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 1, episode 1 transcript: A Study in Pink, part 3
Return to Part 1 / Return to Part 2 / Jump to part 4
Upstairs in the living room of the flat, Sherlock is lying stretched out on the sofa with his head towards the window and resting on a cushion. With his jacket off and his shirt sleeves unbuttoned and pushed up his arms, he has his eyes closed and he is pressing the palm of his right hand firmly onto the underside of his left arm just below the elbow. After some seconds his eyes snap open wide and he stares fixedly up towards the ceiling, then he sighs out a noisy breath and relaxes. John comes through the door, then stops and stares as Sherlock repeatedly clenches and unclenches his left fist.
JOHN: What are you doing?
SHERLOCK (calmly): Nicotine patch. Helps me think.
(He lifts his right hand to show that he has three round nicotine patches stuck to his arm and it was these which he was pressing against his skin to release the substances more quickly.)
SHERLOCK: Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London these days. Bad news for brain work.
(He loudly clicks the ‘k’ on the last word. Your transcriber dutifully wibbles.)
JOHN (walking further into the room): It’s good news for breathing.
SHERLOCK (dismissively): Oh, breathing. Breathing’s boring.
(John frowns as he looks more closely at Sherlock’s arm.)
JOHN: Is that three patches?
SHERLOCK (pressing his hands together in the prayer position under his chin): It’s a three-patch problem.
(He closes his eyes. John looks around the room for a moment, then looks down at Sherlock again.)
(Sherlock doesn’t respond.)
JOHN: You asked me to come. I’m assuming it’s important.
(Sherlock still doesn’t respond instantly, but after a couple of seconds his eyes snap open. He doesn’t bother turning his head to look at John.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, yeah, of course. Can I borrow your phone?
JOHN: My phone?
SHERLOCK: Don’t wanna use mine. Always a chance that the number will be recognised. It’s on the website.
JOHN: Mrs Hudson’s got a phone.
SHERLOCK: Yeah, she’s downstairs. I tried shouting but she didn’t hear.
JOHN (beginning to get angry): I was the other side of London.
SHERLOCK (mildly): There was no hurry.
(John glares at him as he gazes serenely at the ceiling before closing his eyes again. Eventually John digs his phone out of his jacket pocket and holds it towards him.)
(Without opening his eyes, Sherlock holds out his right hand with the palm up. John glowers at him for a moment, then steps forward and slaps the phone into his hand. Sherlock slowly lifts his arm and puts his hands together again, this time with the phone in between his palms. John turns and walks a few paces away before turning around again.)
JOHN: So what’s this about – the case?
SHERLOCK (softly): Her case.
JOHN: Her case?
SHERLOCK (opening his eyes): Her suitcase, yes, obviously. The murderer took her suitcase. First big mistake.
JOHN: Okay, he took her case. So?
SHERLOCK (quietly, as if to himself): It’s no use, there’s no other way. We’ll have to risk it.
(Raising his voice a little, he imperiously holds the phone out towards John, still not looking at him.)
SHERLOCK: On my desk there’s a number. I want you to send a text.
(John half-smiles in angry disbelief.)
JOHN (tightly): You brought me here ... to send a text.
SHERLOCK (oblivious to his anger): Text, yes. The number on my desk.
(He continues to hold the phone out while John glowers at him, possibly wondering if he can get away with justifiable homicide. Eventually he stomps across the room and snatches the phone from Sherlock’s hand. Sherlock refolds his hands under his chin and closes his eyes but instead of going to the table, John walks over to the window and looks out into the street below. Sherlock opens his eyes and tilts his head slightly towards him.)
SHERLOCK: What’s wrong?
JOHN: Just met a friend of yours.
(Sherlock frowns in confusion.)
SHERLOCK: A friend?
JOHN: An enemy.
(Sherlock immediately relaxes.)
SHERLOCK (calmly): Oh. Which one?
JOHN: Your arch-enemy, according to him. (He turns towards Sherlock.) Do people have arch-enemies?
(Sherlock looks towards him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.)
SHERLOCK: Did he offer you money to spy on me?
SHERLOCK: Did you take it?
SHERLOCK: Pity. We could have split the fee. Think it through next time.
JOHN: Who is he?
SHERLOCK (softly): The most dangerous man you’ve ever met, and not my problem right now. (More loudly) On my desk, the number.
(John gives him a dark look but Sherlock has already looked away again so John walks over to the desk and picks up a piece of paper taken from a luggage label. He looks at the name on the paper.)
JOHN: Jennifer Wilson. That was ... Hang on. Wasn’t that the dead woman?
SHERLOCK: Yes. That’s not important. Just enter the number.
(Shaking his head, John gets his phone out and starts to type the number onto it.)
SHERLOCK: Are you doing it?
SHERLOCK: Have you done it?
JOHN: Ye... hang on!
SHERLOCK: These words exactly: “What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out.”
(John starts to type but looks briefly across to Sherlock as if concerned at what he just said. Sherlock continues his narration.)
SHERLOCK: “Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come.”
(John has got as far as:
What happened at
I must have b
Now he looks across to Sherlock again, frowning.)
JOHN: You blacked out?
SHERLOCK: What? No. No!
(He flips his legs around and stands up, taking the shortest route towards the kitchen – which involves walking over the coffee table beside the sofa rather than around it.)
SHERLOCK: Type and send it. Quickly.
(Going into the kitchen, he picks up a small pink suitcase from a chair and brings it back into the living room. Walking over to the dining table, he lifts one of the dining chairs and flips it around, setting it down in front of one of the two armchairs near the fireplace. He puts the suitcase onto the dining chair and sits down in the armchair. John is still typing.)
SHERLOCK: Have you sent it?
JOHN: What’s the address?
SHERLOCK (impatiently): Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Hurry up!
(John finishes the message, then looks round as Sherlock unzips the case and flips open the lid, revealing the contents. There are a few items of clothing and underwear – all in varying shades of pink – a washbag, and a paperback novel by Paul Bunch entitled “Come To Bed Eyes.” [Good grief – has Jennifer met Sherlock before?!]. As John turns towards the case he staggers slightly in shock when he realises what he’s looking at.)
JOHN: That’s ... that’s the pink lady’s case. That’s Jennifer Wilson’s case.
SHERLOCK (studying the case closely): Yes, obviously.
(John continues to stare, and Sherlock looks up at him and then rolls his eyes.)
SHERLOCK (sarcastically): Oh, perhaps I should mention: I didn’t kill her.
JOHN: I never said you did.
SHERLOCK: Why not? Given the text I just had you send and the fact that I have her case, it’s a perfectly logical assumption.
JOHN: Do people usually assume you’re the murderer?
SHERLOCK (smirking): Now and then, yes.
(He puts his hands onto the arms of the armchair and lifts his feet up and under him so that he is perching on the seat with his backside braced against the back rest, then clasps his hands under his chin.)
JOHN: Okay ...
(He limps across the room and drops heavily into the armchair on the other side of the fireplace.)
JOHN: How did you get this?
SHERLOCK: By looking.
SHERLOCK: The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention – particularly a man, which is statistically more likely – so obviously he’d feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it. Wouldn’t have taken him more than five minutes to realise his mistake. I checked every back street wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens ...
(Cut-away shot of Sherlock standing on the edge of a rooftop looking down into the streets below as he searches for a glimpse of places where the case might have been hidden.)
SHERLOCK: ... and anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed.
(Cut-away shot of Sherlock back on the ground and rooting through a large skip in an alley before unearthing the case buried under some black plastic, then checking the luggage label attached to the handle.)
SHERLOCK: Took me less than an hour to find the right skip.
JOHN: Pink. You got all that because you realised the case would be pink?
SHERLOCK: Well, it had to be pink, obviously.
JOHN (to himself): Why didn’t I think of that?
SHERLOCK: Because you’re an idiot.
(John looks across to him, startled. Sherlock makes a placatory gesture with one hand.)
SHERLOCK: No, no, no, don’t look like that. Practically everyone is.
(He refolds his hands and then extends his index fingers to point at the case.)
SHERLOCK: Now, look. Do you see what’s missing?
JOHN: From the case? How could I?
SHERLOCK: Her phone. Where’s her mobile phone? There was no phone on the body, there’s no phone in the case. We know she had one – that’s her number there; you just texted it.
JOHN: Maybe she left it at home.
(Sherlock puts his hands onto the arms of the chair and raises himself up so that he can lower his feet to the floor, then sits down properly on the chair.)
SHERLOCK: She has a string of lovers and she’s careful about it. She never leaves her phone at home.
(He puts the slip of paper back into the luggage label on the case and looks at John expectantly.)
JOHN: Er ...
(He looks down at his mobile phone which he has put onto the arm of his chair.)
JOHN: Why did I just send that text?
SHERLOCK: Well, the question is: where is her phone now?
JOHN: She could have lost it.
SHERLOCK: Yes, or ...?
JOHN (slowly): The murderer ... You think the murderer has the phone?
SHERLOCK: Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone.
JOHN: Sorry, what are we doing? Did I just text a murderer?! What good will that do?
(As if on cue, his phone begins to ring. He picks it up and looks at the screen for the Caller I.D. It reads:
He looks across to Sherlock as the phone continues to ring.)
SHERLOCK: A few hours after his last victim, and now he receives a text that can only be from her. If somebody had just found that phone they’d ignore a text like that, but the murderer ...
(He pauses dramatically for a moment until the phone stops ringing.)
SHERLOCK: ... would panic.
(He flips the lid of the suitcase closed and stands up, walking across the room to pick up his jacket. As John continues to stare down at his phone, Sherlock puts on his jacket and walks towards the door.)
JOHN (finally looking up): Have you talked to the police?
SHERLOCK: Four people are dead. There isn’t time to talk to the police.
JOHN: So why are you talking to me?
(Sherlock reaches behind the door to take his greatcoat from the hook. As he looks across towards John he notices that something is missing from the mantelpiece.)
SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson took my skull.
JOHN: So I’m basically filling in for your skull?
SHERLOCK (putting on his coat): Relax, you’re doing fine.
(John doesn’t move.)
JOHN: Well what?
SHERLOCK: Well, you could just sit there and watch telly.
JOHN: What, you want me to come with you?
SHERLOCK: I like company when I go out, and I think better when I talk aloud. The skull just attracts attention, so ...
(John smiles briefly.)
JOHN: Yeah, Sergeant Donovan.
SHERLOCK (looking away in exasperation): What about her?
JOHN: She said ... You get off on this. You enjoy it.
SHERLOCK (nonchalantly): And I said “dangerous,” and here you are.
(Instantly he turns and walks out of the door. John sits there thoughtfully for a few seconds, then almost angrily leans onto his cane to push himself to his feet and head for the door.)
JOHN: Damn it!
Not long afterwards, John catches up to Sherlock in the street and they continue down the road.
JOHN: Where are we going?
SHERLOCK: Northumberland Street’s a five-minute walk from here.
JOHN: You think he’s stupid enough to go there?
SHERLOCK (smiling expectantly): No – I think he’s brilliant enough. I love the brilliant ones. They’re always so desperate to get caught.
SHERLOCK: Appreciation! Applause! At long last the spotlight. That’s the frailty of genius, John: it needs an audience.
JOHN (looking pointedly at him): Yeah.
(Oblivious to the implication, Sherlock spins around to indicate the entire area as he continues down the road.)
SHERLOCK: This is his hunting ground, right here in the heart of the city. Now that we know his victims were abducted, that changes everything. Because all of his victims disappeared from busy streets, crowded places, but nobody saw them go.
(He holds his hands up on either side of his head as if to focus his thoughts.)
SHERLOCK: Think! Who do we trust, even though we don’t know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?
JOHN: Dunno. Who?
SHERLOCK (shrugging): Haven’t the faintest. Hungry?
(Lowering his hands, he leads John onwards and into a small restaurant. The waiter near the door clearly knows him and gestures to a reserved table at the front window.)
SHERLOCK: Thank you, Billy.
(Taking off his coat, he sits down on the bench seat at the side of the table and immediately turns sideways so that he can see clearly out of the window. As Billy takes the ‘Reserved’ sign off the table, John sits down on the other bench seat with his back to the window, and takes off his jacket.)
SHERLOCK (nodding to a building over the road): Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Keep your eyes on it.
JOHN: He isn’t just gonna ring the doorbell, though, is he? He’d need to be mad.
SHERLOCK: He has killed four people.
JOHN: ... Okay.
(The manager and/or owner of the restaurant comes over, clearly pleased to see Sherlock.)
(They shake hands.)
ANGELO: Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free.
(He lays a couple of menus on the table.)
ANGELO: On the house, for you and for your date.
SHERLOCK (to John): Do you want to eat?
JOHN (to Angelo): I’m not his date.
ANGELO: This man got me off a murder charge.
SHERLOCK: This is Angelo.
(Angelo offers his hand to John, who shakes it.)
SHERLOCK: Three years ago I successfully proved to Lestrade at the time of a particularly vicious triple murder that Angelo was in a completely different part of town, house-breaking.
ANGELO (to John): He cleared my name.
SHERLOCK: I cleared it a bit. Anything happening opposite?
ANGELO: Nothing. (He looks at John again.) But for this man, I’d have gone to prison.
SHERLOCK: You did go to prison.
ANGELO (to John): I’ll get a candle for the table. It’s more romantic.
JOHN (indignantly, as Angelo walks away): I’m not his date!
(Sherlock puts his own menu down onto the table.)
SHERLOCK: You may as well eat. We might have a long wait.
(Angelo comes back with a small glass bowl containing a lit tea-light. He puts it onto the table and gives John a thumbs-up before turning and walking away again.)
JOHN (a little tetchily): Thanks(!)
Later, John has a plate of food in front of him and is eating from it. Sherlock’s attention is fixed out of the window and he is quietly drumming his fingers on the table.
JOHN: People don’t have arch-enemies.
(It takes a moment but Sherlock finally looks round.)
SHERLOCK: I’m sorry?
JOHN: In real life. There are no arch-enemies in real life. Doesn’t happen.
SHERLOCK (disinterestedly, looking out of the window again): Doesn’t it? Sounds a bit dull.
JOHN: So who did I meet?
SHERLOCK: What do real people have, then, in their ‘real lives’?
JOHN: Friends; people they know; people they like; people they don’t like ... Girlfriends, boyfriends ...
SHERLOCK: Yes, well, as I was saying – dull.
JOHN: You don’t have a girlfriend, then?
SHERLOCK (still looking out of the window): Girlfriend? No, not really my area.
(A moment passes before he realises the possible significance of this statement.)
JOHN: Oh, right. D’you have a boyfriend?
(Sherlock looks round at him sharply.)
JOHN: Which is fine, by the way.
SHERLOCK: I know it’s fine.
(John smiles to indicate that he wasn’t signifying anything negative by what he said.)
JOHN: So you’ve got a boyfriend then?
JOHN (still smiling, though his smile is becoming a little fixed and awkward): Right. Okay. You’re unattached. Like me. (He looks down at his plate, apparently rapidly running out of things to say.) Fine. (He clears his throat.) Good.
(He continues eating. Sherlock looks at him suspiciously for a moment but then turns his attention out of the window again. However, he then appears to replay John’s statement in his head and looks a little startled. Turning his head towards John again, he starts speaking rather awkwardly but rapidly speeds up and is almost babbling by the time John interrupts him.)
SHERLOCK: John, um ... I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I’m flattered by your interest, I’m really not looking for any ...
JOHN (interrupting): No. (He turns his head briefly to clear his throat.) No, I’m not asking. No.
(He fixes his gaze onto Sherlock’s, apparently trying to convey his sincerity.)
JOHN: I’m just saying, it’s all fine.
(Sherlock looks at him for a moment, then nods.)
SHERLOCK: Good. Thank you.
(He turns his attention back to the street. John looks away with an bemused expression on his face as if asking himself, ‘What the heck was all that about?!’ Just then, Sherlock nods out of the window.)
SHERLOCK: Look across the street. Taxi.
(John twists in his seat to look out of the window where a taxi has parked at the side of the road with its back end towards the restaurant.)
SHERLOCK: Stopped. Nobody getting in, and nobody getting out.
(In the rear seat of the taxi the male passenger is looking through the side windows as if trying to see somebody particular.)
SHERLOCK (to himself): Why a taxi? Oh, that’s clever. Is it clever? Why is it clever?
JOHN: That’s him?
SHERLOCK: Don’t stare.
JOHN (looking round at him): You’re staring.
SHERLOCK: We can’t both stare.
(Getting to his feet, he grabs his coat and scarf and heads for the door. John picks up his own jacket and follows ... completely forgetting to take his walking cane with him. Outside the door, Sherlock shrugs himself into his coat while keeping his eyes fixed on the taxi. The passenger continues to look around him, then turns and looks out the back window. His gaze falls on the restaurant and he looks at it for a few moments while Sherlock stares back at him, then the man turns towards the front of the vehicle and the taxi begins to pull away from the kerb. Sherlock immediately heads towards it without bothering to check the road that he’s running into and is almost run over by a car coming from his left. The driver slams on the brakes and stops the car but Sherlock, always keen to take the quickest route, allows his forward impetus to carry him onto the top of the bonnet. He rolls over the bonnet, lands on his feet on the other side and then runs after the taxi. As the driver of the car angrily sounds his horn, John puts one hand on the bonnet and vaults over the front of the car, apologising to the driver as he goes.)
(He chases after Sherlock, who runs a few yards up the road before realising that he’s not going to catch the taxi and slows to a halt. John catches up and stops beside him.)
JOHN: I’ve got the cab number.
SHERLOCK: Good for you.
(He brings his hands up to either side of his head and concentrates, calling up a mental map of the local area and overlaying it with images of the streets along the route which he calculates that the taxi must take.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Right turn, one way, roadworks, traffic lights, bus lane, pedestrian crossing, left turn only, traffic lights.
(Having worked out the route, he lifts his head and sees a man unlocking the door to a nearby building. Instantly his mind flashes up a signpost saying, “ALTERNATIVE ROUTE.” Sherlock races towards the man and grabs him, shoving him out of the way before charging into the building.)
(John hurries after Sherlock, raising an apologetic hand to the man as he goes.)
(The two of them race up the stairs and out onto a metal spiral fire escape staircase leading to the roof. Sherlock, the lanky git, takes the steps two or even three at a time and John struggles to keep up with him as he scurries up behind him.)
SHERLOCK: Come on, John.
(Reaching the top of the stairs, Sherlock runs to the edge and looks over before seeing a shorter metal spiral staircase leading down the side of the building to another door one floor lower. He gallops down the stairs and climbs onto the railing before leaping across the gap to the next building. John scrambles onto the railing and follows. Sherlock runs across to the other side of the roof and again leaps across to the next building. John races after him, but then skids to a halt when he realises that the gap may be too big for him to jump across. As if in sympathy, pedestrian traffic lights on the ground change from the green “It is safe to cross” sign to the red “Stop and wait” sign. John hesitates, looking down at the drop beneath him.)
SHERLOCK: Come on, John. We’re losing him!
(John backs up a few paces and braces himself. As the traffic lights change to “Safe to cross” again, he takes a run-up and and leaps the gap. Dropping down onto a walkway along the side of the building, the boys run onwards. The taxi continues its journey on the ground and the boys gallop down another metal staircase, then run to a ledge and drop down into an alleyway before running onwards again. Sherlock leads John down the alleyway as, in his head, a map shows their location in comparison to where the taxi must be. Their paths are beginning to get closer and they are heading towards a point where Sherlock and John will exit the alleyway onto D’Arblay Street, into which the taxi is just turning. Sherlock turns the corner and races down the last part of the alley, only to see the taxi drive past the end, heading to the left.)
SHERLOCK (angrily): Ah, no!
(Without breaking stride, he races out of the end of the alley and turns right.)
SHERLOCK: This way.
(Instinctively John turns left in pursuit of the taxi.)
SHERLOCK: No, this way!
(He turns and heads back in the opposite direction, following Sherlock. In Sherlock’s mind-map, he picks a new point where he and John can intercept the cab. The boys run down the street, taking a shorter route than the taxi which is being diverted by various road signs taking it the long way around. They head down more alleyways and side streets towards the interception point in Wardour Street and finally, at the precise point which his mental map predicted, Sherlock races out of a side street and hurls himself into the path of the approaching cab, which screeches to a halt as he crashes hard into the bonnet. Scrabbling in his left coat pocket, Sherlock pulls out an I.D. badge and flashes it at the driver as he runs to the right hand side of the cab.)
SHERLOCK: Police! Open her up!
(Panting heavily, he tugs open the rear door and stares in at the passenger, who looks back at him anxiously. Instantly Sherlock straightens up in exasperation just as John joins him.)
(He leans down again to look at the passenger a second time.)
SHERLOCK: Teeth, tan: what – Californian?
(He looks at something on the floor in front of the passenger.)
SHERLOCK: L.A., Santa Monica. Just arrived.
(He straightens up again, grimacing.)
JOHN: How can you possibly know that?
SHERLOCK: The luggage.
(He looks down at the suitcase on the floor of the cab and its luggage label showing that the man has flown from LAX [Los Angeles International Airport] to LHR [London Heathrow Airport].)
SHERLOCK (to the passenger): It’s probably your first trip to London, right, going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you?
PASSENGER: Sorry – are you guys the police?
SHERLOCK: Yeah. (He flashes the I.D. badge briefly at the man.) Everything all right?
PASSENGER (smiling): Yeah.
(Sherlock pauses for a moment as if wondering how to finish this conversation, then smiles falsely at the man.)
SHERLOCK: Welcome to London.
(He immediately walks away, leaving John staring blankly for a moment before he steps closer to the taxi door and looks in at the passenger.)
JOHN: Er, any problems, just let us know.
(As the man nods, John smiles politely and slams the cab door shut. The man looks round to the taxi driver in bewilderment. John walks to where Sherlock has stopped a few yards behind the vehicle.)
JOHN: Basically just a cab that happened to slow down.
JOHN: Not the murderer.
SHERLOCK (exasperated): Not the murderer, no.
JOHN: Wrong country, good alibi.
SHERLOCK: As they go.
(John notices as Sherlock switches the I.D. card from one hand to another.)
JOHN: Hey, where-where did you get this? Here.
(He reaches for the card and Sherlock releases it.)
JOHN: Right. (He looks at the name on the card.) Detective Inspector Lestrade?
SHERLOCK: Yeah. I pickpocket him when he’s annoying. You can keep that one, I’ve got plenty at the flat.
(John nods, then looks down at the card again before lifting his head and giggling silently.)
JOHN: Nothing, just: “Welcome to London.”
(Sherlock chuckles, then looks down the road to where a police officer has apparently gone to investigate why the cab has stopped in the middle of the street. The passenger has got out and is pointing down the road towards the boys.)
SHERLOCK (to John): Got your breath back?
JOHN: Ready when you are.
(They turn and run off down the road.)
221B. The boys have arrived back and walk along the hallway, breathing heavily. John hangs his jacket on a hook on the wall while Sherlock drapes his coat over the bottom of the bannisters.
JOHN: Okay, that was ridiculous.
(They lean side by side against the wall, still trying to catch their breath.)
JOHN: That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done.
SHERLOCK: And you invaded Afghanistan.
(John giggles adorably and after a moment Sherlock also begins to laugh.)
JOHN: That wasn’t just me.
JOHN: Why aren’t we back at the restaurant?
SHERLOCK (becoming more serious and waving his hand dismissively): Oh, they can keep an eye out. It was a long shot anyway.
JOHN: So what were we doing there?
(Sherlock clears his throat.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, just passing the time.
(He looks at John.)
SHERLOCK: And proving a point.
JOHN: What point?
(He turns and calls loudly towards the door to Mrs Hudson’s ground floor flat.)
SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson! Doctor Watson will take the room upstairs.
JOHN: Says who?
SHERLOCK (looking towards the front door): Says the man at the door.
(John turns his head towards the door just as someone knocks on it three times. He turns back to look at Sherlock in surprise. Sherlock smiles. John stares at him for a moment, then walks along the hall to answer the door. Sherlock leans his head against the wall and blows out a breath. John opens the door and finds Angelo standing outside.)
ANGELO: Sherlock texted me.
(Smiling, he holds up John’s walking cane.)
ANGELO: He said you forgot this.
(John stares at the cane in surprise, then takes it.)
(He turns and looks down the hall to Sherlock, who grins at him.)
JOHN (turning back to Angelo): Er, thank you. Thank you.
(As he comes back in and closes the door, Mrs Hudson comes out of her flat and hurries over to the boys. She sounds upset and tearful as she speaks.)
MRS HUDSON: Sherlock, what have you done?
SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson?
MRS HUDSON: Upstairs.
(Sherlock turns and hurries up the stairs, John following him. Sherlock opens the living room door and goes inside, where he finds D.I. Lestrade sitting casually in the armchair facing the door. Other police officers are going through Sherlock’s possessions. Sherlock storms over to Lestrade.)
SHERLOCK: What are you doing?
LESTRADE: Well, I knew you’d find the case. I’m not stupid.
SHERLOCK: You can’t just break into my flat.
LESTRADE: And you can’t withhold evidence. And I didn’t break into your flat.
SHERLOCK: Well, what do you call this then?
LESTRADE (looking round at his officers before looking back to Sherlock innocently): It’s a drugs bust.
JOHN: Seriously?! This guy, a junkie?! Have you met him?!
(Sherlock turns and walks closer to John, biting his lip nervously.)
SHERLOCK: John ...
JOHN (to Lestrade): I’m pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn’t find anything you could call recreational.
SHERLOCK: John, you probably want to shut up now.
JOHN: Yeah, but come on ...
(He looks into Sherlock’s eyes. Sherlock holds his gaze for a long moment and John
SHERLOCK (angrily): Shut up!
(He turns back to Lestrade.)
SHERLOCK: I’m not your sniffer dog.
LESTRADE: No, Anderson‘s my sniffer dog.
(He nods towards the kitchen.)
SHERLOCK: What, An...
(The closed doors to the kitchen slide open and reveal several more officers in there searching through the room. Anderson turns towards the living room and raises his hand in sarcastic greeting.)
SHERLOCK (angrily): Anderson, what are you doing here on a drugs bust?
ANDERSON (venomously): Oh, I volunteered.
(Sherlock turns away, biting his lip angrily.)
LESTRADE: They all did. They’re not strictly speaking on the drugs squad, but they’re very keen.
(Donovan comes into view from the kitchen, holding a small glass jar with some white round objects in it.)
DONOVAN: Are these human eyes?
SHERLOCK: Put those back!
DONOVAN: They were in the microwave!
SHERLOCK: It’s an experiment.
LESTRADE: Keep looking, guys.
(He stands up and turns to Sherlock.)
LESTRADE: Or you could help us properly and I’ll stand them down.
SHERLOCK (pacing angrily): This is childish.
LESTRADE: Well, I’m dealing with a child. Sherlock, this is our case. I’m letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear?
SHERLOCK (stopping and glaring at him): Oh, what, so-so-so you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?
LESTRADE: It stops being pretend if they find anything.
SHERLOCK (loudly): I am clean!
LESTRADE: Is your flat? All of it?
SHERLOCK: I don’t even smoke.
(He unbuttons the cuff of his left shirt and pulls it up to show a nicotine patch on his lower arm. Presumably he removed the other two earlier.)
LESTRADE: Neither do I.
(He pulls up the right sleeves of his own jacket and shirt to show a similar patch on his arm. Sherlock rolls his eyes and turns away and they both pull their sleeves back down again.)
LESTRADE: So let’s work together. We’ve found Rachel.
SHERLOCK (turning back to him): Who is she?
LESTRADE: Jennifer Wilson’s only daughter.
SHERLOCK (frowning): Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter’s name? Why?
ANDERSON: Never mind that. We found the case.
(He points to the pink suitcase in the living room.)
ANDERSON: According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopath.
SHERLOCK (looking at him disparagingly): I’m not a psychopath, Anderson. I’m a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research.
(He turns back to Lestrade.)
SHERLOCK: You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. I need to question her.
LESTRADE: She’s dead.
(John looks startled.)
SHERLOCK (to Lestrade): How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be.
LESTRADE: Well, I doubt it, since she’s been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson’s stillborn daughter, fourteen years ago.
(John grimaces sadly and turns away. Sherlock, on the other hand, just looks confused.)
SHERLOCK: No, that’s ... that’s not right. How ... Why would she do that? Why?
ANDERSON: Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments?(!) Yup – sociopath; I’m seeing it now.
SHERLOCK (turning to him with an exasperated look on his face): She didn’t think about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort. It would have hurt.
(He begins to pace back and forth across the room again.)
JOHN: You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it. Well, maybe he ... I don’t know, talks to them? Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow.
SHERLOCK (stopping and turning to him): Yeah, but that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?
(John stares at him. Sherlock hesitates when he realises that everyone in the flat has stopped what they’re doing and has fallen silent. He glances around the room and then looks awkwardly at John.)
SHERLOCK: Not good?
JOHN (also glancing around at the others before turning back to Sherlock): Bit not good, yeah.
(Sherlock shakes it off and steps closer to John, looking at him intently.)
SHERLOCK: Yeah, but if you were dying ... if you’d been murdered: in your very last few seconds what would you say?
JOHN: “Please, God, let me live.”
SHERLOCK (exasperated): Oh, use your imagination!
JOHN: I don’t have to.
(Sherlock seems to recognise the look of pain in John’s face. He pauses momentarily and blinks a couple of times, shifting his feet apologetically before continuing.)
SHERLOCK: Yeah, but if you were clever, really clever ... Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers: she was clever.
(He starts to pace again.)
SHERLOCK: She’s trying to tell us something.
(Mrs Hudson comes to the door of the living room.)
MRS HUDSON: Isn’t the doorbell working? Your taxi’s here, Sherlock.
SHERLOCK: I didn’t order a taxi. Go away.
(He continues pacing as Mrs Hudson looks around the room.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh, dear. They’re making such a mess. What are they looking for?
JOHN: It’s a drugs bust, Mrs Hudson.
MRS HUDSON (anxiously): But they’re just for my hip. They’re herbal soothers.
(With his back to the door, Sherlock stops and shouts out.)
SHERLOCK: Shut up, everybody, shut up! Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t breathe. I’m trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You’re putting me off.
ANDERSON: What? My face is?!
LESTRADE: Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back.
ANDERSON: Oh, for God’s sake!
LESTRADE (sternly): Your back, now, please!
SHERLOCK (to himself): Come on, think. Quick!
MRS HUDSON: What about your taxi?
SHERLOCK (turning to her and shouting furiously): MRS HUDSON!
(She turns and hurries away down the stairs. Sherlock stops and looks around as he finally realises something.)
(He smiles in delight.)
SHERLOCK: Ah! She was clever, clever, yes!
(He walks across the room and then turns back to the others.)
SHERLOCK: She’s cleverer than you lot and she’s dead. Do you see, do you get it? She didn’t lose her phone, she never lost it. She planted it on him.
(He starts pacing again.)
SHERLOCK: When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer.
LESTRADE: But how?
SHERLOCK (stopping and staring at him): Wha...? What do you mean, how?
(He looks at everyone triumphantly. They all look back at him blankly.)
SHERLOCK: Don’t you see? Rachel!
(Still everyone looks blank. Sherlock laughs in disbelief.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, look at you lot. You’re all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing. (More sternly) Rachel is not a name.
JOHN (equally sternly): Then what is it?
SHERLOCK: John, on the luggage, there’s a label. E-mail address.
(John looks at the label on the suitcase and reads out the address.)
JOHN: Er, jennie dot pink at mephone dot org dot uk.
(Sherlock has sat down at the dining table and is looking at his computer notebook.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, I’ve been too slow. She didn’t have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone, so it’s a smartphone, it’s e-mail enabled.
(He has pulled up Mephone’s website and types the email address into the ‘User name’ box.)
SHERLOCK: So there was a website for her account. The username is her e-mail address ...
(He begins to type into the ‘Password’ box.)
SHERLOCK: ... and all together now, the password is?
JOHN (walking over to stand behind him): Rachel.
ANDERSON: So we can read her e-mails. So what?
SHERLOCK: Anderson, don’t talk out loud. You lower the I.Q. of the whole street. We can do much more than just read her e-mails. It’s a smartphone, it’s got GPS, which means if you lose it you can locate it online. She’s leading us directly to the man who killed her.
LESTRADE: Unless he got rid of it.
JOHN: We know he didn’t.
(Sherlock looks at the screen impatiently.)
SHERLOCK: Come on, come on. Quickly!
(Mrs Hudson trots up the stairs and comes to the door again.)
MRS HUDSON: Sherlock, dear. This taxi driver ...
(Sherlock gets to his feet and walks over towards her.)
SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson, isn’t it time for your evening soother?
(John sits down on the chair which Sherlock vacated and watches a clock spinning round on the website as it claims that the phone will be located in under three minutes. Sherlock turns to Lestrade.)
SHERLOCK: We need to get vehicles, get a helicopter.
(Mrs Hudson looks around anxiously as a man walks slowly up the stairs behind her.)
SHERLOCK (to Lestrade): We’re gonna have to move fast. This phone battery won’t last for ever.
LESTRADE: We’ll just have a map reference, not a name.
SHERLOCK: It’s a start!
(On the computer, a map has appeared and is now zooming in on the location of the phone.)
JOHN: Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK (to Lestrade): It narrows it down from just anyone in London. It’s the first proper lead that we’ve had.
JOHN: Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK (hurrying across the room to look over John’s shoulder): What is it? Quickly, where?
(The map is now indicating the precise location of the phone.)
JOHN: It’s here. It’s in two two one Baker Street.
SHERLOCK (straightening up): How can it be here? How?
LESTRADE: Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back and it fell out somewhere.
SHERLOCK: What, and I didn’t notice it? Me? I didn’t notice?
JOHN (to Lestrade): Anyway, we texted him and he called back.
(Lestrade turns to call out to his colleagues.)
LESTRADE: Guys, we’re also looking for a mobile somewhere here, belonged to the victim ...
(Sherlock tunes him out as he begins to remember questions he asked to John earlier.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): ‘Who do we trust, even if we don’t know them?’
(Behind Mrs Hudson, the man has reached the top of the stairs. Wearing a cardigan and with a cap on his head obscuring his face, he has a badge in a leather holder on a cord around his neck. The badge is for a licenced London cab driver.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): ‘Who passes unnoticed wherever they go?’
(In a cut-away, a black taxi drives down a rainy street with its sign lit indicating that it’s for hire.
In flashback, at the railway station Sir Jeffrey Patterson walks to the cab rank and raises his hand to a taxi.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): ‘Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?’
(Sherlock stands lost in thought in the flat.)
(In flashback, James Phillimore walks alone across the road, huddled against the pouring rain, and a vacant taxi drives along the road behind him.
In flashback, Beth Davenport looks around despairingly when she realises that she doesn’t have her car keys. Nearby, a vacant cab pulls up.)
(In the flat, Sherlock turns, his mind racing as he puts all the clues together.)
(In flashback, Jennifer Wilson arrives at a London train terminus and gets into the back of a taxi.)
(Sherlock turns his head, still putting it all together. On the landing, the taxi driver takes a pink smartphone from his pocket and presses the screen to send a text. A moment later, Sherlock’s own phone chimes a text alert. Taking his phone from his jacket pocket he looks at the message which simply reads: COME WITH ME. As he turns his head towards the door, the taxi driver turns around and calmly heads off down the stairs.)
JOHN: Sherlock, you okay?
SHERLOCK (vaguely, watching the man go): What? Yeah, yeah, I-I’m fine.
JOHN: So, how can the phone be here?
SHERLOCK (still watching the taxi driver): Dunno.
JOHN (getting up to get his own phone out of his jeans pocket): I’ll try it again.
SHERLOCK: Good idea.
(He heads towards the door.)
JOHN: Where are you going?
SHERLOCK: Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment. Won’t be long.
(John frowns as Sherlock leaves the room, and calls after him.)
JOHN: You sure you’re all right?
SHERLOCK (hurrying down the stairs): I’m fine.
Continue to Part 4