01x21 - A Landmark Story

[bunniefuu]

Previously, on Elementary...

HOLMES: He is, without question, the most sinister taker of lives

I have ever had the displeasure of pursuing.

I have no intention of capturing M.

I have every intention of torturing and murdering him.

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

Sebastian Moran-- that's my real name.

MORAN: He sends me coded message on me cell phone.

You can k*ll me for all the others, but your girl, that was him.

That was Moriarty.

MAN: Uh, don't forget to remind me to call a meeting of the Endowment Committee.

Thanks, Beverly.

(sighs)

(liquor pouring)

(sighs)

(electronic tone whining)

(grunts in pain)

(electronic whine continues)

(yells)

(groans)

(tone stops)

(gasping)

But you don't have to call for help.

You aren't having a heart att*ck.

Who the hell are you?

Just someone who's been studying you.

You've been dependent on a pacemaker for the past seven years.

(electronic tone whines)

(groans loudly)

I'm doing that to you.

Watch.

(whine stops)

See?

(panting)

Every pacemaker has its own unique identifying number.

If you've got that, you can make that little box in your chest do all sorts of things-- things like send several hundred volts through your body with just the push of a button.

Wait! Stop!

(gasping): What do you want?

Nothing, really; I'm happy just to watch you die.

It would look like a heart att*ck, you know.

But, then...

I'm not representing my own interest tonight.

Cast your ballot.

My ballot?

That's what this is all about?

Vote to revoke, and I'll be on my way.

All right.

(panting)

There.

(panting)

Thank you.

(electronic tone whining)

(grunts)

(door lock buzzes)

(indistinct chatter)

(chatter quiets)

(sports announcer talking on TV)

(chains clanking)

Turn this crap over to the football.

INMATE: Yeah.

(angry shouts)

Not that match, the Arsenal game.

NEWSWOMAN: Noted philanthropist Phillip Van Der Hoff...

(indistinct chatter)

MORAN: Quiet!

Go back to the news.

NEWSWOMAN: ...Van Der Hoff's wife was vacationing in Austria, but is said to be on her way home this morning.

(Holmes grunting loudly)

Is everything okay?

Yeah. Fine.

It's good that you're here, actually.

You kn... you know how to... reset a dislocated shoulder.

And you dislocated your own shoulder because...?

Are you thick? Am I thick? You are the one stuck in a straitjacket.

Why are you...? It had been too long.

(grunts)

(yells)

(panting): Please.

Okay.

(ringtone chiming)

Ow...

Looks like an anterior dislocation.

(ringtone continues)

Yeah-- ow!

(panting)

Actually, could you just... wait a moment...

(grunts)

(yells)

What was that?

(relieved sigh) I'm gonna get you some ice.

(groaning)

Hi.

You okay? Yes, I'm fine. How are you?

Listen, I just got a call from the warden at Newgate.

Sebastian Moran just got out of a stint in solitary.

I don't know if he had an epiphany during all that downtime, but he claims there are more people he was ordered to k*ll; victims he never told anyone about.

He wants to confess.

Well, bully for him.

On one condition: the only person he'll talk to is you.

(door lock buzzes)

How are you, Sherlock?

How are you?

Thanks, Will.

I've got something new for you.

'Cause you and me, we both want the same thing.

To get rid of him.

So it's to be another tale of Moriarty.

Shh.

He's got ears and eyes everywhere in here.

I want him because he set me up to be caught by you... and for the two mugs he sent in here who tried to shiv me.

And you... you want him 'cause he k*lled your girl.

Mr. Moran, your claims about Moriarty cannot be substantiated and are of no interest.

Now, I was told you had some information about some other of your victims.

And I was told, every year about Christmastime, a fat, jolly old man delivers toffees to good little girls and boys.

Now, I waited up for him one night to steal his stash... but he didn't show.

Will... show Sherlock the article.

He had me cut this out.

That was no accident.

That was ordered by him.

This man d*ed of a heart att*ck.

What makes you think there was someone else involved?

Because before you nicked me in Harlem, I had a text with that man's face on it... and the order was: "String him up just like the others."

Now, you find out who k*lled Van Der Hoff, and you'll be one step closer to him.

To Moriarty.

(key rattling in lock)

MORAN: Will.

Oh.

And one more thing: When they ask you what happened here today, keep it quiet.

What happened?

HOLMES: Get away from him!

(grunting)

MORAN: Too late, boys.

(laughs): No medic needed.

No medic.

(chuckles)

♪ "Too late, too late," will be the cry ♪
♪ When the lady with the bags ♪
♪ Passes by, oh, Sherlock's up ♪
♪ Oh, Sherlock's down

♪ But he always wears that sacred frown. ♪
♪ Elementary 1x21 ♪
A Landmark Story Original Air Date on May 2, 2013

The other guards say he had his finger to his lips while they were dragging him off, like he was telling you to be quiet.

According to your statement, he just issued a bunch of threats, called off the meeting, then att*cked the guard, so... what's to be quiet about?

I'm afraid I have no idea.

Hey. Let's talk.

You have been training me to ferret out lies.

When Captain Gregson asked you what Moran wanted you to keep quiet about, you hesitated.

That doesn't prove deceit-- it's a feint, designed to sharpen your deductive skills.

Okay, the last time you like about Moran you were planning to t*rture and k*ll him.

I was quite honest about my intentions.

Okay, what if these impulses get triggered again?

You're not longer required to play hall monitor to my impulses.

Okay, but I am allowed to be concerned.

Mm.

Just so you know, I intended to share this with you, just not here.

Moran told me that Moriarty was behind that man's death; that he himself was once contracted to k*ll him.

Now, I understand your concern, but this is not history repeating itself.

Okay, then what's different?

You're getting ahead of yourself, Watson.

Moran has proven himself to be extremely unreliable.

I would like to make sure these are not his paranoid ravings before I involve Captain Gregson or anyone else.

Fortunately, it should be quite simple to find out if there was anything suspicious about that man's death.

You have a copy of his autopsy report?

Phillip Van Der Hoff was a middle-aged man with a known heart condition.

There was no autopsy.

His body was released to the mortuary this afternoon.

Flowers are to be sent to the McTierney Brothers Funeral Home.

What, you want to send a bouquet and a card?

"With deepest sympathy.

P.S.: This may have been m*rder."

Not exactly.

WATSON: So you prove you're reasonable by asking me to commit a felony.

Security in mortuaries is so lax you can hardly call it breaking and entering.

Embalmed.

Embalmed.

You say that like you've broken into funeral parlors before.

Well, there was a certain problem of Thor Bridge...

Yes.

As I'd hoped, not scheduled for embalming until the morning.

Yep.

Well, he had a pacemaker.

And his heart condition checks out.

Hm.

Yep.

No sign of any defensive wounds.

No skin under his fingernails.

Ah.

Hm.

He has four small bruises on each palm.

He's clenched his fists so tightly, his fingers have left bruises.

I've heard about that in people who have been struck by lightning, and electrocuted on the third rail, but... but it's not consistent with a heart att*ck.

Agreed.

We'll have to proceed.

Seriously?

Mm. But what happens when people figure out that somebody came in here and cut up a body in the middle of the night?

We'll sew him back up again, won't we?

What?

Any luck, they'll assume that autopsy was done at the hospital, or they might just put it down to a paperwork error, I don't know.

Anyway, they're certainly not gonna assume two people broke in in the middle of the night and performed an illicit autopsy, are they?

Right, because that would be crazy.

(chuckles)

No.

No.

(exhales)

Fine.

No, no.

From the shoulder.

(Holmes muttering)

Hm?

Y-You need to press harder.

All right.

Harder! Mm.

You're using the wrong...

Okay, just stop.

(whispers): Stop.

(sighs heavily)

Just give it to me.

Mm...

Mm...

Oh, that's lovely.

You really are quite skilled, Watson.

No.

I am dissecting a body in the middle of the night.

We are not having a moment.

(sighs): Okay, well, there's no broken ribs.

I mean, I really can't see the heart from here.

I would need a saw and a rib spreader, which I'm guessing you don't have.

Okay, let's, uh...

Oh, this is strange.

Look at this.

See how the blood is coagulated and the capillaries... have bubbles burnt into them.

Looks like his blood boiled.

One has to admire the sheer Promethean ingenuity.

Can one do that after one gets some sleep?

The marks on Phillip Van Der Hoff's hands were consistent with electrocution.

His blood boiled from the heat of an electric shock, which was directly on his heart.

How does one achieve that?

By using his pacemaker as a w*apon.

Or it could've just gone haywire.

They malfunction about six percent of the time.

Have a look at this.

Premier Cardiac Monitoring, the country's leading manufacturer of pacemakers.

They just issued a press release announcing start of work on a device which cannot be hacked.

WATSON: That would imply that it is possible to hack a pacemaker.

It makes perfect sense. If you could get the device's I.D. number, you could program it to do whatever you wanted it to do, including delivering an electric shock large enough to induce a fatal heart att*ck.

So subtle it wouldn't even seem like a m*rder.

You think Moran was right?

I no longer believe we're trying to find out if Phillip Van Der Hoff was k*lled; I think we're trying to learn who did it.

(lively music playing)

What's with the big band music?

I was thinking about bootleg alcohol this morning.

Reminded me I haven't listened to Bix Beiderbecke in quite some time.

And the doll being b*rned at the stake?

I'm in a dispute with a theologist about Galileo.

How much do you know about Prohibition?

The normal amount.

Just the broad strokes, then.

America, in a fit of Puritanism, banned alcohol... for more than a decade.

But the human urge to pursue altered states persisted, resulting in widespread flouting of the law in underground saloons called "speakeasies."

Did we quit the Van Der Hoff case while I was asleep?

In addition to heading up his charitable foundation, Phillip Van Der Hoff is also a member of New York City's Landmark Protection Council, 11 souls whose responsibility it is to determine the landmark status of historical buildings in the city.

You think that had something to do with him being k*lled?

The council was reviewing the landmark status of the Taggart Speakeasy Museum. It's an old grocer's on Chamber Street with a speakeasy in the back, preserved exactly as it was in the 1920s-- lovely.

The site's owners-- some shell corporation-- have applied to have the landmark status removed.

This would free them up to redevelop the site for more modern, and presumably, more profitable purposes.

The owners have applied three times to have the status changed over recent years.

Each time, more council members change their votes, inching them closer and closer to the majority needed to have landmark status revoked.

Now, a quick check of city records reveals that each council member who has changed his or her vote also applied for a home remodeling permit shortly thereafter, and in each case, the renovation was handled by...

Robert Baumann.

Yeah, I've seen his picture in the papers.

How does he get his teeth so white?

You know him because he builds skyscrapers and yet here we have him handling piddling kitchen redos.

They're bribes, you see?

Change your vote, get the redo of your choice.

So this is the guy who is trying to get the landmark status overturned?

And he's only one council member short of a majority, until, that is, two nights ago.

The last thing Phillip Van Der Hoff did before he d*ed was change his vote on the Taggart Speakeasy Museum.

So you think that bleach-teeth k*lled him?

I would very much like to hear what he has to say about it.

(horns honking outside)

...because the company's called Baumann and Associates, that's why. I'm Baumann.

You're an associate.

No, no, no, don't you...

How many times do I have to tell you?

No!

Yeah, look, I appreciate that it's a tough position for you, but there's just no way...

Try saying "excuse me", dildo.

(crashing)

(screams)

Mr. Baumann's skull was crushed by a falling air conditioning unit.

Yeah, came from the window right there.

What are the odds, huh?

What are the odds, indeed.

No, there's no way.

You'd have to have perfect timing, an expert grasp of physics.

It's got to be a stroke of bad luck.

(crashing)

Hey, tell me you did not just throw an air conditioner from the roof.

The math is not quite as hard as you might imagine.

I'm not talking about how hard it is.

I am talking about the fact that you could k*ll somebody.

I checked the courtyard before I dropped it, and I hit the X I drew on the ground on the very first attempt, I might add.

With a bit of practice, I'm sure a moving target would not be that difficult.

This case is turning out to be quite fascinating, Watson.

Bleach-teeth was obviously not in charge of the scheme to decertify the Taggart Museum, but he was big in real estate.

So he probably facilitated the introductions on behalf of the actual mastermind, then got an AC unit dropped on his head for his troubles.

Why? Well, he obviously had a cut of whatever money that they stood to make.

Now that he served his purpose, somebody no longer wanted to pay.

Hmm, someone-- whoever was behind the shell company that owns the museum.

Untraceable shell corporation, a scheme to make millions by revoking the landmark status of an old building, and m*rder by home appliance.

We're obviously pursuing a lively intellect.

You're back to believing that Moriarty exists?

Call the man commissioning these crimes whatever you want.

I'm now more and more convinced that we're in pursuit of one of his agents.

He does the same kind of work that Moran does, but in a very different way.

This man specializes in murders that do not appear to be murders at all.

If Moran was a sledgehammer, our current quarry is the scalpel.

And how do we catch our current quarry?

First, I'm gonna clean up the air conditioner.

Then it's quite obvious what we need to do.

We need to plan a m*rder.

WOMAN: As New Yorkers, we have to be vigilant about preserving the landmarks that make our city great.

When we give away pieces of our history, we give away who we are.

HOLMES: Meet Hillary Taggart, an attorney, and the last living relative of Al "The Prawn" Taggart, owner of the grocery store which housed his eponymous speakeasy.

She's an advocate for preserving the Taggart Museum exactly as it is.

The only advocate for it, as far as I can tell.

Well, it's good to have a hobby.

Even if that hobby puts you in danger of being k*lled.

This footage is taken from the last time the museum status came up for review.

Each time it does, Ms. Taggart does a very good job of making a nuisance of herself on the building's behalf.

She threatens lawsuits, she sends out press releases.

One can only imagine how she will react when word of the council's latest vote gets out.

She'll probably kick up a very public stink.

She's the next target.

If I was a sociopath, and I wanted to stop anyone from taking too close a look at my murderous transaction, I would remove Ms. Taggart from the chessboard.

But we need to warn her.

We'll do no such thing.

Our mission is to study this woman to observe her in her natural habitat.

No, the best way to keep this woman safe is to find out how to k*ll her.

Hillary Taggart is unmarried.

She's worked half the day at the legal aid clinic, and the remainder of her time has been devoted to various volunteer efforts.

(buzzing)

You all right?

Yes, sorry, thought I noticed something odd.

(clears throat)

Anyway, as I was saying, the rest of her time seems to be devoted to running laps at the pace of third-grader with a sprained ankle.

One more thing.

Look at her bracelet.

See how you can make out part of the Rod of Asclepius?

She's wearing a medical alert.

Huh.

Could be hemophilia, epilepsy, a nasty allergy.

(buzzing)

Right, brilliant.

A man after my own heart.

Come on if you're coming.

What kind of an allergy requires a medical alert bracelet?

Uh, anything that could bring on anaphylactic shock, certain foods, medicine, insect bites.

Exactly. A moment ago, I could have sworn I saw an Africanized honeybee.

How do you "Africanize" something?

It's a term to describe a particularly aggressive species.

It's odd to...

Odd to see them here.

They're not native to New York.

It's almost as if someone has placed it here on a route known to be frequented by Hillary Taggart.

So you think he's planning a m*rder by bee?

The hive will be facing southeast in dappled sunlight with minimal wind.

(buzzing)

And here they are, newly formed and flourishing.

Oh, yes.

And here is the food source.

Someone's feeding them sugar water so they multiply even faster.

Well, it's pretty baroque way to k*ll someone, isn't it?

I mean, cultivate bees, feed them, and then poke the hive with a stick every time Hillary Taggart runs by?

Well, he might be planning to swipe her with lemongrass oil beforehand, make sure they're attracted to her.

It's actually quite a tidy plan.

You know, she flees, bees sting-- tragic accident.

If she's that allergic to bee stings, then she's gonna have an EpiPen.

Well, an EpiPen would work against one or two stings, but how effective is it gonna be against an army of bee assassins?

If the man we are looking for is feeding these bees, he's gonna have to come here eventually.

Yeah. Quite soon, I'd imagine, 'cause the sugar water's getting low.

Ugh, great.

So we get to stake out a hive of k*ller bees.

(buzzing)

WATSON: The closest place open was Polish.

I hope you like pierozkis.

(sighs)

So, yesterday you said that I was getting ahead of myself.

Well, now we know that Phillip Van Der Hoff was m*rder*d, there's been another death, and we are sitting here waiting for someone we think works for Moriarty.

So I-I want to know what our plan is if we catch this man.

I also need to know that this time, it will not involve you skewering someone with a Kn*fe.

Obviously, I do not intend to turn this man over to the police.

I intend to find out who m*rder*d Irene.

And once I've found the person responsible, I will not be resorting to the same tactics I employed against Sebastian Moran, okay?

Well, you know, you never regretted it last time, so I... again, what is different now?

Well, quite frankly, I'm surprised you have to ask.

When I pursued Moran... my entire life I had made one meaningful connection.

That was with Irene Adler.

Hmm?

You were preparing to take on a new client, I had every reason to believe that I would be returning to the solitary methods of old.

Since then, we've entered into a partnership.

It's an arrangement which I find very rewarding.

You're an interesting project, and I-I enjoy watching your progress.

The thing that's different about me, empirically speaking... is you.

That is one of the nicest things anyone has ever said to me.

As I said, it's an empirical observation.

I'd like to promise you that... when I find the people responsible for her death, I won't hurt them.

Just as I'd like to promise you that if I found a syringe of heroin tomorrow, I won't sh**t it into my arm.

Can't know that, though, can I?

In the meantime, you'll just have to trust my intent.

Better decide quickly, though.

Beekeeper approaches.

He's refilling the water.

What-what do we do?

Well, I said I wouldn't t*rture him.

Doesn't mean I'm going to end this with lively debate.

Excuse me. We're with the NYPD.

We need to take a look at your notebook.

These are interesting calculations.

They appear to track the trajectory of a falling air conditioning unit.

What's your problem, anyway?

You can't arrest me for doing physics.

Give it to me!

Oh, we're not going to arrest you.

You're going to help us find your employer.

(electricity crackles, man cries out)

Good evening.

Welcome to our home.

We know your name is Daniel Gottlieb, that you retired from your career as an engineer several years ago, and that you've carried out a number of murders on behalf of a mysterious employer.

Let's call him...

Moriarty.

WATSON: We found information in here that ties you to the deaths of Phillip Van Der Hoff and Robert Baumann.

We can make your career as a m*rder*r a matter of record.

You've received a number of encrypted texts, similar to those which we found on the phone of a serial k*ller named Sebastian Moran.

So, a bargain: I'm going to go in the other room.

I'm going to send a text message from your phone, saying something's gone wrong.

I will demand a face-to-face meeting with your employer.

If, by the time I receive a response, you've told me everything that you know about Moriarty, I will impose on my friends at the NYPD to get you special treatment in prison.

WATSON: If you don't say anything, we're just gonna hand you over to the police.

Ring that when you decide what you want to do.

(sighs)

Aren't you even a little nervous?

I mean, somebody is sending those texts-- call him Moriarty, call him whatever you want.

He's behind God knows how many murders, and he's about to give you his undivided attention.

Do you want some tea?

No, I want a drink.

Sorry.

(service bell dings)

(dings)

You're going to be disappointed.

I don't know who he is.

I don't really know anything about him.

How many people have you k*lled?

Thirty-one.

He's been... active in New York these past few years.

Sebastian Moran was a notorious hard man in Shoreditch.

It's easy to see how he came to Moriarty's attention.

You worked a desk job.

How were you recruited?

Eight years ago... we were doing an environmental impact study for a company based in the UK.

I was working late one night.

This tall guy sits down next to me.

He doesn't give a name... just says he's our client.

He was British. Striking.

He said he wanted to take me to dinner to discuss the fact that I'm a serial k*ller.

He found you out.

How?

He claimed to be experienced at picking out psychopaths who were trying to "pass."

He said he'd be in touch.

I never saw him again.

It was all on the phone, after that.

What else did he say to you that night?

What, about himself?

Mm... you know...

He mentioned he spent time in a reform school when he was a kid.

One more thing: I know you.

Your face.

I was doing some work for him in London a few years ago.

I got a text with your picture.

You were dabbling in dr*gs.

I had an accidental overdose lined up for you.

Dissolute man-child gives himself a hot sh*t.

Who'd look twice?

But I got another message: "job cancelled."

That was the only time that ever happened.

(phone blips)

They have agreed to a meeting.

At the Parthenon.

WATSON: The man Gottlieb described... he picked out a serial k*ller on a hunch.

He'd have to be observant to do that; brilliant.

You think Gottlieb met Moriarty?

I don't know.

But I can't help but wonder if we've had our first description of the man.

I wouldn't expect him to show up here, if he's even in the country.

But Gottlieb is already late, and someone in there is waiting for him.

WATSON: The guy with the turban doesn't have any food.

His wife is pregnant and using the restroom.

He's just indulging her late-night cravings.

Look at the booth to the right of them.

He's doing his best to appear strung out.

He's had a manicure quite recently, and he just checked the time on his limited edition U-boat watch.

Yeah, he'd have to tell someone that Gottlieb didn't show.

(engine starts, revs)

Try not to follow too closely.

Don't lose him altogether, though.

(engine growling, revving)

WATSON: Looks like he just got stood up.

(engine revs)

WATSON: What's he doing?

(bells clanging, train horn blows)

He's waiting to see if anyone's trying to follow him.

(train horn blowing)

The meeting's on the other side of the tracks.

(shutter clicking rapidly)

They'll be long gone by the time the train passes.

Can you see anything?

(shutter clicking)

I don't know.

Hope so.

Modern cameras can capture imagery faster than the human eye can process it, so I set the shutter speed to 1/640 of a second, opened the aperture wide...

WATSON: You took a picture between the cars of a moving train.

I took a series of photos between the cars of a moving train.

I also moved the camera from left to right to get different angles.

Now, no one photograph is any good on its own, of course, but look at them... as a whole...

GOTTLIEB: That's him.

That's the man who took me to dinner.

(gasps)

What time is it?

Middle of the workday in England.

(exhales)

So, the man at the train tracks.

We thought he may be British, we thought he may have spent time at a reform school.

There are only so many reform schools in England, and only so many prisoners in each of them.

Aren't these records sealed?

Oh, yeah.

They don't want just anyone looking at 'em.

I still have contacts in Britain.

WATSON: That's him.

"John Douglas."

He was brilliant, even as a boy.

Lethal, too.

While at the Bodwin Reform School for Boys, his dear friend and roommate, Randall Breen, was beaten to death by a group of older boys.

Within six months of his death, three of his assailants were dead.

You think it was Douglas?

They couldn't prove it. But they transferred him to another reform school, and the deaths stopped.

Well, maybe he has a record as an adult that can help us track him down, huh?

John Douglas was released on his 18th birthday.

Since then, not a whisper of him in the system.

I think it unlikely he's used his own name in the last 45 years.

I believe he's assumed another identity.

Moriarty?

If that's the man we're looking for, I doubt it's the only alias that he uses.

So how do we find him?

I don't know.

"I was closer to the truth than I let on.

"Off to see what I'd do when presented with a loaded syringe.

"My apologies for abandoning you as our drama approaches its climax."

Good morning, John Douglas.

Holmes!

I took the liberty of disassembling your p*stol.

How did you find me?

I have Gottlieb.

I arranged the meeting last night.

I followed your man.

As for you, you're registered in this hotel under the name Randall Breen.

Same as your cell mate in Bodwin.

What's in the bag?

The instruments of your slow demise.

Do you do business under the name "Moriarty"?

I'm... not him.

I could never be him.

Yes, by all means, tell me more about his unfathomable genius.

I know why you're looking for him.

You want to know about Irene.

I didn't k*ll her.

But I know what happened.

I could tell you why she had to die.

It was because of you, Holmes.

(wind whistling)

(indistinct radio communication)

I just talked to the detective who caught the case.

She says you were in the room when this guy Douglas got taken out, but you have no idea why it happened.

Right.

It would appear someone didn't want us to finish the conversation we were having.

What the hell is going on with you?

What did Moran say to you the other day?

There's someone else involved; someone who texted those pictures to Moran.

He had a similar arrangement with the man I'm about to hand off to you.

I've committed myself to finding this person.

I give you my word: I will not repeat the tactics that put you and I at odds back then.

I wish your word meant something more to me.

I know. Thank you.

Which is why I have a character witness.

Are you all right?

I'm quite fine. Watson, I was just telling Captain Gregson that I'm a changed man.

That he needn't worry that I'll hold myself apart from the norms of decent behavior.

That's my old medical bag.

Legos?

Yeah, the bag needed a certain heft if it was gonna fool John Douglas.

I just bred an antibiotic- resistant strain of rubella.

This guy has given us 18 murders so far.

He has no interest in an attorney.

He just wants to talk.

He's had to keep his "project", to himself all these years.

Probably relieved to finally have an audience.

(phone blips)

Gottlieb's getting a text.

WATSON: What does it say?

What's he saying to you?

I-I don't know.

I-I can't read it. Tell me!

That's not the code we used.

If you want to read that message, you're going to have to translate it yourself.

(lock buzzes)

Do you need something from me, partner?

Your colleague's in custody.

A man named John Douglas is in the morgue.

Do you know him?

You know, me and you can take this all the way to the top.

What's it take to crease that mug?

I gave you a good haul last time, didn't I?

Tell me what this says.

What, the great Sherlock Holmes couldn't cr*ck it?

I'm working on it.

If you could speed things up for me, then I won't have to.

Go to the incoming text log.

Now back to the message.

What does it say?

I don't know.

It's not the code we used to use.

Bollocks. You're lying.

Nope.

Someone's winding you up, mate.

Tell me what it says, Moran.

I'm done here!

Tell me what it says.

Tell me what it says. Leave it.

(chains rattling)

(sighs) You didn't get much sleep last night.

No. I've almost cracked this.

I've identified the type of cipher.

All that remains is for me to ascertain the three-digit sequence that will decode it.

Well, it is 10:17 right now.

Let's say by 11:00 you haven't cracked it, we both get some rest, okay?

The code'll be there in the morning.

10:17. Thank you.

Watson, you know... some people-- without possessing genius-- have a remarkable knack for stimulating it.

Oh, an insult and a boast.

10:17. Moran looked at the time; he needed to see when the message was sent.

4:32.

That's when this message was sent and that is the decryption key.

(Moran sings to the tune of "My Bonnie Lies over the Ocean")

♪ I've been to the hash bars of Holland ♪
♪ I've been to the brothels of France ♪
♪ But none of you ladies in Europe ♪
♪ Will give this poor Gooner a chance ♪
♪ Bring back, bring back ♪
♪ Bring back the Champions' to me, to me ♪
♪ Bring back, bring back ♪
♪ Bring back the Arsenal to me
(changing melody)
♪ Who's that team we call the Arsenal? ♪
♪ Who's that team we all adore? ♪
♪ They're the team in red and white ♪
♪ And they fight with all their might... ♪

HOLMES: "Moran, you never told me you had a sister.

She dies or you do. Your choice. M."

♪ And they're gonna show the world just how they score. ♪

(phone rings)

Holmes.

Captain, Sebastian Moran is going to attempt su1c1de.

You need to call the warden at Newgate.

I just got off the phone with him.

Moran slammed his head against the wall at least a dozen times.

Is he alive?

Well, he was as of five minutes ago, but, uh... the swelling in his brain, it's bad.

They don't expect him to last the night.

He had you bring the message to Moran.

(groans)

You couldn't have known.

Yeah, you know, that's what idiots tell themselves when they've been outsmarted.

Twice Moriarty has had me in his sights and twice he's let me go: once when he hired Gottlieb to k*ll me, and again this morning.

I don't know what his game is.

It seems like maybe you're the game.

(phone rings)

That's Gottlieb's phone.

This is Sherlock Holmes.

MAN: Yes. Thank you. Well aware.

And whom do I have the pleasure of speaking to?

My name is Moriarty. I believe we're overdue for a chat.