Original subtitles

Previously on Elementary...

You remember Kitty.

Kitty, oh, my God. What are you doing here?

It's not Margaret I wanted you to meet.

This is Archie, my son.

His name's Eli Kotite.

About three and a half years ago,

he struck a jogger with his car and then fled the scene.

The barrister who defended him

committed suicide.

Couple of weeks later,

the magistrate who presided over the trial

was killed in a car accident.

Then, three days ago,

Cy Durning, who prosecuted him,

dropped dead of an apparent heart attack in New Jersey.

You think that this guy Kotite killed three people

and then managed to make it look like something else each time?

After we prove Kotite's guilty, I'm quitting.

I just don't know how Sherlock's gonna take it.

I had nothing to do with those murders.

You agree the deaths were not divine providence?

I do.

I think I may even know who's behind them.

I'm Anson Gephardt. I work for the Defense Intelligence Agency.

I'm here to place you under arrest.

Your clock's broken, Mr. Gephardt.

That is what I'm supposed to call you, isn't it?

It is my name.

Well, you work for Defense Intelligence.

I-I just thought that, um, an agency that makes

the CIA look like the model of transparency

might've furnished you with an alias.

Mm. Once upon a time.

I'm just an analyst now.

You're guilty of at least two murders here in the States,

and I think you might be responsible for two in London.

All of your victims are connected

to the 2014 trial of Eli Kotite.

So, why-why kill them now?

Take a look around, Mr. Holmes.

Anything jump out?

Well, as I mentioned, there's the clock.

It ticks off a full hour every 44 minutes.

Sitting here

in the precise center of the room

means all of my words echo.

The corners in the floors have been painted

in such a way as to warp perspective,

and this water-- it's clean,

but a benign, bitter flavorant has been added

to provoke paranoia.

You're every bit as perceptive as they say.

So I wonder,

do you really think you're here to question me?

Force of habit, interrogating murderers.

You know what they say.

The best defense is a good offense.

Only there is no defense for what I could do to you.

Getting that idea

into that big brain of yours, that's why you're here.

Is that true, gentlemen?

You've given your man carte Blanche to...

See? Nobody's watching.

Nobody's listening either.

You can trust me on that because if they were,

I probably wouldn't admit to you

that you're exactly right about what I've done.

But as I was saying,

I didn't bring you here to kill you.

Well, I'd really like to get going,

so do you think you could hasten to deliver your message?

Your investigation

into the Kotite murders, it's got to stop.

You're meddling in matters of national security.

You'll have to be a little more specific.

At least four people have been murdered,

and I'm not one for vague assurances

from the intelligence community.

Hmm.

Well, you'll make an exception this time.

Or I can be number five?

I don't make unnecessary bodies.

In your case, I can just walk into a FISA court.

You'll tie me to my father.

Mm-hmm.

Morland Holmes is a busy man.

Smuggling uranium ore out of Kazakhstan,

bribing regulators in Manila.

Recently, he's taken some sort of interest

in the Hans Tausen ice cap.

I doubt you know any of his business.

But that doesn't mean you can't be made a permanent guest

in one of our less comfortable facilities.

And you can rest assured, the playbook there goes

quite a bit further than scented water and echoes.

Well, that's it, then.

You're not gonna answer for your crimes.

The past is past, Mr. Holmes.

I'd urge you to think about your future.

Are you okay?

Uh, yeah.

I'm, uh, I'm famished and I'm parched,

and I need the facilities in the worst way.

But you got all your fingernails.

I take it you and Kitty weren't rumbled?

No, I checked her and the baby into a hotel last night.

Nobody came for us. So what happened last night?

I mean, who the hell snatches someone from their home

and then just dumps them in broad daylight like this?

Agents of the American government.

But you'll be pleased to hear all but one of them

were acting in good faith on bad information.

Up until now,

I hadn't been hurt at all during this ordeal.

Could you just gnaw it off?

Okay. So you said “all but one”?

I met our killer. His name is Anson Gephardt,

and apparently he's quite senior

at the Defense Intelligence Agency.

You think he's guilty because he matches your sketch?

I think he's guilty because he confessed to the murders.

He also said that if we continue to press,

he will link me to my father's latest misdeeds,

amongst other degradations.

So now what?

An American spy has a murderous obsession

with a three-year-old vehicular homicide

which took place in London; so after I use the toilet,

I'm going to ignore his instructions,

and I'm gonna find out why.

♪ Elementary 5x16 ♪ Fidelity Original Air Date on March 12, 2017

== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man

Watson?

Watson, I got your text!

Hey.

Either your taste in music has really changed,

or you think this place is bugged.

I just finished my second sweep.

And?

It's all clear.

Made this himself, did he?

Can you believe that's volume three of six?

Right. Now that you're sure no one's listening,

do you want to tell me why the U.S. government

declared war on you last night?

I don't get it. What does an American

intelligence officer care about

a British vehicular manslaughter case from three years ago?

Why kill four people over it?

Well, that's what Sherlock is trying to figure out.

He went down to the precinct a few hours ago,

just in case our walls had ears.

Unfortunately, we have not been able

to find out a lot about Anson Gephardt,

except that he is a Middle Eastern affairs analyst

and has strong feelings about Iran.

Good ones or bad?

We were able to track down

an intelligence report he wrote.

He called their government-- and I'm quoting here--

“The most evil regime in existence.”

Bad, then.

Oh, we didn't get to talk last night

about Sherlock meeting Archie. How'd it go?

We were interrupted when Eli Kotite called.

Sherlock left to meet him straightaway.

So you didn't get to tell him you were quitting.

That's okay. I mean, there's no rush, right?

What did Sherlock think about Archie?

He didn't say.

But he looked like I'd just brought

a ten-pound spider into his home.

Come on.

Ten-pound spider, Watson.

Look, Sherlock is a grouch, okay?

Nobody knows that better than me.

You were nervous about telling him

about everything else, so you read into it.

Of course he's happy for you.

Well, I'm gonna take your word on that,

because Archie and Margaret and I suddenly find ourselves

in need of a place to stay.

The owners of the house I rented

saw the damage that you and Margaret did.

They want us out.

It's Sherlock.

He wants us to meet him at the precinct.

I've got good news.

Do tell.

After a thorough reexamination of Eli Kotite's London trial,

there were no surprises; everything was exactly

as you and I thought it was

three years ago.

An American civilian struck a British civilian with his car.

We did not accidentally send an innocent man to prison

for a crime which was really committed by the DIA.

Also, as far as I was able to discern,

none of the recent murder victims have any ties

to the DIA or any similar groups around the globe.

So, in other words, you don't have anything.

No. I have a theory.

Neither the facts of Kotite's case

nor the outcome of his trial seem to be a motivating factor

in the deaths here

or in London.

So what remains?

The players.

The magistrate, the defendant,

the defense attorney, the prosecutor.

The time they spent together in a London court.

What if something occurred over the course of Kotite's trial

which made them all witnesses?

Something unrelated to Kotite's prosecution,

but very related to the activities

of a clandestine group like the DIA?

Like what?

Perhaps they were all in the same corridor

when an operative paid off a magistrate in another trial.

Perhaps the agency committed one of their murders

that don't look like murders under everyone's noses.

The possibilities, I'm afraid,

are endless.

But the gist is this: Kotite and the others

were in the wrong place at the wrong time,

seeing or hearing something which, three years hence,

required their assassinations.

Okay, so, short of building a time machine,

how do we figure out what that something might be?

I've reached out to some friends at Scotland Yard,

asked them to dig up records of what was going on

in and around the court at the time of Kotite's trial.

In the meantime, I suggest we approach

one of the two local parties

which might be able to shed some light.

I'm guessing Cy Durning's widow is one of them. Who's the other?

Farrell & Putnam, the so-called “Death Star” law firm

which Kotite hired to defend him.

They've got offices all over the world,

including here in New York.

So, while I pop in on them,

you and Kitty go and visit the widow Durning.

This is her address.

Why don't you take Kitty?

I know you two have a lot to catch up on.

I'm surprised we got a meeting

with the managing partner so easily.

Well, I didn't identify myself

as Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective,

but rather Sherlock Holmes, son of Morland.

He and a firm like this could do great, evil things together.

About last night...

He is beautiful.

Your son.

Archibald.

Very happy for you.

Thank you.

I suppose you'll be getting out

of the detecting game.

I'd ask you how you knew that, but you're you.

You wouldn't be the first person to shift priorities

after parenthood.

Y-You're not disappointed?

Do I look disappointed?

No.

No, you look angry.

Mr. Holmes?

Mr. Garber will see you now.

So, if I'm following you,

you think four people connected to Eli Kotite's trial in London,

including Mr. Kotite himself,

have been murdered by a government agency?

Well, when you put it like that, it does sound quite mad.

Is there any other way to put it?

No, there isn't.

I'm sorry.

There's no way I can give you the files you're looking for.

Anything and everything we have that pertains

to Mr. Kotite's trial

is protected by attorney-client privilege.

He's dead now, as is the man who defended him,

Tom Saunders-- your colleague, your partner at this firm.

Two months ago, his daughter found him

in his kitchen in Mayfair

with a gun in his hand and his brains on the wall.

Now, if we're right and someone else pulled the trigger,

don't you want to see justice done on his behalf?

Tom Saunders was a hell of a lot more

than my colleague, okay? He was my friend.

But this theory of yours, you don't have any proof.

You don't find it the least bit odd

that someone dug up one of the victim's bodies

and set fire to it the other day?

Actually, I find it incredibly odd.

Then give us the files we want.

I swear to God,

if Tom weren't dead, I'd think he came up with all this.

Now, what do you mean by that?

He was a paranoid schizophrenic.

That didn't come up in any of our research.

Well, of course it didn't.

It was a best kept secret at the firm.

When he was on his meds, he was one of

the finest legal minds on the planet.

When he was off them...

well, let's just say he was prone to outbursts.

What kind of outbursts?

Ranting, raving.

“The Russians are talking to me through my television.”

That sort of thing.

I'm telling you, when he wasn't taking care of himself,

he was capable of anything.

Including putting a gun in his mouth

and pulling the trigger.

Sorry.

I want to be helpful, but Cy prosecuted so many cases.

The Kotite trial was big.

People in England followed it very closely.

And while that was them,

Cy was Cy.

He didn't like to bring his work home with him.

Well, did he ever mention anything out of the ordinary?

To the best of my recollection, no.

But remember, Cy was British.

A pack of wild dogs could've run right through the courtroom,

and he might've kept it to himself.

You said you think he might have been killed

because of something he saw or heard

around the courthouse back then.

Mm-hmm.

Whatever it was, do you think it might have happened

during the trial itself?

Uh, the proceedings, I mean. Inside the courtroom.

Sure, it's possible.

There's something you should see.

A few years ago, when Cy and I first started talking

about retirement-- please-- he was apprehensive.

He knew it was the right time,

but he was worried that he'd go stir-crazy.

So he decided to write a book.

Cut to the big day.

He hangs up his wig, moves to New Jersey,

we settle in here, and to his utter shock,

he likes retirement.

Whole book thing falls away.

It was gonna be a “how to” about opening and closing arguments.

Composing the right one for the right jury,

delivering it effectively.

He wanted to write from experience.

So, in his last few years as a prosecutor,

he started recording all of his court appearances

on microcassette.

It's not entirely legal,

in case you're wondering.

These are the tapes of his prosecution of Eli Kotite.

Would you like to listen to them?

Oh.

I think... I think

this one is dead.

Actually, they're all dead.

Sherlock uses that to recreate crime scenes.

This one Archie's playing with drowned in the bathtub.

And this one

in the kitchen dined on arsenic.

That mess on the floor is doll vomit.

Hey.

Where's Sherlock?

He's gone back to the precinct

to get what he's working on.

Is there something wrong?

Where did you get that from?

A trunk in the guest room. Why?

No reason.

There's just, like, a 50/50 chance

that's a Victorian sex toy.

Ooh, ooh.

Come on, you've got to hear this.

So the next voice you're gonna hear is Tom Saunders.

He's the attorney who defended Eli Kotite.

No. I object, My Lord.

To what, Mr. Saunders?

Mr. Saunders, you said you object.

- I do, to all of it. - “All of it”?

The snail's pace of these proceedings,

for one thing. My client, Mr. Kotite,

is a busy man; he deserves better.

- Mr. Saunders... - My Lord,

the government's case is packed to the gills

with second hand whispers and hearsay.

That might be less objectionable

if they had the first clue who to listen to.

Maybe then, they would know about the Chinese astronauts

watching us through our phones; they'd know you can't flush

50 pounds of cyclonite down the oldest toilet in Caracas

and expect Venezuelan democracy to survive.

And you yourself, My Lord, might know how much gold

is buried under the Great Pyramid of Giza

if you would just listen to the voices that are all around...

We spoke to a colleague of Saunders today.

He said that Saunders suffered from schizophrenia.

Obviously, he was off his meds the day this was recorded.

Okay, so we can prove now that Saunders wasn't a well man.

How does that help us?

All those theories he rattled off--

Chinese astronauts, cyclonite,

the Great Pyramid of Giza. Yeah?

I'm pretty sure one of them is true.

I think that's why the DIA's

been going around killing people.

...they would know about the Chinese astronauts

watching us through our phones.

They'd know you can't flush 50 pounds of cyclonite

down the oldest toilet in Caracas

and expect Venezuelan democracy to survive.

And you yourself, My Lord, might know how much gold

is buried under the Great Pyramid of Giza

if you would just listen to the voices that are all around us!

- Mr. Saunders... - Clearly, the attorney

we spoke to was right; his friend was a nutter.

And yet...

Something he just said has to be worth killing over,

- because listen... - My Lord,

- I will be heard! - That's it.

We're adjourned for the day.

Ms. Perth, are you all right?

That's Cheryl Perth he's checking on.

She was a substitute stenographer at the courthouse.

I went over all the tapes from the trial.

Now, every day but this one,

when the magistrate wanted the transcript read back,

he asked a stenographer named Donna Reiter.

But she was out sick the day Saunders went off the rails.

Look at this.

It ran in a British paper three weeks ago.

“Cheryl Perth,

“beloved wife and mother, died Sunday in Glastonbury,

the victim of a sudden stroke.”

Meanwhile, Donna Reiter is alive and well.

Cheryl Perth filled in the one day

Saunders spilled a secret worth killing over.

We're lucky that

Saunders melted down during a pre-trial hearing.

If there had been a jury, they'd all be dead, too.

I know it sounds crazy,

but something about Chinese astronauts,

Venezuelan toilet bombs,

or gold under the pyramids

has gotten everyone killed.

We just have to figure out what it was.

That's no mystery.

It was the Venezuelan toilet bomb.

“Library Blast Kills 36 in Caracas

on Eve of Election.”

You can be forgiven for missing this story.

We were working around the clock to prove Kotite's guilt

when this bomb detonated

two days ago.

He clearly heard about it, though.

You think that's why Kotite called you the other night.

He realized why everyone from his trial was dying.

It says here that the president of Venezuela

was at a gala in the historic National Library Building

when 50 pounds of cyclonite leveled half the place.

Tom Saunders was raving about that exact kind

and amount of explosive three years ago.

“The blast is thought to have originated in a men's restroom”"

What was it

that Saunders said?

“The oldest toilet in Caracas.”

I can't vouch for the age of the toilet,

but I will defer to the schizophrenic who's been right

about absolutely everything else.

Almost makes me want to dig for gold in Giza.

Somehow, he knew

about a bombing three years before it happened.

He was raving about it during Eli Kotite's trial,

which sealed the fates of everyone who heard him.

The murders that happened here

in the U.S. and in England were part of a cover-up.

Kotite rang

two hours after the news of this hit the wire.

Five minutes later, he hit the roof of his van.

If he hadn't done,

we'd have been much further up the field days ago.

Okay, I have, like, 900 questions,

but I'll start with the big one.

What does this have to do with Anson Gephardt?

This looks like more of his handiwork.

The bombing can best be described

as a bloody piece of political theater.

As Kitty mentioned, the president

of Venezuela was almost included in the body count.

Emphasis on “almost.”

You think he was in on it?

Tom Saunders said that this bomb would

“destroy democracy in Venezuela.”

In a way, he was right.

Look.

The failed attempt on the president's life

swung the polls.

He's been unpopular for years.

You think he won reelection thanks to the sympathy vote?

It didn't hurt.

And it also helped that he could blame the bombing

on his competitor.

The cyclonite was

traced to Colombian rebels who support the opposition.

All right, I'm convinced. I'm also utterly flummoxed.

How the hell did a London barrister

know about a fake assassination attempt

in Venezuela three years before it happened?

Saunders was based

in London, but his law firm,

Farrell & Putnam, are a global concern.

They represent corporations all over the world.

So?

Anson Gephardt clearly went rogue a long time ago.

He couldn't use proper DIA channels

to influence this election,

so I submit that he persuaded

one of Saunders' corporate clients to help him.

Why does a Middle Eastern

affairs analyst care about Venezuela?

That's a good question, but it's not the question.

I'd like to know which of Farrell & Putnam's clients

was so keen to keep President Orozco in power

that they decided to grease the skids with blood.

What's your plan? You gonna go knocking

on the doors of CEOs of Fortune 500 companies,

asking if they were accessories to mass murder?

We're gonna darken one doorway, and there won't be any knocking.

Anything promising back there?

I had high hopes

for the two energy firms, but to be honest,

it looks like they'd both benefit

from a regime change in Venezuela.

I kind of doubt they're the ones working with Gephardt.

My money was on Taradex Chemical.

Their, uh, contracts certainly reinforce the impression

that they are an evil squid with their arms wrapped tightly

around the globe, but alas, no ties to Caracas.

Some early riser is gonna wander in here soon.

Why don't you move on to food processing giants

and I'll look at the airlines?

So I heard you and Kitty talked.

We did.

What?

Well, she told me you seemed unhappy.

I had a hard time believing that, but now I don't.

You want to tell me what gives?

Nothing gives.

Really?

Gosh, you're all the same.

What, women?

Protégés.

You're leaving?

Oh, yeah.

Uh, found what we're looking for.

Margaret was right.

You went out for groceries at 5:00 in the morning.

Archie's ready to try solids.

All you had in the fridge was Bismarck herring.

Oh, that'd put hairs on his chest.

You should see this.

Actually, there's something you should see first.

We have some admirers.

There's a couple of buzz cuts camped out

in a blue SUV down the block.

Yeah, we saw them, too,

coming back from our errand.

You have to wonder what Gephardt is telling his bosses

so he can get DIA resources

to monitor us.

It's a bit creepy, isn't it?

Trying to solve a mess of murder

under the watch of the killer's henchmen.

Indeed. If Gephardt doesn't land in a cell soon,

I expect I will.

You said you had something to show me.

Have you found which of Farrell & Putnam's

corporate clients was in on the Venezuela plot?

Yes. None of them.

This is a draft of an import agreement.

Bronco Foods striking a deal to buy cocoa by the ton.

But take a look at the handwritten note in the margin.

“Revise in light of 3/12/17.”

That's the date of the bombing in Caracas.

On a contract signed three years ago.

So whichever lawyer signed this knew as much as Tom Saunders

about what Gephardt was planning.

It's not often the person we're looking for

literally signs his work, but Sydney Garber did.

Take a close look at the threes.

Perfect match.

Well, that explains why he was so quick

to dismiss the idea that Saunders was murdered.

Yes, but it doesn't explain why a rogue DIA analyst

was in cahoots with two white-shoe attorneys

in the first place.

Hoping Mr. Garber will be more forthcoming on that topic today.

Somehow I doubt he'll be as eager

to meet us as yesterday.

You two will manage.

What, you're not coming?

I would love to, but that would be

tipping our hand to the two stooges watching our front door.

Before you go and see Garber,

I will let them tail me to New Haven.

There's a Pride parade there today.

If I hurry, my two new friends and I could march in it.

If Watkins is handling that brief,

it's gonna need a rewrite.

Make sure you're looking over his shoulder.

Uh, thanks, Jonathan.

I'll call after lunch if I need anything else.

This is a surprise, Ms. Winter. Who's your friend?

Joan Watson.

She's here to make sure I don't beat you too soundly

if you lie to me again.

You sound confused.

I'd be happy to set you straight, but I don't have

any openings in my schedule today, ladies.

Call for an appointment next time.

Tom Saunders knew about a Venezuelan bombing

three years before it happened.

And so did you.

You're trespassing now. We're not doing this.

Gentlemen, care to do your jobs?

- Get down! - What?

You're welcome.

Thanks.

I'm guessing you played soccer?

I think you mean “football.”

Yeah, I do.

Yes, because Miss Winter's foot devastated your testicles.

Very funny, yes. Now, we could either continue

with the double entendres, or you could tell us

your role in Anson Gephardt's plot.

Well, I told these two, I'll tell you everything.

It's probably the only way I stay alive,

now that Anson's sending hit men after me.

When I was in law school,

I had a roommate; his name was Alberto Seijas.

He was from Venezuela. We were close.

After we graduated, I stayed in New York, he went home.

All these years later, I'm me,

and he's the head of Venezuelan intelligence.

Gephardt approached me three years ago.

Said he wanted some files from Alberto.

I said, “Okay, I'll put you in touch.”

He said, “You don't understand.

“These files, they're special.

“There's gonna have to be a negotiation,

and you're gonna handle it for me.”

What did these files contain?

Everything.

What do you mean, “everything”?

Have any of you ever heard of the Fidel Files?

A legendary trove of intelligence,

50 years in the making.

Everything the Castros ever shared

with their communist allies in the region.

Your friend had access?

Gephardt called it the white whale

of the intelligence community.

Everybody wanted it, nobody could get it.

The stuff in those files, it's supposed to be gold.

So you brokered a deal

between Gephardt and your old flatmate.

The former wanted the files,

the latter wanted a bomb to go off

at a gala in Caracas to help his boss, El Presidente.

What was Tom Saunders' role?

I didn't know from spies.

I didn't know if helping Gephardt was the right thing.

So I asked Tom for advice.

Obviously, that was a mistake, because the very next time

he went off his meds...

He blabbed about the whole thing to a roomful of people.

And I told Gephardt.

He told me not to worry about it,

the bomb thing might never happen.

“It's a fluid situation,” he said. “Years are gonna pass”"

Obviously, they liked their original plan,

because a bomb went off two days ago.

Couple of hours later, I got an e-mail from Alberto.

A big one.

He sent you the files.

And I sent them to Gephardt.

Next day, you came to see me and said you thought

Tom and the others were actually murdered.

I didn't know what to believe, so I called Gephardt.

He told me I had nothing to worry about.

I was an asset of extreme value.

Obviously, that was a load of bull.

You buying all this?

As a matter of fact, I am.

If you don't believe me,

there's a USB drive on my key chain.

Plug it into your computer

and open it. Why? What's on it?

The Fidel Files.

Every document, every photograph, every video.

I made a copy before I handed it over

to Gephardt.

You'll know everything he knows.

Most of these file names are in Spanish,

but that doesn't prove they're the Fidel Files.

We'll have to look at them.

When Gephardt and I had our chat,

he made it quite clear that his superiors

were not aware of his efforts.

He and he alone was making plans to act on these files.

If we can work out how...

We may be able to figure out where he'll strike next.

Just got a hit on our Finest Message.

Patrol found a motorcycle fitting the description

of the one the shooter used in that garage.

No sign of the driver, but thought one of you

might want to come with me to take a look.

I'll go. You guys dig into the files.

I'll let you know if we find anything.

So... unis talked to a mailman

who saw the shooter park the motorcycle,

pull off his helmet,

get into a black sedan that drove off.

But he didn't see the guy's face

or the license plate on the sedan.

Still, sounds like a DIA op, right?

One of Gephardt's men shot up that garage,

another picked him up right here.

Actually, I think Gephardt pulled the trigger himself.

See these hairs?

They're dyed red, just like the ones

inside the backhoe that Gephardt used

to dig up that grave.

It's the captain.

Said Gephardt just sent a message.

What, to the police?

No, to everyone.

Hello, my name is Anson Gephardt.

I work for the Defense Intelligence Agency.

I'm speaking to you from Jakarta.

Three years ago, I set in motion

events that would deliver into American hands

a collection of files

representing an unprecedented trove of intelligence.

To guarantee this outcome,

I have taken lives, here and abroad.

Now, some will brand my actions excessive

or overzealous.

But let me assure you, what I did had to be done.

The information in these files is that important.

And that's why I'm providing a link below

that will grant access to a digital copy of the files

to anyone who wants to read them.

I did not intend for my story to end this way.

I did not plan to reveal myself to you,

but recent events have forced my hand.

I now believe it's for the best.

You now know where these files came from,

and you understand their significance.

Here's to a better, safer America for all of us.

By “recent events,” he's got to mean

failing to kill Sydney Garber in that garage this morning.

He knew Sydney was gonna help us expose him,

so he beat us to the punch.

He didn't just beat us to the punch,

he crushed us.

His video's only been up an hour,

he's already got over a million hits.

He said he was in Jakarta.

To travel to Indonesia from New York

would take at least a day.

Now, if we're right,

and he was the one on the motorcycle,

there's no way he's in Indonesia.

He may still even be in New York.

If he is, he doesn't know that we know

he lied about his location.

That might give us a leg up.

I suppose it's interesting that an American president

had an affair with a Chinese opera singer,

but is it startling?

Might be to the two men's families.

But I take your point.

Not all the Fidel Files are winners.

Some of the intelligence is too old

to be of any use to anyone.

I've been focusing my attention on

the information that was added in the last decade.

I think you'd be wise to do the same.

Would I?

You said we should dig into the files

to see if they could help us figure out Gephardt's next move,

but he's made his next move: put the files online.

Do you really think he's finished?

I don't know if he's finished.

I just-- Are the files really the best way to find him?

He gave them to literally everyone.

Would he really have done that

if there was a clue in them as to his whereabouts?

Maybe they're just an excellent way

of avoiding talking to me.

Oh, for goodness' sake.

No! You are unhappy

because I've decided to stop being a detective.

I get it. But can we please move on?

We've been over this. I'm not unhappy.

I accept and, more importantly, I understand your decision.

Rubbish! You've been frosty with me

ever since you met Archie; I'm not an idiot.

But do you know, if-if being a detective

is the only way to be your friend,

then fine, you and I are done.

Well, thank you for letting me know this time.

That's quite unlike you.

Excuse me? The last time that you left,

it wasn't made clear to me that our friendship

had run its course; it took me two years to work that out.

What are you talking about?

Two years. Two years, not a single word from you.

I mean, you couldn't even be troubled to send a simple e-mail

to let me know you were okay.

I don't mind whether you're a detective or not.

The only thing I want, the only thing I've ever wanted,

was for you to be happy.

Against all the odds,

it happened.

You didn't tell me.

Two years ago, I was on the run.

I'd just tortured and disfigured a man.

If the authorities were looking for me,

I didn't want you to have to lie about where I was.

Do you really think that would've been hard for me?

To lie to protect a friend?

I've been asking myself

what I could've done differently,

if I could've done anything better.

Friendship has never come that easily to me.

I thought that what we had was-was meaningful.

It was. It is.

I mean, you made a...

person, Kitty, and you didn't tell me.

Pentagon officials say...

Sherlock.

Shh, listen.

Arguably, the most troubling piece of Intel

in the files was this video, which is alleged proof

that Iran has a secret nuclear weapons program.

I don't remember that bit

about Iran in the files.

Of course you don't, 'cause it isn't there.

More precisely, it isn't in our copy.

What?

Our copy of the Fidel Files came from Sydney Garber.

Theirs came from Anson Gephardt.

He added a file.

Now we know why a Middle Eastern affairs specialist

got up to so much trouble in Venezuela.

He wants the U.S. to go to war with Iran.

This isn't good.

That depends on your perspective.

If you sell tanks, today beats Christmas.

Kami.

That word you hear there, “kami,”

we dug that bit of audio out of the digital file.

Kami is a Farsi word meaning, “Just a little.”

Perhaps a reference to how much enriched uranium it takes

to make that nuclear weapon you see there.

Marianne Lacosta is joining us now from the Pentagon.

Marianne, what's the mood there?

And how are people reacting to what appears to be

a flagrant violation of several treaties Iran has...

I'd say the mood here was tense, Denise.

A multitrillion-dollar war machine

is lurching towards a bloody showdown

with an unstable theocratic regime,

based on farcical intelligence.

Are you saying that,

or is Marianne the reporter saying that?

I'm saying it. I'm the only one saying it.

We're the only people who know that this tape's a fake.

Wait, you know the video is fake?

I strongly suspect.

Anson Gephardt is a Middle Eastern affairs specialist

with a 30-year career

in military intelligence behind him.

He knows better than anyone how to falsify such a thing,

but consider the context.

He's a war hawk with a bee up his bum

about the government in Tehran.

And that video wasn't

on the USB drive that Sydney Garber gave us.

Gephardt added it to the Fidel Files himself?

It's what he had in mind all along.

That's why he was so keen to get his hands on the files.

They're a Trojan horse.

If he had posted this

online by itself, there'd be a million questions

about whether it was real, where it came from.

People would just say he filmed it in his basement,

but now the shoe's on the other foot.

You've got to prove it isn't real.

Everything else in the Fidel Files is.

Well, the news has certainly latched onto it.

The Fidel Files are juicy; there's nothing like a war

to attract eyeballs.

But I still think we can depress their ratings.

- I'd say the cat's out of the bag. - Cat's fake.

You said it yourself, you can't prove it.

I know someone who can.

Anson Gephardt has absurdly bought himself

a great deal of credibility on this topic.

If he copped to the tape being his creation,

the cat from the bag would be dead.

I'm not sure how to pry such an admission

out of a murderous ideologue,

but step one is certainly finding him.

Actually, I don't think that step's gonna be a problem.

This was a coordinated effort

by the FBI and DIA.

Anson Gephardt is now engaged in a standoff

with federal authorities from those two agencies

at his mother's home in Riverdale, New York.

What's step two?

Well, then you find your boss and I'll yell at him.

This should've been our scene.

Just... wait here.

You got here fast.

Really? Looks to me like we're late.

Jurisdictional mess. We were out of the loop.

FBI's blaming DIA

for trying to grab him on the sly like this.

They came in undermanned.

This just ended a minute ago.

Anyone hurt?

Gephardt took two in the shoulder.

He was standing too close to that window there.

EMTs are tending to him now.

We need to get in there and talk to him now.

Maybe you didn't understand. This isn't our scene.

They're gonna whisk him out of here,

and we're never gonna see him again.

He needs to confess as soon as possible.

He did, on tape to the whole world, remember?

He confessed to multiple murders and terrorism.

He forged a video

which could start World War Three.

Just get me in there. I'll-I'll explain.

Hey, looks like you're gonna get your stuff back.

Gallows humor.

If you don't come clean, you will need that.

I don't expect a parade, but I did my country a service.

I showed them the truth.

You sold them a hoax.

The Iran tape is a forgery.

Now, who's gonna believe that?

Walk it back. Spare a needless war.

Might even save your own life.

Just give him a minute!

Hey, hey, you're not authorized to be here.

Tell them.

I'll tell them nothing, Mr. Holmes.

I'm a patriot. I always will be.

Get out now. You two, roll him, hospital.

Look, we're gonna put five murders on this guy.

My people deserve a chance.

There are bigger fish to fry.

Now you guys got to give us the room.

This house have a cellar?

Heard about the new 'do.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

Makes me wonder what else the NSA has heard recently.

You're gonna feign ignorance?

You chose this spot to meet, not a hundred yards away

from where the DIA dumped me three days ago.

I just like the burrito truck up the street.

You said you had proof the Iranian nuclear tape is a fraud.

Dispositive evidence, material and visual.

Anyone with half a brain

is gonna be able to tell that Gephardt made that tape himself

in his mother's basement.

Like, he was planning an invasion of Iran,

and she was upstairs making him a grilled cheese?

If it sounds outlandish, pay the woman a visit.

Meet her dog,

a yappy spaniel named Kammie.

No one was saying “Just a little” in Farsi

in the background on that tape.

It wasn't an Iranian nuclear scientist

referencing how much enriched uranium they were using.

It was Gephardt's mother, beckoning her pet

in another part of the house.

Oh, come on.

You don't think that's funny?

Well, I might, if the cable news commentariat

weren't pimping this bizarre puppet show.

How do you feel about Iran?

That's irrelevant.

You should be asking how I feel about the truth.

In case you're just telling me what I want to hear,

you should know identical dossiers

have been sent to the NYPD, the FBI, and MI6

and a couple of media outfits

that I hold in relatively limited contempt.

We're on your team, Holmes.

Wish you could see his face when we confront him with this.

Where is he being held?

Good to see you, Holmes.

Scheduled an exorcism?

Is it for you or me?

Sit down, will you?

I have been thinking

about everything that you said last night.

Yes?

You were right.

When I went back to London, it was really hard.

I knew I'd come a really long way in New York, and then,

all of a sudden, my entire support system was gone.

So, I did what I thought you would do.

I threw myself into the work.

I took every case that came my way.

I practically haunted Scotland Yard

looking for ways I could help people.

And then, strangest thing happened.

I realized that I didn't need it.

There were other ways I could help people.

All that weight I used to heft about the place,

all that darkness, was gone.

I felt like myself again.

The truth is, Sherlock, that I'd been

thinking about giving up detective work

a long time before Archie came along.

I just didn't know how to tell you.

I felt fixed, but I knew that...

well, I knew that you didn't, so I just kept it to myself.

Then before I knew it, months had passed,

and then a year and then...

Who knows? If Anson Gephardt hadn't started killing people,

then perhaps we never would've seen each other again.

You deserve much better than that.

I told you before you left you'd always be my friend.

See, that's the thing, isn't it?

We're not friends; we never were.

We're family.

Come inside, will you?

Archie's being christened today.

I've never been much of a churchgoer,

but I thought this was a good way to make it official.

The family thing.

You, me and Watson.

You want us to be godparents.

If you're not too busy, yeah.

That way, we'd have to stay in touch, wouldn't we?

For Archie's sake.

♪ I'll help you... ♪

Would you believe I've-I've never been a godparent before?

Don't take this the wrong way, but, yeah, I would.

I-Is there something I'm supposed to do?

Recite a prayer or something?

Come on. We'll figure it out together.

♪ I love you a lot ♪

♪ Whatever you want ♪

♪ Wherever you are ♪

♪ Wherever you are ♪

♪ Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh ♪

♪ Wherever you are ♪

♪ Ooh, ooh. ♪

== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man

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