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Sherlock, Season 1, episode 1 transcript: A Study in Pink, part 4
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Downstairs, Sherlock opens the front door and stands on the doorstep for a moment while he shrugs himself into his coat. A taxi is parked at the kerb and the driver, Jeff Hope, is leaning casually against the side of the cab.
JEFF: Taxi for Sherlock ’olmes.
(Sherlock steps forward, closing the door behind him.)
SHERLOCK: I didn’t order a taxi.
JEFF: Doesn’t mean you don’t need one.
SHERLOCK: You’re the cabbie. The one who stopped outside Northumberland Street.
(In flashback, the American man sits in the back of the cab outside the restaurant and turns his head to the front. In the driver’s seat, Jeff looks over his shoulder and through the rear window of the cab before turning around again and starting to drive away.)
SHERLOCK: It was you, not your passenger.
JEFF: See? No-one ever thinks about the cabbie. It’s like you’re invisible. Just the back of an ’ead. Proper advantage for a serial killer.
(Sherlock takes a few more steps forward and looks up towards the windows of his flat.)
SHERLOCK: Is this a confession?
JEFF: Oh, yeah. An’ I’ll tell you what else: if you call the coppers now, I won’t run. I’ll sit quiet and they can take me down, I promise.
JEFF: ’Cause you’re not gonna do that.
SHERLOCK: Am I not?
JEFF: I didn’t kill those four people, Mr ’olmes. I spoke to ’em ... and they killed themselves. An’ if you get the coppers now, I promise you one thing.
(He leans forward.)
JEFF: I will never tell you what I said.
(Sherlock stares at him. After a moment, Jeff straightens up and starts to walk around the front of the cab.)
SHERLOCK: No-one else will die, though, and I believe they call that a result.
(Jeff stops and turns back towards him.)
JEFF: An’ you won’t ever understand how those people died. What kind of result do you care about?
(He turns again and continues around to the driver’s door. Getting in, he sits down and closes the door, settling into his seat and ignoring Sherlock. Biting his lip, Sherlock walks closer to the cab, looking up again at the flat windows, then he bends and looks into the open side window of the cab.)
SHERLOCK: If I wanted to understand, what would I do?
JEFF (turning to look at him): Let me take you for a ride.
SHERLOCK: So you can kill me too?
JEFF: I don’t wanna kill you, Mr ’olmes. I’m gonna talk to yer ... and then you’re gonna kill yourself.
(He turns to face the front again. Sherlock straightens up, his eyes lost in thought as he considers the situation. Jeff calmly sits gazing out of the front window, then smiles in satisfaction when the rear door opens. The cab dips as Sherlock gets in and then the door slams shut. Jeff starts the engine.
Upstairs, John has his phone held to his ear and is looking out of the window. The cab can be heard as it pulls away.)
JOHN: He just got in a cab.
(He turns to Lestrade.)
JOHN: It’s Sherlock. He just drove off in a cab.
(Donovan, standing beside Lestrade, tuts in irritation.)
DONOVAN: I told you, he does that.
(She turns to Lestrade.)
DONOVAN: He bloody left again.
(She walks back into the kitchen, talking loudly.)
DONOVAN: We’re wasting our time!
JOHN (to Lestrade): I’m calling the phone. It’s ringing out.
(In the cab, a phone is ringing. Sherlock watches Jeff as the pink phone – which Jeff has put in the well beside his seat – continues to ring. Back in the flat, Lestrade watches John as he continues to hold his phone to his ear.)
LESTRADE: If it’s ringing, it’s not here.
(John lowers his phone and reaches for the computer notebook.)
JOHN: I’ll try the search again.
(Donovan comes back to confront Lestrade.)
DONOVAN: Does it matter? Does any of it? You know, he’s just a lunatic, and he’ll always let you down, and you’re wasting your time. All our time.
(Lestrade stares at her for a long moment as she holds his gaze, then he sighs.)
LESTRADE (loudly): Okay, everybody. Done ’ere.
(In the cab, Sherlock is watching the London scenery pass by.)
SHERLOCK: How did you find me?
JEFF: Oh, I recognised yer, soon as I saw you chasing my cab. Sherlock ’olmes! I was warned about you. I’ve been on your website, too. Brilliant stuff! Loved it!
SHERLOCK: Who warned you about me?
JEFF: Just someone out there who’s noticed you.
(He leans forward, looking closely at the side of Jeff’s neck, then noticing a photograph of a young boy and girl attached to the dashboard of the cab.)
SHERLOCK: Who would notice me?
JEFF (meeting his eyes briefly in the rear view mirror): You’re too modest, Mr ’olmes.
SHERLOCK: I’m really not.
JEFF: You’ve got yourself a fan.
SHERLOCK (nonchalantly, sitting back in his seat): Tell me more.
JEFF: That’s all you’re gonna know ...
(He pauses dramatically for a moment.)
JEFF (quietly): ... in this lifetime.
(Back at the flat, as the other police officers leave, Lestrade picks up his coat and turns to John.)
LESTRADE: Why did he do that? Why did he have to leave?
JOHN (shrugging): You know him better than I do.
LESTRADE: I’ve known him for five years and no, I don’t.
JOHN: So why do you put up with him?
LESTRADE: Because I’m desperate, that’s why.
(He walks to the door, then turns back.)
LESTRADE: And because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think one day, if we’re very, very lucky, he might even be a good one.
(He turns and leaves. Some distance away, the cab drives on and finally stops at the front of two identical buildings side by side. Jeff turns off the engine and gets out, coming to the back door and opening it. He looks in at Sherlock.)
SHERLOCK: Where are we?
JEFF: You know every street in London. You know exactly where we are.
SHERLOCK: Roland-Kerr Further Education College. Why here?
JEFF: It’s open; cleaners are in. One thing about being a cabbie: you always know a nice quiet spot for a murder. I’m surprised more of us don’t branch out.
SHERLOCK: And you just walk your victims in? How?
(Jeff raises a pistol and points it at Sherlock. Sherlock rolls his eyes and turns his head away.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, dull.
JEFF: Don’t worry. It gets better.
SHERLOCK: You can’t make people take their own lives at gunpoint.
JEFF: I don’t. It’s much better than that.
(He lowers the gun.)
JEFF: Don’t need this with you, ’cause you’ll follow me.
(He confidently walks away. Sherlock sits for a moment, then grimaces in exasperation at himself as he does just what Jeff predicted and gets out of the cab to follow the man.)
Back at 221B, John is alone in the flat. He appears to have decided to go home and walks towards the living room door, then looks down and clenches his right hand as if realising that he doesn’t have his walking cane. He looks round and sees the cane lying on top of a box of papers next to the dining table and goes over to collect it. With its back to him, Sherlock’s notebook is still on Mephone’s website and the clock is spinning on the screen while the site searches for Jennifer Wilson’s phone. As John picks up the cane and heads for the door again, the computer beeps triumphantly and a map appears on the screen and starts to zoom in on the new location of the phone. John turns back as the computer beeps repeatedly. Going back to the table and propping his cane against it, he picks up the notebook and looks at the screen, then he turns and takes the notebook with him as he hurries out of the door and down the stairs, once again forgetting to take his cane.
At Roland-Kerr College, Jeff opens the door of a room and stands aside so that Sherlock can go in. Sherlock looks at him closely but steps inside the room, then Jeff releases the door and lets it swing closed as he walks over to some switches on the wall and turns on the lights. The men are in a large classroom which has long fixed wooden benches and free-standing plastic chairs. Sherlock walks deeper into the room, looking around.
JEFF: Well, what do you think?
(Sherlock raises his hands and shrugs as if to ask, ‘What do I think about what?’)
JEFF: It’s up to you. You’re the one who’s gonna die ’ere.
(Sherlock turns back to him.)
SHERLOCK: No, I’m not.
JEFF: That’s what they all say.
(He gestures to one of the benches.)
JEFF: Shall we talk?
(Without waiting for a reply, he pulls out one of the chairs and sits down. Sherlock takes a chair from the bench in front, flips it around and sits down opposite. He sighs dramatically while he takes off his gloves and puts them into his coat pockets.)
SHERLOCK: Bit risky, wasn’t it? Took me away under the eye of about half a dozen policemen. They’re not that stupid. And Mrs Hudson will remember you.
JEFF: You call that a risk? Nah.
(He reaches into the left pocket of his cardigan.)
JEFF: This is a risk.
(He takes out a small glass bottle with a screw top and puts it onto the table in front of him. There is a single large capsule inside. Sherlock looks at it but doesn’t react in any way.)
JEFF: Ooh, I like this bit. ’Cause you don’t get it yet, do yer? But you’re about to. I just have to do this.
(Reaching into his right pocket, he takes out an identical bottle containing an identical capsule and puts it onto the table beside the first bottle.)
JEFF: You weren’t expecting that, were yer?
(He leans forward.)
JEFF: Ooh, you’re going to love this.
SHERLOCK: Love what?
JEFF (sitting back again): Sherlock ’olmes. Look at you! ’Ere in the flesh. That website of yours: your fan told me about it.
SHERLOCK: My fan?
JEFF: You are brilliant. You are. A proper genius. “The Science of Deduction.” Now that is proper thinking. Between you and me sitting ’ere, why can’t people think?
(He looks down angrily.)
JEFF: Don’t it make you mad? Why can’t people just think?
(He looks up again into Sherlock’s eyes. Sherlock looks back at him for a long moment, narrowing his eyes, then makes a realisation.)
SHERLOCK (his voice dripping with sarcasm): Oh, I see. So you’re a proper genius too.
JEFF: Don’t look it, do I? Funny little man drivin’ a cab. But you’ll know better in a minute. Chances are it’ll be the last thing you ever know.
(Sherlock holds his gaze for a second or two, then looks down to the table.)
SHERLOCK: Okay, two bottles. Explain.
JEFF: There’s a good bottle and a bad bottle. You take the pill from the good bottle, you live; take the pill from the bad bottle, you die.
SHERLOCK: Both bottles are of course identical.
JEFF: In every way.
SHERLOCK: And you know which is which.
JEFF: Course I know.
SHERLOCK: But I don’t.
JEFF: Wouldn’t be a game if you knew. You’re the one who chooses.
SHERLOCK: Why should I? I’ve got nothing to go on. What’s in it for me?
JEFF: I ’aven’t told you the best bit yet. Whatever bottle you choose, I take the pill from the other one – and then, together, we take our medicine.
(Sherlock starts to grin. Now he’s interested.)
JEFF: I won’t cheat. It’s your choice. I’ll take whatever pill you don’t.
(Sherlock looks down at the bottles, concentrating properly now.)
JEFF: Didn’t expect that, did you, Mr ’olmes?
SHERLOCK: This is what you did to the rest of them: you gave them a choice.
JEFF: And now I’m givin’ you one.
(Sherlock looks up at him.)
JEFF: You take your time. Get yourself together.
(He licks his lips in anticipation.)
JEFF: I want your best game.
SHERLOCK: It’s not a game. It’s chance.
JEFF: I’ve played four times. I’m alive. It’s not chance, Mr ’olmes, it’s chess. It’s a game of chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this ... this ... is the move.
(With his left hand he slides the left-hand bottle across the table towards Sherlock. He licks his top lip as he pulls his hand back and leaves the bottle where it is.)
JEFF: Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one.
John is in the back of a taxi. He has the computer notebook open on his lap and is holding his phone to his ear.
JOHN (into phone): No, Detective Inspector Lestrade. I need to speak to him. It’s important. It’s an emergency!
(The map on the laptop shows the location of Jennifer’s phone again.)
JOHN (to the cab driver): Er, left here, please. Left here.
ROLAND-KERR COLLEGE. Jeff looks down at the bottles briefly then meets Sherlock’s eyes.
JEFF: You ready yet, Mr ’olmes? Ready to play?
SHERLOCK: Play what? It’s a fifty-fifty chance.
JEFF: You’re not playin’ the numbers, you’re playin’ me. Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a triple-bluff?
SHERLOCK: Still just chance.
JEFF: Four people in a row? It’s not just chance.
JEFF: It’s genius. I know ’ow people think.
(Sherlock rolls his eyes.)
JEFF: I know ’ow people think I think. I can see it all, like a map inside my ’ead.
(Sherlock looks exasperated.)
JEFF: Everyone’s so stupid – even you.
(Sherlock’s gaze sharpens.)
JEFF: Or maybe God just loves me.
(Sherlock straightens up and leans forward, clasping his hands in front of him on the table.)
SHERLOCK: Either way, you’re wasted as a cabbie.
John has arrived at Roland-Kerr College. As the taxi pulls away, John tucks the notebook into his jacket and looks at the two identical buildings in front of him. Clearly the map isn’t precise enough to indicate exactly where the phone is. After a moment, he makes his choice and heads towards the buildings.
In the classroom, Sherlock lifts his clasped hands in front of his mouth and gazes at Jeff intently.
SHERLOCK: So, you risked your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?
(Jeff nods down to the bottles.)
JEFF: Time to play.
SHERLOCK (unfolding his fingers and adopting the prayer position in front of his mouth): Oh, I am playing. This is my turn. There’s shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody’s pointed it out to you.
(Flashback to Jeff sitting in the driver’s seat of the cab, which is when Sherlock noticed this.)
SHERLOCK: Traces of where it’s happened before, so obviously you live on your own; there’s no-one to tell you.
(Jeff tries not to fidget under Sherlock’s gaze.)
SHERLOCK: But there’s a photograph of children. The children’s mother has been cut out of the picture. If she’d died, she’d still be there.
(Flashback to the photograph attached to the dashboard of the cab. There is indeed a third person at the left of the photograph but the photo has been cut along that side to remove most of her image.)
SHERLOCK: The photograph’s old but the frame’s new. You think of your children but you don’t get to see them.
(Jeff’s gaze slides away from Sherlock and for the first time there’s a hint of pain in his eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Estranged father. She took the kids, but you still love them and it still hurts.
(He extends his index fingers.)
SHERLOCK: Ah, but there’s more.
(Jeff lifts his gaze back to Sherlock as he points his index fingers towards him.)
SHERLOCK: Your clothes: recently laundered but everything you’re wearing’s at least ... three years old? Keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze murder spree. What’s that about?
(Jeff has got control of himself again and his expression says nothing as he gazes back at Sherlock. The detective’s eyes widen slightly as he makes his most important deduction.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Ahh. Three years ago – is that when they told you?
JEFF (flatly): Told me what?
(Sherlock’s deduction seems to appear beside Jeff’s head:
SHERLOCK: That you’re a dead man walking.
JEFF: So are you.
SHERLOCK: You don’t have long, though. Am I right?
(He lifts his right hand and taps the side of his head.)
JEFF: Right in ’ere.
(Sherlock smiles in satisfaction.)
JEFF: Any breath could be my last.
SHERLOCK (frowning again): And because you’re dying, you’ve just murdered four people.
JEFF: I’ve outlived four people. That’s the most fun you can ’ave on an aneurism.
SHERLOCK (thoughtfully): No. No, there’s something else. You didn’t just kill four people because you’re bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator. Somehow this is about your children.
JEFF (looking away and sighing): Ohh.
(He looks at Sherlock again.)
JEFF: You are good, ain’t you?
SHERLOCK: But how?
JEFF: When I die, they won’t get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs.
SHERLOCK: Or serial killing.
JEFF: You’d be surprised.
SHERLOCK: Surprise me.
(Jeff leans forward.)
JEFF: I ’ave a sponsor.
SHERLOCK: You have a what?
JEFF: For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill, the better off they’ll be. You see? It’s nicer than you think.
SHERLOCK (frowning): Who’d sponsor a serial killer?
JEFF (instantly): Who’d be a fan of Sherlock ’olmes?
(They stare at each other for a moment.)
JEFF: You’re not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There’s others out there just like you, except you’re just a man ... and they’re so much more than that.
(The side of Sherlock’s nose twitches in distaste.)
SHERLOCK: What d’you mean, more than a man? An organisation? What?
JEFF: There’s a name no-one says, an’ I’m not gonna say it either. Now, enough chatter.
(He nods down to the bottles.)
JEFF: Time to choose.
(Sherlock looks down to the bottles, his eyes moving from one to the other.)
Elsewhere in the college, John is running through the corridors.
JOHN (calling out): Sherlock?
(He runs from door to door, trying them and peering in through windows.)
SHERLOCK: What if I don’t choose either? I could just walk out of here.
(Sighing in a combination of exasperation and disappointment, Jeff lifts up the pistol and points it at Sherlock.)
JEFF: You can take your fifty-fifty chance, or I can shoot you in the head.
(Sherlock smiles calmly.)
JEFF: Funnily enough, no-one’s ever gone for that option.
SHERLOCK: I’ll have the gun, please.
JEFF: Are you sure?
SHERLOCK (still smiling): Definitely. The gun.
JEFF: You don’t wanna phone a friend?
(Sherlock smiles confidently.)
SHERLOCK: The gun.
(Jeff’s mouth tightens, and slowly he squeezes the trigger. A small flame bursts out of the end of the muzzle. Sherlock smiles smugly.)
SHERLOCK: I know a real gun when I see one.
(Calmly Jeff lifts the pistol/cigarette lighter and releases the trigger. The flame goes out.)
JEFF: None of the others did.
SHERLOCK: Clearly. Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case.
(He stands up and walks towards the door. Jeff puts the gun onto the desk and calmly turns in his seat.)
JEFF: Just before you go, did you figure it out ...
(Sherlock stops at the door and half-turns towards him.)
JEFF: ... which one’s the good bottle?
SHERLOCK: Of course. Child’s play.
JEFF: Well, which one, then?
(Sherlock opens the door a little but shows no sign of leaving the room.)
JEFF: Which one would you ’ave picked, just so I know whether I could have beaten you?
(Sherlock closes the door again.)
JEFF (chuckling): Come on. Play the game.
(Slowly Sherlock walks back towards him. When he gets to the table, he reaches out and sweeps up the bottle nearest to Jeff, then walks past him. Jeff looks down at the other bottle with interest but his voice gives nothing away as he speaks.)
JEFF: Oh. Interesting.
(He picks up the other bottle as Sherlock looks down at the bottle in his own hand.
Out in the corridors, John is still running along and searching.
In the classroom, Jeff has opened his bottle and tips the capsule out into his hand. He holds it up and looks at it closely while Sherlock examines his own bottle.)
JEFF: So what d’you think?
(He looks up at Sherlock.)
JEFF: Shall we?
(In the corridors, John pulls open yet another door and looks inside the room before hurrying onwards.)
JEFF: Really, what do you think?
(He has stood up and is facing Sherlock.)
JEFF: Can you beat me?
(John races up a flight of stairs and continues his search.)
JEFF: Are you clever enough to bet your life?
(John bursts through a door and stares ahead of him as he finally sees who he’s looking for. His eyes fill with horror. Inside the classroom, Sherlock lifts his gaze from the bottle he’s holding and looks towards the door ... and the camera zooms over his shoulder and out of the window behind him, soaring across the courtyard outside and in through another window to reveal John standing in an identical classroom in the other building, too far away to be of help. John cries out in horror.)
(Unaware that they’re being watched, Jeff continues to hold up his pill as he looks at Sherlock.)
JEFF: I bet you get bored, don’t you? I know you do. A man like you ...
(Sherlock unscrews the lid of the bottle.)
JEFF: ... so clever. But what’s the point of being clever if you can’t prove it?
(Sherlock takes out the capsule and holds it between his thumb and finger, raising it to the light to examine it more closely.)
JEFF: Still the addict.
(Slowly Sherlock lowers the pill again, holding it at eye level and gazing at it.)
JEFF: But this ... this is what you’re really addicted to, innit?
(Sherlock holds the pill in his fingers and stares at it.)
JEFF: You’d do anything ... anything at all ...
(Sherlock’s fingers begin to tremble with excitement and anticipation.)
JEFF: ... to stop being bored.
(Slowly Sherlock begins to move the pill closer to his mouth. Jeff matches the movement with his own pill towards his own mouth.)
JEFF: You’re not bored now, are you?
(Each of their hands gets closer to their mouths.)
JEFF: Innit good?
(A gunshot rings out and a bullet impacts Jeff’s chest close to his heart, continuing through his body and smashing into the door behind him. As he falls to the floor, Sherlock drops his pill in surprise. In the opposite building, John has his pistol still raised and aimed out of the window. He lowers the gun to his side. In the other building, Sherlock turns, slides over the desk behind him and hurries to the window, bending down to stare through the bullet hole in the glass. The window of the opposite room is open but there is nobody in sight. As Sherlock straightens up, Jeff breathes heavily and coughs. Sherlock turns back, looking around the room and seeing one of the pills lying on one of the desks as Jeff convulses on the floor and gasps and coughs in pain. Sherlock snatches up the pill, kneels down and brandishes it at Jeff, who has a large pool of blood underneath him and is staring up at him in shock.)
SHERLOCK: Was I right?
(Jeff turns his head away in disbelief.)
SHERLOCK: I was, wasn’t I? Did I get it right?
(Jeff doesn’t reply. Sherlock angrily hurls the pill across the room and stands up.)
SHERLOCK: Okay, tell me this: your sponsor. Who was it? The one who told you about me – my ‘fan.’ I want a name.
JEFF (weakly): No.
SHERLOCK: You’re dying, but there’s still time to hurt you. Give me a name.
(Jeff shakes his head. Grimacing angrily, Sherlock lifts his foot and puts it onto Jeff’s shoulder. Jeff gasps in pain.)
SHERLOCK: A name.
(Jeff cries out in pain.)
(Still Jeff can only whine in pain. His face intent and manic, Sherlock leans his weight onto his foot. Jeff whimpers.)
SHERLOCK (furiously): The NAME!
JEFF (agonised): MORIARTY!
(His eyes close and his head rolls to the side. Sherlock steps back, turning his head away and looking reflective. After a few seconds, he silently mouths the word ‘Moriarty’ to himself.)
LATER. Outside the college, Sherlock is sitting on the back steps of an ambulance. A paramedic puts an orange blanket around his shoulders as Lestrade walks over. Sherlock gestures to the blanket.
SHERLOCK: Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me.
LESTRADE: Yeah, it’s for shock.
SHERLOCK: I’m not in shock.
LESTRADE: Yeah, but some of the guys wanna take photographs.
(He grins. Sherlock rolls his eyes.)
SHERLOCK: So, the shooter. No sign?
LESTRADE: Cleared off before we got ’ere. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him but ... (he shrugs) ... got nothing to go on.
(Sherlock looks at him pointedly.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, I wouldn’t say that.
(Now it’s Lestrade’s turn to roll his eyes.)
LESTRADE: Okay, gimme.
SHERLOCK (standing up): The bullet they just dug out of the wall’s from a hand gun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon – that’s a crack shot you’re looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldn’t have shaken at all, so clearly he’s acclimatised to violence. He didn’t fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You’re looking for a man probably with a history of military service ...
(While he’s talking, he turns his head to look around the area and sees John standing some distance away behind the police tape.)
SHERLOCK: ... and nerves of steel ...
(He trails off. As John looks back at him innocently and then turns his head away, Sherlock clearly begins to realise the connection. Lestrade turns to follow Sherlock’s gaze and Sherlock turns back to him before he can start to ask questions.)
SHERLOCK: Actually, do you know what? Ignore me.
SHERLOCK: Ignore all of that. It’s just the, er, the shock talking.
(He starts to walk towards John.)
LESTRADE: Where’re you going?
SHERLOCK: I just need to talk about the-the rent.
LESTRADE: But I’ve still got questions for you.
SHERLOCK (turning back to him in irritation): Oh, what now? I’m in shock! Look, I’ve got a blanket!
(He brandishes the sides of the blanket at Lestrade as if to prove it.)
SHERLOCK: And I just caught you a serial killer ... more or less.
(Lestrade looks at him thoughtfully for a moment.)
LESTRADE: Okay. We’ll bring you in tomorrow. Off you go.
(Sherlock walks away. Lestrade smiles as he watches him go. Taking the blanket from around his shoulders, Sherlock bundles it up as he approaches John, who is standing at the side of a police car. Sherlock tosses the blanket through the open window of the car and ducks under the police tape.)
JOHN: Um, Sergeant Donovan’s just been explaining everything, the two pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn’t it? Dreadful.
(Sherlock looks at him for a moment.)
SHERLOCK (quietly): Good shot.
JOHN (trying and utterly failing to look innocent): Yes. Yes, must have been, through that window.
SHERLOCK: Well, you’d know.
(John gazes up at him, still unsuccessfully trying not to let his expression give him away.)
SHERLOCK: Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don’t suppose you’d serve time for this, but let’s avoid the court case.
(John clears his throat and looks around nervously.)
SHERLOCK: Are you all right?
JOHN: Yes, of course I’m all right.
SHERLOCK: Well, you have just killed a man.
JOHN: Yes, I ...
(He trails off. Sherlock looks at him closely.)
JOHN: That’s true, innit?
(He smiles. Sherlock continues to watch him carefully.)
JOHN: But he wasn’t a very nice man.
(Apparently reassured that John really is okay, Sherlock nods in agreement.)
SHERLOCK: No. No, he wasn’t really, was he?
JOHN: And frankly a bloody awful cabbie.
(Sherlock chuckles, then turns and starts to lead them away.)
SHERLOCK: That’s true. He was a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here!
(John giggles, and Sherlock smiles.)
JOHN: Stop! Stop, we can’t giggle, it’s a crime scene! Stop it!
SHERLOCK: You’re the one who shot him. Don’t blame me.
JOHN: Keep your voice down!
(They’re walking past Sergeant Donovan.)
JOHN (to Donovan): Sorry – it’s just, um, nerves, I think.
SHERLOCK (to Donovan): Sorry.
(John clears his throat as they walk away from Donovan.)
JOHN: You were gonna take that damned pill, weren’t you?
(Sherlock stops and turns back to him.)
SHERLOCK: Course I wasn’t. Biding my time. Knew you’d turn up.
JOHN: No you didn’t. It’s how you get your kicks, isn’t it? You risk your life to prove you’re clever.
SHERLOCK: Why would I do that?
JOHN: Because you’re an idiot.
(Sherlock smiles, apparently delighted that he has finally found someone who understands him and – more to the point – doesn’t care about his behaviour. After a moment he forces the smile down.)
(They turn and start to walk again.)
SHERLOCK: End of Baker Street, there’s a good Chinese stays open ’til two. You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the door handle.
(As he has been speaking, a few yards ahead of them a car has pulled up and the man who abducted John earlier gets out. Not-Anthea is with him. John stares.)
JOHN: Sherlock. That’s him. That’s the man I was talking to you about.
(Sherlock looks across at the man.)
SHERLOCK: I know exactly who that is.
(He walks closer to the man and stops, looking at him angrily. John glances round to gauge where the police are in case he needs to summon their help. The man speaks pleasantly to Sherlock.)
M: So, another case cracked. How very public spirited ... though that’s never really your motivation, is it?
SHERLOCK: What are you doing here?
M: As ever, I’m concerned about you.
SHERLOCK: Yes, I’ve been hearing about your ‘concern.’
M: Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?
SHERLOCK: Oddly enough, no!
M: We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer ... and you know how it always upset Mummy.
(John frowns as if unsure of what he just heard.)
SHERLOCK: I upset her? Me?
(The man glowers at him.)
SHERLOCK: It wasn’t me that upset her, Mycroft.
JOHN: No, no, wait. Mummy? Who’s Mummy?
SHERLOCK: Mother – our mother. This is my brother, Mycroft.
(John stares at the man in amazement.)
SHERLOCK (to Mycroft): Putting on weight again?
M/MYCROFT: Losing it, in fact.
JOHN (to Sherlock): He’s your brother?!
SHERLOCK: Of course he’s my brother.
JOHN: So he’s not ...
SHERLOCK: Not what?
(The brothers look at John as he shrugs in embarrassment.)
JOHN: I dunno – criminal mastermind?
(He grimaces at having even suggested it. Sherlock looks at Mycroft disparagingly.)
SHERLOCK: Close enough.
MYCROFT: For goodness’ sake. I occupy a minor position in the British government.
SHERLOCK: He is the British government, when he’s not too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis.
SHERLOCK: Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic.
(He walks away. John starts to follow him but then turns back to Mycroft, who has turned to watch his brother.)
JOHN: So, when-when you say you’re concerned about him, you actually are concerned?
MYCROFT: Yes, of course.
JOHN: I mean, it actually is a childish feud?
MYCROFT (still watching his brother): He’s always been so resentful. You can imagine the Christmas dinners.
JOHN: Yeah ... no. God, no!
(He half-turns to follow Sherlock.)
JOHN: I-I’d better, um ...
(He turns back to not-Anthea, who has been standing nearby throughout the conversation with her eyes fixed on her BlackBerry.)
JOHN: Hello again.
(She looks up and smiles brightly.)
JOHN: Yes, we-we met earlier on this evening.
(She stares at him as if she has never seen him before but is pretending that she remembers him.)
JOHN (somewhat exasperated): Okay, good night.
(He includes Mycroft in his glance, then turns and follows after Sherlock.)
MYCROFT: Good night, Doctor Watson.
(John catches up to Sherlock and they walk away side by side.)
JOHN: So: dim sum.
SHERLOCK: Mmm! I can always predict the fortune cookies.
JOHN: No you can’t.
SHERLOCK: Almost can. You did get shot, though.
SHERLOCK: In Afghanistan. There was an actual wound.
JOHN: Oh, yeah. Shoulder.
SHERLOCK: Shoulder! I thought so.
JOHN: No you didn’t.
SHERLOCK: The left one.
JOHN: Lucky guess.
SHERLOCK: I never guess.
JOHN (laughing): Yes you do.
(He looks across to Sherlock, who is smiling.)
JOHN: What are you so happy about?
JOHN: What’s Moriarty?
SHERLOCK (cheerfully): I’ve absolutely no idea.
(Back at the car, not-Anthea turns to Mycroft who is watching the boys as they walk away.)
NOT-ANTHEA: Sir, shall we go?
MYCROFT: Interesting, that soldier fellow.
(Not-Anthea looks briefly at the departing boys, then turns her attention back to her BlackBerry.)
MYCROFT: He could be the making of my brother – or make him worse than ever. Either way, we’d better upgrade their surveillance status. Grade Three Active.
(Not-Anthea looks up from her phone.)
NOT-ANTHEA: Sorry, sir. Whose status?
(Mycroft intensely watches the departing men.)
MYCROFT: Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.
(Hero!shot as our boys walk in slow motion towards the camera before turning and smiling at each other
*blinks innocently* What? My transcript – my interpretation. If you don’t like it, write your own!
For a summary and partial transcript of the DVD commentary to this episode, click here.
A full list of episode transcripts, DVD commentary summaries/transcripts, and transcripts of the DVD special features can be found here.
Direct links to episode transcripts:
A Study in Pink (pilot) / A Study in Pink (broadcast) / The Blind Banker / The Great Game
A Scandal in Belgravia / The Hounds of Baskerville / The Reichenbach Fall
Many Happy Returns / The Empty Hearse / The Sign of Three / His Last Vow
The Abominable Bride
The Six Thatchers / The Lying Detective / The Final Problem
Or, to download the Episode Transcripts in Word or PDF, click here.