02x17 - Ears to You

[bunniefuu]

Previously on Elementary...

This is Manny Tarkenian.

I'm texted you my contact information.

Are you gonna answer that?

Gareth Lestrade, late of Scotland Yard.

I owe you an apology.

We've got to accommodate each other.

I realize that now.

Apology accepted. You know, the company's not paying for my hotel anymore.

You can stay here.

Just be quiet.

We own chickens, don't we?

(blows, sniffs)

(device beeping)

LESTRADE: Holmes!

Your bloody rooster is at it again!

19 days. 19 days he has been here.

WATSON: Well, you were the one who said he could stay with us until he figured out his next move.

LESTRADE: Holmes!

I'll pluck it! I swear it!

He has offers, remember? Course he does.

He took credit for my successes at Scotland Yard.

Typically, a man is his work.

In his case, he is my work-- and who wouldn't want to hire me?

You said your friend made that for you?

Demolitions expert.

He sends me devices from time to time.

I'd hardly call him a friend.

And what happens if it hits zero?

I confess to not knowing.

Could be a spray of paint and expulsion of fumes.

I have yet to fail... at defusing one.

(rapid beeping)

LESTRADE: Holmes!

I want to see what he wants. Yeah.

LESTRADE: Holmes! Can I get some help, please?!

Hey. Hi, Joan, brilliant.

This one's got it in for me. I swear.

Was it... it was Remus?

Actually that's Romulus.

Every time I go for the remote control to turn the TV on, it spreads its wings and it comes at me.

Hey, Romulus. You want a little treat?

Oh, here you go.

Ah, treat's in the pocket, very nice.

(muttering): And then you go...

Oh, brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

Well done, you. Thank you very much.

I've got a few quids riding on this match, actually.

My pleasure.

Uh, Joan? Hmm?

I wanted to say thank you for being so patient with me and all this, you know, the job's bullocks.

Sherlock's sick of the sight of my face, isn't he?

Well, you have a big decision to make, so...

Well, you know, actually, I got a... another offer today, in fact.

Here.

Largest investigation company in Sao Paulo, Brazil, Romero e Blanco.

Oh.

Do you speak Portuguese?

Do I speak Portuguese?

Well... mmm... no, not currently.

Oh, and you might want to take a look at some of those offers on the table, you know?

See, you might find one that you prefer more than... working for the ol' cock-handler.

Uh...

Uh, I know what you meant.

It's me, okay?

You got me.

Excuse me?

I'm him.

The guy you see on the news.

I'm Gordon Cushing.

That's what you're trying to figure out, right?

Did you do it?

Pull over here, would you? I'd like to get out.

(footsteps approaching)

♪ ♪
♪ Elementary 2x17 ♪
Ears to You Original Air Date on March 6, 2014

GREGSON: His name is Gordon Cushing, but maybe you already know that.

JOAN: His wife disappeared in 2010.

Everyone thought he k*lled her.

It was in all the papers back then.

I endeavored to keep abreast of notorious crimes in other countries, but I confess to falling out of the habit during my habit.

His wife Sarah was a partier. He didn't approve.

They fought a lot, and so when she went missing...

He was presumed a m*rder*r?

He was, but without a body, no one could make a case.

A few hours ago, he called 911 to say he received a box with two severed ears.

There was a note inside saying they were his wife Sarah's.

If he forks over two million in cash to the person or persons who took her, he gets her back.

And it's odd to get a ransom demand four years after an abduction.

Well, you think that's odd.

This isn't the first time that he's claimed to have been contacted by kidnappers.

He said he got a call from someone a year after Sarah disappeared, right?

Yeah, she disappeared in May 2010.

At the time, he said that she just packed her bags and left.

But, allegedly, he gets a call in June of 2011.

The guy says that he took her.

He even puts her on the phone with him.

Cushing follows his instructions to a tee.

Doesn't call us, doesn't call the FBI, just gathers up a million bucks in cash and leaves it under a tree in Central Park.

Days go by, no sign of Sarah.

That's when he decides to reach out to the department.

Only he couldn't prove that anyone had contacted him, so people thought he'd made the whole thing up.

Well, obviously, he didn't make up two severed ears.

I'm about to talk to him.

Thought you might want to sit in.

I know how this is going to sound, but this is a good thing, isn't it?

I mean, Sarah's alive.

The M.E. is comparing the ears to strands of hair that we collected from a brush in your master bathroom in 2010.

If the DNA is a match, then yes... it's a good chance she's still alive.

The ears are Sarah's.

I know they are. I... Just look at the photographs I brought you.

Mm-hmm.

Wait.

You still think I k*lled her, don't you?

You think I... took those ears from someone else and sent them to myself?

No. I'm more concerned with what I know.

I know someone was mutilated earlier tonight.

I know I want to help her.

She is Sarah.

She's alive...

Just like she was alive in 2011?

The last time you were asked to finance her safe return?

I dare say that ransom demands are becoming a tradition for you.

I know I made a mistake three years ago.

I should have called the police the second I got off the phone with the kidnapper, but I was scared, and Sarah was... she was terrified.

I didn't want to take any chances. I couldn't.

There are phone records that show I got the call when I said I did.

Bank statements that show I took out a million dollars.

You could've called from a burner phone.

You could've hidden that money anywhere.

I have never been anything but honest with you people.

And so I'm going to keep being honest with you now.

I fell out of love with my wife a long time before she disappeared.

She said and did things when she was drinking that I can never forgive.

I don't want her back because I miss her.

I want her back because I am tired of people looking at me the way you people are looking at me right now.

HOLMES: Well, they do bear an uncanny resemblance to the ears in the photograph.

Mmm.

It's hardly proof that they came from the head of Sarah Cushing, though.

WATSON: What did you think of Gordon?

Well, he seemed quite sincere.

But then, so did infamous zoophile Ebenezer Cornell when he claimed he had not attempted to violate two ostriches at London Zoo.

So...

What did you think of Mr. Cushing?

Well, it was interesting being in the same room with him.

Before tonight, I'd only ever seen him on the news.

Mm-hmm.

If he's telling the truth, then I guess I feel sorry for him.

It would mean that someone made a pretty tragic mistake when they accused him.

(ringtone playing)

Speaking of "tragic mistakes. Hate to bother, but locked out of house."

Remarkable.

"Looked under front and back mats""

Oh. "Found no keys""

'Cause that's the kind of man I am.

I leave keys under doormats.

I don't know why you're peeking inside.

You know we're not in there.

Trying to assess the damage, actually.

What happened?

Well, you know that football game that I put a bet on?

I actually won.

Yeah, I went to go get the winnings on the way back.

Got myself into a bit of trouble.

A rather unfriendly bloke took designs on my watch and wallet.

You got mugged.

(Watson sighs)

I still think you should go to a hospital.

What about this?

I've been kissed harder.

Crying out loud.

Bloody chicken.

It's on the bed. Go on.

Go on, off you go. Bugger off.

(chicken clucking)

I thought Sherlock said he was going to send it to that petting zoo. Oh, they said they couldn't take them until next week.

Walked into a room the other day, this darkened room, and he was standing in there.

Pitch black, and he had one of them perched on his shoulder.

Yeah. He'd been in there for ages.

He said it was some kind of, like, balancing exercise.

He was covered in feathers.

What? What?

You've been drinking.

Oh... Yeah, I might have, you know, chucked a couple back at the pub when I was going to pick my winnings up. That was an hour ago, right?

You've had a drink more recently than that.

Whiskey, judging from your breath and that damp spot on your shirt. I'd say sometime in the last ten minutes? You know, there are no bars around here. And even if there were, how-how would you have paid for it?

The mugger took all your money, didn't he?

Yep. You and I talked about this when Sherlock said you could stay here.

You cannot drink around him. Yeah, well, he's an addict, actually, Joan. He's not an alcoholic.

And I suppose you thought he was drinking heroin back in London.

Where did the whiskey come from?

Well, I've got a little secret stash out in the back.

I have a little sh*t, you know, if I need one.

And how often is that?

(stammers) Really? Gareth.

Please. Oh, come on.

You obviously don't understand what kind of pressure I'm under.

All the bloody offers... You just have to make a decision.

It's a bit more complicated. Is it?

What, you want me to say it to you? Say what?

Holmes was right about me!

I can't... do this job without him. I can't be a detective.

You were a detective long before you knew him.

Well, like, back in the day, you know, when I was... when I was adequate, when I was... when I was competent.

Joan, these people,they don't want... they don't want adequate.

They want special. They want me to be the man that I was when I was with him!

You know, I know that you have had your troubles, but you are overthinking this.

That's very easy for you to say, of course, isn't it?

You know, because you're the one that's with him now.

You're the one that gets to be special.

Well, you know, just take it from someone who's been there.

Just enjoy it while it lasts.

(beeping)

(Watson sighs)

Hey.

Was that a hint of surprise I detect?

I told you I received several of these.

Well, just thought you'd be neck-deep in files from the Sarah Cushing case.

I was for most of the evening.

Then the captain called and told me that the severed ears Gordon Cushing received were a DNA match for Sarah's.

You're kidding.

That's me, Watson. Joke machine.

So, Sarah Cushing is alive?

She is, or at least she was as of yesterday.

Gordon will be paying for her safe, if earless, return presently.

The NYPD will be watching.

And since they hardly need the assistance of two consulting detectives to execute a simple ransom exchange...

Balancing exercise?

How'd you...?

Lestrade.

Have you seen him this morning? I did not.

I did hear him leave earlier on.

This arrived for you from Detective Bell.

You opened it?

It's just a few files pertaining to recent muggings.

I'm curious-- since when do we investigate common street crime?

Since when do you open my mail?

How long you lived here?

(groans)

(indistinct intercom announcement)

GREGSON: 10:00 a.m. on the dot, Mr. Cushing.

Our guy should be here soon.

Eyes forward. Don't look at me.

It's going down.

All right, be advised.

Suspect is a white male, 35 years old, wearing a blue coat and a wool cap with sunglasses.

(sniffs)

Keep your phone on.

One hour. Once I know I'm clear, I'll call with your wife's location.

GREGSON: Suspect is on the move, heading south on the southbound platform towards the Varick exit.

Blue team, I want you to cut him a wide berth.

Are you seeing this?

What is he doing?

Where the hell is he going? Backup units, be advised, suspect is fleeing south into the southbound tunnel.

Hold your positions, and we'll pick him up as he exits.

Do not attempt to follow.

What do you mean? He's gonna get away.

We've got a tracer in the bag, Mr. Cushing. Remember I showed it to you?

I-I know, but what if he finds it?

What if he changes bags?

He's not supposed to be out of our sight.

We've got people every place he might pop up.

Just let us do our job.

No, I'm sorry.

Mr. Cushing, stay where you are!

Command support, pull the box.

Cut the power to the track now!

Hold!

Hold your fire.

Mr. Cushing!

Mr. Cushing.

Show us your hands.

I was just trying to stop him.

He wouldn't listen to me.

He...

He wouldn't listen.

I was just trying to stop him.

It all happened so fast.

The man who took the money, he realized I was chasing him.

He came at me.

And so then you picked up the rebar?

I don't even know how I...

I think it was on the ground.

I swung at him and I just...

Have you been able to identify him?

BELL: He wasn't carrying any identification.

All he had in his pockets was a set of keys, some loose change.

We ran his prints and DNA through the system.

So far, no hits.

Well, you said yesterday he may have partners.

Have you heard from them?

No.

But if he was working alone, that means... there's nobody there to take care of Sarah, right?

Nobody to bring her food.

Nobody to bring her water.

It's a possibility.

Four years I spent trying to convince people I didn't k*ll her.

Now maybe I finally have.

(sighs)

Stating the obvious here.

This one's a mess.

I got two severed ears, one dead body.

No leads.

Question is-- is it a mess of Mr. Cushing's design?

Could be 2011 all over again.

He wants people to think he's innocent, so he hires this guy to pick up the money this morning.

Kills him to tie up loose ends.

But that wouldn't explain the ears.

They match Sarah Cushing's DNA.

If Gordon's behind everything, that would mean that he's been keeping her somewhere for the last four years.

If that's true, then why draw attention to himself?

What would he stand to gain?

Whatever the case, the dead man represents our best chance of uncovering the truth and getting to Sarah.

So, with your blessing, Watson and I will withdraw to the morgue and examine the body and his personal effects.

WOMAN: Miss Watson?

Yes?

You have a visitor.

You head to the morgue.

I'll meet you there. I thought that...

It's okay, really.

I'll be there as soon as I can.

Thanks.

Aren't you gonna offer me a nice cup of coffee?

Or some tea?

(door closes)

Perhaps even a donut?

Well, I didn't invite you here to feed you.

No, you invited me here to ask me to leave the brownstone.

You have until the weekend.

Take one of the offers, start your new life.

I bet you two... had quite a laugh last night, didn't you, about my... my little mishap.

All the things I said.

Actually I didn't say anything to Sherlock.

I didn't think it was my place.

But since you brought it up, I don't find your self-pity amusing.

When Detective Bell was out of commission, Sherlock ran through a string of detectives.

Seven of them. Good ones.

Far more than adequate.

But none of them good enough for him.

Or me.

Yeah, well, he did the same thing back in London, didn't he?

Oh, until you.

He stuck with you.

He chose you.

What's this?

Case files on a couple of muggings.

Let's have a little look.

Well, it's the same vicinity and M.O. as the little toe rag that did me.

I take it you think that I'm the third in a string?

And am I supposed to be doing something with these?

Find the guy, be a detective.

At the very least, you might get your cash back.

At the most, you'll realize you were never just someone else's tagalong.

So, your friend Lestrade-- looked like he had a rough night.

The calluses on his hands indicate that our Mr. Doe did manual labor.

The traces of ceramic grit under his fingernails suggest he was a roofer.

Now, this is trade notorious for its mediocre pay and poor working conditions.

It is the domain of the illegal immigrant and the recent parolees.

So, you're quite certain that this man's prints do not match anything on your database?

Not yet.

Hmm.

Note these shoes.

Several years old, paper-thin soles.

This does not look like a man who's collected a seven-figure ransom three years previously and has masterminded a follow-up.

Well, perhaps, we're looking at an errand boy.

If that's the case, why haven't we heard from his partners?

"Rabkin Hardware"?

Yeah, it's in Hempstead.

They gave out a few hundred of those as a promotion last year. Tried the owner.

He didn't recognize our guy.

Neither did any of his employees.

Hmm.

Yeah, I saw those, too.

I'm not sure about the pattern.

Could be some kind of g*ng insignia.

Yeah, more of a club really.

A.A., C.A., L.A., N.A.

Pick your anonymous, hmm?

The 30 represents 30 days.

The six represents six months.

Sobriety chips.

Yeah, some people in recovery ink themselves to commemorate certain milestones.

I, myself, find that practice idiotic.

Chips are plastic and thin for a reason.

They're fragile, easily lost.

Just like the sobriety they represent...

Anyway, fortunately for us, our man's hubris might help us identify him.

Why do I get the feeling we're about to hit up some support group meetings in Hempstead?

(grunts)

Hey. How's it going?

Not well.

His face has yet to ring a bell.

Are you all right?

This was a mistake. It was your idea.

It-it's an utter violation of the proud traditions of these meetings.

They're meant to be anonymous.

And here we are, asking these attendees to identify one of their own.

Hmm, I-I-I did not think this through.

We are trying to save a woman's life here.

And so is Marcus at the meeting he went to.

The people that I talk to, they get that.

I don't think you should've interfered.

With what? With Lestrade.

The files you requested, obviously they were for him.

He was the victim of a mugging.

And you think that putting him on the trail of the culprit will simultaneously solve his crisis of confidence and drag him out of whatever bottle he's crawled into.

Wait, how did you know about that?

I have a nose, Watson.

And eyes and ears.

If he wasn't concerned about his prospects, his stay with us would've only lasted a few days.

He's lost without me.

I don't understand. If you knew about it, why didn't you try and talk to him, try and help him?

I have been helping him.

By allowing him to bottom out.

I told him of my concerns regarding his problems while you and I were in London.

He chose to ignore me.

He became the myrmidon of a wealthy pervert.

Shockingly that didn't turn out.

So now I'm of the firm opinion the next move should be his.

Even if that next move is implosion?

I imploded. Look at me.

All I did was put him on a case. I put him on many a case when we were in Scotland Yard.

Look how that turned out.

Are you saying that he shouldn't be a detective anymore?

I'm saying that I believe he needs to find his way out of this himself.

The meeting's gonna start.

Let's go.

Hold on. Hmm?

You know that woman?

I think we both do.

She's had a bit of work done, but not enough to conceal her true identity. At least not from me.

It's Sarah Cushing.

Yeah.

Alive.

And not in the least bit kidnapped.

And if I'm not mistaken, in firm possession of both of her ears.

You're right. I am Sarah Cushing.

I was her, anyway.

I go by Allison Drake now.

I have for years.

Everything Gordon told the police in 2010 was true.

I packed my bags and left with no warning.

Our fights just kept getting uglier, and even when we weren't arguing, I'd catch him just... staring at me.

The look on his face...

It felt like he was going to hurt me.

You never reached out to the police, even after they began to suspect Gordon m*rder*d you.

Is that because you were still scared?

I thought of different ways to come forward, but every time I got close to doing it, I'd think of that look.

I thought, Gordon's a determined man.

If he knew I was out there and he wanted to find me...

I made a new life for myself out here.

I got sober, married a doctor.

HOLMES: Ms. Cushing, this man... managed to convince Gordon and the police that he'd kidnapped you.

Do you recognize him?

Jim Browner.

I met him here, in a meeting.

Somehow he figured out who I really was.

He blackmailed me for a while.

I guess he decided he could make more money by telling Gordon he abducted me.

Jim's last ransom letter... it contained two human ears in the package.

The DNA matched yours, but your ears are fine.

Actually, I-I think I might be able to explain that.

A few years ago, I saw a story on the news.

A woman's body turned up in a marsh.

The police thought it might be mine, so they compared DNA from the corpse to hairs on a brush they took out of my bathroom.

Only that brush wasn't mine.

I took mine with me when I left.

HOLMES: You think your husband was seeing someone else in 2010.

I think that brush belonged to the other woman.

And those ears Gordon received... whoever she is, they have to be hers.

LESTRADE: Mr. Roscoe Pelfrey?

Hello. Yes, my name's Gareth Lestrade.

I'm a... I'm a detective.

I wondered if I might ask you a few questions about the man that mugged you.

PELFREY: Did you get it?

Did the file open up all right?

Yeah, no, it's come through fine, Mr. Pelfrey.

I'm just looking at it now, actually.

It's like I told the cops: I came to New York for a sales convention.

My wife's an architecture buff, so I made a video any time I saw something, you know, I thought she'd like.

MAN: Everything you got! Give up right now!

Nope, never got his face.

Well, fella cracked me before I turned around.

My camera fell into the gutter.

That's the only reason I got it back.

Can you think of anything at all that you haven't told the police, Mr. Pelfrey?

Anything that might help me find this man?

Sorry. Maybe you'll have better luck with the other fella who got mugged.

MAN: I know I locked up my gallery for the night before he got to me, but after that, everything's fuzzy.

I got quite a bad concussion when my head hit the pavement.

Well, don't worry about that, Mr. Phillips.

I think it's so admirable that you're trying to find the man.

You said you used to work for Scotland Yard, right?

Right.

That sounds so interesting.

Yeah, well, I suppose... I suppose it was, really.

I have to say, I love your accent.

Oh.

(chuckles) Maybe we could meet for coffee one night, talk about something other than as*ault.

Well, I never try to mix business with pleasure, Mr. Phillips, um...

Are you sure there's nothing else you remember about the night of the mugging?

Like I said, I was concussed.

When I came to on the sidewalk, there were a couple of Good Samaritans.

And there was this yellow bicycle chained to a tree.

I thought it was a big banana.

I'm sorry.

Uh... sorry. Excuse me.

You say... did you say a yellow bicycle?

Is that right?

Yes, it was garish.

Big green handlebars.

Can you blame me for thinking it was a banana?

I'm sorry. I'm confused.

Is the bicycle important?

GORDON: Sarah's alive?

The ears... they're obviously not Sarah's.

How did they match her DNA?

She believes that the hairbrush the police took for a DNA sample belonged to another woman.

Perhaps a visitor to your bedroom?

Is that possible?

Yes.

When things got truly miserable between us, I started seeing someone else.

You need to tell us about her.

I... know less about her than you'd probably like.

It was a professional engagement.

Her first name was Kendra.

That was all I was ever given.

She was blonde, just like Sarah was back then, so I suppose the police could've mistaken her brush for Sarah's.

We're gonna need her contact info.

I can give you the name of the agency that referred her to me, but I don't think you're gonna have any luck.

When Sarah disappeared and I was named a suspect, Kendra got frightened.

Stopped seeing me.

Changed all of her numbers.

My contact at her agency said that she disappeared every bit as thoroughly as Sarah did.

Do you think Sarah is behind whatever's happened to Kendra?

When I told you the other day that I never lied to the police, I meant it.

When I said I spoke to Sarah on the phone in 2011...

You meant that, too. You're referring to the original ransom demand.

She was in on it.

She had to be.

And if she was part of it then, she's part of it now.

FEMALE REPORTER: Friends and family are still reeling at the news that Sarah Cushing has turned up alive and well on Long Island.

Her appearance has changed since 2010.

And there are rumors that's compliments of the man she married in 2012, plastic surgeon Dr. Steven Edelman.

Those rumors have yet to be confirmed.

MALE REPORTER: Thank you, Toni.

How long does it take to identify a bloody prost*tute?

Well, Marcus said he was going to call in an hour.

It's been... 45 minutes.

To be fair, he only has a first name and a hair color.

Luxury.

I'll name that tart in 20 keystrokes.

So you think that Gordon is right.

You think that Sarah is behind everything.

(sighs)

Let's say she took advantage of his predicament in 2011.

If she did, she successfully extracted $1 million.

Cut to the present day.

She wants a second go-round.

But she knows that Gordon won't just hand over the money a second time.

He'll go to the police.

She knows the truth about the hairbrush in the police's possession.

She figured it out years ago.

So she tracks down Kendra and she sends him a pair of ears that will match.

Genetically, at least.

Or he lied about getting that call in 2011, and now that he knows that Sarah's alive, he's trying to get back at her for all the hell she put him through.

Hmm.

In any case, if we can determine where Kendra was taken from, we may find clues to the identity of her abductor.

Hmm.

Have you heard from Lestrade today?

Oh, perhaps he's finally found his way to the gutter.

If he has, the work to rebuild him can begin in earnest.

Have you done as I requested?

You left him alone?

I...

(phone ringing)

It's Marcus.

Hello?

BELL: Hey.

The escort service Cushing used doesn't exist anymore.

But a friend of mine from Vice was able to put me in touch with one of the girls Kendra used to work with.

And...?

Kendra's real name was Kelly Tasker.

Emphasis on "was."

She d*ed in a car wreck three years ago.

And she was cremated.

So I don't know whose ears Gordon Cushing got in the mail the other day, but they weren't hers.

(sighs)

WATSON: Oh. You're still up.

Gordon Cushing received a pair of freshly severed ears in the mail two days ago.

They were a DNA match for hairs taken from a brush believed to belong to Sarah Cushing.

Only the brush wasn't hers.

Gordon says it could only belong to Kelly Tasker, aka Kendra, only she's been dead for years.

Obviously, the ears weren't hers.

So the question remains: Whose ears were they?

When I went to bed, you were working upstairs, and now you are camped out down here right next to the guest room.

Any chance it's because you're worried about Gareth?

I'm here, Watson, because this is where we keep the food, and I'm hungry.

You're not eating.

I'm awaiting a breakthrough.

Once I have one, I shall eat that banana.

I've been thinking about what you said.

About leaving him alone.

I get it. Sort of.

I mean, I have to think that there are better ways of helping him out than letting him bottom out.

As I already pointed out...

Yes, you bottomed out. I know.

But he is not you. He is your friend.

And I don't think you should be afraid of helping him.

(chuckles) New suspect?

His name... was Alphonse Bertillon, and he invented the mug sh*t.

He was French, a policeman.

He grew frustrated that there was no system by which he and his colleagues could identify captured criminals they had arrested before.

So he devised one.

He began cataloguing them by their physical features, and he soon noticed something quite unusual about the human ear.

No two are alike.

They are as unique as fingerprints.

This is why mug sh*ts are taken in profile.

He believed it crucial to capture a full view of the ear. Hmm.

That's very interesting.

Why is his picture here?

Because this case has forced me to confront the possibility that he was wrong.

Note the lobes, the thickness of the helices, the depth of the conchae.

Mmm, they're identical.

Mm-hmm. And yet Monsieur Bertillon would tell us that's impossible.

Okay, let's say you're right about Sarah.

Let's say she is behind everything.

She found someone who had ears that looked like hers.

She kidnapped that person, and then she sent her ears to Gordon.

Can you imagine the time and effort it would take one person to find his or her ear twin?

Assuming such a thing even exists?

Okay, let's say she did. It still wouldn't explain how that person's DNA could work its way onto a brush recovered from a crime scene in 2010.

The news report we watched earlier, it said that Sarah's new husband was a plastic surgeon, did it not?

Yes. Why?

LESTRADE: There once was a man named Shawn Menck.

His home smelled so bad it done stank.

He rode on his bike, he took what he liked, and his head was thick as a plank.

Now, that is how long I've been sitting here waiting for you, Shawnee, to come home.

Enough time to write a limerick.

I don't know who you are, but you got about five seconds...

Do you have any earthly idea, mate, how ugly your bicycle is?

I mean, it's ridiculous.

I only showed the picture to ten people in this neighborhood before I traced it back to you.

Now, you work for the local Indian restaurant around the corner making deliveries.

When you make those deliveries, you mug people. Now, how do I know this?

Your ugly bicycle was seen at the scene of two of the crimes.

Now, I didn't notice it when you mugged me, of course, 'cause quite frankly, well, I was in my cups.

Listen, man...

All three robberies occurred inside the delivery radius and when you were on a shift.

And not only that--

I mean, I discovered when I broke in here, mounds of evidence, including my very own wallet.

You know, I found the whole experience completely underwhelming. I mean...

I thought there'd be a bit more cloak-and-dagger, a bit more thrill of the chase, but no, no.

In fact, I'm actually more depressed now than I was when I first started.

So, now, what I'm gonna ask you for, Shawnee, is, uh... is for my money back.

So I can leave here and I can go to the pub and buy myself a nice, refreshing pint.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, don't do that.

No creeping up on me this time, mate.

Really?

Come on.

(sighs)

We appreciate you coming in.

Of course.

You said on the phone you had some questions?

Uh, we do. First among them, would you be so kind as to stand up and, uh, touch your toes?

A simple enough command, and yet it confounds you. Very well. Question number two: Can we take a look at your back?

I don't know what's going on here, but I don't think this is very funny.

WATSON: You don't want us to see your back, because then we would see the surgical scars.

HOLMES: That's why you've been sitting with your back so straight, isn't it?

The tissue's still healing, and you do not wish to agitate it.

I had some cancer removed a few days ago.

WATSON: Let me guess. Two growths...

Looked a lot like these?

I don't know...

HOLMES: Last night, I was wondering how those ears could be a genetic match for strands of hair on a brush taken from your bathroom.

You said the brush was not yours.

And yet those ears, identical to your own, and as I've already said, the DNA's a match.

Then it occurred to me, you lied when you said the brush belonged to someone else. It was yours.

GREGSON: The ears are yours, too, right?

It's just they didn't come from your head.

You realize how crazy this all sounds?

People thought Dr. Charles Vacanti was crazy when he grew what looked like a human ear on the back of a lab mouse in 1997.

I, myself, did not.

WATSON: Ears are mostly cartilage, which means they're very difficult to repair once damaged.

They also have a very complicated shape.

HOLMES: Dr. Vacanti devised a method for growing human cartilage on a biodegradable ear-shaped scaffold.

You place the scaffold beneath the subject's skin, and it dissolves over time, leaving nothing but the cartilage.

If you're not familiar with the process, I encourage you to bend your husband's ear.

WATSON: Not only is he a plastic surgeon; he's done this kind of work before. We checked.

He built two scaffolds that looked just like your ears, and then planted them in your back.

GREGSON: Three days ago, he cut them off and he sent them to your ex.

After that, it was a matter of collecting the ransom.

A task for which you recruited the late Jim Browner.

He didn't figure out who you were.

You told him when you made him your accomplice.

This is a court order to collect a DNA sample to compare to the ears in the box.

One way or the other, we're gonna prove they came from you.

(ringtone plays)

Lestrade? Yes. What's going on?

LESTRADE: Sherlock, Joan.

Please, sir, take a seat.

Now, first off, I want you to know that there's no hard feelings.

I know that you tried to put one over on me.

And I know it was done with the best intentions.

Right. So, I captured Shawn Menck today.

He was the man that robbed me.

Oh, that's fantastic, Gareth.

Yeah, well, it would have been had he not been handed to me on a silver platter.

Yeah. I spoke to his two other victims today--

Mr. Pelfrey, Mr. Phillips-- and they, you'll be shocked to hear, were actually extremely helpful.

Miraculously so, really.

Are you approaching anything resembling a point?

Yes, you got to these files first, didn't you, Sherlock, hmm?

You figured out the bit about the bike.

And then you doctored these files so when I called Pelfrey and Phillips, I was in fact calling you instead.

What is he talking about?

Oh, you know, Joan, you can, you know, drop the act now. What act?

You really don't know, do you? Know what?

Well, your partner here decided to give me a sh*t in the arm.

He'd get me back on the horse.

He spoon-fed me the clues so I could find Menck.

Gareth, those files were my idea. He didn't even...

You don't know him like I know him.

In fact, you don't know how well he knows you.

You and your voices, Sherlock.

I don't know who I preferred more, actually, Pelfrey or Phillips.

Though I have to say that asking me out for a cup of coffee was a really nice touch.

I was actually quite flattered, to be honest.

You should have seen me there, though, sitting there, Shawn Menck's apartment.

I just couldn't believe how easy it was to find all of that evidence.

Three of the wallets sitting neatly stacked on a little table.

I thought it was impossible.

But then... just as I was about to leave, I found this.

Yes.

It's a rooster feather.

Just like the ones on your pets.

You'd set the table for me, hadn't you, Sherlock?

But you just done too good a job of it.

You see, if I hadn't found this, I'd still be out moping around this brownstone with a right old bog on. But no, thanks to seeing through a plot devised by the great Sherlock Holmes, I have decided to give detecting one last chance.

So I accepted a job this morning.

Yeah, it's a consultant position with the Garda in Cork.

Wait-- the Garda, as in the Irish National Police?

Yes, that's right. I leave tomorrow.

So I've got rather a lot of packing to do.

So if you'll excuse me.

Unless, of course, you want to continue this ridiculous charade, Sherlock, I will quite happily stay.

Well played, sir.

Well played.

Well...

Now... I wouldn't feel too bad about him leaving you in the dark, Joan.

I mean, you have to understand, of course, you are in the infancy of your partnership.

Having spent as much time as I did with him, you'll figure him out as well.

(beeping)

Is that why you didn't want me to help him these last couple of days, because you had your own plan to build him up?

I've never heard of Shawn Menck, Roscoe Pelfrey or Carlton Phillips.

I did not manipulate those files.

However easy it may have been, Lestrade closed that case on his own.

The conspiracy he's describing is a product of his obviously very fertile imagination.

As far as the feather that he found, that's a classic case of transference.

It fell from his clothes, not mine.

But you just said...

What I thought would be most helpful to him.

You were right.

And the more he talked, the clearer it became.

In some cases, there are other ways to assist a friend.

So what does that one do once it ticks down?

Spray you with water, make a loud noise?

It explodes.

I told my colleague I wanted more of a challenge, and he sent me this.

Oh.

You're staying?

Mmm, what can I say? I have faith.