06x04 - A Study in Sherlock

[bunniefuu]

You ready?

Let's go! (g*ns cocked)

Hands on your head!

The key! Where's the key?!

I don't have it.

(man): Let's get out of here.

Don't move.

(squirting)

(small expl*si*n) (horse neighing)

Please.

Get out.

(slurring): I remember this blaze.

How are you, old girl?

Move off, you louse!

For your missus?

Go away, kid.

I said move off!

Hey, no need to get persnickety.

(whistle) - (Man): Police!

Police! How did they know?!

(man): Police!

Leave the rest.

(whistle)

(grunting with effort) Go, go, go!

What in damnation?!

Just take what we need.

Let's go! Go! All right? Go!

(whistle)

There was a drunk.

He must have unhitched the horse.

Why would he do that?

Maybe he was a cop.

How would a cop know where you'd be?

I don't know.

Maybe the boss has got loose lips.

I'm the boss.

Are you sure this is the chap driving the carriage?

Yes. His horse took off and he ran away with another man.

Thank you.

No real loss. He wasn't long for this world anyway.

I'm sorry?

He was cirrhotic.

Oh, you knew him?

I observed him.

Detective Murdoch.

We have a suspect, sir.

He was in possession of a mask and a bank box.

Very good, Henry. Bring him down to the stationhouse.

Yes, sir.

No, that's not your man.

Note his hands. The left hand is clean; the right hand is soiled and scratched.

The bridge of his nose and temples are reddened as if he wears glasses, but he's not wearing any now.

Clearly he's a left-handed machinist.

There's a machine shop just down on Durand, but the shift ended at 6am.

The robbery occurred at 5:30am.

So that is not your man.

I'm sorry, who are you?

My name is Sherlock Holmes.

Bloody hell. Where did he come from?

Dr. Grace has acquired a new skeleton. She gave that one to me.

No doubt a day of great joy and celebration. So, any news on the robbery?

By all accounts it was a well-orchestrated heist.

Foiled by an anonymous tip.

Yes, the call came from a front st. exchange. We're looking into it now.

They k*lled one of their own. Any leads?

We have a suspect awaiting interview.

Who's the bloke dressed as Sherlock Holmes?

Well, sir, he claims to be Sherlock Holmes.

A detective who is a man of science. About time, I'd say.

Scotland Yard could learn a thing or two.

Detective, we have matters to discuss.

Have a seat in the waiting area, and I will be with you shortly.

When you were detained, you were in possession of a bank safe deposit box and a mask... both items directly related to a bank robbery.

I found them. In the laneway behind the shop.

What is it you do?

I'm a drill-press operator. I work the night shift. I got off at six.

Plenty of witnesses to that, sir.

Do you ever wear glasses?

At work, to preserve my eyes.

Which hand do you use?

My left. Is that important?

(Brackenreid): What is it?

Sir, he knew everything about our suspect.

Who?

The man who claims he's Sherlock Holmes.

Do you think he could have been involved?

What's your name?

Sherlock Holmes...

Your real name!

That is my real name.

What were you doing at the scene of the robbery?

I deciphered the codes.

What codes?

The coded messages, of course.

Moriarty puts them in the newspaper.

That's how he communicates with his agents of evil.

Well, he's a complete crackpot.

I'll have Dr. Ogden provide an assessment.

So, what now?

Well, I think we can safely assume that the routes and times of armoured carriage transfers are not public knowledge.

An inside job, then.

I've been doing this for two years. Until today it seemed like a good job.

Were you carrying anything unusual?

No, sir.

Um, paper money and bank boxes.

This is the cargo list.

And who else gets a copy of this?

Just me.

The driver receives the protocol.

The protocol lays out the route and destination.

When did you receive this?

Just prior to our departure.

It's all part of the security arrangement.

And who sets the protocol?

The bank manager.

Our branch on Spadina is closing and all assets were being transferred downtown.

The content of the cargo, time of shipment, and routes are set the day before.

And who sets them?

I do.

And who else is privy to that information?

No one.

Then how did the thieves know the carriage route?

I don't know.

Cause of death was a single g*nsh*t to the head at point-blank range.

I extracted the b*llet... .38 calibre.

Hm. Dr. Grace, did the victim have cirrhosis of the liver, by chance?

As a matter of fact he did. How did you know that?

A suspect speculated on it.

Well, he must be a very observant fellow.

That he is.

Julia. Thank you for coming in.

How could I not? A man claiming to be Sherlock Holmes.

He's in my office.

Mr. Holmes, I'd like you to meet a colleague of mine. This is...

Wonderful.

George, have you seen the man claiming to be Sherlock Holmes?

Sir, he's right there in your... Oh.

He was to remain in my office.

That's very cheeky.

I'm sorry, sir. I was distracted. I did find some interesting information, though.

Both our victim and one of the carriage guards live in the same rooming house.

Now, either that's a strange coincidence...

Or they knew each other.

Detective. I was wondering when you'd finally get here.

Moriarty has struck again.

You've now been found at the scene of two crimes.

How do you explain that?

I've made myself clear.

I'm in pursuit of Moriarty.

Bugger Moriarty.

How did you come to find yourself in the room of a dead bank guard?

I found his address on your constable's desk.

Are you being deliberately obtuse?

If you're asking why I was there, I should have thought that was obvious.

It is my belief that the guard was working with Moriarty.

All right, and how did you come to that conclusion?

Did you notice that the guard sat for an hour with blood crusting on his face rather than avail himself of a wash basin?

I did think that was a bit odd.

And no doubt you also observed that the two cuts were straight and fine, suggesting that they were made with a razor blade.

This razor blade.

I found it in his pocket.

What about the robbery itself?

How did you know it was going to happen?

I deciphered the codes.

Which codes?

The codes I informed you of earlier!

I thought Professor Moriarty was dead.

As did I.

Then what makes you think he's behind these crimes?

I recognized one of his henchmen.

Recognized?

I saw him at The Reichenbach Falls.

Reichenbach Falls.

Where you and Moriarty had your final confrontation.

Not as final as I'd hoped.

And when did you see this henchman in Toronto?

Yesterday. I was travelling on the Queen St. car, and by the time I disembarked, he was gone.

But I found the paper he was reading and recognized a section of the page was missing. I purchased another copy, and on the missing page was a coded message specifying a time and a place.

Suspecting a robbery, I set about to thwart it.

By disguising yourself and unhitching the horses.

I informed the police, but they were even slower than I expected.

Sirs, the dead guard had a sweetheart who worked in Accounts at the Spadina branch.

He used to visit her.

That's likely how he found out about the cargo.

What's curious is that almost all the money was left in the getaway carriage. The only thing taken from the scene was two safe deposit boxes, one of which we retrieved.

Maybe the thieves weren't after the money.

They were after the contents of the safe deposit boxes.

Right. George, bring in the bank manager. We need to know what was inside of them.

Sir.

Oh, and George, if you could please pick up a copy of yesterday's Gazette.

Will do.

So, you're telling me you believe "Sherlock's" story about the codes?

Well, sir, a coded message in a newspaper article would be an effective way to convey information about routes, cargo...

Murdoch, I'll leave you to it.

I trust he hasn't managed to give you the slip again.

He's in the interview room.

(door opening)

You don't look much like an alienist.

What makes you think...

You've been brought in to assess my sanity.

Detective Murdoch, for all his scientific pretence, is no more imaginative than Inspector Lestrade.

Why don't you tell me about yourself?

My name is Sherlock Holmes. I'm a consulting detective.

Until five years ago, I resided at 221B Baker St.

With my friend Dr. Watson. Since then I have become somewhat peripatetic.

When were you born?

The 6th of January, 1860.

You don't look 40.

A fact I attribute to a stringent diet.

Tell me more.

I don't wish to be a bore.

It won't bore me.

It bores me!

Moriarty is out there, and I'm in here!

Please, Doctor, make the detective see sense. You're obviously very close to him.

Why makes you think that?

When I called his competence into question, you stiffened.

If he were just a colleague, you might have defended him; instead you chose to remain silent, fearing your response might betray your feelings.

And with only that he was able to deduce that I have feelings for you.

Well, he's quite perceptive, isn't he?

He's not psychotic, though. His logic is clear.

Julia, the man genuinely believes that he's Sherlock Holmes.

He's suffering from a delusion of identity. It's not uncommon.

There's a woman at the asylum who believes she's the Queen.

As long as their delusion is not challenged, they're quite harmless.

What are the chances of something like this springing fully formed in adulthood?

This delusion is usually a compensatory response to emotional trauma in childhood.

He likely has some psychiatric history.

I'll see what I can find.

Thank you, Julia.

Dr. Grace. What have you?

The bank guard was k*lled by a b*llet wound to the heart... left ventricle.

Have you retrieved...

Thirty-eight calibre, same as the first m*rder.

Hm.

Sirs!

I think I've found the code.

Have a look at the funeral listings, third one down on the left.

The time and location of the funeral correspond to that of the robbery.

The coded message is real. Our Mr. Holmes was telling the truth.

Or he placed it there himself.

For what purpose?

I don't know, but I don't trust him.

Gentlemen, I've found the identity of your Sherlock.

His name is David Kingsley. He was a patient of Dr. Roberts.

He was institutionalized?

For a number of years.

Does he have any family?

He has an uncle.

His father d*ed when David was an infant, his mother when he was 12. Care for the boy fell to me.

That must have been traumatic for the boy.

He, uh, he withdrew into a fantasy world.

The obsessive reading was one thing, but when he started thinking he was Sherlock Holmes, my wife couldn't cope.

We had him committed.

When was he released?

Six months ago.

The doctor said he was cured; obviously he was wrong.

Is he in trouble?

We believe he may have been involved in an armed robbery.

Oh, dear Lord. How?

That's what we're attempting to find out.

May I see him?

(door opening)

(door closing)

Hello, David.

I'm sorry, you're mistaking me for someone else.

David, it's me, your Uncle Oscar...

I have no uncle. Detective, you must release me. Let me help you solve this case.

David, please.

My name's Sherlock Holmes!

I'm sorry, Mr. Kingsley.

That's it?

Hardly worth knocking off an armoured car for.

Who owns this box?

Let's see. It belongs to a Mr. Joshua Grady, a provincial court judge, I believe.

And who owns the missing box?

It's owned by Mr. Edward Hopkins on Eglinton Ave.

Sir, I had a thought about our Sherlock fellow.

What's that, George?

Well, quite by chance, Mr. Arthur Conan Doyle is attending a conference in New York.

Really? Have you informed him of our little problem?

I did. I thought, you know, if our man met his creator...

That's an excellent idea, George.

Whoever Edward Hopkins is, he doesn't live here anymore.

Yes, but someone has been here.

Probably youngsters, sir. They're prone to this kind of thing at that age. I know I was.

George, have a look at the lathe and plaster... it's been pulled off at the bottom of the walls.

Someone was looking for something.

Sir, some of this mail goes back 10 years.

Yes, most of it's been opened.

Look at this postmark. It's quite recent.

Right, let's round up all of this mail, and see if we can find out what's going on here.

Yes, sir.

Sir, you're releasing him?

We've had him for 24 hours. We can't hold him unless we charge him.

Detective.

Professor Moriarty has left us another coded message.

According to this, he's meeting his men at 398 Simcoe St., nine o'clock.

I don't know about you, Detective, but this is one meeting I plan to attend.

They're late.

Perhaps we deciphered the code incorrectly.

No.

We're at the right place at the right time.

Unless...

Detective, we must leave immediately.

Why?

The coded messages were meant for me. He knows I'm getting too close.

What? (g*nsh*t)

Mr. Holmes!

(gasping)

Is that cocaine?

You'll feel some localized numbing.

It's been a while since I've had cocaine.

Ah!

I was a fool, Detective, to have underestimated Moriarty like that. It would... it would have been obvious to him that I had cracked his code. How else could I have foiled his robbery?

Thirty-eight calibre.

The same w*apon was used in all three sh**t.

Of course it was.

It was Moriarty's g*n.

You wouldn't by chance have a little more of that cocaine, would you?

Bollocks. There is no Moriarty.

Of course not.

But the same g*n that was used to sh**t the getaway carriage driver and the bank guard was also used to sh**t Mr. Kingsley.

I'm still convinced that he's trying to pull a fast one.

I hardly think he would orchestrate his own sh**ting.

Maybe he was once a part of this g*ng.

Maybe there was bad blood. That would explain his presence at the crime scene and how he could decipher their code.

He knows what they've stolen and he wants it.

And he's going to get it by dressing up as Sherlock Holmes?

Oh, I don't know, Murdoch, but until we figure it out, I want him back in custody.

Actually, sir, he may be more valuable working with us.

I have to admit he's picking up on things that I've overlooked.

You know, you won't find Moriarty in the mail.

I'm not looking for Moriarty right now.

This mail goes back 10 years.

Yes.

Was the house ransacked?

How did you know?

It's elementary, Constable Crabtree.

He hasn't lived in the house for 10 years, yet the property taxes were paid in full and someone has been opening his mail, and that someone is looking for something.

But what?

Match the discarded mail to the envelopes.

Whatever's missing contained something of interest to the k*ller.

Sir.

What have you, George?

This was the last piece of mail Edward Hopkins received.

Whoever's opening his mail kept the contents of this one.

Bank of Toronto.

Yes, I've asked the manager to come down.

Perhaps he can shed some light on its contents.

Very good idea, George.

Actually, sir, it was Mr. Holmes' idea.

Of course it was.

Thank you for coming in.

Moriarty! Congratulations, Detective.

You've just captured the Napoleon of crime.

I'm just a bank manager.

Of course it was your ruse.

What were you after? Was it the Star of Tarsus?

The Star of Tarsus?

That's it. Lock him up!

How did you survive the Reichenbach Falls? I saw you go over the edge!

A letter was sent to all bank customers letting them know their accounts were being transferred.

Along with a list of assets?

Of course.

And what were Mr. Hopkins assets?

Um, a savings account in the amount of $479.

And, of course, the safe deposit box.

When was the safe deposit box rented?

Um, July 7, 1890.

And the last activity on that account?

July 7, 1890.

I can see leaving a house behind, even a safe deposit box, but money in the bank?

Sirs, Mr. Holmes has deduced that Mr. Hopkins was m*rder*d.

Deduced, has he?

Yes, sir.

When one eliminates the impossible, then what remains...

The problem with deductive reasoning, George, is that one must first conceive of every possibility.

Now, Mr. Hopkins may be dead, but he may also be unable to retrieve his money. So before we deduce that he's dead, perhaps we should check to see if he's in prison.

Fair enough. On another note, I think I know why Mr. Holmes thought the bank manager was Moriarty.

This is Moriarty. Bloody hell.

Looks just like him.

Poor bugger. Perhaps he is just a crackpot.

I was wrong, Detective.

That man was not Moriarty.

Moriarty's eyes burn with intelligence.

The man I locked eyes with back there was not him.

Is this Moriarty?

My god.

Whoever drew this... has captured him perfectly.

He's still out there, Detective.

We must bring him down.

Sir, no prison in Ontario currently has an Edward Hopkins serving time.

There was, however, an inmate by that name who served about six months in the Central Prison back in 1885.

What was his crime?

Robbery.

Right, George, find out who else was in Central Prison at the same time as Mr. Hopkins.

Good thinking, Detective.

When one is in jail, one's associates are the type likely to rob an armoured carriage.

That's not him.

Oh, we won't find Moriarty this way, Crabtree!

He's far too clever to be caught using conventional tactics.

Detective Murdoch is anything but a conventional sleuth.

You know, I've read all of your stories, and I believe he is your equal in every regard.

My stories?

Oh! That Watson.

Always scribbling down our little adventures. I do miss him sometimes.

Mm.

That's him!

That's the man I saw.

Moriarty?

No, his henchman.

His name is Sebastian Moran. He's an expert on using nitroglycerin to blow open safes.

Or armoured carriages.

Do we have a last-known address?

There are two that we know of.

Right. Crabtree and I will go to Shuter St.

You take Sherlock here and go to Spadina.

And remember, this fellow's dangerous, so stop by the armoury on your way out.

This cigar was stubbed recently.

Very good, Detective.

Must have left by the fire escape.

Detective.

"Aurora."

It appears you were mistaken about the fire escape, Detective.

So, Moran, we meet again.

Do you remember me?

Don't! Don't!

I won't.

Not yet.

But very soon you'll lose consciousness and my friend here will have to support your entire weight.

Then I'll sh**t.

(g*nsh*t)

Give me that!

What does it mean?

Perhaps it's a reference to the town of Aurora, north of the city, along Yonge St.

You know, in one of my cases, "The Sign of the Four", a treasure was being conveyed on a steamship called the Aurora.

This isn't about "The Sign of the Four".

Well, no. These circumstances recall "The Case of the Vanished Star".

I don't remember that one.

It was one of my most troubling cases.

A valuable diamond called the Star of Tarsus was stolen by Moriarty and one of his henchmen, but they...

This isn't about any work of fiction!

Real men are dead! And I don't want to hear any more Sherlock-bloody-Holmes stories!

Sir, Arthur Conan Doyle is here.

Ah.

Mr. Doyle! Arthur!

Pleasure to see you again.

Inspector. Detective Murdoch.

Mr. Doyle. Thank you for coming on such short notice.

Oh, how could I possibly resist? It's not often that a writer gets to meet his own creation.

Arthur Conan Doyle, meet Sherlock Holmes.

What you're suggesting, after I strip away the condescension, is that I don't exist.

You exist as a man, sir, but Sherlock Holmes is an artistic invention. I created him.

Um, look.

This book was written by Arthur Conan Doyle, yes? I am Arthur Conan Doyle.

I'm familiar with these scribblings.

I always assumed you were a pseudonym for my dear friend Dr. Watson. It appears you have put your name on his work.

Given that you seem to have earned your reputation on the basis of my adventures, I submit to you, Mr. Doyle, that I created you.

Alright then, um... Mr. Holmes, I suppose you're familiar with the story "The Final Problem"?

I am.

Well, you d*ed in that story, did you not?

No. I shamefully led Watson to that conclusion.

Moriarty's agents were determined to k*ll me.

I had to make them think I was already dead.

There were two sets of footprints leading to the edge of the falls; there were none coming back.

How did you survive?

I retraced my own footsteps backwards to where I could scale the cliff face and escape.

Actually, that's not bad.

What did you do after that?

I set out to see the world. I met the Dali Lama in Tibet, Caliphate in Sudan. Eventually I came here and caught sight of Moran.

Moran?

Sebastian Moran, one of...

One of Moriarty's henchmen.

Or do you not know his name? Gentlemen, this conversation is bringing us no closer to Moriarty.

Sebastian Moran. Rather like the sound of that.

Oh, no, no, no, he's insane.

He's insane. Floridly so.

But he has some damn good ideas.

Mr. Doyle, what can you tell us about "The Case of the Vanished Star"?

The what?

It's one of your stories.

Yes, about the diamond... the Star of Tarsus. It features Moriarty, his henchman...

Detective, I have never written a story called "The Case of the Vanished Star".

It was 10 years ago.

I'd just solved "The Case of the Sign of Four" and was about to conduct chemical experiments with gypsum when a young lad appeared at my door.

In Toronto?

No, London. Baker St.

I only came to Canada after Reichenbach Falls.

We've been over this.

Yes, carry on.

He was about 13, although the sorrow in his eyes made him look older.

I knew from his countenance...

I don't care about his bloody countenance.

Get to the facts.

What did the boy want you to do?

Solve the m*rder of his father and retrieve the Star of Tarsus.

The diamond.

The boy's father had joined with a couple of thieves to steal a precious diamond.

They replaced it with a glass replica so no one would know it was gone.

And what happened to the father?

He was double-crossed.

The henchman, Moran, sh*t him on the orders of Moriarty, but not before he hid the diamond where only his son would know where to look.

And where was that?

I don't know. He promised his son a clue would come to him, but none ever did.

And what was this boy's name?

If memory serves me correctly, his name was David Kingsley.

Isn't David Kingsley Sherlock's real name?

It is.

So you're thinking he's remembering details of an actual crime committed when he was a 13-year-old boy?

That's right. Sir, perhaps Aurora is the clue that David Kingsley never received.

Bloody hell.

Maybe it was a reference to The Sign of Four.

His father must have known that he liked Sherlock Holmes.

Perhaps. But, sir, what puzzles me is that David Kingsley's father d*ed in 1878.

David would have only been an infant.

So, who's the father in this story?

The man you're talking about is, uh, Ted Hopkins.

As in Edward Hopkins?

He's a no-good who took up with David's mother after his father d*ed.

Would David have considered Mr. Hopkins his father, by chance?

Yes, which made what he did so despicable.

What did he do?

The bastard bolted when the going got tough; left David to nurse his dying mother all by himself.

Actually, we suspect that Mr. Hopkins was k*lled in a criminal double-cross some years ago.

Well, that doesn't surprise me.

He consorted with that type.

Mr. Kingsley, does the word "Aurora" mean anything to you?

Aurora?

No. Why do you ask?

It was a message left in a safe deposit box that belonged to Mr. Hopkins.

We suspect it has something to do with the name of a boat from a Sherlock Holmes story.

Sunrise.

I'm sorry?

Aurora means sunrise.

Detective. I could find no reference to the Star of Tarsus, but there is a diamond called the Star of Tehran, and it's here in Toronto.

It's currently being housed at the Persian consulate.

How big is it?

Forty-three carats. (Brackenreid whistles.)

That'd be worth a bob or two.

That's $100,000 exactly.

Well, we'll need the consulate to verify if it's genuine.

Sir, it's being done as we speak.

So, what now?

We need to speak with David Kingsley.

You're weightless, free from all constraint.

You have no body.

Can you feel the chair beneath you?

No.

Who are you?

I'm Sherlock Holmes.

Who is David Kingsley?

He was a client of mine.

Let's go back to your 13th birthday.

Where are you?

I'm at home in Knightsbridge.

My brother Mycroft is visiting from Oxford.

I've never seen anything like this.

He's created a complete history for himself.

Can you break him out of that?

I don't know.

Um... bring him out.

At the count of three, you will be fully awake.

One, two, three.

Dr. Ogden, may I have a few moments with Mr. Holmes?

Of course.

(Murdoch clears his throat.) Mr. Holmes, how did you deduce that it was the henchman that k*lled David's father?

I didn't. David, saw it.

He was hiding in a closet when Moran came in and sh*t his father.

When did you first see Moran?

In Switzerland.

Then how did you know it was the same man that David saw?

Hmm? Think, Mr. Holmes.

Switzerland could not have been the first time you saw Moran.

Why are you badgering me with these trifles?

Not trifles.

You claim to have recognized a man that you've never seen.

Think, Mr. Holmes.

When did you first see him?

Was it you hiding behind that door?

No, that was David.

Then how do you remember him?

It must be your memory.

You saw Moran walk in and sh**t your father.

No, David did!

Did David see Moriarty?

No.

He was in the shadows.

That's why your only remembrance of Moriarty is from the illustration from a book.

You've never seen Moriarty because David has never seen Moriarty.

You stop this!

You are not Sherlock Holmes!

You are David Kingsley!

You were the young boy who saw his father k*lled in front of him.

This is impossible.

Recognizing the face of a man you have never seen is impossible, and if you eliminate the impossible, what remains, however improbable, must be the truth!

Stop this, please!

Tell me who you are!

I'm David Kingsley! Now will you just leave me alone?!

I'm sorry, David.

How long have I been pretending to be Sherlock this time?

I don't know.

As long as I've known you.

I thought it was over.

I thought I was better.

I always thought of Ted as my father, and in every sense he was.

We both loved Sherlock Holmes.

He used to read the stories to me.

What about "The Case of the Vanished Star"?

He told that story to me the night before he d*ed.

I think he suspected they were going to k*ll him.

But he wasn't certain, so he told you what happened in the form of a Sherlock Holmes story.

Knowing that if he was k*lled, you would understand that the story was true... that the diamond actually existed.

And that's why he put the clue in a safe deposit box.

He assumed it would be bequeathed to you.

But his body was never found, so the will was never ex*cuted.

Sirs.

May I present... the Star of Tehran.

Cut glass. Completely phoney.

So the real one was stolen, exactly like the story.

David, I have one more question.

What does Aurora mean to you?

It was the name of the toy steamboat I used to sail on the creek on my father's property.

It was called Sunrise, but after we read The Sign of the Four, we called it the Aurora.

Sir, come with me. Stay here.

(man): Is it in there?

Agh!

It's not in there.

I don't know if it ever was.

We've been looking for the stone for 10 years!

Where is it?

I honestly have no idea.

Drop the Kn*fe.

Sebastian Moran, Oscar Kingsley, you're both under arrest for robbery and m*rder.

Bloody hell.

It was you, Uncle.

All this time, you were Moriarty.

David, put that down.

You k*lled my father!

He was not your father.

He was to me! And you had him k*lled.

And for what? This?

Squeeze it hard, Uncle. Clasp it lovingly to your chest, 'cause you're about to die for it.

Don't be a fool, son. (Murdoch's voice echoing)

Don't do this, David.

Sherlock wouldn't do this.

I'm not Sherlock anymore.

Be him again.

Be the man you were destined to be.

Holmes believed in logic, deduction, intellect, and above all, the rule of law.

He k*lled my father.

Yes, but we've caught him. We've caught him using the skills that you learned.

If you k*ll this man, you will turn your back on everything that has ever mattered to you.

That isn't who you are.

That isn't the man you want to be.

Gentlemen, shall we?

Sign of the Four.

One of mine, I believe. I hope you're enjoying it.

Of course. You're off, Mr. Doyle?

Yes. Returning to New York, then catching a steamship back to England.

I was rather hoping that I could have a chat with our young Sherlock before I go.

Is he about, perchance?

Oh, he's under observation at the asylum.

No longer, I'm afraid. I just came from there. In fact, I have a message from your Dr. Ogden: "The skeleton trick is now the coat-rack trick."

She said you'd understand.

Of course.

Damn my luck.

I thought I'd milk him for some more new ideas.

Are you thinking of bringing Holmes back, by any chance, Arthur?

Indeed I am.

I thought I'd written myself into a corner, but he's given me a way out.

Have a pleasant voyage.

Well, it's always a pleasure to see you both.

Arthur.

Right. Cheerio.

So, it's all wrapped up, then.

Except for the diamond, of course. I'm guessing that's lost forever.

You know, I'm not so sure.

According to The Sign of the Four, the treasure was thrown overboard the steamship, Aurora, to prevent it from falling into the wrong hands.

Bloody hell. David said he sailed his toy boat on a creek on his father's property.

I was wondering when you'd figure it out, Detective.

Please returned this to its rightful owner.

The Persian consulate has offered a substantial reward for its return. Who shall I say found it?

Sherlock Holmes, of course.

Detective.

Good luck, Mr. Holmes.

Inspector.

Mr. Holmes.

He's back to being Sherlock, then.

For him I suspect the fiction in his life is less painful than the fact.

Hm.

Are you sure we'll be able to see?

Everything!

[screams]

Announcer: Next Monday, on an all-new Murdoch Mysteries...

You, there! You're not a Peeping Tom, are you?

I suppose this would be a good place to hide one's secrets.

Announcer: An all-new Murdoch Mysteries, next Monday at 9:00 on CBC.