All language subtitles for Elementary - 2x07 - The Marchioness.HDTV.en

Let's do open discussion
before we wrap up.

I have kind of a, uh,

different topic in mind.

Craziest thoughts
about your disease?

You know what I mean.

You know they're nuts,

but they just keep popping
into your head anyway.

I often wonder if I should have
been born in another time.

Sorry, my name is Sherlock,
and I'm an addict.

Hi, Sherlock.

My-my...

My senses are unusually--

well, one could even say
unnaturally-- keen.

And ours is an era
of distraction.

It's, uh, a punishing drumbeat

of constant input.

This-this cacophony

which follows us into our homes

and into our beds

and seeps into our...

into our souls,

for want of a better word.

For a long time, uh,

there was only one poultice
for my raw nerve endings,

and that was,
uh, copious drug use.

So in my less
productive moments,

I'm given to wonder...

...if I'd just been born
when it was a little...

quieter out there,

would I have even become
an addict in the first place?

Might I have been more focused?

A more fully realized person?

What, like Ancient Greece?

You any idea what passed

for dental care
in the Hellenic era?

No, no, I'd, um,

I'd want some of the wonders
of modernity.

Just before everything got...

amplified.

Something like what?

200 years ago?

Mycroft.

Web site said
it was an open meeting.

I came to support my brother,
so please go on.

It's-it's fascinating.

No. I, uh,

I-I'm so sorry.

Sorry.

Hey, you leaving early?

Did you really mean
what you said in there

or were you just
winding them up?

Mycroft.
I wouldn't have said anything at all

if I'd known the meeting
was compromised.

Explain yourself!
Your maid told me you'd gone out.

I wheedled her a bit
to find out where.

You live in England!
Did you know they've invented

a flying conveyance capable
of hurtling its passengers

vast distances.

Ha.
Joan, delighted to see you.

Oh, sorry.

Oh, dear.

Um, so what are you doing
in New York?

I planned to fly out next month.

We're opening a branch

of my restaurant Diogenes
in Tribeca.

I intended to give you

plenty of warning, of course,

but, um, circumstances
brought me here earlier.

Circumstances?

Yes, a good friend of ours

is in a bit of trouble,
Sherlock.

We haven't got any
mutual friends.

Acquaintance, then, might be
a better way of putting it.

I'd like to explain it to you

over dinner.
Oh.

So we're planning on taking

a couple of reservations
a night.

The rest we'll fill
with walk-ins.

I want the place
to be spontaneous, playful.

Qualities you'll no doubt be
charging through the nose for.

Oh, I think it's breathtaking.

Thank you.
Once we've set the menu,

we should be open
in a couple of weeks.

I'm meeting with a couple

of young chefs while I'm here.

I want to find a new voice.

Of course.

"Old acquaintance"?

Are you joking?

Yes, well,
I thought it best explained

by herself.

Sherlock Holmes,
you look dashing as ever.

Do let me know when you decide
to start aging, won't you?

Well, I wasn't told you'd be here.
Oh.

Joan Watson, this
is Nigella Mason.

She's my brother's
former fiancée.

Oh. Oh.

It's nice to meet you.

Lovely to meet you.

Shall we?
Yes.

I'm confused.

Didn't you and your
brother's fiancée...

What? Copulate?

Engage in several bouts
of vigorous sex?

Yes, yes, we did.

♪ Elementary 2x07 ♪
The Marchioness
Original Air Date on November 7, 2013

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

♪

The plates are designed
to be shared,

but pace yourself, okay?

I've got a lot
of food back there.

I know we're not serving
alcohol today.

Are there any other
dietary restrictions?

I lose my appetite

in the company
of social-climbing trollops.

Uh, no.

Thank you, we're fine.

I realize there's been

some awkwardness
between the three of us.

I seduced you within
weeks of your wedding

and exposed your true
character to Mycroft.

I cannot imagine how you've
managed to worm your way

back into his life.

It's complicated, Sherlock.

A year after my difficulties

with Mycroft, I fell in
love with and married

a man by the name
of Robert Suffolk.

He's also known by his title,

the Marquess of Loudwater.

"Marquess"?

It's mid-level nobility.

It's smack between
an earl and a duke.

Oh, so that makes you a, um...

Marchioness of Loudwater, yes.

I retain my title though
I no longer retain my husband.

The marquess turned out

to be not as advertised.

Not terribly interested
in holding up

his end of the conjugal side,
if you follow.

So...

I turned, in my loneliness,
to Dalton,

the man in charge of Robert's
stable of racehorses.

I won't bore you
with the details,

but private investigators
were hired,

photographs were taken,
and the usual ugliness ensued.

Do you see, finally,

the magnitude of the
favor that I did you?

While Robert
and I were courting,

I fell quite in love
with one of his horses,

a champion stallion
named Silver Blaze,

and thanks to the crafty work
of my lawyers,

I came out of my marriage
with my title

and ownership
of Silver Blaze.

Now, he can't race anymore,
you understand.

He's too old,

but there is a thriving demand
for his studly services.

So you've become a horse pimp?

How fitting. Must be lucrative.

Silver Blaze is being stabled
in Ulster County at the moment.

The other night,

Dalton was coming
to the stables

to give the animal
his usual medication.

He had a friend in the car,
and according to him,

Dalton came upon a man who was
trying to break in the stables.

Dalton confronted the burglar,

and the man shot him.

He died at the scene.

I'm so sorry.

Thank you.

It's been awful.

When the murderer fled,

he left behind
a bag of supplies.

The police found a syringe full

of concentrated potassium,

and they believe
that Dalton's killer

tended to poison Silver Blaze.

So you want us to find him
and protect your meal ticket?

And get justice for Dalton.

Look, I realize that I've made
some mistakes in my life,

but I have made efforts
to improve myself,

and when Mycroft fell sick,

he found a way
to forgive me.

Uh, Nigella, please.

And I believe
that you can do the same.

Oh, you didn't realize
that Mycroft was sick?

Spot of leukemia.

Bone marrow transplant.

I'm better now.

I tried to find different ways
to tell you.

It just never happened.

I'm sincerely sorry
for your troubles.

But...

this is an awful,
toxic creature.

Fortunately, I don't need
to sleep with her again

to get her out of my life,
I just need to leave.

Marchioness.

Looking for
something to solve?

My brother
makes you uncomfortable.

Your posture stiffens subtly
whenever he gets close.

I'm pretty sure it doesn't.
I suspected

he would try to sleep with you
while we were in London,

Is that what happened?
No.

Were his advances ungentlemanly
in some way?

There were no advances,
and I can't believe

that's what
you want to talk about.

Your brother had leukemia,

and he didn't tell you
about it.

I know if that happened to me,
I would be hurt

and furious and sad and worried.

I feel annoyed.

Annoyed?

Profoundly.

Of course Mycroft's
spiritual awakening

is tied to some sort of illness.

The man has never met a cliché

he didn't have
a head-on collision with.

Hello.

I know it's late; I'm sorry.

Pleasant.

I owe you an apology.

Obviously, I should've told you.

You needed bone marrow.

A sibling is
the most likely match by far.

I'm trying
to be less stubborn now.

I think... I hope my illness

has made me
a more compassionate,

better person.
Well, of course you do.

You're following
the same narrative

all venal people do
when they get sick.

A lot of people may go
through the same thing,

but it doesn't make it
less real.

It's like an addiction
in that sense,

I'd imagine.

You asked how Nigella

got back into my life.

When I was diagnosed,

she got in touch,

asked if there was anything
she could do to help.

When she learned I was looking
for a bone marrow donor,

she organized a drive
to find one.

Turned it into a cause,
got the whole posh crowd

she was running
around with involved.

I found my match because of her.

One good turn deserves another.

Yes, I suppose it does.

In any case, I don't think

this is about the quality
of Nigella's character.

I think this is
about you and me.

If we help her,
it will prove tangibly

that we've put
this whole thing behind us.

Or if you're still
feeling stubborn,

you can just tell yourself
it's about solving a murder.

So, Detective Bell said
two NYPD consultants

would be coming out.

Two did; we brought
a restaurateur with us.

He also said
you'd be moving Silver Blaze

to the NYPD stables?

Yes, it seems the best way
to safeguard

against further
possible attacks.

So what happened here?

Be thorough.

Well, Dalton Ladd
parked his car there.

He'd been out for a drink
with his friend Asa,

who waited in the car

while Mr. Ladd went
to give the horse his shot.

He came upon a guy
trying to pick the lock.

Asa said he was about
six feet tall,

but he couldn't
see much more than that.

Guy fires twice, he takes off
and he leaves his bag.

Now, the owner had been
getting ready for bed.

He heard the gunshots.

He comes out with a shotgun,

but, by that time,
the killer

had reached
that tree line.

Were there any
prints on the lock?

Yeah. Too many.

People are in and out of here
all the time,

so no prints of value.

So, did the owner
pursue the gunman?

Yeah.

Stayed on him for
about a quarter mile,

till he reached
a clearing in the woods.

But when he got there,
the guy was just gone.

Sorry, it'd be bet...
could you just

stay out of the eye line here?

You're joking.
I was just standing here.

Yes, that's the problem.

Oh, could you show
us the clearing?

So, like I said,
the owner chased him this far.

But when he got here,
the guy was just gone.

How much of a lead
did the gunman have?

Well, the owner says he was
about a hundred yards behind.

I know-- there's no way
that the gunman

would've had time to make it
clear across the field.

But I figure...

the owner was further back from
the gunman than he thought.

Yes, that's one possible
explanation.

Another possible explanation

is that he didn't
disappear at all,

he just took
to higher ground,

to see how many people
were following him

and then planned
his escape.

These trees are over
a hundred years old.

There's no low-hanging branches.

But this young oak
would work.

He would have to hoist
himself up, off that branch.

Yes, which means
he had to grab it.

Right.

Fortunately,
the bark is smooth

on top.

There.

I'll wager these are the
fingerprints of our murderer.

There's one missing.

The man we're looking for

is missing the ring finger
from his left hand.

Should we see if he's
been arrested before?

Right. Let's see what
a would-be horse assassin

brings on his rounds,
shall we?

Mycroft,
if you'd like to be useful

as something other
than a means of transportation,

feel free to take notes.

That policeman in Ulster County

said we could look in the bag,
not take it away.

Yes, well, I find it
best not to ask.

They can get
quite territorial

when you say you want
to take evidence with you.

They certainly weren't using
it to solve any crimes.

Two sets of lock picks...

one very large knife...

three syringes
bundled in duct tape

and one map of Ulster County.

Map has pin impressions on it.

2501.

Maybe an address?

Not a useful one.

You guys are swimming
in some deep water here.

There's a hit
on your prints,

but it's not to a person,
it's to a crime.

A series of crimes,
actually.

The index fingerprint you found

matches partials
that were found

at the site of 13 murders.

What?!

They happened
in two batches.

Two mass shootings
the DEA thinks

are tied to a war
between the Robles cartel

and a couple lieutenants

who tried to go into
business for themselves.

In both cases, they believe
the shooter is a Robles assassin

nicknamed "El Mechanico."

Would you get in touch
with the Marchioness?

I would very much like
to ask her

why drug dealers want
to murder her horse.

What else do we know about
this El Mechanico?

Not much.

This first massacre happened
at a dock in Tampa.

There was a civilian
cleaning his boat

when the shots started flying.

He gave a description but...

no one's seen him since.

Nigella says we can
see her at her hotel.

She's at the Sutner.

Suite 2501.

Hello?

Nigella, listen
very carefully:

The same man who
killed Dalton Ladd

is targeting you.

What?!

Have you noticed
anyone unusual?

Any deliveries
to your room?

No, no, no.

It's been quite peaceful,
actually.

I've just been enjoying
the view.

Your curtains are open?

Yeah, just the one.

Would you kindly go into
another room at once?

Why?

For God sakes, of course

I don't know anybody
in the Robles cartel.

I'm in the peerage.

And I don't understand
why they'd want me dead.

I have no idea whatsoever.

All right, what about
your boyfriend?

You think it's possible he did
business with them and...

hid it from you?
Dalton was an alternate

on the national steeplechase
team in 2000 and 2004.

That's her way of saying no.

What about your
other employees?

She's lying.

I know Miss Mason to be
a woman of low character.

You've incurred
the wrath of these people,

and it wasn't through
an honest difference of opinion.

I will give you access
to all of our books,

records, anything--
but there is no connection

between these
vile people and me.

What's this?

I spent most of the day
as a spare wheel.

I thought I'd make
myself useful.

I know you and Joan rarely
sit down for a meal.

That's by design--
a lingering dinner,

especially in the midst of
a case, is an indulgence.

You think conversation's
an indulgence?

The meal itself
is an indulgence.

Conversation
is an annoyance

within an indulgence...

Well, I suppose
it's harmless enough.

As long as you don't try
to stop me from working.

You're welcome.

So...

did you learn anything?

The police believe a man
named Joaquin Aguilar

heads up the Robles cartel's
East Coast operations.

The cartel is always at odds
with one or another

of its rivals, so the man is
very rarely seen in public.

In fact,
he's only been spotted six times

in the last two years.

He's always at a private box
he maintains

at the Aqueduct
race track.

He's a horseman.
A passionate one.

There's bad behavior
to be unearthed here.

Be prepared for that.

You seem quite invested

in the idea
that Nigella has changed.

From what I can see,
change is sloppy.

It's a process,
not an absolute state.

Why are you so
invested

in the idea
that Nigella has to be

a good person
to deserve your help?

What are you doing?

Something has just
occurred to me.

Mmm!

This is the best risotto
I have ever had.

Why are you hiring a chef?
You should do it.

Owning restaurants
is a lot more fun.

Mm.

He means less work.

Yes, I suppose
you could say that.

I don't quite believe

I'm going to say this
to a grown man:

Your food's getting cold.

Brilliant.

I've just heard back from
a forensic accountant

I once helped
out of a spot of bother

involving a naked self-portrait
of himself-- anyway--

he's confirmed something
I already suspected.

I noticed that Joaquin Aguilar

comes to the race track when
one of two horses is racing--

both animals are owned by
Mariotti Farms,

it's a stable and training
facility in New Jersey.

Mariotti Farms,
I've just learned,

received its initial seed money

from a limited liability
corporation

with substantial holdings
in manganese mining

and canned foods.

The corporation has,
three times,

been investigated
by the DEA,

who have long suspected
it is a front for...

the Robles cartel.

You think Joaquin Aguilar

is the real money
behind those horses?

It's called shadow ownership.

Happens all the time
in racing.

Look at this...

This is a list of all the horses
owned by Mariotti Farms,

this...

is a list of all Silver Blaze's
sexual partners

since the Marchioness began
pimping him out.

"Twice for No"
is on both these lists.

Joaquin Aguilar paid to have
one of his mares impregnated

by Silver Blaze--
I need Nigella's records.

The pairing alleged to a male
offspring, born healthy,

who was then sold... to...

a third party.

That's weird.

He paid for a champion
to impregnate his horse.

Why would he just
sell off the baby?

It is curious.

The foal is housed
at a stables in Long Island,

so I say we go and have a look.

But not till
the morning, right?

So does this mean that
you can actually sit down

and have some dessert?

Hmm?

Excellent.

Ah, sorry, I can't do this.

There's just too much tension.

What are you talking about?
There's no tension.

We're having
a nice time.

You must be joking.
Watson carries unease

between her shoulder blades.
Her trapezius muscles

are in knots,
and it's carrying over

to her deltoids.
My back is fine.

What happened
between you two in London?

I'm not so sure

this is a good idea.

Thank you for
your company.

What is the matter with you?

Your brother is
reaching out to you.

You guys have a chance

to fix things,
and you're wasting it.

I'm not wrong, though.

You're uncomfortable
in his presence.

I am not uncomfortable
around Mycroft.

I am uncomfortable around you
and Mycroft together.

For what reason?

This is none of your business.

But you're being weird

and I don't
want you to wreck

your relationship with
your brother-- again.

Okay, we had dinner...
I was a little bit nervous

because I thought he was
gonna hit on me,

but it became obvious that he
just wanted to talk about you.

He was sincere and sweet

and he's funny, too.
Oh, my God.

I was in London-- I didn't know
he was gonna come here.

You had sex with my brother.

Willingly?

Great-- you had to push,
so now you know.

Two consenting adults
went to bed together.

Okay?
You can let that

ruin your relationship
with your brother, or not.

Your call.

Watson, I've decided not to hold
your dalliance against you.

As you said,
you're a grown woman.

I'm disappointed in you.

I thought you were attempting

to move beyond
petty revenge tactics.

It wasn't revenge.

I-I have just one question
for the both of you.

Is this going to be
an ongoing arrangement?

Because, if it is,
I'll need to plan accordingly.

You haven't discussed it.

Well, get it sorted
immediately, would you?

It's the least you could do.

Just out of curiosity--
was he any good?

My brother.

Does he have a talent
for the act of coitus?

Mycroft, your thoughts
on Watson?

We were real surprised

we even got a shot
to bid on a foal

from Silver Blaze
and Twice for No.

This little guy cost us big.

Here he is-- Nutmeg.

You pet him, you got
yourself a friend for life.

Hi, Nutmeg.

You mind
telling me why

the NYPD's so keen
to see a baby horse?

It's a winding tale.

It involves
the British peerage,

syringes full of
concentrated potassium

and 13 drug-related
murders.

You want to tell me what
we're looking at here?

Whorls.
Whirls?

Whorls-- small patches
of hair which grow

in the opposite direction
to the rest of the coat.

I'll only be a moment.

If you can't
wait patiently,

feel free to find something
to occupy your time.

Have sex with my
brother, perhaps.

Well, it gives me absolutely

no pleasure to say,
"I told you so,"

but Nigella Mason
is a horrid witch.

If it gives you no pleasure,
why you looking so satisfied?

Because I know why

Joaquin Aguilar
is angry with her.

Summon the marchioness.

Did you know
there have been

several studies done
on whether or not

the placement of whorls on
horses is a heritable trait?

I beg your pardon?

The placement of those little
cowlicks is inherited.

And why are you
telling me this?

Well, it's not something that
most people would look for,

but appears to be true.

I'll show you.

This...

is a photograph
of Silver Blaze.

You will observe

there is a whorl directly
between his eyes.

Mmm.
The same is true of Twice for No,

who recently birthed
Silver Blaze's son.

Now, the laws of nature
tell us that their offspring

should also have whorls
between his eyes.

We looked at this young
beast this morning.

Nutmeg has whorls positioned
well above his eyes.

Which leads me to the
pertinent question:

What exactly happened to
the real Silver Blaze?

Is he dead?

Dead?

You saw him yourself yesterday.

Well, I saw a horse
that certainly

looked like
Silver Blaze.

But you and I
both know

that the horse
whose sexual favors

you are selling for
upwards of £100,000 a pop

is an imposter.

You have no idea the battles
that I fought

to get ownership of Silver Blaze

included in my prenuptials
with the marquess.

And why shouldn't I
have something to show

for giving years of my life
to that man's lie?

You were married
for 22 months.

Yes, and I
earned that horse

during that stretch--
believe me.

I earned a pack of horses.

And, of course,
it wasn't ten weeks

after we signed
the papers

that I get a call
out of the blue--

3:00 a.m.,
heart failure.

So you hatched a plan to
keep the money rolling in.

Where did you find
the imposter?

Silver Blaze has a brother.

He never amounted to much.

But their markings
are almost identical.

We bought him
for a few hundred quid,

applied a bit of hair dye
here and there.

Dye?
You're charging these people

hundreds of thousands
of dollars.

Don't they want to have proof
that it's the real horse?

Yes. Well,
the racing world's

always been
a little bit backward.

With studding,

most of the scrutiny
falls on the mare.

They're screened
for disease,

for the tendency
to inflict injury

during the live cover.

And the stud, well,

the whole world knew
that Silver Blaze was mine.

There were some requests
for genetic testing.

We took some hair
and some blood

before we got rid
of the body.

So, really, we didn't run
into that many problems.

You're the first three people
who have figured it out.

Actually, we're not.

Joaquin Aguilar
caught on, too.

But he couldn't
just expose you.

That would destroy the value
of the foal born to his mare.

So he did what drug
kingpins are wont to do.

He planned his revenge.

Poisoned your horse.

And after you watched it
die over several days,

he would then come for
you and your consort.

Dalton.

Are you going to tell the police
what I've done?

I see. I'm at the mercy
of the Holmes brothers.

I knew it was a drug deal.

That's why I stayed hidden,

even after I heard the gunshots.

I heard men screaming.

I got up to run, and I saw him.

He was sitting there
like a statue.

His eyes, I...

I don't know.

They were just cold.

Like the Arctic.

The only man to ever
lay eyes on El Mecanico

has a weakness for
unhelpful metaphors.

Are you still sulking
about Mycroft?

No.

I hope you don't expect
me to apologize.

Look, if I had a sister,
would you even hesitate

for a second before
you slept with her?

It's not the act itself
that gives me pause.

It's that I can't
put it into context.

There is a certain...
intimacy

which is a byproduct
of our partnership.

We work well
together,

and I think we both
value that fact.

Right?

You must have known
that I would deduce

that you had slept
with my brother.

It is unlike you
to introduce such a free radical

into an otherwise
highly functional relationship.

Unless, of course,
the unlikelihood

was precisely
the point.

Do you think you're maybe
overthinking this?

You wanted to demonstrate
that I don't have

a monopoly on boorish
or outrageous behavior.

That you won't become
a slave to the roles

we have assigned
each other.

Hmm.

I'm glad we cleared the air.

Message received.

There was no message.

Does that man's reliance
on hazy metaphor

seem almost willful to you?

What do you mean?

I guess I thought
he looked like...

vengeance.

Vengeance. Okay.

He's selling an idea,
not describing a person.

I guess I thought
he looked like...

vengeance.

Vengeance. Okay.

Can you be
more specific?

You're a crafty cow, aren't you?

Look at his hand.

He's missing his ring finger.

As is the man who murdered
Dalton Ladd the other night.

I don't think we' looking
at the witness to a massacre.

I think he's the perpetrator.

That's El Mecanico.

This is the guy
the Feds have been

chasing for years?

If that's true,
why did he even bother

giving this statement?

We think that
the police

got to the scene
of the massacre

before he could
get away.

He had to come up
with a cover story.

We're dealing with an
exceptionally cunning opponent.

He'd have to have
this identity

in place as
a fail-safe.

Once the authorities
arrived, he crafted a tale

that took advantage of
everyone's preconceived notions

of what a cartel hit man
should look like.

He sent the DEA
hunting for a myth.

And no one noticed
that the guy's

missing a finger
on his left hand?

They've been working off
of partial fingerprints.

No one knew that they were
pursuing a four-fingered man

until we found
a complete set of prints

at the scene of
Dalton Ladd's murder.

That's him.

We're about to
apprehend El Mecanico.

Well, let's say you're right.

This guy told the Feds his name
was Kent Jenkins.

I'm guessing that's an alias.

All right, so we know

what he looks like--
that's more than we had--

but I don't see how we're
about to put cuffs on the guy.

We know what he looks like,
and we know what he wants.

El Mecanico is nothing
if not thorough.

He was contracted to
kill Nigella Mason.

Rest assured he's going to
try and do exactly that.

We don't use civilians as bait.

There's no need to put her
directly in his crosshairs.

No.

There's no doubt he's
monitoring her movements.

One of the simplest ways
to do that

is listen in on
her phone conversations.

Anyone with 50
pounds to spend

can buy the software
which lets them

listen in on virtually
any wireless call.

That's why we told her
not to use her cell.

Yeah.

So, what if she slips up?

Miss Mason told her friend

she'd be at the bar
at quarter to 5:00.

We can expect this guy
to set up shop early.

Be ready.

He'll definitely want

the lay of the land
before he makes a move.

Hi there.

Don't move.

Hands behind
your back.

Get on the ground.

I'll thank you not to refer

to my client
as "El Mecanico" again.

He's a gainfully
employed citizen.

He's on the books

at one of Joaquin Aguilar's
front companies.

Thank you.

Your text said you found him.

El Mecanico's real
name is Keith Newell.

I don't envy his attorney
at the moment.

Your "gainfully employed" client

was carrying a $10,000 handgun
when we picked him up.

That weapon is
registered.

We have him on videotape

lying through his
teeth to the DEA.

I'm not completely
convinced that's my client.

We have his fingerprints

at three different
murder scenes.

You should be begging

to talk to me
right now.

You've just caught
a mass murderer.

People have been hunting
for this guy for a decade.

Well done.

And thank you.

What's going on?

Be right back.

I just got a call
from Latent Prints.

Something wrong?

We just compared
that guy's prints

to the ones we found
at all the murders.

They don't match.

What?
Not even close.

No, there's been a mistake.
We ran it three times.

Do it again.
That man lied on videotape,

he's missing a finger
on his left hand,

and he was carrying
a designer handgun

which he intended to use
to murder Nigella Mason.

Holmes, are you listening?
The prints don't match.

We can hold him
for trespassing,

but he'll make bail soon.

And when he does, we're going
to have to let him go.

Must be a hazard
in your line of work;

frustration.

What?
No, I'm just saying

you've both built
a brilliant case.

I really thought
you had your man.

It must be frustrating
being wrong.

It's true we've reached
a crossroads,

but we're not wrong;
Keith Newell is El Mecanico.

And his fingerprint
didn't match.

That's a factor which needs
to be accounted for.

There's only one explanation
I can come up with.

Which means there's only one
explanation

that we need to investigate:

fake fingerprints.

Fake fingerprints?

It makes perfect sense.

El Mecanico, he's a cautious man
in a hazardous line of work.

He has a set
of false fingerprints

as a last line of defense

against exactly
the kind of meeting

he had today.

I get it. But fake fingerprints?

Is that even possible?

Yeah, of course it is.

They're rarely seen
in the underworld.

To make a top-notch pair,

you need
a high-resolution camera,

you need a industrial-grade
chemistry lab,

and ideally, a set of human hands
for your prints.

El Mecanico works
for a cartel,

so money's no issue,

and I imagine they're awash
with severed hands.

Yeah, that's how he's done it.
Fake fingerprints.

He must have peeled them off

while they were bringing him
to the station.

Uh! Why are you poking me
with your single stick?

I'm poking the covers
to determine whether or not

my brother is in there
with you.

It's just me.

We should get in touch
with him right away.

We're going to Denning.

What's in Denning?

Well, it's where Keith Newell
lives, for one thing.

And why do we need
to see where he lives?

From the DEA files.

Did you know that
the partial prints

attributed to El Mecanico
were found

at three different
crime scenes?

I thought it was
two murders.

Two murders,
three crimes.

So they found the same print

at the scene
of a liquor store robbery?

Someone stole all the Strawdog
wine in the place.

Well, that doesn't make
any sense.

Newell, or El Mecanico, or
whatever you want to call him,

he works for
a billion-dollar business.

He's got
to be paid well,

so I doubt he drinks
cheap wine.

And if he does,
he can pay for it himself.

Which is how I arrived
at my theory:

Newell committed
the massacres

wearing someone else's
fingerprints.

But he didn't do the robbery.

The robbery happened six months
before the first murders.

It was perpetrated
by the original owner

of the fingerprints,

who then donated their hands
to El Mecanico,

presumably not voluntarily.

Mm. Was there a suspect?

There's no mention
of one.

The sheriff who looked
into the robbery

retired some time ago,
but she has agreed to speak with us.

I remember what you're talking
about, sure,

but it's a stretch
to call it a case.

Why is that?

Someone stole all the Strawdog.

Just the Strawdog.

We used to have a handful
of homeless people in town,

not more than ten or 12,
but I kept tabs on them.

I was sheriff, it was my job
to know what was going on.

A month or two before
Schultz's liquor store was robbed,

this new guy drifted into town.

Jed something.
I can't remember his last name,

because everybody just called
him "Strawdog Jed."

This guy spent
most of his day

panhandling out by the lot
where he slept.

I went to pick him up.

Found about ten unopened bottles
of Strawdog,

but no Jed.

I figured
he pulled up stakes

after he robbed
the store.

It's odd,
don't you think,

someone called
Strawdog Jed steals

great quantities
of his favorite drink

and then he just
leaves it all behind?

His drinking buddy sure thought
it was weird.

He swore up and down
that something must've

happened to Jed.

This lot where he slept,

do you think you could
show it to us?

The town redeveloped the lot
with stimulus money.

It's been a park
for about five years now.

And where was it
that Jed slept?

Oh, I guess

right around there.

So what was the ground like
before the lot was converted?

Was there greenery?

Oh, maybe a weed or two.
Other than that,

it was just a patch
of hardscrabble dirt.

Excellent.

Why is that excellent?

Well, everything would have
been planted

at roughly the same time

when the lot was converted
into a park.

So everything's

of uniform age.

Well, except for this
oak tree.

This tree's the same age
as the others,

just taller and lusher

and healthier.

Maybe it got more food
than the other ones.

Precisely.

Something in the soil's provided
extra nutrients for this tree.

You think something was
decomposing down there.

We're gonna need the police,
some men with shovels.

But I think we might
be standing

on the grave
of Strawdog Jed.

Mr. Newell, on behalf
of the City of New York,

we'd like to thank you
for providing us

with your fingerprints
and your DNA sample.

We are unable to link them
to either the mass killings

associated with the Robles
narcotics cartel.

So we wanted to apologize

for any imposition
on your time.

We appreciate that.

However, we have been in touch

with the police department
of Denning, New York.

It seems that they have
a new lead

in the disappearance
of a man named

Jed Eichen.

You might remember him
as "Strawdog Jed."

Turns out someone killed him.

Buried him right there in town.

No hands.

But we did find
some hairs

that weren't Mr. Eichen's buried
right in there with him.

Care to guess
whose DNA they matched?

As part of a plea bargain,

New York resident Keith Newell
confessed today to working

as a hired gunman
for the Robles narcotics cartel.

It remains unclear

exactly how many murders
Newell...

Hi.

I'm here for Sherlock.

I'm sure he'll be right up.

We've hired a chef.

For the restaurant.

That's great.

We'll be refining the menu
over the next couple of days.

Congratulations.

Thank you.

I-I was wondering...

...would you be my guest
for the opening?

Wow, that's so nice.
I would l...

Do you think that's
gonna complicate things?

Look, uh...

setting aside

the events of London,
I've come to think of you

as an extraordinary person.

I'm so grateful
you're in my brother's life.

And I would like very much
the chance for you and I...

to become friends.

Marchioness.

So, you'll be pleased to hear
I have reached out

to certain attorneys known to
associate with Joaquin Aguilar.

I made it quite clear that
if any harm comes to you,

I will expose the fact that
Aguilar knowingly sold a foal

with fraudulent bloodlines.

I'm confident
he'll cut his losses.

You should be safe.

Thank you.

And what about me?

Why, that's up
to my brother to decide.

You are, as
of this moment,

out of the
stud business.

You're not
gonna report me?

I'm not done.

We've seen your records.

Between the insurance payments
you'll get for Dalton Ladd's death

and the money you've saved,
you'll have enough

to repay the victims
of your scam.

You can keep the money
Joaquin Aguilar gave you.

Use it to fund a new,
hopefully more respectable

start in life.

Sherlock and I

will, of course,
oversee the repayments.

Thank you.

It's been lovely
seeing you again, Nigella.

But if it's all
the same with you,

I'd like to have a coffee
with my brother.

I won't discuss
the holidays, you know.

That's fine.

I've no interest
in covering our past

in a glaze of nostalgia.
I accept your terms completely.

Where does that
leave us, then?

What would you like
to talk about?

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man