04x02 - The Lying Detective

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

Tell me about your morning.

Start from the beginning.

I woke up.

How did you sleep?

I didn't. I don't.

You just said you woke up.

I stopped lying down.


Of course alone.

I meant Rosie. Your daughter.

Er, she's with friends.


Can't always cope.

And, er, last night wasn't good.

That's understandable.

Is it? Why? Why is it understandable?

Why does everything have to be understandable?

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

I only mean it's OK.

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

You just lost your wife.

And Rosie just lost her mother.

You are holding yourself to an unreasonable standard.

No, I'm failing to.

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


Oh, I'm picking up Rosie this afternoon, after I've seen my therapist.

Got a new one, seeing her today.

Are you going to tell her about me?


Why not?

Because I can't.

Why not?

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

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

I am dead.

Please, for your own sake and for Rosie's, this isn't real.

I'm dead. John, look at me.


I'm not here.

You know that, don't you?

OK, I'll see you later.

Is there anything you're not telling me?


What are you looking at?


You keep glancing to my left.

Oh, I suppose I was just looking away.

There is a difference between looking away and looking to.

I tend to notice these things.

I'm sure.

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

That's not necessarily a good thing.

Do you talk to Sherlock Holmes?

I haven't seen him. No-one's seen him.

He's locked himself away in his flat. God knows what he's up to.

Do you blame him?

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

Has he attempted to make contact with you?


How can you be sure? He might have tried.

No, if Sherlock Holmes wants to get in touch, that's not something you can fail to notice.

(Car engine accelerates)

(Tyres squeal)


(Siren wails)

Well, now, won't you introduce me?

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


Mr Smith? Whenever you are ready.

The charity fund...

Now, please.

Bring them through.

It's difficult, having such good friends.

Friends are people you want to share with.

Friends and family.

What's the very worst thing you can do to your very best friends?

Something on your mind?

Yes, Ivan.

Oh, yes.

Whatever you tell us stays in this room.

I think I speak for everyone.

(Murmurs of assent)

Well, what is the worst thing you could do?

Tell them your darkest secret.

Because if you tell them and they decide they'd rather not know, you can't take it back.

You can't unsay it.

Once you've opened your heart, you can't close it again.

(Culverton roars with laughter)

I'm kidding!

Of course you can.

Well, everyone, please roll up your right sleeves.

Roll up your right sleeves. Come on.

Oh, it's, er...

It's a bit of insurance.

I don't understand. What is that?

TD 12.

One of ours.

One of yours?

We make it. My company, TD 12.

Sells mainly to dentists and hospitals, for minor surgical procedures.

Interferes with... with the memory.

The memory. Yes.

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

I didn't exactly know who you were going to be using it on.

You mean you didn't ask?

Is everyone ready?


Please, roll up your sleeves. Come on, roll up.

This is obscene.

All I'm doing, Faith, dear... is getting something off my chest, without getting it on yours.

What you're about to hear me say may horrify you, but... you will forget it.

If you think about it, civilisation has always depended on a measure of elective ignorance.

(He chuckles)

These drip feeds will keep the drug in your bloodstreams at exactly the right levels.

Nothing that is happening to you now will stay with you for more than a few minutes.

I'm afraid that some of the memories you've had up to this point might also be... corrupted.

I'm going to share something with you now, something personal and of importance to me.

I have a need to confess, but you, I think, might have a need to forget.

By the end of this, you'll be free to go, and don't worry, by the time you're back in the outside world, you will not remember any of what you've heard.

Ignorance is bliss.

Well, what's wrong with bliss?

(Distorted tone)

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

Please, be aware that one of you is a high-ranking police officer.

One of you is a member of the judiciary.

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

Two of you work for me.

And one of you, of course, is my lovely daughter, Faith.

You are the people I need to hear me.

I have made millions.

For myself, for the people round this table, for millions of people I've never even met.

(Reporters clamour)

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

If life is a balance sheet, and I think it is, why, I believe I'm in credit!

But I have a situation that needs to be...managed.

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

And what's that?

I'm terribly sorry.

I need to k*ll someone.


Were we in a meeting? Was there a meeting?

Need to k*ll someone.


My dear, dear girl.

I can't remember.

Can't remember who you were going to k*ll.

Dear, in five minutes, you won't even remember why you were crying.

The others are all fine.

You know they've gone down the pub.

It's all on me!

(Faith cries)

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

It's only going to upset you. Hmm?

Three years ago, my father told me he wanted to k*ll someone.

One word, Mr Holmes, and it changed my world forever.

Just one word.

What word?

A name.

What name?

I can't remember.

I can't remember who my father wanted to k*ll.

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

Well, you've changed, you no longer top up your tan and your roots are showing.

Letting yourself go?

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

No, do you own an American car?

I'm sorry?

No, not American, left-hand drive, that's what I mean.

No. Why do you ask?

Not sure, actually, probably just noticed something.

Are you OK?

Oh, of course you don't own a car, you don't need one, do you, living in isolation, no human contact, no visitors.

OK, how do you know that?

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

Cost-cutting is clearly a priority for you, look at the size of your kitchen, teeny tiny.

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

I don't understand...

Hang on a minute, I was looking out of the window, why was I doing that?

I don't know.

Me neither. Must have had a reason.

It'll come back to me.

Presumably you downsized when you... when you left your job and maybe when you ended your relationship.

You can't know that.

Course I can.

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

For quite some time, in fact.

There, see? It's obvious.

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

I think I just did, didn't I?

I'm sure that was me.


Don't know. Just sort of happens really.

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


I don't have a coat.

Yes, what I just noticed. I wonder why.

Who are you talking to?

Piss off!

So what do you think?

Of what?

My case.

Oh, it's way too weird for me. Go to the police, they're really excellent at dealing with this complicated sort of stuff.

Tell them I sent you - that ought to get a reaction. Night-night.

(Slowed-down whoosh)

Please... I have no-one else to turn to.

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

Is "cup of tea"...code?

It's a cup of tea.

Because you might prefer some "coffee".

You're my last hope.

Really? That's bad luck, isn't it? Goodnight, go away.

What's bad luck?

Stop talking, it makes me aware of your existence.

I've always had bad luck. It's congenital.


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


Stop! Wait! Your life is not your own!

Keep your hands off it, do you hear me?

Off it. Off it.

Sorry? What? What are you talking about?

Your skirt.

My skirt?

Look at the hem of it, that's what I noticed.

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

Those markings, you see them?

You only get marks like that by trapping the hem of your skirt in a car door, but they're on the left-hand side, so you weren't driving, you were in the passenger seat.

I came in a taxi.

There is no taxi waiting in the street outside, that's what I checked when I went to the window.

And you've got all the way to the door and not made any move to phone for one.

And look at you.

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

Now, all that might mean nothing, except with the angle of the scars on your left forearm, you know, under that sleeve you keep pulling down.

You never saw them.

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

I don't really need to check that the angle is consistent with self-harm, do I?


Then you can keep your scars.

I want to see your handbag.


It's too heavy.

You said I was your last hope and now you are going out into the night with no plan on how you're getting home... and a g*n.



You're suicidal, you're allowed chips.

Trust me, it's about the only perk.

Sherlock? Are you going out?

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

But you're in no state, look at you!

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

What friend?



Come on.

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

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

I'm sorry, Mr Holmes, it's your brother. He's left his flat.

Was it on fire?


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

You see the fold in the middle?

For the first few months you kept this hidden, folded inside a book.

It must have been a tightly packed shelf, going by the severity of the crease.

So obviously you were keeping it hidden from someone living in the same house at a level of intimacy where privacy could not be assumed. Conclusion - relationship.

Not any more, though.

There's a pinprick at the top of the paper.

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

Conclusion? Relationship is over.

The paper's been exposed to steam in a variety of cooking smells, so it must have been on display in the kitchen.

A lot of different spices, you're suicidal, alone and strapped for cash, yet you're still cooking to impress.

You're keen, then.

The kitchen is the most public room in any house.

And since any visitor could be expected to ask about a note like this, I have to assume you don't have any.

You've isolated yourself.


I know.

I meant the chips.


(Helicopter whirs)

Let's go for a walk.

(Phone buzzes)

You should answer it.

It's Mycroft.

Might be about Sherlock.

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

'How did you know my kitchen was tiny?'

Well, look, the fading pattern on the paper, it's not much, but it's enough to know your kitchen window faces east.

Now, kitchen noticeboards.

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

Now look, the sun's only struck the bottom two thirds, but the line is straight, so that means we know the paper is facing the window.

But, because the top section is unaffected, we know the sunlight can only be entering the room at a steep angle.

If the sunlight was able to penetrate the room when the sun was lower in the sky, then the paper would be equally faded, top to bottom.

But no - it only makes it when the sun is at its zenith, so I'm betting that you live in a narrow street on the ground floor.

Now, if steeply angled sunlight manages to hit eye level on the wall opposite the window, then what do we know about the room?

The room's small.

(Helicopter whirs)

Oh, Big Brother is watching you!


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

I was talking to the Prime Minister.

Oh, I see.

What's he doing?

Why is he just wandering about like a fool?

She died, Mycroft. He's probably still in shock.

Everybody dies.

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

How can it still come as a surprise to people?

You sound cross.

Am I going to be taken away by security again?

I have, I think, apologised extensively.

You haven't made it up to me.

And how am I supposed to do that?


I'm sorry?

Sex. How did you know I wasn't getting any?

It's all about the bl*od.

This one comes from the very first night.

You can see the pen marks over it.

I think you discovered that pain stimulated your memory, so you tried it again later.

I'm no expert, but I assume that since your lover failed to notice an increasing number of scars over a period of months, that the relationship was no longer intimate.

How do you know he didn't notice?

Oh, well, cos he would have done something about it.

Would he?

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

Well, that's interesting.

What is?

The way you think.



I'm not sweet, I'm just high. This way.

Well, we just came that way.

I know, it's a plan.

What plan?

What is it? What... What now?

Sorry, um, traced his route on the map.

(He sighs)

Is he with someone?

Not sure. We keep losing visual.

Mostly we're tracking his phone.

Don't call us, we'll call...

I'm trying to sleep, can you stop ringing my damn phone?

'Sherlock has left his flat, first time in a week.'

So I'm having him tracked.


It's very touching how you can hijack the machinery of the state to look after your own family.

Can I go to sleep now?

Sherlock gone rogue is a legitimate security concern.

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

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

Sorry, what?

'Please phone me if he gets in contact, thank you.'

Do you still speak to Sherrinford?

I get regular updates.


Sherrinford is secure.

Are we going to walk all night?

Possibly. It's a long word.

What is?


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

We must be careful not to burn our bridges.

Do you know why I'm going to take your case?

Because of the one impossible thing you said.

What impossible thing?

You said your life turned on one word.

Yes. The name of the person my father wanted to k*ll.

That's the impossible thing. Just that, right there.

What's impossible?

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

Sherlock Holmes. Faith Smith. Santa Claus. Winston Churchill.

Napoleon Bonaparte... Actually, just Napoleon would do.

Or Elvis.

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

OK, I got it wrong, then.

It wasn't on one word, it can't have been.

And you remember quite distinctly that your whole life turned on one word.

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

A name you instantly recognised that tore your world apart?

OK, well, how?

No idea...yet.

But I don't work for free.

You take cash?

Not cash, no.

Taking your own life. Interesting expression - taking it from who?

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


Your own death is something that happens to everybody else.

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

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

(He groans)

What? What am I?


Than who?


(He wails)

Child sings:

♪ My little master ♪
♪ Who will find me... ♪

Sorry, I...



Echoing: 'You said your life turned on one word. A name can't be one word. If you were to come round asking after him that he'd rather have anyone but you. Anyone. You're not what I expected. What? What am I? Nicer. Than who? Anyone. Don't think anyone else is going to save him, because there isn't anyone. Anyone. Anyone. Anyone. Anyone. Anyone. Anyone.'

I have a situation that needs to be managed.

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

And what's that?

I need to k*ll someone.




Of course! He doesn't want to k*ll one person, he wants to k*ll anyone.

He's a serial k*ll.


He could be!


Why not? Why shouldn't he be?

(Horns beep)

Oi, you!

What's the matter with you?!


Do you know where you are?

Are you drunk?


What are you doing here?

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

You should be at Baker Street.

I am. So are you.

They found your address, they brought you here.

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





They're always poor and lonely and strange.

But those are only the ones we catch.

Who do we catch?

Serial k*ll.

What if you were rich and... powerful and necessary?


What if you had the compulsion to k*ll and money? What then?!

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

(Siren wails)

(Music intensifies)

Well, now, won't you introduce me?

(She sighs)

Right, you there! Stop right where you are!

What? Oh, John...

Mrs Hudson...

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

No, of course not! I was on the phone.

Oh, it's for you, by the way.

For me?

It's the Government.

The what?

What's going on? What's wrong?


Look at the state of you...

'My name is Mycroft Holmes. I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Office.'

What's happened?

It's Sherlock!

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

Argh! Right! Argh!



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

Where is it?!

He's totally gone!


Once more unto the breach, dear friends! Once more!

Or close the wall up with our English dead!

Set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide!

Hold hard the breath and build up every spirit to his full height! On!

On, you noblest English Whose bl*od is fet from fathers of war-proof!

And you, good yeoman, Whose limbs were made in England, Show us here The mettle of your pasture Which I doubt not For there is none of you here so mean and base That hath not noble lustre in your eyes!

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

The game's afoot.

Oh, hello.

Can I have a cup of tea?

Did you call the police?

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

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

What pictures?

They're everywhere.

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

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

He's publicly accused Mr Smith of being a serial k*ll.

Christ! Sherlock on Twitter, he really has lost it.

Don't you dare make jokes! Don't you dare!

I was terrified!

Cup of tea! Oh, for goodness' sakes!

What's the matter with you?!

Are you having an earthquake?!

You need to see him, John, you need to help him!


He needs you!

Somebody else! Not me, not now.

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

I know Mary's dead and I know your heart is broken, but if Sherlock Holmes dies too, who will you have then?

Because I'll tell you something, John Watson, you will not have me!

(Mrs Hudson cries)

Have you spoken to Mycroft? Molly? Anyone?

They don't matter, you do. Would you just see him? Please, John.

Or just take a look at him as a doctor.

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

Yeah, look, OK, maybe, if I get a chance.

Do you promise?

I'll try, if I'm in the area.

Promise me?

I promise.

Thank you.

Well, on you go. Examine him.

Right then, mister! Now, I need your handcuffs.

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

I've borrowed them before.

Oh, get over yourself! You're not my first smackhead, Sherlock Holmes!

Woman's out of control! I asked for a cup of tea!

How did you get him in the boot?

The boys from the cafe.

They dropped me! Twice!

And do you know why they dropped you, dear?

Because they know you.

Who's this one? Is this a new person?

I'm against new people.

Excuse me for a moment.

She's my therapist.

Awesome! Do you do block bookings?

Whose car is that?

That's my car.

How can that be your car?!

Oh, for God's sake!

I'm the widow of a drug dealer, I own property in central London, and for the last bloody time, John, I'm not your housekeeper!

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

I think you'll want to take it.

Yes, hello?

Is this Dr John Watson?

Yeah, who's this?

Culverton Smith. You've probably heard of me.

Um, well, yes.

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

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

Yes, I'm sure he was being hilarious.

Sorry, did you say "all still meeting"?

'You, me and Mr Holmes.'

I've sent a car, should be outside.

Mr Holmes gave me an address.

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

(Doorbell rings)

When you're ready.

When did Sherlock give you this address?

Two weeks ago.

Two weeks?

'Yes, two weeks.'

(Phone call ends)

How did you know where to find me?

Oh, Sherlock told me.

He's not so difficult when you've got a g*n on him.

How did you know?! How? On Monday, I decided to get a new therapist.

Tuesday afternoon, I chose her.

Wednesday morning, I booked today's session.

Now, today is Friday. So two weeks ago, two weeks before you were abducted at g*n and brought here against your will, over a week before I even thought of coming here, you knew exactly where you'd need to be picked up for lunch?!

Really? I correctly anticipated the responses of people I know well to scenarios I devised.

Can't everyone do that?


Except the boot. The boot was mean!

Never mind how, he's dying to tell us that.

I want to know why?

Because Mrs Hudson's right. I'm burning up.

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

I need you to know, John.

I need you to see that up here, I've still got it.

So, when I tell you that this is the most dangerous, the most despicable human being that I have ever encountered, when I tell you that this, this monster must be ended, please remember where you are standing, because you're standing exactly where I said you would be two weeks ago.

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

So, what has all this got to do with me?

That creature, that rotting thing is a living, breathing coagulation of human evil.

And if the only thing I ever do in this world is drive him out of it, then my life will not have been wasted.

Look at me!

Can't do it, not now.

Not alone.

All right.

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

Why would I be faking?

Because you're a liar!

You lie all the time, it's like your mission!

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

You pretended to be dead for two years!

Apart from that!

Listen, before I do anything, I need to know what state you're in.

Well, you're a doctor, examine me.

No, I need a second opinion.

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

You'd fall over.

I need the one person who, unlike me, learned to see through your bullshit long ago.

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

The last person you'd think of.

I want you to be examined by Molly Hooper.

Do you hear me? I said Molly Hooper.

You're really not going to like this.

Like what?

(Doorbell rings)

Um, hello. Is, er... I'm sorry, Sherlock asked me to come.

What, two weeks ago?

Yeah, about two weeks.

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

No, I don't care how!

OK, a fully equipped ambulance, Molly can examine me on the way, it'll save time.

Ready to go, Molly?

Um, well...

Just tell me when to cough.

I hope you remembered my coat.

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

Absolutely no idea what's going on.

Sherlock's using again.

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

No, it's Sherlock, of course I'm not sure! Check him out.

Is Molly the right person to be doing medicals?

She's more used to dead people.

It's bound to lower your standards.

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

Mrs Hudson, as ever, you are amazing.


You're going to have to buck up a bit, John, you know that, don't you?

The game is on.

I'll do my best.

Anything you need, any time, just ask, anything at all.

Thank you.

Er, sometimes, can I borrow your car?



He knew you'd get a new therapist after I died, because you'd need to change everything.

That's just what you're like.


You keep your weekends for Rosie, so you needed to see someone during working hours.

Because you're an idiot, you don't want anyone at the surgery knowing you're in therapy, so that restricts you to lunchtime sessions, with someone reasonably close.

You found four men and one woman.

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

Well, who isn't? So all he needed to do was find the first available lunchtime appointment with a female therapist within cycling distance of your surgery.

My God, he knows you!

No, he doesn't.

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

Are you ready, sir?

Yes, I am.

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

Yeah, he is.

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

I'm a k*ll.

You know I'm a k*ll.

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

(Light bulb explodes)

Cut there! What was that?

Was that a light?

Er, was that me? Was I too good?


He's here.

Well, how is he?

Basically fine.

I've seen healthier people on the slab.

Yeah, but to be fair, you work with m*rder v*ctim.

They tend to be quite young.

Not funny.

A little bit funny.

If you keep taking what you're taking at the rate you're taking it, you've got weeks.

Exactly, weeks! Let's not get ahead of ourselves.

For Christ's sake, Sherlock, it's not a game!

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

I'm stressed, you're dying!

Yeah, well, I'm ahead, then.

Stress can ruin every day of your life. Dying can only ruin one.

So this is real? You've really lost it?

You're actually out of control?

When have I ever been that?

Since the day I met you.

Oh, clever boy.

I've missed you bumbling round the place.

I thought this was some kind of...



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

Mr Holmes!

30 feet and closing, the most significant undetected serial k*ll in British criminal history. Help me bring him down.

What? What plan?

I'm not telling you.

Why not?

Because you won't like it.

Mr Holmes.

I don't do handshakes. It'll have to be a hug.

I know.

Oh, Sherlock.

Oh, Sherlock, what can I say?

Thanks to you, we're, er... we're everywhere!

Mr Holmes, how did Culverton talk you into this?

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

(They laugh)

Come on.

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

Mr Holmes, could you put on the hat?

Yeah, he doesn't really wear the hat.

Kids will be getting two of their five-a-day before they've even left home.

Sherlock's been amazing for us.

Breakfast has got to be cool.

We're beyond viral.

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

What, sorry, beyond what?


And action!

I'm a k*ll. You know I'm a k*ll.

But did you know I'm a cereal k*ll?


And cut there, thank you.

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

You can make more if you want, any time you like.

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

Oh, yes.

For an ad campaign.

Brilliant, isn't it?


The safest place to hide.

Plain sight.

Mr Holmes?

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


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

I think he sort of promised.

Oh, OK.

If you'd just like to come this way.

So, what are we doing here? What's the point?

I needed a hug.

What do you think, Mr Holmes? Cereal k*ll?

It's funny cos it's true!

See you at the hospital.

Oh, you can have this back now.

Have what back?

Thanks for the hug.

Oh, I sent and deleted a text.

You might get a reply, but I doubt it.

It's password protected.

Oh, please!

(Culverton chuckles)

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

Oh, no. No, not endless.

Need another hit, do you?

I can wait until the hospital.

Are you involved much?


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

Er, yeah, I'm John Watson.


Dr Watson.

I love his blog, don't you?

His blog?

Why, don't you read it?

You mean my blog.

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

Oh, Mr Holmes, you're feeling better?


I was just saying, I love your blog.

Great, thanks.

It's my blog.

It is, he writes the blog.

It's yours?


You write Sherlock's blog?


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

It's this way, then.

Oh, my God, I love your blog.

You're welcome.

Right, here he comes, the internet tec.

You all know Sherlock Holmes.

Oh, and Dr Watson, of course.

Mr Holmes, I was wondering, well, we all were, weren't we, maybe you could tell us about some of your cases?



Yes. Absolutely, yes.

The main feature of interest in the field of criminal investigation is not the sensational aspects of the crime itself, but rather the iron chain of reasoning, from cause to effect, that reveals, step by step, the solution.

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

Now, I will share with you the facts and evidence as they were available to me, and in this very room, you will all attempt to solve the case of Blessington The Poisoner.

I think you slightly gave away the ending.

There were five main suspects.

One of them called Blessington.

But it's more about how he did it.



(Children laugh)

Drearcliff House, remember that one, John? One m*rder, ten suspects.

Ten, yeah.

All of them guilty.


Now, what did you call that one, John?

Um, something to do with m*rder at the zoo.

Yeah, I called it m*rder At The Zoo.

Or was it the case of The k*ll Orang-utan?

You should be wearing the hat. The kids would love the hat.

So, any more questions?


I don't think so.


Mr Holmes?

Good, then I'll...

How do you catch a serial k*ll?

Same way you catch any other k*ll.

No. Most k*ll k*ll someone they know.

You're looking for a m*rder in a tiny social grouping.

Um, Mr Smith, I'm just wondering, maybe this isn't a suitable subject for the children.

Nurse Cornish, how long have you been with us now?

Seven years.

Seven years.


Serial k*ll choose their v*ctim at random.

Surely that must make it more difficult.

Some of them advertise.

Do they really?

Serial k*ll is an expression of power, ego - a signature in human destruction.

Ultimately, for full satisfaction, it requires plain sight.

Additionally, serial k*ll are easily profiled.

They tend to be social outcasts, educationally subnormal.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

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

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

Now, imagine if the Queen wanted to k*ll some people, what would happen then?

All that power, all that money, sweet little government, dancing attendants.

A whole country just to keep her warm and fat.

Hmm. We all love the Queen, don't we?

And I bet she'd love you lot.

It's all right, everyone, I can personally assure you that Sherlock Holmes is not about to arrest the Queen.

Well, of course not. Not Her Majesty.

Money, power, fame - some things make you untouchable.

God save the Queen!

She could open a slaughterhouse and we'd all probably pay the entrance fee.

No-one's untouchable.


Look at you all, so gloomy. Can't you take a joke?

The Queen!

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

We have that kind of friendship.

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

Come on. Wonderful.

Thank you so much for coming. Thank you.

Where are we going now?

I want to show you my favourite room.

No, let's go in here.

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

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

Confession is good for the soul, providing you can delete it.

What's TD 12?

It's a memory inhibitor.



Opt-in ignorance. It makes the world go round.

Anyone ever opt to remember?

Some people take the drip out, yes.

Some people have the same urges.

Now, come on, wasting time.

Indeed, you have, I estimate, 20 minutes left.


I sent a text from your phone, remember?

It was read almost immediately.

Factoring in a degree of shock and emotional decision, and a journey time based on the associated address, I'd say that your life, as you know it, has 20 minutes left to run.

Well, no, 17½ to be precise, but I rounded up for dramatic effect.

So, please do show us your favourite room.

It'll give you a chance to say goodbye.

(Culverton chuckles)

Come along.

The game is on. Do you still miss me?

Speaking of serial k*ll, you know who's my favourite?

Other than yourself?

HH Holmes. Relative of yours?

Not as far as I know.

You should check. What an idiot.

Everyone out.

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

Saheed, isn't it?

Saheed, yes.

How long have you been working here now?

Four years.

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

Four years!

OK, everyone.

Five minutes?

Come back in ten.

Saheed... this time, knock.

How can you do that?

I mean, how are you even allowed in here?

Oh, I can go anywhere I like.

Anywhere at all.

They gave you keys?

They presented them to me. There was a ceremony.

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

So, your favourite room - the mortuary?

What do you think?

Tough crowd.

Oh, I don't know.

Hmm. I've always found them quite pliable.

Don't do that!

She's fine. She's dead.

HH Holmes loved the dead.

He mass-produced them.

Serial k*ll, active during the Chicago Fair.

Do you know what he did?

He built a hotel, a special hotel just to k*ll people.

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

You know, like Sweeney Todd...

"Without the pies!"

Stupid. So stupid.

Why stupid?

Well, all that effort.

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

You just find a beach.

And if you want to hide a m*rder, if you want to hide lots and lots of m*rder, just find a... hospital.

Can we be clear? Are you confessing?

To what?

The way you're talking...

Oh, sorry, yes.

You mean, am I a serial k*ll?

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

Well, it's true.

I do like to mess with people, and, yes, I am a bit creepy.

But that's just my USP.

I use it to sell breakfast cereal.

But am I what he says I am?

Is that what you're asking?


Hmm. Well, let me ask you this... are you really a doctor?

Yeah, of course I am.

Oh, no, a medical doctor?

You know, not just feet or media studies or something?

I'm a doctor.

Are you serious?

No, really, are you?

Are you... are you actually serious?

I've played along with this joke, it's not funny any more.

Look at him!

Go ahead, look at him, Dr Watson!

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

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

Either I'm a serial k*ll, or Sherlock Holmes is off his tits on drugs!

Hmm? Delusional paranoia about a public personality.

That's not so special, it's not even new.

I think you need to tell your faithful little friend how you're wasting his time, because you're too high to know what's real any more.

I apologise.

I...I've miscalculated.

I forgot to factor in the traffic.

19½ minutes.

(Lift stops)

Ah, the footsteps you're about to hear will be very familiar to you, not least because there'll be three impacts rather than two.

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

(Lift pings)

Your daughter Faith's walking cane.

And why would she be here?

You invited her. You sent her a text.

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

Now, let's see if I can recall.

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

Why would that have any effect? You don't know her.

Oh, but I do. I spent a whole evening with her.

We had chips. I think she liked me.

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

I know you care about her deeply.

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

You care what she thinks.

You maintain an impressive facade.

I think it's about to break.

Did you know?

She came to Baker Street.

No, she didn't.

Of course I didn't.

She came to see me, because she was scared of her daddy.

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

You didn't see him take the scalpel?

Nobody saw him.

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

Of course I didn't know.

Well, let's see, shall we?

Faith, stop loitering at the door and come in.

This is your father's favourite room!

Come and meet his best friends.

Dad? What's happening?

What was that text? Are you having one of your jokes?

Who are you?

Who the hell are you?!

It's Sherlock Holmes, surely you recognise him?

Oh, my God! Sherlock Holmes!

I love your blog.

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

Um, well, no. Never been there.

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

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

Sorry, I'm not sure I completely understand.

Understand what?

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

No. We've never met.

Oh, dear. Oh!

Have we?


So, who came to my flat?

Well, it wasn't me.


(He laughs)

You look different.

I wasn't there.

'Who came to my flat?'

I'm sorry, Mr Holmes, but I don't think I've ever been anywhere near your flat.

Oh, dear. Oh, no!

Who are you talking to?

What friend?


Oh, no. Oh, no!

(He laughs)

'Faith? Oh, God!'

Oh, no. Oh, no!

(He laughs)


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

Watch him, he's got a kn*fe.

I've got a what?

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

I certainly did not!

Look behind his back!


I saw you take it! I saw you!

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!

Sherlock, do you want to put that down?

Oh, my God!

Stop laughing at me.

I'm not laughing.

He's not laughing, Sherlock.

Stop laughing at me!


Oh, Christ! I keep wondering if we should have seen it coming.

Not long ago he sh*t Charles Magnussen in the face, we did see it coming.

We always saw it coming. But it was fun.

(Knock on door)

Come in.

Sir, you probably want to see this.

(On laptop): 'Harold Chorley reporting earlier today. Mr Smith stated he had no interest in bringing charges.'

'I'm a fan of Sherlock Holmes, I'm a big fan. I don't really know what happened today. To be honest, I don't think I'd be standing here now if it wasn't for Dr Watson.'

Stop laughing at me!



Stop it! Stop it now!


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

'It's not actually my hospital.'

Well, it is a little bit my hospital.

But I can promise you this, he is going to get the best of care.

I might even move him to my favourite room.


'Culverton Smith, earlier today. In Nottingham...'

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

What are you doing?! Wake up!

I really hit him, Greg. Hit him hard.

Is this a game? Is it just a bloody game?

(Holmes groans)

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

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

Leave him be.

No, it's OK.

Let him do what he wants. He's entitled.

I k*ll his wife.

Yes, you did.

Oh, hi.

(He mouths)

Just in to say hello?

No. I'm just in to say goodbye.

I'm sure he'll pull through.

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

So, must look on the bright side.



Parting gift.

Ah, that's nice.

A walking stick.

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

(Phone rings)

Hello? Ward 73.

Oh, er, Dr Watson?


It's for you.


Hello, Mycroft.

'There's a car downstairs.'

You know, he should definitely have worn the hat.

Still thinking about Sherlock?

No. You are.

You've got your disapproving face on.

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

Where is she? Where's Mrs Hudson?

She'll be up in a moment.

What are you doing?

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

I'm trying to establish exactly what drove Sherlock off the rails.

Any ideas?

Are these spooks?

Are you using spooks now to look after your family?

Hang on, are they tidying?

Sherlock is a security concern.

The fact that I'm his brother changes nothing.

Yeah, you've said that before.

Ask him.

Why fixate on Culverton Smith?

He's had his obsessions before, of course, but this goes a bit further than setting a man-trap for Father Christmas.

Do it. Ask him.

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

Oh, shut up, you!

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

No, no, no, no, stop.

I detest conversation in the past tense.

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

It doesn't.

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

So who was it the last time? Who were you talking about?


Nobody. I...misspoke.

He's lying.

You're lying.

I assure you, I'm not.

He really is lying.

Sherlock's not your only brother.

There's another one, isn't there?


Jesus! A secret brother.

What is he, locked up in a tower, or something?

Mycroft Holmes!

What are all these dreadful people doing in my house?!

Mrs Hudson, I apologise for the interruption.

As you know, my brother has embarked on a programme of self-destruction remarkable even by his standards, and I am endeavouring to find out what triggered it.

And that's what you're all looking for?

Quite so.

What's on his mind?

So to speak.

And you've had all this time?

Time being something of which we don't have an infinite supply, so if we could be about our business.

(She giggles)

You...you're so funny, you are!

Mrs Hudson?

He thinks you're clever, poor old Sherlock. Always going on about you.

I mean, he knows you're an idiot, but that's OK, cos you're a lovely doctor.

But he has no idea what an idiot you are!

Is this merely stream-of-consciousness abuse, or are you attempting to make a point?

You want to know what's bothering Sherlock?

Easiest thing in the world, anyone can do it.

I know his thought processes better than any other human being, so, please, try to understand.

He's not about thinking. Not Sherlock.

Of course he is.

No, no.

He's more emotional, isn't he?

Unsolved case, sh**t the wall! Boom, boom!

Unmade breakfast, karate the fridge.

Unanswered question...

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

He stabs it.

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

I keep telling him, if he was any good as a detective, I wouldn't need a new mantel!


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

OK, no. Stop that now, please.

Everybody out, now!

All of you!

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

Anyone who stays here a minute longer is admitting to me personally they do not have a single spark of human decency.

Get out of my house, you reptile!

You've been ages waking up.

I watched you.

It was quite lovely, in its way.

Take it easy, it's OK.

Don't want to rush this.

You're Sherlock Holmes.

'I'm giving you a case, Sherlock. Might be the hardest case of your career. When I'm...gone, if I'm gone, I need you to do something for me. Save John Watson. Save him, Sherlock.'

John, if you want to watch this later...

'Save him. Don't think anyone else is going to save him, because there isn't anyone. It's up to you. Save him. But I do think you're going to need a little bit of help with that, because you're not exactly good with people, so here's a few things you need to know about the man we both love. And more importantly, what you're going to need to do to save him.'

How did you...get in?

Policeman outside, you mean?

Come on, can't you guess?

Secret door.

I built this whole wing.

I kept firing the architects and builders, so no-one knew quite how it all fitted together.

I can slip in and out, anywhere I like, you know.

When I get the urge.

HH Holmes.

m*rder Castle. But done right.

I have a question for you. Why are you here?

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


You know why I'm here.

I'd like to hear you say it.

Say it for me, please.

I want you to k*ll me.

(High-tempo music)

Mrs Hudson: John?

My car.

If you increased the dosage four or five times, toxic shock should shut me down within about an hour.

Then I restore the settings.

Everyone assumes it was a fault, or... you just gave up the ghost.


You're rather good at this.

Before we start, tell me how you feel.

I...I feel scared.

Be more specific.

You only get to do this the once.

I'm scared of dying.

You wanted this, though.

I have reasons.

But you don't actually WANT to die.



Say that for me.

Say it.

I don't want to die.

And again.

I don't...want to die.

Whispers: Once more, for luck.

(Voice breaks): I don't want to die.

I don't.

I don't want to die.


Here it comes.

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


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

'What do you think's happened?'

I don't know, something!

Mary left a message.

What message?

'John Watson never accepts help. Not from anyone, not ever. But here's the thing - he never refuses it. So, here's what you are going to do.'

So, tell me, why are we doing this?

To what do I owe the pleasure?

I wanted to hear your confession, needed to know I was right.

But why do you need to die?

The mortuary, your favourite room.

You talk to the dead.

You make your confession to them.

Sorry, sir, what? What do you mean?

I think the door's jammed.

Oh, has that door locked itself again?

Yeah, it's always doing that.

'You can't save John, because he won't let you. He won't allow himself to be saved. The only way to save John is to make him save you.'

Why do you do it?

Why do I k*ll?

It's not about hatred, or...or revenge.

I'm not a dark person.

k*ll human beings...

(He chuckles)

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

You know, in films, when you see dead people - pretending to be dead, and it's just living people lying down?

Well, that's not what dead people look like.

Dead people...look like things.

I like to make people into things, then you can own them.

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

Take a big breath if you want.

'Go to hell, Sherlock. Go right into hell and make it look like you mean it.'

m*rder is a very difficult addiction to manage.

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

You have to be careful.

But if you're rich or famous and...loved, it's amazing what people are prepared to ignore.

But there's always someone desperate about to go missing, and no-one wants to suspect m*rder if it's easier to suspect something else.

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

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

(Please! Maintain eye contact.

(Maintain eye contact.

(Maintain eye contact!

(I like to watch it happen.)

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

(And off we...pop.)

'..he will be there.'

(Monitors beep rapidly)

(Sherlock gasps for air)

Mr Holmes, are you OK?

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

He's in distress, I'm helping him.

Restrain him now. Do it.

I was trying to help him!

Sherlock, what was he doing to you?

Suffocating me, overdosing me.

On what?



Yes, saline.

What do you mean, saline?

(Sherlock groans)

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

She's a big fan, you know? Loves my blog.

You're OK?

No, no, of course I'm not OK.

Malnourished, double kidney failure, and frankly, I've been off my tits for weeks.

What kind of a doctor are you?

(Sherlock groans)

I got my confession, though, didn't I?

Well, I don't recall making any confession.

What would I be confessing to?

You can listen to it later.

Well, there is no confession to listen to.

Oh, Mr Holmes, I don't know if this is relevant, but... we found three potential recording devices in the pockets of your coat.

All your possessions were searched.


Must be something comforting about the number three, people always give up after three.

What? What is it? What?

(John sighs)

You cock!


Utter, utter cock.

Heard you the first time.

So, how does it open?

Screw the top.

Two weeks ago?


I'm that predictable?


I'm just a cock.

It's funny.

I never realised confessing would be so enjoyable.

I should have done it sooner.

We'll carry on tomorrow.

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

There's loads more.


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

You're already famous.

Yeah, but with this... I can break America.

I had, of course, several other backup plans.

Trouble is, I couldn't remember what they were.

And, of course, I hadn't really anticipated that I'd hallucinated meeting his daughter.

Basically, he trashed himself on drugs so that you'd help him, so that you'd have something to do, something doctory.

You get that now?

Still a bit troubled by the daughter.

It did seem very real.

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

But she wasn't ever here?

Interesting, isn't it?

I have theorised before that if one could attenuate to every available data stream in the world simultaneously, it would be possible to anticipate and deduce almost anything.


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

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

Perhaps the drugs opened certain doors in my mind.

I'm intrigued.

I know you are.

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

I thought we were just hanging out.

Molly will be here in 20 minutes.

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

Well, if you're sure.

Christ, John, stay, talk!

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

Yes, of course, Rosie.

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

You'll be OK for 20 minutes?

Yes, yes.

Sorry, I...I wasn't thinking of Rosie.

No problem.

I should, er, come and see her soon.


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

I'm dead, I would really appreciate it.

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

Sorry, what?

Well, technically, it's entrapment, so it might get thrown out as evidence.

Not that that matters. Apparently he can't stop confessing.

That's good.


Are you OK?

(John laughs)

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

I'm never going to be OK.

And we'll just have to accept that.

It is what it is, and what it is is...shit.

John, do better.

You didn't k*ll Mary. Mary died saving your life.

It was her choice, no-one made her do it.

No-one could ever make her do anything.

The point is, you did not k*ll her.

In saving my life, she conferred a value on it.

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

It is what it is.

I'm tomorrow, six till ten. I'll see you then.

Looking forward to it.


(Woman groans)

That noise, that's a text alert noise?

What was that?

Hmm? What was what?

That's the text alert of Irene Adler.

She's the scary mad one, right?

That noise?

What noise?

But she's dead.

(She gasps)

Ooh, I bet she isn't dead!

I bet he saved her.

Oh, my God!

Oh, the posh boy loves the dominatrix.

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


I'm going to make a deduction.

Oh, OK, that's good.

And if my deduction is right, you're going to be honest and tell me, OK?


Though I should mention that it is possible for any given text alert to become randomly attached to...

Happy birthday.

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

Never knew when your birthday was.

Well, now you do.

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

Talk about what?

I mean, how does it work?

How does what work?

You and The Woman.

Do you go to a discreet Harvester sometimes?

Is there nights of passion in High Wycombe?

Oh, for God's sakes, I don't text her back!

Laughs: Why not?

You bloody moron!

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

And do you have the first idea how lucky you are?!

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

Trust you to fall for a sociopath!

Oh, married an assassin!

But she's, you know...


Just text her back.


Because High Wycombe is better than you are currently equipped to understand!

I once caught a triple poisoner in High Wycombe.

That's only the beginning, mate.

As I think I have explained to you many times before, romantic entanglement, while fulfilling for other people...

Would complete you as a human being.

That doesn't even mean anything.

Just text her, phone her, do something while there's still a chance, because that chance doesn't last forever.

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

Before you know it!

She was wrong about me.

Mary? How so?

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

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

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

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

Get yourself a piece of that.

Forgive me, but you are doing yourself a disservice.

I have known many people in this world, but made few friends, and I can safely say...

I cheated on her.

No clever comeback?

I cheated on you, Mary.

There was a woman on the bus, and I had a plastic daisy in my hair, I'd been playing with Rosie.

And this girl just smiled at me.

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

We texted, constantly.

You want to know when?

Every time you left the room - that's when.

When you were feeding our daughter.

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

And that's all it was.

Just texting.

But I wanted more.

And do you know something? I still do.

I'm not the man you thought I was, I'm not that guy.

I never could be.

But that's the point.

(Voice breaks): That's the whole point.

Who you thought I was... is the man who I want to be.

Well, then... John Watson... get the hell on with it.

(John sobs)

It's OK.

It's not OK.

No... but it is what it is.

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

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

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


Right then. You know, it's not my place to say, but...it was just texting.

People text. Even I text. Her, I mean. Woman. Bad idea.

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

It's not a pleasant thought, John, but I have this terrible feeling from time to time that we might all just be human.

Even you?


Even you.


Cake! Oh, um...

What? What is it?

What's wrong?

(John laughs)


I'm Sherlock Holmes - I wear the damn hat!

Isn't that right, Mary?

You seem so much better, John.

Yeah, I...I am. I think I am.

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

It is what it is?


And Rosie?

Beautiful, perfect.

Unprecedented in the history of children.

That's not my bias - that's scientific fact.

Good. And Sherlock Holmes?

Back to normal.

'Get out!'

She's possessed by the devil!

I swear, my wife is channelling Satan!

Yes, boring, go away!

I'm not channelling Satan!

Why not, given your immediately alternative?

What about his brother?

Mycroft? He's fine.

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

Just spending it at home. Unless she calls.

The PM.


What's this?

My number.

I already have your number.

My private number.

Why would I need that?

I don't know. Maybe you'd like a drink sometime.


Up to you.

Call me.

(He chuckles)

I mean, obviously, "normal" and "fine" are both relative terms when it comes to Sherlock and Mycroft.


She was real.

'But I didn't mean Mycroft.'

I meant the other one.

Which other one?

You know, the secret one.

Oh, that was just something I said.

I'm sure there's...

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

You must have done.

I really didn't.

Well, maybe Sherlock told me.

But you've met Sherlock exactly once, in this room, he was off his head.

Oh, no, no, I met him before that.


We spent a night together. It was lovely.

We had chips.

In Northern accent:

"You're not what I expected, Mr Holmes."


Culverton gave me Faith's original note.

A mutual friend put us in touch.

Did Sherlock ever tell you about the note?

I added some deductions for Sherlock.

He was quite good.

But... he didn't get the big one.

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

What's that?

What's what?

The flower in your hair, it's like I had on the bus.

You looked very sweet.

But then... "You have such nice eyes."

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

Oh, you can hide behind a sexy smile or a walking cane, or just be a therapist, talking about you...ALL the time.

Oh, please don't go anywhere, I'm sure the therapist who actually lives here wouldn't want bl*od on the carpet.

Oh, hang on, it's fine.

She's in a sack in the airing cupboard.

Who are you?

Isn't it obvious?

Haven't you guessed?

I'm Eurus.


Silly name, isn't it? Greek. Means "the east wind".

My parents loved silly names, like Eurus... or Mycroft... or Sherlock.

Oh, look at him.

Didn't it ever occur to you, not even once, that Sherlock's secret brother might just be Sherlock's secret sister?


He's making a funny face.

I think I'll put a hole in it.