Sherlock, Season 4, episode 2 transcript: The Lying Detective, part 4
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Sherlock, Season 4, episode 2 transcript: The Lying Detective, part 4
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HOSPITAL ROOM. The heart monitor continues to beep quietly. Smith, still sitting on the chair and watching Sherlock, huffs out a noisy breath, probably deliberately. Sherlock opens his eyes and blinks a couple of times. His left eye is almost completely bloodshot. Smith breathes out noisily again.
SMITH (quietly): You’ve been ages waking up. I watched you. It’s quite lovely in its way.
(Sherlock swallows and looks towards him.)
SMITH (quietly): Take it easy. It’s okay. Don’t want to rush this. You’re Sherlock Holmes.
MARY (offscreen): I’m giving you a case, Sherlock.
(In the living room of 221B, John sits in front of the TV and stares at it with tears in his eyes. Mrs Hudson stands behind him.)
MARY (offscreen): Might be the hardest case of your career.
(The angle changes to show Mary on the TV screen.)
MARY: When I’m ... gone – if I’m gone – I need you to do something for me. Save John Watson.
(John grimaces and shakes his head slightly.)
MARY: Save him, Sherlock.
(Mrs H bends down to him.)
MRS HUDSON: John, if you want to watch this later ...
MARY (offscreen): Save him.
(John breathes out a silent, “No,” his tear-filled eyes fixed on the screen. Mrs Hudson straightens up again.)
MARY: Don’t think anyone else is going to save him, because there isn’t anyone. It’s up to you. Save him. But I do think you’re gonna need a little bit of help with that, because you’re not exactly good with people, so here’s a few things you need to know about the man we both love – and more importantly what you’re going to need to do to save him.
(John stares at the screen wide-eyed.)
SHERLOCK (in a whisper): How did you get in?
(Smith stands and walks closer to the bed, pointing towards the door. He keeps his voice low throughout the rest of the scene.)
SMITH: Policeman outside, you mean? Come on. Can’t you guess?
(Sherlock’s gaze turns to the wooden panel opposite the bed.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Secret door.
SMITH (looking up and twirling a finger to indicate their surroundings): I built this whole wing. Kept firing the architect and builders so no-one knew quite h-how it all fitted together. I can slip in and out anywhere I like, you know ... when I get the urge.
SHERLOCK: H. H. Holmes.
SMITH: Murder castle, but done right. I have a question for you. Why are you here? It’s like you walked into my den and laid down in front of me.
(Sherlock lowers his eyes.)
SHERLOCK (meeting his gaze briefly, then lowering his eyes again): You know why I’m here.
SMITH: I’d like to hear you say it. (He smiles briefly.) Say it for me, please.
(Sherlock fixes his gaze on Smith.)
SHERLOCK: I want you to kill me.
BAKER STREET. The door to 221B opens and John hurries out into the street, looking down at his phone. He hasn’t stopped to put on his jacket. As he walks to the kerb and looks down the road, probably looking for a taxi, Mrs Hudson hurries onto the doorstep.
MRS HUDSON: John!
(He turns to her and she holds up a key fob with one or two keys on it and tosses it to him. He catches them. She points to her left.)
MRS HUDSON: My car.
(He holds up a hand in acknowledgement and heads briskly down the road, looking down to his phone. Raising it to his ear, he breaks into a run.)
HOSPITAL ROOM. Smith has moved to the side of the bed and is resting his gloved left hand on the bed very close to the end of Sherlock’s left hand as it rests on the blanket.
SHERLOCK (softly): If you increase the dosage four or five times ...
(Smith looks across to the drip stand.)
SHERLOCK: ... toxic shock should shut me down within about an hour.
SMITH (straightening up and starting to walk around the foot of the bed): Then I restore the settings. Everyone assumes it was a fault, or you just gave up the ghost. (He smiles.)
SMITH: You’re rather good at this.
(He takes off his jacket.)
SMITH: Before we start ... (he drops his jacket onto the chair near the drip stand) ... tell me how you feel.
(He reaches to the shirt cuff on his left hand and takes out the cufflink.)
SHERLOCK (softly): I feel scared.
(Smith scoffs quietly.)
SMITH: Be more specific. (He chuckles.) You only get to do this the once.
SHERLOCK: I’m ... scared of dying.
(Smith has now removed his right cufflink and puts both of them onto the seat of the chair.)
SMITH: You wanted this, though. (He starts to roll up his shirtsleeves.)
SHERLOCK: I have ... reasons.
SMITH: But you don’t actually want to die.
SMITH: Good. (Still smiling, he continues rolling up his sleeves.) Say that for me. Say it.
SHERLOCK (frowning slightly): I don’t want to die.
SMITH (looking at his left sleeve as he rolls it up): And again.
SHERLOCK (a little louder and more firmly): I don’t want to die.
SMITH (softly, looking at him as he rolls his right sleeve even higher): Once more for luck.
SHERLOCK (his voice tearful): I don’t want to die. I don’t ...
(He pauses as Smith steps closer to bed and leans over him.)
SHERLOCK (tearfully): ... don’t want to die.
(Smith leans closer until his face is only a few inches above Sherlock’s.)
SMITH (softly, intensely): Lovely.
(Twitching a smile, he straightens up.)
SMITH: Here it comes.
(Sherlock stares at him with an anguished look on his face. Smith reaches a finger to the control panel next to the drip stand. He presses a button twice. It beeps noisily each time. He reaches to another button and starts to press it repeatedly. The read-out on the screen, initially reading 3.2, starts to rise.)
Out on the streets, the Aston Martin is speeding along Victoria Embankment beside the river.
JOHN (offscreen): Please, I don’t think he’s safe.
LESTRADE’s VOICE (over phone): No, he’s fine. I’ve got a man on the door. What-what do you think’s happened?
(In the driver’s seat, John has his phone to his left ear and is driving one-handed.)
JOHN (into phone): I don’t know! Something! Mary left a message.
LESTRADE (frowning wherever he is, into his phone): What message?
MARY (on her DVD recording): John Watson never accepts help, not from anyone. Not ever.
(Cut-away shot of 221B’s living room in the day time. The camera focuses in on John’s empty chair.)
MARY (offscreen): But here’s the thing: he never refuses it. So, here’s what you are going to do.
In the hospital room, a drop of liquid drips down from the bag on the stand. Smith is slowly walking around the foot of the bed.
SMITH: So tell me: why are we doing this? To what do I owe the pleasure?
SHERLOCK (quietly): I wanted to hear your confession; needed to know I was right.
SMITH: But why do you need to die?
SHERLOCK: The mortuary; your favourite room.
(Smith smiles slightly.)
SHERLOCK: You talk to the dead. You make your confession to them.
(Smith sniffs, straightens up, rubs his nose and turns away towards the chair, shaking his head.
Outside the room, the police officer is talking into his phone.)
POLICE OFFICER: Sorry, sir, what?
(Still listening, he turns to the door.)
POLICE OFFICER: What do you mean?
(He takes hold of the door handle and turns it and pushes but the door doesn’t open.)
POLICE OFFICER (into phone): I think the door’s jammed.
(He rams his shoulder against it as Nurse Cornish approaches along the corridor behind him.)
NURSE CORNISH: Oh, has that door locked itself again? Yeah, it’s always doing that.
MARY (on the DVD): You can’t save John because he won’t let you. He won’t allow himself to be saved. The only way to save John ... is to make him save you.
SHERLOCK (in the hospital room): Why do you do it?
SMITH (sitting in the chair): Why do I kill? (He has his hands together and gently rubs his fingers against each other.) It’s-It’s not about hatred or-or revenge. I’m not a dark person. It’s ... Killing human beings ...
(He lowers his head and chuckles almost silently for several seconds, putting the back of one hand to his mouth.)
SMITH: ... it just makes me ... (he lets out a long contented sigh) ... incredibly happy.
(Sherlock gives him a tiny smile. Smith’s smile slowly fades and he breathes out a hard breath through his nose and stands up, walking to the bed.)
SMITH (leaning his hands on the blanket): You know i-i-in films when-when you see dead people pretending to be dead and it’s just living people lying down? (He shakes his head.) That’s not what dead people look like. (His voice and gaze become more intense.) Dead people look like things. I like to make people into things. Then you can own them.
(He huffs out a laugh and straightens up.)
SMITH: You know what? I’m getting a little impatient.
(He bends to the foot of the bed and presses a button on the side. The top of the bed lowers down to the horizontal position. Sherlock looks anxious, his eyes turning to the door. Once the bed is flat, Smith straightens up and bares his teeth as he looks at Sherlock, running his tongue along his bottom lip before walking around to the other side of the bed. He straightens the glove on his right hand and leans down towards Sherlock.)
SMITH (in a whisper): Take a big breath if you want.
(Sherlock, looking afraid, lowers his gaze to Smith’s hands.)
MARY (on the DVD): Go to Hell, Sherlock.
(Sherlock gasps in a breath as Smith lays his right palm over his mouth and presses down hard, then covers Sherlock’s nose with his left hand .)
MARY (on the DVD): Go right into Hell, and make it look like you mean it.
(Brief shot of Sherlock’s empty chair in the living room.)
SMITH (pushing his hands down while Sherlock writhes under him): Murder is a very difficult addiction to manage. People don’t realise how much work goes into it. You have to be careful.
(Sherlock’s eyes are wide and he grabs at Smith’s lower right arm and flails weakly with his other hand, trying to dislodge him.)
SMITH: ... but if-if you’re rich or famous and loved, it’s amazing what people are prepared to ignore.
(His voice shakes with effort as he resists Sherlock’s struggles.)
SMITH: There’s always someone desperate, about to go missing ...
(The camera angle changes to show John’s cane leaning against the chair near the door.)
SMITH: ... and no-one wants to suspect murder if it’s easier to suspect something else!
(Sherlock continues to struggle under him, his face covered with sweat.)
SMITH: I just have to ration myself; choose the right heart to stop.
MARY (on the DVD): Go and pick a fight with a bad guy. Put yourself in harm’s way.
(Sherlock struggles, his eyes full of panic.)
SMITH (in an intense whisper): Please, maintain eye contact. Maintain eye contact.
(Sherlock stares up at him, writhing.)
SMITH (even quieter but just as intense, staring down at Sherlock): Maintain eye contact. Please. I like to watch it ... happen.
MARY (on the DVD): If he thinks you need him, I swear ...
(John comes through the door at the end of the hospital corridor and hurries along it. He reaches the door to Sherlock’s room. The police officer isn’t there but his cap still lies on the chair beside the door. John lowers the door handle and pushes forward but the door doesn’t open. He rattles the handle a couple of times, then urgently looks along the corridor.
Inside, Smith leans down closer to Sherlock, his teeth bared and his gaze ecstatic as he speaks.)
SMITH (savagely, slowly): And off we ... pop.
(Sherlock’s eyes glaze and begin to close.)
MARY (on the DVD): ... he will be there.
(Sherlock stops moving and the heart monitor goes into a long single tone. The door smashes open revealing John holding a fire extinguisher. Clearly he just rammed it into the door to break the lock. Smith turns to look, straightening up and releasing Sherlock, who noisily hauls in a long painful breath. As the heart monitor starts to blip again, John drops the fire extinguisher and storms into the room, followed by the police officer.)
POLICE OFFICER: Mr Holmes! You okay?
(John surges across the room and wraps his arm around Smith’s neck, bundling him away from the bed.)
JOHN: What were you doing to him?
(Smith whimpers plaintively. Sherlock moves weakly on the bed.)
JOHN (yelling): What were you doing?!
(He drags Smith across the room. Smith flails in the direction of the bed.)
SMITH: He’s in distress! I-I’m helping him!
(John hurls him into the confused police officer’s hands.)
JOHN: Restrain him, now. Do it.
(The officer takes hold of Smith’s arms from behind. Smith gestures towards the bed.)
SMITH: I was trying to help him!
JOHN: Sherlock, what was he doing to you?
SHERLOCK (breathlessly): Suffocating me, overdosing me. (He points weakly towards the drug stand.)
JOHN: On what?
JOHN (frowning round to him): Saline?
SHERLOCK: Yeah, saline.
(He props himself up onto his right elbow, still breathing hard. With his left hand he reaches to the panel at the side of the bed and holds down the button which begins to raise the head of the bed.)
JOHN: What d’you mean, saline?
(He goes over to look at the drip bag. Sherlock groans and breathes out shakily. Smith looks worriedly towards John’s back.)
SHERLOCK: Well obviously I got Nurse Cornish to switch the bags. She’s a big fan, you know? Loves my blog.
(John frowns down at him.)
JOHN: You’re okay?
SHERLOCK (having now caught his breath): No-no, of course I’m not okay. Malnourished, double kidney failure, and frankly I’ve been off my tits for weeks. (He squints up at John.) What kind of a doctor are you?
(Groaning, he releases the button and settles down on the pillows.)
SHERLOCK: I got my confession, though, didn’t I?
(He looks across to Smith, who pulls himself free of the police officer.)
SMITH: Huh! I don’t recall making any confession.
(He walks forward. John holds out a hand towards him.)
JOHN: Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
SMITH (stopping and looking indignantly at him): What would I be confessing to?
SHERLOCK: You can listen to it later.
SMITH: But there is no confession to listen to!
(He stops and gasps, holding up his hands.)
SMITH: Oh, Mr Holmes. I-I don’t know if this is relevant, but we found three potential recording devices in the pockets of your coat.
(Sherlock looks across to him.)
SMITH: Um, all your possessions were searched. (He looks at John.) Sorry.
(Sherlock lowers his eyes, looking shocked. John and Smith look at him.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Must be something comforting about the number three. People always give up after three.
(He raises his eyes to Smith, who stares back at him in horror. Sherlock’s gaze moves across to John.)
JOHN: What? What is it? What?
(Sherlock stays silent, a slight smile forming on his face while he waits. After a moment John sighs in exasperation.)
JOHN: You cock.
JOHN: Utter, utter cock.
SHERLOCK: Heard you the first time.
(He turns his head away and settles more comfortably onto the bed. John steps across to the chair by the door and picks up his walking cane. Turning back to the bed, he holds it up.)
JOHN: So how-how does it open?
SHERLOCK: Screw the top.
(John takes hold of the handle and starts to turn it, while Smith watches with a grim expression on his face. John pulls the handle off the cane, revealing a small device inside the stick which is glowing bright red. John pulls the recording device out and the bulb goes out. He looks across to Sherlock.)
JOHN: Two weeks ago?
JOHN: I’m that predictable?
SHERLOCK (smiling): No.
(Holding his gaze, John sighs through his nose, then looks down. Sherlock turns to look at Smith.)
SHERLOCK: I’m just a cock.
(Smith stumbles on the spot, staring at the recording device, his face full of despair.)
POLICE INTERVIEW ROOM. Greg reaches across to the side of the table and switches off the recorder. Smith sits on the other side of the table beside a woman who is presumably his lawyer. Greg rests his elbow on the table and lowers his head into his hand, then rubs his eyes with his fingers and thumb.
SMITH (his usually neat hair in disarray): It’s funny, I ... I never realised confessing would be so enjoyable.
(Greg lifts his head, looking at him tiredly.)
SMITH: I sh-should have done it sooner.
(Greg looks away.)
LESTRADE: We’ll carry on tomorrow. (He reaches for his jacket on the back of his chair.)
SMITH: Well, w-w-we could carry on now. I’m-I’m not tired. There’s loads more.
LESTRADE (putting on his jacket): Tomorrow.
SMITH: You know, I am gonna be so famous now.
LESTRADE (grimly): You’re already famous. (He drinks from a polystyrene cup.)
SMITH: Yeah, but with this ...
(He looks down thoughtfully, his eyes wide.)
SMITH: ... I can break America.
(Looking disgusted, Greg stands up and walks away. Smith gazes into the distance, smiling delightedly.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): I had, of course, several other backup plans. Trouble is, I couldn’t remember what they were.
(In 221B’s living room, he sits in his chair holding a mug in both hands. He has his dark blue dressing gown over his clothes. Although he still has a few days’ of beard growth, his hair looks cleaner than it has been recently, though it’s still not at the full SherCurls standard. The room is much tidier, all evidence of Culverton Smith removed, and the fire is lit.)
SHERLOCK: And, of course, I hadn’t really anticipated that I’d hallucinated meeting his daughter.
(Sitting opposite him and also holding a mug, John nods.)
MARY (offscreen): Basically he trashed himself on drugs so that you’d help him ...
(John’s eyes have lifted to where Mary turns around from where she’s standing in front of the window, now wearing the same top she wore when recording her DVD to Sherlock. Throughout most of the rest of the scene she intermittently disappears and then reappears by the window behind Sherlock’s chair.)
MARY: ... so that you’d have something to do, something doctory. You get that now, though?
(In front of her, Sherlock has taken a drink from his mug, gazing towards the floor, and now he sighs.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Still a bit troubled by the daughter. Did seem very real, and she gave me information I couldn’t have acquired elsewhere.
(He raises his eyes to John’s. His left eye is still very bloodshot, though not as badly as it was in the hospital.)
JOHN: But she wasn’t ever here?
SHERLOCK: Interesting, isn’t it? I have theorised before that if one could attenuate to every available data stream in the world simultaneously, it would be possible to anticipate and deduce almost anything.
(He sniffs and looks down pensively.)
JOHN (nodding): Hm. So you dreamed up a magic woman who told you things you didn’t know.
MARY: Well, it sounds about right to me. (She looks up thoughtfully.) Possibly I’m biased. (She smiles down at John.)
SHERLOCK: Perhaps the drugs opened certain doors in my mind. (He looks away again, thinking about it.) I’m intrigued. (He takes another drink from his mug.)
JOHN: Oh, I know you are ...
(He tilts his head towards the door.)
JOHN: ... which is why we’re all taking it in turns to keep you off the sweeties.
SHERLOCK (lowering his mug and looking at him): I thought we were just hanging out.
(He smiles slightly. John looks at his watch, then looks up again.)
JOHN: Molly’ll be here in twenty minutes.
SHERLOCK: Oh, I do think I can last twenty minutes without supervision.
(He smiles again. John looks down, thinking for a moment.)
JOHN: Well, if you’re sure.
(He lifts his mug to drink from it. Sherlock turns his head, looking hurt.)
MARY (exasperated): Christ, John, stay. Talk!
(John puts his mug on the tray which is on top of the table beside him, then puts his hands on the chair arms and shifts forward.)
JOHN: Uh, sorry, it’s just, um, you know, Rosie.
SHERLOCK: Yes, of course, Rosie.
MARY: Go and solve a crime together. Make him wear the hat!
JOHN (looking at Sherlock): You’ll be okay for twenty minutes?
(Mary narrows her eyes and glares at him.)
SHERLOCK: Yes. Yes! Sorry, I-I wasn’t thinking of Rosie.
JOHN (standing up): No problem.
SHERLOCK (looking down initially): I should, uh, come and see her soon.
(He looks up hopefully at John.)
JOHN (flatly): Yes.
MARY: Actually, he should wear the hat as a special tribute to me. I’m dead. I would really appreciate it.
(As she speaks, John turns and walks towards the door. Behind him, Sherlock lowers his head, looking very lonely. He looks at his mug, and then raises his head.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, by the way, the recordings will probably be inadmissible.
(John turns on the landing and walks back into the room a little way.)
JOHN: Sorry, what?
SHERLOCK: Well, technically, it’s entrapment so it might get thrown out as evidence. Not that that matters; apparently he can’t stop confessing. (He chuckles.)
JOHN: That’s good.
(He looks away. John nods, flexing the fingers of his left hand for a moment, then turns towards the door. Mary watches him, a hopeful and expectant look on her face. Sherlock looks down at his mug again, then raises his head.)
SHERLOCK: Are you okay?
(Laughing sarcastically, John comes back into the room.)
JOHN: Uh, what, am I ... no, no, I’m not okay. I’m never gonna be okay.
(Standing behind Sherlock, Mary’s hands are linked in front of her and her head is tilted to one side but now she tilts it to the other side.)
JOHN: ... but we’ll just have to accept that. It is what it is; and what it is is ... shit.
MARY: John, do better.
(Sherlock lowers his eyes and nods understandingly. John pulls in a breath through his nose and lowers his own head.)
JOHN (almost silently): Hm.
(He lifts his head as he speaks.)
JOHN: You didn’t kill Mary.
(Sherlock’s eyes snap up to look at him.)
JOHN: Mary died saving your life. It was her choice. No-one made her do it. No-one could ever make her do anything ...
(Mary smiles at him.)
JOHN: ... but the point is: you did not kill her.
(Mary lowers her head and looks towards Sherlock. He turns his eyes to the carpet, his gaze distant.)
SHERLOCK (quietly): In saving my life, she conferred a value on it. (He hesitates for a moment.) It is a currency I do not know how to spend.
(Mary smiles affectionately at him, then raises her eyes to John. John looks at Sherlock for a while, looks away and then turns back to him.)
JOHN: It is what it is.
(He gives a brief tight smile. Sherlock nods and lowers his head.)
JOHN (pulling in a breath): Uh, I’m tomorrow, six ’til ten. I’ll see you then.
SHERLOCK (raising his mug to him in a toast and smiling): Looking forward to it.
JOHN (unconvincingly): Yeah.
(He turns to leave. Just then Sherlock’s phone, face down on the table beside him, lights up and a very familiar female orgasmic voice sighs from the speaker. John stops dead on the landing. Mary, smiling towards John’s back, looks down in surprise. Sherlock, raising his mug to his lips, glances across at the phone.)
MARY: That noise: that’s a text alert noise.
JOHN (to Sherlock, turning round and coming in again): What was that?
(Lowering his mug, Sherlock looks around the room as if confused.)
SHERLOCK: Mm? (He swallows his mouthful.) What was what?
MARY: That’s the text alert of Irene Adler. She’s the scary mad one, right?
JOHN (to Sherlock): That noise.
SHERLOCK (raising his mug to his mouth again): What noise?
(Mary walks around to Sherlock’s side and looks down at him.)
MARY: But she’s dead. (She sucks in a long gasp and looks at John.) Ooh, I bet she isn’t dead!
(John walks slowly closer while Mary bends down to look at Sherlock, smiling at him.)
MARY: I bet he saved her! (Laughing) Oh my God!
(Sherlock tries to look as if he doesn’t understand the fuss as John walks closer to him, frowning.)
MARY: Oh, the posh boy loves the dominatrix! (Raising her eyes to John as she speaks) He’s never knowingly under-clichéd, is he?
(John stops in front of his chair, looking thoughtful. Sherlock looks up at him.)
JOHN: I’m gonna make a deduction.
SHERLOCK: Oh, okay. That’s good.
JOHN: And if my deduction is right, you’re gonna be honest and tell me, okay?
SHERLOCK: Okay. Though I should mention that it is possible for any given text alert to become randomly attached to a ...
JOHN (interrupting): Happy birthday.
(Mary, now standing up straight, smiles down at Sherlock as he looks up at John silently for a moment, then nods his head.)
SHERLOCK: Thank you, John. That’s ... very kind of you. (He looks down to his mug.)
JOHN: Never knew when your birthday was.
SHERLOCK (quietly, lifting the mug to his lips): Well, now you do. (He drinks.)
JOHN: Seriously, we’re not gonna talk about this?
SHERLOCK (keeping his eyes lowered): Talk about what?
JOHN: I mean, how does it work?
SHERLOCK (precisely, still not meeting his eyes): How does what work?
JOHN (smiling briefly): You and The Woman.
(Sherlock closes his eyes and sighs in exasperation as John continues.)
JOHN: D’you go to a discreet Harvester sometimes? Is there a ... night of passion in High Wycombe?
[Harvester is a restaurant chain in the UK. High Wycombe is a town in Buckinghamshire.]
SHERLOCK: Oh, for God’s sakes. I don’t text her back.
JOHN (chuckling as he moves a few steps across the room): Why not?!
(He stops and looks at him, grinning, and his voice becomes louder.)
JOHN: You bloody moron!
(Sherlock stares up at him.)
JOHN (loudly): She’s out there ... (he points towards the stairs) ... she likes you, and she’s alive.
(His voice starts to get angry.)
JOHN: ... and do you have the first idea how lucky you are?
(Beside Sherlock, Mary smiles down at him as he looks up at John, his left hand upturned on the arm of the chair as if still pretending he doesn’t know what John’s talking about.)
JOHN: Yes, she’s a lunatic, she’s a criminal, she’s insanely dangerous – trust you to fall for a sociopath ...
(As he was speaking, Mary has walked across the room towards the kitchen. Now she turns her head towards John as she loops around his chair.)
MARY (exasperated): Oh, married an assassin!
(She heads off across the room and ends up in front of the dining table. She turns and leans against the back of one of the dining chairs while John talks loudly to Sherlock, his hands on his hips.)
JOHN: ... but she’s ... you know ... (He stops, unable to find the words.)
JOHN: Just text her back.
JOHN: Because High Wycombe is better than you are currently equipped to understand.
(Sherlock looks down, pouting a little.)
SHERLOCK: I once caught a triple poisoner in High Wycombe.
JOHN (quieter): That’s only the beginning, mate.
SHERLOCK (sighing): As I think I have explained to you many times before, romantic entanglement, while fulfilling for other people ...
JOHN (interrupting): ... would complete you as a human being.
SHERLOCK: That doesn’t even mean anything.
JOHN (leaning closer to him): Just text her. Phone her. Do something while there’s still a chance, because that chance doesn’t last forever. Trust me, Sherlock: it’s gone before you know it. (Firmly, emphasising each word) Before you know it.
(Mary lowers her head, her face sad. Sherlock flicks a couple of nervous glances up at John. After a moment, John tilts his head towards where Mary is standing.)
JOHN: She was wrong about me.
(Mary raises her head. Sherlock looks up at him.)
SHERLOCK: Mary? How so?
(John looks towards the fireplace, then pulls in a breath and walks a little closer.)
JOHN: She thought that if you put yourself in harm’s way I’d ... I’d rescue you or something. But I didn’t – not ’til she told me to. (He briefly glances towards Mary as he says ‘she.’) And that’s how this works. That’s what you’re missing. (He points towards Mary.) She taught me to be the man she already thought I was. Get yourself a piece of that.
SHERLOCK: Forgive me, but you are doing yourself a disservice. I have known many people in this world but made few friends, and I can safely say ...
JOHN: I cheated on her.
(Sherlock stops. Mary straightens up from where she was leaning on the back of the chair, looking shocked. John gestures towards Sherlock.)
JOHN: No clever comeback?
(Immediately he turns to directly face the ghost of his wife.)
JOHN: I cheated on you, Mary.
(Sherlock blinks, perhaps realising what’s happening, but he stays silent as he turns his head towards where John is looking.)
JOHN: There was a woman on the bus, and I had a plastic daisy in my hair. I’d been playing with Rosie. (He pauses for a moment then raises his eyes.) And this girl just smiled at me.
(Mary gazes back at him. There is no condemnation on her face.)
JOHN: That’s all it was; it was a smile.
(Sherlock’s eyes turn back to John.)
JOHN (to Mary): We texted constantly. You wanna know when? Every time you left the room, that’s when. When you were feeding our daughter; when you were stopping her from crying – that’s when.
(Mary lowers her eyes and gives a small smile. John swallows, his eyes starting to fill with tears.)
JOHN: That’s all it was, just texting.
(Sherlock has lowered his eyes and is gazing into the distance.)
JOHN: But I wanted more.
(Sherlock lifts his head and his eyes to John again. Mary is smiling tearfully at her man.)
JOHN: And d’you know something? I still do. I’m not the man you thought I was; I’m not that guy. I never could be. But that’s the point. (He sniffs, then looks at her as his eyes fill with more tears. He bites his lip and speaks tearfully.) That’s the whole point.
(Again he bites his lip. Mary looks back at him, her own eyes filled with tears. She smiles at him as he speaks again.)
JOHN: Who you thought I was ... (she nods at him) ... is the man who I want to be.
(He swallows, fighting off his tears. She smiles gently back at him.)
MARY (softly): Well, then ... John Watson ...
(She raises her head and smiles widely and fondly at him. He stares back at her. She looks at him for a long moment.)
MARY: Get the hell on with it.
(She nods at him and smiles through her tears. The perspective changes and she has gone. John stares ahead of himself for a long moment, then gradually lowers his head into his left hand and starts to cry. Sherlock quietly puts his mug onto the table beside him, then stands up. John sobs, tears pouring from his face and falling to the floor. Slowly Sherlock walks across to him.)
SHERLOCK (softly): It’s okay.
(He tentatively raises his arms, perhaps hesitating momentarily for fear of being rejected again, then slowly puts his left hand onto John’s arm and his right hand onto his back before sliding it upwards to gently cradle his neck. He moves closer, sliding his left arm up to hold John’s shoulder.)
JOHN (tearfully): It’s not okay.
SHERLOCK (softly): No.
(He lowers his cheek onto the top of John’s head.)
SHERLOCK (softly): But it is what it is.
(Blinking against his own tears, he continues to hold his sobbing best friend.)
Later, after your transcriber has had a bloody good cry and can finally see the screen of her laptop again, the camera pans down from the view over the houses of Baker Street and descends down towards the street.
SHERLOCK (offscreen): So Molly’s going to meet us at this ‘cake place.’
JOHN (offscreen): Well, it’s your birthday. Cake is obligatory.
(In the living room, Sherlock is putting on his coat.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, well. Suppose a sugar high’s some sort of substitute.
(He walks across the room towards the door. He has already put on his jacket.)
SHERLOCK: Right then. You know ...
(John stops and turns to him.)
SHERLOCK: ... it’s not my place to say but ... it was just texting.
(John looks away.)
SHERLOCK: People text.
(John heaves an unhappy sigh as Sherlock continues.)
SHERLOCK: Even I text. Her, I mean. Woman. Bad idea; try not to, but, you know, sometimes.
(He pulls in a breath.)
SHERLOCK: It’s not a pleasant thought, John, but I have this terrible feeling, from time to time, that we might all just be human.
JOHN: Even you?
(John blinks at him.)
SHERLOCK: Even you.
(John looks at him silently for a long moment while he takes that in, then turns towards the door.)
SHERLOCK (nodding): Cake.
(John starts to walk out the door but stops when Sherlock speaks again.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, um ...
(He walks across the room to the cabinet to the right of the dining table. It’s the same cabinet he put Irene’s phone into at the end of “Scandal.”)
JOHN: What? What is it?
(Sherlock pulls open a drawer and starts rummaging in it.)
JOHN: What’s wrong?
(Sherlock straightens up and turns, simultaneously putting on his deerstalker. John laughs.)
SHERLOCK: I’m Sherlock Holmes. I wear the damn hat.
(Lifting one leg behind him and kicking the drawer closed, he walks across the room and out of the door.)
SHERLOCK (not slowing or turning around): Isn’t that right, Mary?
(Startled, John stops and turns back into the room and looks around before blinking and then turning to follow his friend. The camera pans slowly across the room to show that there’s nobody there.)
[Transcriber’s note, inserted here so as not to interrupt later scenes: a person’s name will be given during a later conversation. It’s an unusual name and there has been much discussion online about how it is spelled, because historically there are two variants. I have chosen to go with the version that seems most likely to be correct, even though it’s pronounced slightly differently, but this spelling was used in the BBC subtitles and was therefore probably given to the subtitler by the producers. If the next episode or the writers/producers specifically clarify that they choose to spell it the other way, I’ll correct the transcript.]
John is again sitting in the chair in the back room of his therapist’s house, his legs crossed in front of him.
THERAPIST (offscreen): You seem so much better, John.
JOHN (nodding): Yeah, I ... I am. I think I am. Not all day; not every day, but, uh, you know.
THERAPIST: It is what it is?
THERAPIST: And Rosie?
JOHN: Oh, beautiful, perfect, unprecedented in the history of children. (He smiles.) That’s not my bias; that’s scientific fact. (He nods.)
(He smiles again.)
THERAPIST: And Sherlock Holmes?
JOHN: Back to normal.
SHERLOCK (offscreen, angrily): Get out!
(In the living room of 221B Sherlock – now clean-shaven, with his hair back into the proper SherCurls and wearing his usual suit – grabs the door handle and angrily pulls it open.)
MALE CLIENT: She’s possessed by the Devil!
(The angle changes to look at the middle-aged man. Beyond him, the horns of the skull on the wall above the dining table look as if they’re coming out of either side of his head.)
MALE CLIENT: I swear my wife is channeling Satan!
SHERLOCK (crossly): Yes, boring. (He gestures towards the landing.) Go away!
(Making an exasperated sound, the man storms out of the room. His wife follows, turning to Sherlock as she passes him.)
WIFE (exasperated): I’m not channelling Satan!
SHERLOCK: Why not, given your immediate alternative?
(He slams the door shut, then turns and walks towards the kitchen but stops when he sees a piece of paper lying on the floor in front of the small table in the corner. It had been blocked from his view by a cabinet behind John’s chair. Frowning, he goes down onto one knee to pick it up. His eyes widen when he realises that it’s Faith’s note.)
THERAPIST (in her consulting room): What about his brother?
JOHN: Mycroft? He’s fine.
MYCROFT: So, you’re off now?
(In his Diogenes office, both he and Lady Smallwood are putting on their coats. Your transcriber’s eyes raise for a moment but then she realises that this is Mycroft bloody Holmes and there’s no chance that they’ve been up to what she momentarily thought they might have been.)
MYCROFT: I won’t see you for a week?
LADY SMALLWOOD (looking into the mirror on the wall as she adjusts her coat around her): Just spending it at home ... unless she calls.
(She turns away from the mirror.)
MYCROFT: The P.M.
LADY SMALLWOOD (holding out a business card to him): Here.
MYCROFT (taking it): What’s this?
LADY SMALLWOOD: My number.
MYCROFT: I already have your number.
LADY SMALLWOOD: My private number.
MYCROFT: Why would I need that?
LADY SMALLWOOD (blinking innocently): I don’t know. Maybe you’d like a drink some time.
MYCROFT (frowning): Of what?
LADY SMALLWOOD: Up to you. (She smiles at him.) Call me.
(She turns and leaves the room. Mycroft turns to follow, looking at the card, then chuckles, turns back and drops the card onto an open notebook on his desk. A close-up shows that the card reads LADY ALICIA SMALLWOOD [which immediately sent your transcriber into hysterics and prompted her to post this set of screencaps on Tumblr which, in less than a week, received more than 4000 Likes and Reblogs!]. Under her name, too out-of-focus to see clearly, are her email address and a telephone number. Mycroft turns and starts to walk away, then he stops, looking thoughtful, and turns back.)
JOHN (in the therapist’s room): I mean, obviously ‘normal’ and ‘fine’ are both relative terms when it comes to Sherlock and Mycroft.
THERAPIST (smiling): Obviously.
In his office, Mycroft walks back to the desk and reaches out a hand towards the card. He hesitates for a long moment, tapping his fingers on the edge of the desk, then turns away again.
In 221B, Sherlock has gone into the kitchen and holds the piece of paper up to the light suspended over the table, looking at the writing on it. He turns it over and continues looking at it.
SHERLOCK: She was real.
(He frowns at the paper.)
Mycroft pulls open his office door and starts to walk out, but then pauses, looking thoughtful. Eventually he turns back. A few moments later he picks up the card.
Handwritten on the left page of the notebook on which the card had been lying are the words:
Clock Face —
[The last entry, which reads in full ‘Clock Face – Elizabeth Tower?’ harks back to Mrs Hudson’s suggestion in “His Last Vow” that Sherlock had a ‘bolt hole’ behind the clock face of Big Ben. More explanation of the differing names here.]
On the right hand page is handwritten:
THERAPIST (offscreen): I didn’t mean Mycroft.
(In her consulting room, she smiles across to John.)
THERAPIST: I meant the other one.
JOHN: Wh-which other one?
THERAPIST: You know – the secret one.
JOHN: Oh, that was just something I ... (he smiles and takes a breath) ... I said. I’m sure there’s ...
(He stops, looking at her for a long moment.)
JOHN: How did you know about that? I didn’t tell you that.
THERAPIST: You must have done.
JOHN: I really didn’t.
THERAPIST: Well, maybe Sherlock told me.
JOHN (shifting forward in his seat): No, you’ve met Sherlock exactly once. In this room. He was off his head.
THERAPIST: Oh, no, no. I-I-I met him before that.
THERAPIST (smiling): We spent a night together.
THERAPIST: It was lovely. We had chips.
(Cut-away flashback to Faith sitting at the bus stop beside Sherlock, eating from the carton on her lap.
Cut-away flashback to the camera revolving around that version of Faith as she sits on the client chair in 221B’s living room.
Cut-away to a new flashback of Faith walking briskly alone across one of the Golden Jubilee Bridges holding her walking cane in front of her, clearly having no need for it.)
THERAPIST (in her consulting room, speaking with Faith’s northern English accented voice): You’re not what I expected, Mr Holmes. (She over-emphasises the accent.) You’re ... nicer.
(John frowns. The woman takes off her glasses, blinking as her vision adjusts. When she next speaks, her German accent is back but is slipping slightly.)
THERAPIST: Culverton gave me Faith’s original note. (She stands up.) A mutual friend put us in touch.
(She walks across to the French windows and turns the key in the lock of the door, removing the key afterwards before turning back. As she continues talking, her accent slips even more, sometimes sounding German and sometimes veering more towards an English accent.)
THERAPIST: Did Sherlock ever tell you about the note?
In 221B’s kitchen, Sherlock – still holding Faith’s note in one hand – frantically pulls open the top drawer under the work surface, glances quickly in, slams it shut again and pulls open the next drawer down and starts rummaging inside it.
THERAPIST: I added some deductions for Sherlock. (She puts the door key onto the side table, then drops her glasses onto the table.) He was ... quite good.
In 221B’s kitchen Sherlock reaches up to the overhead light and adjusts the bulb until it goes out, plunging the kitchen into near-darkness.
THERAPIST (turning towards John): But ...
Sherlock stares downwards, his face illuminated by a dark blue light.
THERAPIST: ... he didn’t get the big one.
Sherlock shines an ultraviolet torch down onto the note. Illuminated by its blue glow, written on the paper in something like linseed oil, two large words glow brightly, overlaying the handwriting. They read
Sherlock’s eyes lift from the note in shock.
The therapist is bent forward, gasping sharply as she holds her right eye open with her left index finger and thumb. Lowering that hand she straightens up and looks down to her right hand. A contact lens is resting on the tip of her index finger. The lens has brown colouring around the centre. Tossing her hair back a little, she turns to look at John, revealing that her right eye is now a grey-blue colour while her left eye is still brown. John stares up at her. When she speaks, all trace of the German accent is gone. She’s now talking with a well-educated southern English accent.
THERAPIST: In fairness, though, he does have excellent taste in chips.
(She reaches up with her left hand and brushes her hair back. She has a white plastic daisy-like flower behind her ear.)
JOHN: What’s that?
THERAPIST: What’s what?
JOHN: The flower in your hair: it’s like I had on the bus.
THERAPIST (taking the flower from her ear as she walks towards him): You looked very sweet. (She looks down at the flower.) But then ...
(She bends down and looks into his eyes. When she speaks, it’s with the Scottish voice of the girl on the bus.)
THERAPIST: ... you have such nice eyes.
(Brief cut-away of the redhead on the bus smiling towards John.
In the house, John sinks back in his chair, stunned by the revelation.)
THERAPIST (back in her English accent): Amazing the times a man doesn’t really look at your face. (She turns and walks across the room.) Oh, you can hide behind a sexy smile, or a walking cane ... (she turns and looks at him with her mis-matched eyes) ... or just be a therapist, talking about you ... (she looks bored) ... all the time.
(John finally catches up to the fact that he’s in trouble and stands up. Instantly she reaches to a nearby table and turns back and aims a pistol at him. He raises his hands and backs away a little.)
THERAPIST: Oh, please don’t go anywhere. I’m sure the therapist who actually lives here wouldn’t want blood on the carpet.
(She pauses briefly as if thinking.)
THERAPIST: Oh, hang on, it’s fine. She’s in a sack in the airing cupboard.
JOHN: Who are you?
THERAPIST (lowering the gun to her side): Isn’t it obvious? (She steps forward a few paces, smiling.) Haven’t you guessed? (Her smile drops.) I’m Eurus.
JOHN (shaking his head): Eurus?
THERAPIST/EURUS: Silly name, isn’t it? Greek. Means the East Wind.
(John stares at her.)
EURUS: My parents loved silly names, like Eurus ... or Mycroft ... or Sherlock.
(John’s mouth drops open a little.)
EURUS: Oh, look at him. Didn’t it ever occur to you – not even once – that Sherlock’s secret brother might just be Sherlock’s secret sister?
(John blinks, frowning.)
EURUS: Huh. He’s making a funny face.
(She raises her gun and points it at him.)
EURUS: I think I’ll put a hole in it.
(John raises his hands again, his eyes wide.
Eurus pulls the trigger.
And in an identical repeat to the beginning of the episode, we see the gun from the business end pointing directly towards the camera as smoke rises from it, but then the image is overlaid with a blood red colour.)
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.