All language subtitles for Elementary.S06E21.WEBRip.x264-ION10

WATSON:Hannah Gregson just

found her roommate
strangled in her house.

This is not just a homicide.

This is a serial killer
announcing himself.

Getting away with murder
is an incredible feeling.

I should have realized sooner
what Michael really was.

Special Agent Mallick.

So you’re covering the

Michael Rowan investigation
for the Bureau?

It’s over, Joan.

You all right?

Yeah.

Michael got it worse.

We still don’t know
his whereabouts.

Just find him.

His body just turned up

at a transfer station

that the sanitation
department uses.

I’ve just been informed
that Joan is gonna

have to surrender herself
to the FBI.

She’s their prime suspect.

Thanks for coming in,
Ms. Watson.

The other day, it was Joan.

That was before
Michael Rowan’s body turned up

at a waste transfer station.

You think I killed Michael.

Why?

Best we can tell is he died
early yesterday morning.

If you can account
for your whereabouts,

we can stop this
right here

and get you back on
this side of the table.

I was at my parents’.

I went there
after I left the hospital.

You mean after the victim
tried to kill you?

"The victim"?

He’s the one that’s dead.

You said you went
to your parents’,

but your stepfather
is out of town on a book tour.

I meant I was at their house.

Was there anyone there
besides your mother?

I ask because I’m told
she suffers from dementia.

Are you gonna tell me why you
think I killed Michael or not?

In a word, obsession.

This case took over
your whole existence.

You knew better than anyone
what kind of monster he was.

The way he injected himself
into your partner’s life,

feeding him victims,
preying on him

when he was recovering
from a neurological condition.

It must be hard,
someone you care about

being taken in
by a serial killer.

It was personal
the way you attacked this case.

I saw it myself--
you kept putting in the hours

after he dropped off the grid.

I had a job to do.

He killed 16 people.

That we know of.

We have no idea what
kind of secrets

this man took to his grave.

How many more victims he killed,
where he buried them.

Where’s the justice for them
and their families?

I wanted him behind bars, too.

Maybe you used to,
before he invaded your home.

Before he tried
to kill you.

Yesterday morning, Michael Rowan

called his buddy,
William Bazemore.

We think he made the call
over the Internet,

because we haven’t
been able to trace it.

Mr. Bazemore wasn’t there,
so Rowan left a message.

Hey, William, it’s me.

I wanted to check on you.

Uh, look, you’re gonna hear some
things on the news about me.

I, uh, wanted you to know
they’re not true.

Joan!

Is there anything
you’d like to say?

I’d like my lawyer now.

I have to say, I was
surprised when I got your call.

You’re the finest
defense attorney

in New York, Ms. Donnely.

What’s surprising
about a murder suspect

putting you on retainer?

I’ve lost six trials

defending people
you helped put away.

The surprise was that you would
trust me with your life.

I’ve seen you in court.

You only lost those cases

because those clients
were guilty.

I’m not guilty.

Michael Rowan identified you
as his attacker.

How do you explain that?

I can’t.

I just keep
thinking that he...

suffered trauma
to his skull.

Maybe he was confused.

Maybe I was the last
person on his mind.

I don’t know.
Well, the truth is...

the tape’s not the scariest
thing you’re up against.

Mallick is.

She’s as sharp
as they come.

Then why is she so
determined to sacrifice

an innocent woman at the
altar of a mass murderer?

Maybe she wants a high-profile
clearance to shine her own star.

Maybe she really is outraged
that some

of Rowan’s murder victims
will never be identified.

Either way, she’s telegraphing
what she wants.

And that’s you behind bars.

Will you be returning
to your parents’ house?

No.

I don’t want them
anywhere near this.

Did you do it?

Did I do what?

Kill Michael.

I would understand.

In fact, I would do
everything in my power

to make sure
you got away with it.

No, I did not kill Michael.

Did you?

You think
I wouldn’t have told you?

You thought I wouldn’t
have told you.

I did not kill Michael Rowan.

Which is apparently the name
of the club we’ll be forming.

Obviously, we need

to identify the real culprit.

And Agent Mallick
will not be making that easy.

She’s already warned us
to stay away from the precinct.

We will not have access to
the department or its resources.

We won’t know what evidence
has been gathered

or how the Bureau
plans to use it.

She’s made the rules of the game
quite clear.

So, what do we do?

We cheat.

I like the new place.

Thanks.

How’s Joan?

Remarkably well for a woman who,
on consecutive days,

was brutally attacked
by a serial killer

and then threatened with
imprisonment for his murder.

She didn’t do it, by the way.

I know.

So you also know why I’m here.

Yeah.

I need everything.

I need every report, every file.

Sherlock...

It wasn’t a request.

I can’t.

There’s too many eyes on this.

Too much attention.

Captain.

I can’t do it, okay?

I’m sorry.

She didn’t kill Michael Rowan.

The evidence is going
to show that.

You’re just going to have
to be patient.

No, I don’t think I will.

It’s okay. I’m awake.

Couldn’t sleep?

I would lie and say it was
the cracked ribs, but...

How’d it go with
the captain?

Poorly.

He won’t be helping us.

That’s why I broke
into the morgue last night.

Made a copy of Michael’s
autopsy report.

I also have
his body downstairs.

As we assumed,
cause of death--

blunt-force trauma
to the head.

So his right eye
was lacerated,

his orbital bone
was broken,

and the wound would have
dripped blood into both eyes.

Meaning he wasn’t
just concussed

when he identified you
as his killer.

He was half blind.

So, is that for
my modesty?

Mine, actually.

Don’t worry.

There were
no clues there.

Just confirmation
of every stereotype

anyone’s ever assumed
about men who hurt women.

I thought the most
interesting part of his anatomy

was his upper torso.

Note the wound
you inflicted.

Somebody
stitched it up.

Not the medical examiner.

He writes in his report
it was sutured

no more than two hours
after Michael sustained it.

There’s no way he
did that himself.

I wager the FBI’s
canvassing hospitals

and medical and veterinary
offices as we speak.

That makes sense,
but I don’t think

the person who did this
has an office.

I think he’s a combat medic.

Or at least he was
a long time ago.

Looks like the
wound was closed

with an oh-silk on
a curved needle.

black.

I took a course in
emergency medicine,

and the professor showed
us slides of sutures

done by combat medics.

Most of what he showed us
was from the Vietnam War,

but the sutures
looked exactly like these.

If you’re right, Michael either

went back in time
to the Tet Offensive

or he visited someone
with medical training

and supplies from the 1960s.

There’s gotta be thousands of
Vietnam vets living in New York.

Yes.

Lucky for us,

I think I know the one
we’re looking for.

Here.

Oh. Thanks.

Sherlock, right?

Yeah.

Seen you at a few meetings.

Denny. Vietnam veteran.

Oh, what gave it away?

You were
a combat medic.

You, uh, suffered from PTSD,
which you treated with heroin.

You were on and off it
for years,

but the last time I saw you,
you were ten years sober.

You shared with the group
that you had another addiction,

which was collecting,
uh, memorabilia

from the war
that you fought in.

I was impressed
I remembered your name.

That’s some
memory you got.

Mmm. Actually,
it’s your collection

I’d like to talk
to you about.

Safe to assume
that you’ve acquired

a vintage medical field kit
or two over the years?

Yeah, meeting’s getting started.
We should find some seats.

No, I think we should take this
conversation somewhere else.

Unless you’d like me
to share with the group

that you stitched up a wounded
serial killer the other night.

You gotta understand,

when Michael showed
up at my place,

he was just another
guy from meetings.

All the stuff
I’ve heard about

on the news over the
past couple nights...

it blew my mind.

I mean, you’d think
you’d know

a serial killer
when you see one.

What time did he arrive?

00.

He was bleeding
all over the place.

He said he had had
a bad time lately,

so he tried to score
that night.

Only the dealer he went to
tried to rip him off.

Michael got angry.

He shoved the guy.

The guy shoved back.

So he told you he was
stabbed by a dealer,

and then he ran away.

He said he was afraid
to go to the hospital

because he thought
the dealer and his guys

might come looking
for him there.

So he asked you to tend
to the wound for him.

And after I was done,
I let him crash on the couch.

In the morning, I got up
to run some errands.

He was still asleep.

When I came back, he was gone.

I figured, okay, he went
to work or something.

But then, that night,

I see on TV
somebody killed him.

And then I hear
that the police

think he killed
a bunch of girls.

I figure, I got a record.

No good’s gonna come
from me telling the cops

I-I helped him,
so I keep it to myself.

I swear everything
I told you is the truth.

I believe you.

You said you consult
for the police.

Am I gonna be in trouble
for helping him?

No.

Not if you help me.

Sure you weren’t followed?
Positive.

Did you bring
what I asked?
Yeah.

There’s one spray
can of luminol.

I think the surgical mask and
the shower cap are overkill.

Uh, I don’t think the
fumes are gonna hurt you.

It’s not for me;
it’s for you.

This is the last
known location of a man

you’re suspected
of murdering.

If the FBI ever
finds this place,

do you want
to take the chance

that they’ll find
your DNA as well?

I feel ridiculous.

Imagine how ridiculous
you would feel

if you went to prison for
a crime you didn’t commit.

Okay, so on the phone,

you said you found
some blood spatter?

Yes. Barely noticeable.

On the wall here.

But what’s more noticeable

is the smell of chlorine
on the floor along here.

I came here looking for clues
as to where Michael went next.

But now you think he never left.

The person who killed him
did it here,

and then cleaned up
after they were done,

but left some spatter
on the wall.

Are you sure it’s not the guy
who owns the place?

Positive.

His haptics were an open book.

He’s innocent.

Get the blinds,
would you?

I think we’re gonna have
to tell the FBI

or the police what we found.

I think that would be
a very bad idea.

Obviously, these
prints were left

by the killer
as she cleaned.

I say "she"
because the footprints

are those of a woman.

What is more
troubling is...

they’re the same size as yours.

All in all,
a productive morning.

We’re ahead of the FBI
on several fronts.

We know when and where
Michael was murdered.

And that the person
who did it was a woman.

Oh, wait--
that fits their theory

that I’m the killer perfectly.

So, the person
who killed Michael

knew to go looking for him
at that house. How?

Been wondering the same thing.

What if it’s because
she had the resources

of a federal agency
at her disposal?

What?

We’ve been puzzling as to

Special Agent Mallick’s
special determination

to hang Michael’s
murder on you.

What if it’s because
she did it herself?

The person who did it
was a woman. So is she.

But why would she
track him down and kill him

after he broke in here
the other night?

I mean, he’d
finally slipped up,

so all the Bureau had to do
was charge him.

She’d have plenty of time
to build

a case against him
for the murders he committed.

We tried for months
to build a case, and we failed.

She was finding the path
equally futile.

She was worried
he would slip the net again.

We’ll need
to ascertain

where she was
at the time of the murder.

Our friends at Everyone
were quite helpful

during our pursuit of Michael,

but he was a predator
of young women.

Our next quarry
is a federal agent.

Difficult to
tell which one

a hacker collective
would find more odious.

We’ll know soon enough.
I’m still wondering

if we should tell the FBI
about what we found.

I mean, we could go
over Mallick’s head,

talk to one of her superiors.

That would make it
hard for her

to tamper with the scene.

Actually, there’s
no scene left

with which to tamper.

Denny Mulgrew’s home
was destroyed by fire

20 minutes ago.

What do you mean,
it was "destroyed by fire"?

I mean I’ve been texting
with him since we left.

I explained our findings,
and I recommended

that he torch the place
immediately,

lest he be falsely accused
of murder.

You told him
to burn down his house?

I offered to send
a professional arsonist,

but he assured me
he was up to the task.

I’ve already sent him
a six-figure sum

from an anonymous account.

He’s going to be in a new

and better home
before you know it.

Sherlock...
He’ll even have
enough money left over

to rebuild his
memorabilia collection.

Sherlock...
Are you not understanding

what is at stake here?

You’re this close to being
charged with murder. Murder.

If I’m right about
Special Agent Mallick,

then it’s possible she had
plans to return to that house.

Only, this time, she would have
an FBI forensics team in tow,

and the place would be
brimming with evidence

that she had planted
to use against you.

Now, I’m sorry if you don’t
approve of my methods,

but I’m not going to let
any additional harm come to you.

Joan Watson is one
of the finest people

I’ve ever worked with.

Is that your
full statement

regarding her
character?

Not even close.

You don’t have time

to hear my full statement
about her character.

She didn’t kill Michael Rowan.

I just wanted to see

how things
were going in here.

Great. I think these guys
have everything now

but my belt size
and my favorite Beatle.

It’s George, by the way.

You think
we’re wasting your time?

We just want the truth
to come out.

So do I.

Matter of fact,
I’d like to help you

find the person
who killed Michael Rowan.

Only, instead of being out there
developing some real suspects,

I’m stuck
answering questions

about the one person
in the world

I know didn’t do it.

You want to help.

That’s funny.

I came in here
because I want to help you.

I understand you’re about
to join the U.S. Marshals.

What’s that got to do
with anything?

I’ve become
very familiar

with the way Ms. Watson
and her partner like to operate.

The corners they cut,

the rules they pretend are there
for everyone but them.

Tell me, Detective,

if I were to launch
a full-scale investigation

into every case you ever worked
with Ms. Watson,

how do you think
that would go for you?

Thanks for coming.

Quite pleased to hear
from you, actually.

Not everyone
at the department’s

so keen to associate
with us at the moment.

The captain’s got a lot
of eyes on him right now.

He’s getting a
lot of questions

about you and Joan,
how you work.

So am I.

And yet here you are.

This is everything we’ve got
so far on Rowan’s murder.

It isn’t much, but
maybe it’ll help.

Thank you.

This agent,

Mallick, she’s not
going to stop coming.

She’s gonna do whatever it
takes to hang this on Joan.

I know.

Well, I would tell you

to solve this one
fast, but you’re you.

I know you’ve only
got one speed.

Oh, you’d be surprised.

Something I should know?

Everyone got back to us
while you were out.

They said they would look
into Agent Mallick

if I gave them an up-close view
of one of your beehives

and put this song on repeat.

I mean, I had
to get movers

to get it down here,
but at least we did not

have to humiliate ourselves
this time.

Oh, you’ve been humiliated.

You just don’t realize it.

One of the founding fathers
of Everyone,

StingSquat44, is an
admitted melissophiliac.

He’s aroused by bees.

You just arranged a sex show
with a cast of thousands.

Ordinarily,
I would shut it down,

but since we need
Everyone’s help so badly...

Actually, I’m not sure we do.

My meeting with Marcus
was quite fruitful.

Every piece of trash
on or around Michael’s body

was vouchered as evidence
and indexed.

Standard procedure when a body

turns up in a landfill
or a dump.

According to that,

everything around Michael
originated in Harlem.

Doesn’t make any sense.
You and I both know

that Michael
was killed in Queens.

So you think

the real killer
murdered Michael in Queens,

and then dumped him in Harlem.

That’s one possibility.
Another is that

Michael’s body never went
to Harlem at all.

Harlem came to him.

Curtis Jenkins?

Hello.
My name’s Sherlock Holmes.

This is Joan Watson.
We work with the police.

How you doing?
Good.

Actually,
I know your son, Graham.

He was in prison
for strangling his wife.

I helped prove
that he was innocent.

Perhaps he
mentioned me.

He said something about
a British guy with a funny name.

You come here so I could
thank you in person?

No. We came here
because we think

that you helped the woman
who killed Michael Rowan

dispose of his body.

You know the name.

Course I do.

He’s the son of a bitch

the police think
killed my daughter-in-law.

Heard on the news
he turned up dead.

I was okay with that.

But I had nothing
to do with it.

So, you’ve worked as a mechanic
for the Department of Sanitation

for over 30 years.

You’ve spent the last 15
here at the Harlem garage.

So?

So, Michael’s body was found

at a DSNY transfer station.

We have evidence
that he was dumped

by a garbage truck
that works out of Harlem.

We also have evidence

that he was killed
at a residence in Queens.

We think
you took a truck

from this garage,
drove it to Queens,

picked up Michael’s body,
and then returned it,

where it resumed
its usual rounds in Harlem,

before making a final stop
at the transfer station.

When you got here,

you noticed the guard station
at the gate, right?

That place is
manned 24-7.

These trucks may smell,

but they cost
about 150 grand apiece.

And the only people
who can take ’em out

are the drivers.

Well, you have
friends here.

Maybe you called in
a favor.

Even if I had,

all the trucks
are tracked by GPS.

So you find one that took a trip
to Queens the other day,

you let me know.

Mr. Jenkins...

The person who killed
that psycho is a hero.

Okay?

Rowan put my son
through hell.

So, even if I could point
you in someone’s direction,

I wouldn’t.

Not in a million years.

Well, perhaps you just need
a little motivation.
Don’t.

Come on.

You understand
that man’s our best chance

of proving your innocence.

I’m not sure
that’s true.

He seemed pretty confident
that we couldn’t prove

that he drove a truck
out of here, right?

He did.

Maybe that’s because
he put the body

in the truck here
at the garage.

You think he and/or the killer
brought Michael here,

brought the body to the truck,
not the other way around?

That guard station he
mentioned-- I noticed it.

I also noticed the
security camera

that was recording
vehicles coming and going.

If the woman who killed
Michael was here that day...

Camera might have
caught her face.

Sorry. I can’t help you.

The footage
you’re looking for is gone.

What do you mean, "gone"?

I mean someone
came and took it.

They were law
enforcement, like you.

See, I wasn’t here,

but they told my guys
there was some anonymous tip

that somebody
was stealing equipment.

We let ’em into the system.
They took what they needed.

The original footage
got erased by accident.

Course it did.

But the person
that came here--

was she from the FBI,
an agent called Mallick?

I... Louie.

The person you let into
the system the other day--

was she a Fed
named Mallick?

No, it was a cop.

And it was a he.

His name was, uh, Grayson.

No, Gregson.

Tom Gregson.

He was a captain.
Does that help?

No, I’m fine.

You deserve a night out.

I’ll get a pizza or something.

All right? Okay.

Love you, too.

So you lied to the people

at the garage
in Harlem.

You didn’t make a copy
of the footage.

No.

There’s no copy.

How much do you know?

Almost all of it.

Michael was
killed by a woman

at the home of a man
named Denny Mulgrew.

a man named Curtis Jenkins,
father of Graham.

I confess I don’t
know at what point

you were drawn
into the plot,

but once you were,
you realized that the killer

could be undone
by security footage

recorded outside
Mr. Jenkins’ workplace,

so you went there
and you destroyed it.

I spent the better part of today

thinking that Michael’s killer
was Special Agent Mallick.

But no.

It’s Hannah.

Your daughter.

Maddie wasn’t just
Hannah’s roommate.

She was her best friend.

After Maddie’s murder,

Hannah took
some time off.

She was supposed to be
getting her head together.

Instead, she started looking
into Rowan on her own.

She dug in.

She got to know
all the people in his life.

Including Denny Mulgrew.

After she heard about
what happened at your place,

she got to thinking.

He’s not going to a hospital.

He’d go to a guy like Mulgrew.

So she played a hunch.

She went to his place
and staked it out.

The next morning,
after Mulgrew left,

she found a way inside.

She had her gun with her.

But she thought
that was too good for him,

so she used her baton instead.

Him calling Joan’s name--

she never heard that.

And she sure as hell didn’t know

the whole thing
was being recorded.

So, when did she make you
an accessory?

Couple hours later, I got a call

from a friend of mine
who owns a bar.

He said Hannah was there

and that she was in bad shape.

So I went there,
got her into my car.

And that’s when she told me
everything.

You have to tell the FBI.

I can’t.

No.

Hannah’s a cop.

She can’t go to prison.

And Watson can?

You gotta understand--

everything I did,
I did before I knew

that the Feds were trying
to pin this on Joan.

Are you under the impression
that that makes it okay?

Mallick’s got nothing.

Her whole case
is circumstantial.

It’s going to blow over.

Let’s just imagine

for a moment that it does.

What about the damage
to Watson’s reputation?

Do you think
she’ll ever be able

to consult for law
enforcement ever again?

What about the families
of the women

who Michael murdered
and then disposed of?

What about the mothers
and fathers

who are never going to be
able to find their daughters,

never going to be able
to give them proper burials?

Is this gonna blow over
for them as well?

Or do you think

perhaps they might start
bringing

civil lawsuits against Watson?

How exactly do you imagine

her quality of life
moving forward?

You’re the door
that this lunatic

walked through, okay?

Not me!

He cozied up to you.

He got to know everything
about you,

including the fact
that I have a daughter.

He killed her friend

to get your attention.

If it weren’t for you,

Maddie Williams
would be alive today

and my little girl
wouldn’t be a killer.

She’s my daughter.

She’s my best friend.

He won’t help.

I think it’s time

we took everything we know
to Agent Mallick.

There’s very little we
can prove, obviously,

but our story holds.

And if she’s half the agent

she claims to be,
she’ll at least bring

some pressure to bear
on Hannah Gregson.

That might be all that it takes.

It’s funny--
the FBI came and took

everything we ever
put up on that wall,

but I still see it.

The reports, maps,
crime scene photos,

the face of every woman
he killed.

I remember everything.

As I was saying,
I think a conversation

with Agent Mallick is in order.

What if we didn’t do anything?

Just took our chances,
see what happens?

You want to just wait and see
if you’re arrested?

I-I understand why Hannah
did what she did.

I don’t want her
to go to prison for it.

I don’t want the captain
to go to prison for helping her.

But think about it--
what does Mallick really have?

Uh, Michael was bludgeoned

with a weapon
that you’re known to favor.

He tried to kill you.

No one reliable can account

for your whereabouts
at the time of the murder.

What else am I forgetting?
Uh, oh, yes.

He identified you as his killer
as he lay dying.

Mallick does not have
a murder weapon.

She has no witness.

She can’t prove that
I wasn’t where I said I was

when Michael was killed.

You appreciate that the captain
is trying to be a good parent.

I assume that’s because
you’ve been

trying to become
a parent yourself.

How do you think all of this

is going to affect
that endeavor?

Who in their right mind
is going to allow

an accused killer
to adopt a child?

Maybe no one.

Can’t think about that
right now.

Well, then it’s over, you know.

You know, our little
family unit.

You, me, the captain, Marcus.

We’ll never be able

to set foot
in that precinct ever again.

I know.

We’re supposed to be partners!

We are.

So be my partner.

Been thinking about you
and the decision you made.

I think there are certain crimes
which the law cannot touch

and which therefore,
to some extent,

justify private revenge.

But your revenge has been
anything but private.

It’s also been assigned
to the wrong person.

I told you when
you called--

I never meant for any of
this to come down on Joan.

She doesn’t think we should
tell the FBI the truth.

Despite his betrayal, she still
cares about your father.

She doesn’t want
to see him

suffer the consequences
of your actions.

She would rather
take her chances.

And what do you think?

I think a good detective
leaves nothing to chance.

You’re going to confess
to everything.

You can start with how you
disposed of the murder weapon.

Ma’am.

There’s been a
development.

We need you to
come with us.

This is for
you to sign.

What is that?
An affidavit

that’ll keep you from being
charged as an accessory

to Michael Rowan’s murder
after the fact.

"Accessory"?

He didn’t tell you
what he did, did he?

Who?

Your partner.

He confessed to the murder.

He even produced
the murder weapon.

It was covered
in Rowan’s blood

and his fingerprints.

You’re off the hook.

No.

That’s wrong.
Sherlock did not kill anyone.

I believe you.

I think he’s covering for you.

I need to speak with him.

Good luck with that.

I have to see him.

He’s not here.
He’s in England.

What?

He didn’t confess
in person.

He sent a proxy.

Someone from
the British consulate.

After she gave us
his confession,

she said some deal
got hammered out

between our country and hers.

MI6 made up a
story for him,

said that when
he killed Rowan

he was acting in the
service of the queen.

But you and I know
that’s a load of crap.

You said he’s in England.

The only part of
the deal I like.

Sherlock Holmes isn’t
America’s problem anymore.

What do you mean?

The Brits won’t
extradite him.

They made that
very clear.

And he isn’t allowed
to set foot

in the U.S. ever again.

Not without
being arrested and tried

for everything he
alleges he did.

Your little partnership--
it’s over.

Cheer up, Joan.

You just got away with murder.

Thought you were supposed
to be in England.

I am.

Supposed to be, that is.

The terms of the
deal I agreed to

are quite binding.

There’s a plane waiting
for me at Kennedy.

But...

couldn’t leave without
saying good-bye.

You surprised me last night.

Your... your willingness
to protect the captain.

Then I was surprised
that I was surprised.

Helping others before yourself
is your nature.

Always has been.

And yet, in this instance,
I found the risk to you

unacceptable.

You thought I was
throwing my life away,

so you decided to throw
your life away instead.

Well, in point of fact,
I’ve sacrificed very little.

With respect to my freedom,
that is.

MI6 owed me.

Not you, not the captain,
certainly not his daughter.

Me.

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

I wasn’t going to confess.

No, you were going
to play this out.

Hope for the best.

You visited Agent
Mallick this morning.

How did you think it was
going to turn out for you?

She told me that you gave her
the murder weapon.

I visited Hannah
Gregson this morning.

I told her my intentions,
and she agreed to help.

She told me where the
weapon was, and I retrieved it.

We could have fought this
together.

We could have failed.

That doesn’t sound like us.

I wanted to thank you.

Don’t.
I wanted to
thank you

for everything
you’ve done for me

over the last six years.

Sherlock...

I was dying when we first met.

I mean, I looked well enough.

Just got out of rehab
and all that.

Thought that I knew everything,
but I didn’t.

I didn’t realize how much...
how much work

I would have to put in
and how much time it would take.

But most of all,
I-I didn’t realize that...

things could get better.

And that I could actually be...

Yes, I was dying.

And no one could see it but you.

You saved my life, Joan.

We’re partners.

No.

We’re much better than that.

We’re two people
that love each other.

We always have been.

It’s a most painful
matter to me,

as you can most readily
imagine, Mr. Holmes.

I’ve been cut
to the quick.

I understand from
our mutual acquaintance,

Stamford, that you’ve
already managed

several delicate cases
of this sort,

though I presume
that they were hardly

from the same class
of society.

Actually,
this would be a step down.

I beg pardon?

My last client of the sort
was a king.

Oh.

I had no idea.

Had his wife gone missing?

Sorry.
Do-do... do you hear that?

Hear what?

Racket next door.

I’m sorry, Mr. Holmes.
I hear nothing.

Forgive me, Lord St. Simon.
I’m-I’m...

I’m just... I’m still
getting used to this place.

Oh, really?

Stamford told me
that you returned

to Baker Street
almost six months ago.

I did, but my-my residence
in New York

had much thicker walls.

And, uh, these are just taking
some getting used to.

Not to mention the neighbors
behind them.

I see. Um...

as I was saying, my bride,

Miss Hatty Doran
of San Francisco,

disappeared
from our wedding reception

this past Saturday.

We’d only
been married an hour...

Do you mind?!

Please continue.

Did you not remember
I had a client this morning?

I was moving some
furniture around. Sue me.

Look, when you asked me
if you could live here...

When you invited
me to live here.

It was not
so you could

torture me
with your incessant noise.

How’d it go with the lord?

Oh, he’s convinced his wife
has been abducted,

but it couldn’t be more obvious
that she’s left him.

I mean, I don’t blame her.

I couldn’t spend
another minute with the man.

Anyway, he’s a friend
of a friend,

so we’ll have to ascertain
her whereabouts later.

What about now?

We’ve been summoned
to Scotland Yard.

There’s been a murder.

Okay, just let
me get my coat.

All right.

You know, you were
a better partner in New York.

We’re not partners.

We’re two people who
love each other.

Well, you realize
I only said that

’cause I thought we’d
never see each other again.

I’m still not sure
about this, you know.

Us. Here.

Really?

That’s funny, because
I feel like we’re

exactly where we’re
supposed to be.