All language subtitles for Elementary - 2x06 - An Unnatural Arrangement.HDTV.en

I present to you

the human condition in
all its sordid glory.

It's a bunch
of guys in a cell.

We have a finite number
of Friday nights in our lives.

Why are we spending
one of them here?

Because it's
Friday night.

This is when the holding cells
are at their busiest.

You have before you

a gilded opportunity

to sharpen your
deductive prowess.

Each one of these men,

whether they
realize it or not,

is telling you the story
of how he came to be here.

It's written in their
bearing, on their clothing.

So, look at the guy
and then tell you what they did.

There's like 20 people
in here.

You find that
intimidating?

Plaid shirt,
very nervous,

obviously never been
in jail before.

Keeps fiddling with
his wedding ring,

feeling guilty
about something,

probably the hooker
he picked up earlier.

Popped collar--

drunk and
disorderly.

That one's a layup.

Tattoo guy is, uh...

Would you like a hint?
No.

His crime involves a litter
of purebred Yorkshire terriers.

I said I don't want
a hint.

This could take
a while.

I'm gonna get
a coffee.

Do you want?
No.

Hey.

Can you do me next?

Got to warn you,
if you hit "latte""

you're not going to recognize
what comes out.

I just got a coffee, thanks.

I'm Craig Basken.
I work a lot of nights.

Oh. Joan Watson.

You're one of the, uh,
the consultants, right?

Yeah.

You work, uh, with the
guy with the socks.

Listen, um, I know you
guys work the stuff

that Captain Gregson
calls you in on,

but I caught this string of
robberies in the West Village.

Uh, someone's knocking
over falafel carts,

and it's not the
crime of the century

and it shouldn't be
that hard to clear.

But you're stuck.

Yeah, so...

I thought maybe I'd,
uh, I'd hit you up,

get another
perspective.

I hope that's not
too much to ask.

No, no, it's not
a problem.

Sherlock and I would be
happy to take a look.

I said hi to that
guy once, and, uh,

h-he said that I interrupted
his train of thought.

He, uh, called
me a bell-end,

so I was thinking maybe you
could have a look-- just you.

Um, sure, yeah.

Great.

I'll just, uh, grab
the case file.

Okay.

Hi, honey.

It's your mom.

I'm calling again.

Just wondering
if you're gonna call me back

before the end of the semester.

I hope you're having
a great time.

I love you.

Where is your husband?

Where is your husband?

My, my husband--
I, I don't know.

Where is he?

911. What's your emergency?

Yes, a man broke into my house.

He was armed.

I shot him. There's blood.

Is he still there, ma'am?

Are you safe?

I think he's gone.

Okay, he said that he came
for my husband.

You have to make sure
that he's okay.

Where is your husband now?

He's working, I think.

He's with the 11th Precinct.

Your husband's a police officer?

He's the captain there.

His name's Tommy Gregson.

♪ Elementary 2x06 ♪
An Unnatural Arrangement
Original Air Date on October 31, 2013

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

♪

She's back in
the kitchen, Captain.

You're okay.

Are you okay?

Yeah. Yeah.

I was working out in the garage
when I heard the gun go off.

All right, I'm gonna
need you to walk me

through everything
you remember.

Is the captain all right?
Holmes, yeah, he's fine.

He's inside with his wife.
I'm giving 'em a minute.

Hey, I said I'm giving
'em a minute.

All right.

This is Jim Monroe-- he
lives across the street,

got a quick look
at our guy.

James Monroe?

Yes, like the fifth president.

My dad was reading his
biography when I was born.

Anyway, I heard the shots.

I saw a guy wearing a mask
come running out.

He was halfway down the street
by the time I got over here.

Can you describe him?

He took his mask off
while he was running,

but he was almost a
hundred feet away.

His back was to me.
He had dark hair.

Wish I could tell you more.

Sorry to interrupt
your doctrine.

You know there's blood

on the car over here?

Yeah, Cheryl said
she hit the guy.

Doesn't look
like he lost much blood.

He could run,
so maybe she just grazed him.

Bell,

she's ready to talk.

Just seemed
like it happened so fast.

He was already inside

when I came home, and I...

I don't even know how he got in.

You didn't have the alarm on?

He had this mask on.

I can describe it to
a composite artist.

He had a Glock
handgun--

a 21, I think.

He was about six-two,
maybe 170 pounds,

and I would definitely recognize
his voice if I heard it again.

Now, before tonight,
had either of you two noticed

anything odd--
cars you didn't recognize,

anyone who seemed unusually
interested in the captain?

You?

No.

But I'm not living here
at the moment.

For how long?

For about a month.

Mrs. Gregson, your
mother just got here.

Okay.

Now, look, my wife's the
victim here, I'm the target,

so obviously I can't
run point on this case,

so let me be clear: I'm not
running point when I tell you

I want a rush on the prints
and the serology.

If this guy's got
a vendetta against a cop,

there's a good chance
he's in the system.

Captain.

It hardly needs saying,
but Watson and I will devote

our full attention
to this matter.

We might need access
to your files,

personal
and professional.

There's a good chance we'll need

to examine your life
in minute detail.

You don't tend to shed much
light on your private affairs,

so... comfortable with that?

Whatever you need.

Just help Marcus
find this guy.

Did you know that
Captain Gregson

turned down a promotion
that would have made him

the youngest detective
in the NYPD?

He didn't want to work
for Internal Affairs.

He is also,

judging by his e-mails,
surprisingly tolerant

of forwarded videos
of mischievous kittens.

He never talks about
any of these things.

I guess I shouldn't
be surprised. I mean,

none of us even knew
he was separated

until tonight.
I knew.

Had my suspicions,
anyway.

He's been arriving
earlier in the morning,

leaving later, stopped
bringing home-packed lunches.

Well, if you knew, then why
didn't you say something to him?

Well, why would I?

His work hasn't suffered.

If anything, he's been
slightly more focused.

Quite frankly, I'm surprised
it's taken this long

for the captain's marriage
to buckle.

He's an excellent detective.

What does that
have to do with it?

Well, as you know, detection
is a calling, not a job.

Hardly leaves one
with time left over

to sustain the elaborate ruse
of marriage.

Because, of course,
you think marriage

is an elaborate ruse.

There are other ways
to describe it.

An unnatural arrangement
which forces its participants

into an unhealthy monogamy.

An accretion of petty fights
and resentful compromises

which, like
Chinese water torture,

slowly transforms both parties

into howling, neurotic versions
of their former selves.

Yeah.

So, anyway, I found
about 20 cases so far

with perps that
fit the description

that Mrs. Gregson gave us.

So, I'll keep
sifting through,

if you want to take
a look at them.

Mmm, not necessary.
I was fairly certain

that listing
the captain's enemies

via reviewing his casework

was a fool's errand.

Now I'm all but positive.

The kind of criminal

the captain pursues
tends to be

intelligent--
the sort of person who knows

that attacking a policeman
is very bad business indeed.

I believe that we are hunting
for a different class of person.

Someone driven
by sound and fury.

An idiot.

Someone like, for example,
Dustin Bishop.

There was little of interest
in the captain's in-box,

so I took the time
to sift through his...

spam filter.

Now, Mr. Bishop
has been sending the captain...

fan letters,
I suppose you'd call them,

for quite some time now.

They get more intimate
with the passage of time.

More disturbing.

"Hey, buddy,
can I still call you buddy

"even though
you never write back?

"I don't know
what your problem is,

but I know I'm getting upset."

This guy sounds like a stalker.

Mmm. Looks like
just the sort of person

to catch a bullet
during a botched home invasion.

Don't you think?

Good morning, sir.

Morning.

Hello, Captain.

- Morning.
- Hi, sir.

Hey.
Morning, Captain.

Hello.

Please tell me you have
some actual work to talk about.

Yeah. We just heard back
from Latent Prints.

All the prints
on Cheryl's car were hers.

Perp must've had gloves on.
We did get a good

DNA sample from the blood,
but there was no match in CODIS.

I know, not what
we hoped for,

but I got
a detail together,

and Holmes and Watson
are off running down

some Holmes-and-
Watson thing, so...

Mmm.
And I just wanted to say I'm...

I'm sorry about you and Cheryl.

Thanks.

What else?
I caught this case, so I have to be

the one to ask--
you sure there's no way

the separation's connected
to what happened last night?

Come on.

It's a trial separation.

It's... it's no big deal.

Kids are gone from home now,

and everything feels
a little different.

Anyway, Cheryl wants
some time alone;

I'm giving it to her.

That's the whole story.

Thanks.
Okay.

And, uh, I'll let you know when
we have anything, all right?

Dustin Bishop!

Would you open the door, please?

We'd like to talk to you
about your correspondence

with Thomas Gregson.

You hear the
water running?

Yeah.

After you.

He's got a gunshot wound.
He's lost a lot of blood.

Yeah. Thanks.

So, that was
the hospital.

The doctors pulled
a .38-caliber slug

out of Bishop's
right shoulder.

He's stable, but he won't
be awake for a while.

Also, we should get
the preliminary

DNA results back
soon, we'll know

for sure if he's the one
who broke into your house.

We shouldn't waste
time waiting.

The DNA won't be a match.

This guy's got my pictures
all over his wall.

The doctors just took my wife's
bullet out of his shoulder.

I don't believe
it was your wife's bullet.

I believe
that Bishop shot himself.

Surely you noted

the two handguns
in the bathroom.

There was a Glock 21,

same as the assailant carried,

and then there was
the .3volver,

same one used
to shoot the attacker.

Why would Bishop shoot himself?

Well, I think
he intended to confess

to a crime he didn't commit.

Man is clearly
disturbed.

There are antipsychotic
medications

in the bathroom cabinet;
they haven't been refilled

in quite some time.
Two guns, a prescription.

That doesn't mean
Bishop didn't do it.

No, but the fact that he shot himself
in the wrong shoulder does.

The blood on your wife's car
was on the driver's side

window, had to have been
on the left

of the attacker as he fled.

Ergo, the wound was
in his left shoulder.

Bishop shot himself
in the right shoulder.

It's the lab.

Blood's not a match.

It's wrong type.

Look, I know
it's frustrating,

but whoever broke
into your house knows

we're looking for him,
he knows we got

a protective detail
on Cheryl, on you.

He's not getting violent again.

Name is Sam Clennon.

According to the evidence, you
two have a friend in common.

I've never seen
this guy before.

Never even
heard his name.

Are you sure he was killed
by the same man

that threatened Mrs. Gregson?

Sure?
No.

But a security camera
outside Mr. Clennon's

building caught
this around

10:30 last night.

I already showed this to Cheryl.

She's pretty positive
it's the same guy.

And Clennon was shot
with a Glock 21,

just like the gun
she described.

Now, if this is our guy,
and I'm thinking it is,

got to figure this is what he had
in store for you the other night.

Obviously, last night
wasn't the first time

someone tried to kill
Mr. Clennon.

No, he's ex-mil...
Military, yeah.

Shrapnel wounds are a bit
of a giveaway.

As is the sun damage to
his hands and face. Afghanistan?

He was between tours.
Got back a few weeks ago.

There's an old
bullet wound here.

More intrigued
by the stab wound.

Most injuries sustained
by soldiers in the Middle East

are from IED blasts or gunshots.

This man has managed
to get himself stabbed.

Almost quaint.

You're sure you've never seen
this guy before?

Never.
I'm not sure I trust that answer.

Trust it.

Oh, I'm just saying it's
possible there's a connection

between Mr. Clennon and you,
and you don't remember.

This man's death, although unfortunate,
must be viewed as progress.

We now know the killer has an
agenda which is not limited to you.

Watson and I
will continue

to pore over your case files.

If we can find a connection,
maybe we can find the culprit.

Gentlemen.

We done here?

One more thing.

A dog walker in
your neighborhood

called the precinct
a little while ago,

said she'd seen the same
light blue pickup truck

parked in front of your house

on at least two occasions
last week.

Light blue?

No.

Oh, Detective Basken.

Hi.
Hi.

I just wanted to let you know
that it's gonna take me

a few more days before I can dig
into those files,

what with everything happening
with Captain Gregson.

Okay. Um...

uh, Holmes didn't talk to you?

You solved the case
that Basken gave me?

What's a Basken?

Detective Basken.

He asked me to look
into a string of robberies.

I brought the files home
with me yesterday.

Oh, yes.
That Basken.

I refer to most of the
detectives here as "not Bell."

He just told me
that you e-mailed him last night

with the rap sheet of a guy
that you thought

was robbing food vendors
in the West Village.

Basken just picked him up
an hour ago, and he confessed.

I was up late last night
ruminating the captain's case.

The files you're talking about
were in the study,

and I needed a palate cleanser.

A palate cleanser?

The solution presented itself
rather quickly.

Was I supposed to keep it
to myself?

It was my case.
In point of fact, Watson,

it was Detective Basken's case.

You were merely consulting.
As was I.

I didn't ask you
to look into it.

Nor did you ask me not to.
No, I...

We live together,
we work together, Watson.

When it comes
to cases,

there is no "his" or "hers";
there is partnership.

I assist you, you assist me.

What matters is the result.
Or do you disagree?

- It's not about disagreeing...
- Hey, I just got

the contact info
for Sam Clennon's mom.

Thought you might want
to come with me

to make the next of kin
notification,

see if she can point us
toward anyone

who had a problem with her son.

Unless you're in the
middle of something.

No.

We're good.

Hey, guys.

Hot coffee.

Hi. I didn't realize
you'd be stopping by today.

Is everything okay?

Mind if we talk inside?

Sure.

Mikey put on some weight, huh?

He was so skinny
back when he was a uni.

I could've stirred my coffee
with him.

Have you seen
Steven Accorsi lately?

Bell told me someone
saw a light blue pickup

parked in front of our
house a few times.

And I was thinking,
"Hey, wait a minute.

I know someone with
a light blue pickup""

He's a friend.

Always has been.

A friend...

who's suddenly
in the habit

of parking in front
of our house.

He came here twice.
The first time,

I just needed some help
moving some furniture.

And the second?

I made him dinner.

Nothing happened.

Nothing is going to happen.

Steven knows that.

Yeah, well,
maybe he's not the person

I'm having a real
problem with right now.

I'm sorry.

Do you not know the definition
of the word "separated"?

I can have dinner
with whoever I want.

You said all you needed
was some time.

Well, were you under the
impression that I was just going

to be meditating here
like a monk?

You never said anything
about seeing other people.

I said that I wasn't happy.

I suppose I should just, uh,

go out and pick up some...

floozy at a bar.

You want to? Be my guest.

What I want...

is to be with my wife.

Now?

After 28 years of missed dinners
and weekends at the precinct?

Come on.

When did I ever tell you I
wanted to be anything but a cop?

When did I tell you that I was
always gonna be okay with that?

He made it through
three tours in Afghanistan.

He comes back here, where
he's supposed to be safe,

and gets killed
in his own home.

Mrs. Clennon,

we think what happened
to your son may be connected

to a break-in at the home

of a New York Police captain
the other night.

Does the name Thomas Gregson
mean anything to you?

No.

Sam never
mentioned him before?

Never.

Can you think of anyone who
might have wanted to hurt Sam?

No.

Everybody liked him.

Not everyone, obviously.

There was his killer, of course,

but also the person
who stabbed him.

You know about that?
Well, I noticed

the mark this morning.
I-I said to my colleagues

that I thought it might not be
due to his military service.

Would that be correct?

Well, yes and no.

During Sam's last tour,
there was this...

guy who was having trouble
adjusting.

Sam knew how hard deployment
could be, wanted to help, but...

this guy...

Jacob, he was too far gone.

He snapped one day.

He came at Sam with a knife.

Do you remember
Jacob's last name?

Esparza.

Okay, I'll reach out
to the Army, see if we can't get

some current contact info
on Mr. Esparza.

You could try Lieutenant Monroe.

Monroe?

James.

He was Sam's commanding officer
in Afghanistan.

He lives here
in New York.

The fifth president.

We talked to him
outside the captain's house

the other night.

I remember. Buzz cut.

Tattoo on his arm.

Did you get a house number?

What?

Captain, your assistant said
you'd gone to see your wife.

Are you still there?

I'm just leaving. Why?

Your neighbor, James Monroe,
you need to take

your wife's protective detail,
go to his house.

What? Why?

We now know the connection
between you

and the second victim,
Sam Clennon.

Or, rather, we know
that there is no connection.

The killer wasn't after you.

That's not what he told Cheryl.

No, he-he told her
he was after her husband.

Never mentioned you by name.

O'Malley, Grell,
I need you with me.

Sam Clennon served under
James Monroe in Afghanistan.

They knew each other.

More importantly, if you enter

Monroe's address
into "Maps Earth,"

a picture of your house
comes up.

It's quite common, apparently.

Although instead of receiving
something as mundane

as a pizza
ordered by your neighbor...

I got the guy
that was coming to kill him.

We need to locate

Lieutenant Monroe
before the killer

realizes his mistake.

James, it's Tommy Gregson.

I need to speak with you.

You home?

It's important.

The M.E. thought
he was killed last night,

just a few hours
after Sam Clennon.

No prints or DNA found
at the scene,

but those casings
were from a Glock 21.

So you were right.
This was the work of our guy.

Yeah, looks that way.

Now, the good news is, we think
we've identified a suspect.

Name is Jacob Esparza.

He served under
James Monroe in Afghanistan.

So did Sam Clennon.

Height and weight would be in
line with Cheryl's description.

Clennon's mother told us
he was attacked by Esparza

in their barracks
about a year ago.

Clennon took a
knife to the gut.

Now, the incident report

that Lieutenant Monroe wrote up

pretty much sealed
Esparza's fate.

But Esparza says
it was trumped up, and that

Monroe and Clennon had
it in for him for months.

Also, given the fact that he
dropped out of high school

and he barely
passed his GED,

makes him something less
than a Rhodes scholar,

which makes it less surprising

that he broke
into the wrong house.

Hmm. Sorry.

It's Crawford and Gleason.

They just picked up Esparza
at his residence.

Hey, I know
I still can't

take point, but let me know
when they get here.

All right.

You need something?

You, uh... you
glanced at me.

I beg your pardon?

You glanced at me twice
earlier on.

Yeah, I do that
sometimes

when someone's standing
right in front of me.

Yeah, but your glances
were furtive.

I was thinking
about asking you something

after all this is over,

and then I realized
how crazy it was,

so I decided
to keep it to myself.

You know,
people can do that.

Is it something about your wife?

I found out today
that she's seen this guy

that she grew up with
a couple of times.

"A friend."

He's a contractor.

He did some work
on our house over the years.

So you were thinking
of asking me to investigate him?

I was thinking about,
and then I reconsidered,

because like I said,
it was a crazy...

Anyway, it's...
it's probably too late.

She and I... talked.

I don't think
it's gonna work out.

If you should need
someone to talk to, then,

please know I'll, uh...

I'll make Watson
available to you.

You see something
funny, Jacob?

Just thinking.

Even dead, these guys are still
managing to mess with me.

So you admit you
weren't a fan.

No.

You, Jacob, are what we
in law enforcement call

a "cool customer."

It's not exactly
what I expected

given your, uh,
military record.

Yeah, probably 'cause
you believed all that crap

about me cracking up,

right?

There some other reason
you stabbed Sam Clennon?

I proposed to my girl right
before I left for Afghanistan.

Three months into my deployment,
I find out

she's shacked up
with my best friend.

Weren't married yet,
but it still felt like adultery.

So, when I found out that one
of the guys from my unit was

hooking up with a girl
who I knew had a husband

back in the States,
I took that real seriously.

You saying you stabbed Clennon
because he was having an affair?

I called him out
because he was having an affair.

He got physical.

I was just defending myself.

That's not how
this murdered man

described the incident
in his report.

Course he didn't, 'cause Clennon

was the lieutenant's boy.
They were tight.

Can you account
for your whereabouts

the last two nights between the
hours of 8:00 and 11:00 p.m.?

I was home.

Can anyone verify that?

Nah.
If we were to ask you

to take off your shirt, would we
find any fresh bullet wounds?

I look shot to you?

The individual we're looking for
got winged the other night.

You don't have a wound,
you don't have anything

to worry about.

Guess I got nothing
to worry about.

You're conscious. Excellent.
We're going to Queens.

Why are we going
to Queens?

To visit the home wrecked

by home-wrecker
Sam Clennon, of course.

Jacob Esparza gave us
the name of the woman

that Clennon was sleeping with
in Afghanistan.

Elizabeth Roney.
Looked into her.

Turns out, not a fellow soldier,
but an archaeologist overseeing

the excavation of artifacts
from a Buddhist temple.

I'd say that her husband
had motive

to want Clennon dead.
Wouldn't you?

Yeah, but why kill
Lieutenant Monroe, as well?

As I said the other day, Watson,
monogamy is not a natural state.

In Dr. Roney's case, perhaps
one affair was not enough.

Hey! Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey!

Oh, I'm really sorry.

She's, uh,

sort of a man-hater.

Goes crazy every time
some guy walks past the yard.

We weren't walking past,
actually.

We were walking in.

Elizabeth Roney?

Yeah. Beth.

Can I help you?

I'm sorry.

This is just a
lot to take in.

Sam and I weren't together
very long, but still,

it's-it's hard to
believe he's gone.

I'm surprised you didn't hear
about what happened on the news.

I've been overseeing a dig
in Kabul the last few days.

Um, ordinarily, I'd be on site,

but when teaching opportunities
pop up here in New York,

I take advantage
of the technology.

These, um... are
eight and a half hours ahead,

so I've been
keeping odd hours,

pulling a lot of all-nighters.

Is your hus...

Gotham!

Sorry. Like I said,
problems with men.

Hmm. Is your husband around?

We'd like to speak
with him, as well.

Why would you want
to talk to Cameron?

Sam Clennon, the man
that you had an affair with

in Afghanistan,
was found dead, murdered

in his home two nights ago.

If you were me, wouldn't you
want to speak with your husband?

Okay, there's been
some confusion.

Yes, Sam and I were involved,
but it wasn't an affair.

Not by a long shot.

What do you mean?

When we met, I was
excavating a site

in Afghanistan called Mes Aynak.

Sam's unit was assigned
as a security detail.

Before I left the states,
Cameron and I were already

halfway through
divorce proceedings.

Yeah, technically,
we were married,

but we weren't
a couple.

Cameron moved to Arizona
to be with his new girlfriend,

and I went to Mes Aynak.

Now that I'm back,
I'm even mailing him

some of his
old stuff.

Were you ever
romantically involved

with Lieutenant James Monroe?

No.

Why would you ask me that?

Look, I wish I could tell you
Cameron was

some nut or bad person,
but he wasn't.

Even if he knew about Sam--
which he didn't--

he would not have hurt him.

I found the case file
that Detective Basken gave me

right outside my room.

I put it there.

Any particular reason?

You seemed miffed
that I'd solved it.

I thought, for
your own training,

you might want to
review the file,

see if the answer
presents itself.

I don't want to solve it now.

I wanted to solve it
when it was unsolved.

And I was only miffed
because I didn't have

a chance to...
to figure it out on my own.

As I explained, the essence of
our arrangement is partnership.

Partnership implies equality.

I'm good at this.
We both know that.

You've been solving cases
since you were a kid.

I've got some catching up to do.

It takes, what, 10,000 hours
to master a skill?

This file was an opportunity
for me to put some time in.

Now it's not.
Okay, I don't want busywork,

thank you very much.
I want to be useful.

But you're meditating,
apparently.

I'm learning everything
I can about Mes Aynak.

Oh, that's the site
where Beth Roney worked

with those
two victims, right?

Jacob Esparza
was stationed there, too.

It seems to be a crossroads
in this particular puzzle.

Fascinating place.

The remains of several ancient
Buddhist settlements sit atop

the world's second largest

copper deposit.

Six years ago, a Chinese company
was granted a lease

to mine the copper,
but they can only do so

once the site is razed.

They're just going
to destroy it?

Well, they would
if they had their way.

But the plans incurred quite
a bit of negative press,

in response to which

the Afghan government
set up a rapid excavation.

The mining is currently
on hold until 2014.

Anything which is not
carefully removed before then

will be lost forever.

But they're beautiful.

Not beautiful
enough, apparently,

to delay access
to the world's

second largest
copper deposit.

James Monroe
and Sam Clennon

were part of the unit
which was assigned

to provide security
for the dig,

a hastily-assembled
excavation

of priceless artifacts.

Corners were cut.

You think they stole
from the site?

I'm casting about for motive

where it's proven
difficult to come by.

Was anything reported stolen?
No.

Which could mean

that the robbery
was a phenomenal success.

Or that it never happened.

Watson, you attempted
to work through the night.

Excellent.
Hmm. Did you sleep?

In brief intervals.

Tea, Tibetan fried bread.

And the answer
we're looking for.

What is this?

It is a list of every artifact

catalogued
at Mes Aynak thus far.

The site contains
nine different temples.

They've excavated seven.

In each of those temples,

they have found
a carved votive bowl

common to Buddhist temples.

Unique to copper-rich Mes Aynak,

the bowls are adorned
with green copper ornamentation.

Hmm. Interesting.

Not the answer I was looking
for, but interesting.

They have found a bowl
in each of the temples

they've excavated,
except for the last one.

The one overseen
by Monroe and Clennon.

In that dig,
there's no bowl.

It was thought lost
to plunder or time or shelling,

but I believe
it was stolen.

Here is a picture
of one of the bowls

recovered at the site.

Beth Roney had a bowl

just like this
in her office yesterday.

She was working
with Monroe and Clennon.

She prevented it from
being catalogued, and then she

got it into their hands
so they could remove it

from the site.
Okay, why would she steal an artifact

and then just leave it
out in the open?

No one even knows
it's missing.

She obviously felt
confident enough to hide it

amongst other souvenirs
from her excavations.

She isn't working alone.

We know that a man
committed the murder,

so she and her partner
are simply eliminating

the other profit participants.

Eat.

Detective Bell is procuring
a search warrant.

Once we've retrieved the bowl,
it should be simple enough

to compel Dr. Roney to turn
on her accomplice, and then

we'll have to decide what to do
with the rest of our afternoon.

This is absurd.

I'm a scientist.

I don't steal
from my digs.

It was sitting
right here.

We got a warrant. We'll turn
this place upside down.

I doubt they'll
find anything.

She hid it somewhere
after our visit yesterday.

I hope not--
'cause if she did,

we got nothing on her.

We searched her place
from top to bottom.

There's no trace
of the bowl

we think she stole
from the Afghan temple.

Well, it was at her
house yesterday.

Sherlock and I
both saw it.

Well, Ms. Roney says
they're mistaken,

and that she had nothing
to do with the murders

of Clennon or Monroe.

Obviously, our
visit spooked her.

She must have passed
the artifact off

to her co conspirator.

We could check
her cell activity,

see which towers
carried her signal.

That way we'd have
a rough idea where she went.

She spent all night
on two videoconference calls.

15 archaeologists
on two different continents

confirm she wasn't

away from her computer
longer than five minutes.

In all likelihood, her
accomplice came to her,

removed the bowl and all
other incriminating evidence.

Yeah, well, without proof,
we don't have much choice.

We have to let her go.

I'm giving up on meditation.

Because we haven't figured out

who Beth Roney's partner is yet?

We've only been at it
for a couple of hours.

We can't even find
any suspects to evaluate.

She seems to have no boyfriend,
no close friends.

To put a finer point on it:
no friends of any sort.

Her every waking hour
is occupied by work.

Mmm, wonder what
that's like.

Where'd that come from?

Oh. The attic.

It's for you.

It is without doubt my most
loathed article of furniture.

I'm touched.

I was thinking about
what you said yesterday

about wanting
to improve yourself.

I support the instinct.

But when it comes
to investigation,

I cannot restrict myself
to your current pace.

And the trunk
is gonna help me how?

Inside, you
will find files

on several cold cases.

My cold cases.

They are the handful
of mysteries

in all of my career

which have eluded
my powers of deduction.

So the next time
you wish to hone your skills

on a solo venture,
I encourage you to peruse them.

I've already given them my all.

Mmm. So there's little risk
that I will arrive

at a solution before you.
(soft chuckle)

You might even succeed
where I have failed.

Thanks.

Anyway...

these are Detective
Bell's canvass reports.

Useless.

None of Dr. Roney's
neighbors heard or saw

anyone approaching her house
between our two visits.

No one heard anything--

but her partner was there.

Her partner
who we know is a man.

You want to get your dog

under control?
No.

I don't.
You're not welcome here.

None of you are.

Well, you
can do it,

or Officer Dunn here can.

It's your choice.

Gotham!

Come on.

So, let me guess.

You have another warrant?

We do-- only this one
is of the "arrest" variety.

- What?
- We've identified

the man who shot
Sam Clennon and James Monroe.

Your ex-husband,
Cameron Hecht.

We had the right man the
other day, just wrong motive.

He didn't kill your old
partners because of some tryst;

he killed them because
he was your new partner.

That's insane.

I told you, we got divorced

over a year ago.

And then you reconciled.

According to him,
at least.

- You talked to Cameron?
- At great length.

You told us he was in Arizona,
but a quick check

of his recent
credit card activity

revealed he was,
in fact, in New York.

He had much the same
look on his face

when we knocked on his
hotel room door last night.

As soon as
we made it clear

how it simple it was
to compare his DNA

to the blood droplets
he left at the captain's house,

he rolled on you.
He told us about

the bowl you stole
and a few other artifacts,

how you thought
you could get

over a million dollars
for them.

How did we think to
look for him, you ask?

Well, you have your femi-Nazi
hound to thank for that.

Your neighbors didn't recall

hearing anything unusual
between our two visits,

including the barking
of your dog.

Curious. We know that
your partner was a man,

and that he'd managed
to get in and out

of your home without
upsetting her.

So was it someone that she
had grown used to over time,

or was it someone that she'd
simply never forgotten?

Beth Roney,

you have the right
to remain silent.

Anything you say

can and will be used
against you in a court of law.

Come in.

What's that?

Background check
on Steven Accorsi.

I never gave you his name.

You told me
that he was

a contractor who'd done
some work on your home,

so I looked at some building
permits that had been issued...

I told you I didn't want you
doing anything about it.

Well, I wanted to help.

Aside from a few
unpaid parking tickets,

your wife's suitor appears to be

above board. Sorry if that's
not what you wanted to hear.

No, you keep that.

I... I don't want it.

Hmm. Your wife is aware that
you didn't like him, correct?

Your feelings were...
clear to her?

Only for the last
30 years, yeah.

Why?

Well, it's just...
interesting, out of...

all the men she
could have entertained,

she chose the one most likely
to elicit a reaction from you.

Maybe she thought I deserved it.

Mmm. Pictures
of you around the house,

it's odd that they're
still on display. No?

Well, we haven't told the kids
about the separation yet.

She's just...
keeping up appearances.

You should know, Captain,
I usually cheer

the end of any marriage.

As an institution, I think
it's outlasted its usefulness

by quite a large...

margin.
Huh.

And yet I've come to appreciate
the premise of partnership.

It's far more intricate
than I had previously imagined.

The very smallest gesture
can speak volumes.

You're telling me
not to give up?

I'm telling you,
you should never have entered

into the charade
that is wedded matrimony.

You had a partner.

Perhaps you still do.

Hi.

Who's this?

Hi!

Her name's Gotham.

Her owner's gonna
be away for a while.

But I got to warn you,

she's got a thing
about strange men.

I had to give her
half a roast beef sandwich

to get her in the car.

Oh, doesn't like strange
men-- now I get it.

Hi.

I wanted you to know that...

...I understand that this
separation isn't just some...

waiting period.

I put you in second
position for too long.

And you deserve better.

So I'm gonna work
to give it to you.

I'm not gonna push.

You need space.

I respect that.

But I'm not gonna
throw in the towel.

You take this time,

do what you got to do,

and I'll take it, too.

Figure out what
I can do better.

Thank you.

Good night, sweetheart.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man