The Finder Recap! Bones’ Crossover Episode: Booth and Brennan Meet Crazy Walter Sherman
Fasten your seat belts, Bonesheads, because it's crossover time! "The Finder" kicks off deep in the Everglades, where Brennan (Emily Deschanel) and Booth (David Boreanaz) find the soggy remains of some pretty unlucky gator bait. Fortunately for our heroes, swamp critters aren't too keen on glass eyes, and B&B trace a serial number on the artificial peeper all the way to a museum. Wait, there are museums in Florida? We always figured the most cultural thing Florida has to offer is the all-you-can-drink buffet at Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville.
Anyway, the museum's head honcho tells Booth and Brennan that ole one-eye was Sam, the museum's security guard, and that they reported him missing 10 days ago. But oh, it gets even better! Apparently the CCTV cameras caught sticky-fingered Sam running off with one of their precious treasures. From the little we actually know about the profession, this is the exact opposite of what security guards are supposed to do. Regardless, Sam happened to run off with a fragment from an 18th-century nautical chart (not a map!, Bones tells us) that supposedly leads to the remains of a sunken Spanish treasure ship.
Luckily, Booth happens to know a guy in the area who just might be able to help them find the chart. Booth treks over to see his old frenemy, Walter Sherman (Geoff Stults), who has the remarkable ability to find anything he's tasked with, which is probably why he's called — you guessed it! — "the finder." (Side note: where the hell is this guy when we're running late and looking for our car keys?)
Walter (or "Wally," as Booth not-so-affectionately calls him) has his own rag-tag team of sidekicks: Leo Knox (played by Michael Clarke Duncan, aka "the big guy from The Green Mile") and Ike Latulippe (sexy Saffron Burrows), who lays on a Cockney accent so thick we thought we were listening to Dick Van Dyke in Mary Poppins. Once all the proper introductions are made, B&B catch Walter up to speed on their missing map — er, chart (sorry, Bones). After hemming and hawing about accepting the challenge (as well as extending a point-blank sex invite to a clearly delighted Bones), Wally agrees to be their "finder."
Brennan, being abnormally addicted to logic, doubts Wally's so-called "finder" super-powers. He asks her to name one thing in life she can't find... other than a sweaty Everglades romp with Booth. Just as Bones begins recounting some sob story about a 7th-grade science fair, Wally cuts her short and declares that he'll find it — no matter what "it" may be. Because he's just. That. Good.
As B&B head back up to D.C., Wally and his Scooby Gang start working on the case. For Wally, this means breaking into dead-guy Sam's house, stripping down to his boxers, and lounging around. (If the sight of a near-nude Walter doesn't solve the case, it will — at the very least — guarantee that The Finder solidifies its female/gay-male fan base.) After a few hours of strutting his barely-clad body all over Sam's manky apartment, Wally concludes that the security guard was a seriously depressed crime-lit fan with an unfortunate terminal illness (which a flirty phone call to Brennan confirms). Fortunately, Walt also finds a pawn shop slip for the most mysterious of all stringed instruments — a ukulele.
Walt and co. trek over to the aforementioned pawn shop, and after some pretty hard bargaining, the owner forks over a badly busted uke, explaining that it was smashed up by some rando chick with the words "do not resuscitate" tattooed on her chest. (This sounds almost as unfortunate as the dreaded unicorn-boob tattoo.) After a quick visit to Wally's go-to tat man, the gang tracks DNR-girl to some meth-head biker bar, and then to a private yacht called the "Screw You." Because all meth-heads have yachts with crude names, right? Oh, Florida...
Anyway, Walter decides to use his masculine wiles (read: stone-cold good looks) to pump info out of DNR — but despite his best moves (and they're pretty slick), the tattooed femme fatale just ain't buying it. After mumbling something about "today working out," DNR plants a half-hearted kiss on Walt's desperado lips and sends him packing.
After striking out with the inked-up yacht chick, Walt takes to his private plane (like, really? — who is this guy?) and zips up to D.C. to drop off a certain 7th-grade science fair medal to a gobsmacked Dr. Brennan. Frankly, we're a little gobsmacked, too, considering that absolutely zero screen time was dedicated to the seemingly impossible task of hunting down a 20-year-old medal. Whatever. Suffice it to say, Walter is j'amazing and can do just about any little thing he sets is handsome (yet perma-paranoid) mind to.
In the wake of another hardcore Bones flirt session, Wally grabs a recreation of the purloined chart. He then zips back down to FL (oh, the joys of flying private!), charters a fabulous yacht, rips his shirt off once again (just in case anybody missed it the first time), and, using the coordinates from the repro chart, dives down in search of sunken treasure. Which is exactly what he finds — if by "sunken treasure" you mean "the lifeless, drowned body of that DNR chick."
Back at the Jeffersonian, where Wally has brought the latest cadaver (frankly, we're not sure which is more worrisome: his carbon footprint, or the fact that he smuggled a dead body half-way up the country), some oral probing reveals the original (bloodied!) chart fragment that security guard Sam stole — and a finger. Which DNR bit off. Which... yikes.
Anyway, Walt zips back down to gator country to meet with an old bishop friend (doesn't everyone have an old bishop friend?), who explains that the three nails which have recently appeared on the chart were written in invisible ink — ink that can only be activated by blood, breast milk, or semen (as if the chewed-off finger wasn't grossville enough). As it turns out, the chart was written by some effed up Jesuit with a seriously deranged bodily fluids fetish.
Back at the Jeffersonian, Angela (Michaela Conlin) and Hodgins (TJ Thyne) have figured out the same exciting, semen-y news. Using some latitudinal fun facts, a dash of everyday Jesuit know-how, and the world's largest game of cat's cradle, the D.C. gang deduces the treasure's actual resting spot. But super-sleuth Walt has already beat them to it. Cue another shirtless water extravaganza!
After pillaging the wreck for fabulous Spanish treasures, Walt hauls his booty (no, not that kind of booty!) back over to that mysterious Floridian museum. And heavens, the curator (from the beginning of the episode) was ever-so-delighted to set his eyes on the salvaged treasure. In fact, the only thing that could have made the curator even more ecstatic is if he still had all 10 of his fingers. DUN DUN DUN! Yes, the museum curator was the bad guy all along! The handsome finder finds him out, and peace is finally restored to the Florida Everglades. The end.
Oh sure, there are some other minor details: we learn that Walter's cray-cray behavior stems from some sort of Iraq-induced brain trauma; Booth hates his finder-friend because Walt cuffed Booth just after the AWOL soldier laid his hands on his newborn son; and if given the chance, Bones so would have gone there with the eternally shirtless Wally. Who can blame her?