Sherlock, Season 3, episode 3 transcript: His Last Vow, part 2
Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan.
Polite request: If you take extracts from this transcript for use elsewhere, and especially if you repost my own words, it would be kind if you would acknowledge the source and/or give a link back to this transcript. Thanks.
Sherlock, Season 3, episode 3 transcript: His Last Vow, part 2
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Downstairs, Sherlock goes out of the front door followed by John.
SHERLOCK: Don’t bring a gun.
JOHN: Why would I bring a gun?
SHERLOCK: Or a knife, or a tyre lever. Probably best not to do any arm-spraining, but we’ll see how the night goes.
(He raises his arm to an approaching taxi.)
JOHN: You’re just assuming I’m coming along?
SHERLOCK: Time you got out of the house, John. (He runs his eyes over him as the taxi pulls up.) You’ve put on seven pounds since you got married, and the cycling isn’t doing it.
(He opens the cab door and gets in.)
JOHN: It’s actually four pounds.
SHERLOCK (shutting the door and looking at him through the half-open window): Mary and I think seven. See you later.
(He sits down on the seat and gives his destination to the driver.)
SHERLOCK: Hatton Garden.
(The cab drives away. John looks at his watch, then walks off.)
EVENING/NIGHT TIME. John walks towards the entrance of a skyscraper building which houses CAM Global News. In the foyer, a TV screen is broadcasting the company’s news channel, which is currently showing a Breaking News item reading, “MP JOHN GARVIE ARRESTED ON CHARGES OF CORRUPTION.” A photograph shows the man who spoke at the parliamentary hearing at the beginning of the episode. A newsreader’s voice can be heard.
NEWSREADER (on the TV): And breaking news now. John Garvie MP has been arrested today on charges of corruption. This follows an investigation ...
(John walks through the revolving doors and approaches the security barriers which need an electronic key card to open them. He looks around and then looks at his watch, and Sherlock walks over and stops behind him.)
SHERLOCK: Magnussen’s office is on the top floor, just below his private flat ... (he looks towards lift doors on the next level up) ... but there are fourteen levels of security between us and him ...
(His mind’s eye floats quickly along the next level towards the lift and homes in on the security card reader beside the lift doors.)
SHERLOCK: ... two of which aren’t even legal in this country. Want to know how we’re going to break in?
JOHN: Is that what we’re doing?
SHERLOCK: Of course it’s what we’re doing.
(He turns and walks away.
Later, the boys are each carrying a takeaway cup of coffee and are walking towards an escalator in the building.)
SHERLOCK: Magnussen’s private lift. It goes straight to his penthouse and office. Only he uses it ... (they get onto the escalator) ... and only his key card calls the lift. Anyone else even tries, security is automatically informed.
(They get to the top and walk towards the lift. Sherlock holds up a key card.)
SHERLOCK (stopping): Standard key card for the building. Nicked it yesterday. Only gets us as far as the canteen.
(He walks to the lift, stops and looks at it.)
SHERLOCK: Here we go, then.
(The camera shifts back along the corridor and Sherlock and John are still standing where they just were, several yards away from the lift.)
SHERLOCK: If I was to use this card on that lift now, what happens?
(He gestures towards the lift where an imaginary version of himself is touching his card to the security reader. Alarms immediately begin to sound – at least in Sherlock’s head – and two imaginary security men run towards imaginary-Sherlock standing at the lift.)
JOHN (obviously not seeing or hearing anything): Er, the alarms would go off and you’d be dragged away by security.
(Over at the lift, imaginary-Sherlock is indeed being seized by the arms by the two men.)
(He looks towards the lift and watches as imaginary-Sherlock is marched away.)
JOHN: Get taken to a small room somewhere and your head kicked in.
(Imaginary-Sherlock looks over his shoulder and throws an indignant look towards his real self and his friend. Real-Sherlock looks round at John.)
SHERLOCK: Do we really need so much colour?
JOHN: It passes the time.
(Sherlock gives him a look and passes him his coffee cup. John takes it and returns the look. Ignoring it, Sherlock takes his phone from his coat.)
SHERLOCK: But if I do this ...
(He presses the security card against his phone.)
SHERLOCK: If you press a key card against your mobile phone for long enough, it corrupts the magnetic strip. The card stops working. It’s a common problem – never put your key card with your phone.
(He looks along the corridor to where imaginary-Sherlock is back at the lift and swiping his card across the reader. The two imaginary security men start to run towards him again ... but then they go into slow motion and then stop, frozen in mid-run.)
SHERLOCK: What happens if I use the card now?
JOHN: It still doesn’t work.
SHERLOCK: But it doesn’t read as the wrong card now.
(More imaginary security men run towards imaginary-Sherlock, then they too slow down and freeze in mid-run.)
SHERLOCK: It registers as corrupted. But if it’s corrupted, how do they know it’s not Magnussen?
JOHN (looking round, possibly to check if real security are anywhere around): Huh.
SHERLOCK: Would they risk dragging him off?
JOHN: Probably not.
SHERLOCK: So what do they do? What do they have to do?
JOHN: Check if it’s him or not.
(Near the lift, the imaginary security men shrink down and each one disappears into a different imaginary waste paper bin, all of which have suddenly appeared out of nowhere. The bins then disappear again.)
SHERLOCK: There’s a camera at eye height to the right of the door.
(Imaginary-Sherlock walks up to the lift doors again, where the security card reader has a flashing red light above it. He swipes the card past the reader and on a laptop elsewhere in the building there’s a repeated beeping sound and a message comes up on the screen reading:
SHERLOCK: A live picture of the card user is relayed directly to Magnussen’s personal staff in his office – the only people trusted to make a positive ID.
(A cutaway shot shows the laptop on a table in an office. A woman – unseen to us except for her hand – walks over to press a key on the keyboard.)
SHERLOCK: ... at this hour, almost certainly his PA.
(In the imaginary office, the security camera activates and transmits live footage of imaginary-Sherlock smiling into the camera.)
JOHN: S-so how’s that help us?
(Sherlock smiles along the corridor, then looks round to John.)
SHERLOCK: Human error. (He raises his hand to the breast pocket of his coat and pats it.) I’ve been shopping.
(He walks along the corridor to the lift, John again looking all around before following him. Sherlock reaches the lift doors and raises his card towards the reader.)
SHERLOCK: Here we go, then.
(He presses the card against the reader. A circle on the reader screen, and the words CAM GLOBAL NEWS at the bottom of the screen, both turn from blue to red and there’s a beep.)
JOHN (quietly, standing to the side out of view of the camera): You realise you don’t exactly look like Magnussen.
SHERLOCK (looking confidently into the security camera while speaking quietly and barely moving his lips): Which, in this case, is a considerable advantage.
(Up in the office at the top of the building, the laptop beeps its alert and shows its message on the screen. The woman walks across the room to press a key on the keyboard and Sherlock’s live image smiles into the camera at her. She walks around the desk to get a better look and now we see that it’s Janine. She stares at the image in amazement.)
JANINE (quietly, over the intercom to the security reader beside the lift): Sherlock, you complete loon! What are you doing?!
(Sherlock smiles more widely into the camera. John looks round in surprise.)
JOHN: Hang on – was that ...? That ...!
(He instinctively starts to step closer but Sherlock holds up the flat of his hand to him to stop him and talks into the camera.)
SHERLOCK: Hi, Janine. (Secretively, glancing around) Go on, let me in.
JANINE: I can’t! You know I can’t. Don’t be silly.
SHERLOCK (softly): Don’t make me do it out here. Not ... (he pauses and turns his head to glance at a woman walking past, then once she’s gone he turns back to the camera) ... in front of everyone.
JANINE: Do what in front of everyone?
(Beside him, John smiles and nods politely at another woman as she walks past. Sherlock lowers his eyes and blows out a big breath, then takes out a small dark red box and clicks it open before holding it up to the camera to show the large diamond engagement ring inside it. Janine gasps and straightens up, clapping her hand to her mouth. Downstairs, John stares at the ring. Janine does likewise upstairs while Sherlock holds the box in front of his face and turns on his biggest puppy dog eyes over the top of it as he looks into the camera and then smiles. Lowering her hand, Janine lets out a silent delighted laugh – and downstairs the card reader screen turns from red to blue and the lift doors open. Sherlock grins into the camera, then clicks the box closed and turns to John, whose mouth is open as he stares at his friend.)
SHERLOCK: You see? As long as there’s people, there’s always a weak spot.
(He starts to walk into the lift but John stops him.)
JOHN: That was Janine.
SHERLOCK: Yes, of course it was Janine. She’s Magnussen’s PA. That’s the whole point.
JOHN: Did you just get engaged to break into an office?
SHERLOCK: Yeah. (He steps into the lift.) Stroke of luck, meeting her at your wedding. You can take some of the credit.
(He looks down at the coffee cups he’s still holding, then drops them into a waste bin just outside the lift before getting in.)
[Transcriber’s note: thanks to ‘Hobbitfoot’ on fanfiction.net who pointed out that in one of the earlier long shots while John and Sherlock are still some distance away from the lift, there’s a bin beside the lift. The bin disappears in the shots where they’re close to the lift but it does make more sense than John simply dropping the cups onto the floor.]
JOHN (leaning close to Sherlock and speaking quietly): Sherlock, she loves you.
SHERLOCK (flatly, staring ahead of himself): Yes. Like I said – human error.
(The doors close and the lift begins its ascent. John turns to look at him.)
JOHN: What are you gonna do?
SHERLOCK: Well, not actually marry her, obviously. (He looks round to him.) There’s only so far you can go.
JOHN: So what will you tell her?
(Sherlock briefly looks at him again before facing the front.)
SHERLOCK: Well, I’ll tell her that our entire relationship was a ruse to break into her boss’ office. I imagine she’ll want to stop seeing me at that point ... (he looks at John again) ... but you’re the expert on women.
(The lift stops at floor 32 and the doors open. Sherlock turns on his human smile and walks out, bobbing up and down in an ‘I’ve just come to get engaged to you’ way as he looks around for his new fiancée. After a moment he stops, looking around more carefully and frowning when there’s no sign of her. The boys walk into her office but she still can’t be seen.)
JOHN: So where did she go?
SHERLOCK: It’s a bit rude. I just proposed to her.
(John walks across the room towards the window and sees Janine lying on the floor.)
JOHN: Sherlock ...
(Sherlock walks over as John bends down to her.)
SHERLOCK: Did she faint? Do they really do that?
(John takes his hand from her head and finds blood on his fingers.)
JOHN: It’s a blow to the head. (He bends lower to her.) She’s breathing. Janine?
(She moans quietly. Sherlock looks round the rest of the office and sees something in an adjoining room.)
SHERLOCK (walking across the office): Another in here.
(John looks over to him but doesn’t leave his patient. In the next room Sherlock looks at the unconscious suited man lying face down on the floor, then does a full-circle turn to look around the rest of the room.)
JOHN: Does he need help?
(Sherlock walks to the man’s side and looks down at him. Behind his left ear, which has an earpiece in it, is a small tattoo of the number “14”.)
(He zooms in on another tattoo on the man’s right hand between his thumb and index finger. The tattoo is five small dots, four of them in a square shape and the fifth in the middle of the square.)
SHERLOCK: White supremacist, by the tattoo, so who cares? (He points back towards John.) Stick with Janine.
(John hesitates, apparently unhappy about leaving any unconscious person unchecked, but then turns back to Janine.)
JOHN: Janine, focus on my voice now. Can you hear me?
(Sherlock looks around the room again and then goes to the nearby glass desk. He bends down, holding his hand over the top of it while looking at it closely, then works his way round to the other side, looking carefully at everything. He squats down to the leather chair behind the desk and puts his hand on the seat, immediately working out the temperature of the leather:
In the other room, John looks up as if he has just had a thought and then gets up and walks to where he can see Sherlock next door.)
JOHN (in a stage whisper, while pointing back to Janine): Hey. They must still be here.
SHERLOCK (straightening up and also speaking in a loud whisper): So’s Magnussen. His seat’s still warm. He should be at dinner but he’s still in the building.
(He looks around and then raises his eyes upwards.)
SHERLOCK (in a loud whisper): Upstairs!
JOHN (taking his phone from his pocket): We should call the police.
SHERLOCK (loud whisper): During our own burglary?! You’re really not a natural at this, are you?
(John sighs and switches his phone off again.)
SHERLOCK (loud whisper): No, wait, shh!
(Standing at the side of the chair, he closes his eyes, sniffs deeply and holds his hands out to the sides. As John goes back to Janine, Sherlock sniffs twice more, the final one a deep long sniff, and a couple of words appear around him:
SHERLOCK: Perfume – not Janine’s.
(The words disappear. Keeping his eyes closed, Sherlock waves his hand around beside his head as if to force other suggestions from his mind. Two more brand names appear.)
(He waves those away, then opens his eyes and points upwards triumphantly at the correct name as it appears.)
(Sherlock quietly says the name out loud, then turns around, grimacing.)
SHERLOCK: Why do I know it?
(John looks up from where he is still checking Janine.)
JOHN: Mary wears it.
SHERLOCK (turning back and still speaking in a loud whisper): No, not Mary. Somebody else.
(He lifts his head as he hears a noise from upstairs and his gaze becomes intense. John seems to recognise that look and whispers loudly.)
(But Sherlock’s already off, running across the room to the stairwell and hurrying upwards, pausing for a moment to look up the stairs before quickly continuing on.
Up in what must be Magnussen’s private penthouse flat, Sherlock walks softly along the carpeted hall towards where he can hear Magnussen talking quietly and sounding very anxious and almost tearful.)
MAGNUSSEN (offscreen): What-what-what would your husband think, eh?
(Sherlock walks carefully towards a partially open door at the end of the hall.)
MAGNUSSEN (offscreen): He ... your lovely husband, upright, honourable ...
(Sherlock looks through the gap in the door and sees Magnussen on his knees with his hands behind his head and cowering.)
MAGNUSSEN: ... so English. What-what would he say to you now?
(Standing in front of him, someone dressed all in black and wearing black gloves pulls back the pistol and silencer they are pointing at Magnussen and cocks the gun before pointing the business end at him again. He cowers, whimpering and momentarily lapsing into Danish.)
MAGNUSSEN: Nej, nej! [No, no!]
(Sherlock slowly pushes the door open.)
MAGNUSSEN (tearfully, tremulously): You’re-you’re doing this to protect him from the truth ... but is this protection he would want?
SHERLOCK (slowly walking to stand a few feet behind the person holding the gun, who we now see is also wearing a black knitted cap on their head, covering their hair): Additionally, if you’re going to commit murder, you might consider changing your perfume ...
(The potential killer raises the gun a little, turning it slightly to the left.)
SHERLOCK: ... Lady Smallwood.
(Magnussen straightens a little, breathing out a long shaky breath.)
MAGNUSSEN (in a slightly stronger voice): Sorry. Who?
(Sherlock focuses on the back of the assassin. Magnussen’s gaze goes from him to the face of his potential killer as the person adjusts their grip on the pistol.)
MAGNUSSEN: That’s ... not ... Lady Smallwood, Mr Holmes.
(Sherlock frowns. The person in black turns to face him, aiming the pistol at him, and Sherlock looks into the face of Mary Elizabeth Watson.
He draws in a breath and rapidly flashes back to several different times when they have been together [and oddly one moment when he wasn’t in the room] and in each of those moments his many deductions about her – many of which were seen during “The Empty Hearse” – swarm around her. Then he’s back in Magnussen’s flat and the deductions fade, leaving many instances of only one word repeatedly drifting around her as she aims her gun towards him:
They too fade and he focuses on her face as she stares back at him. A single large word appears beside her face:
MARY (as the word rotates and then fades): Is John with you?
SHERLOCK (shakily): He’s, um ...
MARY (firmly): Is John here?
SHERLOCK: He-he’s downstairs.
MAGNUSSEN (softly): So, what do you do now? Kill us both?
(Keeping her pistol aimed in front of her, Mary smiles humourlessly over her shoulder towards him before turning her gaze back to Sherlock. As Sherlock speaks, Magnussen slowly lowers his hands and begins to reach down towards the floor on his left.)
SHERLOCK: Mary, whatever he’s got on you, let me help.
(He shifts his weight onto one foot, preparing to step towards her.)
MARY (in a somewhat exasperated voice): Oh, Sherlock, if you take one more step I swear I will kill you.
SHERLOCK (shaking his head with a small smile on his face): No, Mrs Watson.
(She stares at him, her mouth opening a little.)
SHERLOCK (gently): You won’t.
(He starts to lifts his foot off the floor. Immediately she pulls the trigger. The bullet impacts his lower chest, just above the V of his buttoned jacket and slightly to the right of his shirt buttons. Magnussen straightens up again. Sherlock’s eyes unfocus and a slight look of shock appears on his face as Mary sighs regretfully. He looks down at the bullet hole and after a moment blood begins to pour from the hole.)
MARY (her voice a little tearful): I’m sorry, Sherlock. Truly am.
(Sherlock raises his head and looks at her.)
(She turns and points her pistol down at Magnussen. His eyes widen ...
... and the scene freeze frames and a loud alarm siren begins to blare repeatedly. The room darkens around Sherlock and a spotlight shines onto his face as he stares ahead of himself in shock.
As the alarm continues, he is suddenly running quickly down the flights of a staircase in a white-walled building. Everything about the view suggests that this place is decaying and unlived in – the paint is peeling from the walls, the concrete of the uncarpeted stairs is crumbling and the red paint on the bannisters is cracking off. The camera is above the stairs and there are several storeys below where he currently is. He clings to the bannisters and braces his other hand on the wall as he continues rapidly downwards.
Back in Magnussen’s room, Molly – wearing her white lab coat – walks around behind Sherlock.)
MOLLY (smiling): It’s not like it is in the movies. There’s not a great big spurt of blood and you go flying backwards.
(She walks around in front of him and the scenery around her turns bright white.)
MOLLY (continuing walking, her face more serious now): The impact isn’t spread over a wide area.
(She’s now in a white-walled mortuary room and she walks over to a body lying on a table in the middle of the room. The body is covered with a white sheet and has an identity tag tied to one bare toe.)
MOLLY: It’s tightly focussed, so there’s little or no energy transfer.
(She reaches down and starts to pull back the sheet covering the body. Sherlock is lying under the sheet, naked and with his eyes closed.)
MOLLY: You stay still ...
(She pulls the sheet back to his waist, revealing the bullet hole in his lower chest.)
MOLLY: ... and the bullet pushes through.
(There’s a brief close-up of the bullet hole. She looks down at Sherlock’s face and he can see her fuzzily even though his eyes are closed.)
MOLLY: You’re almost certainly going to die, so we need to focus.
(She slaps him hard across the face. He hauls in a huge breath, his eyes snapping open as his head jerks to the side under her blow.
In Magnussen’s room, both Magnussen and Mary are still frozen. Sherlock’s eyelids lift a little.)
MOLLY (offscreen): I said ...
(She is standing in front of him.)
MOLLY: ... focus.
(She slaps him hard. His head snaps round under her blow and before he can turn back he’s standing in a bright white room, still reeling from Molly’s slap. He straightens up and looks around, bewildered, then looks at Molly as she speaks again. They are in the mortuary room and in front of him is the table with his own dead body lying on it, covered by a sheet as far as the waist. Rows of mortuary cabinets line one wall. She walks towards the table, leans her hands onto the edge of it and looks across it to the living version of Sherlock standing on the other side.)
MOLLY: It’s all well and clever having a Mind Palace, but you’ve only three seconds of consciousness left to use it. So, come on – what’s going to kill you?
(Sherlock looks down at his dead body for a moment and then raises his head again.)
SHERLOCK: Blood loss.
MOLLY (quietly, intensely): Exactly.
(Sherlock looks at her, frowning a little.)
MOLLY: So, it’s all about one thing now.
(Sherlock, with his hands braced on the table in front of him, starts to sway. The loud alarm finally fades out and goes silent.)
MOLLY: Forwards, or backwards?
(He lowers his head and his eyes close ...
... and he’s back in Magnussen’s room staring ahead of himself.)
MOLLY (offscreen): We need to decide which way you’re going to fall.
(Behind him, while Mary and Magnussen remain frozen in place, Anderson walks over and stops behind his back. He is wearing white medical gloves. Molly walks towards Sherlock from halfway across the room.)
ANDERSON: One hole, or two?
SHERLOCK (frowning and turning to look over his shoulder at him): Sorry?
(Anderson raises his eyebrows in a questioning way.)
MOLLY: Is the bullet still inside you ...
(He turns to face her as she stands in front of him.)
MOLLY: ... or is there an exit wound?
(The perspective changes and she is no longer in front of him, though Anderson is still behind him.)
MOLLY (voiceover): It’ll depend on the gun.
(Sherlock turns his head to the left and now he can see diagrams of many different pistols in front of his eyes. He zooms in on one – which changes from a blue outline to a yellow one – and a tag appears above it reading, “Cat-0208”.)
SHERLOCK: That one, I think.
(He looks across the diagrams and another pistol identified as “Cat-077839” turns yellow. He moves on to another gun which changes to yellow. We can’t see the first part of the identification tag but its number ends “173634”.)
SHERLOCK: Or that one.
(He frowns as if uncertain and continues through the display, another gun flashing yellow and showing its identification and then rapidly disappearing off screen before he moves on.)
MYCROFT (offscreen): Oh, for God’s sake, Sherlock.
(Sherlock turns his head to the right and sees his brother sitting at his desk in his office at The Diogenes Club.)
MYCROFT: It doesn’t matter about the gun. Don’t be stupid.
(Sherlock turns and walks towards him. Mycroft leans forward and folds his hands on the table in front of him.)
MYCROFT: You always were so stupid.
(Sherlock continues towards the desk, but now he’s a young boy – about eleven years old – and wearing dark trousers and a shirt with a buttoned dark green cardigan over it. He walks slowly towards his big brother.)
MYCROFT: Such a disappointment.
YOUNG SHERLOCK (angrily): I’m not stupid.
MYCROFT (sternly): You’re a very stupid little boy.
(He stands up and walks around the table.)
MYCROFT: Mummy and Daddy are very cross ...
(He reaches the other side of the table and leans against it.)
MYCROFT: ... because it doesn’t matter about the gun.
YOUNG SHERLOCK (frowning up at him): Why not?
MYCROFT: You saw the whole room when you entered it. What was directly behind you when you were murdered?
YOUNG SHERLOCK (sounding petulant): I’ve not been murdered yet.
MYCROFT (leaning down to him): Balance of probability, little brother.
(Young Sherlock looks down, and the loud alarm begins to blare again as he turns his head to look behind him.
In Magnussen’s room, adult Sherlock also turns around to where a row of panelled mirrors is behind him on the wall. Mycroft can be seen fuzzily reflected in the mirrors as if he is standing some distance away. Sherlock walks closer to the mirrors and looks in them.)
MYCROFT (walking closer): If the bullet had passed through you, what would you have heard?
SHERLOCK: The mirror shattering.
MYCROFT: You didn’t. Therefore ...?
(Sherlock turns and slowly walks past him.)
SHERLOCK: The bullet’s still inside me.
(He walks back to his original position.)
ANDERSON (offscreen): So, we need to take him down backwards.
MOLLY (standing in front of Sherlock again): I agree. Sherlock ...
(He turns his attention to her.)
MOLLY: ... you need to fall on your back.
ANDERSON (still behind him but now starting to walk around him to his right): Right now, the bullet is the cork in the bottle.
MOLLY (walking around Sherlock to his left as the alarm fades away again): The bullet itself is blocking most of the blood flow.
ANDERSON (coming to a halt in front of him and looking at him): But any pressure or impact on the entrance wound could dislodge it.
MOLLY (now standing behind Sherlock): Plus, on your back, gravity’s working for us.
(The room takes on a blue hue.)
MOLLY (firmly): Fall now.
(Sherlock’s eyes half-close and his body begins to slump. In very slow-motion he starts to topple backwards. The room takes on its normal colour as he slowly falls back. He is falling towards the right-hand side of the room, and the entire room seems to tilt down towards the left as he goes. Mary and the kneeling Magnussen, still frozen in place with her pointing her pistol at him while she looks towards Sherlock, do not move as the room continues to tilt further to the left, but a plant in a plant pot on the windowsill begins to slide slowly across the sill towards the left side of the room.
Before he hits the floor Sherlock is suddenly back in the bright white mortuary room, standing upright, and the alarm is blaring again. He stumbles back against the cabinets in the wall, claps his hands to his ears and cries out in alarm.)
SHERLOCK: What the hell is that? What’s happening?
(He lowers his hands and looks around in confusion. Beside him, one of the cabinet doors opens and the tray slides out. His own dead body is lying on the tray with his eyes closed. The ‘real’ Sherlock stares down at it in horror.)
MOLLY (now standing on the other side of the tray): You’re going into shock.
(Sherlock straightens up and stares at her wide-eyed.)
MOLLY: It’s the next thing that’s going to kill you.
SHERLOCK: What do I do?
(Mycroft is now standing where Molly was. Sherlock, still wide-eyed, lifts his head to meet his gaze.)
MYCROFT: Don’t go into shock, obviously.
(He looks around the room as the alarm blares on.)
MYCROFT: Must be something in this ridiculous memory palace of yours that can calm you down.
(He turns his head back to his brother and his last words echo.)
MYCROFT’s VOICE (as an echo): ... calm you down.
(Sherlock stares at him.)
MYCROFT: Find it.
(Sherlock screws his eyes closed, and now he’s running in slow motion down the long staircase again.)
MYCROFT (in the morgue): The East Wind is coming, Sherlock. (He raises his eyebrows at him as the alarm stops blaring.) It’s coming to get you.
(Elsewhere in his Mind Palace, Sherlock continues to stumble down the stairs and his own voice sounds in his head.)
SHERLOCK’s VOICE (quiet but echoing): It’s coming to get you.
(Without transition a door opens in front of him and Mary – wearing her wedding dress and with a white veil over her face – stands facing him aiming a pistol at him. She fires and Sherlock screams and falls backwards in slow-motion.
Before he hits the floor he’s suddenly in a long corridor lined with wooden doors. Mycroft’s voice sounds in his head as he races along the corridor.)
MYCROFT’s VOICE: Find it.
(Sherlock runs to a nearby door and pulls it open. White light floods out and then he’s in another similar corridor. Lying on the floor a short distance away is a dog – an Irish setter – panting and looking towards him.)
SHERLOCK: Hello, Redbeard. Here, boy. Come on!
(He leans down and pats the top of his legs repeatedly, smiling at his dog. The dog sits up.)
SHERLOCK: Come to me. It’s okay. It’s all right.
(The dog starts to trot along the corridor towards him; and now Sherlock is his younger self again, patting his legs and calling to his dog.)
YOUNG SHERLOCK: Come on! It’s me! It’s me, come on!
(The dog breaks into a run, barking as he continues onwards.
Adult Sherlock is now squatting in the middle of the corridor, smiling with delight and still patting his legs encouragingly as the dog runs towards him.)
SHERLOCK: Come on!
YOUNG SHERLOCK: Good boy! Clever boy!
(The barking dog reaches the boy, who kneels down smiling happily and starts stroking his head and ears.
The dog has also reached the adult Sherlock and is licking his face while Sherlock strokes his head and ears.)
SHERLOCK: Hello, Redbeard. They’re putting me down too, now. It’s no fun, is it?
(He slumps down onto his backside, looking weak and disorientated.)
SHERLOCK (weakly): Redbeard.
(The dog barks, and Sherlock falls backwards to the floor.
In Magnussen’s flat, Sherlock continues his slow-motion fall backwards, and finally lands on the carpet staring upwards blankly.)
MOLLY (offscreen): Without the shock, you’re going to feel the pain.
(In Redbeard’s corridor, she is standing some distance away from Sherlock while he convulses on the floor, his eyes wide and his teeth clenched. Molly looks towards him, her face serious.)
MOLLY: There’s a hole ripped through you. Massive internal bleeding.
(Sherlock continues to convulse, his face contorted in agony and his mouth open. He screams, although the scream is muted to our ears.)
MOLLY: You have to control the pain.
(And now Sherlock is running down the stairs again. He reaches the bottom and, screaming in pain, runs through a door into a padded cell. The room is circular and about twenty feet in diameter. The floor is plain concrete and the walls are heavily padded with a dirty greyish-brown material. On the opposite side of the cell to the door, a man crouches on the floor, leaning against the wall with his head lowered. The door closes behind Sherlock and he flattens himself against the wall beside it, convulsing and crying out in pain. He stares upwards, his eyes red-rimmed.)
SHERLOCK: Control! Control! Control.
(His voice quietens a little with each repeat. On the other side of the room the man – who we now see is wearing a filthy white straitjacket and who has a large metal collar around his neck with a heavy chain fastened to it – slowly turns his head a little towards Sherlock. His face still cannot be seen but his breathing is very loud. Sherlock stares at him, his eyes wide and his teeth bared.)
SHERLOCK (straightening up and leaning up from the wall): You.
(Breathing heavily, he takes a couple of steps forward.)
SHERLOCK: You never felt pain, did you? Why did you never feel pain?
JIM MORIARTY (slowly turning his head more): You always feel it, Sherlock.
(He turns his head some more and looks across at Sherlock, his face murderous. His face is dirty and it is flushed dark red with rage. Sherlock stares back at him.
The lights around the walls flicker briefly and Jim surges up and charges towards him, his mouth wide and roaring with fury. Sherlock recoils but just before Jim can crash into him the chain on his collar, fastened to the wall behind him, reaches its full length and prevents him from going further. He shouts manically into Sherlock’s face.)
JIM: But you don’t have to fear it!
(Sherlock doubles over, crying out in agony. Jim stares at him, wide-eyed and insane, as Sherlock crumples slowly to his knees and then slumps over onto his back. Jim continues to stare down at him while Sherlock writhes.)
JIM: Pain. Heartbreak. Loss.
(Sherlock rolls onto his side, his face screwed tight and tears streaming from his eyes as he tries to fight the agony in his chest.)
JIM (in an intense whisper): Death. It’s all good.
(Sherlock convulses on the floor, moaning.)
JIM (now on his knees beside him): It’s all good.
(Sherlock lies on his back staring upwards and still convulsing.)
JOHN’s VOICE: Sherlock?
(In Magnussen’s room, John is on his knees beside Sherlock, gently patting his face.)
(He bends down to put his ear against Sherlock’s mouth.)
JOHN: Can you hear me?
(He lifts his head and looks across to Magnussen, who is lying on the floor on his side but now raises his head. There is no sign of Mary in the room.)
JOHN: What happened?
MAGNUSSEN (weakly): He got shot.
JOHN (softly): Jesus.
(He flips open Sherlock’s coat and sees a lot of blood on his shirt around the bullet wound.)
JOHN: Sherlock! Oh, my ...
(Magnussen picks up his glasses which had fallen to the floor. John straightens up on his knees and reaches into his jeans pocket. He looks sternly across to Magnussen.)
JOHN: Who shot him?
(Magnussen sits up and puts on his glasses, then looks across at John but doesn’t reply. John has his phone to his ear and an operator speaks.)
OPERATOR (over phone): Emergency. Which service do you require?
(Back in the padded cell, the lighting has turned a blue colour as Sherlock continues to convulse on the floor, his eyes wide. Beside him, Jim is back on his feet and he begins to sing slowly and softly.)
JIM: ♪ It’s raining, it’s pouring. Sherlock is boring ... ♪
(Sherlock sinks down on the floor, his convulsions beginning to slow. Jim crouches down near his head.
In the real world and outside the offices, an emergency siren sounds as paramedics wheel Sherlock on a stretcher towards a nearby ambulance. John is at his side.)
JIM (in the cell, slowly, softly): ♪ I’m laughing, I’m crying ... ♪
(He kneels down beside Sherlock, whose convulsions stop apart from an occasional twitch. His eyes gaze blankly upwards, then begin to close.)
JIM (slowly, softly): ♪ ... Sherlock is dying. ♪
(The ambulance is now racing through the streets. In the back of it a paramedic tears open Sherlock’s shirt. An oxygen mask has been strapped to his face. His eyes are closed.)
(He is sitting or kneeling behind the paramedic, looking at his friend with concern.)
JOHN: We’re losing you. Sherlock?
(Sherlock’s eyes crack open a little.
On his knees in the padded cell, Jim leans forward as far as his chain will let him and breathes out heavily into Sherlock’s face.)
JIM (softly): Come on, Sherlock.
(He lifts his head a little, spittle dribbling from his mouth.)
JIM (softly): Just die, why can’t you?
(He lies down on his side on the floor and puts his face close to Sherlock’s head.)
JIM: One little push, and off you pop.
(He turns onto his back and looks up.
In an operating theatre in a hospital, a heart monitor is letting out a single continuous tone and a flat line rolls across the screen. One of several surgeons surrounding the operating table does a few more heart compressions on Sherlock’s chest and then withdraws his hands. As the doctors turn away from the table, having clearly been trying to restart his heart for some time but now having decided that there is no point continuing, an overhead view of the operating table shows Sherlock, bare to the waist and with a breathing tube down his throat, lying with his eyes closed as the monitor’s single tone continues. The lights in the room seem to go out, leaving a single light shining down on his body.
In the padded cell, Jim is kneeling up and he talks conversationally as the monitor’s flatline tone can still be heard.)
JIM: You’re gonna love being dead, Sherlock.
(He looks down at Sherlock’s still form.)
JIM: No-one ever bothers you.
(In the operating room the overhead camera moves downwards towards Sherlock’s still body.)
JIM (a little wide-eyed and manic): Mrs Hudson will cry; and Mummy and Daddy will cry ...
(He is suddenly on his feet again and turns round and round on the spot until his chain stops him, then he rotates in the opposite direction.)
JIM: ... and The Woman will cry; and John will cry buckets and buckets. It’s him that I worry about the most. That wife!
(He grimaces and blows out a noisy breath.)
JIM: You’re letting him down, Sherlock. John Watson is definitely in danger.
(On the floor of the cell, Sherlock’s eyes abruptly open. Jim slowly turns his head towards him as Sherlock stares upwards. Jim’s eyes widen as the lights around the room flash repeatedly. Sherlock convulses once and blinks, then sighs out a painful breath. Grimacing with the effort he starts to try and get up.
In the operating room, the single tone continues and the monitor still shows a flat line.
Groaning, Sherlock slams his hand onto the floor of the cell and then forces himself onto one elbow. He raises his other arm and savagely punches the concrete floor with all his strength. Kneeling nearby, Jim looks down at him with an irritated look on his face.)
JIM (tetchily): Oh, you’re not getting better, are you?
(Sherlock hauls himself to his feet, then staggers and slumps back against the wall.)
JIM: Was it something I said, huh?
(He grins at him for a moment, then his smile fades as Sherlock glares back at him, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. Grunting with the effort, Sherlock pushes himself off the wall, turns to the door beside him and pushes it open.)
SHERLOCK (frantically): John!
(Wide-eyed and looking panic-stricken, Jim screams out behind him.)
(He is alone in the room and the door is closed. He slumps down onto his knees against the wall, taking up the same position he was in when Sherlock first entered the room.
In the operating room, the camera continues to move downwards towards Sherlock’s still form.
In his Mind Palace, Sherlock takes hold of the bannister at the bottom of the stairs.
The camera moves downward in the operating room and the flatline continues on the monitor.
Grimacing in agony, Sherlock begins to haul himself up the stairs.
In the operating room the monitor gives a single blip and the index finger of Sherlock’s left hand twitches very slightly.
Sherlock continues his painful ascent up the stairs, leaning heavily on the bannisters or bracing himself against the wall. He cries out with the effort.
The line on the heart monitor blips and shows its first spike. Simultaneously but offscreen, from the stairs Sherlock lets out an anguished groan of “John!” One of the surgeons slowly turns his head to look towards the monitor, and the lights in the operating theatre seem to come on again.
His face contorted in agony, Sherlock slumps against the bannisters as he continues upwards and he seems to hear John’s voice calling his name.
On the operating table, Sherlock’s left index finger lifts off the cover on which his hand is lying. The surgeon’s eyes widen, and all the staff in the room hurry back to the table.
Sherlock continues his climb, his right hand braced on the bannisters and the left dragging across the wall. The fingers of his left hand momentarily slide across the wallpaper of his living room in Baker Street. Now almost crawling, he reaches up and grabs the railings of the bannister as he drags himself upwards.
One of the surgeons looks across to another as if he can’t believe what he is seeing.
His face contorted in concentration and agony, Sherlock grabs at the bannister with a loud cry as he continues to climb.
The heart monitor shows another spike and another blip can be heard.
The surgeon looks down to Sherlock again.
His determined gaze almost manic, Sherlock forces his hand upwards to clutch at the bannister and pull himself higher.
The heart monitor spikes and blips.
In his mind’s eye, Sherlock sees a rapid montage of images: several moments from when Magnussen showed him the edge of the papers in his jacket pocket in 221B’s living room; then Mary aiming her gun down at Magnussen in his flat before Sherlock knew who the potential killer was; then the front door to 221B. His inner vision closes in on the door and settles on it.
In the operating room, his eyelids begin to lift as the heart monitor’s blips become more regular. The surgeon looks down at him ...
... and Sherlock Holmes opens his eyes.
His gaze becomes more focussed, and his mouth begins to close around the tube in his mouth in an attempt to form a word. As the scene switches to the next one, a soft whisper can be heard.
SHERLOCK’s VOICE (offscreen, in a whisper): Mary.
[Your transcriber slumps sideways and falls off her chair, exhausted at having just typed the most intense and complicated seven minutes of footage that she has ever attempted. She lies on the floor giggling contentedly to herself for a few minutes, then wearily hauls herself back onto her chair and continues.]
HOSPITAL. DAYTIME. Mary – now dressed more normally – hurries through the entrance and across the foyer. She runs up a flight of stairs to where John is waiting for her on the landing.
(He walks to meet her at the top of the stairs.)
JOHN (his voice full of relief): He’s only bloody woken up! He’s pulled through.
MARY (smiling): Really?! Seriously?
JOHN: Oh, you, Mrs Watson ... (he points at her, trying to look stern) ... you’re in big trouble.
(Mary frowns at him, looking confused.)
MARY: Really? Why?
JOHN: His first word when he woke up?
(She shakes her head.)
(She giggles and he joins in with her laughter. They hug each other tightly.)
(Over John’s shoulder, her face becomes serious.)
APPLEDORE. Magnussen walks downstairs from the entrance hall, goes past the kitchen, into the glass-walled study and heads towards the wooden doors. He goes down the spiral staircase and through the library, his fingers raised and flickering towards the shelves.
HOSPITAL ROOM. A drip hangs on a stand beside Sherlock’s bed where he lies with a nasal cannula on his face. A rotary fan is on the cabinet beside his bed and the shadow of its rotating blades flickers across his face.
MARY (softly, offscreen): You don’t tell him.
(Sherlock opens his eyes with difficulty.)
MARY (gently, sing-song): Sherlock?
(He looks up to where he can see her standing beside his bed. His vision of her is blurry.)
MARY: You don’t tell John.
At the rear of the Appledore archive, Magnussen is looking at a folder which has one or two photographs of Mary paperclipped to the inside.
MAGNUSSEN (softly): Bad girl.
(He smiles down at the file.)
MAGNUSSEN (in an admiring tone): Bad, bad girl.
(His smile widens.)
In Sherlock’s hospital room Mary leans down to him, her image still fuzzy.
MARY (in an intense whisper): Look at me – and tell me you’re not gonna tell him.
(Sherlock’s vision becomes even more blurry and his eyes close.)
DAYS LATER (presumably). DAYTIME. The top of Sherlock’s bed has been raised a little, and now he opens his eyes and lifts his head from the pillow with a tired sigh at the sound of rustling newspapers. He no longer has the nasal cannula. In front of him someone is holding up the front page of a newspaper to show him. The headline of the Daily Express reads, “SHAG-A-LOT HOLMES” and the strapline says, “Sherlock is as red blooded as they come, claims fiancé” [with only one ‘e’]. Whoever is holding the paper puts it down to reveal the front page of another newspaper – the Daily Mirror – which has a red strapline at the top reading, “EXCLUSIVE – SHERLOCK HOLMES KISS AND TELL” and a main headline saying, “7 TIMES A NIGHT IN BAKER STREET”. The person holding the paper – who we now see is wearing red nail varnish – lowers that paper and shows an inside page of one of the broadsheets. A large photograph of Janine smiling into the camera while wearing a deerstalker hat has an inset photo of Sherlock, and the headline reads, “He made me wear the hat”.
JANINE: I’m buying a cottage.
(Sitting on one side of the bed near Sherlock’s feet, she slaps the last newspaper down and smiles at him.)
JANINE: I made a lot of money out of you, mister.
(Sherlock lifts up one of the papers and looks at it.)
JANINE: Nothing hits the spot like revenge for profits.
SHERLOCK (tiredly): You didn’t give these stories to Magnussen, did you?
JANINE: God, no – one of his rivals. He was spittin’!
(Sherlock grunts and smiles a little.)
JANINE (looking angrily at him): Sherlock Holmes, you are a back-stabbing, heartless, manipulative bastard.
(Sherlock presses the button on a remote on the bed and the top of his bed rises, pushing him into more of a sitting position.)
SHERLOCK: And you – as it turns out – are a grasping, opportunistic, publicity-hungry tabloid whore.
JANINE (cheerfully): So we’re good, then!
SHERLOCK: Yeah, of course. (He smiles.) Where’s the cottage?
JANINE: Sussex Downs.
SHERLOCK: Hmm, nice.
JANINE: It’s gorgeous. There’s beehives, but I’m getting rid of those.
(Sherlock, trying to push himself higher on the bed, gasps with pain.)
JANINE: Aw, hurts, does it? Probably wanna restart your morphine. I might have fiddled with the taps.
SHERLOCK: How much more revenge are you gonna need?
(Grimacing, he reaches across to a machine beside his bed and pushes a button to release a dose of morphine into the drip in his arm. The read-out shows the machine giving him almost the maximum dosage.)
JANINE: Just the occasional top-up.
(She looks round the room.)
JANINE: Dream come true for you, this place. They actually attach the drugs to you!
SHERLOCK: Not good for working.
JANINE: You won’t be working for a while, Sherl.
(Sherlock sighs softly and his eyes close a little.)
JANINE (softly): You lied to me. You lied and lied.
SHERLOCK: I exploited the fact of our connection.
JANINE: Just once would have been nice.
SHERLOCK: Oh. (He looks a little shifty-eyed.) I was waiting until we got married.
JANINE: That was never gonna happen!
(He looks away. She sighs and stands up.)
JANINE: Got to go.
(She walks over and kisses him on the forehead, then gently wipes her lipstick from his skin with her thumb.)
JANINE: I’m not supposed to keep you talking.
(She reaches down to pick up her handbag.)
JANINE (straightening up): And also I have an interview with The One Show and I haven’t made it up yet.
(Sherlock looks up to the ceiling with a soft sigh. She walks to the door and then turns back.)
JANINE: Just one thing.
(He looks across to her.)
JANINE: You shouldn’t have lied to me. I know what kind of man you are ... but we could have been friends.
(Smiling at him, she turns and takes hold of the door handle, then looks back at him.)
JANINE: I’ll give your love to John and Mary.
(She goes out, closing the door behind her. Sherlock looks towards the door thoughtfully, then looks upwards for a moment. He turns towards the morphine dispenser and, grunting in pain, pushes the button to lower the dosage. The read-out shows the level dropping back to a lower level. He releases the button with a tired sigh. He closes his eyes ...
... and opens them in the wooden door-lined corridor of his Mind Palace. Standing up and fully dressed, including his coat, he stares intensely ahead of himself.)
MARY (offscreen): You don’t tell him.
(He looks along the corridor and Mary is standing a few yards away, facing him. She is wearing the clothes she had on when he first met her in the restaurant and her hair is styled the same way as it was then.)
MARY: You don’t tell John.
(Sherlock starts to walk towards her and the word “Liar” appears above her right shoulder.)
SHERLOCK (slowly): So ...
(He continues towards her, and many words, all saying “Liar” swirl around her. She looks at him, apparently unperturbed, while he circles around her.)
SHERLOCK: ... Mary Watson. Who are you?
(He completes his circle around her and turns to face her again, the words still swirling around. He looks at her for a moment, then turns and walks away, the words following him down the corridor.)
SHERLOCK (whispering): Mary Watson.
(He stops, and the words fade out and vanish. He turns to face her ...
... and in Magnussen’s flat Mary’s black-gloved hand pulls the trigger on the pistol and the shell flies out of the top in slow motion.
In his hospital bed, his fingers steepled together on his chest and his eyes closed, Sherlock lowers his hands as the sound of the gunshot echoes in his ears. He sighs, raises his head and tiredly opens his eyes.)
EVENING, possibly the same day. John is leading Greg Lestrade up the stairs of the hospital.
JOHN: Dunno how much sense you’ll get out of him. He’s drugged up, so he’s pretty much babbling.
(As they reach the top of the stairs and walk along the landing, he looks down at the sound of a beep and realises that Greg is doing something on his phone.)
JOHN: Oh, they won’t let you use that in here, you know.
LESTRADE: No, I’m not gonna use the phone. I just wanna take a video.
(He and John grin at each other and Greg chuckles.
Shortly afterwards John opens the door to Sherlock’s room and they go inside. The bed is empty. John looks round the room, and his face fills with shock when he realises that the window blind has been pulled up and the window is open.)
JOHN: Oh, Jesus.
(He and Greg stare at the window, then John sighs and the two men exchange a look.)
A little later Mary, perhaps at home, is on the phone.
MARY (into phone): So where would he go?
JOHN (on the phone to her from the hospital): Oh, Christ knows. Try finding Sherlock in London.
(Mary lowers her phone and hangs up.)
John and Greg are on their way out of the hospital.
LESTRADE: He’s got three known bolt holes ...
(They walk away from the hospital, Greg holding his phone to his ear.)
LESTRADE: Parliament Hill, Camden Lock and Dagmar Court.
MYCROFT: Five known bolt holes.
(He is sitting at his desk in his office at The Diogenes Club, looking down at a satellite map on his computer. The page is headed “UGLY DUCKLING”. A note in the top right corner of the map reads, “TARGET LOCATED. TRACKING ...” and a point on the map is highlighted. As the tracker appears to be somewhere around Warsaw in Poland, Mycroft is apparently multi-tasking. Greg is standing at the other side of the table.)
MYCROFT: There’s the blind greenhouse in Kew Gardens and the leaning tomb in Hampstead Cemetery.
(He looks up at Greg and dismissively waves him away. [Mystrade fans pout with annoyance.])
Molly is sitting in a canteen wearing her lab coat and holding a cardboard coffee cup. Some sandwiches part-wrapped in tin foil, together with a tangerine, are on the table beside her. She looks up at whoever she’s speaking to. We can’t see this person because we are looking through their eyes.
MOLLY: Just the spare bedroom. ... (Awkwardly) Well ... my bedroom. We agreed he needs the space.
(She nods, looking embarrassed, and takes a drink from her cup.)
There’s a brief shot of Big Ben chiming two minutes past nine [don’t ask ...].
MRS HUDSON: Behind the clock face of Big Ben.
(We’re now in 221. John is sitting on the stairs with a notebook and pen in his hand and Mrs H stands in the hall nearby.)
JOHN: I think he was probably joking.
MRS HUDSON: No! I don’t think so!
ANDERSON: Leinster Gardens. That’s his number one bolt hole. It’s top-top secret.
(He is standing with Benji in what looks like a car park or garage area, and he is addressing his comments to Mary who stands in front of them.)
BENJI (tilting her head towards Anderson but looking at Mary): He only knows about it ’cause he stalked him one night.
BENJI: Followed, yeah.
221B. John is in the living room, pacing, and Greg and Mrs Hudson are in the kitchen.
JOHN: He knew who shot him.
(The other two turn to face him as he stops walking and looks at them. He points to his lower chest.)
JOHN: The bullet wound was here, so he was facing whoever it was.
LESTRADE (walking closer): So why not tell us?
(John turns around towards the window, blowing out a thoughtful breath.)
LESTRADE: Because he’s tracking them down himself.
JOHN (turning back to him): Or protecting them.
LESTRADE: Protecting the shooter? Why?
JOHN: Well, protecting someone, then. But why would he care? He’s Sherlock. Who would he bother protecting?
(He sits down in his armchair, then looks down at it and frowns. Looking thoughtful, he pats the arms.)
LESTRADE: Call me if you hear anything. Don’t hold out on me, John.
(John is still looking puzzled over the reappearance of his chair.)
LESTRADE: Call me, okay?
JOHN (distractedly, glancing round at him): Yeah. Yeah, right.
(Greg looks round to Mrs Hudson.)
LESTRADE: Good night, then.
MRS HUDSON: Oh ...
(She walks over towards the living room door as Greg leaves. John strokes the arms of his chair with his thumbs, frowning down.)
MRS HUDSON (to Greg): ’Bye, then.
(She turns back to John and looks at him worriedly.)
MRS HUDSON: John? Need a cuppa.
(She walks into the kitchen and John shifts in his chair so that he can half-turn towards her.)
JOHN: Mrs Hudson ... (he clears his throat) ... wh-why does Sherlock think that I’ll be moving back in here?
MRS HUDSON: Oh, yes, he’s put your chair back again, hasn’t he?
JOHN: Huh. (He sits back in the chair again, still looking at it thoughtfully.)
MRS HUDSON: That’s nice!
(She has picked up the kettle and now walks closer to him.)
MRS HUDSON: Looks much better.
(John’s gaze falls on the small table to the right of his chair. There are two books on it and in front of them is an ornate glass bottle, shaped like a crescent moon. He frowns at it.)
MRS HUDSON: John, what’s wrong? Tell me.
(John’s gaze is now fixed on the bottle.)
MRS HUDSON: John?
(John looks away from the bottle, turning his head towards the window. A phone starts to buzz repeatedly.)
MRS HUDSON: That’s your phone, isn’t it?
(She walks across the room to pick up the phone from the dining table. She looks at the screen and turns back.)
MRS HUDSON: It’s Sherlock, John. It’s Sherlock.
(She holds out the phone to him but John is still gazing towards the window. He turns his head to look at the bottle again.)
MRS HUDSON: John! You have to answer it!
(But John can’t tear his eyes away from the bottle, and we now see that it is a bottle of perfume. The name of the perfume is Claire de la Lune.)
On to part 3