Police station. Bell has discovered that Alysa is really Elle Bartan and that she has lots of passports. Bell asks if the reason she won't talk is that she's married to the guy who shot her. Gregson says she'll eat the murder charge alone if she doesn't roll on the rest of her crew. She says, "You will never find my husband." They get a message from Sherlock that EROC's already been robbed. Elle (formerly Alysa) smiles a little. Very little. So little that I might be imagining it.
The power seems to be back! Gregson tells Holmes Elle has four tickets out of BWI. Holmes figures they'll have to unload the cash somewhere, since it's not like you want to bring $33,000,000 in small bills on a commercial flight. They did get a burner phone from Elle. She mostly called friends and family. But she also made a couple of calls to the director of thoroughbred racing at Oak Knoll, a Joseph Laseur. Holmes concludes they'll be laundering the money with Mr. Laseur, since who wants a bunch of bills that were so worn out they got rejected?
The snow has stopped and covers everything. Bell, Holmes and Watson are in a car across from Laseur's house. Laseur goes out and in. Holmes wants to chat with Watson about where the phrase "stake-out" comes from. But we're saved from that because an ambulance comes up and parks at Laseur's place. Two EMTs go up to the door. Bell tells everyone to wait until they see actual money. But a cop thinks an EMT made him, and they pounce. The EMTs stand there politely at the door as the police run up. They're taken down. The EMT says they got a non-emergency call to the address. Bell shouts, "You tellin' me you don't have thirty-three million dollars in the back of that ambulance?" The EMT answers, "What? Of course not!" That's a valid answer. And when Bell looks in the ambulance, there does not appear to be a huge pile of loot. Holmes says they've been duped.
Pam takes them back to the brownstone. Watson wonders if Mr. Davis is shacked up with Miss Hudson. Pam says it was a fun day and gives them her card, in case they need any other plowing done. I think it's weird that she was just sitting there waiting for instructions. I'm not in charge of a city or anything, but I feel like if Manhattan is going to be paralyzed by snow, I'd want all the snow plows on the job.
Inside the brownstone, there's a blazing fire in the fireplace. Or so it appears because it's behind the enormous banner for my local news. Miss Hudson has cleaned the place up and set out some lovely candles. Holmes is distressed and asks how the books are arranged. She answers, "By subject matter, then by author. You start with hard sciences on the north wall and then you move clockwise around the room in descending order of academic rigor. That way Physics by Aristotle is as far away from You Can Learn Telepathy by Morton Zuckerman as possible." That's pretty good. Holmes admits it's reasonable. And she's stacked the monographs by Holmes on his desk. He goes off to look and probably to sulk about not being able to complain. Miss Hudson to Watson explains that her OCD flares up after a breakup. Yes, she's not with Mr. Davis anymore. She's considering not being a kept woman anymore.