"Sherlock, episode 3x02: The Sign of Three"

Starring: Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman, Rupert Graves, 
Mark Gatiss, Una Stubbs, Louise Brealey, Amanda Abbington, 
Alistair Petrie, Yasmine Akram, Vinette Robinson, Alfred Enoch


It’s been a while since the last recap, so let’s do a quick 
review. In order to keep Moriarty from killing the people he 
loved most in the world (all three of them), Sherlock jumped 
off of a building. He survived somehow, but the details are 
kind of fuzzy because Arthur Conan Doyle didn’t really give a 
shit about continuity or Sherlock Holmes. He came back – after 
two years hunting down various members of Moriarty’s criminal 
organization – to find John engaged, sporting ridiculous facial 
hair that he has thankfully gotten rid of and very much pissed 
off that Sherlock let him think he was dead for two years when 
he seems to have told EVERYONE ELSE. 

In other news, the British lost their fucking minds and – in a 
move praised by a rabid French NeoNazi (here’s your sign) - 
voted to break up the European Union at which point their 
entire government seemed to collapse into a chaotic mess and 
trigger another potential global financial meltdown. The 
Americans responded with a four day presidential nomination 
party straight out of the playbook of every fascist uprising 
ever including calls to arrest and/or murder the candidate’s 
opponent and one speaker giving the candidate an actual Nazi 
salute. Proving once again, that our two countries are more 
alike than either of us would like to believe.

Oh, and I started a new Sherlock fic, likely thanks to all the 
needling Chrissy did in the last recap.
   Chrissy: Don’t you put that on me! I gave you a perfect 
    set up for a story about Sherlock having to do a honey 
    pot op on a baron for information and only being able 
    to get through it by thinking about John safe back home 
    and you came back with some bullshit about John being a 
    sorcerer.
   Diandra: Empath.
   Chrissy: Whatever. My point is that I had nothing to do 
    with that. From what you described, I’d say you’ve been 
    watching too much Outlander and reading too much Marvel 
    (or maybe vice versa) and somehow it all got scrambled 
    around in your brain.
   Diandra: Actually, it’s more of a reworking of a romance 
    novel I read years ago.
   Chrissy: Yeah, I’m not sure if that makes it better or 
    worse.

Anyway.

We begin with some newspaper headlines about a gang of bank 
robbers that have the police totally stumped. 
   Chrissy: They were all wearing clown masks and the one 
   guy kept asking everybody “why so serious?”
The chyron says this is eighteen months ago. Lestrade storms 
out of a bank ranting that they just WALKED OUT OF THERE. 
Donovan, keeping pace beside him, is like yeah, I was there 
too, you know. He asks HOW they always manage to get away with 
it. She shrugs and says they’re good. He grumbles yeah, well, 
they’re greedy, so one of these times they should be able to 
catch them.

Flashforward to twelve months ago (or one year if you don’t use 
metric). Lestrade gets in the car with Donovan and slams the 
door angrily. She notes that his catch them in the act plan 
didn’t go well then. He yells that they always KNOW they’re 
coming somehow. She assures him that they’re going to keep at 
it.

Next newspaper headline is “six months ago”: Police Are No 
Closer to Waters Gang Conviction. Lestrade storms out of some 
sort of building, grunting angrily. 

Another headline says the Waters gang has walked free again and 
the words “police failures” jump out of the story to add insult 
to injury. This is three months ago and now Lestrade is outside 
the same building just kicking the tires on the police car and 
making “I am barely restraining myself from full on screaming” 
noises. “In the act,” he screams at Donovan. “That’s the only 
way we’re going to do this!” I thought you had already 
established this, but okay. If it will get you to stop taking 
it out on the car. He whacks Donovan with the door as he’s 
getting in and she just grits her teeth and probably wonders 
why she didn’t put in for that transfer.

Yesterday. Some guys in clown masks are carrying gold bricks 
out of a vault. 
   Chrissy: Holy shit, they actually are wearing clown 
    masks. Um...okay, do we have somebody on the bat signal 
    yet?
   Diandra: Wrong universe. We might be able to get Captain 
    America though. If he’s not still busy fighting with 
    Steampunk Sherlock. On second thought, maybe it would 
    be easier to just get Doctor Strange since he's not 
    really participating in that battle and it's not like 
    tearing a hole in the space time continuum would be a 
    problem for HIM.
   Chrissy: How are you still single?
One of them has apparently hacked into the security system on a 
laptop. So either they are brilliant hackers or the banks have 
pretty shitty security.

Out in the car, Donovan verifies for Lestrade that she has 
effectively blocked their hack while letting them think it’s 
actually working. I think. They get out and head toward the 
building, with her insisting he make the actual arrest because 
“this one’s yours, boss.” He notes that she’s never called him 
boss before. She’s like yeah, I have. Don’t you remember that 
one time when we were...oh, that was Anderson.
   Chrissy: Yeah, thanks for that mental image.
   Diandra: Sorry.
“No? Well, look what happens when you’re good,” she purrs.
   Chrissy: Although I really prefer it when you’re bad.
   Diandra: Yes, we know, Chris.
Donovan lays out all the reasons why they HAVE to catch them 
this time. They have all the exits covered, guys on the roof 
and the bank is closed so there aren’t any hostages to make 
things complicated. Lestrade’s phone chirps insistently 
basically the entire time she’s talking. Lestrade finally 
grumbles that he should get this and looks down to find a text: 
HELP. BAKER ST. NOW. HELP ME. PLEASE. He swallows his tongue 
and babbles that he has to go and Donovan is going to have to 
make the arrest after all. “Jones will get all the credit if 
you leave now,” she yelps. Lestrade hesitates, looks torn and 
then says yeah, well, fine. He has to go.

He runs back out to the car, screaming into his phone that he 
needs all the backup he can get at Baker Street RIGHT GODDAMN 
NOW.

221b. Lestrade runs up the steps and through the door that 
Sherlock apparently doesn’t ever close anymore. He finds 
Sherlock hunched over a laptop and asks what’s wrong. Sherlock 
grumbles that this is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, 
holds up a book titled “How to Write Unforgettable Best Man 
Speeches” and asks if Lestrade knows any funny stories about 
John. Lestrade frowns at him like FUCKING WHAT? Sirens wail 
outside as backup arrives and Sherlock cluelessly continues 
that he needs some anecdotes. He finally blinks up at the 
frantic Lestrade and slowly turns to the window where the sound 
of a helicopter hovering accompanies a gust of wind that blows 
all his music off the stand.

And we go to credits before Lestrade can give Sherlock a black 
eye.
   Chrissy: Well, how was I supposed to know you would take 
    my vague, all caps cry for help so seriously?
   Diandra: AND WHY DOES EVERYBODY THINK I’M SHOUTING AT 
    THEM?

We come back on 221b. Mrs. Hudson is bringing tea upstairs 
while violin music drifts from behind the door that is actually 
shut for once. Well, the one to the main room is shut. The one 
to the kitchen is wide open, totally defeating the purpose of 
closing the other one. She opens it to find Sherlock dancing a 
waltz with an invisible partner. He immediately tells her to 
shut up. She points out that she didn’t say anything. Yet. He 
groans that she’s “formulating a question” and it is 
“physically painful” to watch. She says she thought that was 
him playing. He says yes, it was. See, there are these things 
that record these days... He was just testing this song he’s 
composing. She starts to ask for clarification and he gets 
snippy and asks what she’s doing up here anyway.
   Chrissy: Oh, well, I thought I’d make you a pot of tea, 
   but now I might just drink some of it myself and throw 
   the rest in your lap you ungrateful little snot.
She says she always brings him his morning tea, he’s just not 
usually awake to notice. “You bring me tea in the morning,” he 
asks. She laughs and asks where he thought it came from.
   Chrissy: The magical tea fairy?
   Diandra: His name is John, actually, and he prefers to 
    be called a sprite, not a fairy.
   Chrissy: Oh? How about a little person?
   Diandra: Hey! Low blow, dude.
   Chrissy: Well, it kind of has to be.

Sherlock admits he had no clue, he just thought it sort of 
happened. Mrs. H says his mother has a lot to answer for. 
   Chrissy: That’s nothing. Ask him where he thinks babies 
   come from.
Sherlock says yes, he knows. He has a list. Mycroft has a whole 
file. Mrs. H just giggles and plops in John’s chair, burbling 
that it’s the Big Day. Sherlock asks what she means. Mrs. H 
says the wedding. John and Mary? Remember?
   Chrissy: No, I’ve actually been trying not to think too 
    much about it. My therapist says I need to stop cutting 
    her face out of pictures of him and attaching them to 
    voodoo dolls so I can perform curses because it isn’t 
    healthy.
   Diandra: So how was your ex boyfriend’s wedding, Chris?
   Chrissy: Lovely. Why do you ask?

Sherlock scoffs that it’s hardly impressive when two people who 
are already living together go to church, have a party, go on a 
short sex holiday and go right back to living together exactly 
as they were before.
   Chrissy: By the way, what are your plans for the next 
    couple Valentine’s Days because I’m thinking of booking 
    a church on an island.
   Diandra: Haha. Is that the best you could do there?
   Chrissy: No, but I’m trying to avoid pointing out that 
    this is yet another example of how you are EXACTLY LIKE 
    SHERLOCK because I'm pretty sure I have heard you say 
    something very much like this before.

Mrs. Hudson argues that marriage changes people and he wouldn’t 
understand because he’s always been alone. 
   Chrissy: Way to rub it in, lady.
Sherlock says yeah, well, her husband was executed after 
committing a double homicide, so it’s not like she has a whole 
lot of experience with wholesome marriages. She just gives him 
a look like ‘yeah? You wanna go?’ and repeats that marriage 
changes a person. “In ways you can’t imagine.” He grumbles 
yeah, so does lethal injection. Mrs. H ignores him and starts 
talking about her best friend Margaret, who was her maid of 
honor and she thought best friend forever. She hardly saw her 
after the wedding.
   Chrissy: Did you look under the back garden? I mean, you 
   husband WAS a murderer.

Sherlock, obviously anxious to be rid of this annoyance, points 
out that tea is usually accompanied by biscuits. Mrs. Hudson 
says she ran out. Sherlock asks if the stores ran out too. Mrs. 
H ignores him and continues talking about how Margaret cried 
the whole day about the “end of an era”. Sherlock grits his 
teeth and waves at the still open door, saying the shop on the 
corner is probably open right now. He winces as Mrs. H keeps 
rambling about how Margaret was right and she left the wedding 
early. “I mean, who leaves a wedding early?”
   Mofftiss: DID YOU GET THAT OR SHOULD WE HAVE A RUNNING 
   SCROLL AT THE BOTTOM OF THE SCREEN LATER?
Sherlock says yeah, well, anyway “you’ve got things to do.” 
Mrs. Hudson says no, she really doesn’t. She has PLENTY of time 
right now. Luckily, Sherlock loves her dearly, so he just snaps 
“biscuits!” and she jumps up and leaves, grumbling that she 
really will have to have a talk with his mother. Sherlock says 
go for it “she understands very little.”
   Chrissy: Oh, you are so lucky you are too old to get a 
    spanking. From her. Although I’m sure if we asked 
    John... 
   Diandra: Down girl.
He slams the door on her, stares at John’s chair sadly for a 
moment and marches back to his bedroom where a tuxedo is 
hanging. “Right,” he grumbles. “Into battle.”

This cuts to a man who clearly only has use of his right arm 
(and has scaring all down the left side of his face) getting 
dressed in military formal wear.

And we go right to the already married John and Mary exiting 
the church, bells pealing in the background. They are met by 
the photographer, who says he wants to get a shot of the 
newlyweds. John and Mary pose with her arm threaded through his 
and Sherlock stands beside Mary until the photographer says 
“uh...just the bride and groom please.” Sherlock continues to 
stand perfectly still until John says his name and he jolts 
like he just realized he was in the frame right now and slinks 
to the side. 
   Chrissy: What? Never seen a three-way marriage before?
   Diandra: I was wondering which way you would go with the 
    fanfic headcannon.
   Chrissy: Well, that whole thing was so weird on his part 
    that it was either that or he’s so deeply mired in his 
    self pity over the fact that John is choosing HER over 
    him that he can’t hear anything anyone is saying. Until 
    John barks at him.
   Diandra: That’s...probably very close, actually.
   Chrissy: Or Sherlock thinks either he or John is 
    actually the bride and he’s forgotten Mary entirely.
   Diandra: You just can’t quit while you’re ahead, can 
    you?
The photographer takes the picture as the bridesmaids hidden 
behind them throw flower petals and everything freezes while 
the camera spins around various members of the wedding party 
including Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. It stops on Sherlock 
standing beside a woman in a lavender strapless dress which is 
apparently the only color bridesmaids dresses come in anymore. 
Her name – because I’m not sure when it’s ever going to be 
revealed – is Jeanette.

Everyone starts moving again and Jeanette says she’s pleased to 
meet the famous Sherlock Holmes but “no sex okay?”
   Chrissy: Wow, you really have JUST met him, haven’t you?
He looks at her like ‘the WHAT NOW?’ and she laughs and says 
she’s just teasing and he doesn’t have to look so scared. 
   Chrissy: Oh, but he is, dear. You have no idea.
   Diandra: So are we back to assuming Irene DIDN’T take 
    his virginity then?
   Chrissy: Oh, right. Well, she was a lesbian who was 
    mostly interested in his mind and highly unlikely to 
    form too long an attachment, so that was different. 
   Diandra: So it's not SEX that scares him but commitment?
   Chrissy: Yes. Wait...that can't be right because that 
    would make him no different than any other man. 

She notes that she *is* a bridesmaid and he is the best man, so 
it wouldn’t be unheard of if they snuck into a broom closet 
somewhere and... He says if that’s what she’s looking for she 
should try the guy in the blue shirt over there. He’s a doctor, 
recently divorced and has a cat, a “barn conversion” and a 
“history of erectile dysfunction”. Sherlock frowns and notes 
that actually now that he’s said all of that out loud it’s 
possible he’s a pretty poor candidate.
   Chrissy: For a hook up? Yeah. But he might make a pretty 
    decent Bond villain.
   Diandra: What? Just because he has a cat?
   Chrissy: And the pent up rage of a man recently divorced 
    and unable to get it up? Yes. 
   Diandra: I’m not totally sure what a “barn conversion” 
    looks like, but I don’t think it would make a very good 
    super villain lair.
   Chrissy: Well, there are only so many volcanoes, 
    abandoned buildings, underwater palaces and space 
    stations you can build dungeons in.

He apologizes that he thought there would be another 
"deduction" there, lending credibility to the theory that he is 
REALLY out of it right now. Jeanette purrs that he’s going to 
be incredibly “useful” and reaches behind him, apparently to 
grab a handful of his ass judging by the perplexed look on his 
face.
   Chrissy: Can't really say I blame her.
   Diandra: You wouldn't.

We skip right to the reception hall where John, Mary, Sherlock 
and Jeanette greet people as they arrive. Mary throws her arms 
out like she’s going to hug one guy she is particularly 
thrilled to see and greets as “David”. He holds her at arms’ 
length awkwardly and stiffly congratulates her before moving to 
shake John’s hand, telling him he’s a lucky man. Mary looks 
baffled, shakes herself and introduces David to Sherlock. 
Sherlock gives him a big, knowing smile and David awkwardly 
says they’ve already met, actually.

Flashback. David sits at the table in 221b and asks what, 
exactly, his duties are as the usher. Sherlock, on the other 
side of the table, folds his hands and says “let’s talk about 
Mary first” in a tone that could just as easily be used to say 
something like “and then I’m going to remove your intestines 
while you’re still breathing...” 
   Chrissy: You’ll have to forgive Benedict, he just came 
    back from playing Khan and Smaug and sometimes forgets 
    that he can also play a good guy.
   Diandra: Um...I think the jury might still be out on 
    Sherlock being a "good guy", actually.

David blinks and says “sorry, what?” Sherlock says he knows 
very well what he’s talking about. They dated for two years. 
David says um...yeah, a long time ago. They’re just friends 
now, which is probably why she made him the usher at her 
wedding to another man. Sherlock says really? Because whenever 
she sends a tweet, David seems to respond within five minutes 
no matter where he is or what time it is, so obviously he’s 
getting notifications of everything she does. Oh, and every 
Facebook picture he has posted of John and Mary is focused 
completely on Mary, sometimes cutting John out entirely. And he 
volunteered his shoulder for her to cry on at least three 
times. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?” The "you 
pathetic stalker" part is probably implied. David blinks at him 
and makes fish faces. Sherlock picks up a pen and announces 
that he’s downgrading David from “friend” to “casual 
acquaintance” with no more than three “planned social 
encounters” a year during which John will be present. And 
Sherlock will be “monitoring” him to make sure he doesn’t do 
anything funny. If he does, presumably Sherlock will have him 
kneecapped. 
   Chrissy: More likely, he'll get Mycroft's goons to do 
    it.
   Diandra: I'm pretty sure Mycroft wouldn't let Sherlock 
    hire his men for petty bullshit like that. No, more 
    likely Mycroft would cover up the evidence that 
    Sherlock had anything to do with the body found at the 
    bottom of the Thames tied to a cement block.

Sherlock folds his hands under his chin and stares David down. 
“They were right about you,” David mutters. “You’re a bloody 
psychopath!” Well, I’m not really sure who “they” are, but yes. 
Sherlock says high functioning sociopath actually. “With your 
number.” He gives him a terrifying grin and just sits there 
waiting for David to get uncomfortable and run away.
   Chrissy: Well, that job interview could have gone 
    better.
   Diandra: I would go into the whole psychopath/sociopath 
    distinction again, but I'm getting kind of tired of it. 
    Plus, I'm thinking whichever fan pointed out that he 
    probably says this because "severe ADHD with possible 
    mild Autism" doesn't sound as badass might be right.

Back to the reception. David makes a couple vague noises like 
‘I should just...uh...’ and scampers inside before he can be 
escorted into a dark van somewhere and never seen again. John 
looks confused, but doesn’t have a chance to question it as the 
line starts moving again. Two women kiss John and Mary on the 
cheeks and then a small child runs past one of them to tackle 
hug Sherlock. Sherlock pats his back awkwardly and calls him 
Archie. The woman who was just kissing John – Archie's mother – 
notes that he’s really “come out of his shell” and she has no 
idea what Sherlock did to cause that. John stares at him like 
he’d like to know that too.
   Chrissy: Honestly, it could be like that cat that kept 
   crawling all over John a few episodes back. Kids and 
   animals always seem able to sense when people aren’t 
   really kid or animal lovers and attach themselves like 
   magnets like if they're persistent enough they can 
   change the person's mind.

Flashback. Archie is sitting in John’s chair. Sherlock is 
sitting in his own chair. They stare at each other silently for 
a few seconds and then Sherlock says something like ‘so all you 
have to do is smile and look cute and give the bride and groom 
the rings’. Archie says no. Sherlock, ignoring him, says he has 
to wear the outfit too. No, Archie repeats. Sherlock says yes, 
he does, in fact, have to wear the suit. Archie is like ‘oh 
yeah? Make me.’
   Chrissy: Oh, hang on, I’m getting a flashforward now... 
   Diandra: YOU'RE NOT THE BOSS OF ME!

Archie takes the “why” route. Apparently not being familiar 
with the traditional answer ("because I said so, you little 
shit") Sherlock sighs and says fuck if he knows. There’s a 
pause and then Archie says Sherlock is a detective, right? So 
he’s, like, solved murders before, right? Sherlock says oh, 
yes, several. “Can I see?” Sherlock shrugs and says yeah, why 
not? He goes to the laptop and Archie leans over his shoulder 
as he flicks through, presumably, crime scene pictures. “What’s 
that stuff in his eyes,” he asks. Sherlock says they’re 
maggots. Because Archie is a boy and at that fearless “I love 
gross things” stage, he thinks this is awesome. Sherlock kind 
of nods at him like ‘I approve of this small human.’

Back at the wedding, mum says Archie told her Sherlock had some 
pictures for him as a “treat” if he promised to be good. 
“Beheadings,” Archie pipes up happily. Mum, who is apparently 
blissfully unaware that her child is a twisted little budding 
psycho, is like ‘what was that, dear?’ Sherlock mutters 
something about a “lovely little village” and detangles Archie, 
shoving him toward the reception hall. 
   Chrissy: Can we talk about the fact that a stranger 
    offered to show her son some pictures and she never 
    bothered to question whether they could be 
    inappropriate?
   Diandra: Nah.

Inside, the photographer is milling around taking pictures. He 
finds Molly and her boyfriend NotSherlock as she is attempting 
to suck his face off. 
   Chrissy: I think his name was Tom.
   Diandra: Nobody really cares.
   Chrissy: Well, I'm sure MOLLY doesn't, but...
He moves on to Mrs. Hudson and an Indian man who can’t possibly 
be Mr. Chatterje still after the whole thing about him being 
married. Can it? Maybe Indian guys is her type? Then the 
photographer takes a few pictures of Lestrade sitting alone at 
a table drinking. Seriously? What makes him think anybody – 
including Lestrade – would want that picture? 

A waiter passes John and Mary with a tray of appetizers and she 
descends on it, exclaiming that she's STARVING because she had 
to lose a bunch of weight to get into this dress. The waiter 
continues past Sherlock and Jeanette, who purrs "ooo, he's 
nice." I'm going to assume she's prompting him to tell her 
whether the guy would make a good match for her because she 
could just as easily be pointing him out FOR Sherlock on the 
assumption that he's into guys.
   Chrissy: Well, just the one, but he's taken now.
   Diandra: Ouch.

Sherlock inhales deeply and says the traces of two separate 
very strong deodorants suggests he has a serious body odor 
issue. She says okay, well, how about his friend? She nods at a 
guy near the door of the kitchen slowly pulling a skewer from a 
hunk of meat.
   Chrissy: Mmm, slower. Sloooooower.
   Diandra: Oh, give it a rest.
Sherlock says he's in a long term relationship. Oh, and he's a 
compulsive cheater. She has no idea how he could possibly have 
come to that conclusion, so he shows off by explaining that he 
has a waterproof cover on his smartphone, but his skin doesn't 
show signs of long periods outdoors so he must be taking it 
into the shower with him. Yeah, or he's a swimmer, but I guess 
you would recognize damage to his hair from pool chemicals or 
something. So he's getting a lot of messages he's trying to 
hide. And he doesn't know how to set up a password lock. 
Jeanette smiles at him and asks "can I keep you?" He says why, 
does she like solving crimes? "Do you have a vacancy?" she 
fires back.
   Chrissy: Because I do. And I think you'd fill it quite 
    nicely.
   Diandra: Are you talking as Jeanette or yourself right 
    now?
   Chrissy: Yes.
Sherlock doesn't answer, but looks pointedly at John.
   Chrissy: Because if John can't fill his vacancies, he'd 
   rather they just remain vacant.

And now we have a somewhat bizarre exchange between John and 
Mary. Mary asks after John's sister Harry. John says she didn't 
show up, but it was kind of a long shot asking her, so... Okay. 
Who the hell doesn't show up to their brother's wedding for no 
good reason? I mean, it would have made sense if he had said 
she was in rehab again or out of the country or SOMETHING, but 
this half ass little brush off explains why one of the writers 
of Cracked cited this exchange as evidence that she doesn't 
even exist.
   Chrissy: We couldn't find any relatives of cast and crew 
    who looked like Martin Freeman so we just decided not 
    to bother.
   Diandra: His actual sister wouldn't return our calls.
   Chrissy: Seriously though, it's been a long time since I 
    read the stories, but...was Watson's brother ever even 
    mentioned more than the one time?
   Diandra: I'm only 3/4ths of the way through the series, 
    but I don't think so. Honestly, Doyle probably forgot 
    Watson ever had a brother because he was only mentioned 
    so Sherlock could deduce something about John and show 
    off his abilities.
   Chrissy: That's what I thought. So a more fitting 
    version of this conversation - instead of even trying 
    to explain why she's not there - would have ended with 
    John saying "who?"
   Diandra: Yep. Bless Mofftiss, they're doing the best 
    they can.
John says it's just as well since the reception has a free bar 
and, you know, she's an alcoholic. Why didn't we just go with 
that excuse again?

His little moment of self pity that his sister is a selfish 
drunken mess who can't celebrate a major event in his life is 
interrupted by the scarred soldier from earlier walking in the 
door. John's eyes light up and he runs over to greet him. 
Sherlock sidles up to Mary and says so that's Major Sholto 
then? He asks why, if Sholto and John were such good friends, 
John has never mentioned him before. 
   Chrissy: Because Arthur Conan Doyle forgot to mention 
    it.
   Diandra: Who? Wait...Watson has a wife? Whose stupid 
    idea was THAT?
Mary says well, he may not have mentioned him to SHERLOCK, but 
with Mary he never shuts up about him. Sherlock cocks his head 
and says oh...really? He talks to you about HIM?
   Chrissy: Yeah, the way he goes on about him you'd think 
    they were lovers or something.
   Diandra: And there go a whole bunch of fanfiction 
    writers.

Sherlock contemplates this while Mary takes a sip of her wine. 
She gags and complains that it is bloody awful, which is crazy 
because she CHOSE it in the first place. Sherlock's like yeah, 
um...back to me...it's definitely THAT guy that he talks about 
all the time? Are you sure?
   Chrissy: Oh, honey, just because you don't measure up to 
    him in certain...um...areas...doesn't mean you don't 
    have your own special qualities. Although, maybe if you 
    had just agreed to wear the corset that one time...
   Diandra: Thanks for that mental image, Chris.
   Chrissy: You're welcome.

Meanwhile, John is gushing that he's SO GLAD to see Sholto 
because he knows he doesn't normally do "this sort of thing". 
Sholto says he's willing to make exceptions for old friends. He 
calls him "Watson" out of habit, then falters and corrects 
himself to "John" and adds that it's good to see him.
   Chrissy: Sorry, I'm not used to calling you that when 
    you still have your clothes on.
   Diandra: So we're going with this back story then?
   Chrissy: I see no reason not to.
Sholto looks around like a deeply introverted fish who has 
somehow found himself in a very crowded pond...
   Chrissy: Oh, my GOD, honey, your metaphor mixing gives 
   me headaches!
...and says civilian life seems to be suiting him. "No more 
need for the trick cyclist?"
   Chrissy: Um, I thought we had agreed never to talk about 
    that in public, sir.
   Diandra: I really don't even want to know what you think 
    that means.
   Chrissy: Oh, yes, you do.
"No, I go now and then," John says. "Sort of a top-up."
   Chrissy: [opens mouth]
   Diandra: Say one word right now and I quit.

Apparently "trick cyclist" is a dismissive slang term British 
people use for "therapist" because John stresses that therapy 
can be extremely helpful really. Sholto's face twitches in an 
uncomfortable halfhearted smile. John drops this line of 
discussion and asks where he's living these days. Sholto says 
it's way out in the middle of nowhere and John wouldn't 
recognize the name.
   Chrissy: Alaska. It's Alaska isn't it?

Back with Sherlock and Mary, Sherlock grumbles that he's never 
even heard John say Sholto's NAME.
   Chrissy: Although, come to think of it, that MIGHT be 
   what he shouted that one time, but it was kind of 
   garbled, so I can't be sure.
Mary says well, since...presumably whatever happened to cause 
his injuries...he's been basically a recluse and they weren't 
expecting him to show up here. "John says he's the most 
unsociable man he's ever met." Before he can think better of 
this, Sherlock practically yelps "HE is? Ah, that's why he's 
bouncing around him like a puppy." Mary hugs his arm and 
consoles him that neither of them were John's "first". 
   Chrissy: Well, he was MINE! [sob!]
Sherlock wanders off while Mary gags on another sip of her 
wine.

Mycroft's house. We come around a corner to find Mycroft 
running on a treadmill. He jumps off and pulls up his shirt to 
fret over his waistline a bit. He's interrupted by his phone 
ringing and answers it with an abrupt "yes, what?" It's 
Sherlock, of course, who demands to know why he sounds out of 
breath. "Either I've caught you in a compromising position or 
you've been working out again. Favor the latter." Mycroft's 
like 'haha, I'd tell you Greg says hi, but I know he's with you 
right now, so...' Sherlock says he needs Mycroft's answer. 
Mycroft asks what the question was. Sherlock starts rambling 
cryptically about the eleventh hour, cars, private jets and it 
not being "too late to know." Mycroft grumbles oh, that that 
was today, huh? No, he will not be coming to the reception. 
Sherlock says that's a shame because John and Mary will be 
so..."delighted," Mycroft finishes for him. He guesses that 
he'll be seeing a lot more of Sherlock from now on then.
   Chrissy: Ugh. Finally got the tear stains out of that 
   suit I was wearing the day they got engaged. 
Sherlock claims ignorance. Mycroft says well, it is the "end of 
an era." Sherlock, bristling at the echo of Mrs. Hudson's words 
earlier, says no, he thinks of it more as the beginning of a 
new chapter.
   Chrissy: So you're in the denial stage, basically.

Mycroft just smirks silently. Sherlock waits for a response for 
a second and then snaps "what?" Mycroft says oh, 
nothing...don't you have a speech you should be getting ready 
for? Sherlock says no, say what you were just thinking! Mycroft 
says this is what people do, isn't it? Get married and abandon 
you? "I warned you. Don't get involved." Sherlock splutters 
that he's not INVOLVED. And John asked him to be his best man, 
so how could he have said no?
   Chrissy: I mean, have you ever tried to say no to him? 
    He just gives you this sad, wide-eyed stare and makes 
    you feel like the worst person in the world.
   Diandra: And then apparently he poops in your shoes 
    because he's actually a cocker spaniel.

Sherlock repeats that he's NOT involved. Mycroft purrs that he 
totally believes him and he's sorry he mentioned it and he's 
sure Sherlock will be totally fine with the love of his life 
abandoning him forever. Sherlock goes to hang up, but Mycroft 
stops him with a "by the way...do you remember Redbeard?" 
Sherlock makes a face like he might cry or throw up or 
something and hisses that he's not a CHILD anymore, damnit. 
Mycroft says no, of course not. "Enjoy not getting involved." 
   Chrissy: Holy subtext, Batman.
   Diandra: Yeah. He basically just said "I told you not to 
    get involved with John because he'll just break your 
    heart." And that's without putting on the slash 
    goggles.
   Chrissy: I'm afraid to even consider what it would be 
    WITH the slash goggles because it would look like 
    Mycroft is an asshole who is ENJOYING watching his 
    little brother suffer because it means he was right.

So we race through the dinner by showing a time lapse of 
somebody's place setting as they go through all the various 
courses and alcoholic drinks involved with a wedding reception 
in a European country. Actually, it doesn't look that bad. It's 
like, halfway between the American wedding I went to where they 
refused to serve me wine because I forgot to put my ID in my 
teeny little clutch purse and the French wedding I went to 
where I had more food and alcohol in one sitting than at any 
other time in my life. The irony here being that I was twenty-
two years old at the former and only fifteen at the latter. 
   Chrissy: And yet you were singing French karaoke at both 
    of them.
   Diandra: That's because apparently Americans don't count 
    champagne as alcohol. We just generally have a really 
    weird relationship with liquor.

Anyway. Somebody taps a fork on their champagne glass to call 
for quiet so the best man can speak. Sherlock stands up and 
begins "Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends. 
And...um...others." He gets a weird look on his face and starts 
stammering awkwardly while everyone else looks increasingly 
uncomfortable. 

Flashback to Lestrade meeting with Molly at the lab. She greets 
him by saying she just realized that John might ask Sherlock to 
be his best man. Lestrade says well, of course he will. They're 
practically joined at the hip. He looks in the giant bowl she 
holding and adds "is that a brain?"
   Chrissy: Yeah, it belonged to someone called Abby 
    Normal, I think. 
   Diandra: Yes, thank you Eyegor. Now shut up.
Molly continues that Sherlock would have to make a speech, 
wouldn't he? In front of a room full of actual human beings. 
Lestrade gets an "oh shit" face for a second, then shakes 
himself and asks "what's the worst that could happen?" Molly 
says yeah, that was probably the last through the original 
owner of this brain had too. 
   Chrissy: The difference being that Sherlock's death 
   wouldn't be an accident.

Molly calls Mrs. Hudson to voice her concerns over the whole 
best man speech thing and Mrs. Hudson shrugs her off with an 
assurance that everything will be FINE.
   Chrissy: Says the woman who married a murderer.

What is apparently some undefined amount of time after this, 
John comes home to find Mrs. Hudson laughing hysterically in 
her kitchen downstairs. He sticks his head in to see if she's 
all right. "The telegrams," she gasps between high pitch 
giggles and brushes past him while he blinks in confusion.

Back at the wedding, John looks like he just realized something 
terrible and grumbles "the telegrams." This jolts Sherlock back 
into gear and he picks up a pile of papers, rambling about this 
weird tradition where the English read "telegrams" that aren't 
actually telegrams at a wedding, grumbling something about it 
filling the crying need people seem to have for MORE ridiculous 
traditions at weddings. Everyone stares in horror like 'well, 
THIS was a huge mistake' as he begins reading well wishes from 
the people who couldn't actually make it to the wedding. The 
first is from John's friend Mike because I guess the actor who 
played him in the first episode was busy. The second is from a 
couple named Stella and Ted and includes the words "big squishy 
cuddles", which Sherlock reads as if it is the most distasteful 
thing he's ever had in his mouth.
   Chrissy: Really? You're going to give me that opening?
   Diandra: Really? You're going to bring up openings right 
    now?
   Chrissy: Haha. No, seriously, I still don't get why you 
    won't even consider the whole Baron Von Honeypot 
    scenario.

By the next one, John and Mary are laughing at the way Sherlock 
is struggling to get through saying things like "poppet" and 
"oodles of love". Mary's face falls as he gets to the end of a 
telegram from "Cam" who expresses the wish that her family 
"could have seen this". John reaches over to grab her hand and 
she's like 'no, I'm fine! Why wouldn't I be?' Sherlock starts 
flipping through the cards muttering "very special 
day...love...love...love...love. Bit of a theme, you get the 
general gist. People are basically fond." The wedding party 
laughs. "John Watson," Sherlock begins again. He makes an 
awkward gesture at John and adds "my friend, John Watson. When 
John first broached the subject of being best man I was 
confused..."

We're back to immediately after John finds Mrs. Hudson laughing 
at the telegrams. He goes upstairs to find Sherlock in the 
kitchen in goggles, blowtorching the detached stem of an 
eyeball. Sherlock asks what all that noise was downstairs 
because it sounded like Mrs. Hudson was "torturing an owl."
   Chrissy: No, she was just trying to get it out of the 
   house. It's a bit directionally challenged. Thinks this 
   is Privet Drive.
John is like yeah, um...that's what her laughter sounds like. 
He points at the eyeball and says "busy?" Sherlock groans that 
he's just "occupying" himself because it is so goddamn HARD to 
resist the urge to smoke. He drops the eyeball into the still 
full teacup beside him and turns off the blowtorch. 

John, having obviously learned long ago that it is better to 
not ask questions or even address Sherlock's weirdness, 
launches right into what he came to talk to him about. "The 
best man. What do you think?" "Billy Kincaid," Sherlock 
answers. "Best man I ever knew." He keeps rambling about the 
guy's contributions to charity that saved three hospitals from 
closure while John stares at him like 'are you fucking kidding 
me right now?' He rubs his forehead while Sherlock admits that 
Billy did occasionally garrot people, but... "For my wedding," 
John finally blurts, cutting him off. He says he needs a best 
man for his wedding and it probably shouldn't be someone who 
has strangled people.
   Chrissy: I might be tempted to sic him on you.

Sherlock suggests "Gavin" because he still can't get Lestrade's 
name right.
   Chrissy: Thank you, Arthur Conan Doyle!
   Diandra: And it's JOHN, by the way. Nobody actually 
    believes that you intentionally said "James" because 
    it's a variant of "Hamish" when you couldn't even 
    remember whether the landlady's name was "Hudson" or 
    "Turner".
John grinds his teeth and says his name is GREG, actually, and 
he's not John's best friend. Sherlock says oh, so Mike Stanford 
then? "He's nice..though I'm not sure how well he'd cope 
with..." John impatiently cuts him off again before this 
conversation gets as ridiculous as the one he had with Mrs. 
Hudson back in the last episode. He says Mike is a great guy, 
but, again, he's not his best friend either. Sherlock blinks at 
him like durrrrrr does not compute. John sighs and says this is 
the most important day of his life - steamrolling over 
Sherlock, who tries to argue that point - and he wants to "be 
up there with the two people that I love and care about most in 
the world." Sherlock continues to stare stupidly, so John tries 
to guide him to the answer: "Mary Morstan..." Sherlock is like 
'yeah, and?' John sighs, probably wonders if this is a huge 
mistake, and adds "and you."

Back at the wedding, Sherlock is talking about how at first he 
didn't realize what John was asking, really, but when he did 
get it he told him he was flattered. 

221b. Sherlock stares blankly at John after a short bout of 
rapid blinking.

Wedding. Sherlock says he explained to John that he had 
honestly never expected this request and he was frankly 
"daunted" by it.

221b. Sherlock is still staring blankly. John calls his name.

Wedding. "I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best 
to accomplish a task which was, for me, as demanding and 
difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I 
thanked him for the trust he placed in me and indicated that I 
was, in some ways, very close to being moved by it." Beside 
him, John is frowning like 'where was I when you were saying 
this?'

221b. Still staring. Crickets chirp. A faucet drips loudly in 
the background and John debates calling an ambulance because 
Sherlock seems to have had some sort of stroke. 

Wedding. Sherlock admits that he found out later he had said 
exactly none of this out loud.
   Chrissy: Force of habit. He got SO used to talking to 
    John in his mind palace while he was away.
   Diandra: Especially when he was forced to sleep with a 
    sadistic baron to get information. He could hear John's 
    whispered reassurances in the back of his mind, telling 
    him that he didn't have any other choice and John would 
    surely forgive him and take him back and love him even 
    though he was now ruined.
   Chrissy: See? I knew you could do it!
   Diandra: He also heard John's voice encouraging him as 
    he strangled the baron with a bedsheet once he had all 
    the information he needed.
   Chrissy: Okay, woah there...
   Diandra: His only regret was that he didn't think to 
    snatch the knife from the baron's belt to sever his 
    miserable prick from his body until AFTER he stopped 
    breathing...
   Chrissy: OKAY. That's enough of that!
   Diandra: YOU'RE the one who kept trying to get me to 
    write that story.
   Chrissy: Yeah, well...I didn't know you'd go all dark 
    avenging angel on it. Sheesh.

221b. Sherlock snaps out of it, gulps, and says so, um...John 
is basically implying...Sherlock is his best... They both speak 
at the same time, with John saying "man" and Sherlock saying 
"friend?" John gapes at him and says yeah, of course he is. 
   Chrissy: Oh, honey. Of course I still love you!
   Diandra: Even after everything you did to that baron. 
    Although burying that knife in his rectum was a bit...
   Chrissy: STOP IT! I'M SORRY I EVER BROUGHT IT UP!
Sherlock absently reaches for the tea cup on the table and 
takes a sip while John just watches and doesn't even attempt to 
stop him. He just asks "well, how was THAT?" Sherlock looks 
down at the eyeball bobbing around in the cup and says 
"surprisingly okay." John is like OKAY THEN. So you know you'll 
have to make a speech, right? Sherlock goes back to staring.

Back at the wedding, Sherlock pulls a wad of notecards from his 
jacket pocket and starts riffling through them, muttering "done 
that bit...done that bit..." Everyone is looking frustrated 
except possibly Mary, who seems to be trying not to laugh. This 
might be more Amanda than Mary, actually, but she's looking at 
him like 'you are so adorable. Can we keep you?' Sherlock stops 
riffling through the cards and says "I'm afraid, John, I can't 
congratulate you."
   Chrissy: Um...honey? The time to voice your objections 
   was back when the priest said "speak now or forever hold 
   your peace."
He says all emotions, particularly love, run contrary to the 
cold, Vulcan logic he holds so dear. "A wedding is, in my 
considered option, nothing short of a celebration of all that 
is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this 
ailing and morally compromised world. Today we honor the 
deathwatch beetle that is the doom of our society and, in time, 
one feels certain, our entire species."
   Chrissy: Oh, dear God, I have this horrible, nagging 
    feeling that I'm seeing my future flashing before my 
    eyes.
   Diandra: What? Why?
   Chrissy: Because if and when I get a proposal I'm going 
    to ask you to be my maid of honor.
   Diandra: Aww...really? I'm so flattered that you would 
    actually trust me with that much responsibility.
   Chrissy: Yeah...that's kind of the problem right there.
   Diandra: Wait...do the maid of honor and best man make 
    speeches at Jewish weddings?
   Chrissy: Oy. If you don't mind, I'm just going to go 
    find a corner somewhere to curl up in a ball and 
    question my life choices. 

"But anyway, let's talk about John," Sherlock wisely redirects. 
John is like 'yeah, let's do that before I stab you with a 
steak knife.' "If I burden myself with a little helpmate during 
my adventures it is not out of sentiment or caprice, it is that 
he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in 
his obsession with me."
   Chrissy: Okay, hold up. First of all...I am not OBSESSED 
    with you, you pompous windbag. Second...did you just 
    call me "little"?
   Diandra: I thought you preferred the term "little 
    person"? And yes, anyone who reads your blog can see 
    you are clearly in love with me. You talk about me ALL 
    THE TIME.
   Chrissy: You know what? On second thought...could 
    somebody get me a steak knife?
Sherlock throws some more gasoline on his own pyre by rambling 
about how his reputation for being so brilliant really stems 
from the "extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides."
   Chrissy: Yep. I should have suffocated you with a pillow 
    years ago.
   Diandra: Oh, you know I love you. As a friend, I mean. I 
    love you in the familial brothers-in-arms sense and 
    totally don't imagine your face on the rare occasion 
    that I rub one out.

He likens it to a bride deliberately choosing relatively plain 
women as bridesmaids so that she will really stand out on the 
wedding day. And now all the bridesmaids are looking 
uncomfortable and Jeanine in particular looks like she might 
just reach over and kneecap him. "Contrast is, after all, God's 
own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation. Or it would be 
if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a 
career opportunity for the family idiot." He goes silent for a 
moment while everybody groans and wonders whose brilliant idea 
this entire thing was in the first place. He says the point 
he's trying to make - and apparently there is one - "is that I 
am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and all around obnoxious 
asshole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. 
I am dismissive of the virtuous, unaware of the beautiful, and 
uncomprehending in the face of the happy." He looks at the 
priest, Jeanine and John and Mary as he says this and everyone 
quiets in surprise at this acknowledgement of what everyone who 
knows him has probably known all along. "So if I didn't 
understand I was being asked to be best man, it is because I 
never expected to be anybody's best friend. And certainly not 
the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human 
being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing." This of 
course instantly defuses any hostility anybody may have been 
feeling toward him and a couple women in the audience make 
"awww" noises.

He adds that he is a "ridiculous man"...
   Chrissy: Hello, understatement.
...and is only redeemed by the "warmth and constancy" of John's 
love. Er...I mean companionship. I mean friendship. I mean...
   Chrissy: I LOVE YOU MAN!
He says unfortunately this means he can't really congratulate 
John on his choice of homewrecker. Er...companion. Who is 
totally stealing John from him. He pauses and concludes that 
actually, maybe he can because if he says Mary "deserves" John 
it is the highest compliment he is capable of giving. He says 
John has endured war, injury and tragic loss ("so sorry again 
about that last one"), but today he is sitting between "the 
woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved. In 
short, the two people who love you most in all this world. And 
I know I speak for Mary as well when I say we will never let 
you down and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that."
   Chrissy: Hahahahaha...that's what you think.
   Diandra: SHHH! Don't ruin it with foreshadowing!

The women in the audience are all crying. John leans over to 
Mary and whispers "if I try and hug him, stop me." Mary, bless 
her, says the fuck she will and pats his arm. Sherlock tosses a 
notecard, clears his throat and says "now, on to some funny 
stories about John." He looks up to see all the wedding party 
crying or generally acting very emotional and asks what's 
wrong. "Why are you all doing that?" He looks down at John, who 
is wiping at his eye, and asks if he did something wrong. John 
grumbles no, come here you idiot, and stands to pull him into a 
hug. Everyone applauds, the noise covering Sherlock protesting 
that he hasn't finished his speech yet. John is like 'oh, shut 
up while you're ahead', but he sits back down and lets Sherlock 
continue anyway.

"So on to some funny stories about John," Sherlock repeats. He 
pauses, notes that everyone is still all weepy eyed and begs 
them to just cheer up a little bit.
   Chrissy: Please clap.
   Diandra: NO! I already had to endure Benedict's Donald 
    Trump impression. Don't invoke Mitt Romney too now.
   Chrissy: When the hell did he do that?
   Diandra: You can probably find it on You Tube. Just 
    don't look for it when I'm around because I might not 
    be able to control the impulse to slam your phone into 
    the nearest hard surface to make it stop. I already 
    barely held in the horrified screaming last time.

Sherlock pulls out his phone and says John's blog features a 
wealth of funny stories. "Of course, he does tend to 
romanticize things a bit, but then, you know, he's a romantic."
   Chrissy: Although I don't know why I ever wasted that on 
    you.
   Diandra: Really, John, just because I pointed out that 
    purchasing fancy chocolates and expensive jewelry in an 
    effort to convince someone you're already sleeping with 
    to have sex with you on a day commemorating a saint who 
    was beheaded is ridiculous doesn't mean I'm incapable 
    of feeling love.
   Chrissy: You know the terrifying part here is that I'm 
    pretty sure I've actually heard you say almost that 
    exact same thing outside of any roleplaying pretext. 
   Diandra: Yes, I believe we have established many times 
    over that I am Sherlock. Thank you.

Ahem. Sherlock launches into a recap of some cases we haven't 
actually seen, which is accompanied by a montage of throwaway 
jokes. The Hollow Client, where John and Sherlock come home to 
find a full set of men's clothing sitting empty in John's chair 
like the wearer just evaporated out of them. The Poisoned 
Giant, where they are chasing a blow dart wielding dwarf around 
on a roof. And then an unnamed one where Sherlock says a man 
who had been driven crazy was found surrounded by over a 
thousand empty matchboxes and one that emits a glow like the 
suitcase in "Pulp Fiction". 
   Chrissy: Say it again! I dare you!
   Diandra: Say what again?
   Chrissy: EXACTLY, MOTHERFUCKER!

And then we have a scene lifted directly from the beginning of 
one of Doyle's stories where John watches from the window as an 
indecisive woman goes back and forth in front of their door 
like she's working up the courage to open it. Sherlock, 
slouched in his chair, grumbles that she's boring because her 
behavior indicates that her case is another garden variety love 
affair. I'm not sure why Sherlock would even be mentioning this 
right now, but whatever. "And, of course, I have to mention The 
Elephant in the Room," Sherlock concludes. This is followed by 
a quick shot of Sherlock and John staring into a room that 
isn't 221b while an actual elephant trumpets from somewhere. 
I'm starting to think this entire episode was designed as some 
sort of challenge leveled at Martin and Benedict. "Here, do 
this ridiculous scene without laughing."
   Chrissy: Starting to?

But all this is leading up to a case he really wants to talk 
about because he considers it particularly special. The Bloody 
Guardsman. The opening paragraph of John's blog hovers for a 
second, reading like the opening lines of one of Doyle's 
stories, but I'm not sure which one because I'm pretty sure 
there was more than one that opened with variations on 
"Sherlock didn't want me to write about this one, but...". 
   Chrissy: There was this one time I handcuffed him to the 
    leg of the coffee table and...
   Diandra: No, those go in a special secret diary that NO 
    ONE is allowed to read.

And we're in 221b. Mary is sprawled in a chair going through 
papers and Sherlock is frowning at his evidence wall, which is 
apparently covered in wedding related stuff. He notes that her 
half of the wedding hall is looking rather anemic. She says 
that's the curse of being an orphan. All she has is her 
friends. And this is a bad thing?
   Chrissy: Says the person who hardly ever talks to her 
    family.
   Diandra: Yeah. Like I said.
Sherlock starts talking about making sure the organ music 
begins at exactly the right time and Mary notes that they're 
two weeks from even the rehearsal so, you know, calm down. 
Sherlock is like what do you mean calm down? I AM PERFECTLY 
CALM RIGHT NOW. 

Mary redirects him back to reception planning and starts 
running names and possible seating arrangements past him. The 
first is John's cousin, who Sherlock says hates Mary. "Can't 
even bear thinking about you."
   Chrissy: Oh, wait...that's me. 
He's basing this on the cheapness of the card she sent and the 
fact that it took three tries for her to lick the stamp because 
she's "unconsciously retaining saliva." Mary says okay 
then...just out of curiosity..."who else hates me?" Sherlock 
hands her a list. 
   Chrissy: And that's without taking Tumblr into 
    consideration!
   Diandra: It's the curse of being the other woman.

John, meanwhile, is over in his chair going through emails from 
potential clients. "Priceless painting nicked," he reads out 
loud. "My husband is three people." Sherlock and Mary 
completely ignore him as they are engrossed in the seating 
arrangements. Sherlock asks who the hell James Sholto is. 
(Actually, he says "who he", which is unusual phrasing). Mary 
says oh, that's John's old commanding officer and she doubts 
he'll be coming.
   Chrissy: Although that was never a problem for him 
   before. 
John finally engages with their conversation to say that Sholto 
WILL be there. Then he goes back to the "my husband is three 
people" thing because the client is claiming the husband 
actually has three distinct mole patterns on his skin. Sherlock 
barely looks up as he says he's actually triplets, duh. He 
pulls a tray out from under the coffee table with two napkins 
folded in different shapes and asks if Mary prefers swans or 
Sydney Opera Houses. She asks where he learned to fold napkins 
like that. He bullshits something about the many varied skills 
required of a criminal investigator and she interrupts to say 
"fibbing, Sherlock." Because apparently John's efforts to train 
him are now extending to her. He determinedly continues "I once 
broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of the..." 
She says she's not John and she can tell when he's 
bullshitting. "Okay, I learned it on YouTube," he finally 
grumbles. 

Mary gets a call from somebody named Beth and skips off into 
the kitchen to talk. John glances sideways at Sherlock and 
announces that Beth probably wants to talk to him to and 
follows Mary. Because there's no way Sherlock Holmes would find 
that suspicious. John confirms as much when he gets to the 
kitchen and mutters that Sherlock knows full well they don't 
even HAVE a friend named Beth. Mary's like 'whatever, did you 
see what he's doing out there? He's going on YouTube to teach 
himself napkin folding. NAPKIN FOLDING.' John shrugs that it's 
just Sherlock being his perfectionist self. Mary says uh-huh, 
yeah, he's clearly having a separation anxiety meltdown. She 
likens it to wishing something awful would happen sooner just 
so you can get it over with. "Why would he be scared that we're 
getting married," Captain Oblivious asks. "It's not going to 
change anything. We'll still do stuff."
   Chrissy: I mean, you're cool with us having an open 
   marriage, right?

Mary says they need to show him, which is why she asked John to 
find them a case. "Run him." John's like 'what do you think I'm 
doing reading my emails out loud while you're doing wedding 
planning?' Mary suggests he try harder and shoves him back out 
into the living room where Sherlock is now surrounded by 
miniature napkin replicas of the Sydney Opera House. "That 
just...sort of...happened," he says sheepishly. 
   Chrissy: PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! I NEED YOU!

John is like okaaaaaay buddy, um... He sits at the table, 
Sherlock following like a curious child, and begins by saying 
he's getting kind of tired of all this wedding crap because 
he's pretty sure he had to sample nine different cakes that ALL 
TASTED THE SAME and he's not sure why they're still debating 
the purple bridesmaids' dresses. "Lilac," Sherlock corrects. 
Whatever, THE POINT IS he's tired. "I'm faking opinions and 
it's exhausting."
   Chrissy: Oh, please, that's hardly the first time you've 
    faked anything.
   Diandra: Oh, how would you know?
He looks toward the kitchen conspiratorially and hands Sherlock 
his phone, prompting him to just PICK a case. Sherlock is like 
what? Case? But we haven't even gotten to the flower 
arrangements! John makes pleading faces and begs Sherlock to do 
it for him. This being basically Kryptonite to him, Sherlock 
caves immediately and starts flicking through emails. He finds 
one almost immediately and we flash to some guards walking 
around what is probably supposed to be Buckingham Palace while 
one of them, the "client", recites the contents of the email in 
voice over. 

His name is Bainbridge and he's a private. He says he's pretty 
sure his fellow officers would say he's just imagining things, 
but he thinks somebody might be stalking him. We see a guy in a 
hoodie lurking across the street while he's standing guard at 
the gate and being pestered by annoying tourists trying to take 
pictures with him. Bainbridge says he sees the guy taking 
pictures of him every day, including when he's standing 
shirtless in some bay window overlooking the palace grounds for 
some reason. I mean, I'm not complaining because he's pretty 
good looking for a guy who seems to have JUST gone through 
puberty, but...

Sherlock theorizes out loud that the stalker is a uniform 
fetishist. "All the nice girls like a soldier."
   Chrissy: Okay, first of all..."nice" isn't really the 
    word I would use there. And second...I'm just going to 
    go ahead and assume that you know the term for that 
    because you've already done some research.
   Diandra: coughcoughsupportgroupcough. 
John says the expression is that they like a "sailor", 
actually, and the stalker is a guy. 
   Chrissy: Yeah? And?
   Diandra: Guys can be uniform fetishists too. I 
    mean...not that I'm an expert in the area or 
    anything...uh...
   Chrissy: What was the "Family Guy" sketch answer again? 
    I know this because...uh...books and stuff?
   Diandra: Yep. I'm totally not having little hot flashes 
    every time you remind me that you used to be in the 
    military and getting off thinking about Captain Watson 
    bending me over the back of a chair.
   Chrissy: Hot flashes?
   Diandra: Saw a fan use that description once. I kinda 
    like it. 

Sherlock notes that there are forty officers in the elite 
guard, so why would this particular one be of interest to 
somebody? Um...have you seen him without his shirt on?

Mary comes in the room as Sherlock agrees to go check it out 
and they both stand up. John makes some lame excuse about 
needing Sherlock to go with him to choose some...he decides on 
"socks" at the same time that Sherlock says "tie".
   Chrissy: Well, yes, I was planning to use the socks to 
    tie you up, but I wasn't planning on telling HER that. 
   Diandra: Why not? I don't think you understand the 
    concept of an open marriage, John.
Mary says yeah, let's just go with the socks then, shall we? 
Have to make sure they match his... "tie," Sherlock repeats 
like that one weird kid who tries to answer every question the 
same way no matter what it is. He's staring at the floor like 
he's terrified of looking Mary in the eye right now because she 
JUST SAID she knows when he's lying.
   Chrissy: Yes, because there's no other way she would know 
they were lying right now.
Mary says that will probably take a while then, huh?
   Chrissy: Eh, it doesn't usually take him very long, 
    actually.
   Diandra: I'm sorry, which one are you now? I lost track.

John goes to grab his coat and Sherlock looks back up and 
whispers that he's just going to "run him". Mary says yeah, 
see, "you said you'd find him a case!" Sherlock bounces over to 
the main door and stops to look back at Mary at the same time 
that John comes back to the kitchen door. They both flash 
thumbs up at her and she does it back with a big grin, the 
angle of the camera making it look like the trophy head's 
antlers on the wall behind her are actually coming out of HER 
head like devil horns. Yeah, there was a meme on Tumblr a while 
back from a fan wishing that Sherlock and Donna Noble from 
"Doctor Who" could meet. I'm thinking that's not really 
necessary because Mary basically IS Donna Noble. I can totally 
picture her saying "I played both of you bozos like fiddles" 
right now.

So John and Sherlock show up at what I think is supposed to be 
that building down the street from Buckingham Palace where the 
guards are stationed. John hands an officer an ID and says 
they're here to see Private Stephen Bainbridge. Because clearly 
we've learned since Baskerville that it's best to let John 
handle military stuff. The officer says he's on duty at the 
moment, but he'll let him know when he's free. Sherlock asks 
when that will be. The officer says he's got another hour.

So they sit on a park bench across the street from the gate and 
watch the poor guy get harassed by tourists. Sherlock, who is 
quite possibly bored out of his mind already, wonders aloud if 
they have special training in how to resist scratching their 
asses. "Afferent neurons in the periphery nervous system," John 
says. Did they just switch roles for some reason in the last 
couple minutes?
   Chrissy: Well, it IS fun to do that every once in a 
   while. Keeps things interesting.

They sit in awkward silence for a minute and then Sherlock asks 
why John doesn't see Sholto anymore. He refers to him as his 
"previous commander" and, when John questions that phrasing, 
says "I meant ex." John says no, "previous" implies that he has 
a current commander... "Which you don't," Sherlock concludes. 
John is like 'damn right I don't.'
   Chrissy: Okay, which one of the sadistic clowns running 
    this show wrote that slasherific dialogue?
   Diandra: No, really, did he break up with you or was it 
    a mutual thing?
   Chrissy: Let's just say what happens in Afghanistan 
    STAYS in Afghanistan. Also, if you think I'm letting 
    you use that riding crop on me you have another thing 
    coming.
   Diandra: Yeah, it really does just write itself, doesn't 
    it?
   Chrissy: That's what I'm saying. He literally just asked 
    why John doesn't talk to his ex anymore. They're 
    deliberately messing with us now.

Sherlock notes that Sholto was a decorated war hero. John says 
eh...not exactly. He led a team of new recruits into battle 
because, you know, breaking in the new boys is standard 
procedure. 
   Chrissy: He took the job of breaking me in to a whole 
   different level though. I couldn't sit for DAYS. Well, 
   you remember how that is, right?
Unfortunately in this case everything went wrong and Sholto was 
the only survivor. He took a beating from the press and the 
dead soldiers' families. "He gets more death threats than you." 
Sherlock is like STOP MAKING THIS A COMPETITION. I get it! 
Literally everything about him is bigger and better than me! 
John asks why Sherlock is so interested in Sholto suddenly. 
"I'm...chatting," Sherlock stutters like 'fuck, he's figuring 
it out!' John just stares at Sherlock like 'really?' and 
Sherlock mutters that he won't do it again.

John says okaaaaaaay, so, um...on another topic..."You know it 
won't alter anything, right? Me and Mary getting married?" 
Yeah, that's not as different a topic as you think it is, John.
   Chrissy: So enough about the guy I may or may not have 
    had a homoerotic relationship with back in the service, 
    let's talk about the fact that the guy I may or may not 
    be currently having one with feels like I'm abandoning 
    him by getting married to a woman I met while I was 
    grieving his death.
   Diandra: Basically.
John promises that they can still do "this" even after he's 
married. Sherlock is like 'oh, sure. Yeah. I knew that. Why? 
Did you think I was worried about that or something?' John 
starts rambling about how Mary has changed everything and 
altered the course of his life, but...you know...she's the 
second person who has done that in the past few years and the 
other one is...he looks over to find Sherlock has suddenly 
disappeared and concludes "a complete dickhead." 

The officer John was talking to earlier is sitting having a cup 
of tea or something when a bunch of guys in big fuzzy hats do 
that funny toy soldier march past the window. The last one is 
not wearing the same red uniform as the rest. We switch to a 
shot of them coming around the corner of the building and 
Sherlock breaks away, takes the stupid hat off, fluffs his hair 
back up and slips inside the building.

Outside, another soldier takes Bainbridge's place. He goes 
inside the same building Sherlock was just going into and heads 
for the showers. 

John goes to talk to another officer in the building, 
apparently. He says Bainbridge contacted them regarding a 
personal matter. He's just making enquiries. The officer is 
like yeah, sure...what are you really? Press? John points at 
the ID he already handed him and tries using his full military 
title again like it's a magic password. The officer says yes, 
but you're retired so you could basically be anything now. In 
fact, hasn't he seen his face in the papers in connection with 
that detective? What's his name...the one with the silly hat. 
What does Bainbridge want with him?

While this is happening, somebody goes to find Bainbridge to 
tell him that his has a visitor and finds him sitting inside 
the shower stall in a pool of blood that is slowly dribbling 
out along with the running water. He runs to interrupt whatever 
fit the officer is about to throw to announce that Bainbridge 
is dead. The officer jumps to follow him to the showers, John 
trailing after them. When they arrive, John pulls the doctor 
card and goes to look at the body. The officer is like 'oh, 
well, isn't that just convenient?!' and orders the guy who 
found the body to arrest him. And then for whatever reason, 
another guy drags Sherlock in, announcing to the officer that 
he caught this guy snooping around.
   Chrissy: And instead of bringing him to my office, you 
    brought him here.
   Diandra: Plot convenience! 

The officer comes to the conclusion that John's purpose was 
actually to distract him while this weirdo with the fluffy hair 
killed Bainbridge. Sherlock invites him to search him for 
whatever weapon he supposedly killed Bainbridge with. John adds 
that Bainbridge only came off duty five minutes ago, so...when 
did this all happen? Officer says he was stabbed before he got 
in the shower. Sherlock says no, he's wet and there's shampoo 
in his hair. He had to have been stabbed IN the shower. The guy 
who found the body says the stall was locked from the inside 
and he had to break it open to drag the body out. Officer 
hypothesizes that Sherlock - who he stubbornly still insists 
could be the killer - climbed over the top of the door. 
Sherlock points out that he'd be soaking wet too then. John, 
fed up with this bullshit, starts shouting his credentials as 
both a soldier and a doctor and demands to be allowed to 
examine the body RIGHT GODDAMN NOW. The officer backs down and 
he takes off his coat and goes to kneel beside the body. The 
guy who found the body sidles up to Sherlock and theorizes that 
it was suicide.
   Chrissy: What? I'm sorry, I was busy trying to will this 
   sudden erection away, did you say something?

Sherlock points out that that still doesn't explain the absence 
of the weapon. He squats beside the body as John notes that the 
stab wound is incredibly small. Then he checks Bainbridge's 
face and realizes that he's still breathing. The assembled 
military men all panic and John illustrates why he was a medic 
by barking orders for somebody to call an ambulance and 
Sherlock to give him his scarf. Then, as Sherlock is looking 
around dazed, he just grabs his hand and jams it over the 
scarf-covered wound, barking "nurse: press here, hard." 
Sherlock is like 'who the hell do you think you're calling...' 
and John snaps that he's "making do" and Sherlock should just 
shut up and do what he says right now.
   Chrissy: Well, if I wasn't wet before, I am now.
   Diandra: Are you speaking as you or...never mind. I 
    don't want to know the answer to that.

Back at the wedding. Oh, right. Forgot about that. Sherlock is 
explaining that Bainbridge had just come off several hours of 
guard duty which means there were plenty of witnesses to attest 
that there didn't seem to be anything wrong. But he was almost 
dead within minutes was dying of a stab wound from a weapon 
that couldn't be located. He summarizes it as a murderer who 
can walk through walls with a weapon that can vanish without a 
trace. But that's not even the most "remarkable" part. He asks 
if anyone can guess what that would be. Everyone looks at each 
other like 'is he serious?' When nobody answers, he calls on 
Lestrade directly. Lestrade stammers something about the blade 
behind propelled through the air vent, which, you know, a tiny 
person could fit in so they're probably looking for a dwarf. 
Yes, dear, that would be the original Doyle story, but since we 
already did the dwarf with the poison darts in that little 
montage/comedy routine I doubt it will work again. Sherlock 
stares at him and says "brilliant." Lestrade lights up and says 
"really?" Sherlock says no, he's a moron, next theory. Molly's 
boyfriend NotSherlock whispers "he stabbed himself" and 
Sherlock calls on him like a teacher demanding the class 
smartass share with the rest of the group. NotSherlock is like 
um...he stabbed himself with a weapon made of blood and bone, 
which he dubs a "meat dagger". Because the usual cliche of an 
ice pick that melted with the shower water would have been too 
stupid I guess. Sherlock blinks at him like 'wow...guess Molly 
wasn't interested in my BRAIN.' Molly hisses at NotSherlock to 
sit down.
   Chrissy: I would point out that Sherlock repeats the 
    words "meat dagger" and bring up the "most distasteful 
    thing he's had in his mouth" description again, but I 
    suspect he would actually like that.
   Diandra: Only if it's John's.

Sherlock says no, they're missing the point. The most 
remarkable thing about this whole case was John. Because while 
Sherlock was busy trying to solve a murder, he saved some guy's 
life. "There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth 
telling. The best and bravest man I know and on top of that he 
actually knows how to do stuff. Except wedding planning and 
serviettes. He's rubbish at those." At any rate, he says the 
case is the most brilliantly planned but failed murder he's 
ever "had the pleasure to encounter". A perfect locked room 
mystery. Anyway, about those funny stories... Lestrade 
interrupts to ask what the solution was. How was Bainbridge 
stabbed? Sherlock says um...that one was never solved. "It can 
happen sometimes. It's very...very disappointing."
   Chrissy: I love how he says that like a guy apologizing 
    for finishing prematurely.
   Diandra: Well, it's basically an equivalent scenario for 
    him.
Speaking of embarrassment, Sherlock segues, let's talk about 
the stag night!

A story about the Mayfly Man drifts across the screen as we go 
back to Sherlock visiting Molly at the lab. She seems to be 
responding to something he already said, incredulously 
repeating "murder scenes?" He says yes, well, pub crawl 
actually. She asks why he can't do underground stations or 
something. He says no, that's not personal enough. They're 
going to have a drink in a pub on each street where they found 
bodies on the cases they've worked. Molly sarcastically says 
yeah, that sounds like fun. So what did you need me to do 
again? He's a graduate chemist, he should be able to work "it" 
out himself. He says no, he needs more practical experience. 
Molly stares at him and notes that he's suggesting she's an 
alcoholic. Realizing this is headed somewhere Not Good, he 
stammers 'no! Of course not! Um...so how are you? You're 
looking healthy for your age. How are things with the guy who 
totally doesn't look like me?'
   Chrissy: JOHN! HELP!

She decides to taunt him a little and says things with TOM are 
going great and they're having a LOT of sex, thanks. Sherlock 
stands perfectly still, eyes darting around frantically like 
he's working out an escape route. Then he apparently decides to 
pretend none of that conversation just happened and pulls out a 
folder, asking her to calculate his and John's "ideal intake" 
so they can stay in a pleasant buzz all evening without peeing 
in broom closets or waking up in a hotel room with a tiger or 
something.
   Chrissy: Although waking up with each OTHER is not 
   strictly out of the question.

And we cut to Sherlock putting two measuring flasks on a bar 
and ordering 443.7 milliliters of beer. Each. He brings them to 
the table John is waiting at and hands him one. John looks at 
it, looks at Sherlock starting some sort of timer on his phone, 
and sighs heavily. "What, we're on a schedule?" Sherlock says 
he'll thank him later.
   Chrissy: That's what you said last time. I didn't.
   Diandra: Oh, come on. The rash went away eventually, 
    didn't it?

We get a little montage of them going to different locations 
and drinking beer out of those same flasks each time while 
Sherlock repeatedly consults his phone and verifies numbers. At 
about the fifth one, John starts looking around and Sherlock 
points him in the direction of the toilet, which by his 
calculations John will be needing any second now. John is like 
'what? I can't hear you over this obnoxious music. Hang on, you 
can tell me after I go to the loo because I really have to 
pee.' When he gets back, Sherlock calculates how long that took 
him and asks him to approximate the volume of "discharge".
   Chrissy: Okay, I think we're long overdue for a 
    discussion about boundaries.
   Diandra: What? I have no problems telling YOU things 
    like this.
   Chrissy: Yeah, I know you think that makes it okay, 
    but...
John tells him to shut up. 

At the next bar, John orders the beers and, as long as Sherlock 
isn't looking, two shots of something stronger. He drinks one 
and tosses the other in one of the beers. In the five steps 
over to where Sherlock is waiting, he forgets which one is 
which and hesitates before handing over the one that has the 
shot in it. Not sure if that was intentional or not.

So at the next bar...or possibly still the same one 
later...Sherlock gets in an argument with some guy who takes a 
swing at him. John drags him away bodily, his arms swinging 
like a cartoon character (possibly in a loose Z snap like he's 
channeling a sassy black lady) shrieking 'lemme at him!' The 
other guy's friend drags him away too and Sherlock punctuates 
this ridiculous little act by drunkenly slurring "I know 
Ashton" like 'bitch, I won that argument!'

And the next thing we see is Sherlock and John laying on the 
steps of 221b.
   Chrissy: Okay, next time we really need to try to get 
    all the way up the stairs first because my back is 
    KILLING ME.
   Diandra: Yeah, well, maybe next time you can last longer 
    than a minute.
   Chrissy: You know, I really wish you would stop saying 
    that.
   Diandra: I really wish you'd give me a reason to stop.

Apropos of probably nothing, Sherlock announces that he has an 
international reputation. Does John? John's like 'um...no...can 
I go back to sleep now?' Sherlock says he doesn't even remember 
what he has a reputation for. "Crime? Something like that." 
John pats him on the butt and says "that's nice dear, now go 
back to sleep." Haha no. I wish. They're both drifting off when 
Mrs. Hudson comes out of her room downstairs and asks what the 
hell they're doing back so early. Sherlock calls her "Hudders" 
and asks what time it is. She looks at her watch and says they 
were only gone two hours. 
   Chrissy: Jesus, it took them two hours to get so drunk 
   that they stumbled home and curled up together on the 
   floor like kittens? Lightweights.
She marches past them out the door, garbage in hand and John 
sits up, Sherlock sort of being dragged along with him and 
flailing for a second before falling on his ass on the next 
step down.

So the next thing we see is Sherlock up in his chair in the 
flat, a piece of paper stuck to his forehead that says 
"Sherlock Holmes". Before we can think he's managed to get 
drunk enough that he needs to be labeled, we see that John is 
in his chair, wearing a piece of paper that says "Madonna". "Am 
I a vegetable," John asks. Sherlock is like 'I don't know, are 
you asking about YOU or...' he gestures at John's head and they 
both giggle. John says that's cute, but what's the answer. 
Sherlock says no and takes his turn at guessing: "am I human?" 
John takes a drink of something because apparently he's decided 
he's not drunk enough yet and says "sometimes". Sherlock says 
no, that's not how you're supposed to answer and John gives up 
on the joke and says yes, he is. He flops back in his chair. 
Sherlock's next questions are whether he's a man (supposedly), 
tall ("not as tall as people think"), nice ("...ish") and 
clever ("I'd say so"). John starts giggling again. "Am I 
important," Sherlock asks.
   Chrissy: To me. I'm sorry, I mean...uh...
John says yes, to "some people." Sherlock asks if those 
"people" like him, making sarcastic air quotes and doing a 
pretty fair imitation of a valley girl. John says um...no. "You 
tend to rub them up the wrong way."
   Chrissy: Particularly that one time. Seriously, I knew 
   you were a virgin, but...

Sherlock asks if he's the current King of England.
   Chrissy: I love how you are completely ignoring me.
   Diandra: Who, me?
   Chrissy: Yes, you.
   Diandra: I'm sorry, I thought you were doing just fine 
    on your own over there. 
   Chrissy: Typical. Expect me to do all the work and then 
    you take all the credit.
   Diandra: I think you might be taking this role play 
    thing a little too seriously.
   Chrissy: Who said I was role playing?
John thinks this last question is hilarious because technically 
they don't have a king. Sherlock is like 'we don't? 
Oh...must've deleted that. Your turn.'

And now we have a weird little moment that appears to be the 
result of Martin screwing around and trying to get a reaction 
from Benedict (this being reinforced by the fact that he 
actually said this about something later in this scene). So I'm 
just going to go ahead and call them by their real names for a 
second. Martin sits up and wobbles sideways nearly out of the 
chair. He grabs Benedict's knee before he ends up face first in 
his lap and pushes himself back up, then makes a big show of 
looking at where his hand is and shrugging as he removes it. 
Benedict just takes a slug from his own glass, shrugs and says 
"I don't mind" like 'haha, try harder.' 
   Chrissy: And lo, another thousand fanfics were launched.
   Diandra: Yeah, I mean...this only makes sense if you 
    assume John did it by accident, because I can't imagine 
    what John would be trying to prove there. But he did it 
    so slowly that it didn't look at ALL accidental.

Weird little interlude over, John asks if he's a woman. 
Sherlock giggles. John is like 'why is that funny?' 
   Chrissy: Come on, we all know if one of us was secretly 
    a woman it would be you.
   Diandra: Really, wife? Are you sure about that?
   Chrissy: Um, yes, actually. Yes, I am.
Sherlock says yes. "Am I pretty," John asks.
   Chrissy: Yes, but I'm prettier.
   Diandra: Are you Sherlock now?
   Chrissy: I have no idea anymore.
   Diandra: Why are WE acting like we're drunk?
   Chrissy: I think it might be some sort of sympathetic 
    muscle memory or something.
   Diandra: That is so not a thing.
   Chrissy: How do you know?

Before Sherlock can laugh some more and ask for clarification 
on whether he's asking or just fishing for compliments, John 
points to his forehead. "Beauty is a construct based entirely 
on childhood impressions, influences and role models," Sherlock 
slurs. John says yeah, okay, but "am I pretty lady?"
   Chrissy: I don't know, John. Are you? It's okay if you 
   want to come out of that closet. Nobody will judge you!
Sherlock squints at the name on his forehead and says he 
doesn't know. He has no idea who that is. John yelps that he's 
the one who picked the names. Sherlock says yeah, but he picked 
them randomly from the newspaper. John grumbles that he really 
doesn't understand this game and flops back in his chair and 
props his feet up on Sherlock's. Sherlock bravely continues, 
reviewing what he knows so far: human, not as tall as people 
think, nice-ish, clever, tend to rubofovvvaway. He giggles and 
concludes that he's John.

Mrs. Hudson interrupts their little bonding session at that 
moment by ushering in a client. Why she thinks this is a good 
idea is anyone's guess. The woman who seems to be dressed like 
a nurse asks which of them is Sherlock Holmes. John makes a 
whistling noise as he points at the paper on Sherlock's 
forehead like 'duh, can't you read?' Sherlock grins at her 
doofily. And then we cut away before Martin can say "all right, 
let's do a serious one this time because there's no way you're 
putting THAT in."

So we cut to the poor woman sitting in a chair on the opposite 
side of the coffee table as the couch that Sherlock and John 
are now slouched in, laying out her case. She's talking about 
how she doesn't date all that much, but she just CONNECTED with 
this guy and they had this absolutely lovely dinner date where 
they just talked and the conversation was so INTERESTING and 
she'd have loved to go "further" with him, but...you 
know...she's not that kind of girl. John and Sherlock are 
smiling at her doofily and struggling to stay awake. 
   Chrissy: Also, it's quite possible that that look John 
    shot at Sherlock when she was talking about that dinner 
    date said 'huh...reminds me of our first date...I 
    mean...dinner.'
   Diandra: Oh, so you CAN see now why Angelo thought it 
    was a date.

Neither one of them is saying anything, so she just keeps 
rambling about how she gave him her number and maybe he wasn't 
as into her as she was into him but she thought he'd at LEAST 
have the decency to call and tell her it was over.
   Chrissy: No. No guy does that.
She starts crying, which apparently triggers some sympathy 
crying in Sherlock because when he's drunk he gets in touch 
with his inner sensitive self. 
   Chrissy: Like that doesn't happen when he's sober too?
   Diandra: Well, probably not in this particular case.
She finishes by saying she went around to his flat and there 
was no one there so she honestly thinks it's possible she had a 
date with a ghost. Yeah, I'm not kidding. She waits a moment 
for one of them to respond, but neither does because they have 
both nodded off in the last minute. And we get an answer to the 
question the hotel owner was asking in "Baskerville": yes, 
Sherlock snores. But John also makes funny little noises. "With 
a ghost, Mr. Holmes," the client repeats loudly and Sherlock 
wobbles and pitches face first toward the table, catching 
himself and mumbling "boring. Boring. Boring. No! Fascinating!" 
He wakes up a little and shakes John awake, apologizing for 
John's rudeness.

The client continues that she talked to the landlord, who 
confirmed that the man who lived in that flat had died of a 
heart attack. One week before the date. You know, just in case 
they thought she was crazy. She pulls a printout from her purse 
of a chat room/website for women like her who suspect they are 
dating spirits. Sherlock grabs it and tells her not to worry, 
he'll find her dog in ten minutes. What's his name? Still half 
asleep, John mumbles "yeah, I'll be there if you want." 
   Chrissy: Just go ahead and take your clothes off. I'll 
    be there in a minute.
   Diandra: Ugh. Guess I'm starting without you again...
Sherlock shakes him again and says the game is...something. 
John thinks for a couple seconds and says "on". Sherlock is 
like yeah! That! 
   Chrissy: What would you do without me?
   Diandra: I'd probably get a whole lot more done because 
    I wouldn't have somebody CONSTANTLY NAGGING ME.

So they go to the "ghost's" flat. Presumably. Sherlock gets 
distracted by a giant glass knickknack, staring at it like a 
stoner watching a lava lamp. John, still struggling to stay 
conscious, is telling the obviously unamused landlord that it's 
a "nice" flat. The client asks if Sherlock sees anything that 
might possibly be a clue. Sherlock looks around and we switch 
to blurry Sherlockvision, which provides helpful information 
like "designer table", "chair", "leather seat" and 
"sleeeeeeeep" (that last one also labeling the chair). And then 
it just devolves as he turns to a free standing speaker and it 
says "hi tech speaker thing", a decorative animal skull which 
he identifies as "death", "deaded" and "????", some other 
trinket that he identifies as a wooden "pipe/tube/wotsit 
thingamabob" and a piece of furniture that is either an egg 
shaped chair or a "sitty thing".
   Chrissy: We should get him drunk more often.
He turns to the client, who Sherlockvision identifies as either 
the client or the victim and, proving that at least one of the 
writers has seen "Blazing Saddles", says "I'm just going to 
whip this out." 
   Chrissy: We've talked about this. I'm not bailing you 
   out of jail again.

He fumbles in his coat and wrestles out some sort of kit, 
retrieving his magnifying glass from it and just tossing the 
rest over his shoulder. He gets down on his hands and knees to 
look at a shag rug and John explains that he's "cluing for 
looks". Seconds later, Sherlock is snoring into the rug, his 
ass sticking in the air. 
   Chrissy: Which John is totally not looking at.
   Diandra: Or fantasizing about going over there and 
    coping a feel. You know, just to see if it's as tight 
    as it looks.
   Chrissy: Would you like to play John?
   Diandra: No, you're doing fine.

The landlord threatens to call the police and goes to yank him 
upright. Sherlock yelps indignantly and starts swatting at him. 
The client is like 'nono, they're famous!' and introduces them 
to the landlord by their full names. This is significant 
because she uses John's middle name, which nobody does. 
Sherlock starts lecturing him about not compromising the 
integrity of the crime scene, but he has to stop midsentence to 
throw up all over the rug. John finishes his sentence after a 
long beat like 'yay, I helped!' Sherlock very daintily wipes at 
his lips, snaps his magnifying glass shut and tries to remember 
where the hell the case for it is.

So the next morning. Lestrade goes to collect them from a 
holding cell. Sherlock is sprawled on the slab that passes for 
a bed and John is sitting on the floor next to him, wincing at 
the light coming through the window. Lestrade says he made 
arrangements with the desk sergeant and called a cab for them. 
He marvels that they couldn't even make it to closing time. 
"What a couple of lightweights."
   Chrissy: See?
   Diandra: I wasn't arguing with you.
John asks if Lestrade could maybe speak softer and Lestrade 
shouts "NOT REALLY" right in his ear. Sherlock finally startles 
awake at this, looks around in confusion and staggers out after 
them like a dazed child.

As they're walking through the same exit they did when John 
bailed Sherlock out at the end of last season, John thanks him 
for "uh...an evening."
   Chrissy: And if you could never mention what went on in 
    that cell to another living being that would be great. 
   Diandra: What did happen? And why do I have this 
    horrible taste in my mouth?
   Chrissy: In my defense, I TOLD you not to swallow.
"It was awful," Sherlock says. 
   Chrissy: Yeah, well...YOU try to perform when you're so 
   drunk you can barely stay conscious.
John says yeah, well, he was happy to pretend otherwise, but 
whatever. Sherlock grumbles that that woman (apparently named 
Tessa) had the most interesting case he's heard in months and 
he totally WASTED the opportunity. John is like oh...that. 
Yeah, that's totally what I was referring to.

Sometime later, John is drinking a glass of Alka-Seltzer in 
Mrs. Hudson's kitchen while she babbles about how having him 
around is "just like old times". She plops a full English 
breakfast in front of him and says she figured she'd make his 
favorite "one last time". John protests that it's not like he's 
never going to see her again or anything. He's getting married, 
not moving to Siberia. This is different than the time they 
thought Sherlock was dead. She starts prattling again about how 
marriage changes you while John tries to eat and realizes 
quickly that that's definitely not going to happen. He argues 
again that this is different. He won't neglect his old friends 
just because he's married and has new ones now. Mrs. Hudson 
shrugs and rambles about finding the "right one", the "person 
that you click with" and how it's the best thing in the world.
   Chrissy: Yeah, he is pretty amazing. She. SHE! I TOTALLY 
   SAID SHE! 

John asks if Mrs. Hudson thought she'd met THE ONE when she 
married Mr. Hudson. Oh, dear. You really want to go down this 
road? She says nah, it was a whirlwind lust thing that she 
secretly knew wouldn't work out. They had a great time when 
they were living in Florida, but then she didn't realize that 
he was running a drug cartel until he "got in with a really bad 
crowd". Also, there was all those other women he was sleeping 
with. "So when he was actually arrested for blowing someone's 
head off, it was quite a relief to be honest."
   Chrissy: I know I've mentioned it before, but I really 
    love Mrs. Hudson.
   Diandra: "I ever tell you about that one time I did a 
    line of blow off a stripper's abs? Now THAT was a crazy 
    bachelorette party!"
John blinks at her like 'Jesus, I am way to hung over for this 
shit.' Mrs. Hudson repeats that her relationship with Frank was 
mostly physical and MAN were they all over each other boinking 
like energizer bunnies. There was this one night... John stops 
her because he hears Sherlock clomping around upstairs and 
thinks maybe he needs him for something. He runs away before 
Mrs. H can give him any more details about how amazing her dead 
drug dealer husband was in bed.

Sherlock has an article up on the laptop screen about how 
Sholto got all his men killed and the government rewarded him 
for it with a medal. He quickly closes the window when he hears 
John clomping up the stairs, leaving the website 
idatedaghost.com up. He greets John by announcing that there 
will be more "victims". 
   Chrissy: Ugh. Give it a rest. I know you were looking at 
    gay porn.
   Diandra: No, this time I can say no without lying.
He says most ghosts confine themselves to a single house, but 
this one travels. He shows John the map he has littered with 
pushpins to identify all the "hauntings".
   Chrissy: So we're really doing this? The ghost thing?
   Diandra: Hey, if I can investigate a vampire in 
    Sussex...

And now we're in some sort of official meeting hall. There are 
a bunch of women scattered randomly around the public seating 
area. Sherlock comes down the stairs from the door and stands 
on the main theater floor, looking around at all of them. He 
starts pointing at them while repeating "not you. Not you. Not 
you." The women he points to sit down. He steps in front of one 
of the few left standing, a pretty dark haired woman who 
appears dressed to go to a fancy dinner. She says her name is 
Gail. He moves to a redhead dressed like a college student who 
says her name is Charlotte. Next is a casually dressed woman 
who looks like she could be a housewife and says her name is 
Robyn. And then a blond woman who looks like she might possibly 
be a hooker says her name is Vicky.
   Chrissy: Oh, what...just because she's wearing loud red 
   clothing with a low neckline and her blonde hair is 
   obviously from a bottle?

We cut suddenly to just those four women standing down on the 
floor with Sherlock. Everyone else has disappeared. He starts 
asking questions for all four of them, starting with "how did 
you meet". Gail says he came up to her in a pub. Charlotte says 
they go to the same gym. Robyn says they struck up a 
conversation on the bus. Vicky says online and gives Sherlock a 
look like she's debating what would happen if she tried to 
tackle him and tear his clothes off.
   Chrissy: Bless her.
"Name," Sherlock prompts, turning back to Gail. Gail says 
Oscar. Charlotte says Mike. Robyn says Terry and Vicki says 
LoveMonkey. Sherlock frowns at her and goes back to Gail to ask 
if they met at her place. All four of them answer "his place" 
at the same time. He asks for the address. They all give 
different addresses, but again at the same time so it's just a 
bunch of random noises. Gail stresses that nothing happened. He 
notes that the guy must have "something special" if he's seeing 
four different women in as many nights. Gail says he was 
charming. Charlotte says he was "innocent" (which, 
clearly...no). Robyn says he was sweet. Sherlock looks at 
Vicky, who smirks and very suggestively begins "he had a 
lovely..." This is interrupted by John suddenly showing up to 
ask if Sherlock is okay. Sherlock gestures at Vicky and there's 
a beeping noise and suddenly he and John are standing in the 
middle of 221b and Sherlock is glaring at him like DO YOU MIND?
   Chrissy: Can I just point out that, for a minute there, 
    it looked like some woman in Sherlock's mind palace was 
    about to rave about some guy's magnificent dong and she 
    was interrupted by John showing up like somebody said 
    his name three times?
   Diandra: Well, it IS Sherlock's mind palace. That's 
    probably not all that uncommon a glitch.

John points to the plate of food sitting beside the six open 
laptops covering the table, one with a word balloon containing 
Vicky's unfinished sentence hovering over it and says he let 
his dinner go cold.
   Chrissy: Okay, have you NEVER heard of tabbed browsing? 
   How about multiple windows?
Sherlock grumbles at him that now is NOT a good time and 
crouches over the one with the word balloon, typing. 

Back in the mind palace, he lowers his hand and apologizes for 
the interruption. "Manner," Vicky finishes. 
   Chrissy: Pffffft. Right. 
Sherlock prompts the women to describe this man. Gail says he 
had short blond hair. Charlotte says he had long dark hair. 
Robyn says he was a ginger, which I guess rules out The Doctor 
(hissss). Vicky says she couldn't tell what with the mask he 
was wearing.
   Chrissy: And don't bother asking about his voice. It's 
    really hard to make out much of anything around a ball 
    gag.
   Diandra: I take back what I said about her being a 
    hooker. She's clearly you.
   Chrissy: I will take that as a compliment.

Sherlock suddenly flashes over to a corner of the hall, 
flicking through a newspaper to the obituary section, and 
concludes aloud that the "ghost" is stealing the identities of 
dead people. We focus on one obit for a guy named "Michael" 
that includes the following bizarre text: "sleep well our 
pocket rocket. Love from the girls."
   Chrissy: Okay, that's definitely Vicky's guy.
   Diandra: Oh, come on. I'm sure it was perfectly 
    innocent.
The "ghost" focuses on men who died single on the assumption 
that their apartments will be empty for a while. "Free love 
nest," he finishes. The women all look nauseous. Except Vicky, 
who thinks that's clever. Because of course she does. The 
client who originally brought him the case - Tessa - appears 
suddenly and, back in 221b, Sherlock moves to respond to a ping 
on yet another laptop. Screw the food, Mrs. Hudson is going to 
be too busy chewing him out about the electric bill. 

Sherlock goes right back to explaining that he had to disguise 
himself because nobody wants to use a dead guy's home for a 
hookup. Vicky shrugs like 'well...' Sherlock ignores her. So 
their "ghost" is stealing the identities of dead men. "But only 
for one night," John offers, barging his way in again. This 
time Sherlock accepts the intrusion and starts talking to him 
without leaving the mind palace. 
   Chrissy: John has a standing invitation to his mind 
    palace. 
   Diandra: Yeah, I...have nothing to add to that.
Sherlock says the man isn't a ghost, he's a mayfly. He only 
exists for a day and then disappears. Sherlock turns back to 
the women and John disappears again which begs the question: is 
he just standing beside Sherlock in 221b and occasionally 
offering to help even though Sherlock is mostly ignoring him?
   Chrissy: That would be different from their standard 
    operating procedure how?
   Diandra: Good point.

Sherlock asks what the women's jobs are. Gail says gardener. 
Charlotte says cook. Tessa is a nurse. Robyn is a security 
guard. Vicki claims to be a maid. 
   Chrissy: Well, she has to have a cover story. And she 
   does have a maid outfit...
Sherlock thinks for a second, then suggests maybe they all work 
for the same person. Type scrolls across their faces as he runs 
between laptops to run searches on each of them, disproving 
that theory. He starts getting frustrated and asks what their 
idea of an ideal date is. 
   Gail: Clay pigeon shooting.
   Charlotte: Line dancing.
   Tessa: Pictures?
   Robyn: Wine in front of the telly.
   Vicky: Dungeon.
   Chrissy: Vicky is my new spirit animal.
   Diandra: New?
Sherlock gives her a sideways look like "REALLY?!" and moves on 
to their brand of makeup. They all give different brands except 
Robyn who probably doesn't wear much makeup and Vicky who just 
buys whatever is cheap. He has a brief moment of hope as he 
asks what perfume they wear and they all answer "Chanel" except 
Vicky who wears a custom blend of musk and men's tears. Just 
kidding, she says Estee Lauder. 
   Chrissy: But seriously, I do mix it with subs' tears.
Sherlock's face falls like 'goddamnit, why are you always the 
one fucking this up?' 

He asks what their ideal man is. "George Clooney," Tessa says 
dreamily and Sherlock groans in annoyance. WELL, YOU ASKED. 
Gail says "home-loving". Charlotte likes guys who are willing 
to cuddle. Robyn likes caring men. Vicky starts reciting a 
prepared list of ten things, the first two of which basically 
boil down to 'not a caveman prone to displays of dominance'. 
Sherlock looks at her like 'what the actual fuck?' and waves a 
hand to "pause" her again. He grumbles that they MUST have 
something in common and notes that none of them ever reported 
anything being stolen. He recites their jobs again in the order 
they apparently dated the guy, ending with Tessa the nurse, and 
concludes that he's working his way up somebody's idea of a 
social food chain. He asks if they have a secret they've never 
told anybody. They all say no right away. He smiles and murmurs 
"gotcha". John barges his way in again to ask what's going on. 
Why don't you just stay here? Where do you keep going? Sherlock 
says everyone has secrets (just like everyone lies) and they 
all answered way too fast. Then the women start turning tail 
and walking away/logging off despite his frantic protests. 
Vicky apologizes before she does and calls him "sexy". The last 
one to leave is Tessa, who says "enjoy the wedding." Um...red 
flag?

Sherlock slams the lid on the last laptop and, now back in 
221b, raves about what this guy could POSSIBLY be doing dating 
all those women and never returning their calls. Are we really 
going to ignore that last one? Okay. John smirks that he's 
missing the obvious: he's a man.
   Chrissy: Although I'd think you'd get it at least a 
    LITTLE bit since you are too...right?
   Diandra: Subtle.
Sherlock says fine, but why would he change his identity? John 
suggests maybe he's married, which is the cue to jump back to 
the world's longest wedding reception speech still in progress.

Sherlock says it should have been obvious, really. The Mayfly 
Man was trying desperately to escape the "suffocating chains of 
domesticity" that come with marriage. John and Mary look at 
each other like 'yeah, back to regretting this decision' while 
Sherlock rambles about endless nights in front of the 
television or barbecues with boring people he couldn't stand to 
be around. He concludes that the Mayfly Man was clever enough 
and good enough at disguise to get away with adultery. He cuts 
himself off suddenly as he realizes that this is probably not 
the best place for this discussion and Mary shakes her head at 
him. Sherlock mutters that on second thought he should probably 
have gone with the Elephant in the Room story. But whatever, 
too late now. At any rate, this one illustrates how invaluable 
John is to him and how LOST I WOULD BE IF HE EVER LEFT PLEASE 
DON'T LEAVE ME. Ahem. Scratch that. He concludes that if any of 
them ever need their services, they should understand that 
Sherlock will solve their murder, but John will save their 
life. "He's saved mine so many times and in so many ways."
   Chrissy: It's sweet how he's finding a way to use the 
    vows he had planned for his own possible future 
    wedding. Now tragically a nonstarter.
   Diandra: Ouch. 

Sherlock holds up his phone, still showing John's blog and 
declares it "the story of two men and their frankly ridiculous 
adventures. Of murder, mystery and mayhem."
   Chrissy: Not to mention unrequited love.
   Diandra: It's not the love that's unrequited. It's the 
    sexual tension.
   Chrissy: Oops. My bad.
He says but now there's a "new story".
   Chrissy: Oh, look at his sad puppy dog face...
   Diandra: He doesn't like the new story. The new story is 
    boring and he's NOT IN IT.
He calls on everyone to hold up their glass and toast the new 
couple: Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson. He 
freezes midsentence and stares while the photographer's 
flashbulb goes off repeatedly in his face. His glass of 
champagne falls from his hand in slow motion and we snap back 
to the mind palace hall where Sherlock, now dressed in a suit 
and holding his hand out like he just dropped the glass, asks 
what the hell Tessa just said. Because I guess he was too 
distracted to notice any of the weird shit she was saying until 
JUST NOW. He notes that she called John by his FULL name, which 
he never tells anyone because he HATES the name "Hamish". 

We get a little montage to suggest that this has been an 
ongoing dialogue between them since they first met. Sherlock 
passes by John at his computer, removing the entire pack worth 
of cigarettes he has jammed in his mouth for some reason to 
note that his blog says his name is "John H Watson". John says 
"yep", but won't say anything else. Sherlock jams the 
cigarettes into a slipper because SHERLOCK HOLMES REFERENCE and 
flops on the couch, eyeing him suspiciously. Sometime later, 
they're sitting at the kitchen table, the scientific equipment 
shoved to one side and John is reading the paper. "Henry," 
Sherlock asks. John tells him to shut up. Sometime later, 
Sherlock looks up from his microscope to offer "Humphrey" and 
gets the same response from John reading in his chair. Sometime 
later, Sherlock is passing by the bathroom while the shower is 
running and calls "Higgins?" John yells at him to go away.
   Chrissy: Or, you know, come in here and actually make 
   yourself useful. As long as your mouth is too occupied 
   for speaking I really don't care.

Mind palace Sherlock says it took YEARS for him to "confide in 
me". To illustrate, we see John walking into the flat with bags 
of groceries and coming up short as he realizes Sherlock is 
holding his birth certificate. Sherlock says yes, it is, and 
walks away. Yeah, that's...the opposite of confiding in 
someone.
   Chrissy: That's nothing. I once caught him trying to 
    take a blood sample from me while I was asleep.
   Diandra: I thought your iron levels might be off. I'm 
    invasive because I care!

He acknowledges that The Woman knew and we get a little 
flashback of the scene where John offered it as a possible baby 
name when Sherlock and Irene were having their little showdown, 
which...wasn't even a year after they first met according to 
John's blog. So either Sherlock wasn't listening or "years" is 
actually "months" in Sherlock Time. 
   Chrissy: Or maybe he didn't believe that that really was 
   his middle name because really: Hamish?
Irene shows up for a second in his Mind Palace, seemingly 
naked, and strokes his face. He grumbles at her to get out of 
his head because he's BUSY and she disappears as he turns his 
back on her. He says John only made his full name public once: 
on the wedding invitation. Which he wasn't happy about. "Enjoy 
the wedding," Tessa repeats. He concludes that she saw the 
wedding invitation, which only went out to "barely a hundred 
people". The odds of the Mayfly Man finding one of those 
hundred people when he only had five "victims"...well, it 
"could be a coincidence." Mycroft suddenly appears in the seat 
where the head official or whoever sits and prompts Sherlock 
with "what do we say about coincidence?" Sherlock whirls on him 
and instinctively responds "the universe is rarely so lazy." He 
says that would mean that somebody went through a lot of 
trouble to find out about the wedding, going so far as to 
create several false identities which suggests criminal intent. 
"Also suggests," Mycroft prompts like a patient teacher. 
Sherlock answers the man is intelligent and calculating. A 
psychopath, if Mofftiss could actually get their diagnostic 
terms straight. Mycroft says yes, but more importantly? 
Sherlock gasps that the Mayfly Man is...

We snap back to the wedding as the champagne glass shatters on 
the floor and Sherlock blurts the rest of the sentence "here 
today!" He stammers an apology and looks shaken. A waiter 
brings him another champagne glass. We snap quickly back and 
forth between the mind palace and the wedding as Mycroft says 
something is about to happen any second and reminds him that he 
has control of the room. Sherlock startles and confirms that 
everybody is standing and holding up their glass. He asks them 
to sit again. They all do, confused. He sets the new glass down 
and rambles about how you're not supposed to "milk" a speech. 
"Get off early, leave them laughing..."
   Chrissy: Yeah, that's...
   Diandra: Ugh. Don't. Just leave it at "phrasing".

He says that's good advice, but he's going to completely 
disregard it right now. He vaults over the table, somehow 
managing not to break anything or kick Jeanine in the head and 
announces that part two is going to be more "action-based". He 
starts rambling as he walks down the aisle and Sherlockvision 
labels all the males in the room as potentially the Mayfly Man. 
Mary asks John what the hell he thinks he's doing. John, no 
longer annoyed at all, realizes that something is wrong. 
Sherlock, clearly flailing without a script, rambles about how 
he could go on forever about how wonderful John is and the 
"depth and...complexity of his..." A woman in the audience 
offers "jumpers" and he parrots it without thinking. John 
winces. He keeps babbling about how John can cook and he once 
did this thing with peas...John frowns and he adds that on 
second thought it might not have been peas. And it might not 
have been John, for that matter. 
   Chrissy: Oh, you often have men in your flat cooking for 
    you?
   Diandra: Going by the whole conversation about Mrs. 
    Hudson bringing him tea when he's not looking and he 
    never even questions where the stuff he consumes comes 
    from...it's a distinct possibility. 
He says John has a wonderful singing voice. Or somebody does. 
He might be confusing him with an ex boyfriend. He gets 
frazzled and starts hissing and squawking that there are TOO 
MANY potential Mayfly Mans in the room. He shakes himself and 
tries again to go back to something vaguely resembling a 
speech. "Let's talk about..."

Mycroft keeps repeating that the Mayfly Man went to such 
extreme lengths that it would suggest his criminal intent is...

"murder," Sherlock finishes. Everyone starts murmuring and he 
backtracks that he didn't mean to say that! He meant to say 
"marriage", which, you know, is kind of the same thing. "The 
participants tend to know each other and it's over when one of 
them is dead. In fairness, murder is a lot quicker though." He 
slides over to one guy and asks Jeanine from across the room if 
this one is "acceptably hot" because clearly his girlfriend 
isn't all that into him. He's going home alone and he's a 
"comics and sci fi geek" and they're always really grateful for 
any action they can get. Jeanine stares at him wide-eyed like 
'seriously, can we get some steak knives over here? I want to 
try my skills at target practice.' Sherlock is frantically 
tapping on his phone behind his back. He asks "Jeff" to check 
the men's room. Nobody moves and he looks at Lestrade like 
"come on man!" Lestrade reminds him, again, that his name is 
GREG goddamnit. Sherlock is like 'that's nice, George, is that 
your phone ringing?' Lestrade pulls out his phone to read the 
text Sherlock just sent: LOCK THIS PLACE DOWN. He startles, 
makes a hasty excuse, and runs off.

John finally speaks up to ask if Sherlock is planning to end 
this speech any time soon so they can cut the cake. Sherlock 
makes some laughing comment about how John just hates it when 
Sherlock is getting all the attention, awkwardly ending with 
"Vatican cameos". Mary asks John what that random blatant code 
means since the look on his face suggests he clearly knows. 
"Battle stations," he whispers. "Someone's going to die." He 
grabs her arm like he's ready to pull her behind him or under 
the table or something. Sherlock walks up and down the aisle, 
looking increasingly agitated while Mind Palace Mycroft 
repeatedly prompts him to "narrow it down". He snaps and starts 
yelling "no" and "not you" and slapping his own face, alarming 
everyone.
   Chrissy: Nice choice of best man, John. You couldn't 
   have at least reminded him to take his antipsychotics 
   today?
Sherlock focuses on John, points at him and starts marching 
down the aisle toward him while making the following statement: 
"You. It's always you. John Watson, you keep me right."
   Chrissy: No, seriously, stop trying to shoehorn your own 
   wedding vows in here.
John jumps to attention like a good little soldier...
   Chrissy: AGAIN WITH THE LITTLE.
   Diandra: YOU'RE SHORT, OKAY? 
...and asks what he should do. Sherlock tells him to do just 
what he did with Bainbridge: don't worry about solving the 
murder. Save the life.

He turns back to the crowd with renewed purpose and apologizes 
for that little episode earlier, promising that he's back on 
track now.
   Chrissy: Funny. I've heard that promise before.
   Diandra: What? About being back on track following a 
    wandering rant?
   Chrissy: Yeah. By the way, what page is this recap on?
   Diandra: Ugh. I hate you.
Sherlock says they're going to play a game now. A game called 
Murder. "Imagine somebody's going to get murdered at a wedding. 
Who exactly would you pick?" "I think you're a popular choice 
at the moment, dear," Mrs. Hudson pipes up. Bless her. 
Sherlock, not even looking at her as he walks past, asks if 
somebody could please slide her glass out of her reach.
   Chrissy: Remember that I could easily put poison in your 
   morning tea, dear. Don't think I haven't thought about 
   it!

In Sherlockvision, everyone now has "Target?" hovering over 
their heads. Sherlock says the important thing to consider is 
who can ONLY be killed at a wedding because why couldn't the 
possible victim be killed just walking down the street or 
something? Hell, he often plans the murders of friends and 
family members as a little mental exercise. For example, he 
could easily poison John. In fact, he's slipped chemicals and 
compounds into his food and drink before and he never noticed. 
"He missed a whole Wednesday once. Didn't have a clue."
   Chrissy: Yeah, and you never did explain why I woke up 
    naked and sticky on Thursday.
   Diandra: You know, this combined with the strange men 
    cooking for Sherlock thing makes me think of the new 
    story I'm writing.
   Chrissy: New...hang on. What? You're writing a story 
    about Sherlock drugging John?
   Diandra: No, I'm writing a story where Sherlock loses 
    entire days and is living with a strange man who is not 
    John. And, now that you mention it, often waking up 
    naked and sticky.
   Chrissy: I...when...why...
   Diandra: Did I mention the strange man is played by Tom 
    Hiddleston? 
   Chrissy: ..................you've had that in your back 
    pocket and you chose to tell me about that weird John-
    as-a-medieval-sorcerer story instead?
   Diandra: Empath. He's an empath.
   Chrissy: Whatever. We are talking about this later. At 
    length.

He moves on to Lestrade, who he claims would be so easy to kill 
it's a miracle nobody has tried yet. He keeps rambling without 
taking a breath about using the keys he has to Mycroft's house 
to break in and strangle him and gets carried away enough in 
the excitement of the idea that it's obvious this is his 
favorite scenario to consider. Anyway. Back to the original 
question: who could only be killed in this room? It's a rare 
occasion, so the target probably doesn't get out much, but will 
make an exception for a big event planned months in advance. 
And since killing someone in public is difficult, killing this 
person in private must not be an option. So somebody who lives 
somewhere inaccessible or unknown. As he narrows down 
possibilities, the people themselves - not just the "target" 
label - disappear from their seats until the only one left is 
Sholto. His "target" label blinks red as Sherlock turns to him 
and finishes that it would be somebody who is extremely 
private, obsessed with security and already under threat. A 
recluse with a small personal staff (although...didn't he 
establish that those women all had different employers?). He 
picks up a place setting card and a pen while he's rambling, 
scribbles a note and drops it in front of Sholto. "IT'S YOU," 
it says.

Sherlock keeps rambling, turning to a discussion of how someone 
could possibly be murdered in public. Obviously it's already 
been planned, but how? Little Archie jumps up like 'I know!' 
Sherlock turns to him and invites him to give his theory. "Get 
this right and there's a headless nun in it for you." Archie 
says the invisible man with the invisible knife could do it. 
"The one who tried to kill the guardsman." Yes. The unsolved 
mystery he chose to tell everyone about in his best man speech 
just happens to be about the potential killer who is actually 
at the wedding right now. Because despite what he said earlier, 
the universe is, sometimes, lazy. I mean, it's possible he knew 
there was a connection on some level, but...he seems too 
surprised by it now for that to be the case. A bunch of quick 
flashes on Sherlock going over the wedding planning alongside 
the Bainbridge case confirm that Bainbridge was the killer's 
trial run, chosen apparently at random just to make sure the 
plan would work on the real target. 

He turns to see Sholto slipping out the door in the back and 
rushes back to the head table, retrieving his champagne glass. 
He announces that there is going to be a short interlude and 
holds up the glass in a toast to the bride and groom. Everyone 
stands and holds up their glasses, looking confused. Sherlock 
leans over to tell John that he doesn't know who the killer is 
or how they're doing it still, but the victim is definitely 
going to be Sholto. He runs back down the aisle past all the 
confused wedding guests. John kisses Mary like some sort of 
action hero, tells her to stay here, and runs after Sherlock. 
Mary stays put for about three seconds, then decides 'fuck 
that' and goes chasing after them.

Sholto arrives in his room and retrieves his handgun from his 
suitcase.

Meanwhile, outside, Sherlock is straining to think of something 
while John snarls "how can you not remember which room? You 
remember everything!" Sherlock snaps that he has to delete 
things occasionally. Mary runs past them, shouting "207" and 
they all run in that direction, not even questioning how she 
knows this off the top of her head or why she is even here at 
all. John even grabs her hand as they run like he didn't just 
tell her to STAY in the main hall.

Sherlock arrives at the door first and bangs on it, calling 
Sholto's name. Sholto, calmly sitting by the bed with his gun 
in his lap, calls that if somebody really is planning to kill 
him it wouldn't be the first time and he's ready for them. John 
begs him to open the door. Mary thinks they should just break 
the door down. Sholto advises them against that because he has 
a gun and "a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes". Sherlock 
reminds him that whoever is after him can get into locked rooms 
so he's not safe in there. And he repeats that he doesn't know 
how the guy is doing it, so he doesn't know how to stop him 
from trying. Sholto says well, maybe he should figure that out 
then. "Tell me how he did it and I'll open the door." John 
protests that this isn't the time to play games because he's in 
DANGER here. Sholto points out that they probably are too as 
long as they're in his proximity. He says they should leave 
because he really would prefer to not get any more people 
killed.

Mary looks at Sherlock pacing the floor and tells him to just 
solve the case so he'll open the door. Sherlock points out that 
he couldn't do it before, so why would he be able now? "Because 
it matters now," she says. Sherlock snips that he has no idea 
what she's talking about and tells John to "get your wife under 
control". It says a lot about the level of self-control of both 
parties here that neither John or Mary responds to this by 
slapping him. She just looks at him like 'I beg your pardon, 
asshole?' and John calmly says she's right and Sherlock should 
shut up. Sherlock sneers that John has "changed" and John gets 
in his face and snaps "you are not a puzzle solver, you never 
have been. You're a drama queen. There's a man in there about 
to die. The game is on. SOLVE IT." Sherlock makes a face like 
'how DARE you?!' at the drama queen thing and then goes vacant 
as we get a quick flash of the uniforms of both Bainbridge and 
Sholto, focusing on their belts and a repeat of the guy pulling 
the skewer from the meat in the kitchen earlier, letting out a 
gush of...possibly blood. Sherlock kisses Mary's forehead and 
says "though in fairness, he's a drama queen too." Mary says 
she knows and John looks back and forth like 'hey, I'm right 
here.' 
   Chrissy: He's worse. And I would like to point out again 
    that, of the two of us, he would totally be the woman.
   Diandra: [z snap]

Sherlock shouts that nobody is coming to kill Sholto because 
they already did it hours ago. "Don't take off your belt." He 
turns to John and explains that Bainbridge was stabbed hours 
before they saw him. The fabric belt on the uniform is worn 
very tightly high on the waist. A small blade could easily be 
pushed through the fabric without the victim even knowing it 
was happening. John picks up the thread and adds that the belt 
is so tight that it would create pressure on the wound, 
stopping the bleeding until it was taken off. Or, as Sherlock 
calls it, "delayed action stabbing" that gives plenty of time 
to create an alibi.

Mary begs Sholto to open the door because Sherlock solved it 
and he promised. Sholto grumbles about the appropriate irony of 
being killed by his own uniform and looks at himself in the 
mirror, hand hovering over the belt buckle. He starts rambling 
about not being able to imagine himself out of this uniform, 
which he's not supposed to have anymore but the military let 
him keep via a loophole. And, you know, a LOT of people 
obviously want him dead, so why does he keep fighting it? John 
orders him to stop whatever the fuck he's doing in there 
because he will KICK THIS DOOR DOWN. Sholto ignores him, 
calling to Sherlock that he gets the impression they are a lot 
alike. Is that right?
   Chrissy: Well, we're both insufferable asses with far 
    more enemies than allies and the only person willing to 
    put up with us is John, who has seen us both naked, 
    so...
   Diandra: Jumping to conclusions again?
   Chrissy: Nah. Pretty sure guys in the military have to 
    shower in front of each other. And we know Sherlock 
    parades around 221b naked and has no sense of 
    boundaries.
   Diandra: Oh. I thought you were making some slash 
    reference, not giving an actual, legitimate theory. 
   Chrissy: Well, that too. Obviously.

Sholto says he should know then that there is a "proper" time 
to die and a person should "embrace it" when it comes like a 
good soldier. Sherlock is like sure, but NOT AT JOHN'S wedding. 
Because neither of them would do something like that to John.
   Chrissy: No, you would just call me with your suicide 
    note and make sure I was watching while you took a swan 
    dive off a building.
   Diandra: When are you ever going to let that go? 

Sherlock steps away from the door and John gets ready to break 
it down after all but he's barely taken his jacket off before 
the door opens and Sholto sheepishly says he could use some 
medical attention.

And now it's night and there's classical music playing and the 
wedding party is milling around the main hall. Sherlock and 
Jeanine are in a side room somewhere, running through the steps 
of a waltz. Apparently they are practicing because they stop 
after a few seconds and he says that's good but she shouldn't 
hesitate when she's turning. She asks why they're rehearsing 
this again. He says because she's a terrible dancer. She takes 
that rather well and notes that he's actually a pretty good 
teacher and a great dancer. He leans close to tell her 
something in confidence: he's always loved dancing. He looks 
around to make sure nobody else can see and performs a little 
pirouette. "That rarely comes up in crime work," he admits. 
"But, you know, I live in hope of the right case."
   Chrissy: And all the writers in the fandom were hit with 
    a sudden inspiration to write an AU where Sherlock has 
    to go undercover with a ballet troupe.
   Diandra: Actually, I'm not sure on the timeline, but 
    that might have already happened BEFORE this episode.
Jeanine shakes her head and says she just wishes he wasn't...
   Chrissy: Gay.
...whatever he is.
   Chrissy: Okay, possibly asexual with latent gay 
    tendencies.
   Diandra: I think we usually use the term demisexual 
    instead of asexual. But yes to the rest. And that's not 
    just this version of Sherlock Holmes: it can be 
    inferred from Doyle's stories just as easily as the 
    theory that he has Aspergers.

John interrupts...whatever is going on here to say that it's 
nice to see Sherlock has found a way to have a good time at his 
wedding despite the fact that there are murderers running 
around. Sherlock protests that it was ONE ATTEMPTED murder and 
grumbles that John is always exaggerating. "You should try 
living with him." 
   Chrissy: Oh, yeah, because living with YOU is a picnic.

Lestrade interrupts to bring the photographer in at Sherlock's 
request. The photographer wants to know what this is all about 
because he was halfway home when he was dragged back here. 
Sherlock asks to see his camera and mutters that maybe he 
should have driven faster. He scrolls through pictures on the 
camera, cooing that this is perfect and hands it to Lestrade. 
John runs over to look, asking if the murderer is in the 
pictures. Sherlock cryptically answers that it's not about what 
IS in the pictures, but what ISN'T. John sighs and reminds 
Sherlock that they were JUST discussing this drama queen, 
showing off thing earlier and it would be great if he could 
please knock it off and get to the point. Sherlock's cocky grin 
falters a bit and he says there's always one person who is 
never in the wedding pictures, even though he can go anywhere 
he likes and often carries a large bag of equipment with him. 
He sneaks up behind the photographer and cuffs him to a luggage 
rack. Why does he have handcuffs?
   Chrissy: You really want an answer?
   Diandra: Well, I know what YOUR answer is, I'm just 
    trying to figure out what the official non-sexual 
    answer would be.
   Chrissy: Where's the fun in that? 

He identifies the man as Jonathan Small, a SUBSTITUTE wedding 
photographer who is actually the Mayfly Man. His brother was 
one of the soldiers killed under Sholto's command. He worked 
his way through Sholto's staff until he stumbled on the perfect 
opportunity: a wedding invitation. We get little flashes of 
Small "practicing" on Bainbridge by playing tourist and getting 
close enough to stab him in the back with some sort of skewer. 
Then doing the same thing to Sholto when he was taking pictures 
of people in the wedding party, presumably when they arrived. 

Sherlock says that in all fairness, he is actually a really 
good photographer. Not that that skill will do him much good in 
prison. He tosses his phone at Lestrade and says all the 
evidence he needs is on that and he "probably ought to arrest 
him or something". "Do you always carry handcuffs," Jeanine 
asks from the side of her mouth.
   Chrissy: Hahahahahahahahahaha...no seriously. Can you 
   get them back later?
Mary is running by and stops short to grab John, hesitating 
when she sees what's going on here. Small does the sterotypical 
bad guy rant about how Sholto is the real bad guy here and the 
only mistake he made was trying to be clever. He should have 
killed him quickly and been done with it. 
   Chrissy: And I would have gotten away with it if it 
   wasn't for you meddling kids!
Sherlock repeats that he should have driven faster and holds 
his arm out for Jeanine. They saunter past him, John and Mary 
following closely.

So, in the main hall, John and Mary have their first dance. A 
waltz to the tune Sherlock was composing earlier in the episode 
and is now playing at the head of the hall. It must be sometime 
later because Lestrade is already back in the crowd, standing 
next to Mrs. Hudson, both of them smiling like proud parents. 
The song ends and John dips a startled Mary, who yelps 
"really?" like 'are you sure you want to start our married life 
with a slipped disk?' They kiss and everyone claps, Jeanine 
whooping and cheering so loudly that Sherlock gives her a 
withering look before tossing the corsage on his music stand at 
her. He goes to the microphone and apologizes for everything 
that happened earlier. They have dealt with the crisis. "More 
importantly, however, today we saw two people make vows. I've 
never made a vow in my life and after tonight I never will 
again. So, here in front of you all, my first and last vow."
   Chrissy: I love you, John. Oh, wait...that's not what I 
    meant to say...
   Diandra: I would just like to point out that the next 
    episode is titled "His Last Vow". So...yeah. Either 
    that title is calling back to this (which, come to 
    think of it, it probably is) or you will not be keeping 
    that promise long.
"Mary and John...whatever it takes, whatever happens...from now 
on I swear I will always be there, always. For all three of 
you. Uh...I'm sorry...I mean...I mean two of you. All two of 
you. Both of you, in fact. I just miscounted." He ends the 
speech quickly before anybody can question that little screw up 
and the DJ takes his cue to start playing music so everyone 
else can dance. 

Sherlock goes over to John and Mary and apologizes for that 
unexpected deduction there. He flashes back on little clues 
Mary has dropped through the reception: increased appetite, 
changes in taste. Also, she was sick this morning. She assumed 
this was all wedding nerves, but she yelled at Sherlock when he 
mentioned it. Wait...when was that? He awkwardly shoehorns a 
variation on the title of the book, which is also the episode 
title, saying the signs of three are all there and she should 
take a pregnancy test. John just about collapses. Mary grins 
stupidly. Sherlock starts babbling about first trimester 
statistics and John tells him to shut up. Sherlock actually 
listens for once. John asks how the hell SHERLOCK noticed this 
before he did when he's a DOCTOR. Sherlock points out that it's 
his day off. "It's your day off," John snaps back. Sherlock 
tells him to stop panicking and he practically yelps that he's 
NOT PANICKING. 
   Chrissy: I'm just having a minor stroke. That's not the 
   same thing!
Mary says SHE'S bloody well panicking because HOLY FUCK SHE'S 
PREGNANT.
   Chrissy: Well, this is going well.
Sherlock says there's no reason for any of them to panic 
because they're already great parents. They've spent plenty of 
time practicing by taking care of HIM. They don't need him 
anymore, however, since they'll have a real baby to care for 
now.
   Chrissy: Wow. Wasn't expecting that level of self 
   awareness.

They all laugh and Sherlock's face slowly falls again before he 
encourages them to go dance because if they keep standing here 
people will wonder what they're talking about. Then he reveals 
as almost an afterthought that he has been teaching John how to 
dance. "Baker Street," John confirms. "Behind closed curtains. 
Mrs. Hudson came in one time. Don't know how those rumors 
started."
   Chrissy: Though of all the things she could have caught 
    us doing behind closed curtains, I suppose dance 
    lessons is the least scandalous.
   Diandra: Mmm. She will never know how close she came to 
    walking in on something a whole lot racier after you 
    practically fell in my lap on stag night.

Sherlock watches them sadly for a moment, then shakes himself 
and looks around for Jeanine. She is dancing with the nerdy 
guy, who apparently she does find appropriately hot. He looks 
sad again and goes to put the sheet of music he composed in an 
envelope addressed to Dr. and Mrs. Watson, leaving it on the 
stand. He grabs his coat and sulks off into the night, collar 
pulled up around his face. And if you recall, Mrs. Hudson's 
experience with her maid of honor predicted this. He's leaving 
the wedding early because everything has changed, it's the "end 
of an era" blah blah abandonment.
   Chrissy: So to summarize...Sherlock is feeling abandoned 
    and moody because John is leaving him and their life 
    together to start a family.
   Diandra: Yeah. The sad thing is that Arthur Conan Doyle 
    did really write it so that John was the closest 
    relationship Sherlock ever had in his whole life and he 
    LEFT. I mean, he did realize his mistake pretty quickly 
    and bring him back, but...
   Chrissy: Also Sherlock is totally a uniform fetishist.
   Diandra: Totally. 
   Chrissy: And you are apparently writing, like, five 
    fanfics.
   Diandra: It's only four. So far. Although I guess I 
    could have five if you really wanted me to run with 
    that Baron Von Honeypot thing...
   Chrissy: NO!