Sherlock

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! - (GASPS) 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.

Tanned face, 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...