't it,
the one that was broken?

No, it's another one.
Different owner.

Different part of town.

You were right. This is a thing.
Something is going on.

-What's wrong? I thought you'd be pleased.
-I am pleased.

You don't look pleased.

This is my game face.

The game is on.

Another two have been smashed
since the Welsborough one.

One belonging
to mr Mohandes Hassan...

Identical busts.

Yeah, and this one to a dr Barnicot
in Holborn. Three in total.

God knows who'd want to do
something like this.

Yeah, but some people have
that complex, don't they?

An idee fixe.

They obsess over one thing
and they can't let it go.

No, no, good.

There were other
images of Margaret.

-Margaret?
-You know who she is.

Thatcher, present
at the first break-in.

Why would a monomaniac
fixate on just one?

-Ooh.
-What?

Blood.

Quite a bit of it, too.

Was there any injury
at the crime scene?

Nah.

Then our suspect must have cut
themselves breaking the bust.

-Come on.
-Holborn?

-Lambeth.
-Lambeth? Why?

-To see Toby.
-Ah, right.

-Who?
-You'll see.

-Right, you coming?
-No, he's got a lunch date

with a brunette forensic officer
that he doesn't want to be late for.

Who told you?

The right sleeve
of your jacket

plus the formaldehyde mixed
with your Cologne,

and your complete inability
to stop looking at your watch.

Have a good time.

I will.

Trust me, though,
she's not right for you.

-What?
-She's not the one.

Well, thank you, mystic Meg.

How do you work all that out?

She's got three children in Rio
that he doesn't know about.

-Are you just making this up?
-Possibly.

-Who's Toby?
-There's a kid I know, hacker, brilliant hacker.

One of the world's best.

Got himself into serious trouble

with the Americans
a couple of years ago.

He hacked into
the Pentagon security system

and I managed to
get him off the charge.

Therefore, he owes me a favour.

-So, how does that help us?
-What?

-Toby the hacker.
-Toby is not the hacker.

What?

-All right, Craig.
-All right, Sherlock.

Craig's got a dog.

-So I see.
-Good boy.

Hiya!

Mary? What are you...

We, we agreed. We would never bring
Rosie out on a case.

Exactly, so...

Don't wait up.

-Hey Sherlock.
-Hey.

But Mary, what are you doing here?

-She's better at this than you.
-Better?

So I texted her.

Hang on.
Mary's better than me?

Well, she is a retired super-agent
with a terrifying skill-set.

Of course she's better.

-Okay.
-Nothing personal.

Well, so I'm supposed
to just go home now, am I?

Oh, what do you think, Sherlock?
Shall we take him with us?

-John or the dog?
-Ha-ha, that's funny.

-John. He's handy and loyal.
-That's hilarious.

-Hmm.
-Is it too early for a divorce?

-Aw!
-Barnicot's house, then.

Anyone up for a trudge?

Keep up. He's fast.

-He's not moving.
-He's thinking.

-He's really not moving.
-Slow but sure, John, not dissimilar to yourself.

You just like this dog, don't you?

-Well, I like you.
-He's still not moving.

-Fascinating.
-Oh!

Well, what do you make of it?

That we're looking for something.

Yes, but it wasn't a burglar.
They came specifically for that Thatcher bust. Why?

Clever.

Well, if you were wounded and you knew
you were leaving a trail,

-where would you go?
-Like hiding a tree in a forest.

Or blood in a butcher's.

Never mind, Toby.
Better luck next time, hmm?

This is it, though.
This is the one. I can feel it.

Not Moriarty?

Has to be him. It's too bizarre,
it's too baroque.

It's designed to beguile me,
tease me and lure me in.

Blast.

A noose for me
to put my neck into.

You should have seen
the state of the front lawn.

It was like the exorcist.

Was Rosie's head spinning round?

Mmm, no.
Just the projectile vomiting.

-Nice.
-Mmm.

Now, you think we'd have
noticed when she was born.

Noticed what?

The little 666 on her forehead.

Mmm. That's the omen.

-So?
-You said it was like the exorcist.

They're two different things.

She can't be the devil
and the antichrist.

Yeah, can't she?

Oh, coming, darling.

Mummy's coming.

Oh, what are you doing?

What are you doing?

You heard of that thing
in Germany?

You're going to have
to be more specific, Craig.

Uh, ostalgie.

People who miss the old days
under the communists.

-People are weird, aren't they?
-Mmm.

According to this, there's quite
a market for cold war memorabilia.

Thatcher, Reagan, Stalin.

Time's a great leveller, innit?

Thatcher's like, I don't know,
Napoleon now.

Yes, fascinating and relevant.
Where exactly did they come from?

Well, I've got into records
of the suppliers, Gelder and co.

-Seems they're from Georgia.
-Where exactly?

Tbilisi.

Batch of six.

One to Welsborough,
one to Hassan,

one to dr Barnicot.
Two to miss Orrie Harker

one to a mr Jack Sandeford
of Reading.

-Lestrade, another one?
- Yeah.

Harker or Sandeford?

Harker.
And it's murder this time.

Mmm.
That perks things up a bit.

Defensive wounds on her face and hands,
throat cut, sharp blade.

The same thing
inside the house, the bust.

Two of them this time.

Interesting. That batch of statues
was made in Tbilisi several years ago.

Limited edition of six.

And now someone's wandering
about destroying them all.

Makes no sense.
What's the point?

Well, they're not destroying them.
That's not what's happening.

-Yes, it is.
-Well, it is what's happening, but it's not the point.

I've been slow. Far too slow.

Well, I'm still being slow over here,
so if you wouldn't mind.

Slow but lucky, very lucky.

Since they smashed both busts,
our luck might just hold.

Jack sandeford of reading
is where I'm going next.

Congratulations, by the way.

-Sorry?
-Well, you're about to solve a big one.

Yeah, until John
publishes his blog.

Yeah. Till then, basically.

That's enough now, love.

Daddy has things to do,
I'm afraid.

And you need to get to bed.

Come on.

It would be much simpler to take out
your grievances at the polling station.

You were on the run.

Nowhere to hide
your precious cargo.

You find yourself in a workshop,

plaster busts of the iron lady
drying. It's clever.

Very clever.
But now you've met me.

And you're not so clever, are you?

Who are you?

My name is Sherlock Holmes.

Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes.

You're out of time.

Tell me about your boss, Moriarty.

Who?

I know it's him.
It must be him.

You think you understand?

You understand nothing.

Well, before the police
come in and spoil things,

why don't we just enjoy
the moment?

Let me present Interpol's
number one case.

Too tough for them,
too boring for me.

The Black Pearl of the Borgias.

It's not possible.

How could she...

Everything about
who I was is on there.

The problems of your past

are your business.

The problems of your future

are my privilege.

I don't understand.

-She, she destroyed it.
-She?

You know her.

You do, don't you?

You know the bitch.

She betrayed me.

-Betrayed us all.
-Mary.

This is about Mary.

Is that what she's calling
herself now?

Armed police.
You're surrounded.

Give it to me.

Give it to me!

I'm going in.
I want to see your hands above your head.

Nobody shoots at me.
If anyone shoots, I kill this man.

Lay down your weapons.

Do it now!

I'm leaving this place.

If no one follows me,
no one dies.

Lay down your weapons.

You're a policemen.

I'm a professional.

Tell her she's a dead woman.

She's a dead woman walking.

She's my friend,

and she's under my protection.

Who are you?

I'm the man

who's going to kill your friend.

Who's Sherlock Holmes?

Not a policeman.

What do you think?
Mate in two?

Don't antagonise them, darling.

Well, what else is there to do?
Chess palls after three months.

Everything palls.

They'll send someone soon.

"They"? Who are "they"?

Seems to me we put an
awful lot of faith in "they."

Well, I've got something
"they" would dearly love

if only we could
get out of here.

-I've got Ammo.
-Ammo?

Madam Ambassador.

What took you so long?

-Can't get the staff.
-Everyone out, now!

Two left.

What now. What do we do?

We die.

Well?

He can't have got far.
We'll have him in a bit.

-I very much doubt it.
-Why?

Because I think he used
to work with Mary.

Ammo. Ammo. Ammo.

Ammo. Ammo. Ammo.

Passed out again.

It's no fun when they pass out.

We'll come back later.

What would he do if he knew, huh?

About the English woman.

What would you do to a traitor?

Maybe we'll tell him one day.

If he lives that long.

I am an idiot.

I know nothing.

Well, I've been telling
you that for ages.

That was quite a text
you sent me.

What's going on, Sherlock?

I was so convinced
it was Moriarty,

I couldn't see what was right
under my nose.

Expected a Pearl.

-Oh, my god. That's a...
-Yes, it's an agra memory stick.

Like you gave John, except this one
belongs to someone else.

-Who?
-I don't know.

We, we all had one,
but the others were...

Well, haven't you even
looked at it yet?

-I glanced at it, but I prefer to hear it from you.
-Why?

Because I'll know the truth
when I hear it.

There were four of us.

-Agents.
-Not just agents.

Polite term.

Alex, Gabriel, me and Ajay.

There was absolute trust
between us.

The memory sticks guaranteed it.

We all had one.

Each containing aliases,
our background, everything.

We could never be betrayed
because we had everything we needed

to destroy the other.

-Who employed you?
-Anyone who paid well.

Oh, we were at the top
of our game for years,

and then it all ended.

There was a coup in Georgia.

The British embassy in Tbilisi
was taken over,

lots of hostages,
we got the call to go in,

get them out, there was a change of plan,
a last-minute adjustment.

-Who from?
-I don't know.

Just another voice on the phone.

And a codeword.

-Ammo.
-Ammo?

Like ammunition.

We went in, but then
something went wrong.

Something went really wrong.

That was six years ago.

Feels like forever.

I was the only one
that made it out.

No.

-What?
-I met someone tonight.

The same someone who's looking
for the sixth Thatcher.

Oh, my god. That's ajay.
That's him.

-What, he's alive?
-Yeah, very much so.

I don't believe it.
This is amazing.

I thought I was the only one,

I thought I was the only one
who got out.

Where is he?
I need to see him now!

Before you gave it to John,
did you keep your memory stick safe?

Yeah, of course.
It was our insurance.

Above all, they mustn't fall
into enemy hands.

So ajay survived as well,

and now he's looking for the memory stick
he managed to hide,

with all of Agra's
old aliases on it, but why?

I don't know.

Tbilisi was six years ago,
where's he been?

Mary, I'm sorry to tell you this,
but he wants you dead.

Sorry, no, no,
'cause we, we were family.

Families fall out.

The memory stick is the easiest way
to track you down.

You're the only other survivor,
it must be you that he wants,

and he's already killed
looking for the Thatcher bust.

Well, he's just trying to find me.
He survived.

That's all that matters.

I heard it from his own mouth.

"Tell her she's
a dead woman walking."

Why would he want to kill me?

-He said you betrayed him.
-Oh, no. No, that's insane.

Well, it's what he believes.

I suppose I was always afraid
this might happen.

That something in my past
would come back to haunt me one day.

Yes, well,
he's a very tangible ghost.

God, I just wanted a bit of peace,
and I really thought I had it.

No, Mary.

You do.

I made a vow, remember?

To look after the three of you.

Sherlock, the dragon slayer.

Stay close to me and I will
keep you safe from him, I promise you.

There's something
i think you should read.

What is it?

I hoped I wouldn't have to do this.

What are you...

-Mary... oh, no.
-There you go.

It's all right.

It's for the best, believe me.

You just look after him
till I get back. I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

Agra?

A city on the banks
of the river Yamuna,

in the northern state
of Uttar Pradesh, India.

It is 378 kilometres west of
the state capital, Lucknow...

What are you, Wikipedia?

-Yes.
-Agra's an acronym.

Oh, good. I love an acronym.

All the best secret societies
have them.

Team of agents, the best.

-But you know all of that.
-Of course, I do. Go on.

One of them, ajay, is looking for Mary,
also one of the team.

Indeed.
Well, that's news to me.

Is it?

He's already killed looking
for that memory stick,

agra always worked
for the highest bidder,

I thought that might include you.

-Me?
-Oh, I mean the British government

or whatever government
you're currently propping up.

Agra were very reliable.

Then came the Tbilisi incident.

They were sent in to free
the hostages,

but it all went
horribly wrong.

And that was that.
We stopped using freelancers.

-Your initiative?
-My initiative.

Freelancers are too woolly,
too messy.

I don't like loose ends.

Not on my watch.

There was something else.

A detail.

A codeword.

-Ammo?
-It's all I've got.

Little enough.

Could you do some digging
as a favour?

You don't have
many favours left.

Then I'm calling them all in.

And if you can find who's after her
and neutralise them, what then?

You think you can go on
saving her forever?

Of course.

Is that sentiment talking?

No. It's me.

-Difficult to tell the difference these days.
-Told you,

I made a promise. A vow.

All right,
I'll see what I can do.

But remember this, brother mine.

Agents like Mary tend not to reach
retirement age.

They get retired

in a pretty permanent
sort of way.

Not on my watch.

My darling,

I need to tell you this
because you mustn't hate me for going away.

Pardon me. I can hear a squeaking.
Can you hear a squeaking?

No.

Only I watched a documentary
on the discovery channel,

why planes fail, did you see it?

-Can't say I did.
-Oh, truly terrifying.

Swore I would never fly again,
yet here I am.

-Everything okay, madam?
-No.

No, it's not. But then
what's the use in complaining?

I hear a squeaking.

Probably the wing
will come off, is all.

Everything's fine, I promise you.
Just relax.

Oh, okay, relax.

She said relax.

Did you have a nice time in London?

It was okay, I guess.

But did somebody hide the sun?

Did you lose it in the war?

I gave myself permission
to have an ordinary life.

I'm not running,
I promise you that.

I just need to do this
in my own way.

Oh, god.

I, I don't feel so good.
Oh, my god.

-Everything okay, madam?
-I think I'm dying.

I don't feel so good.

You're all right.

Oh, you're sweet.

You have a very kind face.
God will smile on you.

But I don't want you and
Sherlock hanging off my gun arm.

I'm sorry, my love.

I know you'll try to find me,
but there is no point.

Every move is random
and not even Sherlock Holmes

can anticipate
the roll of a dice.

I need to move the target
far, far away

from you and Rosie,
and then I'll come back, my darling.

I swear, I will.

You haven't got a chance.
Not a chance.

I've got you where I want you.

Give in, give in.
I will destroy you.

You're completely at my mercy.

-Mr Baker. Well, that completes the set.
-No, it is not.

Well, who else am I missing?

Master bun.
It's not a set without him.

How many more times, mr Sherlock?

Hmm. Maybe it's because I'm not familiar
with the concept.

Oh, hi, Mary.

What concept?

Happy families. Nice trip?

-How the f...
-Please, Mary, there is a child present.

-How did you get in here?
-Karim let me in.

Hello.

Karim, would you be so kind
as to fetch us some tea?

-Sure.
-Thank you.

Nice to meet you, Mrs.

No, I, I mean, how did you find me?

-I'm Sherlock Holmes.
-Really though, how?

Every movement I made
was entirely random.

Every new personality,
just on the roll of a dice.

Mary, no human action
is ever truly random.

An advanced grasp of the
mathematics of probability

mapped on to a thorough apprehension
of human psychology

and the known dispositions
of any given individual

can reduce the number
of variables considerably.

I myself know of
at least 58 techniques

to refine the seemingly infinite array
of randomly generated possibilities

down to the smallest number
of feasible variables.

But they're really difficult,
so instead I just

stuck a tracer on the inside
of the memory stick.

Oh, you bastard.

-You bastard.
-I know, but your face.

"The mathematics of probability."

You believed that.

"Feasible variables."

Yes, I started to run out about then.

In the memory stick.

Yeah, that was my idea.

-Agra.
-Yes.

Mmm-hmm. You said
it was your initials.

-In a way, that was true.
-In a way?

So many lies.

I'm so sorry.

-I don't just mean you.
-What?

Alex, Gabriel, Ajay...

You're R.

Rosamund?

Rosamund Mary.

I always liked Mary.

Yeah, me too.

I used to.

I didn't know what else to do.

You could have stayed.
You could have talked to me.

That's what couples
are supposed to do.

Work things through.

Yes.

Yes, of course.

Mary, I may not be
a very good man.

But I think I'm a bit better
than you give me credit for.

-Most of the time.
-All the time.

You're always a good man,
John. I've never doubted that.

You never judge.
You never complain.

I don't deserve you, I...

All I ever wanted to do

was keep you and Rosie safe,
that's all.

I will keep you safe.

But it has to be in London.

It's my city, I know the turf.

Come home and everything
will be all right, I promise you.

Get down!

-Hello again.
-Ajay.

Oh, you remember me.
I'm touched.

Look, I thought you were dead.
Believe me, I did.

I've been looking
forward to this

for longer than you can imagine.

I swear to you,
I thought you were dead.

I thought I was the only one
who got out.

How did you find us?

By following you, Sherlock Holmes.

I mean, you're clever.

You found her,
but I found you, sir.

Perhaps not so clever.

And now here we are. At last.

Touche.

Listen,
whatever you think you know,

we can talk about this,
we can work it out.

She thought I was dead.

I might as well have been.

It was always just the four
of us. Always, remember?

-Oh, yeah.
-So why do you wanna kill me?

Do you know how long
they kept me prisoner?

What they did to me?

They tortured Alex to death.

I can still hear the sound
of his back breaking.

But you, you, where were you?

That day, at the embassy,
I escaped.

Ha!

But I lost sight of you, too,

so you explain, where were you?

Oh, I got out. For a while.

Long enough
to hide my memory stick.

I didn't want that
to fall into their hands.

I was loyal, you see.

Loyal to my friends.

They took me, tortured me.

Not for information.

Not for anything except fun.

They thought I'd give in. Die.

But I didn't, I lived.

And eventually,
they forgot about me

rotting in a cell somewhere.

Six years they kept me there.

Till one day, I saw my chance.

Oh, and I made them pay.

You know,
all the time I was there,

I just kept picking up things.

Little whispers,
laughter, gossip.

How the clever agents
had been betrayed.

Brought down by you!

Me?

You know I'll kill you, too.
You know I will, ajay.

What, you think
I care if I die?

I've dreamed of killing you.

Every night for six years.

Squeezing the life

out of your treacherous,
lying throat.

I swear to you, ajay.

What did you hear, Ajay?

When you were a prisoner,
what exactly did you hear?

What did I hear?

Ammo.

Every day, as they tore into me,

Ammo. Ammo.

Ammo. Ammo.

We were betrayed!

And they said it was her.

-And you betrayed us.
-They said her name?

Yeah, they said it was
the English woman.

No! No!

The English woman.
That's all he heard.

Naturally,
he assumed it was Mary.

Couldn't this wait
until you're back?

No, it's not over.

Ajay said that they'd
been betrayed.

The hostage-takers knew
agra were coming.

There was only a voice
on the phone.

Remember, and a codeword.

Ammo, yes, you said.

How's your Latin, brother dear?

My Latin?

Amo, amas, amat.

I love, you love,
he loves, what...

Not ammo as in ammunition,
but amo meaning...

You'd better be right, Sherlock.

Bloody thing.

What's going on?

I'm very sorry,
Lady Smallwood,

your security protocols have
been temporarily rescinded.

What?

So many lies.

I don't just mean you.

- Hello.
- Ah, hello.

-I like your Daisy.
-Thank you, yeah.

It's not really me,
though, I think.

-No?
-No, no.

It's too floral for me.

I'm more of a knackered
with weary old eyes kind of a guy.

Well, I think they're nice.

- Nice eyes. What, what...
- Thank you.

I don't normally do this, but, um...

-But you're gonna.
-Yeah.

What's this?

This is me.

Uh, thank you.

-Cheers.
-Yeah, right.

-Bye.
-Bye.

Now, you think we'd have
noticed when she was born.

Noticed what?

The little 666
on her forehead.

Mmm. That's the omen.

-So?
-You said it was like the exorcist.

They're two different things.

She can't be the devil
and the antichrist.

Yeah, can't she?

Oh, coming, darling.

I'm coming.

Why are you crying?
Shh, shh.

I know.

Oh, you're not going to
stop crying, are you?

I know, shall we go
and see daddy?

Let's go see daddy.

Daddy's here.
It's okay, Rosie's coming.

-I'll take her.
-Yeah?

Yeah, I might as well
get up anyway.

Hey, baby, it's daddy.

Daddy.

-Come here Rosie.
-Yeah.

Come here darling,
it's all right.

Yeah, thank you.

This is absolutely ridiculous,
and you know it.

How many more times?

Six years ago,
you held the brief

for foreign operations.
Codename, love.

And you're basing all this
on a codename?

On a whispered voice
on the telephone?

Come on, Mycroft.

You were the conduit for agra.

Every assignment, every detail
they got from you.

It was my job.

Then there was
the tbilisi incident.

-Agra went in.
-Yes.

-And they were betrayed.
-Not by me.

Mycroft, we've known
each other a long time.

I promise you,
i haven't the foggiest idea

what all this is about.

You wound up agra
and all the other freelancers.

I haven't done
any of the things

you're accusing me of.
Not one.

Not one.

Do you think
she'll like bedtime stories?

-I'd like to do those.
-Yeah?

Yeah, I just make a series of
gurgling noises at the moment.

Although she does seem
to enjoy them.

Well, I'll have
to give that a go.

Got a lot to catch up on.

You think you understand.

You understand nothing.

Codename: Antarctica, Langdale,
Porlock and Love.

You'd be amazed
what a receptionist picks up.

They know everything.

They said it was
the english woman!

Don't minute any of this.

They know everything.

You don't make it easy, do you?

What do you mean?

I mean...
Being so perfect.

Mary.

I need to tell you...

Hang on.

Can you tell me later?

-Yeah, yeah.
-Great.

Oh, no, we can't just go.

-Rosie. Uh, you go.
-No!

I'll come as soon
as I've found someone.

-Mrs Hudson.
-Corfu till Saturday.

-Molly.
-Uh, yeah, I'll try.

Well we should both stay
and wait for her.

No, you know
that's not gonna happen.

If there's more to this case,
you're the one who needs to see it.

Yeah, okay, you win.

Ladies and gentlemen.

The aquarium will be closing
in five minutes.

Please make
your way to the exit.

Thank you.

Your office
said I'd find you here.

This was always my favourite spot
for agents to meet.

We're like them.

Ghostly, living in the shadows.

Predatory.

Well, it depends
which side you're on.

Also, we have to keep moving
or we die.

Nice location
for the final act.

Couldn't have chosen it
better myself.

But then I never could resist
a touch of the dramatic.

I just come here
to look at the fish.

I knew this would happen
one day.

It's like that old story.

I really am a very busy man.

Would you mind
cutting to the chase?

You're very sure of yourself,
aren't you?

With good reason.

There was once a merchant

in a famous market in Baghdad.

I really have never
liked this story.

I'm just like the merchant
in the story.

I thought I could outrun
the inevitable.

I've always been looking
over my shoulder.

Always expecting to see
the grim figure of...

-Death.
-Hello, Mary.

-John?
-Hey. On his way.

Let me introduce Ammo.

You were Ammo?

You were the person
on the phone that time?

Using agra as her private
assassination unit.

Why did you betray us?

-Why does anyone do anything?
-Let me guess.

Selling secrets?

Well, it would be
churlish to refuse.

Worked very well
for a few years.

I bought a nice cottage in
Cornwall on the back of it.

But...

The ambassador in Tbilisi
found out.

I thought I'd had it.

Then she was taken hostage
in that coup.

I couldn't believe my luck.

That bought me a little time.

But then you found out
your boss had sent agra in.

Very handy.

They were always
such reliable killers.

What you didn't know, Mary,
was that this one

also tipped off
the hostage-takers.

Lady Smallwood gave the order,

but I sent another one
to the terrorists.

With a nice little clue
about her codename,

should anyone have
an inquiring mind.

Seemed to do the trick.

And you thought
your troubles were over.

I was tired.

Tired of the mess of it all.

I just wanted some peace,
some clarity.

The hostages were killed.
Agra too.

Or so I thought.

My secret was safe.

But, apparently not.

Just a little peace.

That's all you wanted too, wasn't it?

A family? Home?

Really, I understand.

So, just let me
get out of here, right?

Let me just walk away.

I'll vanish, I'll go forever.

-What do you say?
-After what you did?

Mary, no!

Okay.

London aquarium. Yes, now.

I was never a field agent.

I always thought
I'd be rather good.

Well, you handled the operation
in Tbilisi very well.

-Thanks.
-For a secretary.

What?

Can't have been easy all those
years sitting in the back,

keeping your mouth shut, when
you knew you were cleverer

than most of the people
in the room.

I didn't do this
out of jealousy.

No?

Same old drudge,
day in, day out.

Never getting out there,
where all the excitement was.

Just back to your little flat
on Wigmore street.

They've taken up the pavement

outside the post office there.

The local clay on your shoes
is very distinctive.

-Yes, your little flat.
-How do you know?

Well, on your salary,
it would have to be modest,

and you spent all the money
on that cottage, didn't you?

And what are you?
Widowed or divorced?

Wedding ring's
at least 30 years old,

and you've moved it
to another finger.

That means you're
sentimentally attached to it.

But you're not still married.

I favour widowed,
given the number of cats

-you share your life with.
-Sherlock?

Two Burmese
and a tortoiseshell,

judging by the cat hairs
on your cardigan.

A divorcee's more likely
to look for a new partner.

A widow to fill the void
left by her dead husband.

-Sherlock, don't.
-Pets do that, or so I'm told.

And there's clearly
no one new in your life

otherwise you wouldn't be spending
your Friday nights in an aquarium.

That probably accounts
for the drink problem too.

The slight tremor in your hand.

The red wine stain
ghosting your top lip.

So, yes.

I'd say jealousy
was your motive, after all.

To prove how good you are.

To make up for the inadequacies
of your little life.

Well, mrs Norbury,

I must admit,
this is unexpected.

Vivian Norbury.

You outsmarted them all.

All except Sherlock Holmes.

There's no way out.

So it would seem.

You see right through me, mr Holmes.

It's what I do.

Maybe I can still surprise you.

Now come on. Be sensible.

No, I don't think so.

Surprise.

Mary.

Everything's fine.
It's gonna be okay.

Get an ambulance.

-It's all right. It's all right.
-Mary!

John.

Oh... Mary?

Mary? Stay with me.
Stay with me.

-Don't worry.
-Come on, doctor.

-You can do better than that.
-Come on, Mary.

Mary?

-John, I think this is it.
-No, no, no, no.

It's not. It's...

You've made me so happy.

You gave me everything
I could ever, ever...

-Shh, shh.
-Wanted.

Mary, Mary? Shh, shh.

-Look after Rosie.
-Shh.

-Promise me.
-I promise.

Yes, I promise.

-Promise.
-I promise. I promise.

Shh.

Hey, Sherlock.

Yes.

I so like you.

Did I ever say?

Yes, yes, you did.

I'm sorry for shooting you
that time.

I'm really sorry.

It's all right.

-I think we're even now, okay?
-Okay.

- I think we're even. Definitely even.
- Mary...

Ah!

You were my whole world.

Being Mary Watson...

...was the only life...

...worth living.

Thank you.

Mary?

Don't you dare.

You made a vow.

You swore it.

You've been having dreams.

A recurring dream?

Do you wanna talk about it?

This is a two-way
relationship, you know.

The whole world has come
crashing down around you.

Everything is hopeless.

Irretrievable.

I know that's what
you must feel.

But I can only help you

if you completely
open yourself up to me.

That's not really my style.

I need to know what to do.

-Do?
-About John.

Put me through
to Sherrinford, please.

Yes, I'll wait.

Nothing will ever
be the same again, will it?

I'm afraid it won't.

We'll have to rally around,
I expect, do our bit.

Look after little Rosie.

I'm just going to, erm...

Look through these things.
There might be a case.

A case?
Oh, you're not up to it, are you?

Work is the best antidote
to sorrow, mrs Hudson.

Yes, yes,
I expect you're right.

I'll make some tea, shall I?

-Mrs Hudson?
-Yes, Sherlock?

If you ever think I'm becoming
a bit... Full of myself,

-cocky or overconfident...
-Yes?

Will you just say
the word, "norbury" to me?

-Would you?
-Norbury.

Just that.

I'd be very grateful.

What's this?

Oh, I brought that up.

It was mixed up
with my things.

-God, is that...
-Must be.

Oh.

I knew it wouldn't end like this.

I knew Moriarty made plans.

Thought that would get
your attention.

So this is in case...

In case the day comes.

If you're watching this,
I'm probably dead.

I hope I can have
an ordinary life.

But who knows?
Nothing is certain, nothing is written.

My old life...

It was full of consequences.

The danger was the fun part.

But you can't
outrun that forever.

You need to remember that, so...

I'm giving you a case, Sherlock.

Might be the hardest case
of your career.

When I'm gone, if I'm gone...

I need you to do
something for me.

Hi.

I just wondered how things
were going, you know.

And if there was
anything I could do?

It's, uh, it's from John.

-Right.
-You don't need to read it now.

I'm sorry, Sherlock.
He says...

John said if you were
to come round,

asking after him,
offering to help...

Yes?

He said...

That he'd rather
have anyone but you.

Anyone.

I'm giving you a case, Sherlock.

When I'm gone, if I'm gone...

I need you
to do something for me.

Save John Watson.

Save him, Sherlock.

Save him.

When does the path we walk on

lock around our feet?

When does the road
become a river

with only one destination?

Death waits for us all
in Samarra.

But can Samarra be avoided?

Go to hell, Sherlock.