Elementary s01e02 Episode Script
While You Were Sleeping
I have been sober for two years, seven months, and 13 days now.
I could give you how many hours in seconds, but then you might think I'm obsessive.
I guess I just want to say thank you.
Uh, without these meetings, without the support of people like you, I just don't know where I'd be.
Thanks, Eric.
Hey.
You okay? All right, we're gonna wrap things up now.
Uh, tomorrow's meeting Sherlock Amygdala! Mm, 6:00.
Excellent.
What do you mean you put yourself in a trance? Hypnotize myself.
Simple, really.
The key is word repetition.
My word, as you may have guessed, is "amygdala.
" So you hypnotized yourself at your first group support meeting? Couldn't listen to all those sob stories, now, could I? That's the whole point.
And, you know, when you feel comfortable, you can share.
You've lived with me a week now, Watson.
You know I don't share.
Well, then why can't you listen? Attic Theory.
I've always believed the human brain is like an attic.
A storage space for facts.
But because that space is finite, it must be filled only with the things one needs to be the best version of oneself.
It's important, therefore, not to have useless facts.
The natterings that comprise a typical support group meeting, for example, crowding out useful ones.
Just Can I borrow this? Hey, what are you doing? He's nuts.
Your brain, hm? Useful facts.
Useful, viscous, golden.
Natterings.
That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard.
That is not even how the brain works It's how my brain works.
Okay, more natterings: I am going to a dinner tonight with a friend, but I will be back before 10:00, so I'll be there at 8:00 Two whole hours by my lonesome? Aren't you worried I'll go on some sort of binge? Well, brief stretches apart are actually a natur A natural progression in our companionship.
Yes, you mentioned.
But just to be safe, I will be giving you a drug test when I get home.
Captain Gregson How may I be of assistance? Name's Casey McManus.
Walked through his front door tonight and took one right between the eyes.
Cousin's on the job.
Patrolman assigned to the 116 in Queens.
That's why I called you.
Gotta have my best guys on this.
You said on the phone he walked in on a burglar.
He did.
His watch and wallet are gone.
The drawers were tossed, too.
The victim probably startled the perp when he came in from the hall.
Holmes, Ms.
Watson, meet Detective Bell-- another one of my best guys.
Hi.
He's running point on the case.
You're the consultant, right? I heard good things.
Yeah, of course you did.
Who's he? Neighbor from across the hall.
He's the one who saw the body through the door and called 911.
Captain.
I'm gonna wait in the hall.
Why must you continue to act like you've never seen a dead body before? You were a surgeon.
You went to medical school.
Surely, you worked on cadavers.
Right.
Because that's exactly the same thing.
Detective Bell! You would classify this as a robbery-homicide, would you not? Yeah.
You would be wrong.
This was a robbery & a homicide.
Ampersand, not dash.
There were two separate crimes committed by two separate perpetrators.
The trajectory of the bullet that killed Mr.
McManus traces back to this chair.
The killer was seated when she pulled the trigger.
She? I can smell "T-Blossom" brand deodorant on the leather.
It's lady's deodorant.
A woman sat here quite recently.
None of your people, of course.
This is an active crime scene, and knowing you, Captain, they know better.
That leaves the shooter.
Go on.
The second crime, the robbery, was committed by a man.
A very strong man judging by the items he removed from the apartment.
How strong does a guy have to be to steal a wallet and a watch? You're forgetting the armoire.
Dust patterns on the wall and the floor tell us it stood here, as do these scratches on the floor.
You're nuts.
Actually, he's not.
It was a very heavy piece of furniture, that.
And this building has no elevator.
Are we to suppose that the thief got it down six flights of stairs before the police arrived? Of course not.
Yet the scratches on the floor tell us it was dragged into the tiled hallway.
Makes me think it never left this floor.
What do you think? Yeah, thought so.
Across the hall you said? You, you can't go in there.
You need a warrant.
Bureaucracy.
One of the many reasons I'm not a policeman.
Holmes, halt.
Thief.
Now all you need is your killer.
Casey was already dead when I found him.
I know I should've called the cops first, but things have been so bad for me lately.
You know, I just Freakin' economy, I And that armoire was an antique.
It's worth two grand at least.
But I, I never laid a finger on him.
No, you didn't.
You put a bullet in his brain.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong! What's wrong? I'm sorry, I don't think I could've been much clearer earlier.
There were two crimes, two perpetrators.
This guy had all of the victim's stuff.
But no gun.
Not anywhere in his apartment.
I suspect the GSR test your people performed will show that he hasn't fired one of late.
Also, he isn't wearing any deodorant, let alone Lady's "T-Blossom.
" Or hadn't you noticed? You're the only one who could smell anything on that chair.
The chair, right-- I'm glad you brought that up.
If, per Detective Bell's theory, the burglar was startled by the victim's unexpected return, why was he sitting down? It's a curious time to take a load off, no? You know what, Sherlock? Hey, do you mind getting me a bag of chips? I think there's a vending machine around the corner.
He wasn't asked to consult here because of his charming personality.
Was he always like this? I mean, back when you knew him in Scotland Yard? He was a pain in the ass.
But he was also very, very good.
He said when he introduced you last week that you were his, um, "personal valet"? That's sort of like a butler, right? You must've been really happy when he relocated here in New York.
Actually, he reached out to me before he left London two weeks ago.
He called you from London? Yeah.
Said he was calling from Heathrow.
Why? Excuse me.
Neighbor just won't cop to the shooting.
Says he wants a lawyer.
Smart man.
He didn't kill anyone.
He should get a lawyer.
He's also saying that he passed a "strange woman" on the stairwell right before he found the victim's body.
Excellent! Did he get a good look at her? Yeah, he can describe her to a T.
Probably because she's a product of his freakin' imagination.
Obviously, he heard Harry Potter here say something about a female shooter back at the scene, and now he's trying to serve us one on a platter.
You need to sit him with a sketch artist.
Circulate an image of this woman ASAP.
I'm sorry.
I got to ask who's running this investigation? You indicated this case was important to the morale of your men.
I think this guy's gonna have us chasing some fictional shooter.
You really want to run the risk of pinning the murder on the wrong person? Call down to headquarters and get me a sketch artist.
But, Captain If he's wrong, he's wrong, but I want to know he's wrong.
That was impressive earlier, noticing the photograph of the armoire at the victim's house.
I didn't need it to prove my point, of course, but it helped.
You're welcome.
Um, I've got to go meet my friend soon.
You're going to be okay getting home by yourself? This, uh, friend that you're meeting-- when was the last time you slept with him? It's quite obvious it's a he and an ex-lover.
You go out of your way to avoid gender every time you talk about him and you avert your gaze every time you say "friend.
" As to how I know it's not a current lover, your walk speaks volumes.
My walk? Study in Belgium showed that a woman's recent orgasmic history can be discerned from her gait.
Yours would indicate it's been a while.
Is it sad being wrong as often as you are right? My advice: sleep with him.
Do wonders for your mood.
Ty, hey, sorry I'm late.
Oh, please.
I'm the one who should be apologizing.
I'm the one who had to reschedule twice.
That's true.
DA's keeping you busy? Ah, if I don't keep winning cases for him, how will I ever take his job? Uh, how about you? You, uh, just started with a client last week, right? How's it going? Good, fine, great.
So, what is she-- a, uh, alcoholic, addict, both? You know I don't talk about my clients, right? Oh, sorry.
Uh, I know we're not together anymore, but I still worry about you.
I'm fine.
The thing is, I'm not the only one who's worried.
Oh, my God, my parents-- tell me they didn't reach out to you.
They said you're not returning their calls.
Yeah, well, I don't need a lecture every time I speak to them, so I They're confused, Joan.
You used to be a surgeon.
Now you babysit drug addicts.
I know how much it hurt when you lost that patient, but if you're doing all this as some kind of penance I am doing this because I'm actually good at it.
I don't know why that's so hard to understand.
Hey, I made coffee.
Thank you.
It'll be right here when you're ready.
Didn't take my advice, I see.
Didn't sleep with your ex.
What are you working on? Casey McManus' preliminary autopsy report came in a little while ago.
Just going through some of the particulars.
I thought there was only one particular-- the, uh, gunshot wound to the head.
Victim also suffered from endothelial corneal dystrophy.
Oh, that's a gray clouding of the cornea.
That's a genetic disorder.
But how is that relevant? How is it not? Um, can we talk about Captain Gregson? He's married, I'm afraid, quite happily.
You're funny.
I was talking to him the other night, and I wanted to know why you didn't tell him where you were the last six months.
He said you called him from Heathrow ten days ago when I know for a fact that you were in rehab still in New York.
You're a highly decorated New York City Police captain.
Would you allow a recovering drug addict access to sensitive cases? I'm not saying that I can help him, but only if he lets me.
Okay, you're not under Telling him would be a violation of our client-companion privilege.
I could sue.
I am not going to tell him anything, obviously.
I just think it's sad that you can't be honest with a man who, as far as I can tell, is the closest thing you have to a friend.
That's all.
Sherlock Holmes.
Yeah, it's Bell.
The captain gave me your number.
Look, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I found the woman from the sketch that was generated last night.
The one the neighbor saw leaving Casey McManus' apartment? Yeah, look, how fast can you get to St.
Isidora Hospital on East 93rd? I assume you already got one of these? Yeah, dark hair, mid-30s, approximately 5'4".
Captain Gregson e-mailed me.
Where is she? I'm getting to that.
First I'm gonna tell you how I got here.
I was about to put the sketch out wide last night when one of my old uni buddies said Sketch Girl looked familiar.
Well, he gave me a name, and the name got me to a photograph.
Yvette Ellison-- dark hair, mid-30s.
I slipped her picture into a photo array for the neighbor, and he picked it out right away.
He said, and I quote, "There was no doubt about it.
" This was the girl he saw on the stairs last night.
Are you going to make me guess where she is, Detective, or are you going to show me? I'm gonna show you.
Mr.
Holmes, Ms.
Watson, meet Yvette Ellison.
She tried to kill herself three days ago.
Chased a vial of sleeping pills with a bottle of vodka.
My buddy was on the scene when the paramedics took her away, which is why he recognized her.
She's been in a coma ever since.
Three days ago? Yeah, the neighbor lied.
Made up a description and then ID'd one of the only people in the city we know couldn't have killed Casey McManus last night, so thanks for the, uh, consultation, but I think I'll take it from here.
So Detective Bell was right.
Is it such a big? Shh.
Yvette! What is wrong with you? Closed eyes do not necessarily a coma make.
You think she's faking? It's T-Blossom deodorant-- the same as in the crime scene.
What are you doing? Looking for a syringe.
What for? I'm going to stab it into the softest part of Ms.
Ellison's thigh.
Lots of nerve endings there-- no one can fake their way through that.
If you wanted to know if she was really in a coma, all you had to do was ask.
That's okay, but I can't stab her in the thigh? It's a test for pseudocoma.
When the patient's hand is released directly above the face, it should strike the face on the way down.
Easy to fake.
Yeah, well, respiration and pupillary response aren't, and hers are consistent with a patient in a comatose state.
Her coma is real.
She didn't kill that man last night.
Can I help you? Your patient? She is.
Her coma is quite real.
That was a dead end.
Actually it wasn't.
Detective Bell found the right face, but the wrong girl.
There was a book on Yvette's nightstand.
Obviously someone's been reading it to her.
The inscription on the inside cover said, "To Yvette and Rebecca on your fifth birthday.
" "Your fifth birthday," as in the birthday you both share.
Yvette has a twin.
Yvette and Rebecca Ellison were the only children of Charles Ellison, who died several months ago.
Charles Ellison-- why does that name sound familiar? Shipping magnate, multimillionaire.
Two parks and a school named after him.
According to this, Rebecca has run the family's charitable trust for years.
So you think Casey McManus' neighbor didn't see Yvette last night, but her sister? I daresay you're getting the hang of deductive reasoning, Watson.
Excuse me, could you point us in the direction of Rebecca Ellison? I'm Rebecca Ellison.
Uh, she has dark hair, brown eyes, freckles.
I'm sorry.
I think you might be confusing me with my sister Yvette.
We're fraternal twins, not identical.
She's, um, she's not well right now.
She's in the hospital.
Is there something I can help you with? We're good.
Thanks.
Having fun? Can't you tell? You're still thinking about the case.
Obviously Yvette Ellison didn't kill Casey McManus, but given that his neighbor picked her out of a photo array, it stands to reason that the real killer bears a striking resemblance.
The question is: who is she and what did she have against Casey? Well, is it possible that Detective Bell was right and that the neighbor was lying about seeing the woman on the stairs? Hey, I found something in the hall closet the other day.
Was it the zipper mask? 'Cause I swear I'm just holding that for a friend.
It's a trophy from an old case.
Forgot I still had it.
Feel free to bin it.
Uh, I-I know it's yours because it has "S.
Holmes" engraved under the strings.
So I used to play.
What of it? Well, I just thought it might be a nice addition to your post-rehab regimen.
Playing an instrument can relieve a lot of stress.
You think I'm stressed? I think you have a lot on your plate and you're not going easy on yourself with all this work with the police.
I don't play anymore.
Attic theory.
Playing took up too much space in my brain, so I stopped.
That doesn't even make any sense.
You can't unlearn something you already know.
Five bucks says it's the ex-boyfriend.
Answer it.
I'm not going anywhere.
Hey.
Hey.
Bad time? Uh, not great.
Is everything okay? Um, what's up? I just left work and wanted to see how you were doing.
I'm fine.
But you said it wasn't a good time.
Well, I'm just kind of in the middle of, you know, something What Oh, my God.
What the hell? Joan? What is it? Is everything okay? Uh, Ty, I'm gonna have to call you back.
You were right about the stress relief.
I felt like Jimi Hendrix for a second there.
You didn't have to do that.
Thank you, funny name that.
Noun, verb, nationality.
Stop changing subjects.
Stop mucking with my things.
I wouldn't have to muck with your things if you would open up to me.
We're supposed to learn about each other.
That's how companionship works.
Good evening, Captain.
How may I help? Uh, you can meet me in Queens.
There's been another shooting death.
Looks like the same gun that killed Casey McManus.
Well, given Casey McManus' neighbor has been in custody since last night, I'd say that officially clears him of the murder, wouldn't you? Well, I'm big enough to admit when I'm wrong.
Doesn't mean he didn't lie about the neighbor he claimed to see.
Shooter was seated again.
Any thoughts to why? I smell the same deodorant I smelled at the first scene.
So we know what our killer smells like.
Too bad we can't put out an APB on an armpit.
Sherlock? You said the first victim suffered from corneal dystrophy, didn't you? What of it? This medicine is used to treat it.
News trucks are here.
Perfect.
You want to tell them we got two victims with no discernible link or should I? Actually, Captain, the link is quite discernible.
Both victims suffered from the same rare genetic disorder: clouding of the corneas.
If you ignore skin color for the moment, you note the, uh, the widow's peak, the bone structure of the face.
You tell me they don't look the least bit familiar.
Casey McManus and this woman were more than just linked.
They were brother and sister.
You were right about the two victims being related.
DNA test showed that they were half-siblings.
Uh, for what it's worth, the genetic traits here suggest that the parent they had in common was the father.
Yeah, our ME said the same thing, but according to interviews with the friends and family members, neither knew the other one existed.
Casey McManus' mom had him out of wedlock.
She never told him who his real dad was.
Ditto for Anna Webster.
Far as they knew, they were only children.
Both shared a mystery dad.
Both were murdered within a day of each other.
Obviously not a coincidence.
Do you think maybe he was the one who killed them? No.
I still think the killer's a woman.
But identifying dad might get us closer to identifying her.
Surely the victims' mothers can help on that front.
Yeah, you'd think.
Casey's mom died in a car accident in '97.
Anna Webster's died of cancer, 2008.
Neither are talking to anybody.
Just found this.
Anna Webster filed a complaint a few weeks ago about a guy she thought was following her.
Saw him parked outside her home one morning and snapped a few pictures from her window.
Now, I'm thinking maybe that's the father we're trying to find.
The age is right.
But there's approximately zero family resemblance.
Not dad, not by a long shot.
I'm pretty sure Holmes is right on this one.
How? Because believe it or not, I know this guy.
Tommy Gregson, as I live and breathe! Ha-ha! How long has it been, Mike, four or five years? Hey, Mike, how you been? Eh, take a long around; you tell me.
Mike and I came up together in the department.
Then he got all high and mighty.
He started working for the private sector.
Became top investigator for White Shoe & White Shoe here.
Mike, this is Detective Bell, Ms.
Watson, and Mr.
Holmes.
Yeah, any of you thirsty? My girl makes a killer espresso.
No, actually, we're sort of on a clock.
We were hoping that you were able to tell us why you were trailing this girl two weeks ago.
Uh I haven't seen her before in my life.
Mike.
Um, can't talk about it.
It has to do with a case for one of my firm's clients.
It's protected by privilege.
Mike, this girl got killed last night.
I know.
I saw it on the news and I think it stinks, and she seemed like a good kid, but you know how it is: rules are rules.
Mike Excuse me.
Sorry, could you just-- excuse me a second-- would you mind just telling me a little bit more about this beautiful plant.
You work a lot of late nights, Mr.
McGee.
I can tell by your eyes, but you know what else I can tell is that you've turned to methamphetamines to stay awake and alert.
You blink excessively.
Your eyes dart.
You also lost a great deal of weight over the last few months, even though your diet's as revolting as ever.
And the fact that your carotid has started jumping up and down like a basketball makes me think that your stash is nearby.
It's in your desk, perhaps? Tell us what we need to know right now, and I won't start throwing your drawers open in front of Captain Gregson and Detective Bell.
Also, um when you're ready to get your life back on track Hemdale Rehabilitation Facility gets my very strongest recommendation.
Uh, they even have a pool.
Yeah.
Uh, Tommy, uh since you and I go back a ways, I'm gonna take this file and put it on my desk.
I'm gonna go hit the head.
You know, whatever happens in here while I'm gone, you know happens.
Appreciate it, Mike.
Yeah.
Sure, Tommy.
Sure.
Casey McManus and Anna Webster, you hired your lawyers to investigate them several months ago-- why? Because you discovered that Casey and Anna were your half-siblings.
Your father Charles, as successful a businessman as he was potent a philanderer, sired them out of wedlock decades ago.
Paid off their mothers to keep them quiet.
He told you and Yvette of their existence on his deathbed.
Now they're both dead.
Coincidence? I suspect not.
What are you talking about? What do you mean, they're both dead? What he means, Ms.
Ellison, is that you don't have to worry about them coming after your money anymore.
We know that Charles left his fortune to you and Yvette, but he failed to include language in his will that would exclude his bastard children from laying claim to their share of it.
That made them pretermitted heirs in the eyes of the law, which meant that if they ever discovered their father's true identity, they'd have been able to sue for a piece of his considerable estate, potentially reducing you and your sister's inheritance by as much as two-thirds.
That's why you hired your lawyers to investigate them, and that's why I believe you killed them.
I didn't kill anyone.
Can you account for your whereabouts the last two nights between the hours of 8:00 p.
m.
and 10:00 p.
m.
? I-I was at home.
I was alone.
That means no.
Maybe it's time we took this back to the precinct.
No.
No.
Look, you're right about my dad.
He did tell me and my sister about Casey and Anna right before he died.
And yes, we knew they could lay claim to at least part of the estate.
It was very difficult for us.
We were very angry with him; we couldn't believe he would keep something like that from us.
But he was very sick, and we After he died, we went back and forth about what we should do.
Neither of us wanted to have to keep his secret, but to give tens of millions of dollars to two virtual strangers seemed insane.
That's why we reached out to his attorneys.
We wanted them to look into Casey and Anna so we could have all the facts at our disposal.
Where they lived, perhaps; how one might get into their homes.
No.
Nothing like that.
We just wanted to know what kind of people they were.
But then, before we could make any sort of decision Yvette went into a tailspin.
She started seeing a married man, started drinking.
And then she tried to kill herself.
The "suicide attempt," right, 'cause I'm starting to wonder if that's what that really was.
I have to assume that with Yvette out of the way, you stood to inherit the Ellison fortune in its entirety.
It wouldn't surprise me to learn that you found some way to compel her to take those pills.
I would never hurt my sister.
Ms.
Ellison, if you'll come with us Just one thing.
Why disguise yourself as Yvette to commit the murders? The witness saw you at the first scene, but he described your sister to a T.
I-I know that you're a fraternal twin, but with a wig, bit of a makeup, you bear more than a passing resemblance.
The question is, why would you want to? What was the point of trying to frame a woman in a coma? You even put on her deodorant.
Master stroke, when you think about it.
You're insane.
She really got you, huh? Lefty.
Caught me by surprise.
This one, leathery from slaps.
This one, baby's bottom.
Ty, what the hell are you doing here? What do you mean, what the hell am I doing here? Dinner, remember? You said 6:00.
I didn't say anything.
How did you even find this place? Your e-mail-- you said your friend's having a dinner party, I should come.
Ty! Such a pleasure.
Joan's told me so little about you.
You hacked my e-mail? "Hack" is such an ugly word.
Joan, what's going on? What does it look like, Ty? It's a soiree.
Not sure about this, though.
Bit of a party foul.
Unless You know what? This was a mistake.
I don't understand.
Who is that guy? He's my he's my friend, and he's a prankster, and he brought you here to mess with me.
So He's your boyfriend.
No.
Wow.
Uh, not even close.
You know what? I am so sorry.
I'm gonna call you tomorrow, okay? I backed out of drinks with the DA for this.
Tell your friend he's lucky I didn't slug him.
If you ever do, swing from the left.
Where's he going? Was it something I said? Invading my privacy, not okay.
Said the walking, talking professional invasion of privacy.
I am here to work with you.
I thought you understood that by now.
I'm sorry, wasn't it you that said we were supposed to be learning more about each other? That's how companionship works, is it not? Is this because of the violin yesterday? Because I think you made your point when you set it on fire! Well, I haven't made my point unless you've absorbed it.
Friendship is not a requirement of cohabitation.
I'll keep my secrets; you keep yours.
Provided I'm still sober in five weeks, we'll go our separate ways, hmm? Holmes.
It's Captain Gregson.
Just thought you should know we're letting Rebecca Ellison go.
What? Searches of her home and business didn't turn up anything and security cameras at her apartment confirm she was there at the time of each murder just like she said she was.
She enters before 7:00 both nights and doesn't leave until the next morning.
She didn't kill Casey McManus or Anna Webster.
u guys know being up here is, uh, it's a big step, and part of me is I can't believe that with everything we have to do, you have dragged me to another addict festival.
We have nowhere else to be for the next 45 minutes but here at this meeting.
She tricked them.
I don't know how yet, but she tricked them.
Rebecca Ellison.
I still think she's the one that murdered Casey McManus and Anna Webster.
Hmm? Would you rather I put myself in another trance? I already thought of that.
Got it off the board over there.
You even think about zoning out, it goes into the softest part of your thigh.
Lots of nerve endings there.
You wouldn't dare.
Who'd like to go next? My name is Elaine, and I'm an addict.
Hi, Elaine.
I am exactly Five more, and I hit my one-year mark.
I know I-I should be proud.
I know I should be excited, but I can't be.
Because I'm not the only one whose life was ruined by my addiction.
My drug was I'm playing the violin again.
The world's smallest.
Well, I thought you'd be happy.
Which is why I decided to latch on to a doctor instead.
I met this great guy, Steven, a GP, and I acted like I was all into him, you know? He was married.
He had three beautiful daughters.
But I didn't care about that.
All I cared about was me and what I needed.
When we were together, it was like I didn't even see him.
All I saw were the drugs.
And eventually, his wife found out and called the police, and even though I was the one who started it all, he was the one who went to jail.
You see, he had taken an oath.
He promised to do no harm.
But what about the harm I did to him? We have to leave.
What? You know you're required by your father to attend these meetings.
I just had a breakthrough regarding the investigation, and you want me to sit in a room and tell stories like a child.
You don't think I know you'd say anything to get out of these meetings? If you think these matter, then fine, tomorrow I'll go to two, or ten, but right now I have a killer to stop.
Tell me what your breakthrough is.
What? You said you had some sort of breakthrough-- what is it? Now, look, there isn't time for this! We need to find out where Rebecca Ellison is right now.
You said earlier we don't need to be friends, and you're right.
But we do need to trust each other.
Tell me what's going on, and I will try and help you.
Don't, and I will be the opposite of help.
"For I consider brains "far superior to money in every way.
You may have noticed that if one" Murderer! You may have fooled the police.
You didn't fool me.
I know that you're the one who killed Casey McManus and Anna Webster.
Get out.
Right now.
Nurse! The surveillance cameras in your building.
The ones that support your so-called "alibi.
" - You tampered with them somehow.
- What's going on in here? I'm on to you, Ms.
Ellison.
Matter of fact, I'm way ahead of you.
I know all about the third pretermitted heir.
What? Daddy's third bastard.
I figured out who she is.
Mary Margaret Phelps.
Don't pretend like you don't already know.
You're not that good an actress.
Holmes, back away.
When I couldn't talk you out of coming, I texted him.
Yes, that's right.
The opposite of help.
Thank you.
You know what? It doesn't matter because as of tonight, Mary Margaret has her own personal bodyguard.
Me.
I'll be watching her and I won't let you anywhere near her.
That's enough.
Get off! Okay.
That's it.
Come on.
You just assaulted a police officer, which means you get to spend the night in jail.
Let's go.
You haven't seen the last of me, Ms.
Ellison.
Not by a long shot.
I will not let you hurt the third heir! Excuse me.
Do you understand me? I will not let you hurt her! Let's go.
Put the gun down, Ms.
Ellison.
Or do you prefer Yvette? I don't understand.
She was in a coma.
Now she's fine? It wasn't a regular coma.
It was medically induced by her doctor.
He put her in and brought her out as needed.
To kill Casey and Anna.
I don't understand.
Why would he Because he was the married man with whom she was having an affair.
Obviously, she never introduced you.
Because he was also part of her plan to protect her money from her father's illegitimate children.
When I met him the other day, I noticed a pale stripe of skin on his finger.
Clearly, he'd recently stopped wearing his wedding band.
Didn't think anything of it in the moment, but then at a, um, a gathering I attended this evening, I heard the story of a woman who seduced her doctor to take advantage of his medical expertise.
And it got me thinking about you and your sister's predicament.
Two heiresses learn of the existence of two half-siblings days before they're set to receive their rather massive inheritance.
One has a big heart, the other Hmm.
Big heart wants to share.
Get to know these people.
Welcome them as family, and share with them her many blessings.
Little heart would rather see them dead.
Problem is she knows that only she and one other person, her sister, have motive to kill them.
She also knows that this motive, in time, could easily be traced back to her.
So what does she do? She finds herself an alibi that is beyond reproach.
She enlists the help of someone with the knowledge and the expertise to not only help her stage a suicide attempt, but ease her into a coma.
Yvette's doctor was arrested a little while ago.
He confessed to giving her barbiturates to keep her unconscious, not only to trick the machines that monitored her, but also anyone who would want to examine her when he wasn't around.
Hmm.
It wasn't a perfect plan, of course.
Between the drugs and the atrophied muscles, she was quite weak.
That's why she was seated when she shot Casey and Anna.
Because, in the moment, it was too difficult to stand.
I never told you that I wanted to share the money and Yvette didn't.
How did you know? Why else would she go to these lengths? And what about the third heir? The one whose house Yvette broke into.
Is she okay? She's fine.
In that she never existed.
I, I made her up.
What you saw at the hospital, none of it was real.
It was a trap.
I made a commotion to draw Yvette's doctor in.
I announced the name and address of the heir.
Mary Margaret Phelps, 80-33 West Tremont, so that he'd have them.
I then "assaulted" Detective Bell so the good doctor would think that I, the only apparent threat to his and Yvette's plan, was in jail for the night, allowing them a very crucial window of opportunity.
And they took it.
Because even though neither of them had even heard of the third heir before tonight, they couldn't take any chances.
As for the woman Yvette trailed to her home she's an officer here at the precinct.
I have to contact our attorneys.
I need to see if they can help her.
I know what she did is unforgivable, but she is still my sister.
There were only two pretermitted heirs, Ms.
Ellison.
Yvette killed the second one yesterday.
So tell me: Why was she still in a coma today? Why didn't she miraculously wake up this morning? Who did she have left to kill? Do you think, perhaps, it was someone who stood between her and the entirety of the family fortune? You mind that big heart, Ms.
Ellison.
It'll beat longer.
You taking off? Case is closed, is it not? It is.
Which is why you should come join us for drinks in a bit.
Bell here is buying.
I'm under orders.
That said, I, uh, appreciate the help you gave us.
So what do you say? Drinks? In about an hour? Another time, perhaps.
All right.
More malodorous takeout.
How wonderful.
What is this? Five nights in a row? It's Mediterranean.
I hope you like garlic.
You'd think that for what my father is paying you, you'd learn to cook.
What? You want to talk about what happened in the support meeting tonight? Something happened? You listened.
You let someone else's natterings penetrate that attic you call a skull and it helped you catch a killer.
You want a thank you? Fine.
Thank you.
Do you you close yourself off to people and deny yourself things that might bring you pleasure not because it makes you a better investigator, but because it's some sort of penance? Penance? For what happened in London.
Being addicted.
I don't know.
I guess it just occurred to me that it might be something that someone might do and not even know it.
Well, you always know it, Watson.
If you didn't, it wouldn't be penance.
Take My hand If it gets you through, then it's all right Take my hand But if you're golden Then it's with a sense of regret Then you'll never know How it feels To have hope To have hope To have hope To have hope
I could give you how many hours in seconds, but then you might think I'm obsessive.
I guess I just want to say thank you.
Uh, without these meetings, without the support of people like you, I just don't know where I'd be.
Thanks, Eric.
Hey.
You okay? All right, we're gonna wrap things up now.
Uh, tomorrow's meeting Sherlock Amygdala! Mm, 6:00.
Excellent.
What do you mean you put yourself in a trance? Hypnotize myself.
Simple, really.
The key is word repetition.
My word, as you may have guessed, is "amygdala.
" So you hypnotized yourself at your first group support meeting? Couldn't listen to all those sob stories, now, could I? That's the whole point.
And, you know, when you feel comfortable, you can share.
You've lived with me a week now, Watson.
You know I don't share.
Well, then why can't you listen? Attic Theory.
I've always believed the human brain is like an attic.
A storage space for facts.
But because that space is finite, it must be filled only with the things one needs to be the best version of oneself.
It's important, therefore, not to have useless facts.
The natterings that comprise a typical support group meeting, for example, crowding out useful ones.
Just Can I borrow this? Hey, what are you doing? He's nuts.
Your brain, hm? Useful facts.
Useful, viscous, golden.
Natterings.
That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard.
That is not even how the brain works It's how my brain works.
Okay, more natterings: I am going to a dinner tonight with a friend, but I will be back before 10:00, so I'll be there at 8:00 Two whole hours by my lonesome? Aren't you worried I'll go on some sort of binge? Well, brief stretches apart are actually a natur A natural progression in our companionship.
Yes, you mentioned.
But just to be safe, I will be giving you a drug test when I get home.
Captain Gregson How may I be of assistance? Name's Casey McManus.
Walked through his front door tonight and took one right between the eyes.
Cousin's on the job.
Patrolman assigned to the 116 in Queens.
That's why I called you.
Gotta have my best guys on this.
You said on the phone he walked in on a burglar.
He did.
His watch and wallet are gone.
The drawers were tossed, too.
The victim probably startled the perp when he came in from the hall.
Holmes, Ms.
Watson, meet Detective Bell-- another one of my best guys.
Hi.
He's running point on the case.
You're the consultant, right? I heard good things.
Yeah, of course you did.
Who's he? Neighbor from across the hall.
He's the one who saw the body through the door and called 911.
Captain.
I'm gonna wait in the hall.
Why must you continue to act like you've never seen a dead body before? You were a surgeon.
You went to medical school.
Surely, you worked on cadavers.
Right.
Because that's exactly the same thing.
Detective Bell! You would classify this as a robbery-homicide, would you not? Yeah.
You would be wrong.
This was a robbery & a homicide.
Ampersand, not dash.
There were two separate crimes committed by two separate perpetrators.
The trajectory of the bullet that killed Mr.
McManus traces back to this chair.
The killer was seated when she pulled the trigger.
She? I can smell "T-Blossom" brand deodorant on the leather.
It's lady's deodorant.
A woman sat here quite recently.
None of your people, of course.
This is an active crime scene, and knowing you, Captain, they know better.
That leaves the shooter.
Go on.
The second crime, the robbery, was committed by a man.
A very strong man judging by the items he removed from the apartment.
How strong does a guy have to be to steal a wallet and a watch? You're forgetting the armoire.
Dust patterns on the wall and the floor tell us it stood here, as do these scratches on the floor.
You're nuts.
Actually, he's not.
It was a very heavy piece of furniture, that.
And this building has no elevator.
Are we to suppose that the thief got it down six flights of stairs before the police arrived? Of course not.
Yet the scratches on the floor tell us it was dragged into the tiled hallway.
Makes me think it never left this floor.
What do you think? Yeah, thought so.
Across the hall you said? You, you can't go in there.
You need a warrant.
Bureaucracy.
One of the many reasons I'm not a policeman.
Holmes, halt.
Thief.
Now all you need is your killer.
Casey was already dead when I found him.
I know I should've called the cops first, but things have been so bad for me lately.
You know, I just Freakin' economy, I And that armoire was an antique.
It's worth two grand at least.
But I, I never laid a finger on him.
No, you didn't.
You put a bullet in his brain.
Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong! What's wrong? I'm sorry, I don't think I could've been much clearer earlier.
There were two crimes, two perpetrators.
This guy had all of the victim's stuff.
But no gun.
Not anywhere in his apartment.
I suspect the GSR test your people performed will show that he hasn't fired one of late.
Also, he isn't wearing any deodorant, let alone Lady's "T-Blossom.
" Or hadn't you noticed? You're the only one who could smell anything on that chair.
The chair, right-- I'm glad you brought that up.
If, per Detective Bell's theory, the burglar was startled by the victim's unexpected return, why was he sitting down? It's a curious time to take a load off, no? You know what, Sherlock? Hey, do you mind getting me a bag of chips? I think there's a vending machine around the corner.
He wasn't asked to consult here because of his charming personality.
Was he always like this? I mean, back when you knew him in Scotland Yard? He was a pain in the ass.
But he was also very, very good.
He said when he introduced you last week that you were his, um, "personal valet"? That's sort of like a butler, right? You must've been really happy when he relocated here in New York.
Actually, he reached out to me before he left London two weeks ago.
He called you from London? Yeah.
Said he was calling from Heathrow.
Why? Excuse me.
Neighbor just won't cop to the shooting.
Says he wants a lawyer.
Smart man.
He didn't kill anyone.
He should get a lawyer.
He's also saying that he passed a "strange woman" on the stairwell right before he found the victim's body.
Excellent! Did he get a good look at her? Yeah, he can describe her to a T.
Probably because she's a product of his freakin' imagination.
Obviously, he heard Harry Potter here say something about a female shooter back at the scene, and now he's trying to serve us one on a platter.
You need to sit him with a sketch artist.
Circulate an image of this woman ASAP.
I'm sorry.
I got to ask who's running this investigation? You indicated this case was important to the morale of your men.
I think this guy's gonna have us chasing some fictional shooter.
You really want to run the risk of pinning the murder on the wrong person? Call down to headquarters and get me a sketch artist.
But, Captain If he's wrong, he's wrong, but I want to know he's wrong.
That was impressive earlier, noticing the photograph of the armoire at the victim's house.
I didn't need it to prove my point, of course, but it helped.
You're welcome.
Um, I've got to go meet my friend soon.
You're going to be okay getting home by yourself? This, uh, friend that you're meeting-- when was the last time you slept with him? It's quite obvious it's a he and an ex-lover.
You go out of your way to avoid gender every time you talk about him and you avert your gaze every time you say "friend.
" As to how I know it's not a current lover, your walk speaks volumes.
My walk? Study in Belgium showed that a woman's recent orgasmic history can be discerned from her gait.
Yours would indicate it's been a while.
Is it sad being wrong as often as you are right? My advice: sleep with him.
Do wonders for your mood.
Ty, hey, sorry I'm late.
Oh, please.
I'm the one who should be apologizing.
I'm the one who had to reschedule twice.
That's true.
DA's keeping you busy? Ah, if I don't keep winning cases for him, how will I ever take his job? Uh, how about you? You, uh, just started with a client last week, right? How's it going? Good, fine, great.
So, what is she-- a, uh, alcoholic, addict, both? You know I don't talk about my clients, right? Oh, sorry.
Uh, I know we're not together anymore, but I still worry about you.
I'm fine.
The thing is, I'm not the only one who's worried.
Oh, my God, my parents-- tell me they didn't reach out to you.
They said you're not returning their calls.
Yeah, well, I don't need a lecture every time I speak to them, so I They're confused, Joan.
You used to be a surgeon.
Now you babysit drug addicts.
I know how much it hurt when you lost that patient, but if you're doing all this as some kind of penance I am doing this because I'm actually good at it.
I don't know why that's so hard to understand.
Hey, I made coffee.
Thank you.
It'll be right here when you're ready.
Didn't take my advice, I see.
Didn't sleep with your ex.
What are you working on? Casey McManus' preliminary autopsy report came in a little while ago.
Just going through some of the particulars.
I thought there was only one particular-- the, uh, gunshot wound to the head.
Victim also suffered from endothelial corneal dystrophy.
Oh, that's a gray clouding of the cornea.
That's a genetic disorder.
But how is that relevant? How is it not? Um, can we talk about Captain Gregson? He's married, I'm afraid, quite happily.
You're funny.
I was talking to him the other night, and I wanted to know why you didn't tell him where you were the last six months.
He said you called him from Heathrow ten days ago when I know for a fact that you were in rehab still in New York.
You're a highly decorated New York City Police captain.
Would you allow a recovering drug addict access to sensitive cases? I'm not saying that I can help him, but only if he lets me.
Okay, you're not under Telling him would be a violation of our client-companion privilege.
I could sue.
I am not going to tell him anything, obviously.
I just think it's sad that you can't be honest with a man who, as far as I can tell, is the closest thing you have to a friend.
That's all.
Sherlock Holmes.
Yeah, it's Bell.
The captain gave me your number.
Look, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I found the woman from the sketch that was generated last night.
The one the neighbor saw leaving Casey McManus' apartment? Yeah, look, how fast can you get to St.
Isidora Hospital on East 93rd? I assume you already got one of these? Yeah, dark hair, mid-30s, approximately 5'4".
Captain Gregson e-mailed me.
Where is she? I'm getting to that.
First I'm gonna tell you how I got here.
I was about to put the sketch out wide last night when one of my old uni buddies said Sketch Girl looked familiar.
Well, he gave me a name, and the name got me to a photograph.
Yvette Ellison-- dark hair, mid-30s.
I slipped her picture into a photo array for the neighbor, and he picked it out right away.
He said, and I quote, "There was no doubt about it.
" This was the girl he saw on the stairs last night.
Are you going to make me guess where she is, Detective, or are you going to show me? I'm gonna show you.
Mr.
Holmes, Ms.
Watson, meet Yvette Ellison.
She tried to kill herself three days ago.
Chased a vial of sleeping pills with a bottle of vodka.
My buddy was on the scene when the paramedics took her away, which is why he recognized her.
She's been in a coma ever since.
Three days ago? Yeah, the neighbor lied.
Made up a description and then ID'd one of the only people in the city we know couldn't have killed Casey McManus last night, so thanks for the, uh, consultation, but I think I'll take it from here.
So Detective Bell was right.
Is it such a big? Shh.
Yvette! What is wrong with you? Closed eyes do not necessarily a coma make.
You think she's faking? It's T-Blossom deodorant-- the same as in the crime scene.
What are you doing? Looking for a syringe.
What for? I'm going to stab it into the softest part of Ms.
Ellison's thigh.
Lots of nerve endings there-- no one can fake their way through that.
If you wanted to know if she was really in a coma, all you had to do was ask.
That's okay, but I can't stab her in the thigh? It's a test for pseudocoma.
When the patient's hand is released directly above the face, it should strike the face on the way down.
Easy to fake.
Yeah, well, respiration and pupillary response aren't, and hers are consistent with a patient in a comatose state.
Her coma is real.
She didn't kill that man last night.
Can I help you? Your patient? She is.
Her coma is quite real.
That was a dead end.
Actually it wasn't.
Detective Bell found the right face, but the wrong girl.
There was a book on Yvette's nightstand.
Obviously someone's been reading it to her.
The inscription on the inside cover said, "To Yvette and Rebecca on your fifth birthday.
" "Your fifth birthday," as in the birthday you both share.
Yvette has a twin.
Yvette and Rebecca Ellison were the only children of Charles Ellison, who died several months ago.
Charles Ellison-- why does that name sound familiar? Shipping magnate, multimillionaire.
Two parks and a school named after him.
According to this, Rebecca has run the family's charitable trust for years.
So you think Casey McManus' neighbor didn't see Yvette last night, but her sister? I daresay you're getting the hang of deductive reasoning, Watson.
Excuse me, could you point us in the direction of Rebecca Ellison? I'm Rebecca Ellison.
Uh, she has dark hair, brown eyes, freckles.
I'm sorry.
I think you might be confusing me with my sister Yvette.
We're fraternal twins, not identical.
She's, um, she's not well right now.
She's in the hospital.
Is there something I can help you with? We're good.
Thanks.
Having fun? Can't you tell? You're still thinking about the case.
Obviously Yvette Ellison didn't kill Casey McManus, but given that his neighbor picked her out of a photo array, it stands to reason that the real killer bears a striking resemblance.
The question is: who is she and what did she have against Casey? Well, is it possible that Detective Bell was right and that the neighbor was lying about seeing the woman on the stairs? Hey, I found something in the hall closet the other day.
Was it the zipper mask? 'Cause I swear I'm just holding that for a friend.
It's a trophy from an old case.
Forgot I still had it.
Feel free to bin it.
Uh, I-I know it's yours because it has "S.
Holmes" engraved under the strings.
So I used to play.
What of it? Well, I just thought it might be a nice addition to your post-rehab regimen.
Playing an instrument can relieve a lot of stress.
You think I'm stressed? I think you have a lot on your plate and you're not going easy on yourself with all this work with the police.
I don't play anymore.
Attic theory.
Playing took up too much space in my brain, so I stopped.
That doesn't even make any sense.
You can't unlearn something you already know.
Five bucks says it's the ex-boyfriend.
Answer it.
I'm not going anywhere.
Hey.
Hey.
Bad time? Uh, not great.
Is everything okay? Um, what's up? I just left work and wanted to see how you were doing.
I'm fine.
But you said it wasn't a good time.
Well, I'm just kind of in the middle of, you know, something What Oh, my God.
What the hell? Joan? What is it? Is everything okay? Uh, Ty, I'm gonna have to call you back.
You were right about the stress relief.
I felt like Jimi Hendrix for a second there.
You didn't have to do that.
Thank you, funny name that.
Noun, verb, nationality.
Stop changing subjects.
Stop mucking with my things.
I wouldn't have to muck with your things if you would open up to me.
We're supposed to learn about each other.
That's how companionship works.
Good evening, Captain.
How may I help? Uh, you can meet me in Queens.
There's been another shooting death.
Looks like the same gun that killed Casey McManus.
Well, given Casey McManus' neighbor has been in custody since last night, I'd say that officially clears him of the murder, wouldn't you? Well, I'm big enough to admit when I'm wrong.
Doesn't mean he didn't lie about the neighbor he claimed to see.
Shooter was seated again.
Any thoughts to why? I smell the same deodorant I smelled at the first scene.
So we know what our killer smells like.
Too bad we can't put out an APB on an armpit.
Sherlock? You said the first victim suffered from corneal dystrophy, didn't you? What of it? This medicine is used to treat it.
News trucks are here.
Perfect.
You want to tell them we got two victims with no discernible link or should I? Actually, Captain, the link is quite discernible.
Both victims suffered from the same rare genetic disorder: clouding of the corneas.
If you ignore skin color for the moment, you note the, uh, the widow's peak, the bone structure of the face.
You tell me they don't look the least bit familiar.
Casey McManus and this woman were more than just linked.
They were brother and sister.
You were right about the two victims being related.
DNA test showed that they were half-siblings.
Uh, for what it's worth, the genetic traits here suggest that the parent they had in common was the father.
Yeah, our ME said the same thing, but according to interviews with the friends and family members, neither knew the other one existed.
Casey McManus' mom had him out of wedlock.
She never told him who his real dad was.
Ditto for Anna Webster.
Far as they knew, they were only children.
Both shared a mystery dad.
Both were murdered within a day of each other.
Obviously not a coincidence.
Do you think maybe he was the one who killed them? No.
I still think the killer's a woman.
But identifying dad might get us closer to identifying her.
Surely the victims' mothers can help on that front.
Yeah, you'd think.
Casey's mom died in a car accident in '97.
Anna Webster's died of cancer, 2008.
Neither are talking to anybody.
Just found this.
Anna Webster filed a complaint a few weeks ago about a guy she thought was following her.
Saw him parked outside her home one morning and snapped a few pictures from her window.
Now, I'm thinking maybe that's the father we're trying to find.
The age is right.
But there's approximately zero family resemblance.
Not dad, not by a long shot.
I'm pretty sure Holmes is right on this one.
How? Because believe it or not, I know this guy.
Tommy Gregson, as I live and breathe! Ha-ha! How long has it been, Mike, four or five years? Hey, Mike, how you been? Eh, take a long around; you tell me.
Mike and I came up together in the department.
Then he got all high and mighty.
He started working for the private sector.
Became top investigator for White Shoe & White Shoe here.
Mike, this is Detective Bell, Ms.
Watson, and Mr.
Holmes.
Yeah, any of you thirsty? My girl makes a killer espresso.
No, actually, we're sort of on a clock.
We were hoping that you were able to tell us why you were trailing this girl two weeks ago.
Uh I haven't seen her before in my life.
Mike.
Um, can't talk about it.
It has to do with a case for one of my firm's clients.
It's protected by privilege.
Mike, this girl got killed last night.
I know.
I saw it on the news and I think it stinks, and she seemed like a good kid, but you know how it is: rules are rules.
Mike Excuse me.
Sorry, could you just-- excuse me a second-- would you mind just telling me a little bit more about this beautiful plant.
You work a lot of late nights, Mr.
McGee.
I can tell by your eyes, but you know what else I can tell is that you've turned to methamphetamines to stay awake and alert.
You blink excessively.
Your eyes dart.
You also lost a great deal of weight over the last few months, even though your diet's as revolting as ever.
And the fact that your carotid has started jumping up and down like a basketball makes me think that your stash is nearby.
It's in your desk, perhaps? Tell us what we need to know right now, and I won't start throwing your drawers open in front of Captain Gregson and Detective Bell.
Also, um when you're ready to get your life back on track Hemdale Rehabilitation Facility gets my very strongest recommendation.
Uh, they even have a pool.
Yeah.
Uh, Tommy, uh since you and I go back a ways, I'm gonna take this file and put it on my desk.
I'm gonna go hit the head.
You know, whatever happens in here while I'm gone, you know happens.
Appreciate it, Mike.
Yeah.
Sure, Tommy.
Sure.
Casey McManus and Anna Webster, you hired your lawyers to investigate them several months ago-- why? Because you discovered that Casey and Anna were your half-siblings.
Your father Charles, as successful a businessman as he was potent a philanderer, sired them out of wedlock decades ago.
Paid off their mothers to keep them quiet.
He told you and Yvette of their existence on his deathbed.
Now they're both dead.
Coincidence? I suspect not.
What are you talking about? What do you mean, they're both dead? What he means, Ms.
Ellison, is that you don't have to worry about them coming after your money anymore.
We know that Charles left his fortune to you and Yvette, but he failed to include language in his will that would exclude his bastard children from laying claim to their share of it.
That made them pretermitted heirs in the eyes of the law, which meant that if they ever discovered their father's true identity, they'd have been able to sue for a piece of his considerable estate, potentially reducing you and your sister's inheritance by as much as two-thirds.
That's why you hired your lawyers to investigate them, and that's why I believe you killed them.
I didn't kill anyone.
Can you account for your whereabouts the last two nights between the hours of 8:00 p.
m.
and 10:00 p.
m.
? I-I was at home.
I was alone.
That means no.
Maybe it's time we took this back to the precinct.
No.
No.
Look, you're right about my dad.
He did tell me and my sister about Casey and Anna right before he died.
And yes, we knew they could lay claim to at least part of the estate.
It was very difficult for us.
We were very angry with him; we couldn't believe he would keep something like that from us.
But he was very sick, and we After he died, we went back and forth about what we should do.
Neither of us wanted to have to keep his secret, but to give tens of millions of dollars to two virtual strangers seemed insane.
That's why we reached out to his attorneys.
We wanted them to look into Casey and Anna so we could have all the facts at our disposal.
Where they lived, perhaps; how one might get into their homes.
No.
Nothing like that.
We just wanted to know what kind of people they were.
But then, before we could make any sort of decision Yvette went into a tailspin.
She started seeing a married man, started drinking.
And then she tried to kill herself.
The "suicide attempt," right, 'cause I'm starting to wonder if that's what that really was.
I have to assume that with Yvette out of the way, you stood to inherit the Ellison fortune in its entirety.
It wouldn't surprise me to learn that you found some way to compel her to take those pills.
I would never hurt my sister.
Ms.
Ellison, if you'll come with us Just one thing.
Why disguise yourself as Yvette to commit the murders? The witness saw you at the first scene, but he described your sister to a T.
I-I know that you're a fraternal twin, but with a wig, bit of a makeup, you bear more than a passing resemblance.
The question is, why would you want to? What was the point of trying to frame a woman in a coma? You even put on her deodorant.
Master stroke, when you think about it.
You're insane.
She really got you, huh? Lefty.
Caught me by surprise.
This one, leathery from slaps.
This one, baby's bottom.
Ty, what the hell are you doing here? What do you mean, what the hell am I doing here? Dinner, remember? You said 6:00.
I didn't say anything.
How did you even find this place? Your e-mail-- you said your friend's having a dinner party, I should come.
Ty! Such a pleasure.
Joan's told me so little about you.
You hacked my e-mail? "Hack" is such an ugly word.
Joan, what's going on? What does it look like, Ty? It's a soiree.
Not sure about this, though.
Bit of a party foul.
Unless You know what? This was a mistake.
I don't understand.
Who is that guy? He's my he's my friend, and he's a prankster, and he brought you here to mess with me.
So He's your boyfriend.
No.
Wow.
Uh, not even close.
You know what? I am so sorry.
I'm gonna call you tomorrow, okay? I backed out of drinks with the DA for this.
Tell your friend he's lucky I didn't slug him.
If you ever do, swing from the left.
Where's he going? Was it something I said? Invading my privacy, not okay.
Said the walking, talking professional invasion of privacy.
I am here to work with you.
I thought you understood that by now.
I'm sorry, wasn't it you that said we were supposed to be learning more about each other? That's how companionship works, is it not? Is this because of the violin yesterday? Because I think you made your point when you set it on fire! Well, I haven't made my point unless you've absorbed it.
Friendship is not a requirement of cohabitation.
I'll keep my secrets; you keep yours.
Provided I'm still sober in five weeks, we'll go our separate ways, hmm? Holmes.
It's Captain Gregson.
Just thought you should know we're letting Rebecca Ellison go.
What? Searches of her home and business didn't turn up anything and security cameras at her apartment confirm she was there at the time of each murder just like she said she was.
She enters before 7:00 both nights and doesn't leave until the next morning.
She didn't kill Casey McManus or Anna Webster.
u guys know being up here is, uh, it's a big step, and part of me is I can't believe that with everything we have to do, you have dragged me to another addict festival.
We have nowhere else to be for the next 45 minutes but here at this meeting.
She tricked them.
I don't know how yet, but she tricked them.
Rebecca Ellison.
I still think she's the one that murdered Casey McManus and Anna Webster.
Hmm? Would you rather I put myself in another trance? I already thought of that.
Got it off the board over there.
You even think about zoning out, it goes into the softest part of your thigh.
Lots of nerve endings there.
You wouldn't dare.
Who'd like to go next? My name is Elaine, and I'm an addict.
Hi, Elaine.
I am exactly Five more, and I hit my one-year mark.
I know I-I should be proud.
I know I should be excited, but I can't be.
Because I'm not the only one whose life was ruined by my addiction.
My drug was I'm playing the violin again.
The world's smallest.
Well, I thought you'd be happy.
Which is why I decided to latch on to a doctor instead.
I met this great guy, Steven, a GP, and I acted like I was all into him, you know? He was married.
He had three beautiful daughters.
But I didn't care about that.
All I cared about was me and what I needed.
When we were together, it was like I didn't even see him.
All I saw were the drugs.
And eventually, his wife found out and called the police, and even though I was the one who started it all, he was the one who went to jail.
You see, he had taken an oath.
He promised to do no harm.
But what about the harm I did to him? We have to leave.
What? You know you're required by your father to attend these meetings.
I just had a breakthrough regarding the investigation, and you want me to sit in a room and tell stories like a child.
You don't think I know you'd say anything to get out of these meetings? If you think these matter, then fine, tomorrow I'll go to two, or ten, but right now I have a killer to stop.
Tell me what your breakthrough is.
What? You said you had some sort of breakthrough-- what is it? Now, look, there isn't time for this! We need to find out where Rebecca Ellison is right now.
You said earlier we don't need to be friends, and you're right.
But we do need to trust each other.
Tell me what's going on, and I will try and help you.
Don't, and I will be the opposite of help.
"For I consider brains "far superior to money in every way.
You may have noticed that if one" Murderer! You may have fooled the police.
You didn't fool me.
I know that you're the one who killed Casey McManus and Anna Webster.
Get out.
Right now.
Nurse! The surveillance cameras in your building.
The ones that support your so-called "alibi.
" - You tampered with them somehow.
- What's going on in here? I'm on to you, Ms.
Ellison.
Matter of fact, I'm way ahead of you.
I know all about the third pretermitted heir.
What? Daddy's third bastard.
I figured out who she is.
Mary Margaret Phelps.
Don't pretend like you don't already know.
You're not that good an actress.
Holmes, back away.
When I couldn't talk you out of coming, I texted him.
Yes, that's right.
The opposite of help.
Thank you.
You know what? It doesn't matter because as of tonight, Mary Margaret has her own personal bodyguard.
Me.
I'll be watching her and I won't let you anywhere near her.
That's enough.
Get off! Okay.
That's it.
Come on.
You just assaulted a police officer, which means you get to spend the night in jail.
Let's go.
You haven't seen the last of me, Ms.
Ellison.
Not by a long shot.
I will not let you hurt the third heir! Excuse me.
Do you understand me? I will not let you hurt her! Let's go.
Put the gun down, Ms.
Ellison.
Or do you prefer Yvette? I don't understand.
She was in a coma.
Now she's fine? It wasn't a regular coma.
It was medically induced by her doctor.
He put her in and brought her out as needed.
To kill Casey and Anna.
I don't understand.
Why would he Because he was the married man with whom she was having an affair.
Obviously, she never introduced you.
Because he was also part of her plan to protect her money from her father's illegitimate children.
When I met him the other day, I noticed a pale stripe of skin on his finger.
Clearly, he'd recently stopped wearing his wedding band.
Didn't think anything of it in the moment, but then at a, um, a gathering I attended this evening, I heard the story of a woman who seduced her doctor to take advantage of his medical expertise.
And it got me thinking about you and your sister's predicament.
Two heiresses learn of the existence of two half-siblings days before they're set to receive their rather massive inheritance.
One has a big heart, the other Hmm.
Big heart wants to share.
Get to know these people.
Welcome them as family, and share with them her many blessings.
Little heart would rather see them dead.
Problem is she knows that only she and one other person, her sister, have motive to kill them.
She also knows that this motive, in time, could easily be traced back to her.
So what does she do? She finds herself an alibi that is beyond reproach.
She enlists the help of someone with the knowledge and the expertise to not only help her stage a suicide attempt, but ease her into a coma.
Yvette's doctor was arrested a little while ago.
He confessed to giving her barbiturates to keep her unconscious, not only to trick the machines that monitored her, but also anyone who would want to examine her when he wasn't around.
Hmm.
It wasn't a perfect plan, of course.
Between the drugs and the atrophied muscles, she was quite weak.
That's why she was seated when she shot Casey and Anna.
Because, in the moment, it was too difficult to stand.
I never told you that I wanted to share the money and Yvette didn't.
How did you know? Why else would she go to these lengths? And what about the third heir? The one whose house Yvette broke into.
Is she okay? She's fine.
In that she never existed.
I, I made her up.
What you saw at the hospital, none of it was real.
It was a trap.
I made a commotion to draw Yvette's doctor in.
I announced the name and address of the heir.
Mary Margaret Phelps, 80-33 West Tremont, so that he'd have them.
I then "assaulted" Detective Bell so the good doctor would think that I, the only apparent threat to his and Yvette's plan, was in jail for the night, allowing them a very crucial window of opportunity.
And they took it.
Because even though neither of them had even heard of the third heir before tonight, they couldn't take any chances.
As for the woman Yvette trailed to her home she's an officer here at the precinct.
I have to contact our attorneys.
I need to see if they can help her.
I know what she did is unforgivable, but she is still my sister.
There were only two pretermitted heirs, Ms.
Ellison.
Yvette killed the second one yesterday.
So tell me: Why was she still in a coma today? Why didn't she miraculously wake up this morning? Who did she have left to kill? Do you think, perhaps, it was someone who stood between her and the entirety of the family fortune? You mind that big heart, Ms.
Ellison.
It'll beat longer.
You taking off? Case is closed, is it not? It is.
Which is why you should come join us for drinks in a bit.
Bell here is buying.
I'm under orders.
That said, I, uh, appreciate the help you gave us.
So what do you say? Drinks? In about an hour? Another time, perhaps.
All right.
More malodorous takeout.
How wonderful.
What is this? Five nights in a row? It's Mediterranean.
I hope you like garlic.
You'd think that for what my father is paying you, you'd learn to cook.
What? You want to talk about what happened in the support meeting tonight? Something happened? You listened.
You let someone else's natterings penetrate that attic you call a skull and it helped you catch a killer.
You want a thank you? Fine.
Thank you.
Do you you close yourself off to people and deny yourself things that might bring you pleasure not because it makes you a better investigator, but because it's some sort of penance? Penance? For what happened in London.
Being addicted.
I don't know.
I guess it just occurred to me that it might be something that someone might do and not even know it.
Well, you always know it, Watson.
If you didn't, it wouldn't be penance.
Take My hand If it gets you through, then it's all right Take my hand But if you're golden Then it's with a sense of regret Then you'll never know How it feels To have hope To have hope To have hope To have hope