Original subtitles

Previously on Elementary:

How much heroin is that?

Oh, it's enough.

British intelligence isn't here to arrest me.

I am British intelligence.

Tell me about Sudomo Han. About three years ago,

when Sherlock was at the height of his drug use,

Han approached him to act as a sort of

confidential courier.

Sherlock took the job?

Unfortunately, what Sherlock didn't realize

was that Han was financing a terrorist plot.

In other words, everything that you did for MI6

was all to protect Sherlock.

Sherrington.

You must be the handler.

I have a case,

I think you'd call it.

Arthur Cadogan West.

Two gunshots to the chest.

Arthur West thought

there was a mole in MI6.

Whoever stole his arms wanted these numbers.

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

Work for us, Sherlock.

Officially.

Permanently.

I'm moving out.

Of? The brownstone.

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

Good God, man.

Sherlock, what are you doing here?!

It's quite simple:

You're being framed...

for murder and treason.

Sherlock.

What part of "you're being frame""

do you not understand?

For treason? For murder?

Arthur West thought there was a mole inside MI6.

Are you saying that the mole is framing Mycroft?

Quite successfully, as it turns out.

Bollocks!

You realized Joan was here

and you manufactured a reason to intervene.

When MI6 asked you to join them,

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

Okay. Back up.

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

Obviously planted by the mole.

Wait, you said my prints were on it.

That's impossible.

I've only ever handled my own weapon.

Fingerprint transference would be child's play

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

then you deserve to be framed.

In my experience,

the best frame-ups tend to terminate

with murder of the "frame-ee""

What are you doing?

Proving a point.

You're car...

I looked it over on the way over here.

It's an impressive vehicle.

I particularly like the remote starter function.

Shall we go now?

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

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

== sync, corrected by Romesh == RiVaL

♪

Make yourselves at home.

Don't touch any of the first editions.

Or Watson.

What is this place?

It was restored and stocked

by one of Ms. Hudson's patrons.

He intended to give it to Columbia,

but apparently, he's got some issues

with the way they teach Greek history.

Anyway, she's looking after it...

while the litigation sorts itself out.

Are you sure we weren't followed?

You know my methods.

Besides...

I think our mole is a force of one.

I saw no evidence that Mycroft's flat

was being monitored.

Which suggests that our traitor is finding it difficult

to stalk my brother whilst holding down his day job.

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

we're ahead of the game.

No one but Sherlock knows

that the fingerprints on the gun were yours.

But that's not true, actually.

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

I also told them I think that

you're the traitor in their midst.

Wh-Why would you...?

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

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

Two, I plan to feign allegiance to MI6,

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

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

That I can convince them

I dislike you enough... to help them

bring you to justice? I shall dig deep.

Where are you going?

The agency's favorite local.

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

Feel free to resume your rutting.

Mr. Holmes, you're late.

Apologies.

It's my first cabal.

Before we go any further,

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

to find my brother as anyone in this room.

May I remind you,

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

Only that he killed Arthur West.

Who was certain enough of a mole's presence

to tattoo both of his arms with evidence.

This evidence.

This... gibberish?

Someone thought that gibberish was important enough

to infiltrate a city morgue

and make off with both of his arms.

Mycroft and I go way back, as you know.

He wasn't one of us,

not exactly, but he did good work.

So, what could have possessed him to turn traitor?

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

He's always exhibited poor judgment

when it comes to the fairer sex,

so perhaps he was seduced into his betrayals.

It's my understanding

he'd taken to bedding your partner.

And while I think it's unlikely

that she is the corrupting influence,

it has become apparent of late

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

If she engages in any suspicious activity,

I will alert you. In the meantime,

I need everything you have on my brother.

I need his files.

I need his records of correspondence...

You don't have clearance.

Data, data, data.

I can not make bricks without clay.

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

but the fact remains...

he is your brother.

You no longer wish my assistance.

Very well.

But you should know--

should I divine Mycroft's whereabouts

by myself, you have my word

the agency will be the first to know.

Well, the good news is

that this place is pretty secure...

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

we're gonna have to get you some food.

"He has no ambition and no energy.

"He will not even go out of his way

"to verify his own solutions.

"He would rather be

"considered wrong...

then go to the trouble of proving himself right."

Something I overheard Sherlock say to my father once.

He was 15.

I can't even picture him at 15.

It hurt...

to be...

"assessed..."

like that.

He knows a lot.

He doesn't know everything.

I could have followed father into business.

I could have...

followed Sherlock into his...

...passions,

but I...

wanted...

...this, I suppose.

You are a success.

You own restaurants all over Europe.

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

Folly.

Obviously.

I should have said no when the agency approached me.

But I remembered what Sherlock said...

and I remembered my father failing to disagree.

And I...

I thought...

I could prove, at least to myself,

that I was...

more than what they thought.

Idiocy.

Took your time.

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

The man who Arthur West thought was an Iranian spy.

The same man he thought was corresponding with the mole.

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

what I don't get is why

you thought you needed to rent a car.

I didn't rent it.

I just needed somewhere to sit.

You broke into this car.

It was the best available vantage point.

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

quite appropriately, angry with Mycroft...

and then, this morning,

I find you in his bed.

So... what changed?

So, how'd it go with MI6?

Poorly.

My assistance is no longer welcome.

Hence my decision to approach this problem

from a different angle. Huh...

Joan Watson meet Julian Afkhami.

His decision to keep late hours has, thus far,

prevented my inspection of his workplace.

But I was able to root around to the basement

beneath the building.

Marion told us Arthur had been monitoring him,

so, naturally, I looked in the telephone junction box

and I found this

spliced into the Azatan Books' line.

What is it?

It's a transmitter.

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

given his obsession with Afkhami,

he seems the most likely culprit.

Okay. So...

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

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

to place calls to the mole?

Well, he obviously thought he'd learned something.

Or have you forgotten about the numbers and letters

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

that don't seem to make any sense.

Yes, of course, I remember-- Shh.

It's time.

Well, you'll never guess what I found

in the stockroom.

Stock.

As far as I can tell, this place is exactly

what it looks like: A bookstore.

You haven't had luck either, huh?

My experience-- diligence is the mother of luck.

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

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

You are angry because I'm moving out.

Not angry. I'm disappointed.

You're still unformed as a detective.

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

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

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

You're like, made of them.

You have been from the beginning.

Or perhaps this was a mistake.

You mean breaking in here?

That surge protector.

It's right next to the register,

the fax, the credit card scanner,

but they're all plugged into this extension cord,

which runs back there.

That's not a protector.

That's a scrambler.

By the looks of it,

it's been here for quite some time.

So, whenever Afkhami wanted to communicate

with anyone related to his spy work,

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

and the scrambler would have prevented Arthur West

or any snoop from making out a single word

of their conversations.

Here.

I don't understand.

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

how did he know there was a mole in MI6?

You know, I believe I know precisely how.

West used that to monitor the calls between

the mole and Afkhami.

Unfortunately, Afkhami used the scrambler that we found

to garble those conversations.

So, all West would have been able to determine

is the meta-data pertaining to each call.

Meta-data? He would have been able to determine

the date and time of each call,

but more crucially,

the location of the caller.

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

These are obviously dates and times,

but how do you get a location from that column?

Well, naturally, the mole would have used disposable phones

to contact Afkhami, but the calls themselves...

would have been routed through the nearest cell phone tower.

Now, every cell phone tower in the world,

has a radio transmitter with its own unique

call signal.

The first letter of each call signal

narrows the location down,

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

originated in the United States, west of the Mississippi.

A "W," is the east.

"G," is our homeland of Great Britain;

you'll see many of the calls originated there.

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

Now, if we can determine who in MI6 called Afkhami

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

we'll have our mole.

Where does the signal, "VNA," originate?

Australia.

The cell phone tower in question is in Sydney.

I was in Sydney January 14, this year.

I was in Rome April 1, 2013...

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

Well, surely, it's not a coincidence.

You've been set up,

because you were in the same locations as the mole.

Think.

Who else was in those locations on those dates?

Your handler Sherrington.

He went to the same places you did.

He's the mole.

He murdered Arthur West and then framed you.

Well, that doesn't make any sense.

Sherrington brought you onto this.

Which suggests that it was his superior,

Sir Walter, who insisted on my involvement.

We must not say anything to Sherrington

which might reveal that we know.

A game of cat-and-mouse is afoot.

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

before he manages to find you.

Sherlock Holmes.

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

about your brother's whereabouts.

Mr. Sherrington.

Frustrating day?

The devil's own.

Your progress?

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

and we think he may have moved some funds

out of their accounts

to finance his escape.

We're tracking the whereabouts of a large withdrawal.

If we follow the money,

hopefully we'll find the man himself.

I'll need the details of that transaction

and any other news as soon as you get it.

Hey. I heard you're working.

I'm considering the dates Afkhami and Sherrington spoke.

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

Okay. So, how do we do that?

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

Your decision to find new lodgings

necessitates the adaptation of my methods.

I need to grow accustomed

to working without your input in the evenings,

and I prefer to begin immediately.

Looks like you had a productive night.

Quite.

A bracing reminder that I can function efficiently

as a lone deductionist,

should the circumstances dictate.

"Computer virus stymied."

British intelligence apparently concocted some malware

and unleashed it on the Iranian government's servers.

It was intended to retard the progress

of their nuclear program,

but an anonymous source

alerted the Iranians to its presence

and they rooted it out before it did any damage,

after the Iranians made the existence of the virus public.

You think Sherrington tipped them off.

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

four days after a conversation between Afkhami and Sherrington.

Three days after a conversation in October, 2013,

a British aid worker, stationed in Tehran,

was arrested for espionage.

Sherrington passed this information to Afkhami

on every call, so these are the results.

There were 20 such conversations.

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

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

have yet to reveal themselves.

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

All of these ripples happened within a week of contact.

There's something I haven't spotted.

Captain Gregson. Good morning.

Yes. Right away.

Is everything okay?

It seems he may have divined

I've been aiding and abetting a fugitive.

Well, don't keep me in suspense.

What information do you have?

The department's in possession of the handgun

used to kill Arthur West.

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

West was a British national.

Detective Bell,

being the exemplary investigator that he is,

spent some time getting in touch

with various departments over there.

The police in Cambridge had a match.

They picked up a college kid with a bag of pot

almost 30 years ago.

His name was Mycroft Holmes.

As it turns out,

that name's all over the department.

Someone blew up a Jaguar the other day.

Belonging to--

would you believe it--

Mycroft Holmes.

So, who have you told about this?

No one.

Yet.

Where's your brother?

And what are his fingerprints doing on a murder weapon?

I assure you

that Mycroft is not a killer.

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

There are certain forces at play here.

There are always "forces at play" with you.

I don't know your brother,

but I do know that he left his fingerprints

at the scene of an execution-style killing.

I'm gonna put out a Finest Message

and a Want Card.

And when I do, there's gonna be

plenty of people that are wondering

why our consultant's brother is wanted for murder.

Who is it?

Tim Sherrington.

Sorry to drop by unannounced.

Uh, could you just give me a minute?

Sorry about that.

Uh, Sherlock's not here right now.

Oh, that's quite all right.

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

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

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

Oh. I won't keep you long.

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

I must admit, Mycroft has disappeared more effectively

than I'd have thought possible.

It's made the investigation a tad frustrating.

So I gather.

From what I understand...

you and Mycroft were involved for a time.

I wondered if you had any personal insights

as to where he might be?

"Insights," um...

I think you're asking the wrong person.

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

Turns out, I know next to nothing

about Mycroft Holmes.

Fair enough.

So, what about your investigation?

Anything worth sharing?

Uh... no major breakthroughs.

Although, we are investigating the possibility

that he purchased some property in the Catskills

under the name of one of his investors.

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

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

I'm sorry, but, uh,

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

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

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

If, indeed...

either one is.

I wonder...

if I were to hold you down

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

would you tell me where you're hiding him?

I've a mind to do it.

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

Not "everyone" in the general sense,

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

I opened up a chat with maybe 15 of them

when you rang the doorbell.

I thought it might come in handy.

I look forward to dealing with

you and the Holmes boys later.

I look forward to seeing you on trial for murder.

Watson!

I'm fine. I'm fine.

I told you that when I called.

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

the very opposite of okay.

Sherrington knows we're onto him.

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

So, it's a good thing I figured out

another piece of the puzzle before he got here.

The communication between him and Afkhami?

You said there were 20 different calls, right?

You found a corresponding ripple effect for all of them

except for the 17th one--

a call that was placed from the mole

to Afkhami in March.

You gonna tell me your breakthrough

or continue to remind me of my own?

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

we could have had this breakthrough together,

not to mention, a lot sooner.

Listen, I think I understand the significance

of the 17th call.

There were repercussions in the days that followed,

they just weren't global; they were local.

Nadir Khadem was found bound and beaten to death

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

just two days after call number 17.

He was Iranian.

Yes. Same as Julian Afkhami.

Detectives who were investigating

thought that he was killed over gambling debts...

but a blog written by a Persian émigré

maintained that his death

was a political assassination.

So he was active in trying to provide unfettered access

to the Internet... for Iranian citizens.

Would have made him a target of the regime.

You think Sherrington helped Afkhami locate Khadem

for the Iranian government.

Then Afkhami passed that information off to the person,

or people, who killed him.

You get that this is a good thing, right?

The crime took place in New York.

Everything else was outside the country.

There's evidence we can look at,

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

I'm still distracted

by the visit you were paid by Mr. Sherrington.

I handled it.

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

Just as you shouldn't have had to

fear for you life several days ago.

If we hadn't been pulled into the vortex

that is my brother's life...

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

Cancer cells don't mean to suffocate healthy ones.

They just do.

So he's a cancer now?

You object to that comparison

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

given Michael's ability to toxify

people, places and things,

I submit his disease's remission

was less miracle and more professional courtesy.

Everything that happened with MI6:

Me being taken, Mycroft being framed...

You keep insisting that it's all his fault,

but it's not.

You played a big part in it too.

Are you sure Sherrington didn't strike you?

Perhaps, about that head?

Sudomo Han.

He hired you once,

back in London.

But you didn't know what he really was.

Sherlock.

Something happened?

Your old friend, the, uh...

handler...

...paid Watson a visit.

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

But he knows that we know.

There will undoubtedly be consequences.

That's not why you're here.

So I know the truth about you.

MI6.

You'd got out and...

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

Joan.

Yeah.

I know you didn't tell her.

You're angry.

I'm just confused.

nothing.

You're my brother.

The connection between my drug use...

and the mistakes I made regarding Sudomo Han

could not be more obvious.

And the program to which I owe my sobriety

dictates that I make an amends.

And at the appropriate juncture...

I shall.

In the meantime...

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

Every last bit of it.

Why did you want me to come to the apartment

that Nadir Khadem was killed in?

Didn't they clean this place months ago?

You recreated the blood spatter with paint.

Why?

They have crime scene photos for that, you know.

Yeah. I've been studying them quite intently.

Something bothers me about the photographs,

but the source of the disconnect eluded me.

So I felt the need to...

immerse myself in the crime scene.

Well, you definitely did that.

Did it work?

Perhaps.

At least, partially.

I now believe the official theory

accrued to the murder of Nadir Khadem

is indeed a canard.

Observe.

If the attacker had struck him repeatedly

with a bat...

blood would have flown off the weapon

as he drew it back for blow

after blow. Where would it have landed?

Hmm. The ceiling.

The ceiling is clean.

So what do you think happened?

I think it's unlikely

that the murder was politically motivated.

It's too sloppy to be an assassination.

So that leaves me in search of a third option.

But it is...

beautiful, isn't it?

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

Not the bloodstains.

The work... which has led us here.

I deciphered the code on West's arms.

You found the murder of Nadir Khadem,

the elusive 17th ripple effect,

I recreate the scene,

and now, here we are,

on the verge of a breakthrough.

Our collaboration works, Watson.

Even when things are less than ideal between us,

it works.

When I look back on the last 18 months,

I often categorize it as a kind of...

grand experiment.

The results of which have demonstrated to me,

much to my surprise,

that I am capable of change.

So I will.

Change.

For you.

For the sake of our partnership.

For the sake of our-our work.

Stay.

You have this kind of...

pull.

Like gravity.

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

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

Me orbiting you.

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

And I will always get pulled along.

It's an exciting way to live,

but there are consequences.

We will work this out.

I know we will.

But I need to get my own place.

Are you okay?

I now know...

how Nadir Khadem was murdered.

Drinking on duty?

Sir Walter wouldn't approve.

Well...

what the old man doesn't know about.

How did you find me?

"Best shepherd's pie in the city."

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

Look, for what it's worth...

I'm sorry.

For...?

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

No.

No, you wouldn't, would you?

It's ungentlemanly.

Just so's you know, it was his idea

to get your brother on the West thing.

The old man's.

After that...

things snowballed.

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

You and Walter,

all the other lords and ladies think your titles

and your money can fix anything.

But some things, some people

are more complicated.

Is that what you are?

Complicated?

I came up in the trenches, mate.

I came up hard.

I'm simple, like a hammer.

But the powers that be at the agency,

they don't favor blokes like me.

There are ceilings, you know.

And so you committed multiple acts of treason.

Makes sense to me.

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

In your pocket. Pointed straight at my heart.

Give me one good reason not to pull the trigger.

Well, I can think of two.

What if Le Milieu knew the truth about you,

about your role in the downfalls

of some of their more powerful members.

You're threatening to burn me?

I die, a letter gets mailed.

Some very angry Frenchmen come looking for you.

Your brother and your bird will want to help.

But you know Le Milieu.

How messy they can be.

Collateral damage and such like.

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

I'll settle up here.

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

And then I'll take you somewhere nice.

Somewhere quiet.

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

I die a traitor and you get away with everything.

Quite an offer.

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

Mate.

Mr. Afkhami, thanks for coming in.

This is an incredible inconvenience.

I had to close my store.

Oh, I'm sorry.

We just got a few questions.

Right this way.

I knew of Nadir Khadem.

The Persian community's a small one,

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

Then you probably know we were investigating his murder.

We've recently discarded the theory

that he was killed by someone he owed money to.

The bloodstains were quite unusual.

I tried to reconcile them with all of the common means

of killing someone, but I couldn't.

Then I tried to reconcile them with all the uncommon means

of killing someone.

The blood patterns are consistent with spatter

that would occur after a thrown object

struck the head of the victim.

We now believe that someone threw projectiles

at Mr. Khadem until he died.

He was stoned to death.

That's... strange.

Yeah.

It's also very, very personal.

Whoever murdered Nadir Khadem had a visceral hatred for him.

Do you recognize those, Mr. Afkhami?

They're various e-mails from Nadir Khadem

to a woman named Yasmin Afkhami.

Your wife.

They're intimate.

The two of them were having an affair.

You obviously had your suspicions.

You asked your contact at MI6

to apply his vast intelligence apparatus to that problem.

Where did you get these?

We've been in touch with your wife.

Turns out

she has some residual anger

over the fact that her husband

brutally murdered her lover.

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

Or you wouldn't have been reasserting

your dominance over her.

You tried to burn the clothes you were wearing

when you did it, but your wife

pulled your undershirt out of the fire.

It has Nadir Khadem's blood on it.

I want a lawyer.

I'm gonna give you a little preview

of what he's gonna tell you.

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

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

He gave us everything you described--

how he recruited Sherrington, how he paid him.

and what they talked about.

Your brother should be in the clear.

Thank you.

A body just landed in the morgue.

British national.

We need to get down there.

Sherrington.

How did this happen?

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

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

reads too clean to be a robbery gone wrong.

Somebody executed him.

Given everything you two just told me,

I have a pretty good idea who had a motive.

Mycroft is not a murderer.

Put out a new Finest Message for Mycroft Holmes.

Tell me you did not murder that man.

I did not murder that man.

But I had a hand.

Explain.

I had a chat with him yesterday.

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

there would be consequences.

He threatened us.

He said there was a letter.

That in the event of his death or

arrest, it would be sent

to certain parties within Le Milieu.

He planned to burn me.

Tell them I was British intelligence.

He also made it very clear that you two

would be caught in the crossfire.

We can take care of ourselves, you know that.

You don't know these men, Sherlock.

Not like I do.

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

Bit of luck, you introducing me to your friends

at the NSA the other week.

Agent McNally?

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

I stored facts; facts which

were as valuable to the National Security Agency

as they were to MI6.

After my talk with Sherrington, I went to them.

I made a deal.

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

More like played him at his own game.

They had their own contacts at Le Milieu,

which I suspected all along.

They made certain parties

in that organization aware of MI6's infiltration.

And, in turn, Le Milieu

made an example of Sherrington.

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

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

just like he wanted them to.

Well, as it turns out, Joan,

I'm already dead.

What're you talking about?

He means the NSA has agreed to fake his demise.

There was an accident

at Diogenes, a little while ago.

A fire broke out in the kitchen.

When the smoke clears,

the body of a man will be found.

A man about my size.

A man in possession

of my personal effects.

The blaze, of course, will disguise the fact

that he's a cadaver.

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

He can't stay in New York.

Nor can he go to London. Or Rome.

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

He needs to disappear.

Probably forever.

I'm so sorry, Joan.

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

you knew that.

I did what I had to do.

Lazy.

Stupid.

Sherlock... Watson's right.

We could fix this. But that would require

hard work... effort.

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

asking your forgiveness.

You are the same self-absorbed sloth...

I love you, brother.

This last year...

...it's been a gift.

Is that a month to month lease, then?

Yes, that's right.

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

Yes, one person.

No pets.

Mr. Holmes.

I was wondering if we might talk for a moment.

I was sorry to hear about your brother.

I assume by now you've been

apprised of the arrest of Julian Afkhami.

He was conspiring with Sherrington, not Mycroft.

Just as I know that Mr. Sherrington

was subsequently murdered.

Good riddance to bad rubbish.

I only wish he'd been slotted

before he got to your brother.

Several days ago,

Mr. Sherrington made me an offer of employment.

He thought I could be of great assistance to MI6.

I'm just curious--

was this the attempt of a criminal

to keep his enemy close,

or was he acting on orders?

It's hard to know now what Sherrington

thought he'd gain from it.

But...

the offer came from me.

Well, in that case,

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

== sync, corrected by Romesh == RiVaL

www.tvsubtitles.net