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She was smart, she was, but no one's smarter than Sherlock.
A passcode he was never told, Vatican cameos, and a booby trap – he figured it all out.
Then he feels something poke into his arm and the world's gone blurry and he can't focus, but he knows one thing – he has the phone, and he can't lose the phone.
The riding crop – smack, smack, smack, and he drops it, and feels the drugs weigh down his limbs, but he fights.
Sherlock Holmes doesn't lose.
He wakes up in a bed, barely able to stand, and he's lost the phone.