Elementary (2012–…): Season 2, Episode 1 - Step Nine - full transcript

We commend to Almighty
God our brother Warren Pendry.

Earth to earth, ashes to ashes,

dust to dust.

The Lord bless him and keep him.

The Lord lift up his countenance
upon him,

- and give him...
- If the Lord had any sense at all,

he would kick Warren Pendry
right up his ass

and send him
to a very warm place indeed.

This is a private ceremony.

Leave now.

There's an injunction against you.
You can't be here.

Not until I paid my respects,
Lawrence.

- So you prefer to be arrested?
- No, no, I'd prefer,

if you don't mind,

To finish my business.

No, no, no, no, ladies and gentlemen,
please.

Don't go! Don't run away!

I'm an officer of the law!

Or at least I was
an officer of the law,

until this man's
dearly departed father

set an army of solicitors upon me,

and they did a dance on my reputation,
did they not?

You ruined your own career.

This man, ladies and gentlemen,
this man standing before you,

he murdered his own wife, Mary,

and this sorry sack of bones
spent God knows how much money

slandering me
for trying to bloody prove it!

My case against you, Lawrence,
might be in tatters,

but that doesn't mean
he gets to go in the ground

without somebody standing up
and saying what he truly, truly was.

Hello, Warren.

It's me.

Lestrade.

You thought you took
the you-know-what out of me,

didn't you?

You were wrong.

You're supposed to be at a meeting.

You receive my text?

"In pursuit of pigeons. Need you
Washington Square Park. ASAP."

What does that mean, exactly?

As I sat in that church basement,

the droning of my fellow addicts
had a powerful hypnotic effect.

I had a breakthrough.

The problem at hand:

Three US attorneys
have been murdered in the last year,

all of them involved in the prosecution
of a syndicate of pirates.

Yes, I know.
I'm working on the case too.

Well, precision in all things, Watson.

When one is constructing
a geometric proof,

one must occasionally review
the givens.

We believe a man called
Jeromir Tomsa

has been hired by the syndicate
to carry out these murders.

But we have no evidence linking him
to the crimes or the syndicate.

We have no idea
how they are communicating.

Had no idea, I should say.

What, you figured it out?

- They use carrier pigeons.
- Carrier pigeons?

I staked out Tomsa's apartment.

Lo and behold,
he had a visit from a bird

with a message strapped
round its foot.

He read the message, he scrawled
a reply, and he set the beast free.

I tracked it here.

- You can follow a pigeon?
- You can.

It's just a question of waiting to see
who comes along to read the message.

We'll have our connection.

You've been tending
to your self-defense. Well done.

Department's
got six guys grinding this case,

and you broke it open by
following a bird?

Lost track of it now. It's a shame
to see all that training go to waste.

What are you gonna do with a pigeon?
You know what? I don't want to know.

- Happy hunting.
- Miss Watson, can I take a statement?

Sherlock Holmes.

Yes, I'm fine, thank you.

What?

Oh, yes, of course.

Straightaway.

Do you have a current passport?

Uh, yes. Why?

Before I came to New York,

I worked with an Inspector Lestrade
at Scotland Yard.

Just been informed he's got himself
in a spot of trouble. Needs my help.

To give it to him,
you and I will need to go to London.

My relationship with Lestrade
started as a marriage of convenience.

When it came to those at Scotland
Yard who agreed to work with me,

he was the best of a bad bunch.

He gave me access to sensitive cases,
I gave him answers.

You never mentioned him before.

We were never really that close.

Despite the fact that as a detective,
he was utterly adequate,

I could, at times, be quite cutting
with regards to his limitations.

I was a different person back then.
I was less warm.

- Less?
- Because I prefer to work in anonymity,

the glory of my casework
was accrued to him.

Over the years, he became
accustomed to the spotlight.

Inevitably, he began to crave it.

You might say I turned him
into an addict.

Unfortunately for him, by that time,

I was myself wrestling with my own
far less metaphorical addictions.

So he was exposed.

You feel guilty.

I'm aware of the corrupting power
of the spotlight. I avoid it at all costs.

And yet I offered Lestrade
up to it like a sacrificial lamb.

- Was he the one who called you?
- Nope. DCI Hopkins.

Another ex-colleague.

He said, uh, Lestrade had got himself
into a spot of trouble,

issued a few threats, the police
have had trouble locating him.

So our mutual friend thought
I might be able to lend a hand.

It sounds like this is very personal.
You sure you want me to come along?

Without you, the airline might seat me
next to a morbidly obese person.

Or a child.

Or a morbidly obese child.

You know,
when I first started working with you,

you mentioned that you left London
in disgrace.

Have you thought about what it's
gonna be like when you go back there?

I'm a different man now, Watson.
It's a different city.

London is always a different city.

You know, I was thinking,
since we're in London,

this might be a good opportunity
to work on step nine.

Step nine? You think I should
start making amends

to people I have harmed now?

Well, this Lestrade guy
seems like he qualifies.

Holmes.

DCI Hopkins. Good to see you.

Good God, man.

- You look exactly the same.
- As do you.

Save for the fact that you've gained
exactly one and a quarter stone

and your hairline's receded
half a centimeter.

Hey, you're slipping.

I've gained
exactly one and a half stone.

Oh, I'm not slipping.
I've just grown more courteous.

His name's Lawrence Pendry.

Son of Warren Pendry.

British media mogul.
Owns half the papers in England.

Owned.

Died last week, heart attack.

But we'll get to that.

Thirteen months ago,
Lawrence here,

he dialed 999 to say
that he and his wife

walked in on an armed intruder
in their home.

There was a struggle
between Lawrence and the man,

and the man's weapon fired,
killing Mary.

Lestrade caught the case, and he took
an instant dislike to Pendry.

He thought his statement
sounded rehearsed,

convinced himself
that the scene was staged.

Trouble was, a neighbor heard the
shot that killed Mary at exactly 18:33.

Pendry dialed 999 at 18:36.

Our first car arrived
not five minutes later.

Yet no gun was recovered
at the scene.

So if Lawrence killed Mary,

then he had to get rid of the gun
in that eight-minute period.

After you left for the States,
Lestrade struggled.

Cut some corners.
Whatever it took to close a case.

Warren Pendry proceeded to use
his papers to paint a very ugly picture,

not just of Lestrade,
but of the Yard in general.

DCS had no choice but to suspend
Lestrade, pending an investigation.

- When was this?
- Two weeks ago.

Now, back to Warren.
His funeral was three days ago.

Lestrade used this
to make an appearance.

It's a fake.

Nevertheless, it's landed Lestrade
in a whole new world of trouble.

There's been a manhunt the last
few days, but it's turned up nothing.

Do you think he did it?

At least two dozen mourners
saw the whole thing.

Not about Lestrade,
I'm talking about Pendry.

Either way, it's not your concern.

I didn't asked you here to consult,
I asked you here to find him.

DCI Hopkins.

We still on for our meeting?

Oh, Mr. Pendry, you're early.

I am being stalked
by all of your colleagues.

You can't blame me for being early
for an update, can you?

This is Mr. Holmes, who,
with his associate Miss Watson,

are assisting in our search
for Gareth Lestrade.

- Hi.
- Hi.

I know you.

You're Lestrade's crutch.

Sorry, it's just over the course
of the past year,

my attorneys have been compelled
to do quite a bit of research

into Inspector Lestrade.

One of the many secrets
they uncovered

was that you were the architect
of his greatest successes.

You give me too much credit.

I think you're the one
who gave too much credit.

Please don't misunderstand me,
Holmes, I... You're quite brilliant.

I only wish you'd been with Lestrade
the night Mary was killed.

Maybe the real killer
would be in prison.

And the inspector
would still have his job.

So, uh, this is your old place?

221 B is my original sanctum
sanctorum.

It is the only aspect of my life
in London that I have truly missed.

Before I left for New York, I came to
an arrangement with an acquaintance,

Geezer Bob.

He's been maintaining it
in my absence.

Hmm. It seems nice.

What?

221 B is a good deal more than nice,
Watson.

I spent the best part of ten years

transforming it into a virtual
womb of creativity.

Stepping inside it is not unlike
stepping inside my very brain.

You will no doubt see things
that will confuse or even upset you.

Odd experiments,
texts in dead languages,

trophies from old cases.

Does it have a bed?

Because the only thing
I care about right now is sleeping.

Well, the inside of your brain
is... kind of boring.

These are not my things.

I've been betrayed.

What do you expect from a guy
named Geezer Bob?

I need to check upstairs!

Can I help you?

- Oh. Geezer Bob?
- No.

Would you care to explain
what you're doing in my home?

Watson, your rest
is going to have to wait.

We need to locate...
Oh, my... God.

Mycroft.

Hasn't been that long, has it?

Um, would someone like to explain
what's going on here?

Fatty, this is Watson.
Watson, this is Fatty.

Fatty?

I'd say I'd slimmed down quite a bit.
Wouldn't you?

- Lap-Band?
- Exercise.

Exercise requires energy and ambition.
You've never had either.

Miss Watson.

It's... It's nice to meet you.

I'm Mycroft.

Mycroft Holmes.

I'm Sherlock's brother.

I can't believe that my father
gave 221 B to Mycroft.

He knows how much this place
means to me.

It's his building, Sherlock.
He can do whatever he wants.

Frankly, I'm more interested in the fact
that you never mentioned

- that you had a brother.
- Why would I?

Um, because he's family?

Our relationship is entirely genetic.

He's an embarrassment.

Apparently your father
doesn't think so.

Is that why you don't like him?
Because he gets along with your dad?

I don't like him because he's lazy.

And he's never applied himself
to anything.

- What do you mean?
- As soon as he was able,

he cashed in his trust fund.

He opened several restaurants
around London.

Okay, so he's a restauranteur.

No, he's an indolent man-child,

and if I'd had my druthers, you would
never have crossed paths with him.

- Well, we're here now.
- Tea?

Help yourself.

- What have you done with my things?
- Charity shops.

You're joking.

I reached out to you several times
to make arrangements.

You never got back to me.

- I was in rehab.
- They don't have phones in rehab?

See what I mean? Lazy.

Could have had my things properly
stored, but didn't.

Must I confess, I don't enjoy being
ambushed in my own home.

It's a pleasure to meet you, Joan.

My father's mentioned you
several times.

- May I call you Joan?
- Yes, of course.

It's funny that Sherlock's
never mentioned me to you.

I wonder why that might be?

This again? Seriously?

Maybe it's because the last time
I saw him,

he was face-deep in my fiancée.

- What?
- It was five years ago, right?

I had deduced that she was
far less interested in him

than in the family fortune.

I tried to warn him.
He wouldn't listen.

So I set about
proving my hypothesis.

Seven times, if memory serves.
Once in a pod on the London Eye.

- I did you a favor.
- You did what you wanted, Sherlock.

Just like you always do.

I'm jet-lagged, Sherlock.

So if we're not gonna stay here,
we need to find a hotel.

Nonsense.

Sherlock and I may have
our differences, but we're still family.

You can both
stay in the guest rooms.

We've been up for over 20 hours.

It's nice here.

Fine, fine.

Only because time
is of the essence.

Good.

- I'll fetch you some fresh towels.
- Thank you so much.

- Right.
- Where are you going?

I've devised a theory
as to how to find Lestrade.

I'd like to test it.

You stay here. Rest.

This is your idea of lamming it, is it?

A few pints
in the heart of Greenwich?

So the prodigal detective returns.

And how did you find me?

Once I learned
you hadn't withdrawn any cash,

I had a good notion
what you were up to.

You and I looked into the matter of the
Norwood Builder together, didn't we?

And during
the course of that investigation,

I revealed to you that I kept
five hidden caches around the city.

In case of emergencies.

Cash, various passports,
other sundries,

stood to reason you'd make use
of those in your hour of need.

Four of the five
have been cleaned out.

The fifth
is in a hollowed-out sculpture

on the grounds of the library
across the street,

and will be difficult to access
until the security guard goes off-duty.

Actually, you know,
I'm quite pleased you're here really.

I think you'd be most impressed
with all the work that I've done.

I am not here to consult
on the case of Lawrence Pendry.

I am here to make quite certain

that you emerge from hiding

without harming yourself
or anyone else.

I felt I owed you that

for all the years of work
that we did together, so...

Are you going to come
to Scotland Yard with me?

Or shall I call them here?

So who you working with
in New York then?

Captain Thomas Gregson.
Good detective, good man.

- Not as sharp as you, obviously.
- Heh. Nice.

What are you... What are you doing?

Well, the security man is off,

so I thought I might get myself
a little bit of cash.

- Just get...
- Get off me!

You're being ridiculous.

This is my case.

I'm gonna be there
when Pendry is nicked.

I mean, how many... How many times
did you follow some bonkers theory,

and you'd find that it was a complete
and utter bloody waste of time?

What, 50, what, 100 times?

See, I never got the chance
to follow my muse.

I never even had the chance
to have an opinion.

Look, I acknowledge I was not always
the most attentive of colleagues.

It's actually something
I'm taking steps to improve.

And what good does that do me?

- Well...
- You can turn me in.

You can do whatever you wanna do.

Personally,
what I would prefer, Sherlock,

is that if you and I could work together
just one last time.

One of my suppliers
from the restaurant. I'll be a moment.

Sorry.

Um, have you seen
Sherlock anywhere?

He never came home last night.

- Are you sure?
- His bed was undisturbed.

You live with him.

Surely you know he'd never sleep in it,
then make it.

Yeah, I guess I'll try calling him.

You must be learning
a great deal from him.

- I am.
- How else would you put up with him?

Uh, I don't "put up" with him.

We get along, basically.

- He's a friend.
- Sherlock doesn't have friends.

Yesterday I would've told you
he doesn't have a brother.

But he does.

- Does he?
- He's changed a lot.

People often say that about addicts,
don't they?

"He's changed. He's better now."

Sherlock is addicted to being himself.

- Our boy?
- Yeah, he's fine.

Uh, I'm gonna get dressed,
and, uh, I'll go meet him.

Hey.
Why are we in an abandoned theater?

These places come and go
as public subsidies wax and wane.

A good place to hide,
if you are a fugitive.

Fugitive?

Joan Watson, meet Gareth Lestrade,
late of Scotland Yard.

Ah. Pleasure. Hi.

Yeah, hi.

Okay, you found him and then you
came back to his lair with him.

Any particular reason
why you haven't called the police?

Yes. Milk.

Lawrence Pendry is lactose intolerant.
His wife, Mary, a committed vegan.

So why, then, is there a bottle of milk
in their fridge?

- Guests?
- Perhaps.

Uh, miss, no offense, but could you
give him a little bit of space, please?

Because he's doing that thing.

When he's on to something,
he does that thing.

Yes, I know that thing.

You didn't tell me
that one of your brother's restaurants

had two Michelin Stars.

Hmph. I didn't tell you that my brother
was a corporeal entity.

You've been chatting with Mycroft?

Yes, he wants to take me to dinner.

- What?
- He intends to bed you.

Retaliation for my misadventures
with his fiancée.

"Misadventures" is not the word
that I would use.

You are attracted to Mycroft.

Um, no, I'm not.

Hmm. Makes a certain amount
of sense. It's classic transference.

You wouldn't be sleeping with him.

Psychologically speaking,
you'd be sleeping with me.

You surely thought about it.

You can't go to bed with me.

We're business partners and
you're my former sober companion.

But you can sleep with
a cheap knockoff version of me,

and that is Mycroft.

I don't even know what I'm supposed
to be looking for in here.

One of these ma...
One of these masks is out of place.

They look pretty well lined up to me.

Yes, well, they are pretty well lined up,
but they were...

perfectly lined up.

Mary Pendry took this photograph
of herself

and e-mailed it to a friend,
just hours before she died.

In it, the third mask from the left
is perfectly in line with its compatriots.

But this one, it's just a little bit lower.

Did you notice this at the scene?

The murder weapon
could be hidden here.

- Did I notice the discrepancy?
- Mm.

No.

We're not complete idiots.
We did check behind the mask,

and there was no gun there.

I need to examine this room.

Well, this is not our case. Pendry's
not gonna just let us walk in there.

Well, he will when I tell him that
I almost caught his enemy, Lestrade,

and I found a suicide note
that he was writing

in which he indicates his intention
to murder Lawrence Pendry.

But I haven't written
any suicide notes.

Not yet you haven't.

"I die knowing
that I brought justice to Mary.

I die vindicated, a true policeman."

- Do you think he'll follow through?
- Difficult to say.

You might want to take different routes
to your office. Inform your security.

I'm sure the police will be happy
to send someone over.

With all due respect, I'm protecting
myself from a member of the police.

I'm hardly likely to invite more of them
into my home.

Thank you for bringing this
to my attention.

We'll take every precaution.

- Was there something else?
- Well...

Miss Watson first came
to my attention

as America's foremost expert
on home security.

Perhaps she could take a look around.
Hmm?

See if everything's up to snuff.

I suppose so. Thank you.

It's what I do.

We've got motion detectors
at each end of the corridors.

Security nodes on all the windows.

Well, Miss Watson, what do you think?

It's secure. It's very secure.

High praise indeed,
from the likes of her.

Don't know what else there is to say.

Again, shatterproof glass,

security nodes on all the windows.

And what is the floodlight situation
on the windows?

Fully covered, of course.
Motion-sensitive.

We replace the bulbs
the minute they go out.

Excuse me. What are you doing?

I'm so sorry. So sorry.

I just, uh... I love folk art.

Thank you very much.

We'll be in touch
when we have Lestrade.

Yes.

You had to tell him I was
the number one home security expert?

You couldn't have told him
I was number eight or something?

You acquitted yourself admirably.

- Anyway, it was time well spent.
- You found something?

Lestrade was right.
Lawrence Pendry did kill his wife.

I know exactly how he did it.

Thirteen months ago,

a neighbor heard the shot which took
Mary Pendry's life at exactly 6:33.

Yes. I know all of this.

I wanna know what you found
in that bastard's house.

The primary reason you were never
able to build a case against Pendry

was that you could not find
the murder weapon.

I humbly submit that it was
in the kitchen the entire time.

No, you see, that's bollocks,

because we turned
the whole house upside down.

There was absolutely no gun.

That's because you made the mistake
of looking for a gun.

This is the weapon that I believe
Pendry used to kill his wife.

A plastic gun.

You're absolutely right.
I did see one of those, actually.

It was in the cutlery drawer.
Thought it was a toy, so I left it alone.

You think I'm daft?

What, you think I wouldn't recognize
a plastic gun?

We don't think it looked like that
by the time you got there.

We think it looked like this.

I don't believe that it was milk
in that bottle. I believe it was acetone.

Acetone?

He used acetone to melt the gun.

The crime, as I see it,

Pendry shoots his wife at 6:33.

He then disassembles his weapon

and he drops the pieces
into a bottle he's filled with acetone.

He then dials 999 at 6:36

to report that his wife
has been murdered by an intruder.

The acetone is dissolving
the gun he used to murder her,

leaving nothing but a milk-like liquid
in the bottle in his refrigerator.

It's unbelievable.

And all of this from a photograph
of a pint of milk?

And a nail.

It's illegal for a gun company to make
or manufacture a plastic weapon.

But with advances in 3D printing,

it makes it possible for anyone
with the right specs

to build one in the comfort
of their own home.

They only need one piece of metal
to make it work.

A nail to act as the firing pin.

Now, Pendry couldn't very well melt
a nail, could he?

So he hid it in plain sight.

He used it to re-hang
one of the masks in the living room

before the police arrived.

That's why it was hanging lower than
the others. He did the work in a hurry.

When I examined that nail today,

I noticed that the tip
was slightly charred.

Carbon scoring
from where it struck the bullet.

I was right.

I always knew it, you see?
I always knew.

I just didn't have...
I need to take this case to Hopkins.

And I don't care if he bangs me up
for what I did at the funeral.

I just wanna see that bastard rot.

All we have is a nail
with a blackened tip.

Any number of reasons
that could have happened.

The gunshot residue
would have worn off ages ago.

We have no way to prove
that it was ever part of a weapon.

If we are to undo him,

we need to find out more about
how and where he made that gun.

London, like New York, is a beacon
of freedom and a target for terrorists.

It is, as a consequence,

one of the most observed cities
in the world.

Its network of thousands
upon thousands of CCTV cameras

track the movements of its citizens,
looking for anything at all out of place.

Yeah, I noticed.
They're kind of everywhere.

Mm. Now I know for a fact

that some of England's network
of watchmen

verge on the competent.

I would wager that, like us, they're
aware of the new and deadly advances

in 3D printing.

I would also wager
that the nation's gun-averse

and ever-more-paranoid
security apparatus

are tracking
the sales of 3D printers.

Would you mind?

If they are, it should be a simple matter
of consulting their database,

see if we can connect one
to Pendry.

Can't you just call this guy?

Hasn't owned a phone since
they became GPS-capable.

He doesn't like the idea
that one could be used to track him.

- Now what?
- Now we wait.

We've been here
for over four hours.

Are you sure you're just not using this
as an excuse

so I don't have dinner
with your brother?

I've decided
I don't have a problem with it.

- What, dinner?
- The retaliatory sex.

You're an adult.
You can do as you please.

Might even be good for you,
clear your mind.

You know what? For the last time,
no one is having sex with anyone.

He wants to get to know me
because I am your partner.

I want to get to know him
because he is your brother.

You hope to learn secrets
from my childhood.

Mycroft will be of little use.
We went to separate boarding schools.

Oh. Hey, cheers!

Congratulations, Watson.
You just met Langdale Pike.

Wow, looks like the 3D
printing business has been good.

Mm. I shall let you know
if Lestrade and I find anything.

- You're ditching me?
- I'm conducting an experiment.

I'm curious to know which of us
is right about my brother.

My money's on me. Bon appétit.

Hello?

Joan. Right on time.

I was, uh,
digging around in the cellar.

Wasn't sure whether you liked
red or white,

so I excavated a bottle of both.

Um, is the restaurant closed tonight?

My prettiest eatery by far,
but the acoustics are rubbish.

This way,
we'll have a decent conversation.

You know
there's nothing happening here, right?

You thought
this was a romantic engagement?

- It's not?
- Please sit down.

There's something I wanted
to discuss with you in private.

I thought it was a conversation

best lubricated
with good food and good wine.

I, um...

lied to Sherlock yesterday when
I told him I'd lost weight via exercise.

- The truth is...
- You were sick.

I noticed the scars on your wrist
this morning.

Graft-versus-host?

You had a bone marrow transplant
sometime in the last two years?

If I didn't know
you were an ex-surgeon,

I'd say you've been spending
too much time with my brother.

That's actually what I wanted
to discuss with you this evening.

Time with my brother.

You're right, of course,
about everything.

I was sick, very sick.

When I wasn't vomiting,
I found myself prone to reflection.

It dawned on me
the one regret I have in life

was the state of my relationship
with Sherlock.

I hadn't asked him to see
if he'd be a match.

I hadn't even told him I was ill.

And as my condition improved,
I decided I'd figure out an approach,

some way to make things better.

But then, of course, he showed up
on my doorstep yesterday,

and I just fell into old habits.

You're obviously Sherlock's friend.

As I mentioned,
Sherlock's never had any friends.

Many colleagues,
never a friend until you.

I want to know how you did it.

I want to know...

how does one become
Sherlock Holmes' friend?

Look, ahem, I owe you an apology

for not protecting you
when we worked together.

Protecting me from what?

From the spotlight, the attention.

Heh. Those were some of
the best days of my career.

You know, my name was in the paper,
my face was on the telly.

- The whole thing, it was...
- It was intoxicating.

Yeah, well, I was gonna say

it was everything I dreamed about
being a policeman,

but that as well, yeah.

- I'm glad we helped so many people.
- Well, I helped them.

- You only said you did.
- All right.

No, my carelessness
had a negative impact, and, um...

I'd like to, uh...
I'd like to make amends.

I wrote some...

- I wrote some things...
- Hello.

It says here that Pendry had this
handyman, this guy called Nick Ginn.

He was a small-time villain,
and we had him in for questioning.

But he had an alibi
the night of the murder.

All right, now it says
that he bought a 3D printer

one week before Mary Pendry died.

Pendry paid him to buy the printer.

And then he built the gun.

Hmm.
Now if Ginn still has the printer,

or if we can compel him
to confirm our hypothesis...

We can prove that I was right.

Open up, Nicky!

I sorted it, you know.

Sorted what?

How you can make amends.

Let me take the credit for this one,
and we'll be square.

Come on, I deserve it.

Pendry's mine.

Nicholas Ginn.

I obviously riled Pendry when
I examined the charred nail today.

He decided to tie up loose ends
by murdering his accomplice.

He cleaned the scene
quite meticulously.

I passed DCI Hopkins on the way in.
He didn't seem very happy.

He knows I've been helping Lestrade.

He wants me to give up his location,

but I would prefer not to until his case
against Pendry has been made.

And yet...

I don't suppose
you found a 3D printer in here?

Pendry obviously
destroyed that ages ago.

Why obviously?

Ginn is six-foot-four.
He has at least two stone on Pendry.

If he still had access to the printer,

don't you think he would've built
himself another gun to kill Ginn?

Hmm? It would've been
the safer way to go by far.

There's just so little here
that makes sense.

I know.

He used one of the victim's own knives
to kill him.

You think a planner like Pendry
would've brought a weapon of his own.

Also the stab wound was obviously
the result of a left-handed blow.

But Pendry is right-handed,

so why would he use his non-dominant
hand to stab someone to death?

- You knew Pendry was a righty, right?
- Yeah, of course.

What are you doing?

Well, I was wrong, Watson.
Pendry does still have a printer.

And he used it to build another gun.

Good evening.
I have a confession to make.

Miss Watson is not, in fact,
a home security specialist.

Dan, pick up the phone
for God's sake.

I've got police in my house
and I need my solicitor.

If that's what you're here for,
take it and leave.

This? No, no, you've changed this
since yesterday.

Anyway, we're not here regarding
the murder of your wife, Mary.

We're here about the death
of Nicholas Ginn.

- Who?
- Your ex-handyman.

The one who bought the printer that
made the gun you used to kill Mary.

After I looked at that nail,
you panicked.

You went to wherever you're hiding
the printer, and you built another gun.

You went to kill Ginn.

But when you fired,
the gun exploded in your hand.

When you killed Mary, you used
a special-order.22 caliber round.

Today, you were in a hurry.
You used a.22 long.

Mm. Higher velocity bullet can cause
a plastic pistol to explode.

Ginn lunged at you.

You grabbed a knife
with your uninjured left hand,

the heavier man threw himself
onto the blade.

You did a decent job
of cleaning the scene.

You found every piece of the gun.

Except for the pieces
that landed in Ginn's fruit.

Now, if you fired the weapon, you'd
have wounds on your right forearm.

- We just need to take a look.
- Mm.

Which, as it happens, is exactly what
his warrant empowers him to do.

It's gonna be your solicitor.

You can just tell him
you're heading into custody.

Thank you.

Well, lads, you can take me to Nick.

Detective?

I thank you not to take credit
for any of my insights into the case.

Right, so your whole
making it up to me

was just a complete and utter lie.
Was it?

I will not enable you anymore.

I am withdrawing
your drug of choice.

Right.
It's back to obscurity for me then.

Don't be a stranger.

Of course, I stay current to
the capabilities of the 3D printers.

I always knew
that Lawrence Pendry was,

in fact, guilty
and had actually murdered his wife.

I just needed to figure out
how and why.

Well, he called your bluff.

He knows you'll never step forward
to take the credit.

Curious.

I never felt
this particular cocktail of emotions.

Anger, exasperation and a hint of...

Worry?

Yeah, well,
welcome to caring about an addict.

All right, Fatty, let's make this quick.
Watson and I have a plane to catch.

- You said it was urgent.
- Take a seat, would you?

Only take a moment.

I lied to you the other day, when I said
I'd given all your stuff to charity.

It's in storage.

Over there, behind that door.

I bet you expect me to thank you,
don't you?

You're lucky I didn't turn it all in
to the police.

Your collection included, amongst
other things, a real shrunken head,

what appeared
to be an authentic Picasso,

and an entire series of books
on homemade bomb building.

It's remarkable.

You're too lazy
to even maintain a proper ruse.

We're not gonna fight, Sherlock.
No matter how much you want to.

Something's wrong.

You're too calm.

The other night at dinner,
I sought a little advice from Joan

about how best
to communicate with you.

And why on earth
would you want to do that?

She said that
when one has something to tell you,

one must make really, really
sure that you're listening.

Books on bomb building.

I consider us even now.

Which means
I can tell you I forgive you.

For everything.

Have a safe trip back to the colonies.

And know that things are different
between us now.

Hey, I was just about to call you.

You okay?

I believe I've just made a
rapprochement with my brother.

Oh, that's great.

He used a homemade explosive device
to destroy what was left of my things.

Ah.

Sounds like maybe he's a little more
like you than you thought.

Art in the blood, Watson.

It takes the strangest forms.