The egg was your innovation, I take it.
Best way to confirm the pate's been struck.
No disputes in the absence of judges.
Beautiful city, New York.
It's no London, though, is it?
- It's the American London. - Still, you must miss it.
I miss nothing.
Pates being the obvious exception.
May I assume we're still on for this evening?
Diogenes, my restaurant. Dinner.
You were a no-show at the opening.
Yes, I had a choice to make, didn't I?
Find the abductor of a young girl,
or choke down cuisine in a room full of gits.
I leave in a few days. You've been putting this off for a week.
Diogenes is my creation, Sherlock. I'm proud of it.
You're my brother.
Here was me thinking we could satisfy your itch for fraternal bonding
using the age-old tradition of two siblings hitting each other.
It'd mean a lot to me.
Very well.
In the meantime...
What's today's word?
- "Borborygmus." - What's that mean?
"The sound of your stomach grumbling."
Borborygmus.
Some words we just don't need. Heh.
- Did you hear that? - What?
I don't know. I guess it was nothing.
Lady saw the body on the roof from an office window, called it in.
Radio car pulled the driver over.
Looks like she was stabbed before she fell, just below the ribs.
Yeah, kind of rules out suicide.
Somebody came at her with a knife, and then she went airborne.
- Do we know who she is? - Well, no ID.
No clue when she hit the truck. Only thing the driver could say
is she wasn't there when he started this morning.
So unless a missing persons call comes in matching her description,
I'm looking at canvassing every stop he's made today.
Huh.
Good news, detective.
I might be able to narrow your search.
Would you mind asking the driver to join us for a moment?
Sir?
Would I be correct in assuming that these numbers
are used to organize the parcels as they're loaded for delivery?
Yeah. Loading sets me up in the morning
with everything in delivery order.
Every stop, I find the delivery by checking the numbers on the shelf.
Excellent. You should have no trouble in telling us where you were
when you delivered the box which sat here.
Sure. But why?
If you just do as he asks, please.
When our Jane Doe hit the roof,
the impact dislodged paint chips
from the ceiling, which, as you can see,
are currently dispersed around the shelves and floor.
But notice said paint chips abruptly stop partway along this shelf.
These spaces,
the chips hit boxes which were here at the moment of impact.
Boxes which our accommodating, but unobservant, driver has since delivered.
So we need simply identify the delivery
immediately preceding the point where the chips cease...
And we'll know the truck's location when the body fell.
Closer than when we started.
Guess I'll start ringing doorbells.
I think we should start there,
the third balcony up.
All the apartments have the same trees on their terrace
except for that one.
Maybe it got knocked over when she fell.
Well done, Watson.
Well, the stabbing happened here, obviously.
Miss Doe stumbled backwards and over the balcony.
The super doesn't know the girl's name.
Said people pay for their privacy here.
No cameras, no doorman, no questions.
He gave me the management company's contact info.
Thought maybe they could tell us.
You were up early this morning.
You assume that I slept.
I heard you and Mycroft up on the roof.
I was worried he might wake you.
The man may have lost a few pounds,
but he has all the grace of a drunken mastodon.
Well, I think it's nice,
the two of you getting to know each other again.
Her name was Haley Tyler.
- She was 26. - I take it
the address on Miss Tyler's driver's license is not this apartment.
Yep, you're right. "Mineral Wells, Texas."
Two pairs of designer shoes, barely used.
One older pair of the bargain basement variety.
The wear on all three, however,
indicates an identical supination of the left heel, ruling out multiple owners.
There are newer clothes
bought at high-end boutiques hanging in the closet.
The older, more homey attire, is stuffed into her luggage.
Miss Tyler was new to the big city.
She was accustomed to far less affluent means.
It's unlikely she could have afforded this little bauble herself.
I humbly submit, she was a kept woman.
Uh-huh. If you're right, you're not gonna believe who's keeping her.
That phone you get along with better than most people,
the guy who owns this apartment invented it,
along with half the computers in the country.
LAN Gale.
I just read his autobiography last year.
- Impressive man. - Are you kidding me?
He is an icon.
I'm sure he puts his ear buds in one at a time, just like the rest of us.
Detective Bell?
That's right.
You're not LAN Gale.
No. I'm Alan Becker, Mr. Gale's lawyer.
Someone with a badge shows up looking for Mr. Gale, you get me.
Yes, I am aware who Miss Tyler is.
Was.
If you'd like, my office can assist in contacting next of kin.
Thanks, but we've reached out to her mom.
She's on her way to New York as we speak.
I'm not at liberty
to discuss the nature of Mr. Gale's relationship with Miss Tyler,
but I'm sure I can speak for LAN and all of Galeforce
in expressing our shock and sadness at this horrible news.
We'd like to hear Mr. Gale express his shock and sadness himself.
We already have a good sense of the nature of the relationship.
What we would like to ask Mr. Gale is how the relationship ended.
Lover's quarrel? Did Miss Tyler threaten to go public? Tell his wife?
Was she no longer satisfied being the other woman?
Mr. Gale is unavailable.
And I can assure you, he had nothing to do with her death.
How would you know that without asking him?
He's in Kuala Lumpur.
He has been for over a month.
Here.
This was recorded about 12 hours ago by a local Malaysian news channel.
He's there overseeing the plans for the new chip assembly plant.
Should I bother asking how long a flight is
from New York to Kuala Lumpur?
It's about a day.
Well, that is quite a compelling alibi.
Except the man in that video is not LAN Gale.
- Excuse me? - You've hired a stand-in, a look-alike.
Politicians and tyrants have been doing it
for as long as there have been cameras,
so why shouldn't CEOs join the club?
A search for the make and year of the SUV in that video
yields a vehicle height of precisely 6-foot-4 inches.
The man who climbed into it was 5 inches shorter than the roof.
The real LAN Gale is an impressive 6-foot-1.
It's a magnificent device.
I would thank Mr. Gale himself if he were here, but he's not.
Since he's not, why don't you tell us?
Did he murder Haley Tyler himself,
or did the company hire someone to do that for him too?
This meeting is over.
Hello?
Good morning, Joan. It's Mycroft.
Did I wake you?
Um, a little.
Is everything okay?
The reason I'm calling so early is, I was wondering,
is everything okay with Sherlock?
Why do you ask?
He was supposed to meet me here at the restaurant last night.
He never showed. I've tried his cell a few times, no answer.
- I was just a bit concerned. - We were up pretty late
trying to locate a missing billionaire. He was still at it when I went to bed.
Did you know this is the third time he's stood me up?
Have you met your brother?
Well, this is my last available night before I go, so if you wouldn't mind...
I will make sure he is there.
- Good morning. - Yup.
Oh. I take it the search for LAN Gale is still on?
- Any progress? - Of a sort.
Establishment of facts, elimination of places he is not.
He has not, for example, been seen at his office
or any of his known residences for perhaps as long as six weeks.
I also reviewed other ostensible public appearances of his
during his trip abroad,
and I have confirmed it was the stand-in every time.
Whatever events precipitated Miss Tyler's death,
it seems LAN Gale and his company have been preparing for some time.
I still don't get it.
Why would one of the biggest corporations on the planet
help its CEO commit and cover up a murder?
Well, I'd wager that the answer will ultimately boil down to money.
I've found cause for optimism that Gale might still be in New York.
His private jet came straight back here
after depositing the imposter in Malaysia.
Hasn't been used since.
I put out feelers to some of my contacts in New York's finest hotels.
I've also advised the police to surveil
the homes of some of his closest friends.
Any luck, we'll be able to pose those questions to the man himself.
You didn't tell me that you were supposed to have dinner with Mycroft.
Was I supposed to?
He called me this morning. He was worried. He wants to try again tonight.
If we manage to bring Haley Tyler's killer to justice today,
then I'll be more than happy to accommodate him.
And if we don't, just try and remember that you have a partner now.
So I can still work the case while you have dinner, right?
Unfortunately, the balancing act which you prescribe
may prove unnecessary.
It seems that finding LAN Gale may not be as challenging as I thought.
The entire floor of this hotel has been booked solid for the past month
under the name Frank Beaufort.
It's a rather sloppy alias, if you ask me.
Sir Francis Beaufort was a 19th century Irish naval officer
who devised the system by which we measure wind speeds at sea.
- Including gale force. - Hm.
Unless I'm off my mark,
Mr. Gale has reserved the floor to himself to avoid prying eyes.
And what makes you think he's just gonna open his door for us?
One keycard to access every room on the aforementioned floor,
courtesy of my contact here.
Do I even wanna know?
He's a chef in the hotel restaurant.
He has rather exotic tastes.
The package contains half a pound of Swedish moose cheese,
one of the rarest and most expensive cheeses in the world,
produced only three times a year
by a single farm in the county of Vasterbotten.
I did the owners a favor once, and they keep me in fresh supply.
This is one of those "so many questions" moments.
Why only three times a year?
Well, I'm not sure. Having never milked a moose,
I imagine one must catch it in the right mood.
I don't know how you got up here, but this is a private floor.
Yeah, it's a bit too private actually.
Sherlock Holmes. Joan Watson. We're consulting detectives.
Hotel security asked us to come upstairs, have a look around.
Hotel security did not send you.
Thank you for confirming that you are not them.
You're in the private employ of LAN Gale or his company, are you not?
You might not know this, so I consider it only fair to inform you
that you're protecting a suspected murderer.
If you continue to protect him by the time the police arrive,
You will be charged with obstruction.
- You say your name was Holmes? - I did.
Mr. Holmes, Miss Watson, come in.
This is my wife, Natalie.
My attorneys made me aware of your
inquiries.
You've got it all wrong.
I'm not hiding because I committed some crime.
I'm hiding because I'm
under the weather.
This is why your company sent a decoy to Malaysia.
Word of your condition would cause shareholder panic.
Stocks would plummet.
The board needed time to prepare a transition.
And your relationship to Haley Tyler?
Also not what you think.
She wasn't my mistress.
She was my daughter.
You're saying you're in need of a heart transplant?
He's saying he already had one a month ago,
but his body is rejecting the new heart.
According to this, everything was going fine for a couple of weeks,
and then the anti-rejection drugs stopped working.
He's on corticosteroids, cyclosporine,
but his body is producing too many antibodies.
There's only so much the drugs can do.
In layman's terms, I'm, uh...
I'm too much of a fighter for my own good.
He is on every donor list.
But there is no guarantee that another heart will become available in time.
You also have Kell-null blood. That is very rare.
You would've needed a directed donor for blood transfusions.
That's why your daughter came in from Texas,
she had the same blood type?
I read your autobiography last night.
In it, you fail to mention that you have a daughter.
May I assume it was because she is the result of an indiscretion?
One-night stand.
Years before I met Natalie.
I was a bit full of myself back then.
It was the mid-'80s.
Computers were
changing the world, and my face was on the cover of every mag...
Every magazine.
You were worried that an illegitimate child might affect your "legacy."
I paid her mother 2 million dollars to disappear.
So fast-forward to several months ago.
You find out that you need a blood donor,
and you realize that your estranged daughter
may well be a likely match,
so it suddenly becomes expedient to reconcile.
Haley volunteered to donate the blood.
That's the reason she came to New York.
I'm confused.
How did she find out he's in need
if you're working so hard to keep this a secret? Hm?
At what point did she even find out that LAN Gale is her father?
When LAN found out that he needed a transplant,
he wanted to make up for the past.
So he wanted to bring Haley back into his life
to have a relationship with her, in case...
In case it was my last chance.
When we heard what had happened yesterday, we knew we should...
We should have said something.
Admitting your connection to Haley would mean revealing your condition.
I'm ashamed. But now,
I don't care how it affects the company.
I'll give you any help you want.
Just find the person that killed my daughter.
Well, thanks to you two, the Gales are cooperating fully.
They got any and all of their people that were in Haley Tyler's apartment
the last few days to provide elimination prints.
Any of the prints remain unspoken for?
So far, just one set, and it isn't in our system either.
We got the feds checking their database,
but it might take a while to get some answers.
Well, the killer's probably gonna turn out to be
someone that Haley knew, right? There were no signs of a break-in.
I'll let you know if anything turns up.
Ah. Dr. Hawes from the morgue.
I asked him to notify us when he finished examining Haley Tyler.
He says there's nothing out of the ordinary,
but might as well see for ourselves.
- You wanna go to the morgue? - Is that a problem?
You're supposed to meet Mycroft at Diogenes.
- I'm working. - So take a break.
- A break? - It's the last night he can do it.
- He may not be back for a while. - We should be so lucky.
Just go, okay? I will go to the morgue. I will call you if I find anything.
Partner, remember? I can cover for you.
You must by now be aware of my opinions regarding food.
A loaf of bread and a clean collar.
The ritualization-slash-fetishization of eating
is as egregious a waste of time as I can think of.
Well, I'll try and remember that while I'm enjoying my dinner.
I see here that you ruled the stab wound
as the official cause of death.
The knife severed the abdominal aorta.
She'd have bled to death internally in a matter of seconds,
whether she fell from the terrace or not.
Mm. So Sherlock was probably right, the fall was not part of the plan.
Killer knew right where to put the knife though.
Single entry, avoided the rib cage, killed her fast.
You think it was someone with a medical background?
The alternative's dumb luck.
But, hey, dumb luck happens sometimes.
- Joan. Hey. - Hey.
Didn't know you were gonna be here.
This is Maureen Tyler, Haley's mom.
This is Joan Watson. She consults for the N.Y.P.D.
- I'm so sorry for your loss. - Thank you.
Now, you sure you wanna do this?
Would you believe the last conversation I had with her
was an argument?
Is that when she found out that LAN was her father?
She was upset.
Mostly with me.
LAN didn't care about her until
he realized he needed her.
I take it you didn't want her helping him.
I didn't try to stop her from giving blood.
I didn't hate him that much.
I just didn't think she should come to New York.
I knew it would end badly.
Mrs. Tyler,
I promise you, we're gonna do everything in our power
to find the person who did this to her.
You don't have to look very far.
I know exactly who killed her.
Now, tell me that wasn't more satisfying than a bout of singlestick.
Just because I tend to forego epicurean pleasures,
it doesn't mean I can't appreciate them.
- It was exquisite. - Thank you.
Yeah.
Look, I know you're keen to get back to the station, but before you do,
there was something I wanted to give you.
The keys to 221 B.
My 221 B?
I had my things moved while I was here in New York.
Found a little place in Kensington.
And besides, it was never anything more than your home.
You belong there, not me.
Well, I appreciate the gesture,
- but I live here now. - Permanently?
I haven't decided.
- Does that surprise you? - Well, London wasn't just your home,
- it was your passion. - Well, I have many passions.
Work being first amongst them.
And speaking of work...
Look, I didn't wanna get into this, but it seems I have no choice.
I spoke with Father a couple of nights ago.
He's quite
- perturbed you're still living here. - What?
I know he wasn't the most demonstrative,
but he was quite proud of the work you did at Scotland Yard,
and he'd imagined that once you completed your rehabilitation,
you'd return to England, maybe even show a little gratitude.
Early-onset dementia is so sad.
Look, I know you two have had your problems,
but he's been good to you these past few years, Sherlock.
He literally picked you up off the street. He got you clean.
- He paired you with Joan. - He helped me
because he was embarrassed by what I'd become.
Well, whatever his reasons, he's grown unhappy.
I'm worried he's gonna cut you off.
He reminded me he owns the building you currently reside in.
- He plans to evict me? - He also reminded me
he has discretionary control over your trust fund.
I've only ever touched that money to pay Watson her salary.
It doesn't change the fact that you are, in your own way,
still dependent on him, Sherlock.
Well, he can have the bloody building.
And the money. I'll live in a cardboard box if I have to.
This isn't about you anymore, Sherlock.
If it was, I wouldn't have broached the subject.
But for the first time in your life,
you're making decisions for two people.
Joan may be your partner, but it's Father's roof over her head,
it's his money that lines her pockets.
Now, if you wanna tell him to sod off, that's your prerogative.
But as someone who cares for you, and for Joan,
I beg you, think about how your decision might affect her.
We met with Haley's mother earlier tonight.
She came to New York?
Well,
I guess I shouldn't be too surprised she didn't reach out.
I know she was opposed to Haley coming here.
Well, she mentioned that shortly after Haley arrived in New York,
your husband changed his will to include her.
We talked about it. We thought it was the right thing to do.
Now, Mrs. Tyler was under the impression it was a lot of money.
As in a number followed by seven zeroes.
- That's right. - She was also under the impression
that it was money that would've otherwise gone to you.
Yes, the will was changed,
and yes, the money allotted to Haley would technically have been mine.
We spoke to some people at the hotel where you and LAN have been staying.
They told us that you went out yesterday morning.
You left around 7:30 a.m., and you returned around 9:30 a.m.
We know that Haley was killed a little after 8.
I did go out for a couple of hours yesterday.
I went for a walk after sitting at my husband's bedside all night long.
I left my phone, and I went to the park, and I sat on a bench.
- And no one can confirm your story? - It's not a story.
I noticed your ease with medical terms when we met yesterday.
I assumed you picked it up from being around those doctors,
but then I checked. You were a doctor yourself, weren't you?
A pediatric surgeon. You retired a few years ago.
- So? - So whoever killed Haley
knew exactly where to find her abdominal aorta.
There was a precision to the attack that one might call surgical.
Okay, a couple of things:
I'm going to call my attorney.
In fact, I am going to call all of my attorneys.
Not because I think I need their help,
but because I want them to be ready
to bring a lawsuit against this department
if you take any of these accusations public.
You are positing that I killed Haley
because she was assigned a portion of my inheritance.
There is just one problem:
Giving her that 20 percent was my idea.
I love my husband.
He was too proud to reach out to Haley at first, and so I convinced him.
So if all I cared about was the will, why would I have done that?
Why wouldn't I have just let it alone and let LAN take his chances?
I'm assuming your husband can verify all this?
He can. He can also verify
that there is language in the will that guarantees
Haley's share goes to her mother
in the event that she predeceases her.
Haley's death didn't change anything for me.
Maureen might have been able to tell you that,
if she had supported Haley's decision instead of condemning it.
I'd sooner die.
So it's official.
The Gales are no longer cooperating with the N.Y.P.D.
They gave a copy of Ian's will to Captain Gregson
and it confirmed everything that Natalie said last night.
Okay, so now you can say it.
- Say what? - I blew it.
You confronted a suspect who had strong answers to your questions.
Doesn't mean you were wrong about her.
Natalie Gale had no motive to want Haley dead.
Haley wasn't even in their lives until she brought her here.
Why would Natalie incite a reunion, tell LAN to put her in the will,
only to turn around and kill her?
Detective, I hear it was a discouraging morning.
Yeah, I've had better.
But it's looking up.
Finally got a match on the one set of prints
in Haley Tyler's apartment we couldn't identify.
Ray McKibben of Mineral Wells, Texas.
Has an outstanding warrant for assault in El Paso.
I just sent you his sheet.
Now, I ran the name past Haley's mother.
She said Ray was Haley's on-again, off-again boyfriend.
She had no idea he was in New York.
Far as she knew, they'd split up.
Cops in Mineral Wells are checking with his usual running buddies,
but he hasn't turned up yet.
Maybe he's still in New York?
I put a BOLO out on the guy.
I'll let you know if we get any hits.
When Haley found out she was a billionaire's daughter,
I'm guessing Mr. On-Again, Off-Again would've been a lot more on again.
Obviously he joined her here.
Too bad the only thing we know is where he isn't.
Well, that's not true.
We also know where he's been.
I'm not seeing any signs that Ray spent a lot of time here.
We know that Haley
had not told her mother she'd reconnected with a violent offender,
so it's quite possible
she was keeping his presence a secret from the Gales as well.
So how was your dinner with Mycroft last night?
What if I told you we could no longer reside in the brownstone?
- What? - And what if I told you
that in order to pay your salary,
we'd need to take on more cases that actually paid?
- Where is this coming from? - My father.
Mycroft tells me he is displeased and he wants me back in London.
Why does he want you back in London?
I don't think he does.
Not really.
But it might take him months, if not years, before he realizes that.
The man is as mercurial a character as you will ever encounter. Hm.
Mycroft says he means to cut me off.
I didn't realize that you were paying me with his money.
Well, I wasn't. Not for a good long while.
But over the last few months,
I've been compelled to dip into a fund that he maintains.
Haven't taken on a paying client in quite some time.
I've been approached on numerous occasions, of course,
but the interest has never been mutual.
I prefer the work we come by through the N.Y.P.D., as I believe do you.
There is, as there so often is when dealing with the devil,
an alternative.
We both move to London.
What are you saying?
I told Mycroft I made certain promises to you
when I took you on as my partner.
I made it very clear I would not break those promises.
He said that it was his strong suspicion
that Father would continue to gift us his support in London.
We would in all likelihood take on work at Scotland Yard.
You could continue, if not maybe, complete your education there.
- Is that what you want? - What I want is irrelevant.
Pretty sure it's not.
I was very pleased to return to London a few months ago.
Not just because it is unquestionably
the greatest and most cultured city on the planet,
but because it made me appreciate what I have here.
I've got a support system.
You. Captain Gregson. Even Detective Bell.
I feel that I have thrived here.
Not because of who I am, but because of who I have come to know.
I don't really wish to give that up until I'm ready.
Your turn.
I've never met your father, not face-to-face.
All I know is that he got you help when you needed it.
But screw him.
We can find a new place to live.
Do you think the TV is going to tell us how to find Ray McKibben?
TV? No, no. The DVR, on the other hand...
Televisions are idiot boxes.
DVRs are idiots' helpers. We are the idiots.
We quite willingly give them a part of ourselves,
we teach them our tastes, our preferences,
just so that they will know which programs to record.
Never once stopping to consider the fact
that our selections can be used to profile us.
And how is Haley's profile gonna...?
Someone programmed this DVR to record a series about horse racing
called The Winner's Circle.
The episodes have been piling up
since the day Haley was murdered.
And yet all of her cosmetics, all of them, are cruelty-free.
Seems a little incongruous, don't you think?
Someone with such principled buying habits
would favor a sport known for its harsh treatment of animals?
So Ray is the one who's been watching these shows?
According to the program's description, The Winner's Circle
caters to the betting man via in-depth analysis of upcoming races.
Four days ago, someone set the DVR
to record the Thoroughbred Cup Challenge, 2 p.m. Today.
Given Mr. McKibben's arrest warrants,
I think it highly unlikely that he would be willing to enter
the personal information needed to open an online betting account.
So if he's in New York and he wants to place a wager,
he would have to do it in person at a track.
My horse finally literally comes in and you guys arrest me.
I feel for you, Ray. I do.
You've had a rough week, but not nearly as rough as your girlfriend.
- I didn't have anything to do with that. - Do yourself a favor, Ray.
Tell us the truth. Did you two have a fight?
I wasn't even there the morning she died. Okay?
I was out.
I came back, I saw the blood on the floor and Haley was gone.
At which point your sense of civic duty kicks in,
you rush to the phone, you call the authorities
to report that your girlfriend may have become the victim of foul play.
I didn't know what happened to her.
All I knew was nobody was gonna believe me when I said it wasn't me.
If you weren't in Haley's apartment when she died, where were you?
She was sick.
She had been for a couple of weeks.
Flu, or something.
The night before, she ran out of medicine,
so I went down to the pharmacy to get some more.
She had the flu?
Yeah, her body ached all over. She was burning up, like 102.
And you said she had been like that for two weeks?
That's when it started, yeah.
At first it was just, you know, fatigue, but then, a couple of days ago,
she started having trouble keeping food down and her fever got really bad.
I'm guessing you can give us the address of this pharmacy.
Eighth Street and Kent.
They gotta have cameras, right?
Check them, you'll see, I'm telling the truth.
I wasn't anywhere near Haley when she got killed.
You gonna make me ask?
Miss Tyler's alleged flu, it troubles you.
When I looked at LAN Gale's medical file the other day,
I saw that Haley donated blood just over a week ago.
But if she had a flu or was fighting an infection,
- she wouldn't have been allowed. - She may not have mentioned it.
If she was as sick as Ray said she was, someone would have noticed.
Well, not everyone is as observant as you and I.
But given our strongest suspect may have just alibied himself,
I think it warrants further investigation.
Yeah, you were right.
Miss Tyler donated one unit exactly eight days ago.
Was there any mention of her having the flu?
No.
Would it be possible for me
to speak to the person who actually took her blood?
Actually you are.
And she didn't seem sick to you?
She was fine.
Even joked with me about topping off the bag.
She was a sweet kid.
So according to the lab tech that took Haley's blood,
she was in the pink of health.
But as we know, Ray McKibben's alibi checked out.
He really was at that pharmacy buying flu medicine
when she went off the terrace.
I think it's time we turned our focus back to your original suspect,
she of the flimsy alibi, Mrs. Gale.
I'd love to, if she had a motive to kill Haley.
Detective.
Thank you for telling us.
LAN Gale has just died.
The company will be releasing a statement shortly.
I think maybe we've been coming at this case the wrong way.
What if it's not actually about the murder of Haley Tyler?
What if it's really about the murder of LAN Gale?
Captain, I thought I made it clear on the phone the other day...
You said you'd sue the department if your client was subjected
to any additional harassment for Haley Tyler's murder,
but we're not here to talk about her murder.
We're here to talk about LAN Gale's.
I'd no idea until Miss Watson told me.
The recovery rate for the procedure
that your husband had is around 80 percent.
Captain, what is this about?
LAN Gale died of natural causes.
Mrs. Gale, is it not true that approximately ten months ago,
you briefly engaged the services of a divorce attorney?
- You don't have to answer that. - He's right, you don't.
We already know.
We also know that, prior to your marriage,
you signed a prenuptial agreement.
In the event of a divorce, you would walk away
with a prearranged sum of 15 million dollars.
But then it became clear that LAN was going to need a heart transplant,
and you came up with a plan to walk away with more.
None of you are making any sense.
First you accuse me of hurting Haley, and now LAN.
The best doctors in the world were caring for him.
There's no way anyone could have caused a rejected transplant.
Actually there is.
Or at least there was, in Ian's case.
First, you needed to convince him to reconcile with Haley.
You could have found other blood donors with his rare type,
but you needed someone you could keep close,
someone you could manipulate.
A few weeks ago, after Ian's transplant,
you obtained a tissue sample of his new heart from a biopsy
and injected it into Haley.
You told her the shot was a supplement
to help with blood donations,
and she believed you because you used to be a doctor.
Her immune system went into overdrive producing antibodies,
the same antibodies
that your husband was being given anti-rejection drugs to combat.
That's why she was getting sick.
She didn't have any flu.
Her body was fighting a foreign invader,
and she wasn't getting any help.
You used her as an incubator
to cultivate a custom-made poison
for which there is no tox screen.
I was good to Haley.
You gave Haley 20 percent of your inheritance, right?
Only now we know it wasn't out of the kindness of your heart.
It was because you needed her.
And because the remaining 80 percent
was still about 100 times more than you would have gotten in a divorce.
I assume you can prove all this.
We're working on that. In the meantime, we have a witness.
Your accomplice, Christian Suarez,
one of the lab techs who was assisting with your husband's care.
But you know that.
We had some very pointed questions for him this morning.
He confessed to providing you with biopsy tissue.
He also admitted to harvesting antibodies from Haley's blood
and injecting them into LAN.
All for the tidy sum of 1 million dollars.
When Ian's health turned,
it looked to his doctors like an overactive immune response.
His system was creating too many antibodies
and attacking the new heart.
You decided you had to eliminate Haley,
lest she grow so ill that someone tipped to the truth.
Unfortunately for you, that murder did not go off without a hitch.
Mr. Suarez said that you intended
to stage the scene as a botched robbery,
but after she went off the balcony, you had no choice but to flee.
We're still gathering evidence.
The ME is running new tests on Haley's blood.
And if we find out what we think we're gonna find out...
Now is your chance to get ahead of this.
Hm.
Cutting it a little close for the red-eye, aren't we?
A few bits of business at the restaurant.
Changed my flight till the morning.
And since you wanted to see me, I thought I'd stop by.
What's this?
It's a letter for Father.
I'm to play messenger, am I?
You did for him.
He didn't ask me to speak with you, Sherlock.
- I merely... - I know.
And I am grateful.
Part of recovery is structure.
Recognizing what is working and sticking with it.
What I have here with Watson
is working.
There may well come a time when it is right for me to return to London,
but, uh, it isn't now.
So I have composed a missive for Father's perusal.
In it, I express what I consider to be an appropriate amount of gratitude
for everything he's done.
And I explain, in minute detail, my decision to remain in New York.
That can't have been easy for you.
It was not unlike carving the words into my very skin.
It's all I can offer for now.
You know how capricious he can be.
The chips will fall as they may.
You're so different now, Sherlock.
You are, essentially, the same.
I'll be back.
Diogenes will need me.
Until then.
It's me.
My little gambit didn't work. He's decided to stay.
He hasn't spoken directly with my father in years.
There's little chance either will realize what I've attempted.
I'm afraid we're gonna have to come at the problem a different way.