Sherlock Deduces In The Pub _ The Hounds of Baskerville _ Sherlock _ BBC

What have we got? We know there's footprints, as Henry found them, so did the tour guide, but... We all heard something. Maybe we should just look for whoever's got a big dog. Henry's right. What? I saw it, too. What? I saw it, too, John. Just... Just a minute. You saw what? A hound. Out there in the hollow. Look, Sherlock, we have to be rational. About this, okay? You, of all people, can't just... Let's just stick to what we know, yes? Stick to the facts. Once you've ruled out the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be true. What does that mean? Look at me. I'm afraid, John. Afraid. Sherlock. I've always been able to keep myself distant. Divorce myself from feelings. But look, you see? Body's betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions. Grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment. Yeah, all right. Scott, just... Take it easy. You've been pretty wired lately. You know you have. I think you've just gone out there and got yourself a bit worked up. Worked up? It was dark and scary. Me? There's nothing wrong with me. It's Sherlock. There is nothing wrong with me, do you understand? You want me to prove it, yes? Looking for a dog, yes? Great, your dog. That's your brilliant theory. Cheshire. Good, excellent. Yes, where should we start? How about them? The sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman. The answer's yes. Yes? He's got a West Highland terrier called Whiskey. Not exactly what we're looking for. Sherlock, for God's sake. Look at the jumper he's wearing. Hardly worn. Clearly he's uncomfortable in it. Maybe it's because of the material. More likely the hideous pattern suggests it's a present. Probably Christmas. So he wants into his mother's good books. Why? Almost certainly money. He's treating her to a meal, but his own portion is small. That means he wants to impress her. But he's trying to economise on his own food. Well, maybe he's just not hungry. No. Small plate. Starter. He's practically licked it clean. She's nearly finished her pavlova. If she treated him about as much as he wanted. He's hungry, all right. Not well off, you can tell that by the state of his cuffs and shoes. How do you know she's his mother? Who else would give him a Christmas present like that? Well, it could be an aunt or an older sister, but mother's more likely. They're all quite old now. It suggests he's been unemployed for some time. Not much industry in this part of the world, so he's turned to his widowed mother for help. Widowed? Yes, obviously. She's got a man's wedding ring on a chain around her neck. Clearly her late husband's a bit too big for her finger. She's well-dressed, but her jewellery's cheap. She could afford better, but she's kept it sentimental. Now, the dog. Tiny little hairs all over the leg from where it gets a little bit too friendly. No hairs above the knees. It suggests he thinks it's a small dog. Probably a terrier. In fact, it is a West Island terrier called Whiskey. How the hell do you know that, Sherlock? Because she was on the same train as us and I heard her calling its name. And that's not cheating. That's listening. I use my senses, John, unlike some people. So, you see, I am fine. In fact, I've never been better. So just leave me alone. Here. Okay. Now, why would you listen to me? I'm just your friend. I don't have friends. No. I wonder why.