Elementary (2012–…): Season 2, Episode 17 - Ears to You - full transcript

Previously on Elementary...

This is Manny Tarkenian.

I'm texted you
my contact information.

Are you gonna answer that?

Gareth Lestrade,

late of Scotland Yard.

I owe you an apology.

We've got to
accommodate each other.

I realize that now.

Apology accepted.
You know, the company's

not paying
for my hotel anymore.

You can stay here.

Just be quiet.

We own chickens,
don't we?

Holmes!

Your bloody rooster
is at it again!

19 days.
19 days he has been here.

Well, you were the one
who said he could

stay with us until he
figured out his next move.

Holmes!

I'll pluck it! I swear it!

He has offers, remember?
Course he does.

He took credit for my successes
at Scotland Yard.

Typically, a man is his work.

In his case, he is my work...

and who wouldn't want
to hire me?

You said your friend
made that for you?

Demolitions expert.

He sends me devices
from time to time.

I'd hardly call him a friend.

And what happens
if it hits zero?

I confess to not knowing.

Could be a spray of paint
and expulsion of fumes.

I have yet to fail...

at defusing one.

Holmes!

I want to see what he wants.
Yeah.

Holmes!
Can I get some help, please?!

Hey.
Hi, Joan, brilliant.

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

Was it...
it was Remus?

Actually that's Romulus.

Every time I go for
the remote control

to turn the TV on,
it spreads its wings

and it comes at me.

Hey, Romulus.
You want a little treat?

Oh, here you go.

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

And then you go...

Oh, brilliant.
Absolutely brilliant.

Well done, you.
Thank you very much.

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

My pleasure.

Uh, Joan?
Hmm?

I wanted to say thank you

for being
so patient with me

and all this, you know,
the job's bullocks.

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

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

Well, you know,
actually, I got a...

another offer today, in fact.

Here.

Largest investigation company
in Sao Paulo, Brazil,

Romero e Blanco.

Oh.

Do you speak Portuguese?

Do I speak Portuguese?

Well... mmm...

no, not currently.

Oh, and you might want
to take a look at some of those

offers on the table,
you know?

See, you might find one
that you prefer more than...

working for
the ol' cock-handler.

Uh...

Uh, I know what you meant.

It's me, okay?

You got me.

Excuse me?

I'm him.

The guy you see on the news.

I'm Gordon Cushing.

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

Did you do it?

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

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

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

His name is Gordon Cushing,

but maybe you already know that.

His wife
disappeared in 2010.

Everyone thought
he killed her.

It was in all
the papers back then.

I endeavored to keep abreast

of notorious crimes
in other countries,

but I confess to falling out
of the habit during my habit.

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

They fought a lot,

and so when she went missing...

He was presumed a murderer?

He was,
but without a body,

no one could make a case.

A few hours ago, he called 911

to say he received a box
with two severed ears.

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

If he forks over two million
in cash to the person

or persons who took her,
he gets her back.

And it's odd
to get a ransom demand

four years after an abduction.

Well, you think that's odd.

This isn't the first time
that he's claimed

to have been contacted
by kidnappers.

He said he got a call
from someone

a year after
Sarah disappeared, right?

Yeah, she disappeared
in May 2010.

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

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

The guy says that he took her.

He even puts her

on the phone with him.

Cushing follows
his instructions to a tee.

Doesn't call us,
doesn't call the FBI,

just gathers up
a million bucks in cash

and leaves it under a tree
in Central Park.

Days go by,

no sign of Sarah.

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

Only he couldn't prove that
anyone had contacted him,

so people thought he'd
made the whole thing up.

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

I'm about to talk to him.

Thought you might
want to sit in.

I know how this
is going to sound,

but this is a good thing,
isn't it?

I mean, Sarah's alive.

The M.E. is comparing the ears
to strands of hair

that we collected from a brush
in your master bathroom in 2010.

If the DNA is a match,
then yes...

it's a good chance
she's still alive.

The ears are Sarah's.

I know they are.
I... Just look

at the photographs
I brought you.

Mm-hmm.

Wait.

You still think
I killed her, don't you?

You think I... took those ears
from someone else

and sent them to myself?

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

I know someone was mutilated
earlier tonight.

I know I want to help her.

She is Sarah.

She's alive...

Just like she was
alive in 2011?

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

I dare say that ransom demands

are becoming
a tradition for you.

I know I made a mistake
three years ago.

I should have called the police
the second I got off the phone

with the kidnapper,
but I was scared,

and Sarah was...
she was terrified.

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

There are phone records
that show

I got the call
when I said I did.

Bank statements
that show I took out

a million dollars.

You could've called
from a burner phone.

You could've hidden
that money anywhere.

I have never been anything
but honest with you people.

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

I fell out of love with my wife
a long time

before she disappeared.

She said and did things
when she was drinking

that I can never forgive.

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

I want her back because I am
tired of people looking at me

the way you people
are looking at me right now.

Well, they do bear
an uncanny resemblance

to the ears
in the photograph.

Mmm.

It's hardly proof
that they came from

the head of
Sarah Cushing, though.

What did you think of Gordon?

Well, he seemed
quite sincere.

But then, so did infamous
zoophile Ebenezer Cornell

when he claimed
he had not attempted

to violate two ostriches
at London Zoo.

So...

What did you think
of Mr. Cushing?

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

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

Mm-hmm.

If he's telling
the truth,

then I guess
I feel sorry for him.

It would mean that someone
made a pretty tragic mistake

when they accused him.

Speaking of
"tragic mistakes."

"Hate to bother,
but locked out of house."

Remarkable.

"Looked under front
and back mats""

Oh. "Found no keys""

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

I leave keys under doormats.

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

You know we're not in there.

Trying to assess
the damage, actually.

What happened?

Well, you know
that football game

that I put a bet on?

I actually won.

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

Got myself
into a bit of trouble.

A rather unfriendly bloke

took designs on my
watch and wallet.

You got mugged.

I still think
you should go to a hospital.

What about this?

I've been kissed harder.

Crying out loud.

Bloody chicken.

It's on the bed. Go on.

Go on, off you go.
Bugger off.

I thought Sherlock said
he was going to send it

to that petting zoo.
Oh, they said they

couldn't take them
until next week.

Walked into a room
the other day,

this darkened room,
and he was standing in there.

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

Yeah. He'd been in
there for ages.

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

He was covered in feathers.

What? What?

You've been drinking.

Oh... Yeah, I might have,
you know,

chucked a couple back at the pub
when I was going to pick

my winnings up.
That was an hour ago, right?

You've had a drink
more recently than that.

Whiskey,
judging from your breath

and that damp spot
on your shirt. I'd say sometime

in the last ten minutes?
You know,

there are no bars around here.
And even if there were,

how-how would you have paid
for it?

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

Yep.
You and I talked about this

when Sherlock said
you could stay here.

You cannot drink around him.
Yeah, well, he's an addict,

actually, Joan.
He's not an alcoholic.

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

Where did the whiskey come from?

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

I have a little shot, you know,
if I need one.

And how often is that?

Really?
Gareth.

Please. Oh, come on.

You obviously
don't understand

what kind of
pressure I'm under.

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

It's a bit more complicated.
Is it?

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

Holmes was right about me!

I can't...

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

You were a detective
long before you knew him.

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

when I was adequate,
when I was...

when I was competent.

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

They want special.
They want me

to be the man that I
was when I was with him!

You know, I know
that you have had your troubles,

but you are overthinking this.

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

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

You're the one that gets
to be special.

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

Just enjoy it while it lasts.

Hey.

Was that a hint
of surprise I detect?

I told you
I received several of these.

Well, just thought you'd be

neck-deep in files
from the Sarah Cushing case.

I was for most
of the evening.

Then the captain called
and told me

that the severed ears
Gordon Cushing received

were a DNA match for Sarah's.

You're kidding.

That's me, Watson. Joke machine.

So, Sarah Cushing is alive?

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

Gordon will be paying
for her safe,

if earless, return presently.

The NYPD will be watching.

And since they hardly need
the assistance

of two consulting detectives
to execute

a simple ransom exchange...

Balancing exercise?

How'd you...?

Let's drop it.

Have you seen him this morning?
I did not.

I did hear him leave earlier on.

This arrived for you

from Detective Bell.

You opened it?

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

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

Since when

do you open my mail?

How long you lived here?

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

Our guy should be here soon.

Eyes forward.
Don't look at me.

It's going down.

All right, be advised.

Suspect is a white male,
35 years old,

wearing a blue coat
and a wool cap with sunglasses.

Keep your phonon.

One hour.
Once I know I'm clear,

I'll call with your
wife's location.

Suspect is on the move,
heading south

on the southbound platform
towards the Varick exit.

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

Are you seeing this?

What is he doing?

Where the hell is he going?
Backup units,

be advised,
suspect is fleeing south

into the southbound tunnel.

Hold your positions,

and we'll pick him up
as he exits.

Do not attempt to follow.

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

We've got a tracer in the bag,

Mr. Cushing.
Remember I showed it to you?

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

What if he changes bags?

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

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

Just let us do our job.

No, I'm sorry.

Mr. Cushing,
stay where you are!

Command support, pull the box.

Cut the power to the track now!

Hold!

Hold your fire.

Mr. Cushing!

Mr. Cushing.

Show us your hands.

I was just trying to stop him.

He wouldn't listen to me.

He...

He wouldn't listen.

I was just trying to stop him.

It all happened so fast.

The man who took the money,

he realized I was chasing him.

He came at me.

And so then
you picked up the rebar?

I don't even know how I...

I think it was on the ground.

I swung at him and I just...

Have you been able
to identify him?

He wasn't carrying
any identification.

All he had in his pockets
was a set of keys,

some loose change.

We ran his prints and DNA
through the system.

So far, no hits.

Well, you said yesterday

he may have partners.

Have you heard from them?

No.

But if he was working alone,
that means...

there's nobody there
to take care of Sarah, right?

Nobody to bring her food.

Nobody to bring her water.

It's a possibility.

Four years I spent
trying to convince people

I didn't kill her.

Now maybe I finally have.

Stating the obvious here.

This one's a mess.

I got two severed ears,
one dead body.

No leads.

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

Could be 2011 all over again.

He wants people to
think he's innocent,

so he hires this guy to pick
up the money this morning.

Kills him to tie up loose ends.

But that wouldn't
explain the ears.

They match Sarah Cushing's DNA.

If Gordon's behind everything,
that would mean that he's been

keeping her somewhere
for the last four years.

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

What would he stand to gain?

Whatever the case, the dead man
represents our best chance

of uncovering the truth
and getting to Sarah.

So, with your blessing,

Watson and I will
withdraw to the morgue

and examine the body
and his personal effects.

Miss Watson?

Yes?

You have a visitor.

You head to the morgue.

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

It's okay, really.

I'll be there as soon as I can.

Thanks.

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

Or some tea?

Perhaps even a donut?

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

No, you invited me here

to ask me to leave
the brownstone.

You have until the weekend.

Take one of the offers,
start your new life.

I bet you two...

had quite a laugh last night,
didn't you,

about my... my little mishap.

All the things I said.

Actually I didn't say
anything to Sherlock.

I didn't think it was my place.

But since you brought it up,

I don't find
your self-pity amusing.

When Detective Bell
was out of commission,

Sherlock ran
through a string of detectives.

Seven of them. Good ones.

Far more than adequate.

But none of them
good enough for him.

Or me.

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

Oh, until you.

He stuck with you.

He chose you.

What's this?

Case files
on a couple of muggings.

Let's have a little look.

Well, it's the same
vicinity and M.O.

as the little toe rag
that did me.

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

And am I supposed to be doing
something with these?

Find the guy, be a detective.

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

At the most, you'll realize

you were never
just someone else's tagalong.

So, your friend Lestrade...

looked like he had
a rough night.

The calluses
on his hands indicate

that our Mr. Doe did

manual labor.

The traces of ceramic grit

under his fingernails
suggest he was a roofer.

Now, this is trade notorious

for its mediocre pay
and poor working conditions.

It is the domain
of the illegal immigrant

and the recent parolees.

So, you're quite certain
that this man's prints

do not match anything
on your database?

Not yet.

Hmm.

Note these shoes.

Several years old,
paper-thin soles.

This does not look like a man
who's collected

a seven-figure ransom

three years previously

and has masterminded
a follow-up.

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

If that's the case,

why haven't we heard
from his partners?

"Rabkin Hardware"?

Yeah, it's in Hempstead.

They gave out a few
hundred of those

as a promotion last year.
Tried the owner.

He didn't recognize our guy.

Neither did any
of his employees.

Hmm.

Yeah, I saw those, too.

I'm not sure about the pattern.

Could be some kind
of gang insignia.

Yeah, more of a club really.

A.A., C.A.,

L.A., N.A.

Pick your anonymous, hmm?

The 30 represents 30 days.

The six represents six months.

Sobriety chips.

Yeah, some people in recovery
ink themselves

to commemorate
certain milestones.

I, myself, find
that practice idiotic.

Chips are plastic and thin
for a reason.

They're fragile, easily lost.

Just like the sobriety
they represent...

Anyway, fortunately for us,

our man's hubris
might help us identify him.

Why do I get the feeling
we're about to hit up

some support group
meetings in Hempstead?

Hey. How's it going?

Not well.

His face has yet to ring a bell.

Are you all right?

This was a mistake.
It was your idea.

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

of these meetings.

They're meant to be anonymous.

And here we are, asking
these attendees

to identify one of their own.

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

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

And so is Marcus
at the meeting he went to.

The people that I talk to,
they get that.

I don't think you
should've interfered.

With what?
With Lestrade.

The files you requested,
obviously they were for him.

He was the victim of a mugging.

And you think that putting him
on the trail of the culprit

will simultaneously solve
his crisis of confidence

and drag him out of whatever
bottle he's crawled into.

Wait, how did you
know about that?

I have a nose, Watson.

And eyes and ears.

If he wasn't concerned
about his prospects,

his stay with us would've
only lasted a few days.

He's lost without me.

I don't understand.
If you knew about it,

why didn't you try and talk
to him, try and help him?

I have been helping him.

By allowing him to bottom out.

I told him of my concerns
regarding his problems

while you and I were in London.

He chose to ignore me.

He became the myrmidon
of a wealthy pervert.

Shockingly that didn't turn out.

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

Even if that next move
is implosion?

I imploded. Look at me.

All I did was put him on a case.
I put him

on many a case when we
were in Scotland Yard.

Look how that turned out.

Are you saying that he shouldn't

be a detective anymore?

I'm saying

that I believe he needs

to find his way
out of this himself.

The meeting's gonna start.

Let's go.

Hold on.
Hmm?

You know that woman?

I think we both do.

She's had a bit
of work done, but not enough

to conceal her true identity.
At least not from me.

It's Sarah Cushing.

Yeah.

Alive.

And not in the least bit
kidnapped.

And if I'm not mistaken,

in firm possession
of both of her ears.

You're right.
I am Sarah Cushing.

I was her, anyway.

I go by Allison
Drake now.

I have for years.

Everything Gordon told
the police in 2010 was true.

I packed my bags
and left with no warning.

Our fights just
kept getting uglier,

and even when
we weren't arguing,

I'd catch him just...

staring at me.

The look on his face...

It felt like he was
going to hurt me.

You never reached out
to the police,

even after they
began to suspect

Gordon murdered you.

Is that because you
were still scared?

I thought of different
ways to come forward,

but every time I got
close to doing it,

I'd think of that look.

I thought,

Gordon's a
determined man.

If he knew I
was out there

and he wanted
to find me...

I made a new life
for myself out here.

I got sober,

married a doctor.

Ms. Cushing,

this man...

managed to convince
Gordon and the police

that he'd kidnapped you.

Do you recognize him?

Jim Browner.

I met him here,
in a meeting.

Somehow he figured out
who I really was.

He blackmailed me for a while.

I guess

he decided he could
make more money

by telling Gordon
he abducted me.

Jim's last
ransom letter...

it contained
two human ears

in the package.

The DNA matched yours,
but your ears are fine.

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

A few years ago,

I saw a story on the news.

A woman's body
turned up in a marsh.

The police thought
it might be mine,

so they compared
DNA from the corpse

to hairs on a brush
they took out of my bathroom.

Only that brush wasn't mine.

I took mine with
me when I left.

You think your
husband was seeing

someone else in 2010.

I think that brush
belonged to the other woman.

And those ears
Gordon received...

whoever she is,

they have to be hers.

Mr. Roscoe Pelfrey?

Hello. Yes, my name's
Gareth Lestrade.

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

I wondered if I might
ask you a few questions

about the man that mugged you.

Did you get it?

Did the file open up all right?

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

I'm just looking
at it now, actually.

It's like I told the cops:

I came to New York
for a sales convention.

My wife's an architecture buff,

so I made a video
any time I saw something,

you know, I thought she'd like.

Everything you got!
Give up right now!

Nope, never got his face.

Well, fella cracked me
before I turned around.

My camera fell into the gutter.

That's the only reason
I got it back.

Can you think of anything at all

that you haven't told
the police, Mr. Pelfrey?

Anything that might
help me find this man?

Sorry.
Maybe you'll have better luck

with the other fella
who got mugged.

I know I locked up my gallery
for the night

before he got to me,

but after that,
everything's fuzzy.

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

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

I think it's so admirable

that you're trying
to find the man.

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

Right.

That sounds so interesting.

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

I have to say,
I love your accent.

Oh.

Maybe we could meet
for coffee one night,

talk about something
other than assault.

Well, I never try to mix

business with pleasure,
Mr. Phillips, um...

Are you sure there's
nothing else you remember

about the night of the mugging?

Like I said, I was concussed.

When I came to on the sidewalk,

there were a couple
of Good Samaritans.

And there was this yellow
bicycle chained to a tree.

I thought it was a big banana.

I'm sorry.

Uh... sorry. Excuse me.

You say...

did you say a yellow bicycle?

Is that right?

Yes, it was garish.

Big green handlebars.

Can you blame me
for thinking it was a banana?

I'm sorry. I'm confused.

Is the bicycle important?

Sarah's alive?

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

How did they match her DNA?

She believes that the hairbrush

the police took for a DNA sample

belonged to another woman.

Perhaps a visitor
to your bedroom?

Is that possible?

Yes.

When things got truly
miserable between us,

I started seeing

someone else.

You need to tell
us about her.

I... know less about her

than you'd probably like.

It was a professional
engagement.

Her first name

was Kendra.

That was all I was ever given.

She was blonde,
just like Sarah was back then,

so I suppose the police

could've mistaken
her brush for Sarah's.

We're gonna need
her contact info.

I can give you the name of the
agency that referred her to me,

but I don't think
you're gonna have any luck.

When Sarah
disappeared

and I was named
a suspect,

Kendra got frightened.

Stopped seeing me.

Changed all of her numbers.

My contact at her agency

said that she disappeared

every bit as thoroughly
as Sarah did.

Do you think Sarah

is behind whatever's
happened to Kendra?

When I told you the other day

that I never lied
to the police, I meant it.

When I said I spoke to Sarah

on the phone in 2011...

You meant that, too.
You're referring

to the original
ransom demand.

She was in on it.

She had to be.

And if she was
part of it then,

she's part of it now.

Friends and family
are still reeling

at the news that Sarah Cushing
has turned up

alive and well on Long Island.

Her appearance
has changed since 2010.

And there are rumors
that's compliments

of the man she married in 2012,

plastic surgeon
Dr. Steven Edelman.

Those rumors
have yet to be confirmed.

Thank you, Toni.

How long
does it take

to identify a
bloody prostitute?

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

It's been... 45 minutes.

To be fair,
he only has a first name

and a hair color.

Luxury.

I'll name that tart
in 20 keystrokes.

So you think that
Gordon is right.

You think that Sarah
is behind everything.

Let's say she
took advantage

of his predicament
in 2011.

If she did, she successfully
extracted $1 million.

Cut to the present day.

She wants a
second go-round.

But she knows that
Gordon won't just

hand over the money
a second time.

He'll go to the police.

She knows the truth

about the hairbrush
in the police's possession.

She figured it out years ago.

So she tracks down Kendra

and she sends him
a pair of ears that will match.

Genetically, at least.

Or he lied about
getting that call in 2011,

and now that he knows
that Sarah's alive,

he's trying to get back at her

for all the hell
she put him through.

Hmm.

In any case,

if we can determine
where Kendra was taken from,

we may find clues to
the identity of her abductor.

Hmm.

Have you heard
from Lestrade today?

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

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

Have you done as I requested?

You left him alone?

I...

It's Marcus.

Hello?

Hey.

The escort service Cushing used

doesn't exist anymore.

But a friend of mine from Vice
was able to put me in touch

with one of the girls
Kendra used to work with.

And...?

Kendra's real name

was Kelly Tasker.

Emphasis on "was."

She died in a car wreck
three years ago.

And she was cremated.

So I don't know whose ears

Gordon Cushing got
in the mail the other day,

but they weren't hers.

Oh. You're still up.

Gordon Cushing received a pair of
freshly severed ears

in the mail
two days ago.

They were a DNA match for hairs

taken from a brush believed
to belong to Sarah Cushing.

Only the brush wasn't hers.

Gordon says it could only
belong to Kelly Tasker,

aka Kendra,

only she's been dead for years.

Obviously,
the ears weren't hers.

So the question remains:

Whose ears were they?

When I went to bed,
you were working upstairs,

and now you are
camped out down here

right next to the guest room.

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

I'm here, Watson,
because this is where

we keep the food,
and I'm hungry.

You're not eating.

I'm awaiting
a breakthrough.

Once I have one,
I shall eat that banana.

I've been thinking
about what you said.

About leaving
him alone.

I get it.
Sort of.

I mean, I have to think
that there are better ways

of helping him out than
letting him bottom out.

As I already
pointed out...

Yes, you bottomed out.
I know.

But he is not you.
He is your friend.

And I don't think
you should be afraid

of helping him.

New suspect?

His name...

was Alphonse Bertillon,

and he invented the mug shot.

He was French,
a policeman.

He grew frustrated
that there was no system

by which he and his colleagues

could identify
captured criminals

they had arrested before.

So he devised one.

He began cataloguing them
by their physical features,

and he soon noticed
something quite unusual

about the human ear.

No two are alike.

They are as unique
as fingerprints.

This is why mug shots
are taken in profile.

He believed it crucial
to capture

a full view of the ear.
Hmm.

That's very
interesting.

Why is his
picture here?

Because this case
has forced me to confront

the possibility
that he was wrong.

Note the lobes,
the thickness of the helices,

the depth of the conchae.

Mmm, they're identical.

Mm-hmm. And yet
Monsieur Bertillon

would tell us that's impossible.

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

Let's say she is
behind everything.

She found someone who had ears
that looked like hers.

She kidnapped that person,

and then she sent her ears
to Gordon.

Can you imagine the time and
effort it would take one person

to find his or her ear twin?

Assuming such a thing
even exists?

Okay, let's say she did.
It still wouldn't explain

how that person's DNA
could work its way onto a brush

recovered from a crime scene
in 2010.

The news report
we watched earlier,

it said that Sarah's new husband
was a plastic surgeon,

did it not?

Yes. Why?

There once was a man
named Shawn Menck.

His home smelled so bad
it done stank.

He rode on his bike,
he took what he liked,

and his head was thick
as a plank.

Now, that is how long
I've been sitting here

waiting for you, Shawnee,
to come home.

Enough time to write a limerick.

I don't know who you are,

but you got
about five seconds...

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

I mean,
it's ridiculous.

I only showed the picture

to ten people
in this neighborhood

before I traced it back to you.

Now, you work for the local
Indian restaurant

around the corner
making deliveries.

When you make those deliveries,

you mug people.
Now, how do I know this?

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

Now, I didn't notice it
when you mugged me, of course,

'cause quite frankly,
well, I was in my cups.

Listen, man...

All three robberies
occurred

inside the delivery radius

and when you were on a shift.

And not only that...

I mean, I discovered
when I broke in here,

mounds of evidence,
including my very own wallet.

You know, I found
the whole experience

completely underwhelming.
I mean...

I thought there'd be
a bit more cloak-and-dagger,

a bit more thrill of the chase,
but no, no.

In fact, I'm actually
more depressed now

than I was when I first started.

So, now, what I'm

gonna ask you for,
Shawnee, is, uh...

is for my money back.

So I can leave here
and I can go to the pub

and buy myself
a nice, refreshing pint.

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

No creeping up on me
this time, mate.

Really?

Come on.

We appreciate you coming in.

Of course.

You said on the phone
you had some questions?

Uh, we do.
First among them,

would you be so kind

as to stand up and,
uh, touch your toes?

A simple enough command,

and yet it confounds you.
Very well. Question number two:

Can we take a look at your bag?

I don't know
what's going on here,

but I don't think
this is very funny.

You don't want us
to see your bag, because then

we would see the
surgical scars.

That's why you've been
sitting with your back

so straight, isn't it?

The tissue's still healing,

and you do not wish
to agitate it.

I had some cancer removed
a few days ago.

Let me guess.
Two growths...

Looked a lot like these?

I don't know...

Last night,
I was wondering

how those ears could be
a genetic match for strands

of hair on a brush taken
from your bathroom.

You said the brush
was not yours.

And yet those ears,
identical to your own,

and as I've already said,
the DNA's a match.

Then it occurred to me,
you lied when you said

the brush belonged
to someone else. It was yours.

The ears are yours,
too, right?

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

You realize how crazy
this all sounds?

People thought
Dr. Charles Vacanti was crazy

when he grew what looked like
a human ear

on the back of a lab mouse
in 1997.

I, myself, did not.

Ears are mostly
cartilage, which means

they're very difficult
to repair once damaged.

They also have
a very complicated shape.

Dr. Vacanti devised a method
for growing human cartilage

on a biodegradable
ear-shaped scaffold.

You place the scaffold
beneath the subject's skin,

and it dissolves over time,

leaving nothing
but the cartilage.

If you're not familiar
with the process,

I encourage you to bend
your husband's ear.

Not only is he
a plastic surgeon;

he's done this kind
of work before. We checked.

He built two scaffolds that
looked just like your ears,

and then planted them
in your back.

Three days ago,
he cut them off

and he sent them
to your ex.

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

A task for which you recruited
the late Jim Browner.

He didn't figure out
who you were.

You told him when you made him
your accomplice.

This is a court order
to collect a DNA sample

to compare to the ears
in the box.

One way or the other,

we're gonna prove
they came from you.

Lestrade?
Yes. What's going on?

Sherlock, Joan.

Please, sir,
take a seat.

Now, first off,
I want you to know

that there's no
hard feelings.

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

And I know it was done
with the best intentions.

Right. So, I captured
Shawn Menck today.

He was the man
that robbed me.

Oh, that's
fantastic, Gareth.

Yeah, well, it
would have been

had he not been handed to
me on a silver platter.

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

Mr. Pelfrey,
Mr. Phillips...

and they, you'll
be shocked to hear,

were actually
extremely helpful.

Miraculously so, really.

Are you approaching anything
resembling a point?

Yes, you got to
these files first,

didn't you,
Sherlock, hmm?

You figured out the
bit about the bike.

And then you doctored
these files

so when I called
Pelfrey and Phillips,

I was in fact
calling you instead.

What is he talking about?

Oh, you know, Joan,
you can, you know,

drop the act now.
What act?

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

Well, your partner here

decided to give me
a shot in the arm.

He'd get me back
on the horse.

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

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

You don't know him
like I know him.

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

You and your
voices, Sherlock.

I don't know who I
preferred more, actually,

Pelfrey or Phillips.

Though I have to say
that asking me out

for a cup of coffee
was a really nice touch.

I was actually quite
flattered, to be honest.

You should have seen
me there, though,

sitting there,
Shawn Menck's apartment.

I just couldn't believe
how easy it was

to find all of
that evidence.

Three of the wallets
sitting neatly stacked

on a little table.

I thought it was
impossible.

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

I found this.

Yes.

It's a rooster feather.

Just like the ones
on your pets.

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

But you just done too good
a job of it.

You see, if I hadn't found this,

I'd still be out
moping around this brownstone

with a right old
bog on. But no,

thanks to seeing
through a plot devised

by the great Sherlock Holmes,
I have decided

to give detecting
one last chance.

So I accepted a
job this morning.

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

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

Yes, that's right.
I leave tomorrow.

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

So if you'll excuse me.

Unless, of course,
you want to continue

this ridiculous charade,
Sherlock,

I will quite happily stay.

Well played, sir.

Well played.

Well...

Now... I wouldn't

feel too bad about
him leaving you

in the dark, Joan.

I mean, you have to
understand, of course,

you are in the infancy
of your partnership.

Having spent as much
time as I did with him,

you'll figure
him out as well.

Is that why you
didn't want me

to help him
these last couple of days,

because you had your own plan
to build him up?

I've never heard
of Shawn Menck,

Roscoe Pelfrey or
Carlton Phillips.

I did not manipulate
those files.

However easy it may have been,

Lestrade closed that case
on his own.

The conspiracy he's describing

is a product of his obviously
very fertile imagination.

As far as the feather
that he found,

that's a classic case
of transference.

It fell from his clothes,
not mine.

But you just said...

What I thought would be
most helpful to him.

You were right.

And the more he talked,
the clearer it became.

In some cases,

there are other ways
to assist a friend.

So what does that one do
once it ticks down?

Spray you with water,
make a loud noise?

It explodes.

I told my colleague
I wanted more

of a challenge,
and he sent me this.

Oh.

You're staying?

Mmm, what can I say?
I have faith.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man