All language subtitles for Elementary - 2x24 - The Grand Experiment.HDTV.en

Previously on Elementary:

How much heroin is that?

Oh, it's enough.

British intelligence
isn't here to arrest me.

I am British intelligence.

Tell me about Sudomo Han.
About three years ago,

when Sherlock was
at the height of his drug use,

Han approached him
to act as a sort of

confidential courier.

Sherlock took the job?

Unfortunately,
what Sherlock didn't realize

was that Han was
financing a terrorist plot.

In other words,
everything that you did for MI6

was all to protect Sherlock.

Sherrington.

You must be the handler.

I have a case,

I think you'd call it.

Arthur Cadogan West.

Two gunshots to the chest.

Arthur West thought

there was a mole in MI6.

Whoever stole his arms
wanted these numbers.

West thought they were proof
of the mole's existence.

Work for us, Sherlock.

Officially.

Permanently.

I'm moving out.

Of?
The brownstone.

I need to get my own place.
It's time.

Good God, man.

Sherlock,
what are you doing here?!

It's quite simple:

You're being framed...

for murder and treason.

Sherlock.

What part of
"you're being frame""

do you not understand?

For treason? For murder?

Arthur West thought
there was a mole inside MI6.

Are you saying that
the mole is framing Mycroft?

Quite successfully,
as it turns out.

Bollocks!

You realized Joan was here

and you manufactured
a reason to intervene.

When MI6 asked you to join them,

did they tell you you'd
be an asset or just as ass?

Okay. Back up.

You said the gun that was used
to kill West just turned up?

Obviously planted by the mole.

Wait, you said
my prints were on it.

That's impossible.

I've only ever handled
my own weapon.

Fingerprint transference
would be child's play

to a well-trained spy, and if
you don't know that by now,

then you deserve to be framed.

In my experience,

the best frame-ups
tend to terminate

with murder of the "frame-ee""

What are you doing?

Proving a point.

You're car...

I looked it over
on the way over here.

It's an impressive vehicle.

I particularly like the
remote starter function.

Shall we go now?

Or would you like to see
what else the mole has in store?

♪ Elementary 2x24 ♪
The Grand Experiment
Original Air Date on May 15, 2014

== sync, corrected by Romesh ==
RiVaL

♪

Make yourselves at home.

Don't touch any of the
first editions.

Or Watson.

What is this place?

It was restored and stocked

by one of
Ms. Hudson's patrons.

He intended to
give it to Columbia,

but apparently,
he's got some issues

with the way
they teach Greek history.

Anyway, she's
looking after it...

while the litigation
sorts itself out.

Are you sure
we weren't followed?

You know my methods.

Besides...

I think our mole
is a force of one.

I saw no evidence
that Mycroft's flat

was being monitored.

Which suggests that our traitor
is finding it difficult

to stalk my brother
whilst holding down his day job.

I know it's a lot,
but you have to remember

we're ahead of the game.

No one but Sherlock knows

that the fingerprints
on the gun were yours.

But that's
not true, actually.

I-I called MI6,
I told them about the prints.

I also told them I think that

you're the traitor
in their midst.

Wh-Why would you...?

One, the frame-up is on,
whether we like it or not.

Your prints will be identified,
the mole will see to that.

Two, I plan to feign
allegiance to MI6,

so I can search for the
real culprit from the inside.

You're my brother.
Do you really think...?

That I can convince them

I dislike you enough...
to help them

bring you to justice?
I shall dig deep.

Where are you going?

The agency's favorite local.

I've got a meeting with him
in 20 minutes.

Feel free to
resume your rutting.

Mr. Holmes, you're late.

Apologies.

It's my first cabal.

Before we go any further,

I want to make something
very clear: I'm as motivated

to find my brother
as anyone in this room.

May I remind you,

there's still no proof
that he compromised the agency.

Only that he killed
Arthur West.

Who was certain enough
of a mole's presence

to tattoo both of his arms
with evidence.

This evidence.

This... gibberish?

Someone thought that gibberish
was important enough

to infiltrate a city morgue

and make off with
both of his arms.

Mycroft and I go way back,
as you know.

He wasn't one of us,

not exactly,
but he did good work.

So, what could have
possessed him to turn traitor?

If I had to guess,
I would say a woman.

He's always exhibited
poor judgment

when it comes to
the fairer sex,

so perhaps he was seduced
into his betrayals.

It's my understanding

he'd taken to
bedding your partner.

And while I think
it's unlikely

that she is the
corrupting influence,

it has become
apparent of late

that I do not know her
as well as I thought.

If she engages in
any suspicious activity,

I will alert you.
In the meantime,

I need everything you have
on my brother.

I need his files.

I need his
records of correspondence...

You don't have clearance.

Data, data, data.

I can not make bricks
without clay.

I know there's no love lost
between you and your brother...

but the fact remains...

he is your brother.

You no longer
wish my assistance.

Very well.

But you should know--

should I divine
Mycroft's whereabouts

by myself,
you have my word

the agency will be
the first to know.

Well, the good news is

that this place
is pretty secure...

but if you're gonna be
here for a few days,

we're gonna have to
get you some food.

"He has no ambition
and no energy.

"He will not even
go out of his way

"to verify his own solutions.

"He would rather be

"considered wrong...

then go to the trouble
of proving himself right."

Something I overheard Sherlock
say to my father once.

He was 15.

I can't even
picture him at 15.

It hurt...

to be...

"assessed..."

like that.

He knows a lot.

He doesn't know everything.

I could have
followed father into business.

I could have...

followed Sherlock into his...

...passions,

but I...

wanted...

...this, I suppose.

You are a success.

You own restaurants
all over Europe.

And the things that you've done
for your country...

Folly.

Obviously.

I should have said no
when the agency approached me.

But I remembered
what Sherlock said...

and I remembered my father
failing to disagree.

And I...

I thought...

I could prove,
at least to myself,

that I was...

more than what they thought.

Idiocy.

Took your time.

Oh, that's the store
that Julian Afkhami owns.

The man who Arthur West thought
was an Iranian spy.

The same man he thought was
corresponding with the mole.

Well, I get why
you'd want to surveil it;

what I don't get is why

you thought you needed
to rent a car.

I didn't rent it.

I just needed
somewhere to sit.

You broke into this car.

It was the best available
vantage point.

So, the o-- the other day,
you were...

quite appropriately,
angry with Mycroft...

and then, this morning,

I find you in his bed.

So... what changed?

So, how'd it go with MI6?

Poorly.

My assistance
is no longer welcome.

Hence my decision
to approach this problem

from a different angle.
Huh...

Joan Watson
meet Julian Afkhami.

His decision to keep
late hours has, thus far,

prevented my inspection
of his workplace.

But I was able to
root around to the basement

beneath the building.

Marion told us Arthur
had been monitoring him,

so, naturally, I looked in
the telephone junction box

and I found this

spliced into
the Azatan Books' line.

What is it?

It's a transmitter.

Can't be certain it's
Arthur West's, of course, but..

given his obsession
with Afkhami,

he seems the
most likely culprit.

Okay. So...

West listened in on his calls.
What could he have learned?

I mean, what are the chances
Afkhami used his business line

to place calls to the mole?

Well, he obviously thought
he'd learned something.

Or have you forgotten about
the numbers and letters

he had tattooed on his arms?
You mean, the ones

that don't seem
to make any sense.

Yes, of course, I remember--
Shh.

It's time.

Well, you'll never guess
what I found

in the stockroom.

Stock.

As far as I can tell,
this place is exactly

what it looks like:
A bookstore.

You haven't
had luck either, huh?

My experience-- diligence
is the mother of luck.

Oh, so, suddenly,
I'm not diligent.

Don't know what you are,
Watson. Not lately.

You are angry
because I'm moving out.

Not angry.
I'm disappointed.

You're still unformed
as a detective.

I told you, I don't want
to stop working with you.

You just want to do it
on your own terms, is that it?

I am not the one
with terms, okay? You are.

You're like, made of them.

You have been
from the beginning.

Or perhaps this was a mistake.

You mean breaking in here?

That surge protector.

It's right next to the register,

the fax,
the credit card scanner,

but they're all plugged into
this extension cord,

which runs back there.

That's not a protector.

That's a scrambler.

By the looks of it,

it's been here
for quite some time.

So, whenever Afkhami
wanted to communicate

with anyone related
to his spy work,

he'd plug his phone
into one of these jacks...

and the scrambler would have
prevented Arthur West

or any snoop from making out
a single word

of their conversations.

Here.

I don't understand.

If West couldn't make out
what Afkhami was saying, then...

how did he know there
was a mole in MI6?

You know, I believe
I know precisely how.

West used that to monitor
the calls between

the mole and Afkhami.

Unfortunately, Afkhami used
the scrambler that we found

to garble those conversations.

So, all West would have been
able to determine

is the meta-data
pertaining to each call.

Meta-data?
He would have been able to determine

the date and time
of each call,

but more crucially,

the location of the caller.

That's the information
he had tattooed on his arms.

These are obviously
dates and times,

but how do you get a location
from that column?

Well, naturally, the mole would
have used disposable phones

to contact Afkhami,
but the calls themselves...

would have been routed through
the nearest cell phone tower.

Now, every cell phone tower
in the world,

has a radio transmitter
with its own unique

call signal.

The first letter
of each call signal

narrows the location down,

so, a call signal
with the first letter, "K,"

originated in the United States,
west of the Mississippi.

A "W," is the east.

"G," is our homeland
of Great Britain;

you'll see many of the calls
originated there.

"I," is Italy
and so on and so forth.

Now, if we can determine
who in MI6 called Afkhami

from these locations on the
dates and times in question...

we'll have our mole.

Where does the signal,
"VNA," originate?

Australia.

The cell phone tower
in question is in Sydney.

I was in Sydney
January 14, this year.

I was in Rome April 1, 2013...

I was in all of these places
at all of these times.

Well, surely,
it's not a coincidence.

You've been set up,

because you were in the same
locations as the mole.

Think.

Who else was in those locations
on those dates?

Your handler Sherrington.

He went to the
same places you did.

He's the mole.

He murdered Arthur West
and then framed you.

Well, that doesn't
make any sense.

Sherrington
brought you onto this.

Which suggests that
it was his superior,

Sir Walter, who insisted
on my involvement.

We must not
say anything to Sherrington

which might reveal
that we know.

A game of cat-and-mouse
is afoot.

We need to prove
that he's guilty of murder,

before he manages to find you.

Sherlock Holmes.

I'm dearly hoping you have
something I can tell Sir Walter

about your brother's
whereabouts.

Mr. Sherrington.

Frustrating day?

The devil's own.

Your progress?

Mycroft is the nominal head of
one of my father's charities

and we think he may have
moved some funds

out of their accounts

to finance his escape.

We're tracking the whereabouts
of a large withdrawal.

If we follow the money,

hopefully we'll find
the man himself.

I'll need the details
of that transaction

and any other news
as soon as you get it.

Hey.
I heard you're working.

I'm considering the dates
Afkhami and Sherrington spoke.

I would like to get a more precise bead
on what they discussed.

Okay. So, how do we do that?

I'd like to work on my own,
if it's all the same to you.

Your decision to
find new lodgings

necessitates the adaptation
of my methods.

I need to grow accustomed

to working without your input
in the evenings,

and I prefer
to begin immediately.

Looks like you
had a productive night.

Quite.

A bracing reminder that I can
function efficiently

as a lone deductionist,

should the
circumstances dictate.

"Computer virus stymied."

British intelligence apparently
concocted some malware

and unleashed it on the
Iranian government's servers.

It was intended to retard the
progress

of their nuclear program,

but an anonymous source

alerted the Iranians
to its presence

and they rooted it out
before it did any damage,

after the Iranians made the
existence of the virus public.

You think Sherrington
tipped them off.

The virus was successfully
counted on 11th of July, 2012,

four days after a conversation
between Afkhami and Sherrington.

Three days after a conversation
in October, 2013,

a British aid worker,
stationed in Tehran,

was arrested for espionage.

Sherrington passed this
information to Afkhami

on every call,
so these are the results.

There were 20 such
conversations.

I have accounted for the results
of all of them, except for one.

The results of the
March 5th tête-à-tête

have yet to reveal themselves.

It's still pretty recent.
Maybe it hasn't happened yet.

All of these ripples happened
within a week of contact.

There's something
I haven't spotted.

Captain Gregson.
Good morning.

Yes. Right away.

Is everything okay?

It seems he may have divined

I've been aiding
and abetting a fugitive.

Well, don't keep me in suspense.

What information do you have?

The department's in possession
of the handgun

used to kill Arthur West.

It has readable prints,
but they're not in AFIS.

West was a British national.

Detective Bell,

being the exemplary
investigator that he is,

spent some time
getting in touch

with various departments
over there.

The police in Cambridge
had a match.

They picked up a college kid
with a bag of pot

almost 30 years ago.

His name was
Mycroft Holmes.

As it turns out,

that name's all over
the department.

Someone blew up
a Jaguar the other day.

Belonging to--

would you believe it--

Mycroft Holmes.

So, who have you told
about this?

No one.

Yet.

Where's your brother?

And what are his fingerprints
doing on a murder weapon?

I assure you

that Mycroft is not a killer.

If he's innocent,
you should let us help.

There are certain
forces at play here.

There are always
"forces at play" with you.

I don't know your brother,

but I do know that he
left his fingerprints

at the scene of an
execution-style killing.

I'm gonna put out
a Finest Message

and a Want Card.

And when I do,
there's gonna be

plenty of people
that are wondering

why our consultant's brother
is wanted for murder.

Who is it?

Tim Sherrington.

Sorry to drop by unannounced.

Uh, could you just
give me a minute?

Sorry about that.

Uh, Sherlock's
not here right now.

Oh, that's quite all right.

I was actually rather hoping
to have a word with you.

I was just keeping up with
the rest of our caseload.

I'm expecting a Skype from
one of our contacts any minute.

Oh. I won't keep you long.

I just wanted to pick
your brains for a little while.

I must admit, Mycroft has
disappeared more effectively

than I'd have thought possible.

It's made the investigation
a tad frustrating.

So I gather.

From what I understand...

you and Mycroft
were involved for a time.

I wondered if you had
any personal insights

as to where he might be?

"Insights," um...

I think you're asking
the wrong person.

I had no idea he was tied up
with Le Milieu or with you.

Turns out,
I know next to nothing

about Mycroft Holmes.

Fair enough.

So, what about
your investigation?

Anything worth sharing?

Uh... no major breakthroughs.

Although, we are
investigating the possibility

that he purchased some property
in the Catskills

under the name
of one of his investors.

There's a chance that
he might be hiding out there,

but I think he's
smarter than that, so...

I'm sorry, but, uh,

last night, your partner
told me that you thought...

he'd raided one of
his dad's charities.

So I was just pondering
which of those stories was true.

If, indeed...

either one is.

I wonder...

if I were to hold you down

and threaten to put one of
your eyes out with my thumb...

would you tell me
where you're hiding him?

I've a mind to do it.

Actually, we're not alone,
everyone is here.

Not "everyone"
in the general sense,

"Everyone" the proper noun--
the cyber-activists.

I opened up a chat
with maybe 15 of them

when you rang the doorbell.

I thought it might
come in handy.

I look forward to dealing with

you and the Holmes boys later.

I look forward to
seeing you on trial for murder.

Watson!

I'm fine. I'm fine.

I told you that
when I called.

It's okay.
It is, in point of fact,

the very opposite of okay.

Sherrington knows
we're onto him.

He's gonna complicate things.
Yes. I know.

So, it's a good thing
I figured out

another piece of the puzzle
before he got here.

The communication
between him and Afkhami?

You said there were
20 different calls, right?

You found a corresponding
ripple effect for all of them

except for the 17th one--

a call that was placed
from the mole

to Afkhami in March.

You gonna tell me
your breakthrough

or continue to
remind me of my own?

I don't know. Maybe if you
hadn't cut me off last night,

we could have had this
breakthrough together,

not to mention,
a lot sooner.

Listen, I think I understand
the significance

of the 17th call.

There were repercussions
in the days that followed,

they just weren't global;
they were local.

Nadir Khadem was found
bound and beaten to death

in a vacant apartment
in Bed-Stuy on March 7,

just two days after
call number 17.

He was Iranian.

Yes. Same as Julian Afkhami.

Detectives
who were investigating

thought that he was killed
over gambling debts...

but a blog written
by a Persian émigré

maintained that his death

was a political assassination.

So he was active in trying
to provide unfettered access

to the Internet...
for Iranian citizens.

Would have made him
a target of the regime.

You think Sherrington
helped Afkhami locate Khadem

for the Iranian government.

Then Afkhami passed that
information off to the person,

or people, who killed him.

You get that this
is a good thing, right?

The crime took place
in New York.

Everything else
was outside the country.

There's evidence we can look at,

people we can talk to--
I'm sorry.

I'm still distracted

by the visit you were paid
by Mr. Sherrington.

I handled it.

Well, you shouldn't have
had to handle it!

Just as you
shouldn't have had to

fear for you life
several days ago.

If we hadn't been
pulled into the vortex

that is my brother's life...

He didn't mean for
any of this to happen.

Cancer cells don't mean to
suffocate healthy ones.

They just do.

So he's a cancer now?

You object to that comparison

because he's
a leukemia survivor, but...

given Michael's
ability to toxify

people, places and things,

I submit his disease's remission

was less miracle and more
professional courtesy.

Everything that happened
with MI6:

Me being taken,
Mycroft being framed...

You keep insisting that
it's all his fault,

but it's not.

You played a big part
in it too.

Are you sure Sherrington
didn't strike you?

Perhaps, about that head?

Sudomo Han.

He hired you once,

back in London.

But you didn't know
what he really was.

Sherlock.

Something happened?

Your old friend, the, uh...

handler...

...paid Watson a visit.

I-Is she...?
She's unharmed.

But he knows that we know.

There will
undoubtedly be consequences.

That's not why you're here.

So I know the truth about you.

MI6.

You'd got out and...

...they pulled you back in
because of me.

Joan.

Yeah.

I know you didn't tell her.

You're angry.

I'm just confused.

nothing.

You're my brother.

The connection
between my drug use...

and the mistakes I made
regarding Sudomo Han

could not be more obvious.

And the program to which
I owe my sobriety

dictates that I make an amends.

And at the
appropriate juncture...

I shall.

In the meantime...

...you should know that
I'm gonna fix this.

Every last bit of it.

Why did you want me
to come to the apartment

that Nadir Khadem
was killed in?

Didn't they clean
this place months ago?

You recreated the
blood spatter with paint.

Why?

They have crime scene photos
for that, you know.

Yeah. I've been studying them
quite intently.

Something bothers me
about the photographs,

but the source
of the disconnect eluded me.

So I felt the need to...

immerse myself
in the crime scene.

Well, you definitely did that.

Did it work?

Perhaps.

At least, partially.

I now believe
the official theory

accrued to the murder
of Nadir Khadem

is indeed a canard.

Observe.

If the attacker
had struck him repeatedly

with a bat...

blood would have flown
off the weapon

as he drew it
back for blow

after blow.
Where would it have landed?

Hmm. The ceiling.

The ceiling is clean.

So what do you think happened?

I think
it's unlikely

that the murder
was politically motivated.

It's too sloppy
to be an assassination.

So that leaves me in search
of a third option.

But it is...

beautiful, isn't it?

I don't know.
It's kind of gruesome.

Not the bloodstains.

The work... which
has led us here.

I deciphered the code
on West's arms.

You found the murder
of Nadir Khadem,

the elusive
17th ripple effect,

I recreate the scene,

and now, here we are,

on the verge of
a breakthrough.

Our collaboration works, Watson.

Even when things are less
than ideal between us,

it works.

When I look back
on the last 18 months,

I often categorize it
as a kind of...

grand experiment.

The results of which
have demonstrated to me,

much to my surprise,

that I am capable of change.

So I will.

Change.

For you.

For the sake of our partnership.

For the sake of our-our work.

Stay.

You have this kind of...

pull.

Like gravity.

I'm so lucky
that I fell into your orbit.

But if we live together,
that's how it will always be.

Me orbiting you.

There'll always be
the next case, the next problem.

And I will always
get pulled along.

It's an exciting
way to live,

but there are
consequences.

We will work this out.

I know we will.

But I need to get my own place.

Are you okay?

I now know...

how Nadir Khadem was murdered.

Drinking on duty?

Sir Walter wouldn't approve.

Well...

what the old man
doesn't know about.

How did you find me?

"Best shepherd's pie
in the city."

Or so you claimed whenever
we found ourselves in New York.

Look, for what it's worth...

I'm sorry.

For...?

I'm not recording you, if that's
what you're worried about.

No.

No, you wouldn't, would you?

It's ungentlemanly.

Just so's you know,
it was his idea

to get your brother
on the West thing.

The old man's.

After that...

things snowballed.

I want to know what it'll cost
to undo this.

You and Walter,

all the other lords and ladies
think your titles

and your money can fix anything.

But some things, some people

are more complicated.

Is that what you are?

Complicated?

I came up in the trenches, mate.

I came up hard.

I'm simple, like a hammer.

But the powers that be
at the agency,

they don't favor blokes like me.

There are ceilings, you know.

And so you committed
multiple acts of treason.

Makes sense to me.

It's a Sig Sauer, isn't it?

In your pocket.
Pointed straight at my heart.

Give me one good reason
not to pull the trigger.

Well, I can think of two.

What if Le Milieu
knew the truth about you,

about your role in the downfalls

of some of their more
powerful members.

You're threatening to burn me?

I die, a letter gets mailed.

Some very angry Frenchmen
come looking for you.

Your brother and your bird
will want to help.

But you know Le Milieu.

How messy they can be.

Collateral damage
and such like.

No, I'll tell you
what we'll do.

I'll settle up here.

Then we'll go
for a walk to my car.

And then I'll take you
somewhere nice.

Somewhere quiet.

And then I'll put a bullet
right behind your ear.

I die a traitor and you get away
with everything.

Quite an offer.

Well, it's the best one
you're going to get.

Mate.

Mr. Afkhami,
thanks for coming in.

This is an incredible
inconvenience.

I had to close my store.

Oh, I'm sorry.

We just got a few questions.

Right this way.

I knew of Nadir Khadem.

The Persian community's
a small one,

but I didn't have a relationship
with the man.

Then you probably know we were
investigating his murder.

We've recently
discarded the theory

that he was killed
by someone he owed money to.

The bloodstains
were quite unusual.

I tried to reconcile them
with all of the common means

of killing someone,
but I couldn't.

Then I tried to reconcile them
with all the uncommon means

of killing someone.

The blood patterns are
consistent with spatter

that would occur
after a thrown object

struck the head of the victim.

We now believe that
someone threw projectiles

at Mr. Khadem until he died.

He was stoned
to death.

That's... strange.

Yeah.

It's also very, very personal.

Whoever murdered Nadir Khadem
had a visceral hatred for him.

Do you recognize those,
Mr. Afkhami?

They're various e-mails
from Nadir Khadem

to a woman named Yasmin Afkhami.

Your wife.

They're intimate.

The two of them
were having an affair.

You obviously
had your suspicions.

You asked your contact at MI6

to apply his vast intelligence
apparatus to that problem.

Where did you get these?

We've been in touch
with your wife.

Turns out

she has some residual anger

over the fact that her husband

brutally murdered her lover.

You had to tell her
about it, didn't you?

Or you wouldn't have
been reasserting

your dominance
over her.

You tried to burn
the clothes you were wearing

when you did it, but your wife

pulled your undershirt
out of the fire.

It has Nadir Khadem's
blood on it.

I want a lawyer.

I'm gonna give you
a little preview

of what he's gonna tell you.

Tell us about your work
as a spy and your mole in MI6.

Or you'll never take a
breath of free air again.

He gave us everything
you described--

how he recruited Sherrington,
how he paid him.

and what they talked about.

Your brother
should be in the clear.

Thank you.

A body just landed
in the morgue.

British national.

We need
to get down there.

Sherrington.

How did this happen?

We don't know.
A janitor found the body.

Now, there's no money left
in his wallet, but this

reads too clean
to be a robbery gone wrong.

Somebody executed him.

Given everything
you two just told me,

I have a pretty good idea
who had a motive.

Mycroft is not
a murderer.

Put out a new Finest Message
for Mycroft Holmes.

Tell me you did not
murder that man.

I did not
murder that man.

But I had a hand.

Explain.

I had a chat with
him yesterday.

He made it very clear that
if you managed to undo him,

there would be
consequences.

He threatened us.

He said there was a letter.

That in the event
of his death or

arrest, it would be sent

to certain parties
within Le Milieu.

He planned to burn me.

Tell them I was
British intelligence.

He also made it very clear
that you two

would be caught
in the crossfire.

We can take care of
ourselves, you know that.

You don't know
these men, Sherlock.

Not like I do.

So if you didn't kill
Sherrington, who did?

Bit of luck, you introducing
me to your friends

at the NSA the other week.

Agent McNally?

I told you-- I was
a clearinghouse for MI6.

I stored facts;
facts which

were as valuable
to the National Security Agency

as they were to MI6.

After my talk with Sherrington,
I went to them.

I made a deal.

Wait a second-- are you saying
that they killed him?

More like played him
at his own game.

They had their own
contacts at Le Milieu,

which I suspected all along.

They made certain parties

in that organization aware
of MI6's infiltration.

And, in turn, Le Milieu

made an example of Sherrington.

You're not making any sense.
If they know about him,

then they know about you.
They'll come after you,

just like he wanted them to.

Well, as it turns out, Joan,

I'm already dead.

What're you talking about?

He means the NSA has
agreed to fake his demise.

There was
an accident

at Diogenes,
a little while ago.

A fire broke out in the kitchen.

When the smoke clears,

the body of a man will be found.

A man about my size.

A man in possession

of my personal effects.

The blaze, of course,
will disguise the fact

that he's a cadaver.

But if you're
supposed to be dead...

He can't stay
in New York.

Nor can he go to
London. Or Rome.

Or anywhere else he's
had dealings with Le Milieu.

He needs to disappear.

Probably forever.

I'm so sorry, Joan.

Sherlock and I were
working on this, you...

you knew that.

I did what I had to do.

Lazy.

Stupid.

Sherlock...
Watson's right.

We could fix this.
But that would require

hard work... effort.

I can't believe I
came to you last night,

asking your forgiveness.

You are the same
self-absorbed sloth...

I love you, brother.

This last year...

...it's been a gift.

Is that a month to
month lease, then?

Yes, that's right.

I-I would like to see the
apartment as soon as possible.

Yes, one person.

No pets.

Mr. Holmes.

I was wondering if we might
talk for a moment.

I was sorry to hear
about your brother.

I assume by now you've been

apprised of the arrest
of Julian Afkhami.

He was conspiring
with Sherrington, not Mycroft.

Just as I know
that Mr. Sherrington

was subsequently murdered.

Good riddance to bad rubbish.

I only wish he'd been slotted

before he got to your brother.

Several days ago,

Mr. Sherrington made me
an offer of employment.

He thought I could be
of great assistance to MI6.

I'm just curious--

was this the attempt
of a criminal

to keep his enemy close,

or was he acting on orders?

It's hard to know now
what Sherrington

thought he'd gain from it.

But...

the offer came from me.

Well, in that case,

I'd very much
like to take you up on it.

== sync, corrected by Romesh ==
RiVaL