Previously on Watson... On two occasions now,
I've had hallucinations.
Each time, it's happened right after
I've refilled tamsulosin.
What, someone's switching out your medication?
I need to tell you something.
Dr. Watson.
Someone is watching you.
Your prescriptions come in,
and I have been trading one for the other.
You don't have to do this, mate.
I know what happened here.
He's not down there anymore. I have him now.
He's alive, Shinwell.
Moriarty is alive.
Here we go.
Another festival of misanthropy
and loneliness.
We are picking out points of genetic interest,
not living a life in the day of Stephens Croft.
You mean a day in the life of John Watson.
He's the one who spots disease everywhere he goes.
Yes, it's both a burden and privileged way
of seeing the world, Dr. Croft.
Skunk stripe.
What's the matter with you?
S-Sorry. Sir...
"Poliosis" is the medical term.
His white forelock,
absurdly blue eyes,
broad nasal root all points
to Waardenburg type 1.
Could also have congenital hearing loss.
Mm, good news, he totally heard you.
That's one point to Adam in the festival
of misanthropy and loneliness.
Dermal melanocytosis.
It's gorgeous.
And incredibly rare.
See how it runs along the lines of Blaschko? Uh-huh.
Excuse me.
I'm sorry to stop you,
but may I ask about the birthmark
that's on your back?
I run the Holmes Clinic
of Diagnostic Medicine.
You do realize that you're hot, right?
If you want my number, you can just ask.
Thank you, but it's-it's not about that.
Yeah, okay.
I'm gonna give it to you anyway.
Who are you?
John Watson.
Irene Adler.
Wha...
W-What are you doing here?
I can see what you're doing.
Out here picking up women?
Aren't you going to introduce us?
Dr. Derian,
Dr. Lubbock, Crofts.
Fellows, this is Irene Adler.
Trust her fashion advice, but do not
trust her with your Social Security numbers.
I will meet you
back at the clinic.
Irene, so I haven't seen you since...
You were attached to Sherlock's hip?
So, what are you doing in Pittsburgh?
Did you run out of yachts to lounge on,
or did some lesser-known royal kick you off?
I find the lower branches of the peerage
are lacking in vigor these days.
Almost as if there's something to all this inbreeding business.
Actually, I'm here because my son is sick.
I-I didn't know you had a son.
Angus?
John Watson, internist and geneticist.
Angus Adler, medical mystery.
So, I mean, y-you came all this way to see me?
Why didn't you just call me first?
Certain conversations are best had in person.
Knock me down with a cuckoo's feather.
I thought this was a proper establishment.
Don't tell me, Shinwell Johnson is your... receptionist?
Health-care professional.
He's actually studying to be a nurse, as a matter of fact.
Saving lives instead of taking them.
You here on health insurance fraud,
are you, or to scam
an octogenarian on his deathbed?
Those days are far behind me.
Well,
I had no idea someone had tamed
Scheme-Machine Irene.
- I pity the man. - Mother?
Hmm? Aren't receptionists supposed to be welcoming?
He's got you there, Shinwell.
This way.
Dr. Lubbock, could you please take
Irene and Angus here to the exam room?
I'll be there shortly. Course.
Hi, I'm Dr. Lubbock. It's so nice to meet you.
Come with me.
Hello.
What fresh hell is this?
She asked me to take a look at her son.
I at least want to know what brought them all this way.
Are my pupils constricting?
Yes, they are indeed.
Most kids don't know your iris is a muscle.
It controls your pupil's size.
Did you know, after you die, all your muscles relax,
so dead bodies have dilated pupils.
You're very clever.
Thank you, Doctor.
Doctors can make Angus nervous, but not you.
You must have children of your own?
No. I don't.
So, Angus, uh, need you
to stand so I can check your balance, okay?
Angus, do as Dr. Watson says.
Angus?
Angus.
Can you stand so I can check your balance?
Has he done this before?
He's often in his own world.
Angus.
Darling.
Stand up for Dr. Watson.
He called her an "old friend."
I thought it was a euphemism.
For "foe"?
Oh, you mean sex.
After last week, Watson probably could use an old friend.
Do you mean sex? Everyone means sex.
I mean he must be shaken up still. I am.
And we didn't even witness the suicide.
Do we believe
- he was just a pharmacist? - Stop staring
at the spot like it'll bring the guy back from the dead.
The problem's with the living.
After last week, I don't trust anyone
walking in off the street.
Especially not someone from Watson's past.
Did anyone ever mention to you that
Angus's staring spells could be absence seizures?
What?
I had no idea.
I feel terrible.
Don't, because those often go undiagnosed for years.
And his muscular weakness could be caused
by a number of pathologies.
His doctor back home
suspects limb-girdle muscular dystrophy, but...
He'd have to have
two mutated copies of his CAPN3 gene.
He has one.
He got it from me.
He also has
a "variant of unknown significance."
What were his father's results?
His father's no longer with us.
He was a man with many enemies, and...
...one of whom finally brought about his demise last year.
He wished to be cremated, so...
can't exactly acquire a sample.
I'm sorry for your loss.
I'm sorry for yours.
Shinwell...
You must see it.
Angus's father, he was...
Sherlock Holmes.
Everything discussed in this room
stays in this room.
Understood?
This must be so surreal for you.
You really had no idea
that Sherlock had a son?
You don't believe it's his kid.
I remain objective.
So, we have two tasks at hand.
Two teams to tackle two branching possibilities.
Adam and Sasha. Hopeful Healers.
Take the patient at face value.
Based on Angus's presenting symptoms, his labs
and his past medical records,
draw up a differential for us to discuss.
Ingrid and Stephens.
Cynic Squad.
What? Hell yeah.
Take Irene aside
and get a very detailed history.
Find out everything you can,
but keep an ear out for inconsistencies.
Whether to confirm diagnosis
or disprove paternity, we'll need Holmes's DNA.
How do we get the DNA of a dead man?
You can leave that to me.
And I need you all to remember:
Irene Adler is the only living person
to ever outsmart Sherlock Holmes.
She cannot know that I doubt her story.
Kid's got his grimy fingerprints
all over these game pieces.
Trace DNA. We can test him.
But we have the actual kid.
Plus, Irene already
brought in his testing results.
Well, I wouldn't trust anything
from the hands of Irene Adler.
I'm trying to remain objective.
But yes, I did swab Angus to run my own test.
In terms of Sherlock's DNA,
it's gonna be quite a challenging hunt.
He was always quite paranoid about his genetic footprint.
So, then, not exactly the type to sow his seeds.
Well, if he did, it would've been with her.
To Holmes, she was always the woman.
If it is his,
he wouldn't have kept that secret from you, would he?
She mustn't have told him.
Mary never told me about her miscarriage.
And she was my wife.
I warned the fellows that Irene
was the only person alive
to ever outsmart Sherlock.
But now there are two, aren't there?
You don't think they're connected? Eh.
Moriarty couldn't be bothered with the likes of her,
and she's too self-serving.
Yeah, I guess you're right.
It's quite possible she's just a mother looking for our help.
We trawling for skin cells, then?
Uh, not exactly.
For genetic testing, the trace skin cells
are much less reliable than saliva or blood.
Remember...
how Mr. Holmes used to scratch his head with this
whilst thinking?
How about a strand of hair?
Yeah. There you are.
Look at that.
I thought I was well traveled,
but this kid has been everywhere.
Maybe he got sick abroad.
A viral myositis? Show me the list of countries.
I'll look into potential exposures. Hey.
Beautiful portrait.
You don't think it's strange?
Having a painting of yourself?
Hmm, I support it. Embrace the self-love.
At my age, my dad's desk was full of pictures of my mom,
and all of us kids, but--
No. No. Don't do that.
Don't hold yourself to someone else's timeline.
You do you.
Hmm. We are Hopeful Healers.
Get back to work.
I forgot you're even more competitive than Ingrid.
I'm just, um...
I'm just doing me.
Let's go over this one more time.
The first "spell" you "may"
remember was last year when Angus was playing "footy"?
The air quotes are a little, uh, aggressive.
He collapsed, like he was "paralyzed."
The medics told you
to take him to the pediatrician,
and not the hospital?
Correct.
And you didn't think to question that?
No.
Do you have any family history of muscular dystrophy,
myasthenia gravis or other autoimmune diseases?
Not on my side of the family.
The paternal side?
I wish I knew.
What can you tell us about Sherlock?
How old was he when he died?
Too young.
May I have some water, please? Not yet.
Get her some water, please.
You're wearing gloves now.
What's between your fingers? Did you find something?
I may have...
Could you use a lab assistant?
I have a very eager one here.
Angus, this could be
a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to witness a genius at work.
And more importantly,
your father's best friend.
Promise you won't touch anything?
No, no, no, no! Don't touch.
Looks like you might have a future geneticist
on your hands.
He's insatiable.
Always wanting to see, do, learn.
I never once worried about what his future might hold.
Until now.
I understand you may not trust me.
You don't need to.
You just need to help my son.
Did you know that each strand of DNA holds the secrets
to our past, our present and future...
...all in one little molecule?
To a great mind, nothing is little.
Did your father tell you that?
My mother did.
Maybe she heard it from him.
What's your opinion on nature versus nurture?
Did my dad have a dog?
Holmes did. Sir Charles Barkley.
He was a Yorkshire terrier.
He trained it to do-- A Yorkie! Of course.
Their hair is almost identical to ours.
The real mystery is how it got onto the violin.
Just as I suspected.
See? The more prominent medulla?
The medulla is the scale pattern on the cuticle.
Yes, I know what a medulla is.
So then you know the hair is
clearly a dog hair.
Don't feel silly.
You were looking for a human hair,
so that's what you thought you found.
Sometimes we only see what we wish to.
The hair belonged
to Sir Charles Barkley!
The basketball player? Isn't he very bald?
Sir Charles was my dad's dog.
A cunning little beast.
No luck acquiring any human DNA, then?
No. Not yet. We'll have to try again tomorrow.
Oh, it's late. I didn't think about lodging.
We came straight from the airport.
Can't we stay with you?
Me?
Well, I, um...
I do have a spare bedroom.
That would take one thing off my plate.
Thank you, John.
How is that "remaining objective"?
What happened in there?
I saw him.
I saw Sherlock.
Like "saw" saw him, or...
It was like I was talking to an old friend.
I think he's Sherlock's son.
He's never fallen asleep so fast.
It was a long day. For both of you.
I reckon he's about to start calling you Uncle.
Did Sherlock ever know about him?
Sorry to be so blunt,
but I just can't imagine him being a father.
Yeah, I can't either.
He didn't know.
They never even met.
Before you judge me, what do you know
about my relationship with Sherlock?
It was more off than on, over the years.
Sherlock was never forthcoming, but...
I did get the feeling
that you were the one thing in his life
that he couldn't control.
The struggle for power was our undoing.
I also knew he didn't want to be a parent,
so when I got pregnant, I had a choice.
So I ended things with Sherlock and eight months later...
I had no regrets, keeping Angus a secret.
Until Sherlock passed.
Now I have a few.
Do you think he didn't want to have children
because he knew he carried that gene,
that mutation?
That's plausible.
It was a Holmes family trait.
That's it.
Mycroft Holmes, the older brother
of Sherlock Holmes.
Sometimes referred to as the Unfindable Man.
If I wanted to stay unfindable,
I'd change my name to something other than Mycroft.
I occasionally crossed paths with Mycroft on cases.
Not even Gregson at Scotland Yard knows
his residence or current occupation.
In a time
when everyone leaves behind digital fingerprints,
Mycroft has none.
Even James Bond is not that off-the-grid.
Wait, is Adam right?
Is Mycroft in the British Secret Service?
Well, he could be in the BSS, or he may be the BSS,
or it could all be BS.
Two questions.
Do the points from yesterday carry over?
Who's been tallying those? Let it go.
...and did Sasha get a head start?
Yes, she did get a head start.
Dr. Lubbock is running tests on the patient.
Yeah, I'd rather be doing real medicine
than tracking down a spy.
Well, it's too bad you're on the Cynic Squad.
I know someone in the CIA.
If he says that he's in the CIA,
he's either lying
or he's a terrible agent.
Here is your first clue.
I emailed-- doubt I'll hear back--
but Sherlock used to say
the Diogenes Club is a pretentious place
Mycroft founded to "luxuriate in silence."
Whatever that means.
There's no listed number or address,
but if there's anyone here who is old money enough
to track down a secret society...
I would say it's a Croft.
I was in a secret society in college.
Oh, my God. But I can't tell you which one,
so do not ask.
You can't get me to tell you.
Do you know any violin teachers?
Thought maybe Angus or someone might want to take some lessons.
Violin lessons?
Mate, how long you think this kid's gonna be around?
Depends on the treatment and diagnosis.
Irene's done your head in already,
hasn't she?
Look.
Don't get me wrong,
any kid would be lucky to have you as a surrogate dad.
But the timing, guv.
Right after you've been through it.
Learning of your own kid that almost was.
And meeting this one
reminds you of everything you've lost.
I can separate the two.
All right.
Well...
I flagged all the cases involving Mycroft.
Let's at least get the DNA before you start
planning vacations with the little twerp.
All right.
I'll be sure to keep you in mind
if I need a muffler.
Bye.
Guessing that wasn't your CIA friend.
Or he's deep undercover. Old number, I guess.
One of my college buddies will have Thatch's new one.
Thatch. Of course his name is Thatch.
I think I lost you
in the elevator.
I'm still looking to book the MRI.
Dr. Derian,
can you watch Angus for a minute?
I have to pop outside.
She picked the wrong babysitter.
Why don't you sit here and read your book.
So, what are you all up to?
Trying to find Sherlock's brother.
Watson thinks it's our best chance
of confirming Angus's diagnosis.
Or proving that Irene...
No idea what that was.
Um...
Where's your, uh, your teammate?
Somewhere losing.
What were the EMG results?
Inconclusive. He was too anxious.
But I did set him up with an MRI for tomorrow,
so we'll see how that goes.
Better than a muscle biopsy.
Tough choice.
Claustrophobic death tube
or cut a chunk of meat
out of his leg.
So far, all I can find is
some illegible correspondence with Sherlock,
and a copy of an incident report
where Mycroft tried to get some junior detective fired.
Punching down was always his strong suit.
And look...
here's a picture of him.
Mycroft's legs.
We're really closing in.
It's quite a different life you led,
consulting on these cases.
All the violence. Extortion.
Are we ever gonna talk about what happened last week?
How you said Shinwell was switching your prescriptions,
or that a pharmacist crawled into our office to die?
All you need to know is that I was wrong about Shinwell.
I was wrong to ever doubt him.
Sorry to interrupt.
I was wondering where my teammate was.
Oh, yeah. Here's the kid.
I'm gonna go take care of... that.
Great idea.
What's in the boxes?
Case files.
My dad's files? Mm-hmm.
You mean, you solved
all of these with him?
Yes, I did.
Can we talk?
Or am I still being punished for being
the recipient of Watson's attention?
It's not too late to join the light side.
Find anything on the mystery man?
He worked with Watson and Holmes on a case about
missing submarine plans,
which is why they have this.
Are those Mycroft's feet?
Check out his shoes.
Definitely Winton Whittakers.
Fancy Oxfords.
Ornate broguing. Peculiar gussets.
I could never afford Whittakers.
It's £4,000 a pair,
if you can score a commission.
Their client list
has more British elites than Buckingham Palace.
Maybe we can track down his contact information
from his orders.
It's, um, 3:30 p.m. in London.
Who's gonna call?
Already messaged them.
I'm gonna pass on
Watson's number, see when they reply.
Did you bore my child to death?
Hopefully just to sleep.
Are you okay?
You look a bit... lost.
I just got the results
from the targeted testing we did for Angus.
He does have the mutation,
but there's no variant of unknown significance
in his CAPN3 gene. What does that mean?
Does he do this often?
He's never been a sound sleeper.
Is this a good time to point out
that Dirty Rotten Scoundrels lady
brought us incorrect test results?
Variants of unknown significance
is already an imprecise classification.
There's always human error, too.
Well, for now, let's focus on
the pediatric neuromuscular disorders
associated with sleep disturbances.
I've already started running Angus's whole genome.
Someone left a message for you, guv.
Get to work.
You're still trying to win, aren't you?
Yes.
But the cynicism is genuine.
Ah, well, okay.
Please tell him to bring the trophy from Tooting Bec.
He'll know what I mean. Thanks.
Mycroft's assistant.
I assumed that he got my email,
but someone from the shoe company
told him I was reaching out?
I hate grandiloquent spy babble.
Yeah, well, you've had your doubts about Angus.
Now's your chance to prove it.
I need you to go to London.
By tomorrow,
we'll know the truth.
Ah, The Diogenes Club.
You know, they call this the queerest club
in London. I don't think
they mean that in the fun way, eh?
Eh?
Judas Priest, that is.
I was never a fan myself.
Elton John has my heart,
and always will do.
But it's a fine antidote to silence,
don't you think? Turn it off!
So, Ilsa,
I'm going to see Mycroft Holmes,
here, and not elsewhere,
or I'm gonna press "play" again,
and shut this place down till the rozzers get here.
And them two young ballerinas over my shoulder,
I promise you, they won't get this out of my hand.
Ilsa, so what's it gonna be?
Mr. Holmes, thank you for the audience.
You know, I know what you're thinking, guv.
Sherlock Holmes, getting Irene Adler
in the family way.
The man had his blind spots,
but that doesn't sound like Sherlock Holmes to me.
I will say this, if it is a con,
it's a good one.
The boy could pass for a Holmes.
Dr. Watson, he either believes it's true,
or wants to believe it's true.
So, if you
can help, that...
Wow.
Is that...
Do let me know if that parasite is lying.
I'd love to make life inconvenient for her.
♪ Blasting the cannons of truth to each man of this Earth. ♪
Irene.
What are you looking for?
My gloves.
My... my hands are freezing.
Your gloves?
For what?
Irene?
Irene.
What's going on?
You tell me.
I must've been sleepwalking.
Sleepwalking...
or you're caught snooping.
My grandmother used to sleepwalk
right out of the house and into the streets of Grimsby.
Thank God you have bars on your door.
I'd be halfway to Philadelphia by now.
So, are your hands still freezing?
They don't feel cold.
Must've been part of the dream.
I'll clean up the glass.
No, I've got it.
You should get some sleep.
Where'd you pull that from?
Watson texted it to me at 3:30 a.m.
Why is Watson texting you at 3:30 a.m.?
'Cause Stephens is a "Pick Me Girl."
How does "Pick Me Girl" apply here?
Seeking male attention and validation
at the expense of other women.
"Other women" is key here, and Ingrid,
I say this with love, but you have been
in the most hellacious mood all week.
I came up with my own theory last night.
The Solo Cynic Squad.
Factitious disorder imposed on another,
formerly known as...
Munchausen by proxy.
My teammate wants to play?
You think Irene
is making Angus sick? Why?
Sympathy. Attention.
Proximity to Watson.
She does seem emotionally fragile.
You know, muscle weakness
can be caused by low potassium.
Maybe she's giving him potassium binders
to cause the symptoms.
His electrolytes were normal.
But the toe-walking, muscle weakness,
absence seizure-like behaviors,
all that could be totally faked.
I mean, what if he's in on it?
Seems like Watson would be
the first to consider all this.
He was suspicious. Then he became attached.
Even brilliant people reject evidence
when it threatens what they want to believe.
FDIA is serious.
We'd be accusing Irene of child abuse.
Yes, which is why we'd have to be certain.
And all it takes is a little shove.
Excuse me?
A kid with Angus's neuromuscular symptoms
is more likely to fall flat on his face
if pushed.
How is that not child abuse?
If he catches himself, we know he's faking it.
We aren't shoving a kid.
It is time to let go of Hopeful Healing.
Seconded.
Not the "shoving the kid" part.
But the only thing
that Irene Adler has ever wanted...
financial stability.
And the way I see it,
proving paternity gives her claim
to all of Sherlock's estate,
including this clinic.
But it is a load of bullocks,
and I've got the box
to prove it.
Shinwell, how'd it go?
Rollicking time, guv.
Except after,
I tried the Criterion for a pint.
Can you believe it was shuttered?
No. Yeah.
Time is a cruel mistress.
Clyde's running a sample now.
Your name goes in the book of deeds.
There are worse books to be in, guv.
Any new theories, team?
Not yet.
Angus, darling,
be a good boy while I make a call.
Ingrid,
keep an eye on him, yeah?
I'd love to.
Don't.
Angus, you know what we never tried? What?
The six-minute walk test where we gauge your muscle endurance.
Sorry.
I'm not used to being a slow walker.
My favorite mode of transportation is elephant.
Elephant.
That's funny.
So have you and your mom always traveled so much?
Well, we used to stay in London more.
And then Mum decided every day should be an adventure.
When was that?
Maybe a year ago.
Did anything else change around then?
Anything unusual like her sleepwalking or...
Uh, yes, actually.
And the noises in her sleep.
Like you did in my office the other day? Yes.
So you remember that? I thought you were asleep.
I was. My mum told me what happened.
Has it been six minutes yet? Almost.
Hey, I bet I can guess a country you haven't been to.
Austria.
Nope. Been there.
I don't like schnitzel.
Did you happen to meet my old friend
Aldebert Gruner while you were there?
Uncle Gruner.
Well, not a real uncle.
He's Mum's friend, though, too.
Let's definitely hit up Jackson Hole this winter, man.
Get after that fresh pow.
Love you, bud.
Thatch? Thatch.
Don't tell me he's actually CIA?
I can't tell you that,
but I did get a complete rundown on Irene Adler.
Most recently linked to multiple cases of charity fraud.
I suspect that she's using Angus's illness for profit.
Like a GoFundMe kid? That screams Munchausen's.
Where's Angus?
Exercise assessment with Dr. Watson.
I have good news.
The MRI tech was able to squeeze Angus in today.
We could also try a muscle biopsy, too.
Great. Today is wide open.
Anyone else fancy a cuppa?
"A cuppa"? What if she's not even English?
Mission accomplished.
I would like to speak to you about something in your office.
I'll also be part of that conversation.
Be right back.
They can't take all the credit.
Sorry, kid.
Look, I know you've been going through
a real tough time lately, but-- Irene's been lying to you.
Well, to all of us, and--
Watson-- The kid's faking it!
Ingrid pushed him.
Yes, and he caught himself, he didn't fall flat on his face
which means that Angus is not sick, not Sherlock's kid, or--
I know.
Know what?
This entire scheme
was concocted by Ms. Adler
to gain Sherlock's DNA.
I was waiting to show my hand
until I got confirmation from the test,
which is what this is for.
Well done, darling.
Fancy an ice cream?
Yeah, they're definitely gone.
I've looked everywhere. I'll head back up.
I knew that kid was Satan's spawn.
Hang on now, he's just doing what his mother told him to do.
Yeah. More like training her protégé.
It's official.
Preliminary sequencing shows that Sherlock
can't be Angus's father.
So he's a pickpocket and a fake?
She designed it all so that whether we believed her or not,
we'd deliver Sherlock's DNA right to her.
It's an immaculate plan. I'm deeply impressed.
Was he faking being sick, too?
All of it. The gait, the muscle weakness,
the staring spells, sleep apnea.
The only thing he didn't fake was his preternatural wit.
You can't train that.
I know Sherlock was special,
but why go to such extremes for his DNA?
Ah, yes, here we all are,
nice and cozy,
elucidating and pontificating,
but perhaps we at least try
to catch her before she hops on a plane?
You put a tracking device on her?
I know, so unlike me.
But as I told Dr. Watson,
I never trusted the lass.
I'll wait here, guv.
Glad I could catch you before your next adventure.
Uh-oh.
Why don't we speak in private?
Inventing a secret son of my dead best friend,
faking a genetic mystery,
one tailored to my unique skill set,
that could only be solved by Sherlock's DNA...
that's wicked, and was brilliant.
Thank you.
You also knew that the moment we had that DNA,
your lie would be exposed.
But that wouldn't matter, now would it?
Because by then you'd be all the way to Austria.
How did you know?
Small Venn diagram
of people rich enough to throw away money on such things,
and clever enough to recognize Sherlock's real value.
Austrian aristocrat
Adelbert Gruner sits smack in the middle.
Baron Gruner moved on from collecting women
to collecting megaminds,
banking their genetic sample to study.
Sherlock would've been his Holy Grail.
I'd say so, given Gruner's offer.
I need to collect it, Watson.
Why would you risk jeopardizing your son for one huge payday?
It's not because Angus is sick.
You are.
Sleepwalking,
that's triggered by stress and fatigue.
Freezing hands that aren't cold to the touch,
that's a sign of neuropathy.
Bruises on your arm just from carrying a purse,
that's a common side effect of chemotherapy.
What type of cancer do you have?
Multiple myeloma.
Incurable.
I failed every treatment.
My doctors say I have two, maybe three good years left.
I'm all Angus has.
That payout would provide
everything he needs after I'm gone.
What if I can give you more time?
CAR T-cells are genetically engineered to bind
to and kill cancer cells.
They're not widely available in the UK for myeloma,
but here the FDA just approved it.
I have a friend at MD Anderson,
he says the data is promising.
He can facilitate a transfer of care from your doctor in the UK
to their cancer center in Texas.
Texas?
Yes, it's a lifestyle adjustment,
but being rooted in one place would be good for Angus.
What if it doesn't work?
Will you be his guardian if I don't live to see him turn 18?
If he's okay with it, I'll accept.
I'm sorry I lied to you.
It's okay.
As long as you're honest with me from now on, we're good.
I promise.
You're a very special young man, Angus.
I hope you'll let me visit you in London, or even Texas.
Please.
But don't bring your receptionist.
Deal.
The twins take off already?
Slackers.
So how long you been sleeping with your ex?
You're vain, but not so vain
that you'd buy a painting of yourself to display at work.
Wasn't at the gallery show.
Sleeping with the artist, aren't you?
Turns out, I'm still his muse.
Good. Better than Stephens.
Rebounds are messy and I'm not interested in cleanup duty.
I'll keep this short.
I am sorry about everything.
I understand why you called me a "Pick Me Girl."
And I vow to be more conscious about excluding you.
And...
...if there are ever teams again, I want to be on yours
because being against you is... terrifying.
She attacks children.
Um...
Would you mind giving us a second, please?
Of course.
Children!
It is depressing
how many trophies have gone to die at Goodwill.
But... this one is yours.
Can't believe he's gone.
You'll see the little turd again.
I meant Sherlock.
This ring is a family heirloom
that Mycroft was wearing during an infamous fight with Sherlock.
He kept it to mark the one time he kicked his brother's ass.
A story that he told me all three times I met him.
That's how you knew to call for it.
The Tooting Bec Trophy.
Yeah, the things we hold on to.
Mind if I do the honors?