All language subtitles for Sherlock.S04E02.The.Lying.Detective.720p.NF.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H264-playWEB

Tell me about your morning.

Start from the beginning.

I woke up.

How did you sleep?

I didn't. I don't.

You just said you woke up.

I stopped lying down.

Alone?

Of course, alone.

I meant Rosie. Your daughter.

Uh, she's with friends.

Why?

Can't always cope.

And last night wasn't good.

It's understandable.

Is it, why? Why is it understandable?

Why does everything have to be
understandable?

Why can't some things be unacceptable?
And we just say that.

I only mean it's okay.

I'm letting my daughter down.
How the hell is that okay?

You just lost your wife.

And Rosie just lost her mother.

You are holding yourself
to an unreasonable standard.

No, I'm failing to.

So, there is no one you talk to?
Confide in?

No one.

Oh, I'm picking up Rosie this afternoon.

After I see my therapist.

Got a new one. I'm seeing her today.

Are you gonna tell her about me?

No.

Why not?

- 'Cause I can't.
- Why not?

Because I can't, you know I can't.
She thinks you're dead.

John, you've got to remember,
it's important.

I am dead.

Please. For your own sake and for Rosie's.

This isn't real. I'm dead.

- John, look at me.
- Mmm.

I'm not here. You know that, don't you?

Okay. I'll see you later.

Is there anything
you're not telling me?

No.

What are you looking at?

Nothing.

You keep glancing to my left.

Oh, I suppose
I was just looking away.

There is a difference between
looking away and looking to.

- I tend to notice these things.
- I'm sure.

Now, I am reminding you
of your friend, I think.

That's not necessarily a good thing.

Do you talk to Sherlock Holmes?

I haven't seen him.

No one's seen him.
He's locked himself away in his flat.

God knows what he's up to.

Do you blame him?

I don't blame him...
I don't think about him.

Has he attempted to make contact with you?

No!

How can you be sure? He might have tried.

No, if Sherlock Holmes
wants to get in touch,

that's not something
you can fail to notice.

Well, now.

Won't you introduce me?

- Hello. Thank you, thank you.

Hello.

Mr Smith, whenever you're ready.

Now, please.

Bring them through.

It's difficult having such good friends.

Friends are people you want to share with.

Friends and family.

What's the very worst thing you can do

to your very best friends?

Something on your mind?

Yes, Simon. Oh, yes.

Whatever you tell us stays in this room.
I think I speak for everyone.

Well, what is
the worst thing you could do?

Tell them your darkest secret.

Because,

if you tell them,
and they decide they'd rather not know...

You can't take it back.

You can't unsay it.

Once you've opened your heart,

you can't close it again.

I'm kidding.

Of course, you can.

Well, everyone, please,
roll up your right sleeves.

Roll up your right sleeves. Come on.

Oh, it's a bit of insurance.

I don't understand. What is that?

TD 12.

- One of ours.
- One of yours?

We make it, my company. TD 12.

Sells mainly to dentists and hospitals
for minor surgical procedures.

Interferes with...

- The memory.
- The memory.

Yes.

I want to thank you, Ivan,
for allowing me to use it.

Didn't exactly know
who you were gonna be using it on.

- You mean you didn't ask.
- Is everyone ready?

- No.
- Please.

Roll up your sleeves. Come on, roll up.

This is obscene.

All I'm doing, Faith dear...

...is getting something off my chest.

Without getting it on yours.

What you're about to hear me say
may horrify you,

but you will forget it.

If you think about it,
civilisation has always

depended on a measure
of elective ignorance.

These drip feeds will keep the drug
in your blood streams

at exactly the right levels.

Nothing that is happening to you now

will stay with you
for more than a few minutes.

I'm afraid that some of the

memories you've had up to this point
might also be...

...corrupted.

I'm going to share something with you now.

Something personal.

And of importance to me.

I have a need to confess.

But you, I think,
might have a need to forget.

By the end of this,
you'll be free to go, and don't worry,

by the time you're back
in the outside world,

you will not remember
any of what you've heard.

- Ignorance is bliss.
- What's wrong with bliss?

Some of you know each other
and some of you don't.

Please, be aware that one of you

is a high ranking police officer.

One of you is a member of the judiciary.

One of you sits on the board
of a prominent broadcaster.

Two of you work for me. And one of you,
of course, is my lovely daughter.

Faith.

You are the people I need to hear me.

I have made millions, for myself,
for the people around this table,

for millions of people
I've never even met.

There are charities that I support
who wouldn't exist without me.

If life is a balance sheet,
and I think it is,

well, I believe I'm in credit!

But I have a situation

that needs to be managed.

I have a problem and there is
only one way that I can solve it.

And what's that?

I'm terribly sorry.

I need to kill someone.

Who?

Were we in a meeting? Was there a meeting?

Need to kill someone. Faith.

My dear, dear girl.

I can't remember.

I can't remember who you're gonna kill.

In five minutes,

you won't even remember
why you were crying.

The others are all fine.

You know, they've gone down the pub.

It's all on me.

Oh, Faith. Don't you think
I should take that?

It's only going to upset you.

Three years ago, my father told me
he wanted to kill someone.

One word, Mr Holmes,

and it changed my world forever.

Just one word.

What word?

- A name.
- What name?

I can't remember.

I can't remember
who my father wanted to kill.

And I don't know if he ever did it.

You've changed.

You no longer top up your tan,
and your roots are showing.

You're letting yourself go.

Do you ever look in the mirror
and want to see someone else?

No. Do you own an American car?

- I'm sorry?
- No, not American.

Left hand drive. That's what I mean.

No. Why do you ask?

Not sure actually.
Probably just noticed something.

Are you okay?

Of course, you don't own a car.

You don't need one.
Do you? Living in isolation.

No human contact. No visitors.

Okay, how do you know that?

It's all here, isn't it? Look.

Cost cutting is clearly
a priority for you,

look at the size of
your kitchen, teeny-tiny.

Must be a bit annoying
when you're such a keen cook.

I don't understand.

Hang on a minute. I was looking out
of the window. Why was I doing that?

- I don't know.
- Me neither. Must've had a reason.

It'll come back to me.

Presumably, you downsized
when you left your job.

And maybe when
you ended your relationship.

- You can't know that.
- Of course I can.

There wasn't anything physical
going on, was there?

Quite some time, in fact.

There, see, it's obvious.

You can't tell things like that
from a piece of paper.

Think I just did, didn't I?
I'm sure that was me.

- How?
- Dunno.

Just sort of happens, really.

Like a reflex, I can't stop it.

Coat.

- I don't have a coat.
- Yes, well, I just noticed. I wonder why.

- Who you talking to?
- Piss off!

- So, what do you think?
- Of what?

- My case.
- Oh, it's way too weird for me.

Go to the police.
They're really excellent at dealing with

this complicated sort of stuff.
Tell them I sent you.

That ought to get a reaction. Night-night.

Please. I have no one else to turn to.

Yes, but I'm very busy at the moment.
I have to drink a cup of tea.

This cup of tea...

- Code?
- It's a cup of tea.

Because you might prefer some coffee.

You're my last hope.

Really, that's bad luck, isn't it?
Good night. Go away.

What's bad luck?

Stop talking. It makes me
aware of your existence.

I've always had bad luck.

- It's congenital--
- Handbag.

That's not rude. Congenital.
It just means...

Handbag.

Stop! Wait!

Your life is not your own.
Keep your hands off it. Do you hear me?

Off it. Off it!

Sorry. What?

What are you talking about?

- Your skirt.
- My skirt?

Look at the hem of it!
That's what I noticed. Sorry.

I'm still catching up with my brain.
It's terribly fast.

Those markings, do you see them?

You only get marks like that
by trapping the hem of your skirt

in a car door,
but they're on the left hand side,

so you weren't driving.
You were in the passenger seat.

I came in a taxi.

There is no taxi waiting
in the street outside.

That's what I checked
when I went to the window.

And you've got all the way to the door

and not made any move
to phone for one, and look at you.

You didn't even bring a coat,
in this rain?

Now, all that might mean nothing, except

the angle of the scars
on your left forearm,

you know, under that sleeve
you keep pulling down.

You never saw them.

No, I didn't. So thank you
for confirming my hypothesis.

I don't really need to check
that the angles are consistent

with self-harm, do I?

- No.
- Then you can keep your scars.

I want to see your handbag.

Why?

It's too heavy.

You said I was your last hope,
and now you're going out into the night

with no plan on how you're getting home.

And a gun.

- Chips.
- Chips?

You're suicidal.
You're allowed chips.

Trust me. It's about the only perk.

Sherlock!

Are you going out?

I think I remember the way.
It's through there, isn't it?

Oh, you're in a state! Look at you!

Yeah, well, I've got
a friend with me, so...

- What friend?
- Bye.

Oh.

Come on.

I'm Culverton Smith,
and this election year, I'll be voting...

For God's sake, I was talking
to the Prime Minister.

I'm sorry, Mr Holmes. It's your brother.

He's left his flat.

Was it on fire?

Even when I'm on the road
I still like quality food.

You see the fold in the middle?

For the first few months,
you kept this hidden.

Folded inside a book.

Must have been a tightly packed shelf,

going by the severity of the crease.

So, obviously you were
keeping it hidden from someone

living in the same house,
at the level of intimacy

where privacy could not be assumed.

Conclusion? Relationship.

Not any more, though. There's
a pinprick at the top of the paper.

The past few months,
it's been on open display on a wall.

Conclusion? Relationship is over.

The paper has been exposed to steam
and a variety of cooking smells.

So, it must have been
on display in the kitchen.

Lots of different spices.

You're suicidal,
alone and strapped for cash.

Yet, you're still cooking to impress.

You're keen, and kitchen
is the most public room in any house.

And since any visitor could be
expected to ask about a note like this,

I have to assume you don't have any.

You've isolated yourself.

- Amazing.
- I know.

I meant the chips.

Hmm.

Let's go for a walk.

You should answer it.

It's Mycroft.

Might be about Sherlock.

Of course it's about Sherlock.
Everything's about Sherlock.

How did you know
my kitchen was tiny?

The fading pattern on the paper.
It's not much,

but it's enough to know
your kitchen window faces east. Now.

Kitchen notice boards.

By instinct, we place them at eye level,
where there's natural light.

Now look. The sun's only struck
the bottom two-thirds,

but the line is straight. So, that means
we know the paper is facing the window.

But, because the top section
is unaffected,

we know the sunlight can only be
entering the room at a steep angle.

If the sunlight
was able to penetrate the room

when the sun was lower in the sky,

then the paper would be equally faded.

Top to bottom, but no.

It only makes it
when the sun is at its zenith.

So, I'm betting that you live
in a narrow street, on the ground floor.

Now, if steeply angled sunlight
manages to hit

eye level on the wall opposite the window,

then what do we know about the room?

The room's small.

- Oh, big brother is watching you.
- Literally.

We can keep tabs.
You didn't have to come in.

I was talking to the Prime Minister.

Oh, I see.

What's he doing?

Why is he just wandering about
like a fool?

She died, Mycroft.

He's probably still in shock.

Everybody dies.

That's the one thing
human beings can be relied upon to do.

How can it still come
as a surprise to people?

You sound cross.

Am I going to be taken away
by security again?

I have, I think, apologised extensively.

You haven't made it up to me.

And how am I supposed to do that?

- Sex.
- I'm sorry.

Sex. How did you know

I wasn't getting any?

It's all about the blood.
This one comes from the very first night.

You can see the pen marks over it.

I think you discovered that pain

stimulated your memory,
so you tried it again later.

I'm no expert, but I assume that
since your lover failed to notice

an increasing number of scars
over a period of months,

that the relationship
was no longer intimate.

How do you know he didn't notice?

Oh, well, 'cause he would
have done something about it.

Would he?

Wouldn't he?
Isn't that what you people do?

- Well, that's interesting.
- What is?

- The way you think.
- Superbly.

- Sweetly.
- I'm not sweet. I'm just high.

This way.

- But we just came that way.
- I know, it's a plan.

What plan?

What is it? What now?

Sorry, um, traced his route on the map.

Is he with someone?

Not sure. We keep losing visual.

Mostly, we're tracking his phone.

Don't call us. We'll call--

I'm trying to sleep.
Can you stop ringing my damn phone?

Sherlock has left his flat.
First time in a week.

- So I'm having him tracked.
- Nice.

That's very touching how you can hijack

the machinery of the state to
look after your own family.

Can I go to sleep now?

Sherlock gone rogue
is a legitimate security concern.

The fact that I'm his brother
changes absolutely nothing.

It didn't the last time,
and I assure you it won't with...

With Sherlock.

Sorry, what?

Please phone me if he gets in contact.
Thank you.

Do you still speak to Sherrinford?

- I get regular updates.
- And?

Sherrinford is secure.

- Are we gonna walk all night?
- Possibly.

It's a long word.

- What is?
- Bollocks.

Culverton Smith, all this charity work.
What's in it for you?

We must be careful
not to burn our bridges.

Do you know
why I'm gonna take your case?

Because of the one
impossible thing you said.

What impossible thing?

You said your life turned on one word.

Yes.

The name of the person
my father wanted to kill.

That's the impossible thing.

- Just that right there.
- What's impossible?

Names are not one word.
They're always at least two.

Sherlock Holmes. Faith Smith.

Santa Claus. Winston Churchill.

Napoleon Bonaparte.
Actually, just Napoleon would do.

Or Elvis?

Look, I think we can rule
both of them out as targets.

Okay, I got it wrong then. It wasn't
only one word. It can't have been.

And you remember quite distinctly

that your whole life turned on one word.

So, that happened, I don't doubt it,
but how can that word be a name?

A name you instantly recognise
that tore your world apart.

Okay, well, how?

No idea yet.

But I don't work for free.

You take cash?

Not cash, no.

Taking your own life.

Interesting expression.
Taking it from who?

Once it's over,
it's not you who'll miss it.

Your own death is something
that happens to everybody else.

Your life is not your own.
Keep your hands off it.

You're not what I expected, you're...

- What? What am I?
- Nicer.

- Than who?
- Anyone.

My little master, who will find me...

Sorry, I...

Faith? Faith!

You said your life
turned on one word.

A name can't be one word.

If you were to come round
asking after him,

that he'd rather have anyone but you.

Anyone.

You're not what I expected.
What? What am I?

- Nicer.
- Than who?

Anyone.

Don't think anyone else is going to
save him, because there isn't anyone.

Anyone, anyone,
anyone, anyone, anyone.

I have a situation. Needs to be managed.

There's only one way that I can solve it.

And what's that?

I need to kill someone.

Who?

Who?

Anyone.

Of course.

He doesn't want to kill one person.
He wants to kill anyone.

He's a serial killer.

Anyone.

- It could be...
- Anyone.

Why not?

Why shouldn't he be?

- What is wrong?
- What's the matter with you?

Do you know where you are? Are you drunk?

- Shezzer.
- What are you doing here?

What were you doing
in the middle of a bloody street?

- You should be at Baker Street.
- I am. So are you.

They found your address.
They brought you here.

You've had too much.
And that's me saying it.

Kill.

Sherlock...

- Anyone.
- Anyone.

They're always poor,
and lonely and strange.

- But those are only the ones we catch.
- Who do we catch?

Serial killers.

But if you are rich,
and powerful and necessary...

Anyone.

What if you had the compulsion
to kill and money? What then?

Well now.

Won't you introduce me?

Ah!

Right, you there!
Stop right where you are!

- Oh, John.
- Mrs Hudson...

Do you have any idea
what speed you were going at?

Of course not. I was on the phone.

- Oh, it's for you, by the way.
- For me?

It's the government.

The what?

- What's going on? What's wrong?
- Hello?

My name is Mycroft Holmes. I'm speaking
to you from the Cabinet office.

- What's happened?
- It's Sherlock.

You've no idea what I've been through.

I'm out of here. He's lost it.

He's totally gone!

"Once more unto the breach,
dear friends, once more,

or close the wall up
with our English dead!

Set the teeth and stretch
the nostril wide, hold hard the breath

and build up every spirit
to his full height.

On, on, you noblest English, whose blood
is fet from fathers from war-proof!

And you, good yeoman, whose limbs
were made in England, show us

here the mettle of your pasture!

I doubt not, for there is none of you
here so mean and base

that hath not noble luster in your eyes!

I see you standing like greyhounds
in the slips, straining upon the start!"

"The game's afoot."

Oh, hello.

Can I have a cup of tea?

Did you call the police?

Of course I didn't call the police.
I'm not a civilian.

These pictures. They're that
man on the telly, aren't they?

- What pictures?
- They're everywhere.

Oh, these pictures?
Oh, you can see them too! That's good.

Culverton Smith. This I think
is relevant from this morning.

He's publicly accused Mr Smith
of being a serial killer.

Christ. Sherlock on Twitter.
He really has lost it.

Don't you dare make jokes.
Don't you dare! I was terrified.

A cup of tea!

Oh, for goodness' sakes!
What's the matter with you?

Are you having an earthquake?

You need to see him, John.

- You need to help him!
- Nope.

He needs you!

Somebody else.

Not me. Not now.

Now, you just listen to me
for once in your stupid life.

I know Mary's dead
and I know your heart is broken.

But if Sherlock Holmes dies too,
who'll you have then?

Because I'll tell you
something, John Watson.

You will not have me.

Have you spoken to Mycroft, Molly, anyone?

They don't matter, you do.

Would you just see him, please, John?

Or just take a look at him as a doctor.

I know you'd change your mind if you did.

Yeah, look. Okay.
Maybe, if I get a chance.

- Do you promise?
- I'll try if I'm in the area.

Promise me?

- I promise.
- Thank you.

Well? On you go.

Examine him.

Right then, mister.
Now I need your handcuffs.

I happen to know
there's a pair in the salad drawer.

I've borrowed them before.

Oh, get over yourself.

You're not my first smack-head,
Sherlock Holmes.

That woman's out of control.
I asked for a cup of tea.

- How did you get him in the boot?
- The boys from the cafe.

They dropped me. Twice!

And you know why they dropped you, dear?

Because they know you.

Who's this one?

Is this a new person?
I'm against new people.

Excuse me for a moment.

She's my therapist.

Awesome. Do you do block bookings?

Whose car is that?

- That's my car.
- How can that be your car?

Oh, for God's sake!

I'm the widow of a drug dealer.

I own property in Central London.

And for the last bloody time, John,

I'm not your housekeeper.

I'm so sorry.
I answered your phone, you were busy.

I think you'll want to take it.

- Uh, yes, hello?
- Is this Dr John Watson?

Yeah, who's this?

Culverton Smith.
You've probably heard of me.

Uh, well, yes.

Get me a fresh glass of water, please.
This one's filthy.

I mean, I'm aware of
this morning's developments.

Yes, I'm sure he was being hilarious.

Sorry, did you say all still meeting?

You, me and Mr Holmes.

I sent a car. It should be outside.

Mr Holmes gave me an address.

Well, he couldn't have
given you this one...

When you're ready.

When did Sherlock give you this address?

- Two weeks ago.
- Two weeks?

Yes. Two weeks.

How did you know where to find me?

Oh, Sherlock told me.

He's not so difficult
when you've got a gun on him.

How did you know? How?

On Monday, I decided
to get a new therapist.

Tuesday afternoon, I chose her.

Wednesday morning, I booked
today's session. Now, today is Friday.

So two weeks ago, two weeks

before you were abducted at gunpoint
and brought here against your will,

over a week before I even
thought of coming here,

you knew exactly where
you'd need to be picked up for lunch?

Really?

I correctly anticipated
the responses of people

I know well to scenarios I devised.

- Can't everyone do that?
- How?

Except the boot. The boot was mean.

Never mind how. He's dying to
tell us that. I want to know why.

Because Mrs Hudson's right.

I'm burning up.

I'm at the bottom of a pit and I'm still
falling, and I'm never climbing out.

I need you to know, John.
I need you to see that up here

I've still got it.

So, when I tell you that
this is the most dangerous,

the most despicable human being
that I have ever encountered.

When I tell you that
this monster must be ended.

Please remember where you're standing

because you're standing exactly
where I said you would be two weeks ago.

I'm a mess, I'm in hell,
but I am not wrong, not about him.

So what has all this got to do with me?

That creature, that rotting thing

is a living, breathing
coagulation of human evil.

If the only thing I ever do in this world
is drive him out of it,

then my life will not have been wasted.

Look at me.

Can't do it. Not now.

Not alone.

Uh...

Yeah, well, they're real enough,
I suppose.

Why would I be faking?

Because you're a liar. You lie
all the time, it's like your mission.

I have been many things, John,
but when have I ever been a malingerer?

You pretended to be dead for two years!

- Apart from that.
- Listen, before I do anything,

I need to know what state you're in.

Well, you're a doctor. Examine me.

No, I need a second opinion.

John, calm down.

When have you ever managed
two opinions? You'd fall over.

I need the one person who,
unlike me, learnt to see

through your bullshit long ago.

Who's that, then?
I'm sure I would have noticed.

The last person you'd think of.

I want you to be examined by Molly Hooper.

Do you hear me? I said Molly Hooper.

You're really not gonna like this.

Like what?

Oh. Hello. Is, er...

I'm sorry. Sherlock asked me to come.

What, two weeks ago?

Yeah, about two weeks.

If you'd like to know
how I predict the future...

No, I don't care how.

Okay. Fully equipped ambulance. Molly
can examine me on the way to save time.

Ready to go, Molly?

- Just tell me when to cough.
- Oh, well...

Hope you remembered my coat.

Sorry. I didn't know
that you were gonna be here.

I have absolutely no idea what's going on.

Sherlock's using again.

Oh, God. Well, um...

- Are you sure?
- No, it's Sherlock.

Of course I'm not sure.

Just check him out.

Is Molly the right person
to be doing medicals?

She's more used to dead people.

It's bound to lower your standards.

I don't know. I don't know
anything any more.

- Oh...
- Mrs Hudson. As ever, you are amazing.

No. You're going to have to
buck up a bit, John.

You know that, don't you?

The game is on.

I'll do my best.

Anything you need.

Anytime. Just ask. Anything at all.

Thank you.

Uh... Sometimes, can I borrow your car?

- No.
- Okay.

He knew you'd get
a new therapist after I died

because you'd need to change everything.

That's just what you're like.

Thanks.

You keep your weekends for Rosie

so you needed to see someone
during working hours.

Because you're an idiot,
you don't want anyone at the surgery

knowing you're in therapy,
so that restricts you

to lunchtime sessions
with someone reasonably close.

You found four men and one woman.

And you are done with the world
being explained to you by a man.

Who isn't?

So all he needed to do was find
the first available lunchtime appointment

with a female therapist
within cycling distance of your surgery.

- My God, he knows you.
- No, he doesn't.

I'm in your head, John.
You're disagreeing with yourself.

- Are you ready, sir?
- Yes, I am.

He is the cleverest man in the world,
but he's not a monster.

Yeah, he is.

Yeah, okay, right. He is. Ugh.

But he's our monster.

I'm a killer.

You know I'm a killer.

But did you know...

I'm a...

Cut that. What was that? Was that a light?

Uh, was that me? Was I too good? Huh?

He's here.

Well, how is he?

Basically fine.

I've seen healthier people on the slab.

Yeah, but to be fair,
you work with murder victims.

They tend to be quite young.

- Not funny.
- A little bit funny.

If you keep taking what you're
taking at the rate you're taking it,

you've got weeks.

Exactly. Weeks.
Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

For Christ's sake, Sherlock!
It's not a game.

I'm worried about you, Molly.
You seem very stressed.

I'm stressed. You're dying.

Yeah, well, I'm ahead then.
Stress can ruin every day of your life.

- Dying can only ruin one.
- So this is real.

You've really lost it.
You're actually out of control.

- When have I ever been that?
- Since the day I met you.

Clever boy. Missed you
fumbling around the place.

- Thought this was some kind of...
- What?

Trick.

'Course it's not a trick. It's a plan.

Mr Holmes?

Thirty feet and closing, the most
significant undetected serial killer

in British criminal history.
Help me bring him down.

- What, what plan?
- I'm not telling you.

- Why not?
- 'Cause you won't like it.

Mr Holmes.

I don't do handshakes.

- It'll have to be a hug.
- I know.

Oh, Sherlock.

Oh, Sherlock.

What can I say? Thanks to you,
we're, uh, we're everywhere.

Mr Holmes, how did Culverton
talk you into this?

Well, he, he's a detective.

Maybe I just confessed.

Come on.

Now, it's uh...

It's a new kind of breakfast cereal...

Mr Holmes,
can you put on the hat?

Yeah, he doesn't really wear the hat.

Kids will be getting
two of their five-a-day

before they've even left home.

Sherlock's been amazing for us.

Breakfast has got to be cool.

We're beyond viral.

You know what makes it cool
when you're a kid?

What? Sorry? Beyond what?

Dangerous.

And action!

I'm a killer.

You know I'm a killer.

But did you know I'm a cereal killer?

Mmm.

And cut there. Thank you.

You should bag that up. Sell it.

Make money from that on eBay.

You can make more,
if you like. Anytime you like.

Has it occurred to you,

anywhere in your drug-addled brain,
that you've just been played?

Oh, yes.

- For an ad campaign.
- Brilliant, isn't it?

Brilliant?

Safest place to hide.

Plain sight.

Mr Holmes.

Culverton wants to know if you're okay
going straight to the hospital.

- Hospital?
- Culverton's doing a visit.

The kids would love to meet you both.

I think he's sort of promised.

Oh, okay.

If you'd just like to come this way.

So...

What are we doing here? What's the point?

I needed a hug.

What do you think, Mr Holmes?

Cereal killer.

It's funny 'cause it's true.

See you at the hospital.

Oh, you can have this back now.

- Have what back?
- Thanks for the hug.

Oh, I sent and deleted a text.
You might get a reply, but I doubt it.

- It's password protected.
- Please.

We're going to have
endless fun, Mr Holmes. Aren't we?

No.

No, not endless.

Need another hit, do you?

It can wait until the hospital.

You involved much?

Sorry?

Um, with Mr Holmes, Sherlock,
and all his cases.

Yeah, I'm John Watson.

Okay.

Dr Watson.

- I love his blog. Don't you?
- His blog?

- Don't you read it?
- You mean my blog?

Say what you like about addiction,
the day is full of highlights.

Oh, Mr Holmes, you're feeling better.

Psychedelic.

I was just saying I love your blog.

- Great...
- It's my blog.

It is. He writes the blog.

- It's yours?
- Yes.

- You write Sherlock's blog?
- Yes.

It's gone downhill a bit, hasn't it?

It's this way, then.

Oh, my God. I love your blog.

You're welcome.

Right. Here he comes.
The internet tech.

You all know Sherlock Holmes.

Oh, and Dr Watson, of course.

Mr Holmes, I was wondering.
Well, we all were, weren't we?

Maybe you could tell us
about some of your cases.

- No.
- Yes.

Yes! Absolutely, yes!

The main feature of interest
in the field of criminal investigation

is not the sensational aspects
of the crime itself,

but rather, the iron chain
of reasoning from cause to effect,

that reveals, step-by-step, the solution.

That's the only truly remarkable aspect
of the entire affair.

Now, I will share with you the facts and
evidence, as they were available to me.

And in this very room,

you will all attempt to solve
the case of Blessington, the poisoner.

I think you slightly gave away the ending.

- There were five main suspects.
- One of them called Blessington.

But it's more about how he did it.

- Poison?
- Okay.

Drearcliff House. Remember that one, John?
One murder.

- Ten suspects.
- Ten. Yeah.

- All of them guilty.
- Sherlock.

And what did you
call that one, John?

Um, something to do
with murder at the zoo.

Yeah, I called it "Murder at the zoo".

Or was it the case of
the killer orangutan?

He should be wearing the hat.

The kids would love the hat.

- So, any more questions?
- No.

- I don't think so.
- No?

- Mr Holmes--
- Good, then I'll...

How do you capture a serial killer?

Same way you catch any other killer.

No, no. But most killers
kill someone they know.

You're looking for a murderer
in a tiny social grouping.

Um, Mr Smith. Um, I'm just, uh, wondering

maybe this isn't
a suitable subject for the children.

Nurse Cornish.

- How long have you been with us now?
- Seven years.

Seven years.

Okay.

Serial killers choose
their victims at random.

Surely that must make it more difficult.

Some of them advertise.

Do they really?

Serial killing is
an expression of power, ego.

A signature in human destruction.

Ultimately, for full satisfaction,
it requires plain sight.

Additionally, serial killers
are easily profiled.

They tend to be social outcasts.

- Educationally sub-normal.
- No, no, no, no, no.

You're just talking about the ones
you know. The ones you've caught.

But, hello, dummy.
You only catch the dumb ones.

Now, imagine if the Queen wanted to kill
some people. What would happen then?

All that power, all that money,

sweet little government,
dancing attendants.

A whole country,
just to keep her warm and fat.

Hmm.

We all love the Queen, don't we?

And I bet she'd love you lot--

It's all right, everyone.
I can personally assure you

that Sherlock Holmes is
not about to arrest the Queen.

Well, of course not.

Not Her Majesty.

Money. Power. Fame.

Some things make you untouchable.

God save the Queen!

She could open a slaughterhouse

and we'd all probably
pay the entrance fee.

No one's untouchable.

No one?

Look at you all.

So gloomy. Can't you take a joke?
The Queen.

If the Queen was a serial killer,
I'd be the first person she'd tell.

We have that kind of friendship.

A big round of applause
for Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson.

Come on.

Wonderful.

Thank you so much for coming. Thank you.

- Where are we going now?
- I want to show you my favourite room.

No, let's go in here.

So, you've had another one
of your little meetings?

Oh, it's just a monthly top-up.

Confession is good for the soul.

- Provided you can delete it.
- What's TD 12?

It's a memory inhibitor.

Bliss.

Bliss?

Opt-in ignorance.

Makes the world go round.

Anyone ever opt to remember?

Some people take the drip out.
Yes, some people have the same urges.

Now, come on. Wasting time.

Indeed you have,
I estimate, 20 minutes left.

Sorry?

I sent a text from your phone, remember?

It was read almost immediately,
factoring in a degree of shock,

and emotional decision, and a journey
time based on the associated address,

I'd say that your life as you know it
has 20 minutes left to run.

Well, no. 17 and a half, to be precise,
but I rounded up for dramatic effect.

So please do show us your favourite room.

It'll give you a chance to say good-bye.

Come along.

The game is on.

Do you still miss me?

Speaking of serial killers,
you know who's my favourite?

Other than yourself?

H.H. Holmes.

Relative of yours?

Not as far as I know.

You should check.

What an idiot.

Everyone out.

Mr Smith, we're actually
in the middle of something.

Saheed, isn't it?

Saheed. Yes.

How long have you been working here now?

Four years.

Four years.

Well, that's a long time, isn't it?

Four years.

Okay, everyone.

- Five minutes?
- Come back in ten.

Saheed.

This time, knock.

How can you do that?
How... How are you even allowed in here?

Oh, I can go anywhere I like.

Anywhere at all.

They gave you keys?

They presented them to me.

There was a ceremony.

You can watch that on YouTube.
The Home Secretary was there.

So, your favourite room. The mortuary.

What do you think?

Tough crowd.

Oh, I don't know.

You know, I've always
found them quite pliable.

Don't do that.

She's fine.

She's dead.

H.H. Holmes loved the dead.

He mass-produced them.

Serial killer,
active during the Chicago Fair.

You know what he did?

He built a hotel,
a special hotel, just to kill people.

You know, with a hanging room,
gas chamber, specially adapted furnace.

You know, like Sweeney Todd.

"Without the pies."

Stupid.

So stupid.

Why stupid?

Well, all that effort.

You don't build a beach
if you want to hide a pebble.

You just find a beach and...

If you wanna hide a murder,
you wanna hide lots and lots of murders,

just find a...

hospital.

Can we be clear? Are you confessing?

To what?

The way you're talking.

Oh, sorry.

Yes.

You mean, am I a serial killer?

Or am I just trying to
mess with your funny little head?

Well, it's true.

I do like to mess with people, and yes,

I am a bit creepy, but that's just my USP.

I use it to sell breakfast cereal.

But am I what he says I am?

Is that what you're asking?

- Yes.
- Hmm.

Well. Let me ask you this.

- Are you really a doctor?
- Yeah, of course I am.

Oh. Well, no, a medical doctor,

you know, not just feet
or media studies or something.

I'm a doctor.

Are you serious?

No, really.

Are you?

Are you, are you actually serious?

I've played along with this joke.

It's not funny any more.

You know, look at him.

Go ahead, look at him, Dr Watson. Hmm?

Oh, no, I'll lay it out for you.

There are two possible explanations
for what's going on here.

Either I'm a serial killer,

or Sherlock Holmes is
off his tits on drugs. Hmm?

Delusional paranoia
about a public personality.

That's not so special. It's not even new.

I think you need to
tell your faithful little friend

how you're wasting his time
because you're too high

to know what's real any more.

I apologise.

I miscalculated.

I forgot to factor in the traffic.

Nineteen and a half minutes.

Ah, the footsteps you're about to hear
will be very familiar to you,

not least because there'll be
three impacts rather than two.

The third, of course, will be
the end of a walking cane.

Your daughter Faith's walking cane.

Why would she be here?

You invited her.

You sent her a text. Or, or, or,

technically I sent her a text,
but she's not to know.

Um, let's see if I can recall.

"Faith, I can stand it no longer.

I've confessed to my crimes.

Please forgive me."

How would that have any effect?

You don't know her.

Oh, but I do.

I spent a whole evening with her.

We had chips.

I think she liked me.

You don't know Faith. You simply do not.

I know you care about her deeply.

I know you invited her
to one of your special board meetings.

You care what she thinks.

You maintain
an impressive facade.

I think it's about to break.

Did you know?

- She came to Baker Street.
- No, she didn't.

Of course I didn't.

She came to see me

because she was scared of her daddy.

Never happened. Is this another one
of your drug-fuelled fantasies?

You didn't you see him take the scalpel?

Nobody saw it.

So you didn't know
what was about to happen?

Of course I didn't know.

Well, let's see, shall we?

Faith, stop loitering
at the door and come in.

This is your father's favourite room.

Come and meet his best friends.

Dad? What's happening?

What was that text?

Another one of your jokes?

Who are you?

Who the hell are you?

Sherlock Holmes.
Surely you recognise him.

Oh, my God.

Sherlock Holmes?

I love your blog.

You're not her. You're not
the woman who came to Baker Street.

Erm, well, no. Never been there.

Well, there must've been some build-up.
He didn't just suddenly do it.

Look, I didn't know
he had the bloody scalpel.

Sorry, I'm not sure
I completely understand.

Understand what?

But I thought you two were,
were old friends!

No, we've never met.

Oh, dear!

Have we?

Sherlock?

So who came to my flat?

Well, it wasn't me.

You look different.

I wasn't there.

Who came to my flat?

I'm sorry, Mr Holmes, but...

I don't think I've ever been
anywhere near your flat.

Oh, dear. Oh, no.

Who you talking to?

- What friend?
- Anyone.

Oh, no! No!

Faith?

Oh, God. Come on.

Sherlock.

Sherlock, you all right?
Sherlock, you okay?

- Watch him. He's got a knife.
- Got a what?

Got a scalpel. You picked it up
from that table. I saw you take it.

I certainly did not!

Look behind his back!

- Look.
- I saw you take it! I saw you!

- Whoa, whoa, whoa!
- Sherlock, put that down.

- Oh, my God. My God!
- Put it down.

- Stop laughing at me.
- I'm not laughing.

- He's not laughing, Sherlock.
- Stop laughing at me!

Sherlock!

Christ.

I keep wondering
if we should've seen it coming.

Not long ago,
he shot Charles Magnussen in the face.

We did see it coming.
We always saw it coming.

But it was fun.

- Come in.
- Sir.

You probably wanna see this.

Harold Chorley
reporting earlier today.

Mr Smith stated he had
no interest in bringing charges.

I'm a fan of Sherlock Holmes,
I'm a big fan.

I don't really know what happened today.
To be honest,

I don't think I'd be standing here now
if it wasn't for Dr Watson.

Stop laughing at me!

Sherlock!

Stop it! Stop it now!

Is it true
he's been treated in your hospital?

It's not actually my hospital.
Well, it is a little bit my hospital.

But I can promise you this.
He's going to get the best of care.

I might even move him
to my favourite room.

Culverton Smith,
earlier today.

In Nottingham...

He's right, you know,
you probably saved his life.

What are you doing? Wake up!

I really hit him, Greg. Hit him hard.

Is this a game? A bloody game.

Please, please, please, no violence.

Thank you, Dr Watson.

I don't think he's a danger any more.

Leave him be.

No.

It's okay.

Let him do what he wants.

He's entitled.

I killed his wife.

Yes, you did.

Oh, hi.

Just in to say hello?

No, I'm just in to say goodbye.

I'm sure he'll pull through.

Yeah, he's made a terrible
mess of himself,

but, he's awfully strong,
so, we must look on the bright side.

Well...

Parting gift.

Aww, that's nice.

A walking stick.

Yeah, it was mine from a long time ago.

Hello? Ward 73.

Oh, uh, Dr Watson...

Hmm?

It's for you.

Hello, Mycroft.

There's a car downstairs.

You know he should
definitely have worn the hat.

Still thinking about Sherlock?

No, you are.

You've got your disapproving face on.

Well, seeing as I'm inside your head,
I think we can call that self-loathing.

Where is she? Where is Mrs Hudson?

She'll be up in a moment.

- Uh, what are you doing?
- Sorry...

Have you noticed the kitchen?
It's practically a meth lab.

I'm trying to establish exactly what
drove Sherlock off the rails, any ideas?

Are these spooks?

Are you using spooks now
to look after your family?

Hang on, are they tidying?

Sherlock is a security concern.

The fact that I'm his brother
changes nothing.

- Yeah, you said that before.
- Ask him.

Why fixate on Culverton Smith?

He's had his obsessions before, of course.

But this goes a bit further than

setting a man trap for Father Christmas.

Do it. Ask him.

Spending all night talking to
a woman who wasn't even there.

Oh, shut up, you.

Mycroft, last time
when we were on the phone...

No, no, no, stop.
I detest conversation in the past tense.

You said the fact that
you're his brother made no difference.

It doesn't.

You said it didn't the last time,
and it wouldn't with Sherlock.

So who was it the last time?

- Who are you talking about?
- Attaboy.

Nobody.

I misspoke.

- He's lying.
- You're lying.

I assure you I'm not.

He really is lying.

Sherlock's not your only brother.

There's another one, isn't there?

- No.
- Jesus.

A secret brother. What, is he locked up
in a tower or something?

Mycroft Holmes.

What are these dreadful people
doing in my house?

Mrs Hudson,
I apologise for the interruption.

As you know, my brother has embarked
in a programme of self-destruction,

remarkable even by his standards,

and I'm endeavouring
to find out what triggered it.

- And that's what you're looking for?
- Quite so.

What's on his mind?

- So to speak.
- And you've had all this time?

Time being something of which
we don't have an infinite supply.

So, if we could be about our business.

You're so funny, you are!

Mrs Hudson?

He thinks you're clever.

Poor old Sherlock.

Always going on about you.

I mean he knows you're an idiot.

But that's okay,
'cause you are a lovely doctor.

But he has no idea what an idiot you are!

Is this merely
stream of consciousness abuse,

or are you attempting to make a point?

You want to know
what's bothering Sherlock?

Easiest thing in the world.
Anyone can do it.

I know his thought processes
better than any other human being.

So please try to understand.

He's not about thinking. Not Sherlock.

- Of course he is.
- No. He's more emotional, isn't he?

Unsolved case, shoot the wall.

Unmade breakfast, karate the fridge.

Unanswered questions...

Well, what does he do
with anything he can't answer, John?

Every time.

He stabs it.

Anything he can't find the answer for,
bang! It's up there.

I keep telling him,
if he was any good as the detective

I wouldn't need a new mantle.

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

...probably dead.

Okay, no, stop that now, please.

Everybody out now.

All of you!

This is my house, this is my friend,
and that's his departed wife.

Anyone who stays here a minute longer

is admitting to me personally,
they do not have

a single spark of human decency.

Get out of my house.

You reptile.

You've been ages wakin' up.

I watched you.

It was quite lovely in its way.

Take it easy, it's okay.

I don't want to rush this.

You're Sherlock Holmes.

I'm giving you a case, Sherlock.

Might be the hardest case of your career.

When I'm...

...gone, if I'm gone.

I need you to do something for me.

Save John Watson.

Save him.

Sherlock...

John, you want to watch this later?

Save him.

Don't think anyone else is going to
save him because there isn't anyone.

It's up to you. Save him.

But I do think you're going to
need a little bit of help with that,

because you're not
exactly good with people.

So here's a few things you need to know
about the man we both love.

And more importantly, what you're
going to need to do to save him.

How did you get in?

Policemen outside, you mean?

Come on, can't you guess?

Secret door.

I built this whole wing.

Kept firing the architect and builder,
so no one

knew quite how it all fitted together.

I can slip in and out.

Anywhere I like, you know.

When I get the urge.

H.H. Holmes.

Murder castle, but done right.

I have a question for you.

Why you are here?

It's like you walked into my den
and laid down in front of me.

Why?

You know why I'm here.

I'd like to hear you say it.

Say it for me please.

I want you to kill me.

John.

My car.

Increase the dosage four, five times,
the toxic shock

should shut me down within about an hour.

Then I'll restore the settings.

Everyone assumes
that it was a fault, or...

- ...you just gave up the ghost.
- Yes.

You're rather good at this.

Before we start, tell me how you feel.

I...

I feel scared.

Be more specific.

You only get to do this the once.

Scared of dying.

You wanted this though.

I have reasons.

But you don't actually want to die.

No.

Good.

Say that for me.

- Say it.
- I don't want to die.

And again.

I don't want to die.

Once more for luck.

I don't want to die.

I don't...

I don't want to die.

Lovely.

Here it comes.

Please, I don't think he's safe.

No, he's fine,
I've got a man on the door.

What do you think's happened?

I don't know, something.
Mary left a message.

What message?

John Watson

never accepts help, not from anyone.

Not ever, but here's the thing,
he never refuses it.

So, here is what you are going to do.

So tell me, why are we doing this?

To what do I owe the pleasure?

I wanted to hear your confession.

Needed to know I was right.

Why do you need to die?

The mortuary,

your favourite room.

You talk to the dead.

You make your confession to them.

I'm sorry, sir, what? What do you mean?

I think the door is jammed.

Oh, has that door locked itself again?

Yeah, it's always doing that.

You can't save John,
because he won't let you.

He won't allow himself to be saved.

The only way to save John

is to make him save you.

Why do you do it?

Why do I kill?

It's not about hatred or revenge.

I'm not a dark person.

Killing human beings...

It just makes me...

Ah. Incredibly happy.

You know, in films
when you see dead people,

pretending to be dead,
and it's just living people lying down?

That's not what dead people look like.

Dead people

look like things.

I like to make people into things.

Then you can own them.

You know what,
I'm getting a little impatient.

Take a big breath if you want.

Go to hell, Sherlock.

Go right into hell.

And make it look like you mean it.

Murder is a very difficult
addiction to manage.

People don't realise
how much work goes into it.

You have to be careful.

But if you're rich, or famous and loved,

it's amazing what people
are prepared to ignore.

There's always someone desperate
about to go missing,

and no one is supposed to suspect murder
if it's easier to suspect

something else.

I just have to ration myself,
choose the right heart to stop.

Go and pick a fight with a bad guy,
put yourself in harm's way.

Maintain eye contact.

Maintain eye contact.

Maintain eye contact.

I like to watch it happen.

If he thinks you need him, I swear...

And off we pop.

...he will be there.

Mr Holmes, you okay?

What were you doing to him?
What were you doing!

- He's in distress, I'm helping him!
- Restrain him now, do it.

- I was trying to help him!
- Sherlock, what was he doing to you?

Suffocating me.

- Overdosing me.
- On what?

- Saline.
- Saline?

- Yeah, saline.
- What do you mean, saline?

Well, obviously,
I got Nurse Cornish to switch the bags.

She's a big fan, you know.

Loves my blog.

- You're okay?
- No of course I'm not okay.

Malnourished, double kidney failure,

and frankly, I've been
off my tits for weeks.

What kind of a doctor are you?

I got my confession though,
didn't I?

Well, I don't recall
making any confession.

What would
I be confessing to?

You can listen to it later.

Well, there is no confession to listen to.

Oh, Mr Holmes,
I don't know if this is relevant,

but we found three potential recording
devices in the pockets of your coat.

All your possessions were searched. Sorry.

There must be something comforting
about the number three,

people always give up after three.

What? What is it? What?

Oh...

- You cock.
- Yeah.

Utter, utter cock.

Heard you the first time.

How does that open?

Screw the top.

- Two weeks ago?
- Three.

I'm that predictable?

No.

I'm just a cock.

It's funny.

Never realised confessing
would be so enjoyable.

Should have done it sooner.

We'll carry on tomorrow.

Well, we could carry on now,
I'm not tired.

There's a loads more.

Tomorrow.

You know, I am gonna be so famous now.

You're already famous.

Yeah, but with this...

I could break America.

I had of course
several other back up plans.

The trouble is, I couldn't
remember what they were.

And of course I hadn't really anticipated

that I'd hallucinated
meeting his daughter.

Basically
he trashed himself on drugs

so that you'll help him,
so that you'd have something to do,

something doctory,
you get that now, don't you?

Still a bit troubled by the daughter.

Did seem very real.

She gave me information
I couldn't have acquired elsewhere.

But she wasn't ever here?

Interesting, isn't it?
I have theorised before

that if one could attenuate
to every available

data stream in the world simultaneously,

it would be possible to anticipate
and deduce almost anything.

Hmm.

So you dreamed up a magic woman
who told you things you didn't know?

That sounds about right to me.
Possibly I'm biased.

Perhaps the drugs
opened certain doors in my mind.

- I'm intrigued.
- Look, I know you are.

Which is why we're all taking it in turns
to keep you off the sweeties.

I thought we were just hanging out.

Molly will be here in 20 minutes.

Oh, I do think I can last 20 minutes
without supervision.

Well, if you're sure.

Christ, John, stay, talk.

Um, sorry, it's just, uh, you know, Rosie.

Yes, of course, Rosie.

Go and solve a crime together,
make him wear the hat.

- You'll be okay for 20 minutes?
- Yes, yes.

Sorry, I wasn't thinking of Rosie.

- No problem. Listen, uh...
- We should, uh...

Come and see her soon.

Yes.

Actually, he should wear the hat
as a special tribute to me.

I'm dead. I would really appreciate it.

Oh, by the way, the recordings
will probably be inadmissible.

Sorry what?

Well, technically it's entrapment, so...

It might get thrown out as evidence.
Not that that matters.

Apparently he can't stop confessing.

- That's good.
- Yeah.

Are you okay?

No, I'm not okay.

I'm never gonna be okay.

We just have to accept that.
It is what it is.

And what it is, is...

- Shit.
- John, do better.

You didn't kill Mary.

Mary died saving your life.

It's her choice.

No one made her do it,
no one could ever make her do anything.

But the point is,

you did not kill her.

In saving my life
she conferred a value on it.

It is a currency
I do not know how to spend.

It is what it is.

I'm tomorrow 6:00 till 10:00,
I'll see you then.

Looking forward to it.

Yeah.

- That noise, that's a text alert noise.
- What was that?

Hmm? What was what?

That's the text alert of Irene Adler,
she's the scary mad one, right?

That noise.

What noise?

She's dead.

Oh, I bet she isn't dead.
I bet he saved her.

Oh, my God!

Oh, the posh boy loves the dominatrix!

He's never knowingly under-clichéd, is he?

John?

I'm gonna make a deduction.

- Oh, okay, that's good.
- And if my deduction is right,

you're gonna be honest and tell me, okay?

Okay. Though I should mention that
it is possible for any given text alert

- to become randomly attached to...
- Happy birthday.

Thank you, John, that's very kind of you.

Never knew when your birthday was.

Well, now you do.

Seriously, we're not going
to talk about this?

Talk about what?

- I mean, how does it work?
- How does what work?

You and the woman, do you go to
a discreet Harvester sometimes, is there

- nights of passion in High Wycombe?
- Oh, for God's sakes.

- I don't text her back.
- Why not?

You bloody moron!

She's out there,
she likes you, and she's alive,

and do you have the first idea
how lucky you are?

Yes, she's a lunatic, she's a criminal,
she's insanely dangerous,

trust you to fall for a sociopath.

Oh, married an assassin.

But she's, you know...

- What?
- Just text her back.

- Why?
- Because High Wycombe

is better than you are currently
equipped to understand.

I once caught a triple poisoner
in High Wycombe.

That's only the beginning, mate.

As I think I've explain to you
many times before,

romantic entanglement,

while fulfilling for other people--

Would complete you as a human being.

- That doesn't even mean anything.
- Just text her.

Phone her, do something
while there's still a chance.

Because that chance doesn't last forever.

Trust me, Sherlock,
it's gone before you know it.

Before you know it.

She was wrong about me.

Mary? How so?

She thought that if you
put yourself in harm's way, I'd...

I'd rescue you or something.

But I didn't, not till she told me to.

And that's how this works,
that's what you're missing.

She taught me to be the man
she already thought I was.

Get yourself a piece of that.

Look at me,
you are doing yourself a disservice.

I have known many people in this world,
but made few friends,

- and I can safely say...
- I cheated on her.

No clever comeback?
I cheated on you, Mary.

It was a woman, on the bus,

and I had a plastic daisy in my hair,
I'd been playing with Rosie.

And this girl just smiled at me.

That's all it was, it was a smile.

We texted constantly.

You want to know when? Every time
you left the room, that's when.

When you were feeding our daughter.

When you were stopping her
from crying, that's when.

That's all it was.

Just texting.

But I wanted more.

And you know something? I still do.

I'm not the man you thought I was.

I'm not that guy.

I never could be.

But that's the point.

That's the whole point.

Who you thought I was...

...is the man who I want to be.

Well then,

John Watson.

Get the hell on with it.

It's okay.

It's not okay.

No.

But it is what it is.

So, Molly's gonna meet us
at this cake place.

It's your birthday,
cake is obligatory.

Well, I suppose a sugar high
is some sort of substitute.

Behave.

Right then. You know,
it's not my place to say,

but it was just texting.

People text, even I text, her.

I mean, Woman. Bad idea.

Try not to, but, you know, sometimes...

It's not a pleasant thought, John.

But I have this terrible feeling
from time to time

that we might all just be human.

- Even you?
- No.

Even you.

- Cake?
- Cake.

Oh, erm...

What? What is it?

What's wrong?

Seriously?

I'm Sherlock Holmes. I wear the damn hat.

Isn't that right, Mary?

You seem so much better, John.

Yeah, I am. I think I am.

Not all day, not every day,
but, uh, you know.

- It is what it is?
- Yeah.

And Rosie?

Beautiful, perfect.

Unprecedented in the history of children.

That's not my bias,

- that's scientific fact.
- Good.

And Sherlock Holmes?

Back to normal.

Get out!
She's possessed by the devil.

I swear my wife is channelling Satan!

Yes, boring, go away.

- I'm not channelling Satan.
- Why not?

Given your immediate alternative.

What about his brother?

Mycroft? He's fine.

So, you're off now,
I won't see you for a week?

Just spending it at home.

Unless she calls.

The PM.

- Here.
- What's this?

My number.

I already have your number.

My private number.

Why would I need that?

I don't know.

Maybe you'd like a drink sometime.

Of what?

Up to you.

Call me.

I mean obviously, normal
and fine are both relative terms

when it comes to Sherlock and Mycroft.

Obviously.

She was real.

But, I didn't mean Mycroft.
I mean the other one.

Which other one?

You know, the secret one.

Oh, that was just something...

...I said. I'm sure there's...

How did you know about that?
I didn't tell you that.

- You must have done.
- I really didn't.

Well, maybe Sherlock told me.

Wait, you've met Sherlock
exactly once, in this room.

He was off his head.

Oh, no, no.

- I met him before that.
- When?

We spent a night together.

It was lovely.

We had chips.

You're not
what I expected, Mr Holmes.

You're...

...nicer.

Culverton gave me Faith's original note.

A mutual friend put us in touch.

Did Sherlock ever tell you about the note?

I added some deductions for Sherlock.
He was quite good.

But he didn't get the big one.

In fairness though,
he does have excellent taste in chips.

- What's that?
- What's what?

The flower in your hair
is like I had on the bus.

You looked very sweet.

But then...

...you have such nice eyes.

Amazing, the times a man
doesn't really look at your face.

Oh, you can hide behind a sexy smile
or a walking cane.

Or just be a therapist, talking about you.

All the time.

Oh, please don't go anywhere, I'm sure
the therapist who actually lives here

wouldn't want blood on the carpet.

Oh, hang on. It's fine.

She's in a sack in the airing cupboard.

- Who are you?
- Isn't it obvious?

Haven't you guessed?

I'm Eurus.

Eurus?

Silly name, isn't it? Greek.
Means the East Wind.

My parents loved silly names.

Like Eurus,

or Mycroft,

or Sherlock.

Oh, look at him.

Didn't it ever occur to you not even once,

that Sherlock's secret brother
might just be Sherlock's secret sister?

Oh.

He's making a funny face.

I think I'll put a hole in it.