(knock at door)
Hi, how can I help you?
I'm looking for Sherlock Holmes.
My name's Jack Brunelle.
I was hoping he could help me with a case.
18 months ago, my son was assaulted by a man
in a ski mask outside a deli in Queens.
They tell me Mr. Holmes is
the secret weapon of the NYPD.
I was hoping he could help identify my son's attacker.
Um, I'd really love to help you,
but we're smack in the middle of something.
A man in Riverdale was murdered
over a priceless Mongolian fossil.
I know you're busy, but it would only
take a few minutes. (phone ringing)
Excuse me. Hey, Sherlock.
Yes, I am on my way.
Mr. Brunelle, maybe you can come back another time?
(door opens)
MASON: This guy was at the door.
Says he absolutely needs to talk to you.
Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
I'm Jack Brunelle.
Mr. Brunelle, yes.
You wrote to me several times.
Your son Connor was attacked, ended up in a coma,
and when he finally regained consciousness,
he was addicted to painkillers, right?
And then heroin.
He died from an overdose less than a year later.
Oh, I'm truly sorry.
Connor was murdered.
Now, you can draw a straight line
from the assault to his death,
but the police treated it like
it was just another mugging.
Still, we're kind of in the middle of something right now.
Could you have your son maybe wait outside?
Gross!
Mason is not my offspring.
He's a budding computer scientist.
He's helping me evaluate the artificial intelligence
of that doll,
as part of a murder investigation.
I receive many inquiries like yours.
Unfortunately, circumstance dictates that
I can only apply my talents where they are most needed.
I need your talents.
Connor needs your talents.
Well, you have my genuine sympathy, Mr. Brunelle,
but I'm sorry,
you can't have my help.
Mr. Brunelle, I admire your persistence,
but I'm afraid human nature hasn't changed
since your last visit.
We remain awash with murder.
You're carrying a roller derby roster?
Yes, one of those women was
strangled to death and dumped in a river.
It's just that the statute of limitations
on my son's case is getting close,
and no one's making any progress.
The state of New York allows you five years
to start assault proceedings.
After that, the attacker can't be prosecuted.
He's free.
My son was assaulted in January of 2012,
which means I have less than a year
to find his attacker
before the statute of limitations expires.
Mr. Brunelle, I understand your dilemma.
You feel a great pressure to right a criminal wrong,
but Watson and I are struggling to solve
two murders at the moment.
There might come a time when we can offer some help,
but I'm afraid it isn't today.
(pop music playing in background)
All right, everybody, get your hands up!
Get 'em up! I said get 'em up!
Get 'em up! Get your hands up!
Up! Up!
Oh, my God.
Stop, please. Don't hurt anyone.
I can open the cash register.
I don't want money.
Then what do you want?
Sherlock, Joan.
Half hour ago, a man with a shotgun walked in
and took the place over. WATSON: What does he want?
You.
Guy's name is Jack Brunelle.
He told the hostage negotiator
he wanted to talk to Sherlock Holmes
and Joan Watson, or he was gonna start shooting people.
He's asked for our help many times.
I guess he got tired of being polite about it.
He's got 20 hostages.
We should talk to him.
GREGSON: You're not going anywhere.
Let's get you on the phone first.
He'll just demand that we go in.
If Brunelle wanted to kill us,
he's had ample opportunity.
He doesn't want us dead.
He wants us working.
Hands on the counter.
Long way to go to hire a couple of detectives,
don't you think?
Sit.
I've been trying to get you to help me for years.
Well, you sure as hell can't ignore me now.
You're gonna figure out what happened to Connor.
Even if you found the person who assaulted your son,
that's all we can charge him with-- assault, not murder.
Well, he could go to jail for years.
If he's got priors, it could be decades.
You don't know what will happen when you find him.
Nobody does.
But we're gonna find out,
or I'm gonna shoot all of these people.
Some of Connor's old things.
Might be a good place to start.
All right...
let's go.
No. You go.
You're staying. What?
Your partner dies with everybody else
if you don't deliver.
If I don't deliver,
it will be because she stays.
We work as a team.
I require her counsel.
JACK: Well, you can have it anytime you want.
By phone.
I'll keep her close to me.
Make sure she doesn't miss a call.
Go.
We'll be fine.
Oh, one more thing.
What?
My son was attacked exactly five years ago today.
Which means the statute of limitations
on his assault runs out at midnight.
That's why we're here.
Today is the last day anyone can help Connor.
It's five after 8:00.
You got about
16 hours
to find the man who attacked my son.
And if you don't...
I'll start shooting.
♪ Elementary 5x13 ♪ Over a Barrel Original Air Date on January 29, 2017
== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man
Finally dug up the original paperwork
on Connor Brunelle's assault.
The case was opened on January 29, 2012,
by Detective Donald Andrews in the 107th precinct.
I hate to cast judgment on a brother in blue,
but doesn't look like Detective Andrews
lost much sleep on this one.
I doubt there's much here that's gonna help us.
You think Brunelle will go through with it?
Is he really gonna shoot 20 people
if we don't solve this case?
Doesn't matter what I think. Armed standoffs have a habit
of ending unpredictably.
You got something?
Text messages from five years ago
between Connor and a Dario Canales.
Mr. Canales appears to be a lawyer of some kind.
Now, at first glance, the messages,
they're quite harmless.
“Bring issue 622 of Linden Law Review at 5:15.
Hoyt Trial, February 12, 9:00”.
There are several clues, however, that indicate
these are more than just scheduling banalities.
Such as?
The Linden Law Review is not a real publication.
Also, there were no trials in New York on February 12.
Why is that?
Abraham Lincoln's birthday.
New York is one of seven states
which observes it as a holiday,
and all the courthouses are closed.
Mm, you know, Linden and Hoyt are
both streets in Brooklyn.
These texts could be setting up meetings.
622 Linden Avenue, 5:15.
12 Hoyt Street, 9:00 a.m.
Let me guess, you're already two steps ahead of me.
At least two.
All right, so why all the secrecy in the messages?
I suspect Connor and Dario were lovers.
Dario was married.
He has been since New York passed
the Marriage Equality Act.
The final messages grow tense.
I suspect the affair ended poorly.
If Dario was unhappy about the breakup,
that would give him motive to want to hurt Connor.
We should track this guy down. Mm-hmm.
He's at the New York County Supreme Court,
arguing a case there today, according to his Twitter feed.
DARIO: Yes,
I was seeing Connor,
but I didn't attack him.
I loved him.
Mr. Canales, you're a lawyer.
You know very well that love is often
the motive for the most gruesome of crimes.
It is, but I was on vacation
in Aruba when it happened.
Check my credit card statements.
I have photos, too.
The man in the diner, you said he'd
give you till midnight, right?
I'll answer your questions all day long,
but I'm telling you right now I'm not your guy.
All right, well, what about your husband?
We cracked the code you two used.
Maybe he did, too.
I told you I was on vacation in Aruba when it happened.
Who do you think I was on vacation with?
Your affair with Connor ended in 2012.
So what happened?
DARIO: Law school didn't work out,
so he took some job at a warehouse in Red Hook.
The graveyard shift, and he worked crazy hours.
It made it impossible to see each other.
Wait, back up a sec.
What do you mean “law school didn't work out”?
When the second year began,
he couldn't keep up with the work.
Started missing classes,
failing tests.
After a few months, they kicked him out.
His father didn't know. Nobody knew.
Connor was too embarrassed to tell anyone.
I'm sure people would have figured it out soon enough,
except he was attacked just after it happened,
and was dead less than a year later.
Tell us more about this warehouse where he worked.
(phone ringing)
May I?
Sherlock, you're on speaker.
HOLMES: Mr. Brunelle, your son failed out of law school
and was working at a warehouse in Red Hook
at the time of the attack.
What?
He never told you about that job,
but it's possible you saw some evidence lying around.
So, I'm gonna read you the names
of some businesses from that area.
Stop me if anything sounds familiar.
Grimwald Partners, Hardcastle Beam,
Morgan and Holt.
Wait, wait, wait, wait.
Morgan and Holt.
Connor had a hat with that written on it.
I thought it was a law firm.
You think this job has something to do
with Connor's assault?
That's precisely the question
we're trying to answer.
I'll check in with you
once we've paid a visit to Morgan and Holt.
(sighs)
Is it okay if I make some coffee?
No.
It's 10:30,
we've been here for two and a half hours.
I'm not asking you
to set everyone free, just...
some coffee, maybe a bathroom break.
So, what do you do for work?
Don't do that.
Do what?
I'm not your friend.
I'm the guy who's a half a day away
from shooting a diner full of people.
Yeah, I don't know.
You don't know what?
I don't know if you're actually gonna kill anybody.
You're doing this because you love your son.
You want justice.
You're desperate, but...
you don't strike me as the type of person
that would murder innocent strangers.
That bulge in your jacket pocket,
that's an extra box of shotgun shells.
You can't be carrying more than 12.
There are 20 hostages
in this diner.
21, including me.
Now, you don't have enough ammunition
to kill everyone here, because you have no intention
of killing everyone here.
Yeah, you got me all figured out.
I'm not a threat.
What if I told you you're right?
I don't plan to kill all the hostages if your partner fails.
I just plan to kill him.
And who is he?
Donald Andrews.
Retired NYPD.
He's the detective who caught my son's case five years ago
and did nothing!
You were content to just sit on your ass,
while the man who attacked my son went free.
You tied him up because you know him.
I had enough of his excuses for one lifetime.
You say I didn't bring enough
ammo for everyone in the diner?
Well, that may be.
But I sure as hell brought enough for him.
NORM: Yeah, I remember Connor. Good kid.
A real shame, what happened to him.
Well, we were told
he was working here at the time of his assault.
He was the overnight security guard.
Though, to be honest, there wasn't much for him to guard.
What do you mean?
Well, this company's on its last legs.
Has been for a decade now.
Not a whole lot of product coming through the door.
I only pay an overnight guard
to keep an eye on the building at night.
Make sure teenagers don't vandalize it,
that sort of thing.
Can you confirm that Connor would have been working
the night that he was assaulted?
Yeah, he would have been.
Hmm. So, he was assaulted
just hours before his shift was due to start.
Did you have to find a replacement that night?
(chuckles) Hard enough finding one guy to do the job.
Good luck finding a second at the eleventh hour.
So it's safe to assume, then,
that the night he was attacked,
this place was left unguarded
until the next morning?
Yeah, probably.
Thank you very much.
BELL: What's up?
I think the purpose of Connor's assault
was to ensure that this warehouse
was left wholly unguarded
on a particular night five years ago.
We're gonna go discern why.
There a... reason you've got a totem pole in your bathroom?
It's too big for the closet.
Hmm.
What am I looking at?
It's New York from above.
This is a small
fragment of the thousands of hours
of covert surveillance footage recorded by the FBI
and their fleet of drones.
They do so over many major U.S. cities.
All in the name of homeland security. Hmm.
This particular clip was recorded
January 29, 2012.
The night Connor was attacked.
Mm-hmm. This is the warehouse
we visited earlier.
I'm hoping this will give me
some insight as to why someone
wanted it left unguarded that night.
Where the hell did you get this?
Agent McNally of the NSA. Shh.
He owed me a favor, I helped untangle a rather ugly incident
involving Belgium, the Dalai Lama,
and a stolen wheel of priceless cheese.
What incident was that?
Exactly.
Are those boats?
Shipping barges.
And those are barrels, right?
This looks like some kind of smuggling operation.
The barrels are being loaded onto trucks.
There must be a thousand barrels.
Any idea what's inside 'em?
Could be anything.
Whatever it is,
there's a lot of it.
I count a dozen tractor-trailers.
Those things can carry 80,000 pounds apiece.
The single biggest cache
of smuggled goods on record is the 1989 Sylmar bust.
ATF agents found 20 tons of cocaine
in a Californian warehouse.
Now, given the sheer number of barrels,
and the holding capacity of a dozen trucks,
this could dwarf that.
So, the assault on Connor Brunelle
was garden-variety, but it might be connected
to what could be
the single largest smuggling payload in American history.
HOLMES: So there's a dozen Kenworth T440 trucks
with Paccar PX-8 engines and fixed grill hoods.
But you already know that, Mr. Trimble.
According to the DMV,
the rental company you work for is the only business
in the area with a fleet
of those specific vehicles.
HOLMES: Five years ago,
these trucks were used in a smuggling plot,
to bring hundreds of steel barrels
by boat, into New York.
Says who?
Says the photographs you're holding.
They were taken the night of the operation.
BELL: You managed the fleet for the company, Frank.
Signing trucks in and out, scheduling maintenance.
We're told a vehicle doesn't leave the lot
without your say-so.
Which means you were very likely involved in the plot.
BELL: So here's the deal.
You tell us about the plot,
what was in those barrels,
who attacked Connor Brunelle,
and we'll tell the D.A. how helpful you were
in saving the lives of 20 people.
Okay, look...
those are my trucks, but I swear to you,
I wasn't involved in any smuggling plot.
That was the Shoreline 99s.
The gang from South Queens, those Shoreline 99s?
They used to run cocaine
in the neighborhood around our company.
One night, around ten years back,
a few of 'em show up on my lot
and tell me that I got to let them use my trucks
whenever they want,
to move their drugs around or whatever.
I tried to say no, they threatened to kill me.
Said they knew where I lived.
After that, I'd get messages
saying to leave keys in certain vehicles.
The trucks vanished that night,
would be back in the morning.
I didn't know where they went or what they were used for.
I just did what I was told so I didn't get hurt.
So, you said that they used to run cocaine
in your neighborhood.
I stopped hearing from them
right after this smuggling thing you're talking about.
They dropped off the map.
Even if I wanted to find them, I wouldn't know where to look.
BELL: So the Shoreline 99s
pull the biggest smuggling caper in American history
and then disappear.
Perhaps the two events are related.
The Shoreline 99s disappeared because they pulled
the biggest smuggling caper in American history.
Landing that big score allowed them to cash out and move on?
Wouldn't be the first criminals to retire.
I was wondering if the Shoreline 99s' vanishing act
was less voluntary than that.
During my first year as a detective,
I caught a couple gang shootings that went down
on Shoreline 99 turf.
They were at war with a Nicaraguan gang
called “Santo Matón”,
over the drug game in South Queens.
From what I remember, Santo Matón was winning.
So you think they were hunted to extinction?
Wouldn't be the first time one gang wiped out another.
If that's how it went down in this case,
Santo Matón would be
the best source of info on our missing gangsters.
You know, I'll reach out
to a friend in Narcotics,
see if he can make contact with the Nicaraguans.
Can't exactly go walking into gang territory
with a sign that says, “Looking for bad guys.”
(sighs) This is a bad idea.
Don't have time for good ideas.
Jack Brunelle's clock is ticking.
(phone ringing)
You've got us both.
HOLMES: Mr. Brunelle? By way of an update,
uh, we believe that your son was assaulted
as part of a smuggling plot by a gang called the Shoreline 99s.
My colleague and I,
we're zeroing in on them as we speak.
I'll call you back.
Get in.
And you are?
That one.
Yeah, I though you said we were just gonna talk to these guys.
I did and we shall.
You really think it's a good idea
to drive off with them?
I think Watson's life is at stake,
as are the lives of 20 other people.
You comin'?
(distant siren wailing)
So, how long have you been sick, Jack?
The red lesion behind your right ear,
it's a marker for basal cell carcinoma.
Skin cancer.
Doesn't look like you've been treating it, either.
Is that why you're taking this risk?
The ultimatum, the hostages?
You think you're gonna die soon anyway.
Is that it?
Do you have any idea what it's like to lose a child?
If you ask any parent
if they would die in place of a daughter or a son,
I guarantee you the answer would be yes.
And do you know why?
It's not because of honor,
or duty,
or parental responsibility.
It's because it's easier.
It's easier to die than it is to be left behind.
Every morning since Connor passed away,
I wake up and I wish it was me instead of him.
So, no.
Answer to your question,
I'm not treating my skin cancer.
Does that mean I'm gonna die soon?
I don't know.
But a guy can hope, right?
(Spanish rap song playing)
I'm told you're looking for us.
Just as a means to an end.
And what end is that?
The Shoreline 99s.
What about them?
Well, given your group's
long and bumpy history with them,
we were wondering if you knew where to find them.
I wish I could.
I'd love nothing more than to sit back
and watch the NYPD stomp a mudhole in those boys.
Truth is,
we ain't seen them in years.
That 'cause you wiped them all out?
That's because they disappeared.
One day, they were crawling all over our turf,
sticking their noses where they don't belong,
the next,
poof, gone.
And good riddance, as far as I'm concerned.
Where was the last place you saw any of their members?
They used to roll out of a spot down on 160th,
just past Brinkerhoff.
No point in writing that down, man.
Building ain't there no more.
They bulldozed it.
You used to be a member of the Shoreline 99s.
Could you be of assistance?
What?
Well, all the members have the same tattoo,
the triangle on your... neck.
It's a nod to the intersection in Queens
where the, uh, gang first formed.
And yours is... it's been lasered off,
but you still have the, uh, scar, so...
You know where they are?
That true, Reggie?
Yeah. I-I was in the Shoreline 99s.
But look, I was 16 years old, all right? I...
You know, corner boy.
I mean, mostly. But you know, five years ago,
these guys at the top, they gathered us all together
and they told us it was over, all right?
They were disbanding the gang.
They say why?
No, man. They just cut us loose. All right?
And that was that. I got rid of my tat, and I joined up
with these boys, and I've been here ever since.
I've been loyal ever since.
BELL: When was the last time you saw anyone
from the Shoreline 99s?
Maybe two years ago.
The leader of the gang, Terrell,
I remember, he told me I owed him money,
so he wanted to meet up.
Meet him where?
The manager remembers Terrell Martin.
Said he used to come here all the time.
“Used to”"
Manager says she hasn't seen him in years.
Got to think she's telling the truth.
I poked around a little inside,
didn't see anything out of place.
If Shoreline 99 is using this spot as a front,
they're doing a hell of a good job hiding it.
Nothing to hide. They're not using that place.
I think they might be using that place.
Public records indicate that building was foreclosed on
a decade ago. Yet, the front door is secured
with brand new Medeco- shrouded padlock shackles,
and there are four Arecont Vision Dome Cameras
around the perimeter.
Someone has gone to a lot of bother
to roll out the unwelcome mat.
And you think that someone is the Shoreline 99s.
Terrell asked Reggie to meet him at this donut shop,
and we thought they were using it as as a gang front.
Well, I think it might be gang front adjacent.
BELL: Terrell holds his meetings here
because it's across the street from the place
Shoreline 99 does control.
Is it just me, Detective Bell, or do you hear that?
Hear.. what?
The sound of evidence being destroyed?
It's coming from inside that building.
Thank heavens the Supreme Court 2011 ruling
in Kentucky v. King grants us probable cause
to search the premises in precisely this situation.
(shears snip metal, door creaks)
BELL: Well, now we know where those barrels ended up.
What do we got?
Cocaine?
Afraid not.
BELL: What is it, then?
It's maple syrup.
How did it go with CSU?
We searched that building top to bottom,
found plenty more barrels, but not much else.
You came back here to eat pancakes?
Maple syrup. I had an idea.
The problem with maple syrup is that the natural production
of it varies wildly
from year to year.
To combat this issue, the Federation
of Quebec Maple Syrup Producers
modulates production of the stuff.
They set production quotas.
Now, these quotas have no doubt helped some artisans,
but it also punishes others because they're unable to sell
their surplus supply.
So it ends up getting sold on the black market
alongside drugs and guns. I know.
Obviously, that's what the Shoreline 99s' leadership
was up to five years ago.
The question is, what does that have to do with this?
Well, I tasted some of the Shoreline 99s' maple syrup
before I left their building.
It has a woody, vanilla essence, with a hint
of crushed leaves.
If I can identify a batch of syrup from one of the...
city's many pancake dispensaries,
with the same flavor profile...
You'll know who's buying the Shoreline 99s' illegal syrup.
And from there, it should be...
That's a match.
Which restaurant?
Crescent Moon Cafe in Greenpoint.
I'll send patrol over there, see if we can get the name
of whoever's delivering their syrup.
The hell am I doing here?
You're about to be arrested for trafficking stolen property
and violating federal customs laws.
You've been selling illegal Canadian maple syrup
to The Crescent Moon Cafe in Greenpoint,
as well as a number of other places, I'm sure.
We just confiscated a few hundred barrels of the stuff
at your stash house in Queens.
On top of that,
there are several outstanding warrants for your arrest
from your days as a member of the Shoreline 99s.
When all is said and done, you're looking
at some pretty serious jail time.
The dark cloud that you find yourself under
does, however, have a silver lining...?
You help us with our case, and we'll put in a good word
with the district attorney.
Maybe he goes easy on you when the time comes.
What case?
Five years ago, the Shoreline 99s smuggled a load
of maple syrup into New York.
Interesting move for a group that dealt in cocaine.
Yeah, the drug game was good to us at first.
You know, we sold our product, made decent money,
didn't ruffle any feathers.
Then these young guns show up, start muscling in on our turf.
Santo Matón. Yeah. Killer Saint.
Emphasis on the “Killer.” Those guys are nuts, man.
It's all “Shoot first, ask questions never” with them.
You know, pretty soon, we spending more time
dodging bullets than we are selling coke.
Felt like living in a war zone.
So when our leader, Terrell, said he had a way to get out,
we was, like, “Yeah.”
The syrup heist was his idea?
No, a friend of his. This guy, you know,
he had all the details figured out.
Knew where to get the syrup, how to get the boats,
where to bring it once it was on shore.
He just needed a bunch of guys to pull off the heist.
So he brought it to Terrell.
Terrell picked ten of us and sent everybody else home.
Just like that.
No more Shoreline 99s.
So, ten of us pulled the heist,
and for the last five years,
we've been selling off the syrup barrel by barrel.
No more gang wars, no more shootings.
Best part is,
syrup never goes bad.
Part of your plan involved assaulting
a warehouse security guard named Connor Brunelle.
Yeah, Terrell's friend handled that part.
Said he knew where to find the guy,
knew how to make sure he didn't
show up for work.
Terrell was sure his friend could handle it.
He told us this one story where, supposedly,
the guy got into a bar fight and wound up taking down,
like, four bouncers, two Rottweilers,
and half a dozen other guys
all by himself.
He was a bruiser.
Did this bruiser have a name?
Terrell wouldn't tell us.
Guy didn't want a bunch of thugs being able to ID him
just in case something went wrong.
That was part of the deal.
BELL: So Terrell Martin is the only person
who can identify this silent partner,
the man who assaulted Connor Brunelle.
So where is Terrell now?
Groveton Cemetery.
He died in a car crash about a year ago.
(siren wailing in distance)
Ramesh is a friend from med school.
He specializes in Mohs micrographic surgery.
It's an advanced technique
to remove basal cell carcinoma.
Listen, Jack.
I'm not gonna pretend I know
what it's like to lose a child.
I've been around plenty of people who have.
I know it gets better with time.
However this thing turns out, Ramesh can help you.
40 minutes.
Marcus!
Hey. August 23, 2009.
A man is watching a hockey game in a bar in Harlem.
It is Montreal's Canadiens against New York's Rangers.
Midway through, three Ranger fans start mocking our man,
a Canadiens supporter, over the poor play of his team.
Alcohol is consumed, threats are made.
A confrontation begins.
Our Canadiens fan battles all three Ranger enthusiasts,
as well as two bouncers, a bartender, and a stray beagle
that had wandered into the bar.
Oh, wait. Holmes, you...
Terrell Martin's story about his silent partner
beating up a bar all by himself is true.
Or at least some version of it. I began exploring the notion
when I recalled the writings of 19th century Russian occultist
Helena Blavatsky.
To paraphrase: no myth is wholesale fable.
Even the most fanciful legends begin as a small grain of truth.
She was right, and thankfully so, as her words
have led us directly to our culprit.
At the end of the confrontation,
several of the belligerents were arrested,
including Terrell Martin's silent partner.
Or as we know him better, Frank bloody Trimble.
Look at these.
Welts and bruises on Frank's victims at the bar are identical
to marks found on Connor Brunelle.
Same irregular shape
of the first metacarpophalangeal joint here.
Same length of the fourth metacarpal, here.
Same distance between the major and minor knuckles, here.
These bruises were made by the same hands.
Frank Trimble's hands. Frank is our culprit.
He's the one who assaulted Connor Brunelle.
Uh...
Sherlock, that was the captain who called.
It's 12:05.
We missed the deadline.
(phone ringing)
It's Sherlock.
Hey.
HOLMES: You're unharmed? So far, yes.
Mr. Brunelle, it's over. We've solved your case.
Your son was assaulted by a man named Frank Trimble.
It doesn't matter anymore!
It's past midnight. You failed.
You need to give us more time. JACK: No.
I gave you plenty of time.
Years.
I waited on you.
Now you gonna wait on me.
I know nothing's happened yet, Tommy.
The idea's to get my guys inside before anything does.
It's ten minutes past the deadline
and Jack Brunelle hasn't fired a shot.
You send a team through that door,
and that's gonna change real quick.
I send a team in, we're all safe at home inside an hour.
There are 20 hostages inside that building.
One of them is a friend of mine.
If Brunelle doesn't have a reason
to kill anybody, I don't want you giving him one.
ESU OFFICER: Hey, Captain.
What?
There's something you should see.
ESU OFFICER: The tablecloth came down
a few minutes ago,
but doesn't look like anybody on the inside's noticed yet.
Might give you a view into the diner.
Hold the entry.
Get me a sniper.
(grunting) Come here.
Get on the ground.
Jack, what are you doing? (hostages shouting)
WATSON: Jack, stop!
I'm doing exactly what I said I was gonna do.
I've spent hundreds of hours
trying to get police to look at Connor's case.
I wrote letters. I printed flyers.
I even posted online.
None of it made a difference.
So, you tell me, Joan,
what am I supposed to do?
Do you really think that Connor would want you
to kill an innocent man?
He's not innocent!
Connor was lying
in a hospital bed, half dead,
while he did nothing.
(groans) Don't! Please!
That makes him pretty guilty in my book.
(cell phone vibrating)
Guilty of being a bad cop.
Okay? Yes.
But that does not earn him
a death sentence.
You know that, Jack. I don't know anything.
Stop telling me what I'm thinking!
However angry that you are
about what happened to your son,
you're not gonna feel better by killing this man. Okay?
Stop moving, Jack.
If you take another step,
a sniper outside will blow your head off.
I am really sorry...
(choked up): ...about how your son died.
I really am.
But you know...
...that this is no way to honor his memory.
You just saved my life.
Put the gun down.
Please.
(indistinct chatter)
GREGSON: You okay?
Not really.
You did good in there.
Can't sleep?
Apparently, you can't, either.
What's all this?
Oh, I'm, uh, reexamining the paperwork
on the Connor Brunelle assault.
Why? Jack Brunelle is in jail.
We know that Frank Trimble assaulted his son,
but the statute of limitations has expired. It's over.
And yet I find myself drawn to this case
for the uniquely challenging foe it presents.
How is Frank Trimble a “uniquely challenging foe”?
He's not. I'm referring to time itself.
Oh. As rivals go,
it's undefeated.
I just want you to know that if you tell me
you're trying to build a flux capacitor, I'm out of here.
Good night, Sherlock.
Good night, Watson.
WATSON: What's that?
You're gonna need it later on.
I told you last night, as adversaries go,
time itself was undefeated...
but as of this morning, you can consider it defeated.
I have scaled an unscalable peak.
My ascent, however,
was not without its metaphorical Sherpas.
I'm gonna take a wild guess,
and say that you got some help from Everyone.
They were kind enough to lend their assistance
on spec last night, but when we are finished
arresting Frank Trimble for his assault on Connor Brunelle,
we are going to have to pay the piper.
How are we going to arrest Frank Trimble?
Statute of limitations has expired.
Hmm.
What did Everyone do for you?
(speaking French)
HOLMES: There. That's you, Mr. Trimble,
at a Montreal Canadiens playoff game
two and a half years ago.
Some tech-savvy friends of mine found this footage
using facial recognition software.
So yes, as I was looking through the details
of your personal life, I discovered
you're not just a hockey fan, you are... you're a devotee.
You live and die the fortunes of Les Habs, and...
well, you went to attend a game
at the mecca of French Canadian hockey.
WATSON: We pulled your credit card statements this morning.
You bought last-minute tickets online.
You drove up on a Friday,
you stayed overnight in a hotel,
and you drove back on Saturday.
So?
BELL: So the Canadiens play
in Canada, which means you crossed an international border
to get to the game.
(chuckles): So?
GREGSON: Have you heard of tolling, Mr. Trimble?
It's a legal term.
When a crime is committed...
Assault, for example.
...the statute of limitations on that crime begins
the moment it is reported and continues to count down
until the time expires.
WATSON: Unless you leave the country,
in which case the clock stops
for the time that you're away.
That time is “tolled.”
BELL: Tolling stops people
from committing a crime, leaving the country,
then returning Scot-free
after the statute of limitations has expired.
Without it, people could commit a crime
without any repercussions. WATSON: When you went
to that game, you left the country for 27 hours.
So that means the statute of limitations
for the assault you committed against Connor Brunelle
five years ago is still active for exactly that amount of time.
BELL: We can match the bruises you left
on those guys in Harlem after the bar fight
with the ones you left on Connor Brunelle.
In other words, you're under arrest.
HOLMES: And if you're still unclear about the concept
of tolling, don't worry, because the 20-odd years
you might get for criminal assault in the first degree
should give you plenty of time to work it out.
♪ Tropics... ♪
So, are we doing this?
We are.
Your phone rang.
Yeah, it was the captain. He spoke to his friend
at the Department of Corrections this morning.
They agreed to let Ramesh
treat Jack's cancer while he's in prison.
So he's gonna get the surgery he needs.
(phone chimes) Hmm.
Everyone?
Yes. They're ready.
Here's what I don't get.
I mean, you could shave your own head,
so why do I have to do it? Mm...
partners in everything, I suppose, Watson.
Okay, this is your last chance... (exhales)
...to get out of it.
The humiliation will fade.
The satisfaction of putting Frank Trimble
behind bars will not.
Now, let's get on with it.
♪ Window to another world ♪
♪ Mmm, tropics... ♪
♪ Off the map ♪
♪ Through the glass ceiling ♪
♪ On the right path... ♪
== sync, corrected by elderman == @elder_man