(door creaks)
(knocking)
Yes?
I'm supposed to deliver some tables and chairs to a party--
it starts in about an hour-- and my, uh,
van broke down just down the street.
You want me to call triple-A?
Actually, no. I need to call my boss,
but my cell is dead.
I was hoping I could come in,
maybe charge it for a few minutes?
Please? Look, if I mess up this delivery,
I'm in some serious trouble.
How about you give me your boss's number?
I'll call him for you.
I just started today, actually.
I-I don't know my boss's number off the top of my head.
I need to plug in my phone so I can get it.
Tell me the name of the company, I'll call the office.
It's after hours. Nobody's gonna answer.
Would you please just open the door?
I'm sorry, but I don't know you.
I can't just let you in.
Lady, come on! I'm gonna lose my job.
Please, just leave before I call the cops.
(scoffs)
(gasps)
(screaming)
(screaming fades)
(sighs)
Yeah, Broome Street and Ludlow.
You'll send another van?
Great, thanks.
Talk about a Good Samaritan.
Saved my ass.
(luggage wheels squeaking)
HOLMES: And as he fled, the man dropped his walking stick,
which the police later mistook for a weapon.
But he did so in order to pick up the mongoose.
Which was, of course, responsible
for the claw marks I found at the crime scene.
The mongoose, you see, was quite key in identifying the man.
He was a magician.
The rodent, part of his act.
Now, once I realized the man's true connection
to the colonel, it became obvious to me, the latter hadn't
been murdered after all.
He'd merely succumbed
to a heart attack, after the appearance of a man
he'd sentenced to death so long ago.
Again,
my name is Sherlock, and I am an addict.
(Watson sighs)
That was a morning of firsts.
First share I've ever heard involving a mongoose.
Really?
It was also the first time you ever contributed at a meeting.
Why am I not surprised
it had nothing to do with your drug history?
Ah, you know, it seems so expected, doesn't it?
Talking about addiction at an addiction support group meeting.
Besides, the group seemed particularly down today.
The last thing
they needed to hear was another depressing share.
Is that why you decided to take the floor? To cheer everyone up?
You know me, Watson. People person.
(door opens, water dripping)
(Scottish accent): Hello.
Uh... Sherlock?
Can you come up here, please?
Right now?
(footsteps running)
(sighs)
Rhys.
I, uh... I let myself in.
I still had the key from last time.
I tried calling, but your number's changed.
Oh, so you know each other.
That's almost a relief.
Something's wrong.
Yeah. It's Emily.
She's, uh... she's been kidnapped.
When was she taken?
Well, a ransom demand two days ago from her e-mail?
Video or note? A video.
What are they asking for?
Clearly this is very important,
but do you think that we could press pause
until we are all clothed?
Ah.
Love a cup of tea, if you've got some.
Yeah. Yeah. Right.
Um, sorry. This is my room.
(sighs)
So, obviously, he's an old friend.
Who's Emily?
His daughter. She lives in New York.
And for clarity's sake, Rhys isn't an old friend.
Well, not exactly.
He's, uh, my former drug dealer.
♪ Elementary 1x15 ♪ A Giant Gun, Filled With Drugs Original Air Date on February 7, 2013
== sync, corrected by elderman ==
♪
(tea kettle whistling)
As you may have guessed,
last time Rhys was here, he stayed in your room.
This was when you were still using.
Two months after I got to New York,
before I was carted off to rehab.
Let's talk about this. What's to talk about?
The daughter of an old friend is in trouble.
He's not just an old friend.
He's the man who used to supply me
with narcotics; yes, I am well aware.
Doesn't make his daughter any less kidnapped.
And it's worth noting, he is an ex-dealer,
just as I am an ex-junkie.
Two phoenixes risen from the ashes.
This isn't about what he is now.
It's about what he was to you back then.
You think he may be some sort of trigger?
On a giant gun filled with drugs pointed at you, yes.
You're right. He is a trigger.
The minute I laid eyes on him,
my mind conjured images of heroin bubbling in a spoon.
I felt an undeniable,
almost gravitational pull.
Yet, as I've already mentioned, I consider the man a friend.
I will not be turning him away.
I appreciate your opinion and your concern.
But you mistake the support group ethos
for a complete system for living.
It is not. At least not to a man like me.
My sobriety
is on one plane.
The bonds I share with those
I consider friends is on quite another.
You're just gonna have to work a bit harder this week.
(footsteps approaching)
Not interrupting, am I?
Sorry again about upstairs.
I was... Haven't quite had
my head screwed on the last couple of days, you know?
Should've figured you'd have a bird over.
I'm not a bird. I live here.
I'm entirely sober now, Rhys.
Miss Watson is my companion.
She keeps me from resuming bad habits.
Of which I am one. I get it.
In which case, let me show you this video.
If you can't help me, I'll be on my way.
I'll just get my tea.
MAN (distorted voice): Your daughter's life boils down
to two numbers: $2.2 million, four days.
If you don't pay in time, she dies.
If you involve the police or the FBI, she dies.
If you deviate from my instructions in any way,
she dies.
I've left a phone for you
at her apartment; keep it with you.
Wait for further instructions.
(sniffles)
(sighs)
I went to her place as soon as I touched down.
This is the cell phone.
Looked like there'd been a bit of a struggle.
I was careful not to touch it.
I'm sorry to interrupt,
but do you have $2.2 million?
In May of 2011, Rhys stole exactly that amount
from his Dominican suppliers.
He's been hiding out in Thailand ever since.
Like I said, ex-dealer.
RHYS: They got sloppy with some transactions.
I saw an opportunity for early retirement, and took it.
It never occurred to you that you might be
putting your daughter in danger?
Well, no one knew about Emily.
But he knew 'cause he deduced it.
But I never spoke about her to anyone else, never.
Her mom knew, obviously, but...
She passed away several years ago.
Did Emily know about your theft from the Dominicans?
No. Before I disappeared, I gave her an e-mail address, and said,
"Look, if you're ever in trouble, you can get in touch,"
but I hadn't heard from her till I got this video.
Well, isn't there a simple solution?
You pay the ransom, and you get your daughter back.
(sighs)
How much is left?
Uh... just under two.
$2 million is nothing to sneeze at.
$2,000, you know, give or take.
You spent $2 million in just 18 months?
No, I lost $2 million.
Drugs were his vice.
Cards were mine. Look, I'm sorry. I'm even sorrier
now that I know that you're trying to clean up. I just...
I don't mean to go stirring up bad memories. I just didn't know
who else to turn to. Said he'd kill Emily if I went
to the cops or the feds.
And I figured, since I was acquainted
with the Sherlock Holmes, I'd be a fool not to...
seek his advice, right
We have just under 44 hours until the ransom is due.
Luxury.
That's twice what I'll need.
That's Emily's mom... Penny.
You said she passed away.
Yeah, some kind of cancer, I think.
Well, we were never that close.
She was American on holiday in London back in '91.
We met, had some fun... then along came Emily.
How are you not a total wreck right now?
If my kid was taken and held for ransom,
I don't know if I could keep it together.
You seem quite... I don't know-- Zen.
Huh.
I made a delivery once to Holmes at Scotland Yard.
Crazy, right?
Crazier still,
he invites me to stay and watch him assist
in the interrogation of this lunatic
who'd been planting car bombs all over the city.
The police knew there was another one out there,
but they didn't know where it was.
Holmes is in the room with the guy for, like, five minutes.
Figures out where the bomb is
from a couple of stains on the guy's shoe.
You ask why I'm not a total wreck?
'Cause I believe in Sherlock Holmes.
Your friends, the Dominicans-- they were here.
Or at least one of them was, anyway.
He waited for her here.
I found traces of cigarette ash on the floor.
Now, how do I know it didn't come from Emily? Easy.
She's not a smoker. No other signs of tobacco
in the whole apartment. She doesn't even have a lighter.
This ash comes from a Crema, a popular Dominican brand.
You can tell the brand by the ash?
I can identify 140 cigarette
and cigar brands by their ash alone.
Now, if you bothered to read my monographs,
you would know that.
So, they struggled here.
She dropped her glass of water that she poured.
The water spilled on his hand.
How else do you explain this?
It's just a swirl.
It is a symbol,
that of the Taino god of hurricanes.
The Taino, as everyone knows, were the pre-Colombian
inhabitants of what is now the Dominican Republic.
This, meanwhile, is a hand stamp
of a Dominican nightclub in Brooklyn
called, appropriately enough, Hurrikane, with a "K."
Emily's water moistened the hand stamp
on her abductor's hand, facilitating its transfer
to the wall.
Maybe he left some prints.
Already checked-- he wiped down the doorknobs before he left.
How do you know the stamp didn't come from Emily's hand?
Well, she'd just got back from a jog, hence the water.
No nightclub would allow her in wearing exercise gear,
let alone one as pretentious as Hurrikane with a "K."
Her kidnapper came from a nightclub,
and that is where we shall go.
"I believe in Sherlock Holmes."
(lively dance music playing)
This is seriously the plan?
Rhys walks around on the off chance
he recognizes someone before they recognize him?
Well, he's wearing a hat.
Are there other, more surgical ways to search this nightclub?
Yes, of course, but they would require
the manpower and resources of an NYPD or an FBI,
and both are off-limits to us.
But if he spots someone
from his days dealing with the cartel,
we'll follow them.
You seem even more dour than usual, Watson.
I would posit it was a menstruation issue,
but I worked out your cycle-- you're good for ten more days.
Couching it as a scientific observation
totally negates the misogyny.
And for the record, I'm not happy
because we are in a nightclub surrounded by alcohol,
and-and, judging by the way people are dancing,
serious drugs.
Told you it was gonna be a difficult few days.
Okay,
over in the corner, the VIP area,
see the big guy in there with a beard?
Right? His name's Reynaldo.
He's one of the U.K. suppliers.
Is he the one you stole from? Technically, I stole from them all,
but, yeah, he'd be pretty upset with me.
HOLMES: So, obviously, more than a coincidence--
a man you stole from sitting in a nightclub
that Emily's abductor was in just before she was taken.
So what do we do now?
HOLMES: Now...
I urinate.
(sniffs)
(sighs heavily)
(urinating)
Nice tats.
My name is Sherlock Holmes-- I'm a consultant
with the NYPD. I'm looking for a kidnapping victim.
Her name is Emily Grant. I believe that your friend Reynaldo
may be responsible.
Would you mind if I ask you a few questions?
(zips up zipper)
No hablo inglés.
(toilet flushes) That's strange.
I'm fairly certain that English...
(zips up zipper) is a requirement for agents
of the DEA-- even those deep undercover
in Dominican drug cartels. Hmm?
What gave you away, you ask?
Well, first it was your tradecraft.
Out there, you used the nearest champagne bucket
to monitor your surroundings behind you without turning
your head-- that's not a technique one learns
on the street, but at Quantico. Then there are
your tattoos-- they're all perfectly thuggish,
all precisely the same age.
Most tattoos are acquired over time.
Hmm? Each emblem
fades and ages differently-- not yours.
Yours would seem to suggest you were in a hurry
to fit in with a new crowd.
Please, I have no interest in jeopardizing your operation,
but a woman's life is at stake,
and given that you are a federal agent... Call me a fed again,
I'll cut out your tongue and feed it to you.
Well, perhaps your friends in the VIP area
will be more interested in what I have to say.
My boys love hearing about the DEA.
Like waving red at a bull.
Olé!
(lively dance music playing)
It's okay.
Guy tried to steal my wallet, man!
Stay, please. Just stay, stay, stay.
(grunting)
RHYS: Stay out of it.
You didn't give me any choice-- I'm in too deep,
and I cannot let you blow my cover.
I just need to know where to find the girl.
(grunting)
Nobody in this organization has kidnapped anyone
in New York, trust me.
(grunting) Reynaldo over there, he is
the cartel in New York-- nothing happens without his say-so.
The only thing he cares about right now
is the turf war with the Colombians.
I'm sorry, but you may be looking into
the one crime in this city the cartel isn't behind.
Suffocatingly inane.
(sighs) Good morning.
This is soul-crushing in its utter banality.
Sufficiently asinine as to constitute
a valid argument for eugenics.
Okay, I give up.
What are you reading?
Emily's Twitter feed.
Excruciating medium.
Demonstrates that brevity does not protect against dullness.
That said, it does serve
as a modern-day equivalent of a diary,
so who's to say it won't turn up a suspect?
So you've given up on the cartel.
For now, yes.
Though the ash and ink stain I found does suggest to me
that Emily's abductor was in that nightclub
before he took her.
Well, we have an appointment at noon.
So plan your hunt around that.
No. We visited the house of bromides yesterday.
I am no longer required to supplicate
at the altar of recovery every day.
You are when your ex-drug dealer is living with us.
So you wanted me to work harder; this is working harder.
Fine. I suppose they might find the case
of the blue carbuncle entertaining.
No, you're not gonna talk about some old case.
You're gonna share something real about your...
Mm, he really got you, huh?
The man had a cover to protect; I hold nothing against him.
I'm gonna put some antiseptic on that.
(rattles doorknob, knocks)
Hey, I need to get in there.
RHYS: Uh, yeah, yeah, I'll be right there.
Two shakes.
(Rhys exhaling)
It's all yours.
You're kidding me,
right?
I'm a sober companion.
You're in the home of a recovering addict.
I opened the window. You don't do drugs here.
That's not drugs; it's just a little bit of wacky backy.
I mean, my daughter's been kidnapped,
and I am under a bit of strain right now.
I'm gonna do you the favor of believing you're just an idiot.
Okay. Thank you.
Hey, I'm not finished yet.
As much as I want you to get your daughter back,
I need you to understand--
Sherlock is my number one priority.
So you will not do drugs in his house,
you will not talk to him about this,
and you will not talk about drugs in his presence.
If I feel that you've compromised his sobriety
in any way, I will turn you in to the police
as a drug dealer and a thief.
Are we clear?
(exhales)
Now give me the drugs.
HOLMES (in distance): Watson! Rhys!
Come along if you're coming along!
Is that it?
(toilet flushes) We'll have to go to an evening meeting, Watson.
My time wading in the cesspool of social media
was not a complete waste.
What did you find?
Emily made a curious Twitter entry
under the hashtag: "that awkward moment."
Apparently, it is a category
for documenting uncomfortable social experiences.
Emily's read: "When the man who used
to give you your allowance comes to you for a loan."
Well, I never gave her an allowance.
She was talking about her stepfather.
Now, I cracked
her banking password--
your full name, by the way--
and I accessed her records.
Seems she wrote
a series of checks
to a man called Derrick Hughes.
That is her stepdad, but he's big
in real estate-- man, he's loaded.
If he's rich, then why would he have
to borrow money from his stepdaughter?
What...
Well, according to my friend in the D.A. squad,
Derrick Hughes had all kinds of money--
emphasis on "had."
Now, after the crash in '08,
banks foreclosed on most of his properties.
Now, guy doesn't have a criminal record, but...
he is dead broke.
Thank you, Detective.
Please let me know when I can return the favor.
How about you just tell me why you're interested in the guy.
Course not.
So, Derrick Hughes has motive to kidnap Emily.
He's desperate for money.
Reduced to working as a parking attendant.
If she confided in him about your thievery,
maybe he saw it as a solution to his problems.
Never liked the guy.
I never met him, but still.
WATSON: So what are we supposed to do?
We supposed to just wait here
until he gets off work?
Well, if he has her, he will go to her.
Well, I'm gonna order some food,
and maybe they'll turn on the heat.
You're doing good, man.
It's nice to see you. I'm proud of you.
Must be like... trying to relearn
the piano after a stroke, huh?
What must be like trying to relearn the piano?
Well, doing what you do without the...
(quietly): the drugs.
Ridiculous. Detective work is a deductive science.
Drugs are a hindrance to that, not a help.
Yeah, but there's, like,
two parts to what you do, isn't there?
I mean, there's the "knowing stuff" part--
and you've got that covered-- and then there's
the making connections.
That's, like, the-the... the creative part.
The art, right?
I suppose so. Some artists,
they need the drugs to fuel the creative stuff.
Are you suggesting that I was
a better detective when I was high?
No, no, not exactly.
It's just, well, there'd be no shame in it, would there?
I mean, the Stones never made a decent album
after they cleaned up, and look at them.
Just, it must be hard, that's all.
WATSON: Is everything okay?
Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?
Because Derrick Hughes is getting off work
and you guys are just sitting here.
HOLMES: Public records indicate
that this is one of several buildings
that he bought in the area.
Apparently, he made a rather large bet
that the area would gentrify.
Bad investment.
Well, not entirely.
He came out of it with a perfectly good place
to hide a kidnapped girl.
You think he's got Emily in there?
HOLMES: I'd like to know why he
brought groceries to an abandoned building.
(door creaks)
(whispers): Where'd he go?
What is this place?
DERRICK: I can explain.
It's just for a few days.
What's just for a few days? Where is she?
Where's who?
Emily. Where are you hiding her?
My daughter?
You people aren't with the Housing Authority?
She's not your daughter!
Mr. Hughes, my name is Sherlock Holmes.
I'm a consultant with the NYPD.
This is Joan Watson; she's my associate.
This... Yeah, I've seen his face in pictures.
You're Rhys.
That's right, and I'm here to take Emily home.
Uh, Rhys...
the groceries were not for her.
Mr. Hughes is squatting here.
Technically,
I still own the place.
What happened to Emily?
She was kidnapped, Mr. Hughes.
Oh, my God.
Emily...
What, you thought I did it?
Look around all you want.
Ask me any questions you want.
I raised her. I would never hurt her.
You took money from her.
Yeah, I'm in a pinch.
She helped me out.
You haven't been to a nightclub
called Hurrikane by any chance
this week, have you?
Uh, no.
I've never even heard of it.
I say he's lying.
Do I look like a guy that's been going to nightclubs much?
Sorry to have troubled you, Mr. Hughes.
We'll be in touch.
(crickets chirping)
You could have let me rough him up a bit.
The man's body language spoke volumes.
He fairly reeked of innocence.
(cell phone ringing)
Hey, hey.
Hello.
MAN (distorted): Did you think I wouldn't be watching?
Wait, what?
I told you not to involve the police.
Who are you working with?
N-No, he, uh, he isn't the police, he...
I assure you, I am not the police.
I'm a friend, an independent mediator.
You just cost yourself 12 hours.
I want the money by 6:00 p.m. tomorrow, or she's dead.
And to ensure we all understand each other,
I've left you something.
It's outside your kitchen door.
Oh, my God.
You sure it's Emily's?
I, uh, I compared the fingerprint
with ones I lifted from Emily's cell phone.
The finger is hers.
Well, was hers, anyway.
You have surveillance cameras inside the house.
Do you have any outside?
Only one. It covers the garden level door,
and the kidnapper never came squarely into view.
Good news is, Emily's severed digit
may provide a clue as to her location.
Please.
Looks like a burn. It is a burn.
Quite a distinctive burn, as a matter of fact.
It matches a floral design found on a cast-iron radiator
forged at the turn of the century.
Suggests she is in a pre-war building.
She's likely been chained to the radiator,
hence the burn.
Now, look under the fingernail.
Ethiopian wat.
Spiced onion-based stew.
WATSON: You can tell that just by looking at it?
No, I can tell it by tasting it.
It's unlikely her abductor is preparing
elaborate ethnic meals for her himself,
so let's assume the wat is of the takeout variety.
Now, if the restaurant
is in the vicinity of the kidnapper's lair,
I can use historical building permits to identify
pre-war structures. I then cross-reference
those addresses with those of every
Ethiopian place in the city.
Provided the selection's narrow enough,
I should be able to determine which building is housing Emily.
What about you?
How are you doing?
If you're asking if I'm on the verge of a relapse,
the answer is a definitive "no."
Well, you just seem a little, uh, intense.
Well, we are on deadline, hmm?
Would you mind going downstairs and checking on Rhys?
He went down there 37 minutes ago.
I've heard nary a floorboard creak since.
A long time for someone of his disposition to go motionless.
Habesha.
(knocks)
Brought you some tea.
How are you doing?
(sighs)
Well, I'd like to say fine and dandy, but....
just saw a piece of my little girl in a box.
How about you?
Um, Sherlock's just examining the...
the package that we received.
He thinks it might be able to help him locate Emily.
He thinks it might be able to help him.
That doesn't sound like the Sherlock I used to know.
He just needs a little more time, that's all.
I need some air.
Rhys, for what it's worth...
...I believe in Sherlock Holmes, too,
MAN (distorted): If you involve the police or the FBI, she dies.
If you deviate from my instructions
in any way, she dies.
I've left a phone for you at her apartment;
keep it with you.
Wait for further instructions.
Your daughter's life boils down to two numbers:
$2.2 million, four days.
(sighs)
How we doing?
I thought I was on to something with the finger--
the connection between pre-war buildings
and Ethiopian restaurants--
but it turns out there are too many of both of those
to be helpful, so I'm revisiting
the ransom video.
See if there's a detail,
a clue to her whereabouts
that I might have missed the first time.
Light, shadow, noises in the background,
reflection in the cornea--
any tiny detail could be the key.
Do you remember the... Tinsdale case?
That security nut.
Had more alarms in his house than he had doors.
Used to lock himself in his bedroom every night.
Died in his sleep. Suffocated.
You were sure it was murder, but there was no evidence
anyone else had been inside.
Huh?
I remember, uh... I remember I brought you
a little cocaine, watched you shoot up.
Like, within a minute, you had the whole thing sussed.
It was the maid; she'd left some dry ice under his bed.
And then it evaporated, turned to carbon dioxide.
He died in his sleep, no one was any the wiser.
Except you,
of course. (chuckles)
Remember?
(sighs)
It's time, huh?
For Emily.
Why would you do that?
You've needed it the last two days!
I assure you, I have not!
Have you listened to yourself?
The rubbish you've been spouting?
Huh? About lights and shadows and reflections and corneas.
That's not you, that's not Sherlock Holmes.
This is some ghost of you, some pale imitation.
You need your meds.
Get yourself right.
Please.
Please, man, I'm begging you.
For Emily.
For Emily's life. WATSON: What the hell is
going on down here?!
I-I need some time, Watson.
I will be in touch.
Why is he so upset?
What-what did you say to him?
The truth.
It's the God's honest truth.
This is Sherlock Holmes.
I would like to speak with my father.
(door opens)
(door closes)
(sighs)
Good news, Rhys.
You will be reunited with Emily within the hour.
What, you found her?
I telephoned the kidnapper.
I told him we would pay the ransom.
But you know I don't have the money.
I have the money, or at least, my father does.
I reached out to him.
He agreed to loan me
$2.2 million, on condition
that I perform various errands for him in the near future.
Don't know what they are yet, but, uh,
knowing him, it's a virtual lock I will be stealing candy
from infants or clubbing young seals.
I can't believe you reached out to your father.
Oh, man, I don't know what
to say, man We're going to meet
Emily's abductor at 238th and Irwin
in, uh, just under an hour.
He will be in a blue van.
I transfer the money electronically,
he will release her.
Watson, would you be so kind
as to fetch my tablet for me?
I'll need it to perform the transfer.
Sure.
(grunts) Thank you.
There's something that you need to understand.
Given a little more time, I would have found Emily
by my own devices; of this I have no doubt.
But it occurred to me that a little more time with you
is a dangerous thing.
The fact that the money I've procured
will liberate Emily is almost incidental.
What it's really doing, Rhys, is buying a life without you.
After today, you are never to darken my doorway again.
Our friendship has run its course.
Have I made myself clear?
♪
(knocking)
Can I help you?
Yeah, Special Agent Xande Diaz.
I'm looking for Sherlock Holmes.
I've uncovered some information
about the girl he's trying to find.
He needs to know about it right away.
(speaking Spanish, laughing)
(cell phone ringtone playing)
WATSON: Hello. It was an ambush.
A group of painters when I arrived on the scene.
But they're not painters-- their shoes
were as clean as they are expensive.
They're a hit squad--
employees, no doubt, of the Dominican cartel
that we crossed paths with the other night.
One of them used the word "aguajero."
It's Dominican slang for "braggart."
Someone told them to lie in wait.
Someone who had pull within the organization.
Someone who also knew I was investigating Emily's abduction.
Only one person meets
those particular criteria... The agent from the D.E.A.
The one who beat you up the other night.
I know.
Aq, aquíuí
XANDE: Your friends are alive, Mr. Holmes.
Excellent.
How long depends on you.
Give me a moment to secure transportation.
I'll meet you at my place.
We can talk face-to-face.
I don't think that's a very good idea.
Speaking of friends, I just met some of yours.
I don't think they liked me very much.
I told them you work for a rival gang.
But now I realize that sending them
after you was a mistake.
Oh?
The money that you were offering,
I thought that was coming from Rhys.
I thought you would be transferring it
from his account, not yours.
Now I know
that wasn't the case.
So I must've, uh, scared you the other night.
Everything I was able to deduce about you.
You thought you'd kill me, then swoop
on the softer target, Rhys.
Get him to transfer the funds.
You're pretty fit, Watson. You know that?
But more importantly,
you're a good friend.
Could you just shut up?
I need you to do something for me.
Tell Holmes I'm sorry.
Just stay calm. You can tell him yourself.
Uh, not after I've cut myself loose, I can't.
What are you doing?
Back in the day,
I dealt to a famous punker
for a brief stretch in the '80s.
One of them gave me a little pocketknife as a keepsake.
Since then, the only thing I've ever cut with it
has been lines of...
I get it. I get it. Just...
Y-You need to stop now.
No. I need to right a terrible wrong.
Maybe a few terrible wrongs. (grunts)
I'm gonna save you, and then Holmes is gonna save Emily,
and then that'll be that. (grunts)
All I ask is you get out that door, okay?
HOLMES: I imagine that you learned about the robbery
he'd perpetrated after you infiltrated the cartel.
You know, they were never able to find him
or the money.
But then again, they didn't have the resources
of a powerful government agency behind them,
did they? I imagine you found his name
from Emily's Social Security information?
Am I close?
Listen to me.
I want you to transfer the money now.
As soon as I see it in my account,
I will let your friends go.
You just tried to have me killed, so...
give me a reason I should trust you.
(grunting)
Watson! Watson!
Sherlock, Rhys has been shot.
Guy who did it is unconscious. Call 911!
(panting)
XANDE: (chuckles) I had nothing to do with
this woman's abduction. Until just now, I didn't even know
what she looked like. That's funny.
Because according to a statement we got from Joan Watson,
you approached her and the girl's father this morning
with information about her whereabouts.
Totally untrue.
What is true?
That I've been working in the New York
faction of a Dominican drug cartel for almost a year now.
That, during my time with them, I became aware of a man
by the name of Rhys Kinlan, a former employee of the cartel.
This would be the same Rhys Kinlan you shot this morning?
In self-defense, yes.
Look,
I saw Mr. Kinlan on the street today.
I followed him to a brownstone where he appeared to be staying.
I thought he might be useful to my investigation.
But when I told him I was D.E.A., he panicked.
He attacked me. I-I had no choice but to restrain him.
Mm. And Miss Watson?
I regret that, but under the circumstances, I....
assumed that she was working with Mr. Kinlan.
He managed to free himself.
He came at me with a knife,
so I fired on him.
You know, um, I heard from a mutual acquaintance
of ours a little while ago.
Sherlock Holmes.
I believe you two talked on the phone today.
He wishes he could be here, but he actually went to the hospital
to see if Mr. Kinlan pulls through.
And just-just out of curiosity, if Kinlan does pull through,
whose version of events do you think he's gonna agree with?
Yours? Or Miss Watson's?
I don't think I care very much
what a known drug dealer has to say.
Hard to imagine a jury will either.
This is... from the District Attorney.
Tell us
where the girl is and he'll guarantee you protective custody
while you're in prison.
BELL: You do not
want to find yourself in gen pop, Agent Diaz.
Especially not after your cartel friends
realize you've been spying on them.
Look, I'm sorry.
I wish I could help.
Actually, I think you're hoping Emily dies.
'Cause then there's no one to testify.
You might actually get away with everything.
Did you know that the apartment
you're doing the undercover stint in
is about half a block away from an Ethiopian restaurant?
I get takeout from there sometimes. So what?
Did you also know that there are exactly five pre-war buildings
in a one-mile radius of that restaurant and your apartment?
Three of those buildings are abandoned.
It's ideal for stashing a kidnapped girl.
Holmes shared a theory with me.
He thinks Emily's being kept in a pre-war building
in close proximity to an Ethiopian restaurant.
Right now, I've got a small army of cops
searching the aforementioned buildings.
Now, personally, I think it's just a matter of time
before they find her.
But considering that she needs medical attention,
I would prefer it be sooner rather than later.
Now, if you'd like to reconsider
the D.A.'s generous offer,
you know where we'll be.
Wait.
(monitor beeping steadily)
You'd think after everything I've done to my liver,
it could deflect a couple of bullets, huh?
Emily. Is she...
Safe.
Recovered a short while ago.
(sighs)
Where's your... better half?
As you can imagine, Miss Watson was quite spent
after this morning's ordeal.
She's getting some rest.
She saved my life, you know.
As I understand it, she was just returning the favor.
What's this?
Money.
Not my father's money.
I returned that a few hours ago.
It's just... some cash I keep lying around the brownstone
to pay informants. It's not much, but, um,
I assume you'll want to go on the lam again
once you've recovered.
Is that for my benefit or for yours?
The road to recovery, I've found,
is as treacherous as it is tedious.
Tests of my sobriety arise almost daily.
You were just the most recent.
Hey.
I believe in you.
Always will.
Dad.
Emily.
(sobbing)
WATSON: And here I thought ol' Angus had finally met his maker.
You remembered his name.
Consider us touched.
How long have I been asleep for?
Just over six hours.
(groans)
You did a remarkable thing today, Watson.
I just stopped the bleeding till the paramedics got there.
After you incapacitated an armed gunman.
Angus helped.
He offered me cocaine last night.
Rhys.
He thought I needed it to find his daughter.
It was right there on the table.
That's why I threw him into the chair.
(sighs)
But you didn't use it.
Want to talk about it?
Not with you.
That is to say, I think it's a tale
more suited to a... group setting.
Others may find inspiration in my abstinence.
Apparently.
Um, there's a meeting in Cobble Hill in about...
15 minutes. Yeah. So, I was thinking, um,
if you can hold off on dinner for a bit then,
you might join me?
♪
== sync, corrected by elderman ==