All language subtitles for Elementary - 2x08 - Blood Is Thicker.HDTV.en

The egg was your innovation,

I take it?
Best way to confirm

the pate's been struck.

No disputes
in the absence of judges.

Beautiful city, New York.

It's no London, though, is it?

It's the American London.

Still, you must miss it.

I miss nothing.

Pates being
the obvious exception.

May I assume we're still
on for this evening?

Diogenes, my restaurant. Dinner.

You were a no-show
at the opening.

Yes, well, I had a choice
to make, didn't I?

Find the abductor
of a young girl,

or choke down cuisine
in a room full of gits.

I leave in
a few days.

You've been putting this off
for a week.

Diogenes is my creation,
Sherlock.

I'm proud of it.
You're my brother.

And here was me thinking
that we could satisfy your itch

for fraternal bonding using
the age-old tradition

of two siblings
hitting each other.

It'd mean a lot to me.

Very well.

In the meantime...

What's today's word?

"Borborygmus."

What's that mean?

"The sound
of your stomach grumbling."

Borborygmus.

Some words we just don't need.

Did you hear that?

What?

I don't know.

I guess it
was nothing.

♪ Elementary 2x08 ♪
Blood Is Thicker
Original Air Date on November 14, 2013

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

Lady saw the body on the roof
from an office window,

called it in.

Radio car pulled
the driver over.

Looks like she
was stabbed

before she fell,
just below the ribs.

Yeah, kind of rules out suicide.

Somebody came at her
with a knife,

and then she went airborne.

Do we know who she is?

Well, no I.D.

No clue when she hit the truck.

About the only thing
the driver could say for sure

is that she wasn't there
when he started this morning.

So, unless a missing
persons call comes in

matching her description,

I'm looking
at canvassing

every stop
he's made today.

Huh.

Good news, Detective.

Think I might be able
to narrow your search.

Would you mind asking the driver
to join us for a moment?

Sir?

Would I be correct
in assuming

that these numbers are used
to organize the parcels

as they're loaded
for delivery?

Yeah. Loading sets
me up in the morning

with everything
in delivery order.

Every stop, I
find the delivery

by checking the
numbers on the shelf.

Excellent.
So, you should have no trouble

in telling us where you were

when you delivered the box
which sat here.

Sure. But why?

If you just do
as he asks, please.

When our Jane Doe
hit the roof,

the impact dislodged paint chips
from the ceiling,

which, as you can see,
are currently dispersed

around the shelves and floor.

But notice

said paint chips

abruptly stop

partway along this shelf.

These spaces,

the chips hit boxes
which were still here

at the moment of impact.

Boxes which our
accommodating

but unobservant driver
has since delivered.

So, we need simply identify
the delivery

immediately preceding the point
where the chips cease...

And we'll know the truck's
location when the body fell.

Closer than we started.

Guess I'll start
ringing doorbells.

I think we should start there--
the third balcony up.

I mean, all the apartments
have the same trees

on their terrace
except for that one.

Maybe it got knocked over
when she fell.

Well done, Watson.

Well, the stabbing
happened here, obviously.

Miss Doe stumbled backwards
and over the balcony.

Hey, the super doesn't know
the girl's name.

Said people pay
for their privacy here.

Um, no cameras,

no doorman, no questions.

He gave me the management
company's contact info.

Thought maybe
they could tell us.

You were up early
this morning.

You assume that I slept.

Well, I heard you
and Mycroft up on the roof.

I was worried he might wake you.

The man may have lost
a few pounds,

but he has all the grace
of a drunken mastodon.

Well, I think it' nice...

the two of you getting
to know each other again.

Her name was
Haley Tyler.

She was 26.
I take it

the address on Miss
Tyler's driver's license

is not this apartment.

Yep, you're right.

"Mineral Wells, Texas."

Two pairs of designer
shoes, barely used.

One older pair of the
bargain basement variety.

The wear on all
three, however,

indicates an identical
supination of the left heel,

ruling out multiple owners.

There are newer clothes

bought at high-end boutiques
hanging in the closet.

The older, more homey attire,
is stuffed into her luggage.

Yes, Miss Tyler was
new to the big city.

She was accustomed to
far less affluent means.

It's unlikely she
could have afforded

this little bauble herself.

I humbly submit,
she was a kept woman.

Well,

if you're right,
you're not gonna believe

who was keeping her.

That phone you get along with
better than most people--

the guy who owns this apartment
invented it,

along with half the computers
in the country.

Ian Gale.

I just read his autobiography
last year.

Impressive man.

Are you kidding me?
He is an icon.

I'm sure he puts his ear
buds in one at a time,

just like the
rest of us.

Detective Bell?

That's right.

You're not Ian Gale.

No. I'm Alan Becker,
Mr. Gale's lawyer.

Someone with a badge
shows up looking

for Mr. Gale, you get me.

Yes, I am aware
who Miss Tyler is.

Was.

If you'd like,

my office can assist in
contacting next of kin.

Thanks, but we've already
reached out to her mom.

She's on her way
to New York as we speak.

I'm not at liberty
to discuss the nature

of Mr. Gale's relationship
with Miss Tyler,

but I'm sure I can speak for Ian
and all of Galeforce

in expressing our shock and
sadness at this horrible news.

We'd like
to hear Mr. Gale express

his shock and sadness himself.

And we already have
a pretty good sense

of the nature
of the relationship.

What we would like
to ask Mr. Gale is

how the relationship ended.

Lover's quarrel?

Did Miss Tyler threaten
to go public? Tell his wife?

Was she no longer satisfied
being the other woman?

Mr. Gale is unavailable,

and I can assure you, he had
nothing to do with her death.

How would you know that
without asking him?

He's in Kuala Lumpur.

He has been for
over a month.

Here.

This was recorded
about 12 hours ago

by a local Malaysian
news channel.

He's there overseeing the plans

for the new chip
assembly plant.

Should I bother asking
how long a flight is

from New York
to Kuala Lumpur?

It's about a day.

Well, that is quite
a compelling alibi.

Except the man in that video

is not Ian Gale.
Excuse me?

You've hired a stand-in,
a look-alike.

Politicians and tyrants
have been doing it

for as long
as there have been cameras,

so, why shouldn't CEOs
join the club?

A search for the make
and year of the SUV

in that video yields
a vehicle height

of precisely six foot,
four inches.

The man who climbed into it

was a good five inches shorter
than the roof.

The real Ian Gale

is an impressive
six foot, one.

It's a magnificent device.

I would thank Mr. Gale himself
if he were here, but he's not.

Since he's not,
why don't you tell us?

Did he murder Haley Tyler
himself,

or did the company hire someone
to do that for him, too?

This meeting
is over.

Hello?

Good morning, Joan.
It's Mycroft.

Did I wake you?

Um... a little.
Is everything okay?

Well,

the reason
I'm calling so early is,

I was wondering, is everything
okay with Sherlock?

Why do you ask?

Well, he was supposed to meet me
here at the restaurant

st night. He never showed.

I've tried his cell a few times,
no answer.

I was just a bit concerned.

Well, we were up pretty late

trying to locate
a missing billionaire.

He was still at it
when I went to bed.

Did you know this is
the third time he's stood me up?

Have you met your brother?

Well, this is my last

available night before I go,
so, if you wouldn't mind...

I will make sure

he is there.

Good morning.

Yup.

Oh. I take it the search
for Ian Gale is still on?

Any progress?

Of a sort.
Establishment of facts,

elimination of places
he is not.

He has not, for example,
been seen at his office or any

of his known residences for
perhaps as long as six weeks.

I also reviewed other,

ostensible public
appearances of his

during his trip abroad,
and I have

confirmed it was the stand-in
every time.

Whatever events precipitated
Miss Tyler's death,

it seems that Ian Gale
and his company

have been preparing
for some time.

I still don't get it.

I mean, why would one
of the biggest corporations

on the planet help its CEO
commit and cover up a murder?

Well, I'll wager

that the answer will ultimately
boil down to "money."

In the meantime,
I've found cause for optimism

that Gale might still be
in New York.

His private jet came
straight back here

after depositing the imposter
in Malaysia.

Hasn't been used since.

I put out feelers
to some of my contacts

at New York's finest hotels.

I've also advised the police
to surveil the homes

of some of his closest friends.
Any luck,

we'll be able to pose those
questions to the man himself.

You didn't tell me that you were

supposed to have dinner
with Mycroft last night.

Was I supposed to?
Well, he called me

this morning-- he was
worried about you.

He wants to try again tonight.

Well, if we manage to bring
Haley Tyler's killer

to justice today,
then I'll be

more than happy
to accommodate him.

And if we don't,
just try

and remember that
you have a partner now.

So, I can still

work the case
while you have dinner, right?

Unfortunately, the balancing act
which you prescribe

may prove unnecessary--
it seems that

finding Ian Gale may not be
as challenging as I had thought.

The entire floor
of this hotel

has been booked solid
for the past month

under the name
Frank Beaufort.

It's a rather sloppy
alias, if you ask me.

Sir Francis Beaufort
was a 19th-century

Irish naval officer
who devised the system

by which we measure
wind speeds at sea.

Including "gale force"?
Hmm.

Unless I'm off my mark,

Mr. Gale has reserved
the floor to himself

to avoid prying eyes.

And what makes you
think he's just gonna

open his door for us?

One keycard to access
every room

on the aforementioned floor,
courtesy of my contact here.

Do I even want to know?

He's a chef in the
hotel restaurant.

He has rather
exotic tastes.

The package contains half a pound of
Swedish moose cheese,

one of the rarest and most expensive
cheeses in the world,

produced only three times
a year by a single farm

in the county
of Vasterbotten.

I did the owners a favor once,
and they keep me in fresh supply.

This is one of those
"so many questions" moments.

Why only three times a year?
Well, I'm not sure.

Having never milked a moose,

I imagine one must
catch it in the right mood.

I don't know how
you got up here,

but this is
a private floor.

Yeah, it's a bit too
private, actually.

Sherlock Holmes.
Joan Watson.

We're consulting detectives.
Hotel security asked us

to come upstairs,
have a look around.

Hotel security
did not send you.

Thank you for confirming
that you are not them.

You're in the private employ of
Ian Gale or his company, are you not?

Well, you might not know this,
so I consider it only fair

to inform you that you're protecting
a suspected murderer.

If you continue to protect him
by the time the police arrive,

you will in all likelihood
be charged with obstruction.

You say your name was Holmes?
I did.

Mr. Holmes,

Miss Watson, come in.

This is my wife,

Natalie.

My attorneys made me
aware of your...

inquiries.

You've got it all wrong.

I'm not hiding because
I committed some crime.

I'm hiding because I'm...

under the weather.

This is why your company
sent a decoy to Malaysia--

word of your condition
would cause shareholder panic.

Stocks would plummet.

The board needed time

to prepare a transition.

And your relationship
to Haley Tyler?

Also not what you think.

She wasn't my mistress.

She was my daughter.

Are you saying you're in need
of a heart transplant?

He's saying he already had one,
about a month ago,

but his body is
rejecting the new heart.

According to this,

everything was going fine
for the first couple of weeks,

and then the anti-rejection drugs
stopped working.

He's on corticosteroids,
cyclosporine--

but... his body is producing
too many antibodies.

There's only so much
the drugs can do.

In layman's terms, I'm, uh...

I'm too much of a fighter
for my own good.

He is on
every donor list.

But there is no guarantee
that another heart

will become available in time.

You also have Kell-null blood;
that is very rare.

You would have needed
a directed donor

for blood transfusions.

That's why your daughter
came in from Texas,

right, she had the
same blood type?

I read your autobiography
last night.

In it, you failed to mention
that you have a daughter.

May I assume it was
because she is the result of...

an indiscretion?

One-night stand...

years before I met Natalie.

I was a bit full of
myself back then.

It was the mid-'80s.

Computers were...
changing the world,

and my face was on the cover
of every mag...

- every magazine.
- You were worried

that an illegitimate child
might affect your... "legacy."

I paid her mother

$2 million to disappear.

So, fast-forward
to several months ago.

You find out that
you need a blood donor,

and you realize that
your estranged daughter

may well be
a likely match, so...

it suddenly becomes expedient
to reconcile.

Haley volunteered
to donate the blood.

That's the reason
she came to New York.

I'm confused.
How did she find out

he's in need if you're working
so hard to keep this a secret?

Hmm? At what point
did she even find out

that Ian Gale is her father?
When Ian found out

that he needed a transplant,

he wanted to make up
for the past.

So he wanted
to bring Haley

back into his life
to have a relationship with her,

in case...

In case it was my last chance.

When we heard what had
happened yesterday,

we knew we should...
we should have said something.

Admitting your connection
to Haley

would mean revealing
your condition.

I'm ashamed.

But now...

I don't care how
it affects the company.

I'll give you any help you want.

Just find the person
that killed my daughter.

Well, thanks to you two,
the Gales are cooperating fully.

They got any and all
of their people

that were in Haley Tyler's
apartment the last few days

to provide elimination prints.

Any of the prints
remain unspoken for?

So far, just one set,

and it isn't in
our system, either.

We got the Feds checking
their database,

but it might take a while
to get some answers.

Well, the killer's
probably gonna turn out to be

someone that Haley knew, right?

I mean, there were
no signs of a break-in.

I'll let you know
if anything turns up.

Ah. Dr. Hawes
from the morgue.

I asked him to notify us when
he finished examining Haley Tyler.

He says there doesn't appear to be
anything out of the ordinary,

but we might as well
see for ourselves.

You want to go to the morgue?
Is that a problem?

You were supposed to meet
Mycroft at Diogenes.

I'm working.
So take a break.

A break?
It's the last night he can do it.

He may not be back
for a while.

We should be so lucky.
Just go.

Okay, I will go
to the morgue.

I will call you
if I find anything.

Partner, remember?
I can cover for you.

You must by now be aware
of my opinions regarding food.

My wants in life
are simple:

a loaf of bread
and a clean collar.

The ritualization-
slash-fetishization

of eating is
as egregious

a waste of time
as I can think of.

Well, I'll try and remember that
while I'm enjoying my dinner.

I see here that
you ruled a stab wound

as the official cause of death.

The knife severed
the abdominal aorta.

She'd have bled to death internally
in a matter of seconds,

whether she fell
from the terrace or not.

Mmm. So Sherlock
was probably right--

the fall was not
part of the plan.

Killer knew right where
to put the knife, though.

Single entry,
avoided the rib cage,

killed her fast.

You think it was someone
with a medical background?

The alternative's
dumb luck.

But, hey, dumb luck
happens sometimes.

Yo. Hey.
Hey.

Didn't know you
were gonna be here.

This is Maureen Tyler,

Haley's mom.
This is Joan Watson.

She consults for the NYPD.

I'm so sorry
for your loss.

Thank you.

Now, you sure you
want to do this?

Would you believe
the last conversation

I had with her was an argument?

Is that when she found out
that Ian was her father?

She was upset.

Mostly with me.

Ian didn't care about her

until...

he realized he needed her.

I take it you didn't

want her helping him.

I didn't try to stop her
from giving blood.

I didn't hate him that much.

I just didn't think

she should come
to New York.

I knew it would end badly.

Mrs. Tyler...

I promise you, we're gonna do
everything in our power

to find the person
who did this to her.

You don't have to look very far.

I know exactly who killed her.

Now, tell me that
wasn't more satisfying

than a bout of singlestick.

Just because I tend to forego
epicurean pleasures,

it doesn't mean
I can't appreciate them.

It was exquisite.

Thank you.

Yeah.

Look, I know you're keen
to go back to the station,

but before you do,

there was something

I wanted to give you.

The keys to 221B.

My 221B?

I had my things moved
while I was here in New York.

Found a little place
in Kensington.

And besides, it was never
anything more than your home.

You belong there, not me.

Well, I appreciate the gesture,

but I live here now.

Permanently?

I haven't decided.

Mmm, does that surprise you?

Well, London wasn't
just your home,

Sherlock, it was your passion.

Well, I have many passions.

Work being first amongst them.

And speaking of work...

Look, I-I didn't want
to get into this,

but it seems I have no choice.

I... I spoke with Father
a couple of nights ago.

He's quite...

perturbed
you're still living here.

What?
I know he wasn't

the most demonstrative,
but he was quite proud

of the work you did
at Scotland Yard,

and he'd imagined that
once you completed

your rehabilitation,
you'd return to England,

maybe even show a little...
gratitude.

Early-onset dementia is so sad.

Look, I know you two
have had your problems,

but he's been good to you
these past few years,

Sherlock-- he literally
picked you up off the street.

He got you clean.
He paired you with Joan.

He helped me because he was
embarrassed by what I'd become.

Well, whatever his reasons,
he's grown unhappy.

I'm worried he's going
to cut you off.

He reminded me he owns

the building you currently
reside in.

He plans to evict me?

He also reminded me
he has discretionary control

over your trust fund.

I've only ever touched that
money to pay Watson her salary.

It doesn't change the fact
that you are, in your own way,

still dependant on him,
Sherlock.

Well, he can have
the bloody building.

And the money. I'll live in
a cardboard box if I have to.

This isn't about you anymore,
Sherlock.

If it was, I wouldn't have
broached the subject.

But for the first time
in your life,

you're making decisions
for two people.

Joan may be your partner,

but it's Father's roof
over her head,

it's his money that lines
her pockets.

Now, if you want to
tell him to sod off,

that's your prerogative.

But as someone who cares
for you, and for Joan,

I beg you, think about how your
decision might affect her.

We met with Haley's mother

earlier tonight.

She came to New York?

Well... I-I guess I
shouldn't be too surprised

she didn't reach out.

I know she was opposed
to Haley coming here.

Well, she mentioned that shortly
after Haley arrived in New York,

your husband changed his will
to include her.

We talked about it. We thought
it was the right thing to do.

Now, Mrs. Tyler
was under the impression

it was a lot of money.

As in a number
followed by seven zeroes.

That's right.

She was also under the
impression that it was money

that would've otherwise
gone to you.

Yes, the will was changed,

and yes, the money allotted
to Haley

would technically
have been mine.

We spoke to some people
at the hotel

where you and Ian
have been staying.

They told us that you went out
yesterday morning.

You left around
7:30 a.m.,

and you returned
around 9:30 a.m.

We know that Haley was killed
a little after 8:00.

I did go out for a couple
of hours yesterday.

I went for a walk after sitting
at my husband's bedside

all night long.

I left my phone

and I went to the park
and I sat on a bench.

And no one can confirm
your story?

It's not a story.

I noticed your ease

with medical terms
when we met yesterday.

I assumed you picked it up from
being around all those doctors,

but then I checked-- you were
a doctor yourself, weren't you?

A pediatric surgeon.

You retired a few years ago.

So?
So, whoever killed Haley

knew exactly where to find
her abdominal aorta.

There was a precision
to the attack

that one might call surgical.

Okay, a couple of things.

I am going to call
my attorney.

In fact, I am going to call
all of my attorneys.

Not because I think
I need their help,

but because I want them
to be ready

to bring a lawsuit
against this department

if you take any of these
accusations public.

You are positing
that I killed Haley

because she was assigned a
portion of my inheritance.

There is just one problem.

Giving her that 20% was my idea.

I love my husband.

He was too proud to reach out
to Haley at first,

and so I convinced him.

So if all I cared about
was the will,

why would I have done that?

Why wouldn't I have just
let it alone

and let Ian take his chances?

I'm assuming
your husband

can verify all this?

He can. He can also verify

that there is language
in the will

that guarantees Haley's share goes
to her mother

in the event that
she predeceases her.

Haley's death didn't
change anything for me.

Maureen might have been
able to tell you that

if she had supported
Haley's decision

instead of condemning it.

I'd sooner die.

So, it's official.

The Gales are no longer
cooperating with the NYPD.

They gave a copy of Ian's will
to Captain Gregson

and it confirmed everything
that Natalie said last night.

Okay, so now
you can say it.

Say what?
I blew it.

You confronted a suspect

who had strong answers
to your questions.

Doesn't mean you
were wrong about her.

Natalie Gale had no motive
to want Haley dead.

Haley wasn't even in their lives
until she brought her here.

Why would Natalie
incite a reunion,

tell Ian to put her
in the will

only to turn around
and kill her?

Detective, I hear it was
a discouraging morning.

Yeah, I've had better.

But it's looking up.

Finally got a match
on the one set of prints

in Haley Tyler's apartment
we couldn't identify.

Ray McKibben
of Mineral Wells, Texas.

Has an outstanding warrant
for assault in El Paso.

I just sent you his sheet.

Now, I ran the name past
Haley's mother.

She said Ray was Haley's
on-again, off-again boyfriend.

She had no idea
he was in New York.

Far as she knew,
they'd split up.

The cops in Mineral Wells
are checking

with his usual running buddies,
but he hasn't turned up yet.

Maybe he's still
in New York?

I put a BOLO out on the guy.

I'll let you know
if we get any hits.

When Haley found out she
was a billionaire's daughter,

I'm guessing
Mr. On-Again/Off-Again

would've been a lot more
on again.

Obviously he
joined her

Too bad the only thing
we know is where he isn't.

Well, that's not true.

We also know where he's been.

I'm not seeing any signs

that Ray spent
a lot of time here.

We know that Haley
had not told her mother

she'd reconnected
with a violent offender,

so it's quite possible
she was keeping his presence

a secret from the Gales as well.

So, how was your dinner
with Mycroft last night?

What if I told you

we could no longer reside
in the brownstone?

What?

And what if I told you that
in order to pay your salary,

we'd need to take on more cases
that actually paid?

Where is this coming from?

My father.

Mycroft tells me
he is displeased

and he wants me back
in London.

Why does he want you
back in London?

I don't think he does.

Not really.

But it might take him months,
if not years,

before he realizes that.

The man is as mercurial
a character

as you will ever
encounter. Hmm.

Mycroft says he means
to cut me off.

I didn't realize

that you were paying me
with his money.

Well, I wasn't.

Not for a good long while.

But over the last few months,
I've been compelled

to dip into a fund
that he maintains.

Haven't taken on a paying client
in quite some time.

I've been approached
on numerous occasions,

of course, but...

the interest has never
been mutual.

I prefer the work we come by
through the NYPD,

as I believe do you.

The is, er there so often is
when dealing with the devil,

an alternative.

We both move to London.

What are you saying?

I told Mycroft I made certain
promises to you

when I took you on
as my partner.

I made it very clear I would not
break those promises.

He said that it was
his strong suspicion

that Father would continue to
gift us his support in London.

We would in all likelihood
take on work at Scotland Yard.

You could continue,
if not maybe,

complete your education there.

Is that what you want?

What I want is irrelevant.

Pretty sure it's not.

I was very pleased to return
to London a few months ago.

Not just because
it is unquestionably

the greatest and most cultured
city on the planet,

but because it made me
appreciate what I have here.

I've got a support system--

you...

Captain Gregson.

Even Detective Bell.

I feel that I have thrived here,
not because of who I am,

but because of who
I have come to know.

I don't really wish
to give that up

until I'm ready.

Your turn.

I've never met your father,
not face-to-face.

All I know is that he got you
help when you needed it.

But screw him.

We can find a new place to live.

Do you think the TV
is going to tell us

how to find Ray McKibben?
TV? No, no.

The DVR, on the
other hand...

Televisions are idiot boxes.

DVRs are idiots' helpers.

We are the idiots.

We quite willingly give
them a part of ourselves,

we teach them our tastes,
our preferences,

just so that they will know
which programs to record.

Never once stopping
to consider the fact

that our selections can
be used to profile us.

And how is Haley's
profile going to...

Someone programmed
this DVR

to record a series
about horse racing

called The Winner's Circle.

The episodes have
been piling up

since the day Haley
was murdered.

And yet all of her
cosmetics, all of them,

are cruelty-free.

Seems a little incongruous,
don't you think,

someone with such
principled buying habits

would favor a sport known for
its harsh treatment of animals?

So you think Ray is the one
who's been watching these shows?

According to the program's
description, The Winner's Circle

"caters to the betting
man via in-depth analysis

of upcoming races."

Four days ago,

someone set the DVR to record
the Thoroughbred Cup Challenge

2:00 p.m. today.

Given Mr. McKibben's
arrest warrants,

I think it highly unlikely
that he would be willing

to enter the personal
information needed

to open an online
betting account.

So, if he's in New York
and he wants to place a wager,

he would have to do it in person
at a track.

My horse finally
literally comes in

and you guys arrest me.

I feel for you, Ray. I do.

You've had a rough week, but...

not nearly as rough
as your girlfriend.

I already told you, I didn't

have anything to do with that.

Do yourself a favor, Ray.

Tell us the truth--

did you two have a fight?

I wasn't even there
the morning she died.

Okay? I was out.

I came back, I saw the blood on
the floor and Haley was gone.

At which point your sense
of civic duty kicks in,

you rush to the phone, you call
the authorities to report

that your girlfriend may have
become the victim of foul play.

I didn't know what happened
to her; all I knew

was that nobody
was going to believe me

when I said it wasn't me.

If you weren't
in Haley's apartment

when she died,
where were you?

She was sick.

She had been
for a couple of weeks.

The flu... or something.

The night before,
she ran out of medicine

so I went down to the pharmacy
to get some more.

She had the flu?

Yeah, her body ached all over.

She was burning up, like 102.

And you said she had been
like that for two weeks?

That's when
it started, yeah.

At first it was just,
you know, fatigue,

but then,
a couple of days ago,

she started having trouble
keeping food down

and her fever got really bad.

I'm guessing
you can give us

the address of
this pharmacy.

Eighth Street and Kent.

They got to have
cameras, right?

Check 'em, you'll see
I'm telling the truth.

I wasn't anywhere near Haley
when she got killed.

You gonna make me ask?

Miss Tyler's alleged flu--
it troubles you.

When I looked at Ian Gale's
medical file the other day,

I saw that Haley donated
blood just over a week ago,

but if she had a flu or
was fighting an infection,

she wouldn't have
been allowed.

She may not have
mentioned it.

No, if she was as sick
as Ray said she was,

someone would
have noticed.

Well, not everyone is
as observant as you and I.

But, given
our strongest suspect

may have just
alibied himself,

I think it warrants
further investigation.

Yeah, you were right.

Miss Tyler donated one unit
exactly eight days ago.

Was there any mention
of her having the flu?

No.

Would it be possible
for me to speak

to the person
who actually took her blood?

Actually you are.

And she didn't seem sick to you?

She was fine.

Even joked with me
about "topping off" the bag.

She was a sweet kid.

So, according to the lab tech
that took Haley's blood,

she was in the pink
of health,

but as we know, Ray McKibben's
alibi checked out.

He really was at that pharmacy
buying flu medicine

when she went off the terrace.

I think it's time we
turned our focus back

to your original suspect,

she of the flimsy
alibi, Mrs. Gale.

I'd love to, if she had
a motive to kill Haley.

Detective.

Thank you for
telling us.

Ian Gale has just died.

The company will be releasing
a statement shortly.

I think maybe we've been coming
at this case the wrong way.

What if it's not actually
about the murder of Haley Tyler?

What if it's really
about the murder of Ian Gale?

Captain, I thought I made it clear
on the phone the other day...

Yeah, you said you'd
sue the department

if your client
was subjected

to any additional harassment
for Haley Tyler's murder,

but we're not here
to talk about her murder.

We're here to talk
about Ian Gale's.

I had no idea
until Miss Watson told me--

the recovery rate
for the procedure

that your husband
had is around 80%.

Captain, what
is this about?

Ian Gale died of natural causes.

Mrs. Gale,

is it not true

that approximately
ten months ago,

you briefly engaged
the services

of a divorce attorney?

You don't have
to answer that.

He's right,
you don't.

We already know.

We also know that,
prior to your marriage,

you signed a
prenuptial agreement.

In the event of a divorce,
you would walk away

with a prearranged sum
of $15 million.

But then it became clear
that Ian was going

to need
a heart transplant,

and you came up with a plan
to walk away with more.

None of you
are making any sense.

First you accuse me
of hurting Haley, and now Ian.

The best doctors
in the world

were caring for him.

There's no way anyone could have
caused a rejected transplant.

Actually there is...

or at least there was
in Ian's case.

First you needed to convince him
to reconcile with Haley.

I mean,
you could have found

other blood donors
with his rare type,

but you needed someone
you could keep close,

someone
you could manipulate.

A few weeks ago,
after Ian's transplant,

you obtained
a tissue sample

of his new heart from a biopsy
and injected it into Haley.

You told her the shot
was a supplement

to help
with blood donations,

and she believed you because
you used to be a doctor.

Her immune system went
into overdrive

producing antibodies,
the same antibodies

that your husband
was being given

anti-rejection drugs
to combat.

That's why
she was getting sick.

She didn't have
any flu.

Her body was fighting
a foreign invader,

and she wasn't getting
any help.

You used her
as an incubator

to cultivate
a custom-made poison

for which there
is no tox screen.

I was good to Haley.

You gave Haley

20% of your inheritance,
right?

Only now we know it wasn't out
of the kindness of your heart.

It was because
you needed her.

And because the remaining
80% was still about

a hundred times more than you
would have gotten in a divorce.

I assume you can prove
all this.

We're working
on that.

In the meantime,
we have a witness.

Your accomplice,
Christian Suarez, one of

the lab techs who was assisting
with your husband's care.

But you know that.

We had some very pointed
questions for him this morning.

He confessed to providing you
with biopsy tissue.

He also admitted

to harvesting antibodies
from Haley's blood

and injecting them into Ian.

All for the tidy sum
of $1 million.

When Ian's health turned,

it looked to his doctors like
an overactive immune response.

His system was creating
too many antibodies

and attacking the new heart.

You decided you had
to eliminate Haley,

lest she grow so ill that
someone tipped to the truth.

Unfortunately for you,

that murder did not go off
without a hitch.

Mr. Suarez said that you
intended to stage the scene

as a botched robbery, but after
she went off the balcony,

you had no choice but to flee.

We're still gathering evidence.

The M.E. is running new tests
on Haley's blood.

And if we find out what we think
we're gonna find out,

now is your chance
to get ahead of this.

Hmm.

Cutting it a little close
for the red-eye, aren't we?

A few bits of business
at the restaurant.

Changed my flight
till the morning.

And since you wanted to see me,
I thought I'd stop by.

What's this?

It's a letter for Father.

I'm to play messenger, am I?

You did for him.

He didn't ask me to speak
with you, Sherlock.

I merely...
I know, and I am grateful.

Part of recovery is...
structure.

Recognizing what is working
and sticking with it.

What I have here
with Watson...

is working.

There may well come a time

when it is right for me
to return to London, but, uh,

it isn't now.

So, I have composed a missive
for Father's perusal.

In it, I express what I consider
to be an appropriate amount

of gratitude
for everything he's done.

And I explain,
in minute detail,

my decision to remain
in New York.

That can't have been easy
for you.

It was not unlike carving
the words into my very skin.

It's all I can offer for now.

You know how capricious
he can be.

The chips will fall as they may.

You're so different
now, Sherlock.

You are, essentially, the same.

I'll be back.

Diogenes will need me.

Until then.

It's me.

My little gambit didn't work.

He's decided to stay.

He hasn't spoken directly
with my father in years.

There's little chance
either will realize

what I've attempted.

I'm afraid we're going to have

to come at the problem
a different way.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man