01x12 - M.

MAN (on TV): Here's Owens, the Welshman.

Nice piece of skill to get past Neep.

Still Owens, heading toward the penalty area.

Wide it goes to Marwick.

Marwick with it. Touch inside to Williams.

Williams with a lovely chip toward the back post.

Mountroy is there. It's in the net!

A scorching header from Mountroy, and Manchester United are back on top!

It's 2-1 here as Arsenal again caught ball-watching in the defensive end.

(turns TV off, man grunting)

(grunting continues)

(sighs)

(muffled grunting continues)

(frantic grunting)

(muffled): No. No.

No! No!

(grunting)

No. No! No!

(grunting)

No!

No!

(panting)

(grunting)

(buzzing)

WATSON: What are bees doing in here?

Buzzing. No. I mean, why aren't they on the roof with the others?

I'm seeing how the indoor temperature suits them.

Our six weeks together are very nearly up, Watson.

In a matter of days, your room will be vacant.

I'm very seriously considering turning it into one large apiary.

Finally the space will serve a purpose.

Oh, you say the nicest things.

The end of our companionship is actually what I wanted to talk to you about. Do tell.

Well, when I'm wrapping up with a client, I like to carry out exit protocols.

Sounds ominous.

No, we just need to carve out a time to talk.

It's time I told you, Watson.

You place far too much emphasis on talking.

Most of what we humans have to say to one another is communicated haptically.

When I think of the many thousands of words that you yourself have wasted during your time here...

We'll go to dinner, we'll talk-- verbally, haptically, whatever.

I think the whole point is to reflect on your progress.

Reflection is for mirrors. Can't you just hand me a report card?

Well, I am working on a final assessment, but that is for your father.

Right, 'cause he's the one paying your exorbitant fees.

Actually, my fees are the opposite of exorbitant.

He'll probably put it on his fridge with his many colorful magnets.

Oh, no, wait. He doesn't have any magnets or interest in me.

(phone ringing)

Captain Gregson, how may I be of assistance?

The owner of the house is a CPA by the name of Ian Vickers.

We're pretty sure he's also the victim.

And by "pretty sure," you mean...

I mean there's no body.

Just blood.

This is all from one person?

Well, we pulled some hairs out of a comb in his bathroom to check the DNA, so, yeah, for now.

Vickers' secretary dropped off some files, and found the place like this.

Hard to like his chances, given all this.

Hey. You okay?

GREGSON: So, aside from the blood, the scene is clean.

No footprints, no witnesses, no nothing.

Whoever did this-- we don't know the first thing about him.

He's tall.

I beg your pardon?

He's tall. Strong, too.

He'd have to be to hang his victims from a hook.

Hook's gone now, but it was at one point attached to a tripod device of the killer's own design.

He assembled it after he incapacitated Vickers, then hung him upside down, slit his throat.

Gravity and the last few beats of his heart drove every last ounce of blood from his body.

GREGSON: A tripod device?

Here. It's from one of its legs.

There are two more groove marks inside the perimeter of the blood-- there and there.

After he'd completely drained Vickers, he dismantled the device, taking it and the exsanguinated corpse of his victim with him.

How the hell did you deduce all that from this pool of blood?

I didn't deduce anything, actually.

I've stalked this particular madman before.

In London.

♪ Elementary 1x12 ♪
M. Original Air Date on January 10, 2013

M.

A simple moniker for a complicated monster.

He is, without question, the most sinister taker of lives I have ever had the displeasure of pursuing.

He's been active since January 2002.

During the last ten years, he has tallied a body count of 37.

His image has never been captured.

He is methodical.

He is as efficient as he is clean.

And he also has no type or victim profile, which makes it almost impossible to predict when, where, or whom he might strike.

His oldest victim in the U.K. was in her late 80s.

The youngest-- 12.

He drains his victims of his or her blood, then dumps their bodies in the ocean.

Bodies of 21 of his victims were recovered when they washed up on the coastline.

The other 16 were, presumably, carried out to sea.

And I wouldn't be surprised if the body of his latest victim, Mr. Vickers, were to make an appearance on one of your beaches in the next few days.

I'm gonna call the Coast Guard, tell them to keep an eye out? Yeah.

I trust that the lab has by now confirmed that the blood at the scene was Vickers'?

All 12 pints of it.

M's fascination with blood is as mysterious as the man himself.

He mentions it in his, uh, correspondence with the police...

(muttering)

...but only rarely. You'll notice that he has a tendency to ramble.

Do not be fooled.

I have long suspected that M isn't nearly as mad as he would like us to believe.

His letters are, in my humble estimation, a feint, an attempt to make the authorities, or anyone who would attempt to analyze him, believe that he is one thing, when he is, in fact, another.

Finally, M tends to kill in bunches, so the whole NYPD should be prepared for more bodies to drop.

I've brought my own personal files on M to the station, and I'm arranging them for your consumption.

(indistinct chatter)

Hey. How are you doing?

Quite well. Why?

You seem oddly chipper.

I do?

Yeah, and last night, at the crime scene-- the way you were staring at the blood.

Well, I was struck, I suppose.

I mean, the moment I laid eyes on the scene, I knew it could only be the handiwork of... M.

And this morning?

Ten years ago, when M first started killing, I was an integral part of the investigation.

By the time he had claimed his 36th life, however, my addiction was out of control.

I was, I'm quite embarrassed to say, useless to the police.

Now, his appearance here in the States-- it's a second chance for me.

It's an opportunity to do what I should have done a long time ago-- bring a ruthless killer to justice.

Let me ask you something.

This-this M character-- what, uh...

What was his awareness of you back in London?

Oh, he may have referenced me in a letter or two. Why?

Seems sort of coincidental, don't you think?

Him coming to New York so soon after you?

Well, I-I... I hadn't considered that.

Really? I suppose it is a little odd-- flattering if you think about it.

Hmm. I'm gonna post a couple uniforms in front of your place until further notice.

Captain, I hardly think that's necessary. Much appreciated. Thank you.

Hey, just a reminder that I have an appointment in a little while, but I will be back in a couple of hours.

I shall count the seconds until your return.

Well, in the meantime, I thought I could dig into the M files.

You have so many. I can help.

Actually, Watson, it occurs to me that help from you is the last thing that I need.

Much as it pains me to admit it, you have become something of a crutch.

I need to get used to working by myself again.

Are you sure? Positive.

In fact, I encourage you to leave for your appointment immediately.

This is good. Exciting.

I shall keep you apprised of my progress via e-mail.

WATSON: So, it's been a while since I've been here.

It's been really busy.

With?

Sherlock. It's our last week together, so I'm trying to get us both ready.

I'm your therapist, Joan.

My confidentiality protects your confidentiality.

How does he feel about you leaving?

I think he's ready.

I mean, he told me to take off early this morning so that he could work on his new case without me.

You must have mixed feelings.

I know how invigorating you've found his work.

You went from being a surgeon to an addiction counselor.

There's no reason you couldn't make another change, pursue work of a more investigative nature.

Yeah-- I-I'm not interested in becoming an investigator.

I like what I do right now.

Well, there's the rub, I'm afraid.

Short of your client falling off the wagon, your "right now" is coming to an end.

(water flowing)

Thanks for the effort.

Thanks, baby.

(cheering on TV)

ANNOUNCER: Neep.

So, what do you do?

He's got the ball, but he's having to work hard to keep hold of it.

Owens.

Before I go, you want another go?

Do you mind, love?

The Arsenal are playing.

Here's Taylor.

Throw here.

Thanks again, baby.

This was fun.

Now Owens.

Good challenge.

(phone buzzes)

ANNOUNCER 2: Well, he's letting the play go here.

ANNOUNCER 1: I never named a referee who tries taking advantage.

ANNOUNCER 2: Here's the shot!

ANNOUNCER 1: So Arsenal get their corner.

(whistle blowing)

Neep.

ANNOUNCER 2: So dangerous!

ANNOUNCER 1: Was brought here by Neep, and that's really the way to get the ball out of the danger zone.

Hey. I got your text.

Meet Ian Vickers.

Washed up not long ago on Roosevelt Island.

Thus narrowing M's dump site to the entire east side of Manhattan.

My money's on the Brooklyn Navy Yard.

Oil in the hair.

I noticed. There's a high concentration of industrial engine oil around the navy yard.

I donated to the cleanup effort a couple years ago.

I'm gonna miss this.

Well, maybe not this, but... this.

Working with you.

I think what you do is amazing.

I wanted to tell you that at our "wrap-up dinner", but it seems less and less likely that's gonna happen.

Anyway, I'm gonna wait outside-- just give me a five-minute warning, and I'll call a cab.

So, given that it's after 11:00, our delivery options are a little more limited.

There is that Vietnamese place on 23rd, but I think you said it was a front for songbird smuggling.

Watson, I need you to be very, very quiet right now.

Why?

Because I believe our home has just become a crime scene.

GREGSON: "Men make plans, God laughs.

"I am laughing at you now, as I always have.

"You think you honor me with your pursuit, "you do not.

"You are a mouse chasing a lion, "a mere planet in orbit of a raging sun."

You talk to Ellis and Hitch yet?

Yeah. They were parked out front all night and never saw anyone come near the door.

He came in the back.

The lock on the rear door was picked.

Quite expertly, I might add.

I guess this answers the question about whether he came to New York for you, huh?

My sincerest apologies, Captain.

If I'd have had any notion that my presence here would have drawn him to your city... Hey, hey, uh, he's the twist, okay? Not you.

You two should go pack a few things.

I'm taking you to a safe house until all this... M stuff gets resolved. Captain, I hardly think that that's necessary.

Wha...? There's a psychopath with 37 notches in his belt that is targeting you and was inside your home.

Look, if he wanted me dead, he would have lain in wait, not left some bombastic note.

Holmes...

He wants the game.

He wants me fully engaged.

That's all.

If you're concerned, feel free to leave additional security at the back of the building.

But I assure you, I am safe as houses here.

I guess that leaves you, Miss Watson.

I'm staying.

I go where he goes, remember?

WATSON: Thank you very much.

Good night.

I'm heading to bed.

What's all that?

Oh, it's another of my father's properties. I'm... thinking of moving when you and I part ways.

Since when?

Since our humble home was penetrated so easily by a madman.

But you told Captain Gregson you weren't worried.

I'm not.

I'm just thinking ahead.

My enemies are legion.

The next one might leave more than just a note.

So much for the giant apiary in my bedroom.

Everyone else is gone, correct? It's just us?

Just us.


Yo, man, I got these knockoff Gucci shades--

20 bucks, and they're yours.

No, thanks.

BOY: All right, too Euro-trash? I got more of an American feel for you.

I got some movies. I got all the new releases.

Even got a couple Oscar bait in here. Back off.

Come on, man, could you just check it out for me, please?

I said back off!

Yo, dawg, you just broke my phone.

Yeah, that's right, you better run.

(doorbell rings)

Sorry to bother you.

He was making his way up to your stoop.

Claims to be a friend of Mr. Holmes. You know him?

I don't. And Sherlock isn't here at the moment.

Look, Holmes told me to text him, but I couldn't

'cause I broke my phone. That's the only reason I'm here.

Say the word, and we'll send him on his way.

You a friend of his?

Associate. He doesn't have any friends.

It's okay, he can stay.

Captain said stop anyone and everyone. Black?

You know, if I need you, I will use the radio that Detective Bell left for me.

(quietly): All right.

Thank you.

Are you a hooker?

No.

Hmm.

I know how Holmes rolls.

Right. 'Cause you're his associate.

Mm-hmm.

Hey... I've never actually been inside this place.

So, how do you know Sherlock?

A while back, me and a buddy were scamming on Washington Square Park.

I'd chat the folks up, Levon'd steal their wallets.

No one made us except for Holmes.

He told us to give the stuff back.

But he didn't turn us in.

Now he just uses us sometimes.

What do you mean he uses you?

Little earlier he came up to me and a few of my boys and told us to check out a few hotels, look for this guy.

Said he had a few hundred for whoever could find him.

And I found him-- so I'm here to collect.

If this is who I think it is, he's dangerous.

You shouldn't have been near him. Yeah, Holmes warned us about sticking to the public places.

I followed him, even got him to talk to me, so I could be sure it was him.

He's a Brit, just like Holmes said.

Uh, yo.

Is he gonna be here soon?

'Cause I need to get paid.

Care to explain this?

I got it from a friend of yours-- Teddy.

No?

What about this?

I took a look around the house while you were out. I found three others just like it. I can only imagine how many I didn't find.

That's funny, when I moved in here, you didn't mention anything about your little, uh... surveillance system.

This is my sanctum sanctorum.

Did you honestly believe there wouldn't be security measures?

Okay.

Is that M?

You told a bunch of children to go to upscale hotels to look for him. Why?

Note the hands.

Vintage MG driving gloves-- quite expensive.

But not nearly as expensive as his John Varvatos shoes.

M has money.

That much is obvious.

He's also a recent émigré to New York.

Why did I assume that he would be in a hotel as opposed to a property he might own?

Well, it's quite simple.

I noted a curious scent

on the note that he left.

I quickly realized it was, in fact, a combination of scents.

Those of the high-end hand soap and an even higher-end mint-based shampoo.

Each product is used by various upscale hotels around the city, but only one chain, the Betancourt, stocks both.

My lieutenants and I each took a Betancourt, and watched for M.

That's all very impressive, but I want to know why you shared a photo of a wanted serial killer with a bunch of kids instead of going to the NYPD.

Several weeks ago, you learned of the existence of a woman named Irene Adler.

I told you she'd died.

M killed her.

Obviously, he realized the degree to which I was assisting the British police in their hunt to find him.

He zeroed in on me, made things personal.

As to why I am withholding information from the NYPD, it's quite simple: I have no intention of capturing M.

I have every intention of torturing... and murdering him.

What do you mean you plan to torture and murder M?

Hard to imagine I could have been much clearer, Watson.

Hey, this isn't a joke.

No. This is revenge.

Wait, how are you so calm?

I'll let you in on a little secret.

I'm not calm.

I'm merely presenting a calm exterior.

Inside, I am roiling.

I've been dreaming about this moment quite some time: one year, six months, 22 days, to be exact.

That's when he killed her.

WATSON: Irene.

We'd been together seven months by then.

I won't bore you with the details of our courtship.

Suffice it to say...

I was quite smitten.

Up until that point in my life, I'd found most women quite boring-- a perfumed and pillowy means to a physiological end.

Irene was different.

You were in love.

Prior to her murder, my drug use had been... recreational.

Something to do when I was bored or in need of a boost during a particularly challenging investigation.

After Irene, well, I lost control.

I used... various stimulants as I tried to help the authorities identify M.

Once went several weeks without sleeping. Yeah.

When the trail finally went cold, I turned to opiates.

Look, I'm grateful to know the whole story, but you've come a long way since London.

I'm not gonna let you risk it all by chasing down a psychopath.

You know, I don't think you understand, Watson.

Without you, none of this would have been possible.

Everything that you've helped me do these past six weeks-- every-every meeting you've dragged me to, every exercise you've compelled me to perform-- it's all been in preparation for this moment.

I'm not throwing away anything I've learned.

I'm using it.

I am as clearheaded and as focused as I have ever been.

There's a clarity to my thinking that's... frightening.

I didn't help you stay sober so you could become a murderer.

Well, you didn't realize that's what you were doing.

Nor did I.

Not until I walked in on that crime scene the other day.

I saw M's handiwork.

I realized I'd been given a second chance.

Is that why you didn't want me to help you with the M files the other day?

Because you knew I'd see Irene's name and realize you were up to something?

I was the only one who could make that connection.

I'd hoped we would never have to have this conversation.

I don't want you feeling responsible for something that I have to do. You lied to me because you know what you're planning to do is wrong.

If you were considering following me, I strongly advise against it.

I'm not gonna follow you.

But you know that I'm gonna have to call Captain Gregson.

You do as you feel you must, Watson.

I'll do the same.


(rap music playing over headphones)

Whoa!

Theodore.

Heard you met another of my associates today.

She said you had something for me.

That depends.

You got something for me?

Right.

Now, tell me everything you saw today.

WOMAN (over television): Pizzas come savory and they come sweet.

With the pizza dough you can do a lot of different things.

First thing I want to do is melt some butter.

So I'm going to brush the pizza dough...

(growls)

...just to give it a little bit of a...

(barking)

(growls, barks)

What is it?

(barking in distance)

Flour the board a little bit so the dough doesn't stick, flour your rolling pin...

Bavaro, you okay?

(chewing)

Where the heck did you get that?

(muffled screaming)

(phone beeping loudly)

GREGSON: Son of a bitch.

I am pissed.

I get revenge.

I've lost friends on the job to scumbags.

Believe me, there's been more than a few times I thought about taking things into my own hands.

But I didn't. Now, he may not be a cop, but he's been around law enforcement long enough to know that.

This Teddy kid.

What did he say about the killer?

Just that he was staying at an upscale hotel.

Sherlock deduced that it was, uh, the Betancourt chain.

I'm gonna have my guys go to all the Betancourt hotels, see if we can't scoop him up.

I don't think M is the only one we need to be looking for.

If he isn't at his hotel, Sherlock may already have him.

ANNOUNCER: Arsenal looking a bit ragged now as play continues.

Santiago moving right. The young Spaniard looking good here in his first match. Taylor tracking back through midfield, nipping at his heels.

Oh, and a hard tackle from Taylor.

Looks like Browns is reaching for his pocket. Yes, a yellow card here for Taylor in the 70th minute. That'll certainly make things interesting for the Gunners as they cling to a tenuous one-nil lead.

That's a joke. He hardly touched him.

HOLMES: Arsenal fan.

As if I didn't have enough reasons to despise you.

You.

Me.

Baton.

(buzzing)

(grunting)

I hope you don't mind being hung right-side up-- I know you prefer the opposite for your victims.

You figured out where you're gonna start yet?

I have not.

I had hoped to use the... bees in some fashion, but then it occurred to me you might be allergic.

After all this trouble, I'd hate for our fun to be over too soon.

That would be a pity.

Bit surprised at you, though.

I thought you as more of a by-the-book kind of bloke.

So, why here, huh?

Why not take me straight to the nick?

I think you know why.

I think I don't.

Irene.

Pretending the name isn't familiar to you will not make things any easier for you.

(buzzing continues)

Addison?

Adler.

Irene Adler.

(laughs)

Got killed in her flat, Camden Lock, about a year and a half ago.

(laughs)

Sorry to disappoint you, mate, but it wasn't me.

No, of course it wasn't.

It was probably the other blood-draining madman with the tripod device, hmm?

I was banged up in Brixton for six months.

Not for the killing, of course.

I had a misunderstanding with a Man United fan.

He was running around slagging off the Arsenal.

Didn't paralyze him. I just bashed him up a bit.

And while I was doing the stretch, read in the papers that the notorious "M" had struck again.

Imagine my surprise.

But you disappoint me.

And Scotland Yard, of course.

Falling for that copycat so easily?

(laughs)

Tell me. You and Miss Adler an item?

I have to say, I'm a little disappointed in you.

I thought you'd be a much better liar.

I'm not lying.

Well, why would you when facing an agonizing death?

Ex-Royal Marine.

Death's an old friend.

Is he?

What about torture?

Is he an old friend, too?

You made me a shambles of a man.

Now I'm simply returning the favor.

(sighs)

(grunts)

I was on the floor.

I was screaming, but the tape was so tight around my mouth, I cou...

Oh, oh. I couldn't...

It's okay. It's okay, Ms. Cullen.

Take your time.

That's when I saw the second man's feet.

He walked right by me.

Did you get a look at his face?

Um...

He said something to the man who tied me up, but I-I couldn't hear them over the TV, but then after a minute, the second man came back into the hall.

He said he would cut me free.

He said he didn't want me to turn around.

And he said I should wait ten minutes and then call the police.

He even said, "Please."

WOMAN (over P.A.): Dr. Klein. Paging Dr. Klein.

Did he have an accent?

I think he was British.

I think the first man was British, too.

He was watching a British soccer game... on my TV.

Do you remember any other details about either man?

The second one, the one that set me free-- he had some sort of chalk on his shoes. Chalk?

Powder.

It was white.

Miss Cullen?

Oh, I'm sorry. Excuse us.

I think I know where Sherlock went.

Last night he was looking at photos of one of his father's other properties in New York.

He said he was thinking about moving.

But maybe he was looking for a place to take M after he found him.

Well, what makes you think that would be the place?

It was being renovated. There was white powder everywhere.

Do you have an address?

No.

I think I know how we can find one.

(grunting)

(laughing)

Anybody ever tell you you punch like a woman?

Yeah, a woman did once.

But she was much bigger than me.

And the abductor of young girls that she used to turn a profit in the s*x trade, so...

Well, for a ponce, you move pretty quick.

What, I dropped my first body here, what, 72 hours ago?

What'd you do, jump on a plane?

Where am I supposed to have flown in from?

Uh... London?

What makes you think I'd gone back there?

What are you talking about, "gone back"?

You trying to tell me you live here now?

You know I live here.

You were in my home the other night.

You left a note. That's how I found you.

That was your place?

You don't look well, M.

You-You don't mind if I call you M, do you?

Something's not right.

I'm not what you think I am.

I'm not a serial killer. I'm an assassin.

I have an employer.

Listen...

I received the names of everyone I killed for him.

He pays me.

I already told you you're a terrible liar, didn't I?

I'm not lying.

He sold me out.

He never told me you was here.

Who didn't?

My employer.

The MOs, the notes, all that "serial killer" bollocks! That was him!

Let's pretend that I believe you.

What was his motive for killing 37 people?

I don't know. I never met him.

He sends me coded message on my cell phone.

It's there in my jacket.

Have a look if you don't believe me.

Gobbledygook.

Proves nothing.

Sebastian Moran-- that's my real name.

Look it up!

The fight I was in-- there was a trial, it was in the papers.

I couldn't have hurt your girl.

You'll see I'm telling the truth.

He always talked about you.

Must have been obsessed or something.

Had a fascination.

He never told me you was here, and he sure as hell never told me that was your apartment I broke into.

I wouldn't be surprised if he's the one that killed your precious Irene.

No.

Don't let him play you as well.

No.

It's you.

Has to be.

Listen.

You can kill me for all the others, but your girl... that was him.

That was Moriarty.

Just heard from the Buildings Department, and they said that Holmes' dad's company applied for a remodeling permit about six months ago on a loft in Brooklyn.

The address is 3203 North Sixth Street.

They got any other building permits out at the moment?

No. Well, then, let's assume that's the one we're looking for.

Tell ESU to meet me there.

Moriarty's who you want, not me.

I seem to recall you saying you were not afraid to die.

It's not fear I'm feeling right now.

It's anger.

Righteous anger.

Moriarty sold me out, and I'm gonna get even.

You're a monster.

A sadist.

A murderer.

All of those... but I'm not a liar.

Reach out to Brixton Prison, they'll tell you that I was locked up when Irene was killed.

No.

I couldn't have been in two places at once.

Look at me, Holmes.

I'm telling the truth. You killed her.

I never touched a hair on her head!

You killed her.

(panting)

Moriarty said you was obsessed with puzzles.

But he's greatest puzzle you'll ever come across.

You kill me now, and you'll be killing the best clue you ever had.

(sighs)

I knew you'd make the right decision.

You're a rare thing in this world, Holmes.

You're an honorable man.

A famous statistician once stated that while the individual man is an insoluble puzzle, in the aggregate he becomes a mathematical certainty.

You can, for example, never foretell what any one man will do.

But you can, with precision, say what an average man will do.

Individuals vary, percentages remain constant.

So says the statistician.

I am not an average man.

(M screams)

Stay here.

(indistinct radio transmission)

Holmes! If you're in here, get down on the ground right now!

OFFICER: Clear!

OFFICER: Clear!

(phone rings)

Yeah.

Are you kidding me?

Were we too late?

Yeah, we were.

Just got a call from Bell.

Holmes just walked into the station five minutes ago... with M.

For the last time, mate, Holmes did not abduct me.

I lured him to Miss Cullen's place, and then he followed me to that loft.

A loft just happened to be owned by his father?

Yeah, I was aware of that.

I just thought it'd be pretty cool if they found Holmes' body at his father's property.

BELL: Can you explain your injuries one more time?

(M sighs)

I went at him.

He defended himself.

It's as simple as that.

He stabbed you.

Eventually, yeah.

Miracle, really.

He missed every major organ, according to the doc that looked me over in the cell.

Lucky.

What can I say?

I've led a charmed life.

You're missing out on quite a story back there.

The stab wound he sustained?

He claims he got it in a struggle, but I'm pretty sure if he had, there would've been more damage.

Looks more like he was stationary.

Maybe even restrained.

I used to be a surgeon.

I don't know if I could've found a way to stab a man without actually doing any real harm.

If that's what you meant to do, I'm impressed.

If you're trying to make some sort of point...

He presumed to know me and he needed to be shown that he did not.

He says he's willing to confess to all the murders, but he won't give you up.

He believes that he's been wronged.

He thinks I'm the best chance he has at bringing whoever wronged him to justice.

Are you planning on helping him?

He killed Irene.

No.

As it turns out, he did not.

He was incarcerated at the time she died.

I confirmed it a short while ago.

I'm sorry that I lied to you, Watson.

The last few days have been quite... vexing.

Even now, I'm not certain if I've done the right thing in allowing M to live.

It's strange, really.

I'm rarely conflicted about the decisions I make.

That's the beauty of deductive reasoning, I suppose.

It makes a science of almost everything.

Not this.

I'm gonna miss this.

(stammering)

Maybe not this so much.

But this.

Working with you.

I think what you do is amazing.

I'm sorry our last days together had to go so poorly.

(door shuts)

Hi, this is Joan Watson calling from New York.

Is Mr. Holmes available?

Okay.

Can you just tell him...

I'm worried about his son and I'd like to stay on a bit longer?

(text alert sounds)

Watson, what is it?

Um, I called your father last night.

Given everything that's happened, I recommended staying on a while longer.

And?

He agreed.

I suppose the apiary will have to wait.