All language subtitles for Sherlock.2010.S04E02.720p.iP.WEBRip.H.264-RT.The Lying Detective

This programme contains some scenes
which some viewers may find upsetting.

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.

- Er, she's with friends.
- Why?

Can't always cope.

And, er, last night wasn't good.

That'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 OK.

I'm letting my daughter down,
how the hell is that OK?

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've seen my therapist.

Got a new one, seeing her today.

Are you going to tell her about me?

No.

Why not?

- Because 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.
- Hmm.

I'm not here.

You know that, don't you?

OK, 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... 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?

Mr Smith, will you say something
about your property...

Hello.

Mr Smith? Whenever you are ready.

The charity fund...

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, Ivan.

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, er...

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...

...with the memory.

The memory. Yes.

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

I didn't exactly know who you
were going to 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 bloodstreams

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.

Well, 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 round 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,

why, 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.

Can't remember who you were going to kill.

Dear, 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. Hmm?

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.
- Well, you've changed,

you no longer top up your tan
and your roots are showing.

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 OK?

Oh, of course you don't own a
car, you don't need one, do you,

living in isolation, no
human contact, no visitors.

- OK, how do you know that?
- Well, 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 have had a reason.

It'll come back to me.

Presumably you downsized when you...
when you left your job

and maybe when you ended your relationship.

- You can't know that.
- Course I can.

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

For quite some time, in fact.

There, see? It's obvious.

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

I think I just did, didn't I?

I'm sure that was me.

How?

Don't know. Just sort of happens really.

It's like a reflex, I can't stop it.

Coat.

I don't have a coat.

Yes, what I just noticed. I wonder why.

Who are 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, well, I'm very busy at the moment,

I have to drink a cup of tea.

Is "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?
Goodnight, 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, 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 with 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 angle is 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 are 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?

But you're in no 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.

It 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 a 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.

For the past few months it's
been on open display on a wall.

Conclusion? Relationship is over.

The paper's been exposed to steam
in a variety of cooking smells,

so it must have been on
display in the kitchen.

A lot of different spices, you're suicidal,

alone and strapped for cash, yet
you're still cooking to impress.

You're keen, then.

The 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?'

Well, look, the fading pattern
on the paper, it's not much,

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

Now, kitchen noticeboards.

By instinct, you 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.

It'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, cos 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.

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

What plan?

What is it? What... 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.'

It'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 going to 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 going
to 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.

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

OK, I got it wrong, then.

It wasn't on 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 recognised
that tore your world apart?

- OK, 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...

- 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. - Anyone.'

I have a situation that
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.

- He could be!
- Anyone!

Why not? Why shouldn't he be?

Oi, you!

What's the matter with you?!

'Anyone!'

- 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 that!

Kill.

Kill.

- Anyone.
- Anyone.

They're always poor and lonely and strange.

But those are only the ones we catch.

Who do we catch?

Serial killers.

What if you were rich and...

powerful and necessary?

Anyone.

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

MUSIC: Symphony No.9 (Ode
To Joy) by Beethoven

Well, now, won't you introduce me?

Right, you there! Stop right where you are!

- What? Oh, John...
- Mrs Hudson...

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

No, 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?

- Look at the state of you...
- 'My name is Mycroft Holmes.

'I am speaking to you
from the Cabinet Office.'

What's happened?

It's Sherlock!

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

Argh! Right! Argh!

Away! CLATTERING

- I'm out of here! He's lost it.
- Where is it?!

- He's totally gone!
- Aah!

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 of war-proof!

And you, good yeoman,

Whose limbs were made in England,

Show us here

The mettle of your pasture

Which I doubt not

For there is none of you
here so mean and base

That hath not noble lustre 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!

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! - No. - 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 will 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, OK, 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 smackhead, Sherlock Holmes!

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 do 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.

Yes, hello?

Is this Dr John Watson?

Yeah, who's this?

Culverton Smith. You've
probably heard of me.

Um, 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've sent a car, 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,
this monster must be ended,

please remember where you are
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.

And 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.

All right.

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.

Oh, John, calm down. When have
you ever managed two opinions?

You'd fall over.

I need the one person who,

unlike me, learned 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 going to like this.

Like what?

Um, 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!
- OK, a fully equipped ambulance,

Molly can examine me on
the way, it'll save time.

- Ready to go, Molly?
- Um, well...

Just tell me when to cough.

I hope you remembered my coat.

I'm sorry, I didn't know that
you were going to be here.

Absolutely no idea what's going on.

Sherlock's using again.

Oh, God! Um, are... are you sure?

No, it's Sherlock, of course I'm not sure!
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. Yeah, I don't
know anything any more.

- 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, any time,
just ask, anything at all.

Thank you.

Er, sometimes, can I borrow your car?

- No.
- OK.

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.

Well, 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, OK, all right, he is. Agh! But he's our monster.

I'm a killer.

You know I'm a killer.

But did you know I'm a s...

Cut there! What was that?

Was that a light?

Er, 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.
- Oh, clever boy.

I've missed you bumbling round the place.

- I thought this was some kind of...
- What? - Trick.

This is not a trick, it's a plan.

Mr Holmes!

30 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?
- Because 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, er...
we're everywhere!

Mr Holmes, how did Culverton
talk you into this?

Well, he's a detective.
Maybe I just confessed.

Come on.

Now, it's a... it's a new
kind of breakfast cereal.

Mr Holmes, could 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.

And 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.

We should bag that up, sell it.
Make money for that on eBay.

You can make more if you
want, any time 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?

The safest place to hide.

Plain sight.

Mr Holmes?

Culverton wants to know if you're
OK going straight to the hospital?

Hospital?

Culverton's doing a visit. The
kids would love to meet you both.

I think he sort of promised.

Oh, OK.

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 cos 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.
- Oh, please!

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

Oh, no. No, not endless.

Need another hit, do you?

I can wait until the hospital.

Are you involved much?

Sorry?

Um, with Mr Holmes,
Sherlock, in all his cases?

Er, yeah, I'm John Watson.

OK.

Dr Watson.

I love his blog, don't you?

His blog?

- Why, 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, thanks. - 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 tec.

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? - OK.

Drearcliff House, remember that one, John?
One murder, ten suspects.

- Ten, yeah.
- All of them guilty. - Sherlock.

Now, 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 Orang-utan?

You 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 catch a serial killer?

Same way you catch any other killer.

No. Most killers kill someone they know.

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

Um, Mr Smith, I'm just 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.

OK.

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 subnormal.

No, 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,
providing you can delete it.

What's TD 12?

It's a memory inhibitor.

Bliss.

Bliss?

Opt-in ignorance. It 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, 17½ 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 goodbye.

Come along.

The game is on. Do you still miss me?

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

Other than yourself?

HH 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!

OK, everyone.

Five minutes?

Come back in ten.

Saheed...

this time, knock.

How can you do that?

I mean, 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.
Home Secretary was there.

So, your favourite room - the mortuary?

What do you think?

Tough crowd.

Oh, I don't know.

Hmm. I've always found them quite pliable.

- Don't do that!
- She's fine. She's dead.

HH Holmes loved the dead.

He mass-produced them.

Serial killer, active
during the Chicago Fair.

Do 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 want to hide a murder,

if you want to 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, 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.

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... I've miscalculated.

I forgot to factor in the traffic.

19½ 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.

And why would she be here?

You invited her. You sent her a text.

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

Now, let's see if I can recall.

"Faith, I can stand it no longer,
I've confessed to my crimes."

"Please forgive me."

Why 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 see him take the scalpel?
- Nobody saw him.

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? Are you
having one of your jokes?

Who are you?

Who the hell are you?!

It's 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.

Um, well, no. Never been there.

Well, there must have 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?

Well, I thought you two were...
were old friends?

No. We've never met.

Oh, dear. Oh!

Have we?

Sherlock?

So, who came to my flat?

Well, it wasn't me.

No!

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 are you talking to?

What friend?

Anyone.

Oh, no. Oh, no!

'Faith?

'Oh, God!'

Oh, no. Oh, no!

Sherlock?

Sherlock, are you all right?
Sherlock, are you OK?

- Watch him, he's got a knife.
- I've got a what?

You've got a scalpel, you picked it up
from that table! I saw you take it.

I certainly did not!

Look behind his back!

No...

I saw you take it! I saw you!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

Sherlock, do you want to put that down?

Oh, my God!

Stop laughing at me.

- I'm not laughing.
- He's not laughing, Sherlock.

- Stop laughing at me!
- Sherlock!

Oh, Christ! I keep wondering if
we should have 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 want to 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 being
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 is
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? Is it just a bloody game?

Please! Please, please, please, no
violence. Thank you, Dr Watson.

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

Leave him be.

No, it's OK.

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.

And yeah, he's made a terrible mess
of himself, but he's awfully strong.

So, must look on the bright side.

Hm.

Well...

- Parting gift.
- Ah, that's nice.

A walking stick.

Yeah, it was mine, from a long time ago.

Hello? Ward 73.

Oh, er, Dr Watson?

Hm?

It's for you.

Oh.

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's Mrs Hudson?
- She'll be up in a moment.

What are you doing?

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've 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, no, stop.

I detest conversation in the past tense.

You said the fact that you were
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 were 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 all these dreadful
people doing in my house?!

Mrs Hudson, I apologise
for the interruption.

As you know, my brother has embarked on

a programme of self-destruction
remarkable even by his standards,

and I am endeavouring to
find out what triggered it.

- And that's what you're all 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... 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 OK, cos you're 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, no.

He's more emotional, isn't he?

Unsolved case, shoot the wall! Boom, boom!

Unmade breakfast, karate the fridge.

Unanswered question...

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 a detective,

I wouldn't need a new mantel!

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

OK, 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 waking up.

I watched you.

It was quite lovely, in its way.

Take it easy, it's OK.

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, if 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?

Policeman outside, you mean?

Come on, can't you guess?

Secret door.

I built this whole wing.

I kept firing the architects and builders,

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.

HH Holmes.

Murder Castle. But done right.

I have a question for you.
Why are you 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.

If you increased the
dosage four or five times,

toxic shock should shut me
down within about an hour.

Then I restore the settings.

Everyone assumes 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.

I'm 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's 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.

But why do you need to die?

The mortuary, your favourite room.

You talk to the dead.

You make your confession to them.

Sorry, sir, what? What do you mean?

I think the door's 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... or revenge.

I'm not a dark person.

Killing human beings...

...it just makes me...
oh, incredibly happy.

You know, in films, when you see
dead people - pretending to be dead,

and it's just living people lying down?

Well, 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.

But there's always someone
desperate about to go missing,

and no-one wants 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.'

(Please! 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, are you OK?

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? - Yes, 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 OK?
- No, no, of course I'm not OK.

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!

Must be something comforting
about the number three,

people always give up after three.

What? What is it? What?

- You cock!
- Yeah.

- Utter, utter cock.
- Heard you the first time.

- So, how does it open?
- Screw the top.

- Two weeks ago?
- Three.

- I'm that predictable?
- No.

I'm just a cock.

It's funny.

I never realised confessing
would be so enjoyable.

I should have done it sooner.

We'll carry on tomorrow.

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

There's loads more.

Tomorrow.

You know, I am going to be so famous now.

You're already famous.

Yeah, but with this...

...I can break America.

I had, of course, several
other backup plans.

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'd help him,

so that you'd have something
to do, something doctory.

You get that now?

Still a bit troubled by the daughter.

It 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?

Well, sounds about right to me.
Possibly, I'm biased.

Perhaps the drugs opened
certain doors in my mind.

- I'm intrigued.
- 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!

Uh, sorry, it's just, um, you know, Rosie.

Yes, of course, Rosie.

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

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

- Sorry, I... I wasn't thinking of Rosie.
- No problem.

I should, er, 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 OK? JOHN LAUGHS

What, am I...? No, no, I'm not OK.

I'm never going to be OK.

And we'll 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 was her choice, no-one made her do it.

No-one could ever make her do anything.

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, six till ten.
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?

But she's dead.

Ooh, 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-cliched, is he?

John?

- I'm going to make a deduction.
- Oh, OK, that's good.

And if my deduction is right,

- you're going to be honest and tell me, OK?
- OK.

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 have explained
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.

Forgive me, but 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.

There 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.

And that's all it was.

Just texting.

But I wanted more.

And do 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 OK.
- It's not OK.

No...

...but it is what it is.

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

Well, it's your birthday.
Cake is obligatory.

Oh, 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, um...

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... I am. I think I am.

Not all day, not every day, but, 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
immediately 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 meant 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.

But 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,
it's 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?

Huh?

He's making a funny face.

I think I'll put a hole in it.