How's your blog going? - Hmm, fine. Good. Very good.
- Written much? - Not a word.
John, it's going to take you a while to adjust to civilian life.
Sure.
And it will help so much to write about everything that's happening to you.
Nothing happens to me.
As far as we can see, no marks on the body.
- No identification. - Same as the others.
Exactly the same.
Um, you're not phoning him are you?
Because we can handle this. We can absolutely handle it.
You've got work to do.
This is Inspector Lestrade. Please call me as soon as you get this.
I think we're going to need you.
John! John Watson!
- Stamford. Mike Stamford. - Right.
- We were at Bart's together. - Yes, sorry. Yes, Mike, hello.
- Yeah, I know, I got fat. - No...
I heard you were abroad somewhere getting shot at.
What happened?
I got shot.
- So you still at Bart's, then? - Teaching now.
Bright young things, like we used to be.
God, I hate them. What about you?
Staying in town till you get yourself sorted?
Can't afford London on an army pension.
I don't know, get yourself a flat-share or something?
Who'd want me for a flatmate?
What?
Well, you're the second person to say that to me today.
Who was the first?
How fresh?
Just in. Sixty-seven, natural causes.
Used to work here, donated his body. I knew him. He was nice.
Fine. We'll start with the riding crop.
So, bad day, was it?
I need to know what bruises form in the next 20 minutes.
A man's alibi depends on it. Text me.
Listen, I was wondering, maybe later...
Are you wearing lipstick? You weren't wearing lipstick before.
I just refreshed it a bit.
Sorry, you were saying?
I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee?
Black, two sugars please, I'll be upstairs.
Okay.
It's a bit different from my day.
You've no idea.
Mike, can I borrow your phone? No signal on mine.
Well, what's wrong with the landline?
I'd rather text.
Sorry, other coat.
Oh, here. Use mine.
Oh. Thank you.
This is an old mate of mine, John Watson.
Afghanistan or Iraq?
Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know?
Ah, coffee! Thank you, Molly.
What happened to the lipstick?
It wasn't working for me.
Really? I thought it was a big improvement.
Mouth's too small now.
Okay.
- How do you feel about the violin? - Sorry, what?
I play the violin when I'm thinking.
Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Would that bother you?
Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.
- Oh, you told him me about me? - Not a word.
- Then who said anything about flatmates? - I did.
I told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for.
Now here he is after lunch with an old friend
clearly home from military service in Afghanistan.
It wasn't a difficult leap.
How did you know about Afghanistan?
I've got my eye on a nice little place in central London.
Together we could afford it. We'll meet there tomorrow evening, 7:00.
Sorry, I've got to dash.
I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary.
- Is that it? - Is that what?
We've just met and we're going to go and look at a flat?
Problem?
We don't know a thing about each other, I don't know your name,
I don't even know where we're meeting.
I know you're an army doctor
and you've recently been invalided home from Afghanistan.
I know you've got a brother with a bit of money who's worried about you,
but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him,
possibly because he's an alcoholic,
more likely because he recently walked out on his wife.
And I know your therapist thinks your limp is psychosomatic,
quite correctly, I'm afraid.
That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?
The name's Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221 B Baker Street.
Afternoon.
Yeah, he's always like that.
Mrs. Hudson, our landlady.
- Ah, Mr. Holmes. - Sherlock, please.
Getting a special rate, owes me a favour.
A few years ago her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida.
I was able to help out.
You stopped her husband being executed?
Oh no, I ensured it.
Sherlock!
Come in, come in.
Yep.
Well, this could be very nice. Very nice, indeed.
Yes, I think so. My thoughts exactly. So I went ahead and moved in.
As soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned out.
So, this is all your stuff?
Obviously, I can straighten things up a bit.
That's a real skull?
Friend of mine. Well, I say friend.
What do you think, Dr. Watson?
There's another bedroom upstairs, if you'll be needing two bedrooms.
Well, of course we'll be needing two.
Oh, don't worry, there's all sorts round here.
Mrs. Turner, next door, has got married ones.
Sherlock, the mess you've made.
Oh, I, um, looked you up on the Internet last night.
Anything interesting?
Found your website. "The Science of Deduction."
- What did you think? - Quite amusing, I suppose.
Amusing?
You said you could identify a software designer by his tie
and, what was it, a retired plumber by his left hand.
Yes, and I can read your military career by your face and your leg,
and your brother's drinking habits by your mobile phone.
State of the place already!
- How? - You read the article.
The article was absurd.
But I know about his drinking habits. I even know that he left his wife.
What about these suicides then, Sherlock?
Thought that would be right up your street.
Been a fourth one now.
Yes, actually, it's very much up my street.
Can I just ask, what is your street?
There's been a fifth.
Where this time?
Brixton, Lauriston Gardens. Will you come?
- Who's on forensics? - Anderson.
Anderson won't work with me.
He won't be your assistant.
But I need an assistant.
Will you come?
Not in a police car. I'll be right behind.
Thank you.
Oh, brilliant!
I thought it was going to be a dull evening.
Honestly, you can't beat a really imaginative serial killer
when there's nothing on the telly, Mrs. Hudson.
I may be out late, might need some food.
I'm your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper.
Something cold will do.
John, make yourself at home. Er, have a cup of tea, don't wait up.
Look at him dashing about. My husband was just the same.
But you're more the sitting down type, I can tell.
I'll make you that cuppa, you rest your leg.
- Damn my leg! - Oh.
Sorry, I'm so sorry. It's just sometimes this bloody thing...
I understand, dear, I've got a hip.
A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you.
Just this once, dear. I'm not your housekeeper.
A couple of biscuits, too, if you've got 'em.
Not your housekeeper.
You're a doctor. In fact, you're an army doctor.
Yes.
Any good?
Very good.
Seen a lot of injuries then, violent deaths?
Well, yes.
- Bit of trouble too, I bet. - Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime.
Far too much.
- Want to see some more? - God, yes!
Come on, then.
Sorry, Mrs. Hudson, I'll skip the cuppa. Off out.
What, both of you?
No point sitting at home
when there's finally some halfway interesting murders.
Look at you all happy. It's not decent.
Who cares about decent?
The game, Mrs. Hudson, is on!
Taxi!
- Okay, you've got questions. - Where are we going?
Crime scene. There's been a murder. Next?
- Who are you? What do you do? - What do you think?
- I'd say private detective, but... - But?
The police don't go to private detectives.
I'm a consulting detective.
I'm the only one in the world. I invented the job.
What does that mean?
It means when the police are out of their depth,
which is always, they consult me.
But the police don't consult... amateurs.
When I met you for the first time yesterday
and asked, "Afghanistan or Iraq?" you looked surprised.
- How did you know? - I didn't know, I saw.
Thank you.
Tannedface, but no tan above the wrists.
You've been abroad, but not sunbathing.
Your haircut and the way you hold yourself says military.
Your conversation when you entered the room...
Ah, bit different from my day.
...says trained at Bart's.
So army doctor, obvious.
Your limp's really bad when you walk,
but you don't ask for a chair when you stand,
like you've forgotten about it.
That means the limp is at least partly psychosomatic.
That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatising.
Wounded in action then.
So, where does an army doctor get himself a suntan
and wounded in action these days? Afghanistan or Iraq?
You said I had a therapist.
You've got a psychosomatic limp, of course you've got a therapist.
Then there's your brother...
- Here, use mine. - Thank you.
Your phone. It's expensive, e-mail enabled, mp3 player,
you're looking for a flat-share, you wouldn't waste money on this.
It's a gift, then.
Scratches, not just one, but many over time.
It's been in the same pocket as keys and coins.
The man sitting beside me wouldn't treat his one luxury item like this,
so the previous owner then.
The next bit's easy. You know it already.
The engraving.
"Harry Watson," clearly a family member who's given you his old phone.
Not your father, this is a young man's gadget.
Could be a cousin, but then you're a war hero returning home
who can't find a place to live.
Unlikely you've got an extended family, certainly not one you're close to.
So brother it is.
Now, Clara. Who's Clara?
Three kisses says it's a romantic attachment,
the expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend.
She's given this to him recently, the model is only six months old,
so it's a marriage in trouble then. Six months on, he's just given it away?
If she'd left him, he'd have kept the phone, probably.
People do, sentiment.
But no, he wanted rid of it. He left her.
He gave the phone to you, that says he wants you to stay in touch.
He's worried about you. You're looking for cheap accommodation,
but you won't go to your brother for help.
That says you've got problems with him.
Maybe you liked his wife. Maybe you don't like his drinking.
Yeah, how can you possibly know about the drinking?
Shot in the dark. Good one, though.
Thank you.
Power connection, tiny scuff marks around the edge of it.
Every night he plugs it into recharge, but his hands are shaking.
You never see those marks on a sober man's phone,
you never see a drunk's without them.
There you go, you see, you were right.
I was right? Right about what?
The police don't consult amateurs.
That was amazing!
- Do you think so? - Of course it was. It was extraordinary.
It was quite extraordinary.
That's not what people usually say.
- What do they usually say? - Piss off.
Did I get anything wrong?
Harry and me don't get on, never have.
Harry and Clara are getting a divorce, split up three months ago.
Harry's a drinker.
Spot on then. I didn't expect to be right about everything.
Harry is short for Harriet.
Harry's your sister?
Now what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?
- Your sister. - No, seriously, why am I here?
Oh, there's always something!
- Hello, freak. - I'm here to see Inspector Lestrade.
- Why? - I was invited.
- Why? - I think he wants me to take a look.
- Well, you know what I think, don't you? - Always, Sally.
Even though you didn't make it home last night.
Who's this?
Colleague of mine, Dr. Watson.
Dr. Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan. Old friend.
"A colleague?" How did you get a colleague?
Did he follow you home?
Look, would it be better if I just go...
No.
Yeah, Freak's here. Bringing him in.
Ah, Anderson, here we are again.
It's a crime scene.
I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?
Quite clear.
Magic tricks might impress Inspector Lestrade,
they don't work on me.
And is your wife away for long?
Oh, don't pretend you worked that out. Someone told you that!
Your deodorant told me that.
My deodorant? - It's for men.
Well, of course it's for men, I'm wearing it!
So is Sergeant Donovan.
Oh, I think it just vaporised. May I go in?
You listen me, okay? Whatever it is you're trying to imply...
I'm not implying anything,
I'm sure Sally came round for a nice little chat and happened to stay over.
I assume scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees.
Right, just... Just go in. Just... Just go!
You have two minutes.
I may need longer.
Put this on. - Who's this?
He's with me.
- Yeah, but who is he? - I told you, he's with me.
So, where are we?
It's upstairs.
Footprint analysis says that the only other person in this room
in the last 12 hours was a man of about 5'7",
and it seemed that he and the victim arrived together by car.
All identification is missing from the body,
just like the others.
Have no idea who she is or where she's from.
Well, she's from out of town, clearly.
Planned to spend a single night in London before returning home.
- So far, so obvious. - Obvious?
Yes, obvious, back of her right leg. Dr. Watson, what do you think?
- What do I think? - You're the medical man.
- We have a whole team right outside. - They won't work with me.
Look, I'm breaking every rule letting you in here.
Yeah, 'cause you need me.
Yes, I do, God help me.
John?
Oh, just do as he says, help yourself.
Well?
- What am I doing here? - Helping me make a point.
I'm supposed to be helping you pay the rent.
- Yeah, this is more fun. - Fun? There's a woman lying dead.
No, there are two women and three men lying dead.
Keep talking and there'll be more.
Now, cause of death?
Asphyxiation, probably.
She passed out and choked on her own vomit.
I can't smell any alcohol on her, could be a seizure, possibly drugs.
It was poison.
- How do you know? - Because they were all poisoned.
- By who? - By themselves.
- Themselves? - We've identified the drug.
Doesn't matter, it was poison.
Same pattern each time.
Each one of them disappears from their normal lives,
from the theatre, from their home, from the office, from the pub,
and turn up a few hours later, somewhere they've no reason to be, dead.
No marks of violence on the body. No suggestion of compulsion.
Each of them has taken the same poison,
and as far as we can tell, taken it voluntarily.
Sherlock, two minutes, I said. I need anything you've got.
- Okay, take this down. - Just tell me what you've got.
- I'm not going to write it down. - Sherlock!
It's all right, I'll do it.
Thank you.
The victim is in her early 30s, professional person.
Going by her clothes, I'd guess something in the media,
going by the frankly alarming shade of pink.
She's travelled from Cardiff today,
intending to stay in London for one night,
that's obvious from the size of her suitcase.
- A suitcase? - A suitcase, yes.
She's been married several years, but not happily.
She's had a string of lovers, but none of them knew she was married.
For God's sake, if you're just making this up...
Her wedding ring, look at it! It's too tight.
She was thinner when she first wore it, that says married for a while.
Also there's grime in the gem setting.
But the rest of her jewellery has recently been cleaned,
that tells you everything you need to know about the state of her marriage.
The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside.
That means it's regularly removed.
The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger,
but it can't be easy, so she must have a reason.
It can't be for work, her nails are too long.
She doesn't work with her hands,
so what, or rather who does she remove her ring for?
Clearly not one lover,
she'd never sustain the fiction of being single over time.
So more likely a string of them. Simple.
Brilliant!
Sorry.
Cardiff?
- Obvious, isn't it? - It's not obvious to me.
Dear God, what's it like inside your funny little brains?
It must be so boring.
Her coat is slightly damp.
She's been in heavy rain in the last few hours,
no rain anywhere in London until the last few minutes.
Under her coat collar it is damp, too, she's turned it up against the wind.
There's an umbrella in her left pocket, but it's dry and unused.
Not just wind, strong wind. Too strong to use her umbrella.
We know from the suitcase that she intended to stay a night,
so she must have come a decent distance.
But she can't have travelled more than two or three hours
because her coat still hasn't dried.
So, where has there been heavy rain and strong winds
within the radius of that travel time?
Cardiff.
Fantastic!
- Do you know you do that out loud? - Sorry, I'll shut up.
No, it's... It's fine.
There was no suitcase. - I'm sorry?
You keep saying suitcase. There wasn't one.
Oh. I was assuming you'd taken it already.
She had a handbag. Why do you say she had a case?
Because she did.
Her handbag, was there a mobile phone in it?
No.
That's odd. That's very odd.
Why? - Never mind. We need to find her case.
How do you know she had a case?
Back of her right leg, tiny splash marks above the heel and calf,
not present on the left.
She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand.
You don't get that splash pattern any other way.
Smallish case, judging by the spread.
Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious,
could only be an overnight bag.
So we know she was staying a night.
Maybe she checked into a hotel, left her case there?
She never made it to a hotel. Look at her hair.
Colour co-ordinates her lipstick and her shoes.
A woman like that would never leave the hotel
with her hair still looking like...
Oh!
Sherlock?
What? What is it? What, what, what?
Serial killers, always hard.
You have to wait for them to make a mistake.
Well, we can't just wait!
Oh, we're done waiting.
When she was found, she couldn't have been here long.
Is that right?
No, not long at all, no. Um, less than an hour.
Less than an hour. An hour.
News blackout, can you do that?
Don't say that you've found her, nothing for a day.
- Why? - Look at her, really look!
Houston, we have a mistake! Back in a moment.
What mistake?
Pink!
Anderson! - I'm here.
So, what was the point in all that?
We're after a psychopath.
So we're bringing in another psychopath to help?
If that's what it takes. All yours.
Come on, let's get on with it.
- My notes, do you want me to... - Sorry, you're...
Dr. Watson.
Well, you're going to have to go, Dr. Watson.
Don't need your notes.
Okay, let's get on with it.
Okay, look, we're going to need Jones and Abby...
- He's gone. - What, Sherlock Holmes?
He just took off. He does that.
- Is he coming back? Didn't look like it.
Right.
Right, yes. Um, sorry, where am I?
Brixton.
Right. Do you know where I'd get a cab? It's just my leg.
Yeah, try the main road.
- Hey. - Hmm?
You're not his friend, he doesn't have friends, so who are you?
Me, I'm... I'm nobody. I've just met him.
Right, bit of advice then. Stay away from that guy.
- Why? - Well, you know why he's here?
He's not paid or anything, he likes it. He gets off on it.
The weirder the crime, the more he gets off.
And you know what?
One day just showing up isn't going to be enough.
One day we'll be standing round a body
and Sherlock Holmes will be the one who put it there.
Why would he do that?
Because he's a psychopath and psychopaths get bored.
Donovan! - Yeah, coming!
Stay away from Sherlock Holmes.
- Thanks. - No worries.
- You late or something? - No, not particularly, why?
Sorry. You just look a bit wired.
Wired? What do you mean, wired?
What are you doing?
Nicotine patch, helps me think.
Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days.
Bad news for brain work.
Good news for breathing.
Oh, breathing. Breathing is boring.
Is that three patches?
It's a three patch problem.
Well?
You asked me to come.
Took me an hour to get here, I assume it's important.
Oh, yeah, can I borrow your phone?
My phone?
Don't want to use mine, always a chance the number will be recognised.
It's on the website.
Mrs. Hudson's got a phone.
Yeah, but she's downstairs. I tried shouting, but she didn't hear.
- I was the other side of London! - There was no hurry.
Here, here.
So, what's this about? The case?
- Her case. - Her case?
Her suitcase, yes, the murderer took her suitcase.
First big mistake.
It's no use, there's no other way, we'll have to risk it.
Risk what?
There's a number, over there on the table.
I want you to send a text.
- Who am I texting? - Never mind.
On the table, the number, now, please!
Maybe Sergeant Donovan was right about you.
- What did she say? - Said you were a psychopath.
Oh! Didn't think she was that smart.
She said one day they're going to show up at a murder scene
and you'll have provided the body.
These words exactly.
"What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out.
"22 Northumberland Terrace. Please come."
Well? Send it.
Have you sent it?
Just a moment.
Take a look at the impossible. The contents of her case.
- How did you get this? - By looking.
Where?
We know the killer drove to Lauriston Gardens,
we know the killer is a man.
No man could be seen with this case without attracting attention to himself,
so obviously he'd feel compelled to get rid of it
the moment he knew it was still in his car.
Wouldn't have taken him more than five minutes to realise his mistake.
I checked every back street wide enough for a car
within five minutes of Lauriston Gardens
and looked for anywhere you could easily dispose of a bulky object
without being observed.
It look me less than an hour to find the right skip.
Pink.
You got all that because you realised the case would be pink?
Well, it had to be pink, obviously.
- Why didn't I think of that? - Because you're stupid.
Oh, no, don't look like that. Practically everyone is.
Sent?
Sent, yes. What was that about?
The contents of her case, look at them.
- What am I looking for? - The impossible. One impossible thing.
There's a change of clothes, a make-up bag, a wash-bag and a novel.
- What's impossible? - Her mobile phone.
There isn't a mobile phone.
That's what's impossible.
No mobile in her case, no mobile in her coat pocket.
Well, maybe she doesn't have one.
She has a string of lovers, of course she has one.
She could have left it at home.
Again, string of lovers, she never leaves her phone at home.
And so where is it?
You know where it is. More importantly, you know who has it.
- The murderer? - The murderer.
Who did I just text?
Maybe she just dropped it in the back of his car.
Maybe she planted it on purpose to lead us to him,
but the murderer has her phone.
A few hours since his last victim.
Now he's received the text, which can only be from her.
An innocent man would ignore a text like that,
assuming it was a mistake. A guilty man
would panic.
Have you spoken to the police?
Five people are dead, there isn't time to talk to the police.
- Then why are you talking to me? - You're here.
- Well? - Well, what?
Well, you could sit there and watch telly.
Problem?
- Sergeant Donovan. - What about her?
Said you get off on this, you enjoy it.
And I said "danger" and here you are.
Damn it!
Where are we going?
Northumberland Terrace is a five-minute walk from here.
What, you think he's stupid enough to go there?
No, I think he's brilliant enough. I love the brilliant ones.
They're so desperate to get caught.
- Why? - Appreciation.
At long last the spotlight.
To you it's an arrest, to them it's a coming out party.
That's the frailty of genius, it needs an audience.
Yes.
Yes. I suppose it does.
22 Northumberland Terrace. Keep your eyes on it.
- Don't you want to keep your eyes on it? - I am.
Yeah, but he's not just going to ring the doorbell, though, is he?
No, of course not, but he'll pass by.
He might even loiter.
Half of London's passing by.
- I'll recognise him. - You know who he is?
- I know what he is. - Sherlock!
Anything on the menu. Whatever you want, free.
All on the house, you and your date.
Do you want to eat? - I'm not his date.
Oh, oh, this man!
He got me off a murder charge.
This is Angelo.
Three years ago I successfully proved to Inspector Lestrade
that at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder,
Angelo was in a completely different part of town, car-jacking.
He cleared my name.
Cleared it a bit.
Anything on the menu, I cook it for you myself.
Thank you, Angelo.
If not for you, I'd have gone to prison.
You did go to prison.
I'll get you a candle for the table. It's more romantic, hmm?
I'm not his date!
You may as well eat. We might be waiting a long time.
Hmm. Are you going to?
- What day is it? - It's Wednesday.
I'm okay for a bit.
You haven't eaten today. For God's sake, you need to eat!
No, you need to eat. I need to think.
The brain's what counts, everything else is transport.
- You might consider refuelling. - Hmm.
So, do you have a girlfriend who feeds you up sometimes?
Is that what girlfriends do? Feed you up?
- You don't have a girlfriend then? - It's not really my area.
Hmm.
Oh.
Oh, right.
Do you have a boyfriend?
- Which is fine, by the way. - I know it's fine.
- So you don't have a boyfriend then? - No.
Right. Okay.
So unattached, like me.
Good.
John, you should know that I consider myself married to my work
and while I'm flattered by your interest,
I'm really not looking for any kind of...
No, no, no.
I wasn't asking you out. No.
I'm just saying, it's all fine.
Whatever shakes your... boat. I'm going to shut up now.
I think that's for the best.
So, you don't do anything?
Everything else is transport.
No sign yet then?
I suppose it is a long shot, we have to be realistic.
You said before you didn't know who the killer was but you knew what.
So do you, if you think about it. Why don't people just think?
Oh, because we're stupid.
We know the killer drove his victims
but there were no marks of coercion or violence on the bodies.
Each one of those five people climbed into a stranger's car voluntarily.
The killer was someone they trusted.
But not someone they knew.
Five completely different people, they had no friends in common.
And another thing, Lauriston Gardens, did you see it?
Twitching curtains, little old ladies.
Little old ladies, they're my favourite, better than any security cameras.
But according to the police, no one remembers a strange car
parked outside an empty house. Not one person remembered.
I see what you're saying.
No, I don't. What are you saying? That the killer's got an invisible car?
Yes. Yes, exactly!
Then I definitely don't see what you're saying.
There are cars that pass like ghosts, unseen, unremembered.
There are people we trust, always,
when we're alone, when we're lost, when we're drunk.
We never see their faces, but every day we disappear into their cars
and let the trap close around us.
Angelo, glass of white wine, quickly!
I give you the perfect murder weapon of the modern age.
The invisible car.
The London cab!
There's been cabs up and down this street all night.
- This one's stopped. - He's looking for a fare.
- But we don't know it's him. - We don't know it isn't.
Thank you.
Watch. Don't interfere.
Angelo, headless nun!
Oh, now that was a case. Same again?
If you wouldn't mind.
Out of my restaurant! Cretino! You're drunk!
And stay away!
What's he doing? Sherlock's on the case.
Bad news for bad people.
Hey, hey, come on!
Sorry mate, off duty.
221 B Baker Street.
I'm not on duty mate, you see the light?
Just round the corner, it's Baker Street!
There's plenty of other cabs round here. Get another cab.
221 B!
I'm not on duty and I don't do drunks!
Hello?
How do you make them take the poison?
What? What did you... What did you say?
I said, how do you make them take the poison?
Oi, who are you?
Sherlock Holmes.
Do a lot of drugs, Sherlock Holmes?
- Not in a while. - I ask 'cause you're very resilient.
Most people would have passed out by now.
It's okay, all part of the plan.
It's okay, he's just had a few. Look at the state of him!
John!
John, John!
Trouble is, your friends all think you're acting.
That's the thing about people.
They're all stupid.
- Something's gone wrong. - No, no, no.
All part of the plan. Sherlock always has a plan.
Yes, and it's gone wrong.
I hope you don't mind.
Well, you gave me your address.
You've only been out for about 10 minutes.
You're strong. I'm impressed.
That's right, you warm yourself up.
I made everything nice and cosy for you.
This is my flat.
Of course it is, yeah. Found your keys in your jacket.
I thought, well, why not?
People like to die at home.
Now, now. Drug's still in your system.
You'll be weak as a kitten for at least an hour.
I could do anything I wanted to you right now, Mr. Holmes.
Anything at all.
But don't worry, I'm only going to kill you.
The whole house is empty.
Even your landlady's away,
so there's no point in raising your voice.
We're all locked in, nice and snug.
Still, bit of a risk, isn't it? Here?
You call that a risk?
This is a risk.
You wanted to know how I made them take the poison.
You're going to love this.
How?
Take a moment. Get yourself together.
I want your best game.
My... My best what?
I know who you are, Mr. Holmes.
The moment you said your name, I knew.
Sherlock Holmes!
I've been on your website loads of times.
You are brilliant. You are. Proper genius.
"The Science of Deduction." Now that is proper thinking.
Between you and me, why can't people think?
Doesn't it drive you mad?
Why can't people just think?
Oh, I see, so you're a proper genius, too.
Don't look it, do I?
Funny little man, drives a cab.
But you'll know better in a minute.
Chances are, it'll be the last thing you ever know.
- Who are you? - Nobody.
For now.
But I won't die a nobody. Now will I?
Two pills.
There's a good pill and a bad pill. You take the good pill, you live.
- Take the bad pill, you die. - And you know which is which.
- 'Course I know. - But I don't.
Wouldn't be a game if you knew.
You're the one who chooses.
It's not a game. It's chance.
I've played five times. I'm alive.
It's not chance, Mr. Holmes, it's chess.
It's a game of chess with one move and one survivor.
And this, this is the move.
Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill?
You can choose either one.
Is this what you did?
To all of them?
You gave them a choice?
You've got to admit,
as serial killers go, I'm verging on nice.
Anyway, time's up.
Choose.
And then?
And then, together, we take our medicine.
- Let's play. - Play what?
It's a 50/50 chance.
You're not playing the numbers, you're playing me.
Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill?
Is it a bluff?
Or a double-bluff?
- Or a triple bluff? - It's still chance.
Five people in a row, it's not chance.
- It's luck. - It's genius.
I know how people think.
I know how people think I think.
I can see it all, like a map in my head.
Everyone's so stupid.
Even you.
'Course, maybe God just loves me.
Either way, you're wasted as a cabbie.
How did you choose which ones?
Anyone who didn't know where they were going,
'cause they were drunk or lost or new in town.
Anyone I could walk through the wrong door.
You risked your life five times just to kill strangers?
You're dying, aren't you?
So are you.
You don't have long, though. Am I right?
Aneurysm, right in here.
Any breath could be my last.
Your only hope, Mr. Holmes, bet on the aneurysm.
I'm not a betting man.
Do you think I'm bitter?
Well, you have just murdered five people.
I've outlived five people.
That's the most fun you can have with an aneurysm.
What if I don't take either?
Then I choose for you and I force it down your throat.
Right now, there's nothing you could do to stop me.
Funnily enough, no one's ever gone for that option.
And I don't think you will either.
Especially as that's the police.
I know, I'm not blind.
Good old Dr. Watson.
I underestimated him.
You make the slightest move towards that phone, I'll kill you.
Oh, I don't think so.
Not your kind of murder.
You want to risk it?
Wouldn't you rather risk this?
Which one do you think? Which one's the good pill?
Come on. I know you've got a theory.
Oh, interesting.
So what do you think? Shall we?
Really, what do you think?
Can you beat me?
I bet you get bored, don't you? A man like you, so clever.
I bet you're not bored now.
This, this right now,
this is what you live for, isn't it?
Not being bored.
Did anyone see it? Where did it come from?
Who is firing? Who is firing?
Clear the area! Clear the area now!
Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me.
It's for shock.
I'm not in shock.
Yeah, but some of the guys want to take photographs.
So the shooter wasn't one of yours then?
God no, we didn't have time.
A guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose,
one of them could have been following him.
Whoever it was was gone by the time we got there
and we've got nothing to go on.
Oh, I wouldn't say that...
Okay, give me. I'll write it down this time.
The bullet they just dug out of my wall was from a hand gun.
A shot clean through the heart over that distance,
with that kind of a weapon, that's a crack shot you're looking for.
But not just a marksman, a fighter.
His hand couldn't have shaken at all,
so clearly he was acclimatised to violence.
He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger, though,
so strong moral principles.
You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service,
nerves of steel...
Actually, do you know what? Ignore me.
I'm sorry?
Ignore what I just said, it's the shock talking.
I probably need this blanket.
Where are you going?
Er, I just need to discuss the rent.
Sherlock...
Were you right?
I'm sorry?
Did you choose the right pill?
I don't know, in all the confusion, I lost track.
I don't know which I chose.
Maybe he beat you.
Maybe, but he's dead.
Sergeant Donovan's been explaining everything to me, it's...
And the two pills, dreadful business, dreadful.
Where is it?
- Where's what? - Don't. Just don't.
What did you do with the gun?
Oh, er, bottom of the Thames.
Uh-huh.
We'll need to get rid of the powder burns on your fingers.
I don't suppose you'd serve time for this, but let's avoid the court case.
I ran after the cab, called the police, of course,
and then I thought, better keep an eye on you.
- Are you all right? - Of course I'm all right.
You have just killed a man.
I've seen men die before, and good men, friends of mine.
I thought I'd never sleep again.
I'll sleep fine tonight.
Quite right.
You were going to take the damn pill, weren't you?
Of course not, playing for time.
No, you weren't. That's how you get your kicks, isn't it?
Risking your life to prove you're clever.
- Why would I do that? - Because you're an idiot.
Dinner?
Starving.
There's a good Chinese, end of the road. Stays open 'til 2:00.
You can always tell a good Chinese
by examining the bottom third of the door handle.
Oi! Sherlock, still got questions for you.
Uh, Inspector Lestrade, to my certain knowledge,
this man hasn't eaten for several days.
Now if you want him alive for your next case,
what he's going to do right now is have dinner.
And who the hell are you?
I'm his doctor.
And only a fool argues with his doctor.
Okay, I'll pull you in tomorrow. Off you go.
Thank you.
So, ran after a cab. Told you that limp was psychosomatic.
I knew it was.
- You did get shot, though? - Oh, yeah, in the shoulder.
Oh.
Sherlock! What have you done to my house?
Nothing wrong with your house, Mrs. Hudson,
which is more than can be said for the dead serial killer on the first floor.
Dead what?
Good news for London, bad news for your carpet.
Good night, Mrs. Hudson.
I'm not your housekeeper!
- Night, Mrs. Hudson. I'm going in.
Sergeant Donovan. - Sir?
We'll need those two in tomorrow.
What two, sir?