Season 3 | Episode 2: The Sign of Three

It's the big day, then!

John and Mary getting married!

Something is going to happen.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ (thunder claps) (whimpers) (click) ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ LESTRADE: They just walked out of there!

Yeah, I know, I was sort of sitting next to you.

The whole Waters family.

They just walked right out of there!

Again, I was in the room.

How do they always manage that?!

They're good.

They're greedy and they'll do it again and next time we're going to catch them in the act.

How?

No good?

They always know we're coming.

How do they always know?

They're good, they work at it.

They're never going to stop.

Well, neither are we.

(groans) (growling with frustration) Greg!

In the act!

It's the only way we're going to do this-- in the act!

(computer beeping and chirping) They're still blocking it?

Yeah.

Very efficiently hacked.

They must be bloody pleased with themselves.

They must be.

Right, then.

Ah, no.

No, you've got to make the arrest.

This one's yours, boss.

You've never called me "boss" before.

Hmm, well, look what happens when you're good.

You know how most days aren't good days?

This is a good day.

Not for the Waters family.

(phone beeps) Okay, ten men on the roof, all exits covered.

The bank's closed, so we've no hostages to worry about.

(phone beeps) Sorry, no, go on, go on.

We've got the tunnel entrance covered and Davies... (phone beeps) ...Willow and Christie are heading up armed response on Mafeking Road.

(phone beeps) Sorry, I'd better get this.

It's him, isn't it?

I...

I have to go.

What?!

You make the arrest.

No way!

Sorry, you'll be fine.

I'm cool with this.

Jones will get all the credit if you leave now.

You know he will.

Yeah, it doesn't matter, I'll have to go.

Back-up!

I need maximum back-up!

Baker Street, now!

What's going on?

This is hard.

What?

Really hard.

Hardest thing I've ever had to do.

Do you know any funny stories about John?

(sirens blaring) (tires squealing) What?

I need anecdotes.

Didn't go to any trouble, did you?

(sirens blaring) (breathing heavily) (helicopter approaching) ♪ ♪ (violin playing) (violin playing continues) Shut up, Mrs. Hudson.

I haven't said a word.

You're formulating a question.

It's physically painful watching you think.

I thought it was you playing.

It was me playing.

(music clicks off) I am composing.

You were dancing.

I was road-testing.

You what?

Why are you here?

I'm bringing you your morning tea.

You're not usually awake.

You bring me tea in the morning?

Well, where do you think it came from?

I don't know, I just thought it sort of happened.

Your mother has a lot to answer for.

Hmm, I know.

I have a list.

Mycroft has a file.

So, it's the big day, then.

What big day?

The wedding!

John and Mary getting married.

Two people who currently live together are about to attend church, have a party, go on a short holiday, then carry on living together.

What's big about that?

It changes people, marriage.

Hmm, no, it doesn't.

Well, you wouldn't understand, because you always live alone.

Your husband was executed for double murder.

You're hardly an advert for companionship.

Marriage changes you as a person in ways that you can't imagine.

As does lethal injection.

My best friend, Margaret, she was my chief bridesmaid, we were going to be best friends forever, we always said that, but I hardly saw her after that.

Aren't there usually biscuits?

I've run out.

Have the shops?

She cried the whole day, saying, "Ooh, it's the end of an era."

I'm sure the shop on the corner is open.

She was probably right really.

I remember she left early.

I mean, who leaves a wedding early?

So sad.

Hmm, anyway, you've got things to do.

No, not really.

I've got plenty of time to... Biscuits!

(gasps) I really am going to have a word with your mother.

You can if you like.

She understands very little.

(sighs) Right, then.

(inhales) Into battle.

♪ ♪ (church bells pealing) PHOTOGRAPHER: Congratulations!

Okay, hold it there, I want to get this shot of the newlyweds.

Just the bride and groom, please.

Sherlock?

Oh, sorry.

Okay, three, two, one, cheese.

The famous Mr. Holmes.

I'm very pleased to meet you.

But no sex, okay?

Sorry?

You don't have to look so scared, I'm only messing.

Bridesmaid, best man, it's a bit traditional.

Is it?

But not obligatory.

If that's the sort of thing you're looking for, the man over there in blue is your best bet.

Recently divorced doctor with a ginger cat.

(cat meow) A barn conversion and a history of erectile dysfunction.

Reviewing that information, possibly not your best bet.

Yeah, maybe not.

Sorry, there was one more deduction there than I was expecting.

Mr. Holmes, you're going to be incredibly useful.

MARY: Hello.

Lovely to meet you.

How are you?

Beautiful, Mary.

Thank you.

Congratulations.

David!

(chuckling): Mary.

Congratulations, you look, um... very nice.

Thanks.

John, congratulations.

You're a lucky man.

Thank you.

David, this is Sherlock.

Hmm.

Yeah, we've, um... we've met.

So, what exactly are my duties as an usher?

Let's talk about Mary first.

Sorry, what?

Well, I think you know what.

You went out with her for two years.

Ages ago.

We're just good friends now.

Is that a fact?

Whenever she tweets, you respond within five minutes, regardless of time or current location, suggesting you have her on text alert.

In all your Facebook photographs of the happy couple, Mary takes center frame, whereas John is always partly or entirely excluded.

(chuckling): Well, you can't assume from that I've still got some kind of interest in Mary.

You volunteered to be a shoulder to cry on on no less than three separate occasions.

Do you have anything to say in your defense?

I think from now on we'll downgrade you to casual acquaintance, no more than three planned social encounters a year and always in John's presence.

I have your contact details, I will be monitoring.

They're right about you.

You're a bloody psychopath.

High-functioning sociopath, with your number.

Hello.

Darling.

Thank you.

You look fabulous.

Thanks for coming, thank you.

Yes, well done in the service, Archie.

He's really come out of his shell.

I don't know how you did it.

Basically it's a cute smile to the bride's side, cute smile to the groom's side and then the rings.

No.

And you have to wear the outfit.

No.

You really do have to wear the outfit.

What for?

Grown-ups like that sort of thing.

Why?

I don't know, I'll ask one.

You're a detective.

Yep.

Have you solved any murders?

Sure, loads.

Can I see?

Yeah, all right.

What's all the stuff in his eye?

Maggots.

Cool!

Hmm.

He said you had some pictures for him, as a treat?

Yes, if he's good.

Beheadings.

Lovely little village.

Hmm?

What did you say?

Hold it.

Nice.

I'm starving.

Thanks.

I had to lose so much weight to get into this dress.

Hmm, he's nice.

(sniffs) Traces of two leading brands of deodorant, both advertised for their strength, suggestive of a chronic body odor problem, manifesting under stress.

Okay, done there.

What about his friend?

Long-term relationship, compulsive cheat.

Seriously?

Waterproof cover on his smartphone.

Yet his complexion doesn't indicate outdoor work.

Suggests he's in the habit of taking his phone into the shower with him, which means he often receives texts and e-mails he'd rather went unseen.

Can I keep you?

Do you like solving crimes?

Do you have a vacancy?

So, Harry?

No, no show.

Darling, I'm so sorry.

Yeah, it was a bit of a punt asking her, I suppose.

Still, free bar, wouldn't have been a good mix.

Oh... God, wow!

Is that...?

He came.

So that's him, Major Sholto.

Uh-huh.

If they're such good friends, why does he barely even mention him?

He mentions him all the time to me, never shuts up about him.

About him?

Mm-hmm.

Ugh, I chose this wine, it's bloody awful.

Yes, but it's definitely him that he talks about?

Mm-hmm.

I'm very, very glad to see you, sir.

I know you don't really do this sort of thing.

Well, I do for old friends, Watson.

John.

It's good to see you.

You too.

Civilian life suiting you, then?

Yes, well, I think so, sir.

No more need for the trick cyclist?

No, I go now and then.

Sort of a top-up.

Therapy can be very helpful.

Where are you living these days?

Oh, way out in the middle of nowhere.

You wouldn't know it.

JOHN: You look well.

I've never even heard him say his name.

Well, he's almost a recluse, you know, since...

Yes.

I didn't think he'd show up at all.

John says he's the most unsociable man he's ever met.

He is?

He's the most unsociable?

Hmm.

Ah, that's why he's bouncing around him like a puppy.

Oh, Sherlock.

Neither of us were the first, you know.

Stop smiling.

It's my wedding day!

(groans) (loud thumping) (exhales) (phone rings) (breathless): Yes, what, Sherlock?

Why are you out of breath?

Filing.

Either I've caught you in a compromising position or you've been working out again.

I favor the latter.

What do you want?

I need your answer, Mycroft, as a matter of urgency.

Answer?

Even at the 11th hour, it's not too late, you know.

Oh, Lord!

Cars can be ordered, private jets commandeered.

Today, it's today, isn't it?

No, Sherlock, I will not be coming to the "night do," as you so poetically put it.

What a shame.

Mary and John will be extremely d...

Delighted not to have me hanging around.

Oh, I don't know.

There should always be a specter at the feast.

So, this is it, then?

The big day.

I suppose I'll be seeing a lot more of you from now on.

What do you mean?

Just like old times.

No, I don't understand.

Well it's the end of an era, isn't it?

John and Mary, domestic bliss.

No, no, no, I prefer to think of it as the beginning of a new chapter.

What?

Nothing.

I know that silence.

What?

Well, I'd better let you get back to it.

You have a big speech or something, don't you?

What?

Cakes, karaoke, mingling.

Mycroft!

This is what people do, Sherlock, they get married.

I warned you, don't get involved.

Involved?

I'm not involved.

No... John asked me to be his best man, how could I say no?

Absolutely.

I'm not involved.

I believe you, really, I do.

Have a lovely day and do give the happy couple my best.

I will.

Oh, by the way, Sherlock, do you remember Redbeard?

I'm not a child anymore, Mycroft.

No, of course you're not.

Enjoy not getting involved, Sherlock.

Pray silence for the best man.

(cheers and applause) Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends and... others.

Also... Greg... Molly.

I've just had a thought.

Is that a brain?

What if John asks Sherlock to be his best man?

Well, he will, won't he?

He's bound to.

Exactly.

So?

So, he'll have to make a speech in front of people.

There'll be actual people there, actually listening.

Well, what's the worst that could happen?

Helen-Louise probably wondered the same.

Helen-Louise?

(phone ringing) Oh, hello, dear.

I was just thinking, if John does ask Sherlock... What, the speech, dear?

No, it'll be fine.

It's not just the speech, though, is it?

(door closes) (Mrs. Hudson laughing in the distance) Mrs. Hudson?

(laughing): Hello, darling.

Are you all right?

I was coming to see Sherlock and I thought you were... (laughing): No...

Possibly dying.

(laughing): Oh, sorry.

What's wrong?

(laughing): The telegrams!

Sorry, what?

Oh, sorry.

(laughing) Telegrams.

Right, um... (clears throat) First things first, telegrams.

Well, they're not actually telegrams, we just call them telegrams, I don't know why.

Wedding tradition.

Because we don't have enough of that already, apparently.

"To Mr. and Mrs. Watson, so sorry I am unable "to be with you on your special day.

Good luck and best wishes, Mike Stanford.” BOTH: Aah.

"To John and Mary, all good wishes for your special day, "with love and many big... Big squishy cuddles from Stella and Ted."

(chuckling) "Mary, lots of love..." Yeah?

"Poppet.

"Oodles of love and heaps of good wishes from Cam.

Wish your family could have seen this."

"Special day..." "Very special day..." "Love..." "Love..." "Love..." "Love..." Bit of a theme, you get the general gist.

People are basically fond.

(laughter) John Watson.

My friend, John Watson.

John...

When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused.

Sherlock?

SHERLOCK: What was that noise downstairs?

Oh, it was Mrs. Hudson laughing.

It sounded like she was torturing an owl.

Yeah, well, it was laughter.

Could have been both.

Busy?

(sighing): Oh, just occupying myself.

Sometimes it's so hard not smoking.

Mind if I interrupt?

Be my guest.

Tea?

Ah... (chuckles) So... (clears throat) The big question.

Mm-hmm?

The best man.

The best man?

What do you think?

Billy Kincaid.

Sorry, what?

Billy Kincaid, the Camden Garrotter, best man I ever knew.

Vast contributions to charity never disclosed.

Personally managed to save three hospitals from closure and ran the best and safest children's homes in North England.

Yes, every now and again there'd be some garrotings, but stacking up the lives saved against the garrotings, on balance I'd say he... For my wedding.

For me, I need a best man.

Oh, right.

Maybe not a garrotter.

Gavin?

Who?

Gavin Lestrade?

He's a man and good at it.

It's Greg.

And he's not my best friend.

Oh, Mike Stanford, I see.

Well, he's nice, though I'm not sure how well he'd cope with... No, Mike's great, but he's not my best friend.

Look, Sherlock, this is the biggest and most important day of my life... Well... No, it is.

It is.

And I want to be up there with the two people that I love and care about most in the world.

Yes.

So Mary Morstan...

Yes.

And... You.

I confess at first I didn't realize he was asking me.

When finally I understood, I expressed to him that I was both flattered and surprised.

I explained to him that I'd never expected this request and I was a little daunted in the face of it.

Sherlock...

I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best to accomplish a task which was, for me, as demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated.

Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he placed in me and indicated that I was, in some ways, very close to being moved by it.

No, it's getting a bit scary now.

It later transpired that I'd said none of this out loud.

(John and others laugh) (gasps) So, in fact... You-you mean...

Yes.

I'm your... best... Man.

friend?

Yeah, of course you are.

Of course.

You're my best friend.

How was that?

Surprisingly okay.

So you'll have to make a speech, of course.

(clears throat) Done that.

Done that.

Done that bit, done that bit.

Done that bit.

I'm afraid, John, I can't congratulate you.

All emotions-- and in particular love-- stand opposed to the pure, cold reason I hold above all things.

A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world.

Today we honor the deathwatch beetle that is the doom of our society, and in time, one feels certain, our entire species.

But anyway, let's talk about John.

Please.

If I burden myself with a little helpmate during my adventures, this is not out of sentiment or caprice, it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me.

Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes, in truth, from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides.

It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favor exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day.

There is a certain analogy there, I feel, and contrast is, after all, God's own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation.

Or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot.

(guests murmuring) The point I'm trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all-round obnoxious ass that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet.

I am dismissive of the virtuous, unaware of the beautiful and uncomprehending in the face of the happy.

So if I didn't understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybody's best friend.

And certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing.

John, I am a ridiculous man.

Redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship.

But as I am apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion.

Actually, now I can.

Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable.

John, you have endured war and injury and tragic loss-- so sorry again about that last one-- so know this: today you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved.

In short, the two people who love you most in all this world.

And I know I speak for Mary as well when I say, we will never let you down and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that.

(sniffling) (whispering): If I try and hug him, stop me.

Certainly not.

Ah, yes.

Now on to some funny stories about John.

(sniffling continues) What's wrong, what happened, why are you all doing that?

John?

Oh, Sherlock!

Did I do it wrong?

No, you didn't.

Come here.

(applause) I haven't finished yet.

Yeah, I know, I know.

So on to some funny stories now... Can you wait 'til I sit down?

(applause) (clears throat) So on to some funny stories about John.

(chuckles) If you could all just cheer up a bit, that would be better.

On we go.

So for funny stories, one has to look no further than John's blog.

The record of our time together.

Of course, he does tend to romanticize things a bit, but then, you know, he's a romantic.

We've tackled some strange cases.

The Hollow Client...

The Poison Giant.

SHERLOCK: Get down, John!

We've had some frustrating cases.

What is that?

A French Decathlete found completely out of his mind, surrounded by 1,812 matchboxes, all empty except this one.

And what's in that one?

The inexplicable.

Touching cases... She's going to ring the doorbell.

Oh, no, she's changed her mind.

Oh, she's going to do it.

No, she's leaving.

She's leaving.

Oh, she's coming back.

She's a client, she's boring, I've seen those symptoms before.

Hmm?

Oscillation on the pavement always means there's a love affair.

And of course I have to mention the elephant in the room.

(elephant trumpets) But we want something very particular for this special day, don't we?

The Bloody Guardsman.

Need to work on your half of the church, Mary.

Looking a bit thin.

Oh, orphan's lot.

Friends, that's all I have, lots of friends.

Schedule the organ music to begin at precisely 11:48...

But the rehearsal's not for another two weeks, just calm down.

Calm?

I am calm; I'm extremely calm.

Let's get back to the reception, come on.

John's cousin, top table?

Hmm, hates you.

Can't even bear to think about you.

Seriously?

Second-class post, cheap card.

(sniffing) Bought at a petrol station.

Look at the stamp, three attempts at licking.

She's obviously unconsciously retaining saliva.

Ah, let's stick her by the bogs.

Oh, yes.

Who else hates me?

Oh, great, thanks.

"Priceless painting nicked."

Looks interesting.

Table four...

Done.

"My husband is three people."

Table five.

Major James Sholto, who he?

Oh, John's old commanding officer.

I don't think he's coming.

JOHN: He'll be there.

Well, he needs to RSVP then.

He'll be there.

JOHN: "My husband is three people."

It's interesting.

It says he has three distinct patterns of moles on his skin.

Identical triplets, one in half a million births.

Solved it without leaving the flat.

Now, serviettes... Swan or Sydney Opera House?

Where did you learn to do that?

Many unexpected skills are required in the field of criminal investigation... Fibbing, Sherlock.

I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of a fold in fabric...

I'm not John, I can tell when you're fibbing.

Okay, I learned it on YouTube.

Opera House, please.

Oh, hang on, I'm buzzing.

Hello?

Oh... hi, Beth.

Yeah, yeah, I don't see why not.

Actually, if that's Beth, it's probably for me too; hang on.

He knows we don't have a friend called Beth.

He's going to figure out that it's code.

He's YouTubing serviettes.

He's thorough.

He's terrified.

Of course he's not.

You know when you're scared of something you start wishing it sooner, just to get it all going.

That's what he's doing.

But why would he be scared that we're getting married?

It's not going to change anything, we'll still do stuff.

You need to prove it to him.

I told you to find him a new case.

I'm trying.

You need to run him, okay?

Show him it's still the good old days.

That just sort of happened.

Sherlock... Mate.

I have...

I've smelled 18 different perfumes, I've sampled nine different slices of cake, which all tasted identical.

I like the bridesmaids in purple... Lilac.

Lilac.

There are no more decisions left to make.

I don't even understand the decisions that we have made.

I'm faking opinions and it's exhausting, so please, before she comes back... pick something.

Anything.

Pick one.

Pick what?

(chuckling): A case.

Your inbox is bursting.

Just get me out of here.

You want to go out on a case?

Now?

Please.

Sherlock, for me.

Don't you worry about a thing, I'll get you out of this.

(phone buttons beeping) Oh.

MAN: Dear Mr. Holmes, my name is Bainbridge.

I'm a private in Her Majesty's Household Guard.

I'm writing to you about a personal matter... One I don't care to bring before my superiors, it would sound so trivial.

But I think someone's stalking me.

I'm used to tourists, it's part of the job, but this is different.

Someone's watching me.

He's taking pictures of me every day.

I don't want to mention it to the Major, but it's really preying on my mind.

Uniform fetishist?

All the nice girls like a soldier.

It's sailor.

And Bainbridge thinks his stalker is a bloke.

Let's go and investigate.

Please?

Elite guard.

40 enlisted men and officers.

Why this particular grenadier?

Curious.

Now you're talking.

Okay.

Bye.

We're just going to...

I need Sherlock to help me choose some... Ties.

Socks.

Why don't we go with socks?

I mean, you've got to get the right ones.

Exactly, to go with my... outfit.

Tie.

That'll take a while, right?

Is my coat in there?

Yes.

I'm just going to take him out for a bit.

Run him.

I know.

You said you'd find him a case.

Coming, Sherlock?

Coming!

Taxi!

♪ ♪ OFFICER: Company halt!

We're here to see Private Steven Bainbridge.

He's on duty right now, sir.

But I'll certainly let him know when he's free.

And when will that be?

Another hour.

Do you think they give them classes?

Classes?

How to resist the temptation to scratch their behinds.

Afferent neurons in the peripheral nervous system.

Bum-itch.

Oh.

So why don't you see him anymore?

Who?

Your previous commander, Sholto.

Previous commander?

I meant ex.

"Previous" suggests that I currently have a commander.

Which you don't.

Which I don't.

Of course you don't.

He was decorated, wasn't he?

A war hero?

Not to everyone.

He led a team of crows into battle.

Crows?

New recruits.

It's standard procedure, break the new boys in.

But it went wrong.

They all died, he was the only survivor.

The press and the families gave him hell, and he gets more death threats than you.

Oh, I wouldn't count on that.

And why have you suddenly taken an interest in another human being?

I'm "chatting."

I won't be trying that again.

Changing the subject completely, you know it won't alter anything, right, me and Mary getting married?

We'll still be doing all this.

Oh, good.

If you were worried.

I wasn't worried.

(chuckles) The thing about Mary, she has completely turned my life around.

Changed everything.

But, for the record, over the last few years there are two people who have done that, and the other one is... a complete dick-head.

(men laughing and conversing nearby) Can I ask what this is in connection with?

Private Bainbridge contacted us about a personal matter, sir.

Nothing's personal when it concerns my troops.

What do you really want?

I'm here on a legitimate inquiry.

Press?

Digging for some bloody royal story or something?

No, sir, I'm Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.

Retired.

You could be a used car salesman now, for all I know.

Bainbridge?

Gentlemen here to see you.

Bainbridge?!

I know you, don't I?

Hmm?

I've seen you in the papers.

You hang around with that detective, the one with the silly hat.

What the hell does Bainbridge want with a detective?

I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say.

You're not at liberty to say?

He's a soldier in my regiment.

I'll be damned if he's going to get up to cloak-and-dagger nonsense like this.

MAN: Sir!

Sir!

What's going on?

It's Bainbridge, sir.

He's dead.

My God!

Ah!

No, let me take a look, sir, I'm a doctor.

What?

Sergeant, arrest this man.

What?

No, no!

I'm a doctor!

Oh, you're a doctor now too?

Sergeant.

Let me examine him, please!

Sir, caught this one snooping around.

Is that what this is all about?

Distracting me so that this man could get in here and kill Bainbridge?

Kill him with what?

Where's the weapon?

What?

Where's the weapon?

Go on, search me, no weapon.

Bainbridge was on parade.

He came off duty five minutes ago.

When's this supposed to have happened?

You obviously stabbed him before he got into the shower.

No.

No?

He's soaking wet and there's still shampoo in his hair.

He got into the shower and then someone stabbed him.

The cubicle was locked from the inside, sir.

I had to break it open.

You must have climbed over the top.

But then I'd be soaking wet too, wouldn't I?

JOHN: Major, please!

I'm John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, three years in Afghanistan, a veteran of Kandahar, Helmand and Bart's bloody Hospital!

Let me examine this body!

Thank you.

Suicide?

No.

The weapon again, no knife.

Now, there is a wound to the abdomen.

Incredibly fine.

Man stabbed to death, no murder weapon.

Door locked from the inside.

Only one way in or out of here.

Sherlock... Mm-hmm?

He's still breathing.

Oh my God!

What do we do?

Give me your scarf.

What?

Quickly, now!

Call an ambulance!

What?!

Call an ambulance, now!

Do it!

Nurse, press here, hard.

"Nurse"?

Yeah, I'm making do.

Keep pressure on that wound.

Stephen, Stephen, stay with me.

Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty.

He'd stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong.

He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon.

Where did it go?

Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this, a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish.

But in all of this, there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable.

Would anyone like to make a guess?

Come on, come on, there is actually an element of Q and A to all of this.

(clears throat) Scotland Yard, have you got a theory?

Yeah, you, you're a detective, broadly speaking.

Got a theory?

Um... if the... if the blade was propelled through the, um... Grating in the air vent, maybe a ballista or a catapult, somebody tiny could crawl in there.

So yeah, we're looking for a dwarf.

Brilliant.

Really?

No.

Next?

(whispering): He stabbed himself.

SHERLOCK: Hello, who was that?

Tom?

(chair scrapes floor loudly) Got a theory?

Attempted suicide, with a blade made of compacted blood and bone.

Broke after piercing his abdomen, like a meat dagger.

A meat dagger?

Yes.

(whispering): Sit down.

No.

There was one feature, and only one feature of interest, in the whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual.

John Watson.

Who, while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life.

There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth telling.

The best and bravest man I know, and on top of that he actually knows how to do stuff.

(chuckles) Except wedding planning and serviettes, he's rubbish at those.

The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly planned murder, or attempted murder, I've ever had the pleasure to encounter.

The most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware.

However, I'm not just here to praise John, I'm also here to embarrass him, so let's move on to... No, wait, how was it done?

How was what done?

The stabbing.

I'm afraid I don't know.

I didn't solve that one.

It can happen sometimes.

It's very, very disappointing.

Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night.

Of course there's hours of material here, but I've cut it down to the really good bits.

Murder scenes?

Locations of murders?

Hmm, pub crawl, themed.

Yeah, but why can't you just do underground stations?

It lacks the personal touch.

We're going to go for a drink in every street where we...

In every street where you've found a corpse.

Delightful.

Where do I come in?

Don't want to get ill. That would ruin it, spoil the mood.

You're a graduate chemist, can't you just work it out?

I lack the practical experience.

Meaning you think I like a drink?

Occasionally.

That I'm a drunk.

No.

No.

You look... well.

I am.

How's... Tom?

Not a sociopath.

Still?

Good.

And we're having quite a lot of sex.

Okay.

I want you to calculate John's ideal intake, and mine, to remain in the sweet spot for the whole evening.

Light-headed: good.

Urinating in wardrobes: bad.

Hmm.

Two beers, please.

Pints?

443.7 milliliters.

Ah.

(sighs) What, are we on a schedule?

You'll thank me.

Cheers.

Cheers.

Over there.

What?

Toilets, any second now you're going to need...

Hang on, tell me after, I need the loo.

Hmm, on schedule.

Eh?

Nothing.

Go.

How long?

Sorry?

Your visit.

Estimate approximate volume discharge... Stop talking now.

Oh, quick, one more.

He mustn't see.

There you go.

Cheers.

I know ash!

Don't tell me I don't!

All right, enough!

Stand up.

Ash.

I know ash.

SHERLOCK: I have an international reputation.

Do you have an international reputation?

No, I don't have an international reputation.

No.

And I can't even remember what for.

It's crime... something or other.

Oh, what are you doing back?

I thought you were going to be out late.

Ah, Hudders.

What time is it?

You've only been out two hours.

Am I a vegetable?

You or the... thing?

(blows a raspberry) Funny!

Thank you.

Come on.

No, you're not a vegetable.

It's your go.

Am I human?

Sometimes.

Can't have sometimes.

It has to be, um...

Yes, you're human.

Yes, I know, okay, and am I a man?

Yep.

Tall?

Not as tall as people think.

Hmm.

Nice?

Ish.

Clever?

I would say so.

You would.

Hmm, am I important?

To some people.

Do people like me?

Er, no, they don't.

You tend to rub them up the wrong way.

Okay.

(chuckles) Am I the current King of England?

(laughs) You know we don't have a king.

Don't we?

No.

Your go.

I don't mind.

Am I a woman?

(laughing) What?

Yes.

Am I pretty?

This?

Beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences and role models.

Yeah, but am I a pretty lady?

I don't know who you are.

I don't know who you're supposed to be.

You picked the name!

But I picked it at random from the papers.

You're not really getting the hang of this game, are you Sherlock?

So I am human, I'm not as tall as people think I am.

I'm nice-ish, clever, important to some people, but I tend to rub them up the wrong way.

Got it.

Go on then.

I'm you, aren't I?

(knock at door) Client.

JOHN: Hello.

Hello.

Come on.

Which one of you is Sherlock Holmes?

(whistles) I don't a lot, I mean I don't date all that much.

He seemed nice, you know.

We seemed to automatically connect.

We had one night, dinner, such interesting conversation.

It was lovely.

To be honest, I'd love to have gone further, but I thought, no, this is special, let's take it slowly.

Exchanged numbers.

He said he'd get in touch and then... Maybe he wasn't quite as keen as I was, but I, I just thought at least he'd call to say that we were finished.

(sniffles) I went round there, to his flat, no trace of him.

Mr. Holmes, I honestly think I had dinner with a ghost.

Mr. Holmes?

(lightly snoring) With a ghost, Mr. Holmes!

Boring, boring, boring.

No, fascinating.

John, John, wake up.

I apologize about my, you know, him.

(clears throat) Rude, rude.

I checked with the landlord and the man who lived there died.

Heart attack.

And there we are having dinner one week on.

And I found this thing online, a sort of chatroom thing, for girls who think they're dating men from the spirit world.

Don't worry, I'll find him in ten minutes.

What's your dog's name?

Yeah, I'm there if you want it... John, wake up.

Went to... (snaps fingers) The game is... something.

On?

(gasps) Yeah, that, that.

CLIENT: Okay.

Oh, it's nice.

Nice place.

See anything?

Hmm?

Any clues, Mr. Holmes?

Oh, uh...

I'm just going to whip this out.

You all right?

Hmm?

Yeah, he's clueing.

What?

He's, hmm?

He's clueing for looks.

Mr. Holmes?

(snoring) Mr. Holmes!

I'm calling the police.

Oh, no... Whoa, whoa, whoa!

This is a famous detective.

It's Sherlock Holmes and his partner, John Hamish Watson.

What do you think you're doing?

Don't compromise the integrity of the... (vomiting) Crime scene!

(breathless): Yeah, that.

(crunching) (gate opens loudly) LESTRADE: Wakey, wakey!

Oh, my God!

Greg, is that Greg?

Get up.

I'm going to put you two in a taxi.

I managed to square things with the desk sergeant.

(chuckles) What a couple of lightweights.

You couldn't even make it to closing time!

Can you whisper?

(shouting): Not really!

Come on.

Well, thanks for a... you know, an evening.

It was awful.

Yeah.

I was going to pretend, but it was, truly.

That woman, Tessa... What?

Dated a ghost, most interesting case for months.

What a wasted opportunity!

Okay.

MRS. HUDSON: How are you feeling?

Hmm.

It's just like old times, having you back here.

I thought I'd make your favorite, one last time.

Don't sound so final about it.

I will be visiting you know.

Ooh, I've heard that one before.

No, it's different now though, isn't it?

It's different to when we thought we'd lost him.

Well, marriage changes everything, John.

Does it?

Yeah.

You might not think it, but it does.

It's a different phase in your life.

You meet knew people, because you're a couple, and then you just let your old friends slip away.

It won't be like that.

Well, if you've found the right one, the person that you click with, it's the best thing in the world.

Well, I have.

I know I have.

Oh, I'm sure.

She's lovely.

Yeah, I think so.

What about you?

Me?

Did you think you'd found the right one when you married Mr. Hudson?

No.

It was just a whirlwind thing for us.

I knew it wouldn't work, but I just got sort of swept along.

And then we moved to Florida.

We had a fantastic time, but of course I didn't know what he was up to.

(whispering): The drugs.

Drugs?!

He was running, um, oh, what do you call it?

A cartel.

And got in with a really bad crowd.

Right.

And then I found out about all the other women.

I didn't have a clue.

So, when he was actually arrested for blowing someone's head off, it was quite a relief, to be honest.

Right.

It was purely physical between me and Frank.

We couldn't keep our hands off each other.

I know, there was one night... Oh, is that Sherlock?

Is it?

That's Sherlock.

(footsteps approaching) SHERLOCK: There are going to be others.

Others?

Victims, women.

Most ghosts tend to haunt a single house.

This ghost, however, is willing to commute.

Look.

Hmm, not you.

Not you.

Not you.

Not you.

Not you.

Not you.

Not you.

Not you.

Not you.

Not you.

Not you, not you, not you, not you.

Not you, not you, not you, not you, not you, not you, not you, not you.

Not you, you, you or you or you.

Or not you, not you, not you... Not you.

Not you.

Hi.

Gail.

Charlotte.

Robyn.

Vicky.

How did you meet?

Came up to me in a pub.

Same gym as me.

We just got chatting on the bus.

Online.

Name?

Told you.

His name.

Oscar.

Mike.

Terry.

Um, Love Monkey.

Your place?

ALL: His place.

Address?

(all saying different addresses) Nothing happened.

It was just very romantic.

Four women in four nights.

He must have something special.

He was very charming.

He listened.

He was sweet.

He had a lovely... You okay?

You've let your food go cold.

Mrs. Hudson will play hell.

Not now, John.

Sorry about that.

He had a lovely manner.

Different names, different addresses.

Describe him.

Short blond hair.

Dark hair.

Long.

Ginger.

I like gingers.

Couldn't tell.

He had a mask on.

He's stealing the identity of corpses, getting their names from the obituary columns.

All single men.

He's using the dead man's flat under the assumption it will be empty for a while.

Free love nest.

I feel sick.

It's gruesome.

That's awful.

Clever.

Bastard!

(computer beeps) Hello, Tessa.

Meanwhile, back to business.

No one wants to use a dead man's home.

At least not until it's been cleared.

So he disguises himself, steals the man's home, steals his identity.

But only for one night.

Then he's gone.

He's not a ghost, John.

He's a mayfly.

He lives for a day.

So, what was it he was looking for?

Job?

Gardener.

Cook.

Private nurse.

I do security work.

Maid.

Obvious.

You all worked for the same person.

No, no, not the same employer.

Damn!

Come on, we can do this.

Ideal night out?

Clay pigeon shooting.

Line dancing.

Pictures.

Wine in front of the telly.

Dungeon.

Make-up?

Clarins.

No.

7.

Maybelline.

Nothing special.

Whatever's cheap.

Perfume?

Chanel.

Chanel.

Chanel.

Chanel.

Estée Lauder.

Ideal man?

George Clooney.

Oh... Home-loving.

He'd have to like cuddling.

Caring.

Ten things.

1) Someone who isn't competitive with other men.

2) Someone who isn't constantly trying to define himself by his masculinity...

There's a unifying factor, there has to be.

None of you reported anything stolen.

Security guard, gardener, cook, maid, private nurse.

He's romancing his way up a pecking order.

Somebody's pecking order.

Come on, think.

Unless... Do you have a secret you've never told anyone?

ALL: No.

Gotcha!

What do you mean?

Everyone has secrets and they all replied too quickly.

Got to go.

See you.

No... Bye-bye.

Wait!

Sorry, sexy, some secrets have to stay secret.

Enjoy the wedding.

Yeah.

Why?

Why would he date all of those women and not return their calls?

You're missing the obvious, mate.

Am I?

He's a man.

But why would he change his identity?

Maybe he's married.

Oh... Married.

Obvious, really.

Our Mayfly Man was trying to escape the suffocating chains of domesticity and instead of endless nights in watching the telly or going to barbecues with awful, dreadful, boring people he couldn't stand, he used his wits, cleverness and powers of disguise to play the field.

He was... On second thoughts, I probably should have told you about the elephant in the room.

However, it does help to further illustrate how invaluable John is to me.

I can read a crime scene the way he can understand a human being.

I used to think that's what made me special.

Quite frankly I still do.

But a word to the wise, should any of you require the services of either of us, I will solve your murder, but it takes John Watson to save your life.

Trust me on that, I should know, he's saved mine so many times and in so many ways.

This blog is the story of two men and their, frankly, ridiculous adventures.

Of murder, mystery and mayhem.

But from now on, there's a new story.

A bigger adventure.

Ladies and gentlemen, pray charge your glasses and be upstanding.

Today begin the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson.

The two reasons why every single one of us is... What did you say?

You said "John Hamish Watson."

You said that.

You said "Hamish."

This is a famous detective, it's Sherlock Holmes and his partner, John Hamish Watson.

How did you know?

How did you know his middle name?

He never tells anyone; he hates it.

John "H" Watson?

Yep.

Henry?

Shut up.

Humphrey?

Shut up.

(shower running) Higgins?

Go away!

It took him years to confide in me.

(sighs) That's my birth certificate.

Yep.

And the woman, she knew.

Hamish.

John Hamish Watson, just if you were looking for baby names.

God knows where she is.

(sighs) Out of my head.

I am busy.

There's only one time that name's been made public.

JOHN: Does it have to be on the invitation?

MARY: It's your name.

It's traditional.

It's funny.

TESSA: Enjoy the wedding...

Enjoy the wedding.

The wedding.

You knew about the wedding.

More importantly, you'd seen a wedding invitation.

Now barely 100 people had seen that invitation.

The Mayfly Man only saw five women.

For one person to be in both groups could be a coincidence.

MYCROFT: Oh, Sherlock!

What do we say about coincidences?

The universe is rarely so lazy.

So, the balance of probability is?

Someone went to great lengths to find out something about this wedding.

What great lengths?

They lied.

Assumed false identities.

Which suggests?

Criminal intent.

Also suggests?

Intelligence, planning.

Clearly.

But more importantly?

The Mayfly Man.

The Mayfly Man is... ...here today!

Oh, sorry.

I... Another glass, sir?

Thank you, yes, thank you.

Yes.

Something is going to happen, right here.

Now, where were we?

Could be any second.

You have control of the room.

Ah, yes.

Raising glasses and standing up.

Very good.

Thank you.

Don't lose it.

And down again.

(guests murmuring) Ladies and gentlemen, people tell you not to milk a good speech.

Get off early, leave 'em laughing.

Wise advice I'll certainly try to bear in mind, but for now, part two.

Part two is more action-based.

I'm going to walk around, shake things up a bit.

Who'd go to a wedding?

That's the question.

Who would bother to go to any lengths to get themselves to a wedding?

Well, everyone.

Weddings are great, love a wedding.

What's he doing?

Something's wrong.

And John's great too.

Haven't said that enough, barely scratched the surface.

I could go on all night about the depth and complexity of his jumpers, and he can cook.

Does... a thing, a thing with peas.

Once.

Might not be peas, might not be him.

But he's got a great singing voice or somebody does.

Too many, too many, too many, too many!

Sorry, too many jokes about John.

Now... Criminal intent.

Where was I?

Ah, yes.

Extraordinary lengths.

Speech.

Speech.

Let's talk about... All of which is suggestive of...

Murder!

Sorry, did I say murder?

I meant to say marriage.

But, you know, they're quite similar procedures, when you think about it.

The participants tend to know each other and it's over when one of them's dead.

In fairness, murder is a lot quicker though.

Janine, what about this one?

Acceptably hot?

More importantly, his girlfriend's wearing brand new uncomfortable underwear and hasn't bothered to pick this thread off the top of his jacket or point out the grease smudge on the back of his neck.

Currently he's going home alone.

Also he's a comics and sci-fi geek.

They're always tremendously grateful, really put the hours in.

Jeff, the gents.

Loos now, please.

Greg.

The loos, please.

(phone beeps) Why?

Oh, I don't know, maybe it's your turn.

Yeah, actually, now you mention it.

JOHN: Sherlock, any chance of an end date for this speech?

Got to cut the cake.

Oh, ladies and gentlemen, can't stand it when I finally get the chance to speak for once-- Vatican cameos.

What did he say?

What's that mean?

Battle stations, someone's going to die.

What?!

Narrow it down.

Narrow it down.

Narrow it down!

(screams) No, no!

Not you!

Not you!

You.

It's always you.

John Watson, you keep me right.

What do I do?

No, you've already done it.

Don't solve the murder.

Save the life.

Sorry, off piste a bit.

Back now.

Phew!

Let's play a game.

Let's play murder.

MRS. HUDSON: Sherlock!

Imagine someone is going to get murdered at a wedding.

Who exactly would you pick?

I think you're a popular choice at the moment, dear.

If someone could move Mrs. Hudson's glass just slightly out of reach, that would be lovely.

More importantly, who could you only kill at a wedding?

Most people you can kill any old place.

As a mental exercise, I've often planned the murder of friends and colleagues.

Now John, I'd poison.

Sloppy eater, dead easy.

I've given him chemicals and compounds, that way he's never even noticed.

He missed a whole Wednesday once, didn't have a clue.

Lestrade's so easy to kill it's a miracle no one's succumbed to the temptation.

I've got a pair of keys to my brother's house.

I could easily break in there and asphyxiate him, if the whim arose.

He's pissed, isn't he?

Ow!

So, once again, who could you only kill here?

Clearly it's a rare opportunity, so it's someone who doesn't get out much.

Someone for whom a planned social encounter, known about months in advance, is an exception.

Has to be a unique opportunity.

And since killing someone in public is difficult, killing them in private isn't an option.

Someone who lives in an inaccessible or unknown location, then.

Someone private, perhaps, obsessed with personal security, possibly someone under threat.

Major James Sholto, who he?

Well, I don't think he's coming.

He'll be there.

Where are you living these days?

Oh, way out in the middle of nowhere.

The press and the families gave him hell.

He gets more death threats than you.

A recluse?

Small household staff.

Job?

Gardener.

Cook.

Private nurse.

Maid.

High turnover for additional security.

I do security work.

Probably all signed confidentiality agreements.

Do you have a secret you've never told anyone?

ALL: No.

There is another question that remains, however, rather a big one, a huge one: how would you do it?

How do you kill someone in public?

There has to be a way.

This has been planned.

Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes!

Oh, hello again, Archie, what's your theory?

Get this right and there's a headless nun in it for you.

The invisible man could do it.

The who, the what, the why, the when, the where?

The invisible man with the invisible knife.

The one who tried to kill the Guardsman.

(gasps) Bainbridge?

Bainbridge?

Oh, not just planned, planned and rehearsed.

Ladies and gentlemen, there will now be a short interlude.

The bride and groom!

ALL: The bride and groom.

Major Sholto's going to be murdered.

I don't know how or by whom, but it's going to happen.

Excuse me, coming through.

Consulting.

Stay here.

Please be careful.

Excuse me.

Coming through.

Excuse me.

I'm sorry, one more.

Oops.

I'm so sorry.

Thank you.

(guests murmuring) How can you not remember which room?

You remember everything!

I have to delete something!

207!

Major Sholto?

Major Sholto!

Major Sholto!

If someone's about to make an attempt on my life, it won't be the first time.

I'm ready.

Major, let us in.

Kick the door down.

I really wouldn't.

I have a gun in my hand and a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes.

You're not safe in there.

Whoever's after you, we know that a locked room doesn't stop him.

The invisible man with the invisible knife.

I don't know how he does it, so I can't stop him and that means he'll do it again!

Solve it, then.

I'm sorry?

You're the famous Mr. Holmes.

Solve the case, on you go.

Tell me how he did it and I'll open the door.

Please, this is no time for games, just let us in, you're in danger!

So are you, so long as you're here.

Please, leave me.

Despite my reputation, I really don't approve of collateral damage.

Solve it.

Sorry?

Solve it and he'll open the door, like he said.

I couldn't solve it before, how can I solve it now?

Because it matters now.

What are you talking about?

Get your wife under control!

She's right.

Oh, you've changed!

No, she is.

Shut up!

You are not a puzzle solver, you never have been.

You're a drama queen!

Now there is a man in there about to die, "the game is on," solve it!

Bainbridge?

Bainbridge?!

Though in fairness, he's a drama queen too.

Yeah, I know.

Major Sholto, no one's coming to kill you.

I'm afraid you've already been killed several hours ago.

What did you say?

Don't take off your belt.

My belt?

His belt, yes.

Bainbridge was stabbed hours before we even saw him, but it was through his belt.

Tight belt, worn high on the waist.

Very easy to push a small blade through the fabric and you wouldn't even feel it.

The belt would bind the flesh together when it was tied tight.

Exactly.

But when you took it off...

Delayed action stabbing.

All the time in the world to create an alibi.

Major Sholto?

So...

I was to be killed by my uniform.

How appropriate.

MARY: He solved the case, Major.

You're supposed to open the door now.

A deal is a deal.

I'm not even supposed to have this anymore, they gave me special dispensation to keep it.

I couldn't imagine life out of this uniform.

I suppose, given the circumstances, I don't have to.

When so many want you dead, it hardly seems good manners to argue.

JOHN: Whatever you're doing in there, James, stop it, right now!

I will kick this door down!

Mr. Holmes, you and I are similar, I think.

Yes, I think we are.

There's a proper time to die, isn't there?

Of course there is.

And one should embrace it when it comes.

Like a soldier.

Of course one should, but not at John's wedding!

We wouldn't do that, would we?

You and me, we would never do that to John Watson.

I'm going to break it down.

Wait, wait, wait, you won't have to.

Hmm?

(door opens) I believe I am in need of medical attention.

I believe I am your doctor.

♪ ♪ There.

There and pretty good.

Just hold your nerve on your turning.

Why do we have to rehearse?

Because we are about to dance together in public, and your skills are appalling.

(laughs) Wow, you're a good teacher.

Hmm.

And you're a brilliant dancer.

Can I let you in on something, Janine?

Go on then.

I love dancing.

I've always loved it.

Seriously?

Watch out.

Oh!

Never really comes up in crime work, but you know, I live in hope of the right case.

Oh, I wish you weren't... whatever it is you are.

I know.

Well, glad to see you've pulled, Sherlock, what with murderers running riot at my wedding.

One murderer.

One nearly murderer.

Loves to exaggerate.

You should try living with him.

Sherlock.

Got him for you.

Ah, the photographer, excellent.

Thank you.

May I have a look at your camera?

What's this about?

I was halfway home.

You should have driven faster.

Ah, yes, yes, very good.

Now you see, perfect.

What is?

Are you going to tell us?

Try looking yourself.

JOHN: Look for what?

Is the murderer in these photographs?

It's not what's in the photographers, it's what's not in them.

Not in any of them.

Sherlock?

The showing off thing, we've discussed it before.

There is always a man at a wedding who is not in any photograph, who can go anywhere.

And even carry an equipment bag around with him if he likes.

And you never even see his face.

You only ever see...

The camera.

What are you doing?

What is this?

Jonathan Small, today's substitute wedding photographer, known to us as the Mayfly Man.

His brother was one of the raw recruits killed in that incursion.

Johnny sought revenge on Sholto, worked his way through Sholto's staff, found what he needed.

An invitation to a wedding.

The one time Sholto would have to be out in public.

So he made his plan and rehearsed the murder, making sure of every last detail.

Brilliant, ruthless and almost certainly a monomaniac.

Though, in fairness, his photographs are actually quite good.

Everything you need is on that.

You probably ought to arrest him or something.

Do you always carry handcuffs?

Down girl.

Come on, quick.

It's not me you should be arresting, Mr. Holmes.

Oh, I don't do the arresting, I just farm that out.

Sholto, he's the killer, not me.

I should have killed him quicker.

I shouldn't have tried to be clever.

You should have driven faster.

Right.

(solo violin playing waltz) (gasping): Really?

(both laughing) (cheers and applause) Ladies and gentlemen, just one last thing before the evening begins properly.

Apologies for earlier.

A crisis arose and was dealt with.

More importantly, however, today we saw two people make vows.

I've never made a vow in my life and after tonight I never will again.

So, here in front of you all, my first and last vow.

Mary and John, whatever it takes, whatever happens, from now on, I swear I will always be there.

Always, for all three of you.

I'm sorry, I mean, I mean two of you.

All two of you.

Both of you in fact.

I just miscounted.

Anyway, it's time for dancing.

Play the music again, please, thank you.

Okay, everybody, just dance, don't be shy.

Dancing, please.

Very good.

Sorry, that was one more deduction than I was really expecting.

Deduction?

Increased appetite...

I'm starving.

Change of taste perception.

Oh, I chose this wine, but it's bloody awful!

You were sick this morning.

You assumed it was just wedding nerves.

You got angry with me when I mentioned it to you.

All the signs are there.

The signs?

The signs of three.

What?

Mary, I think you should do a pregnancy test.

Well, the statistics for the first trimester are...

Shut up!

Just shut up.

Sorry.

How did he notice before me?

I'm a bloody doctor.

It's your day off.

It's your day off.

Stop panicking.

I'm not panicking.

I'm pregnant, I'm panicking!

Don't panic.

None of you panic.

Absolutely no reason to panic.

Oh, and you'd know, of course!

Yes, I would.

You're already the best parents in the world.

Look at all the practice you've had.

What practice?

Well, you're hardly going to need me around now that you've got a real baby on the way.

(laughing) Are you all right?

Yes.

Dance.

Hmm?

Both of you now, go, dance.

We can't just stand here.

People will wonder what we're talking about.

Right.

Well, what about you?

Yeah, we can't all three dance, there are limits.

Yes, there are.

(clears throat) Come on, husband, let's go.

This isn't a waltz, is it?

No.

Don't worry, Mary, I have been tutoring him.

He did, you know, Baker Street, behind closed curtains.

Mrs. Hudson came in one time.

I don't know how those rumors started.

(laughs) ♪ And I felt a rush like a rolling bolt of thunder ♪ ♪ Spinning my head around and taking my body under ♪ ♪ Oh, what a night ♪ (guests drunkenly singing along) ♪ Oh, what a night ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ Oh, I ♪ ♪ Got a funny feeling when she walked in the room ♪ ♪ Hey, my ♪ ♪ As I recall, it ended much too soon ♪ ♪ Oh, what a night ♪ ♪ Why'd it take so long to see the light?

♪ ♪ Seemed so wrong, but now it seems so right ♪ ♪ What a lady, what a night ♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ Oh, I felt a rush like a rolling bolt of thunder ♪ ♪ Spinning my head around and taking my body under ♪ ♪ Oh, what a night ♪ ♪ Oh, what a night ♪ ♪ Oh, what a night... ♪ (softly): Finally!

He is the Napoleon of blackmail.

He knows the critical pressure point on every person of influence.

We need Sherlock Holmes.

The odds are comprehensively stacked against us.

(whispers): Solve me a crime, Sherlock Holmes.

♪ ♪ ♪ ♪ ANNOUNCER: Visit our website for videos, newsletters, podcasts, and more.

And join us on social media.

To order this program, visit ShopPBS.

"Masterpiece" is available with PBS Passport and on Amazon Prime Video.

♪ ♪