(Holmes "talks" with Allistair at Allistair's grave)
Allistair: Sherlock Holmes. Why did you become such a cliché. Standing over a grave. Head heavy with dark thoughts. If this were a scene in a play. I'd have refused to perform it.
Holmes: I was on my way to a meeting. I am supposed to speak, you know. Well, I thought this would be a good place to collect my thoughts.
Allistair: I'm sorry I let you down.
Holmes: You didn't let me down. What you did has got nothing to do with me. I understand that. Came here today because... because I loved you very much and I wanted you to know that you'll be missed.
Holmes: (after smashing a plate in a rage) I...I apologize.
Watson: (after taking a plate out of the sink and smashing it onto the floor) That didn't solve anything. Weird, right? You know what else it won't solve? Allistair. You know why he used drugs last week? Because he was an addict, just like you. I'm sorry he's gone but his relapsing doesn't change a thing for you, not one single thing. You woke up today, you didn't use drugs, just like yesterday. You know what you have to do tomorrow? Wake up and not use drugs. That is just how it is. That is how it is going to be.
Holmes: Thank you. Are you quite finished with telling me things I already know?
Watson: Are you ready to start acting like you know them?
Holmes: I decided I am quite ashamed of my behavior over the last few days, all right? I took the passing of a dear friend and I twisted it into an indulgence in narcissism. It has left me in a mood. Allistair was a friend, one of only a handful and...and...and losing a member of such a select group is felt quite...substantial. My tantrum upset you and I apologize...again. But I assure you, I...I am no closer to using than I was yesterday or the day before that or the day before that. If I was I would tell you.
Special billing was given to Aidan Quinn (and) for this episode.
Allistair: At me too someone is looking, of me too someone is saying, he is sleeping, he knows nothing, let him sleep on.
This is part of a line spoken by the character Vladimir from Act II of Waiting for Godot, a play published by Irishman Samuel Beckett in 1949 in which two characters are waiting for someone who never comes. Beckett first wrote the play in French and then later translated it to English.