|This page is a transcript for the Season Two episode Paint It Black.|
Mycroft Holmes: Sorry I'm late. I was perusing the restaurant's wine cellar, then I realized...
Guillaume de Soto: Monsieur Holmes.
Mycroft: Who is this?
de Soto: Think. It will come to you. I crossed paths with a friend of yours earlier at a restaurant. For all our sakes, I wish I had not.
Joan Watson (voicemail): Hi. You've reached Joan Watson. Please leave a message.
Sherlock Holmes (phone): Watson, this is my fifth message in as many hours. Either you're engaging in a marathon lovemaking session with my brother, or you've realized that I was right about him and you just don't want to admit it. Given his advancing years and no doubt flagging endurance, the latter is a virtual certainty. Anyway, I assure you, I am not looking for any kind of recognition or appreciation, even though I likely deserve both for saving you from months or years or even a lifetime of misery. I merely wanted to...
Voicemail: Message complete. Good-bye.
Watson (voicemail): Hi. You've reached Joan Watson. Please leave a message.
Sherlock (phone): Yes, call me back and let me know you're okay.
Sherlock: Something's wrong.
Mycroft: We need to talk.
Marchef: Huh. I was beginning to worry I used uh, too much chloroform.
Watson: Where am I? What am I doing here?
Marchef: You do not remember following me? You are very beautiful. For a cop.
Watson: I'm not a cop.
Marchef: Not a cop. Then why did I find an NYPD identification card in your purse? Why did I find this?
Watson: I'm a consultant. I work with the police.
Marchef: A distinction without distinction.
Watson: I wasn't investigating you. Not for the department. I just thought my friend should know that Le Milieu was frequenting his restaurant, that's all.
Marchef: Your "friend", Mycroft.
Watson: You know him?
Marchef: I am uh, comment dit on, a regular. As is my friend, Monsieur De Soto. He's the one who noticed you the other day. He's the one who gave me your picture.
Watson: Call Mycroft. He'll explain...
Marchef: He and Monsieur De Soto have already spoken. A deal has been made. Your friend will help mine with a problem, or you and Mycroft will be friends no more. Hmm?
Sherlock: You know, I told her what you were. I told her. She wouldn't listen.
Sherlock: I knew you were lazy, I knew you were an idiot, but to allow a criminal syndicate to set up shop in your stupid restaurant...
Mycroft: I told you.
Sherlock: You were sick. Hmm? The economy took a downturn. You needed to make payroll!
Mycroft: The people who work for me are more than just employees! They're family! They were counting on me!
Sherlock: You could have asked our father for the money!
Mycroft: Is that what you'd have done, Sherlock? Sought help from him? At first, their requests were small, buy wine from one of their friends, obtain the occasional work visa.
Sherlock: Then the requests got bigger, did they? A little bit of money laundering here, smuggling between continents there.
Mycroft: The New York branch of Diogenes, their idea. They wanted a foothold in the American economy, and now they've got one.
Sherlock: You know, I wish it had taken you. The leukemia. I wish it had rotted you to bones.
Mycroft: Sometimes, I wish the very same thing.
Sherlock: So, you said you struck some sort of deal with them. Explain it to me.
Mycroft: His name is Pierce Norman. He was, until very recently, vice president for American operations at Credit Versoix, one of the largest private banking firms in Switzerland.
Sherlock: Tell me something I can't read in his corporate biography.
Mycroft: Four days ago, he used the computer in his New York office to download the names of thousands of the bank's wealthiest customers and take snapshots of their private accounts. How much do you know about Swiss banking?
Sherlock: Enough to know that his actions were not just a violation of the policy of his bank, but also of Swiss law.
Mycroft: If the Swiss government could locate him, he'd be facing years in prison and millions in fines, which is presumably why he's gone into hiding. But before he did, he let certain interested parties know that he was willing to sell the list to the highest bidder.
Sherlock: Individuals like your new friends at Le Milieu, for example.
Mycroft: Oh, it's more than that. It's governments as well. Think of the money they'll collect in penalties and back taxes from corporations and citizens who've been hiding their money. The list could be worth billions to the U.S. alone.
Sherlock: The men who took Watson they want us to find Mr. Norman and his list. Why?
Mycroft: Their organization has a number of accounts with Credit Versoix, operated through proxies.
Sherlock: Obviously. But why us? They don't know me. They know you're a restaurateur and an oaf. Neither of us has any connection to Norman. So what would possess them to ask you and me to...this was your idea.
Mycroft: I overheard some of them discussing Norman at Diogenes the other day. And when they told me tonight they had Joan, I tried to explain she wasn't a threat. They wouldn't believe me.
Sherlock: So you told them about me, about what I do. You told them I could find Norman.
Mycroft: Well, it worked. They've given us 48 hours.
Sherlock: And once those 48 hours are up?
Mycroft: I know why you're upset.
Sherlock: My very good friend might be murdered by your very bad friends. Brilliant deduction, Mycroft.
Mycroft: You're not sure you can do what needs to be done without her. This is more than just a case. Without her to keep you focused, to keep you settled...
Sherlock: Is that what you think she is? Hmm? A simple counterbalance?
Mycroft: I think she's the person you love most in the world. I know I'm not her. Not even close. But I know you. Even after all these years, I know you. And I can keep you on track. Maybe not as well as her, but well enough. And I promise you, I won't let you fail.
Sherlock: After I'm done after I have succeeded, you'll go to the police, you'll tell them everything you know about Le Milieu. After that, if you haven't gone to prison, you will extricate yourself from my life. And from Watson's. Forever. Well, I see little point in looking for clues to his current whereabouts at his home. By now, his residence would have been picked apart by various government agencies, the CIA, MI Various, MSS, GRU, a veritable alphabet soup of spies.
Mycroft: Then I guess we should start with his office at Credit Versoix. The security there is quite impressive, no? I mean, it would almost be impossible to penetrate, even for a group like those.
Sherlock: Whereas, you and I have the ability to turn ourselves into vapors and infiltrate via the air vents. Well done, Mycroft. You are a fine substitute for Watson.
Mycroft: Think about it, Sherlock. You and I don't need to be vapors to get into Credit Versoix. We need only be our father's sons.
Mr. Hostetler: Please. Please, help yourselves, gentlemen. This arrangement's intended only for this meeting.
Sherlock: How not at all wasteful.
Hostetler: It's not every day we get the chance to sit down with members of such an influential family. Your father has a reputation of being uh, sui generis.
Sherlock: My father is a Lovecraftian horror who uses his money to bludgeon his way to ever-more-obscene profits.
Hostetler: And Credit Versoix is the perfect banking partner for a man accustomed to the aggressive practice of business.
Sherlock: Yes. Well parried. Unfortunately, you're wasting your time. We have not, in spite of what Mycroft told you on the phone, come here to discuss making a large deposit of our father's plunder. We have come to offer my services as a consulting detective.
Hostetler: I don't understand.
Sherlock: You're in pursuit of one Pierce Norman. I will deliver him and his purloined list to you and not to any of the other interested parties.
Ms. Stone: Should I call security?
Sherlock: Not just yet. Mr. Hostetler, please be aware, if you expel us, I shall be forced to make your condition known to every employee in your company directory.
Hostetler: Uh, what condition?
Sherlock: Your wedding ring is too tight, your hand betrays a very slight tremor, and your breath smells very faintly of an over-the-counter antidiarrheal. Nausea, weight gain and tremors. All side effects of the drugs valproate and lurasidone. Now, I doubt a man could have reached your position if he was schizophrenic, so I would venture that you are being treated for rapid-cycling manic-depression.
Mycroft: As you can see, my brother's a deductive genius. His prowess is not to be underestimated. He can be the instrument of your salvation or your demise.
Hostetler: You'll need to sign non-disclosure agreements. After that, I can have our head of security share what we know so far.
Sherlock: Kurt Yoder. Your surname is perilously close to yodel. As a Swiss, that must grow tiresome.
Kurt Yoder: It's a joke I don't allow people to make twice.
Sherlock: How ominous.
Mycroft: I'm sorry, I don't see a computer. Surely, we'll need to look at that.
Yoder: Norman accessed the accounts first thing Monday morning, then wiped it. There's nothing to see.
Sherlock: Oh, there's plenty of things to see. This small bit of wrapper from a nicotine patch, that's Norman trying to give up smoking. This triptych, he fancies himself a nature photographer. It's my business to know what others don't. So I'll need to see that computer so I can analyze its contents.
Yoder: It's in storage. We'll get it for you.
Mycroft: You keep looking at that plant.
Sherlock: It's a Ficus benjamina. Popular choice in decorative office greenery. Thrives even when neglected. The Ficus is an aggressive grower, it'll strain the limits of any container. But this one...this one seems stunted. As if...hmm.
Mycroft: A hiding place.
Mycroft: A handheld game console.
Sherlock: No external hard drive. Nothing on the storage but a single game. Well, we've managed to make our way behind the walls of one of the most secretive institutions on the planet to learn that Pierce Norman likes to hide the fact that he plays video games when he should be working. It's useless.
Mycroft: Please excuse my brother. He's under a great deal of stress. Personal matter.
Watson: What's happened?
Marchef: A colleague, he hurt himself while working.
Watson: He was shot. You're afraid he's going to be arrested if you take him to the hospital.
Marchef: Not your concern.
Watson: I used to be a doctor before I started working for the police. I specialized in trauma. Right upper quadrant. I need you to cut this shirt open. Okay.
Marchef: Il a soif, chercher de l'eau. (he's thirsty, find some water)
Watson: You know him?
Marchef: My cousin.
Jem: De l'eau, de l'eau, de l'eau! (water, water, water!)
Watson: What's his name?
Watson: Yeah well, he's gonna die if we don't do something. We're gonna have to clean his wound. We have to operate.
Mycroft: So, are you planning to tell me what you found? You saw something in Norman's office. Your tantrum was classic misdirection, a tactic you've been wielding since childhood.
Sherlock: Best we avoid the topic of our childhood. I'm barely speaking to you as it is. There was something. Oh, I don't have time for this.
Mycroft: Time for what?
Sherlock: Don't tell them anything about Watson. Let me do all the talking.
Mycroft: What are you talking about? Who are they?
Sherlock: Agent McNally. You had people watching Credit Versoix.
Agent Dean McNally: Get in the car, please. Better for everyone if we don't have to render you both unconscious.
Mycroft: What's going on?
Sherlock: I know this man. Mycroft, meet the NSA. NSA, this is Mycroft.
Sherlock: Let's dispense with the cat-and-mouse phase, if you don't mind. We're in a hurry. I imagine you are as well. You know that we're in pursuit of Pierce Norman, and you would like to know what we've learned?
McNally: Throw in the names of the people you're working for, that should about cover it.
Sherlock: Hmm. Your government must be salivating over that list. All those tax evaders to squeeze like ripe grapes.
McNally: The tax evaders are the least of our concern. We have reason to believe that Credit Versoix has been in business with so-called "charities" that actually fund terrorism. They're in bed with drug cartels on three continents.
Sherlock: "Reason to believe"? You've been spying on our Swiss friends.
McNally: Well, the Swiss are not friends. They're neutral. So who hired you? Think. Better to have the NSA as a friend than the alternative.
Sherlock: We are working for a government friendly to your own. They're interested in Norman's list, but they lack the intelligence resources to pursue it on their own. My brother and I took the job on condition that should we find the list, we will turn over copies to them and to the United States. So functionally, we're working for you. And considering we've been on the job for what, 12 hours, we know next to nothing.
McNally: Well, I hope that's all true, because otherwise, I'm gonna have to find a way to prosecute you for espionage.
Sherlock: Is there anything else?
McNally: Mycroft, it's a pleasure to meet you. I get a night off, I swear I'm gonna finally try Diogenes.
Mycroft: How do you know I have a restaurant?
McNally: Everybody knows about Diogenes. Amazing food, interesting clientele.
Sherlock (phone): Detective?
Detective Bell (phone): Yeah, hey uh, Joan asked me to pull some Interpol files yesterday, then she never showed to pick them up. Just want to make sure she's okay.
Sherlock (phone): She's tip-top. You want to speak to her?
Bell (phone): Nah, not if she's...hello?
Sherlock: My phone doesn't appear to be working, can I borrow yours?
Mycroft: Was that really necessary?
Sherlock: That was the NSA. Hands. Exquisite timepiece, shame it has to go.
Mycroft: They didn't touch my watch.
Sherlock: Better safe than sorry. We cannot allow the NSA to monitor us. If they find Norman before we do, we'll have no one to trade for Joan, and then your friends at Le Milieu will kill her. We need to get back to The Brownstone. I've got urgent business to attend to.
Mycroft: The video game Norman was playing, that's your urgent business?
Sherlock: I am pursuing our most important lead.
Mycroft: It doesn't seem like you're pursuing much of anything.
Sherlock: Before I destroyed Norman's gaming device, I noted that he'd logged over 50 hours playing this game. During that time, he failed to score a single point. He did, however, spend quite a bit of time using the game's chat function.
Mycroft: You think he was using it to communicate?
Sherlock: With only one other person, a player by the name of L-3-G-0, L-4-S-S-5.
Mycroft: "Leg-o-Lass-five." So this person was, what, an accomplice? Someone who helped Norman compile the list?
Sherlock: Possibly. I memorized Norman's user name. From then, it was a simple case of deducing his password. I am now logged in as Norman. There are several messages from "Leg-o-Lass-five," trying to ascertain his whereabouts. I've responded to the last one, and now I'm just waiting to hear back.
Mycroft: I, I realized just now I've never actually apologized for what's happened to Joan. My role in the situation is complicated, but I...
Sherlock: How is it complicated? It seems simple enough to me.
Mycroft: Well, I, I just wanted to let you know I'm sorry. If anything happened to Joan, I'd never forgive myself.
Sherlock: Well, that won't be an issue. If anything happens to Joan, I will murder you.
Mycroft: That's the, uh the disposable phone you lent me. Gave the number to the restaurant, they said they'd call regarding some repairs to the kitchen. Excuse me.
Mycroft (phone): Mycroft Holmes.
Tim Sherrington (phone): How goes it?
Mycroft (phone): We may have a lead. We're doing our best, considering the circumstances.
Sherrington (phone): Circumstances that could have been avoided if you'd simply removed your brother from New York as I recommended a few months ago.
Mycroft (phone): "Simply"? I forget sometimes you haven't met Sherlock. Listen, I can't stay on the line.
Sherrington (phone): You've made a hash of this, Holmes. But remember, long as I wind up with Norman and his list, you may still get out of it.
Sherlock: Mmm, mmm, prepare to travel. We leave for Westchester County in five minutes.
Sherlock: While you indulged in slumber, I connected with Leg-o-Lass-five. I extracted quite a bit of information pretending to be Norman. Leg-o-Lass, as it turns out, is not Norman's partner in extortion, but his lover. It also turns out that Leg-o-Lass is not, as the name would lead one to assume, a woman. His name is Deron, he has a wife, two children, and a taste for unsavory men.
Mycroft: Yes, this is all very interesting, but why are we going to see him? He thought you were Norman, he clearly has no idea where the man is.
Sherlock: He may have more information than he knows he does. It's a common enough affliction.
Deron: All right, first of all, it's not "Lego-o-Lass." It's "Legolas," like the elf from the movies. And the five on the end is just an extra "S." Second thing is, my wife will be home any minute. Got questions, ask them fast.
Sherlock: How long have you known Pierce Norman?
Deron: Little over a year. We saw each other off and on, mostly in the city.
Mycroft: Has he been behaving unusually lately? Was he making any travel plans? What? Joan asks questions when you're out and about. I've seen it.
Sherlock: She's a trained detective. You are a buffoon. Had he been acting unusual?
Deron: No. Nothing like that.
Sherlock: May I ask how you two met?
Deron: We met on Discretion. It's an app.
Sherlock: May I? Pierce Norman.
Mycroft: Not much there.
Sherlock: Yeah, you're right. When I look at this picture, all I see is the location he may be hiding.
Mycroft: The woods?
Sherlock: No, not just any woods. This is the same location he has on display in his office. He has four separate photographs, all taken from nearly this exact spot. All at different times of the year. Does Mr. Norman have a house that he frequents in upstate?
Deron: Uh, there's a summer house. Belongs to a friend, I think. He's invited me up there a few times.
Mycroft: Do you have the address?
Deron: Nah. Could never get away.
Sherlock: I need you to print me a copy of this photograph. And then we'll be on our way. We'll know where that house is soon enough. It's a simple matter of perspective.
Marchef: He's quiet now. Jem. I think maybe he's um, stable.
Watson: I made my incisions with a box cutter and used vodka as an antiseptic. He's clean, but he's far from stable. If you care about that man at all, you'll take him to a hospital.
Marchef: I didn't ask you for help. You insisted.
Watson: He was dying.
Marchef: I want you to remember that, because if the time comes and we don't have what we want, I am going to kill you.
Mycroft: I'm impressed. I'll admit, I was somewhat skeptical during the third hour of the search. But now I'm impressed.
Sherlock: As I said, it's all a matter of perspective. That and angles. There's precisely one spot on Earth with that exact view of the Hudson, the jetty below and the tree line on the other side. It was a simple process of elimination.
Mycroft: No one home.
Sherlock: Norman's car is outside. By the looks of it, it hasn't been moved in some time.
Mycroft: He might've gone for a hike. We could wait till he gets back. What?
Sherlock: You have the intellectual tools to make simple deductions. Your failure to apply them in an energetic fashion is a constant source of befuddlement. Look around you. Really look around.
Mycroft: Excuse me. This cushion's been disturbed. There's scratches on the floor. Dry blood? There may have been some kind of scuffle.
Sherlock: More than a scuffle, I'd say. Those scratches are drag marks. Someone pulled a heavy object to this door.
Mycroft: That's Pierce Norman. We were supposed to trade him for Joan.
Mycroft: What is to be gained in sitting around? It's obvious someone got to Norman before we did, killed him and made off with the list. We need to devise something to do, not sit around.
Sherlock: I am devising something to do. I'm thinking about the most efficient way to sever a man's carotid artery. I'm wondering why, when half the world's criminals wanted Pierce Norman dead, he was murdered by someone he knew. And I'm reviewing my knowledge of invertebrate zoology. It's all terribly interesting, if one has the patience to simply pay attention.
Mycroft: So there's no sign of a break-in. And you think Norman let his attacker in. That's how you know they were acquainted.
Sherlock: He was cut once and only once. Direct strike to the neck. The blade was then retracted with a sharp twisting motion. All indicative of a highly trained attacker.
Mycroft: What are you doing? Is that a cocoon?
Sherlock: No, it's a coffin fly pupa. I noticed plenty of maggots, which is hardly surprising. But this this may be our salvation. It takes at least eight days for a fly to go from an egg to a pupa. Which means Mr. Norman here has been dead for over a week.
Mycroft: But the data breach at Credit Versoix was six days ago.
Sherlock: Precisely. Mr. Norman here is not a criminal. He's a victim. Someone with access to his computer followed him here, they murdered him, and then they used his files to compile their list. Pierce Norman was dead before the files were stolen. He has been murdered and framed, in that order.
Mycroft: So the person who stole the list is still at large. If we can find them, we'll have someone to trade for Joan.
Sherlock: We need the names of anyone who could possibly have had access to his computer.
Sherlock: Quite certain you're ready for this? Herr Yoder. Thank you so much for coming to see us.
Yoder: Could have done it without all this skulking about.
Sherlock: Well, my brother and I are quite unsure how to proceed. As the bank's head of security, we thought you were the best person to consult.
Yoder: So you no longer think Pierce Norman stole our list of clients?
Mycroft: That's correct. It was someone else inside the company. Did you bring the list of people who may have accessed his computer?
Yoder: There. Now tell me what you know...
Yoder: What are you doing? This is kidnapping.
Sherlock: Before your journey into unconsciousness, you asked my brother and I what we knew. We know all. We've known it since before we called you and asked you to meet us here. You murdered Norman. Then you assembled his list of clients and you took it to market.
Yoder: What? What's your proof?
Sherlock: It's really not terribly complicated. The only person at Credit Versoix with military training and access to highly secure accounts like Norman's was you, Herr Yoder.
Yoder: Every man in Switzerland goes into the army. You have to do something. Your brother, he's, he's insane.
Mycroft: Yes. That's always been a matter of some debate within the family. Various experts have been consulted, but an exact diagnosis has proved elusive.
Sherlock: It's true, military service is compulsory for every man in Switzerland. But most men complete their basic training, then they serve a brief stint in the reserves. You qualified for and served in an elite commando unit. FSK-17. I imagine hand-to-hand combat was a particular emphasis. Blade work.
Yoder: That's not proof.
Sherlock: And this is not the World Court. My brother and I are satisfied that you did it. And for your purposes, that's really all that matters. Now, you stand between me and the recovery of someone for whom I care with all the depth I am capable of mustering. She is remarkable in ways that you could never imagine. I would trade your life for hers without a moment's thought. So I am going to use these devices on you until you tell me the location of your stolen list. I will harvest whatever amount of your flesh is necessary to get what I want. Do you understand me so far?
Yoder: You have to stop this madness.
Mycroft: Answer my brother's question.
Sherlock: See, the military knows that every man will speak if the correct tools are applied, right? So the only way for you to influence this situation is to tell me what I want to know right now, and deny me the pleasure of extracting it from you. No? Okay, very well. Did you know you can choke any extremity on the human body? You simply need to deny it oxygen. It become quite useless quite permanently very, very quickly. Say auf Wiedersehen to your left hand, Herr Yoder. This particular shade of purple sets in right before the cells die permanently.
Yoder: Stop! It's on a hard drive. Uh, one of those small ones. It's, it's in a compartment in my car.
Marchef: He is talking like this. What is the matter with him?
Watson: He's probably in shock. He needs a hospital.
Watson: It's okay. It's okay. Okay
Marchef: Your time is not long now. I would be more worried.
Watson: My friends will come through. What happens after that is up to you.
Marchef: Mmm. You have a very strong faith in your friends. The one I know, he is not worth this.
Watson: You're talking about Mycroft.
Marchef: It seems you think we forced him into doing business with us. It did not happen like that. He was short of money. He had a, a proposal to use his business to help us move products. In return, we give money. The expansion to New York, his idea.
Watson: Why are you telling me all this?
Marchef: Maybe I think you should know the truth before we give you back to him. You should know the truth before.
Mycroft: Some of these names, remarkable. Yoder certainly gathered himself a valuable trove of information.
Sherlock: I'm sure, under different circumstances, it would be fascinating to review, but right now, all we need to know is that it's real. We've got the list. Where's the phone?
Mycroft: Who are you calling?
Sherlock: Agent McNally of the NSA.
Mycroft: What on earth for?
Sherlock: Mycroft, you've shown yourself to be capable of rudimentary deduction. And you know these people. Surely you must realize that as soon as we hand over the list, they will murder you, me and Joan. Yoder, as well, not that I'm particularly concerned about that.
Mycroft: I've been done business with these people for years. They're always as good as their word.
Sherlock: Heading into this meeting without proper support would be utter folly. McNally has access to trained men. He will also understand that we needed to color outside the lines to get the information that we needed from Yoder.
Mycroft: I don't think this is wise. We've done everything they've asked.
Sherlock: Well, considering it was your criminally poor judgment which resulted in Joan's abduction in the first place, let's dispense with that foolishness and approach the situation the smart way. My way.
Sherrington (phone): Tell me you've made progress.
Mycroft (phone): I have Kurt Yoder. And the list. I'm on my way to you now.
Marchef: It's Jem. Something is wrong.
Watson: It's thready.
Marchef: What is it? What is happening?
Watson: He's bleeding internally. The bullet must have nicked his liver.
Marchef: Ah. Fix it.
Watson: I told you, he needs surgery, real surgery, in a real hospital.
Marchef: No. You think if we take him to a hospital, he will tell them where you are. He won't.
Watson: If you want your cousin to live, take him to the hospital. Otherwise, keep him here and watch him die.
Marchef: Monsieur de Soto. Oui. Je comprends. It's good news. Your friend and his brother came through. The exchange is on.
McNally: I love this. You lie to me the other day about everything, and now you expect me to help save your partner.
Sherlock: I expect nothing. I'm appealing to your sense of decency.
McNally: And what about your buddies at the NYPD? Why don't you appeal to their sense of decency?
Sherlock: The NSA has superior resources. And a greater familiarity with the problem at hand.
McNally: You mean "problems" with an "S," right? Now that the list is gone, your brother double-crossed you, your partner is in the hands of some very, very bad guys.
Sherlock: Are you going to assist me or not?
McNally: I would love to assist you. I need that list, too. Your brother's in the wind. Your best hope is that he was right. That he can pull off the trade by himself.
Sherlock: You're assuming he even intends to make the trade.
McNally: You think he cut a deal with somebody else? That he gave the list to them?
Sherlock: I thought I knew my brother. His many flaws of character. It turns out, there may be more than I realized. I am begging you. Please, help me find him.
McNally: I'll tell my people to keep their eyes peeled. That's the best I can do.
Sherlock: Then you wont mind if I do go to the NYPD.
Marchef: Your friend is late.
de Soto: Encore cinq minutes. Pas de plus. (five minutes more, no extra)
Mycroft: Monsieur de Soto. I apologize for the delay.
de Soto: You have what we asked for?
Mycroft: In the boot.
de Soto: That is not Norman.
Mycroft: Norman is dead. He's been dead for over a week. That's the man who stole the list. If you like, I can show you where to find the body.
de Soto: You brought the list as well?
Mycroft: I want to thank you again, Guillaume, for this opportunity. As I told you, she works for the police, but she poses no threat to you.
de Soto: Kill them.
Mycroft: Guillaume, mistakes have been made, I confess, but I'm begging you, don't make another one.
de Soto: There are lines. You know this.
Mycroft: I've been an excellent partner to your organization. I've done everything you've always asked of me.
de Soto: All good things, mon ami.
Mycroft: You're certain there's nothing I can do to talk you out of this?
Mycroft: Then would you do me the favor of allowing me a few last words? Paint it black.
Leader: Command, this is A-16. We are all clear. I repeat, all clear. You squared, sir?
Mycroft: I'm sorry you had to see that Joan. Obviously, there's a great deal I need to tell you.