File #1: Sherlock.S02E01.720p.BluRay.700MB.ShAaNiG.

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---

- Who are you?

- Jim Moriarty.

Bye.

Consulting criminal.

I have loved this,

this little game of ours.

- People have died.

- That's what people do!

I will stop you.

If you don't stop prying...

I'll burn you.

I will burn the heart

out of you.

Catch you later.

No, you won't.

Sorry, boys. I'm so changeable.

It is a weakness with me,

but to be fair to myself,

it is my only weakness.

You can't be allowed to continue.

You just can't.

I would try to convince you

but everything I have to say

has already crossed your mind.

Probably my answer has crossed yours.

Do you mind if I get that?

No, please.
You've got the rest of your life.

Hello?

Yes, of course it is. What do you want?

Say that again!

Say that again and know that

if you're lying to me,

I will find you and I will skin you.

Wait.

Sorry.

Wrong day to die.

Did you get a better offer?

You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock.

So if you have what you say you have,

I will make you rich.

If you don't.

I'll make you into shoes.

What happened there?

Someone changed his mind.

The question is, who?

Well, now, have you been wicked,

Your Highness?

Yes, Miss Adler.

- What are you typing?

- A blog.

- About?
- Us.

- You mean me.

- Why?

Well, you're typing a lot.

Right, then. So, what have we got?

My wife seems to be spending

- a very long time at the office.

- Boring.

I think my husband
- might be having an affair.
- Yes.

She's not my real aunt,

she's been replaced. I know she has.

- I know human ash.

- Leave.

We are prepared to offer

any sum of money you care to mention

- for the recovery of these files

- Boring!

We have this website, it explains

the true meaning of comic books,

'cause people miss a lot of the themes.

But then all the comic books

started coming true.

Interesting.

"Geek Interpreter", what's that?

- That's the title.

- What does it need a title for?

Do people actually read your blog?

Where do you think

our clients come from?

I have a website.

In which you enumerate

240 different types of tobacco ash.

Nobody's reading your website.

Right, then, dyed blonde hair,

no obvious cause of death

except for these speckles,

whatever they are.

For God's sakes!

- What?
- "The Speckled Blonde"?

They wouldn't let us see

Granddad when he was dead.
Is that 'cause he'd gone to heaven?

People don't really

go to heaven when they die,

they're taken to a special room

and burned.

Sherlock...

There was a plane crash

in Dusseldorf yesterday.

- Everyone dead.
- Suspected terrorist bomb.

- We do watch the news.

- You said "boring" and turned over.

Well, according to the flight details,

this man was checked in on board.

Inside his coat he's got a stub

from his boarding pass,

napkins from the flight,

even one of those special biscuits.

Here's his passport,

stamped in Berlin airport.

So this man should have died

in a plane crash in Germany yesterday,

but instead he's in a car boot

in Southwark.

Lucky escape.

- Any ideas?
- Eight so far.

Okay, four ideas.

Maybe two ideas.

No, no, no,

don't mention the unsolved ones.

People want to know you're human.

- Why?
- Because they're interested.

- No, they're not. Why are they?

- Look at that.

One thousand,
eight hundred and ninety-five.

- Sorry, what?
- I reset that counter last night.

This blog has had nearly 2,000 hits

in the last eight hours.

This is your living, Sherlock,

not 240 different types of tobacco ash.

Two hundred and forty-three.

So what's this one?

- "Bellybutton Murders"?
- "The Navel Treatment"?

There's a lot of press outside, guys.

Well, they won't

be interested in us.

Yeah, that was before

you were an internet phenomenon.

Couple of them specifically

wanted photographs of you two.

For God's sake!

John.

Cover your face and walk fast.

Still,
it's good for the public image,

big case like this.

I'm a private detective,

the last thing I need is a public image!

Hello. I think it's time,

don't you?

Dear! Thumbs?

The door was... The door was...

Boys! You've got another one!

Tell us from the start,
don't be boring.

Hey, are you okay?

Excuse me!

Are you all right?

Sir, phone call for you.

Carter.

Have you heard

of Sherlock Holmes?

- Who?
- Well, you're about to meet him now.

This is your case,

it's entirely up to you,

this is just friendly advice,

but give Sherlock five minutes

on your crime scene and listen

to everything that he has to say.

And as far as possible,

try not to punch him.

Okay.

Sir, this gentleman says

he needs to speak to you.

Yes, I know. Sherlock Holmes.

John Watson. Are you set up for Wi-Fi?

You realise this is

a tiny bit humiliating?

It's okay, I'm fine.

Now, show me to the stream.

I didn't really mean for you.

Look, this is a six.

There's no point in my leaving the flat

for anything less than a seven,

we agreed.
Now, go back, show me the grass.

- When did we agree that?

- We agreed it yesterday.

Stop.

Closer.

I wasn't even at home yesterday,

I was in Dublin.

It's hardly my fault

you weren't listening.

-- Shut up!

Do you just carry on talking

when I'm away?

I don't know, how often are you away?

Nam show me the car that backfired.

It's there.

That? the one that made the noise, yes?

Yeah. If you're thinking gunshot,

there wasn't one.

He wasn't shot;
He was killed by a single blow

to the back of the head

from a blunt instrument;

Which then magically disappeared,

along with the killer.

It's got to be an eight, at least.

You've got two more minutes,

they want to know more about the driver.

Forget him, he's an idiot.

Why else would he

think himself a suspect?

I think he's a suspect.

- Pass me over.
- All right, but there's a mute button
and I will use it.

Up a bit! I'm not talking

from down here!

Okay. just take it, take it.

Having driven to an isolated location

and successfully committed a crime

without a single witness,

why would he then call the police

and consult a detective? Fair play?

He's trying to be clever.

It's over-confidence.

Did you see him?

Morbidly obese, the undisguised

halitosis of a single man

living on his own. The right sleeve

of an internet porn addict

and the breathing pattern of

an untreated heart condition,

low self-esteem,
tiny IQ and a limited life expectancy

and you think he's

an audacious criminal mastermind?

Don't worry, this is just stupid

What did you say? Heart what?

- Go to the stream.
- What's in the stream?

- Go and see.
- Sherlock!

You weren't answering your doorbell.

His room's through the back,

get him some clothes.

- Who the hell are you?

- Sorry, Mr Holmes...

- Sherlock, what's going on?

- You're coming with us.
I've lost him. I don't know what...

- Dr Watson?
- Yeah.

- It's for you.

- Okay, thanks.

No, sir, the helicopter.

Please, Mr Holmes, where you're going

you'll want to be dressed.

I know exactly where I'm going.

- Are you wearing any pants?

- No.

Okay.

At Buckingham Palace. Right.

I am seriously fighting
an impulse to steal an ashtray.

What are we doing here, Sherlock?

Seriously, what?

- I don't know.
- Here to see the Queen?

Apparently, yes.

Just once can you two

behave like grownups?

We solve crimes, I blog about it

and he forgets his pants.

I wouldn't hold out too much hope.

I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft.

What, the hiker and the backfire?

I glanced at the police report,

a bit obvious, surely?

Transparent.

Time to move on, then.

We are in Buckingham Palace,

at the very heart of the British nation.
Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on!

- What for?
- Your client.

And my client is?

Illustrious, in the extreme.

And remaining, I have to inform you,

entirely anonymous.

- Mycroft.
- Harry.

May I just apologise

for the state of my little brother?

A full-time occupation, I imagine.

And this must be Dr John Watson,

formerly of

- the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers?

- Hello, yes.

My employer is a tremendous fan

of your blog.

- Your employer?
- Particularly enjoyed the one

- about the aluminium crutch.

- Thank you.

And Mr Holmes the younger,

you look taller in your photographs.

I take the precaution

of a good coat and a short friend.

Mycroft, I don't do anonymous clients.

I'm used to mystery

at one end of my cases,

both ends is too much work.

Good morning.

This is a matter of national importance.

Grow up!

- Get off my sheet!

- Or what?
- Or I'll just walk away.
- I'll let you.

Boys, please. Not here.

Who is my client?

Take a look at where you're standing

and make a deduction.

You are to be engaged

by the highest in the land.

Now, for God's sake!

Put your clothes on!

I'll be mother.

And there is a whole childhood

in a nutshell.

My employer has a problem.

A matter has come to light

of an extremely delicate

and potentially criminal nature

and in this hour of need, dear brother,

- your name has arisen.

- Why?

We have a police force of sorts,

even a marginally secret service.

Why come to me?

People do come to you for help,

don't they, Mr Holmes?

Not to date anyone with a navy.

This is a matter of the

highest security and therefore of trust.

You don't trust your own secret service?

Naturally not.
They all spy on people for money.

I do think we have a timetable.

Yes, of course.
What do you know about this woman?

Nothing whatsoever.

Then you should be

paying more attention.

She's been at the centre of

two political scandals

in the last year and recently ended

the marriage of a prominent novelist,

by having an affair
with both participants separately.

You know
I don't concern myself with trivia.

Who is she?

Irene Adler;
Professionally known as The Woman.

- Professionally?
- There are many names

for what she does,

she prefers "dominatrix".

- Dominatrix.
- Don't be alarmed.

- It's to do with sex.

- Sex doesn't alarm me.

How would you know?

She provides, shall we say,

recreational scolding

for those who enjoy that sort of thing

and are prepared to pay for it.

These are all from her website.

And I assume this Adler woman

has some compromising photographs?

You're very quick, Mr Holmes.

Hardly a difficult deduction.

Photographs of whom?
A person of significance to my employer.

We'd prefer not to say

any more at this time.

You can't tell us anything?

I can tell you it's a young person.

A young female person.

- How many photographs?

- A considerable number, apparently.

Do Miss Adler
and this young female person

- appear in these photographs together?

- Yes, they do.

And I assume
in a number of compromising scenarios?

An imaginative range, we are assured.

John, you might want to put

that cup back in your saucer now.

- Can you help us, Mr Holmes?

- How?

- Will you take the case?

- What case?

Pay her, now and in full.

As Miss Adler remarks in her masthead,

know when you are beaten.

She doesn't want anything

She got in touch, she informed us

that the photographs existed,

she indicated that she had

no intention to use them

to extort either money or favour.

A power play.

A power play with the

most powerful family in Britain.

Now, that is a dominatrix. Ooh, this is

getting rather fun, isn't it?

Sherlock...

- Where is she?
- In London, currently.

- She's staying...
- Text me the details,

I'll be in touch by the end of the day.

Do you really think

you'll have news by then?

No, I think I'll have the photographs.

One can only hope

you're as good as you seem to think.

I'll need some equipment, of course.

Anything you require,

I'll have it sent over.

- Can I have a box of matches?

- I'm sorry?

Or your cigarette lighter,

either will do.

- I don't smoke.
- No, I know you don't,

but your employer does.

We have kept a lot of people

successfully in the dark

about this little fact, Mr Holmes.

I'm not the Commonwealth.

And that's as modest as he gets.

Pleasure to meet you.

Late rs!

Okay, the smoking, how did you know?

The evidence was right under your nose,

John, as ever you see

- but do not observe.

- Observe what?
The ashtray.

Kate?

We're going to have a visitor.

I'll need a bit of time to get ready.

- A long time?
- Ages.

What are you doing?

I'm going into battle, John,

I need the right armour.

- No.
- Nah.

- Works for me.

- Everything works on you.

- So, what's the plan?

- We know her address.

- We just ring her doorbell?

- Exactly. just here, please.

You didn't even change your clothes.

Then it's time to add

a splash of colour.

- Are we here?
- Two streets away, but this will do.

- For what?
- Punch me in the face.

Shade?

- Blood.
- Punch you?

Yes, punch me, in the face.

Didn't you hear me?

I always hear "punch me in the

face" when you're speaking,

- but it's usually sub-text.

- For God's sakes!

Thank you, that was, that was...

Okay, I think we're done now, John.

You want to remember,
Sherlock, I was a soldier.

- I killed people.
- You were a doctor!

I had bad days!

- What are you going to wear?

- My battledress.

Ooh, lucky boy.

- Hello?
- Um, sorry to disturb you.

Um, I've just been attacked.

Um, and I think they,

they took my wallet and, um,

and my phone.
Um, please, could you help me?

I can phone the police if you want.

Thank you, thank you. Could you, please?

Er; would you, would you mind if I

just waited here, just until they come?

Thank you, thank you so much.

Thank you.

I saw it all happen.

It's okay, I'm a doctor.

- Now, have you got a first aid kit?

- In the kitchen. Please.

- Thank you.
- Thank you.

Hello, sorry to hear

that you've been hurt.

I don't think Kate caught your name?

I'm so sorry, I'm...

It's always hard to remember

an alias when you've had a fright.

Isn't it?
There now, we're both defrocked.

- Mr Sherlock Holmes.
- Miss Adler, I presume?

Look at those cheekbones.

I could cut myself slapping that face.

Would you like me to try?

Right, this should do it.

I've missed something, haven't I?

Please, sit down.

Or if you'd like some tea,

I can call the maid.

- I had some at the Palace.

- I know.

Clearly.

I had a tea, too, at the Palace.

If anyone's interested.

Do you know the big problem

with a disguise, Mr Holmes?

However hard you try,

it's always a self-portrait.

You think I'm a vicar

with a bleeding face?

No, I think you're damaged, delusional

and believe in a higher power.

In your case, it's yourself.

And somebody loves you.

If I had to punch that face,

I'd avoid your nose and teeth too.

Could you put

something on, please?

Er, anything at all, a napkin?

Why? Are you feeling exposed?

I don't think John knows where to look.

No, I think he knows exactly where.

I'm not sure about you.

If I want to look at naked women,

I borrow John's laptop.

- You do borrow my laptop.

- I confiscate it.

Well, never mind,

we've got better things to talk about.

Now, tell me, I need to know.

How was it done?

- What?
- The hiker with the bashed-in head,

how was he killed?

That's not why I'm here.

No, no, no, you're here

for the photographs,

but that's never going to happen.

And since we're here

just chatting anyway...

That story's not been on the news yet,

how do you know about it?

I know one of the policemen.

Well, I know what he likes.

And you like policemen?

I like detective stories.

And detectives.

Brainy's the new sexy.

Position of the car

The position of the car

relative to the hiker at the time

of the backfire, that and the fact

that the death blow

was to the back of the head,

that's all you need to know.

Okay, tell me, how was he murdered?

He wasn't.

- You don't think it was murder?

- I know it wasn't.

- How?
- The same way that I know

the victim was an excellent sportsman,

recently returned from foreign travel

and that the photographs

I'm looking for are in this room.

Okay, but how?

- So, they are in this room.

- Thank you. John, man the door,

let no one in.

Two men alone in the countryside,

several yards apart and one car.

I... I thought you were

looking for the photos now.

No, no, looking takes ages,

I'm just going to find them,

but you're moderately clever

and we've got a moment,

so let's pass the time.

Two men, a car and nobody else.

Driver's trying to fix his engine.

Getting nowhere.

And the hiker is taking a moment,

looking at the sky.

Watching the birds? Any moment now,

something's going to happen.

- What?
- The hiker's going to die.

No, that's the result.

What's going to happen?

- I don't understand.
- Well, try to.
Why?

Because you cater to the whims

of the pathetic

and take your clothes off

to make an impression.

Stop boring me and think.

It's the new sexy.

- The car is going to backfire.

- There's going to be a loud noise.

- So what?
- Noises are important.

Noises can tell you everything.

For instance...

Thank you.

On hearing a smoke alarm,

a mother would look towards her child.

Amazing how fire exposes our priorities.

I really hope
you don't have a baby in here.

All right, John,

you can turn it off now.

I said you can turn it off now.

Give me a minute.

Thank you.

You should always use gloves

with these things, you know.

Heaviest oil deposit is always

on the first key used,

that's quite clearly a three,

but after that the sequence

is almost impossible to read.

I see from the make

that it's a six-digit code.

It can't be your birthday,

no disrespect,

but clearly you were born

in the '80s and 8's barely used,

- so...
- I'd tell you the code right now,

but you know what? I already have.

Think.

Hands behind your head, on the floor,

keep it still!

- Sorry, Sherlock.
- Miss Adler, on the floor!

Don't you want me on the floor too?

No, sir, I want you to open the safe.

American. Interesting.
Why would you care?

- Sir, the safe, now, please.

- I don't know the code.

We've been listening,

she said she told you.

Well if you've been listening,

you'll know she didn't.

I'm assuming I missed something.

From your reputation,

I'm assuming you didn't, Mr Holmes.

For God's sake, she's the one

who knows the code, ask her!

Yes, sir, she also knows the code

that automatically calls

the police and sets off

the burglar alarm.

- I've learned not to trust this woman.

- Mr Holmes doesn't...

Shut up!
One more word out of you, just one,

and I will decorate that wall

with the insides of your head.

That, for me, will not be hardship.

Mr Archer, at the count of three,

shoot Dr Watson.

- What?
- I don't know the code.

- One.
- I don't know the code.

- Two.
- She didn't tell me,

I don't know it!

I'm prepared to believe you,

any second now.

- Three!
- No, stop!

Thank you, Mr Holmes. Open it, please.

Vatican cameos!

- Do you mind?
- Not at all.

- He's dead.
- Thank you.

You were very observant.

- Observant?
- I'm flattered.

- Don't be.
- Flattered?

There'll be more of them,

they'll be keeping an eye

on the building.

- We should call the police.

- Yes.

- On their way.
- For God's sake!

Shut up, it's quick.

Check the rest of the house,
see how they got in.

Well, that's the knighthood in the bag.

And that's mine.

All the photographs

are on here, I presume?

I have copies, of course.

No, you don't.

You'll have permanently disabled

any kind of uplink or connection.

Unless the contents of this phone

are provably unique,

you wouldn't be able to sell them.

Who said I'm selling?

Well, why would they be interested?

Whatever's on the phone,

it's clearly not just photographs.

That camera-phone is my life,

Mr Holmes.

I'd die before I let you take it.

It's my protection.

- Sherlock!
- It was.

- Must have come in this way.

- Clearly.

It's all right, she's just out cold.

Well God knows, she's used to that.

There's a back door.

Better check it, Dr Watson.

Sure.

You're very calm.

Well, your booby trap

did just kill a man.
He would have killed me.
It was self-defence in advance.

What...? What is that? What...

Give it to me. Now. Give it to me.

- No.
- Give it to me.

- No.
- For goodness' sake!

Drop it.

I said drop it!

Thank you, dear.

Now, tell that sweet little posh thing

the pictures are safe with me.

They're not for blackmail,

just for insurance.

Besides, I might want to see her again.

No, no, no, no, no, no

It's been a pleasure, don't spoil it.

This is how I want you to remember me,

the woman who beat you.

Goodnight, Mr Sherlock Holmes.

- Jesus! What are you doing?

- He'll sleep for a few hours.

Make sure he doesn't choke

on his own vomit,

it makes for a
very unattractive corpse.

What's this?
What have you given him? Sherlock?

He'll be fine.
I've used it on loads of my friends.

Sherlock, can you hear me?

You know, I was wrong about him.

He did know where to look.

For what? What are you talking about?

The key-code to my safe.

- What was it?

- Shall I tell him?

My measurements.

Got it!

No, don't get up.

I'll do the talking.

So the car's about to backfire

and the hiker, he's staring at the sky.

No, you said he could be watching birds,

but he wasn't, was he?

He was watching
another kind of flying thing.

The car backfires

and the hiker turns to look.

Which was his big mistake.

By the time the driver looks up,

the hiker is already dead.

What he doesn't see is what killed him,

because it's already being

washed downstream.

An accomplished sportsman
recently returned from foreign travel

with a boomerang.

You got that from one look?

Definitely the new sexy.

I...

I...

Hush now it's okay.

I'm only returning your coat.

John?

John!

- You okay?
- How did I get here?

Well, I don't suppose you remember much,

you weren't making a lot of sense.

I should warn you, I think

Lestrade filmed you on his phone.

- Where is she?
- Where's who?

- The woman, that woman.

- What woman?

The woman! The woman woman!

Irene Adler?
She got away, no one saw her.

She wasn't here, Sherlock.

What are you... What?

No, no, no. No. Back to bed.

You'll be fine in the morning.

Just sleep.

Of course I'll be fine, I am fine.

I'm absolutely fine.

Yes, you're great.

Now, I'll be next door if you need me.

- Why would I need you?

- No reason at all.

The photographs are perfectly safe.

In the hands of a fugitive sex worker?

She's not interested in blackmail.

She wants...protection, for some reason.

I take it you've stood down

the police investigation

into the shooting at her house?

How can we do anything
while she has the photographs?

Our hands are tied.

She'd applaud your choice of words.

You see how this works,

that camera-phone

is her get-out-of-jail-free card.

You have to leave her alone.

Treat her like royalty, Mycroft.

Though not the way she treats royalty.

-- What was that?

Text.

But what was that noise?

Did you know there were

other people after her, too, Mycroft,

before you sent John and I in there?

CIA trained killers,

I think excellent guess.

Yeah, thanks for that, Mycroft.

It's a disgrace, sending your

little brother into danger like that.

Family is all we have in the end,

Mycroft Holmes!

Shut up, Mrs Hudson!

- Mycroft!
- Hey!

- Apologies.
- Thank you.

- Though do, in fact, shut up.-

It's a bit rude,

that noise, isn't it?

There's nothing
you can do and nothing she will do,
as far as I can see.

I can put maximum surveillance on her.

Why bother?
You can follow her on Twitter.

I believe her username is TheWhipHand.

- Yes, most amusing.-

Excuse me.

Hello?

Why does your phone make that noise?

What noise?

That noise, the one it just made.

It's a text alert,

it means I've got a text.

Your texts
don't usually make that noise.

Well, somebody got hold of the phone

and apparently as a joke,

personalised their text alert noise.

So every time they text you...

- It would seem so.

- Could you turn that phone down a bit?

At my time of life it's...

See, I'm wondering who could have

got hold of your phone,

because it would have been

in your coat, wouldn't it?

I'll leave you to your deductions.

I'm not stupid, you know.

Where do you get that idea?

Bond Air is go, that's decided.

Check with the Coventry lot.

Talk later.
What else does she have?

Irene Adler.

The Americans wouldn't be

interested in her

for a couple of
compromising photographs.

There's more.

Much more.

Something big's coming, isn't it?

Irene Adler is no longer

any concern of yours.

From now on, you will stay out of this.

Will I?

Yes, Sherlock.

You will.

Now, if you'll excuse me,

I have a long and arduous apology

to make to a very old friend.

Do give her my love.

- Lovely, Sherlock. That was lovely.

- Marvellous.

- That was very good.

- I wish you could have worn the antlers.

Some things are best left to

the imagination, Mrs Hudson.

- Mrs H.
- No thank you, Sarah.

Er, no, no, no, no, no,

he's not good with names.

No, no, no, I can get this.

No, Sarah was the doctor

and then there was the one with

the spots and then the one with the nose
and then... Who was after
the boring teacher?

Nobody.

Jeanette! Process of elimination.

Dear Lord.

Hello, everyone. Sorry, hello.

It said on the door just to,

- just come up.

- Hello, Molly.

Everybody saying hello to each

other, how wonderful!

Let me, er... Holy Mary!

Wow!

So we're having
a Christmas drinkies, then?

- No stopping them, apparently.

- It's the one day of the year

where the boys have to be nice to me,

so it's almost worth it.

John? The counter on your blog...

- Molly, want a drink?

- It still says 1,895.

No, Christmas is cancelled.

And you've got a photograph of me

wearing that hat!

- People like the hat.

- No, they don't. What people?

- How's the hip?

- It's atrocious,

but thanks for asking.

I've seen much worse,

but then I do post-mortems.

God, sorry.
- Don't make jokes, Molly.
- No, sorry.

- Here you are.

- Thank you.

I wasn't expecting to see you.

I thought you were going to be

in Dorset for Christmas?

That's first thing in the morning,

me and the wife,

we're back together, it's all sorted.

No, she's sleeping with a PE teacher.

And John, I hear you're off

to your sister's, is that right?

- Yeah.
- Sherlock was complaining. Saying.

First time ever, she's cleaned-up

her act, she's off the booze.

- Nope.
- Shut up, Sherlock!

I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly,

and you're serious about him.

What? Sorry, what?

In fact, you're seeing him

this very night and giving him a gift

- Take a day off.

- Shut up and have a drink.

Come on, surely you've all

seen the present at the top of the bag.

Perfectly wrapped with a bow.

All the others are slapdash at best.

It's for someone special, then.

The shade of red echoes her lipstick,

either an unconscious association

or one that she's deliberately

trying to encourage.
Either way, Miss Hooper
has love on her mind.

The fact that she's serious about him

is clear from the fact

she's giving him a gift at all.

That always suggests long-term hopes,

however forlorn,
and that she's seeing him tonight

is evident from her make-up

and what she's wearing.

Obviously trying to compensate

for the size of her mouth and breasts...

You always say such horrible things.

Every time. Always.

Always.

I am sorry. Forgive me.

Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper.

- No! That wasn't... I didn't...

- No, it was me.

- My God, really?
- What?

- My phone.
- Fifty-seven?

- Sorry, what?
Fifty-seven of those texts,

the ones I've heard.

Thrilling that you've been counting.

Excuse me.

- What's up, Sherlock?

- I said excuse me.

Do you ever reply?

Dear Lord, we're not going to have

Christmas phone calls now, are we?

Have they passed a new law?

I think you're going to find
Irene Adler tonight.

We already know where she is.

As you were kind enough to

point out, it hardly matters.

No, I mean you're

going to find her dead.

- You okay?
- Yes.

The only
who fitted the description

Had her brought here,

your home from home.

You didn't need to come in, Molly.

It's okay, everyone else

was busy with...Christmas.

The face is a bit sort of bashed-up,

so it might be a bit difficult.

- That's her, isn't it?

- Show me the rest of her.

That's her.

- Thank you, Miss Hooper.

- Who is she?

How did Sherlock recognise her

from not her face?

just the one

Why?

Merry Christmas.

Smoking indoors,
isn't there one of those...

one of those law things?

We're in a morgue.

There's only so much damage you can do.

How did you know she was dead?

She had an item in her possession,

one she said her life depended on.

She chose to give it up.

Where is this item now?

Look at them,

they all care so much.

Do you ever wonder if there's

something wrong with us?

All lives end, all hearts are broken.

Caring is not an advantage,

Sherlock.

This is low tar.

Well, you barely knew her.

Merry Christmas, Mycroft.

And a Happy New Year.

He's on his way.

Have you found anything?

No. Did he take the cigarette?

- Yes.
- Shit!

- He's coming, ten minutes.

- There's nothing in the bedroom.

Well, it looks like he's clean.

We've tried all the usual places.

Are you sure tonight's a danger night?

No, but then I never am.

You have to stay with him, John.

- I've got plans.

- No.

-- Mycroft...

I am really sorry.
You know my friends
are so wrong about you.

You're a great boyfriend.

Okay, that's good. I mean,

I always thought I was great...

And Sherlock Holmes

is a very lucky man.

Jeanette, please.

No, I mean it. It's heartwarming.

You'll do anything for him.

And he can't even

tell your girlfriends apart!

No, I'll do anything for you,

just tell me what it is

I'm not doing, tell me!

Don't make me compete

with Sherlock Holmes!

I'll walk your dog for you.

There, I've said it now,

I'll even walk your dog.

I don't have a dog!

No, because that was the last one.

Okay.

- Jesus!
- I'll call you.

- No!
"Okay"

That really wasn't very good, was it?

Hi.

You okay?

I hope you didn't mess up

my sock index this time.

Lovely tune, Sherlock.

Haven't heard that one before.

- You composing?
- Helps me to think.

What are you thinking about?

The count on your blog

is still stuck at 1,895.

Yes. Faulty, can't seem to fix it.

Faulty or you've been hacked

and it's a message.

Just faulty.

Right.

Right.

Well, I'm going out for a bit.

Listen, has he ever had any kind of

girlfriend, boyfriend,
a relationship, ever?

I don't know.

How can we not know?

He's Sherlock.

How will we ever know what

goes on in that funny old head?

Right. See you.

John?
- Yeah?

Hello.

Hello.

So, any plans for New Year tonight?

Um, nothing fixed.

Nothing I couldn't
heartlessly abandon, yeah.

Any ideas?
One.

You know, Mycroft could just phone me,

if he didn't have this bloody stupid

power complex.

Couldn't we just go to a café?

Sherlock doesn't follow me everywhere.

Through there.

He's on his way.

You were right, he thinks it's Mycroft.

He's writing sad music.

Doesn't eat,

barely talks,
only to correct the television.

I'd say he was heartbroken

but, well, he's Sherlock.

He does all that anyway...

Hello, Dr Watson.

Tell him you're alive.

He'd come after me.

I'll come after you if you don't.

I believe you.

You were dead on a slab.

It was definitely you.

DNA tests are only as good

as the records you keep.

And I bet you know

the record-keeper.

I know what he likes.

And I needed to disappear.

Then how come I can see you

and I don't even want to?
Look, I made a mistake.

I sent something to Sherlock

for safekeeping

and I now I need it back,

so I need your help.

No.

- It's for his own safety.

- So is this.

Tell him you're alive.

I can't.

Fine, I'll tell him

and I still won't help you.

- What do I say?
- What do you normally say?

You've texted him a lot!

- Just the usual stuff.

- There is no usual in this case.

"Good morning. I like your funny hat."

"I'm sad tonight, let's have dinner."

"You look sexy on

Crimewatch, let's have dinner."

'I'm not hungry

"Let's have dinner."

You flirted with Sherlock Holmes?

At him. He never replies.

No, Sherlock always replies,

to everything.

He's Mr Punchline.

He will outlive God

trying to have the last word

- Does that make me special?

- I don't know, maybe.

Are you jealous?

- We're not a couple.
- Yes, you are.

There. "I'm not dead.

Let's have dinner."

Who the hell knows about

Sherlock Holmes,

but for the record,

if anyone out there still cares,

- I'm not actually gay.

- Well, I am.

Look at us both.

I don't think so, do you?

Stop it!

Sherlock!

Sherlock. Sherlock.

Don't snivel, Mrs Hudson,

it'll do nothing to impede

the flight of a bullet.

What a tender world that would be.

Please, sorry, Sherlock

I believe you have something

that we want, Mr Holmes.

Then why don't you ask for it?

I've been asking this one,

she doesn't seem to know anything.

But you know what I'm asking

for, don't you, Mr Holmes?

I believe I do.

Please help.

- First get rid of your boys.

- Why?

I dislike being outnumbered,

it makes for too much stupid

in the room.

You two, go to the car.

Then get into the car and drive away.

Don't try to trick me,

you know who I am, it doesn't work.

Next, you can stop

pointing that gun at me.

So you can point a gun at me?

- I'm unarmed.
- Mind if I check?

I insist.

Don't do anything...

Moron!

- Thank you.
- You're all right now, you're all right.

Yes. Yes.

What's going on?

Jesus, what the hell is happening?

Mrs Hudson has been attacked

by an American,

I'm restoring balance to the universe.

Mrs Hudson, my God,

are you all right?

Jesus, what have they done to you?

I'm just being so silly.

Downstairs, take her downstairs

and look after her.

It's all right.

It's all right now,

I'll have a look at that.

I'm fine, I'm fine.

Are you going to tell me

what's going on?

I expect so, now go.

Lestrade?

We've had a break-in at Baker Street.

Send your least irritating

officers and an ambulance.

No, no, no, no, we're fine.

No, it's the, it's the burglar,

he's got himself rather badly injured.

A few broken ribs, fractured skull,

suspected punctured lung.

He fell out of a window.

It stings.

That was right on my bins.

And exactly how many times

did he fall out of the window?

It's all a bit of a blur,

Detective Inspector. I lost count.

She'll have to sleep upstairs

in our flat tonight,

- we need to look after her.

- No.

- She's fine.
- No, she's not, look at her.

She's got to take some time

away from Baker Street.

She can go and stay with her sister.

Doctor's orders.

- Don't be absurd.
- She's in shock, for God's sake,

and all over some bloody

stupid camera-phone.

- Where is it, anyway?

- Safest place I know.
You left it in the pocket of your
second-best dressing gown, you clot!

I managed to sneak it out when

they thought I was having a cw.

Thank you.

- Shame on you, John Watson.

- Shame on me?

Mrs Hudson leave Baker Street?

England would fall.

- Where is it now?
- Where no one will look.

Whatever's on that phone is

more than just pictures.

Yes, it is.

So, she's alive, then.

How are we feeling about that?

Happy New Year, John.

Do you think you'll be seeing her again?

- Is that a phone?
- It's a camera-phone.

- And you're x-raying it?

- Yes, I am.

- Whose phone is it?

- A woman's.

- Your girlfriend?
- You think she's my girlfriend

because I'm x-raying her possessions?

- Well, we all do silly things!

- Yes.

They do, don't they? Very silly.

She sent this to my address.

And she loves to play games.

She does?

Hey, Sherlock...
- We have a client.
- What, in your bedroom?

So, who's after you?

- People who want to kill me.

- Who's that?

Killers.

It would help
if you were a tiny bit more specific.

So you faked your own death

in order to get ahead of them?

It worked for a while.

Except you let John know that

you're alive and therefore me.

- I knew you'd keep my secret.

- You couldn't.

But you did, didn't you?

Where's my camera-phone?

It's not here. We're not stupid.

Then what have you done with it?

If they've guessed you've got it,

they'll be watching you.

If they've been watching me,

they'll know that I took

a safety deposit box at a bank

on the Strand a few months ago.

I need it.

Well, we can't just go

and get it, can we?

Molly Hooper.

She could collect it

and take it to Barts.

Then one of your homeless

network could bring it here,

leave it in the café

and one of the boys downstairs
could bring it up the back.

Very good, John, excellent plan,

full of intelligent precautions.

Thank you. So, why don't I phone...

So,

what do you keep on here?

In general, I mean?

Pictures, information,
anything I might find useful.

- For blackmail?
- For protection.

I make my way in the world,

I misbehave.

I like to know people will be on my side

exactly when I need them to be.

- So how do you acquire this information?

- I told you, I misbehave.

But you've acquired something

that's more danger than protection.

- Do you know what it is?

- Yes.

- But I don't understand it.

- I assumed.

Show me.

The passcode.

- It's not working.

- No,

because it's a duplicate

that I had made

into which you've just entered

the numbers 1058.

I assumed you'd choose something

more specific than that,

but thanks anyway.

I told you that camera-phone
was my life.

I know when it's in my hand.

- You're rather good.

- You're not so bad.

Hamish.

John Hamish Watson, just if

you were looking for baby names.

There was a man, an MOD official

and I knew what he liked.

One of the things he liked

was showing off.

He told me this email

was going to save the world.

He didn't know it,

but I photographed it.

He was a bit tied up at the time.

It's a bit small on that screen,

can you read it?

- Yes.
- Code, obviously.

I had one of the best cryptographers

in the country take a look at it,

though he was mostly upside-down,

as I recall.

Couldn't figure it out.

What can you do, Mr Holmes?

Go on, impress a girl.

There's a margin for error,

but I'm pretty sure there's a 747

leaving Heathrow tomorrow at 6:30

in the evening for Baltimore.

Apparently it's going to save the world,

I'm not sure how that could be true,

but give me a moment, I've only been

on the case for eight seconds.

Come on, it's not code,

these are seat allocations

on a passenger jet. Look!

There's no letter I because

it can be mistaken for a one

No letters past K,
the width of the plane is the limit.

The numbers always appear

randomly and not in sequence,

but the letters have little runs

of sequence all over the place.

Families and couples sitting together.

Only a jumbo is wide enough to

need a letter K or rows past 55,

which is why there's always an upstairs.

There's a row 13, which eliminates

the more superstitious airlines.

Then there's the style

of the flight number, 007,

that eliminates a few more.

And assuming the British point

of origin, which would be logical,

considering the original source

of the information

and assuming from the increased

pressure on you lately

that the crisis is imminent,

the only flight that matches all

the criteria and departs within the week

is the 6:30 to Baltimore tomorrow

evening from Heathrow airport.

Please don't feel obliged to tell me

that was remarkable or amazing.

John's expressed that thought

in every possible variant
available to the English language.

I would have you right here,

on this desk, until you

begged for mercy twice.

John, please can you check those

flight schedules, see if I'm right?

Yeah, I'm on it, yeah.

- I've never begged for mercy in my life.

- Twice.

Yeah, you're right, flight 007.

- What did you say?

- You're right.

No, no, after that,

what did you say after that?

007. Flight om.

007, 007, 007, 007. Something.

Something 007, 007. What?

007, 007.

007. 007 what?

What, something, what?

Bond Air is go.

Bond Air is go.

Bond Air is go.

Bond Air is go.

Band Air is go, that's decided.

Check with the Coventry lat.

- Coventry.
- I've never been.

Is it nice?

Where's John?
He went out, a couple of hours ago.

- I was just talking to him.

- He said you do that.

What's Coventry got to do

with anything?

It's a story.

Probably not true.

In the Second World War,

the Allies knew

that Coventry was going to get bombed

because they'd broken the German code

but they didn't want the Germans

to know that they'd broken the code

so they let it happen anyway.

Have you ever had anyone?

I'm sorry?

And when I say had,

I'm being indelicate.

- I don't understand.
- I'll be delicate, then.

- Let's have dinner.

- Why?

- You might be hungry

- I'm not.

Good.

Why would I want to have dinner

if I wasn't hungry?

Mr Holmes,
if it was the end of the world,

if this was the very last night,

would you have dinner with me?

Sherlock?

Too late.
That's not the end of the world,
that's Mrs Hudson.

Sherlock, this man was at the door,

is the bell still not working?

He shot it.

Have you come to take me away again?

- Yes, Mr Holmes.
- Well, I decline.

I don't think you do.

There's going to be a bomb

on a passenger jet.

The British and American

governments know about it,

but rather than expose

the source of their information,

they're going to let it happen.

The plane will blow up.

Coventry all over again

The wheel turns, nothing is ever new.

Well, you're looking all better.

How are you feeling?

Like putting a bullet

in your brain, sir.

They'd pin a medal on me if I did, sir.

The Coventry conundrum.

What do you think of my solution?

The flight of the dead.

Plane blows up midair,

mission accomplished for the terrorists,

hundreds of casualties but nobody dies.

Neat, don't you think?

You've been stumbling around

the fringes of this one for ages.
Or were you too bored
to notice the pattern?

They wouldn't let us see

Granddad when he was dead.

She's not my real aunt.

I know human ash.

We ran a similar project

with the Germans a while back,

though I believe one of our passengers

didn't make the flight.

But that's the deceased for you,

late, in every sense of the word.

How is the plane going to fly?

Of course, unmanned aircraft,

hardly new.

It doesn't fly. It will never fly.

This entire project is cancelled.

The terrorist cells have been informed

that we know about the bomb.

We can't fool them now.

We've lost everything.

One fragment of one email

and months and years of planning,

finished.

- Your MOD man.

- That's all it takes.

One lonely, naive man,

desperate to show off,

and a woman clever enough

to make him feel special.

You should screen your defence people

more carefully.

I'm not talking about the MOD man,

Sherlock, I'm talking about you!
A damsel in distress.

In the end, are you really so obvious?

Because this was textbook.

The promise of love, the pain of loss,

the joy of redemption.

Then give him a puzzle

and watch him dance.

- Don't be absurd!
- Absurd?

How quickly did you decipher

that email for her?

Was it the full minute?

Or were you really eager to impress?

I think it was less than five seconds.

I drove you into her path.

I'm sorry. I didn't know

- Mr Holmes, I think we need to talk.

- So do I.

There are a number of aspects

I'm still not quite clear on.

Not you, junior, you're done now.

There's more, loads more.

On this phone I've got

secrets and pictures and scandals

that could topple your whole world.

You have no idea how much

havoc I can cause

and exactly one way to stop me.

Unless you want to tell your

masters that your biggest security leak

is your own little brother.

We have people who can get into this.

I tested that theory for you.

I let Sherlock Holmes

try it for six months.

Sherlock, dear, tell him what you found

when you x-rayed my camera-phone.

There are four additional units

wired inside the casing.

I suspect containing acid

or a small amount of explosive.

Any attempt to open the casing

will burn the hard drive.

Explosive.

It's more me.

Some data is always recoverable.

Take that risk.

You have a passcode to open this.

I deeply regret to say we have people

who can extract it from you.

Sherlock?

There will be two passcodes,

one to open the phone,

one to burn the drive.

Even under duress, you can't

know which one she's given you

and there would be no point

in a second attempt.

He's good, isn't he?

I should have him on a leash.

In fact, I might.

We destroy this, then.

No one has the information.

Fine. Good idea.

Unless there are lives of

British citizens
depending on the information
you're about to burn.

Are there?

Telling you would be playing fair.

I'm not playing any more.

A list of my requests

and some ideas about my protection

once they're granted.

I'd say it wouldn't blow much

of a hole in the wealth of a nation,

but then I'd be lying.

I imagine you'd like to sleep on it?

- Thank you, yes.

- Too bad.

-- Off you pop and talk to people.

You've been very thorough

I wish our lot

were half as good as you.

I can't take all the credit,

I had a bit of help.

Jim Moriarty sends his love.

Yes, he's been in touch

Seems desperate for my attention,

which I'm sure can be arranged.

I had all this stuff,

never knew what to do with it.

Thank God for the consultant criminal.

Gave me a lot of advice

about how to play the Holmes boys.

Do you know what he calls you?

The Ice Man

and the Virgin.

Didn't even ask for anything,
I think he just likes to cause trouble.

Now, that's my kind of man.

And here you are, the dominatrix

who brought a nation to its knees.

- Nicely played.
- No.

Sorry?

I said no.

Very, very close, but no.

You got carried away.

The game was too elaborate,

you were enjoying yourself too much.

There's no such thing as too much.

Enjoying the thrill

of the chase is fine.

Craving the distraction of the game,

I sympathise entirely,

but sentiment?

Sentiment is a chemical defect

found in the losing side.

Sentiment?

What are you talking about?

- You.
- Dear God.

Look at the poor man.

You don't actually think

I was interested in you?

Why? Because you're

the great Sherlock Holmes,

the clever detective in the funny hat?

No.

Because I took your pulse.

Elevated.

Your pupils dilated.

I imagine John Watson thinks

love is a mystery to me

but the chemistry is incredibly

simple and very destructive.

When we first met, you told me

that disguise is always a self-portrait.

How true of you.

The combination to your safe,

your measurements, but this,

this is far more intimate.

This is your heart and

you should never let it rule your head.

You could have chosen any random number

and walked out of here today

with everything you've worked for.

But you just couldn't resist it,

could you?

I've always assumed that love

is a dangerous disadvantage.

Thank you for the final proof.

Everything I said, it's not real

- I was just playing the game.

- I know.

And this is just losing.

There you are, brother.

I hope the contents make up

for any inconvenience

- I may have caused you tonight.

- I'm certain they will.

If you're feeling kind,

lock her up, otherwise let her go.

I doubt she'll survive long

without her "protection".
- Are you expecting me to beg?
- Yes.

Please.

You're right.

I won't even last six months.

I'm sorry about dinner.

You don't smoke.

I also don't frequent cafés.

It's the file on Irene Adler?

Closed forever.

I am about to go and inform my brother,

or, if you prefer, you are,

that she somehow got herself

into a Witness Protection scheme

in America.

New name, new identity.

She will survive and thrive,

- but he will never see her again.

- Why would he care?

He despised her at the end.

Won't even mention her by name,

just The Woman.

Is that loathing or a salute?

One of a kind,
the one woman who matters?

He's not like that.

He doesn't feel things that way.

I don't think.

My brother has the brain

of a scientist or a philosopher,

yet he elects to be a detective.

What might we deduce about his heart?

- I don't know.
- Neither do I.

But initially he wanted to be a pirate.

He'll be okay with this,

Witness Protection,

never seeing her again, he'll be fine.

I agree.

That's why I decided to tell him that.

Instead of what?

She's dead.

She was captured by a terrorist cell

in Karachi two months ago and beheaded.

It was definitely her?

She's done this before.

I was thorough this time.

It would take Sherlock Holmes

to fool me

and I don't think he was on hand,

do you?

So...

What shall we tell Sherlock?

Clearly you've got news.

If it's about the Leeds triple murder,

it was the gardener.

Did nobody notice the earring?

Hi. No, it's um...

It's about Irene Adler.

Well?

Has something happened?

Has she come back?

No, no, she's... I just bumped

into Mycroft downstairs,
he had to take a call.

- Is she back in London?

- No.

She's...

- She's in America.
- America?

Got herself on
a Witness Protection scheme, apparently.

I don't know how

she swung it but...

- Well, you know.

- I know what?

Well, you won't be able

to see her again.

Why would I want to see her again?

- Didn't say you did.

- Is that her file?

Yes, I was just going

to take it back to Mycroft.

- Do you want to...

- No.

Listen, actually...

No, but I will have

the camera-phone, though.

There's nothing on it any more.

It's been stripped.

I know, but I... I'll still have it.

I've got to give this back to Mycroft,

you can't keep it.

Sherlock, I have to give this

to Mycroft, it's the government's now.

- I couldn't...
- Please.

Thank you.

- Well, I'd better take this back.

- Yes.

Did she ever text you again

after all that?

Once, a few months ago.

What did she say?

"Goodbye, Mr Holmes."

When I say run, run.

The Woman.

The Woman.
File #2: Sherlock.S02E02.720p.BluRay.700MB.ShAaNiG.com
---

Hello.

Are you all right?

What is it, dear? Are you lost?

- Well, that was tedious!

- You went on the Tube like that?

None of the cabs would take me.

Nothing?

Military coup in Uganda...

Another photo of you with the...

Um, Cabinet re-shuffle...

Nothing of importance! God!

John, I need some. Get me some!

- No.
- Get me some!

No! Cold turkey. We agreed.

No matter what.

Anyway, you've paid everyone off,

remember?

No one within a two-mile radius

will sell you any.

- Stupid idea! Whose idea was that?-

Mrs Hudson!

Look, Sherlock,
you're doing really well.

Don't give up now!

Tell me where they are. Please. Tell me.

- Please.
- Can't help, sorry.

I'll let you know

next week's lottery numbers.

It was worth a try.

- Yoo-hoo!
- My secret supply.

What have you done

with my secret supply?

- Hey?
- Cigarettes!

What have you done with them?

Where are they?

You know you never let me

touch your things.

Chance would be a fine thing.

- I thought you weren't my housekeeper?

- I'm not.

How about a nice cuppa? And

perhaps you could put away your harpoon.

I need something stronger than tea.

Perhaps 7% stronger.

-- You've been to see Mr Chatterjee again.

- Pardon?
- Sandwich shop. That's a new dress,

but there's flour on the sleeve.

You wouldn't dress like that for baking.

- Sherlock.
- Thumbnail, tiny traces of foil.

Been at the scratch-cards again.

We all know where that leads, don't we?

Casbah Nights.

Pretty racy for first thing on

a Monday morning, wouldn't you agree?

I've written a little blog

on the identification of perfumes.

It's on the website.

You should look it up!

- Please!
- I wouldn't pin your hopes

on that cruise with Mr Chatterjee.

He's got a wife in Doncaster

- that nobody knows about.

- Sherlock!

Well, nobody except me.

I don't know what you're talking about,

I really don't!

What the bloody hell was all that about?

You don't understand.

Go after her and apologise.

Apologise?

John, I envy you so much.

- You envy me?

- Your mind.

It's so placid, straightforward,

barely used.

Mine's like an engine,

racing out of control.

A rocket tearing itself to pieces,

trapped on the launch pad.

- I need a case!
- You've just solved one!

By harpooning a dead pig, apparently.

That was this morning!

When's the next one?

Nothing on the website?

"Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes,

I can't find Bluebell anywhere."

"Please, please, please, can you help?"

- Bluebell?
- A rabbit, John!

But there's more.

Before Bluebell disappeared,

it turned luminous.
"Like a fairy!"
according to little Kirsty.

Then the next morning,

Bluebell was gone!

Hutch still locked,

no sign of a forced entry.

What am I saying? This is brilliant.

Phone Lestrade,

- tell him there's an escaped rabbit.

- You're serious?

- It's this or Cluedo.

- No.

- We are never playing that again.

- Why not?

Because it's not actually possible

for the victim to have done it,

- Sherlock, that's why.

- It was the only possible solution.

- It's not in the rules.

- Well, then the rules are wrong!

- Single ring.
- Maximum pressure,

just under the half-second.

Client!

Dartmoor. It's always been

a place of myth and legend.

But is there something else

lurking out here?

Something very real?

Because Dartmoor is also home

to one of the government's

most secretive operations,

the Chemical and Biological

Weapons Research Centre,

which is said to be even more

sensitive than Porton Down.
Since the end of the Second World War,

there have been persistent stories

about the Baskerville experiments.

Genetic mutations.
Animals grown for the battlefield

There are many who believe

that within this compound,

in the heart of this ancient wilderness,

there are horrors beyond imagining.

But the real question is

are a{{ of them still inside?

I was just a kid.

It was on the moor; it was dark,

but I know what I saw.

I know what killed my father.

- What did you see?

- I... I was just about to say.

Yes, in a TV interview.
I prefer to do my own editing.

Yes.

Sorry, yes, of course.

Excuse me.

- In your own time.

- But quite quickly.

- Do you know Dartmoor, Mr Holmes?

- No.

It's an amazing place.

It's like nowhere else,

it's sort of bleak but beautiful.

Not interested, moving on.

We used to go for walks after

my Mum died, my Dad and me.

Every evening we'd go out onto the moor.

Yes, good, skipping to the night that

your dad was violently killed.

Where did that happen?

There's a place, it's a sort of

local landmark called Dewer's Hollow.

That's an ancient name for the Devil.

Did you see the Devil that night?

Yes.

It was huge.

Coal black fur with red eyes.

It got him. Tore at him, tore him apart.

I can't remember anything else,

they found me the next morning

just wandering on the moor.

My Dad's body was never found.

Red eyes, coal black fur.

Enormous. Some sort of dog, wolf?

Or a genetic experiment?

- Are you laughing at me, Mr Holmes?

- Why, are you joking?

My Dad was always going on about the

things they were doing at Baskerville.

About the type of monsters

they were breeding there.

People used to laugh at him.

At least the TV people

took me seriously.

- I assume did wonders for Devon tourism.

- Yeah...

Henry, whatever did happen

to your father,

it was 20 years ago.

Why come to us now?
I'm not sure you can help me, Mr Holmes,
since you find it all so funny!

- Because of what happened last night.

- Why? What happened last night?

- How... How did you know?

- I didn't know, I noticed.

Came up from Devon on the first

available train this morning.

You had a disappointing breakfast

and a cup of black coffee.

The girl in the seat across

the aisle fancied you.

Although you were initially keen,

you've now changed your mind.

You are, however, extremely anxious

to have your first cigarette of the day.

Sit down, Mr Knight.

And do please smoke, I'd be delighted.

- How on earth did you notice all that?

- It's not important...

Punched-out holes
where your ticket's been checked.

- Not now, Sherlock.

- Please?

- I've been cooped up in here for ages.

- You're just showing off.

Of course. I am a show-off.
That's what we do.

Train napkin you used

to mop up the spilled coffee,

strength of the stain shows

that you didn't take milk.

There are traces of ketchup on it and

round your lips and on your sleeve.

Cooked breakfast. Or the nearest

thing those trains can manage,

- probably a sandwich.
- How did you know it was disappointing?

Is there any other type

of breakfast on a train?

The girl,
female handwriting's quite distinctive,

wrote her phone number down

on the napkin.

I can tell from the angle she wrote at

that she was sat across from you

on the other side of the aisle.

Later, after she'd got off, I imagine,

you used the napkin to

mop up your spilled coffee,

accidentally smudging the numbers.

You've been over the last four digits

yourself with another pen

so you wanted to keep the number.

Just now, though, you used the napkin

to blow your nose. Maybe

you're not that into her after all.

Then there's the nicotine stains

on your fingers,

your shaking fingers. I know the signs.

No chance to smoke one on the train,

no time to roll one

before you got a cab here.

It's just after 9:15, you're desperate.

The first train from Exeter to London

leaves at 5:46 a.m.

You got the first one possible,

so something important

must have happened last night.

Am I wrong?

No. You're right.

You're... You're completely,

exactly right.
- Bloody hell, I heard you were quick.
- It's my job. Now shut up and smoke!

Henry, your parents both died

and you were, what, seven years old?

I know, but...

That must be quite a trauma.

Have you ever thought that maybe

you invented this story, this...

...to account for it?

- That's what Dr Mortimer says.

- Who?

- His therapist.
- My therapist.

Obviously.

Louise Mortimer.

She's the reason

I came back to Dartmoor.

She thinks I have to face my demons.

And what happened when you went back

to Dewer's Hollow last night, Henry?

You went there

on the advice of your therapist

and now you're consulting a detective.

What did you see

that changed everything?

It's a strange place, the Hollow.

Makes you feel so cold inside,

so afraid.

Yes, if I wanted poetry,

I'd read John's emails

to his girlfriends, much funnier.

- What did you see?-

Footprints.
On the exact spot where
I saw my father torn apart.

- A man's or a woman's?
- Neither.

- They were...
- Is that it? Nothing else?

- Footprints. Is that all?

- Yes, but they were...

No, sorry, Dr Mortimer wins, childhood

trauma masked by an invented memory.

Boring! Goodbye, Mr Knight.

Thank you for smoking.

But what about the footprints?

Well, they're probably pawprints,

could be anything, therefore nothing.

Off to Devon with you.

Have a cream tea on me.

Mr Holmes, they were the footprints

of a gigantic hound!

- Say that again?

- I found footprints, they were...

No, no, no, your exact words.

Repeat your exact words

from a moment ago,

exactly as you said them.

Mr Holmes,

they were the footprints

of a gigantic hound.

- I'll take the case.

- Sorry, what?

Thank you for bringing this

to my attention, it's very promising.

No, no, no. Sorry, what?

A minute ago footprints were boring,

now they've very promising?
It's got nothing to do with footprints.
As ever, John, you weren't listening.

- Baskerville, ever heard of it?

- Vaguely. It's very hush-hush.

- Sounds like a good place to start.

- You'll come down, then?

No, I can't leave London

at the moment, far too busy.

But don't worry,

I'm putting my best man onto it.

Always rely on John to

send me all the relevant data,

as he never understands
a word of it himself.

What are you talking about, you're busy?

You don't have a case.

- A minute ago you were complaining...

- Bluebell, John! I've got Bluebell.

The case of the vanishing

glow-in-the-dark rabbit.

- NATO's in uproar.
- Sorry. You're not coming, then?

Okay.

Okay.

I don't need those any more,

I'm going to Dartmoor.

You go on ahead, Henry,

we'll follow later.

Sorry, so you are coming?

Twenty-year-old disappearance?
A monstrous hound?

I wouldn't miss this for the world!

Looks like Mrs Hudson finally

got to the wife in Doncaster.

Wait till she finds out

about the one in Islamabad.
Paddington Station, please.

There's Baskerville.

That's Grimpen village.

So that must be...

Yes, Dewer's Hollow.

What's that?

A minefield?

Technically, Baskerville's an army base,

so I guess they've always been keen

- to keep people out.

- Clearly.

All right. Three tours a day.

Tell your friends. Tell anyone!

Don't be strangers and remember,

stay away from the moor at night,

- if you value your lives! Take care.-

It's cold.

That part doesn't change.

What does?

There's something else. It's a word.

Liberty.

- Liberty?
- There's another word.

In. I-N.

"Liberty In."
What do you think it means?

Sorry we couldn't do
a double room for you boys.

That's fine. We're not...

- There you go.

- Ta. I'll just get your change.

Ta.
Well, there you go.

I couldn't help noticing, on the map

of the moor, a skull and crossbones?

That.

- Pirates?
- No, no.

The Great Grimpen Minefield,

they call it.

- Right.
- It's not what you think.

It's the Baskerville testing site.

It's been going for 80-odd years.

I'm not sure anyone really

knows what's there any more.

- Explosives?
- Not just explosives.

Break into that place

and if you're lucky

you just get blown up, so they say.

In case you're planning

a nice wee stroll.

Ta, I'll remember.

Aye. No, it buggers up tourism a bit,

so thank God for the demon hound!

- Did you see that show? The documentary?

- Quite recently, yeah.

God bless Henry Knight

and his monster from hell.

- You ever seen it? The Hound?

- Me? No, no.

Fletcher has.
He runs the walks, the monster walks,

for the tourists, you know?

He's seen it.

That's handy. For trade.

I'm just saying
we've been rushed off our feet, Billy.

Yeah, lots of monster hunters.

Doesn't take much these days.

One mention on Twitter and woomph!

- We're out of WKD.

- All right.

What with the monster

and the ruddy prisoner,

I don't know how we

sleep nights, do you, Gary?

- Like a baby.
- That's not true. He's a snorer.

- Hey! Shh.
- Is yours a snorer?

Got any crisps?

Yeah. No.
All right? All right. Take care.

Mind if I join you?

It's not true, is it? You haven't

actually seen this Hound thing?

- You from the papers?

- No. Nothing like that just curious.

- Have you seen it?

- Maybe.

- Got any proof?

- Why would I tell you if I did?

- Excuse me.
- I called Henry...

- Bet's off, John. Sorry.

- What?

- Bet?
- My plan needs darkness.

We've got another

half an hour of light...

Wait, wait. What bet?

I bet John here 50 quid that you
couldn't prove you'd seen the Hound

Yeah, the guys in the pub

said you could.

Well, you're going to

lose your money, mate.

- Yeah?
- Yeah.

I seen it. Only about a month ago.

Up at the Hollow. It was foggy, mind.

Couldn't make much out.

- I see. No witnesses, I suppose?

- No, but...

- Never are.
- No, wait.

- There.-

Is that it?
It's not exactly proof, is it?

- Sorry, John. I win.

- Wait, wait! That's not all.

People don't like going up there,

you know. To the Hollow.

- Gives them a bad sort of feeling.

- Ooh, is it haunted?

- Is that supposed to convince me?

- Nah, don't be stupid!

Nothing like that. But I reckon

there is something out there.

Something from Baskerville. Escaped

- A cone? Super-dog?
- Maybe.

God knows what they've been

spraying on us all these years.

Or putting in the water. I wouldn't

trust them as far as I could spit.

Is that the best you've got?

I had a mate once
who worked for the MOD.

One weekend we were meant to

go fishing, but he never showed up.

Well, not till late. When he did,

he was white as a sheet.

I can see him now.

"I've seen things today, Fletch," he

said, "I ain't never want to see again.

"Terrible things."

He'd been sent to some secret

army place. Porton Down, maybe?

Maybe Baskerville? Or somewhere else.

In the labs there,

the really secret labs,

he said he'd seen...terrible things.

Rats as big as dogs, he said.

And dogs, dogs the size of horses.

We did say 50?

Ta.

Pass, please?

Thank you.

We got ID for Baskerville? How?

It's not specific

to this place. It's my brother's.

Access all areas. I, um...

acquired it ages ago, just in case.

- Brilliant.
- What's the matter?

- We'll get caught.

- No, we won't. Well, not just yet.

Caught in five minutes.

"Hi! We just thought"
"we'd come and have a wander round
your top-secret weapons base."

"Really? Great! Come in,

kettle's just boiled."

That's if we don't get shot.

- Here you are.

- Thank you very much.

Thank you.

Straight through, sir.

Mycroft's name
literally opens doors.

I've told you. He practically

is the British Government.

I reckon we've got about 20 minutes

before they realise something's wrong.

- What is it? Are we in trouble?

- "Are we in trouble, sir?"

- Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.

- You were expecting us?

Your ID showed up straight away,

Mr Holmes.

Corporal Lyons. Security.

- Is there something wrong, sir?

- Well, I hope not, Corporal. I hope not.

It's just we don't get inspected here,

you see, sir. It just doesn't happen.

Never heard of a spot check?

Captain John Watson.

Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers

Sir! Major Barrymore

won't be pleased, sir.

He'll want to see you both.

I'm afraid we won't have time for that.

We'll need the full tour.

Right away. Carry on.

- That's an order, Corporal.
- Yes, sir.

- Nice touch.
- Haven't pulled rank in ages.

- Enjoy it?
- Yeah.

How many animals do you keep down here?

Lots, sir.

Any ever escape?

They'd have to know

how to use that lift, sir.

We're not breeding them that clever.

Unless they have help.

And you are?

I'm sorry, Dr Frankland, I'm just

showing these gentlemen around.

New faces! How nice.

Careful you don't get stuck here,

though. I only came to fix a tap.

How far down does that lift go?

Quite a way, sir.

And what's down there?

Well, we have to keep the bins

somewhere, sir.

This way, please, gentlemen.

So what exactly is it
that you do here?

I thought you'd know, sir.

This being an inspection.

Well, I'm not an expert, am I?

Everything from stem cell research

to trying to cure the common cold, sir.

- But mostly weaponry?

- Of one sort or another, yes.

- Biological, chemical...
- One war ends, another begins, sir.

New enemies to fight.

We have to be prepared.

Okay, Michael.
Let's try Halo 3 next time.

- Dr Stapleton.
- Stapleton.

Yes.

Who's this?

Priority ultra, ma'am.

Orders from on high.

- An inspection.
- Really?

We're to be accorded
every courtesy, Dr Stapleton.

What's your role at Baskerville?

Accorded every courtesy,

isn't that the idea?

I'm not free to say. Official Secrets.

You most certainly are free.

And I suggest you remain that way.

I have a lot of fingers

in a lot of pies.

I like to mix things up.

Genes, mostly.
Now and again, actual fingers.

- Stapleton, I knew I knew your name.

- I doubt it.

People say there's

no such thing as coincidence.

What dull lives they must lead.

Have you been talking to my daughter?

Why did Bluebell have to die,
Dr Stapleton?

- The rabbit?
- Disappeared from inside a locked hutch,

- which was always suggestive.

- The rabbit?

Clearly an inside job.

- You reckon?
- Why?

Because it glowed in the dark?

I have absolutely no idea

what you're talking about.

Who are you?

Well, I think we've seen enough

for now, Corporal. Thank you so much.

- That's it?
- That's it. It's this way, isn't it?

Just a minute!

Did we break into a military base

to investigate a rabbit?

23 minutes. Mycroft's getting slow

Hello. Again.

- Major, this is...

- Bloody outrageous!

Why wasn't I told?

Major Barrymore, is it?

Yes. Well. Good.

Very good. We're very impressed.

- Aren't we, Mr Holmes?

- Deeply. Hugely.

The whole point of Baskerville

was to eliminate

- this kind of bureaucratic nonsense!

- I'm so sorry, Major.
- Inspections...
- New policy.

You can't remain unmonitored forever.

Goodness knows what you'd get up to.

- Keep walking.
- Sir!

- ID unauthorised, sir!
- What?

- I've just had the call.

- Is that right? Who are you?

Look, there's obviously

been some kind of mistake.

Clearly not Mycroft Holmes.

Computer error, Major.

It'll all have to go in the report.

- What the hell's going on?

- It's all right, Major.

- I know exactly who these gentlemen are.

- You do?

Yeah. I'm getting a little slow

on faces,

but Mr Holmes here isn't someone

I expected to show up in this place.

- Well...
- Good to see you again, Mycroft.

I had the honour of meeting Mr Holmes

at the WHO conference in...

Brussels, was it?

- Vienna.
- Vienna. That's it.

This is Mr Mycroft Holmes, Major.

There's obviously been a mistake.

- On your head be it, Dr Frankland.-

- I'll show them out, Corporal.

- Very well, sir.

- Thank you.
- This is about Henry Knight, isn't it?

I thought so.
I knew he wanted help but...

I didn't realise he was going to

contact Sherlock Holmes.

Don't worry, I know who you really are.

I'm never off your website.

Thought you'd be wearing the hat,

though.

That wasn't my hat.

- I hardly recognise him without the hat.

- It wasn't my hat.

- I love the blog, too, Dr Watson.

- Cheers.

The Pink thing! And that one

about the Aluminium Crutch!

You know Henry Knight?

Well, I knew his dad better.

He had all sorts of

mad theories about this place.

Still, he was a good friend.

Listen, I can't really talk now.

Here's my cell number.

If I can help, with Henry,

give me a call.

I never did ask, Dr Frankland.

What exactly is it that you do here?

Mr Holmes, I would love to tell you,

but then of course

I'd have to kill you.

That would be
tremendously ambitious of you.

Tell me about Dr Stapleton.

I never speak ill of a colleague.

But you'd speak well of one,

which you're clearly omitting to do.

I do seem to be, don't I?

- I'll be in touch.
- Any time.

- 50?
- 50?

What was all that about the rabbit?

Please.
Can we not do this this time?

- Do what?
- You being all mysterious with your...

cheekbones, and turning

your coat collar up so you look cool.

- I don't do that.
- Yeah, you do.

So, the email from Kirsty,

the missing luminous rabbit...

Kirsty Stapleton, whose mother

specialises in genetic manipulation.

She made her daughter's rabbit

glow in the dark?

Probably a fluorescent gene.

Removed and spliced into the specimen,

simple enough these days.

So...

So we know that Dr Stapleton performs

secret genetic experiments on animals.

The question is has she been working

on something deadlier than a rabbit?

To be fair, that is quite a wide field.

- Hi. Come in. Come in.

- Hi.
This is...

Are you, um...rich?

- Yeah.
- Right.

It's a couple of words.

That's what I keep seeing.

- "Liberty."
- Liberty?

"Liberty" and...

"In-"

It's just that.

Are you finished?

Mean anything to you?

"Liberty in death",
isn't that the expression?

The only true freedom?

- What now, then?

- Sherlock's got a plan.

- Yes.
- Right.

We take you back out onto the moor.

- Okay.
- And see if anything attacks you.

- What?
- That should bring things to a head.

At night?

- You want me to go out there at night?

- That's your plan?

- Brilliant.
- Do you have any better ideas?

- That's not a plan.

- If there is a monster out there, John,

there's only one thing to do,

find out where it lives.
Sher.

Sherlock.

Sherlock.

Sherlock!

Met a friend of yours.

- What?
- Dr Frankland.

Right. Bob, yeah.

He seems pretty concerned about you.

He's a worrier. Bless him.

He's been very kind to me

since I came back.

- He knew your father?

- Yeah.

But he works at Baskerville. Didn't your

dad have a problem with that?

Well, mates are mates, aren't they?

I mean, look at you and John.

What about us?

Well, I mean,
he's a pretty straightforward bloke

and you...

They agreed never to talk about work,

Uncle Bob and my dad.

Dewer's Hollow.

Sherlock?

My God,
my God, my God...

Did you see it?

- Did you hear that?

- We saw it! We saw it.

No. I didn't see anything.

What? What are you talking about?

I didn't see anything!

Look, he must have seen it!

I saw it. He must have.

He must have. I...

Why? Why? Why would he say that?

It-it-it was there. It was.

Henry? Henry, I need you to sit down.

- Try and relax, please.

- I'm okay. I'm okay.

I'm going to give you something

to help you sleep.

- All right?
- This is good news, John.

It's...it's...it's good.

I'm not crazy.

There is a Hound. There is...

And Sherlock, he saw it too.

No matter what he says. He saw it.

Well, he is in a pretty bad way.

He's manic.

Totally convinced there's some

mutant super-dog roaming the moors.

And there isn't, though, is there?

'Cause if people knew how to make

a mutant super-dog, we'd know.

They'd be for sale.

I mean, that's how it works.

Listen, on the moor,

I saw someone signalling.

Morse. I guess it's Morse.

Doesn't seem to make much sense.

U-M-Q-R-A. Does that mean anything?

So, okay. What have we got?

We know there's footprints,

'cause Henry found them.

So did the tour guide.

But we all heard something.

Maybe we should just

look for whoever's got a big dog.

- Henry's right.
- What?

I saw it, too.

- What?
- I saw it, too, John.

- Just...just a minute. You saw what?

- A hound.

Out there in the Hollow.

A gigantic hound!

Um...

Look, Sherlock.
We have to be rational about this. Okay?

Now, you, of all people, can't just...

Let's just stick to what we know, yes?

Stick to the facts.

Once you've ruled out the impossible,

whatever remains,
however improbable, must be true.

What does that mean?

Look at me, I'm afraid, John.

Afraid.

Sherlock...

I've always been able

to keep myself distant.

Divorce myself from feelings.

But, look, you see?

My body's betraying me.

Interesting, yes? Emotions.

The grit on the lens,

the fly in the ointment!

Yeah, all right, Spock.

Just take it easy.

You've been pretty wired lately.

You know you have.

I think you've just gone out there

and got yourself a bit worked up.

Worked up?

- It was dark and scary...

- Me?

There's nothing wrong with me.

Sherlock?

- Sherlock?
- There is nothing wrong with me!

Do you understand?

You want me to prove it, yes?

We're looking for a dog, yes?

A great big dog.

That's your brilliant theory.

Cherchez le chien!

Good. Excellent. Yes!

Where shall we start?

How about them?

The sentimental widow and her son,

the unemployed fisherman?

- The answer's yes.

- Yes?

She's got a West Highland terrier

called Whisky.

- Not exactly what we're looking for.

- Sherlock, for God's sake.
Look at the jumper he's wearing,
hardly worn.

Clearly he's uncomfortable in it.

Maybe it's because of the material,

more likely the hideous pattern.

Suggests it's a present.

Probably Christmas.

So, he wants into his Mother's good

books. Why? Almost certainly money.

He's treating her to a meal,

but his own portion is small.

That means he wants to impress her,

but he's trying to economise

on his own food.

- Well, maybe he's just not hungry.

- No. Small plate. A starter.

He's practically licked it clean.

She's nearly finished her pavlova.

If she'd treated him,

he'd have had as much as he wanted.

He's hungry, all right.

And not well off.

You can tell that from

the state of his cuffs and shoes.

"How do you know she's his mother?"

Who else would give him

a Christmas present like that?

Well, it could be an aunt or an

older sister, but mother's more likely.

Now, he was a fisherman.

The scarring pattern on his hands

is very distinctive, fish-hooks.

They're all quite old now,

which suggests he's been unemployed

for some time.
Not much industry
in this part of the world,

so he's turned
to his widowed mother for help.

"Widowed?" Yes! Obviously.

She's got a man's wedding ring

on a chain around her neck,

clearly her late husband's

and too big for her finger.

She's well-dressed
but her jewellery's cheap.

She could afford better,

but she's kept it. Sentimental.

Now, the dog.

Tiny little hairs all over the leg

from where it gets a little bit

too friendly.

But no hairs above the knee,

suggesting it's a small dog,

probably a terrier. In fact, it is

a West Highland terrier called Whisky.

"How the hell do you know that,

Sherlock?"

Because she was on the same train

as us and I heard her calling its name.

And that's not cheating,

that's listening.

I use my senses, John,

unlike some people.

So, you see, I am fine.

In fact, I've never been better.

So just leave me alone.

Yeah, okay.

Okay.

Why would you listen to me?

I'm just your friend.
- I don't have friends.
- No.

I wonder why?

Mr Selden!
You've done it again!

I keep catching it with me belt.

God.

Sh...

You're a bad man.

Morning!

- No, I mean...
- What is it?

Um, more wine, Doctor?

- You trying to get me drunk, Doctor?

- The thought never occurred.

Because a while ago,

I thought you were chatting me up.

Where did I go wrong?

When you started asking me

about my patients.

No, you see, I am one of

Henry's oldest friends.

Yeah, and he's one of my patients,

so I can't talk about him.

Though he has told me about

all his oldest friends.

Which one are you?

- A new one?-

Okay, what about his father?

He wasn't one of your patients.

Wasn't he some sort of

conspiracy nutter, theorist?

You're only a nutter if you're wrong.

- Was he wrong?
- I should think so.

But he got fixated on

Baskerville, didn't he?

With what they were doing in there.

Couldn't Henry have gone the same way?

Started imagining a hound?

Why do you think I'm going to

talk about this?

Because I think
you're worried about him.

And because I am a doctor, too,

and because I have

another friend who...

might be having the same problem.

- Dr Watson!
- Hi.

Hello.

How's the investigation going?

- Hello.
- What investigation?

Didn't you know?

Don't you read the blog?

- Sherlock Holmes!
- Sherlock who?

Private detective.

This is his PA.

- Well, live-in PA.

- Perfect.

- Live-in.
- This is Dr Mortimer.

Henry's therapist.

Hello. Bob Frankland.

Listen, tell Sherlock I've been

keeping an eye on Stapleton.

Any time he wants a little chat...

All right?

Why don't you buy him a drink?

I think he likes you.

Morning! How are you feeling?

I'm... I didn't sleep very well.

That's a shame.
Shall I make you some coffee?

Look. You've got damp.

Listen.

Last night...

Why did you say

you hadn't seen anything?

I mean, I only saw the Hound

for a minute but...

- Hound.
- What?

Why do you call it a hound?

Why a hound?

- Why? What do you mean?

- It's odd, isn't it?

Strange choice of words, archaic.

That's why I took the case.

"Mr Holmes, they were

the footprints of a gigantic hound."

Why say "hound"?

- I don't know, I've never...

- Actually, let's skip the coffee.

You, getting anywhere

with that Morse Code?

- No.
- U-M-Q-R-A, wasn't it?
Nothing.

Look, forget it.

I thought I was onto something,

I wasn't.

- Sure?
- Yeah.

How about Louise Mortimer?

Did you get anywhere with her?

- No.
- Too bad.

Did you get any information?

You're being funny now?

Thought it might break the ice a bit.

Funny doesn't suit you.

I'd stick to ice.

- John...
- It's fine.

No, wait. What happened last night,

something happened to me,

something I've not really

experienced before.

Yes, you said. Fear.

"Sherlock Holmes got scared," you said.

No, no, no. It was more than that, John.

It was doubt. I felt doubt.

Always been able to trust my senses,

the evidence of my own eyes,

until last night.

You can't actually believe that

you saw some kind of monster?

No, I can't believe that.

But I did see it.

So the question is how? How?

Yes.
Yeah, right, good.
So, you got something to go on, then?

Good luck with that.

Listen, what I said before, John,

I meant it.

I don't have friends.

I've just got one.

Right.

John?

John!

- You are amazing! You are fantastic!

- Yes, all right.

You don't have to overdo it.

You've never been the most

luminous of people

but as a conductor of light,

you are unbeatable.

- Cheers.
- What?

Some people who aren't geniuses

have an amazing ability

to stimulate it in others.

Hang on, you were saying sorry

a minute ago, don't spoil it.

Go on. What have I done

that's so bloody stimulating?

Yeah?

What if it's not a word?

What if it is individual letters?

- You think it's an acronym?

- Absolutely no idea.

What the hell are you doing here?

Nice to see you, too.

I'm on holiday, would you believe?
No. I wouldn't.

- Hello, John.
- Greg.

I heard you were in the area.

What are you up to?

You after this Hound of Hell,

like on the telly?

I'm waiting for an explanation,

Inspector. Why are you here?

I've told you, I'm on holiday.

You're brown as a nut. You're clearly

just back from your holidays.

Maybe I fancied another one.

- This is Mycroft, isn't it?

- Now, look...

Of course it is.
One mention of Baskerville

and he sends down my handler

to spy on me, incognito.

Is that why you're

calling yourself Greg?

- That's his name.

- Is it?

Yes, if you'd ever bothered to find out.

Look, I'm not your handler.

And I don't just do

what your brother tells me

Actually, you could be

just the man we want.

- Why?
- I've not been idle, Sherlock.

I think I might have

found something. Here.

Didn't know if it was relevant,

it's starting to look like it might be.
That is an awful lot of meat
for a vegetarian restaurant.

- Excellent.
- A nice, scary inspector

from Scotland Yard

who can put in a few calls

might come in very handy.

Shop!

- What's this?
- Coffee. I made coffee.

- You never make coffee.

- I just did. Don't you want it?

You don't have to keep apologising.

Thanks.

I don't take sugar.

These records go back nearly two months.

That's nice. It's good.

Was that when you had the idea?

After the TV show went out?

It's me. It was me.

I'm sorry, Gary, I couldn't help it.

I had a bacon sandwich at Cal's wedding

and one thing just led to another.

Nice try.

Look, we were just trying to give

things a bit of a boost, you know?

A great big dog run wild up on the moor,

it was heaven sent.

It was like us having our own

Loch Ness Monster.

- Where do you keep it?

- There's an old mine shaft.

It's not too far.

He was all right there.
- Was?-

We couldn't control the bloody thing!

It was vicious.

And then a month ago,

Billy took him to the vet

- and, you know...

- It's dead?

- Put down.
- Yeah.

No choice. So it's over.

- It was just a joke, you know?

- Yeah. Hilarious.

You've nearly driven

a man out of his mind.

You know he's actually pleased

you're here? Secretly pleased.

Is he? That's nice.

I suppose he likes having

all the same faces back together.

- Appeals to his...his...
- Asperger's?

So, you believe them

about having the dog destroyed?

- No reason not to.

- Well, hopefully there's no harm done.

Not quite sure what

I'd charge them with anyway.

I'll have a word with the local force.

Right, that's that, then.

Catch you later. I'm enjoying this!

It's nice to get London

out of your lungs.

So that was their dog

that people saw out on the moor?

- Looks like it.

- But that wasn't what you saw.

- That wasn't just an ordinary dog.

- No.

It was immense, had burning red eyes

and it was glowing, John,

its whole body was glowing.

I've got a theory, but I need to get

back into Baskerville to test it.

How? You can't pull off

the ID trick again.

Might not have to.

Hello, brother dear. How are you?

Afternoon, sir, if you could turn

the engine off. Thank you.

I need to see Major Barrymore

as soon as we get inside.

- Right.
- Which means you'll have to start

- the search for the Hound.

- Okay.

In the labs. Stapleton's first.

Could be dangerous.

You know I'd love to. I'd love to

give you unlimited access to this place.

- Why not?
- It's a simple enough request, Major.

I've never heard of anything so bizarre.

You're to give me 24 hours.

It's what I've negotiated.

Not a second more.

I may have to comply with this order

but I don't have to like it.

I don't know what the hell

you expect to find here, anyway.

- Perhaps the truth.

- About what?

I see!
The big coat should have told me.

You're one of the conspiracy lot,

aren't you? Well, then, go ahead.

Seek them out. The monsters,

the death rays, the aliens.

Have you got any of those?

Just wondering.

A couple. Crash-landed here in the '60s.

We call them Abbott and Costello.

Good luck, Mr Holmes.

God!

Come on.

What the...

Hello?

-- No, come on. Come on.

No, you've...

Don't be ridiculous. Pick up. Damn it!

Right.

Okay.

It's here. It's in here with me!

- Where are you?

- Get me out, Sherlock.

You've got to get me out. The big lab.

The first lab that we saw.

- John? John?
- Now, Sherlock. Please.

- A ll right. I'll find you. Keep talking.

- I daren't, it'll hear me.

Keep talking. What are you seeing?

- John?
- Yes, I'm here.

What' can you see?

I don't know. I don't know,

but I can hear it, though.

-- Did you hear that?

Stay calm. Stay calm. Can you see it?

- Can you see it?

- No. I...

I can see it.

It's here.

It's here!

- Are you all right? John?

- Jesus Christ! It was the Hound!

Sherlock. It was here.

I swear it, Sherlock. It must...

It must...

Did you see it? You must have!

- It's all right. It's okay now.

- No, it's not!

It's not okay! I saw it, I was wrong.

- Let's not jump to conclusions.

- What?

- What did you see?

- I told you, I saw the Hound.

'Huge? R I ed eye 7 ?Yes! 5'

- Glowing?
- Yeah.

- No.
- What?

I made up the bit about glowing.

You saw what you expected to see

because I told you.

You have been drugged.

We have all been drugged.

- Drugged?
- Can you walk?

Of course I can walk.

Come on, then.

It's time to lay this ghost.

Back again?

- What's on your mind this time?

- Murder, Dr Stapleton.

Refined, cold-blooded murder.

Will you tell little Kirsty

what happened to Bluebell or shall I?

- Okay, what do you want?

- Can I borrow your microscope?

Are you sure you're okay?

You look very peaky.

No, I'm all right.

It was the GFP gene from a jellyfish,

in case you're interested.

- What?
- In the rabbits.

Great news.

Aequorea Victoria,
if you really want to know.

- Why?
"Why not?"

We don't ask questions like that here.

It isn't done.

It was a mix-up, anyway.

My daughter ended up
with one of the lab specimens,

so poor Bluebell had to go.

- Your compassion's overwhelming.

- I know. I hate myself sometimes.
So, come on, then, you can trust me,
I'm a doctor, what else have you got

hidden away up here?

Listen, if you can imagine it,

someone is probably doing it somewhere.

Of course they are.

- Cloning?
- Yes, of course!

Dolly the sheep, remember?

- Human cloning?
- Why not?

And what about animals? Not sheep.

- Big animals.
- Size isn't a problem. Not at all.

The only limits are ethics and the law.

And both those things can be

very flexible.
But not here, not at Baskerville.

- It's not there!

- Jesus!

Nothing there!
It doesn't make any sense.

- What were you expecting to find?

- A drug, of course! It has to be a drug.

A hallucinogenic or a deliriant
of some kind.

There's no trace of anything

in the sugar.

- Sugar?
- The sugar, yes.

It's a simple process of elimination.

I saw the Hound, saw it as my

imagination expected me to see it.

A genetically engineered monster.

But I knew I couldn't believe

the evidence of my own eyes,

so there were
seven possible reasons for it,

the most possible being narcotics.

Henry Knight, he saw it, too.

But you didn't, John. You didn't see it.

Now, we have eaten and drunk exactly

the same things since we got to Grimpen,

apart from one thing!

You don't take sugar in your coffee.

I see. So...

I took it from Henry's kitchen.

His sugar.

- But it's perfectly all right.

- But maybe it's not a drug.

No, it has to be a drug.

How did it get into our systems? How?

There must be something. Something...

Something...

Something buried deep. Get out.

- What?
- Get out.

- I need to go to my mind palace.

- Your what?

He's not going to be doing much

talking for a while, we may as well go.

- His what?
- His mind palace.

It's a memory technique.

A sort of mental map.

You plot a map with a location.

It doesn't have to be a real place.

And then you deposit memories there.

Theoretically,
you can never forget anything.

All you have to do

is find your way back to it.

So this imaginary location

could be anything, a house or a street?

- Yeah.
- But he said palace.

- He said it was a palace.

- Yeah, well, he would, wouldn't he?

You ain't nothing...

H.O.U.N.D.

My God.

My God. My God. I am so...

I am so sorry. I am so sorry.

- John?
- Yeah, I'm on it.

Project H.0.U.N.D.
I must have read about it.

Stored it away.

Experiment in the CIA facility

in Liberty, Indiana.

That's as far as my access goes,

I'm afraid.

There must be an override. A password.

I imagine so,
but that'd be Major Barrymore's.

Password. Password. Password.

He'd have sat here

when he thought it up.

- Describe him to me.

- You've seen him.

- But describe him.

- He's a bloody martinet. A throwback.

The sort they'd have sent into Suez.

Good. Excellent. Old-fashioned.
A traditionalist.

Not the sort of man that uses

children's names as a password.

He loves his job. Proud of it.

And this is work-related.

So, what's at eye level?

Books. Jane's Defence Weekly.

Bound copies. Hannibal,

Wellington. Rommel. Churchill's

History of the English-Speaking Peoples,

all four volumes.

Churchill. He's fond of Churchill.

Copy of The Downing Street Years,

one, two, three, four, five separate

biographies of Thatcher.

Mid-1980s, at a guess. Father and son.

Barrymore senior? Medals.

- Distinguished service order?

- That date, I'd say Falklands veteran.

Right, so Thatcher's looking

more likely a bet than Churchill.

So that's the password?

No! With a man like Major Barrymore,

only first-name terms would do.

Jesus!

Project H.0.U.N.D. A new deliriant drug

which rendered its users

incredibly suggestible.

They wanted to use it

as an anti-personnel weapon

to totally disorientate the enemy

using fear and stimulus.

But they shut it down

and hid it away in 1986.
Because of what it did to the subjects
they tested it on?

And what they did to others.

Prolonged exposure drove them insane.

Made them almost

uncontrollably aggressive.

So, someone's been doing it again?

Carrying on the experiments?

Attempting to refine it, perhaps.

For the last 20 years.

- Who?
- Those names mean anything to you?

No. Not a thing.

Five principal scientists,

20 years ago.

Maybe our friend's somewhere

in the back of the picture.

Somebody who was old enough to be there

at the time of the experiments in 1986.

Maybe somebody who says "cell phone"

because of time spent in America.

You remember, John?

Here's my cell number.

Gave us his number

in case we needed him.

My God. Bob Frankland.

But Bob doesn't even work on it.

I mean, he's a virologist.

- This was chemical warfare.

- That's where he started, though.

And he's never lost the certainty,

the obsession

that that drug really could work.

Nice of him to give us his number.

Let's arrange a little meeting.
- Hello?-

- Who's this?
- You've got to find Henry.

It's Louise Mortimer.

Louise, what's wrong?

Henry was remembering, then...

He tried... He's got a gun,

he went for the gun and tried to...

What?

He's gone! You've got to stop him.

I don't know what he might do.

- Where are you?

- His house, I'm okay. I'm okay.

Right. Stay there,

we'll get someone to you. Okay?

- Henry?
- He's attacked her.

Gone? There's only one place he'll

go to, back to where it all started.

Lestrade, get to the Hollow.

Dewer's Hollow, now! And bring a gun.

I'm sorry.

So sorry, Dad.

- Henry, no! No!

- Get back, Dad! Get away from me!

- Easy, Henry. Easy. just relax.

- I know what I am.

- I know what I tried to do!

- Just put the gun down. It's okay.

- No! No! I know what I am!

- Yes. I'm sure you do, Henry.

It's all been explained to you,

hasn't it?

- Explained very carefully.

- What?
Someone needed to keep you quiet.
Needed to keep you as a child,

to reassert the dream

that you'd both clung on to

because you had started to remember.

Remember now, Henry. You've got to

remember what happened here

when you were a little boy.

I thought it had got my dad. The Hound.

I thought... Jesus!
I don't know any more!

- I don't!
- No, Henry! Henry!

Henry, remember, "Liberty, In."

Two words.

Two words a frightened little boy

saw here 20 years ago.

You'd started to piece things together,

remember what really happened

here that night.

It wasn't an animal, was it, Henry?

Not a monster.

A man.

You couldn't cope.

You were just a child

So you rationalised it
into something very different.

And then you started to remember,

so you had to be stopped.

Driven out of your mind so that no one

would believe a word that you said.

Sherlock!

Okay. It's okay, mate.

But we saw it! The Hound.

Last night. We did!
There was a dog, Henry.
Leaving footprints, scaring witnesses.

But it was nothing more

than an ordinary dog.

We both saw it. Saw it as our

drugged minds wanted us to see it.

Fear and stimulus.

That's how it works.

But there never was any monster.

Sherlock?

- No! No, no, no, no, no!

- Henry...

Sherlock!

- No, no, no, no, no, no'

- Henry?

Sherlock?

Are you seeing this? He is not drugged,

Sherlock. So what's that?

- What is it?
- All right! It's still there!

But it's just a dog, Henry.

It's nothing more than an ordinary dog!

My God!

Christ!

No! No!

It's not you.

It's not you!

- The fog.
- What?

It's the fog!

The drug, it's in the fog!

Aerosol dispersant,
that's what it said in those records.

Project H.0.U.N.D. It's the fog.

A chemical minefield.

For God's sake, kill it! Kill it!

Look at it, Henry.

- No, no, no.

- Come on, look at it!

It's just... You bastard.

You bastard!

Twenty years! Twenty yea rs of my life

making no sense.

Why didn't you just kill me?

Because dead men get listened to.

He needed to do more than kill you.

He had to discredit every word

you ever said about your father.

And he had the means right at his feet.

A chemical minefield!
Pressure pads in the ground,

dosing you up every time

that you came back here.

Murder weapon, scene of the crime,

all at once.

This case, Henry!

- Thank you, it's been brilliant.

- Sherlock.

What?

Timing.

- Not good?
- No, no, it's okay.

It's fine, because this means...

This means that my dad was right.

He'd found something out, hadn't he?

And that's why you killed him,

because he was right!
And he'd found you

right in the middle of an experiment.

Frankland!

- Frankland!
- Keep running.

Keep back!

It's no use, Frankland!

Come on!

Thanks, Billy.

So they didn't have it put down, then?

The dog.

Obviously. Suppose they just

couldn't bring themselves to do it.

I see.

No, you don't.

- No, I don't. Sentiment?

- Sentiment.

Listen, what happened to me

in the lab?

- Do you want some sauce with that?

- I hadn't been to the Hollows.

How come I heard those things in there?

Fear and stimulus, you said.

You must've been dosed

with it elsewhere.

When you went to the lab, maybe.

You saw those pipes.

Pretty ancient, leaky as a sieve.

And they were carrying the gas, so...

- Um, ketchup, was it, or brown?

- Hang on.

You thought it was in the sugar.

You were convinced it was in the sugar.
Better get going, actually.

There's a train that leaves

in half an hour, so if you want...

God. It was you.

You locked me in that bloody lab!

I had to. It was an experiment.

- An experiment?
- Shh.

I was terrified, Sherlock.

I was scared to death!

I thought the drug was in the sugar

so I put the sugar in your coffee.

Then I arranged everything

with Major Barrymore.

It was all totally scientific,

laboratory conditions. Well, literally.

It's in here with me.

All right. Keep talking.

I'll find you.

- Keep talking.
- I daren't, it'll hear me.

Tell me what you're seeing.

I don't know but I can hear it, though.

I knew what effect it had had

on a superior mind,

so I needed to try it
on an average one.

You know what I mean.

But it wasn't in the sugar.

No, well, I wasn't to know you'd

already been exposed to the gas.

- So you got it wrong.

- No.

You were wrong. It wasn't in the sugar.

You got it wrong.

A bit.

Won't happen again.

Any long-term effects?

None at all. You'll be fine

once you've excreted it. We all will.

Think I might have

ta ken ca re of that already

- Where are you going?

- Won't be a minute.

Got to see a man about a dog.

All right. Let him go.

File #3: Sherlock.S02E03.720p.BluRay.700MB.ShAaNiG.com
---

Why today?

Do you want to hear me say it?

Eighteen months
since our last appointment.

You read the papers?

- Sometimes.
- And you watch telly?

You know why I'm here.

I'm here because...

What happened, John?

Sher...

You need to get it out.

My best friend, Sherlock,

is dead.

Falls of the Reichenbach.

Turner's masterpiece,

thankfully recovered
owing to the prodigious talent

of Mr Sherlock Holmes.

A small token of our gratitude.

Diamond cufflinks.
All my cuffs have buttons.

- He means 'thank you

- Do I?

- Just say it.

- Thank you.

Back together with my family,

after my terrifying ordeal.

And we have one person to thank

for my deliverance,
Sherlock Holmes.

- Tie pin. I don't wear ties.

- Shh.

Peter Ricoletti.

Number one on Interpol's

most wanted list since 1982.

But we got him.

And there's one person we have to thank

for giving us the decisive leads,

with all his customary

diplomacy and tact.

- Sarcasm.
- Yes.

We all chipped in.

Put the hat on!

-- Yeah, Sherlock. Put it on.

Just get it over with.

Boffin"? Boffin Sherlock Holmes

- Everybody gets one.

- One what?

Tabloid nickname.

SuBo, Nasty Nick.

Shouldn't worry.
I'll probably get one soon.

Page five, column six, first sentence.

- Why is it always the hat photograph?

- "Bachelor John Watson."

- What kind of hat is it, anyway?

- Bachelor?

What the hell are they implying?

- Is it a cap? Why has it got two fronts?

- It's a deerstalker.

"Frequently seen in the company

of bachelor John Watson."

How do you stalk a deer with a hat?

What am I going to do, throw it?

- "Confirmed bachelor John Watson."

- Is it like some sort of death Frisbee?

Okay, this is too much.

We need to be more careful.

It's got ?aps.

Ear flaps, it's an ear hat, John.

What do you mean, more careful?

I mean, this isn't a deerstalker now.

It's a Sherlock Holmes hat.

I mean that you're not exactly

a private detective any more.

- You're this far from famous.

- It'll pass.

It better pass. The press will turn,

Sherlock. They always turn.

And they'll turn on you.

- It really bothers you.

- What?

- What people say.

- Yes.

About me. I don't understand.

Why would it upset you?

Just try to keep a low profile.

Find yourself a little case this week.

Stay out of the news.

- That's your phone.

- Keeps doing that.

So, did you just talk to him

for a really long time?

Henry Fishguard
never committed suicide.

Bow Street Runners missed everything!

Pressing case, is it?

They're all pressing

till they're solved.

Put your key in there, please.

-- Excuse me, sir.

Any metal objects? Keys, mobile phones?

- Go through.
- Thank you.

- Fancy a cuppa, then, mate?

- Yeah, why not?

Gilts at seven.
Dutch Telecoms in freefall.

Thank you, Harvey.

What do you say? Refuse them all

parole and bring back the rope?

Let's begin.

This is an emergency. Please leave...

Sir, I'm going to have to ask you

to leave.

- Sir, there's been a break-in.

- Not our division.

You'll want it.

The vault!

Hacked into the Tower

of bloody London's security? How?

Tell them we're already on our way.

There's been another one.

Another break-in.

Bank of England!

Sir, security's down, sir.

It's failing.

- Where is it now?
- Pentonville Prison.
No!

No rush.

I'll get it, shall I?

- Here.
- Not now, I'm busy.

- Sherlock.
- Not now.

He's back.

That glass
is tougher than anything.

Not tougher
than crystallised carbon.

He used a diamond.

- Ready?
- Yes.

Let them through.

Thank you. I've got it.

- Remember...
- Yes.

- Remember...
- Yes.

Remember what they told you.

- Don't try to be clever...

- No.

And please, just keep it

simple and brief.

God forbid the star witness in the trial

should come across as intelligent.

Intelligent, fine.
Let's give smartarse a wide berth.

- I'll just be myself.

- Are you listening to me?

- So today, standing outside...

- Is this the trial of the century...
The trial of James Moriarty...

James Moriarty, early today

accused of attempting...

of attempting to steal
the Crown jewels.

At the Old Bailey we have

Reichenbach hero Sherlock Holmes...

Would you mind slipping your hand

into my pocket?

Thanks.

Crown versus Moriarty,

please proceed to Court 70.

You're him.

Wrong toilet.

- I'm a big fan.

- Evidently.

I read your cases. Follow them all.

Sign my shirt, would you?

There are two types of fans.

Catch me before I kill again, type A.

- What's type B?
- Your bedroom's just a taxi ride away

Guess which one I am?

- Neither.
- Really?

No, you're not a fan at all.

Those marks on your forearm.

Edge of a desk.

You've been typing in a hurry, probably.

Pressure on, facing a deadline.

- That all?
- There's a smudge of ink on your wrist

and the bulge

in your left jacket pocket.
Bit of a giveaway?

The smudge is deliberate. It's to see

if I'm as good as they say I am.

Oil-based.
Used in newspaper print.

But drawn on with an index finger.

Your finger. journalist

Unlikely you get your hands dirty

at the press.

You put that there to test me.

- Wow! I'm liking you.

- You mean I'd make a great feature.

"Sherlock Holmes,
the man beneath the hat."

Kitty. Riley.

- Pleased to meet you.

- No.

I'm just saving you

the trouble of asking.

No, I won't give you an interview.

No, I don't want the money.

You and John Watson. just platonic?

Can I put you down for a no there

as well?

There's all sorts of gossip

in the press about you.

Sooner or later, you're going to need

someone on your side.

Someone to set the record straight.

You think you're the girl

for that job, do you?

I'm smart. And you can trust me.

Totally.

Smart? Okay. Investigative journalist.

Good. Well, look at me
and tell me what you see.

If you're that skilful,

you don't need an interview,

you can just read what you need.

No? Okay, my turn.

I look at you and I see someone who's

still waiting for their first big scoop

so that their editor will notice them.

You're wearing an expensive skirt

that has been re-hemmed twice.

The only posh skirt you've got.

And your nails, you can't afford

to do them that often.

I see someone who's hungry.

I don't see smart.

And I definitely don't see trustworthy,

but I'll give you a quote, if you like.

Three little words.

You repel me.

- A consulting criminal.
- Yes.

Your words.
Can you expand on that answer?

James Moriarty is for hire.

- A tradesman?
- Yes.

But not the sort

who'd fix your heating?

No, the sort who'd plant

a bomb or stage an assassination,

but I'm sure he'd make a pretty

decent job of your boiler.

Would you describe him as...

- Leading.
- What?

Can't do that.
You're leading the witness.

He'll object and the judge will uphold.

Mr Holmes!

Ask me how. How would I describe him?

What opinion have I formed of him?

Did they not teach you this?

Mr Holmes,
we're fine without your help.

How would you describe

this man, his character?

First mistake,

James Moriarty isn't a man at all.

He's a spider.

A spider at the centre of a web.

A criminal web with a thousand threads

and he knows precisely how each

and every single one of them dances.

And how long...

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

That's really not a good question.

- Mr Holmes!
- How long have I known him?

Not really your best line of enquiry.

We met twice, five minutes in total.

I pulled a gun. He tried to blow me up.

I felt we had a special something

Miss Sorrel, are you seriously

claiming this man is an expert?

After knowing the accused

for just five minutes?
Two minutes would have made me
an expert. Five was ample.

Mr Holmes, that's a matter for the jury.

Really?

One librarian, two teachers,

two high-pressure jobs,

probably the City.

Foreman's a medical secretary,

trained abroad,
judging by her short hair.

- Mr Holmes...
- Seven are married

and two are having an affair

with each other, it would seem.

And they've just had

tea and biscuits.

Would you like to know

who ate the wafer?

Mr Holmes!

You've been called here to answer

Miss Sorrel's questions,

not to give us a display

of your intellectual prowess.

Keep your answers brief

and to the point.

Anything else will be treated

as contempt.

Do you think you could survive

for just a few minutes

without showing off?

What did I say?

I said, "Don't get clever."

I can't just turn it on and off

like a tap.

- Well?
- Well what?

You were there for the whole thing.

Up in the gallery, start to finish.

Like you said it would be.

Sat on his backside, never even stirred.

Moriarty's not mounting any defence.

Bank of England, Tower of London,

Pentonville.

Three of the most secure places

in the country

and six weeks ago, Moriarty breaks in,

no one knows how or why.

- All we know is...

- He ended up in custody.

Don't do that.

- Do what?
- The look.

- Look?
- You're doing the look again.

Well, I can't see it, can I?

- It's my face.
- Yes, and it's doing a thing.

You're doing a "we both know

what's really going on here" face.

- Well, we do.
- No, I don't.

Which is why I find the face

so annoying.

If Moriarty wanted the jewels,

he'd have them.

If he wanted those prisoners freed,

they'd be out on the streets.

The only reason he's still in a prison

cell right now

is because he chose to be there.

Somehow, this is part of his scheme.

Mr Crayhill,
can we have your first witness?

Your honour, we're not calling

any witnesses.

I don't follow.
You've entered a plea of "not guilty".

Nevertheless,
my client is offering no evidence.

The defence rests.

- Ladies and gentlemen of the jury...

- Ladies and gentlemen of the jury...

...James Moriarty stands accused...

- ...James Moriarty stands accused

of multiple counts
of attempted burglary.

Crimes which, if he's found guilty,

will elicit
a very long custodial sentence

and yet his legal team has...

...chosen to offer
no evidence whatsoever

to support their plea.

I find myself in the unusual position

of recommending a verdict
wholeheartedly.

You must find him guilty.

Guilty.

You must find him guilty.

Coming back.

That was six minutes.

Surprised it took them that long,

to be honest.
There was a queue for the loo.

Have you reached a verdict

on which you all agree?

Not guilty. They found him not guilty.

No defence and Moriarty's walked free.

Sherlock? Are you listening?

He's out. You know he'll be

coming after you.

- Sher...-

Most people knock.

But then, you're not most people,

I suppose.

Kettle's just boiled.

Johann Sebastian
would be appalled.

- May I?
- Please.

You know, while he was

on his deathbed, Bach,

he heard his son at the piano

playing one of his pieces.

The boy stopped

before he got to the end.

And the dying man jumped out of his bed,

ran straight to the piano

and finished it.

Couldn't cope with an unfinished melody.

Neither can you. It's why you've come.

But be honest,
you're just a tiny bit pleased.

- What? With the verdict?

- With me.

Back on the streets.

Every fairy tale needs
a good old-fashioned villain.

You need me or you're nothing.

Because we're just alike, you and I.

Except you're boring.

You're on the side of the angels.

You got to the jury, of course.

I got into the Tower of London,

you think I can't worm my way

into 12 hotel rooms?

Cable network.

Every hotel bedroom

has a personalised TV screen.

And every person

has their pressure point;

Someone that they want

to protect from harm.

Easy peasy.

So how are you going to do it?

- Burn me?
- That's the problem.

The final problem.

Have you worked out what it is yet?

What's the final problem?

I did tell you.

But did you listen?

How hard do you find it

having to say "I don't know"?

- I don't know.
- That's clever. That's very clever.

Awfully clever.

Speaking of clever,
have you told your little friends yet?

- Told them what?

- Why I broke into all those places

- and never took anything?

- No.

- But you understand.

- Obviously.

Off you go, then.

You want me to tell you

what you already know?

No, I want you to prove

that you know it.

You didn't take anything

because you don't need to.

Good.

You'll never need to take

anything ever again.

Very good. Because?

Because nothing, nothing

in the Bank of England, the Tower

of London or Pentonville Prison

could possibly match

the value of the key

that could get you into all three.

I can open any door anywhere

with a few tiny lines of computer code.

No such thing
as a private bank account now.

They're all mine.

No such thing as secrecy.

I own secrecy.

Nuclear codes, I could blow up NATO

in alphabetical order.

In a world of locked rooms,

the man with the key is king.
And honey,
you should see me in a crown.

You were advertising

all the way through the trial.

You were showing the world

what you can do.

And you were helping. Big client list.

Rogue governments,
intelligence communities.

Terror cells.

They all want me. Suddenly I'm Mr Sex.

You can break any bank.

What do you care

about the highest bidder?

I don't.
I just like to watch them all competing.

"Daddy loves me the best!"

Aren't ordinary people adorable?

Well, you know. You've got John

I should get myself a live-in one.

- Why are you doing all of this?

- It must be so funny.

You don't want money or power,

not really.

What is it all for?

I want to solve the problem.

Our problem. The final problem.

It's going to start very soon, Sherlock.

The fall.
But don't be scared.

Failing's just like flying except

there's a more permanent destination.

I never liked riddles.

Learn to.

Because I owe you a fall, Sherlock.

I owe you.

Excuse me,

I'm looking for Mycroft Holmes.

Would you happen to know

if he's around at all?

Can you not hear me?

Yes, all right. Anyone?

Anyone at all know

- where Mycroft Holmes is?-

I've been asked to meet him here.

No takers. Right. Am I invisible?

Can you actually see me?

Thanks, gents.
I've been asked to meet Mycroft Holmes.

Tradition, John
Our traditions define us.

So total silence is traditional, is it?

You can't even say "pass the sugar"?

Three quarters
of the diplomatic service

and half of the Government front bench

all sharing one tea trolley?

It's for the best, believe me.

They don't want a repeat of 1972.

- But we can talk in here.

- You read this stuff?

Caught my eye.

Saturday, they're doing a big exposé.

I'd love to know

where she got her information.
Someone called Brook.
Recognise the name?

- School friend, maybe?-

Of Sherlock's?

But that's not why I asked you here.

- Who's that?
- Don't know him?

- No.
- Never seen his face before?

- Um...
- He's taken a flat in Baker Street,

two doors down from you.

I was thinking of doing

a drinks thing for the neighbours.

I'm not sure you'll want to.

Sulejmani. Albanian hit squad.

Expertly trained killer,

living less than 20 feet

from your front door.

Well, it's a great location.

- Jubilee Line's handy.

- John...

- What's it got to do with me?

- Dyachenko, Ludmila.

Um, actually, I think I have seen her

Russian killer.
She's taken the flat opposite.

Okay.

I'm sensing a pattern here.

In fact,
four top international assassins

relocate to within spitting distance

of 221 b.

- Anything you care to share with me?-

I'm moving?

It's not hard to guess

the common denominator, is it?

You think this is Moriarty?

He promised Sherlock he'd come back.

If this was Moriarty,

he would be dead already.

If not Moriarty, then who?

Why don't you talk to Sherlock

if you're so concerned about him?

God! Don't tell me.

Too much history between us, John.

Old scores, resentments.

Nicked all his Smurfs?

Broke his Action Man?

Finished.

We both know what's coming, John.

Moriarty is obsessed,
he's sworn to destroy his only rival.

So you want me
to watch out for your brother

because he won't accept your help.

If it's not too much trouble.

- Excuse me.
- Sorry.

Sherlock, there's something weird...

- What's going on?

- Kidnapping.

Rufus Bruhl, the Ambassador to the US.

- He's in Washington, isn't he?

- Not him. His children.

Max and Claudette. Aged seven and nine.

They're at St Aldate's.

Posh boarding place

down in Surrey.

School broke up.

All the other boarders went home.

Just a few kids remained,

including those two.

The kids have vanished.

The Ambassador's asked

for you personally.

The Reichenbach hero.

Isn't it great to be working

with a celebrity?

- It's all right.

- Miss MacKenzie, House Mistress.

Go easy.

Miss MacKenzie.
You're in charge of pupil welfare,

yet you left this place

wide open last night!

What are you,

an idiot, a drunk or a criminal?

Now, quickly, tell me!

All the doors and windows

were properly bolted.

No one, not even me,

went into their room last night.

You have to believe me!

I do.
I just wanted you to speak quickly.

Miss MacKenzie will need to

breathe into a bag now.

Six grand a term, you'd expect them

to keep the kids safe for you.

So the other kids

had all left on their holidays?

They were the only two

sleeping on this floor.

Absolutely no sign of a break-in.

The intruder must have been

hidden inside someplace.

Show me where the brother slept.

Boy sleeps there every night

gazing at the only light source,

outside in the corridor.

He'd recognise every shape,

every outline.

The silhouette of everyone

who came to the door.

Okay! SO?

So someone approaches the door

who he doesn't recognise.

An intruder. Maybe he can even

see the outline of a weapon.

What would he do

in the precious few seconds

before they came into the room?

How would he use them,

if not to cry out?

This little boy,

this particular little boy,

who reads all those spy books.

What would he do?

- He'd leave a sign.-

Get Anderson.

Linseed oil.

Not much use.

Doesn't lead us to the kidnapper.

- Brilliant, Anderson.
- Really?

Yes, brilliant impression of an idiot.

The floor.

He made a trail for us

The boy was made to walk ahead of them.

- On tiptoe?
- Indicates anxiety.

Gun held to his head.

The girl was pulled beside him,

dragged sideways.

He had his left arm

cradled about her neck.

That's the end of it.

We don't know where they went from here.

Tell us nothing after all.

You're right, Anderson. Nothing.

Except his shoe size, his height,

his gait, his walking pace.

Having fun?

Starting to.

Maybe don't do the smiling.

Kidnapped children?

How did he get past the CCTV?

If all the doors were locked.

He walked in when they weren't locked.

A stranger can't just

walk into a school like that.

Anyone can walk in anywhere

if they pick the right moment.

Yesterday, end of term,

parents milling around,

chauffeurs, staff.

What's one more stranger

among that lot?

He was waiting for them.

All he had to do
was find a place to hide.

- Molly!
- Hello. I'm just getting out.

- No you're not.
- I've got a lunch date.

- Cancel it. You're having lunch with me.

- What?

Need your help.

It's one of your boyfriends,

we're trying to track him down.

- He's been a bit naughty.

- It's Moriarty.

Of course it's Moriarty.

Jim actually wasn't even my boyfriend.

We went out three times. I ended it.

Yes, and then he stole the Crown jewels,

broke into the Bank of England

and organised a prison break

at Pentonville.

For the sake of law and order,

I suggest you avoid all future

attempts at a relationship, Molly.

Oil, John.

The oil in the kidnapper's footprint.

It'll lead us to Moriarty.

All the chemical traces on his shoe

have been preserved.

The sole of the shoe is like a passport.

If we're lucky, we can see everything

that he's been up to.

I need that analysis.

- Alkaline.
- Thank you, John.

- Molly.
- Yes.

Glycerol molecule.

What are you?

What did you mean, "I owe you"?

You said, "I owe you."

You were muttering it

while you were working.

Nothing. Mental note.

You're a bit like my dad.

He's dead. Sorry.

Molly, please don't feel the need

to make conversation.

It's really not your area.

When he was dying,

he was always cheerful, he was lovely.

Except when he thought no one could see.

- I saw him once. He looked sad.

- Molly...

You look sad.

When you think he can't see you.

Are you okay? Don't just say you are,

because I know what that means,

looking sad when you think

no one can see you.

- You can see me.

- I don't count.

What I'm trying to say is that

if there's anything I can do,

anything you need, anything at all,

you can have me.

No, I just mean... I mean...
If there's anything you need.
It's fine.

But what could I need from you?

Nothing. I don't know.

But you could probably say

thank you, actually.

Thank you.

I'm just going to go and get some

crisps. Do you want anything?

It's okay. I know you don't.

- Well, actually, maybe I'll...

- I know you don't.

Sherlock?

This envelope was in her trunk.

- There's another one.

- What?

On our doorstep. Found it today.

Yes, and look at that.

Look at that. Exactly the same seal.

- Bread crumbs.
- It was there when I got back.

A little trace of bread crumbs,

hardback copy of fairy tales.

Two children led into the forest

by a wicked father

follow a little trail of bread crumbs.

That's Hansel and Gretel.

What sort of kidnapper leaves clues?

The sort that likes to boast.

The sort that thinks it's all a game.

He sat in our flat and he said

these exact words to me.

All fairly tales need

a good old-fashioned villain.

The fifth substance.

It's part of the tale.

The witch's house.

The glycerol molecule.

What's that?

It's used in making chocolate.

This fax arrived an hour ago.

What have you got for us?

We need to find a place in the city

where all five of these things

intersect.

Chalk, asphalt, brick dust,

vegetation...

What the hell is this? Chocolate?

I think we're looking for

a disused sweet factory.

We need to narrow that down.

A sweet factory with asphalt?

No, no, no. Too general.

Need something more specific,

chalk, chalky clay.

That's a far thinner band of geology.

Brick dust.

Building site. Bricks from the 19505.

There's thousands of building sites

in London!

- I've got people out looking.

- So have I!

Homeless network.
Faster than the police.

Far more relaxed about taking bribes.

John.

Rhododendron ponticom.

Matches.

- Addlestone.
- What?

There's a mile of disused factories

between the river and the park.

- It matches everything.
- Come on.

Come on!

You, look over there.

Look everywhere.

Spread out, please. Spread out!

This was alight moments ago.

They're still here!

Sweet wrappers.
What's he been feeding you?

Hansel and Gretel.

- Mercury.
- What?

The papers,
they're painted with mercury. Lethal.

- The more of the stuff they ate...

- It was killing them.

It's not enough to kill them

on its own.

Taken in large enough quantities,

eventually it would kill them.

He didn't need to be there

for the execution.

Murder by remote control.

He could be 1,000 miles away.

The hungrier they got,

the more they ate,

the faster they died. Neat.

Sherlock.

Over here!

We've got you, don't worry.

Right, then.
The professionals have finished

if the amateurs want to go in

and have their turn.

Now, remember that she's in shock

and she's just seven years old so...

Anything you can do to...

- Not be myself.
- Yeah.

Might be helpful.

Claudette, I...

-- No, no,

I know it's been hard for you,

Claudette.

- Listen to me.-

Get out!

- Makes no sense.
- Kid's traumatised.

Something about Sherlock

reminds her of the kidnapper.

What's she said?

Hasn't uttered another syllable.

- And the boy?

- No, he's unconscious.

Still in intensive care.

Well, don't let it get to you,

I always feel like screaming

when you walk into a room.

In fact, so do most people.

Come on.

Brilliant work you did,

finding those kids

from just a footprint.

- It's really amazing.

- Thank you.

Unbelievable.

You okay?

Thinking.

This is my cab, you get the next one.

- Why?
- You might talk.

What the hell is this? Chocolate?

We're looking for

a disused sweet factory.

-- Gel' out'!

Problem?

...nation,
this is stunning eveningwear

- sent from us here at London...

- Could you turn that off, please?

As you can see,

the set comprises of a beautiful...

Can you turn this off?

Accompanied by four...

Hello. Are you ready for the story?

This is the story of Sir Boast-A-Lot.

A footprint, that's all he has.

A footprint.

Yeah, well, you know what he's like,

CSI Baker Street.

Well, our boys couldn't have done it.

Well, that's why we need him.
He's better.

- That's one explanation.

- And what's the other?

Sir Boast-A -Lot was the bravest and

cleverest knight at the round table.

But soon, the other knights

began to grow tired of his stories

about how brave he was

and how many dragons he'd slain.

And soon they began to wonder,

are Sir Boast-A -Lot's stories even true?

Only he could have found

that evidence.

No.

And then the girl screams

her head off when she sees him,

a man she has never seen before.

Unless she had seen him before.

- What's your point?

- You know what my point is,

you just don't want to think about it.

So one of the knights

went to King Arthur

and said "I don't believe

Sir Boast-A -Lot's stories. "

He's just a big old liar who makes

things up to make himself look good.

You're not seriously suggesting

he's involved, are you?

I say we have to entertain

the possibility.

And then even the King

began to wonder...

But that wasn't the end

of Sir Boast-A -Lot's problem.

No.

That wasn't the final problem.

The end.

Stop the cab. Stop the cab!

What was that?

What was that?

No charge.

Look out!

Thank you.

Sherlock!

That is him. It's him.

Sulejmani or something.
Mycroft showed me his files.

A big Albanian gangster

who lives two doors down from us.

He died because I shook his hand.

- What do you mean?

- Saved my life,

but he couldn't touch me. Why?

Four assassins
living right on our doorstep.

They didn't come here to kill me.

They have to keep me alive.

I've got something

that all of them want.

But if one of them approaches me...

The others kill them

before they can get it.

All of the attention

is focused on me.
There's a surveillance web
closing in on us right now.

So, what have you got

that's so important?

We need to ask about the dusting.

Precise details.
In the last week, what's been cleaned?

- Well, Tuesday I did your lino...

- No, in here. This room.

This is where we'll find it.

Any break in the dust line.

You can put back anything but dust.

Dust is eloquent.

- What's he on about?
- I don't know.

- Cameras. We're being watched.

- What?

Cameras? Here?

-- I'm in my nightie.

- No, Inspector.
- What?

The answer is no.

- You haven't heard the question.

- You want to take me to the station.

Just saving you the trouble of asking.

- Sherlock...
- The scream?

Yeah.

Who was it? Donovan?

I bet it was Donovan.

Am I somehow responsible
for the kidnapping?

Moriarty's smart.

He planted that doubt in her head.

That little nagging sensation you
got to have to be strong to resist.

You can't kill an idea, can you?

Not once it's made a home...

there.

- Will you come?

- One photograph, that's his next move.

Moriarty's game. First the scream,

then a photograph of me
being taken in for questioning.

He wants to destroy me inch by inch.

It is a game, Lestrade,
and not one I'm willing to play.

Give my regards to Sergeant Donovan.

- He'll be deciding.
- Deciding?

Whether to come back

with a warrant and arrest me.

- You think?
- Standard procedure.

Should have gone with him.

- People will think...

- I don't care what people think.

You'd care if they thought

you were stupid or wrong.

No, that would just make them

stupid or wrong.

Sherlock, I don't want

the world believing you're...

That I am what?

A fraud

- You're worried they're right.

- What?

- You're worried they're right about me.

- No.

That's why you're so upset, you can't

even entertain the possibility

that they might be right, you're afraid

that you've been taken in as well.

No, I'm not.

Moriarty is playing with your mind, too.

Can't you see what's going on?

- No, I know you're for real.

- A hundred percent?

Nobody could fake being

such an annoying dick all the time.

- Sherlock Holmes?
- Yes, sir.

That bloke that's been in the press?

I thought he was
some sort of private eye?

- He is.
- We've been consulting with him,

that's what you're telling me?

Not used him on any proper cases,

though, have we?

Well, one or two.

Twenty or 30.

- What?
- Look, I'm not the only senior officer

- who did this...

- Shut up.

An amateur detective given access

to all sorts of classified information?

And now he's a suspect in a case?

- With all due respect...

- You're a bloody idiot, Lestrade.

Now, go and fetch him in, right now.

Do it!

Proud of yourselves?

What if it's not just this case? What if

he's done this to us every single time?

So, I've still got some friends

on the force.

It's Lestrade. Says they're all

coming over here right now.

Queuing up to slap on the handcuffs,

every single officer

you ever made feel like a tit.

Which is a lot of people.

Yoo hoo!

Sorry, am I interrupting?

Some chap delivered a parcel. I forgot.

Marked perishable.
I had to sign for it.

Funny name. German.

Like the fairy tales.

Burnt to a crisp.

- What does it mean?-

-- I'll go.

- Sherlock.
- Excuse me, Mrs Hudson.

We need to talk to you!

Don't barge in like that.

- Have you got a warrant? Have you?

- Leave it, John.

Me? But...

Sherlock Holmes, I'm arresting you on

suspicion of abduction and kidnapping.

- It's all right, John.

- He's not resisting.
No, it's not all right.
This is ridiculous.

Get him downstairs, now.

- You know you don't...

- Don't try to interfere

or I shall arrest you, too.

- You done?
- I said it.

- First time we met.

- Don't bother.

Solving crimes won't be enough.

One day, he'll cross the line.

Now ask yourself, what sort of man

would kidnap those kids

just so he can impress us all

by finding them?

- Donovan? That's our man?

- Sir.

Yes, sir.

Looked a bit of a weirdo,

if you ask me.

Often are, these vigilante types.

What are you looking at?

Are you all right, sir?

-- Joining me?

Yeah.

Apparently it's against the law

to chin the Chief Superintendent.

Bit awkward, this.

There's no one to bail us.

I was thinking more about

our imminent and daring escape.

All units to 2-7.

- What?
- All units to two...

Ladies and gentlemen,

will you all please get on your knees?

- Now would be good!

- Do as he says!

just so you're aware,

the gun is his idea,

- I'm just, you know...

- My hostage!

Hostage, yes, that works.

That works. So what now?

Doing what Moriarty wants.

Becoming a fugitive. Run.

Get after him, Lestrade!

- Take my hand.-

Now people will definitely talk.

- The gun!
- Leave it.

Sherlock, wait!

We're going to need to coordinate.

Go to your right.

Go to your right.

Everybody wants to believe it.

That's what makes it so clever

A lie that's preferable to the truth.

All my brilliant deductions

were just a sham.

No one feels inadequate.

Sherlock Holmes is just an ordinary man.

What about Mycroft? He could help us.

If he thinks I want a reconciliation?

Now's not really the moment.

Sherlock, Sherlock!

We're being followed.

I knew we couldn't outrun the police.

It's not the police. It's one of our

new neighbours from Baker Street.

Let's see if he can

give us some answers.

Where are we going?

We going to jump in front of that bus

Tell me what you want from me.

Tell me!

He left it at your flat.

- Who?
- Moriarty.

What?

The computer key code.

Of course, he's selling it.

The programme he used

to break into the Tower.

He planted it when he came around.

It's a game-changer.

It's a key.
It could break into any system

and it's sitting in our flat right now.

That's why he left that message

telling everyone where to come.

"Get Sherlock."

We need to get back into the flat

and search.

CID will be camped out.

Why plant it on you?
It's another subtle way
of smearing my name,

now I'm best pals

with all those criminals.

Yeah, well, have you seen this?

A kiss and tell.

Some bloke called Rich Brook.

Who is he?

Too late to go on the record?

Congratulations.
The truth about Sherlock Holmes.

The scoop that everybody wanted

and you've got it. Bravo.

I gave you your opportunity.

I wanted to be on your side, remember?

You turned me down.

And then, lo and behold, someone

turns up and spills all the beans.

How utterly convenient. Who is Brook?

Come on, Kitty. No one trusts

the voice at the end of a telephone.

There were all those

furtive little meetings in cafés,

those sessions in the hotel room

where he gabbled into your Dictaphone.

How do you know

that you can trust him?

A man turns up
with the Holy Grail in his pocket.

What were his credentials?

Darling, they didn't have

any ground coffee,

so I just got normal.

You said that

they wouldn't find me here.

- You said that I'd be safe here.

- You are safe, Richard.

I'm a witness. He wouldn't harm you

in front of witnesses.

So, that's your source?

Moriarty is Richard Brook?

Of course he's Richard Brook, there is

no Moriarty, there never has been.

- What are you talking about?

- Look him up.

Rich Brook, an actor Sherlock Holmes

hired to be Moriarty.

Doctor Watson, I...

I know you're a good man. Don't...

Don't... Don't hurt me.

No, you're Moriarty! He's Moriarty!

We've met, remember?

You were going to blow me up!

I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

He paid me. I needed the work.

- I'm an actor, I was out of work...

- Sherlock, you'd better explain,

- 'cause I am not getting this.

- I'll be doing the explaining.

In print. It's all here.

Conclusive proof.

You invented James Moriarty,

your nemesis.

Invented him?

Invented all the crimes, actually.

And to cap it all,

you made up a master villain.
- Don't be ridiculous.
- Ask him, he's right here!

Just ask him!

- Tell him, Richard.

- No, for god's sake,

- this man was on trial.

- Yes, and you paid him.

Paid him to take the rap.

Promised you'd rig the jury

Not exactly a West End role,

but I'll bet the money was good.

But not so good

he didn't want to sell his story.

I am sorry. I am, I am sorry.

So, this is the story

that you're going to publish?

The big conclusion of it all,

Moriarty is an actor?

He knows I am. I have proof.

I have proof, show him.

Can you show them something?

Yeah, show me something.

I'm on TV, I'm on kids TV.

I'm the Storyteller.

I'm the Storyteller. It's on DVD.

Just tell him.

It's all coming out now. It's all over.

Just tell them, just tell them.

Tell him!

It's all over... No! No!

Don't you touch me.

Don't you lay a finger on me.

Stop it, stop it now!

No, no, don't hurt me.

- Don't let him get away!

- Leave him alone!

No, no, no, he'll have backup.

Do you know what, Sherlock Holmes?

I look at you now and I can read you.

And you repel me.

Can he do that?
Completely change his identity?

- Make you the criminal?

- He's got my whole life story.

That's what you do. You sell a big lie.

You wrap it up in a truth

to make it palatable.

It's your word against his.

He's been sowing doubt into

people's minds for the last 24 hours.

There's only one thing he needs to do

to complete his game and that's to...

Sherlock?

There's something I need to do.

- What, can I help?

- No, on my own.

You're wrong, you know.

You do count.

You've always counted

and I've always trusted you.

But you were right.

I'm not okay.

Tell me what's wrong.

Molly, I think I'm going to die.

- What do you need?

- If I wasn't everything

that you think I am,

everything that I think I am,

would you still want to help me?

What do you need?

You.

She has really done her homework,

Miss Riley.

There's things that only someone

close to Sherlock could know.

Have you seen

your brother's address book lately?

There's two names, yours and mine.

And Moriarty didn't get this stuff

from me.

- John...
- So, how does it work, then?

Your relationship?
You go out for a coffee

now and then? You and Jim?

Your own brother and you blabbed

about his entire life

to this maniac?

- I never intend... I never dreamt...

- This, see, this...

is what you were trying to tell me,

isn't it?

Watch his back,

'cause I've made a mistake.

How did you meet him?

People like him, we...

know about them, we watch them.

But James Moriarty

the most dangerous criminal mind
the world has ever seen,

and in his pocket's the ultimate weapon,

a key code.

A few lines of computer code

that can unlock any door.

And you abducted him?

To try and find the key code.

- Interrogated him for weeks.

- And?

He wouldn't play along.

He just sat there,

staring into the darkness.

The only thing that made him open up...

I could get him to talk. just a little.

But...

in return, you had to offer him

Sherlock's life story.

So there's one big lie,

Sherlock's a fraud.

But people will swallow it

because the rest of it is true.

Moriarty wanted Sherlock destroyed,

right?

And you have given him

the perfect ammunition.

-- John.

I'm sorry.

Please.

Tell him, would you?

Got your message.

The computer code is key to this.

If we find it, we can use it,
beat Moriarty at his own game.

- What do you mean, use it?

- He's used it

to create a false identity.

So we can use it to break into

the records and destroy Richard Brook.

And bring back Jim Moriarty again.

Somewhere in 221 b, somewhere,

on the day of the verdict,

he left it hidden.

- What did he touch?

- An apple, nothing else.

- Did he write anything down?

- No.

Yeah, speaking.

What? What happened? Is she okay?

My God.

- Right. Yes, I'm coming.-

- What is it?
- Paramedics.

- Mrs Hudson's been shot.

- What? How?

Well, probably one of the killers

you managed to attract. Jesus.

- Jesus! She's dying, Sherlock. Let's go.

- You go, I'm busy.

- Busy?
- Thinking, I need to think.

You need to...

Doesn't she mean anything to you?

You once half killed a man

because he laid a finger on her.

- She's my landlady.
- She's dying,
you machine. Sod this.

Sod this.
You stay here if you want. On your own.

Alone is what I have.

Alone protects me.

No, friends protect people.

Well.

Here we are at last.

You and me, Sherlock.

And our problem, the final problem,

stayin' alive.

So boring, isn't it?

It's just...

staying...

All my life, I've been searching

for a distraction

and you were the best distraction

and now I don't even have you.

Because I've beaten you.

And you know what?

In the end, it was easy.

It was easy.

Now I've got to go back

to playing with the ordinary people.

And it turns out you're ordinary,

just like all of them.

Well.

Did you almost start to wonder

if I was real?

Did I nearly get you?

Richard Brook.

Nobody seems to get the joke.

- But you do.
- Of course.

Attaboy.

Rich Brook in German is Reichenbach.

The case that made my name.

Just trying to have some fun.

Good, you got that, too.

Beats like digits.

Every beat is a one,

every rest is a zero.

Binary code. That's why all those

assassins tried to save my life.

It was hidden on me,

hidden inside my head.

A few simple lines of computer code

that can break into any system.

Told all my clients.

- Last one to Sherlock is a sissy.

- Yes, but now that it's up here,

I can use it to alter all the records.

I can kill Rich Brook

and bring back Jim Moriarty.

No, no, no, no, no, this is too easy.

This is too easy.

There is no key, doofus!

Those digits are meaningless.

They're utterly meaningless.

You don't really think

a couple of lines of computer code

are going to crash the world

around our ears?

I'm disappointed.
I'm disappointed in you.

- Ordinary Sherlock.
- But the rhythm...

Partita No 7.
Thank you, Johann Sebastian Bach.

- Then how did you...

- Now, how did I break into the bank,

to the Tower, to the prison?

Daylight robbery.

All it takes
is some willing participants.

I knew you'd fall for it.

That's your weakness.

You always want everything to be clever.

Now, shall we finish the game?

One final act.

Glad you chose a tall building.

Nice way to do it.

Do it? Do... Do what?

Yes, of course.

My suicide.

Genius detective proved to be a fraud.

I read it in the paper,

so it must be true.

I love newspapers.

Fairy tales.

And pretty grim ones, too.

God, John, you made me jump.

Is everything okay now with the police?

Has, um, Sherlock sorted it all out?

My God.

Taxi!

Taxi!

No, no, no, no, police!

Thanks, mate. Thanks a lot.

I can still prove that you created

an entirely false identity.

Just kill yourself,

it's a lot less effort.

Go on.

For me.

Please?

You're insane.

You're just getting that now? Whoa!

Okay.

Let me give you

a little extra incentive.

Your friends will die if you don't.

John?
- Not just John. Everyone

- Mrs Hudson?
- Everyone.

- Lestrade?
- Three bullets, three gunmen,

three victims.
There's no stopping them now.

Unless my people see you jump.

You can have me arrested.

You can torture me.

You can do anything you like with me.

But nothing's going to prevent them

from pulling the trigger.

Your only three friends in the world

will die. Unless...

Unless I kill myself,

complete your story.

You've got to admit, that's sexier.

And I die in disgrace.

Of course, that's the point of this.

Look, you got an audience now.

Off you POP...

Go on.

I told you how this ends.

Your death is the only thing

that's going to call off the killers.

I'm certainly not going to do it.

Would you give me one moment, please?

One moment of privacy.

Please?

Of course.

What?

What is it?

What did I miss?

You're not going to do it?

So the killers can be called off, then,

there's a recall code

or a word or a number.

I don't have to die...

...if I've got you.

You think you can

make me stop the order?

- You think you can make me do that?

- Yes.

So do you.

Sherlock, you're big brother and all

the king's horses

couldn't make me do a thing

I didn't want to.
Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember?

I am you.

Prepared to do anything.
Prepared to burn.

Prepared to do what ordinary people

won't do.

You want me to shake hands with you

in Hell? I shall not disappoint you.

Nah.

You talk big.

Nah. You're ordinary.

You're ordinary,
you're on the side of the angels.

I may be on the side of the angels,

but don't think for one second

that I am one of them.

No.

You're not.

I see.

You're not ordinary. No.

You're me.

You're me.

Thank you,

Sherlock Holmes.

Thank you.

Bless you.

As long as I'm alive,

you can save your friends.

You've got a way out.

Well, good luck with that.

Yes, sir. Thank you. Bye.

Hello?

- John.
- Hey, Sherlock, you okay?

Turn around and walk back

the way you came.

- No, I'm coming in.

- Just do as I ask!

- Please.
- Where?

- Stop there.
- Sherlock?

Okay, look up, I'm on the rooftop.

God.

I... I... I can't come down,

so we'll just have to do it like this.

- What's going on?

- An apology.

- It's all true.

- What?

Everything they said about me.

I invented Moriarty.

Why are you saying this?

I'm a fake.

- Sherlock.
- The newspapers were right all along.

I want you to ted Lestrade-

I want you to ted Mrs Hudson.

And Molly.

In fact, tell anyone

who will listen to you

that I created Moriarty

for my own purposes.

Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up.

The first time we met.
The first time we met,
you knew all about my sister.

- Right?
- Nobody could be that clever.

- You could.-

I researched you.

Before we met, I discovered

everything that I could to impress you.

It's a trick. just a magic trick.

No, all right, stop it now.

No, stay exactly where you are.

- Don't move.
- All rig ht.

Keep your eyes fixed on me.

- Please, will you do this for me?

- Do what?

This phone call, it's; um-.

It's my note.

It's what people do, don't they?

Leave a note?

Leave a note when?

- Goodbye, John.
- No, don't.

Sherlock!

Sherlock.

Sherlock.

Sherlock.

I'm a doctor. Let me come through.

Let me come through, please.

No, he's my friend.

He's my friend. Please.

Please, let me just

Jesus, no...

God, no.

God.

There's stuff
that you wanted to say,

- but didn't say it.

- Yeah.

Say it now.

No.

I'm sorry, I can't.

There's all of this stuff.

All the science equipment.

I left it all in boxes.

I don't know what needs doing.

I thought I'd take it to a school.

- Would you...
- I can't go back to the flat again.

Not at the moment.

I'm angry.

It's okay, John.

There's nothing unusual in that.

That's the way he made everyone feel.

All those marks on my table

and the noise.

Firing guns at half past one

in the morning.

- Yeah.
- Bloody specimens in my fridge.

Imagine, keeping bodies

where there's food.

- Yes.
- And the fighting.
Drove me up the wall
with all his carryings on.

Yeah, listen,
I'm not actually that angry, okay?

Okay, I'll leave you alone to,

you know...

Um...

Right, you... You told me once...

that you weren't a hero

Um...

There were times I didn't even think

you were human

but let me tell you this,

you were the best man

and the most human human being

that I've ever known

and no one will ever convince me

that you told me a lie, okay? So...

there.

I was...

I was so alone.

And I owe you so much.

Please, there's just one more thing

right? One more thing.

One more miracle, Sherlock, for me.

Don't be...

dead.

Would you, just for me, just stop it?

Stop this.