Previously, on Elementary...
This belongs to Jonathan Bloom.
He was here two nights ago.
You like young woman who do what you want
in exchange for a fix, women who,
on one or two occasions, have just... never been seen again.
People don't make plans just to break them.
People don't; my father does.
Dad never shows.
Well, you didn't fall last night,
so now I just have to give you a little push.
It's good stuff.
(grunting)
(Holmes kicking, grunting)
(gasping)
WATSON: It's been three days--
I thought you might be ready to talk.
Your father called.
He found out about what happened.
He's gonna be here tomorrow.
♪ ♪
(phone ringing)
Whose phone is that?
Mine.
Sorry. Forgot.
Is this seriously all we're going to do today?
Do you have something better to do?
No.
But usually when you call us, we have fun.
This is not fun.
Well, it could be worse.
It could be 1927,
and your name could be Ruth Bixby,
yours could be May Smith.
One of them let a killer
into this very apartment.
He was never identified.
So...
what, this is gonna help you catch him?
Well, he's almost certainly long dead.
Recreating this crime scene
might help me ratchet in on one...
of several suspects.
Justice is like an orgasm-- it can never come too late.
Don't you get enough of this at work?
My relationship with the department
is complicated at the moment.
Complicated how?
Well, several days ago, I used heroin,
and that was after I beat a former acquaintance
nearly to death.
What happened?
He upset me, so I fractured his skull.
Repeatedly. Broke several of his ribs,
lacerated his spleen.
The district attorney
is, at this very moment,
deciding whether or not I should be charged
with felonious... assault.
If I am, good chance I'll be sent to prison.
So... if you don't mind,
I'd really like to complete this experiment
while I still can.
(phone buzzing) Okay.
WATSON: Sherlock, it's me again.
Your father is gonna be here any second.
You said you'd be here.
Call me back.
(doorbell rings)
Hey.
Morning. I was in the neighborhood.
That's so sweet.
Please, come in.
Is, uh, Holmes here?
(Watson sighs)
No. He got up early this morning
to work on a project, but he'll be back soon.
Kind of figured you'd be with him...
all the time right now. Well,
I'm not his sober companion anymore, so if he's gonna
stay clean, he has to want to do the work himself-- he gets that.
You two finally talked?
(sighs): Last night.
It was good. I mean...
he's disappointed and embarrassed.
But he's not the same person he was when he got sober the first time.
He believes in the program; he knows it can help him.
He's been going to meetings?
Every day.
You know, when it happened,
uh, when he finally called us to tell us where he was,
and it's where Oscar Rankin and his sister were,
I'd never seen him so rough.
He, uh...
he said he'd come see me,
we'd talk about it.
He will, when he's ready.
Have you heard anything from the DA?
I put in a good word with all the right people,
told them about all the good that Sherlock's done,
but, uh, the department's had a rough year.
There's a perception out there that we go too easy on our own.
If the city wanted to make an example,
he's a perfect candidate.
He works with the police, but he isn't police.
The DA could come down as hard as he wants on him,
not worry about the PBA making a fuss.
(door opens)
(door closes)
Watson...
a thousand apologies.
I just received your many voice mails.
I am, of course,
tumescent with questions about your meeting with my father.
So was he everything you'd imagined?
Was he driven here, or did he arrive
in a plume of black smoke?
He didn't show up, did he?
What is wrong with him? Why would he tell people
he's gonna be someplace and then not show up?
He doesn't tell “people,” Watson, he tells me.
You're angry. Don't be angry.
The longer he forgets I exist, the longer we keep our home.
You really think he's gonna come
all the way to New York just to kick us out?
You recall his terms with regards to the brownstone.
If I use, I end up on the streets. I used.
(sighs)
Has the captain been here?
Or have you taken to wearing his cologne?
Yeah, he brought us some food. He said he wanted
to let you know he was thinking about you.
Hmm.
So, how was your day?
It was productive.
Went to a meeting, then another.
Saw some old friends.
I also heard from Alfredo.
And?
His recuperation
is going well-- he says he'll be back
from his sister's next week.
And he doesn't seem to hold the Oscar business against me,
which I think's quite sporting.
I also narrowed down
the number of prisons I might be sent to
if the DA convicts me of felonious assault.
Each one of them, I'm happy to report,
has a recovery program,
so I shan't want for meetings.
Oscar Rankin kidnapped Alfredo,
and he tortured you. Mm, not physically.
It doesn't matter-- you're not going to prison.
A week ago, you'd have said I'd never relapse.
No, I wouldn't.
I'm due for another meeting.
♪ ♪
Mr. Holmes.
Mr. Bloom.
I know approaching
someone like you on his way into a meeting is...
bad form, but...
hey, so is beating up on a man with his arm in a sling,
wouldn't you say?
How'd you find me?
Lawyers. Lots of 'em.
I have a virtual army on retainer.
But you already knew that.
Well, you've successfully disappeared three women
since 2010, including your own wife,
so if I were you, I'd have an army of lawyers, too.
You kicked up a lot of dust for me last week,
finding that girl who overdosed,
telling the police the drugs came from me.
I'm the tabloids' darling again.
The talk
of every news station.
DA's just itchin' to charge me with something.
But you know how that feels, am I right?
Yeah. Uh, what do you want?
To hire you.
I hear you're quite the detective.
Unfortunately, I've got a “no sadist” policy.
You're right.
I can be connected to the three women who went missing.
My wife Alicia in 2010,
and then two girls I...
partied with...
one in 2012, another a year later.
They all disappeared, just like you said.
Yeah. I am quite familiar with your crimes, Mr. Bloom.
I killed the two girls.
I didn't mean to, of course.
They just couldn't take the rough stuff.
Addicts.
I buried the bodies
at a property my father once owned in New Rochelle--
2434 Owen Place.
Why are you telling me?
Because I didn't kill my wife.
Either someone else did, or...
she left me that night and never looked back.
Whatever the case, it hurt me, the things people said.
I was good to Alicia.
She had nothing. She came from nothing.
I gave her the world. I deserved better.
I want people
to know the truth.
Do you mean to compel me to work for you?
No. This isn't for you.
(gunshot echoes)
♪ Elementary 4x01 ♪ The Past Is Parent Original Air Date on November 5, 2014
== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man
♪ ♪
Then he looked at me like he didn't have
a care in the world, and then...
put a gun under his chin.
Is that it?
Did he say anything else?
No.
Sorry you had to see that.
It's hard to put much stock in anything
a guy like Jonathan Bloom had to say,
but obviously, we'll talk to the New Rochelle PD,
get someone out to that property he told you about.
You doing okay?
Is the captain here?
Captain.
Sherlock.
(sighs): I was, uh...
waiting for you to finish up with Marcus. Come in.
Have a seat.
Heard you stopped by the brownstone earlier on.
That's, uh, very kind. Ah.
Well, you were on my mind. Yeah.
Of course I was.
Several days ago, I nearly killed a man,
and I injected myself with a controlled substance.
Me.
Your consultant.
Sherlock...
My behavior was inexcusable, and, uh...
I do apologize. You're acting
like you did something.
Something was done to you.
No, I chose to use heroin.
That was my choice.
Anyway, I'm far from ruined.
I recovered myself once before, and I'll do so again.
But if there
is some difficult news that you've been putting off
telling me, th-there's really no need.
Well, I know, anyway.
You know what?
That whether or not the district attorney charges me
with a crime,
my consultancy with the NYPD has come to an end.
Just tell me I didn't drag Watson down with me.
I can't.
Captain... It's done.
The Chief of Detectives is from the old school.
He never liked the idea of consultants.
What happened,
it just made it easier for him to cut ties.
Everything you've been through this week,
everything you're going through,
I-I...
I was just waiting for the right time to tell you.
To tell both of you.
You know how much she has to contribute.
When I left for London, she thrived here.
It's out of my hands.
I'm sorry.
(various overlapping voices from various broadcasts)
(overlapping voices continue in distance)
MALE REPORTER: ...the location was a body with a...
ANCHORWOMAN: ...early this morning, as police recovered two female bodies
from the backyard of his suburban home.
Authorities remain tight-lipped about the identity
of the two women, but we've learned both are considered
victims of Jonathan Bloom...
He was telling the truth. What?
ANCHORWOMAN: ...his wife, Alicia Garcia-Bloom...
(mutes overlapping broadcasts)
Bloom. The bodies of the two women
were exactly where he said they would be.
The police have yet to confirm their identities, but I assume
that's only a matter of time.
Is this what I think it is?
If you think it is my personal collection
of materials relating to the disappearance
of Bloom's wife, Alicia Garcia-Bloom,
in 2010, then... yep.
No. I mean are you seriously doing what he asked?
Are you trying to clear his name?
If by “you,” you mean “we,” then, yeah.
Two bodies. Right where he said they'd be.
Jonathan Bloom was a narcissist and a pathological liar.
Maybe he only told you where to find them because he wanted
people to do what you're doing right now: question
his involvement in the one murder he cared about, Alicia's.
There was never any physical evidence connecting him to her disappearance.
Everyone knew their marriage was on the rocks.
He was cheating on her. She found out.
Mmm. That doesn't make him a killer.
He couldn't account for one of his guns, a .22-caliber.
And, less than a week before Alicia went missing,
he used his home computer to search
for ways to dispose of a body.
He insisted that wasn't him.
If memory serves, he also insisted he didn't kill
two heroin addicts that he lured into his apartment, right up
until last night. A complicated man, to be sure.
Uh, I'm confused. Do you want him to be innocent?
What is that?
It's an article on the disappearance
of a woman named Maribel Fonseca.
She went missing from a motel in Sussex,
New Jersey, the same week Alicia vanished.
Bloom left an impression on me last night.
Not to mention some gray matter.
And so, in addition to revisiting my files,
I considered the possibility that Alicia fell prey,
not to someone who knew her, but to a criminal
with an appetite more serial in nature.
Like Alicia, Maribel was originally
from Honduras. She's attractive.
She's in her early 30's.
Well, I could see how they might've been someone's type.
You know, we didn't even talk about what you saw last night.
I called you from the station.
Well, we haven't talked.
A bad man let his brains out
for some fresh air.
What else is there to discuss?
WATSON: (sighs) Did you see the captain?
Just missed each other, apparently.
You and I both know that, depending on the DA's mood,
this may well be my last investigation
for quite some time.
So what do you say?
Hmm? For old times' sake?
MAN: Whatever happened
to Ms. Fonseca, there's no way of telling when it happened.
Not exactly. What do you mean?
She checked in on a Monday.
Said that she would check out on Thursday.
Only Thursday came and she was a no-show at the front desk.
So I went to her room. I saw that she had left
her stuff there. I figured she changed her mind,
so I left her a message on her room phone,
said it was fine, just let me know the new departure date.
Couple days go by. No sign of her.
That's when I called the cops.
According to the newspaper article, no signs of foul play.
No. Just her stuff.
The cops poked around a little.
Told me to hold on to her bags, in case she came back.
That was five years ago.
So, any idea what she was doing in Sussex?
When I called the police a few weeks later,
they said she was up from Florida.
Said she had no family, worked as a housekeep.
That's all I know, 'cause that's all they ever found out.
(phone ringing)
Hello?
(over phone): Ms. Watson, this is Mr. Cook.
I work with Mr. Holmes.
I'm sorry, do you mean my Mr. Holmes or...
The Mr. Holmes. I understand you left quite a few messages
for him at the New York office yesterday.
His son and I were expecting him. He never showed up.
I'm afraid something came up.
But you will be pleased to know
you may be seeing him as early as next week.
What-what do you mean we may be seeing him?
I mean the chances are very good. Cheers.
(hangs up) Wait a second. I... (groans)
Who was that?
No one.
So, four changes
of clothing for what she told the motel manager
was a four-day trip, some credit card receipts,
and a few family photos.
I'm beginning to understand why the Sussex PD didn't take
any of these things with them.
Look, I get why you'd want there to be
a connection between this woman
and Alicia Garcia-Bloom.
It's a distraction from everything
that's going on with the DA.
If I wanted a distraction, Watson,
I'd pay another visit to Athena and Minerva,
and thrust myself into work more aerobic than crime scene
reconstruction. I'm just saying.
I don't want there to be a connection
between Alicia and Maribel. I have one.
Puberty is still running
its transformative course,
but surely you can see that this
is a young Maribel Fonseca. I'd put her age
at about 15.
This other girl,
it's Alicia.
They knew each other.
Mr. Cook.
I'm Joan Watson. You called me yesterday.
How did you know where I lived? I'm here
because I want you to give a message to Mr. Holmes.
He has a secretary. Several of them, actually.
You're the one who called me.
Very well. What's your message?
He can come and visit his son or he can stay away.
What he can't do is threaten to come and then never show.
Mr. Holmes
is an extremely busy man.
I'm busy, too. So is Sherlock. Tell him.
Can a heroin addict be busy?
I'm just curious.
I imagine procuring the drug might take some effort,
but, after that, it's a...
simple matter of aim and shoot, is it not?
What's the hardest you've ever been hit?
Excuse me?
It's a simple question.
Talk to Mr. Holmes.
Tell him what I said.
I'd hate to have to come back.
(speaking Spanish)
WOMAN: Gracias. HOLMES: De nada. Adios.
(video call blips off)
Who was that? Alicia Garcia's aunt.
She still resides in the same city that Alicia
and Maribel grew up in-- San Pedro Sula, Honduras.
She was just telling me the tragic circumstances
by which the two women came to know each other.
In 1995, when both
were just 15, their families and several others
paid a coyote to bring them out of Central America,
through Mexico, and across the American border.
Several days into their journey, however, they were stopped
by members of the Mexican Escarra Cartel.
It seems the coyote had pocketed the tribute he normally paid
to traverse Escarra territory
and was trying to sneak the caravan through.
The Escarra soldiers escorted the group into a ditch.
Realizing they were about to be slaughtered, Alicia and Maribel
and several others made a break for a wooded area.
The Escarra soldiers opened fire.
When all was said and done,
Alicia and Maribel were the only survivors.
Several days later,
they escorted the Mexican authorities back to the site.
All that was left was a smoldering pile of corpses.
Obviously, they did eventually
make it to America-- the former through her marriage
to Jonathan Bloom, the latter via green card lottery.
But according to Alicia's aunt, they only stayed in touch
for a short while after the massacre.
As they grew older, they went their separate ways.
15 years later, they both disappeared.
Do you think someone from the Escarra Cartel
caught up with them?
If the cartel wanted them dead,
it would've happened a long time ago.
And as that image attests,
cartels are in the habit of making statements
with their killings.
If an Escarra did murder Alicia
and Maribel, it seems unlikely he would've disposed
of their bodies, rather than put them on display.
(phone chimes)
I have to go.
An old friend has agreed to procure Maribel's cell phone
and credit card information
from the weeks before she disappeared.
I'm hoping it will provide a clue
as to why she went to New Jersey.
What do you mean, an old friend?
Why don't you just call Marcus or the captain?
I'd like you to pay a visit to a Honduran restaurant
in New Jersey, by the name of Novena Vida.
Why?
There was a receipt in Maribel's belongings.
It indicates she ate there the week before she disappeared.
So, you're hoping that she talked to someone.
Her or Alicia.
According to my files, she dined there
the day before Maribel left Florida.
Hard to imagine that's just a coincidence.
You're late.
I think what you mean to say is “Thank you”"
Thank you, Mr. McNally,
for violating the privacy of an American citizen.
A nice beard.
Yeah, I'd tell you what it's for,
but then I'd have to kill you.
That makes us even for London, by the way.
By London, you mean the moment I realized
a member of your agency was about
to break into the offices of a British newspaper.
You called me, let me fix it.
I appreciate that.
Take care, Holmes.
Agent McNally, I'm sure you're aware of my recent troubles.
I-I wanted you to know that...
if I don't go to prison,
I will be parting ways with the department.
Are you hitting me up for a job?
You know more than most how effective Watson and I can be.
You're hitting me up for two jobs.
I'm doing you the favor of making you aware
of our availability. Yours would be one
of several agencies that we would consider
for future consultations.
Aren't you the one who was just saying
how all the NSA does is violate other peoples rights?
Some of the investigative work you do has merit.
Some of it is even important.
(sighs)
Look, you two are good.
I'm not gonna deny that.
You really think any federal agency
is gonna want to get near you now?
You nearly killed a guy.
Oh, and by the way, you're a drug addict.
Hey, maybe...
I mean, maybe somebody'll throw you some black bag work,
but I wouldn't hold my breath.
We're not cat burglars.
No, you're liabilities.
On the bright side,
you have time now.
Time to get better.
May be just what the doctor ordered.
MAN: Yeah. Sure.
I seen that picture in
the news the last couple of days.
She was married to that guy.
The, uh... the one who killed himself.
But you didn't know her? No.
Why?
Well, she drove up here from New York in May, 2010.
She had lunch. I thought maybe she was a regular.
No. Sorry.
What about this woman, Maribel Fonseca?
She'd have come a couple of days after Alicia.
Do you remember her?
Yeah. It's strange.
It's like déjà vu or something.
What do you mean? I do remember her.
She was doing what you're doing-- showing me pictures.
But hers were of a man.
She wanted to know if I had seen him here.
She was trying to find him.
Did she say why she wanted to find him?
No.
She didn't tell you his name?
No, but I remember he was very tall, very handsome.
Think I said I had seen him in the bar once or twice.
I just remembered because it was so strange.
A beautiful woman coming here,
asking me to look at pictures.
Now I wonder if I should get used to it.
WATSON: I brought some food from Novena Vida.
Anything else?
Yes. The owner recognized Maribel Fonseca.
He said that she came into the restaurant
in 2010 and showed him a few pictures
of a Latino man in his 30's, very tall,
very handsome. Did she give the man's name?
No. Didn't say what she wanted with him, either.
The odds are quite good, Watson,
that she wanted to kill him.
Alicia and Maribel didn't just know each other.
I believe they were plotting a murder.
Combine Maribel Fonseca's credit card and phone records
with Alicia's, and a certain time line
comes into view. On May the first,
Maribel receives a phone call from Alicia in Florida.
Very next day, she's on a plane bound for Newark.
So they weren't as out of touch
as Alicia's aunt thought they were.
On May the third, Maribel goes to the Honduran Restaurant,
Novena Vida in New Jersey. Day after that,
she goes to a hardware store, purchases the following items.
A tarp, two pairs of rubber gloves, two shovels,
and several gallons
of industrial-strength drain cleaner
consisting chiefly of lye.
It's a good shopping list if you're planning to kill someone.
All of this less than one week after Alicia goes
to the same restaurant,
and someone in the Bloom household
searches the phrase, “Ways to dispose of a body.”
The police thought that was Jonathan Bloom.
You're saying it was Alicia.
If I'm right, she's also the most likely reason
his .22 was never discovered.
It was her contribution to the murder plot.
Whoever she and Maribel were looking for--
I submit they found him.
Only something went wrong.
He got the upper hand, killed them,
and then got rid of their bodies.
It would fit the evidence.
Perhaps if the media had not seized
so immediately and so viciously on Bloom
as the architect of his wife's disappearance,
the connection would have been made
between the women much sooner.
Yeah. Gee, poor guy.
I mourn not for him, but for the missed opportunity.
This case may never have grown so cold.
So, does any of this tell us
who Alicia and Maribel were looking to kill?
No.
But the owner of Novena Vida said
they were looking for a Latino man.
The two women were bound
by their family slaughter
at the hands of the Escarra cartel.
Yesterday, you posited that an Escarra came looking for them.
Perhaps they went looking for an Escarra.
(lock buzzes)
Stop it. Stop what?
Imagining me on a line like that, coming to see you.
Truthfully, I'd rather you not visit me in prison.
Why?
I hate for you to see me in a place like this.
You're not going to prison.
If you like, we can write letters.
Not writing you letters.
I'll have other correspondence-- C, Moriarty.
That's still going on?
Sherlock Holmes, Joan Watson.
You can see him now.
I did it.
Did what?
(scoffs)
Whatever we came here to talk about.
You got me.
You may recall
incarcerated members of drug cartels
often confess to crimes
committed by their compatriots.
They receive a level of protection on the inside;
their families, a level of support on the outside.
Unfortunately, we're not here to accuse you of anything.
WATSON: 20 years ago,
four Escarra soldiers massacred
a group of Honduran immigrants.
The only survivors
were two young women,
Alicia Garcia and Maribel Fonseca.
HOLMES: In 2010,
we believe Alicia and Maribel
came across one of the men responsible
and they planned to kill him.
Before your arrest in 2012,
you were a well-connected,
New York-based Escarra lieutenant.
So we were hoping that you might be able
to help us identify the man that they were after.
WATSON: He was tall. Six feet, good-looking.
He would have been in his mid- to late 30's in 2010.
And he may have been a regular
at a restaurant in New Jersey called Novena Vida.
You're talking about Benicio.
Alto, guapo...
Had to be him.
Does Benicio have a last name?
Del Toro.
Benicio Del Toro is an actor.
HOLMES: You should know, Zuniga,
that Miss Watson and I did our homework
prior to this visit.
We know that your wife
and 19-year-old son reside in Juarez.
After I leave here today,
I'm going to wire them $100,000.
(chuckles)
You can't bribe me, man.
You misunderstand.
I'm not offering a bribe.
I'm issuing a threat.
The cartel has been true to its word.
Your family has been taken care of.
I understand your son is even being groomed
for a management position.
What would happen if they suddenly receive $100,000,
along with the hearty thanks
of a known associate of the NYPD? Hmm?
Are they as loyal to the Escarras as you?
Would they report that windfall?
How might the cartel react? Would they look to silence you?
Your family? Your family's family?
We all know how thorough the Escarras can be.
We should leave.
Banks close in an hour.
I know the names
of the four men who did this.
That's all they are now. Names.
Explain.
(sighs)
After the massacres,
la policía waged war on us.
We lost many of our soldiers,
including the men that you're asking about.
So none of them were in New Jersey in 2010.
They were in the ground in Mexico.
I sold you short, didn't I?
I'm going to wire your family $200,000.
You're wrong that the two girls were the only ones who survived.
The coyote, he survived, too.
Maybe he's the one that they saw.
WATSON: You're telling us
the cartel killed everyone
except for the man who ripped them off?
Eh... a good coyote, an earner...
he's hard to find.
Immigrants?
They never run out.
Give me his name.
All I ever heard was a nickname.
“El Gato.”
Assuming we can take Mr. Zuniga at his word,
we'll have our work cut out for us.
We need to find the name of El Gato,
a coyote who was active in San Pedro Sula in the mid-'90s
and in the tri-state area in 2010.
He certainly makes sense as a suspect.
If he hadn't kept the Escarras' money,
none of those people would have died.
May as well have put a gun to their heads.
Our only hope is that the man is as stupid
as his street handle, “The Cat”"
If he is, he might not be too difficult to identify.
Hmm. You don't happen to know anyone in law enforcement
in San Pedro Sula, do you? (cell phone rings)
I don't, but you know me-- I make friends expeditiously.
Hmm.
Hello.
Yeah.
Yes, indeed.
That was my barrister.
Just heard from the district attorney.
Seems you will not have to visit me in prison after all.
You're not being charged.
Okay, I'm gonna heat up some celebratory leftovers.
And then we're gonna talk about all the women
that you don't have to write to.
(feet descending stairs)
Okay, there's something that you should know.
I lied the other night when I said I hadn't seen the captain.
We talked.
And I was made aware of the fact
that because of my transgressions,
neither one of us will be permitted
to consult for the department again.
We-We've been sacked.
Yeah, um, I, uh...
Sorry, Watson.
It's okay.
Kind of had a feeling.
I mean, we're not cops.
What we do and what they do, it's different.
So we don't have the same restrictions,
so we don't have the same protections.
Well, I have a plan.
Um, involves another confession.
My reasons for investigating the disappearance
of Alicia Garcia-Bloom were not entirely selfless.
The mystery of her disappearance
has been one of the greatest of the last 20 years,
or so the popular media would have us believe.
Jonathan Bloom's face has been on the cover of every magazine,
he's been the subject of books, documentaries...
Uh, if you think solving this case
is gonna get us back into the department's good graces...
Not us, Watson.
You.
My fate is sealed.
As is appropriate.
But you?
No, I think there's still a chance.
So when we discover what happened to Alicia and Maribel,
you'll take the credit.
Sherlock...
Glory will be bestowed upon you,
and the NYPD, I predict, will want to say
that they played some small part,
so you will acknowledge them to whatever degree is required,
and then they will forget that they dismissed you.
What about you?
As I said, my fate is sealed.
But that's not what I meant.
Say “Operation: Bestow Glory” actually works.
What are you gonna do while I consult with the police?
You know I have my distractions.
You really don't get it.
I don't get what?
When it comes to what we do,
the only thing that matters to me is our partnership,
so you go, I go.
You offered me a job.
I didn't take it to work with the police.
I took it to work with you.
Well, you should know that my detractors
are not limited to the NYPD.
My professional prospects are quite bleak in general.
We'll figure it out.
We always do.
Yeah, you're right, it is ours.
Thanks for putting it aside.
Just out of curiosity, how did a dead squirrel
play into the work you were doing here?
It didn't.
Well, not exactly.
It's kind of a long story.
Well, if I find any more of your stuff lying around,
I'll call you.
Thanks.
You know I think the brass is making a mistake, right?
I mean, if there was someone I thought I could talk to...
It's okay.
Really.
And this isn't good-bye.
It's not like we're not gonna see each other
just because we're not working together.
Who knows? Maybe Sherlock and I will throw a party.
(scoffing): Yeah, sure, that sounds like him.
(chuckles)
You guys talked about what you're gonna do next?
We're reaching out to people.
We're letting them know we're available.
(elevator bell chimes twice)
Something will turn up.
Things won't be the same around here.
(Sherlock speaking Spanish)
Adios.
(sighs)
That was a homicide detective in the city of San Pedro Sula.
Most unpleasant fellow.
What happened to “making friends expeditiously”?
I was attempting to clear up a discrepancy
between our information regarding El Gato and his.
Man took it as a personal affront.
He purports to be a detective
but peddles his questionable skills
in a city with the highest murder rate in the world.
San Pedro Sula averages nine murders a day,
97% of which go unsolved.
And I'm sure you didn't mention that to him.
Might have come up.
I've been looking for that.
So you said that his facts and ours don't match up?
He confirmed that a coyote known as El Gato
operated out of his city
at the time of the Escarra massacre in Mexico.
But while the Policía Nacional were never able
to uncover his real name or apprehend him,
they claim that several clients described him
quite consistently in 1995.
Average height, jowly, receding hairline.
Well, the owner at Novena Vida said that Maribel was looking
for a tall, handsome man in his 30's.
If the Hondurans are to be believed,
El Gato would currently be in his 50's.
So we would be wrong about Alicia and Maribel
finding and attempting to kill him five years ago.
You know what “Novena Vida” translates to?
You've heard me conduct several conversations
entirely in Spanish.
“The ninth life.”
As in “nine lives,” as in the number a cat would have.
I don't understand. Why...
Wait, this is my favorite bit. There.
This video went viral in April 2010.
Someone tried to rob you, and you fought back.
You beat the man into submission.
One of your employees
posted the security footage online.
My cook.
He was proud, kept calling me Rocky.
I didn't like it, but it brought us a little extra business.
Well, we think it gained some negative attention as well.
Alicia Garcia-Bloom saw that video,
and she recognized you as El Gato--
the coyote hired by her parents
in San Pedro Sula in 1995.
The one who cost them their lives.
What?
That's why she came here in 2010,
to see if it was really you.
You say I'm from San Pedro Sula?
You're right-- 15 years ago.
But I told you-- I'd never even heard of that woman
until she was in the news.
But you do remember Maribel Fonseca.
You said you two talked.
She showed you pictures of a man.
Another fiction-- she never said a word.
And she certainly never showed you any photographs.
More likely, she came here to size up her prey.
The other day, you told me Maribel was looking
for a tall, handsome man.
But that was just to keep us
from taking a closer look at you.
If you were attempting to describe your exact opposite,
well done-- you have the face and frame
of a distressed catcher's mitt.
WATSON: Maribel and Alicia would not have come after you here.
They knew about the security cameras from the video.
More likely, they pounced at your home.
You gained the upper hand, as you are wont to do.
Suddenly, you had two bodies to get rid of.
But your victims brought their own shovels, tarps and lye.
You could have buried them right there in your yard.
Tell us, Mr. Murillo,
when the New Jersey police search your home,
will they find two graves?
Say they do.
It was self-defense, you said it yourself.
I did, I did.
You may have killed those women, you may have been complicit
in the deaths of their entire families, but none of that
will guarantee a conviction in an American court.
Emphasis on “American.”
But did you know that the U.S. and Honduras have
a mutual extradition treaty that dates back over a hundred years?
HOLMES: Mm-hmm.
This is a warrant for your arrest
for the murder of a competing coyote and his wife
in San Pedro Sula, in 1999.
You thought you were an Internet sensation before.
Give it a few hours.
WATSON: So what do you think of New Jersey?
Just made some new friends.
We told them they could leave our names out of it.
Are you suggesting we become commuting consulting detectives?
Well, it's a big state, plenty of crime.
Could do worse.
Well, if travel's not an issue,
San Pedro Sula could benefit from our presence.
You're kidding, right? (cell phone chimes)
You said you had some errands to run this afternoon, correct?
I have one of my own.
♪ ♪
I'd forgotten about the view here.
It's really quite something.
Is that what you wanted?
To discuss the skyline?
I let myself in. I hope you don't mind.
It's your property, Father, you can do as you please.
You don't look well.
You look as spry as ever.
My compliments to the virgins whose blood you bathe in.
I see the opiates haven't dulled your wit.
Nor has old age withered yours.
I didn't come here to exchange barbs.
Why did you come here?
Why do we ever meet like this?
You've made a mess, Sherlock.
I'm here to fix it.
♪ Drop what I'm doing, and sit beside you... ♪
== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man