Transcript by Ariane DeVere aka Callie Sullivan.
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Sherlock, Season 2, episode 3 transcript: The Reichenbach Fall, part 3
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TAXI. Sherlock sits in the back lost in thought. Partway into the journey, the TV screen on the back of the driver’s seat switches on and an advertisement starts to play. London Taxi Shopping is advertising jewellery.
VOICEOVER: This is a stunning evening wear set from us here at London Taxi Shopping.
SHERLOCK (to the driver): Can you turn this off, please?
(The driver doesn’t respond and the advert continues.)
VOICEOVER: As you can see, the set comprises of a beautiful ...
SHERLOCK (louder, angrily): Can you turn this off ...
(The image on the screen begins to fritz as if another channel is breaking through. There are momentary glimpses of someone who can only be Jim Moriarty grinning at the screen. Eventually the advert disappears and Jim is seen smiling cheerfully. Behind him is a pale blue wall with painted white fluffy clouds floating across it. Jim’s voice takes on a sing-song quality as if he is talking to children.)
JIM: Hullo. Are you ready for the story? This is the story of Sir Boast-a-lot.
(Sherlock stares at the screen, his face intense.)
SCOTLAND YARD. Sally is showing Greg one of the photographs.
DONOVAN: The footprint. It’s all he has. A footprint.
LESTRADE: Yeah, well, you know what he’s like – CSI Baker Street.
DONOVAN: Well, our boys couldn’t have done it.
LESTRADE: Well, that’s why we need him. He’s better.
DONOVAN: That’s one explanation.
LESTRADE: And what’s the other?
TAXI. Jim’s image continues to smile from the TV screen.
JIM: Sir Boast-a-lot was the bravest and cleverest knight at the Round Table, but soon the other knights began to grow tired of his stories about how brave he was and how many dragons he’d slain ...
(Behind him, the pale blue sky gets darker and the white clouds become grey and threatening.)
JIM: And soon they began to wonder ...
(Behind him, rain begins to pour from the clouds.)
JIM: ... ‘Are Sir Boast-a-lot’s stories even true?’
SCOTLAND YARD (offscreen).
DONOVAN (voiceover): Only he could have found that evidence.
TAXI TV SCREEN. Jim sadly shakes his head.
JIM: Oh, no.
DONOVAN: And then the girl screams her head off when she sees him – a man she has never seen before ... unless she had seen him before.
LESTRADE: Wh-what’s your point?
DONOVAN: You know what my point is. You just don’t wanna think about it.
JIM (on the taxi TV screen): So one of the knights went to King Arthur and said ... (in a dramatic whisper) ... ‘I don’t believe Sir Boast-a-lot’s stories. He’s just a big old liar who makes things up to make himself look good.’
(At Scotland Yard, Anderson has now come in and he and Sally stand opposite Greg’s desk as he sits talking with them.)
LESTRADE: You’re not seriously suggesting he’s involved, are you?
ANDERSON: I think we have to entertain the possibility.
(Greg stares at him, bewildered.)
JIM (on the TV screen): And then even the King began to wonder ...
(He frowns, raising a finger to his mouth and gazing off to the side with a thoughtful look on his face. At Scotland Yard, Greg sinks his face into his hand as he is forced to consider what his officers are telling him. On the taxi TV screen, Jim frowns thoughtfully while cartoon lightning bolts shoot out of the clouds behind him.)
JIM (shaking his head repeatedly): But that wasn’t the end of Sir Boast-a-lot’s problem. No.
(He looks down for a moment, then raises his eyes to the camera again.)
JIM: That wasn’t the final problem.
(Sherlock bares his teeth at the screen as the camera pulls back to show Jim sitting with a storybook held in his hands. He looks up at the camera and finishes in an even more sing-song voice.)
JIM: The End.
(Behind him, a red velvet curtain drops down as if covering a theatre stage. The shot changes to an extreme close-up of Jim grinning hugely and showing his teeth, then the screen fritzes a few times and eventually returns to the jewellery advert.)
SHERLOCK: Stop the cab! Stop the cab!
(The taxi begins to pull up to the kerb.)
SHERLOCK: What was that?
(He jumps out of the right-hand door and runs forward to the driver’s door.)
SHERLOCK: What was that?
(The cabbie, wearing a cloth cap very reminiscent of the one worn by the cabbie in “A Study in Pink,” turns his head towards Sherlock and reveals that he is Jim Moriarty, who adopts a London accent as he speaks.)
JIM: No charge.
(He immediately accelerates away as Sherlock tries to grab hold of the door and pull the cab back. Forced to let go, he chases after the taxi but it soon speeds away. He stops in the middle of the road, glaring after it and unaware that another car is speeding along behind him. As it sounds its horn in warning, a man hurries off the pavement, grabs him and pulls him out of danger.)
MAN: Look out!
(Not yet fully realising what the man is doing, Sherlock strikes out at him but then stops as the car roars past and he realises what has happened. He stands with the man at arm’s length, breathing heavily while the man looks warily at him. Those of us who have been paying attention – or who just rewound the recording to check – realise that this is Sulejmani, the Albanian assassin who lives on Baker Street.)
SHERLOCK (catching his breath): Thank you.
(He holds out his hand for the man to shake. Sulejmani somewhat reluctantly takes it and we soon realise why he wasn’t keen when three bullets are fired into him in quick succession from somewhere behind Sherlock. Sulejmani slumps to the ground and Sherlock spins around, trying to find the source of the gunfire. Just then another black cab comes around the corner and pulls up a short distance away. John jumps out and hurries towards him.)
Some time later Sherlock stands twitching his fingers fretfully while an ambulance crew wheels Sulejmani’s body away.
JOHN: That ... it’s him. It’s him. Sulejmani or something. Mycroft showed me his file. He’s a big Albanian gangster lives two doors down from us.
SHERLOCK: He died because I shook his hand.
JOHN: What d’you mean?
SHERLOCK: He saved my life but he couldn’t touch me. Why?
(He storms off. John follows.)
221B. Sherlock walks rapidly into the living room, pulling off his scarf and then his coat as he goes across to the laptop on the dining table. Sadly, at this point he stops removing clothing.
SHERLOCK: Four assassins living right on our doorstep. They didn’t come here to kill me; they have to keep me alive.
(He sits down at the table while John goes over to the window near him and looks out.)
SHERLOCK: I’ve got something that all of them want, but if one of them approaches me ...
JOHN: ... the others kill them before they can get it.
(Sherlock grunts in agreement and types rapidly on the laptop, navigating away from the website for St Aldate’s School and calling up a list of local Wi-Fi networks. There are five of them and he checks their signal strength and the names of the networks, each of which is in a foreign language.)
SHERLOCK: All of the attention is focussed on me. There’s a surveillance web closing in on us right now.
JOHN: So what have you got that’s so important?
(Sherlock gazes into the distance and thinks for a moment, then runs his finger along the table beside the computer before lifting it and looking at his fingertip.)
SHERLOCK: We need to ask about the dusting.
Shortly afterwards, Mrs Hudson has been dragged upstairs in her nightdress and dressing gown. Sherlock is hurrying around the room checking for dust on all the furniture.
SHERLOCK: Precise details: in the last week, what’s been cleaned?
MRS HUDSON: Well, Tuesday I did your lino ...
SHERLOCK: No, in here, this room. This is where we’ll find it – any break in the dust line. You can put back anything but dust.
(He lifts his hand from the latest piece of furniture that he has been running his finger along, and twirls his finger dramatically in the air.)
SHERLOCK: Dust is eloquent.
(Mrs Hudson looks over her shoulder at John.)
MRS HUDSON (quietly): What’s he on about?
(John shakes his head and mumbles. By now Sherlock is climbing on the furniture to look more closely at the top shelves of the bookcase to the left of the fireplace.)
SHERLOCK: Cameras. We’re being watched.
MRS HUDSON: What? Cameras? (She cringes.) Here? I’m in my nightie!
(The doorbell has just rung and she hurries out of the room, John following her. Sherlock has climbed down and now checks in the eye sockets of the skull on the mantelpiece before climbing onto small tables on the other side of the fireplace to look at the bookshelves there. Checking the books on the top shelf, he apparently realises that the one on the far right has more movement around it than it ought and he pushes it deeper into the shelf, revealing a camera stuck to the side of the bookshelf. As he reaches up to remove it, Greg comes into the room followed by John.)
SHERLOCK (without turning around, still concentrating on removing the camera): No, Inspector.
SHERLOCK (stepping down with the camera in his fingers): The answer’s no.
LESTRADE: But you haven’t heard the question!
SHERLOCK: You want to take me to the station. Just saving you the trouble of asking.
(He walks closer. Greg pulls in a breath.)
LESTRADE: Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK (interrupting): The scream?
SHERLOCK: Who was it? Donovan? I bet it was Donovan. Am I somehow responsible for the kidnapping? Ah, Moriarty is smart. He planted that doubt in her head; that little nagging sensation. You’re going to have to be strong to resist. You can’t kill an idea, can you? Not once it’s made a home ... (he reaches forward and briefly places his index fingertip on Greg’s forehead between his eyes) ... there.
LESTRADE: Will you come?
SHERLOCK (turning away, sitting down at the laptop and beginning to type): One photograph – that’s his next move. Moriarty’s game: first the scream, then a photograph of me being taken in for questioning. He wants to destroy me inch by inch.
(Picking up the camera again, he looks at it for a moment, then raises his eyes to Greg’s.)
SHERLOCK: It is a game, Lestrade, and not one I’m willing to play.
[Memo to Benedict Cumberbatch: could you please not go into full cello-jaguar voice when I’m typing late at night and wearing headphones cranked up loud? It’s not good for my underwear. Kthxbai.]
SHERLOCK (looking away again): Give my regards to Sergeant Donovan.
(Sighing and exchanging a brief look with John, Greg turns and heads off down the stairs. John watches him go [with a ‘Yeah, definitely would’ look on his face, if you ask me ...], then turns back towards Sherlock who has now linked the camera into the computer so that he can pull up the live footage on the computer screen. Downstairs, Greg walks along the hallway and glowers at Sally who is waiting at the front door. He walks past her and out into the street. She turns and watches him unhappily, then follows. Upstairs, John has gone over to the right-hand window and looks out at the car parked outside as Greg and Sally go over to it and get in, Greg glancing up towards the window momentarily. As the car starts, Sherlock briefly looks at John.)
SHERLOCK: They’ll be deciding.
SHERLOCK: Whether to come back with a warrant and arrest me.
JOHN: You think?
SHERLOCK: Standard procedure.
JOHN: Should have gone with him. People’ll think ...
SHERLOCK: I don’t care what people think.
JOHN: You’d care if they thought you were stupid, or wrong.
SHERLOCK: No, that would just make them stupid or wrong.
(Angrily, John turns towards him.)
JOHN: Sherlock, I don’t want the world believing you’re ...
(He breaks off as Sherlock lifts his head to look at him. They lock eyes for a long moment.)
SHERLOCK: That I am what?
JOHN: A fraud.
(Sherlock rolls his eyes and sits back in the seat.)
SHERLOCK: You’re worried they’re right.
SHERLOCK: You’re worried they’re right about me.
SHERLOCK: That’s why you’re so upset. You can’t even entertain the possibility that they might be right. You’re afraid that you’ve been taken in as well.
JOHN (turning away and look out of the window again): No I’m not.
(Sherlock leans forward.)
SHERLOCK: Moriarty is playing with your mind too. (Furious, he slams his hand onto the table.) Can’t you see what’s going on?
(John looks at him for a few seconds, then looks out of the window again.)
JOHN: No, I know you’re for real.
SHERLOCK: A hundred percent?
JOHN (quietly, turning back towards him): Well, nobody could fake being such an annoying dick all the time.
(Sherlock locks eyes with him again, then his mouth twitches with the trace of a smile. John looks away once more.)
SCOTLAND YARD. Greg is sitting in front of the desk of the Chief Superintendant while Sally and Anderson stand nearby. The Chief walks around his desk to sit down behind it.
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: Sherlock Holmes?
LESTRADE: Yes, sir.
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: That bloke that’s been in the press.
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: I thought he was some sort of private eye.
LESTRADE: He is.
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: We’ve been consulting with him – that’s what you’re ... you’re telling me?
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: Not used him on any proper cases, though, have we?
LESTRADE: Well, one or two.
(Anderson, his arms folded and looking down at his feet, snorts quietly.)
ANDERSON (softly): Or twenty or thirty.
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: What?
LESTRADE: Look, I’m not the only senior officer who did this. Gregson ...
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT (interrupting): Shut up! An amateur detective given access to all sorts of classified information, and now he’s a suspect in a case!
LESTRADE: With all due respect, sir ...
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT (interrupting): You’re a bloody idiot, Lestrade! Now go and fetch him in right now!
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT (sternly): Do it.
(Greg stands up and the three of them leave the room. The Chief Superintendant takes off his glasses and buries his head in his hand. Outside the others are on their way across the main office.)
LESTRADE: Are you proud of yourselves?
ANDERSON: Well, what if it’s not just this case? What if he’s done this to us every single time?
(Sally grabs her coat from the coat stand as she goes past. Anderson apparently doesn’t need one, being a cold-blooded reptile who won’t feel the temperature drop outside. Greg stops for his own coat, then takes out his phone and starts dialling. Hanging back from the other two, he raises the phone to his ear.)
Shortly afterwards, John – standing in the centre of the living room at 221B – lowers his own phone from his ear and switches it off. He turns to Sherlock who is now sitting in his armchair.
JOHN: So, still got some friends on the Force. It’s Lestrade. Says they’re all coming over here right now, queuing up to slap on the handcuffs: every single officer you ever made feel like a tit, which is a lot of people.
(Sherlock appears to be taking no notice of him, and now Mrs Hudson knocks on the closed living room door with her customary “Ooh-ooh!” and then comes in, still in her nightwear. She apparently feels the tension in the room.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh, sorry, am I interrupting?
(Sherlock rolls his eyes and looks away. She turns her attention to John.)
MRS HUDSON: Some chap delivered a parcel. I forgot. Marked ‘Perishable’ – I had to sign for it.
(John takes the Jiffy bag from her and immediately realises that there’s a wax seal over the flap. Sherlock looks across and also sees the seal.)
MRS HUDSON: Funny name. German, like the fairytales.
(Sherlock rises to his feet and walks forward, his gaze intense and locked on the Jiffy bag as John opens it and pulls out the contents. Outside, the sirens of several different vehicles are approaching. In John’s hand is a large gingerbread man but it’s an unusual colour. He tilts it so that Sherlock can see it better.)
SHERLOCK: Burnt to a crisp.
(The vehicles pull up outside and the sirens stop, and doors start to slam as people get out of the cars.)
JOHN (referring to the burnt gingerbread man): What does it mean?
(The doorbell rings and at the same time someone pounds on the front door knocker.)
MRS HUDSON: I’ll go.
(She turns and hurries down the stairs as someone continues to knock on the door. Voices can be heard as she opens the door.)
DONOVAN (offscreen): Sherlock ...
LESTRADE (offscreen): Evening, Mrs Hudson.
DONOVAN (calling up the stairs): We need to talk to you!
(John puts the gingerbread man back into the envelope and puts it on the table before heading out of the flat. Downstairs, Mrs Hudson sounds angry.)
MRS HUDSON (offscreen): Don’t barge in like that!
(Feet can be heard trotting up the stairs. Calmly Sherlock turns around and picks up his scarf and loops it around his neck. John is apparently blocking the stairs partway up.)
JOHN (offscreen): Have you got a warrant? Have you?
LESTRADE (offscreen): Leave it, John.
MRS HUDSON (offscreen): Really! Manners!
(Sherlock puts on his coat.
Shortly afterwards Greg stands in front of him while one of two armed officers attaches handcuffs to his left wrist.)
LESTRADE: Sherlock Holmes, I’m arresting you on suspicion of abduction and kidnapping.
(John gestures towards Sherlock while looking at Greg as the officer pulls Sherlock’s left hand behind his back in order to cuff his other wrist.)
JOHN: He’s not resisting.
SHERLOCK: It’s all right, John.
JOHN: He’s not resisting. No, it’s not all right. This is ridiculous.
LESTRADE (to the officer who just handcuffed Sherlock): Get him downstairs now.
(The officer spins Sherlock around and marches him out of the door. Mrs Hudson stands nearby almost in tears.)
JOHN (to Greg): You know you don’t have to do ...
LESTRADE (getting into his face and pointing at him sternly): Don’t try to interfere, or I shall arrest you too.
(He turns and leaves the room. John turns to Sally who is standing near the door.)
JOHN: You done?
DONOVAN (looking smug and oh-so-very punchable as she walks into the room): Oh, I said it.
DONOVAN: First time we met.
JOHN: Don’t bother.
DONOVAN: “Solving crimes won’t be enough. One day he’ll cross the line.” Now, ask yourself: what sort of man would kidnap those kids just so he can impress us all by finding them?
(Mrs Hudson gasps. Just then the Chief Superintendant walks in.)
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: Donovan.
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: Got our man?
DONOVAN: Er, yes, sir.
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: Looked a bit of a weirdo, if you ask me.
(John turns towards him.)
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: Often are, these vigilante types.
(He has been looking around the living room but now he turns and sees John staring at him.)
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: What are you looking at?
(Sally’s eyes widen and she instantly lowers her head as if she knows what’s coming and can’t bear to look. John starts to move.)
A minute or two later, the Chief Superintendant walks out onto the street holding a handkerchief to his bleeding nose.
POLICE OFFICER: Are you all right, sir?
(Nearby, Sherlock has been leaned against the side of a police car, facing it. Now John is slammed up against the car next to him and to his left. Sherlock looks across to him with an amused expression on his face.)
SHERLOCK: Joining me?
JOHN: Yeah. Apparently it’s against the law to chin the Chief Superintendant.
(Behind them, a couple of armed officers unlock the cuff on Sherlock’s right hand and transfer it to John’s right wrist, chaining the boys together. Fandom collectively faints. Sherlock looks over his shoulder, watching what the officers are doing and where they’re standing.)
SHERLOCK (to John): Hmm. Bit awkward, this.
JOHN: Huh. No-one to bail us.
SHERLOCK: I was thinking more about our imminent and daring escape.
(He looks down at the radio lying on the dashboard of the car they’re leaning against. The radio squeals as the dispatcher speaks.)
RADIO DISPATCHER: All units to two-seven.
(John looks round at Sherlock’s previous statement.)
RADIO DISPATCHER: All units to two ...
(Rapidly Sherlock reaches through the open window of the car with his free hand and presses down on the Talk button. Instantly the officer behind the boys doubles over in pain and grabs at his earpiece when a high-pitched squeal of feedback rips through it. Sherlock reaches behind him and pulls the officer’s pistol free, instantly raising it. Because it’s in his left hand, John’s shackled right hand is yanked upwards as well and he gasps in surprise at the rapid turn of events. Sherlock calls out as he aims the pistol towards the nearest officers.)
SHERLOCK: Ladies and gentlemen, will you all please get on your knees?
(Nearby, Greg’s whole body language says, ‘Oh, FFS ...’ When nobody reacts very quickly, Sherlock raises the gun skywards and fires it twice.)
SHERLOCK: NOW would be good!
(He lowers it and points it at the police again.)
LESTRADE: Do as he says!
(He gestures everybody downwards and all the police start to kneel. The boys start to back away.)
JOHN (loudly): Just-just so you’re aware, the gun is his idea. I’m just a ... you know ...
(Sherlock transfers the pistol to his right hand and promptly aims it at John’s head.)
SHERLOCK (loudly): ... my hostage.
JOHN (quietly, to Sherlock): Hostage! Yes, that works – that works(!)
(They continue backing away from the kneeling police. Behind them and probably unnoticed in all the excitement, a piece of artistic graffiti has been sprayed on the wall of the house on the street corner. In red paint, huge letters spelling out “iou” are at least three feet high and are surrounded by an elaborate dark set of angel’s wings. The boys begin to back carefully around the corner.)
JOHN: So what now?
SHERLOCK: Doing what Moriarty wants – I’m becoming a fugitive. Run.
(He turns and begins to race off down the road, dragging John with him. Back at the police cars, Greg buries his head in his hands. The Chief Superintendant gets to his feet and turns to him.)
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: Get after him, Lestrade!
(Greg glares furiously at Sally as she begins to head in the direction the boys have gone. Greg is a lot slower in getting moving. Around the corner as the boys run along side by side, Sherlock loops the loose chain between their handcuffs around his wrist.)
SHERLOCK: Take my hand.
JOHN (grabbing his hand as they race onwards): Now people will definitely talk.
(Sirens are approaching at the junction ahead of them. Sherlock swerves to his left and drops the pistol in the process. It clatters to the ground.)
JOHN: The gun!
SHERLOCK: Leave it!
(He shoves John down a side alley as the police car races straight across the junction. They run down the alleyway and reach high railings blocking their way. Sherlock, with his customary flair, leaps up onto the top of a dustbin and vaults straight over the top of the railings. John, being an adorable short-arse and also not as close to the dustbin, is left behind; his right hand is dragged upwards and his face almost smashes against the railings as Sherlock drops to the other side.)
JOHN: Sherlock, wait!
(He reaches through the railings with his free hand and grabs Sherlock’s coat, dragging him closer and glaring into his face. The fandom screams with one voice, “KISS HIM!!”)
JOHN (speaking clearly and sternly): We’re going to need to coordinate.
(Sherlock quickly scans all around them.)
SHERLOCK: Go to your right.
SHERLOCK: Go to your right.
(He looks upwards and goes up onto his tiptoes to get the chain of the cuffs over the top of one of the spikes at the top of the railings.
Not long afterwards, they’re on the same side of the railings and running down the alley again. Reaching a T-junction Sherlock turns to the right, then immediately brakes and ducks back again as a sirening police car races past the end of the alley. The two of them lean side by side against the wall catching their breath for a moment.)
SHERLOCK: Everybody wants to believe it – that’s what makes it so clever. (He looks at John.) A lie that’s preferable to the truth. (Looking away again, his voice becomes bitter.) All my brilliant deductions were just a sham. No-one feels inadequate – Sherlock Holmes is just an ordinary man.
JOHN: What about Mycroft? He could help us.
(He grunts as Sherlock drags him across to the other side of the alley and peers down the left arm of the T-junction.)
SHERLOCK: A big family reconciliation? Now’s not really the moment.
(He spins around, dragging John in a circle behind him and looking back the way they came. John spots something at the end of the right arm of the T-junction.)
JOHN: Sher... Sherlock.
(He elbows him with his cuffed arm to turn him in that direction. A face is peering around the corner at the end of the alley.)
JOHN: We’re being followed. I knew we couldn’t outrun the police.
SHERLOCK: That’s not the police. It’s one of my new neighbours from Baker Street. Let’s see if he can give us some answers.
(He breaks in the opposite direction from where the man is watching them. Running to the next corner, they flatten themselves against the wall as they reach it and Sherlock looks around the corner. There’s no sign of any police in the street but a double decker bus – the number 74 to Baker Street Station – is approaching. Sherlock presses himself back against the wall again.)
JOHN: Where are we going?
SHERLOCK: We’re going to jump in front of that bus.
(But Sherlock’s already on the move and drags John out into the street. The assassin races after them. Halfway across the road, Sherlock screeches to a halt directly in front of the approaching bus. John’s impetus carries him past Sherlock before he’s able to stop and turn and now they’re both facing the bus and not moving. The assassin charges into the road, throws himself at them and shoves them out of the way and all three of them tumble to the ground as the bus drives past, its horn blaring. Before the assassin can recover, Sherlock sits up and drags the man’s own gun from his jeans, then cocks and points it at him.)
SHERLOCK: Tell me what you want from me.
(The man stares at him wide-eyed but doesn’t speak. Sherlock moves the gun’s muzzle closer to him.)
SHERLOCK: Tell me.
ASSASSIN: He left it at your flat.
(All three of them start to get to their feet, Sherlock still holding the gun on the other man.)
ASSASSIN: The computer keycode.
SHERLOCK: Of course. He’s selling it – the programme he used to break into the Tower. He planted it when he came around.
(Three gunshots ring out and the assassin reels and drops to the ground. Sherlock stares up in the direction the bullets came from, then swings around and he and John race off. As police sirens approach again, they duck into an open doorway and yet another police car drives past the end of the road. They take a moment to catch their breath.)
SHERLOCK: It’s a game-changer. It’s a key – it can break into any system and it’s sitting in our flat right now. That’s why he left that message telling everyone where to come. “Get Sherlock.” We need to get back into the flat and search.
JOHN: CID’ll be camped out. Why plant it on you?
SHERLOCK: It’s another subtle way of smearing my name. Now I’m best pals with all those criminals.
(John has spotted a pile of newspapers nearby and he picks up the top copy.)
JOHN: Yeah, well, have you seen this?
(It’s a copy of “The Sun” – the same edition that Mycroft had at the Diogenes Club that morning, telling of the upcoming exposé by Kitty Riley. John shows it to Sherlock.)
JOHN: A kiss and tell. Some bloke called Rich Brook.
(Sherlock slowly turns his head – clearly the name means something to him. John is still looking at the paper and doesn’t see his expression.)
JOHN: Who is he?
Kitty Riley parks her car outside her home, gets out and locks the car before walking to the front door. Opening it, she walks along the hall to the door of her flat, then pauses and looks at the door nervously when she realises that it is slightly ajar. Hesitantly she pushes the door open and reaches for the light switch on the wall. The lights come on and she is greeted with the sight of Sherlock and John sitting side by side on her sofa, each of them drumming the fingers of their handcuffed hand on their respective knees.
SHERLOCK: Too late to go on the record?
Not long afterwards, Kitty is sitting in an armchair while the boys stand in the middle of the room. Sherlock is using a hairpin to pick the lock on his handcuff.
SHERLOCK (to Kitty): Congratulations. The truth about Sherlock Holmes.
(He frees his hand and gives the hairpin to John before starting to pace back and forth in front of Kitty.)
SHERLOCK: The scoop that everybody wanted and you got it. Bravo(!)
KITTY: I gave you your opportunity. I wanted to be on your side, remember? You turned me down, so ...
SHERLOCK: And then, behold, someone turns up and spills all the beans. How utterly convenient. Who is Brook?
(Kitty shakes her head, refusing to tell him any more.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, come on, Kitty. No-one trusts the voice at the end of a telephone.
(John finally frees his own hand from the cuffs.)
SHERLOCK: There are all those furtive little meetings in cafés; those sessions in the hotel room where he gabbled into your dictaphone. How do you know that you can trust him? A man turns up with the Holy Grail in his pockets. (Sternly) What were his credentials?
(Outside in the hallway there have been the sounds of someone coming in through the main front door. Now Kitty looks towards the door of the flat and rises to her feet with a concerned look on her face when someone pushes her door open. Sherlock turns to follow her gaze as Jim Moriarty, unshaven and with his hair messy and wearing casual clothes including a cardigan, walks in with a shopping bag.)
JIM: Darling, they didn’t have any ground coffee so I just got normal ...
(He raises his eyes and stares in terror at the sight of Sherlock, whose own eyes widen. Jim drops the shopping bag and backs away until he bumps into the wall behind him, holding up his hands protectively in front of him.)
JIM (his voice trembling): You said that they wouldn’t find me here. You said that I’d be safe here.
KITTY: You are safe, Richard. I’m a witness. He wouldn’t harm you in front of witnesses.
(John, his face full of shock, points at Jim.)
JOHN (to Kitty): So that’s your source? Moriarty is Richard Brook?!
(His teeth are bared and he glares at Jim, breathing heavily in pure fury.)
KITTY: Of course he’s Richard Brook. There is no Moriarty. There never has been.
JOHN: What are you talking about?
KITTY: Look him up. Rich Brook – an actor Sherlock Holmes hired to be Moriarty.
(Sherlock stares at Jim, who is still holding up his hands and looking at everyone nervously. Jim’s voice is shaking as he turns to John.)
JIM: Doctor Watson, I know you’re a good man.
(He backs into the corner of the room, appearing terrified under John’s ferocious glare.)
JIM: Don’t ... don’t h... Don’t hurt me.
(John screams at him, pointing towards him furiously.)
JOHN: No, you are Moriarty! (He turns his head briefly and yells at Kitty.) He’s Moriarty! (He turns back to Jim.) We’ve met, remember? You were gonna blow me up!
(Jim puts his hands briefly over his face, then holds them up in front of himself again, sounding as if he is almost crying in fear.)
JIM: I’m sorry. I’m sorry. (He gestures towards Sherlock.) He paid me. I needed the work. I’m an actor. I was out of work. I’m sorry, okay?
(Breathing heavily, John turns to Sherlock.)
JOHN: Sherlock, you’d better ... explain ... because I am not getting this.
KITTY: Oh I’ll ... I’ll be doing the explaining – in print. (She hands John a folder.) It’s all here – conclusive proof.
(John looks at an early typed sheet of her upcoming article, then turns to the proof copy showing the layout of how it will appear in the newspaper, with spaces left for photographs. The headline reads, “Sherlock’s a fake!” with the strapline, “He invented all the crimes”.)
KITTY (looking at Sherlock): You invented James Moriarty, your nemesis.
JOHN (upset): Invented him?
KITTY: Mmm-hmm. Invented all the crimes, actually – and to cap it all, you made up a master villain.
JOHN: Oh, don’t be ridiculous!
(Kitty turns and points towards Jim.)
KITTY: Ask him. He’s right here! Just ask him. Tell him, Richard.
JOHN (furiously): Look, for God’s sake, this man was on trial!
KITTY: Yes ... (she points at Sherlock) ... and you paid him; paid him to take the rap. Promised you’d rig the jury.
(Sherlock stares at her silently.)
KITTY: Not exactly a West End role, but I’ll bet the money was good.
(She walks over to Jim and puts her arm around his shoulders while he stands with his hands still held out in front of himself.)
KITTY: But not so good he didn’t want to sell his story.
(Jim looks plaintively at John, putting his hands together pleadingly.)
JIM: I am sorry. I am. I am sorry.
JOHN (to Kitty): So-so this is the story that you’re gonna publish. The big conclusion of it all: Moriarty’s an actor?!
(He shakes his head in disbelief.)
JIM: He knows I am. I have proof. I have proof. Show him, Kitty! Show him something!
JOHN: Yeah, show me something.
(Kitty walks across the room. John turns to watch her as she reaches into a bag for more information. Behind them, Jim has put his hands over his face but now he pulls his hands away from his eyes a little and looks towards Sherlock, whose own gaze has barely left him since he arrived. For a brief moment, James Moriarty reveals his true self and he smiles triumphantly at his enemy. Sherlock half-smiles back at him but there’s no humour in his eyes. Kitty takes out a folder, walks over to John and gives it to him.)
JIM (slipping back into his Richard persona and sounding plaintive and panicked): I’m on TV. I’m on kids’ TV. I’m The Storyteller.
(John looks at copies of Richard Brook’s contact details apparently taken from an agency website, then a newspaper article showing a picture of Richard in glasses wearing medical scrubs and with a stethoscope around his neck. The article is headlined, “Award Winning Actor Joins The Cast of Top Medical Drama”.)
JIM: I’m ... I’m The Storyteller. It’s on DVD.
(He looks across to Sherlock again, this time keeping his Richard face on. John continues looking through the folder at other publicity stills of Rich together with his CV. Jim gestures towards John, looking at Sherlock pleadingly.)
JIM: Just tell him. It’s all coming out now. It’s all over. (His voice becomes more frantic.) Just tell them. Just tell them. Tell him!
(Baring his teeth, Sherlock starts to walk towards him.)
JIM: It’s all over now ... NO!
(He backs away from Sherlock and up a short flight of stairs towards the bedroom on the upper level of the flat. His eyes are wide and terrified.)
JIM: Don’t you touch me! Don’t you lay a finger on me!
SHERLOCK (furiously): Stop it. Stop it NOW!
(Jim turns and bolts up the stairs.)
JIM: Don’t hurt me!
(Sherlock and John chase after him.)
JOHN: Don’t let him get away!
KITTY: Leave him alone!
(Jim runs into the bathroom on the other side of the bedroom. With Kitty still at the bottom of the stairs and therefore unsighted, and John halfway up the stairs with his vision blocked by Sherlock ahead of him, Jim turns and grins manically at Sherlock for a brief second before slamming the door shut. Sherlock runs to the door and struggles momentarily to open it, then shoves it open but Jim has already disappeared through the open window opposite. There’s a crash outside as if Jim has landed on top of a dustbin. Sherlock looks out of the window, then turns to stop John.)
SHERLOCK: No, no, no. He’ll have back-up.
(He heads towards the stairs. Kitty backs down to get out of his way but doesn’t move quickly, slowing him down.)
KITTY: D’you know what, Sherlock Holmes? I look at you now and I can read you.
(He stops at the bottom of the stairs as she gets into his face.)
KITTY: And you ... repel ... me.
(Sherlock turns and heads out of the door. John, still holding the folder of the articles about Rich, shoves Kitty aside and follows him. She closes the door behind them. The boys go out onto the street and John stops while Sherlock begins to pace rapidly back and forth in the middle of the road.)
JOHN: Can he do that? Completely change his identity; make you the criminal?
SHERLOCK: He’s got my whole life story. That’s what you do when you sell a big lie; you wrap it up in the truth to make it more palatable.
JOHN: Your word against his.
SHERLOCK: He’s been sowing doubt into people’s minds for the last twenty-four hours. There’s only one thing he needs to do to complete his game, and that’s to ...
(He stops dead. John, who has been rifling through the folder, looks up at his friend, who is turned away from him.)
SHERLOCK: Something I need to do.
JOHN: What? Can I help?
SHERLOCK: No – on my own.
(He briskly walks away. John watches him, sighing, then looks down at the papers again. He looks up and down the road and then apparently decides where he needs to go and heads off in the opposite direction.)
BART’S. Molly comes out of a small side room in a lab, switches off the lights and walks across the darkened lab, sighing tiredly. As she reaches the door to the corridor, Sherlock is standing in the darkness behind her with his face turned away from her. She doesn’t see him and reaches for the door handle.
SHERLOCK: You’re wrong, you know.
(She gasps and jumps, spinning around towards him.)
SHERLOCK: You do count. You’ve always counted and I’ve always trusted you.
(He turns his head towards her.)
SHERLOCK: But you were right. I’m not okay.
MOLLY: Tell me what’s wrong.
SHERLOCK (slowly walking towards her): Molly, I think I’m going to die.
MOLLY: What do you need?
SHERLOCK (still slowly approaching her): If I wasn’t everything that you think I am – everything that I think I am – would you still want to help me?
(She gazes up at him as he stops close to her.)
MOLLY: What do you need?
(He steps even closer, his expression intense.)
THE DIOGENES CLUB. Mycroft walks across one of the common rooms, where an old man is fast asleep in an armchair, and goes into the smaller private room, reaching for the door handle to close it, but he stops when he realises that John is sitting in one of the armchairs with his back to him. John is still looking through Kitty’s file.
JOHN: She has really done her homework, Miss Riley – things that only someone close to Sherlock could know.
MYCROFT (closing the door): Ah.
JOHN: Have you seen your brother’s address book lately? Two names: yours and mine, and Moriarty didn’t get this stuff from me.
(Mycroft walks across the room to face him.)
MYCROFT: John ...
JOHN: So how does it work, then, your relationship? D’you go out for a coffee now and then, eh, you and Jim?
(Mycroft sits down in the chair opposite and opens his mouth but John interrupts again. His voice is full of controlled anger.)
JOHN: Your own brother, and you blabbed about his entire life to this maniac.
MYCROFT: I never inten... I never dreamt ...
JOHN (interrupting): So this ...th-th-this ... (he looks through the papers again) ... is what you were trying to tell me, isn’t it: “Watch his back, ’cause I’ve made a mistake.”
(He slaps the papers down on the table beside his chair and sits back, clearing his throat as he tries to stay calm.)
JOHN: How did you meet him?
(Mycroft draws in a long breath.)
MYCROFT: People like him: we know about them; we watch them. But James Moriarty ... the most dangerous criminal mind the world has ever seen, and in his pocket the ultimate weapon: a keycode. A few lines of computer code that could unlock any door.
JOHN: And you abducted him to try and find the keycode?
MYCROFT: Interrogated him for weeks.
(Flashback to Mycroft watching through a one-way mirror while, in the cell on the other side of the mirror – the cell we saw at the end of “The Hounds of Baskerville” – a man viciously beats a seated Jim across the face.)
MYCROFT: He wouldn’t play along.
(In the flashback, Jim slowly turns his head towards the front after the blow and stares up at his interrogator, who strikes him again.)
MYCROFT: He just sat there, staring into the darkness.
(Again Jim turns his head to the front, appearing unfazed by the assault. The interrogator strikes him again.)
MYCROFT: The only thing that made him open up ...
(Ruefully he gestures to himself. In the flashback, Mycroft opens the door to the cell and stops in the doorway. Jim lifts his head and looks at Mycroft’s reflection in the mirror in front of him.)
MYCROFT: I could get him to talk ...
(Mycroft comes into the room and turns to shut the door behind him. Jim closes his eyes and smiles blissfully as Mycroft walks closer.)
MYCROFT: ... just a little, but ...
(He trails off. John grimly finishes the sentence for him.)
JOHN: ... in return you had to offer him Sherlock’s life story. So one big lie – Sherlock’s a fraud – but people will swallow it because the rest of it’s true.
(He leans forward in his chair.)
JOHN: Moriarty wanted Sherlock destroyed, right? And you have given him the perfect ammunition.
(He smiles bitterly at him. Mycroft lowers his eyes. John pulls in a sharp breath and then gets to his feet, turning towards the door.)
MYCROFT: John ...
(John turns back. Mycroft looks up at him.)
MYCROFT (softly): I’m sorry.
JOHN (tightly): Oh, please ...
(He shakes his head in disbelief and turns away, laughing humourlessly as he walks to the door.)
MYCROFT: Tell him, would you?
(John opens the door and walks away, leaving the door open behind him.)
On to Part 4