06x21 - Whatever Remains, However Improbable

[bunniefuu]

WATSON: Previously on Elementary: WATSON: Hannah Gregson just found her roommate strangled in her house.

HOLMES: This is not just a homicide. This is a serial k*ller announcing himself.

Getting away with m*rder is an incredible feeling.

I should have realized sooner what Michael really was.

Special Agent Mallick.

HOLMES: So you're covering the Michael Rowan investigation for the Bureau?

(gasps, groans)

It's over, Joan.

(grunts)

You all right?

Yeah.

Michael got it worse.

We still don't know his whereabouts.

Just find him.

GREGSON: His body just turned up at a transfer station that the sanitation department uses. I've just been informed that Joan is gonna have to surrender herself to the FBI.

She's their prime suspect.

♪ ♪ Thanks for coming in, Ms. Watson.

The other day, it was Joan.

That was before Michael Rowan's body turned up at a waste transfer station.

You think I k*lled Michael.

Why?

Best we can tell is he d*ed early yesterday morning.

If you can account for your whereabouts, we can stop this right here and get you back on this side of the table.

I was at my parents'.

I went there after I left the hospital.

You mean after the victim tried to k*ll you?

"The victim"?

He's the one that's dead.

You said you went to your parents', but your stepfather is out of town on a book tour.

I meant I was at their house.

Was there anyone there besides your mother?

I ask because I'm told she suffers from dementia.

Are you gonna tell me why you think I k*lled Michael or not?

In a word, obsession.

This case took over your whole existence.

You knew better than anyone what kind of monster he was. The way he injected himself into your partner's life, feeding him victims, preying on him when he was recovering from a neurological condition. It must be hard, someone you care about being taken in by a serial k*ller. It was personal the way you att*cked this case. I saw it myself-- you kept putting in the hours after he dropped off the grid. You kept searching. WATSON: I had a job to do. He k*lled people.

That we know of.

We have no idea what kind of secrets this man took to his grave.

How many more victims he k*lled, where he buried them.

Where's the justice for them and their families?

I wanted him behind bars, too.

Maybe you used to, before he invaded your home.

Before he tried to k*ll you.

Yesterday morning, Michael Rowan called his buddy, William Bazemore.

We think he made the call over the Internet, because we haven't been able to trace it.

Mr.

Bazemore wasn't there, so Rowan left a message.

MICHAEL: Hey, William, it's me.

I wanted to check on you.

Uh, look, you're gonna hear some things on the news about me.

I, uh, wanted you to know they're not true.

(clattering)

MICHAEL: Joan!

(clattering and groaning)

Is there anything you'd like to say?

I'd like my lawyer now.

WOMAN: I have to say, I was surprised when I got your call. You're the finest defense attorney in New York, Ms. Donnely.

What's surprising about a m*rder suspect putting you on retainer?

I've lost six trials defending people you helped put away.

The surprise was that you would trust me with your life.

I've seen you in court.

You only lost those cases because those clients were guilty.

I'm not guilty.

Michael Rowan identified you as his attacker.

How do you explain that?

I can't.

I just keep thinking that he...

suffered trauma to his skull.

Maybe he was confused.

Maybe I was the last person on his mind.

- I don't know.

- Well, the truth is...

the tape's not the scariest thing you're up against.

Mallick is.

She's as sharp as they come.

Then why is she so determined to sacrifice an innocent woman at the altar of a mass m*rder*r?

Maybe she wants a high-profile clearance to shine her own star.

Maybe she really is outraged that some of Rowan's m*rder victims will never be identified.

Either way, she's telegraphing what she wants.

And that's you behind bars.

Will you be returning to your parents' house?

No.

I don't want them anywhere near this.

(stove burner ignites)

Did you do it?

Did I do what?

k*ll Michael.

I would understand.

In fact, I would do everything in my power to make sure you got away with it.

No, I did not k*ll Michael.

Did you?

You think I wouldn't have told you?

You thought I wouldn't have told you.

I did not k*ll Michael Rowan.

Which is apparently the name of the club we'll be forming.

Obviously, we need to identify the real culprit.

And Agent Mallick will not be making that easy.

She's already warned us to stay away from the precinct.

We will not have access to the department or its resources.

We won't know what evidence has been gathered or how the Bureau plans to use it.

She's made the rules of the game quite clear.

So, what do we do?

We cheat.

HOLMES: I like the new place.

Thanks.

How's Joan?

Remarkably well for a woman who, on consecutive days, was brutally att*cked by a serial k*ller and then threatened with imprisonment for his m*rder.

She didn't do it, by the way.

I know.

So you also know why I'm here.

Yeah.

I need everything.

I need every report, every file.

Sherlock...

It wasn't a request.

I can't.

There's too many eyes on this.

Too much attention.

Captain.

I can't do it, okay?

I'm sorry.

She didn't k*ll Michael Rowan.

The evidence is going to show that.

You're just going to have to be patient.

No, I don't think I will.

(footsteps approaching)

(footsteps stop)

It's okay.

I'm awake.

Couldn't sleep?

I would lie and say it was the cracked ribs, but...

How'd it go with the captain?

Poorly.

He won't be helping us.

That's why I broke into the morgue last night.

Made a copy of Michael's autopsy report.

I also have his body downstairs.

HOLMES: As we assumed, cause of death-- blunt-force trauma to the head.

So his right eye was lacerated, his orbital bone was broken, and the wound would have dripped blood into both eyes.

Meaning he wasn't just concussed when he identified you as his k*ller.

He was half blind. So, is that for my modesty?

Mine, actually.

Don't worry.

There were no clues there.

Just confirmation of every stereotype anyone's ever assumed about men who hurt women.

I thought the most interesting part of his anatomy was his upper torso.

Note the wound you inflicted.

WATSON: Somebody stitched it up.

Not the medical examiner.

He writes in his report it was sutured no more than two hours after Michael sustained it.

There's no way he did that himself.

I wager the FBI's canvassing hospitals and medical and veterinary offices as we speak.

That makes sense, but I don't think the person who did this has an office.

I think he's a combat medic.

Or at least he was a long time ago.

Looks like the wound was closed with an oh-silk on a curved needle.

But what really stands out is the color: black.

I took a course in emergency medicine, and the professor showed us slides of sutures done by combat medics.

Most of what he showed us was from the Vietnam w*r, but the sutures looked exactly like these.

If you're right, Michael either went back in time to the Tet Offensive or he visited someone with medical training and supplies from the s.

There's gotta be thousands of Vietnam vets living in New York.

Yes.

Lucky for us, I think I know the one we're looking for.

(groans)

Here.

Oh.

Thanks.

Sherlock, right?

Yeah.

Seen you at a few meetings.

Denny.

Vietnam veteran.

Oh, what gave it away?

You were a combat medic.

You, uh, suffered from PTSD, which you treated with heroin.

You were on and off it for years, but the last time I saw you, you were ten years sober.

You shared with the group that you had another addiction, which was collecting, uh, memorabilia from the w*r that you fought in.

I was impressed I remembered your name.

That's some memory you got.

Mmm.

Actually, it's your collection I'd like to talk to you about.

Safe to assume that you've acquired a vintage medical field kit or two over the years?

Yeah, meeting's getting started.

We should find some seats.

No, I think we should take this conversation somewhere else.

Unless you'd like me to share with the group that you stitched up a wounded serial k*ller the other night.

DENNY: You gotta understand, when Michael showed up at my place, he was just another guy from meetings.

All the stuff I've heard about on the news over the past couple nights...

(chuckles)

it blew my mind.

I mean, you'd think you'd know a serial k*ller when you see one.

What time did he arrive?

Around : .

He was bleeding all over the place.

He said he had had a bad time lately, so he tried to score that night.

Only the dealer he went to tried to rip him off.

Michael got angry.

He shoved the guy.

The guy shoved back.

So he told you he was stabbed by a dealer, and then he ran away.

He said he was afraid to go to the hospital because he thought the dealer and his guys might come looking for him there.

So he asked you to tend to the wound for him.

And after I was done, I let him crash on the couch.

In the morning, I got up to run some errands.

He was still asleep.

When I came back, he was gone.

I figured, okay, he went to work or something.

But then, that night, I see on TV somebody k*lled him.

And then I hear that the police think he k*lled a bunch of girls.

I figure, I got a record.

No good's gonna come from me telling the cops I-I helped him, so I keep it to myself.

I swear everything I told you is the truth.

I believe you.

(sighs)

You said you consult for the police.

Am I gonna be in trouble for helping him?

No.

Not if you help me.

- Sure you weren't followed?

- Positive.

- Did you bring what I asked?

- Yeah.

There's one spray can of luminol.

I think the surgical mask and the shower cap are overkill.

Uh, I don't think the fumes are gonna hurt you.

It's not for me; it's for you.

This is the last known location of a man you're suspected of murdering.

If the FBI ever finds this place, do you want to take the chance that they'll find your DNA as well?

I feel ridiculous.

Imagine how ridiculous you would feel if you went to prison for a crime you didn't commit.

Okay, so on the phone, you said you found some blood spatter?

Yes.

Barely noticeable.

On the wall here.

But what's more noticeable is the smell of chlorine on the floor along here.

(spraying)

I came here looking for clues as to where Michael went next.

But now you think he never left.

The person who k*lled him did it here, and then cleaned up after they were done, but left some spatter on the wall.

Are you sure it's not the guy who owns the place?

Positive.

His haptics were an open book.

He's innocent.

Get the blinds, would you?

I think we're gonna have to tell the FBI or the police what we found.

I think that would be a very bad idea.

Obviously, these prints were left by the k*ller as she cleaned.

I say "she" because the footprints are those of a woman.

What is more troubling is...

they're the same size as yours.

HOLMES: All in all, a productive morning.

We're ahead of the FBI on several fronts.

We know when and where Michael was m*rder*d.

And that the person who did it was a woman.

Oh, wait-- that fits their theory that I'm the k*ller perfectly.

(cell phone chimes)

So, the person who k*lled Michael knew to go looking for him at that house.

How?

Been wondering the same thing.

What if it's because she had the resources of a federal agency at her disposal?

What?

We've been puzzling as to Special Agent Mallick's special determination to hang Michael's m*rder on you.

What if it's because she did it herself?

The person who did it was a woman.

So is she.

But why would she track him down and k*ll him after he broke in here the other night?

I mean, he'd finally slipped up, so all the Bureau had to do was charge him.

She'd have plenty of time to build a case against him for the murders he committed.

We tried for months to build a case, and we failed.

She was finding the path equally futile.

She was worried he would slip the net again.

We'll need to ascertain where she was at the time of the m*rder.

Our friends at Everyone were quite helpful during our pursuit of Michael, but he was a predator of young women.

Our next quarry is a federal agent.

Difficult to tell which one a hacker collective would find more odious.

We'll know soon enough.

I'm still wondering if we should tell the FBI about what we found.

I mean, we could go over Mallick's head, talk to one of her superiors.

That would make it hard for her to tamper with the scene.

Actually, there's no scene left with which to tamper.

Denny Mulgrew's home was destroyed by fire minutes ago.

What do you mean, it was "destroyed by fire"?

I mean I've been texting with him since we left.

I explained our findings, and I recommended that he torch the place immediately, lest he be falsely accused of m*rder.

You told him to burn down his house?

I offered to send a professional arsonist, but he assured me he was up to the task.

I've already sent him a six-figure sum from an anonymous account.

He's going to be in a new and better home before you know it.

- Sherlock...

- He'll even have enough money left over to rebuild his memorabilia collection.

- Sherlock...

- Are you not understanding what is at stake here?

You're this close to being charged with m*rder.

m*rder.

If I'm right about Special Agent Mallick, then it's possible she had plans to return to that house.

Only, this time, she would have an FBI forensics team in tow, and the place would be brimming with evidence that she had planted to use against you.

Now, I'm sorry if you don't approve of my methods, but I'm not going to let any additional harm come to you.

Joan Watson is one of the finest people I've ever worked with.

MAN: Is that your full statement regarding her character?

Not even close.

(chuckling): You don't have time to hear my full statement about her character.

But I could boil it down to this: She didn't k*ll Michael Rowan.

I just wanted to see how things were going in here.

Great.

I think these guys have everything now but my belt size and my favorite Beatle.

It's George, by the way.

MALLICK: You think we're wasting your time?

We just want the truth to come out.

So do I.

Matter of fact, I'd like to help you find the person who k*lled Michael Rowan.

Only, instead of being out there developing some real suspects, I'm stuck answering questions about the one person in the world I know didn't do it.

You want to help.

That's funny.

I came in here because I want to help you.

I understand you're about to join the U.S. Marshals.

What's that got to do with anything?

I've become very familiar with the way Ms.

Watson and her partner like to operate.

The corners they cut, the rules they pretend are there for everyone but them.

Tell me, Detective, if I were to launch a full-scale investigation into every case you ever worked with Ms.

Watson, how do you think that would go for you?

Thanks for coming.

Quite pleased to hear from you, actually.

Not everyone at the department's so keen to associate with us at the moment.

The captain's got a lot of eyes on him right now.

He's getting a lot of questions about you and Joan, how you work.

So am I.

And yet here you are.

This is everything we've got so far on Rowan's m*rder.

It isn't much, but maybe it'll help.

Thank you.

This agent, Mallick, she's not going to stop coming.

She's gonna do whatever it takes to hang this on Joan.

I know.

Well, I would tell you to solve this one fast, but you're you.

I know you've only got one speed.

Oh, you'd be surprised.

(over stereo): ♪ So, baby, let me, let me ♪ (bees buzzing)

♪ Totally relax you ♪ ♪ It's only love ♪ ♪ To where you feel that you're... ♪ (music stops)

Something I should know?

Everyone got back to us while you were out.

They said they would look into Agent Mallick if I gave them an up-close view of one of your beehives and put this song on repeat.

I mean, I had to get movers to get it down here, but at least we did not have to humiliate ourselves this time.

Oh, you've been humiliated.

You just don't realize it.

One of the founding fathers of Everyone, StingSquat , is an admitted melissophiliac.

He's aroused by bees.

You just arranged a sex show with a cast of thousands.

Ordinarily, I would shut it down, but since we need Everyone's help so badly...

Actually, I'm not sure we do.

My meeting with Marcus was quite fruitful.

Every piece of trash on or around Michael's body was vouchered as evidence and indexed.

Standard procedure when a body turns up in a landfill or a dump.

According to that, everything around Michael originated in Harlem.

Doesn't make any sense.

You and I both know that Michael was k*lled in Queens.

So you think the real k*ller m*rder*d Michael in Queens, and then dumped him in Harlem.

That's one possibility.

Another is that Michael's body never went to Harlem at all.

Harlem came to him.

HOLMES: Curtis Jenkins?

Hello.

My name's Sherlock Holmes.

This is Joan Watson.

We work with the police.

- How you doing?

- Good.

Actually, I know your son, Graham.

He was in prison for strangling his wife.

I helped prove that he was innocent.

Perhaps he mentioned me.

He said something about a British guy with a funny name.

You come here so I could thank you in person?

No.

We came here because we think that you helped the woman who k*lled Michael Rowan dispose of his body.

You know the name.

Course I do.

He's the son of a bitch the police think k*lled my daughter-in-law.

Heard on the news he turned up dead.

I was okay with that.

But I had nothing to do with it.

So, you've worked as a mechanic for the Department of Sanitation for over years.

You've spent the last here at the Harlem garage.

So?

So, Michael's body was found at a DSNY transfer station.

We have evidence that he was dumped by a garbage truck that works out of Harlem.

We also have evidence that he was k*lled at a residence in Queens.

HOLMES: We think you took a truck from this garage, drove it to Queens, picked up Michael's body, and then returned it, where it resumed its usual rounds in Harlem, before making a final stop at the transfer station.

(chuckling)

When you got here, you noticed the guard station at the gate, right?

That place is manned - .

These trucks may smell, but they cost about grand apiece.

And the only people who can take 'em out are the drivers.

Well, you have friends here.

Maybe you called in a favor.

Even if I had, all the trucks are tracked by GPS.

So you find one that took a trip to Queens the other day, you let me know.

Mr. Jenkins...

The person who k*lled that psycho is a hero.

Okay?

Rowan put my son through hell.

So, even if I could point you in someone's direction, I wouldn't.

Not in a million years.

Well, perhaps you just need a little motivation.

Don't.

Come on.

HOLMES: You understand that man's our best chance of proving your innocence.

I'm not sure that's true.

He seemed pretty confident that we couldn't prove that he drove a truck out of here, right?

He did.

Maybe that's because he put the body in the truck here at the garage.

You think he and/or the k*ller brought Michael here, brought the body to the truck, not the other way around?

That guard station he mentioned-- I noticed it.

I also noticed the security camera that was recording vehicles coming and going.

If the woman who k*lled Michael was here that day...

Camera might have caught her face.

MAN: Sorry. I can't help you. The footage you're looking for is gone.

What do you mean, "gone"?

I mean someone came and took it.

They were law enforcement, like you.

See, I wasn't here, but they told my guys there was some anonymous tip that somebody was stealing equipment.

We let 'em into the system.

They took what they needed.

The original footage got erased by accident.

Course it did.

But the person that came here-- was she from the FBI, an agent called Mallick?

I...

Louie.

The person you let into the system the other day-- was she a Fed named Mallick?

No, it was a cop.

And it was a he.

His name was, uh, Grayson.

No, Gregson.

Tom Gregson.

He was a captain.

Does that help?

No, I'm fine.

You deserve a night out.

I'll get a pizza or something.

All right?

Okay.

Love you, too.

♪ ♪ HOLMES: So you lied to the people at the garage in Harlem.

You didn't make a copy of the footage.

No.

There's no copy.

How much do you know?

Almost all of it.

Michael was k*lled by a woman at the home of a man named Denny Mulgrew.

An accomplice helped her dispose of the body: a man named Curtis Jenkins, father of Graham.

I confess I don't know at what point you were drawn into the plot, but once you were, you realized that the k*ller could be undone by security footage recorded outside Mr.

Jenkins' workplace, so you went there and you destroyed it.

I spent the better part of today thinking that Michael's k*ller was Special Agent Mallick.

But no.

It's Hannah.

Your daughter.

Maddie wasn't just Hannah's roommate.

She was her best friend.

After Maddie's m*rder, Hannah took some time off.

She was supposed to be getting her head together.

Instead, she started looking into Rowan on her own.

She dug in.

She got to know all the people in his life.

Including Denny Mulgrew.

After she heard about what happened at your place, she got to thinking.

He's not going to a hospital.

He'd go to a guy like Mulgrew.

So she played a hunch.

She went to his place and staked it out. The next morning, after Mulgrew left, she found a way inside. She had her g*n with her. But she thought that was too good for him, so she used her baton instead. Him calling Joan's name-- she never heard that.

And she sure as hell didn't know the whole thing was being recorded.

So, when did she make you an accessory?

Couple hours later, I got a call from a friend of mine who owns a bar.

He said Hannah was there and that she was in bad shape.

So I went there, got her into my car.

And that's when she told me everything.

You have to tell the FBI.

I can't.

No.

Hannah's a cop.

She can't go to prison.

And Watson can?

You gotta understand-- everything I did, I did before I knew that the Feds were trying to pin this on Joan.

Are you under the impression that that makes it okay?

Mallick's got nothing.

Her whole case is circumstantial.

It's going to blow over.

Let's just imagine for a moment that it does.

What about the damage to Watson's reputation?

Do you think she'll ever be able to consult for law enforcement ever again?

What about the families of the women who Michael m*rder*d and then disposed of?

What about the mothers and fathers who are never going to be able to find their daughters, never going to be able to give them proper burials?

Is this gonna blow over for them as well?

Or do you think perhaps they might start bringing civil lawsuits against Watson?

How exactly do you imagine her quality of life moving forward?

You're the door that this lunatic walked through, okay?

Not me!

He cozied up to you.

He got to know everything about you, including the fact that I have a daughter.

He k*lled her friend to get your attention.

If it weren't for you, Maddie Williams would be alive today and my little girl wouldn't be a k*ller.

She's my daughter.

She's my best friend.

(door opens)

He won't help.

I think it's time we took everything we know to Agent Mallick.

There's very little we can prove, obviously, but our story holds.

And if she's half the agent she claims to be, she'll at least bring some pressure to bear on Hannah Gregson.

That might be all that it takes.

It's funny-- the FBI came and took everything we ever put up on that wall, but I still see it.

The reports, maps, crime scene photos, the face of every woman he k*lled.

I remember everything.

As I was saying, I think a conversation with Agent Mallick is in order.

What if we didn't do anything?

Just took our chances, see what happens?

You want to just wait and see if you're arrested?

I-I understand why Hannah did what she did.

I don't want her to go to prison for it.

I don't want the captain to go to prison for helping her.

But think about it-- what does Mallick really have?

Means: Uh, Michael was bludgeoned with a w*apon that you're known to favor.

Motive: He tried to k*ll you.

Opportunity: No one reliable can account for your whereabouts at the time of the m*rder.

What else am I forgetting?

Uh, oh, yes.

He identified you as his k*ller as he lay dying.

Mallick does not have a m*rder w*apon.

She has no witness.

She can't prove that I wasn't where I said I was when Michael was k*lled.

You appreciate that the captain is trying to be a good parent.

I assume that's because you've been trying to become a parent yourself.

How do you think all of this is going to affect that endeavor?

Who in their right mind is going to allow an accused k*ller to adopt a child?

Maybe no one.

Can't think about that right now.

Well, then it's over, you know.

You know, our little family unit.

You, me, the captain, Marcus.

We'll never be able to set foot in that precinct ever again.

I know.

We're supposed to be partners!

We are.

So be my partner.

Been thinking about you and the decision you made.

I think there are certain crimes which the law cannot touch and which therefore, to some extent, justify private revenge.

But your revenge has been anything but private.

It's also been assigned to the wrong person.

I told you when you called-- I never meant for any of this to come down on Joan.

She doesn't think we should tell the FBI the truth.

Despite his betrayal, she still cares about your father.

She doesn't want to see him suffer the consequences of your actions.

She would rather take her chances.

And what do you think?

I think a good detective leaves nothing to chance.

You're going to confess to everything.

You can start with how you disposed of the m*rder w*apon.

(doorbell rings)

Ma'am.

There's been a development.

We need you to come with us.

(door opens and closes)

This is for you to sign.

-What is that?

- An affidavit that'll keep you from being charged as an accessory to Michael Rowan's m*rder after the fact.

"Accessory"?

He didn't tell you what he did, did he?

Who?

Your partner.

He confessed to the m*rder.

He even produced the m*rder w*apon.

It was covered in Rowan's blood and his fingerprints.

You're off the hook.

No.

That's wrong.

Sherlock did not k*ll anyone.

I believe you.

I think he's covering for you.

I need to speak with him.

Good luck with that.

I have to see him.

He's not here.

He's in England.

What?

He didn't confess in person.

He sent a proxy.

Someone from the British consulate.

After she gave us his confession, she said some deal got hammered out between our country and hers.

MI made up a story for him, said that when he k*lled Rowan he was acting in the service of the queen.

But you and I know that's a load of crap.

You said he's in England.

The only part of the deal I like.

Sherlock Holmes isn't America's problem anymore.

What do you mean?

The Brits won't extradite him.

They made that very clear.

And he isn't allowed to set foot in the U.S. ever again.

Not without being arrested and tried for everything he alleges he did.

Your little partnership-- it's over.

Cheer up, Joan.

You just got away with m*rder.

(door opens and closes)

Thought you were supposed to be in England.

I am.

Supposed to be, that is.

The terms of the deal I agreed to are quite binding.

There's a plane waiting for me at Kennedy.

But...

couldn't leave without saying good-bye.

You surprised me last night.

Your... your willingness to protect the captain.

Then I was surprised that I was surprised.

Helping others before yourself is your nature.

Always has been.

And yet, in this instance, I found the risk to you unacceptable.

You thought I was throwing my life away, so you decided to throw your life away instead.

Well, in point of fact, I've sacrificed very little.

With respect to my freedom, that is.

MI owed me.

Not you, not the captain, certainly not his daughter.

Me.

I'm the only one who could confess without going to prison.

I wasn't going to confess.

No, you were going to play this out.

Hope for the best.

You visited Agent Mallick this morning.

How did you think it was going to turn out for you?

She told me that you gave her the m*rder w*apon.

I visited Hannah Gregson this morning.

I told her my intentions, and she agreed to help. She told me where the w*apon was, and I retrieved it.

We could have fought this together.

We could have failed.

That doesn't sound like us.

I wanted to thank you.

- Don't.

- I wanted to thank you for everything you've done for me over the last six years.

Sherlock...

I was dying when we first met.

I mean, I looked well enough.

Just got out of rehab and all that.

Thought that I knew everything, but I didn't.

I didn't realize how much...

how much work I would have to put in and how much time it would take.

But most of all, I-I didn't realize that...

things could get better.

And that I could actually be...

Yes, I was dying.

And no one could see it but you.

You saved my life, Joan.

We're partners.

No.

We're much better than that.

We're two people that love each other.

We always have been.

(door closes)

MAN: It's a most painful matter to me, as you can most readily imagine, Mr. Holmes.

I've been cut to the quick.

I understand from our mutual acquaintance, Stamford, that you've already managed several delicate cases of this sort, though I presume that they were hardly from the same class of society.

Actually, this would be a step down.

I beg pardon?

My last client of the sort was a king.

Oh.

I had no idea.

Had his wife gone missing?

Sorry.

Do-do...

do you hear that?

Hear what?

Racket next door.

I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes.

I hear nothing.

Forgive me, Lord St. Simon.

I'm-I'm...

I'm just...

I'm still getting used to this place.

Oh, really?

Stamford told me that you returned to Baker Street almost six months ago.

I did, but my-my residence in New York had much thicker walls.

And, uh, these are just taking some getting used to.

Not to mention the neighbors behind them.

I see.

Um...

(sighs)

as I was saying, my bride, Miss Hatty Doran of San Francisco, disappeared from our wedding reception this past Saturday.

(chuckling): We'd only been married an hour...

Do you mind?!

Please continue.

♪ ♪ Did you not remember I had a client this morning?

I was moving some furniture around.

Sue me.

Look, when you asked me if you could live here...

When you invited me to live here.

It was not so you could t*rture me with your incessant noise.

How'd it go with the lord?

Oh, he's convinced his wife has been abducted, but it couldn't be more obvious that she's left him.

I mean, I don't blame her.

I couldn't spend another minute with the man.

Anyway, he's a friend of a friend, so we'll have to ascertain her whereabouts later.

What about now?

We've been summoned to Scotland Yard.

There's been a m*rder.

Okay, just let me get my coat.

♪ We all know her desire ♪ From the plans that she has made ♪ All right.

♪ I had her on a promise...

You know, you were a better partner in New York.

We're not partners.

We're two people who love each other.

Well, you realize I only said that 'cause I thought we'd never see each other again.

I'm still not sure about this, you know.

Us.

Here.

Really?

That's funny, because I feel like we're exactly where we're supposed to be.

♪ This is the one, this is the one.