All Episode Transcripts - in Full PDF

Last updated 31 03 17
SHERLOCK
All episode transcripts in full
Page Index
Episode Page
A Study in Pink (pilot episode) 1 The Empty Hearse 281

A Study in Pink (broadcast episode) 27 The Sign of Three 324
The Blind Banker 68 His Last Vow 373
The Great Game 109 The Abominable Bride 428
A Scandal in Belgravia 153 The Six Thatchers 474
The Hounds of Baskerville 195 The Lying Detective 523
The Reichenbach Fall 235 The Final Problem 579
Many Happy Returns 278
A Study in Pink (pilot episode)
In a bedsit somewhere in London, John Watson sits up on the side of his bed in the middle of
the night, sweating and distressed by the nightmare which has awoken him. Later he is sitting
at the desk in his room, wrapped up in his thoughts, a glass of water in front of him. His gaze is
drawn to the metal walking cane leaning against the desk. He looks at it unhappily.
DAY TIME. John, now dressed, opens the top drawer in the desk to get his laptop. As he lifts the
computer out of the drawer, we see that there is a pistol underneath. He looks at the gun for a
long moment before sliding the drawer closed. Putting the laptop onto the desk and opening the
lid he hits a key to reactivate the screen and looks at the document page which appears. It
reads, The Personal Blog of Dr John H Watson. The rest of the page is blank.
Later he is at his psychotherapists office and is sitting in a chair opposite her.

ELLA: Hows your blog going?
JOHN: Mmm, fine! Good. Very good.
ELLA: Written much?
JOHN (instantly): Not a word.
(They both nod.)
ELLA: John, its going to take you a while to adjust to civilian life ...
(John grimaces.)
JOHN: Sure.
ELLA: ... and it will help so much to write about everything thats happening to you.
(John gazes back at her, his face full of despair.)
JOHN: Nothing happens to me.
Opening credits.
BRIXTON. Detective Inspector Lestrade makes his way along a corridor in a building and stands
at the doorway to a room. Doctor Anderson comes out of the room, dressed in blue coveralls.
ANDERSON: As far as we can see, no marks on the body, no identification.
LESTRADE: Same as the others?
ANDERSON (nodding): Exactly the same.
(He walks a few paces away to collect some evidence bags from a colleague. Lestrade takes out
his phone and begins scrolling through its menu. Seeing what hes doing, Anderson looks
awkward.)
ANDERSON: Um, youre not phoning ... him, are you? Cause we can handle this. We can
absolutely handle it.
(Not looking up, Lestrade begins to dial.)
Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

2
LESTRADE: Youve got work to do.

(Sighing silently, Anderson goes back into the room. Lestrade raises the phone to his ear as it
begins to ring out. He apparently immediately gets the voicemail of the person hes calling.)
LESTRADE (into phone): This is Inspector Lestrade. Please call me as soon as you get this. I
think were gonna need you.
(He hangs up and sighs as he looks at the crime scene.)
TUESDAY 13 JANUARY [as indicated by the date on Johns phone later in the episode].
PICCADILLY CIRCUS. A newspaper stand carries the headline 4th SUICIDE MURDER VICTIM.
John is walking down the road, leaning heavily on his cane. A man in a raincoat and carrying a
briefcase walks past him, then turns and stares at him, clearly recognising him. He calls out.
MIKE: John! John Watson!
(John stops and turns around. Mike hurries towards him, smiling.)
MIKE: Stamford. Mike Stamford. We were at Barts together.
JOHN: Yes, sorry, yes, Mike. (He takes Mikes offered hand and shakes it.) Hello.
MIKE (grinning and gesturing to himself): Yeah, I know. I got fat!
JOHN (trying to sound convincing): No.
MIKE: I heard you were abroad somewhere, getting shot at. What happened?
JOHN (awkwardly): I got shot.
A little later they are sitting opposite each other at a table in the bar of the Criterion restaurant.
They each have a glass of wine Johns wine is red and Mikes white. A waiter brings them a
basket of bread rolls and collects their menus as they talk.
JOHN: So youre still at Barts, then?
MIKE: Teaching now. Bright young things, like we used to be. God, I hate them!
(John smiles.)
MIKE: What about you? Staying in town til you get yourself sorted?
JOHN: Cant afford London on an Army pension.
MIKE (shrugging): I dunno get yourself a flatshare or something?
JOHN: Whod want me for a flatmate?
(Mike chuckles thoughtfully.)
JOHN: What?
MIKE: Well, youre the second person to say that to me today.
JOHN: Who was the first?
ST BARTHOLOMEWS HOSPITAL MORGUE. Sherlock Holmes unzips the body bag lying on the
table and peers at the corpse inside. He sniffs.
SHERLOCK: How fresh?
(Mortician Molly Hooper walks over.)
MOLLY: Just in. Sixty-seven, natural causes. He used to work here donated his body. I knew
him. He was nice.
(Sherlock straightens up and turns to her.)
SHERLOCK: Fine. Well start with the riding crop.
Shortly afterwards the body has been removed from the bag and is lying on its front on the
table. In the observation room next door, Molly watches while Sherlock flogs the body
repeatedly and violently with a riding crop, grunting with the effort. She walks back into the
room.
MOLLY (jokingly): So, bad day, was it?
(Sherlock turns and puts the crop down on a nearby shelf.)
SHERLOCK: I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. A mans alibi
depends on it. Text me.
(Picking up his coat, he starts to walk past her on his way out of the room.)
MOLLY (a little nervously): Listen, I was wondering: maybe later ...
(Sherlock stops and frowns at her.)
SHERLOCK: Are you wearing lipstick? You werent wearing lipstick before.
MOLLY: I just refreshed it a bit.
(She smiles at him nervously.)
SHERLOCK: Sorry, you were saying?
MOLLY (gazing at him intently): I was wondering if youd like to have coffee.
SHERLOCK: Black, two sugars, please. Ill be upstairs.

3
(He smiles falsely at her and walks away.)

MOLLY: ... Okay.
BARTS COMPUTER LAB. In a room full of computers, Sherlock is currently the only person
there, typing on one of the computers as he works his way through his emails. He is typing an
email to mycroft@dsux.org and the subject line reads: Re: An impossible situation. He types
into the message box:
When you have eliminated the impossible whatever remains must be the truth.
[And can your transcriber point out that he must be on a really cheap and rubbish email system
because it has items on the menu labelled Attac and Signiture?!]
Its not clear whether he then sends that email or just shifts windows to his Inbox, which
consists of the following emails [address, followed by the Subject]:
lestrade@strade.org.uk : Please call me

mycroft@dsux.org : An impossible situation
gregson@ftnu.co.uk : RE: Church bell theft
smith@smithson.org : The curious cow
jones@jkjoes.com : Samson and Del
drhopps@drdoc.net : Strange substance in pocket
He begins to type a new email to gregson@ftnu.co.uk [although, for some odd reason he
types the address manually instead of just clicking on Reply] with the Subject line of, re: RE:
Church bell theft. In the message box he types:
If you can see the church from the bedroom window, Davies is your man.
He goes back to the Inbox and opens the email from lestrade@strade.org.uk headed Please
call me. The message reads simply:
Please call me.

Lestrade
Smirking, Sherlock deletes the email. As he begins to type a new email to jones@ ... [before
the camera cuts away], Mike who has taken off his outdoor coat and replaced it with a white
lab coat leads John into the room. As Sherlock looks round at them, Mike stops and looks
expectantly at John.
JOHN: Well, its a bit different from my day.
MIKE (chuckling): Youve no idea!
SHERLOCK (looking back at his computer): Mike, can I borrow your phone? No signal on mine.
MIKE (sighing): And whats wrong with the landline?
SHERLOCK: Id rather text.
(Mike searches in his coat pockets but only comes up with a notebook.)
MIKE: Sorry. Other coat.
(John fishes in his jacket pocket and takes out his own phone.)
JOHN: Oh, here. Use mine.
SHERLOCK (standing up and turning to John as he brings the phone across the room to him):
Oh. Thank you.
MIKE: Its an old mate of mine, John Watson.
(Taking the phone, Sherlock sits down again with his back to the others.)
SHERLOCK: Afghanistan or Iraq?
(John smiles awkwardly, bewildered by the question.)
JOHN: Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know ...?
(Already texting on Johns phone, Sherlock looks round as Molly comes into the room holding a
mug of coffee.)
SHERLOCK: Ah, coffee. Thank you, Molly.
(He hands Johns phone back to him while Molly brings the mug over to him. He looks closely at
her as she puts the mug down on the table. Her mouth is paler again.)
SHERLOCK: What happened to the lipstick?

4
MOLLY (smiling awkwardly at him): It wasnt working for me.

SHERLOCK: Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Mouths too small now.
(He picks up the mug and takes a sip.)
MOLLY (unhappily): Okay.
(She turns and heads back towards the door.)
SHERLOCK (putting the mug down and starting to type again): How dyou feel about the violin?
(John has been watching Molly but realises that Sherlock is talking to him.)
JOHN: Im sorry, what?
SHERLOCK (still typing): I play the violin when Im thinking. Sometimes I dont talk for days on
end. (He half glances round towards John.) Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should
know the worst about each other.
(John looks round at Mike.)
JOHN: Oh, you told him about me?
MIKE (smiling smugly): Not a word.
JOHN (turning to Sherlock again): Then who said anything about flatmates?
SHERLOCK (standing up and putting on his greatcoat): I did. I told Mike this morning that I
must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is after lunch with an old friend
clearly home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasnt a difficult leap.
JOHN: How did you know about Afghanistan?
(Sherlock ignores the question and leans forward to shut down the computer.)
SHERLOCK: Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we could afford it.
Well meet there tomorrow evening; seven oclock.
(He heads towards the door.)
SHERLOCK: Sorry Ive gotta dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary.
(John throws a disbelieving grin at Mike and then turns towards the departing Sherlock.)
JOHN: Is that it?
(Sherlock stops near the door.)
SHERLOCK: Is that what?
JOHN: Weve just met and were gonna go and look at a flat?
SHERLOCK: Problem?
(John throws another look at Mike but he says nothing. John turns back to the younger man.)
JOHN: We dont know a thing about each other; I dont know your name; I dont even know
where were meeting.
(Sherlock lowers his gaze momentarily, then quirks a brief grin as he raises his eyes again.)
SHERLOCK: I know youre an Army doctor and youve recently been invalided home from
Afghanistan. I know youve got a brother with a bit of money whos worried about you but you
wont go to him for help because you dont approve of him possibly because hes an alcoholic;
more likely because he recently walked out on his wife.
(John stares at him in surprise. Behind him, Mike lowers his head with a smug smile on his
face.)
SHERLOCK: And I know your therapist thinks your limps psychosomatic quite correctly, Im
afraid.
(He smiles very briefly.)
SHERLOCK: Thats enough to be going on with, dont you think?
(He turns and walks towards the door again, but then comes back and leans around the wall
which blocks the door from view.)
SHERLOCK: The names Sherlock Holmes and the address is two two one B Baker Street.
(He click-winks at John.)
SHERLOCK: Afternoon.
(He turns and leaves the room. As the door slams shut behind him, John turns and looks at
Mike in disbelief. Mike smiles and nods to him.)
MIKE: Yeah. Hes always like that.
(He turns and walks away. John looks back towards the door, still looking confused.)
THE NEXT DAY. BAKER STREET, LONDON W1. John limps along the road and reaches the door
marked 221B. Next door is a caf restaurant which has a sign above the window reading Mrs
Hudsons Snax n Sarnies which is not only appalling spelling but commits the ultimate sin of
being written in Comic Sans font. As John stands and looks at the sign a black cab pulls up at
the kerb and Sherlock gets out and walks over to him.
SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson, our landlady.
(He smiles as John turns to him.)

5
JOHN: Ah, Mr Holmes.

SHERLOCK: Sherlock, please.
(They shake hands, then walk towards the door of 221B.)
SHERLOCK: Getting a special rate. Owes me a favour. A few years ago, her husband got himself
sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out.
(He knocks on the door.)
JOHN: You stopped her husband being executed?
SHERLOCK: Oh no. I ensured it.
(The door is opened by Mrs Hudson, who opens her arms to the younger man.)
MRS HUDSON: Sherlock, hello.
(Sherlock turns and walks into her arms, hugging her briefly. As he steps back she gestures the
boys inside.)
MRS HUDSON: Come in, come in!
(Sherlock leads the way inside.)
JOHN (as he passes Mrs Hudson): Thank you.
(Mrs Hudson closes the door. Sherlock trots up the stairs to the first floor, then pauses and
waits for John to hobble upstairs. Once John reaches the top of the stairs, Sherlock opens the
door ahead of him and walks in, revealing the living room of the flat. John follows him in and
looks around the room and at all the possessions scattered around it.)
JOHN: Well, this could be very nice. Very nice indeed.
SHERLOCK: Yes, I think so. My thoughts exactly.
(He walks across the room.)
SHERLOCK: So I went ahead and moved in.
JOHN (simultaneously): Soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned out ...
(He pauses, embarrassed, when he realises what Sherlock was saying.)
JOHN: So ... this is all your stuff.
SHERLOCK: Obviously I can straighten things up ... a bit.
(He walks across the room and picks up some newspapers from one of the two armchairs,
tossing them straight onto a nearby dining chair. John has noticed something on the
mantelpiece and peers closely at it while Sherlock takes some apparently unopened envelopes
across to the fireplace where he puts them onto the mantelpiece and then stabs a multi tool
knife into them.)
JOHN: Thats a real skull.
SHERLOCK: Friend of mine. Well, I say friend ...
(He grins. Mrs Hudson has followed them into the room.)
MRS HUDSON: What dyou think, Doctor Watson?
JOHN (turning to her): Hmm?
MRS HUDSON (pointing upwards): Theres another bedroom upstairs ... (she winks) ... if youll
be needing two bedrooms.
JOHN: Well, of course well be needing two.
MRS HUDSON: Oh, dont worry; theres all sorts round here. Mrs Turner next doors got married
ones.
(John looks at her, startled. Unperturbed, she picks up a waste paper bin and walks across the
room.)
MRS HUDSON: Sherlock. The mess youve made.
(As she starts tidying up and then goes into the kitchen, humming to herself, John looks around
the room again. Sherlock has taken off his greatcoat and is rummaging through papers on the
bureau by the windows. John walks over to one of the two armchairs and drops heavily down
into it.)
JOHN: Oh, I, um, looked you up on the internet last night.
SHERLOCK (looking round at him): Anything interesting?
JOHN: Found your website, The Science of Deduction.
SHERLOCK: What did you think?
JOHN: Quite amusing, I suppose.
(Sherlock looks at him indignantly.)
SHERLOCK: Amusing?
JOHN: You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and what was it? a retired
plumber by his left hand.
SHERLOCK: Yes; and I can read your military career by your face and your leg, and your
brothers drinking habits by your mobile phone.

6
MRS HUDSON (to herself as she comes out of the kitchen and continues to tidy up): The state
of the place already.
JOHN (to Sherlock): How?
SHERLOCK: You read the article.
JOHN: The article was absurd.
SHERLOCK (turning round to face him again): But I know about his drinking habits. I even
know that he left his wife.
(Mrs Hudson has picked up a copy of The Times newspaper and is looking at the front page.)
MRS HUDSON: What about these suicides then, Sherlock? Thought thatd be right up your
street. Been a fourth one now.
(Outside the windows, the lights of a police car flash as it approaches with its siren going.
Sherlock walks over to the window as the car pulls up outside.)
SHERLOCK: Yes, actually. Very much up my street.
JOHN (leaning forward in the chair): Can I just ask: what is your street?
SHERLOCK (looking down at the police car): Theres been a fifth.
(Sherlock turns as D.I. Lestrade [who apparently must have picked the lock on the front door ...
like you do ...] trots up the stairs and comes into the living room.)
SHERLOCK: Where this time?
LESTRADE: Brixton, Lauriston Gardens. Will you come?
SHERLOCK: Whos on forensics?
LESTRADE: Its Anderson.
SHERLOCK: Anderson wont work with me.
LESTRADE: He wont be your assistant.
SHERLOCK: But I need an assistant.
LESTRADE: Will you come?
SHERLOCK: Not in a police car. Ill be right behind.
LESTRADE: Thank you.
(Looking round at John and Mrs Hudson for a moment, he turns and leaves the room. Biting his
lip to hold back his delighted smile, Sherlock waits until the inspector is trotting down the stairs,
then clenches his fists triumphantly and leaps into the air.)
SHERLOCK: Oh! Brilliant!
(Mrs Hudson giggles happily for him.)
SHERLOCK: Thought it was gonna be a dull evening.
(He starts putting his coat on.)
SHERLOCK (to John): Honestly, cant beat a really imaginative serial killer when theres nothing
on the telly.
(Leaping across the room while he puts his scarf on, he goes across to the bureau.)
SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson, I may be out late. Might need some food.
MRS HUDSON: Im your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper.
(Sherlock picks up a small pouch of equipment and checks the implements inside it.)
SHERLOCK: Something cold will do. John, make yourself at home. Er, have a cup of tea. Dont
wait up.
(He races out of the door and disappears from view. Mrs Hudson giggles.)
MRS HUDSON: Look at him, dashing about! My husband was just the same.
(John sits back in his chair, looking tired.)
MRS HUDSON: But youre more the sitting-down type, I can tell.
(John looks uncomfortable.)
MRS HUDSON (heading for the kitchen): Ill make you that cuppa. You rest your leg.
JOHN (loudly): Damn my leg!
(His response was instinctive and he is immediately apologetic as Mrs Hudson gasps and comes
back towards him, making an indignant sound.)
JOHN: Im sorry. Im so sorry. Its just that sometimes this bloody thing ...
(He bashes his leg with his cane.)
MRS HUDSON: I understand, dear; Ive got a hip.
(She turns towards the kitchen again.)
JOHN: A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you.
MRS HUDSON: Just this once, dear. Im not your housekeeper.
JOHN (grabbing the nearby copy of The Times): Couple of biscuits too, if youve got em.
MRS HUDSON (heading out of the kitchen door): Im not your housekeeper!
(John looks at the front page of the newspaper which bears the headline Fourth suicide
Found and shows a photograph of the man who just visited the flat, identifying him as

7
Inspector Lestrade, the lead detective in charge of the investigation. As he reads on, Sherlock
stands in the doorway of the lounge and watches him for a moment before coming back into the
room.)
SHERLOCK: Youre a doctor.
(John looks round at him.)
SHERLOCK: In fact youre an Army doctor.
JOHN (putting the paper down and standing up): Yes.
SHERLOCK: Any good?
JOHN: Very good.
SHERLOCK: Seen a lot of injuries, then; violent deaths.
JOHN: Well, yes.
SHERLOCK: Bit of trouble too, I bet.
JOHN (quietly): Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much.
SHERLOCK: Wanna see some more?
JOHN (fervently): God, yes!
(Smiling, Sherlock spins on his heel.)
SHERLOCK: Come on, then.
(He leads John out of the room and down the stairs. John calls out as he follows him down.)
JOHN: Sorry, Mrs Hudson, Ill skip the cuppa. Off out.
MRS HUDSON (coming out of a downstairs room): What, both of you?
(Sherlock has almost reached the front door but now turns back towards her.)
SHERLOCK: No point sitting at home when theres finally some halfway interesting murders!
(He turns towards the door again.)
MRS HUDSON: Look at you, all happy. Its not decent.
SHERLOCK (turning back again): Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs Hudson, is on!
(He and John hurry out onto the street and Sherlock hails an approaching black cab.)
SHERLOCK: Taxi!
Shortly afterwards the boys are in the back of the taxi heading for Brixton. Sherlock gazes
thoughtfully out of the window while John keeps stealing nervous glances at him. Finally
Sherlock looks round at him.
SHERLOCK: Okay, youve got questions.
JOHN: Where are we going?
SHERLOCK: Crime scene. Theres been a murder. Next?
JOHN: Who are you? What do you do?
SHERLOCK: What do you think?
JOHN: Id say private detective, but ...
SHERLOCK: But?
JOHN: ... the police dont go to private detectives.
SHERLOCK: Im a consulting detective. Im the only one in the world. I invented the job.
JOHN: What does that mean?
SHERLOCK: It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me.
JOHN: But the police dont consult ... (he pauses for a long moment, apparently reluctant to use
the word) ... amateurs.
(Sherlock looks at him for several seconds.)
SHERLOCK: When I met you for the first time yesterday and asked, Afghanistan or Iraq? you
looked surprised.
JOHN: How did you know?
SHERLOCK: I didnt know, I saw.
(Flashback to the computer lab at Barts as Sherlock takes Johns phone from him.)
SHERLOCK (in flashback): Thank you.
SHERLOCK: Tanned face but no tan above the wrists. Youve been abroad, but not sunbathing.
Your haircut and the way you hold yourself says military. Your conversation when you entered
the room ...
(Flashback to Mike leading John into the lab.)
JOHN (in flashback): Ah. Bit different from my day.
[Yes, that isnt what he said at the time.]
SHERLOCK: ... says trained at Barts, so Army doctor, obvious.
(John stares at him, startled.)
(Flashback to Sherlock noticing Johns cane in the lab.)

8
SHERLOCK: Your limps really bad when you walk but you dont ask for a chair when you stand,
like youve forgotten about it. That means the limp is at least partly psychosomatic. That says
the original circumstances of the injury were traumatising. Wounded in action, then. So: where
does an Army doctor get himself a suntan and wounded in action these days? Afghanistan or
Iraq.
JOHN: You said I had a therapist.
SHERLOCK: Youve got a psychosomatic limp of course youve got a therapist.
(Both of them are gazing out of their respective side windows. Sherlock takes a sharp breath
and turns to John again.)
SHERLOCK: Then theres your brother.
(Flashback to John offering Sherlock his phone.)
JOHN (in flashback): Here, use mine.
(In the flashback he takes the phone.)
SHERLOCK (now holding Johns phone in the taxi): Your phone. Its expensive, e-mail enabled,
MP3 player. Youre looking for a flatshare you wouldnt waste money on this. Its a gift, then.
(He turns it over and looks at it again as he talks.)
SHERLOCK: Scratches. Not just one, but many over time. Its been in the same pocket as keys
and coins. The man sitting beside me wouldnt treat his one luxury item like this. Its had a
previous owner, then. The next bits easy. You know it already.
JOHN: The engraving.
(We see that engraved on the back of the phone are the words
Harry Watson
From Clara
Xxx
SHERLOCK: Harry Watson: clearly a family member whos given you his old phone. Not your
father; this is a young mans gadget. Could be a cousin, but then youre a war hero returning
home who cant find a place to live. Unlikely youve got an extended family, certainly not one
youre close to, so brother it is. Now, Clara. Whos Clara? Three kisses says its a romantic
attachment. The expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. Shes given this to him recently
the models only six months old. So, its a marriage in trouble, then six months on hes just
given it away. If shed left him, hed have kept the phone, probably. People do sentiment. But
no, he wanted rid of it. He left her. He gave the phone to you; that says he wants you to stay in
touch. Hes worried about you.
(He gives the phone back to John.)
SHERLOCK: Youre looking for cheap accommodation, but you wont go to your brother for help.
That says youve got problems with him.
(John shakes his head in disbelief.)
SHERLOCK: Maybe you liked his wife; maybe you dont like his drinking.
JOHN: How can you possibly know about the drinking?
SHERLOCK: Shot in the dark. Good one, though.
(Yet another flashback of Sherlock standing and taking Johns phone.)
SHERLOCK (in the taxi): Power connection: tiny scuff marks around the edge of it.
(John peers at the edge of the phone.)
SHERLOCK: Every night he plugs it in to recharge but his hands are shaking. You never see
those marks on a sober mans phone; never see a drunks without them.
(John shakes his head and puts the phone back in his pocket.)
SHERLOCK: There you go, you see you were right.
JOHN: I was right? Right about what?
SHERLOCK: The police dont consult amateurs.
(He looks out of the side window while he awaits Johns reaction. It takes John several seconds
before he can formulate a response.)
JOHN: That was ... amazing.
(Sherlock looks round, apparently surprised by his comment.)
SHERLOCK: Do you think so?
JOHN: Of course it was! It was extraordinary! It was quite extraordinary!
SHERLOCK (startled): Thats not what people usually say.
JOHN: What do they usually say?

9
SHERLOCK: Piss off!

(John laughs and turns away to look out of the window as the journey continues.)
BRIXTON. The cab arrives at Lauriston Gardens and Sherlock and John get out and walk
through the pouring rain towards the police tape strung across the road.
SHERLOCK: Did I get anything wrong?
JOHN: Harry and me dont get on, never have. Harry and Clara are getting a divorce split up
three months ago; Harrys a drinker.
SHERLOCK (looking impressed with himself): Spot on, then. I didnt expect to be right about
everything.
JOHN: Harrys short for Harriet.
(Sherlock turns and stares at him.)
SHERLOCK: Harrys your sister?
JOHN: Now, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?
SHERLOCK (still surprised): Your sister!
JOHN: No, seriously, why am I here?
SHERLOCK (exasperated): Oh! Theres always something!
(They approach the police tape where they are met by Sergeant Sally Donovan.)
DONOVAN: Hello, freak.
SHERLOCK: Im here to see Inspector Lestrade.
DONOVAN: Why?
SHERLOCK: I was invited.
DONOVAN: Why?
SHERLOCK (sarcastically): I think he wants me to take a look.
DONOVAN (unwillingly lifting the tape): Well, you know what I think, dont you?
SHERLOCK (ducking under the tape): Always, Sally. (He turns back towards her.) Even know
you didnt make it home last night.
DONOVAN (dropping the tape in front of John as she looks at him): Whos this?
SHERLOCK: Colleague of mine, Doctor Watson. Doctor Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan. (His
voice drips with sarcasm.) Old friend.
DONOVAN: A colleague? How did you get a colleague?!
(She turns to John.)
DONOVAN: Did he follow you home?
JOHN: Would it be better if I just go ...
SHERLOCK (walking back and lifting the tape for him): No.
(As John walks under the tape, Donovan lifts a radio to her mouth.)
DONOVAN (into radio): Yeah, freaks here. Bringing him in.
(She leads the boys towards the house. Sherlock loudly greets Doctor Anderson as he comes
out of the house dressed in a coverall.)
SHERLOCK: Ah, Anderson. Here we are again.
ANDERSON: Its a crime scene. I dont want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?
SHERLOCK: Quite clear.
ANDERSON: Your magic tricks might impress Inspector Lestrade they dont work on me.
SHERLOCK: And is your wife away for long?
ANDERSON: Oh, dont pretend you worked that out. Someone told you that.
SHERLOCK: Your deodorant told me that.
ANDERSON: My deodorant?
SHERLOCK: Its for men.
ANDERSON: Well, of course its for men! Im wearing it!
SHERLOCK: Sos Sergeant Donovan.
(Standing nearby, Donovan looks shocked. As Anderson looks across to her with wide eyes,
Sherlock sniffs pointedly.)
SHERLOCK: Ooh, and I think it just vaporised. May I go in?
ANDERSON (pointing at him angrily): You you listen to me, okay?
(Sherlock leads John towards the front door. Anderson hurries after him.)
ANDERSON: Whatever it is youre trying to imply ...
SHERLOCK (stopping and turning back to him): Im not implying anything! Im sure Sally came
round for a nice little chat, and happened to stay over.
(He pauses for a moment.)
SHERLOCK: And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees.
ANDERSON (frustrated and angry): Right just, just go in. Just, just go.

10
(As the boys head into the house, Anderson turns and looks at Donovan, sighing. She shakes
her head in exasperation.)
(In a room inside the house, Lestrade is wearing a coverall and is about to put on a pair of latex
gloves. He calls out to Sherlock as he comes into the room.)
LESTRADE: You have two minutes.
SHERLOCK: May need longer.
(Lestrade looks in puzzlement at John as he walks in and takes the coverall that Sherlock hands
to him.)
SHERLOCK: Put this on.
LESTRADE: Whos this?
SHERLOCK (picking up another coverall): Hes with me.
LESTRADE: Yeah, but who is he?
SHERLOCK: I told you; hes with me.
(He starts to step into the coverall.)
SHERLOCK: So, where are we?
LESTRADE (putting his gloves on): Its upstairs.
Shortly afterwards Lestrade leads them up the stairs, illuminating the way with a flashlight.
LESTRADE: Footprint analysis says that the only other person in this room in the last twelve
hours was a man of about five foot seven. It seemed that he and the victim arrived together by
car. All identifications missing from the body, just like the others. Have no idea who she is or
where shes from.
(Pushing open a bedroom door, he leads the boys inside. John stops in the doorway at the sight
that greets him. A womans body is lying face down on the bare floorboards in the middle of the
room. She is wearing a bright pink overcoat and high-heeled pink shoes. Her left hand is flat on
the floor beside of her head; her right arm is at her side. Johns face fills with pain and
sadness.)
SHERLOCK: Well, shes from out of town, clearly. Planned to spend a single night in London
before returning home. So far, so obvious.
LESTRADE: Obvious?
SHERLOCK: Yes, obvious. Back of the right leg.
(He points in the direction of the womans legs before turning towards John.)
SHERLOCK: Doctor Watson, what do you think?
JOHN: What do I think?
SHERLOCK: Youre the medical man.
LESTRADE: We have a whole team right outside.
SHERLOCK (irritably): They wont work with me.
LESTRADE: Look, Im breaking every rule letting you in here.
SHERLOCK (a little aggressively): Yeah ... cause you need me.
(Lestrade stares at him for a moment, then lowers his eyes in reluctant despair.)
LESTRADE: Yes, I do, God help me.
SHERLOCK: John.
(He nods towards the body. John turns his gaze towards Lestrade, silently seeking his
permission.)
LESTRADE (a little tetchily): Oh, just do as he says. Help yourself.
(Sherlock and John walk over to the body. Sherlock drops to one knee on the right-hand side of
it and John painfully lowers himself to one knee on the other side, leaning heavily on his cane to
support himself. Putting his cane down, he leans forward on one hand to look more closely at
the body.)
SHERLOCK: Well?
(John straightens up a little.)
JOHN (softly): What am I doing here?
SHERLOCK (softly): Helping me make a point.
JOHN (softly): Im supposed to be helping you pay the rent.
SHERLOCK (softly): Yeah; this is more fun.
JOHN: Fun? Theres a woman lying dead.
SHERLOCK: No, there are two women and three men lying dead. Keep talking and therell be
more. (Louder, so that Lestrade can hear him) Now, cause of death.
(Staring at his new acquaintance for a long moment, John eventually leans forward, puts his
head close to the victims and sniffs, then straightens up and looks across to Sherlock.)

11
JOHN: Asphyxiation, probably. She passed out and choked on her own vomit. I cant smell any
alcohol on her. Could be a seizure; possibly drugs.
SHERLOCK: It was poison.
JOHN: How do you know?
SHERLOCK: Because they were all poisoned.
JOHN: By who?
SHERLOCK: By themselves.
JOHN: Themselves?
LESTRADE: Weve identified the drug ...
SHERLOCK (holding his hand out to stop him): Doesnt matter; it was poison.
(Lestrade rolls his eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Same pattern each time.
(He picks up the womans right hand and looks closely at it.)
SHERLOCK: Each one of them disappears from their normal lives ... (he bends closer and sniffs
at her palm and nails) ... from the theatre, from their home, from the office, from the pub ...
(Standing up, he moves around to the other side of the body. John stands and gets out of his
way and Sherlock kneels down again.)
SHERLOCK: ... then turn up a few hours later somewhere theyve no reason to be ...
(He picks up the womans left hand, looks closely at the rings on her ring finger, then sniffs her
hand.)
SHERLOCK (softly): ... dead.
(He pulls back her coat sleeve to look at her wrist, then shifts position slightly and pulls her coat
collar back to look at her necklace.)
SHERLOCK: No marks of violence on the body, no suggestion of compulsion.
(He lifts her hair away from the side of her face to look at her earring, then drops the hair
gently back into position again. Reaching into the left pocket of her overcoat, he pulls out a pink
folding umbrella.)
SHERLOCK: Each of them has taken the same poison and, as far as we can tell, taken it
voluntarily.
LESTRADE: Sherlock two minutes, I said. I need anything youve got.
(Sherlock has stood up, taken out his phone and is typing on it. Grinning at what he sees on the
screen, he puts the phone away again.)
SHERLOCK: Okay, take this down.
LESTRADE (tetchily): Just tell me what youve got.
SHERLOCK: Im not gonna write it down.
LESTRADE (angrily): Sherlock!
JOHN (taking out a notebook and pen): Its all right. Ill do it.
SHERLOCK: Thank you. The victim is in her early thirties. A professional person, going by her
clothes; Id guess something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Shes
travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. Thats obvious from the
size of her suitcase.
LESTRADE: Suitcase?
SHERLOCK: Her suitcase, yes.
(John looks around the room and frowns when he cant see a suitcase anywhere.)
SHERLOCK: Shes been married several years, but not happily. Shes had a string of lovers but
none of them knew she was married.
LESTRADE: For Gods sake, if youre just making this up ...
SHERLOCK (pointing down to her left hand): Her wedding ring look at it. Its too tight. She
was thinner when she first wore it; that says married for a while. Also, theres grime in the gem
setting. The rest of her jewellerys recently been cleaned; that tells you everything you need to
know about the state of her marriage.
(Writing in his notebook, John shakes his head with an admiring smile.)
SHERLOCK (down on his knees again, moving the womans fingers to show the rings to John):
Inside of the ring is shinier than the outside that means its regularly removed. The only
polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger but it cant be easy, so she must have a
reason. Cant be for work; her nails are too long. Doesnt work with her hands, so what or
rather who does she remove her ring for? Clearly not one lover; shed never sustain the fiction
of being single over time, so more likely a string of them. Simple.
JOHN (admiringly): Brilliant.
(Sherlock looks at him in surprise.)
JOHN (apologetically): Sorry.

12
(As he looks back to his notebook, Sherlock looks round almost sheepishly at Lestrade.)
LESTRADE: Cardiff?
SHERLOCK (standing up again): Obvious, isnt it?
JOHN: Its not obvious to me.
SHERLOCK: Dear God. Whats it like inside your funny little brains? It must be so boring.
(Squatting once more, he points down at the body.)
SHERLOCK: Her coat: slightly damp. Shes been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain
anywhere in London until the last few minutes. Under her coat collar is damp, too. Shes turned
it up against the wind.
(Again John shakes his head in amazement while he continues writing.)
SHERLOCK: Theres an umbrella in her left pocket but its dry and unused: not just wind, strong
wind too strong to use her umbrella. We know from the suitcase that she intended to stay a
night, so she must have come a decent distance but she cant have travelled more than two or
three hours because her coat still hasnt dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong
winds within the radius of that travel time?
(Standing up, he gets his phone from his pocket and shows to Lestrade the webpage he was
looking at earlier, displaying todays weather for south Wales.)
SHERLOCK: Cardiff.
JOHN (grinning as he continues to make notes): Fantastic!
SHERLOCK: Dyou know you do that out loud?
JOHN (looking up at him): Sorry. Ill shut up.
SHERLOCK (putting his phone away): No, its ... its fine.
LESTRADE: There was no suitcase.
SHERLOCK: Im sorry?
LESTRADE (looking a little smug): You keep saying suitcase. There wasnt one.
SHERLOCK (looking round in surprise): Oh. I was assuming youd taken it away.
LESTRADE: She had a handbag. Whyd you say she had a case?
SHERLOCK: Because she did. Her handbag was there a mobile phone in it?
LESTRADE: No.
SHERLOCK: Thats odd. Thats very odd.
LESTRADE: Why?
SHERLOCK: Never mind. We need to find her case.
JOHN: How do you know she had a case?
SHERLOCK (pointing down to the body, where her tights have small black splotches on the
lower part of her right leg): Back of the right leg: tiny splash marks above the heel and calf, not
present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Dont
get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, judging by the spread. A case that size,
woman this clothes-conscious: could only be an overnight bag, so we know she was staying the
night.
JOHN: Maybe she checked into a hotel, left her case there.
SHERLOCK: She never made it to a hotel. Look at her hair. Colour-coordinates her lipstick and
her shoes. A woman like that would never leave the hotel with her hair still looking that ...
(He stops talking as he makes a realisation.)
SHERLOCK: Oh.
(His eyes widen and his face lights up.)
SHERLOCK: Oh!
(He turns and hurries out of the room.)
JOHN: Sherlock?
LESTRADE (hurrying out after Sherlock and stopping at the top of the stairs): What? What is it?
What, what, what?
SHERLOCK (turning back as he strips off his gloves and coverall): Serial killers always hard.
Have to wait for them to make a mistake.
LESTRADE: Well, we cant just wait!
SHERLOCK: Oh, were done waiting! When she was found, she couldnt have been here long, is
that right?
LESTRADE: No, not long at all um, less than an hour.
SHERLOCK (thoughtfully): Less than an hour. (His eyes widen.) An hour!
(He looks up at Lestrade.)
SHERLOCK: News blackout: can you do that? Dont say that youve found her; nothing for a
day.
LESTRADE: Why?

13
SHERLOCK: Look at her, really look! Houston, we have a mistake.

(As Lestrade and John automatically turn and look back towards the victim, Sherlock trots off
down the stairs.)
SHERLOCK: Back in a moment!
LESTRADE (turning and calling after him): But what mistake?!
SHERLOCK (turning back and yelling up the stairs): PINK!
(He hurries off. Lestrade sighs in exasperation and calls out.)
LESTRADE: Anderson!
(Anderson and his team are already on their way out of a downstairs room and now head up the
stairs.)
ANDERSON: Im here.
(He stops at the top of the stairs.)
ANDERSON: So? What was the point in all that?
LESTRADE: Were after a psychopath.
ANDERSON: So were bringing in another psychopath to help?!
LESTRADE: If thats what it takes.
(He gestures towards the room.)
LESTRADE: All yours.
(John comes out of the doorway and steps aside as Anderson gestures to his team.)
ANDERSON: Right, come on.
(The team goes into the room and Lestrade turns to follow them.)
JOHN: My notes dyou want me to, er ...
LESTRADE: Sorry, youre ...?
JOHN: Doctor Watson.
LESTRADE: Well, youre gonna have to go, Doctor Watson. Dont need your notes.
(He follows the forensic team into the room.)
LESTRADE: Okay, lets get on with it.
(John hesitates on the landing for a moment and then slowly starts making his way down the
stairs.
Shortly afterwards he has removed his coverall, and now walks out onto the street. Its still
pouring with rain. Sergeant Donovan is nearby, leaning into the window of a police car and
talking to the driver.)
DONOVAN: Okay, look, were gonna need Jones and Adams at the top of the road. Theres so
many people around ...
(John looks around but he sees no sign of Sherlock. Donovan straightens up and notices him.)
DONOVAN: Hes gone.
JOHN: What, Sherlock Holmes?
DONOVAN: He just took off. He does that.
JOHN: Is he coming back?
DONOVAN: Didnt look like it.
JOHN: Right.
(He lowers his head and shakes it angrily.)
JOHN: Right ... Yes.
(He limps towards Donovan.)
JOHN: Um, sorry, where am I?
DONOVAN (holding up the police tape to allow a colleague past): Brixton.
JOHN: Right. Dyou know where Id, er, get a cab? Its just, my leg.
DONOVAN (still holding the tape up): Yeah, try the main road.
(John sighs and ducks under the tape before starting to walk down the road.)
DONOVAN: Hey.
JOHN: (stopping and turning back to her): Hmm.
DONOVAN: Youre not his friend he doesnt have friends so who are you?
JOHN: Me? Im ... Im nobody. I just met him.
DONOVAN: Right, bit of advice then: stay away from that guy.
JOHN: Why?
DONOVAN: You know why hes here? Hes not paid or anything. He likes it. He gets off on it.
The weirder the crime, the more he gets off. And you know what? One day just showing up isnt
gonna be enough. One day well be standing round a body and Sherlock Holmesll be the one
who put it there.
JOHN: Why would he do that?
DONOVAN: Because hes a psychopath. And psychopaths get bored.

14
LESTRADE (calling from the entrance to the house): Donovan!

DONOVAN (turning and calling to him): Yeah, coming.
(She turns back towards John.)
DONOVAN: Stay away from Sherlock Holmes.
(She walks away towards the house. John watches her go for a moment, then turns and looks
down the road before turning back and calling out towards her.)
JOHN: Thanks.
DONOVAN: No worries.
(John turns again and begins to limp up the road, leaning heavily on his cane. He glances up
towards the sky on his left, then looks up at the rooftops on the right. He stops and stares at
the sight that greets him. Standing on the top of a nearby tall Victorian building which has
many ornate chimneypots on its roof, Sherlock is lit by an almost full Moon. John gazes up at
the sight admiringly before looking round furtively to see if any of the police are watching this
but theres no-one around. He looks back up to the roof as Sherlock, possibly oblivious to being
watched, is looking all around the area from his high vantage point. Eventually he turns and
heads away.)
Some time later John limps tiredly into his bedsit. Switching on the light and sighing, he walks
across to the bed and sits down on the side. Putting his cane down beside him, he briefly closes
his eyes, sighing wearily, before reaching down to undo one of his shoes. Just then his phone
sounds a text alert. Grimacing as he lowers his foot to the floor again, he takes the phone from
his jacket pocket and looks at the message. It reads:
Text from +44 7544680989
BAKER STREET. COME AT ONCE,

IF CONVENIENT. SH.
John looks up thoughtfully, then puts the phone away in his pocket again before once again
bending to undo his shoe. Almost immediately the phone trills another text alert. John glares
into the distance for a moment before again lowering his foot to the floor and rooting in his
pocket for his phone. The new message reads:
Text from +44 7544680989
IF INCONVENIENT COME ANY

WAY.
John lifts his head and looks towards the door thoughtfully as if considering leaving to answer
the summons, but after a few seconds he puts the phone onto the bed beside him, then picks
up his cane and leans on it as he stands up and walks across the room to the window. He stops
and stares through the blinds. Behind him, the phone lights up and sounds another text alert.
John stays facing the window, though he cant help turning his head slightly. For several
seconds he tries to ignore the temptation but eventually he cant resist and angrily stomps
across the room to pick up the phone. The latest message simply reads:
Text from +44 7544680989
COULD BE DANGEROUS.
John looks at the message for a moment, then lifts his head, his gaze alert.
Not long afterwards he is in the back of a taxi, sitting upright and rocking backwards and
forwards slightly as if urging the vehicle to go faster. He looks anxiously at his watch. The taxi
driver sees what hes doing in the rear view mirror.
TAXI DRIVER: You late or something?
JOHN (leaning forward and looking anxiously out of the window): No, not particularly. Why?
TAXI DRIVER: Sorry. You just look a bit ... wired.
JOHN (snappily): Wired? What dyou mean, wired?

15
(The taxi driver glances nervously in the mirror but doesnt reply. John continues to look
urgently out of the side window as the cab continues.)
221B BAKER STREET. Upstairs in the living room of the flat, Sherlock is lying stretched out on
the sofa with his feet towards the window. A laptop is open on top of the back of the sofa,
showing the press report and photograph of Inspector Lestrade which John had been reading in
the newspaper earlier. Sherlock has his jacket off and his shirt sleeves unbuttoned and pushed
up his arms, and he is pressing the palm of his right hand firmly onto the underside of his left
arm just below the elbow. After a moment he drops his head back onto the arm of the sofa,
then he sighs out a noisy breath and relaxes. John hobbles up the stairs and comes through the
door, then stops and looks at the sight of Sherlock gazing blankly upwards towards the ceiling.
JOHN: What are you doing?
(Sherlock turns his eyes in his direction briefly.)
SHERLOCK: Nicotine patch. Helps me think. Impossible to sustain a smoking habit in London
these days. Bad news for brain work.
JOHN: Well, its good news for breathing.
SHERLOCK (dismissively): Oh, breathing.
(He releases his left arm and lets it flop downwards, revealing three square nicotine patches
stuck to the lower part of his arm.)
SHERLOCK: Breathings boring.
(John frowns and walks further into the room.)
JOHN: Is that three patches?
SHERLOCK: Its a three-patch problem.
(John nods, looks around the room for a moment, then looks down at Sherlock again.)
JOHN: Well?
(Sherlock doesnt respond, continuing to gaze up at the ceiling.)
JOHN: You asked me to come. Took me an hour to get here. I assume its important.
(Sherlock still doesnt respond instantly, but eventually he raises his head.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, yeah. Can I borrow your phone?
(John stares at him in disbelief.)
JOHN: My phone?
SHERLOCK: Dont wanna use mine. Always a chance the number will be recognised. Its on the
website.
JOHN: Mrs Hudsons got a phone.
SHERLOCK: Yeah, but shes downstairs. I tried shouting but she didnt 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 into the distance. Eventually John digs his phone out
of his jacket pocket and holds it towards him.)
JOHN: Here. Here.
(Sherlock takes the phone from him. Shaking his head angrily, John turns and walks a few
paces away before turning around again.)
JOHN: So whats this about the case?
SHERLOCK: Her case.
JOHN: Her case?
SHERLOCK: Her suitcase, yes. The murderer took her suitcase. First big mistake.
(John frowns in confusion. Sherlock grimaces and gets to his feet and walks across to the
window.)
SHERLOCK: Its no use, theres no other way. Well have to risk it.
JOHN: Risk what?
SHERLOCK (turning towards him): Theres a number, over there on the table.
(He tosses the phone back to John.)
SHERLOCK: I want you to send a text.
JOHN: Who am I texting?
SHERLOCK: Never mind. On the table, the number, now, please.
(He turns away to look out of the window. John again shakes his head in disbelief and walks to
the small table near the chairs. Theres a small address label on it and he starts to type the
number into his phone.)
JOHN: Maybe Sergeant Donovan was right about you.
SHERLOCK (briefly glancing over his shoulder): What did she say?
JOHN: Said you were a psychopath.

16
SHERLOCK: Oh! Didnt think she was that smart!

JOHN: She said one day theyre gonna show up at a murder scene and youll have provided the
body.
SHERLOCK (ignoring what he just said): These words exactly: What happened at Lauriston
Gardens? I must have blacked out.
(Shaking his head in frustration, John rests his cane against his leg and starts to type. Sherlock
continues his narration.)
SHERLOCK: Twenty-two Northumberland Terrace. Please come.
(Still typing, John glances across the room momentarily, then does a double take. His eyes
widen at the sight of a small pink suitcase standing on the floor. As John takes hold of his cane
and leans heavily on it, looking shocked, Sherlock looks over his shoulder.)
SHERLOCK: Well? Send it.
(As John stumbles backwards, Sherlock walks across the room and picks up the case.)
SHERLOCK: Have you sent it?
JOHN (vaguely): Just a moment.
(He finishes typing the message as Sherlock brings the case across to the table, puts it on top
and unzips it.)
SHERLOCK: Take a look at the impossible.
(He flips the lid open.)
SHERLOCK: The contents of her case.
JOHN: How did you get this?
SHERLOCK: By looking.
JOHN: Where?
SHERLOCK: We know the killer drove to Lauriston Gardens. We know the killer is a man. No
man could be seen with this case without attracting attention to himself, so obviously hed feel
compelled to get rid of it the moment he knew it was still in his car. Wouldnt have taken him
more than five minutes to realise his mistake.
(Cut-away shot of Sherlock standing on the roof of a garage looking around as he searches for a
glimpse of anywhere the case might have been hidden.)
SHERLOCK: I checked every back street wide enough for a car within five minutes of Lauriston
Gardens ...
(Cut-away shot of Sherlock back on the ground. He has climbed inside a large skip and is
throwing objects out of it haphazardly.)
SHERLOCK: ... and looked for anywhere you could easily dispose of a bulky object without being
observed.
(In the cut-away shot Sherlock finds the pink suitcase amongst the rubbish.)
SHERLOCK: Took me less than an hour to find the right skip.
(In the cut-away shot Sherlock grins with delight, then checks the name on the luggage tag
before clapping his hands triumphantly and leaping out of the skip with the suitcase and running
off into the night.)
(In the flat, John has now sat down and is staring at the case in awe.)
JOHN: Pink. You got all that because you realised the cased be pink?
SHERLOCK (who has sat down opposite him): Well, it had to be pink, obviously.
JOHN (to himself): Why didnt I think of that?
SHERLOCK: Because youre stupid.
(John looks across to him, startled.)
SHERLOCK: Oh no, dont look like that. Practically everyone is.
(He smiles at him briefly, then points towards Johns phone.)
SHERLOCK: Sent?
JOHN (looking down at his phone): Sent, yes. What was that about?
(Sherlock slides the address label back into the luggage tag.)
SHERLOCK: The contents of her case look at them.
(Sighing, John puts his phone into his jacket pocket and sits forward as he starts to rummage
through the womans unmentionables.)
JOHN: What am I looking for?
SHERLOCK: The impossible. The one impossible thing.
JOHN: Theres a change of clothes, a make-up bag, a washbag and a novel. (He sits back.)
Whats impossible?
SHERLOCK: Her mobile phone.
JOHN: There isnt a mobile phone.

17
(Sherlock slams his hands onto the arms of the chair and pulls his feet up under him so that
hes perched on the seat.)
SHERLOCK: Thats whats impossible. No mobile in her case, no mobile in her coat pocket.
JOHN: Well, maybe she doesnt have one.
SHERLOCK: She has a string of lovers. Of course she has one.
JOHN: She could have left it at home.
SHERLOCK: Again, string of lovers. She never leaves her phone at home.
JOHN: And so where is it?
SHERLOCK: You know where it is. More importantly, you know who has it.
JOHN: The murderer?
SHERLOCK (smiling): The murderer.
(Standing up on the chair, he steps off and onto the floor. John rummages frantically in his
jacket pocket for his phone.)
JOHN: Who did I just text?
SHERLOCK: Maybe she just dropped it in the back of his car; maybe she planted it on purpose
to lead us to him, but the murderer has her phone.
(As if on cue, Johns phone begins to ring. He looks at the screen, which reads:
077900955
mobile
Sherlock stares intently at the phone while it continues to ring.)

SHERLOCK: A few hours since his last victim. Now hes received a text which can only be from
her. An innocent man would ignore a text like that; assume it was a mistake. A guilty man ...
(The phone stops ringing and the screen goes blank.)
SHERLOCK (grinning): ... would panic.
(He turns to pick up his jacket and puts it on.)
JOHN: Have you spoken to the police?
SHERLOCK: Five people are dead. There isnt time to talk to the police.
JOHN: Then why are you talking to me?
SHERLOCK: Youre here.
(John looks down at his phone again.)
SHERLOCK: Well?
JOHN: Well what?
SHERLOCK: Well, you could sit there and watch telly.
(John laughs and sits back in his chair.)
SHERLOCK: Problem?
JOHN: Sergeant Donovan.
SHERLOCK: What about her?
JOHN: Said you get off on this. You enjoy it.
SHERLOCK (putting on his greatcoat and scarf): And I said danger, and here you are.
(He walks out of the door. John grits his teeth, then angrily leans onto his cane to push himself
to his feet and head for the door.)
JOHN: Damn it!
Downstairs, John catches up to Sherlock and follows him into the street. Sherlock turns and
pulls the front door closed and they head off down the road.
SHERLOCK: Northumberland Terrace is a five-minute walk from here.
JOHN: What, you think hes stupid enough to go there?
SHERLOCK: No I think hes brilliant enough. I love the brilliant ones so desperate to get
caught.
JOHN: Why?
SHERLOCK: Appreciation. At long last the spotlight. To you its an arrest; to them its a coming-
out party. Thats the frailty of genius: it needs an audience.
JOHN: Yeah.
(He looks pointedly at an oblivious Sherlock.)
JOHN: Yes. I suppose it does.
RESTAURANT. Sherlock leads John into a restaurant and sees an empty table at the front by
one of the windows. He takes off his coat by the seat which has its back to the window while

18
John sits down in the chair opposite. Outside, the street sign on the other side of the road
shows that this is Northumberland Terrace, W1. Sherlock looks round at John.
SHERLOCK: Twenty-two Northumberland Terrace. Keep your eyes on it.
(He sits down.)
JOHN (hanging his cane on the back of his chair): Dont you wanna keep your eyes on it?
SHERLOCK: I am.
(He nods over Johns shoulder. John turns and sees that a mirror is hanging on the wall behind
him, allowing Sherlock to see the road behind him.)
JOHN: But hes not just gonna ring the doorbell, though, is he?
SHERLOCK: No, of course not. But hell pass by; might even loiter.
JOHN: Half of Londons passing by.
SHERLOCK: Ill recognise him.
JOHN: You know who he is?
SHERLOCK: I know what he is.
(The manager and/or owner of the restaurant has spotted them and comes over, clearly
pleased to see Sherlock.)
ANGELO (in an Italian accent): Sherlock!
(He leans closer and talks quietly.)
ANGELO: Anything on the menu, whatever you want, free.
(He puts a finger to his lips secretively.)
ANGELO: All on the house, you and your date.
SHERLOCK (to John): Do you want to eat?
JOHN (to Angelo): Im not his date.
ANGELO (wrapping an arm around Sherlock and hugging both of his shoulders): Ohhh! Ooh,
this man!
(He looks around to make sure nobody can hear before looking at John.)
ANGELO: He got me off a murder charge.
SHERLOCK: This is Angelo. Three years ago I successfully proved to Inspector Lestrade that at
the time of a particularly vicious triple murder, Angelo was in a completely different part of
town, car-jacking.
ANGELO (to John): He cleared my name.
SHERLOCK: I cleared it a bit.
ANGELO (releasing Sherlock and straightening up): Anything on the menu, I cook it for you
myself.
SHERLOCK: Thank you, Angelo.
ANGELO: If not for you, Id have gone to prison.
SHERLOCK: You did go to prison.
ANGELO (looking a little awkward before recovering): Ill get you a candle for the table. (He
grins at John.) Its more romantic, huh?
JOHN (indignantly, as Angelo turns away): Im not his date!
(Angelo puts two menus down on the table, smiling widely before walking away. Sherlock sets
his menu aside, watching the mirror.)
SHERLOCK: You may as well eat. We might be waiting a long time.
JOHN: Hmm. Are you going to?
SHERLOCK: What day is it?
JOHN: Its Wednesday.
SHERLOCK: Im okay for a bit.
JOHN: You havent eaten today? For Gods sake, you need to eat.
SHERLOCK: No, you need to eat. I need to think. The brains what counts. Everything else is
transport.
(John frowns at him. Angelo comes back with a red candle in a holder and sets it on the table
before lighting it.)
JOHN: You might consider refuelling.
(He looks at the candle in startlement, then sighs in resignation as he looks back at his menu.)
SHERLOCK (absently): Hmm.
JOHN: So dyou have a girlfriend who feeds you up sometimes?
SHERLOCK: Is that what girlfriends do: feed you up?
JOHN: You dont have a girlfriend, then?
SHERLOCK (still watching the mirror): Its not really my area.
JOHN: Mm.
(A moment passes before he realises the possible significance of this statement.)

19
JOHN: Oh. Right. Dyou have a boyfriend?

(Sherlock looks at him sharply.)
JOHN: Which is fine, by the way.
SHERLOCK: I know its fine.
JOHN: So you dont have a boyfriend then?
SHERLOCK: No.
JOHN: Fine. Okay. So, unattached, like me. (He looks down at his menu, apparently rapidly
running out of things to say.) Good.
(Sherlock looks at him suspiciously for a moment, appearing to replay Johns statement in his
head.)
SHERLOCK: John, you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while Im
flattered by your interest, Im really not looking for any kind of ...
JOHN (interrupting): No. No.
(He looks around awkwardly before looking back to Sherlock.)
JOHN: I wasnt asking you out. No.
(Sherlock looks at him for a moment, then nods.)
JOHN: Im just saying, its all fine. Whatever ... shakes your ... (he looks up in confusion as he
searches for the right word) ... boat. Im gonna shut up now.
SHERLOCK: I think thats for the best.
(He continues to watch the street behind him through the mirror while John looks at his menu
again. John manages to stay shut up for all of about seven seconds.)
JOHN: So ...
(Sherlock briefly closes his eyes in exasperation.)
JOHN: ... you dont ... do ... anything.
SHERLOCK (slowly, as if trying to get it through Johns skull): Everything else is transport.
Time passes. John is partway through his meal and Sherlock is drumming the fingers of one
hand impatiently on the table as he continues watching the mirror. John looks up at him.
JOHN: No sign yet, then?
(Sherlock forces himself to stop drumming.)
SHERLOCK: I suppose it is a long shot. We have to be realistic.
JOHN: You said before you didnt know who the killer was but you knew what.
SHERLOCK: So do you if you think about it.
(He screws up his eyes in exasperation.)
SHERLOCK: Why dont people just think?
JOHN: Oh, because were stupid.
(He puts a forkful of food in his mouth as he looks at Sherlock. Sherlock bites his lip.)
SHERLOCK: We know the killer drove his victims, but there were no marks of coercion or
violence on the bodies. Each one of those five people climbed into a strangers car voluntarily.
The killer was someone they trusted.
JOHN: But not someone they knew?
SHERLOCK: Five completely different people. They had no friends in common. And another
thing: Lauriston Gardens, did you see it? Twitching curtains, little old ladies ... Little old ladies,
theyre my favourite. Better than any security cameras. But according to the police, no-one
remembers a strange car parked outside an empty house. Not one person remembered.
JOHN: I see what youre saying.
(Sherlock fidgets expectantly in his seat.)
JOHN: ... No I dont. What are you saying: that the killers got an invisible car?
SHERLOCK: Yes. Yes! Exactly!
JOHN: Then I definitely dont see what youre saying.
(Sherlock sighs, then looks intensely at John.)
SHERLOCK: There are cars that pass like ghosts, unseen, unremembered. There are people we
trust, always, when were alone, when were lost, when were drunk. We never see their faces,
but every day we disappear into their cars and let the trap close around us.
(He turns his head and glances out of the window, then his gaze sharpens as a black cab pulls
up on the other side of the road, its light on to indicate that its available for hire. Sherlock turns
his head and calls out towards the rear of the restaurant.)
SHERLOCK: Angelo, glass of white wine, quickly.
(He looks at John.)
SHERLOCK: I give you the perfect murder weapon of the modern age, the invisible car.
(The cab begins to pull away from the kerb. Sherlock watches it intently in the mirror.)

20
SHERLOCK: The London cab.

(The cab turns right into the narrow street opposite the restaurant. John looks over Sherlocks
shoulder as the cab stops again a few yards down the road.)
JOHN: Theres been cabs up and down this street all night.
SHERLOCK (nodding towards the mirror): This ones stopped.
JOHN: Hes looking for a fare.
(They both watch as a woman walks towards the cab and leans down to the left-hand front
window to talk to the driver. Angelo walks towards their table carrying a glass of white wine.
Out in the street the woman straightens up again and walks away. Sherlock grins.)
JOHN: We dont know its him.
SHERLOCK: We dont know it isnt.
(Angelo puts the glass down in front of Sherlock.)
SHERLOCK: Thank you.
(He picks up the glass, closes his eyes and throws the wine into his own face. John and Angelo
jerk back in surprise. Sherlock picks up a paper napkin and pats the worst of the liquid off his
face before putting the napkin down again and reaching for his coat.)
SHERLOCK (to John): Watch. Dont interfere.
(He looks up at Angelo.)
SHERLOCK: Angelo, headless nun.
ANGELO: Ah, now that was a case!
(He begins to roll up his shirtsleeves as Sherlock puts on his coat.)
ANGELO: Same again?
SHERLOCK: If you wouldnt mind.
(Instantly Angelo leans forward, seizes Sherlocks coat and drags him out of his chair.)
ANGELO: Out of my restaurant! Cretino! Youre drunk!
(Sherlock stumbles clumsily across the floor as Angelo bundles him toward the door, continuing
to insult him in Italian. At the door, Angelo shoves Sherlock out into the street.)
ANGELO: And stay away!
(Sherlock staggers around on the pavement as if he is drunk and trying to get his balance. He
totters to the kerb and almost falls down it before stumbling out into the road, causing a car to
slam on its brakes to avoid hitting him. The driver blares his horn as Sherlock holds out his
hands apologetically. Back inside the restaurant, Angelo walks over to Johns side and they
watch Sherlock reel down the side street towards the taxi.)
JOHN: Whats he doing?
ANGELO: Sherlocks on the case. Bad news for bad people.
(Holding his fist to his mouth as if stifling a burp or trying not to vomit Sherlock continues
his drunken walk down the street. Reaching the drivers window, he raps on the glass with both
hands. The driver inside shakes his head.)
SHERLOCK (in a slurred drunken voice): Hey, hey! Come on!
(The cabbie rolls down his window.)
CABBIE: Sorry, mate, off duty.
SHERLOCK: Two two one ... (he stifles a burp) ... B Baker Street.
CABBIE: Im not on duty, mate. You see the light?
(He points up to the roof where the sign is no longer illuminated.)
SHERLOCK: Jus round the corner! Its Baker Street!
CABBIE: Theres plenty of other cabs round ere. Get another cab.
(Sherlock lurches against the side of the taxi as if unable to keep his balance.)
SHERLOCK: Two two one B!
CABBIE: Im not on duty, an I dont do drunks.
(Sherlock rolls along the side of the taxi until he is facing the rear of the vehicle. Reaching into
his coat pocket, he takes out his phone and hits a speed-dial. He holds the phone to his ear
and, inside the cab, another phone starts to ring. The cabbie fishes a pink phone from his jacket
pocket and cautiously answers it.)
CABBIE: ello?
SHERLOCK (intensely into his own phone, all trace of drunkenness gone): How do you make
them take the poison?
CABBIE: What? What did ... what did you say?
(Spinning around, Sherlock hurries to the open window and grabs the cabbies jacket with both
hands.)
SHERLOCK: I said, how do you make them take the poison?
CABBIE (grappling with him): Oi! Who are you?

21
SHERLOCK: Sherlock Holmes.

CABBIE: Do a lot of drugs, Sherlock olmes?
SHERLOCK: Not in a while.
CABBIE: I ask cause youre very resilient.
(Sherlock frowns in confusion.)
CABBIE: Most people would have passed out by now.
(Sherlock blinks, looks down, then reels away from the cab when he sees a hypodermic needle
hanging from the underside of his left upper arm. He cries out, flailing as he tries to reach
towards it to take it out. In the restaurant John looks with alarm when he sees Sherlock waving
his arms around.)
ANGELO: Its okay. All part of the plan.
(Sherlock falls against the side of the cab as the drug begins to take effect. The cabbie gets out
and reassures nearby passers-by who have stopped to watch whats going on.)
CABBIE: Its okay. Hes just had a few.
(He grabs Sherlock, who groans incoherently and tries to wave his arm towards the restaurant.)
CABBIE: Look at the state of im!
SHERLOCK (slurring): John!
(In the restaurant, John watches with concern, unable to hear that Sherlock is continuing to call
his name while the cabbie opens the back door and starts shoving him inside. Sherlock falls to
the floor of the cab. The cabbie looks down at him.)
CABBIE: Trouble is, your friends all think youre acting.
(Groaning, Sherlock tries to sit up.)
CABBIE: Thats the thing about people.
(He slams the door and walks to the front of the cab, chuckling.)
CABBIE: Theyre all stupid.
(Sherlock groans as he makes another attempt to sit up but then slumps back onto the floor
unconscious. In the restaurant, John shakes his head.)
JOHN: Somethings gone wrong.
ANGELO: No, no, no. All part of the plan.
(The cab starts to drive away down the street.)
ANGELO: Sherlock always has a plan.
JOHN: Yes, and its gone wrong.
(Jumping to his feet, he races out of the restaurant, hurries across the road and then runs down
the street after the cab. Angelo shakes his head, obviously thinking that John is over-reacting,
then picks up Johns plate and walks away. On the back of Johns chair, his walking cane hangs
forgotten.)
Sherlock begins to regain consciousness some time later. He opens his eyes but his vision wont
come into focus at first and he can see nothing more than fuzzy shapes in front of him. He is
indoors and slumped in a chair. He blinks, still trying to focus and eventually can just about
make out a skull on a mantelpiece and a fire burning in the grate underneath. As he tries to
move, the cabbies voice comes from nearby.
CABBIE: I ope you dont mind. Well, you gave me your address.
(Sherlock rolls his head and sees the man standing a few feet away.)
CABBIE: Youve only been out for about ten minutes.
(Sherlock struggles to his feet but cant keep his balance. He falls forward, grabbing hold of the
mantelpiece in the living room of 221B and grunting as he tries to pull himself upright.)
CABBIE: Youre strong. Im impressed.
(Hauling himself up so that his legs are almost straight, Sherlock rests his head on his hands as
he looks blearily at the skull beside him.)
CABBIE: Thats right you warm yourself up. I made everything nice and cosy for you.
SHERLOCK (weakly): This is my flat.
CABBIE: Course it is, yeah. (He takes a set of keys from his trouser pocket and holds them up.)
Found your keys in your jacket. I thought, well, why not? People like to die at ome.
(Sherlock turns and tries to stand up straight but immediately loses his balance and crashes to
the floor face down.)
CABBIE: Now, now. The drugs still in your system. (He walks closer and looks down at
Sherlock.) Youll be weak as a kitten for at least an hour.
(He smiles down at him.)
CABBIE: I could do anything I wanted to you right now, Mr olmes.
(Groaning, Sherlock continues to struggle to stand.)

22
CABBIE: Anything at all.

(Whimpering, Sherlock manages to get up onto his knees and elbows.)
CABBIE: But dont worry. Im only gonna kill yer.
(Bending down, he grabs Sherlock around the waist and hauls him to his feet before dragging
him a few paces across the room and dumping him onto a nearby wooden chair. The chair is in
front of a small square wooden table which has another chair on the other side of it. Sherlock
slumps forward onto the table but then he manages to sit up and turns and reaches vaguely
towards the door behind him. The cabbie walks around the table towards the other chair.)
CABBIE: The whole ouse is empty. Even your landladys away, so theres no point in raising
your voice. Were all locked in, nice and snug.
(Sherlock, slumped over the back of the chair, turns his head weakly towards the other man.)
SHERLOCK: Still, bit of a risk, isnt it? Here?
CABBIE: You call that a risk?
(He reaches into both of his trouser pockets and takes out a small brown bottle from each of
them.)
CABBIE: This is a risk.
(Sherlock looks at him blankly. The cabbie puts the identical bottles onto the table in front of
him, then unscrews the lid of the right-hand one and tips out one of several small capsules from
inside it. Putting it onto the table in front of the bottle, he then picks up the left-hand bottle and
takes out another identical capsule and puts it in front of that bottle.)
CABBIE: You wanted to know ow I made em take the poison.
(He looks down at the capsules and chuckles before looking across to Sherlock.)
CABBIE: Youre gonna love this!
SHERLOCK: How?
CABBIE: Take a moment.
(Still slumped in his chair, Sherlock sighs tiredly.)
CABBIE: Get yourself together. I want your best game.
(Screwing his eyes up in concentration, Sherlock tries to straighten up.)
SHERLOCK: My ... my best what?
(He leans forward and lays his head down on one hand on the table. The cabbie points at him
even though he cant see.)
CABBIE: I know who you are, Mr olmes.
(He starts to wander around the living room.)
CABBIE: The moment you said your name, I knew. Sherlock olmes.
(He picks up a magnifying glass from the bureau and lifts it to look through it at Sherlock before
continuing around the room looking at various things.)
CABBIE: Ive been on your website loads of times. You are brilliant.
(Tiredly, Sherlock lifts his head to look at him.)
CABBIE: You are. Proper genius.
(Sherlocks head slumps down onto his hand again. The cabbie turns and walks back to the
table.)
CABBIE: The Science of Deduction. Now that is proper thinking. Between you and me, why
cant people think?
(He looks down angrily.)
CABBIE: Dont it drive you mad? Why cant people just think?
SHERLOCK (slurred, not lifting his head): Oh, I see. (He points a finger towards the cabbie.) So
youre a proper genius too.
CABBIE (smiling smugly): Dont look it, do I? Funny little man, drives a cab. But youll know
better in a minute. Chances are itll be the last thing you ever know.
(Sherlock finally gets his head up and glares up at the man.)
SHERLOCK: Who are you?
CABBIE: Nobody. (He looks down at Sherlock.) For now.
(He pulls out the chair and sits down.)
CABBIE: But I wont die a nobody, now will I?
(Sherlock tiredly leans back in his seat and blows out a long breath through his nose, trying to
concentrate. He points to the capsules on the table.)
SHERLOCK: Two pills.
CABBIE: Theres a good pill and a bad pill. You take the good pill, you live; take the bad pill,
you die.
SHERLOCK: And you know which is which.
CABBIE: Course I know.

23
SHERLOCK: But I dont.

CABBIE: Wouldnt be a game if you knew. Youre the one who chooses.
SHERLOCK: Its not a game. Its chance.
CABBIE: Ive played five times. Im alive. Its not chance, Mr olmes, its chess. Its a game of
chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this ... this is the move.
(With his right hand he slides the right-hand pill across the table towards Sherlock, then pulls
his hand back and leaves the pill where it is.)
CABBIE: Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? You can choose either one.
(Sherlock looks at him for a long moment.)
SHERLOCK: Thats what you did, to all of them. You gave them a choice.
CABBIE: Youve gotta admit: as serial killers go, Im verging on nice! Anyway, times up.
Choose.
SHERLOCK: And then?
CABBIE: And then, together, we take our medicine.
(He smiles and licks his lips expectantly.)
CABBIE: Lets play.
SHERLOCK (leaning forward a little): Play what? Its a fifty-fifty chance.
CABBIE: Youre not playin the numbers, youre playin me. Did I just give you the good pill or
the bad pill?
(Sherlock blinks slowly, his mind clearly still befuddled.)
CABBIE: Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a triple-bluff?
SHERLOCK (shaking his head in an attempt to clear it): Its still chance.
CABBIE: Five people in a row? Its not chance.
SHERLOCK: Its luck.
CABBIE: Its genius. I know ow people think. I know ow people think I think. I can see it all,
like a map in my ead.
(Sherlock turns his head away, looking exasperated.)
CABBIE: Everyones so stupid even you.
(Sherlocks gaze sharpens a little as he looks back at the man. He cant hold his gaze for long,
however, and he looks away again.)
CABBIE: Course, maybe God just loves me.
(Sherlock props his head up on his hand and looks at the man again.)
SHERLOCK: Either way, youre wasted as a cabbie.
(Rubbing his fingers across his chin, he drops his hand but is now strong enough to keep his
head up. He looks at the cabbie.)
SHERLOCK: How did you choose which ones?
CABBIE: Anyone who didnt know where they were going, cause they were drunk or lost or new
in town.
(He chuckles.)
CABBIE: Anyone I could walk through the wrong door.
(Sherlock frowns thoughtfully.)
SHERLOCK: You risked your life five times just to kill strangers.
(He pauses as he finally realises the truth.)
SHERLOCK: Youre dying, arent you?
(The cabbies eyes flicker but he manages to hold Sherlocks gaze.)
CABBIE: So are you.
SHERLOCK: You dont have long, though. Am I right?
(The cabbie smiles.)
CABBIE: Aneurism.
(He lifts his right hand and taps the side of his head.)
CABBIE: Right in ere.
(Sherlock smiles in satisfaction.)
CABBIE: Any breath could be my last. Its your only ope, Mr olmes. Bet on the aneurism.
SHERLOCK: Im not a betting man.
CABBIE: Dyou think Im bitter?
SHERLOCK (sarcastically): Well, you have just murdered five people.
CABBIE (leaning forward): Ive outlived five people. Thats the most fun you can ave with an
aneurism.
(Outside in the street, a vehicle can be heard coming to a halt with a screech of brakes. The
flashing lights of a police car come through the window. Sherlocks gaze flickers briefly to the
window but then he turns his attention back to the cabbie.)

24
SHERLOCK: What if I dont take either?

CABBIE: Then I choose for you, and I force it down your throat. Right now theres nothing you
could do to stop me.
(Sherlock blinks, aware that he is probably too weak to fend the man off. Just then the landline
phone begins to ring.)
CABBIE (ignoring it): Funnily enough, no-ones ever gone for that option. And I dont think you
will either.
(Sherlock looks across to the phone.)
SHERLOCK: Especially as thats the police.
CABBIE: I know. (He turns his head to glance over his shoulder at the flashing lights reflecting
on the window pane.) Im not blind.
SHERLOCK (smiling thoughtfully): Good old Doctor Watson. I underestimated him.
(He turns in his chair and prepares to stand up.)
CABBIE: You make the slightest move towards that phone, Ill kill yer.
SHERLOCK (slowly hauling himself to his feet, then looking down at the cabbie and smiling):
Oh, I dont think so. Not your kind of murder.
CABBIE: You wanna risk it?
(The phone stops ringing. The cabbie nods down to the pills.)
CABBIE: Wouldnt you rather risk this?
(The phone beeps as it goes to voicemail. Sherlock looks down at the pills thoughtfully.)
CABBIE: Which one do you think? Which ones the good pill?
(Sherlock blinks, as if hes trying to drag his eyes away from the pills but is unable to, too
tempted by the challenge.)
CABBIE: Come on. I know youve got a theory.
(Sherlock raises his gaze and the two men lock eyes. After a few seconds Sherlock looks down
to the pills again and raises his hand, his fist clenched above the table for a moment before he
extends his arm and points to the pill on the cabbies left, the one which wasnt pushed across
the table towards him. The cabbie looks at the pill with interest but his voice gives nothing away
as he speaks.)
CABBIE: Oh. Interesting.
(He reaches out and slides the left-hand pill across the table while pulling the right-hand one
back towards himself. Releasing the left-hand one, he picks up the other pill and looks at
Sherlock.)
CABBIE: So what dyou think? Shall we?
(Still holding his gaze, Sherlock slowly sinks back down onto his chair.)
CABBIE: Really, what do you think? Can you beat me?
(Sherlock blinks several times, then lowers his gaze and picks up the pill in front of him. Both
men prop their elbow on the table, holding their pill a few inches from their mouth.)
CABBIE: I bet you get bored, dont you? A man like you, so clever. Ill bet youre not bored
now.
(Sherlocks gaze drops to the pill in his hand and he begins to breathe heavily in anticipation.)
CABBIE: This ... this right now this is what you live for, innit, not being bored?
(Sherlock continues to breathe heavily, his gaze locked on the pill. Slowly he begins to move
the pill closer to his mouth. The cabbie matches the movement with his own pill, his eyes fixed
on Sherlock who opens his mouth as the pill gets nearer.
Just as the pill reaches Sherlocks mouth a gunshot rings out and the window behind the cabbie
shatters as a bullet impacts his chest, then goes through his body and smashes into the wall
behind Sherlock. As the cabbie slumps forward onto the table, dropping his pill, Sherlock drops
his own pill and scrambles back onto his feet in shock. Staring down at the dead man for a
moment, he then hurries over to the window as police sirens begin to sound outside. Down in
the street another police car screeches to a halt and Inspector Lestrade jumps out of the
passenger seat, calling out to the other police officers already gathered.)
LESTRADE: Did anyone see it? Where did it come from? Who is firing? Who is firing?
(Sherlock looks across the road to the buildings opposite. Most of them are in darkness but one
room is lit and the sash window is slightly open.)
LESTRADE: Clear the area! Clear the area now!
(Sherlock turns back and looks again at the dead cabbie, then turns and looks across to the
open window opposite while pandemonium continues down in the street below.)
LATER. Outside the flat, Lestrade walks towards a nearby ambulance but stops as a police car
whoops its siren briefly. He jerks his head to the car and it drives past him, then he continues

25
towards the ambulance where Sherlock is sitting on the back steps drinking a cup of water. He
has a red blanket draped around him and a paramedic is just finishing checking his stats with a
monitor clipped to the finger of his other hand. Sherlock looks up indignantly at the paramedic
as he unclips the monitor.
SHERLOCK: Why have I got this blanket?
(He looks round at Lestrade as the paramedic ignores him and walks away.)
SHERLOCK: They keep putting this blanket on me.
LESTRADE: Its for shock.
SHERLOCK (putting the cup down): Im not in shock.
LESTRADE: Yeah, but some of the guys wanna take photographs.
(He sniggers. Sherlock looks away tetchily.)
SHERLOCK: So, the shooter wasnt one of yours, then.
LESTRADE: God, no. We didnt have time. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I
suppose. One of them could have been following him. Whoever it was, he was gone by the time
we got there and weve got nothing to go on.
SHERLOCK: Oh, I wouldnt say that.
(He looks up at Lestrade pointedly.)
LESTRADE: Okay, gimme.
(He reaches inside his coat and takes out a notebook.)
LESTRADE: Ill write it down this time.
SHERLOCK: The bullet they just dug out of my wall was from a hand gun. A shot clean through
the heart over that distance with that kind of a weapon thats a crack shot youre looking for,
but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hand couldnt have shaken at all, so clearly he was
acclimatised to violence.
(He stands up.)
SHERLOCK: He didnt fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principles.
Youre looking for a man probably with a history of military service, nerves of steel ...
(He trails off when he sees John standing on the kerb a short distance away and watching him.
As Sherlock begins to realise the connection, he turns back to Lestrade.)
SHERLOCK: Actually, do you know what? Um, ignore me.
LESTRADE: Im sorry?
SHERLOCK: Ignore what I just said. Its the shock talking.
(He pulls the blanket tighter around his shoulders as he starts to walk towards John.)
SHERLOCK: Probably need this blanket.
LESTRADE (following him): Wherere you going?
SHERLOCK: I just need to discuss the rent.
LESTRADE: Sherlock ...
(Sherlock stops and turns back to him.)
LESTRADE (tucking his notebook back into his pocket): Were you right?
SHERLOCK: Im sorry?
LESTRADE: Did you choose the right pill?
SHERLOCK: I dunno. In all the confusion, I lost track. I dont know which I chose.
(He turns to walk away.)
LESTRADE: Maybe he beat you.
SHERLOCK (turning back to him again and sounding tetchy): Maybe. But hes dead.
(He walks away. Lestrade sniggers quietly and turns away. Sherlock goes over to John.)
JOHN: Sergeant Donovans been explaining everything to me. Its ... the two pills? Dreadful
business. Dreadful.
SHERLOCK: Where is it?
JOHN (trying and utterly failing to look innocent): Wheres what?
SHERLOCK: Dont. Just dont. What did you do with the gun?
JOHN: Oh, er, bottom of the Thames.
(Sherlock nods.)
SHERLOCK: We need to get rid of the powder burns in your finger. I dont suppose youd serve
time for this, but lets avoid the court case.
(He looks around to make sure that nobodys in earshot.)
JOHN: I ran after the cab, called the police, of course, and then I thought, better keep an eye
on you.
(Sherlock looks at him closely.)
SHERLOCK: Are you all right?
JOHN: Of course Im all right.

26
SHERLOCK: You have just killed a man.

JOHN (looking away thoughtfully): Ive seen men die before and good men, friends of mine.
Thought Id never sleep again.
(He meets Sherlocks eyes, his face calm.)
JOHN: Ill sleep fine tonight.
(Apparently reassured that John really is okay, Sherlock smiles.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Quite right.
JOHN: You were gonna take the damned pill, werent you?
SHERLOCK: Course not. Playing for time.
JOHN: No, you werent. Its how you get your kicks, isnt it? Risking your life to prove youre
clever.
SHERLOCK: Why would I do that?
JOHN: Cause youre an idiot.
(Sherlock frowns at him for a moment but then smiles, apparently delighted that he has finally
found someone who understands him. John smiles back at him.)
SHERLOCK: Dinner?
JOHN: Starving.
(They turn and start to walk away.)
SHERLOCK: Theres a good Chinese at the end of the road, stays open til two. You can always
tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the door handle.
LESTRADE: Oi! Sherlock!
(Rolling his eyes, Sherlock stops and turns to Lestrade as he walks over.)
LESTRADE: Still got questions for you.
JOHN: Er, Inspector Lestrade, to my certain knowledge, this man hasnt eaten for several days.
(Sherlock stares at him in surprise.)
JOHN (to Lestrade): Now, if you want him alive for your next case, what hes gonna do right
now is have dinner.
LESTRADE: And who the hell are you?
JOHN (glancing towards Sherlock): Im his doctor.
SHERLOCK (to Lestrade): And only a fool argues with his doctor.
LESTRADE: Okay, Ill pull you in tomorrow. Off you go.
JOHN: Thank you.
(The boys turn and walk away, Sherlock smiling proudly at his new friend while John blows out
a relieved breath. Sherlock takes the blanket from around his shoulders.)
SHERLOCK: So: ran after a cab. Told you that limp was psychosomatic.
JOHN: I knew it was.
(They reach the police tape strung across the road and Sherlock lifts it so they can walk
underneath it.)
SHERLOCK: You did get shot, though.
JOHN: Oh, yeah. In the shoulder.
SHERLOCK: Oh!
(Behind them, Lestrade watches them walk away, then looks down to his notebook which he
has taken out again. He tears out the page he had been writing on and screws it up. Back at the
boys, Mrs Hudson has apparently just arrived home and now angrily hurries over to them.)
MRS HUDSON: Sherlock! What have you done to my house?
SHERLOCK: Nothing wrong with your house, Mrs Hudson, which is more than can be said for
the dead serial killer on the first floor.
MRS HUDSON: Dead what?!
SHERLOCK: Good news for London; bad news for your carpet.
(He shoves the blanket into her arms and he and John start to walk away.)
SHERLOCK: Good night, Mrs Hudson.
(She looks down at the blanket, then turns and calls after them.)
MRS HUDSON: Im not your housekeeper!
(Giggling, John calls over his shoulder.)
JOHN: Night, Mrs Hudson!
(Grinning, the boys continue down the road as Mrs Hudson turns to the police officer manning
the tape.)
MRS HUDSON (angrily): Im going in.
(Back near the ambulance, Donovan walks over to Lestrade.)
LESTRADE: Sergeant Donovan.
DONOVAN: Sir?

27
LESTRADE (looking towards the departing boys): We need those two in tomorrow.
DONOVAN: What two, sir?
LESTRADE (looking down the road again): Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.
(Hero!shot as our boys turn and smile at each other as they continue down the road. After a
while, John takes his hand out of his jacket pocket and reaches down to take Sherlocks hand.)
******************
What? He does! You look at the footage. He really does!
A Study in Pink (broadcast version)
In a bedsit somewhere in London, John Watson is having a nightmare. He is reliving his Army
days and his team is under fire somewhere abroad. A colleague cries out his name as the
gunfire continues. Finally he jolts awake, distressed and panic-stricken. He sits up in bed wide-
eyed and breathing heavily until he realises that he is safe and a long way from the war.
Flopping back onto his pillow, he tries to calm his breathing as he continues to be haunted by
his memories. Eventually, unable to stop himself, he begins to weep.
Some time later he has sat up on the side of the bed and switched on the bedside lamp. Its still
dark outside. John sits quietly, wrapped up in his thoughts, and looks across to the desk on the
other side of the room. A metal walking cane is leaning against the desk. He looks at it
unhappily, then continues to gaze into the distance. He will not be sleeping again tonight.
DAY TIME. The sun has finally risen and John, now wearing a dressing gown over his night
wear, hobbles across the room leaning heavily on his cane. In his other hand he has a mug of
tea and an apple, both of which he puts down onto the desk. The mug bears the arms of the
Royal Army Medical Corps. Sitting down, he opens the drawer in the desk to get his laptop. As
he lifts the computer out of the drawer, we see that he also has a pistol in there. Putting the
laptop onto the desk and opening the lid he looks at the webpage which has automatically
loaded. It reads, The personal blog of Dr. John H. Watson. The rest of the page is blank.
Later he is at his psychotherapists office and he sits in a chair opposite her.

ELLA: Hows your blog going?
JOHN: Yeah, good. (He clears his throat awkwardly.) Very good.
ELLA: You havent written a word, have you?
JOHN (pointing to Ellas notepad on her lap): You just wrote, Still has trust issues.
ELLA: And you read my writing upside down. Dyou see what I mean?
(John smiles awkwardly.)
ELLA: John, youre a soldier, and its gonna take you a while to adjust to civilian life; and writing
a blog about everything that happens to you will honestly help you.
(John gazes back at her, his face full of despair.)
JOHN: Nothing happens to me.
Opening credits.
OCTOBER 12TH. A well-dressed middle-aged business man walks across the concourse of a
busy London railway station talking into his mobile phone.
SIR JEFFREY: What dyou mean, theres no ruddy car?
(His secretary is at his office talking into her phone as she walks across the room.)
HELEN: He went to Waterloo. Im sorry. Get a cab.
SIR JEFFREY: I never get cabs.
(Helen looks around furtively to make sure that nobody is within earshot, then speaks quietly
into the phone.)
HELEN: I love you.
SIR JEFFREY (suggestively): When?
HELEN (giggling): Get a cab!
(Smiling as he hangs up, Sir Jeffrey looks around for the cab rank.)

28
Some unspecified time later, sitting on the floor by the window of what appears to be an office
many storeys above ground, Sir Jeffrey unscrews the lid of a small glass bottle which contains
three large capsules. Tipping one out, he stares ahead of himself wide-eyed and afraid and puts
the capsule into his mouth. Later, he is writhing on the floor in agony. We can now see that the
office in which his dying body is lying is empty of furniture.
POLICE PRESS CONFERENCE. Flanked by a police officer and another man who may be her
solicitor or a family member, Sir Jeffreys widow is sitting at a table making a statement to the
press.
MARGARET PATTERSON (tearfully as she reads from her statement): My husband was a happy
man who lived life to the full. He loved his family and his work and that he should have taken
his own life in this way is a mystery and a shock to all who knew him.
(Standing at one side of the room, Helen tries to keep control of her feelings but eventually
closes her eyes and lets the tears roll down her face.)
NOVEMBER 26TH. Two boys in their late teens are running down a street at night in the pouring
rain. Gary has opened a fold-up umbrella and is trying to keep it under control in the wind,
while Jimmy has his jacket pulled up over his head. He calls out in triumph when a black cab
approaches with its yellow sign lit to show that it is available for hire.
JIMMY: Yes, yes, taxi, yes!
(He whistles and waves to the taxi but it drives past. He makes an exasperated sound, then
starts to head back in the direction he just came, looking round at his friend.)
JIMMY: Ill be back in two minutes, mate.
GARY: What?
JIMMY: Im just going home; get my mums umbrella.
GARY: You can share mine!
JIMMY: Two minutes, all right?
(He walks away. Some time later Gary looks at his watch, apparently worried because Jimmy
has been gone for too long. He turns around and heads back in pursuit of his friend.)
Some unspecified time later, Jimmy sits crying and clutching a small glass bottle which contains
three large capsules. He unscrews the lid, his hands shaking, and sobs. We see that he is sitting
on a window ledge inside a sports centre overlooking a sports court.
The following day, an article in The Daily Express runs the headline Boy, 18, kills himself inside
sports centre.
JANUARY 27TH. At a public venue, a party is being held. A large poster showing a photograph of
the guest of honour is labelled Your local MP, Beth Davenport, Junior Minister for Transport.
As pounding dance music comes from inside the room, one of Beths aides walks out of the
room and goes over to her male colleague who is standing at the bar. He looks at her in
exasperation.
AIDE 1: Is she still dancing?
AIDE 2: Yeah, if you can call it that.
AIDE 1: Did you get the car keys off her?
AIDE 2 (showing him the keys): Got em out of her bag.
(The man smiles in satisfaction, then looks into the dance hall and frowns.)
AIDE 1: Where is she?
Beth has slipped out of the venue and is standing at the side of her car searching through her
handbag for her keys. She sighs when she cant find them and looks around helplessly.
Some unspecified time later, Beth stands inside a portacabin on a building site and sobs
hysterically. As she continues to cry, she reaches out a trembling hand towards a small glass
bottle which contains three large capsules.
POLICE PRESS CONFERENCE. Detective Inspector Lestrade sits at the table looking
uncomfortable while his colleague sitting beside him, Detective Sergeant Sally Donovan,
addresses the gathered press reporters.
DONOVAN: The body of Beth Davenport, Junior Minister for Transport, was found late last night
on a building site in Greater London. Preliminary investigations suggest that this was suicide.

29
We can confirm that this apparent suicide closely resembles those of Sir Jeffrey Patterson and
James Phillimore. In the light of this, these incidents are now being treated as linked. The
investigation is ongoing but Detective Inspector Lestrade will take questions now.
REPORTER 1: Detective Inspector, how can suicides be linked?
LESTRADE: Well, they all took the same poison; um, they were all found in places they had no
reason to be; none of them had shown any prior indication of ...
REPORTER 1 (interrupting): But you cant have serial suicides.
LESTRADE: Well, apparently you can.
REPORTER 2: These three people: theres nothing that links them?
LESTRADE: Theres no link been found yet, but were looking for it. There has to be one.
(Everybodys mobile phone trills a text alert simultaneously. As they look at their phones, each
message reads:
Wrong!
Donovan looks at the same message on her own phone.)

DONOVAN: If youve all got texts, please ignore them.
REPORTER 1: Just says, Wrong.
DONOVAN: Yeah, well, just ignore that. Okay, if there are no more questions for Detective
Inspector Lestrade, Im going to bring this session to an end.
REPORTER 2: But if theyre suicides, what are you investigating?
LESTRADE: As I say, these ... these suicides are clearly linked. Um, its an ... its an unusual
situation. Weve got our best people investigating ...
(Everybodys mobile trills another text alert and again each message reads:
Wrong!
REPORTER 1: Says, Wrong again.

(Lestrade looks despairingly at Sally.)
DONOVAN (to the reporters): One more question.
REPORTER 3: Is there any chance that these are murders, and if they are, is this the work of a
serial killer?
LESTRADE: I ... I know that you like writing about these, but these do appear to be suicides.
We know the difference. The, um, the poison was clearly self-administered.
REPORTER 3: Yes, but if they are murders, how do people keep themselves safe?
LESTRADE: Well, dont commit suicide.
(The reporter looks at him in shock. Donovan covers her mouth and murmurs a warning.)
DONOVAN: Daily Mail.
(Lestrade grimaces and looks at the reporters again.)
LESTRADE: Obviously this is a frightening time for people, but all anyone has to do is exercise
reasonable precautions. We are all as safe as we want to be.
(Again the mobiles trill their text alerts, and once more each message reads:
Wrong!
But Lestrades phone takes a moment longer to alert him to a text and when he looks at it, the
message reads:
You know where

to find me.
SH
Looking exasperated, he puts the phone into his pocket and looks at the reporters as he stands
up.)
Shortly afterwards, he and Donovan are walking through the offices of New Scotland Yard.
DONOVAN: Youve got to stop him doing that. Hes making us look like idiots.
LESTRADE: Well, if you can tell me how he does it, Ill stop him.

30
RUSSELL SQUARE PARK. John is limping briskly through the park, leaning heavily on his cane.
As he walks past a man sitting on the bench, the man stares after him, clearly recognising him.
He calls out.
MIKE: John! John Watson!
(John turns back to Mike as he stands up and hurries towards him, smiling.)
MIKE: Stamford. Mike Stamford. We were at Barts together.
JOHN: Yes, sorry, yes, Mike. (He takes Mikes offered hand and shakes it.) Hello, hi.
MIKE (grinning and gesturing to himself): Yeah, I know. I got fat!
JOHN (trying to sound convincing): No.
MIKE: I heard you were abroad somewhere, getting shot at. What happened?
JOHN (awkwardly): I got shot.
(They both look embarrassed.)
A little later they have bought take-away coffees and are sitting side by side on a bench in the
park. Mike looks at John worriedly. Oblivious, John takes a sip from his coffee then looks across
to his old friend.
JOHN: Are you still at Barts, then?
MIKE: Teaching now. Bright young things, like we used to be. God, I hate them!
(They both laugh.)
MIKE: What about you? Just staying in town til you get yourself sorted?
JOHN: I cant afford London on an Army pension.
MIKE: Ah, and you couldnt bear to be anywhere else. Thats not the John Watson I know.
JOHN (uncomfortably): Yeah, Im not the John Watson ...
(He stops. Mike awkwardly looks away and drinks his coffee. John switches his own cup to his
right hand and looks down at his left hand, clenching it into a fist as he tries to control the
tremor that has started. Mike looks round at him again.)
MIKE: Couldnt Harry help?
JOHN (sarcastically): Yeah, like thats gonna happen!
MIKE (shrugging): I dunno get a flatshare or something?
JOHN: Come on whod want me for a flatmate?
(Mike chuckles thoughtfully.)
JOHN: What?
MIKE: Well, youre the second person to say that to me today.
JOHN: Who was the first?
ST BARTHOLOMEWS HOSPITAL MORGUE. Sherlock Holmes unzips the body bag lying on the
table and peers at the corpse inside. He sniffs.
SHERLOCK: How fresh?
(Pathologist Molly Hooper walks over.)
MOLLY: Just in. Sixty-seven, natural causes. He used to work here. I knew him. He was nice.
(Zipping the bag up again, Sherlock straightens up, turns to her and smiles falsely.)
SHERLOCK: Fine. Well start with the riding crop.
Shortly afterwards the body has been removed from the bag and is lying on its back on the
table. In the observation room next door, Molly watches and flinches while Sherlock flogs the
body repeatedly and violently with a riding crop, but her face is also full of admiration. She
walks back into the room and as he finishes and straightens up, breathless, she goes over to
him.
MOLLY (jokingly): So, bad day, was it?
SHERLOCK (ignoring her banter as he gets out a notebook and starts writing in it): I need to
know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. A mans alibi depends on it. Text me.
MOLLY: Listen, I was wondering: maybe later, when youre finished ...
(Sherlock glances across to her as he is writing, then does a double-take and frowns at her.)
SHERLOCK: Are you wearing lipstick? You werent wearing lipstick before.
MOLLY (nervously): I, er, I refreshed it a bit.
(She smiles at him flirtatiously. He gives her a long oblivious look, then goes back to writing in
his notebook.)
SHERLOCK: Sorry, you were saying?
MOLLY (gazing at him intently): I was wondering if youd like to have coffee.
(Sherlock puts his notebook away.)
SHERLOCK: Black, two sugars, please. Ill be upstairs.

31
(He walks away.)

MOLLY: ... Okay.
BARTS LAB. Sherlock is standing at the far end of the lab using a pipette to squeeze a few
drops of liquid onto a Petri dish. Mike knocks on the door and brings John in with him. Sherlock
glances across at them briefly before looking at his work again. John limps into the room,
looking around at all the equipment.
JOHN: Well, bit different from my day.
MIKE (chuckling): Youve no idea!
SHERLOCK (sitting down): Mike, can I borrow your phone? Theres no signal on mine.
MIKE: And whats wrong with the landline?
SHERLOCK: I prefer to text.
MIKE: Sorry. Its in my coat.
(John fishes in his back pocket and takes out his own phone.)
JOHN: Er, here. Use mine.
SHERLOCK: Oh. Thank you.
(Glancing briefly at Mike, he stands up and walks towards John. Mike introduces him.)
MIKE: Its an old friend of mine, John Watson.
(Sherlock reaches John and takes his phone from him. Turning partially away from him, he flips
open the keypad and starts to type on it.)
SHERLOCK: Afghanistan or Iraq?
(John frowns. Nearby, Mike smiles knowingly. John looks at Sherlock as he continues to type.)
JOHN: Sorry?
SHERLOCK: Which was it Afghanistan or Iraq?
(He briefly raises his eyes to Johns before looking back to the phone. John hesitates, then looks
across to Mike, confused. Mike just smiles smugly.)
JOHN: Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know ...?
(Sherlock looks up as Molly comes into the room holding a mug of coffee.)
SHERLOCK: Ah, Molly, coffee. Thank you.
(He shuts down Johns phone and hands it back while Molly brings the mug over to him. He
takes it and looks closely at her. Her mouth is paler again.)
SHERLOCK: What happened to the lipstick?
MOLLY (smiling awkwardly at him): It wasnt working for me.
SHERLOCK: Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouths too small now.
(He turns and walks back to his station, taking a sip from the mug and grimacing at the taste.)
MOLLY: ... Okay.
(She turns and heads back towards the door.)
SHERLOCK: How do you feel about the violin?
(John looks round at Molly but shes on her way out the door. He glances at Mike who is still
smiling smugly, and finally realises that Sherlock is talking to him.)
JOHN: Im sorry, what?
SHERLOCK (typing on a laptop keyboard as he talks): I play the violin when Im thinking.
Sometimes I dont talk for days on end. (He looks round at John.) Would that bother you?
Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.
(He throws a hideously false smile at John, who looks at him blankly for a moment then looks
across to Mike.)
JOHN: Oh, you ... you told him about me?
MIKE: Not a word.
JOHN (turning to Sherlock again): Then who said anything about flatmates?
SHERLOCK (picking up his greatcoat and putting it on): I did. Told Mike this morning that I
must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend,
clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasnt that difficult a leap.
JOHN: How did you know about Afghanistan?
(Sherlock ignores the question, wraps his scarf around his neck, then picks up his mobile and
checks it.)
SHERLOCK: Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to
afford it.
(He walks towards John.)
SHERLOCK: Well meet there tomorrow evening; seven oclock. Sorry gotta dash. I think I left
my riding crop in the mortuary.

32
(Putting his phone into the inside pocket of his coat, he walks past John and heads for the
door.)
JOHN (turning to look at him): Is that it?
(Sherlock turns back from the door and strolls closer to John again.)
SHERLOCK: Is that what?
JOHN: Weve only just met and were gonna go and look at a flat?
SHERLOCK: Problem?
(John smiles in disbelief, looking across to Mike for help, but his friend just continues to smile
as he looks at Sherlock. John turns back to the younger man.)
JOHN: We dont know a thing about each other; I dont know where were meeting; I dont even
know your name.
(Sherlock looks closely at him for a moment before speaking.)
SHERLOCK: I know youre an Army doctor and youve been invalided home from Afghanistan. I
know youve got a brother whos worried about you but you wont go to him for help because
you dont approve of him possibly because hes an alcoholic; more likely because he recently
walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks your limps psychosomatic quite
correctly, Im afraid.
(John looks down at his leg and cane and shuffles his feet awkwardly.)
SHERLOCK (smugly): Thats enough to be going on with, dont you think?
(He turns and walks to the door again, opening it and going through, but then leans back into
the room again.)
SHERLOCK: The names Sherlock Holmes and the address is two two one B Baker Street.
(He click-winks at John, then looks round at Mike.)
SHERLOCK: Afternoon.
(Mike raises a finger in farewell as Sherlock disappears from the room. As the door slams shut
behind him, John turns and looks at Mike in disbelief. Mike smiles and nods to him.)
MIKE: Yeah. Hes always like that.
LATER. John has returned to his bedsit. Sitting down on the bed, he takes out his mobile phone
and flicks through the menu to find Messages Sent. The last message reads:
If brother has green ladder

arrest brother.
SH
(Puzzled, John looks at the message for a long moment, then looks across to the table where
his laptop is lying. He pushes himself to his feet and walks over to the table. Shortly afterwards,
he has called up a search website called Quest and types Sherlock Holmes into the search
box.)
In an unknown location, a woman wearing a pink overcoat and pink high-heeled shoes slowly
reaches down with a trembling hand towards a clear glass bottle which is standing on the bare
floorboards and which contains three large capsules. Her fingers close around the bottle and she
slowly lifts it off the floor, her hand still shaking.
BAKER STREET. John limps along the road and reaches the door marked 221B just as a black
cab pulls up at the kerb behind him. John knocks on the door as Sherlock gets out of the cab.
SHERLOCK: Hello.
(He reaches in through the window of the cab and hands some money to the driver.)
(John turns towards him as he walks over.)
JOHN: Ah, Mr Holmes.
SHERLOCK: Sherlock, please.
(They shake hands.)
JOHN: Well, this is a prime spot. Must be expensive.
SHERLOCK: Oh, Mrs Hudson, the landlady, shes giving me a special deal. Owes me a favour. A
few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out.
JOHN: Sorry you stopped her husband being executed?
SHERLOCK: Oh no. I ensured it.
(He smiles at John as the front door is opened by Mrs Hudson, who opens her arms to the
younger man.)

33
MRS HUDSON: Sherlock, hello.

(Sherlock turns and walks into her arms, hugging her briefly, then steps back and presents John
to her.)
SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson, Doctor John Watson.
MRS HUDSON: Hello.
JOHN: How do?
MRS HUDSON (gesturing John inside): Come in.
JOHN: Thank you.
SHERLOCK: Shall we?
MRS HUDSON: Yeah.
(The men go inside and Mrs Hudson closes the door. Sherlock trots up the stairs to the first
floor landing, then pauses and waits for John to hobble upstairs. As John reaches the top of the
stairs, Sherlock opens the door ahead of him and walks in, revealing the living room of the flat.
John follows him in and looks around the room and at all the possessions and boxes scattered
around it.)
JOHN: Well, this could be very nice. Very nice indeed.
SHERLOCK: Yes. Yes, I think so. My thoughts precisely.
(He looks around the flat happily.)
SHERLOCK: So I went straight ahead and moved in.
JOHN (simultaneously): Soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned out ... Oh.
(He pauses, embarrassed, when he realises what Sherlock was saying.)
JOHN: So this is all ...
SHERLOCK: Well, obviously I can, um, straighten things up a bit.
(He walks across the room and makes a half-hearted attempt to tidy up a little, throwing a
couple of folders into a box and then taking some apparently unopened envelopes across to the
fireplace where he puts them onto the mantelpiece and then stabs a multi tool knife into them.
John has noticed something else on the mantelpiece and lifts his cane to point at it.)
JOHN: Thats a skull.
SHERLOCK: Friend of mine. When I say friend ...
(Mrs Hudson has followed them into the room. She picks up a cup and saucer while Sherlock
takes off his greatcoat and scarf.)
MRS HUDSON: What do you think, then, Doctor Watson? Theres another bedroom upstairs if
youll be needing two bedrooms.
JOHN: Of course well be needing two.
MRS HUDSON: Oh, dont worry; theres all sorts round here. (Confidentially, dropping her voice
to a whisper by the end of the sentence) Mrs Turner next doors got married ones.
(John looks across to Sherlock, expecting him to confirm that he and John are not involved in
that way but Sherlock appears oblivious to whats being insinuated. Mrs Hudson walks across to
the kitchen, then turns back and frowns at Sherlock.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh, Sherlock. The mess youve made.
(She goes into the kitchen and starts tidying up, and John walks over to one of the two
armchairs, plumps up a cushion on the chair and then drops heavily down into it. He looks
across to Sherlock who is still tidying up a little.)
JOHN: I looked you up on the internet last night.
SHERLOCK (turning around to him): Anything interesting?
JOHN: Found your website, The Science of Deduction.
SHERLOCK (smiling proudly): What did you think?
(John throws him a you have got to be kidding me type of look. Sherlock looks hurt.)
JOHN: You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left
thumb.
SHERLOCK: Yes; and I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your
brothers drinking habits in your mobile phone.
JOHN: How?
(Sherlock smiles and turns away. Mrs Hudson comes out of the kitchen reading the newspaper.)
MRS HUDSON: What about these suicides then, Sherlock? I thought thatd be right up your
street. Three exactly the same.
(Sherlock walks over to the window of the living room at the sound of a car pulling up outside.)
SHERLOCK: Four.
(He looks down at the car as someone gets out of it. The vehicle is a police car with its lights
flashing on the roof.)
SHERLOCK: Theres been a fourth. And theres something different this time.

34
MRS HUDSON: A fourth?

(Sherlock turns as D.I. Lestrade [who apparently must have picked the lock on the front door ...
like you do ...] trots up the stairs and comes into the living room.)
SHERLOCK: Where?
LESTRADE: Brixton, Lauriston Gardens.
SHERLOCK: Whats new about this one? You wouldnt have come to get me if there wasnt
something different.
LESTRADE: You know how they never leave notes?
SHERLOCK: Yeah.
LESTRADE: This one did. Will you come?
SHERLOCK: Whos on forensics?
LESTRADE: Its Anderson.
SHERLOCK (grimacing): Anderson wont work with me.
LESTRADE: Well, he wont be your assistant.
SHERLOCK: I need an assistant.
SHERLOCK: Not in a police car. Ill be right behind.
(Looking round at John and Mrs Hudson for a moment, he turns and hurries off down the stairs.
Sherlock waits until he has reached the front door, then leaps into the air and clenches his fists
triumphantly before twirling around the room happily.)
SHERLOCK: Brilliant! Yes! Ah, four serial suicides, and now a note! Oh, its Christmas!
(Picking up his scarf and coat he starts to put them on while heading for the kitchen.)
SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson, Ill be late. Might need some food.
MRS HUDSON: Im your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper.
SHERLOCK: Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Dont wait
up!
(Grabbing a small leather pouch from the kitchen table, he opens the kitchen door and
disappears from view. Mrs Hudson turns back to John.)
MRS HUDSON: Look at him, dashing about! My husband was just the same.
(John grimaces at her repeated implication that he and Sherlock are an item.)
MRS HUDSON: But youre more the sitting-down type, I can tell.
(John looks uncomfortable.)
MRS HUDSON (turning towards the door): Ill make you that cuppa. You rest your leg.
JOHN (loudly): Damn my leg!
(His response was instinctive and he is immediately apologetic even as Mrs Hudson turns back
to him in shock.)
JOHN: Sorry, Im so sorry. Its just sometimes this bloody thing ...
(He bashes his leg with his cane.)
MRS HUDSON: I understand, dear; Ive got a hip.
(She turns towards the door again.)
JOHN: Cup of tead be lovely, thank you.
MRS HUDSON: Just this once, dear. Im not your housekeeper.
JOHN: Couple of biscuits too, if youve got em.
MRS HUDSON: Not your housekeeper!
(John has picked up the newspaper which Mrs Hudson put down and now he looks at the article
reporting Beth Davenports apparent suicide. Next to a large photograph of Beth is a smaller
one showing the man who just visited the flat and identifying him as D.I. Lestrade. Before he
can read on, Sherlocks voice interrupts him and John looks up and sees him standing at the
living room door.)
SHERLOCK: Youre a doctor. In fact youre an Army doctor.
JOHN: Yes.
(He gets to his feet and turns towards Sherlock as he comes back into the room again.)
SHERLOCK: Any good?
JOHN: Very good.
SHERLOCK: Seen a lot of injuries, then; violent deaths.
JOHN: Mmm, yes.
SHERLOCK: Bit of trouble too, I bet.
JOHN (quietly): Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much.
SHERLOCK: Wanna see some more?
JOHN (fervently): Oh God, yes.

35
(Sherlock spins on his heel and leads John out of the room and down the stairs. John calls out
as he follows him down.)
JOHN: Sorry, Mrs Hudson, Ill skip the tea. Off out.
MRS HUDSON (standing near the bottom of the stairs): Both of you?
(Sherlock has almost reached the front door but now turns and walks back towards her.)
SHERLOCK: Impossible suicides? Four of them? Theres no point sitting at home when theres
finally something fun going on!
(He takes her by the shoulders and kisses her noisily on the cheek.)
(She cant help but smile, though, as he turns away and heads for the front door again.)
SHERLOCK: Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs Hudson, is on!
(He walks out onto the street and hails an approaching black cab.)
SHERLOCK: Taxi!
(The taxi pulls up alongside and he and John get in, then the car drives off again and heads for
Brixton. The boys sit in silence for a long time while Sherlock sits with his eyes fixed on his
smartphone and John keeps stealing nervous glances at him. Finally Sherlock lowers his phone.)
SHERLOCK: Okay, youve got questions.
JOHN: Yeah, where are we going?
SHERLOCK: Crime scene. Next?
JOHN: Who are you? What do you do?
SHERLOCK: What do you think?
JOHN (slowly, hesitantly): Id say private detective ...
SHERLOCK: But?
JOHN: ... but the police dont go to private detectives.
SHERLOCK: Im a consulting detective. Only one in the world. I invented the job.
SHERLOCK: It means when the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me.
JOHN: The police dont consult amateurs.
(Sherlock throws him a look.)
SHERLOCK: When I met you for the first time yesterday, I said, Afghanistan or Iraq? You
looked surprised.
JOHN: Yes, how did you know?
SHERLOCK: I didnt know, I saw. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself, says military. But
your conversation as you entered the room ...
(Flashback to the lab at Barts)
JOHN (looking around the lab): Bit different from my day.
SHERLOCK: ... said trained at Barts, so Army doctor obvious. Your face is tanned but no tan
above the wrists. Youve been abroad, but not sunbathing. Your limps really bad when you walk
but you dont ask for a chair when you stand, like youve forgotten about it, so its at least
partly psychosomatic. That says the original circumstances of the injury were traumatic.
Wounded in action, then. Wounded in action, suntan Afghanistan or Iraq.
(He loudly clicks the k sound at the end of the final word. Your humble transcriber, for whom
this is her favourite vocal idiosyncrasy from Sherlock, giggles quietly.)
JOHN: You said I had a therapist.
SHERLOCK: Youve got a psychosomatic limp of course youve got a therapist. Then theres
your brother.
JOHN: Hmm?
SHERLOCK (holding his hand out): Your phone. Its expensive, e-mail enabled, MP3 player, but
youre looking for a flatshare you wouldnt waste money on this. Its a gift, then.
(By now John has given him the phone and he turns it over and looks at it again as he talks.)
SHERLOCK: Scratches. Not one, many over time. Its been in the same pocket as keys and
coins. The man sitting next to me wouldnt treat his one luxury item like this, so its had a
previous owner. Next bits easy. You know it already.
JOHN: The engraving.
(We see that engraved on the back of the phone are the words
Harry Watson
From Clara
xxx

36
SHERLOCK: Harry Watson: clearly a family member whos given you his old phone. Not your
father, this is a young mans gadget. Could be a cousin, but youre a war hero who cant find a
place to live. Unlikely youve got an extended family, certainly not one youre close to, so
brother it is. Now, Clara. Whos Clara? Three kisses says its a romantic attachment. The
expense of the phone says wife, not girlfriend. She must have given it to him recently this
models only six months old. Marriage in trouble then six months on hes just given it away. If
shed left him, he would have kept it. People do sentiment. But no, he wanted rid of it. He left
her. He gave the phone to you: that says he wants you to stay in touch. Youre looking for
cheap accommodation, but youre not going to your brother for help: that says youve got
problems with him. Maybe you liked his wife; maybe you dont like his drinking.
JOHN: How can you possibly know about the drinking?
SHERLOCK (smiling): Shot in the dark. Good one, though. Power connection: tiny little scuff
marks around the edge of it. Every night he goes to plug it in to charge but his hands are
shaking. You never see those marks on a sober mans phone; never see a drunks without
them.
(He hands the phone back.)
SHERLOCK: There you go, you see you were right.
JOHN: I was right? Right about what?
SHERLOCK: The police dont consult amateurs.
(He looks out of the side window, biting his lip nervously while he awaits Johns reaction.)
JOHN: That ... was amazing.
(Sherlock looks round, apparently so surprised that he cant even reply for the next four
seconds.)
SHERLOCK: Do you think so?
JOHN: Of course it was. It was extraordinary; it was quite extraordinary.
SHERLOCK: Thats not what people normally say.
JOHN: What do people normally say?
SHERLOCK: Piss off!
(He smiles briefly at John, who grins and turns away to look out of the window as the journey
continues.)
BRIXTON. The cab has arrived at Lauriston Gardens and Sherlock and John get out and walk
towards the police tape strung across the road.
SHERLOCK: Did I get anything wrong?
JOHN: Harry and me dont get on, never have. Clara and Harry split up three months ago and
theyre getting a divorce; and Harry is a drinker.
SHERLOCK (looking impressed with himself): Spot on, then. I didnt expect to be right about
everything.
JOHN: And Harrys short for Harriet.
(Sherlock stops dead in his tracks.)
SHERLOCK: Harrys your sister.
JOHN (continuing onwards): Look, what exactly am I supposed to be doing here?
SHERLOCK (furiously, through gritted teeth): Sister!
JOHN: No, seriously, what am I doing here?
SHERLOCK (exasperated, starting to walk again): Theres always something.
(They approach the police tape where they are met by Sergeant Donovan.)
DONOVAN: Hello, freak.
SHERLOCK: Im here to see Detective Inspector Lestrade.
DONOVAN: Why?
SHERLOCK: I was invited.
DONOVAN: Why?
SHERLOCK (sarcastically): I think he wants me to take a look.
DONOVAN: Well, you know what I think, dont you?
SHERLOCK (lifting the tape and ducking underneath it): Always, Sally. (He breathes in through
his nose.) I even know you didnt make it home last night.
DONOVAN: I dont ... (She looks at John.) Er, whos this?
SHERLOCK: Colleague of mine, Doctor Watson.
(He turns to John.)
SHERLOCK: Doctor Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan. (His voice drips with sarcasm.) Old friend.
DONOVAN: A colleague? How do you get a colleague?!

37
DONOVAN: What, did he follow you home?

JOHN: Would it be better if I just waited and ...
SHERLOCK (lifting the tape for him): No.
(As John walks under the tape, Donovan lifts a radio to her mouth.)
DONOVAN (into radio): Freaks here. Bringing him in.
(She leads the boys towards the house. Sherlock looks all around the area and at the ground as
they approach. As they reach the pavement, a man dressed in a coverall comes out of the
house.)
SHERLOCK: Ah, Anderson. Here we are again.
(Anderson looks at him with distaste.)
ANDERSON: Its a crime scene. I dont want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?
SHERLOCK (taking in another deep breath through his nose): Quite clear. And is your wife away
for long?
ANDERSON: Oh, dont pretend you worked that out. Somebody told you that.
SHERLOCK: Your deodorant told me that.
ANDERSON: My deodorant?
SHERLOCK (with a quirky expression on his face): Its for men.
ANDERSON: Well, of course its for men! Im wearing it!
SHERLOCK: Sos Sergeant Donovan.
(Anderson looks round in shock at Donovan. Sherlock sniffs pointedly.)
SHERLOCK: Ooh, and I think it just vaporised. May I go in?
ANDERSON (turning back and pointing at him angrily): Now look: whatever youre trying to
imply ...
SHERLOCK: Im not implying anything.
(He heads past Donovan towards the front door.)
SHERLOCK: Im sure Sally came round for a nice little chat, and just happened to stay over.
(He turns back.)
SHERLOCK: And I assume she scrubbed your floors, going by the state of her knees.
(Anderson and Donovan stare at him in horror. He smiles smugly, then turns and goes into the
house. John walks past Donovan, briefly but pointedly looking down to her knees, then follows
Sherlock inside. Sherlock leads him into a room on the ground floor where Lestrade is putting
on a coverall. Sherlock points to a pile of similar items.)
SHERLOCK (to John): You need to wear one of these.
LESTRADE: Whos this?
SHERLOCK (taking his gloves off): Hes with me.
LESTRADE: But who is he?
SHERLOCK: I said hes with me.
(John has taken off his jacket and picks up a coverall. He looks at Sherlock who has picked up a
pair of latex gloves.)
JOHN (referring to the coverall): Arent you gonna put one on?
(Sherlock just looks at him sternly. John shakes his head as if to say, Silly me. What was I
thinking?!)
SHERLOCK (to Lestrade): So where are we?
LESTRADE (picking up another pair of latex gloves): Upstairs.
Lestrade leads the boys up a circular staircase. He and John are wearing coveralls together with
white cotton coverings over their shoes, and latex gloves. Sherlock is putting on latex gloves as
they go up the stairs.
LESTRADE: I can give you two minutes.
SHERLOCK (casually): May need longer.
LESTRADE: Her names Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards. Were running them now
for contact details. Hasnt been here long. Some kids found her.
(He leads them into a room two storeys above the ground floor. The room is empty of furniture
except for a rocking horse in the far corner. Emergency portable lighting has been set up,
presumably by the police. Scaffolding poles hold up part of the ceiling near where a couple of
large holes have been knocked through one of the walls. A womans body is lying face down on
the bare floorboards in the middle of the room. She is wearing a bright pink overcoat and high-
heeled pink shoes. Her hands are flat on the floor either side of her head. Sherlock walks a few
steps into the room and then stops, holding one hand out in front of himself as he focuses on
the corpse. Behind him, John looks at the womans body and his face fills with pain and

38
sadness. The three of them stand there silently for several long seconds, then Sherlock looks
across to Lestrade.)
SHERLOCK: Shut up.
LESTRADE (startled): I didnt say anything.
SHERLOCK: You were thinking. Its annoying.
(Lestrade and John exchange a surprised look as Sherlock steps slowly forward until he reaches
the side of the corpse. His attention is immediately drawn to the fact that scratched into the
floorboards near the womans left hand is the word Rache. His eyes flick to her fingernails
where the index and middle nails are broken and ragged at the ends, the pink nail polish
chipped in stark comparison to her other nails which are still immaculate. The womans index
finger rests at the bottom of the e as if she was still trying to carve into the floor when she
died. Sherlock makes an instant deduction:
left handed
He looks back to the word carved into the floorboards and an immediate suggestion springs into
his mind:
RACHE
German (n.) revenge
Instantly he shakes his head in a tiny dismissive movement and the suggestion disappears. He
looks at the carved word again and overlays the five letters with a clearer type. Next to the e a
rapid progression of letters appear and disappear as he tries to complete the word, then the
correct letter settles into place to form the word:
Rachel
He squats down beside the body and runs his gloved hand along the back of her coat, then lifts
his hand again to look at his fingers:
wet
He reaches into her coat pockets and finds a white folding umbrella in one of them. Running his
fingers along the folds of the material, he then inspects his glove again:
dry
Putting the umbrella back into her pocket, he moves up to the collar of her coat and runs his
fingers underneath it before again looking at his fingers:
wet
Reaching into his pocket he takes out a small magnifier, clicks it open and closely inspects the
delicate gold bracelet on her left wrist ...
clean
... then the gold earring attached to her left ear ...
clean
... and then the gold chain around her neck ...
clean
... before moving on to look at the rings on her left ring finger. The wedding ring and
engagement ring flag a different message to him:

39
dirty
Sherlock blinks as a rapid succession of conclusions appear in front of his eyes:
married
unhappily married
unhappily married 10+ years
Carefully Sherlock works the wedding ring off the womans finger and holds it up to look at the
inside of the ring. While the outside of the ring is still showing
dirty
the inside registers as
clean
As Sherlock lowers the ring and slides it back onto the womans finger, he has already reached
a conclusion about the ring:
regularly removed
Lifting his hands away from the woman, he looks down at her and makes his final deduction
about her:
serial adulterer
He smiles slightly in satisfaction.)

LESTRADE: Got anything?
SHERLOCK (nonchalantly): Not much.
(Standing up, he takes off the gloves and then gets his mobile phone from his pocket and
begins typing on it.)
ANDERSON (from where he is leaning casually against the doorway): Shes German. Rache:
its German for revenge. She could be trying to tell us something ...
(While he was speaking, Sherlock has walked quickly towards the door and now begins to close
it in Andersons face.)
SHERLOCK (sarcastically): Yes, thank you for your input.
(Slamming the door shut, he turns and walks back into the room. On his phone, he has called
up a menu for UK Weather. The menu offers five options:
Maps
Local
Warnings
Next 24 hrs
7 day forecast
He selects the Maps option.)

LESTRADE: So shes German?
SHERLOCK (still looking at his phone): Of course shes not. Shes from out of town, though.
Intended to stay in London for one night ... (he smiles smugly when he apparently finds the
information he needed) ... before returning home to Cardiff.
(He pockets his phone.)
SHERLOCK: So far, so obvious.
JOHN: Sorry obvious?
LESTRADE: What about the message, though?
SHERLOCK (ignoring him and looking at John): Doctor Watson, what do you think?
JOHN: Of the message?
SHERLOCK: Of the body. Youre a medical man.
LESTRADE: Wait, no, we have a whole team right outside.

40
SHERLOCK: They wont work with me.

LESTRADE: Im breaking every rule letting you in here.
SHERLOCK: Yes ... because you need me.
(Lestrade stares at him for a moment, then lowers his eyes helplessly.)
LESTRADE: Yes, I do. God help me.
SHERLOCK: Doctor Watson.
JOHN: Hm?
(He looks up from the body to Sherlock and then turns his head towards Lestrade, silently
seeking his permission.)
LESTRADE (a little tetchily): Oh, do as he says. Help yourself.
(He turns and opens the door, going outside.)
LESTRADE: Anderson, keep everyone out for a couple of minutes.
(Sherlock and John walk over to the body. Sherlock squats down on one side of it and John
painfully lowers himself to one knee on the other side, leaning heavily on his cane to support
himself.)
SHERLOCK: Well?
JOHN (softly): What am I doing here?
SHERLOCK (softly): Helping me make a point.
JOHN (softly): Im supposed to be helping you pay the rent.
SHERLOCK (softly): Yeah, well, this is more fun.
JOHN: Fun? Theres a woman lying dead.
SHERLOCK: Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping youd go deeper.
( Lestrade comes back into the room and stands just inside the doorway, and John drags his
other leg down into a kneeling position and then leans forward to look more closely at the
womans body. He puts his head close to hers and sniffs, then straightens a little before lifting
her right hand and looking at the skin. He kneels up and looks across to Sherlock.)
JOHN: Yeah ... Asphyxiation, probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Cant smell any
alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure; possibly drugs.
SHERLOCK: You know what it was. Youve read the papers.
JOHN: What, shes one of the suicides? The fourth ...?
LESTRADE: Sherlock two minutes, I said. I need anything youve got.
SHERLOCK (standing up, while John struggles to get to his feet): Victim is in her late thirties.
Professional person, going by her clothes; Im guessing something in the media, going by the
frankly alarming shade of pink. Travelled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one
night. Its obvious from the size of her suitcase.
LESTRADE: Suitcase?
(John looks around the room but cant see a suitcase anywhere.)
SHERLOCK: Suitcase, yes. Shes been married at least ten years, but not happily. Shes had a
string of lovers but none of them knew she was married.
LESTRADE: Oh, for Gods sake, if youre just making this up ...
SHERLOCK (pointing down to her left hand): Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least. The rest
of her jewellery has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage
right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside that means its regularly
removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. Its not for work; look at
her nails. She doesnt work with her hands, so what or rather who does she remove her rings
for? Clearly not one lover; shed never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of
time, so more likely a string of them. Simple.
JOHN (admiringly): Thats brilliant.
(Sherlock looks round at him.)
JOHN (apologetically): Sorry.
LESTRADE: Cardiff?
SHERLOCK: Its obvious, isnt it?
JOHN: Its not obvious to me.
SHERLOCK (pausing as he looks at the other two): Dear God, what is it like in your funny little
brains? It must be so boring.
(He turns back to the body.)
SHERLOCK: Her coat: its slightly damp. Shes been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain
anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp, too. Shes turned it up against
the wind. Shes got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but its dry and unused: not just wind,
strong wind too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was
intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she cant have

41
travelled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasnt dried. So, where has there
been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time?
(He gets his phone from his pocket and shows to the other two the webpage he was looking at
earlier, displaying todays weather for the southern part of Britain.)
SHERLOCK: Cardiff.
JOHN: Thats fantastic!
SHERLOCK (turning to him and speaking in a low voice): Dyou know you do that out loud?
JOHN: Sorry. Ill shut up.
SHERLOCK: No, its ... fine.
LESTRADE: Why dyou keep saying suitcase?
SHERLOCK (spinning around in a circle to look around the room): Yes, where is it? She must
have had a phone or an organiser. Find out who Rachel is.
LESTRADE: She was writing Rachel?
SHERLOCK (sarcastically): No, she was leaving an angry note in German(!) Of course she was
writing Rachel; no other word it can be. Question is: why did she wait until she was dying to
write it?
LESTRADE: How dyou know she had a suitcase?
SHERLOCK (pointing down to the body, where her tights have small black splotches on the
lower part of her right leg): Back of the right leg: tiny splash marks on the heel and calf, not
present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Dont
get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size,
woman this clothes-conscious: could only be an overnight bag, so we know she was staying one
night.
(He squats down by the womans body and examines the backs of her legs more closely.)
SHERLOCK: Now, where is it? What have you done with it?
LESTRADE: There wasnt a case.
(Slowly Sherlock raises his head and frowns up at Lestrade.)
SHERLOCK: Say that again.
LESTRADE: There wasnt a case. There was never any suitcase.
(Immediately Sherlock straightens up and heads for the door, calling out to all the police
officers in the house as he begins to hurry down the stairs.)
SHERLOCK: Suitcase! Did anyone find a suitcase? Was there a suitcase in this house?
(Lestrade and John follow him out and stop on the landing. Lestrade calls down the stairs.)
LESTRADE: Sherlock, there was no case!
SHERLOCK (slowing down, but still making his way down the stairs): But they take the poison
themselves; they chew, swallow the pills themselves. There are clear signs. Even you lot
couldnt miss them.
LESTRADE: Right, yeah, thanks(!) And ...?
SHERLOCK: Its murder, all of them. I dont know how, but theyre not suicides, theyre killings
serial killings.
(He holds his hands up in front of his face in delight.)
SHERLOCK: Weve got ourselves a serial killer. I love those. Theres always something to look
forward to.
LESTRADE: Why are you saying that?
SHERLOCK (stopping and calling up to the others): Her case! Come on, where is her case? Did
she eat it?(!) Someone else was here, and they took her case. (More quietly, as if talking to
himself) So the killer must have driven her here; forgot the case was in the car.
JOHN: She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there.
SHERLOCK (looking up the stairs again): No, she never got to the hotel. Look at her hair. She
colour-coordinates her lipstick and her shoes. Shed never have left any hotel with her hair still
looking ...
(He stops talking as he makes a realisation.)
SHERLOCK: Oh.
(His eyes widen and his face lights up.)
SHERLOCK: Oh!
(He claps his hands together in delight.)
JOHN: Sherlock?
LESTRADE (leaning over the railings): What is it, what?
SHERLOCK (smiling cheerfully to himself): Serial killers are always hard. You have to wait for
them to make a mistake.
LESTRADE: We cant just wait!

42
SHERLOCK: Oh, were done waiting!

(He starts to hurry down the stairs again.)
SHERLOCK: Look at her, really look! Houston, we have a mistake. Get on to Cardiff: find out
who Jennifer Wilsons family and friends were. Find Rachel!
(He reaches the bottom of the stairs and disappears from view.)
LESTRADE (calling after him): Of course, yeah but what mistake?!
(Sherlock comes back into view and runs up a couple of stairs so that he can be seen before he
stops and yells up to Lestrade.)
SHERLOCK: PINK!
(He hurries off again. Lestrade, baffled, turns and goes back into the room while Anderson and
his team, who had been waiting on the next landing down, hurry up the stairs and follow him
into the room.)
ANDERSON: Lets get on with it.
(Forgotten by everyone else, John hesitates on the landing for a moment and then slowly starts
making his way down the stairs. A couple more police officers hurry up and one of them bumps
against him, throwing him off-balance and making him lurch heavily against the bannisters. The
man hurries on without a word, although his colleague does at least look apologetically at John
as he passes. John regains his balance and continues down the stairs.
Shortly afterwards he has removed his coverall and put his jacket back on, and now walks out
onto the street. Looking all around, he can see no sign of Sherlock. He walks towards the police
tape, still looking around. Donovan, standing at the tape, sees him.)
DONOVAN: Hes gone.
JOHN: Who, Sherlock Holmes?
DONOVAN: Yeah, he just took off. He does that.
JOHN: Is he coming back?
DONOVAN: Didnt look like it.
JOHN: Right.
(He looks around the area again thoughtfully, unsure what to do.)
JOHN: Right ... Yes.
(He turns to Donovan again.)
JOHN: Sorry, where am I?
DONOVAN: Brixton.
JOHN: Right. Er, dyou know where I could get a cab? Its just, er ... well ... (he looks down
awkwardly at his walking stick) ... my leg.
DONOVAN: Er ... (she steps over to the tape and lifts it for him) ... try the main road.
JOHN (ducking under the tape): Thanks.
DONOVAN: But youre not his friend.
(John turns back towards her.)
DONOVAN: He doesnt have friends. So who are you?
JOHN: Im ... Im nobody. I just met him.
DONOVAN: Okay, bit of advice then: stay away from that guy.
JOHN: Why?
DONOVAN: You know why hes here? Hes not paid or anything. He likes it. He gets off on it.
The weirder the crime, the more he gets off. And you know what? One day just showing up
wont be enough. One day well be standing round a body and Sherlock Holmesll be the one
that put it there.
JOHN: Why would he do that?
DONOVAN: Because hes a psychopath. And psychopaths get bored.
LESTRADE (calling from the entrance to the house): Donovan!
DONOVAN (turning and calling to him): Coming.
(She turns back towards John as she walks towards the house.)
DONOVAN: Stay away from Sherlock Holmes.
(John watches her go for a moment, then turns and begins to limp off down the road. To his
right, the phone in a public telephone box begins to ring. He stops and looks at it for a few
seconds but then looks down at his watch, shakes his head and continues down the road. The
phone stops ringing.)
Not long afterwards, John is walking down what may well be Brixton High Road. He tries to hail
a passing taxi.
JOHN: Taxi! Taxi ...

43
(The taxi passes him by. In Chicken Cottage, the fast food restaurant outside which John is
standing, the payphone on the wall begins to ring. John turns and looks as one of the serving
staff walks over to it but as he reaches for the phone, it stops. John walks on down the road
and shortly afterwards approaches another public telephone box. The phone inside starts to
ring. Mystified by this, he pulls open the door, goes inside and lifts the phone.)
JOHN: Hello?
(A mans voice speaks down the phone.)
MANs VOICE: There is a security camera on the building to your left. Do you see it?
JOHN (frowning): Whos this? Whos speaking?
MANs VOICE: Do you see the camera, Doctor Watson?
(John looks through the window of the phone box at the CCTV camera high up on the wall of a
nearby building.)
JOHN: Yeah, I see it.
MANs VOICE: Watch.
(The camera, which was pointing directly at the phone box, now swivels away.)
MANs VOICE: There is another camera on the building opposite you. Do you see it?
(John looks across to the second camera, which is also pointed towards the phone box.)
JOHN: Mmm-hmm.
(The camera immediately swivels away.)
MANs VOICE: And finally, at the top of the building on your right.
(John stares up into the third camera which is watching him but which now turns away.)
JOHN (into phone): How are you doing this?
MANs VOICE: Get into the car, Doctor Watson.
(A black car pulls up at the kerbside near the phone. The male driver gets out and opens the
rear door.)
MANs VOICE: I would make some sort of threat, but Im sure your situation is quite clear to
you.
(The phone goes dead. John puts it down and looks thoughtful for a long moment, then
apparently decides that theres not much else he can do and turns to leave the phone box.)
A few moments later he is sitting in the back seat of the car as it pulls away and drives off. An
attractive young woman is sitting beside him, her eyes fixed on her BlackBerry while she types
on it. She is pretty much ignoring him.
JOHN: Hello.
WOMAN (smiling brightly at him for a moment before returning her gaze to her phone): Hi.
JOHN: Whats your name, then?
WOMAN: Er ... Anthea.
JOHN: Is that your real name?
WOMAN (smiling): No.
(John nods, then twists to look out of the rear window briefly before turning back again.)
JOHN: Im John.
NOT-ANTHEA: Yes. I know.
JOHN: Any point in asking where Im going?
NOT-ANTHEA: None at all ...
(She turns and smiles briefly at him, then looks back at her phone again.)
NOT-ANTHEA: ... John.
JOHN: Okay.
Some time later, the car pulls into an almost-empty warehouse. A man in a suit is standing in
the centre of the area, leaning nonchalantly on an umbrella as he watches the car stop and
John get out.
[Transcribers note: Now, I know that the vast majority of people who read this transcript will
have already seen the episode, but for the benefit of the very few people who may be reading
this having never watched the show, and because at this point in the episode we are not told
who this person is, Im going to refer to him as M, which is short for ... um, Man, okay?
{transcriber inserts winky face here...}]
In front of the man is a straight-backed armless chair facing him. He gestures to it with the
point of his umbrella as John limps towards him leaning heavily on his cane.
M: Have a seat, John.
(John continues towards him, his voice calm.)
JOHN: You know, Ive got a phone.

44
(He looks round the warehouse.)

JOHN: I mean, very clever and all that, but er ... you could just phone me. On my phone.
(He walks straight past the chair and stops a few paces in front of the man.)
M: When one is avoiding the attention of Sherlock Holmes, one learns to be discreet, hence this
place.
(His voice, which has had a pleasant smile in it so far, now becomes a little more stern towards
the end of the next phrase.)
M: The leg must be hurting you. Sit down.
JOHN: I dont wanna sit down.
(The man looks at him curiously.)
M: You dont seem very afraid.
JOHN: You dont seem very frightening.
(The man chuckles.)
M: Ah, yes. The bravery of the soldier. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, dont
you think?
(He looks at John sternly.)
M: What is your connection to Sherlock Holmes?
JOHN: I dont have one. I barely know him. I met him ...
(He looks away thoughtfully, then appears surprised as if he hadnt realised until now how little
time has passed.)
JOHN: ... yesterday.
M: Mmm, and since yesterday youve moved in with him and now youre solving crimes
together. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?
JOHN: Who are you?
M: An interested party.
JOHN: Interested in Sherlock? Why? Im guessing youre not friends.
M: Youve met him. How many friends do you imagine he has? I am the closest thing to a
friend that Sherlock Holmes is capable of having.
JOHN: And whats that?
M: An enemy.
JOHN: An enemy?
M: In his mind, certainly. If you were to ask him, hed probably say his arch-enemy. He does
love to be dramatic.
(John looks pointedly around the warehouse.)
JOHN (sarcastically): Well, thank God youre above all that.
(The man frowns at him. Just then Johns phone trills a text alert. He immediately digs into his
jacket pocket, takes out the phone and activates it, looking at the message while ignoring the
man in front of him. The message reads:
Baker Street.
Come at once
if convenient.
SH
M: I hope Im not distracting you.

JOHN (casually): Not distracting me at all.
(He takes his time looking up from the phone before he pockets it.)
M: Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?
JOHN: I could be wrong ... but I think thats none of your business.
M (a little ominously): It could be.
JOHN: It really couldnt.
(The man takes a notebook from his inside pocket, then opens it and consults it as he speaks.)
M: If you do move into, um ... two hundred and twenty-one B Baker Street, Id be happy to pay
you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way.
(He closes the notebook and puts it away again.)
JOHN: Why?
M: Because youre not a wealthy man.
JOHN: In exchange for what?
M: Information. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing youd feel ... uncomfortable with. Just tell me what
hes up to.
JOHN: Why?

45
M: I worry about him. Constantly.

JOHN (insincerely): Thats nice of you.
M: But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you
might call a ... difficult relationship.
(Johns phone sounds another text alert. Again he immediately fishes the phone out and looks
at the message which reads:
If inconvenient,
come anyway.
SH
JOHN (in response to the mans offer): No.

M: But I havent mentioned a figure.
JOHN (putting his phone away again): Dont bother.
M (laughing briefly): Youre very loyal, very quickly.
JOHN: No, Im not. Im just not interested.
(The man looks at him closely for a moment, then takes out his notebook and opens it again.)
M (gesturing slightly to make it clear that he is reading a note from the book): Trust issues, it
says here.
(For the first time since their encounter began, John looks a little unnerved.)
JOHN: Whats that?
M (still looking down at his book): Could it be that youve decided to trust Sherlock Holmes of
all people?
JOHN: Who says I trust him?
M: You dont seem the kind to make friends easily.
JOHN: Are we done?
(The man raises his head and looks into Johns eyes.)
M: You tell me.
(John looks at him for a long moment, then turns his back on him and starts to walk away.)
M: I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from him, but I can see from your
left hand thats not going to happen.
(John stops dead. His shoulders tense and drop and he angrily shakes his head a little. He is
clearly furious as he turns back around to face the man.)
JOHN (savagely, through bared teeth): My wot?
M (calmly): Show me.
(He has nodded towards Johns left hand as he speaks, and now he plants the tip of his
umbrella on the floor and leans casually on it like a man who is used to having his orders
obeyed. John, however, is not going to be intimidated and deliberately shifts his feet under him
as if digging in. He raises his left hand, bending it at the elbow, and stands still. His message is
clear: if the man wants to look at his hand, hell have to come to him. Apparently unperturbed
by this belligerence, the man strolls forward, hooking the handle of the umbrella over his arm
as he reaches for Johns hand. John instantly pulls his hand back a little.)
JOHN (tensely): Dont.
(The man lowers his head and raises his eyebrows at John, almost as if saying, Did I mention
trust issues?! John very reluctantly lowers his hand, holding it out flat with the palm down. The
man takes it in both of his own hands and looks at it closely.)
M: Remarkable.
JOHN (snatching his hand away): What is?
M (turning and walking a few paces away): Most people blunder round this city, and all they see
are streets and shops and cars. When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield.
(He turns towards John again.) Youve seen it already, havent you?
JOHN: Whats wrong with my hand?
M: You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand.
(Perhaps unintentionally, John nods his head.)
M: Your therapist thinks its post-traumatic stress disorder. She thinks youre haunted by
memories of your military service.
(John almost flinches as the man accurately fires off these facts at him. His gaze is fixed ahead
of him and a muscle in his cheek twitches repeatedly.)
JOHN (angry and distressed): Who the hell are you? How do you know that?
M: Fire her. Shes got it the wrong way round. Youre under stress right now and your hand is
perfectly steady.

46
(Johns eyes flicker downwards before returning to stare ahead of himself, his face set and
struggling to hold back his anger.)
M: Youre not haunted by the war, Doctor Watson ... you miss it.
(He leans closer to him. Reluctantly Johns eyes rise up to meet his.)
M (in a whisper): Welcome back.
(He turns and starts to walk away just as Johns phone trills another text alert.)
M (casually twirling his umbrella as he goes): Time to choose a side, Doctor Watson.
(John stands fixed to the spot for a few seconds, then turns and glances towards the departing
man while, behind John, the car door opens and not-Anthea gets out and walks a few paces
towards him, her attention still riveted to the BlackBerry held in front of her in both hands.)
NOT-ANTHEA: Im to take you home.
(John half-turns towards her, then stops and takes out his phone to look at the new message. It
reads:
Could be dangerous.
SH
Putting the phone back into his pocket, John holds out his left hand in front of him and studies
the lack of tremor coming from it. He smiles wryly.)
NOT-ANTHEA: Address?
JOHN (turning and walking towards her): Er, Baker Street. Two two one B Baker Street. But I
need to stop off somewhere first.
Later, John opens the door into his bedsit and switches on the light. Walking inside and closing
the door behind him, he goes across to the desk and opens the drawer, taking out his pistol.
Checking the clip, he tucks the gun into the back of the waistband of his jeans and turns to
leave again.
Later again, the car pulls up outside 221B Baker Street. Not-Anthea is still rivetted by whatever
shes typing on her phone [that must be one heck of a running blog that shes writing]. John
looks across to her.
JOHN: Listen, your boss any chance you could not tell him this is where I went?
NOT-ANTHEA (nonchalantly): Sure.
JOHN: Youve told him already, havent you?
(She smiles across to him briefly.)
NOT-ANTHEA: Yeah.
(John nods in resignation and turns to get out of the car but just as he has opened the door, he
turns back to her.)
JOHN: Hey, um ... do you ever get any free time?
(She chuckles.)
NOT-ANTHEA (sarcastically) : Oh, yeah. Lots.
(John waits expectantly. She continues working her phone for a long moment, then turns and
looks at him before allowing her gaze to drift past him to the door of 221B.)
NOT-ANTHEA: Bye.
JOHN: Okay.
(He gets out and closes the door, then watches the car pull away before turning and walking
across the pavement to the front door of 221B. He knocks on the door.)
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.
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.

47
(He loudly clicks the k on the last word. Your transcriber dutifully wibbles.)
JOHN (walking further into the room): Its good news for breathing.
SHERLOCK (dismissively): Oh, breathing. Breathings boring.
(John frowns as he looks more closely at Sherlocks arm.)
JOHN: Is that three patches?
SHERLOCK (pressing his hands together in the prayer position under his chin): Its a three-
patch problem.
(He closes his eyes. John looks around the room for a moment, then looks down at Sherlock
again.)
JOHN: Well?
(Sherlock doesnt respond.)
JOHN: You asked me to come. Im assuming its important.
(Sherlock still doesnt respond instantly, but after a couple of seconds his eyes snap open. He
doesnt bother turning his head to look at John.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, yeah, of course. Can I borrow your phone?
JOHN: My phone?
SHERLOCK: Dont wanna use mine. Always a chance that the number will be recognised. Its on
the website.
JOHN: Mrs Hudsons got a phone.
SHERLOCK: Yeah, shes downstairs. I tried shouting but she didnt 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.)
JOHN: Here.
(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 whats 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): Its no use, theres no other way. Well 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 theres 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 Sherlocks 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 of it into the street below.
Sherlock opens his eyes and tilts his head slightly towards him.)
SHERLOCK: Whats wrong?
JOHN: Just met a friend of yours.
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?
JOHN: Yes.
SHERLOCK: Did you take it?
JOHN: No.

48
SHERLOCK: Pity. We could have split the fee. Think it through next time.
JOHN: Who is he?
SHERLOCK (softly): The most dangerous man youve 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. Wasnt that the dead woman?
SHERLOCK: Yes. Thats 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?
JOHN: Yes.
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
Lauriston Gdns?
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: Whats 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 hes looking at.)
JOHN: Thats ... thats the pink ladys case. Thats Jennifer Wilsons 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 didnt 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, its a
perfectly logical assumption.
JOHN: Do people usually assume youre 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.
JOHN: Where?

49
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 hed feel compelled to get rid
of it the moment he noticed he still had it. Wouldnt 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 anywhere 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 didnt I think of that?
SHERLOCK: Because youre an idiot.
(John looks across to him, startled. Sherlock makes a placatory gesture with one hand.)
SHERLOCK: No, no, no, dont 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 whats missing?
JOHN: From the case? How could I?
SHERLOCK: Her phone. Wheres her mobile phone? There was no phone on the body, theres no
phone in the case. We know she had one thats 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 shes 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:
(withheld)
calling
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 theyd 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 isnt 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.

50
JOHN: So Im basically filling in for your skull?

SHERLOCK (putting on his coat): Relax, youre doing fine.
(John doesnt move.)
SHERLOCK: Well?
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.)
SHERLOCK: Problem?
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.
SHERLOCK: Northumberland Streets a five-minute walk from here.
JOHN: You think hes stupid enough to go there?
SHERLOCK (smiling expectantly): No I think hes brilliant enough. I love the brilliant ones.
Theyre always so desperate to get caught.
JOHN: Why?
SHERLOCK: Appreciation! Applause! At long last the spotlight. Thats 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 dont know them? Who passes unnoticed
wherever they go? Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?
JOHN: Dunno. Who?
SHERLOCK (shrugging): Havent 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 his coat off, 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 isnt just gonna ring the doorbell, though, is he? Hed 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.)
ANGELO: 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): Im not his date.
ANGELO: This man got me off a murder charge.
SHERLOCK: This is Angelo.

51
(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, Id have gone to prison.
SHERLOCK: You did go to prison.
ANGELO (to John): Ill get a candle for the table. Its more romantic.
JOHN (indignantly, as Angelo walks away): Im 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. Sherlocks attention is fixed
out of the window and he is quietly drumming his fingers on the table.
JOHN: People dont have arch-enemies.
(It takes a moment but Sherlock finally looks round.)
SHERLOCK: Im sorry?
JOHN: In real life. There are no arch-enemies in real life. Doesnt happen.
SHERLOCK (disinterestedly, looking out of the window again): Doesnt 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 dont like ... Girlfriends,
boyfriends ...
SHERLOCK: Yes, well, as I was saying dull.
JOHN: You dont have a girlfriend, then?
SHERLOCK (still looking out of the window): Girlfriend? No, not really my area.
JOHN: Mm.
(A moment passes before he realises the possible significance of this statement.)
JOHN: Oh, right. Dyou have a boyfriend?
(Sherlock looks round at him sharply.)
JOHN: Which is fine, by the way.
SHERLOCK: I know its fine.
(John smiles to indicate that he wasnt signifying anything negative by what he said.)
JOHN: So youve got a boyfriend then?
SHERLOCK: No.
JOHN (still smiling, though his smile is becoming a little fixed and awkward): Right. Okay.
Youre 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 Johns 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 Im flattered by your interest, Im really not looking for any ...
JOHN (interrupting): No. (He turns his head briefly to clear his throat.) No, Im not asking. No.
(He fixes his gaze onto Sherlocks, apparently trying to convey his sincerity.)
JOHN: Im just saying, its 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.)

52
SHERLOCK (to himself): Why a taxi? Oh, thats clever. Is it clever? Why is it clever?
JOHN: Thats him?
SHERLOCK: Dont stare.
JOHN (looking round at him): Youre staring.
SHERLOCK: We cant 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 hes 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.)
JOHN: Sorry.
(He chases after Sherlock, who runs a few yards up the road before realising that hes not going
to catch the taxi and slows to a halt. John catches up and stops beside him.)
JOHN: Ive 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.)
MAN: Oi!
(John hurries after Sherlock, raising an apologetic hand to the man as he goes.)
JOHN: Sorry.
(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. Were 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
DArblay 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!

53
JOHN: Sorry.
(He turns and heads back in the opposite direction, following Sherlock. In Sherlocks 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.)
SHERLOCK: No.
(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): Its 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.
SHERLOCK: Basically.
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 hes annoying. You can keep that one, Ive got plenty
at the flat.
(John nods, then looks down at the card again before lifting his head and giggling silently.)
SHERLOCK: What?
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 road. 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.)

54
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 Ive ever done.
SHERLOCK: And you invaded Afghanistan.
(John giggles adorably and after a moment Sherlock also begins to laugh.)
JOHN: That wasnt just me.
(Sherlock chuckles.)
JOHN: Why arent 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?
SHERLOCK: You.
(He turns and calls loudly towards the door to Mrs Hudsons 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 Johns walking cane.)
ANGELO: He said you forgot this.
(John stares at the cane in surprise, then takes it.)
JOHN: Ah.
(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 Sherlocks possessions. Sherlock storms over to
Lestrade.)
SHERLOCK: What are you doing?
LESTRADE: Well, I knew youd find the case. Im not stupid.
SHERLOCK: You cant just break into my flat.
LESTRADE: And you cant withhold evidence. And I didnt break into your flat.
SHERLOCK: Well, what do you call this then?
LESTRADE (looking round at his officers before looking back to Sherlock innocently): Its 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): Im pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldnt find
anything you could call recreational.
SHERLOCK: John, you probably want to shut up now.
JOHN: Yeah, but come on ...
(He looks into Sherlocks eyes. Sherlock holds his gaze for a long moment and John falls deeply
and instantly in love realises how serious hes looking.)
JOHN: No.

55
SHERLOCK: What?
JOHN: You?
SHERLOCK (angrily): Shut up!
(He turns back to Lestrade.)
SHERLOCK: Im not your sniffer dog.
LESTRADE: No, Andersons 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. Theyre not strictly speaking on the drugs squad, but theyre 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: Its an experiment.
LESTRADE: Keep looking, guys.
(He stands up and turns to Sherlock.)
LESTRADE: Or you could help us properly and Ill stand them down.
SHERLOCK (pacing angrily): This is childish.
LESTRADE: Well, Im dealing with a child. Sherlock, this is our case. Im 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 dont 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 lets work together. Weve found Rachel.
SHERLOCK (turning back to him): Who is she?
LESTRADE: Jennifer Wilsons only daughter.
SHERLOCK (frowning): Her daughter? Why would she write her daughters 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): Im not a psychopath, Anderson. Im 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: Shes dead.
SHERLOCK: Excellent!
(John looks startled.)
SHERLOCK (to Lestrade): How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be.
LESTRADE: Well, I doubt it, since shes been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never
alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilsons stillborn daughter, fourteen years ago.
(John grimaces sadly and turns away. Sherlock, on the other hand, just looks confused.)
SHERLOCK: No, thats ... thats not right. How ... Why would she do that? Why?
ANDERSON: Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments?(!) Yup sociopath; Im
seeing it now.

56
SHERLOCK (turning to him with an exasperated look on his face): She didnt 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 dont 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 as he realises that everyone in the flat has stopped what
theyre 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 youd 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 dont have to.
(Sherlock seems to recognise the look of pain in Johns 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: Shes trying to tell us something.
(Mrs Hudson comes to the door of the living room.)
MRS HUDSON: Isnt the doorbell working? Your taxis here, Sherlock.
SHERLOCK: I didnt order a taxi. Go away.
(He continues pacing as Mrs Hudson looks around the room.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh, dear. Theyre making such a mess. What are they looking for?
JOHN: Its a drugs bust, Mrs Hudson.
MRS HUDSON (anxiously): But theyre just for my hip. Theyre herbal soothers.
(With his back to the door, Sherlock stops and shouts out.)
SHERLOCK: Shut up, everybody, shut up! Dont move, dont speak, dont breathe. Im trying to
think. Anderson, face the other way. Youre putting me off.
ANDERSON: What? My face is?!
LESTRADE: Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back.
ANDERSON: Oh, for Gods 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.)
SHERLOCK: Oh.
(He smiles in delight.)
SHERLOCK: Ah! She was clever, clever, yes!
(He walks across the room and then turns back to the others.)
SHERLOCK: Shes cleverer than you lot and shes dead. Do you see, do you get it? She didnt
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?
(Lestrade shrugs.)
SHERLOCK: Rachel!
(He looks at everyone triumphantly. They all look back at him blankly.)
SHERLOCK: Dont you see? Rachel!
(Still everyone looks blank. Sherlock laughs in disbelief.)

57
SHERLOCK: Oh, look at you lot. Youre 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, theres 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, Ive been too slow. She didnt have a laptop, which means she did her business
on her phone, so its a smartphone, its e-mail enabled.
(He has pulled up Mephones 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, dont talk out loud. You lower the I.Q. of the whole street. We can do
much more than just read her e-mails. Its a smartphone, its got GPS, which means if you lose
it you can locate it online. Shes leading us directly to the man who killed her.
LESTRADE: Unless he got rid of it.
JOHN: We know he didnt.
(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, isnt 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): Were gonna have to move fast. This phone battery wont last for
ever.
LESTRADE: Well just have a map reference, not a name.
SHERLOCK: Its 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. Its the first proper
lead that weve had.
JOHN: Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK (hurrying across the room to look over Johns shoulder): What is it? Quickly, where?
(The map is now indicating the precise location of the phone.)
JOHN: Its here. Its 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 didnt notice it? Me? I didnt notice?
JOHN (to Lestrade): Anyway, we texted him and he called back.
(Lestrade turns to call out to his colleagues.)
LESTRADE: Guys, were 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 dont 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 its 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.)

58
(In flashback, James Phillimore walks across the road, huddled against the pouring rain as a
vacant taxi drives along the road behind him.)
(In flashback, Beth Davenport looks around despairingly when she realises that she doesnt
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, Sherlocks
own phone trills 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-Im 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): Ill 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. Wont be long.
(John frowns as Sherlock leaves the room, and calls after him.)
JOHN: You sure youre all right?
SHERLOCK (hurrying down the stairs): Im fine.
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 didnt order a taxi.
JEFF: Doesnt mean you dont need one.
SHERLOCK: Youre 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 drivers 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. Its like youre 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 Ill tell you what else: if you call the coppers now, I wont run. Ill sit quiet
and they can take me down, I promise.
SHERLOCK: Why?
JEFF: Cause youre not gonna do that.
SHERLOCK: Am I not?
JEFF: I didnt 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 wont ever understand how those people died. What kind of result do you care
about?
(He turns again and continues around to the drivers 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?

59
JEFF (turning to look at him): Let me take you for a ride.

SHERLOCK: So you can kill me too?
JEFF: I dont wanna kill you, Mr olmes. Im gonna talk to yer ... and then youre 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: Its 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: Were wasting our time!
JOHN (to Lestrade): Im calling the phone. Its 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 its ringing, its not here.
(John lowers his phone and reaches for the computer notebook.)
JOHN: Ill try the search again.
(Donovan comes back to confront Lestrade.)
DONOVAN: Does it matter? Does any of it? You know, hes just a lunatic, and hell always let
you down, and youre 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. Ive been on your website, too. Brilliant stuff! Loved it!
SHERLOCK: Who warned you about me?
JEFF: Just someone out there whos noticed you.
SHERLOCK: Who?
(He leans forward, looking closely at the side of Jeffs 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): Youre too modest, Mr olmes.
SHERLOCK: Im really not.
JEFF: Youve got yourself a fan.
SHERLOCK (nonchalantly, sitting back in his seat): Tell me more.
JEFF: Thats all youre 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: Ive known him for five years and no, I dont.
JOHN: So why do you put up with him?
LESTRADE: Because Im desperate, thats why.
(He walks to the door, then turns back.)
LESTRADE: And because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think one day, if were 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
passenger door and opening it. He looks in at Sherlock.)

60
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: Its open; cleaners are in. One thing about being a cabbie: you always know a nice quiet
spot for a murder. Im surprised more of us dont 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: Dont worry. It gets better.
SHERLOCK: You cant make people take their own lives at gunpoint.
JEFF: I dont. Its much better than that.
(He lowers the gun.)
JEFF: Dont need this with you, cause youll 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
doesnt 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, Sherlocks notebook is
still on Mephones website and the clock is spinning on the screen while the site searches for
Jennifer Wilsons 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: Its up to you. Youre the one whos gonna die ere.
(Sherlock turns back to him.)
SHERLOCK: No, Im not.
JEFF: Thats 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, wasnt it? Took me away under the eye of about half a dozen policemen.
Theyre 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 doesnt react in any way.)
JEFF: Ooh, I like this bit. Cause you dont get it yet, do yer? But youre 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 werent expecting that, were yer?
(He leans forward.)
JEFF: Ooh, youre 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.

61
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 cant people think?
(He looks down angrily.)
JEFF: Dont it make you mad? Why cant people just think?
(He looks up again into Sherlocks 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 youre a proper genius too.
JEFF: Dont look it, do I? Funny little man drivin a cab. But youll know better in a minute.
Chances are itll 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: Theres 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 dont.
JEFF: Wouldnt be a game if you knew. Youre the one who chooses.
SHERLOCK: Why should I? Ive got nothing to go on. Whats in it for me?
JEFF: I avent 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 hes interested.)
JEFF: I wont cheat. Its your choice. Ill take whatever pill you dont.
(Sherlock looks down at the bottles, concentrating properly now.)
JEFF: Didnt 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 Im 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: Its not a game. Its chance.
JEFF: Ive played four times. Im alive. Its not chance, Mr olmes, its chess. Its 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. Its important.
Its an emergency!
(The map on the laptop shows the location of Jennifers 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 Sherlocks eyes.
JEFF: You ready yet, Mr olmes? Ready to play?
SHERLOCK: Play what? Its a fifty-fifty chance.
JEFF: Youre not playin the numbers, youre 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? Its not just chance.
SHERLOCK: Luck.
JEFF: Its 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: Everyones so stupid even you.
(Sherlocks gaze sharpens.)

62
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, youre 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 isnt 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. Theres shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobodys pointed it out
to you.
(Flashback to Jeff sitting in the drivers seat of the cab, which is when Sherlock noticed this.)
SHERLOCK: Traces of where its happened before, so obviously you live on your own; theres
no-one to tell you.
(Jeff tries not to fidget under Sherlocks gaze.)
SHERLOCK: But theres a photograph of children. The childrens mother has been cut out of the
picture. If shed died, shed 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 photographs old but the frames new. You think of your children but you dont
get to see them.
(Jeffs gaze slides away from Sherlock and for the first time theres 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 theres more.
(Jeff lifts his gaze back to Sherlock as he points his index fingers towards him.)
SHERLOCK: Your clothes: recently laundered but everything youre wearings at least ... three
years old? Keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze
murder spree. Whats that about?
(Jeff has got control of himself again and his expression says nothing as he gazes back at
Sherlock. The detectives 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?
(Sherlocks deduction seems to appear beside Jeffs head:
DYING
SHERLOCK: That youre a dead man walking.

JEFF: So are you.
SHERLOCK: You dont have long, though. Am I right?
(Jeff smiles.)
JEFF: Aneurism.
(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 youre dying, youve just murdered four people.
JEFF: Ive outlived four people. Thats the most fun you can ave on an aneurism.
SHERLOCK (thoughtfully): No. No, theres something else. You didnt just kill four people
because youre 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, aint you?

63
SHERLOCK: But how?

JEFF: When I die, they wont get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs.
SHERLOCK: Or serial killing.
JEFF: Youd 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 theyll be. You
see? Its nicer than you think.
SHERLOCK (frowning): Whod sponsor a serial killer?
JEFF (instantly): Whod be a fan of Sherlock olmes?
(They stare at each other for a moment.)
JEFF: Youre not the only one to enjoy a good murder. Theres others out there just like you,
except youre just a man ... and theyre so much more than that.
(The side of Sherlocks nose twitches in distaste.)
SHERLOCK: What dyou mean, more than a man? An organisation? What?
JEFF: Theres a name no-one says, an Im 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.)
JOHN: Sherlock!
CLASSROOM.
SHERLOCK: What if I dont 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-ones ever gone for that option.
SHERLOCK: Ill have the gun, please.
JEFF: Are you sure?
SHERLOCK (still smiling): Definitely. The gun.
JEFF: You dont wanna phone a friend?
(Sherlock smiles confidently.)
SHERLOCK: The gun.
(Jeffs 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 ones the good bottle?
SHERLOCK: Of course. Childs 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.

64
(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 dyou 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 hes looking for. His
eyes fill with horror. Inside the classroom, Sherlock lifts his gaze from the bottle hes holding ...
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.)
JOHN: SHERLOCK!
(Unaware that theyre being watched, Jeff continues to hold up his pill as he looks at Sherlock.)
JEFF: I bet you get bored, dont you? I know you do. A man like you ...
(Sherlock unscrews the lid of the bottle.)
JEFF: ... so clever. But whats the point of being clever if you cant 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 youre really addicted to, innit?
(Sherlock holds the pill in his fingers and stares at it.)
JEFF: Youd do anything ... anything at all ...
(Sherlocks 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: Youre 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 Jeffs 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 the desk 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, wasnt I? Did I get it right?
(Jeff doesnt 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: Youre dying, but theres still time to hurt you. Give me a name.
(Jeff shakes his head. Grimacing angrily, Sherlock lifts his foot and puts it onto Jeffs shoulder.
Jeff gasps in pain.)
SHERLOCK: A name.
(Jeff cries out in pain.)
SHERLOCK: Now.

65
(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, its for shock.
SHERLOCK: Im 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 wouldnt say that.
(Now its Lestrades turn to roll his eyes.)
LESTRADE: Okay, gimme.
SHERLOCK (standing up): The bullet they just dug out of the walls from a hand gun. Kill shot
over that distance from that kind of a weapon thats a crack shot youre looking for, but not
just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldnt have shaken at all, so clearly hes acclimatised
to violence. He didnt fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle.
Youre looking for a man probably with a history of military service ...
(While hes 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 Sherlocks gaze and Sherlock
turns back to him before he can start to ask questions.)
SHERLOCK: Actually, do you know what? Ignore me.
LESTRADE: Sorry?
SHERLOCK: Ignore all of that. Its just the, er, the shock talking.
(He starts to walk towards John.)
LESTRADE: Wherere you going?
SHERLOCK: I just need to talk about the-the rent.
LESTRADE: But Ive still got questions for you.
SHERLOCK (turning back to him in irritation): Oh, what now? Im in shock! Look, Ive got a
blanket!
(He brandishes the sides of the blanket at Lestrade as if to prove it.)
LESTRADE: Sherlock!
SHERLOCK: And I just caught you a serial killer ... more or less.
(Lestrade looks at him thoughtfully for a moment.)
LESTRADE: Okay. Well 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 Donovans just been explaining everything, the two pills. Been a dreadful
business, hasnt 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, youd know.
(John gazes up at him, still unsuccessfully trying not to let his expression give him away.)

66
SHERLOCK: Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I dont suppose youd serve time
for this, but lets avoid the court case.
(John clears his throat and looks around nervously.)
JOHN: Yes, of course Im all right.
SHERLOCK: Well, you have just killed a man.
JOHN: Yes, I ...
(He trails off. Sherlock looks at him closely.)
JOHN: Thats true, innit?
(He smiles. Sherlock continues to watch him carefully.)
JOHN: But he wasnt a very nice man.
(Apparently reassured that John really is okay, Sherlock nods in agreement.)
SHERLOCK: No. No, he wasnt really, was he?
JOHN: And frankly a bloody awful cabbie.
(Sherlock chuckles, then turns and starts to lead them away.)
SHERLOCK: Thats 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 cant giggle, its a crime scene! Stop it!
SHERLOCK: Youre the one who shot him. Dont blame me.
JOHN: Keep your voice down!
(Theyre walking past Sergeant Donovan.)
JOHN (to Donovan): Sorry its 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, werent you?
(Sherlock stops and turns back to him.)
SHERLOCK: Course I wasnt. Biding my time. Knew youd turn up.
JOHN: No you didnt. Its how you get your kicks, isnt it? You risk your life to prove youre
clever.
SHERLOCK: Why would I do that?
JOHN: Because youre an idiot.
(Sherlock smiles, apparently delighted that he has finally found someone who understands him
and more to the point doesnt care about his behaviour. After a moment he forces the smile
down.)
SHERLOCK: Dinner?
JOHN: Starving.
(They turn and start to walk again.)
SHERLOCK: End of Baker Street, theres 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. Thats him. Thats 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 thats never really your
motivation, is it?
SHERLOCK: What are you doing here?
M: As ever, Im concerned about you.
SHERLOCK: Yes, Ive 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 wasnt me that upset her, Mycroft.

67
JOHN: No, no, wait. Mummy? Whos 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): Hes your brother?!
SHERLOCK: Of course hes my brother.
JOHN: So hes 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 hes not too busy being the British Secret
Service or the CIA on a freelance basis.
(Mycroft sighs.)
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 youre 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): Hes always been so resentful. You can imagine the
Christmas dinners.
JOHN: Yeah ... no. God, no!
(He half-turns to follow Sherlock.)
JOHN: I-Id 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 at him brightly.)
NOT-ANTHEA: Hello.
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.)
NOT-ANTHEA: Oh!
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 cant.
SHERLOCK: Almost can. You did get shot, though.
JOHN: Sorry?
SHERLOCK: In Afghanistan. There was an actual wound.
JOHN: Oh, yeah. Shoulder.
SHERLOCK: Shoulder! I thought so.
JOHN: No you didnt.
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?
SHERLOCK: Moriarty.
JOHN: Whats Moriarty?
SHERLOCK (cheerfully): Ive absolutely no idea.
(Back at the car, not-Anthea turns to Mycroft who is watching the boys as they walk away.)

68
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,
wed 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 as they mentally plan where and how many times theyre going to roger each other
senseless once they get home.)
******************
*blinks innocently* What? My transcript my interpretation. If you dont like it, write your own!
The Blind Banker
In the National Antiquities Museum, an ancient Chinese clay tea set has been arranged on a
tray. Oriental flute music is playing gently. A young Chinese woman, Soo Lin Yao, takes a large
pinch of tea leaves from a bowl and sprinkles them into a clay teapot before pouring water on
top of them. A group of children and a few adults are watching her demonstration.
SOO LIN: The great artisans say the more the teapot is used, the more beautiful it becomes.
(She has deliberately overfilled the pot so that when she picks up the lid and gently presses it
down into place, water spills out over the sides of the pot. Now she picks up a small jug and
pours more liquid over the top of the pot.)
SOO LIN: The pot is seasoned by repeatedly pouring tea over the surface. The deposit left on
the clay creates this beautiful patina over time.
(She holds up the wet teapot to show her audience how the pot is shining.)
SOO LIN: For some pots, the clay has been burnished by tea made over four hundred years
ago.
Some time later, the visitors have left and Soo Lin is gently drying and dusting off the tea set
with a brush.
TANNOY ANNOUNCEMENT: This museum will be closing in ten minutes.
(A young English male employee, Andy Galbraith, walks over. He stands behind her and
watches as she carefully packs the tea set into a box.)
Andy (in a joking tone): Four hundred years old, and theyre lettin you use it to make yourself
a brew!
SOO LIN (not turning around): Some things arent supposed to sit behind glass. Theyre made
to be touched; to be handled.
(She turns and looks at him. Andy who clearly has a massive crush on her looks back at her
all doe-eyed. She turns back to the box and frowns.)
SOO LIN: These pots need attention. (She holds up a dry-looking pot with no shine on it.) The
clay is cracking.
ANDY: Well, I cant see how a tiny splash of teas gonna help.
(He grins nervously.)
SOO LIN: Sometimes you have to look hard at something to see its value.
(She puts down the teapot as Andy steels himself to say something. Just as he opens his mouth
she lifts up another pot to show him.)
SOO LIN: See? This one shines a little brighter.
(Andy braces himself.)
ANDY: I dont suppose ... um, I mean, I dont suppose that you ... you wanna have a drink? (He
grimaces.) Not tea, obviously. Um, in a pub, with me, tonight ... umm.
(Soo Lin puts down the pot, not looking at him.)
SOO LIN: You wouldnt like me all that much.
ANDY: Couldnt I maybe decide that for myself?

69
(She hesitates, but then briefly glances towards him.)

SOO LIN: I cant. Im sorry. Please stop asking.
(She closes the box.)
A little later, the main entrance doors to the museum are closed for the night and most of the
lights are turned off. Down in the basement archive, Soo Lin is in one of the stacks, presumably
putting her equipment away. Theres a noise nearby.
SOO LIN (calling out): Is that Security?
(Theres no response, and after an anxious pause she walks out of the stacks and looks
around.)
SOO LIN: Hello?
(To her right, a tall and narrow object is covered with a white sheet which billows in a breeze.
She nervously walks closer to the object, then hesitantly takes hold of the sheet and pulls it
down. Whatever she sees underneath makes her face fill with horror and fear.)
Opening titles.
SUPERMARKET. John Watson is standing at one of two self-service checkouts, scanning items
from his basket. A short queue has formed behind him. John scans another item.
AUTOMATED VOICE: Unexpected item in bagging area. Please try again.
221B BAKER STREET. In the living room of the flat, Sherlock Holmes is under attack from a
heavily robed figure whose face and head are almost completely shrouded in a variety of
scarves. As the attacker slashes at him with a curved sword, Sherlock backs up carefully and
ducks this way and that to avoid the blows. The man backs Sherlock up as far as the sofa and
takes another swing at him. Ducking under the sword, Sherlock drops onto the sofa in a sitting
position. The attacker lifts his sword above his head with both hands and Sherlock raises a leg,
kicking hard at the mans chest and shoving him backwards. As the man stumbles back across
the room, Sherlock gets to his feet and takes an all-important moment to straighten his jacket
before charging across the room towards the man.
In the supermarket, John holds a lettuce in a plastic bag and moves it slowly across the scanner
in an attempt to get it to read the barcode.
AUTOMATED VOICE: Item not scanned. Please try again.
(John straightens up, staring at the device in exasperation.)
JOHN: Dyou think you could keep your voice down?
In the flat, the attacker has his sword held horizontally in both hands and is pushing Sherlock
backwards into the kitchen. With a tight grip on the mans wrists, Sherlock falls back onto the
kitchen table and the man follows him down, trying to press the edge of the blade into
Sherlocks throat. Grimacing with the effort, Sherlock pushes the mans right wrist upwards to
keep the blade from cutting him. The point of the sword begins to dig into the table to
Sherlocks right. Sherlock raises his left leg and knees the man in the side several times and, as
this begins to weaken the mans grip, Sherlock forces himself upwards again. The sword tip
gouges a long slash across the top of the table.
In the supermarket, John has at last got everything scanned and has inserted his credit or debit
card into the chip-and-PIN machine. He types in his PIN and waits.
AUTOMATED VOICE: Card not authorised. Please use an alternative method of payment.
JOHN: Yes, all right! Ive got it!
AUTOMATED VOICE: Card not authorised. Please use an alternative method of payment.
(The man in the queue behind him has already picked up his own basket in expectation of
getting to the scanner soon. John reaches towards his back pocket but apparently realises that
he has no other way of paying.)
JOHN: Got nothing.
(He points at the machine.)
JOHN: Right, keep it. Keep that.
(As the man behind him looks on in surprise, John angrily walks away, abandoning his shopping
and quite possibly his card as well.)

70
In the flat, Sherlock is on his feet again and the fight has moved back into the living room. The
attacker takes another swing at Sherlock who ducks underneath the sword and then quickly
straightens up, pointing directly over the mans shoulder.
SHERLOCK: Look!
(The man has already half turned in that direction with the swing of his sword and is also
perhaps momentary distracted by their reflections in the mirror over the fireplace behind him.
Sherlock takes advantage and swings a powerful uppercut to the mans chin, and the man drops
unconscious into Sherlocks armchair. Sherlock straightens up and immediately checks his
reflection in the mirror, straightening his jacket and cuffs and then dusting himself down. He
looks down at the man with disdain, as if indignant that he messed his suit up.)
Some time later Sherlock is sitting in his armchair calmly reading a book. There is no sign of the
attacker. John walks up the stairs and into the living room, stopping just inside the room and
looking around as if he suspects that something has happened in his absence, but he cant tell
what.
SHERLOCK (not looking up): You took your time.
JOHN: Yeah, I didnt get the shopping.
SHERLOCK (looking indignantly over the top of his book): What? Why not?
JOHN (tetchily): Because I had a row, in the shop, with a chip-and-PIN machine.
SHERLOCK (lowering his book a little): You ... you had a row with a machine?
[It wont be the last time that John argues with a machine, Sherlock baby, but lets not go
there right now ...]
JOHN: Sort of. It sat there and I shouted abuse. Have you got cash?
(Sherlock holds back his amused smile and nods towards the kitchen.)
SHERLOCK: Take my card.
(John walks towards the kitchen where Sherlocks wallet is lying on the table, but before he gets
there he turns back to his flatmate indignantly.)
JOHN: You could always go yourself, you know. Youve been sitting there all morning. Youve
not even moved since I left.
(Sherlock briefly flashes back in his mind to a moment in the fight when he ducked under a
swing from the attackers sword. [And oh my goodness can you see how the blade cuts right
into The Coat hanging on the back of the door?! *cries*] He tries to look nonchalant as he turns
the page of his book while John picks up the wallet from the table and rummages through it for
a suitable payment card.)
JOHN: And what happened about that case you were offered the Jaria Diamond?
SHERLOCK: Not interested.
(Using a piece of paper as a bookmark he shuts the book with a loud snap, and only then
realises that the attackers sword is still lying underneath his chair in plain view. He quickly
slams a foot down onto the end and slides his foot and the sword further back to get the
weapon out of sight.)
SHERLOCK (firmly): I sent them a message.
(Flashback to his uppercut that ended the fight.)
(John has now found a card he can use, but pauses to bend over to look more closely at the
new long narrow gouge in the top of the table. He sighs and runs his finger along the cut,
rubbing at it in case its just a mark that can be removed.)
JOHN (in an exasperated whisper): Ugh, Holmes.
(Looking across to his flatmate, he tuts pointedly. Sherlock shakes his head innocently. John
turns and leaves the room, trotting down the stairs as Sherlock smirks.)
Later, John staggers up the stairs carrying several bags of shopping.

JOHN (sarcastically): Dont worry about me. I can manage.
(Sherlock, who is now sitting at the dining table with his hands folded in front of his mouth as
he looks at a laptop screen, barely glances across to John, who sighs heavily as he carries the
bags into the kitchen and dumps them onto the table. Sherlock is engrossed in reading an e-
mail from someone called Sebastian Wilkes. The full e-mail isnt shown but what text can be
seen reveals that Sherlock and Sebastian havent seen each other for a long time. Sebastian
has heard that Sherlock is now a consultant or a consulting detective and tells him that
Theres been an incident at the bank which he hopes that Sherlock may be able to sort out.
He asks him to drop by and says that hell be relying on Sherlocks discretion. John turns
around from the kitchen table and frowns when he realises which piece of equipment Sherlock
is looking at.)

71
JOHN: Is that my computer?

SHERLOCK (starting to type): Of course.
JOHN: What?!
SHERLOCK: Mine was in the bedroom.
[The bedroom. He said the bedroom, not my bedroom. Just sayin. *whistles innocently*]
JOHN: What, and you couldnt be bothered to get up?
(Sherlock doesnt reply.)
JOHN (indignantly): Its password protected!
SHERLOCK (still typing): In a manner of speaking. Took me less than a minute to guess yours.
(He glances up at John.) Not exactly Fort Knox.
JOHN (annoyed): Right, thank you.
(He walks over and slams the lid down. Sherlock pulls his fingers out of the way just in time.
John takes the laptop across the room and puts it down on the floor beside his armchair as he
sits down. Sherlock clasps his hands in the prayer position in front of his mouth as he props his
elbows on the table and looks thoughtful. John picks up a small pile of letters from the table
beside his chair and frowns.)
JOHN: Oh.
(He flicks through the letters, at least one of which appears to be a red bill which needs urgent
paying. He shakes his head in resignation.)
JOHN: Need to get a job.
SHERLOCK: Oh, dull.
(He seems to be lost in thought. John puts the letters back onto the table and looks across at
his friend for a moment, but then glances at the bills again and awkwardly sits forward.)
JOHN: Listen, um ... if youd be able to lend me some ...
(He stops when he realises that Sherlock appears to be a world of his own.)
JOHN: Sherlock, are you listening?
SHERLOCK (without looking round): I need to go to the bank.
(He gets up and heads towards the stairs, taking his coat from the hook on the door as he goes
[so thankfully it was undamaged by that nasty man who was so carelessly flashing his sword
around. *pets the indestructible Coat*]. John frowns, then jumps up and hurries to join him.)
TOWER 42, OLD BROAD STREET. Sherlock leads John through revolving glass doors which lead
into Shad Sanderson Bank. John stares at the impressive foyer as he follows his friend.
JOHN: Yes, when you said we were going to the bank ...
(He gets onto an escalator behind Sherlock while the detective observes everything around him,
especially the security systems which have to have cards swiped across electronic readers in
order to open glass barrier gates. The boys reach the top of the escalator and Sherlock walks
over to the reception desk and addresses one of the receptionists.)
A little later the boys have been shown into Sebastian Wilkes office and now he walks in and
grins at Sherlock.
SEBASTIAN: Sherlock Holmes.
SHERLOCK: Sebastian.
(They shake hands, Sebastian clasping Sherlocks hand in both of his own.)
SEBASTIAN: Howdy, buddy. How longs it been? Eight years since I last clapped eyes on you?
(Sherlock looks back at him with only marginally disguised dislike. Sebastian turns to look at
John.)
SHERLOCK: This is my friend, John Watson.
SEBASTIAN (latching on to the emphasised word): Friend?
JOHN: Colleague.
SEBASTIAN: Right.
(They shake hands, Sebastian looking at John curiously.)
SEBASTIAN: Right.
(He throws a brief look at Sherlock as if saying, Didnt think you had a friend! Grinning
unpleasantly, he momentarily scratches his neck and Sherlocks gaze falls on his wristwatch.
Sebastian turns away, John pursing his lips as if he has taken an instant dislike to the man;
either that or hes regretting correcting Sherlock.)
SEBASTIAN: Well, grab a pew. Dyou need anything? Coffee, water?
(Sherlock shakes his head.)
JOHN: No.

72
SEBASTIAN: No? (To his secretary) Were all sorted here, thanks.
(As the secretary leaves the room, Sebastian sits down at his desk and the other two sit side by
side opposite him.)
SHERLOCK: So, youre doing well. Youve been abroad a lot.
SEBASTIAN: Well, some.
SHERLOCK: Flying all the way round the world twice in a month?
(John frowns in confusion but Sebastian just laughs and points at Sherlock.)
SEBASTIAN: Right. Youre doing that thing.
(He looks at John.)
SEBASTIAN: We were at uni together. This guy here had a trick he used to do.
SHERLOCK (quietly): Its not a trick.
SEBASTIAN (to John): He could look at you and tell you your whole life story.
JOHN: Yes, Ive seen him do it.
SEBASTIAN: Put the wind up everybody. We hated him.
(Sherlock turns his head away and looks down, his face momentarily filling with pain. To this
day your transcriber cannot understand how Benedict didnt win a BAFTA for that stupendous
moment of acting alone.)
SEBASTIAN: Youd come down to breakfast in the Formal Hall and this freak would know youd
been shagging the previous night.
SHERLOCK (quietly): I simply observed.
SEBASTIAN: Go on, enlighten me. Two trips a month, flying all the way around the world
youre quite right. How could you tell?
(Sherlock opens his mouth but Sebastian continues speaking.)
SEBASTIAN (smugly): Youre gonna tell me there was, um, a stain on my tie from some special
kind of ketchup you can only buy in Manhattan.
(John smiles.)
SHERLOCK: No, I ...
SEBASTIAN (talking over him): Maybe it was the mud on my shoes!
(Sherlock simply looks back at him for a moment before speaking.)
SHERLOCK: I was just chatting with your secretary outside. She told me.
(John frowns round at him, confused by such an ordinary explanation. Sebastian laughs
humourlessly and Sherlock smiles back at him with an equal lack of humour. Sebastian claps his
hands together, then becomes more serious.)
SEBASTIAN: Im glad you could make it over. Weve had a break-in.
(He leads them across the trading floor towards another door.)
SEBASTIAN: Sir Williams office the banks former Chairman. The rooms been left here like a
sort of memorial. Someone broke in late last night.
JOHN: What did they steal?
SEBASTIAN: Nothing. Just left a little message.
(He holds his security card against the reader by the door to unlock it. Inside, hanging on the
plain white wall behind the large desk is a framed painted portrait of a man in a suit
presumably the late Sir William Shad himself. On the wall to the left of the portrait someone
has sprayed what looks like a graffiti tag in yellow paint. The tag looks vaguely like a number 8
but with the top of the number left open, and above it is an almost horizontal straight line.
Across the eyes of the portrait itself, another almost horizontal straight line has been sprayed.
Perhaps because of the texture of the paper or perhaps because the artist oversprayed the
line, the yellow paint has run trails down the painting. Sebastian leads the way towards the
desk and then steps aside to allow Sherlock a clear view of the wall. John moves to stand on
the other side of Sebastian, who looks at Sherlock expectantly while the detective stares in
fixed concentration at the graffiti.)
(Later theyre back in Sebastians office and he is showing the boys the security footage of the
office from the previous night.)
SEBASTIAN: Sixty seconds apart.
(He flicks back and forth between the still photograph taken at 23:34:01 which shows the paint
on the wall and on the portrait, and a minute earlier 23:33:01 when the wall and portrait
were still clean.)
SEBASTIAN: So, someone came up here in the middle of the night, splashed paint around, then
left within a minute.
SHERLOCK: How many ways into that office?
SEBASTIAN: Well, thats where this gets really interesting.

73
Back in the reception area, Sebastian shows them a screen on a computer which has a layout of
the trading floor and its surrounding offices. Each indicated door has a light against it showing
its security status.
SEBASTIAN: Every door that opens in this bank, it gets logged right here. Every walk-in
cupboard, every toilet.
SHERLOCK: That door didnt open last night.
SEBASTIAN: Theres a hole in our security. Find it and well pay you five figures.
(He reaches into the breast pocket of his jacket and takes out a cheque.)
SEBASTIAN: This is an advance. Tell me how he got in, theres a bigger one on its way.
SHERLOCK: I dont need an incentive, Sebastian.
(He walks away. John watches him go, then turns to Sebastian.)
JOHN: Hes, uh, hes kidding you, obviously.
(He holds out his hand.)
JOHN: Sh-shall I look after that for him?
(Sebastian hands him the cheque.)
JOHN: Thanks.
(He looks at the figure on the cheque and shakes his head in disbelief that this is only the
advance.)
Sherlock has returned to Sir Williams office and is taking photographs on his mobile phone of
the graffiti. Once he has taken several pictures he turns around, the symbols still floating in
front of his minds eye. He looks to his right where the floor-to-ceiling windows show an
impressive view of the nearby Swiss Re Tower, better known as The Gherkin. Frowning and
looking away in thought for a moment, he then walks over to the windows and pulls up the
blinds which are covering what is revealed to be a door onto a small balcony. Opening the door
he goes out onto the balcony and looks at the spectacular view over London before looking
down at the very long drop to the ground hundreds of feet below. Viewers whove seen Season
2 whimper quietly. Sherlock looks along the balcony and bites his lip thoughtfully before
heading back inside.
Shortly afterwards, Sherlock is dancing. On the trading floor he has ducked down behind a desk
and now rises slowly upright, staring in concentration at the glass doorway to Sir Williams
office. He then ducks sideways and hurries across the floor, to the bemusement of a Random
Sexy Extra and other traders. Sherlock continues to scamper around the floor, frequently
scurrying sideways and ducking down behind desks before popping up again and peering at the
doorway. He dances across the floor again and twirls around a column [please note how our
super-strong Sherlock knocks it sideways!] before backing towards an office on the other side of
the floor. Stopping in that doorway, he wiggles about, his eyes still fixed on Sir Williams office,
then turns and goes into the office and heads to the other side of the desk. Standing directly
behind the chair of whoever works in that room, he sees that he has a clear view of the top of
the painting and the new yellow slash across the portraits eyes. He dances sideways across the
room before coming back to his previous position, confirming that this is the only place on the
trading floor from where the damaged portrait can be seen. Looking around the room for some
identification, he eventually goes to the door where two signs are attached to the outside, one
showing that this is the office of the Hong Kong Desk Head, and the sign above it giving the
name of that person Edward Van Coon. He slides the top sign out of its holder and heads off.
Not long afterwards, Sherlock is leading John back towards the escalators.
JOHN: Two trips around the world this month. You didnt ask his secretary; you said that just to
irritate him.
(Sherlock smiles but doesnt respond.)
JOHN: How did you know?
SHERLOCK: Did you see his watch?
(Brief flashback to Sherlock looking at Sebastians wrist while he scratched his neck.)
JOHN: His watch?
SHERLOCK: The time was right but the date was wrong. Said two days ago. Crossed the
dateline twice but he didnt alter it.
JOHN: Within a month? Howd you get that part?
SHERLOCK: New Breitling.
(Flashback close-up on the watch showing its brand name: Breitling Chronometre Crosswind.)
SHERLOCK: Only came out this February.

74
JOHN: Okay. So dyou think we should sniff around here for a bit longer?
SHERLOCK: Got everything I need to know already, thanks.
JOHN: Hmm?
SHERLOCK: That graffiti was a message for someone at the bank working on the trading floors.
We find the intended recipient and ...
(He deliberately trails off, allowing John to finish the sentence.)
JOHN: ... theyll lead us to the person who sent it.
SHERLOCK: Obvious.
JOHN: Well, theres three hundred people up there. Who was it meant for?
SHERLOCK: Pillars.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: Pillars and the screens. Very few places you can see that graffiti from. That narrows
the field considerably. And of course the message was left at eleven thirty-four last night. That
tells us a lot.
JOHN: Does it?
(Sherlock continues talking as he and John go through the revolving doors and out onto the
street.)
SHERLOCK: Traders come to work at all hours. Some trade with Hong Kong in the middle of the
night. That message was intended for someone who came in at midnight.
(He holds up the name card to show John.)
SHERLOCK: Not many Van Coons in the phonebook.
(He spots what he immediately needs and calls out loudly.)
SHERLOCK: Taxi!
After a taxi ride, they are outside a block of flats and Sherlock presses the door buzzer marked
Van Coon. Releasing it, he looks into the security camera above the buzzers, waits a couple of
seconds, then presses the buzzer again. Theres no response.
JOHN: So what do we do now? Sit here and wait for him to come back?
(Sherlock has looked at the number of buzzers on the wall and steps back to look up the front
of the building, presumably calculating the layout of the flats inside. He comes back to the wall
and looks at John triumphantly.)
SHERLOCK: Just moved in.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: The floor above. New label.
(He points to another buzzer which has a handwritten label saying, Wintle.)
JOHN: Could have just replaced it.
(Sherlock presses that buzzer, then looks at John again.)
SHERLOCK: No-one ever does that.
(A womans voice comes over the intercom.)
MS WINTLE: Hello?
(Sherlock turns to the camera and smiles, putting on a Im just a normal harmless human
being voice.)
SHERLOCK: Hi! Um, I live in the flat just below you. I-I dont think weve met.
(He grins prettily into the camera.)
MS WINTLE (over intercom): No, well, uh, Ive just moved in.
(Sherlock turns to throw a brief told you so glance at John, then turns back to the camera.)
SHERLOCK: Actually, Ive just locked my keys in my flat.
(He grimaces and bites his lip plaintively.)
MS WINTLE: Dyou want me to buzz you in?
SHERLOCK: Yeah. And can I use your balcony?
MS WINTLE: What?
Not long afterwards, Sherlock has flirted his way into the lucky Ms Wintles flat and is standing
on her balcony. He looks over the side to the ground several floors below. Luckily for him, he is
on the top floor where the flats have balconies which only run halfway across the front of the
flat, whereas the floor below has full-width balconies. He climbs over the side of Ms Wintles
balcony and drops down onto the one outside Van Coons flat. Taking another look over the
edge, he turns and reaches for the handle of the door and finds that it is unlocked, which is a
jolly good thing or hed still be sitting there now waiting for Lestrade to turn up with many many
colleagues who would want to take photographs of him stranded out there. He goes inside and
walks across the very elegantly decorated living room. This is clearly the apartment of a

75
wealthy person, with white leather furniture, shiny black tables and minimal clutter. He looks at
everything as he goes through the room, and glances at a pile of books on a table. He walks
through the kitchen, looking at the work surface before opening the fridge to reveal that its full
of nothing other than bottles of champagne. The front door to the flat buzzes.
JOHN (from the other side of the door): Sherlock.
(Sherlock moves into the hall.)
JOHN (from outside): Sherlock, are you okay?
(Sherlock opens the door to the small bathroom and glances inside at the few items on the shelf
opposite. He shuts the door and walks to a larger door which is closed. He tries it and finds that
its locked.)
JOHN (from outside): Yeah, any time you feel like letting me in.
(Sherlock turns side-on and shoulder-charges the door and it bursts open. He walks inside and
finds a man in a suit and overcoat lying on his back on the bed, dead. There is a pistol on the
floor, and the man has a small bullet hole in his right temple.)
Later, the police have been called and a photographer is taking pictures of Van Coons body
lying on the bed. A forensics officer is dusting for fingerprints on the nearby mirror, and distant
voices suggest that other forensics officers are elsewhere in the flat. Sherlock has taken off his
coat and is in the bedroom putting on a pair of latex gloves. John stands beside him.
JOHN: Dyou think hed lost a lot of money? I mean, suicide is pretty common among City boys.
SHERLOCK: We dont know that it was suicide.
JOHN: Come on. The door was locked from the inside; you had to climb down the balcony.
(Sherlock has squatted down by a suitcase on the floor near the bed and has opened the lid and
is looking at the contents.)
SHERLOCK: Been away three days, judging by the laundry.
(He sees that theres a deep indentation in the clothing inside the case, then straightens up and
looks at John.)
SHERLOCK: Look at the case. There was something tightly packed inside it.
JOHN: Thanks Ill take your word for it.
SHERLOCK: Problem?
JOHN: Yeah, Im not desperate to root around some blokes dirty underwear.
SHERLOCK (walking to the foot of the bed): Those symbols at the bank the graffiti. Why were
they put there?
JOHN: What, some sort of code?
SHERLOCK: Obviously.
(Having looked closely at Van Coons legs or possibly his shoes he moves up and carefully
opens the mans jacket to look at his inside pockets.)
SHERLOCK: Why were they painted? If you want to communicate, why not use e-mail?
JOHN: Well, maybe he wasnt answering.
SHERLOCK: Oh good. You follow.
JOHN: No.
(Sherlock throws him a look before moving on to examine Van Coons hands.)
SHERLOCK: What kind of a message would everyone try to avoid?
(John frowns in confusion.)
SHERLOCK: What about this morning those letters you were looking at?
JOHN: Bills.
(Sherlock gently prises open Van Coons mouth and pulls out a small black origami flower from
inside. Air hisses out from the dead mans lungs.)
SHERLOCK: Yes. He was being threatened.
MANs VOICE (outside the bedroom): Bag this up, will you ...
JOHN (looking closely at the paper flower as Sherlock lifts an evidence bag to put the flower
into it): Not by the gas board.
MANs VOICE: ... and see if you can get prints off this glass.
(The man a plain clothed police officer who looks so young to your ancient transcriber that
she feels he really ought to be in his own bedroom doing his school homework walks into the
bedroom. Sherlock turns and walks towards him.)
SHERLOCK: Ah, Sergeant. We havent met.
(He offers his hand to shake. The young man puts his hands on his hips.)
MAN: Yeah, I know who you are; and Id prefer it if you didnt tamper with any of the evidence.
(Lowering his hand, Sherlock gives the evidence bag to the officer and turns his best stroppy
look on him.)

76
SHERLOCK: Ive phoned Lestrade. Is he on his way?

MAN: Hes busy. Im in charge. And its not Sergeant; its Detective Inspector. Dimmock.
(Sherlock looks at him in surprise [See? He agrees with me that this boy is far too young to
even be in the police, let alone have advanced to D.I. rank], then turns and shares his surprised
look with John. Dimmock walks out of the room. The boys follow him into the living room where
he hands the bag to one of the forensics team.)
DIMMOCK: Were obviously looking at a suicide.
JOHN: That does seem the only explanation of all the facts.
(Sherlock takes off the latex gloves and turns back to him.)
SHERLOCK: Wrong. Its one possible explanation of some of the facts.
(He turns to Dimmock.)
SHERLOCK: Youve got a solution that you like, but youre choosing to ignore anything you see
that doesnt comply with it.
DIMMOCK: Like?
SHERLOCK: The wound was on the right side of his head.
DIMMOCK: And?
SHERLOCK: Van Coon was left-handed.
(He goes into an elaborate mime as he demonstrates his point, pretending to try and point a
gun to his right temple with his left hand.)
SHERLOCK: Requires quite a bit of contortion.
DIMMOCK: Left-handed?
SHERLOCK (sarcastically): Oh, Im amazed you didnt notice. All you have to do is look around
this flat.
(He points to the table beside the sofa.)
SHERLOCK: Coffee table on the left-hand side; coffee mug handle pointing to the left. Power
sockets: habitually used the ones on the left ...
(Close-up of a double socket on the wall with a plug in the left-hand socket.)
SHERLOCK: Pen and paper on the left-hand side of the phone because he picked it up with his
right and took down messages with his left. Dyou want me to go on?
JOHN (tiredly): No, I think youve covered it.
SHERLOCK: Oh, I might as well; Im almost at the bottom of the list.
(John nods as if to say, Yeah, I thought you might.)
SHERLOCK (pointing towards the kitchen): Theres a knife on the breadboard with butter on the
right side of the blade because he used it with his left.
(He turns to Dimmock with an impatient look on his face.)
SHERLOCK: Its highly unlikely that a left-handed man would shoot himself in the right side of
his head.
[Says the man whose flatmate is left-handed but shoots with his right hand ...]
SHERLOCK: Conclusion: someone broke in here and murdered him. Only explanation of all the
facts.
DIMMOCK: But the gun: why ...
SHERLOCK (interrupting): He was waiting for the killer. Hed been threatened.
(He walks away and starts to put on his scarf, coat and gloves.)
DIMMOCK: What?
JOHN: Today at the bank. Sort of a warning.
SHERLOCK: He fired a shot when his attacker came in.
DIMMOCK: And the bullet?
SHERLOCK: Went through the open window.
DIMMOCK: Oh, come on! What are the chances of that?!
SHERLOCK: Wait until you get the ballistics report. The bullet in his brain wasnt fired from his
gun. I guarantee it.
DIMMOCK: But if his door was locked from the inside, how did the killer get in?
SHERLOCK (condescendingly, as he dramatically slams his hand into his glove): Good! Youre
finally asking the right questions.
(He turns and flounces out. John looks round at Dimmock and then points apologetically
towards the departing drama queen before following him.)
RESTAURANT. Sebastian is having lunch with some clients or work colleagues.

SEBASTIAN (laughing): ... and hes left trying to sort of cut his hair with a fork, which of course
can never be done!
(Sherlock and John walk over to the table.)

77
SHERLOCK: It was a threat. Thats what the graffiti meant.

SEBASTIAN: Im kind of in a meeting. Can you make an appointment with my secretary?
SHERLOCK: I dont think this can wait. Sorry, Sebastian. One of your traders someone who
worked in your office was killed.
SEBASTIAN: What?
JOHN: Van Coon. The police are at his flat.
SEBASTIAN (shocked): Killed?
SHERLOCK (sarcastically): Sorry to interfere with everyones digestion. Still wanna make an
appointment? Would, maybe, nine oclock at Scotland Yard suit?
(Sebastian puts down his glass of water and nervously runs his finger inside his shirt collar.)
Shortly afterwards, Sebastian and the boys have relocated to the toilets in the restaurant.
Sebastian is washing his hands.
SEBASTIAN: Harrow; Oxford. Very bright guy. Worked in Asia for a while, so ...
JOHN: ... you gave him the Hong Kong accounts.
SEBASTIAN (drying his hands on a towel): Lost five mill in a single morning; made it all back a
week later. Nerves of steel, Eddie had.
JOHN: Whod wanna kill him?
SEBASTIAN: We all make enemies.
JOHN: You dont all end up with a bullet through your temple.
(Sebastians phone beeps a text alert.)
SEBASTIAN: Not usually. Scuse me.
(He gets out his phone and looks at the message.)
SEBASTIAN: Its my Chairman. The police have been on to him. Apparently theyre telling him it
was a suicide.
SHERLOCK: Well, theyve got it wrong, Sebastian. He was murdered.
SEBASTIAN: Well, Im afraid they dont see it like that.
SHERLOCK (sternly): Seb.
SEBASTIAN: ... and neither does my boss. I hired you to do a job. Dont get side-tracked.
(He walks away. John waits until he has left the room, then turns to Sherlock.)
JOHN: I thought bankers were all supposed to be heartless bastards(!)
EARLS COURT. NIGHT TIME. An overweight bald man in his early forties is running frantically
down the street, a hard backed book clasped in one hand. He looks repeatedly behind him as he
runs. Reaching his front door, he whimpers as he fumbles with his door keys and finally gets the
door open. Running upstairs, he unlocks the door to his flat and hurries inside, slamming the
door and pushing a bolt across. He scurries up the flight of stairs leading to the main flat,
throwing his book onto a pile of other books strewn all the way up the stairs, and runs into his
living room. He stops in the middle of the room and then turns around, his face covered with
sweat and his face full of terror at the sight which greets him.
[Transcribers note: those whove read the early draft script of this episode which was released
online some time ago may know that it was intended that the frenetic drumbeat which we hear
as the man turns around was actually meant to be heard by the man. In this finished version of
the episode I dont think thats clear, and certainly I assumed until I read the draft script that it
was simply dramatic backing music. Also, unless the killer was carrying a drum around with
him, or had a boombox strapped to his back, Im not sure how it could have happened anyway
...]
NATIONAL ANTIQUITIES MUSEUM. The museums Director walks across to Andy, who is sitting
at a table cleaning an ancient pot.
DIRECTOR: I need you to get over to Crispians.
(She shows him a catalogue.)
DIRECTOR: Two Ming vases up for auction Chenghua. Will you appraise them?
ANDY: Er, er, Soo Lin should go. Shes the expert.
DIRECTOR: Soo Lin has resigned her job. I need you.
(She walks away. Andy turns and looks sadly at Soo Lins table behind him.)
Later, he is standing outside the front door to Soo Lins flat. Her doorbell has a handwritten
name tag above it, showing her name Soo Lin Yao with a flower drawn in place of the dot
over the i and a couple of other flowers in the right hand corners. Andy presses the doorbell,
then steps back and looks up to the first floor windows of the flat which is above a shop called

78
The Lucky Cat. The shop and flat are clearly located in Londons Chinatown. When nobody
answers his ring, he rummages in his pockets, takes out an envelope and pen and scribbles a
note on the envelope before bending down to the letterbox and pushing it through. He walks
away.
In a doctors surgery, Doctor Sarah Sawyer is reading Johns printed Curriculum Vitae. She
looks up at John sitting opposite her.
SARAH: Just locum work.
JOHN: No, thats fine.
SARAH: Youre, um ... well, youre a bit over-qualified.
JOHN (smiling): Er, I could always do with the money.
SARAH: Well, weve got two away on holiday this week, and ones just left to have a baby.
Might be a bit mundane for you.
JOHN: Er, no; mundane is good sometimes. Mundane works.
SARAH (softly): It says here you were a soldier.
JOHN: And a doctor.
(He smiles at her again. Sarah looks down. She clearly fancies him and will therefore have to be
killed as soon as possible.)
SARAH: Anything else you can do?
JOHN: I learned the clarinet at school.
SARAH: Oh! (She laughs.) Well, I look forward to it!
(John laughs. She smiles flirtatiously at him and will therefore have to be killed as soon as
possible. Did I mention that already?)
221B. Sherlock has printed out the photographs of the graffiti near and across Sir Williams
portrait and has stuck them around the mirror above the fireplace. He is sitting on one of the
dining chairs with his back to the dining table. He has his fingers steepled under his chin and is
staring at the photos while various symbols in different languages flash in front of his minds
eye. John walks in from the landing and drops his jacket onto his armchair.
SHERLOCK (without looking round): I said, Could you pass me a pen?
(John looks around the living room as if expecting that Sherlock is talking to someone else.)
JOHN: What? When?
SHERLOCK: Bout an hour ago.
(John sighs.)
JOHN: Didnt notice Id gone out, then.
(He picks up a pen from the table beside his chair and, without even looking at Sherlock, tosses
the pen in his direction. Sherlock lifts his left hand and catches it without looking away from the
photographs on the wall. John walks over to the mirror to look more closely at the photos.)
JOHN: Yeah, I went to see about a job at that surgery.
SHERLOCK: How was it?
JOHN (absently): Its great. Shes great.
SHERLOCK: Who?
JOHN (looking round to him): The job.
SHERLOCK: She?
JOHN: ... It.
(Sherlock looks at him suspiciously for a moment, clearly agreeing with me that she will have
to be killed as soon as possible, then jerks his head to his right.)
SHERLOCK: Here, have a look.
JOHN: Hmm?
(He walks over to the table and looks at the web page on the open computer. The lead article
on the Online News page is headlined, Ghostly killer leaves a mystery for police. Next to it is
a photograph of the bald man, and the article reads: An intruder who can walk through walls
murdered a man in his London apartment last night. Brian Lukis, 41, a freelance journalist from
Earls Court was found shot in his fourth floor flat but all his doors and windows were locked and
there were no apparent signs of a break in. A police spokesman said they are still uncertain how
the assailant broke in...)
JOHN: The intruder who can walk through walls.
SHERLOCK: Happened last night. Journalist shot dead in his flat; doors locked, windows bolted
from the inside exactly the same as Van Coon.
JOHN (straightening up and looking at his flatmate): God. You think ...
SHERLOCK: Hes killed another one.

79
NEW SCOTLAND YARD. Inspector Dimmock sits at his desk and folds his arms in exasperation
as Sherlock stands at the other side of the desk and types onto a laptop.
SHERLOCK: Brian Lukis, freelance journalist. Murdered in his flat ...
(He turns the laptop around to show Dimmock the web page which John was looking at earlier.)
SHERLOCK: ... doors locked from the inside.
JOHN: Youve gotta admit, its similar.
(Dimmock scowls at the computer.)
JOHN: Both men killed by someone who can ... (he hesitates momentarily as if unable to
believe what hes about to say, but perseveres onwards) ... walk through solid walls.
SHERLOCK: Inspector, do you seriously believe that Eddie Van Coon was just another City
suicide?
(Dimmock squirms, not meeting his eyes. Sherlock looks up, exasperated, and sighs pointedly.)
SHERLOCK: You have seen the ballistics report, I suppose?
DIMMOCK (nodding): Mmm.
SHERLOCK: And the shot that killed him: was it fired from his own gun?
DIMMOCK (reluctantly): No.
SHERLOCK: No. So this investigation might move a bit quicker if you were to take my word as
gospel.
(Dimmock looks back at him silently. Sherlock leans forward over the desk and speaks quietly
but intensely into his face.)
SHERLOCK: Ive just handed you a murder enquiry. (Louder, nodding towards the picture of
Lukis on the computer) Five minutes in his flat.
LUKIS FLAT. Sherlock ducks under the police tape at the bottom of the stairs inside the door of
the flat. He goes upstairs, followed by Dimmock and John. Looking around at everything as he
goes, he walks into the living room. Theres an open empty suitcase on the floor. Nearby on the
carpet is a black origami flower, similar to the one that Sherlock pulled from Van Coons mouth.
There are books everywhere on the desk and on bookshelves and scattered about on the floor.
Several open newspapers are also lying on the floor. He walks over to the kitchen area and
looks through the window at the nearby rooftops of lower buildings. Pushing back the net
curtain for a better look, he smirks.
SHERLOCK: Four floors up. Thats why they think theyre safe. Put a chain across the door and
bolt it shut; think theyre impregnable.
(He walks into the middle of the room again.)
SHERLOCK: They dont reckon for one second that theres another way in.
(He turns back towards the stairs and sees a skylight above the landing.)
DIMMOCK: I dont understand.
SHERLOCK (going out onto the landing): Youre dealing with a killer who can climb.
(He hops up on something maybe a step stool or a box to get closer to the skylight which is
high up on the angled roof.)
DIMMOCK: What are you doing?
SHERLOCK: He clings to the walls like an insect.
(He unhooks the latch and pushes the window upwards.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Thats how he got in.
DIMMOCK: What?!
SHERLOCK: Climbed up the side of the walls, ran along the roof, dropped in through this
skylight.
DIMMOCK: Youre not serious! Like Spiderman?(!)
SHERLOCK: He scaled six floors of a Docklands apartment building, jumped the balcony to kill
Van Coon.
DIMMOCK (laughing in disbelief): Oh, ho-hold on!
SHERLOCK: And of course thats how he got into the bank. He ran along the window ledge and
onto the terrace.
(He steps down onto the landing and looks around again.)
SHERLOCK: We have to find out what connects these two men.
(His eyes fall on the pile of books scattered up the side of the staircase. Jumping down a few
stairs he picks up one particular book which has fallen open at its front page which shows that it
has been borrowed from West Kensington Library. Slamming the book shut, he takes it with
him as he heads off down the stairs.)

80
After a taxi journey during which they go right past the end of the road where your humble
transcriber works [why didnt they drop in for coffee??], Sherlock and John are once again on
an escalator, this time inside West Kensington Library. Sherlock finds his way to the aisle where
Lukis book came from.
SHERLOCK: Date stamped on the book is the same day that he died.
(Checking the reference number stuck to the bottom of the books spine, he goes to the correct
place along the shelves and starts pulling out books and examining them. John, probably just
for something to do, pulls out some books on a nearby shelf on the other side of the aisle and
immediately gets lucky.)
JOHN: Sherlock.
(Sherlock turns and sees John staring into the gap left by the books he removed. Stepping over
to him, he kisses Johns ear [he does, if you freeze-frame it just right!] and then reaches to the
shelf and pulls out so many books with one hand that your transcriber faints at the very thought
of how wide that mans hand span is. Pulling out another huge handful of books with his other
hand, he reveals that spray painted on the back of the shelf are the same two symbols that
were sprayed across Sir William Shads office.)
221B. Photographs of the shelf have been added to the earlier photos stuck around the mirror
in the living room. The boys are standing at the fireplace looking at the pictures.
SHERLOCK: So, the killer goes to the bank, leaves a threatening cipher for Van Coon; Van Coon
panics, returns to his apartment, locks himself in.
(Flashback of a terrified Eddie Van Coon turning the key in the inside lock of his front door and
fastening the safety chain before hurrying towards his bedroom.)
SHERLOCK: Hours later, he dies.
JOHN: The killer finds Lukis at the library; he writes the cipher on the shelf where he knows itll
be seen; Lukis goes home.
SHERLOCK: Late that night, he dies too.
JOHN (softly): Why did they die, Sherlock?
(Sherlock runs his fingers over the line painted across Sir Williams face.)
SHERLOCK: Only the cipher can tell us.
(He thoughtfully taps his finger against the photo as his expression sharpens. Apparently he has
had an idea.)
TRAFALGAR SQUARE. The boys are walking through the centre of the square, heading towards
the National Gallery.
SHERLOCK: The worlds run on codes and ciphers, John. From the million-pound security
system at the bank, to the PIN machine you took exception to, cryptography inhabits our every
waking moment.
JOHN: Yes, okay, but ...
SHERLOCK: ... but its all computer-generated: electronic codes, electronic ciphering methods.
This is different. Its an ancient device. Modern code-breaking methods wont unravel it.
JOHN: Where are we headed?
SHERLOCK: I need to ask some advice.
JOHN: What?! Sorry?!
(Sherlock throws him a black look as John smiles in disbelief.)
SHERLOCK: You heard me perfectly. Im not saying it again.
JOHN: You need advice?
SHERLOCK: On painting, yes. I need to talk to an expert.
(He leads John towards the entrance to the National Gallery ...
... and straight around it to the rear of the building where a young man has spray-stencilled
onto a solid grey metal door the image of a policeman holding a rifle in his hands. The image
has a pigs snout in place of a human nose. A large canvas bag is at the mans feet and he is
holding spray cans in both hands. With one of the cans he has sprayed his tag, RAZ, below
the image and he is now adding the finishing touches to his artwork. He continues spraying,
unperturbed, as Sherlock and John approach.)
RAZ: Part of a new exhibition.
SHERLOCK (disinterestedly): Interesting.
RAZ: I call it Urban Bloodlust Frenzy.
(He chuckles.)
JOHN: Catchy(!)

81
RAZ (still spraying): Ive got two minutes before a Community Support Officer comes round
that corner.
(He looks round to Sherlock.)
RAZ: Can we do this while Im workin?
(Sherlock has taken his phone from his coat pocket and now holds it out towards Raz, who
turns around and tosses one of the spray cans at John. John instinctively catches it, and looks
at Sherlock and Raz in bewilderment. Raz takes Sherlocks phone and scrolls through the
photographs of the yellow ciphers from Sir Williams office and the library.)
SHERLOCK: Know the author?
RAZ: Recognise the paint. Its like Michigan; hardcore propellant. Id say zinc.
SHERLOCK: What about the symbols: dyou recognise them?
RAZ (squinting at the pictures): Not even sure its a proper language.
SHERLOCK: Two men have been murdered, Raz. Deciphering this is the key to finding out who
killed them.
RAZ: What, and this is all youve got to go on? Its hardly much, now, is it?
SHERLOCK: Are you gonna help us or not?
RAZ: Ill ask around.
SHERLOCK: Somebody must know something about it.
VOICE (offscreen): Oi!
(The three of them look round and see two Community Support Officers hurrying towards them.
Sherlock instantly grabs his phone from Raz and runs off in the opposite direction while Raz
drops his spray can, kicks his bag towards John and also scarpers. John, the blithering idiot,
meekly turns towards the officers.)
COMMUNITY OFFICER: What the hell do you think youre doing? This gallery is a listed public
building.
JOHN: No, no, wait, wait. Its not me who painted that.
(He holds up the spray can.)
JOHN: I was just holding this for ...
(He turns and seems to realise for the first time that he has been abandoned. He sighs quietly.
The officer kicks open the bag to reveal more spray cans inside, then looks at John pointedly.)
COMMUNITY OFFICER: Bit of an enthusiast, are we?
(John looks blankly at him and then stares at the graffiti on the door, apparently wondering how
hes going to explain his way out of this.)
NATIONAL ANTIQUITIES MUSEUM. Andy is pestering the museums Director about Soo Lins
abrupt departure.
ANDY: She was right in the middle of an important piece of restoration. Why would she
suddenly resign?
DIRECTOR: Family problems. She said so in her letter.
ANDY: But she doesnt have a family. She came to this country on her own.
DIRECTOR: Andy ...
ANDY: Look, those teapots, those ceramics: theyve become her obsession. Shes been working
on restoring them for weeks. I-I cant believe that she would just abandon them.
(The Director looks at him pointedly.)
DIRECTOR: Perhaps she was getting a bit of unwanted attention.
(She walks away. Andy looks round awkwardly at other colleagues in the room who have been
listening in but who now abruptly turn away.)
221B. Sherlock is standing at the fireplace again. The mirror is now almost completely covered
because he has added several sheets of paper with various ciphers and pictograms on them. He
has his head lowered and is consulting a book. A slamming door announces Johns return to the
flat but since John immediately walks into the living room, I can only assume that he slammed
the kitchen door shut as he walked past it presumably the only way he can think of to signify
that not only is he home but he is Mad As Hell.
SHERLOCK (without turning round or looking up): Youve been a while.
(John walks a few more paces into the room, his shoulders rigid and his fists clenched. He
stops, blinking as he fights to hold onto his anger, then turns to Sherlock.)
JOHN (tightly): Yeah, well, you know how it is. Custody sergeants dont really like to be hurried,
do they?
(He starts pacing, an angry half-smile half-grimace on his face.)

82
JOHN: Just formalities: fingerprints, charge sheet; and Ive gotta be in Magistrates Court on
Tuesday.
SHERLOCK (absently, having clearly not heard a word): What?
JOHN (angrily): Me, Sherlock, in court on Tuesday. (He puts on a rough London accent.)
Theyre givin me an ASBO!
SHERLOCK (still not paying any attention): Good. Fine.
JOHN (tightly): You wanna tell your little pal hes welcome to go and own up any time.
SHERLOCK (slamming his book shut): This symbol: I still cant place it.
(Turning and putting down the book, he walks over to John who has just started to take off his
jacket, and pulls the jacket back onto his shoulders.)
SHERLOCK: No, I need you to go to the police station ...
JOHN (indignantly as Sherlock turns him around and steers him towards the door): Oi, oi, oi!
SHERLOCK: ... ask about the journalist.
JOHN (exasperated): Oh, Jesus!
SHERLOCK (grabbing his own coat from the back of the door): His personal effects will have
been impounded. Get hold of his diary, or something that will tell us his movements.
(They go downstairs and out onto the street.)
SHERLOCK: Gonna go and see Van Coons P.A. If we retrace their steps, somewhere theyll
coincide.
(He walks off down the street. John sees a taxi coming around the corner and hails it. As it pulls
over to the kerb he sees an Oriental-looking woman with dark hair and wearing dark sunglasses
standing on the other side of the road and taking a photograph. Her camera is aimed in his
direction. He bends to the taxi drivers window.)
JOHN: Scotland Yard.
TAXI DRIVER: Right.
(John gets into the back of the taxi and glances round to the other side of the road as he sits
down. There is no sign of the woman.)
SHAD SANDERSON BANK. Sherlock is in Van Coons office standing beside his personal
assistant, Amanda, who is looking at an online calendar.
AMANDA: Flew back from Dalian Friday. Looks like he had back-to-back meetings with the sales
team.
SHERLOCK: Can you print me up a copy?
AMANDA: Sure.
SHERLOCK: What about the day he died? Can you tell me where he was?
AMANDA (looking at the screen): Sorry. Bit of a gap.
(The calendar shows no entries for Monday the 22nd. Sherlock looks away, frustrated. [Or
maybe, like me, he has just realised that Eddie flew home on Friday and left all his dirty undies
in his suitcase until Monday. Eww.] Amanda also realises something.)
AMANDA: I have all his receipts.
NEW SCOTLAND YARD. Dimmock is standing at a desk and rummaging through a box of Brian
Lukis possessions. John stands at the other side.
DIMMOCK: Your friend ...
JOHN: Listen: whatever you say, Im behind you one hundred percent.
DIMMOCK: ... hes an arrogant sod.
JOHN: Well, that was mild! People say a lot worse than that.
(Dimmock hands him a diary.)
DIMMOCK: This is what you wanted, isnt it? The journalists diary?
(John takes the diary and flicks through it, opening it at a page which has been bookmarked
with a boarding pass to Dalian DLC [Dalian Zhoushuizi International Airport] to London LHR
[London Heathrow Airport] on Zhuang Airlines.)
SHAD SANDERSON BANK. Amanda has spread out Van Coons receipts on her desk.
SHERLOCK: What kind of a boss was he, Amanda? Appreciative?
AMANDA: Um, no. Thats not a word Id use. The only things Eddie appreciated had a big price
tag.
(Sherlock kneels on the floor to give himself easier access to the receipts. While he is taking off
his gloves he sees a pump-action bottle of luxury hand lotion at the back of the desk.)
SHERLOCK: Like that hand cream. He bought that for you, didnt he?

83
(Fiddling nervously with a pin in her hair, Amanda looks at him in surprise. Sherlock shuffles
through the paperwork and picks up a receipt from a licensed taxi. Dated 22 March 2010 and
timed at 10:35, the receipt is for 18.50. He hands it up to Amanda.)
SHERLOCK: Look at this one. Got a taxi from home on the day he died. Eighteen pounds fifty.
AMANDA: That would get him to the office.
SHERLOCK: Not rush hour; check the time. Mid-morning. Eighteen would get him as far as ...
AMANDA: The West End. I remember him saying.
(Sherlock has now found a London Underground ticket with the same date on it and issued at
Picadilly [which is mis-spelled]. He hands that up to Amanda.)
SHERLOCK: Underground. Printed at one in Piccadilly.
AMANDA: So he got a Tube back to the office. Why would he get a taxi into town and then the
Tube back?
SHERLOCK (still going through the receipts): Because he was delivering something heavy.
Didnt want to lug a package up the escalator.
AMANDA: Delivering?
SHERLOCK: To somewhere near Piccadilly Station. Dropped the package, delivered it and then
...
(He finds another receipt and stands up as he looks at it. Its from the Piazza Espresso Bar
Italiano.)
SHERLOCK: ... stopped on his way. He got peckish.
LONDON STREETS. Some time later Sherlock has found the espresso bar and is talking to
himself out loud as he walks past it.
SHERLOCK: So you bought your lunch from here en route to the station, but where were you
headed from? Where did the taxi drop you ...?
(He has been spinning around as he walks and now bumps into someone approaching from
behind who is also distracted and not looking where hes going. Its John, who is engrossed in
looking down at Lukis diary. Sherlock grunts as they collide. John looks surprised to see him
there.)
JOHN: Right.
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Eddie Van Coon brought a package here the day he died whatever
was hidden inside that case. Ive managed to piece together a picture using scraps of
information ...
JOHN: Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK: ... credit card bills, receipts. He flew back from China, then he came here.
JOHN: Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK: Somewhere in this street; somewhere near. I dont know where, but ...
JOHN (pointing to the other side of the road): That shop over there.
(Sherlock looks at the shop, then looks back to John, frowning.)
SHERLOCK: How can you tell?
JOHN: Lukis diary. (He shows Sherlock the entry.) He was here too. He wrote down the
address.
(He turns and heads towards the shop.)
SHERLOCK: Oh.
(He follows after his friend.)
CHINATOWN. The boys walk into a touristy shop which consists largely of decorative cats which
are sitting up on their hind legs with one front paw raised. The paws on some of the cats are
waving back and forth. John greets the female Chinese shop keeper politely. JOHN: Hello.
(They look around at all the items on display. The shop keeper lifts one of the cats from the
desk.)
SHOP KEEPER: You want lucky cat?
JOHN: No, thanks. No.
(Sherlock looks round at him and smirks.)
SHOP KEEPER: Ten pound. Ten pound!
JOHN: No.
(He smiles awkwardly.)
SHOP KEEPER: I think your wife, she will like!
JOHN: No, thank you.
(He walks over to one of the tables which has small ceramic painted handle-less cups on it.
Sherlock is examining a rack displaying clay statues. John picks up one of the cups and turns it

84
over to look at the price tag. His hand begins to tremble when he sees the Chinese symbol
stuck on the underside. Its the same sort-of upside down eight with a line above it which was
painted beside Sir Williams portrait and on the library shelf.)
JOHN: Sherlock.
(Sherlock, who has picked up one of the statues, puts it back on the shelf and comes over to
him.)
JOHN: The label there.
SHERLOCK: Yes, I see it.
JOHN: Exactly the same as the cipher.
(Clearing his throat awkwardly, he puts the cup back. Sherlock lifts his head as it all starts to
make sense to him.)
Shortly afterwards they have left the shop and are walking down the street.
SHERLOCK: Its an ancient number system! Hangzhou.
(The symbols from that system are flashing in his minds eye as he walks.)
SHERLOCK: These days, only street traders use it. Those were numbers written on the wall at
the bank and at the library.
(He walks over to a greengrocers which has some of its wares on display outside the shop. The
various boxes have handwritten signs on them giving the names of the vegetables in both
Chinese and English, and underneath is the cost of that particular item in both Hangzhou and
English. He picks up various signs, checking the symbols.)
SHERLOCK: Numbers written in an ancient Chinese dialect.
(John has spotted a sign with the upside down eight and slash above it and its English
equivalent beneath.)
JOHN: Its a fifteen! What we thought was the artists tag its a number fifteen.
SHERLOCK: And the blindfold the horizontal line? That was a number as well.
(He shows John a price tag which has the almost-horizontal line at the top, and 1 written
underneath.)
SHERLOCK (grinning triumphantly): The Chinese number one, John.
JOHN: Weve found it!
(Sherlock turns and walks away. As John smiles and turns to follow him, he sees the same
woman who was taking a photograph outside 221 standing nearby. Still wearing her dark
sunglasses, she again has her camera raised and pointed towards him as she takes a picture.
Someone walks across her, obscuring his view of her for a moment, and by the time the person
has passed, she has vanished. John frowns, then follows after his friend.)
Shortly afterwards, theyre staking out the tourist shop, which we now see is The Lucky Cat, the
shop outside which Andy Galbraith was standing when he tried Soo Lins doorbell. Sitting at a
table in the window of the restaurant opposite the shop, Sherlock is writing the two Hangzhou
numbers and their English equivalents onto a paper napkin. John sits opposite him, also writing
notes.
JOHN: Two men travel back from China. Both head straight for the Lucky Cat emporium. What
did they see?
SHERLOCK: Its not what they saw; its what they both brought back in those suitcases.
JOHN: And you dont mean duty free.
(A waitress brings over a plate of food and puts it down in front of John.)
JOHN: Thank you.
SHERLOCK: Think about what Sebastian told us; about Van Coon about how he stayed afloat
in the market.
JOHN: Lost five million ...
SHERLOCK: ... made it back in a week.
JOHN: Mmm.
SHERLOCK: Thats how he made such easy money.
JOHN: He was a smuggler. Mmm.
(He takes a mouthful of food.)
SHERLOCK: A guy like him it would have been perfect.
(Cut-away flashback of Van Coon paying a taxi driver just outside the Lucky Cat and then
carrying his suitcase towards the shop.)
SHERLOCK: Business man ...
JOHN: Mmm-hmm.
SHERLOCK: ... making frequent trips to Asia. And Lukis was the same ...

85
(Cut-away flashback of Lukis carrying his suitcase into the Lucky Cat and lifting it onto the
counter.)
SHERLOCK: ... a journalist writing about China.
JOHN: Mmm.
SHERLOCK: Both of them smuggled stuff out, and the Lucky Cat was their drop-off.
JOHN: But why did they die? I mean, it doesnt make sense. If they both turn up at the shop
and deliver the goods, why would someone threaten them and kill them after the event, after
theyd finished the job?
(Sherlock sits back thoughtfully for a few seconds, then smiles as he realises the answer.)
SHERLOCK: What if one of them was light-fingered?
JOHN: How dyou mean?
SHERLOCK: Stole something; something from the hoard.
JOHN: And the killer doesnt know which of them took it, so he threatens them both. Right.
(Sherlock looks out of the window towards the shop, then raises his eyes to the windows above
it. Looking down to the ground floor level again, his gaze sharpens.)
SHERLOCK: Remind me ...
(He focuses on a Yellow Pages phone directory sealed in a plastic wrapper which has been left
outside the door to the flat beside the Lucky Cat.)
SHERLOCK: ... when was the last time that it rained?
(Without waiting for a reply, he stands up and leaves the restaurant. John, who has probably
managed only two mouthfuls of his meal, sits back in exasperation but then dutifully gets up
and follows.)
Over the road, Sherlock bends down to the Yellow Pages. The plastic wrapper still has drops of
water on it, and the top of it has broken open a little. Sherlock runs his fingers over the top of
the wet exposed pages of the directory.
SHERLOCK: Its been here since Monday.
(He straightens up and presses Soo Lins doorbell. He only waits a couple of seconds, then looks
to his right and heads off in that direction. Theres an alleyway beside the flat and the boys walk
down the alley.)
SHERLOCK: No-ones been in that flat for at least three days.
JOHN: Couldve gone on holiday.
SHERLOCK: Dyou leave your windows open when you go on holiday?
(He has reached the rear of the building and looks up to see a cantilevered metal fire escape
above his head. Taking a short run at it, he jumps up and grabs the end, pulling it down
towards him until it touches the ground, then runs up the steps towards the open window of the
flat. As he reaches the top, the ladder swings back to the horizontal position behind him.)
JOHN: Sherlock!
(Realising that hes far too much of a short-arse to be able to pull the ladder down again, he
turns and runs back along the alley to the front of the building.
Sherlock climbs in through the window into the kitchen, then cries out in muffled alarm as he
almost knocks a vase of flowers off the table beside the window. Catching it before it hits the
floor, he looks down and sees a wet patch on the rug in the precise place where the vase would
have hit if it had reached the floor. Straightening up, he calls out of the open window, unaware
that John is no longer there.)
SHERLOCK: Someone else has been here.
(Putting the vase back onto the table, he looks around, talking too quietly for John to hear even
if he was still nearby.)
SHERLOCK: Somebody else broke into the flat and knocked over the vase just like I did.
(He looks round the kitchen, then bends down to the washing machine and opens it. Taking out
an item of Soo Lins unmentionables, he sniffs it and grimaces. Downstairs, John rings on the
doorbell. Sherlock puts the item back into the washing machine and pushes the door closed,
then reaches for a tea towel hanging up nearby.)
JOHN (from outside): Dyou think maybe you could let me in this time?
(Sherlock feels the tea towel, apparently finds that its dry, and moves onwards. Downstairs,
John bends down to the letterbox, pushes it open and calls through the gap.)
JOHN: Can you not keep doing this, please?
(Sherlock has taken a pint of milk from the fridge and has taken off the lid and now sniffs the
contents. Putting the bottle back into the fridge, he calls out.)
SHERLOCK: Im not the first.

86
(With the everyday noise of the street all around him, John cant hear what hes saying. He
bends down and puts his ear to the letterbox which hes still holding open.)
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK (louder): Somebodys been in here before me!
JOHN: What are you saying?
(Sherlock has taken his pocket magnifier from his coat and looks down to where a foot has
rucked up the rug, leaving an impression of the intruders shoe.)
SHERLOCK (not as loudly): Size eight feet.
(He pushes through the beaded curtain between the kitchen and the bedroom/living room, bent
forward while he examines the rug.)
SHERLOCK (now talking more to himself than to John): Small, but ... athletic.
(He straightens up, looking thoughtful. Outside, John lets go of the letterbox and straightens
up, sighing in exasperation.)
JOHN: Im wasting my breath.
(He walks a couple of paces away from the door, glaring around in annoyance, then turns back
and rings the doorbell again. Inside, Sherlock has picked up a framed photograph of two young
Chinese children a boy and a girl. A fresh handprint is on the glass where someone has
pressed their fingers against the image of the girl. Sherlock is holding his magnifier over the
fingerprints as he gently runs his gloved fingers along them to gauge the size.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Small, strong hands.
(Closing the magnifier, he puts down the photograph.)
SHERLOCK: Our acrobat.
(He frowns, looking round.)
SHERLOCK: But why didnt he close the window when he left ...?
(He stops as he realises the truth and rolls his eyes at himself.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, stupid. Stupid. Obvious. Hes still here.
(He looks around the room and sees an ornately decorated free-standing folding screen
shielding the bed. Putting his magnifier into his pocket, he walks carefully towards it and then
grabs the edge of the screen and pulls it back. Two stuffed toys stare back at him in startled
terror from the bedside table. Before he has a chance to apologise to them, someone quickly
wraps a long white silk scarf around his neck from behind and bundles him to the floor on his
back, strangling him. Sherlock grabs at the scarf, trying to relieve the pressure on his throat but
the assailant dressed all in black continues to throttle him. Downstairs, John bends to the
letterbox and flips it open again.)
JOHN: Any time you want to include me.
SHERLOCK (faintly, as he struggles against his attacker): John! John!
(Downstairs, John has straightened up again and shakes his head in frustration.)
JOHN (pacing in irritation): No, Im Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone because no-one
else can compete with ...
(He storms back to the letterbox, flips it open and angrily shouts through it.)
JOHN: ... my MASSIVE INTELLECT!
(He drops the letterbox again. Upstairs, Sherlock is starting to lose consciousness. As his
struggles become weaker and his hands fall clear of the scarf, the attacker releases his grip.
Downstairs, John angrily rings on the doorbell again. Upstairs, while Sherlock lies still on the
floor, his eyes half closed, the assailant shoves something into Sherlocks coat pocket, then gets
up and runs off. Sherlock chokes and coughs, tugging the scarf from around his neck and rolling
onto his front before getting up onto his hands and knees. As the attacker disappears through
the beaded curtain into the kitchen, Sherlock groans and pulls his own scarf loose, gasping as
he gets his breath back. Downstairs, John looks at his watch in irritation and shakes his head,
apparently considering just leaving. Upstairs, breathing a little better, Sherlock sits up on his
heels, rummages in his coat pocket and pulls out a black origami paper flower. He looks at it for
a moment, then stumbles to his feet, wobbling for a moment before pulling himself together
and heading for the stairs.
A few moments later he opens the front door downstairs. John makes an exasperated sound
and glares at him. When Sherlock speaks, his voice is croaky.)
SHERLOCK: The, uh, milks gone off and the washings starting to smell. Somebody left here in
a hurry three days ago.
JOHN: Somebody?
SHERLOCK (nodding, his voice still rough): Soo Lin Yao. We have to find her.
(He looks down and bends to pick something off the floor.)
JOHN: But how, exactly?

87
(Sherlock picks up a folded envelope. On the back of it is written:
SOO LIN
Please ring me
tell me youre
OK
Andy
(He unfolds the envelope and looks at the front of it. Printed in the bottom right hand corner is:
NATIONAL
ANTIQUITIES
MUSEUM
SHERLOCK (croakily): Maybe we could start with this.

(He walks out, closing the door behind him, and heads off down the road, John following him.)
JOHN: Youve gone all croaky. Are you getting a cold?
SHERLOCK (coughing): Im fine.
NATIONAL ANTIQUITIES MUSEUM. Sherlock is pacing around a display area while he interviews
Andy.
SHERLOCK: When was the last time that you saw her?
ANDY: Three days ago, um, here at the museum.
(Sherlock focuses briefly on a glass case showing some of the clay teapots. Most of them are
dull but one is shiny.)
ANDY: This morning they told me shed resigned just like that.
(Sherlock looks at another case containing some jade figurines, and then at a piece of artwork.)
ANDY: Just left her work unfinished.
SHERLOCK (turning to him): What was the last thing that she did on her final afternoon?
Andy has brought the boys to the basement archive, and now turns on the lights as he leads
them in.
ANDY: She does this demonstration for the tourists a-a tea ceremony. So she would have
packed up her things and just put them in here.
(He leads them to the open stack and starts turning a handle at the end to widen the gap. John
goes to stand behind him and looks into the stack but Sherlock has noticed something more
interesting in the shadows further along the room. He walks closer to it. On a stand is a life-
sized sculpture of a nude woman ... and yellow paint has been spray painted across the front of
it. An almost horizontal straight line goes across the eyes, and over the body has been sprayed
the open upside down eight with the almost horizontal line above it. Andy and John turn and
see what he has found.)
Outside the museum, night has fallen as Sherlock and John come out.
SHERLOCK: We have to get to Soo Lin Yao.
JOHN: If shes still alive.
RAZ: Sherlock!
(The boys turn as Raz runs over to join them.)
JOHN: Oh, look who it is.
RAZ (to Sherlock): Found something youll like.
(He trots off and Sherlock immediately follows. John heads off after them a little more slowly.)
Shortly afterwards the three of them are walking across Hungerford Bridge, heading towards
the south side of the river.
JOHN: Tuesday morning, all youve gotta do is turn up and say the bag was yours.
SHERLOCK: Forget about your court date.
(They continue onwards, unaware that the Chinese woman with the dark sunglasses is watching
them.)
SOUTH BANK SKATE PARK. Raz leads the other two across the under-croft. A boy has just done
some kind of clever jump on his pushbike.
GIRL: Dude, that was rad!

88
SHERLOCK: If you want to hide a tree, then a forest is the best place to do it, wouldnt you say?
People would just walk straight past, not knowing, unable to decipher the message.
(Raz points to a particular area on the heavily-graffitied walls.)
RAZ: There. I spotted it earlier.
(Amongst all the other paint there are slashes of the yellow paint forming Chinese symbols.
Some of them are already partially painted over by other artists tags and pictures.)
SHERLOCK: They have been in here. (To Raz) And thats the exact same paint?
RAZ: Yeah.
SHERLOCK: John, if were going to decipher this code, were gonna need to look for more
evidence.
The two of them split up and begin searching. Sherlock walks along the end of a railway line
and finds an abandoned spray can on the tracks. Squatting down to pick it up, he puts the end
of his flashlight into his mouth and runs a thumb over the yellow paint on the nozzle, then sniffs
the nozzle [anything for a quick fix, eh, Sherlock?!].
John walks through an underpass, looking closely at the graffiti and posters on the walls as he
goes.
Sherlock is now walking past a wall which has many posters glued to it. One of the posters
attracts his attention and he tears off the bottom corner of it and takes it with him as he
continues onwards.
John is now out on the railway lines. His flashlight picks out splashes of yellow paint on the
sleepers and on the rails, then he raises his light to a brick wall, possibly the wall of a
maintenance shed, which is about fifteen feet wide. He steps back, his mouth open in surprise
as he begins to realise that the entire wall is covered with large yellow Chinese symbols.
Later he has finally tracked down Sherlock who is currently looking at the side of a parked rail
freight container.
JOHN (trotting towards him): Answer your phone! Ive been calling you! Ive found it.
(He turns around again and the two of them run off into the night side by side, Sherlocks coat
billowing behind him. Your transcriber struggles to resist the urge to sing the Batman theme
tune.)
Back at the wall, John leads Sherlock towards it, but his mouth drops open in surprise again,
this time for a different reason. The entire wall is now blank.
JOHN: Its been painted over!
(Sherlock shines his flashlight around the area as John continues to stare at the wall in
disbelief.)
JOHN: I dont understand. It-it was here ... (he stumbles backwards) ... ten minutes ago. I saw
it. A whole load of graffiti!
SHERLOCK: Somebody doesnt want me to see it.
(He turns and grabs the sides of Johns head in both hands.)
JOHN: Hey, Sherlock, what are you doing ...?
SHERLOCK: Shh, John, concentrate. I need you to concentrate. Close your eyes.
JOHN: No, what? Why? Why?
(Sherlock lowers his hands to hold John by the upper arms.)
JOHN: What are you doing?!
[Protesting too much is what youre doing, John, honey. Just KISS HIM!]
(Sherlock starts to spin them slowly around on the spot, staring intensely into Johns eyes.)
SHERLOCK: I need you to maximise your visual memory. Try to picture what you saw. Can you
picture it?
JOHN: Yeah.
SHERLOCK: Can you remember it?
JOHN: Yes, definitely.
SHERLOCK: Can you remember the pattern?
JOHN: Yes!
SHERLOCK: How much can you remember it?
JOHN: Well, dont worry ...
SHERLOCK (still spinning them): Because the average human memory on visual matters is only
sixty-two percent accurate.
JOHN: Yeah, well, dont worry I remember all of it.
SHERLOCK (disbelievingly): Really?

89
JOHN: Yeah, well at least I would ... (he pulls himself free) ... if I can get to my pockets!
(He rummages in his jacket pocket.)
JOHN: I took a photograph.
(He takes out his phone and pulls up a flash photo he has taken of the wall which shows all the
symbols clearly. He gives the phone to Sherlock, who takes it and looks embarrassed as John
sighs and turns away.)
[And would someone like to explain to me why the baddies bothered painting the wall? If they
saw John find the wall, they must have seen him take the photo, so why paint over the
symbols? Anyway, onwards ...]
221B. The photograph has been blown up into small sections and then printed out and all the
pictures are stuck on the mirror. The numerical value of each symbol has been written against
it. Sherlock is standing at the fireplace looking at the pictures closely and has spotted a pattern.
SHERLOCK: Always in pairs, John.
(John is sitting at the dining table with his back to the fireplace and his head propped in his
hands. Sherlocks voice wakes him up. He blinks and turns his head, squinting round at his
friend.)
JOHN: Hmm?
SHERLOCK: Numbers come with partners.
JOHN (gazing around the flat blankly): God, I need to sleep.
SHERLOCK: Why did he paint it so near the tracks?
JOHN (tiredly): No idea.
SHERLOCK: Thousands of people pass by there every day.
JOHN (propping his head in his hand again): Just twenty minutes.
SHERLOCK (realising something): Of course.
(Hes looking at a photo of the full wall, and now smiles triumphantly.)
SHERLOCK: Of course! He wants information. Hes trying to communicate with his people in the
underworld. Whatever was stolen, he wants it back.
(He runs his finger over the symbols.)
SHERLOCK: Somewhere here in the code.
(He pulls three photographs off the wall and turns towards the door.)
SHERLOCK: We cant crack this without Soo Lin Yao.
JOHN: Oh, good(!)
(Tiredly, he gets up to follow.)
NATIONAL ANTIQUITIES MUSEUM. The boys are back with Andy in the same display room they
met him in earlier.
SHERLOCK: Two men who travelled back from China were murdered, and their killer left them
messages in the Hangzhou numerals.
JOHN: Soo Lin Yaos in danger. Now, that cipher it was just the same pattern as the others.
He means to kill her as well.
ANDY: Look, Ive tried everywhere: um, friends, colleagues. I-I dont know where shes gone. I
mean, she could be a thousand miles away.
(Sherlock has turned his head away in exasperation, but now his gaze focuses on the nearby
glass case displaying the teapots.)
JOHN: What are you looking at?
SHERLOCK (pointing at the case as he walks towards it): Tell me more about those teapots.
ANDY: Th-the pots were her obsession. Um, they need urgent work. If-if they dry out, then the
clay can start to crumble. Apparently you have to just keep making tea in them.
(Sherlock bends down to look more closely at the shelf.)
SHERLOCK: Yesterday, only one of those pots was shining. Now there are two.
Later, elsewhere in the museum, fingers reach through the gaps in a large grating at the
bottom of a wall and carefully push the grating outwards. Moments after that, a shadow moves
across the dimly lit display room, and a hand reaches into the glass case to take out one of the
not-shiny teapots. The shadow moves away again. Not long afterwards, Soo Lin is in an almost-
dark restoration room, pouring tea into the teapot on the desk in front of her. She picks up the
lid and carefully strokes it around the rim as, behind her, a very recognisable curly-headed
silhouette appears on the other side of a window in the door. Unaware of this, she picks up the
teapot and pours some of the liquid into a pair of cups. Pouring more of the tea into the tray on

90
which the cups are standing, she swills the teapot around to cover the outside with the drips. A
figure steps up beside her.
SHERLOCK: Fancy a biscuit with that?
(Before he finishes the sentence she gasps in fright and turns towards him, the teapot dropping
from her terrified fingers. Sherlock reacts instantly and bends his knees to reach down and
catch the teapot before it hits the floor. He looks up at her.)
SHERLOCK: Centuries old. Dont wanna break that.
(He slowly straightens up and hands the teapot back to her. As she takes it, he reaches out and
flicks a switch on the desk, turning on the lights underneath the surface. He smiles slightly at
her.)
SHERLOCK: Hello.
John has now arrived and he and Soo Lin sit on stools on opposite sides of the table. Sherlock
stands at the end of the table.
SOO LIN: You saw the cipher. Then you know he is coming for me.
SHERLOCK: Youve been clever to avoid him so far.
SOO LIN: I had to finish ... to finish this work. Its only a matter of time. I know he will find me.
SHERLOCK: Who is he? Have you met him before?
SOO LIN (nodding): When I was a girl, living back in China. I recognise his ... signature.
SHERLOCK: The cipher.
SOO LIN: Only he would do this. Zhi Zhu.
JOHN: Zhi Zhu?
SHERLOCK: The Spider.
(Putting her right foot up on her opposite knee, Soo Lin unlaces her shoe and takes it off. On
the underside of her heel is a black tattoo of a lotus flower inside a circle.)
SOO LIN: You know this mark?
SHERLOCK: Yes. Its the mark of a Tong.
JOHN: Hmm?
SHERLOCK: Ancient crime syndicate based in China.
(John nods his understanding and turns back to Soo Lin.)
SOO LIN: Every foot soldier bears the mark; everyone who hauls for them.
JOHN: Hauls?
(She looks up at him. His eyes widen.)
JOHN: Y-you mean you were a smuggler?
(She lowers her gaze and puts her shoe back on.)
SOO LIN: I was fifteen. My parents were dead. I had no livelihood; no way of surviving day to
day except to work for the bosses.
SHERLOCK: Who are they?
SOO LIN: They are called the Black Lotus. By the time I was sixteen, I was taking thousands of
pounds worth of drugs across the border into Hong Kong. But I managed to leave that life
behind me. I came to England.
(She smiles a little.)
SOO LIN: They gave me a job here. Everything was good; a new life.
SHERLOCK: Then he came looking for you.
SOO LIN: Yes.
(Upset, she swallows before continuing tearfully.)
SOO LIN: I had hoped after five years maybe they would have forgotten me, but they never
really let you leave. A small community like ours they are never very far away.
(She wipes tears from her face.)
SOO LIN: He came to my flat. He asked me to help him to track down something that was
stolen.
JOHN: And youve no idea what it was?
SOO LIN: I refused to help.
JOHN (leaning forward): So you knew him well when you were living back in China?
(She nods.)
SOO LIN: Oh yes.
(She looks up at Sherlock.)
SOO LIN: Hes my brother.
(Elsewhere, the hands of what is presumably a woman wearing black nail varnish open a box
and fold back the tissue paper covering the contents. The box contains sheets of black paper.
The hands take out the top sheet and lay it on the table.)

91
SOO LIN: Two orphans. We had no choice. We could work for the Black Lotus, or starve on the
streets like beggars.
(The hands have folded the sheet of paper a few times, pressing down to set the folds, and now
open the sheet out flat again. They fold one of the corners up, then turn the paper around to
start folding up the opposite corner.)
SOO LIN: My brother has become their puppet, in the power of the one they call Shan the
Black Lotus general.
(The hands continue folding the paper.)
SOO LIN: I turned my brother away. He said I had betrayed him. Next day I came to work and
the cipher was waiting.
(The hands have nearly completed their work and the paper is now folded into an intricate
shape.)
(In the museum, Sherlock lays the photographs on the table.)
SHERLOCK: Can you decipher these?
(Soo Lin leans forward and points to the mark beside Sir Williams portrait.)
SOO LIN: These are numbers.
SHERLOCK: Yes, I know.
SOO LIN (pointing to another photograph): Here: the line across the mans eyes its the
Chinese number one.
SHERLOCK (pointing to the first photo): And this one is fifteen. But whats the code?
SOO LIN: All the smugglers know it. Its based upon a book ...
(Just then almost all the lights go out. Soo Lin looks up in dread. Sherlock straightens up and
looks around sharply.)
SOO LIN (softly, her face full of terror): Hes here. Zhi Zhu. He has found me.
(And Sherlocks off, racing across the room. John calls to him softly but urgently.)
JOHN: Sh-Sherlock. Sherlock, wait!
(Sherlock charges out of the room. John turns to Soo Lin and grabs her hand.)
JOHN: Come here.
(He pulls her across the room towards another room, or possibly a cupboard its not clear
which.)
JOHN: Get in. Get in!
(Sherlock races across a large open foyer with a staircase at each end and a balcony
surrounding the floor above. He stops in the middle of the foyer and looks around. From his
right, a figure runs across the balcony and fires a pistol at him. Sherlock turns and runs in the
opposite direction, flinging himself to the floor and sliding along it to take shelter behind a
statue on a low plinth. The figure fires a couple more times as Sherlock scrambles behind the
plinth. In the restoration room, John looks up at the sound of gunfire, then turns to Soo Lin.)
JOHN: I have to go and help. Bolt the door after me.
(He hurries off. Soo Lins face fills with dread. John makes his way cautiously out into the foyer,
then ducks and runs for cover as more gunshots ring out. The figure runs back across the
balcony and disappears from view. Sherlock comes out from behind the plinth and hares across
the foyer and up the stairs. John peers out from behind a column at the other end of the foyer
as Sherlock reaches the top of the stairs and tears around the corner. He pelts into another
display room and the gunman runs out of cover behind him and fires towards him again.
Sherlock ducks behind a display cabinet displaying some ancient skulls as the figure fires
again.)
SHERLOCK (calling out): Careful!
(The gunman fires again.)
SHERLOCK (calling out): Some of those skulls are over two hundred thousand years old! Have a
bit of respect!
(He pauses for a couple of seconds, breathing heavily. There are no more gunshots.)
SHERLOCK: Thank you(!)
(Theres no more sound from the gunman. After a moment Sherlock frowns, then carefully
peers through the glass of the case.)
(In the restoration room, Soo Lin looks up anxiously. [A drum beat begins to sound. Again, Im
not sure whether she actually hears this or if its dramatic background music, but she closes her
eyes in despair at the same moment. Upstairs, Sherlock also looks around as if he can hear the
drumming and on the landing, John looks around too. As the drumming stops,] Soo Lin takes a
shaky breath and slowly begins to crawl out of her hiding place. On the desk, paperwork is
fluttering in a slight breeze. Soo Lin crawls to the edge of the table and peers over the top of it
before slowly standing up. Behind her, a Chinese man a little older than her silently walks up

92
and stops just behind her, staring at her intently. As if sensing him, she turns slowly around,
and then gazes at him with affection when she recognises him. She softly greets him by name.)
SOO LIN: [Liang.]
(She hesitates for a moment.)
SOO LIN: [Big brother.]
(She reaches out and cups his face with her hand.)
SOO LIN: [Please ...]
(As John continues to search for his friend, a single gunshot rings out in the distance. He turns
towards the sound, his face filling with appalled horror when he realises where the shot has
come from.)
JOHN: Oh my God.
(He races back to the stairs and runs down them, across the foyer and back to the restoration
room. Entering the room, he slows down and looks around cautiously for any sign of the
gunman. Carefully making his way across the room, he stops and then groans in despair and
guilt at the sight which greets him. Soo Lin lies dead on the table, her outstretched arm
revealing a black origami lotus flower in her upturned hand.)
NEW SCOTLAND YARD. John and Sherlock are standing a short distance away from Dimmock
who has his back to them and is rummaging through paperwork on a desk as if trying to ignore
them.
JOHN: How many murders is it gonna take before you start believing that this maniacs out
there?
(Dimmock turns and walks in between them, heading for another desk. John turns round and
follows him.)
JOHN: A young girl was gunned down tonight. Thats three victims in three days. Youre
supposed to be finding him.
(Sherlock walks across in front of John to get closer to Dimmock. John steps back and walks a
few paces away in exasperation.)
SHERLOCK: Brian Lukis and Eddie Van Coon were working for a gang of international smugglers
a gang called the Black Lotus operating here in London right under your nose.
(He has leaned closer to Dimmock to emphasise his last point. Dimmock finally looks round to
him.)
DIMMOCK: Can you prove that?
(Sherlock straightens up thoughtfully.)
ST BARTHOLOMEWS HOSPITAL. In the canteen, mortician Molly Hooper is looking at the

choices in the self-service display.
SHERLOCK: What are you thinking: pork or the pasta?
(She turns in surprise at his voice beside her.)
MOLLY: Oh, its you!
SHERLOCK: This place is never going to trouble Egon Ronay, is it?
(He smiles at her, then nods to the display.)
SHERLOCK: Id stick with the pasta. Dont wanna be doing roast pork not if youre slicing up
cadavers.
(Again he smiles at her. She grins nervously.)
MOLLY: What are you having?
SHERLOCK: Dont eat when Im working. Digesting slows me down.
MOLLY: So youre working here tonight?
SHERLOCK: Need to examine some bodies.
MOLLY: Some?
SHERLOCK: Eddie Van Coon and Brian Lukis.
MOLLY (looking at the clipboard shes holding): Theyre on my list.
(Sherlock turns puppy-dog eyes on her.)
SHERLOCK: Could you wheel them out again for me?
MOLLY (apologetically): Well ... the paperworks already gone through.
(Sherlock lifts his eyes a little as if noticing something, and points at her hair.)
SHERLOCK: Youve ... changed your hair.
MOLLY (nervously): What?
SHERLOCK: The-the style: its usually parted in the middle.
MOLLY: Yes, well ...

93
SHERLOCK: Mmm, its good; it, um, suits you better this way.
(Once again he wheels out the smile. She returns it, looking both flattered and flustered, then
turns away to the display, smiling nervously. Instantly Sherlocks smile drops and he looks
impatiently at his watch.)
MORGUE. Later, two body bags are lying on adjacent tables. Molly, wearing latex gloves, unzips
the top of one of the bags and pulls the sides apart to reveal the face of Brian Lukis. Sherlock
leads Dimmock into the room.
SHERLOCK: Were just interested in the feet.
MOLLY (frowning): The feet?
SHERLOCK: Yes. Dyou mind if we have a look at them?
(Smiling at her, he leads Dimmock to the other end of the body bag. Molly follows him and
unzips the bag at that end, pulling the sides back to reveal the bottom of Lukis feet. On the
bottom of the right heel is a tattoo identical to the one which Soo Lin showed the boys earlier.
Sherlock straightens up, a smug expression on his face, and walks over to the other table.)
SHERLOCK: Now Van Coon.
(Molly and Dimmock follow him to the second table and she unzips the other body bag. Van
Coon has an identical tattoo on his right heel. Dimmock sighs silently.)
SHERLOCK: Oh(!)
DIMMOCK (awkwardly): So ...
SHERLOCK: So either these two men just happened to visit the same Chinese tattoo parlour or
Im telling the truth.
DIMMOCK (sighing in resignation): What do you want?
SHERLOCK: I want every book from Lukis apartment and Van Coons.
DIMMOCK: Their books?
221B. The boys walk into the living room, taking off their coats. John sits down in his chair;
Sherlock remains standing.
SHERLOCK: Not just a criminal organisation; its a cult. Her brother was corrupted by one of its
leaders.
JOHN: Soo Lin said the name.
SHERLOCK: Yes, Shan; General Shan.
JOHN: Were still no closer to finding them.
SHERLOCK: Wrong. Weve got almost all we need to know. She gave us most of the missing
pieces.
(He looks at John, waiting for him to agree. When John says nothing, he impatiently explains.)
SHERLOCK: Why did he need to visit his sister? Why did he need her expertise?
JOHN: She worked at the museum.
SHERLOCK: Exactly.
JOHN (finally catching up): An expert in antiquities. Mmm, of course. I see.
SHERLOCK: Valuable antiquities, John. Ancient Chinese relics purchased on the black market.
Chinas home to a thousand treasures hidden after Maos revolution.
JOHN: And the Black Lotus is selling them.
(Sherlock tilts his head as he has an idea.)
Not long afterwards, he is sitting at the dining table surfing Crispians website for recent
auctions, focusing on the auctions of Chinese and other Asian works of art. John is leaning over
his shoulder to look at the screen.
SHERLOCK (to himself as he skims through the list): Check for the dates ...
(He points to a particular auction lot two Chinese Ming vases.)
SHERLOCK: Here, John.
JOHN: Mmm.
SHERLOCK: Arrived from China four days ago.
(He runs his finger down the details and looks at the Sale Information at the bottom which
includes the statement Source Anonymous.)
SHERLOCK: Anonymous. Vendor doesnt give his name. Two undiscovered treasures from the
East.
JOHN: One in Lukis suitcase and one in Van Coons.
(Sherlock moves to the Quest search site and types into the search bar, narrating as he does
so, although he actually types the word Chinese first.)
SHERLOCK: ... antiquities sold at auction.

94
(The results list comes up.)

SHERLOCK: Look, heres another one.
JOHN: Mmm.
SHERLOCK: Arrived from China a month ago: Chinese ceramic statue, sold four hundred
thousand.
[As in, it sold for 400,000.]
JOHN (consulting Lukis diary after he spots another entry on the screen): Ah, look: a month
before that a Chinese painting, half a million.
SHERLOCK: All of them from an anonymous source. Theyre stealing them back in China and
one by one theyre feeding them into Britain.
JOHN: Huh.
(He looks at Lukis diary again and then at the printout of Van Coons calendar.)
JOHN: And every single auction coincides with Lukis or Van Coon travelling to China.
SHERLOCK: So what if one of them got greedy when they were in China? What if one of them
stole something?
JOHN: Thats why Zhi Zhus come.
(Mrs Hudson knocks on the open door of the living room.)
MRS HUDSON: Ooh-ooh!
(The boys turn to her.)
MRS HUDSON: Sorry. Are we collecting for charity, Sherlock?
SHERLOCK: What?
MRS HUDSON: A young mans outside with crates of books.
Shortly afterwards, two uniformed police officers are carrying in yet another plastic crate to add
to the many which have already been dumped in the living room.
SHERLOCK: So, the numbers are references.
JOHN: To books.
SHERLOCK: To specific pages and specific words on those pages.
JOHN: Right, so ... fifteen and one: that means ...
SHERLOCK: Turn to page fifteen and its the first word you read.
JOHN: Okay. So whats the message?
SHERLOCK (snarkily): Depends on the book. Thats the cunning of the book code. Has to be one
that they both owned.
(John looks round despairingly at the many many crates in the room, each either labelled Van
Coon or Lukis.)
JOHN: Okay, right. Well, this shouldnt take too long, should it?(!)
(He goes over to the nearest crate and flips open the lid, sighing tiredly when he sees the
amount of books inside. Sherlock opens another crate and starts taking out books, looking at
the cover of each one. John takes a handful from his crate and carries them over to the dining
table and sits down. Dimmock walks in and holds up an evidence bag to Sherlock.)
DIMMOCK: We found these, at the museum.
(He shows the bag to John. It contains the photographs of the cipher which Sherlock had been
showing to Soo Lin.)
DIMMOCK: Is this your writing?
JOHN (taking the bag): Uh, we hoped Soo Lin could decipher it for us. Ta.
(Dimmock nods and turns back to Sherlock, who is still unloading his crate.)
DIMMOCK: Anything else I can do? To assist you, I mean?
SHERLOCK (without looking up): Some silence right now would be marvellous.
(Dimmock stares at him, then looks across to John, who shakes his head apologetically. Biting
his lip and trying not to cry at not being allowed to play with the big boys, Dimmock turns and
leaves the room.
Sherlock takes out a book from a crate and realises that hes already got one like it from
another crate. He puts them side by side hard backed copies of Iain Banks Transition.
Opening one of them to page fifteen, he looks at the first word on the page and then narrates
the word in exasperated disappointment.)
SHERLOCK: Cigarette.
(Slamming the book closed, he puts both versions on top of the pile on the desk.)
JOHN: Ah.
(Sherlock goes back to rummaging through crates while John puts his pile onto the floor and
crosses the room to get more books from a crate. Time moves on and later Sherlock finds two
more identical books, Freakonomics, from the two mens collections. He flicks to page fifteen,

95
which is the beginning of a chapter headed What Do Schoolteachers and Sumo Wrestlers Have
in Common? Moving down to the first word of the chapter, he reads it and then looks up in
frustration.)
SHERLOCK: Imagine.
(Again he dumps the two books on Johns pile. Time moves on again and now its day time.
Sherlock has removed his jacket and John has taken off his cardigan but theyre still in the
same positions we last saw them. Again time moves on and now the daylight is even brighter
outside. Books are scattered everywhere over the table and the floor and some of the crates
have been shifted about. As Sherlock runs his fingers through his hair and then looks around at
the crates and sighs, an alarm goes off on Johns watch. He looks at it and then out of the
window as if to confirm that it really is the morning. He sighs tiredly and buries his head in his
hands.)
DOCTORS SURGERY. The receptionist looks up apologetically at the first person in a queue of
patients waiting to speak to her.
RECEPTIONIST: Im sorry to keep you waiting.
(Someone in the queue sighs pointedly.)
RECEPTIONIST: But we havent got anything now til next Thursday.
(The woman at the front of the queue turns aside with an exasperated look on her face.)
WOMANs VOICE (offscreen): This is taking ages.
RECEPTIONIST: Er, sorry.
(Sarah Sawyer has been walking through the waiting room but now turns back and comes over
to the reception.)
WOMANs VOICE (offscreen): Whats the point of making an appointment if they cant even stick
to it?
SARAH (to the receptionist): Um, whats going on?
RECEPTIONIST (quietly): That new doctor you hired he hasnt buzzed the intercom for ages.
SARAH: Let me go and have a word.
RECEPTIONIST: Yeah, thanks.
SARAH (to the queue as she walks away): Scuse me.
RECEPTIONIST (to the queue): Sorry.
WOMANs VOICE (offscreen): What did she just say?
(Sarah goes to Johns consulting room and knocks on the door.)
SARAH: John?
(She waits a few seconds but gets no reply.)
SARAH: John?
(When theres still no reply, she opens the door and looks inside. John is sitting behind the
desk, his head propped up on one fist, and is fast asleep and snoring gently.)
Much later, he comes out of his consulting room putting on his coat and walks over to Sarah
who is standing behind the reception desk. He clears his throat awkwardly.
JOHN: Um, looks like Im done. I thought I had some more to see.
SARAH: Oh, I did one or two of yours.
JOHN: One or two?
SARAH: Well, maybe five or six.
JOHN: Im sorry. Thats not very professional.
SARAH: No. No, not really.
JOHN: I had, um, a bit of a late one.
SARAH: Oh, right.
JOHN: Anyway, see you.
(He turns to walk away.)
SARAH: So, um, what were you doing to keep you up so late?
JOHN (turning back to her): Uh, I was, er, attending a sort of book event.
SARAH: Oh. Oh, she likes books, does she, your ... your girlfriend?
(She looks down fake-nonchalantly.)
JOHN: Mmm? No, it wasnt a date.
SARAH (too quickly): Good. (She rapidly tries to cover.) I mean, um ...
JOHN: And I dont have one tonight.
(They smile at each other, John looking down almost in disbelief as if thinking, Oh good grief,
Ive just pulled!)

96
221B. Sherlock is still working on the crates but now tries a different tack.
SHERLOCK: A book that everybody would own.
(He turns to his bookcase and pulls down the Concise Oxford English Dictionary, the Holy Bible
and a third book which we cant see the title of. Putting them on top of the nearest crate, he
opens the dictionary to the correct page.)
SHERLOCK: Fifteen. Entry one.
(The word is add. He moves on to the last book he took down, which some fantastic research
by donutgirl has revealed is called Syphilis and local contagious disorders by Berkeley Hill.
[And, as she points out, just why does Sherlock think that this is a book that everybody would
own?!] The first word on page 15 is nostrils. Putting that aside and flicking to page 15 of the
Bible, partway through the Book of Genesis, the first word is I. As he closes the book, and
Johns bedroom door slams shut, he props his elbows on the crate and runs his fingers through
his hair, ruffling it up. Im sure this has nothing to do with the imminent arrival of his flatmate,
who now walks into the room having changed into clean clothes.)
SHERLOCK: I need to get some air. Were going out tonight.
JOHN: Actually, Ive, er, got a date.
(He smiles smugly.)
SHERLOCK: What?
JOHN: Its where two people who like each other go out and have fun.
SHERLOCK: Thats what I was suggesting.
JOHN: No it wasnt ... at least I hope not.
SHERLOCK (looking sulky): Where are you taking her?
JOHN: Er, cinema.
SHERLOCK: Oh, dull, boring, predictable.
(He has taken a piece of paper from his trouser pocket as he walks across to John, and lowers
his head to hide a smug smile before handing it to him.)
SHERLOCK: Why dont you try this?
(John takes it and looks at the piece of paper, which is the strip of poster that Sherlock tore off
the wall during the search for the yellow paint. The poster advertises the Yellow Dragon Circus
and gives the telephone number of the Box Office.)
SHERLOCK: In London for one night only.
(John chuckles, then offers the paper back to Sherlock.)
JOHN: Thanks, but I dont come to you for dating advice.
EVENING. John and Sarah are walking up the slope towards a building.
SARAH: Its years since anyone took me to the circus.
JOHN (chuckling nervously): Right, yes! Well, its ... a friend recommended it to me. He phoned
up.
SARAH: Ah. What are they, a touring company or something?
JOHN: I dont know much about it.
(They pause and look at a number of large red Chinese lanterns strung outside the hall.)
SARAH: I think theyre probably from China!
JOHN: Yes, I think ... I think so, yes. (Quietly) Theres a coincidence(!)
(They go inside to the Box Office where the manager is giving a customer her tickets.)
CUSTOMER: Thats wonderful. Thank you very much.
MANAGER: Okay.
(The customer turns and walks up the nearby stairs and John goes over to the office.)
JOHN: Hi. I have, er, two tickets reserved for tonight.
MANAGER: And whats the name?
JOHN (taking his wallet from his jacket): Er, Holmes.
(The manager rifles through the reservations, then turns back to him with an envelope.)
MANAGER: Actually, I have three in that name.
JOHN: No, I dont think so. We only booked two.
SHERLOCK (offscreen): And then I phoned back and got one for myself as well.
(John looks up in disbelief and turns as Sherlock walks over to them, looking at Sarah. He offers
her his hand.)
SHERLOCK: Im Sherlock.
(Sarah glances at John momentarily, then turns back to the new arrival and shakes his hand a
little nervously. John turns away in exasperation.)
SARAH: Er, hi.
SHERLOCK: Hello.

97
(He gives her his fake smile, then instantly turns and walks away.)
Not long afterwards the boys are standing a few steps up the stairs while people make their
way past them. Sarah isnt with them presumably she has nipped off to the loo. The boys
keep their voices down as they talk.
JOHN: You couldnt let me have just one night off?
SHERLOCK: Yellow Dragon Circus, in London for one day. It fits. The Tong sent an assassin to
England ...
JOHN: ... dressed as a tightrope walker. Come on, Sherlock, behave!
SHERLOCK: Were looking for a killer who can climb, who can shin up a rope. Where else would
you find that level of dexterity? Exit visas are scarce in China. They need a pretty good reason
to get out of that country. Now, all I need to do is have a quick look round the place ...
JOHN: Fine. You do that; Im gonna take Sarah for a pint.
SHERLOCK (sternly): I need your help.
JOHN: I do have a couple of other things on my mind this evening!
SHERLOCK: Like what?
(John blinks, staring at him in disbelief.)
JOHN: You are kidding.
SHERLOCK: Whats so important?
JOHN: Sherlock, Im right in the middle of a date. Dyou want me to chase some killer while Im
trying to ...
(He breaks off.)
SHERLOCK: What?
JOHN (losing his patience and talking much louder): ... while Im trying to get off with Sarah!
(And inevitably Sarah comes around the corner at that moment. John turns to her and smiles
awkwardly.)
JOHN: Heyyy.
(Rolling his eyes, Sherlock turns and heads up the stairs.)
JOHN (to Sarah): Ready?
SARAH: Yeah!
(They follow Sherlock up the stairs.)
In the performance area theres a stage on one side of the large hall and the curtains are
closed. However, it seems that the stage is not going to be used: a circle of candles has been
laid out in the middle of the floor, about thirty feet in diameter. The room is dimly lit. The
patrons are gathering around the circle but there are no seats. Apparently the number of tickets
has been limited and theres room for everyone to stand around the circle with a clear view.
Sarah and John stand side by side while Sherlock stands behind them with his back to them,
looking all around the room and peering up to the ceiling. John talks quietly over his shoulder to
his flatmate, turning his head away from Sarah so that she cant hear.
JOHN: You said circus. This is not a circus. Look at the size of this crowd. Sherlock, this is ...
(he grimaces with distaste) ... art.
SHERLOCK (quietly over his shoulder): This is not their day job.
JOHN: No, sorry, I forgot. Theyre not a circus; theyre a gang of international smugglers.
(The performance begins with someone tapping out a rhythm on a tiny hand drum. Sherlock
turns to face the same way as his companions and John looks over his shoulder at him.
Sherlock quirks an eyebrow at him. An ornately costumed Chinese woman with a heavily
painted face traditionally known as the Opera Singer walks into the centre of the circle and
looks imperiously out at the audience before raising a hand in the air. The drummer finishes his
riff. The Opera Singer walks across the circle to a large object covered with a cloth which she
now pulls back to reveal an antique-looking crossbow on a stand. She picks up a long thick
wooden arrow with white feathers at one end and a vicious metal point at the other and shows
it to the audience before fitting it into place in the crossbow. Straightening up, she pulls a single
small white feather from her headdress and again shows it to the audience. On the rear of the
crossbow is a small metal cup and she gently drops the feather into it. Instantly the arrow is
released and whizzes across the room. Sherlocks head whips around to follow its flight while
John and Sarah are still gasping at the sound of the arrows release. By the time they look
round a moment later, the arrow is embedded in a large painted board on the other side of the
circle. Sarah turns to John and laughs, dramatically putting her hand over her heart.
Instrumental music begins, and the audience applauds as a new character enters the circle,
wearing chainmail and an ornate head mask. He holds his arms out to the sides and two men

98
come over and start to attach heavy chains and straps to him, strapping his now-folded arms in
front of him and then backing him up against the board and starting to chain him to it.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Classic Chinese escapology act.
(John and Sarah turn to him.)
JOHN: Hmm?
SHERLOCK: The crossbows on a delicate string. The warrior has to escape his bonds before it
fires.
(The Opera Singer loads another arrow into the crossbow. The men attach more padlocks and
chains and one of them pulls a chain tight, yanking the warriors head back against the board.
The warrior cries out. The men loop the chains through solid rings attached to the board and
secure the warrior, who cries out again. Once theyve finished, they step away. The music
begins building in intensity and cymbals crash unexpectedly. Sarah jumps, clutching at Johns
arm.)
SARAH: Oh, Gawd! Im sorry!
(She laughs in embarrassment, taking his arm with her other hand as well. John laughs with
her, then smiles delightedly as she lets go with her more distant hand but continues to hold
onto his arm with the other. The Opera Singer picks up a small knife and displays it to the
audience.)
SHERLOCK (softly): She splits the sandbag; the sand pours out; gradually the weight lowers
into the bowl.
(The Opera Singer does just what Sherlock predicted she reaches up to a small sandbag
hanging on a long cable and stabs the knife into the bottom of the sack. Sand begins to pour
out, and the warrior repeatedly cries out with effort as he tugs at his chains. The sandbags
cable is looped over a pulley and a metal ball is attached to the other end. As the sand
continues to pour out of the bag the weight lowers towards the bowl at the back of the
crossbow. The warrior gets one hand free. John is watching the weight lower, and Sarah now
looks nervously at it as it crosses paths with the sandbag on its way up. They turn to look at the
warrior as he gets his other hand free and starts tugging at the chains around his neck. The
weight is now only a few feet above the bowl and Sarah clings tightly to Johns arm, grimacing.
The warrior cries out again as he pulls at his chains and the weight gets ever closer. As it
almost reaches the lip of the bowl the warrior loosens the chains around his neck and struggles
to free himself.
The weight touches the bowl and the arrow streaks across the room. With a split second to
spare, the warrior pulls free of the chains and ducks down and the arrow thuds into the board.
The warrior cries out triumphantly as the audience begins to applaud. Sarah gasps in relief.)
SARAH: Thank God.
JOHN: My God!
(The warrior stands up and takes the applause. Still clapping, John looks over his shoulder, but
Sherlock has vanished. John looks around the hall but cant see him anywhere.)
(Sherlock has made his way onto the stage, which is being used as the performers dressing
room. Theres a dressing table with mirrors, free-standing clothes rails and many other items all
around. He looks at everything and notices that its almost as if another warrior is standing
nearby except that the chainmail and mask are hanging on a stand.
In the performance area, the Opera Singer raises a hand to halt the audiences applause.)
OPERA SINGER: Ladies and gentlemen, from the distant moonlight shores of the Yangtze River,
we present for your pleasure the deadly Chinese bird-spider.
(As she walks away, a masked acrobat descends from the ceiling, rolling through the air as the
broad red band wrapped around his waist unravels. The audience applauds and he stops a
couple of feet above the ground, holding his body parallel to the floor.)
JOHN (to Sarah): Did you see that?!
(Descending to the floor, the acrobat removes the band from around his waist and splits it,
revealing that its made up of two strips of material which he now wraps around his arms and
then runs around the circle before taking his weight on the bands, lifting into the air and flying
around in a circle several feet above the ground, the red bands soaring out behind him. Sarah
and John and presumably the rest of the audience stare up open-mouthed.
On the stage, Sherlock goes over to the curtains and parts them slightly to look out at the
performance. He looks with interest at the acrobat as he floats around.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Well, well.
(To the right of the stage, a door opens. Sherlock runs to take cover, pushing through the
middle of the clothes on the clothes rail and then quickly spreading the items out again as the
Opera Singer comes onto the stage. She goes over to the dressing table and picks up a mobile

99
phone, checking it, but looks round sharply when one of the hangars on the rail falls to the
floor. Sherlock ducks down. The Opera Singer walks toward the rail and Sherlock crouches even
lower but she continues on and leaves the stage. Sherlock looks down and sees a bag on the
floor near his feet. Flipping it open, he finds several spray cans inside. He picks up one of them
and sees that it is labelled Michigan. A yellow band is across the bottom of the can denoting
the colour of the paint.)
SHERLOCK (softly, in a sing-song voice): Found you.
(Standing up, he pushes through the clothes on the rail and walks over to the mirrors on the
dressing table, shaking up the can as he goes. He bends down and sprays a single almost-
horizontal yellow line across one of the mirrors. As he looks at it, the warriors costume behind
him starts to move. Frowning, he turns around and realises that the costume is no longer on a
stand and now has a man inside it. The man charges forward, lashing out at him repeatedly
with a large knife. Sherlock ducks backwards to avoid the blows as the warrior presses forward.
Outside, John and Sarah are still watching the acrobat. On the other side of the circle, the
closed curtains on the stage begin to billow in one particular place. John frowns at the curtains
for a moment but is then distracted back to the acrobat.
On the stage, Sherlock uses the can hes holding as a bit of a weapon, using it to block a blow
from the warrior, ducking below the next swing of the mans knife, then clouting the can across
the mans elbow. The warrior responds by kicking him hard in the stomach.
Outside, the acrobat does a dramatic roll down the bands. The audience applauds. Unnoticed,
the curtains billow even more.
The warrior grabs Sherlock by the throat but drops his knife in the process. Sherlock lashes the
mans hand away from the neck and then sprays the can directly into his masked face before
bundling into him and shoving him away firmly. The warrior falls onto his back but uses his
momentum to raise his legs and then roll forward and flip to his feet again. He takes a flying
leap at Sherlock, spinning as he goes and his feet hit him in the chest. Sherlock is propelled
backwards through the curtains, straight over the edge of the stage and onto the floor a few
feet below. Crashing onto his back, he struggles to get upright again but is too winded and cant
move much as the warrior comes flying out of the curtains and onto the floor in front of him.
John is on the move straightaway, running towards the warrior as he raises a knife and
prepares to plunge it downwards. John charges straight into him, pushing him back against the
edge of the stage but the warrior lashes out with one foot, sending John stumbling across the
room.
Nearby, as the audience flees, the acrobat takes off his mask, takes one look at the fight and
decides he wants no part of it, running off. Only one person is heading towards the fight and
thats Sarah, who has pulled the large arrow from the painted board and comes charging across
the hall while John is still stumbling across the floor trying to catch his balance and the warrior
heads towards Sherlock who is still lying on the floor winded and the warrior now has a wide-
bladed sword in one hand. As he raises the sword above his head, his concentration focussed on
delivering the killing blow to the man at his feet, Sarah races across the floor and slams one
end of the arrow over the top of the warriors head. He cries out in pain and before he can react
or retaliate she swings the arrow sideways and smashes it across his ribs. She instantly delivers
a second blow to the same area and he falls to the ground, grunting and almost unconscious.
As Sarah straightens up, breathless, Sherlock finally gets off his lazy arse sits up and leans
forward to the warriors right foot, pulling off his shoe to reveal a Tong tattoo on his heel. John
has finally managed to turn around, though hes almost doubled over in pain and is still trying
to catch his breath. As Sherlock scrambles to his feet John grabs Sarahs hand and starts to pull
her towards the exit.)
JOHN (almost voicelessly): Come on.
(Sherlock races off ahead of them.)
SHERLOCK: Come on! Lets go!
NEW SCOTLAND YARD. D.I. Dimmock storms into the office, followed by the boys and a rather
bewildered Sarah. Dimmock is clearly not in a good mood.
DIMMOCK: I sent a couple of cars. The old hall is totally deserted.
SHERLOCK: Look, I saw the mark at the circus that tattoo that we saw on the two bodies: the
mark of the Tong.
(Dimmock has reached his desk and has turned to face the others.)
JOHN: Lukis and Van Coon were part of a-a smuggling operation. Now, one of them stole
something when they were in China; something valuable.
SHERLOCK: These circus performers were gang members sent here to get it back.

100
DIMMOCK: Get what back?

(Sherlock bites his lip, looking away angrily.)
JOHN (hesitantly): We dont know.
DIMMOCK: You dont know.
(Sherlock still wont meet his eyes.)
DIMMOCK: Mr Holmes ...
(He sits down, while your transcriber wants to hug him very much for being the only person
other than herself who she has ever heard sound the L in Holmes.)
DIMMOCK: Ive done everything you asked. Lestrade, he seems to think your advice is worth
something.
(Sherlock lifts his head and gives a faint but proud smile.)
DIMMOCK: I gave the order for a raid. Please tell me Ill have something to show for it other
than a massive bill for overtime.
221B. Sherlock leads John and Sarah into the living room and immediately stares at the
pictures over the fireplace as he takes his coat off.
JOHN: Theyll be back in China by tomorrow.
SHERLOCK: No, they wont leave without what they came for. We need to find their hide-out;
the rendezvous.
(He walks closer to the photos, staring at them intensely. John also gazes at the pictures while
Sarah hovers nearby, forgotten by the pair of them. Sherlock runs his fingers over the main
picture of the painted brick wall.)
SHERLOCK: Somewhere in this message it must tell us.
(He and John fall silent. Sarah looks at them for a moment, then realises that she is surplus to
requirements.)
SARAH: Well, I think perhaps I should leave you to it.
JOHN: No, no, you dont have to go ... (he looks round at Sherlock) ... does she? (He turns
back to Sarah.) You can stay.
SHERLOCK (simultaneously): Yes, it would be better to study if you left now.
(He looks round pointedly at Sarah, while John throws a dark look at him before turning back to
her.)
JOHN: Hes kidding. Please stay if youd like.
(Sarah looks nervously towards Sherlock, who has already turned back to the photographs. She
smiles awkwardly and tries what she thinks is a friendly approach.)
SARAH: Is it just me, or is anyone else starving?
SHERLOCK (sighing and closing his eyes in exasperation): Ooh, God.
Shortly afterwards, John opens the fridge to find it almost empty apart from a couple of bottles,
a can, and what might well be an eyeball lying on a shelf. He sighs.
In the living room, Sherlock has sat down at the dining table which is covered with photos,
notes and drawings of various pictograms. As he rummages through them, Sarah stands
nearby, looking at all the pictures stuck to the mirror.
SARAH: So this is what you do, you and John. You solve puzzles for a living.
SHERLOCK (tetchily, not looking round): Consulting detective.
SARAH: Oh.
(In the kitchen, John is searching through cupboards. He twists the lid off a jar of pickled
onions, sniffs the contents and recoils at the smell.)
JOHN: Oh!
(He puts the lid back on and continues his search.
Sarah has walked over to Sherlock and is looking over his shoulder. She points to the paper
hes looking at.)
SARAH: What are these squiggles?
(Sherlock raises his head, his face set as if hes trying very hard not to kill her.)
SHERLOCK (still not looking round at her): Theyre numbers. An ancient Chinese dialect.
SARAH: Oh, right! Yeah, well, of course I should have known that(!)
(In the kitchen John has found a small bag of Wotsits [a brand of cheese puffs] and is emptying
them into a bowl. Mrs Hudson comes to the door and speaks quietly.)
(John looks up and his face fills with grateful delight as she comes in carrying a tray covered
with a tea towel.)
MRS HUDSON (whispering): Ive done punch, and a bowl of nibbles.

101
(She puts the tray on the table and takes off the tea towel to reveal a jug of punch with slices of
fruit floating on top, two glasses, a bowl of crisps and another bowl presumably containing
some dip.)
JOHN (softly): Mrs Hudson, youre a saint!
MRS HUDSON (whispering): If it was Monday, Id have been to the supermarket!
JOHN (whispering): No; thank you! Thank you!
(Back in the living room, Sherlock is just about to commit murder as Sarah picks up the
photograph of the brick wall which Dimmock had brought back sealed in an evidence bag. He
glares at her in utter fury and then turns his head away, his teeth bared.)
SARAH (oblivious to his rage): So these numbers its a cipher.
SHERLOCK (tightly): Exactly.
SARAH: And each pair of numbers is a word.
(Sherlocks head slowly lifts.)
SHERLOCK: How did you know that?
(For the first time he turns and meets her eyes.)
SARAH: Well, two words have already been translated, here.
(She puts the picture down on the desk and points. Sherlock takes the photo from her and
stares at it.)
SHERLOCK: John.
JOHN: Mmm?
(He looks round from the kitchen table.)
SHERLOCK (standing up): John, look at this.
(He takes the photo out of the evidence bag as John comes out of the kitchen.)
SHERLOCK: Soo Lin at the museum she started to translate the code for us. We didnt see it!
(Written in fine pen, a word has been written across each of the first two sets of symbols on the
photograph. Sherlock reads them out.)
SHERLOCK: NINE, MILL.
JOHN (squinting at the photo): Does that mean millions?
SHERLOCK (thoughtfully): Nine million quid. For what?
(He turns and goes over to where he had dumped his coat and scarf.)
SHERLOCK: We need to know the end of this sentence.
JOHN: Where are you going?
SHERLOCK (putting on his coat): To the museum; to the restoration room.
(He grimaces in exasperation at himself.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, we must have been staring right at it!
JOHN: At-at what?
SHERLOCK: The book, John. The book the key to cracking the cipher!
(He brandishes the photo at John.)
SHERLOCK: Soo Lin used it to do this! Whilst we were running around the gallery, she started
to translate the code. It must be on her desk.
(And hes gone, hurrying out the door.)
Out on Baker Street, a man and woman are walking along the road. Obviously tourists, they are
consulting the London A-Z and looking around. Sherlock bursts out of the door of 221B, running
towards the kerb to hail a passing black cab.
SHERLOCK: Taxi!
(As he sweeps past the tourists, he brushes past hard enough to break the mans hold on the
book, which falls to the ground. The man yells at him indignantly in German.)
TOURIST: Hey, du! Siehst du nicht wo du hingehst? [Hey, you! Why dont you look where
youre going?]
(Sherlock turns back and picks up the book, handing it back to the man.)
SHERLOCK: Entschuldigen Sie, bitte. [Forgive me, please.]
TOURIST (snarkily, snatching the book back): Ja, danke(!) [Yeah, thanks(!)]
(He turns away, putting his arm around his wife and still bitching.)
TOURIST: Und dann sagen die, dass die Englnder hflich sind! [And they say the English are
polite!]
{Oy, you grumpy git, Sherlock was incredibly polite when he apologised to you. Youre lucky he
doesnt smack you in the face and then mug you in a moment. And if he doesnt, I will.}
(Sherlock turns and raises his arm to the cab again but it has already driven past. He grunts in
exasperation and walks down the road, looking over his shoulder to check traffic coming from
behind him. After a few yards, he stop and turns back again, grunting angrily a second time

102
when no cabs magically materialise for him. Looking up and down the road, he sees an Asian
couple, possibly father and daughter, standing at the corner over the road and consulting an A-
Z as they too try to work out their route. Sherlocks eyes narrow, and he flashes back in his
mind to walking across Lukis living room and looking at a pile of books and papers on a table.
The London A-Z was the top book on the pile. He flashes back further into the past and
remembers seeing a pile of books in Van Coons living room. The third book down on the pile
was the London A-Z. Then he remembers turning around from the crates in his own living room
and staring at his bookcase.)
SHERLOCK (in flashback): A book that everybody would own.
(His memories move on to him smiling at Soo Lin after he handed her the teapot in the
restoration room. On the table was a London A-Z.
In the present, Sherlocks mouth opens in startled realisation and he breaks into a run, chasing
back towards the German couple.)
SHERLOCK (shouting): Please, wait! Bitte! [Please!]
(The tourists turn back and frown in confusion as he hurries toward them.)
MALE TOURIST: Was wollt er? Was will er? [{Anarion says that the first sentence makes no
sense at all, but the second sentence translates to:} What does he want?]
(Sherlock runs up to them and snatches the A-Z from the mans hands and turns away, looking
down at the book.)
TOURIST: Hey, du! Was macht du? [Hey, you! What are you doing?]
SHERLOCK (turning back to him momentarily): Minute! [{This loosely translates as} Wait a
minute!]
TOURIST (angrily): Gib mir doch mein Buch zurck! [Give me back my book!]
(Ignoring him, Sherlock turns his back on the couple again and opens the book. Waving his
hand in exasperation at the crazy Englander, the man puts his arm around his wife and they
walk away.)
Upstairs in 221B, John and Sarah have relocated to the kitchen. John is sitting at the side table
and Sarah is standing nearby.
SARAH: Yeah! No, absolutely. I mean, well, a quiet night ins just-just what the doctor ordered.
JOHN (softly): Ha-ha-ha(!)
SARAH: Er, I mean, Id love to go out of an evening and wrestle a few Chinese gangsters, you
know, generally, but a girl can get too much.
(John has been giggling silently as she speaks and now he nods in agreement.)
JOHN: No, okay.
(They smile at each other, then she looks away, laughing in embarrassment.)
JOHN: Hmm. Um, shall we get a takeaway?
SARAH: Yeah!
(John nods and gets up to find a menu.)
On the street, Sherlock is flicking through the pages of the A-Z.

SHERLOCK: Page fifteen, entry one. Page fifteen, entry one ...
(He has turned to the correct page and looks at the first entry on that index page. It reads
Deadmans Lane NW9. He lifts his head.)
SHERLOCK: Dead man. You were threatening to kill them.
(He flashes back to the message sprayed across Sir Williams office, across the library shelf and
across the statue in the library.)
SHERLOCK: Its the first cipher.
(He takes the photograph of the message sprayed on the brick wall out of his coat pocket and
unfolds it. With the first two words already translated, he looks at the third pair of symbols and
then starts flicking to the correct page in the book.)
SHERLOCK: Thirty-seven, nine; thirty-seven, nine ...
[Okay, now your transcriber is getting peeved, because in close-ups of the photo, both now and
earlier, it clearly shows that the next pair is numbered 36 37. But who am I to question the
accuracy of the scriptwriter and/or the people who produced the photo? *insert eye roll here*
Anyway ...]
(The appropriate entry on that page reads Fore St EC2. Sherlock gets out a pen and writes
FOR over the relevant symbols on the photo.)
SHERLOCK: Nine mill ... for ...

103
In the kitchen, Sarah has sat down on the seat that John vacated and is taking off her jacket.
John has picked up the jug of punch and is filling the glasses. Someone knocks on the front
door downstairs.
JOHN: Ooh, blimey, that was quick. Ill just pop down.
(He hands her one of the glasses as he walks towards the kitchen door.)
SARAH: Do you want me to lay the table?
(John looks round at the kitchen table which is covered with Sherlocks paperwork and
experiments.)
JOHN: Um, eat off trays?
SARAH: Yeah.
JOHN: Yeah!
On the street, Sherlock is still translating the symbols.

SHERLOCK: Sixty, thirty-five.
[And yes ... *weary sigh* ... the photo says 70 95. How the hell he ever managed to translate
the damned thing correctly is a mystery to me!]
(On the relevant page, the appropriate entry reads Jade Cl. E16.)
SHERLOCK: Jade. (He writes on the photograph as he says the word again.) Jade.
John opens the front door and smiles at the man standing on the doorstep, who is wearing a
jacket with the hood pulled up.
JOHN: Sorry to keep you. (Rummaging in his trouser pocket) How much dyou want?
CHINESE MAN: Do you have it?
JOHN (looking around blankly): What?
CHINESE MAN: Do you have the treasure?
JOHN: I dont understand.
(The man coshes John around the left side of his head with a pistol. John falls to the floor.)
On the street, Sherlock turns to the page for the final word. Finding the correct entry, he writes
TRAMWAY onto the photograph and then reads the whole message aloud.
SHERLOCK: NINE MILL FOR JADE PIN DRAGON DEN BLACK ... (he raises his head and stares
ahead of him) ... TRAMWAY.
In the kitchen of the flat theres no sign of Sarah. The overhead suspended neon light is
swaying gently back and forth. Two trays are on the table, each containing a clean plate, cutlery
and a glass of punch. Downstairs, the front door slams and Sherlocks voice can be heard.
SHERLOCK: John! John! Ive got it!
(He runs in through the kitchen door, sees nobody there and runs into the living room,
brandishing the A-Z.)
SHERLOCK: The cipher! The book! Its the London A to Z that theyre using...
(He trails off before he can finish the last word, staring in shock when he sees that yellow paint
has been sprayed across the living room windows. On the left-hand window is the sort-of upside
down eight with an almost horizontal line above it. On the right-hand window is the single
almost horizontal slash. Together they spell out DEAD MAN. There is no sign of John or Sarah.
Sherlock stares at the paint in horror.)
[And hey, Sherlock baby, I love you to bits, but you were standing just a few yards away from
221B and facing towards the flat while you were translating the symbols. Now, I know you get
engrossed in your work an all, but how come you never saw someone knocking at the door or
any of the ensuing shenanigans while an unconscious John and Sarah were carried out of the
building right under your nose?!]
John regains consciousness sitting on a chair somewhere dark. A fire is burning in a dustbin
behind him. He slowly raises his head. There is a bleeding cut on his left temple. As he grimaces
in pain, the voice of the Opera Singer comes out of the dim tunnel in front of him.
OPERA SINGER: A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket.
(Wincing, John turns his head to the left and sees Sarah sitting on another chair with a gag in
her mouth. She looks round to him, terrified. Ahead of them is the Chinese woman who he saw
photographing him and who was watching him and Sherlock on Hungerford Bridge. Despite the
darkness she is still wearing her dark sunglasses. She walks towards him and we now see that
they are in an abandoned tunnel. There are two Chinese men standing behind the approaching
woman, and a couple of other fires are burning to illuminate the area. A few feet ahead of

104
where John and Sarah are tied to their chairs by their hands and feet is a large object covered
with cloth. The woman raises her sunglasses to the top of her head and looks down at John.)
OPERA SINGER: Chinese proverb, Mr Holmes.
(John looks at her, startled.)
JOHN: I ... Im not Sherlock Holmes.
OPERA SINGER (smiling humourlessly): Forgive me if I do not take your word for it.
(She reaches down and pulls open his jacket, rummaging in the inside pocket.)
JOHN: Ow. Ow.
(She takes out his wallet, opens it and takes something out of it.)
OPERA SINGER: Debit card, name of S. Holmes.
(Flashback to Sherlock sitting in the living room after Johns return without the shopping.)
SHERLOCK (in flashback): Take my card.
JOHN: Yes; thats not actually mine. He lent that to me.
OPERA SINGER (looking in the wallet again): A cheque for five thousand pounds made out in
the name of Mr Sherlock Holmes.
(Flashback to John taking the cheque from Sebastian.)
JOHN: Yeah, he gave me that to look after.
OPERA SINGER (finding something else in the wallet): Tickets from the theatre, collected by
you, name of Holmes.
JOHN: Yes, okay ...
(Flashback to John and Sarah at the Box Office of the theatre.)
MANAGER (in flashback): Whats the name?
JOHN (in flashback): Uh, Holmes.
JOHN (in the present): I realise what this looks like, but Im not him.
OPERA SINGER: We heard it from your own mouth.
JOHN: What?
OPERA SINGER: I am Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone ...
(Flashback to John outside Soo Lins flat, storming back to the door and shouting through the
letterbox.)
JOHN (in flashback): ... because no-one else can compete with my MASSIVE INTELLECT!
(John stares ahead of himself in disbelief.)
JOHN: Did I really say that?
(He chuckles weakly, then lowers his head in pain.)
JOHN: I sppose theres no use me trying to persuade you I was doing an impression.
(Before he can finish the sentence, the woman raises a small pistol and points it at his head.
John cringes away from it, blowing out a panicked breath. The woman grins.)
OPERA SINGER: I am Shan.
(John stares up at her.)
JOHN: Youre ... youre Shan.
OPERA SINGER/SHAN: Three times we tried to kill you and your companion, Mr Holmes. What
does it tell you when an assassin cannot shoot straight?
(She lifts her other hand and cocks the pistol. John cringes back, turning his head away and
whispering, Dont, dont, as he struggles against his bonds. Shan looks down at him and her
expression becomes ominous. John breathes out heavily as her finger tightens on the trigger.
John stares into the barrel of the gun, his face full of terror as she pulls the trigger all the way.
The gun clicks. John grunts in shock, and Shan smiles smugly.)
SHAN: It tells you that theyre not really trying.
(John breathes heavily, trying to get control of himself.)
221B. Sherlock hurries over to the bookcase.

SHERLOCK: Tramway.
(As if he has lost control of his usual razor-sharp brain in his fear for his friend, he stares at the
books on the shelf for a few moments while he tries to find what he wants.)
SHERLOCK (faintly, under his breath): Oh, Christ.
(Finally he finds and pulls out a folding map of London. Turning back to the dining table, he
unfolds the map and spreads it out, running his finger over it until he stabs it down.)
SHERLOCK: There.
(He turns and heads out of the door.)
TRAMWAY TUNNEL. Shan slides a clip into the pistol and then cocks it before pointing it at
Johns head a second time. John cringes away from it.

105
SHAN: Not blank bullets now.

[They werent blank bullets before, lady; that gun was empty.]
JOHN (breathily): Okay.
SHAN: If we wanted to kill you, Mr Holmes, we would have done it by now. We just wanted to
make you inquisitive.
(She looks at him sternly.)
SHAN: Do you have it?
JOHN: Do I have what?
SHAN: The treasure.
JOHN: I dont know what youre talking about.
SHAN (turning away): I would prefer to make certain.
(She looks at her men, one of whom now pulls the cover off the large object to reveal the
crossbow which was used at the circus. An arrow is already loaded in it. John stares at it and
sighs deeply. Shan turns back to him.)
SHAN: Everything in the West has its price; and the price for her life ...
(John turns and stares at Sarah.)
SHAN: ... information.
(The two men walk over and pick up Sarahs chair. She cries out repeatedly through her gag as
they carry her towards the crossbow.)
JOHN (anguished, under his breath): Sorry. Im sorry.
(The men set down the chair on the other side of the crossbow, leaving Sarah facing the arrow
tip and directly in line with it. She stares at it, crying and tugging in vain at the ropes tying her
to the chair. Shan glares down at John.)
SHAN: Wheres the hairpin?
JOHN (tugging at his own bonds in spite of the pistol aimed at him): What?
SHAN: The Empress pin valued at nine million sterling. We already had a buyer in the West;
and then one of our people was greedy. He took it, brought it back to London and you, Mr
Holmes, have been searching.
JOHN: Please. Please, listen to me. Im not ... Im not Sherlock Holmes. You have to believe
me. I havent found whatever it is youre looking for.
SHAN (loudly): I need a volunteer from the audience!
JOHN (desperately): No, please. Please.
SHAN (walking towards Sarah): Ah, thank you, lady. Yes, youll do very nicely.
(Sarah wails through her gag, tugging desperately at her ropes. Shan smiles, takes out a knife
and reaches up to a nearby sandbag suspended over a pulley hanging from the ceiling. She
stabs the knife into the bag and sand begins to pour out. Sarah continues to wail as John sighs
out an appalled breath and stares up at the bag in horror.)
Sherlock is in the back of a taxi, looking around anxiously as the cab progresses through the
streets.
Shan smiles and looks around at her audience.

SHAN: Ladies and gentlemen. From the distant moonlit shores of NW1, we present for your
pleasure Sherlock Holmes pretty companion in a death-defying act.
JOHN: Please!
(Shan has walked over to Sarah and now places a black origami lotus flower on her lap.)
SHAN: Youve seen the act before. How dull for you. You know how it ends.
JOHN (frantically): Im not Sherlock Holmes!
SHAN: I dont believe you.
SHERLOCK (offscreen): You should, you know.
(Shan spins around as a familiar silhouette appears at the far end of the tunnel.)
SHERLOCK: Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him.
(Shan raises her pistol, cocks it [again] and aims it towards him. He immediately dodges to the
side of the tunnel, disappearing into the shadows. One of Shans thugs starts to hurry towards
the end of the tunnel.)
SHERLOCKs VOICE (from the darkness, as John sighs out a half-relieved, half-exasperated
breath): How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?
[He clicks the k-sound at the end of that last word. Your transcriber wibbles happily.]
JOHN (tetchily): Late?
SHERLOCKs VOICE (from the darkness): Thats a semi-automatic. If you fire it, the bullet will
travel at over a thousand metres per second.

106
SHAN (still aiming her pistol towards the shadows): Well?

SHERLOCKs VOICE (from the darkness): Well ...
(The thug has reached a large storage container standing at the side of the tunnel. Sherlock
runs out from behind it and thwacks the man across the stomach with a metal pipe. The man
grunts and collapses to the ground. Sherlock immediately ducks back into the shadows.)
SHERLOCKs VOICE (quick fire, from the darkness): ... the radius curvature of these walls is
nearly four metres. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. Might even bounce off
the tunnel and hit you.
(He bursts out of the darkness and runs to the nearby burning dustbin, kicking it over. John
flinches at the loud crash and Shans eyes widen when she realises that its now even more
impossible to see that area of the tunnel. John peers into the darkness, trying to see how close
his friend is. Sherlock reappears just behind Sarah and squats down behind her, starting to
untie her bonds. However, the other man who turns out to be Liang, Soo Lins brother runs
over to him and loops a long red scarf around his throat a couple of times. Sherlock cries out
and stands up, tugging at the part of the scarf around his neck as Liang pulls it tight. While they
struggle, Sarah looks at them for a moment and then turns back to stare at the arrowhead
pointed directly at her. She lifts her gaze to the sandbag, which is just passing the
counterbalanced weight on its way down towards the metal cup on the crossbow.
Behind her, Sherlock has shaken off Liang for a moment and again crouches to Sarahs bonds.
Liang hurries forward and swings another loop of the scarf around Sherlocks neck and again
starts pulling him away.
As the men continue to struggle, John realises that Sherlock isnt going to get free in time. He
struggles to stand, which is almost impossible with his hands tied in front of him and attached
tightly to the underside of the chair, and his ankles tied to the legs of the chair. Nevertheless he
manages to stumble forward a couple of paces, half-carrying and half-dragging the chair with
him, before he loses his balance and falls onto his side.
Liang swings yet another loop of the scarf around Sherlocks neck. Sarah gazes up at the
descending metal ball while the men behind her continue to struggle and John thrashes on the
floor. Her eyes drop to the arrowhead again as the ball continues relentlessly downwards. Her
eyes full of tears, her gaze locks onto her imminent death and all hope begins to fade from her
expression.
Flailing and groaning with the effort, John manages to squirm around on the floor and finally
gets one foot free enough to kick it upwards and connect with a part of the crossbow. The
crossbow shifts position, twisting slightly to the left just as the ball connects with the cup. The
arrow is released and flies across the tunnel ... and buries itself in Liangs stomach. He grunts,
then straightens up, his face full of shock. He groans breathily for a moment, then slowly
topples to the floor.
Gasping for breath, Sherlock stands up and looks around. Distant running footsteps can be
heard General Shan is leaving the building. He looks in the direction of the sound as if
considering following, but Sarahs anguished muffled sobs distract him and he unloops the red
scarf from around his neck and then drops to his knees beside her.)
SHERLOCK (soothingly): Its all right.
(On the floor, John groans as he struggles to get up onto his elbows. Sherlock unties Sarahs
gag and takes it from her mouth.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Youre gonna be all right. Its over now. Its over.
(Stroking his hands comfortingly down her arms, he then bends down to untie the ropes. She
begins to sob as John looks up at her from the floor. He smiles wearily.)
JOHN: Dont worry. Next date wont be like this.
(She continues to sob as Sherlock straightens up and stands behind her, putting a reassuring
hand on her shoulder. [And, seriously, can we just love this man for doing that instead of taking
off after Shan?] He looks down the tunnel wistfully.)
Later, the police have arrived to clear up the mess. Dimmock is waiting beside a police car just
outside the tunnel as John puts his arm around Sarahs shoulders [shes wearing a shock
blanket, John; shes fine] and walks her away. Sherlock is just behind them and stops to talk to
the inspector.
SHERLOCK: Well just slip off. No need to mention us in your report.
DIMMOCK: Mr Holmes ...
SHERLOCK: I have high hopes for you, Inspector. A glittering career.
DIMMOCK: I go where you point me.
SHERLOCK (walking away): Exactly.

107
(Dimmock turns and watches him leave. He smiles ruefully.)
MORNING. 221B. In the kitchen, John is sitting at the table while Sherlock stands next to him
and pours him a mug of tea from a teapot.)
JOHN: Ta.
(He is looking at the translated message on the photograph.)
JOHN: So, Nine mill ...
SHERLOCK (pouring himself a mug of tea): Million.
JOHN: Million, yes; Nine million for jade pin. Dragon den, black Tramway.
SHERLOCK: An instruction to all their London operatives.
JOHN: Mmm.
SHERLOCK: A message; what they were trying to reclaim.
JOHN: What, a jade pin?
SHERLOCK: Worth nine million pounds. Bring it to the Tramway, their London hideout.
JOHN: Hang on: a hairpin worth nine million pounds?
SHERLOCK: Apparently.
JOHN: Why so much?
SHERLOCK: Depends who owned it.
SHAD SANDERSON BANK. The boys are walking towards the entrance to the bank.
SHERLOCK: Two operatives based in London. They travel over to Dalian to smuggle those
vases. One of them helps himself to something: a little hairpin.
JOHN: Worth nine million pounds.
SHERLOCK: Eddie Van Coon was the thief. He stole the treasure when he was in China.
JOHN: How dyou know it was Van Coon, not Lukis? Even the killer didnt know that.
SHERLOCK (going through the revolving doors): Because of the soap.
(He looks round smugly at John, who stops and stares back at him blankly for a moment before
following him into the bank.)
Upstairs, Van Coons P.A. Amanda is sitting at her desk. She squirts a bit of hand lotion from
the pump-action bottle on the desk and rubs it into her hands. Her phone rings and she picks it
up and answers it.
AMANDA: Amanda.
SHERLOCKs VOICE (over the phone): He bought you a present.
AMANDA: Oh. Hello.
SHERLOCKs VOICE (over the phone): A little gift when he came back from China.
AMANDA: How do you know that?
SHERLOCK (from behind her): You werent just his P.A., were you?
(She turns in surprise as he walks around to the side of the desk, switching off his phone and
putting it back into his pocket.)
AMANDA (switching off her own phone and putting it down): Someones been gossiping.
SHERLOCK: No.
AMANDA: Then I dont understand. Why ...?
SHERLOCK (interrupting): Scented hand soap in his apartment.
(Brief flashback to Sherlock looking into Van Coons bathroom and seeing a pump-action bottle
of luxury hand wash on the shelf.)
SHERLOCK: Three hundred millilitres of it. Bottle almost finished.
AMANDA (frowning in confusion): Sorry?
SHERLOCK: I dont think Eddie Van Coon was the type of chap to buy himself hand soap not
unless he had a lady coming over. And its the same brand as that hand cream there on your
desk.
(Amanda momentarily looks down awkwardly.)
AMANDA: Look, it wasnt serious between us. It was over in a flash. It couldnt last he was my
boss.
SHERLOCK: What happened? Why did you end it?
AMANDA (sadly): I thought he didnt appreciate me. Took me for granted. Stood me up once
too often wed plan to go away for the weekend and then hed just leave; fly off to China at a
moments notice.
SHERLOCK: And he brought you a present from abroad to say sorry.
(His gaze is focussed on a small green jade hairpin in her hair.)
SHERLOCK: Can I ... just have a look at it?

108
(He holds out his hand.)
In Sebastians office, Seb is signing a cheque for 20,000. He looks up at John who is standing
at the other side of the desk.
SEBASTIAN: He really climbed up onto the balcony?
(He puts the cheque into an envelope.)
JOHN: Nail a plank across the window and all your problems are over.
(Looking peeved, Sebastian holds out the envelope to John.)
JOHN: Thanks.
Outside, Amanda is holding her hair in place with one hand while she takes out the pin with the
other.
AMANDA: Said he bought it in a street market.
(She puts the pin into Sherlocks outstretched hand.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, I dont think thats true. I think he pinched it.
AMANDA (chuckling ruefully): Yeah, thats Eddie.
SHERLOCK: Didnt know its value; just thought it would suit you.
AMANDA: Oh? Whats it worth?
(Sherlock smirks.)
SHERLOCK (slowly): Nine ... million ... pounds.
(Amandas face fills with shock.)
AMANDA: Oh my God!
(She stumbles to her feet and staggers backwards as Sherlock grins.)
AMANDA: Oh my G...
(She turns and runs away.)
AMANDA (high-pitched and hysterical): Nine million!
(In Sebastians office, John turns his head at the sound of her voice, then turns back and nods
to Sebastian before leaving the room.)
NEXT MORNING (or possibly the day after that). Sherlock, wearing a dressing gown over his
shirt and trousers, is sitting at the dining table while John sits opposite him. Sherlock is looking
at the front page of the Sunday Express, where the headline reads, Who wants to be a million-
hair. He folds the paper in half, puts it down and picks up another newspaper.
JOHN: Over a thousand years old and its sitting on her bedside table every night.
SHERLOCK: He didnt know its value; didnt know why they were chasing him.
JOHN: Hmm. Shouldve just got her a lucky cat.
(Sherlock smiles at him briefly, then looks away.)
SHERLOCK: Hmm.
(His gaze becomes distant. John looks at him closely.)
JOHN: You mind, dont you?
SHERLOCK (looking at him): What?
JOHN: That she escaped General Shan. Its not enough that we got her two henchmen.
SHERLOCK: It must be a vast network, John; thousands of operatives. You and I, we barely
scratched the surface.
JOHN: You cracked the code, though, Sherlock; and maybe Dimmock can track down all of
them now that he knows it.
SHERLOCK: No. No. I cracked this code; all the smugglers have to do is pick up another book.
(He opens his newspaper and lifts it, beginning to read. Johns eyes drift over to the window,
and he frowns and looks closely as a young man in a hooded jacket and wearing a cap walks
over to a tall black box on the other side of the road which dispenses parking permits. Putting a
bag on the ground, the young man looks around in all directions to make sure hes not being
watched, then lifts a spray can in his right hand and sprays his tag on the back of the box. John
watches while the artist finishes the tag, picks up his bag and hurries away. As Sherlock,
oblivious to this, continues to read his paper, John looks thoughtful, and a police car sirens its
way down the road.)
In a room somewhere, Shan is sitting at a desk and talking to someone over a computer. Her
live image is being transmitted to the other person but the space on the screen which should be
showing the face of whoever shes talking to is marked No image available. There is also a
text box on the screen which shows that the person to whom shes talking is indicated simply as
M. Shan sounds very humble as she speaks.

109
SHAN: Without you without your assistance we would not have found passage into London.
You have my thanks.
(The other persons response appears typed on the screen:
M: GRATITUDE IS MEANINGLESS
M: IT IS ONLY THE EXPECTATION OF FURTHER FAVOURS
The computer beeps to indicate that the message has finished.)

SHAN: We did not anticipate ... we did not know this man would come this Sherlock Holmes.
(Her face fills with concern.)
SHAN: And now your safety is compromised.
(The computer beeps and new text appears:
M: THEY CANNOT TRACE THIS BACK TO ME
The computer beeps.)

SHAN (sincerely): I will not reveal your identity.
(The computer beeps.)
M: I AM CERTAIN.
(The computer beeps. Unseen by Shan, the red light of a rifles laser sight appears in the centre
of her forehead. Our view of the scene fades to black, and then a single gunshot rings out as we
hear the sound of the bullet smashing through the window opposite en route to its target.)
The Great Game
MINSK, BELARUS. In a prison visitors room, Sherlock wearing the Coat with a fur collar
attached is sitting at one of the many tables in the room. Sitting at the other side of the table
is Barry Bezza Berwick, a young Englishman who is wearing an orange jumpsuit and who is
obviously a prison inmate. With the exception of a uniformed guard who stands some distance
away, they are the only people in the room. Its very cold in the room, as signified by their
steaming breath when they speak. Sherlock sounds bored.
SHERLOCK: Just tell me what happened, from the beginning.
BERWICK: Wed been to a bar a nice place and, er, I got chattin with one of the waitresses,
and Karen werent appy with that, so ... when we get back to the otel, we end up havin a bit
of a ding-dong, dont we?
(Sherlock sighs out a deliberate and noisy breath.)
BERWICK: She was always gettin at me, sayin I werent a real man.
SHERLOCK: Wasnt a real man.
BERWICK: What?
SHERLOCK: Its not werent; its wasnt.
BERWICK: Oh.
SHERLOCK: Go on.
BERWICK: Well, then I dunno how it happened, but suddenly theres a knife in my hands. And,
you know, me old man was a butcher, so I know how to handle knives.
(Sherlocks gaze lowers to look at Barrys hands which are resting on the table.)
BERWICK: He learned us how to cut up a beast.
SHERLOCK: Taught.
BERWICK (starting to get angry): What?
SHERLOCK: Taught you how to cut up a beast.
BERWICK: Yeah, well, then-then I done it.
SHERLOCK: Did it.
BERWICK (losing his temper): Did it! Stabbed er ... (he repeatedly slams his hand down on the
table) ... over and over and over, and I looked down and she werent ...
(Sighing out a loud breath through his nose, Sherlock turns his head away. Getting control of
his temper, Barry immediately corrects himself.)
BERWICK: ... wasnt movin no more.

110
(Sherlock, who had just turned his head back towards Barry, now turns it away again with an
annoyed look.)
BERWICK: ... any more.
(He lets out a shaky breath and lowers his head.)
BERWICK (softly): Youve gotta help me. I dunno how it happened, but it was an accident. I
swear.
(Sherlock gets to his feet and starts to walk away. Barry calls after him frantically.)
BERWICK: Youve gotta help me, Mr Holmes!
(Sherlock stops.)
BERWICK: Everyone says youre the best. Without you, Ill get hung for this.
(Sherlock looks over his shoulder at the young man.)
SHERLOCK: No, no, no, Mr Berwick, not at all.
(He looks away thoughtfully for a second.)
SHERLOCK: Hanged, yes.
(He quirks a smile at the man, then turns and walks away.)
Opening titles.
221B BAKER STREET. Two gunshots ring out. The camera pans across the living room and
shows Sherlock lying slumped in his armchair, his head on the low back of the chair. His eyes
close, then a few moments later he opens them and gazes up towards the ceiling. Downstairs,
the front door can be heard opening. Sherlock turns his head to look towards the sofa, and we
now see that he is sprawled low in the chair with his legs stretched out in front of him and
crossed at the ankles. He is wearing sleepwear and a blue silk dressing gown and his feet are
bare. Above the sofa, a smiley face has been spray-painted on the wallpaper using a can of the
yellow paint which was so frequently used in the Blind Banker case. The can is standing on the
coffee table in front of the sofa. As the downstairs door closes Sherlock sighs, turns his head to
the front again and then raises his left hand which is holding a pistol. He points the pistol
towards the smiley face and without even looking in that direction fires two shots at it. A
close-up reveals that there are already two bullet holes in the wall where the two eyes had been
sprayed, and the two new bullets have impacted the curve of the smile. Sherlock turns his head
to look at the face and fires a third shot which either misses the smile or was deliberately aimed
to form a nose for the face. As he fires a fourth time, John comes running up the stairs with his
fingers in his ears. He stops on the landing, lowers his hands and yells at his flatmate.
JOHN: What the hell are you doing?
SHERLOCK (sulkily): Bored.
JOHN (more quietly, squinting at him in disbelief): What?
SHERLOCK (loudly): Bored!
(He springs up out of the chair. John immediately recoils and covers his ears with his hands.)
JOHN: No ...
(Sherlock switches the pistol to his right hand and turns towards the smiley face, firing at it
again. He then swings his arm around his back, twists slightly to his right and fires at the wall
from behind his back.)
SHERLOCK (angrily): Bored! Bored!
(As he brings his arm back around, John hurries into the room and Sherlock continues to glare
at the smiley face but allows John to snatch the pistol from his hand. John quickly slides the clip
out of the gun while Sherlock walks towards the sofa.)
SHERLOCK (sulkily): Dont know whats got into the criminal classes. Good job Im not one of
them.
(John locks the pistol into a small safe on the dining table and then straightens up.)
JOHN: So you take it out on the wall.
SHERLOCK (running his fingers along the painted smile): Ah, the wall had it coming.
(He turns sideways and dramatically flops down onto the sofa on his back, his head landing on a
cushion at one end and his feet digging into the arm of the sofa at the end nearest the
windows.)
JOHN (taking off his coat): What about that Russian case?
(Sherlock pushes with his feet to shove himself further along the sofa and into a slightly more
upright position, and then starts kneading the arm of the sofa with his toes. Your transcriber
decides that you really dont need the rest of this transcript any time soon, and puts those few
seconds on repeat play for the next several hours before finally getting back to work with a
seraphic if slightly glazed look on her face.)

111
SHERLOCK: Belarus. Open and shut domestic murder. Not worth my time.
JOHN (sarcastically): Ah, shame(!)
(He walks into the kitchen and throws up his arms in despair at the mess on the table which
greets him. He heads towards the fridge.)
JOHN: Anything in? Im starving.
(He opens the fridge door.)
JOHN: Oh, f...
(He immediately slams it shut again, unable to believe what he just saw inside. He slumps
against the door for a moment, his head lowered, then he straightens up and opens the door
again. On the shelf inside is a mans head, cut off at the neck, the face looking towards the
door. He stares at it for a couple of seconds, then quietly closes the door again.)
JOHN: Its a head.
(He turns and calls out.)
JOHN: A severed head!
SHERLOCK: Just tea for me, thanks.
JOHN (walking back into the living room): No, theres a head in the fridge.
SHERLOCK (calmly): Yes.
JOHN: A bloody head!
SHERLOCK (stroppily): Well, where else was I supposed to put it? (He looks round at John.) You
dont mind, do you?
(John holds out his hands despairingly and looks back towards the fridge.)
SHERLOCK: I got it from Barts morgue.
(John buries his head in one hand.)
SHERLOCK: Im measuring the coagulation of saliva after death.
(He waves his hand vaguely in the direction of a nearby laptop.)
SHERLOCK: I see youve written up the taxi driver case.
JOHN (throwing one last glance at the fridge): Uh, yes.
(He walks over to Sherlocks armchair and sits down.)
SHERLOCK: A Study in Pink. Nice(!)
JOHN: Well, you know, pink lady, pink case, pink phone there was a lot of pink. Did you like
it?
(Even as John has been speaking, Sherlock has picked up a magazine from the coffee table and
he now flips it open and addresses his answer to the pages.)
SHERLOCK: Erm, no.
JOHN: Why not? I thought youd be flattered.
SHERLOCK (lowering the magazine and glaring at him): Flattered? (He raises his index fingers
and narrates a section of the blog.) Sherlock sees through everything and everyone in
seconds. Whats incredible, though, is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things.
JOHN: Now hang on a minute. I didnt mean that in a ...
SHERLOCK (interrupting): Oh, you meant spectacularly ignorant in a nice way(!) Look, it
doesnt matter to me whos Prime Minister ...
JOHN (quietly): I know ...
SHERLOCK: ... or whos sleeping with who ...
[... or whether Mr Grammar Policeman knows that he ought to have said whos sleeping with
whom ...]
JOHN (softly): Whether the Earth goes round the Sun ...
SHERLOCK: Not that again. Its not important.
JOHN: Not impor...
(He shifts his position in the chair to face Sherlock.)
JOHN: Its primary school stuff. How can you not know that?
SHERLOCK (pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes): Well, if I ever did, Ive deleted it.
JOHN: Deleted it?
SHERLOCK (swinging his legs around to the floor and sitting up to face John): Listen. (He points
to his head with one finger.) This is my hard drive, and it only makes sense to put things in
there that are useful ... really useful.
(He grimaces.)
SHERLOCK: Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish, and that makes it hard to
get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?
(John looks at him for a moment, trying to bite his lip but then cant contain himself.)
JOHN: But its the solar system!
(Sherlock briefly buries his head in his hands.)

112
SHERLOCK: Oh, hell! What does that matter?!

(He looks at John in frustration.)
SHERLOCK: So we go round the Sun! If we went round the Moon, or round and round the
garden like a teddy bear ... (he flails his hands around beside his head while narrating the line
from the childens poem) ... it wouldnt make any difference. All that matters to me is the work.
Without that, my brain rots.
(He ruffles his hair with both hands, then glares at John.)
SHERLOCK: Put that in your blog. Or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world.
(Petulantly shoving the magazine across the coffee table, he lies down on the sofa again,
turning over with his back to John and pulling his dressing gown around him while curling up
into a ball. John looks away and purses his lips. The front door downstairs opens and closes.
John stands up and walks towards the living room door.)
SHERLOCK (looking over his shoulder): Where are you going?
JOHN (tightly, putting on his jacket): Out. I need some air.
(He heads for the stairs, which Mrs Hudson is just coming up.)
JOHN: Scuse me, Mrs ...
MRS HUDSON: Oh, sorry, love!
JOHN: Sorry.
(Angrily, Sherlock turns his face away again, pulling the cushion under his head nearer to the
back of the sofa and curling up even tighter. Mrs Hudson chuckles at John as he passes her but
then turns and looks at him in concern as he hurries down the stairs. She comes to the living
room door and knocks.)
(Sherlock stretches his legs out straight and turns his head enough to acknowledge her
existence, but then looks away again. Mrs Hudson carries a couple of shopping bags into the
kitchen.)
MRS HUDSON: Have you two had a little domestic?
(Flailing to get himself upright, Sherlock stands up off the sofa and takes the shortest route to
his destination, walking over the coffee table and going to the left-hand window just as the
downstairs door opens and closes.)
MRS HUDSON: Ooh, its a bit nippy out there. He should have wrapped himself up a bit more.
(Sherlock watches John as he crosses the street and heads in the general direction of away.)
SHERLOCK: Look at that, Mrs Hudson. (He scans the street.) Quiet, calm, peaceful. (He
grimaces and drags in a long breath.) Isnt it hateful?
(Mrs Hudson has unloaded some items from her shopping bags and now brandishes a receipt at
Sherlock before putting it down on the kitchen table.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh, Im sure somethingll turn up, Sherlock. A nice murder thatll cheer you
up.
(She chuckles slightly as she carries her bags towards the living room door.)
SHERLOCK (wistfully): Cant come too soon.
MRS HUDSON (stopping when she spots the damaged wall): Hey. Whatve you done to my
bloody wall?!
(Sherlock quirks a smile and turns around to admire his handiwork.)
MRS HUDSON (angrily): Im putting this on your rent, young man!
(She storms off down the stairs. Sherlock who has somehow magically relocated without
moving and is now in the middle of the room standing just in front of the dining table grins
over-dramatically at the bullet-riddled smiley face, then sighs and turns his head to the front
just as a massive explosion goes off in the street behind him. The windows blow in and the
blast hurls him forward and to the floor. As the scene fades to black, he groans ...
... and his groan morphs into a groan coming from John, who is just waking up the next
morning in the living room of Sarah Sawyers flat. Sitting up on the sofa with his shirt
unbuttoned, he has apparently slept on said sofa and he is grimacing and trying to un-crick his
neck. Sarah walks in, wearing a dressing gown.
SARAH: Morning!
JOHN: Oh, mor... (He turns to look at her but grimaces again and grabs at his neck in pain.)
Morning.
SARAH: See? Told you you shouldve gone with the lilo.
JOHN (still rubbing his neck): No, no, no, its fine. I-I slept fine. Its very kind of you.

113
(Sarah has been scanning the sofa as he spoke and has now spotted what she was looking for.
She reaches behind Johns back to pick up the remote control for the TV, then sits on the arm of
the sofa and turns on the telly.)
SARAH: Well, maybe next time Ill let you kip at the end of my bed, you know.
(She looks at him suggestively, then turns her head towards the TV screen.)
JOHN (also looking at the screen): What about the time after that?
(She looks at him and grins briefly. John turns his head towards her but doesnt meet her eyes.)
NEWSREADER (on the TV): Experts are hailing it as the artistic find of the century.
(The news item is showing a photo of the Hickman Art Gallery, with a headline at the bottom of
the screen saying The Lost Vermeer.)
NEWSREADER (on the TV): The last time ...
SARAH (putting down the remote): So, dyou want some breakfast?
JOHN: Love some.
SARAH: Yeah, well youd better make it yourself, cause Im gonna have a shower!
NEWSREADER (on the TV): ... it fetched over twenty million pounds.
(John looks at Sarah as she smiles at him sassily before leaving the room. He chuckles silently
and starts buttoning his shirt.)
NEWSREADER (on the TV): This one is anticipated to do even better. Back now to our main
story. Theres been a massive explosion in central London.
(John looks at the TV screen and his face fills with shock as the picture changes to show live
footage of a road where brickwork is scattered all over the pavement, and police cordons have
been set up to keep people out. The headline at the bottom of the screen reads, House
destroyed on Baker St.)
NEWSREADER (on the TV): As yet, there are no reports of any casualties, and the police are
unable to say if there is any suspicion of terrorist involvement.
(John is already on his feet and he hurries around the sofa to grab his jacket before turning
towards the door and calling out.)
JOHN: Sarah!
(He stops and looks at the TV screen briefly.)
NEWSREADER (on the TV): Police have issued an emergency number for friends and relatives
...
JOHN: Sarah!
(He heads towards the front door, not even waiting for Sarah to reply to him.)
JOHN: Sorry Ive got to run.
BAKER STREET. John comes around the corner of the street almost opposite the flat, then stops
briefly and stares. Continuing onwards, he heads towards the police cordon and makes his way
through the small crowd of gawking onlookers.
JOHN: Scuse me, can I get through? Scuse me.
(He approaches one of the police officers who is stopping the crowd from getting closer.)
JOHN: Can I go through?
(He points towards 221 and the police officer lets him through. John walks into the main scene
of devastation where bricks and dust are scattered all over the road and pavement. A fire
engine is still on the scene and fire hoses are lying in the road waiting to be reeled back in. The
windows and shop fronts of the buildings either side of Speedys have been boarded up;
Speedys itself was protected by its metal roll-down screen. John stops and stares at the
building directly opposite the caf. The front of the ground and first floor has been completely
blown out by the explosion and the rooms inside are exposed to the air. John turns and hurries
towards 221, where the first floor windows have also been boarded up. A police officer standing
outside Speedys moves to intercept him but John explains.)
JOHN: I live over there.
(The officer steps aside and John unlocks the door and goes inside. He races up the stairs.)
JOHN: Sherlock. Sherlock!
(As he hurries into the living room, his eye is drawn to the boarded-up windows, then to his
armchair, but his gaze quickly turns to Sherlocks chair where Sherlock, now dressed and
wearing The Purple Shirt of Sex under his jacket, is apparently uninjured and is intermittently
plucking the strings of the violin he is holding on his chest while he glares petulantly towards
Johns chair.)
SHERLOCK (looking up at his flatmate): John.
(The reason for Sherlocks annoyance his brother Mycroft, who is sitting in Johns chair
glances round at John.)

114
JOHN (to Sherlock): I saw it on the telly. Are you okay?

SHERLOCK: Hmm? What? (He looks around at the mess of broken glass and scattered
paperwork as if he has forgotten it which he probably has.) Oh, yeah. Fine. Gas leak,
apparently.
(He turns his attention back to his brother, who stares at him pointedly while Sherlock plucks
his violin strings again.)
SHERLOCK: I cant.
MYCROFT: Cant?
SHERLOCK: The stuff Ive got on is just too big. I cant spare the time.
(John looks across to him in disbelief.)
MYCROFT: Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance.
SHERLOCK (sulkily flicking his fingers across the strings): Hows the diet?
MYCROFT (refusing to rise to the implied insult): Fine. Perhaps you can get through to him,
John.
JOHN (who has walked nearer to the windows to investigate the damage): What?
MYCROFT: Im afraid my brother can be very intransigent.
SHERLOCK: If youre so keen, why dont you investigate it?
MYCROFT: No-no-no-no-no. I cant possibly be away from the office for any length of time not
with the Korean elections so ...
(He trails off as John turns towards him in surprise and Sherlock raises his head from looking at
his violin.)
MYCROFT: Well, you dont need to know about that, do you?
(He smiles humourlessly in a clear message to forget what he just said.)
MYCROFT: Besides, a case like this it requires ... (he grimaces in distaste) ... legwork.
(Sherlock mis-plucks one of his strings, an irritated look on his face. He turns to John, who is
absently rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.)
SHERLOCK: Hows Sarah, John? How was the lilo?
MYCROFT (consulting his pocket watch and not even looking at John): Sofa, Sherlock. It was
the sofa.
(Sherlock briefly looks John up and down.)
SHERLOCK: Oh yes, of course.
JOHN (incredulously): How ...? Oh, never mind.
(He sits down on the coffee table. Mycroft smiles across at him.)
MYCROFT: Sherlocks business seems to be booming since you and he became ... pals.
(Sherlock throws him a dark look.)
MYCROFT (to John): Whats he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine.
JOHN: Im never bored.
MYCROFT (smiling condescendingly): Good! Thats good, isnt it?
(Again Sherlock glares at him. Mycroft stands up as Sherlock picks up his bow and whips one
end through the air in front of him. Picking up a folder from the table beside him, Mycroft steps
forward and offers the folder to his brother but Sherlock just looks back at him stubbornly.
Grimacing and poking his tongue into the corner of his mouth, Mycroft turns and offers the
folder to John instead.)
MYCROFT: Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends.
(Looking startled, John takes the folder.)
MYCROFT: A civil servant, found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his
head smashed in.
(Cut-away flashback to a Tube guard walking along a railway line in the early morning. The
beam from his flashlight picks out the body of a young man lying just beside the tracks.)
JOHN: Jumped in front of a train?
MYCROFT: Seems the logical assumption.
JOHN (quirking a brief smile): But ...?
MYCROFT: But?
JOHN: Well, you wouldnt be here if it was just an accident.
(Sherlock, who is now applying rosin to his bow with a small cloth, smirks noisily.)
MYCROFT: The M.O.D. is working on a new missile defence system the Bruce-Partington
Programme, its called.
(He looks at Sherlock while John starts flicking through the folder.)
MYCROFT: The plans for it were on a memory stick.
(John sniggers quietly.)
JOHN: That wasnt very clever.

115
(Sherlock smiles in agreement.)

MYCROFT (to John): Its not the only copy.
JOHN: Oh.
MYCROFT: But it is secret. And missing.
JOHN: Top secret?
MYCROFT: Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick. We cant possibly risk it
falling into the wrong hands.
(He turns back to his brother.)
MYCROFT: Youve got to find those plans, Sherlock. Dont make me order you.
(Breathing in sharply through his nose, Sherlock raises the violin to his shoulder, ready to play.
He looks calmly at his brother.)
SHERLOCK: Id like to see you try.
MYCROFT (leaning down to him a little in an attempt to look more threatening): Think it over.
(Sherlock stares back at him, unimpressed. Mycroft turns and walks over to John, offering him
his hand to shake.)
MYCROFT: Goodbye, John.
(Politely, John stands and shakes his hand. Mycroft smiles at him creepily.)
MYCROFT: See you very soon.
(John tries not to look nervous. As Mycroft heads back towards the chair to pick up his coat,
Sherlock begins to repeatedly play a short irritating sequence of notes. John frowns across to
him but Sherlock continues to play until Mycroft has left the room and is on the stairs.
Grimacing in the direction of his brothers back, Sherlock finishes his playing and lowers the
violin, still looking annoyed. John sits back down on the coffee table and waits until Mycroft has
reached the ground floor and is out of earshot before he speaks.)
JOHN: Whyd you lie?
(Sherlock looks across to him as the front door bangs shut.)
JOHN: Youve got nothing on not a single case. Thats why the wall took a pounding. Why did
you tell your brother you were busy?
SHERLOCK (shrugging): Why shouldnt I?
JOHN: Oh! (He nods.) Oh, I see.
(Sherlocks eyes drift in his direction but he doesnt actually look at him.)
JOHN: Sibling rivalry. Now were getting somewhere.
(Sherlock turns and opens his mouth but before he can deny everything his phone starts to
ring. He irritably whips his bow down again, puts it on the seat beside him and fishes his phone
out of his jacket pocket.)
SHERLOCK (into phone): Sherlock Holmes.
(He listens for a moment, then his expression intensifies.)
SHERLOCK: Of course. How could I refuse?
(Standing up and switching off the phone as he puts his violin onto the seat, he heads for the
door.)
SHERLOCK: Lestrade. Ive been summoned. Coming?
JOHN: If you want me to.
SHERLOCK: Of course.
(Picking up his Coat, he turns back to him.)
SHERLOCK: Id be lost without my blogger.
After a taxi ride during which, bizarrely, Sherlock has briefly changed into a white shirt [and
your transcriber smacks the editors], the boys arrive at New Scotland Yard and are following
Detective Inspector Lestrade across the general office towards his office.
LESTRADE: You like the funny cases, dont you? The surprising ones.
LESTRADE: Youll love this. That explosion ...
SHERLOCK (briefly exchanging glares with Detective Sergeant Donovan as he walks past her
desk): Gas leak, yes?
LESTRADE: No.
SHERLOCK: No?
LESTRADE: No. Made to look like one.
JOHN: What?
(By now theyre in Lestrades office and Sherlock stops and stares down at a white envelope
lying on a desk.)

116
LESTRADE: Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box a very strong box and
inside it was this.
(He points to what Sherlocks looking at.)
SHERLOCK: You havent opened it?
LESTRADE: Its addressed to you, isnt it?
(Sherlock reaches towards the envelope.)
LESTRADE: Weve X-rayed it. Its not booby-trapped.
SHERLOCK (hesitating slightly): How reassuring(!)
(He picks up the envelope and takes it across the room to another table which has an
anglepoise lamp on it. Holding the envelope close to the bulb he examines both sides carefully.
On the front in elegant handwriting are the words Sherlock Holmes by hand.)
SHERLOCK: Nice stationery. Bohemian.
LESTRADE: What?
SHERLOCK: From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?
LESTRADE: No.
SHERLOCK (looking closely at the writing): She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duofold iridium
nib.
JOHN: She?
JOHN (struggling not to sigh): Obviously(!)
(Sherlock picks up a letter opener from the desk and carefully slits the envelope open. He looks
inside and his mouth opens a little in surprise as he reaches in and takes out a pink iPhone.)
JOHN (shocked): But thats thats the phone, the pink phone.
LESTRADE: What, from the Study in Pink?
SHERLOCK: Well, obviously its not the same phone but its supposed to look like ...
(He stops when he realises what Lestrade just said. He turns to face him. Sally has come into
the room to put some files down on a desk near the door.)
SHERLOCK: The Study in Pink? You read his blog?
LESTRADE: Course I read his blog! We all do. Dyou really not know that the Earth goes round
the Sun?
(Sally sniggers loudly. Sherlock, who is taking off his gloves, glares at her while John purses his
lips in embarrassment. Sally leaves the room and Sherlock turns his concentration back to the
phone.)
SHERLOCK: It isnt the same phone. This ones brand new.
(Hes looking at the connection sockets, none of which have scratches around them.)
SHERLOCK: Someones gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone, which
means your blog has a far wider readership.
(He throws an accusatory look at John, who does his best to ignore it. Sherlock switches on the
phone and immediately gets a voice alert.)
VOICE ALERT: You have one new message.
(The message plays but there is no voice just the unmistakeable sound of the Greenwich Time
Signal. However, while the Greenwich pips as theyre more generally called consist of five
short pips and one longer tone, this recording has only four short pips and the longer one.
Strangely, nobody ever comments on this.)
JOHN: Is that it?
SHERLOCK: No. Thats not it.
(A photograph has also been uploaded to the phone. He opens it and Lestrade comes across to
look over his shoulder. The picture is of an unfurnished room with a fireplace on one wall. The
wallpaper is peeling and theres a tall mirror propped up in one corner. A smaller mirror the
type which is usually hung up above a fireplace is standing on the mantelpiece.)
LESTRADE: What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agents photo and the
bloody Greenwich pips!
SHERLOCK (gazing thoughtfully into the distance): Its a warning.
JOHN: A warning?
SHERLOCK: Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like
that. Five pips. Theyre warning us its gonna happen again.
(He briefly looks down at the photo again, then brandishes the phone at the others as he starts
to leave the office.)
SHERLOCK: And Ive seen this place before.
JOHN (following him): H-hang on. Whats gonna happen again?
SHERLOCK (turning back and raising his hands dramatically): Boom!

117
(He heads off with John behind him. Lestrade grabs his coat and hurries after them.)
BAKER STREET. A taxi pulls up outside 221 and Sherlock, John and Lestrade get out. Sherlock
unlocks the front door and leads the way inside, bypassing the stairs and heading along the
corridor towards Mrs Hudsons front door. Just as he reaches it he stops and turns to the left
where there is another door which must lead to a basement flat. Numbers and letters stuck on
the door read, 221c. Sherlock turns his head and calls out loudly towards his landladys front
door.
SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson!
Shortly afterwards, Mrs Hudson opens the front door of 221A and hands Sherlock a set of keys.
He has been examining the padlock attached to the other door and now takes the keys and
begins to unlock it.
MRS HUDSON: You had a look, didnt you, Sherlock, when you first came to see about your flat.
SHERLOCK (looking closely at the doors keyhole): The doors been opened recently.
MRS HUDSON: No, cant be. Thats the only key.
(Pulling the padlock off, Sherlock selects another key and puts it into the doors keyhole.)
MRS HUDSON: I cant get anyone interested in this flat. Its the damp, I expect. Thats the
curse of basements.
(Sherlock turns the key and pulls open the door. He immediately goes inside and John and
Lestrade follow, taking little or no notice of Mrs H as she continues rambling on.)
MRS HUDSON: I had a place once when I was first married. Black mould all up the walls ...
(She trails to a halt as Lestrade closes the door behind him. She turns and heads back into her
own flat.)
MRS HUDSON (exasperated): Oh! Men!
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Sherlock slowly pushes open the door to the living room and
walks inside, followed by the other two. The room looks exactly as it did in the photograph on
the phone with one exception: there is a pair of trainers placed neatly side by side in the middle
of the floor, their toes pointed towards the door. John stops and looks at them before stating
the bleedin obvious.
JOHN: Shoes.
(Sherlock starts to walk towards them but John holds out a cautionary hand towards him.)
JOHN: Hes a bomber, remember.
(Sherlock stops for a moment, then continues slowly towards the trainers. He crouches down,
then puts his hands on the floor and leans forward. Lowering his body down he moves closer to
the shoes. Just as his nose is almost touching them, a phone rings. Sherlock jumps, closes his
eyes momentarily and then stands up, pulls off his glove and takes the pink iPhone from his
coat pocket and looks at the caller I.D. It reads, NUMBER BLOCKED. He pauses for a second,
then switches on the speaker, holding the phone a few inches in front of his mouth.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Hello?
(A female voice draws in a shaky breath before speaking tearfully.)
WOMANs VOICE: H-hello ... sexy.
(John and Lestrade exchange a puzzled look as the woman sobs.)
SHERLOCK: Whos this?
WOMANs VOICE (tearfully): Ive ... sent you ... a little puzzle ... just to say hi.
SHERLOCK: Whos talking? Why are you crying?
WOMANs VOICE (shakily and full of tears): I-Im not ... crying ... Im typing ...
(We now see that the woman at the other end of the line is sitting in the drivers seat of a car
holding a phone to her ear with one shaking hand and holding a pager in the other hand. Her
face is covered with tears and she looks terrified as she reads from the pager.)
WOMAN: ... and this ... stupid ... bitch ... is reading it out.
(She sobs again. Sherlock gazes thoughtfully into the distance.)
SHERLOCK (softly): The curtain rises.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: Nothing.
JOHN: No, what did you mean?
SHERLOCK (half turning his head towards him): Ive been expecting this for some time.
WOMAN: Twelve hours to solve ... my puzzle, Sherlock ...
(We now see that the car is in a car park. People are going about their everyday business,
unaware that a large explosive device is strapped to the womans chest. A red laser point

118
travels over the device and her neck, suggesting that a sniper is aiming at her from some
distance away.)
WOMAN: ... or Im going ... to be ... so naughty.
(The phone goes dead and the woman looks down at the bomb and the laser light, and sobs in
despair.)
ST BARTHOLOMEWS HOSPITAL. Sherlock has brought the trainers to a lab and is putting on a
pair of latex gloves while he looks closely at them. He picks them up, examines the laces
carefully and peers at the shoes from all directions, then digs out dried mud from the treads in
the soles and puts it into a dish. Putting the shoes down again, he looks at them thoughtfully.
Later, he is sitting at a bench looking into a microscope while, beside him, a computer screen
shows that a scanner of some sort is running tests. John is wandering up and down on the other
side of the bench.
JOHN: So, who dyou suppose it was?
(A phone trills a text alert.)
SHERLOCK (absently, not reacting to the alert): Hmm?
JOHN: The woman on the phone the crying woman.
SHERLOCK: Oh, she doesnt matter. Shes just a hostage. No lead there.
JOHN (exasperated): For Gods sake, I wasnt thinking about leads.
SHERLOCK: Youre not going to be much use to her.
(He glances across to the scanner as it continues throwing up NO MATCH results, then looks
back into the microscope.)
JOHN: Are-are they trying to trace it, trace the call?
SHERLOCK: The bombers too smart for that.
(The same phone as before trills another text alert.)
SHERLOCK: Pass me my phone.
(John looks around the room.)
JOHN: Where is it?
SHERLOCK: Jacket.
(John straightens up slowly, his entire body going rigid in disbelief and his eyes broadcasting
the message I am going to kill him. Turning to his right, he marches stiffly around the table,
slams one hand onto Sherlocks left shoulder and roughly pulls open his jacket with the other as
he starts to rummage in his inside pocket.)
SHERLOCK (angrily, still not looking up): Careful.
(John just about holds onto his temper and pulls out the phone and looks at it.)
JOHN: Text from your brother.
SHERLOCK: Delete it.
JOHN: Delete it?
SHERLOCK: Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it.
(John looks at the message again, which reads:
RE: BRUCE-PARTINGTON PLANS

Any progress on Andrew
Wests death?
Mycroft
JOHN: Well, Mycroft thinks there is. Hes texted you eight times. Must be important.
(Sherlock raises his head in exasperation.)
SHERLOCK: Then why didnt he cancel his dental appointment?
JOHN (sighing tiredly): His what?
SHERLOCK: Mycroft never texts if he can talk. Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried
to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: why
is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully
interesting?
(He looks back into the microscope again.)
JOHN (switching off the phone): Try and remember theres a woman here who might die.
SHERLOCK: What for?
(He looks up at John.)
SHERLOCK: This hospitals full of people dying, Doctor. Why dont you go and cry by their
bedside and see what good it does them?

119
(John looks away in disbelief. Unmoved, Sherlock looks back into the microscope but just then
the computer beeps a result.)
SHERLOCK (delighted): Ah!
(He looks across to the screen which is flashing SEARCH COMPLETE. At the same moment
Molly Hooper comes in the door.)
MOLLY: Any luck?
SHERLOCK (triumphantly): Oh, yes!
(As Molly comes over to look at the screen, a man in his thirties, wearing slacks and a T-shirt,
comes in the door and then stops apologetically.)
JIM: Oh, sorry. I didnt ...
MOLLY: Jim! Hi!
(Jim makes as if to leave the room but Molly stops him.)
MOLLY: Come in! Come in!
(Sherlock looks over at her briefly, running his eyes down her body and apparently making an
instant deduction, then looks back into the microscope. Molly makes introductions as Jim closes
the door and walks over to her.)
MOLLY: Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes.
JIM: Ah!
(John turns towards them, and Molly looks at him blankly.)
MOLLY (apologetically): And, uh ... sorry.
JOHN: John Watson. Hi.
JIM: Hi.
(His eyes are locked on Sherlocks back as he gazes at him admiringly. He speaks in a casual
London accent.)
JIM: So youre Sherlock Holmes. Mollys told me all about you. You on one of your cases?
(He walks closer to Sherlock, forcing John to step out of his way.)
MOLLY: Jim works in I.T. upstairs. Thats how we met. Office romance.
(She and Jim giggle. Sherlock glances briefly round at Jim before returning to look into the
scope.)
SHERLOCK: Gay.
(Mollys smile fades.)
MOLLY: Sorry, what?
(Sherlock raises his head as he realises what hes just done.)
SHERLOCK: Nothing. (He smiles round falsely at Jim.) Um, hey.
JIM (smiling admiringly at him): Hey.
(Lowering his hand, he knocks a metal dish off the edge of the table and scrambles to pick it
up.)
JIM (giggling nervously): Sorry! Sorry!
(John turns away, face-palming, while Sherlock looks irritated. Jim puts the dish back on the
table and then scratches his arm as he wanders back towards Molly.)
JIM: Well, Id better be off. Ill see you at The Fox, bout six-ish?
MOLLY: Yeah!
(He stops beside her, putting a hand on her back, and looks back towards Sherlock.)
JIM: Bye.
MOLLY (softly): Bye.
JIM (to Sherlock): It was nice to meet you.
(Sherlock doesnt respond, continuing to look into his microscope while Jim gazes wistfully at
him. John breaks the embarrassing silence.)
JOHN: You too.
(Jim blinks at him, looking awkward, then turns and leaves the room. Molly waits until the door
closes then turns to Sherlock.)
MOLLY: What dyou mean, gay? Were together.
SHERLOCK (looking across to her): And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. Youve put on three
pounds since I last saw you.
MOLLY: Two and a half.
SHERLOCK: Nuh, three.
JOHN: Sherlock ...
MOLLY (angrily): Hes not gay. Why dyou have to spoil ...? Hes not.
SHERLOCK (snorting): With that level of personal grooming?
JOHN: Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair.

120
SHERLOCK: You wash your hair. Theres a difference. No-no tinted eyelashes; clear signs of
taurine cream around the frown lines; those tired clubbers eyes. Then theres his underwear.
MOLLY: His underwear?
SHERLOCK: Visible above the waistline very visible; very particular brand.
(He reaches for the metal dish.)
SHERLOCK: That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish
here ... (he shows her the card that Jim left under the dish) ... and Id say youd better break it
off now and save yourself the pain.
(Molly stares at him for a moment, then turns and runs out of the room. Sherlock looks startled
by her reaction.)
JOHN: Charming. Well done.
SHERLOCK: Just saving her time. Isnt that kinder?
JOHN: Kinder? No, no, Sherlock. That wasnt kind.
(Looking fed up with the conversation, Sherlock puts down Jims card and then reaches over
and moves one of the trainers on the desk closer to John.)
SHERLOCK: Go on, then.
JOHN: Mmm?
SHERLOCK: You know what I do. Off you go.
(He sits back and folds his arms expectantly. John makes incoherent negative noises and looks
at his watch.)
JOHN: No.
SHERLOCK: Go on.
JOHN: Im not gonna stand here so you can humiliate me while I try and disseminate ...
SHERLOCK (interrupting): An outside eye, a second opinion. Its very useful to me.
JOHN: Yeah, right(!)
SHERLOCK: Really.
(John turns back to him and the two of them have intense eyesex for several seconds.
Eventually John nods unhappily because eyesex is all hes going to get for the time being.)
JOHN: Fine.
(Clearing his throat, he picks up the shoe and looks at it and its partner lying on the table.)
JOHN: I dunno theyre just a pair of shoes. (He immediately corrects himself.) Trainers.
SHERLOCK: Good.
(He looks away and picks up his phone while John continues looking at the trainers.)
JOHN: Umm ... theyre in good nick. Id say they were pretty new ... except the sole has been
well-worn, so the owner must have had them for a while.
(Sherlock, who had started to look frustrated when John said they were new, breathes out a
silent sigh of relief that his friend isnt that stupid.)
JOHN: Uh, theyre very eighties probably one of those retro designs.
SHERLOCK: Youre on sparkling form. What else?
JOHN: Well, theyre quite big, so a mans.
SHERLOCK: But ...?
JOHN (looking inside both of the trainers and seeing blue smudges at the sides): But theres
traces of a name inside in felt-tip. Adults dont write their names inside their shoes, so these
belonged to a kid.
SHERLOCK (looking at him proudly): Excellent. What else?
JOHN: Uh ... (he looks again at the shoe hes holding, then puts it down) ... thats it.
SHERLOCK: Thats it?
(John nods.)
JOHN: How did I do?
SHERLOCK: Well, John; really well.
(He pauses momentarily.)
SHERLOCK: I mean, you missed almost everything of importance, but, um, you know ...
(He lifts his hand and slowly rotates his wrist to turn his palm upwards, his expression full of
sarcasm. With a look of frustration, John picks up the trainer and gives it to him. Sherlock looks
at it closely as he goes into deduction mode.)
SHERLOCK: The owner loved these. Scrubbed them clean, whitened them where they got
discoloured. Changed the laces three ... no, four times.
(John puts his hands on the desk and lowers his head in despair.)
SHERLOCK: Even so, there are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers have come into contact
with them, so he suffered from eczema. Shoes are well-worn, more so on the inside, which
means the owner had weak arches. British-made, twenty years old.

121
JOHN (straightening up): Twenty years?

SHERLOCK: Theyre not retro theyre original.
(He shows John an image on his phone.)
SHERLOCK: Limited edition: two blue stripes, nineteen eighty-nine.
JOHN: But theres still mud on them. They look new.
SHERLOCK (looking thoughtfully at the trainer): Someones kept them that way. Quite a bit of
mud caked on the soles. Analysis shows its from Sussex, with London mud overlaying it.
JOHN: How do you know?
SHERLOCK (nodding towards the computer screen): Pollen. Clear as a map reference to me.
(Two dots are flashing on a map of Britain, one around the borders of East and West Sussex
and the other to the south-east of London.)
SHERLOCK: South of the river, too. So, the kid who owned these trainers came to London from
Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind.
JOHN: So what happened to him?
SHERLOCK: Something bad.
(He looks up at John.)
SHERLOCK: He loved those shoes, remember. Hed never leave them filthy. Wouldnt leave
them go unless he had to. So: a child with big feet gets ...
(He trails off, staring ahead of himself.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Oh.
(John looks across the lab, trying to see what his friend is looking at.)
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK (softly): Carl Powers.
JOHN: Sorry, who?
SHERLOCK (still staring into the distance): Carl Powers, John.
JOHN: What is it?
SHERLOCK: Its where I began.
Later, the boys are in the back of a taxi.

SHERLOCK: Nineteen eighty-nine, a young kid champion swimmer came up from Brighton
for a school sports tournament; drowned in the pool. Tragic accident.
(He shows John the front page of a newspaper on his phone.)
SHERLOCK: You wouldnt remember it. Why should you?
JOHN: But you remember.
SHERLOCK: Yes.
JOHN: Something fishy about it?
SHERLOCK: Nobody thought so nobody except me. I was only a kid myself. I read about it in
the papers.
JOHN: Started young, didnt you?
SHERLOCK: The boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got
him out it was too late. But there was something wrong; something I couldnt get out of my
head.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: His shoes.
JOHN: What about them?
SHERLOCK: They werent there. I made a fuss; I tried to get the police interested, but nobody
seemed to think it was important. Hed left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, but there was
no sign of his shoes ...
(He leans down and picks up a bag containing the trainers.)
SHERLOCK: ... until now.
SIX HOURS TO GO. As Sherlock sits in the back of the taxi holding the pink phone and lost in
thought, the woman who rang him earlier sits in her car crying in despair.
221B. Sherlock has shut himself in the kitchen and is sitting at the table with the trainers
nearby still in the bag while he looks through photographs and printouts of newspaper
reports of Carl Powers death from 1989. In the living room, on the other side of the closed
doors, John is pacing back and forth. He stops and slides open one of the doors.
JOHN: Can I help?
(Sherlock doesnt react to him at all.)
JOHN: I want to help. Theres only five hours left.

122
(His phone sounds a text alert. He gets the phone from his trouser pocket and looks at the
message. It reads:
Any developments?
Mycroft Holmes
JOHN: Its your brother. Hes texting me now.

(He frowns.)
JOHN: How does he know my number?
SHERLOCK (thoughtfully): Must be a root canal.
(Putting his phone away, John comes into the kitchen.)
JOHN: Look, he did say national importance.
(Sherlock snorts, not looking up from his research.)
SHERLOCK: How quaint.
JOHN: What is?
SHERLOCK: You are. Queen and country.
JOHN (sternly): You cant just ignore it.
SHERLOCK: Im not ignoring it. Putting my best man onto it right now.
JOHN: Right. Good.
(He folds his arms and nods in satisfaction, then looks at Sherlock in puzzlement.)
JOHN: Whos that?
Some time later John, wearing a jacket and tie, is sitting in a chair opposite a desk in a large,
rather intimidating office. He looks anxiously at his watch as if he has been waiting there for
some time. The door opens and Mycroft walks in, reading a report.
MYCROFT: John. How nice. I was hoping you wouldnt be long.
(John politely stands up as Mycroft walks towards the desk, still looking at the report.)
MYCROFT: How can I help you?
(He walks straight past John and puts down the report on the desk, imperiously waving a hand
in Johns direction to signify that he can sit down again.)
JOHN: Thank you. (He sits.) Um, well, I was wanting to ... um, your brother sent me to collect
more facts about the stolen plans, the missile plans.
(Mycroft looks over his shoulder and smiles at him.)
MYCROFT: Did he?
JOHN: Yes.
(He smiles back a little nervously as Mycroft turns towards him and leans back against the
desk.)
JOHN: Hes investigating now.
(Mycroft put his hand to the right side of his mouth as if he is in pain.)
JOHN: Hes, er, investigating away.
(Lowering his hand again, Mycroft smiles as if he doesnt believe a word of it.)
JOHN: Um, I just wondered what else you can tell me about the dead man.
MYCROFT: Uh, twenty-seven; a clerk at Vauxhall Cross er, MI6. He was involved in the Bruce-
Partington Programme in a minor capacity. Security checks A-OK; no known terrorist affiliations
or sympathies ...
(Cut-away flashback to Andrew West sitting on a living room sofa with a young blonde woman.
She snuggles into his shoulder, unaware that he is looking very worried.)
MYCROFT: Last seen by his fiance at ten thirty yesterday evening.
(In the flashback, Westie is now standing at the window looking out into the night.)
WESTIE: Lucy, love, Ive gotta go out. Ive gotta see someone.
(He hurries out of the room. Lucy calls after him.)
LUCY: Westie!
(Brief flashback of Westies dead body lying beside the railway track.)
JOHN: Right. He was found at Battersea, yes? So he got on the train.
MYCROFT: No.
JOHN: What?
MYCROFT: He had an Oyster card ...
(Grimacing, he raises his hand to his mouth again. John frowns as he begins to realise that
Sherlock may have been right about Mycroft having had a root canal filling to one of his teeth.)
MYCROFT: ... but it hadnt been used.
JOHN: Must have bought a ticket.

123
MYCROFT (lowering his hand): There was no ticket on the body.

JOHN: Then ...
MYCROFT: Then how did he end up with a bashed-in brain on the tracks at Battersea? That is
the question the one I was rather hoping Sherlock would provide an answer to. Hows he
getting on?
JOHN: He-hes fine, yes. Oh, and-and it is going ... very well. Its, um, you know hes
completely focussed on it.
(He grins at Mycroft unconvincingly.)
THREE HOURS TO GO. Darkness has fallen and the woman still sits in the car and sobs.
221B. Sherlock has moved to the side table in the kitchen and is looking into his microscope.
Mrs Hudson comes in through the kitchen door with a tray containing a couple of mugs. As she
puts them on the kitchen table, Sherlock looks up.
SHERLOCK: Poison.
MRS HUDSON: What you going on about?
(Sherlock slams his hands down on the side table.)
SHERLOCK: Clostridium botulinum!
(Mrs Hudson cringes and flees the kitchen. Sherlock looks round at John as he comes in from
the living room.)
SHERLOCK: Its one of the deadliest poisons on the planet!
(John looks at him blankly.)
SHERLOCK: Carl Powers!
JOHN: Oh, wait, are you saying he was murdered?
(Sherlock stands up and walks over to where he has hung up the laces from the trainers.)
SHERLOCK: Remember the shoelaces?
JOHN: Mmm.
SHERLOCK: The boy suffered from eczema. Itd be the easiest thing in the world to introduce
the poison into his medication. Two hours later he comes up to London, the poison takes effect,
paralyses the muscles and he drowns.
JOHN: What how-how come the autopsy didnt pick that up?
SHERLOCK: Its virtually undetectable. Nobody would have been looking for it.
(He has walked around the table to where his computer notebook is lying. The page is open at
the Forum of his own website, The Science of Deduction, and he now begins to type into the
message box:
FOUND. Pair of trainers belonging to Carl Powers (1978-1989).
SHERLOCK (straightening up to point to the laces): But there were still tiny traces of it left
inside the trainers from where he put the cream on his feet.
(He bends down and continues to type:
Botulinum toxin still present. Apply 221b Baker St.
He sends the message and straightens up.)

SHERLOCK: Thats why they had to go.
JOHN: So how do we let the bomber know ...
SHERLOCK: Get his attention ...
JOHN: Mm-hm.
SHERLOCK (looking at his watch): ... stop the clock.
JOHN: The killer kept the shoes all these years.
SHERLOCK: Yes. (He looks at John.) Meaning ...
JOHN: Hes our bomber.
(The pink phone rings on the side table. Sherlock hurries over to it and switches on the speaker.
In the car park, the woman sobs in anguish as she reads out the latest message from the
pager.)
WOMAN: Well done, you. Come and get me.
SHERLOCK (loudly and clearly): Where are you? Tell us where you are.
Some time later the woman stares anxiously out of the car window as members of a bomb
disposal team, dressed in protective padded clothing, make their way towards the car.

124
MORNING. NEW SCOTLAND YARD. The boys are in Lestrades office, Sherlock standing at the
window which looks into the main office, his hands raised in front of his mouth and his fingers
tapping together. John is sitting opposite Lestrade at his desk.
LESTRADE: She lives in Cornwall. Two men broke in wearing masks, forced her to drive to the
car park and decked her out in enough explosives to take down a house.
(He looks up at Sherlock who is walking towards the desk.)
LESTRADE: Told her to phone you. She had to read out from this pager.
(He puts the pager onto the desk in front of John, who picks it up to look at it.)
SHERLOCK: And if she deviated by one word, the sniper would set her off.
JOHN: Or if you hadnt solved the case.
SHERLOCK (walking back to the window and speaking softly, as if to himself): Oh. Elegant.
(John raises his head and sighs in exasperation.)
JOHN: Elegant?
LESTRADE: But what was the point? Why would anyone do this?
SHERLOCK: Oh I cant be the only person in the world that gets bored.
(He flashes back in his mind to shooting holes in the wall a couple of days ago. Just then the
pink phone beeps a message alert. John turns round to him as Sherlock activates the phone.)
VOICE ALERT: You have one new message.
(As Sherlock walks towards Lestrades desk, the phone sounds the Greenwich pips again, but
this time there are three short pips and one long one.)
JOHN: Four pips.
SHERLOCK: First test passed, it would seem. Heres the second.
(He shows a new photograph to the others. Its a close-up of a car with its drivers door open
and the number plate clearly visible. John and Lestrade get up to take a closer look, and outside
in the main office a phone rings.)
SHERLOCK: Its abandoned, wouldnt you say?
LESTRADE: Ill see if its been reported.
(As he picks up his desk phone, Sergeant Donovan comes to the office holding another phone.)
DONOVAN: Freak, its for you.
(Sherlock walks over to the door and takes the phone from her. John sits down again and
Sherlock walks out into the general office and raises the phone to his ear.)
SHERLOCK: Hello?
(The frightened voice of a young man comes over the phone.)
YOUNG MAN: Its okay that youve gone to the police.
SHERLOCK: Who is this? Is this you again?
YOUNG MAN: But dont rely on them.
(In Lestrades office, John looks round and sits up taller when he sees the look on Sherlocks
face.)
YOUNG MAN: Clever you, guessing about Carl Powers.
(We get a glimpse of the young man standing somewhere in a busy street, reading from a
pager.)
YOUNG MAN: I never liked him.
(Sherlock looks round sharply at this. We see that the man is wearing a zipped-up jacket with
wires sticking out from the bottom. The man fights his tears as he continues to read.)
YOUNG MAN: Carl laughed at me, so I stopped him laughing.
(John comes out of the office and walks closer to Sherlock, looking at him in concern.)
SHERLOCK (into phone): And youve stolen another voice, I presume.
YOUNG MAN: This is about you and me.
(A bus noisily drives past him.)
SHERLOCK: Who are you?
(More traffic goes past.)
SHERLOCK: Whats that noise?
(The man looks down at the pager, still struggling not to weep.)
YOUNG MAN: The sounds of life, Sherlock.
(Finally we get a clear view of where the man is. He is standing on a large traffic island at
Piccadilly Circus. Pedestrians are walking past him, taking no notice of a distressed tearful man,
as is the wont of Londoners [Im allowed to criticise Im a Londoner myself!])
YOUNG MAN (reading from the pager): But dont worry ...
(He looks down in tearful horror when he sees a red laser point on his jacket.)
YOUNG MAN: ... I can soon fix that.

125
(He cries briefly, then continues to read the pager message.)

YOUNG MAN: You solved my last puzzle in nine hours. This time you have eight.
(In the office, Lestrade is talking into the phone.)
LESTRADE: Okay ... Great.
(Hanging up the phone, he heads towards the door.)
LESTRADE: Weve found it.
(Sherlocks phone has gone dead. He turns and follows Lestrade.)
Close to the river, the police have arrived at a large open space where the car was found.
Forensics officers in protective clothing are working on the car as Lestrade leads Sherlock
towards it. John and Sally Donovan are walking along behind them.
LESTRADE (consulting some notes): The car was hired yesterday morning by an Ian Monkford.
Banker of some kind; City boy. Paid in cash.
(Sherlock looks closely as they pass a woman talking with a female police officer.)
LESTRADE: Told his wife he was going away on a business trip, but he never arrived.
(As Sherlock and Lestrade reach the passenger door of the car, Sally turns to John.)
DONOVAN: Youre still hanging round him.
JOHN: Yeah, well ...
DONOVAN: Opposites attract, I suppose.
JOHN: No, were not ...
DONOVAN: You should get yourself a hobby stamps, maybe. Model trains. Safer.
(She goes to stand beside Lestrade while Sherlock leans into the car to look at the large amount
of blood smeared over the island between the two front seats. He opens the glove box.)
LESTRADE: Before you ask, yes, its Monkfords blood. The DNA checks out.
(Sherlock finds a business card in the glove box and takes it out. Closing the lid he straightens
up.)
SHERLOCK: No body.
DONOVAN: Not yet.
SHERLOCK (to Lestrade): Get a sample sent to the lab.
(Lestrade nods and Sherlock walks away. Lestrade turns to Donovan and looks at her pointedly.
She stares back at him indignantly but he holds the look and she grunts in exasperation and
stomps away. Sherlock walks over to the woman who was talking with the police officer.)
SHERLOCK: Mrs Monkford?
(She turns to him tearfully.)
MRS MONKFORD: Yes.
(She looks at him and John, and sighs.)
MRS MONKFORD: Sorry, but Ive already spoken with two policemen.
JOHN: No, were not from the police; were ...
(Sherlock holds out his hand to her, his voice suddenly tearful and tremulous.)
SHERLOCK: Sherlock Holmes. Very old friend of your husbands. We, um ...
(As she shakes his hand, he looks down as if fighting back his tears.)
SHERLOCK: ... we grew up together.
MRS MONKFORD: Im sorry, who? I dont think he ever mentioned you.
SHERLOCK (still tearful): Oh, he must have done. This is ... this is horrible, isnt it?
(John looks away, trying somewhat unsuccessfully to keep his face neutral.)
SHERLOCK: I mean, I just cant believe it. I only saw him the other day. Same old Ian not a
care in the world.
(He smiles tearfully at her.)
MRS MONKFORD: Sorry, but my husband has been depressed for months. Who are you?
(By now Sherlock has tears running down his cheeks.)
SHERLOCK: Really strange that he hired a car. Why would he do that? Its a bit suspicious, isnt
it?
MRS MONKFORD: No, it isnt. He forgot to renew the tax on the car, thats all.
SHERLOCK: Oh, well, that was Ian! That was Ian all over!
MRS MONKFORD: No it wasnt.
(Instantly Sherlocks fake persona drops and he looks at her intensely.)
SHERLOCK: Wasnt it? Interesting.
(He turns and walks away. She glares after him as he heads for the police tape with John
following. The female police office goes over to her.)
MRS MONKFORD: Who was I talking to?
JOHN (to Sherlock as they duck under the tape): Why did you lie to her?

126
SHERLOCK (taking off his gloves to wipe the tears from under his eyes): People dont like telling
you things, but they love to contradict you. Past tense, did you notice?
JOHN: Sorry, what?
SHERLOCK: I referred to her husband in the past tense. She joined in. Bit premature theyve
only just found the car.
JOHN: You think she murdered her husband?
SHERLOCK: Definitely not. Thats not a mistake a murderer would make.
JOHN: I see. No, I dont. What am I seeing?
(As they walk past Donovan, she turns and calls out to John.)
DONOVAN: Fishing! Try fishing!
(John turns around and gives her an exasperated nod before following Sherlock again.)
JOHN: Where now?
SHERLOCK: Janus Cars.
(He hands the business card to John.)
SHERLOCK: Just found this in the glove compartment.
SIX HOURS TO GO.
JANUS CARS. Sherlock and John are in the office of the car hire company. John sits at the other
side of the desk to the owner, taking notes while Sherlock looks out into the forecourt.
EWERT: Cant see how I can help you gentlemen.
JOHN: Mr Monkford hired the car from you yesterday.
EWERT: Yeah. Lovely motor. Mazda RX-8. Wouldnt mind one of them myself!
(Sherlock walks over to the other side of the desk so that hes standing beside Ewert, then
points into the forecourt.)
SHERLOCK: Is that one?
(Ewert turns his head to look and Sherlock immediately looks closely at the side of the mans
neck.)
EWERT: No, theyre all Jags. Yeah, I can see youre not a car man, eh?
(Sherlock straightens up as Ewert looks round and smiles at John.)
SHERLOCK: But, er, surely you can afford one a Mazda, I mean?
EWERT: Yeah, its a fair point. But you know how it is: its like working in a sweetshop. Once
you start picking at the liquorice allsorts, when does it all stop, eh?
(He starts scratching near the top of his left arm with his right hand. Sherlock looks at him for a
moment, then turns away and heads around the room towards the other side of the desk.)
JOHN: But you didnt know Mr Monkford?
EWERT: No, he was just a client. Came in here and hired one of my cars. No idea what
happened to him. Poor sod.
(Sherlock has reached the other side of the desk and stops.)
SHERLOCK: Nice holiday, Mr Ewert?
EWERT: Eh?
SHERLOCK: Youve been away, havent you?
EWERT: Oh, the-the ... (He gestures towards his tanned face.) No, its, er, sunbeds, Im afraid,
yeah. Too busy to get away. My wife would love it, though bit of sun.
SHERLOCK: Have you got any change for the cigarette machine?
EWERT: What?
SHERLOCK: Well, I noticed one on the way in and I havent got any change.
(He offers Ewert a bank note.)
SHERLOCK: Im gasping.
EWERT: Um, well ... (He reaches into his trouser pocket and takes out his wallet.) Hmm.
(He opens the wallet and looks inside.)
EWERT: No, sorry.
SHERLOCK: Oh well. Thank you very much for your time, Mr Ewert.
(He turns and heads for the door.)
SHERLOCK: Youve been very helpful. Come on, John.
(They leave the office and walk across the forecourt.)
JOHN: I-Ive got change if you still want to, uh ...
SHERLOCK (patting his upper left arm): Nicotine patches, remember? Im doing well.
JOHN: So what was that all about?
SHERLOCK: I needed to look inside his wallet.
JOHN: Why?

127
SHERLOCK: Mr Ewerts a liar.
ST BARTS LAB. Sherlock has a large drop of blood in a shallow glass dish. Putting the dish onto
the desk, he reaches into a small bag of equipment, opens a bottle and siphons out some liquid
with a small dropper. Bending down to the dish, he squeezes out a drop of liquid onto the blood,
which starts to fizz. As Sherlock straightens up, the pink phone rings. The Caller I.D. reads
BLOCKED. He picks up the phone and answers it.
SHERLOCK: Hello?
YOUNG MAN (tearfully reading from the pager): The clues in the name. Janus Cars.
SHERLOCK: Why would you be giving me a clue?
YOUNG MAN: Why does anyone do anything? Because Im bored. We were made for each other,
Sherlock.
SHERLOCK (softly): Then talk to me in your own voice.
YOUNG MAN (tearfully): Patience.
(The line goes dead. Sherlock lowers the phone and looks thoughtfully into the distance for a
while. Finally he looks down at the fizzing liquid in the dish, then picks up the dish and looks at
it more closely. He begins to smile.)
THREE HOURS TO GO.
POLICE CAR POUND. Sherlock, John and Lestrade are standing around Monkfords car.
SHERLOCK: How much blood was on that seat, would you say?
LESTRADE: How much? About a pint.
SHERLOCK: Not about. Exactly a pint. That was their first mistake. The bloods definitely Ian
Monkfords but its been frozen.
LESTRADE: Frozen?
SHERLOCK: There are clear signs. I think Ian Monkford gave a pint of his blood some time ago
and thats what they spread on the seats.
JOHN: Who did?
SHERLOCK: Janus Cars. The clues in the name.
JOHN: The god with two faces.
SHERLOCK: Exactly.
JOHN: Mmm.
SHERLOCK (to Lestrade): They provide a very special service. If youve got any kind of a
problem money troubles, bad marriage, whatever Janus Cars will help you disappear. Ian
Monkford was up to his eyes in some kind of trouble financial, at a guess; hes a banker.
Couldnt see a way out. But if he were to vanish, if the car he hired was found abandoned with
his blood all over the drivers seat ...
JOHN: So where is he?
SHERLOCK (closing the car door): Colombia.
LESTRADE: Colombia?!
SHERLOCK: Mr Ewert of Janus Cars had a twenty thousand Colombian peso note in his wallet ...
(Flashback to Ewert opening his wallet and Sherlock seeing the foreign note inside.)
SHERLOCK: ... Quite a bit of change, too. He told us he hadnt been abroad recently, but when I
asked him about the cars, I could see his tan line clearly.
(Flashback to Sherlock pointing out the window and Ewert turning his head to look while
Sherlock sees that his tan finishes at his neck.)
SHERLOCK: No-one wears a shirt on a sunbed. That, plus his arm.
LESTRADE: His arm?
SHERLOCK: Kept scratching it. Obviously irritating him, and bleeding.
(Flashback to a close-up of Ewert scratching his upper arm, and a drop of blood on his shirt
sleeve.)
SHERLOCK: Why? Because hed recently had a booster jab. Hep-B, probably. Difficult to tell at
that distance. Conclusion: hed just come back from settling Ian Monkford into his new life in
Colombia. Mrs Monkford cashes in the life insurance and she splits it with Janus Cars.
JOHN: M-Mrs Monkford?
SHERLOCK: Oh yes. Shes in on it too.
(Lestrade lowers his head with a look of amazement on his face.)
SHERLOCK: Now go and arrest them, Inspector. Thats what you do best.
(He turns to John.)
SHERLOCK: We need to let our friendly bomber know that the case is solved.

128
(He turns and leads John away. Lestrade watches them, still reeling at all the information that
he has just been given. Sherlock clenches his fists triumphantly at his sides as he goes.)
SHERLOCK: I am on fire!
221B. Sitting at the living room table in their coats presumably because the heating still cant
be turned on nor the fire lit after the gas leak (and because the windows are still broken and
boarded up) Sherlock types a new message onto The Science of Deduction:
Congratulations to Ian Monkford on his relocation to Colombia.
He sends the message. A few seconds later another blocked phone call comes in on the pink
phone lying on the table beside the computer. Sherlock switches on the speaker.)
YOUNG MAN (tearfully, over speaker): He says you can come and fetch me. Help. Help me,
please.
(Shortly afterwards, police officers are running towards the young man from all directions. In
221B, Sherlock looks up at John and smiles. And then they dun sex. *shrugs* Well, you never
know.)
MORNING. The boys are sitting opposite each other at a table in a caf (not Speedys). John is
tucking into a cooked breakfast and has a mug of tea in front of him while Sherlock is
drumming his fingers impatiently on the table waiting for the pink phone which is lying on the
table to ring.
SHERLOCK: Feeling better?
JOHN: Mmm. You realise weve hardly stopped for breath since this thing started?
(He eats another forkful of food, then looks thoughtful.)
JOHN: Has it occurred to you ...?
SHERLOCK: Probably.
JOHN: No has it occurred to you that the bombers playing a game with you? The envelope;
breaking into the other flat; the dead kids shoes its all meant for you.
SHERLOCK (smiling slightly): Yes, I know.
JOHN: Is it him, then? Moriarty?
SHERLOCK: Perhaps.
(The pink phone beeps a message alert. Sherlock switches it on and it sounds two short
Greenwich pips followed by the longer tone, and a photograph of a smiling middle-aged woman
appears on the screen.)
SHERLOCK: That could be anybody.
JOHN: Well, it could be, yeah. Lucky for you, Ive been more than a little unemployed.
SHERLOCK: How dyou mean?
JOHN: Lucky for you, Mrs Hudson and I watch far too much telly.
(He stands up and walks over to the counter. Smiling at the woman behind the counter, he
picks up a remote control and switches on the small television hung on the wall. He changes
channels a couple of times until he finds what he wants. The woman from the photograph is on
the screen, partway through her make-over show. She is gesturing to someone just offscreen.)
CONNIE: Thank you, Tyra! Doesnt she look lovely, everybody, now?
(The pink phone rings.)
CONNIE: Anyway, speaking of silk purses and sows ears ...
(Sherlock picks up the phone and holds it to his ear.)
SHERLOCK: Hello?
(An old woman speaks tremulously in a Yorkshire accent.)
OLD WOMAN: This one ... is a bit ... defective. Sorry.
(We see a close-up of the woman, who is wearing an earpiece.)
OLD WOMAN: Shes blind. This is ... a funny one.
(John walks back to the table. At the old womans location, the camera pulls out to show that
she too is strapped to a bomb. Wearing a warm dressing gown and sitting up in bed she is
holding a phone to the ear which doesnt have the earpiece in and she is staring blankly ahead
of herself as she narrates the words being spoken through the earpiece.)
OLD WOMAN: Ill give you ... twelve hours.
(Sherlock looks at John as he sits down.)
SHERLOCK (into phone): Why are you doing this?
OLD WOMAN: I like ... to watch you ... dance.

129
(As she finishes speaking, she gasps and sobs in terror. Even though she cannot see it, there is
still a laser point from a snipers rifle running over her body. Sherlock lowers the phone and
shakes his head at John, then drops the phone onto the table as he turns to look at the TV.)
CONNIE (on the TV): ... and I see youre back to your bad habits.
(As the footage continues, a voiceover replaces her voice and a news headline at the bottom of
the screen reads: Make-over Queen Connie Prince dead at 48.)
NEWS READER: ... continuing into the sudden death of the popular TV personality, Connie
Prince. Miss Prince, famous for her make-over programmes, was found dead two days ago by
her brother in the house they shared in Hampstead ...
BARTS MORGUE. Connie Princes body has been laid out on a table in the morgue, with a sheet
covering her leaving only her head, arms and upper chest bare. Lestrade leads the boys into the
room, reading from a file as he goes.
LESTRADE: Connie Prince, fifty-four. She had one of those make-over shows on the telly. Did
you see it?
SHERLOCK: No.
LESTRADE: Very popular. She was going places.
SHERLOCK: Not any more. So: dead two days. According to one of her staff, Raoul de Santos,
she cut her hand on a rusty nail in the garden. Nasty wound.
(He and John look at the deep cut in the webbing between her right thumb and index finger.)
SHERLOCK: Tetanus bacteria enters the bloodstream good night Vienna.
JOHN: I suppose.
SHERLOCK: Somethings wrong with this picture.
LESTRADE: Eh?
SHERLOCK: Cant be as simple as it seems, otherwise the bomber wouldnt be directing us
towards it. Somethings wrong.
(He narrows his eyes as he looks down at the body, then bends closer to look along Connies
right arm as he takes his magnifier from his pocket. There are several scratches on her upper
arm which look like claw marks. He moves up to her face and notices some tiny pinpricks on her
forehead just above her nose. He looks at them through the magnifier.)
SHERLOCK: John?
JOHN: Mmm.
SHERLOCK: The cut on her hand: its deep; would have bled a lot, right?
JOHN: Yeah.
SHERLOCK: But the wounds clean very clean, and fresh.
(He looks up, his eyes flickering while he thinks it through, then straightens up and clicks the
magnifier closed.)
SHERLOCK: How long would the bacteria have been incubating inside her?
JOHN: Eight, ten days.
(Sherlock quirks a one-sided grin and turns to John, waiting for him to put it all together. It
doesnt take him long.)
JOHN: The cut was made later.
LESTRADE: After she was dead?
SHERLOCK: Must have been. The only question is, how did the tetanus enter the dead womans
system?
(John looks along the body thoughtfully.)
SHERLOCK: You want to help, right?
JOHN: Of course.
SHERLOCK: Connie Princes background family history, everything. Give me data.
JOHN: Right.
(He turns and leaves the room. Sherlock looks down at Connies body one more time, then
turns and heads towards the door.)
LESTRADE: Theres something else that we havent thought of.
SHERLOCK (casually): Is there?
LESTRADE: Yes. Why is he doing this, the bomber?
(Sherlock stops, keeping his back to the inspector and looking a little anxious.)
LESTRADE: If this womans death was suspicious, why point it out?
SHERLOCK (nonchalantly, over his shoulder): Good Samaritan.
(He tries to move away but Lestrade persists.)
LESTRADE: ... who press-gangs suicide bombers?
SHERLOCK: Bad Samaritan.

130
LESTRADE: Im Im serious, Sherlock. Listen: Im cutting you slack here; Im trusting you
but out there somewhere, some poor bastards covered in Semtex and is just waiting for you to
solve the puzzle. So just tell me: what are we dealing with?
(Sherlock looks away thoughtfully, then smiles with delight.)
SHERLOCK: Something new.
EIGHT HOURS TO GO. The old woman sits quietly in her bed while the sniper who must really
love his job, considering that the woman cant see what hes doing continues to keep his
rifles laser trained on her.
SEVERAL HOURS LATER. 221B. The wall behind the sofa is covered with paperwork: maps,
photographs of Connie Prince both when she was alive and pictures taken in the morgue
photos of Carl Powers, press cuttings and various sheets of paper with notes scribbled on them.
Pieces of string are pinned between some of the exhibits, linking them together. Sherlock is
pacing back and forth in front of the sofa while Lestrade stands nearby.
SHERLOCK (under his breath): Connection, connection, connection. There must be a
connection.
(He stops and gestures towards various spots on the display on the wall as he speaks.)
SHERLOCK: Carl Powers, killed twenty years ago. The bomber knew him; admitted that he
knew him. The bombers iPhone was in stationery from the Czech Republic. First hostage from
Cornwall; the second from London; the third from Yorkshire, judging by her accent. Whats he
doing working his way round the world? Showing off?
(The pink phone rings. He takes it from his pocket and sees that the Caller I.D. again reads
NUMBER BLOCKED. He switches on the speaker, and the old woman begins to narrate whats
being said into her earpiece.)
OLD WOMAN: Youre enjoying this, arent you? Joining the ... dots.
(She sobs.)
OLD WOMAN: Three hours: boom ... boom.
(She cries in terror, then the phone goes dead. Sherlock looks at Lestrade for a moment, then
switches off the phone, puts it back in his pocket and raises his hands to his mouth in the
prayer position, concentrating on the wall in front of him.)
KENNY PRINCES HOUSE. In a beautifully and elegantly decorated house, a hairless cat meows
as it wanders about on a sofa in the living room. Kenny Prince, a man in his late fifties who is
wearing a very fancy purple shirt whichll never rival Sherlocks, comes into the room. Behind
him the much younger and far more dishy houseboy Raoul stops at the doorway and gestures
to John to go in.
KENNY: Were devastated. Of course we are.
(As John walks into the living room, Kenny reaches the other side of the room and turns back,
propping his arm on the mantelpiece. Looking a little uncomfortable, John sits down on the sofa
beside the cat.)
RAOUL: Can I get you anything, sir?
JOHN: Er, no. No, thanks.
(Raoul looks across the room to Kenny, who smiles at him. Raoul returns the smile, then turns
and leaves the room.)
KENNY: Raoul is my rock. I dont think I could have managed.
(He looks down sadly.)
KENNY: We didnt always see eye to eye, but my sister was very dear to me.
(The cat has climbed onto Johns lap and meows loudly in protest when he picks it up and puts
it down beside him.)
JOHN: And and to the public, Mr Prince.
KENNY: Oh, she was adored. Ive seen her take girls who looked like the back end of
Routemasters and turn them into princesses.
(John looks down in frustration as the cat climbs into his lap again.)
KENNY: Still, its a relief in a way to know that shes beyond this veil of tears.
(John is nervously holding the cat while it purrs contentedly on his lap.)
JOHN (awkwardly): Absolutely.
221B. Mrs Hudson has joined Sherlock and Lestrade and is standing between them as they face
the paper-covered wall. Sherlock is talking into his own phone.
SHERLOCK: Great. ... Thank you. Thanks again.

131
(He turns and walks towards the fireplace, still talking into the phone. Mrs Hudson looks sadly
at a photo of Connie on the wall.)
MRS HUDSON: It was a real shame. I liked her. She taught you how to do your colours.
(Lestrade who had turned and was watching Sherlock [well, who wouldnt?] on the other side
of the room now turns back to Mrs H.)
LESTRADE: Colours?
MRS HUDSON: You know ... (she gestures down at her clothes) ... what goes best with what. I
should never wear cerise, apparently. Drains me.
(Sherlock has just finished his conversation and walks back to join the others.)
LESTRADE: Who was that?
SHERLOCK (staring at the wall): Home Office.
[Good grief he wasnt after a posh party invite, was he?]
LESTRADE (surprised): Home Office?
SHERLOCK: Well, Home Secretary, actually. Owes me a favour.
MRS HUDSON (looking at a photo on the wall of Connie holding an award which presumably she
won for her show): She was a pretty girl but she messed about with herself too much. They all
do these days.
(She looks round at Lestrade.)
MRS HUDSON: People can hardly move their faces. Its silly, isnt it?!
(She giggles, and Lestrade smiles politely. She turns to Sherlock.)
MRS HUDSON: Did you ever see her show?
SHERLOCK: Not until now.
(He turns and picks up his computer notebook and opens it. A video starts to play, showing
footage of an episode of Connies make-over show. She is talking to her brother in the TV
studio.)
CONNIE: You look pasty, love!
KENNY: Ah. (He looks at the audience.) Rained every day but one!
MRS HUDSON: Thats the brother. No love lost there, if you can believe the papers.
SHERLOCK: So I gather. Ive just been having a very fruitful chat with people who loved this
show. Fan sites indispensible for gossip.
CONNIE (gesturing to the clothes which her brother is wearing): Theres really only one thing
we can do with that ensemble, dont you think, girls?
(She stands up and claps her hands rhythmically as she begins to chant.)
CONNIE: Off! Off! Off! Off!
(The audience takes up the chant and the clapping. By the third, Off! Connie is rhythmically
beating her hands quite hard onto Kennys back as he drops his jacket to the floor and starts to
unbutton his shirt. He grimaces in pain but then turns a false smile towards the audience.)
KENNY PRINCES HOUSE. Kenny is still standing by the fireplace, looking thoughtfully at a
framed photograph of Connie holding her TV award. John is sitting on the sofa looking down at
his notebook as he talks.
JOHN: Its more common than people think. The tetanus is in the soil, people cut themselves on
rose bushes, garden forks, that sort of thing. If left un...
(He looks up in surprise when Kenny who has walked across the room unnoticed now plonks
heavily down onto the sofa beside him and stares at him intensely.)
JOHN: ...treated ...
KENNY: I dont know what Im going to do now.
JOHN (a little nervously): Right.
KENNY: I mean, shes left me this place, which is lovely ...
(John looks around the living room with his eyes narrowed, apparently not agreeing how lovely
the place might be.)
KENNY: ... but its not the same without her.
JOHN (fidgeting as he tries to move further away from Kenny, but unable to do so): Th-thats
why my paper wanted to get the, um, the full story straight from the horses mouth. You sure
its not too soon?
KENNY: No.
JOHN: Right.
KENNY (still staring intensely at him): You fire away.
(The cat meows and trots across the carpet. Watching it, John reaches up to rub the side of his
nose. As he pulls his hand away again he suddenly realises something and quickly raises his

132
hand to his nose once more, pretending to rub it while he quietly sniffs at his fingers and looks
towards the cat again. He smiles round nervously at Kenny.)
221B. Mrs Hudson has left the room but Sherlock and Lestrade are still standing in front of the
wall display. Sherlocks phone rings and he fishes it out of his jacket pocket, looks quickly at the
Caller I.D. and then holds the phone to his ear.
SHERLOCK: John.
JOHN (over phone): Hi. Look, get over here quickly. I think Im onto something. Youll need to
pick up some stuff first. You got a pen?
SHERLOCK: Ill remember.
Some time later, Kenny is primping in front of the mirror near the fireplace. Nearby, the
entrance door shuts and, on the sofa, John puts down his teacup and starts to get up.
JOHN: Thatll be him.
KENNY: What?
(Raoul shows Sherlock into the room. Sherlock has a large bag over his shoulder and is carrying
a long narrow case which is presumably designed to hold a photographic tripod. He walks over
to Kenny.)
SHERLOCK: Ah, Mr Prince, isnt it?
KENNY: Yes.
SHERLOCK: Very good to meet you.
KENNY: Yes; thank you.
(They shake hands, Sherlock looking closely at Kennys hand as he does so.)
SHERLOCK: So sorry to hear about ...
KENNY: Yes, yes, very kind.
JOHN: Shall we, er ...
(Sherlock walks over to the sofa, puts down the case and starts rummaging in his bag. Kenny
turns back to the mirror and fiddles with his hair again.)
JOHN (quietly): You were right. The bacteria got into her another way.
SHERLOCK (smirking): Oh yes?
JOHN: Yes.
KENNY (turning towards them): Right. We all set?
JOHN: Um, yes.
(He looks at Sherlock, who has taken a camera and flashgun from his bag, and jerks his head
towards Kenny.)
JOHN: Can you ...?
(As Kenny leans one arm on the mantelpiece and poses, Sherlock walks closer and starts taking
photographs of him.)
KENNY: Not too close. Im raw from crying.
(The cat meows at Sherlocks feet. He looks down.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, whos this?
KENNY: Sekhmet. Named after the Egyptian goddess.
SHERLOCK: How nice(!) Was she Connies?
KENNY: Yes.
(John reaches down towards the cat but Kenny beats him to it, bending down and picking it up.)
KENNY: Little present from yours truly.
(Frustrated, John straightens up, then looks at his flatmate.)
JOHN: Sherlock? Uh, light reading?
SHERLOCK: Oh, um ...
(He lifts a second flashgun which he is holding in his other hand and holds it towards Kenny,
firing it straight into his face.)
SHERLOCK: Two point eight.
(Kenny squinches his eyes shut against the light.)
KENNY: Bloody hell. What do you think youre playing at?!
(John immediately reaches out and rubs his fingers over one of the cats front paws. Sherlock
keeps firing the flashgun to keep Kennys eyes closed.)
SHERLOCK: Sorry.
(John lifts his fingers away and sniffs them while Sherlock continues to fire the flashgun.)
KENNY: Youre like Laurel and bloody Hardy, you two. Whats going on?
JOHN: Actually, I think weve got what we came for. Excuse us.
KENNY: What?

133
JOHN: Sherlock.
SHERLOCK: What?
JOHN (grabbing the case from the sofa and heading for the door): Weve got deadlines.
(Sherlock follows after him.)
KENNY: But youve not taken anything!
(Ignoring him, the boys hurry out of the living room and let themselves out of the house. John
chuckles delightedly as they walk down the drive and head towards the main road.)
JOHN: Yes! Ooh, yes!
SHERLOCK (smiling): You think it was the cat. It wasnt the cat.
JOHN: What? No, yes. Yeah, it is. It must be. Its how they got the tetanus into her system. Its
paws stink of disinfectant.
SHERLOCK (still smiling): Lovely idea.
JOHN: No, he coated it onto the paws of her cat. Its a new pet bound to be a bit jumpy
around her. A scratch is almost inevitable. She wouldnt have ...
SHERLOCK (interrupting): I thought of it the minute I saw the scratches on her arm, but its too
random and too clever for the brother.
(John chuckles again.)
JOHN: He murdered his sister for her money.
SHERLOCK: Did he?
JOHN (looking at him): Didnt he?
SHERLOCK: No. It was revenge.
JOHN: Revenge? Who wanted revenge?
SHERLOCK: Raoul, the houseboy. Kenny Prince was the butt of his sisters jokes, week in, week
out, a virtual bullying campaign. Finally he had enough; fell out with her badly. Its all on the
website. She threatened to disinherit Kenny. Raoul had grown accustomed to a certain lifestyle,
so ...
JOHN (stopping and turning to him): No, wait, wait. Wait a second.
(Sherlock stops as well.)
JOHN: What about the disinfectant, then, on the cats claws?
SHERLOCK: Raoul keeps a very clean house. You came through the kitchen door, saw the state
of that floor, scrubbed to within an inch of its life. You smell of disinfectant now. No, the cat
doesnt come into it.
(John pulls his jacket up to sniff at it as Sherlock looks towards the main road.)
SHERLOCK: Raouls internet records do, though. Hope we can get a cab from here.
(He walks off. John sighs in exasperation and a touch of disappointment that he hadnt solved
the case for once. He glares towards his friends back and then follows him.)
ONE HOUR TO GO. Still sitting in her bed, the old woman cries in despair.
EVENING/NIGHT TIME. NEW SCOTLAND YARD. Sherlock walks into the main office brandishing
a folder at Lestrade.
SHERLOCK: Raoul de Santos is your killer. Kenny Princes houseboy. Second autopsy shows it
wasnt tetanus that poisoned Connie Prince it was botulinum toxin.
(He puts the folder on the desk. As Lestrade reaches for it, Sherlock leans closer to him.)
SHERLOCK: Weve been here before. Carl Powers? Tut-tut. Our bombers repeated himself.
(Lestrade walks towards his office, Sherlock following. John stares at them in surprise.)
LESTRADE: So howd he do it?
SHERLOCK: Botox injection.
(Flashback to Sherlock examining the tiny pinpricks in Connies forehead.)
LESTRADE (turning back to him): Botox?
SHERLOCK: Botox is a diluted form of botulinum. Among other things, Raoul de Santos was
employed to give Connie her regular facial injections. My contact at the Home Office gave me
the complete records of Raouls internet purchases. (He points to the folder.) Hes been bulk
ordering Botox for months.
(Nearby, John has continued to stare at Sherlock, and his expression is becoming more angry.)
SHERLOCK (oblivious to this): Bided his time, then upped the strength to a fatal dose.
LESTRADE: You sure about this?
SHERLOCK: Im sure.
LESTRADE: All right my office.
(He turns and walks towards his office. Sherlock starts to follow but John stops him.)
JOHN: Hey, Sherlock. How long?

134
SHERLOCK: What?
JOHN: How long have you known?
SHERLOCK: Well, this one was quite simple, actually, and like I said, the bomber repeated
himself. That was a mistake.
(He tries to walk towards Lestrades office but again John stops him.)
JOHN: No, but Sherl... The hostage... the old woman. Shes been there all this time.
SHERLOCK (leaning closer and looking at him intensely): I knew I could save her. I also knew
that the bomber had given us twelve hours. I solved the case quickly; that gave me time to get
on with other things. Dont you see? Were one up on him!
(He heads into Lestrades office. John purses his lips in frustration, then follows.)
Shortly afterwards, Sherlock is sitting at Lestrades desk where a laptop has been opened to
The Science of Deduction website. John and Lestrade are standing either side of him. Sherlock
types into the message box:
Raoul de Santos, the house-boy, botox.
(He sends the message and the pink phone on the desk beside the computer rings almost
instantly. He picks it up and holds the phone to his ear.)
SHERLOCK: Hello?
OLD WOMAN (in an anguished voice): Help me.
SHERLOCK (clearly): Tell us where you are. Address.
OLD WOMAN: He was so ... His voice ...
SHERLOCK (urgently): No, no, no, no. Tell me nothing about him. Nothing.
OLD WOMAN: He sounded so ... soft.
(The laser point from the snipers rifle moves onto the bomb. A single shot fires and the phone
instantly goes dead.)
SHERLOCK (into phone): Hello?
LESTRADE (seeing his expression): Sherlock?
JOHN: Whats happened?
(Slowly, staring ahead of himself, Sherlock lowers the phone from his ear. He bites his lip as
Lestrade realising that something bad must have happened straightens up and sighs. John
braces a hand on the back of Sherlocks chair.)
MORNING. 221B. Sherlock and John are sitting in their armchairs watching the news on the TV.
Sherlock has the pink phone on the left arm of his chair. The windows are still broken and
boarded up and the traffic is loud outside. On the TV, the picture shows a high-rise block of flats
and the headline at the bottom of the screen reads, 12 dead in gas explosion. The picture
moves to a close-up, showing a corner of the building many floors up which has been torn open
and exposed to the air.
NEWS READER: The explosion, which ripped through several floors, killing twelve people ...
JOHN (briefly glancing over his shoulder to Sherlock): Old block of flats.
NEWS READER: ... is said to have been caused by a faulty gas main. A spokesman from the
utilities company ...
JOHN: He certainly gets about.
SHERLOCK: Well, obviously I lost that round although technically I did solve the case.
(He picks up the remote control and mutes the volume. Lowering his hand again he looks
thoughtfully into the distance.)
SHERLOCK: He killed the old lady because she started to describe him.
(He raises a finger on his other hand.)
SHERLOCK: Just once, he put himself in the firing line.
JOHN: What dyou mean?
SHERLOCK: Well, usually, he must stay above it all. He organises these things but no-one ever
has direct contact.
JOHN: What ... like the Connie Prince murder he-he arranged that? So people come to him
wanting their crimes fixed up, like booking a holiday?
SHERLOCK (softly, his face full of admiration): Novel.
(John looks at him in disbelief, then turns and looks at the TV screen again, which has moved
on to a new story.)
JOHN: Huh.

135
(He jerks a finger towards the screen and Sherlock looks up to see Raoul de Santos being
bundled out of Kennys house by police officers. The press are there and are shoving each other
as they struggle to get close to Raoul and take photographs while interviewers shout questions.
The headline on the screen reads: Connie Prince: man arrested. Raoul is shoved into the back
of a police car. John looks round at Sherlock, who is looking down at the pink phone.)
SHERLOCK: Taking his time this time.
(John looks away, clearing his throat uncomfortably. On the TV, the camera is focussing on
Kenny who is standing at the window of his house, holding Sekhmet in his arms and watching
the chaos outside.)
JOHN: Anything on the Carl Powers case?
SHERLOCK: Nothing. All the living classmates check out spotless. No connection.
JOHN: Maybe the killer was older than Carl?
SHERLOCK: The thought had occurred.
JOHN: So whys he doing this, then playing this game with you? Dyou think he wants to be
caught?
(Sherlock presses his fingertips together in front of his mouth and smiles slightly.)
SHERLOCK: I think he wants to be distracted.
(John laughs humourlessly, gets out of his chair and heads towards the kitchen.)
JOHN: I hope youll be very happy together.
SHERLOCK: Sorry, what?
(John turns back, furious, and leans his hands on the back of his chair.)
JOHN: There are lives at stake, Sherlock actual human lives... Just just so I know, do you
care about that at all?
SHERLOCK (irritably): Will caring about them help save them?
JOHN: Nope.
SHERLOCK: Then Ill continue not to make that mistake.
JOHN: And you find that easy, do you?
SHERLOCK: Yes, very. Is that news to you?
JOHN: No. (He smiles bitterly.) No.
(They lock eyes for a moment.)
SHERLOCK: Ive disappointed you.
JOHN (still smiling angrily as he points at him sarcastically): Thats good thats a good
deduction, yeah.
SHERLOCK: Dont make people into heroes, John. Heroes dont exist, and if they did, I wouldnt
be one of them.
(They stare at each other for a second but then the pink phone sounds a message alert.)
SHERLOCK: Excellent!
(He picks up the phone and activates it. The phone sounds one short pip and the long tone, and
a photograph appears showing a river bank.)
SHERLOCK: View of the Thames. South Bank somewhere between Southwark Bridge and
Waterloo.
(He reaches into his jacket for his own phone.)
SHERLOCK: You check the papers; Ill look online ...
(He looks up and sees that John is standing with his hands braced on the back of his chair and
his head lowered.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, youre angry with me, so you wont help.
(John raises his head and shrugs.)
SHERLOCK: Not much cop, this caring lark.
(He loudly clicks the k on the last word. Your transcriber blissfully falls off her chair. Sherlock
dismisses John from his mind and begins a search on his phone:
Search:
Thames
+ High Tide
+ Riverside
John stares at him for a moment, then straightens up as he perhaps begins to realise that his
friend is never going to change. Sherlock continues his online search, totally focussed on his
work and oblivious to the emotional trauma which his flatmate is going through. After a while
John sniffs, then walks across the room towards the sofa. Sherlock switches to a search for

136
Local News
Greenwich
Waterloo
Battersea
He selects Waterloo as John tiredly sits down on the sofa and starts going through the pile of
newspapers on the coffee table. Sherlocks phone shows timed reports from the Waterloo area,
giving tide times, police reports and other information.)
JOHN (reading from a newspaper): Archway suicide.
SHERLOCK (snapping irritably): Ten a penny.
(John throws him a look as Sherlock goes back to the Local News option and selects Battersea.
The page shows No new reports. He tries Thames Police Reports and starts scrolling through
the duty log.)
JOHN: Two kids stabbed in Stoke Newington.
(He puts that paper aside and looks at another one.)
JOHN: Ah. Man found on the train line Andrew West.
(Sherlock looks exasperated when he finds no helpful information in the reports.)
SHERLOCK: Nothing!
(He hits a speed dial and the phone begins to ring out. As soon as it is answered he starts
talking.)
SHERLOCK: Its me. Have you found anything on the South Bank between Waterloo Bridge and
Southwark Bridge?
On the south bank of the River Thames, the tide has receded to reveal the body of a large man
wearing black trousers, a white shirt, black socks and no shoes.
Later, while the police and forensics officers work at the scene, our boys arrive. Sherlock is
pulling on a pair of latex gloves. Lestrade is waiting beside the body.
LESTRADE: Dyou reckon this is connected, then? The bomber?
SHERLOCK: Must be. Odd, though ... (he holds up the pink phone) ... he hasnt been in touch.
LESTRADE: But we must assume that some poor buggers primed to explode, yeah?
SHERLOCK: Yes.
(He steps back and takes a long look at the mans body which is now lying on its back on a
plastic sheet.)
LESTRADE: Any ideas?
SHERLOCK: Seven ... so far.
LESTRADE: Seven?!
(Sherlock walks closer to the body and squats down to examine the mans face closely with his
magnifier. He then looks at the ripped pocket on the shirt before working his way downwards
until he reaches the mans feet. He pulls off one of the socks and examines the sole of the foot
with his magnifier. Standing up and closing the magnifier, he looks across to John and jerks his
head down towards the body in a mute order to examine it. John looks enquiringly at Lestrade
for permission; the inspector holds his hand out in a be my guest gesture. John squats down
beside the body and reaches out to take hold of the mans wrist while Sherlock walks a few
paces away and gets out his phone.)
JOHN: Hes dead about twenty-four hours maybe a bit longer. (He looks up at Lestrade.) Did
he drown?
(Sherlock has called up
Interpol
Most Wanted
Criminal Organisations
Regional Activities
LESTRADE: Apparently not. Not enough of the Thames in his lungs. Asphyxiated.
JOHN: Yes, Id agree.
(Sherlock looks up thoughtfully, then selects the latter option and the screen changes to:
Czech Republic
Gangs

137
Information
Most Wanted
Contact
JOHN: Theres quite a bit of bruising around the nose and mouth. More bruises here and here.
(Sherlock selects the Most Wanted option, then looks up as he mentally flashes back to
looking at the small round red marks beside the mans mouth and near his hairline.)
SHERLOCK (thoughtfully): Fingertips.
(As John stands up, Sherlock shifts to a new search:
Missing Persons
He scrolls through the options:
Last 36 hrs
Age
Location
Local Search
JOHN: In his late thirties, Id say. Not in the best condition.

SHERLOCK: Hes been in the river a long while. The waters destroyed most of the data.
(He quirks a grin.)
SHERLOCK: But Ill tell you one thing: that lost Vermeer paintings a fake.
LESTRADE: What?
SHERLOCK: We need to identify the corpse. Find out about his friends and associates ...
LESTRADE: Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait. What painting? What are you what are you on about?
SHERLOCK: Its all over the place. Havent you seen the posters? Dutch Old Master, supposed
to have been destroyed centuries ago; now its turned up. Worth thirty million pounds.
LESTRADE: Okay. So what has that got to do with the stiff?
SHERLOCK (grinning briefly): Everything. Have you ever heard of the Golem?
LESTRADE: Golem?
JOHN: Its a horror story, isnt it? What are you saying?
SHERLOCK: Jewish folk story. A gigantic man made of clay. Its also the name of an assassin
real name Oskar Dzundza one of the deadliest assassins in the world.
(He points down to the body.)
SHERLOCK: That is his trademark style.
LESTRADE: So this is a hit?
SHERLOCK: Definitely. The Golem squeezes the life out of his victims with his bare hands.
LESTRADE: But what has this gotta do with that painting? I dont see ...
SHERLOCK (exasperated): You do see you just dont observe.
JOHN: All right, all right, girls, calm down. Sherlock? Dyou wanna take us through it?
(Taking a moment before he responds, Sherlock eventually steps back and points to the body.)
SHERLOCK: What do we know about this corpse? The killers not left us with much just the
shirt and the trousers. Theyre pretty formal maybe he was going out for the night, but the
trousers are heavy-duty, polyester, nasty, same as the shirt cheap. Theyre both too big for
him, so some kind of standard-issue uniform. Dressed for work, then. What kind of work?
Theres a hook on his belt for a walkie-talkie.
LESTRADE: Tube driver?
(Sherlock throws him a look which blatantly says idiot.)
JOHN: Security guard?
SHERLOCK: More likely. Thatll be borne out by his backside.
LESTRADE: Backside?!
SHERLOCK: Flabby. Youd think that hed led a sedentary life, yet the soles of his feet and the
nascent varicose veins in his legs show otherwise. So, a lot of walking and a lot of sitting
around. Security guards looking good. And the watch helps, too. The alarm shows he did
regular night shifts.
(Flashback to Sherlock pushing buttons on the mans wristwatch and it showing an alarm time
of 2:30.)
LESTRADE: Why regular? Maybe he just set his alarm like that the night before he died.

138
SHERLOCK: No-no-no, the buttons are stiff, hardly touched. He set his alarm like that a long
time ago. His routine never varied. But theres something else. The killer must have been
interrupted, otherwise he would have stripped the corpse completely. There was some kind of
badge or insignia on the shirt front that he tore off, suggesting the dead man worked
somewhere recognisable, some kind of institution.
(He takes something from his pocket.)
SHERLOCK: Found this inside his trouser pockets.
(He is holding a small scrunched-up ball of paper.)
SHERLOCK: Sodden by the river but still recognisably ...
JOHN (peering at the ball of paper): Tickets?
SHERLOCK: Ticket stubs. He worked in a museum or gallery. Did a quick check the Hickman
Gallery has reported one of its attendants as missing.
(He points down to the body.)
SHERLOCK: Alex Woodbridge. Tonight they unveil the re-discovered masterpiece. Now why
would anyone want to pay the Golem to suffocate a perfectly ordinary gallery attendant?
Inference: the dead man knew something about it something that would stop the owner
getting paid thirty million pounds. The pictures a fake.
JOHN (admiringly): Fantastic.
SHERLOCK (shrugging, apparently still peeved about their earlier argument): Meretricious.
LESTRADE: And a Happy New Year!
(John throws him a seriously?! look. Lestrade grins sheepishly, then John looks down at the
body again.)
JOHN: Poor sod.
LESTRADE: Id better get my feelers out for this Golem character.
SHERLOCK: Pointless. Youll never find him. But I know a man who can.
LESTRADE: Who?
SHERLOCK (grinning): Me.
(He turns and walks away. John sighs, his entire body radiating Oh, here we go again, but he
dutifully follows his friend.)
TAXI. As the boys sit in the back of the cab, Sherlock is looking at the pink phone in frustration.
SHERLOCK: Why hasnt he phoned? Hes broken his pattern. Why?
(A thought strikes him and he leans forward to the taxi driver.)
SHERLOCK: Waterloo Bridge.
JOHN: Where now? The Gallery?
SHERLOCK: In a bit.
JOHN: The Hickmans contemporary art, isnt it? Why have they got hold of an Old Master?
SHERLOCK: Dunno. Dangerous to jump to conclusions. Need data.
(He has taken his notebook from his pocket and now writes something on a page before tearing
it out and folding a bank note inside it. He puts the paper into his pocket, then a few seconds
later calls out to the driver.)
SHERLOCK: Stop!
(The cab pulls over to the side of the road.)
SHERLOCK: You wait here. I wont be a moment.
(He gets out, goes to the railings at the edge of the pavement and easily vaults over them.)
JOHN (also getting out of the cab): Sherlock ...
(As Sherlock walks off, John shakes his head in exasperation, then scrambles over the railings
and follows him. Sherlock trots up some steps to where a young woman is sitting on a bench
under Waterloo Bridge. She has a large bag beside her with a handwritten cardboard sign
poking out of the top. The first two words on the sign say, HUNGRY AND. Presumably the next
word, obscured by some of her possessions, is HOMELESS.)
HOMELESS GIRL: Change? Any change?
SHERLOCK: What for?
HOMELESS GIRL: Cup of tea, of course.
SHERLOCK (handing her the piece of paper from his pocket): Here you go fifty.
HOMELESS GIRL (smiling): Thanks.
(He immediately turns and walks away again. John looks at him in bewilderment before turning
and following, pointing back towards the girl.)
SHERLOCK: Investing.

139
(John looks back to where the girl is unfolding the note and reading it. Sherlock goes to the
railings and easily leaps over them again. He opens the rear door of the cab.)
SHERLOCK: Now we go to the Gallery.
(He stops and looks back at John.)
SHERLOCK: Have you got any cash?
(John just offscreen presumably nods because Sherlock gets into the cab and John follows.)
HICKMAN GALLERY. The taxi pulls up and Sherlock steps out. John is about to follow but
Sherlock stops him.
SHERLOCK: No. I need you to find out all you can about the gallery attendant. Lestrade will give
you the address.
JOHN: Okay.
(He closes the cab door and gives a new instruction to the driver. Sherlock walks away towards
the gallery.)
ALEX WOODBRIDGES HOME. A woman leads John into Alexs tiny attic bedroom. Its messy
with clothes scattered everywhere. The window in the canted ceiling looks up into the sky, and
standing below it is a large object covered with a sheet.
JULIE: Wed been sharing about a year. Just sharing.
JOHN: Mmm.
(Julie stops and gestures around the room. John walks in and looks around, not touching
anything. He looks at the sheet-covered object and points to it.)
JOHN: May I?
JULIE: Yeah.
(John tries to lift just the top of the sheet but it slips from his fingers and falls to the floor.)
JOHN: Sorry.
(He looks at the telescope on a tripod which has been revealed.)
JOHN: Stargazer, was he?
JULIE: God, yeah. Mad about it. Its all he ever did in his spare time.
(She looks away sadly.)
JULIE: He was a nice guy, Alex. I liked him.
(She looks around the room.)
JULIE: He was, er, never much of a one for hoovering.
(She laughs nervously. John smiles at her, then pulls a face as she looks away.)
JOHN: What about art? Did he know anything about that?
JULIE (shaking her head): It was just a job, you know?
JOHN: Hmm.
(He bends down and peers at the items on the bedside table.)
JOHN: Has anyone else been round asking about Alex?
JULIE: No. We had a break-in, though.
JOHN (straightening up): Hmm? When?
JULIE: Last night. There was nothing taken. Oh there was a message left for Alex on the
landline.
JOHN: Who was it from?
JULIE: Well, I can play it for you if you like. Ill get the phone.
JOHN: Please.
(She goes out of the room briefly and comes back with the phone and plays the message.)
WOMANs VOICE: Oh, should I speak now? Alex? Love, its Professor Cairns. Listen, you were
right. You were bloody right! Give us a call when ...
(The message ends.)
JOHN: Professor Cairns?
JULIE: No, no idea, sorry.
JOHN: Mm. Can I try and ring back?
JULIE: Well, no good. I mean, Ive had other calls since sympathy ones, you know.
(He nods and Julie leaves the room again just as Johns phone trills a text alert. He gets out the
phone and looks at the message which reads:
RE: BRUCE-PARTINGTON PLANS

Have you spoken to Wests
fiance yet?
Mycroft Holmes

140
John grimaces and puts away the phone.)
HICKMAN GALLERY. An elegantly dressed woman walks into the large white-painted room which
is displaying the Vermeer painting. There is no other artwork or furniture of any kind in the
room, but two rows of free-standing posts are roped together to form a path to the picture. The
woman stops at the sight of a security man in a black jacket and black cap standing in front of
the painting with his back to her.
MISS WENCESLAS (in an Eastern European accent): Dont you have something to do?
SHERLOCK (for it is he): Just admiring the view.
MISS WENCESLAS: Yes. Lovely. Now get back to work. We open tonight.
(Sherlock looks over his shoulder and then turns and walks towards her.)
SHERLOCK: Doesnt it bother you?
MISS WENCESLAS: What?
SHERLOCK: That the paintings a fake.
MISS WENCESLAS (angrily): What?
SHERLOCK: Its a fake. It has to be. Its the only possible explanation.
(Getting closer to her, he looks at her I.D. badge.)
SHERLOCK: Youre in charge, arent you, Miss Wenceslas?
[And yes, he does call her Miss Wencleslas both here and later. I can only presume that this is a
Benedict thing rather than a Sherlock thing thats a lot of sibilance to pronounce when you
have a tendency to lisp.]
MISS WENCESLAS: Who are you?
SHERLOCK (getting into her face and staring into her eyes): Alex Woodbridge knew that the
painting was a fake, so somebody sent the Golem to take care of him. Was it you?
MISS WENCESLAS: Golem? What the hell are you talking about?
SHERLOCK: Or are you working for someone else? Did you fake it for them?
MISS WENCESLAS: Its not a fake.
SHERLOCK: It is a fake. Dont know why, but theres something wrong with it. There has to be.
MISS WENCESLAS: What the hell are you on about? You know, I could have you sacked on the
spot.
SHERLOCK: Not a problem.
MISS WENCESLAS: No?
SHERLOCK: No. I dont work here, you see. Just popped in to give you a bit of friendly advice.
MISS WENCESLAS: How did you get in?
SHERLOCK (scornfully): Please.
MISS WENCESLAS: I want to know.
SHERLOCK: The art of disguise is knowing how to hide in plain sight.
(He turns and begins to walk away, taking off his cap.)
MISS WENCESLAS: Who are you?
(He drops the cap onto the top of one of the railing posts and continues onwards.)
MISS WENCESLAS: Am I supposed to be impressed?
SHERLOCK: You should be.
(Taking off the jacket, he looks round at her as he deliberately drops it on the floor. Reaching
the doors, he flamboyantly shoves one open, almost dancing out of the room.)
SHERLOCK: Have a nice day!
(Miss Wenceslas walks closer to the painting and looks at it as the door slowly and squeakily
swings closed.)
WESTIES FLAT. John is sitting on the sofa beside Andrew Wests fiance. He has been there
long enough for her to have made them mugs of something which are on the coffee table in
front of them. Lucy is upset throughout the ensuing conversation.
LUCY: He wouldnt. He just wouldnt.
JOHN (gently): Well, stranger things have happened.
LUCY: Westie wasnt a traitor. Its a horrible thing to say!
JOHN: Im sorry, but you must understand thats ...
LUCY: Thats what they think, isnt it, his bosses?
JOHN (nodding): He was a young man, about to get married. He had debts ...
LUCY: Everyones got debts; and Westie wouldnt wanna clear them by selling out his country.
JOHN: Can you, um, can you tell me exactly what happened that night?

141
LUCY: We were having a night in, just watching a DVD.

(She smiles at the memory.)
LUCY: He normally falls asleep, you know, but he sat through this one. He was quiet.
(She becomes tearful.)
LUCY: Out of the blue, he said he just had to go and see someone.
JOHN: And youve no idea who?
(Shaking her head, Lucy begins to cry.)
Later, she opens the front door and shows John out. A cycle courier walks along the pavement
towards the house, wheeling his pushbike.
JOE: Oh, hi, Luce. You okay, love?
LUCY: Yeah.
JOE: Whos this?
JOHN: John Watson. Hi.
LUCY (to John): This is my brother, Joe. (She turns to her brother.) Johns trying to find out
what happened to Westie, Joe.
JOE (looking John up and down): You with the police?
JOHN: Uh, sort of, yeah.
JOE: Well, tell em to get off their arses, will you? Its bloody ridiculous.
JOHN: Ill do my best.
(Nodding, Joe turns and puts a comforting hand on his sisters shoulder for a moment before
wheeling his bike inside the house. John clears his throat and steps closer to Lucy.)
JOHN: Well, er, thanks very much for your help; and again, Im very, very sorry.
(He turns to leave but Lucy calls after him.)
LUCY: He didnt steal those things, Mr Watson.
(John turns back to her.)
LUCY: I knew Westie. He was a good man. (She starts to cry.) He was my good man.
(She turns and goes back indoors. John walks away looking like one awesome BAMF and
melting ovaries everywhere. Hang on, why did I strike that out? Edit: John walks away, looking
like one awesome BAMF and melting ovaries everywhere. There, fixed it for you me.)
NIGHT TIME. John is in the back of a taxi heading along Baker Street. Further along the road,
the homeless girl is standing by the railings at the other side of Speedys, shaking a paper cup
at people as they pass by.
HOMELESS GIRL: Spare change? Any spare change?
(Sherlock comes out of 221 and stops, looking down the road towards her. The taxi pulls up and
John gets out. Sherlock walks over to him.)
JOHN: Alex Woodbridge didnt know anything special about art.
SHERLOCK: And?
JOHN: And ...
(Sherlock looks towards the girl again and starts to walk towards her while still talking to John.)
SHERLOCK: Is that it? No habits, hobbies, personality?
JOHN: No, give us a chance! He was an amateur astronomer.
(Sherlock stops dead, turns and points towards the taxi.)
SHERLOCK: Hold that cab.
(John trots back to the taxi while Sherlock goes over to the girl.)
HOMELESS GIRL: Spare change, sir?
SHERLOCK: Dont mind if I do.
JOHN (to the cab driver): Can you wait here?
(The girl hands Sherlock a piece of paper. Unfolding it, he sees that she has written VAUXHALL
ARCHES on it. Smiling briefly, he turns and walks back to John.)
SHERLOCK: Fortunately, I havent been idle.
(He opens the cab door and gets in.)
SHERLOCK: Come on.
(John climbs in and the taxi heads off.)
VAUXHALL. The boys have got out of the cab and are walking along, Sherlock buttoning his coat
as he gazes up at the sky.
SHERLOCK: Beautiful, isnt it?
(John looks up [and sees an impossibly dense star field that you would never see in central
London in a million years].)

142
JOHN: I thought you didnt care about things like that.

SHERLOCK: Doesnt mean I cant appreciate it.
(They walk into the Arches.)
JOHN: Listen: Alex Woodbridge had a message on the answerphone at his flat a Professor
Cairns?
SHERLOCK: This way.
JOHN: Nice(!) Nice part of town. Er, any time you wanna explain.
SHERLOCK: Homeless network really is indispensible.
JOHN (getting a small flashlight from his pocket and switching it on): Homeless network?
SHERLOCK: My eyes and ears all over the city.
JOHN: Oh, thats clever. So you scratch their backs and ...
SHERLOCK: Yes, then I disinfect myself.
(He has also brought a torch and shines it around as they continue into the darkness of the
Arches. Their beams pick out homeless people all around the place, most of them settling down
for the night. Suddenly, in the distance, the shadow of a man shows on a wall as he begins to
stand up. The man is incredibly tall.)
JOHN: Sherlock!
SHERLOCK: Come on!
(They duck to the side of a wall while the man continues straightening up for ages until he is
over seven feet tall.)
JOHN (in a whisper): Whats he doing sleeping rough?
SHERLOCK (peering around the corner): Well, he has a very distinctive look. He has to hide
somewhere where tongues wont wag much.
(John looks down as he realises that he has come out without something essential.)
JOHN: Oh shi...
SHERLOCK (taking Johns pistol from his coat pocket): What?
JOHN: I wish Id ...
SHERLOCK (handing him the gun): Dont mention it.
(The man breaks into a run and hurries away down another tunnel. The boys chase across
towards where he was and reach the tunnel just in time to see him climbing into a waiting car
which immediately speeds off. Sherlock punches the air in frustration.)
SHERLOCK: No, no, no, no! Itll take us weeks to find him again.
JOHN: Or not. I have an idea where he might be going.
SHERLOCK: What?
JOHN: I told you: someone left Alex Woodbridge a message. There cant be that many Professor
Cairns in the book. Come on.
PLANETARIUM. Professor Cairns is alone in the planetariums theatre. As Gustav Holsts Mars
plays over the sound system, she is standing at the mixing desk in front of a huge screen and
watching footage of a film which is played to visitors. Other than the light coming from the
screen, the room is in darkness.
NARRATOR (over the footage): Jupiter, the fifth planet in our solar system and the largest.
Jupiter is a gas giant. Planet Earth would fit into it eleven times.
CAIRNS (bored): Yes, we know that.
(She stops the recording and fast-forwards it for a moment because starting the playback
again.)
NARRATOR: Titan is the largest moon.
CAIRNS (fast-forwarding again): Come on, Neptune, wherere you hiding?
(Behind her, a hand pushes open the door to the theatre. A moment later, just as Cairns starts
the playback again, the door bangs shut. She looks round.)
NARRATOR: Many are actually long dead ...
(Cairns peers up to the projection room.)
CAIRNS: Tom? Is that you?
NARRATOR: ... exploded into supernovas.
(She turns back to the desk. Behind her a long arm reaches out towards her.)
NARRATOR: ... discovered by Urbain Le Verrier in 1846.
(A tall figure steps up behind Cairns and clamps one hand over her mouth and nose, pulling her
backwards.)
CAIRNS (muffled): Oh my God!

143
(She claws at the hand, crying out in muffled panic, and her other hand flails out and drags
several of the sliders down the mixing desk. The footage begins to jump randomly as Cairns
attacker continues to suffocate her.)
NARRATOR: ... composed mainly of hydrogen. Their light takes so long to reach us ...
(Sherlock and John race into the theatre through another door. As John stops and aims his
pistol towards the attacker, Sherlock yells at the top of his voice.)
SHERLOCK: Golem!
NARRATOR ... many are actually long-dead, exploded into supernovas.
(The Golem looks up, grunts in surprise, then snaps Cairns neck and drops her to the floor. Her
fingers drag along the mixing desk and the footage goes into fast-forward again, plunging the
theatre into darkness. The Golem ducks down out of sight.)
SHERLOCK: John!
JOHN: I cant see him. Ill go round. Ill go!
(As the footage continues spooling and then stopping and playing before spooling again, light
comes and goes in the room. Sherlock stares around as John hurries off.)
SHERLOCK (loudly): Who are you working for this time, Dzundza?
(Behind him, the Golem steps out of the fluctuating darkness and clamps one hand around
Sherlocks mouth and nose while gripping his neck with the other. Sherlock grabs at the hand
on his face, struggling to pull it free as he is slowly suffocated. John races over and stops in
front of them, his pistol held in both hands.)
JOHN: Golem!
(He cocks the gun and points it at the Golems face, his hands and voice steady.)
JOHN: Let him go, or I will kill you.
(Sherlock, whimpering in his efforts, continues trying to pull the mans hand from his face. The
Golem swings him around to the left and lashes out with his long right leg during a moment of
darkness, kicking the pistol from Johns hands. Dropping Sherlock to the ground, he surges
forward and wrestles with John. As Sherlock gets to his feet, the Golem shoves John into him,
sending both of the boys tumbling to the floor. Sherlock scrambles up again and takes up a
boxing stance in front of him, holding up his clenched fists. He swings a punch at the man but
Dzundza grabs his hand and swings his other arm down heavily onto Sherlocks shoulder,
dropping him to the floor yet again. The Golem follows him down and clamps both hands over
his face, leaning his weight onto them. Behind him, John throws himself onto his back. The
Golem roars, releasing Sherlock as he claws at the hobbit on his back. He stands up with John
still clinging to his back and spins around several times before finally managing to shake him off
onto the floor. As John groggily tries to get up, the Golem turns, picks up Sherlock and skims
him across the floor towards John. Sliding across the floor, Sherlock grabs at the pistol and
manages to pick it up. The Golem runs for the doors. Sherlock rolls over onto his back and fires
twice towards him but the Golem makes it to the doors and disappears through them.)
NARRATOR: ... long dead, exploded into supernovas.
(As the image of a supernova dramatically explodes on the screen behind him, Sherlock angrily
slams his hand down on the floor in front of him.)
MORNING. HICKMAN GALLERY. Sherlock is standing in front of the Vermeer painting, looking up
information on his phone. He calls up subjects such as Vermeer brush strokes, Pigment
analysis, Canvas degradation, UV Light damage, Delft Skyline, 1600, and Vermeer
influences. John, Lestrade and Miss Wenceslas are standing behind him.
SHERLOCK: Its a fake. It has to be.
MISS WENCESLAS: That painting has been subjected to every test known to science.
SHERLOCK: Its a very good fake, then.
(He spins around and glares at her.)
SHERLOCK: You know about this, dont you? This is you, isnt it?
(Miss Wenceslas turns to Lestrade, looking exasperated.)
MISS WENCESLAS: Inspector, my time is being wasted. Would you mind showing yourself and
your friends out?
(The pink phone rings. Sherlock snatches it from his pocket and switches on the speaker.)
SHERLOCK: The painting is a fake.
(Theres a faint sound of breathing over the speaker but otherwise there is no response.)
SHERLOCK: Its a fake. Thats why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed.
(Still theres nothing more than breathing.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, come on. Proving its just the detail. The painting is a fake. Ive solved it. Ive
figured it out. Its a fake! Thats the answer. Thats why they were killed.

144
(When the phone remains silent, Sherlock takes a deep breath to calm himself.)
SHERLOCK: Okay, Ill prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?
(After a moment, the tremulous voice of a very young boy comes over the phones speaker.)
BOYs VOICE: Ten ...
(Instantly Sherlock spins and looks closely at the painting.)
LESTRADE (shocked): Its a kid. Oh, God, its a kid!
JOHN: What did he say?
SHERLOCK: Ten.
BOYs VOICE: Nine ...
SHERLOCK (narrowing his eyes as he scans every inch of the painting): Its a countdown. Hes
giving me time.
LESTRADE: Jesus!
SHERLOCK: The painting is a fake, but how can I prove it? How? How?
BOYs VOICE: Eight ...
SHERLOCK (turning and glaring at Miss Wenceslas): This kid will die. Tell me why the painting is
a fake. Tell me!
(Miss Wenceslas flinches and opens her mouth, but Sherlock immediately holds up his hand to
stop her.)
BOYs VOICE: Seven ...
SHERLOCK: No, shut up. Dont say anything. It only works if I figure it out.
(He turns back to the painting again. Unable to stand the tension, John turns and walks away a
few paces. Lestrade turns to watch him, probably wanting to join in the pacing as well.)
SHERLOCK (to himself, continuing to scan the painting): Must be possible. Must be staring me
in the face.
BOYs VOICE: Six ...
JOHN (urgently under his breath as he turns back): Come on.
SHERLOCK: Woodbridge knew, but how?
BOYs VOICE: Five ...
LESTRADE: Its speeding up!
JOHN (urgently): Sherlock.
(Sherlocks gaze falls on three tiny white dots of paint in the night sky. His mouth falls open as
the penny finally drops.)
SHERLOCK: Oh!
BOYs VOICE: Four ...
SHERLOCK: In the planetarium! You heard it too. Oh, that is brilliant! That is gorgeous!
(Turning and shoving the pink phone into Johns hands, he walks away from the painting,
grinning as he pulls out his own phone from his pocket.)
BOYs VOICE: Three ...
JOHN: Whats brilliant? What is?
(Sherlock rapidly types Astronomers and Supernovas into his phone, then turns back and
walks towards the others, laughing in delight.)
SHERLOCK: This is beautiful. I love this!
BOYs VOICE: Two ...
LESTRADE (furiously): Sherlock!
(Sherlock grabs the pink phone from John and yells into it.)
SHERLOCK: The Van Buren Supernova!
(Theres a short pause, then the boys plaintive voice comes from the speaker.)
BOYs VOICE: Please. Is somebody there?
(Sherlock sighs out a relieved breath.)
BOYs VOICE: Somebody help me!
SHERLOCK (turning and handing the phone to Lestrade): There you go. Go find out where he is
and pick him up.
(He gives John a long look, promising him a jolly good seeing-to later, then turns and points to
one of the dots in the sky of the painting.)
SHERLOCK: The Van Buren Supernova, so-called. (He holds up his phone over his shoulder so
that Miss Wenceslas can see the screen.) Exploding star, only appeared in the sky in eighteen
fifty-eight.
(He turns and throws her a triumphant look, then walks away. John drags in a relieved breath,
then walks closer to look at the painting.)
JOHN: So how could it have been painted in the sixteen forties?

145
(He grins over his shoulder at Miss Wenceslas, then looks back to the picture again. His phone
trills a text alert.)
JOHN: Oh.
(He digs out his phone, still breathing heavily, and looks at the message which reads:
My patience is
wearing thin.
Mycroft Holmes
He growls slightly, then looks up at the painting one last time.)

JOHN: Oh Sherl...
(He switches off the phone and walks away. Miss Wenceslas stares at the painting in shock.)
NEW SCOTLAND YARD. Sherlock and Miss Wenceslas are sitting side by side in front of
Lestrades desk while the inspector sits in a chair to the side of the desk. Sherlock has his hands
in the prayer position under his chin.
SHERLOCK: You know, its interesting. Bohemian stationery, an assassin named after a Prague
legend, and you, Miss Wenceslas. This whole case has a distinctly Czech feeling about it. Is that
where this leads?
(She looks down and doesnt answer.)
SHERLOCK: What are we looking at, Inspector?
LESTRADE (thoughtfully): Well, um, criminal conspiracy, fraud, accessory after the fact at the
very least. The murder of the old woman, all the people in the flats ...
MISS WENCESLAS (panicked, to Lestrade): I didnt know anything about that! All those things!
Please believe me.
(As she continues to stare at Lestrade, Sherlock gives him a tiny nod to confirm that shes
telling the truth.)
MISS WENCESLAS: I just wanted my share the thirty million.
(She looks across to Sherlock, then sighs and lowers her head again.)
MISS WENCESLAS: I found a little old man in Argentina. Genius. I mean, really: brushwork
immaculate, could fool anyone.
SHERLOCK (sarcastically): Hm!
MISS WENCESLAS (looking at him briefly): Well, nearly anyone. (She turns back to Lestrade.)
But I didnt know how to go about convincing the world the picture was genuine. It was just an
idea a spark which he blew into a flame.
SHERLOCK (sharply): Who?
MISS WENCESLAS (shaking her head): I dont know.
(Lestrade gives a disbelieving laugh.)
MISS WENCESLAS: Its true! I mean, it took a long time, but eventually I was put in touch with
people ... his people.
(Sherlock slowly begins to sit up in his chair, his expression becoming more concentrated.)
MISS WENCESLAS: Well, there was never any real contact; just messages ... whispers.
(Sherlock leans closer to her, his face intense.)
SHERLOCK: And did those whispers have a name?
(She gazes ahead of herself for a moment, then looks across to Lestrade before nodding. She
turns her head to Sherlock.)
MISS WENCESLAS: Moriarty.
(Slowly Sherlock sinks back in his chair. As Miss Wenceslas looks anxiously at Lestrade again,
Sherlock gazes into the distance, his eyes full of thought. Eventually he raises his hands into the
prayer position in front of his mouth, then grins.)
BATTERSEA. Wearing a high-vis jacket over his coat, John is walking along the railway lines
with the Tube guard who found Andrew Wests body.
JOHN: So this is where West was found?
TUBE GUARD: Yeah.
JOHN: Uh-huh.
TUBE GUARD: You gonna be long?
JOHN: I might be.
TUBE GUARD: You with the police, then?
JOHN: Sort of.
TUBE GUARD: I hate em.

146
JOHN: The police?

TUBE GUARD: No. Jumpers.
[Be careful, there, son. This will show you that you dont insult jumpers in the presence of John
Watson, jumper-wearer extraordinaire.]
TUBE GUARD: People who chuck themselves in front of trains.
[Oh. Sorry. As you were.]
TUBE GUARD: Selfish bastards.
JOHN: Well, thats one way of looking at it.
(He squats down to look more closely at the railway track.)
TUBE GUARD: I mean it. Its all right for them. Its over in a split second strawberry jam all
over the lines. What about the drivers, hmm? Theyve gotta live with it, havent they?
(John runs his fingers along the track, then lifts his hand to look at it.)
JOHN: Yeah, speaking of strawberry jam, theres no blood on the line. (He stands up again.)
Has it been cleaned off?
TUBE GUARD: No, there wasnt that much.
JOHN: You said his head was smashed in.
TUBE GUARD: Well, it was, but there wasnt much blood.
JOHN: Okay.
(He turns and looks along the line thoughtfully.)
TUBE GUARD: Well, Ill leave you to it then.
(John walks a few yards further down the line and then squats down again.)
TUBE GUARD: Just give us a shout when youre off.
JOHN: Right.
(The guard walks away. John stands up again and talks to himself.)
JOHN: Right: so, uh, Andrew West got on the train somewhere or did he? Theres no ticket on
the body. Then how did he end up here?
(Beside him, the points change and a set of the tracks slides sideways into a new layout. John
squats down again and looks at the tracks thoughtfully.)
SHERLOCK (from behind him): Points.
JOHN: Yes!
(He springs to his feet and turns around to see his flatmate standing nearby.)
SHERLOCK: Knew youd get there eventually. West wasnt killed here; thats why there was so
little blood.
JOHN: How long have you been following me?
SHERLOCK: Since the start. You dont think Id give up on a case like this just to spite my
brother, do you?
(He turns and starts walking away.)
SHERLOCK: Come on. Got a bit of burglary to do.
Shortly afterwards the boys are walking along a street.

SHERLOCK: The missile defence plans havent left the country, otherwise Mycrofts people
would have heard about it. Despite what people think, we do still have a Secret Service.
JOHN: Yeah, I know. Ive met them.
SHERLOCK: Which means whoever stole the memory stick cant sell it or doesnt know what to
do with it. My moneys on the latter. Were here.
JOHN: Where?
(Sherlock turns into the drive of a maisonette and trots up the steps at the side of the building
which lead to the front door of flat 21A on the first floor. As he rummages in his pocket, John
whispers to him urgently.)
JOHN: Sherlock! What if theres someone in?
SHERLOCK: There isnt.
(He picks the lock and goes inside.)
JOHN (softly): Jesus!
(He hurries inside and shuts the door. Sherlock trots up the short flight of stairs ahead of him
and walks into the living room.)
JOHN: Where are we?
SHERLOCK: Oh, sorry, didnt I say? Joe Harrisons flat.
JOHN: Joe ...?
(Sherlock goes straight over to the window and pulls back the net curtain. He grins in
satisfaction at the sight which greets him outside.)
SHERLOCK: Brother of Wests fiance.

147
(Outside the window is a one-storey extension, the roof of which can be easily climbed onto
from the window. The extension goes all the way to the bottom of the garden which ends in a
wall, and directly on the other side of the wall is the railway line.)
SHERLOCK: He stole the memory stick; killed his prospective brother-in-law.
(Dropping to his knees, he gets out his magnifier and uses it to slowly examine the edge of the
window sill. John walks across to him and peers over his shoulder as Sherlock finds some tiny
blood-red spots on the white paint.)
JOHN: Then whyd he do it?
(He straightens up and turns at the sound of someone unlocking the front door. Sherlock also
stands.)
SHERLOCK: Lets ask him.
(Reaching round to the back of his jeans, John walks quietly to the door of the living room as
the front door slams. He steps out onto the landing just as Joe, wearing his courier gear, is
leaning his bicycle against the wall. When he sees John he picks up the bike as if he intends to
use it as a weapon or simply to throw it at him. John instantly raises his right hand and points
his pistol at him.)
JOHN (sternly): Dont.
(For a moment Joe keeps coming but John shakes his head.)
JOHN: Dont.
(Joe stops and lowers the bike, sighing in a mixture of frustration and fear.)
Shortly afterwards he is sitting on the sofa while the boys stand nearby. He is very distressed.
JOE: It wasnt meant to ...
(Sherlock looks away, exasperated.)
JOE: God. (He rubs his hand over his face.) Whats Lucy gonna say? Jesus.
(He sinks back on the sofa.)
JOHN: Why did you kill him?
JOE: It was an accident.
(Sherlock snorts.)
JOE: I swear it was.
SHERLOCK (sternly): But stealing the plans for the missile defence programme wasnt an
accident, was it?
JOE: I started dealing drugs. I mean, the bike things a great cover, right? I dunno I dunno
how it started; I just got out of my depth. I owed people thousands serious people. Then at
Westies engagement do, he starts talking about his job.
(Throughout the next part of the scene there are flashbacks to Joe and Westie in a pub which
re-enact what Joe is describing.)
JOE: I mean, usually hes so careful; but that night after a few pints he really opened up. He
told me about these missile plans beyond top secret. He showed me the memory stick; he
waved it in front of me. You hear about these things getting lost, ending up on rubbish tips and
what-not. And there it was, and I thought ... well, I thought it could be worth a fortune.
(In flashback, Joe helps a very drunk Westie into his jacket and slips the memory stick out of
his shirt pocket while hes doing so.)
JOE: It was pretty easy to get the thing off him, he was so plastered. Next time I saw him, I
could tell by the look on his face that he knew.
(In flashback, Joe is letting himself into his flat at night time when Westie hurries up the steps
and grabs him.)
WESTIE (in flashback): I know you took it.
JOE (in flashback): What are you doin ere?
WESTIE (in flashback): What have you done with it?
JOE (in flashback): What are you talking about?
WESTIE (in flashback): What have you done with the plans?
(In the present, Joe looks up guiltily at John.)
JOHN: What happened?
(In flashback, Westie and Joe scuffle on the small landing outside the front door. Joe angrily
shoves Westie and he loses his footing and rolls down the steps, landing heavily on the ground.)
JOE: I was gonna call an ambulance, but it was too late.
(In flashback, Joe has hauled Westies limp body into the living room, his face full of anguish.)
JOE: I just didnt have a clue what to do, so I dragged him in ere, and I just sat in the dark,
thinking.
SHERLOCK: When a neat little idea popped into your head.

148
(As Joe hauls Westie across to the window, a train pulls up on the tracks outside, its brakes
squealing noisily. Shortly afterwards, Joe has dragged Westie out of the window and is tugging
him across the extension roof. Pulling him over the top of the wall, he steps across onto the roof
of the train and drags the body over, settling it into a position along the slightly curved roof so
that it wont easily fall off. He steps back onto the wall and the train sounds its horn and then
continues on down the track.)
SHERLOCK (pushing the net curtain aside and looking out of the window): Carrying Andrew
West way away from here. His body would have gone on for ages if the train hadnt met a
stretch of track that curved.
(In flashback, the train rockets through the area that John was recently investigating. The
combination of the curve and the jolting of the train as it passes over the points throws Westies
body off the roof and onto the trackside.)
JOHN: And points.
SHERLOCK: Exactly.
(And the Tube guard walks along the track and finds Westies body the next morning.)
[And can your transcriber interject at this point to say that the next moment when John walks
across the screen and wipes that trackside scene away, returning us to the flat combined with
the glorious music all through the latter part of the scene, makes it in her opinion the absolutely
best moment of the entire series so far.]
JOHN: Dyou still have it, then? The memory stick?
(Joe nods.)
SHERLOCK: Fetch it for me if you wouldnt mind.
(Sighing unhappily, Joe stands up and walks into another room. Sherlock walks closer to John.)
SHERLOCK (quietly): Distraction over, the game continues.
JOHN: Well, maybe thats over, too. Weve heard nothing from the bomber.
SHERLOCK: Five pips, remember, John? Its a countdown. Weve only had four.
NIGHT TIME. 221B. Both Sherlock and John are in their coats because the windows still havent
been replaced. Sherlock is sitting in his armchair with his feet up on the seat and his arms
folded tightly around him, trying to conserve heat. The pink phone is on the arm of the chair.
Behind him, John is sitting at the dining table, typing on his laptop. The TV is on and a Jerry
Springer/Jeremy Kyle-type show is playing. As the audience boos noisily, Sherlock yells
indignantly at the telly.
SHERLOCK: No, no, no! Of course hes not the boys father! (He gestures at the screen.) Look
at the turn-ups on his jeans!
(Sighing, he folds his arms again. John, who has looked round to see what Sherlock is
protesting about, gets back to his typing.)
JOHN: Knew it was dangerous.
SHERLOCK: Hmm?
JOHN: Getting you into crap telly.
SHERLOCK: Hmm. Not a patch on Connie Prince.
JOHN: Have you given Mycroft the memory stick yet?
SHERLOCK: Yep. He was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood again.
JOHN: You know, Im still waiting.
SHERLOCK: Hmm?
JOHN: For you to admit that a little knowledge of the solar system and youd have cleared up
the fake painting a lot quicker.
SHERLOCK: Didnt do you any good, did it?
JOHN: No, but Im not the worlds only consulting detective.
SHERLOCK (smiling): True.
(John has closed the lid of his laptop and now stands up.)
JOHN: I wont be in for tea. Im going to Sarahs. Theres still some of that risotto left in the
fridge.
SHERLOCK (his eyes still fixed on the TV): Mm!
(John stops at the door.)
JOHN: Uh, milk. We need milk.
SHERLOCK: Ill get some.
JOHN (turning back with a look of disbelief on his face): Really?!
SHERLOCK: Really.
JOHN: And some beans, then?
SHERLOCK (still not looking away from the TV): Mm.

149
(John hesitates, still surprised, but then nods and walks away. Sherlock continues to gaze at the
TV until he hears the downstairs door open and close, then he picks up his computer notebook
from where it was tucked down beside him. Putting it on his lap and opening the lid, he stares
at the message box on The Science of Deduction website before starting to type.
Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect.
He lifts his eyes in thought for a moment, then quirks a small smile before returning to his
typing.
The Pool. Midnight.
He sends the message, then closes the lid, gazing thoughtfully into the distance.)
SWIMMING POOL. Sherlock opens a door leading into the area surrounding an indoor swimming
pool. The lights are on but there is nobody visible in the area. Somewhere between Baker Street
and here, he has taken off his Coat and is just wearing his suit, so presumably the heating is on
as well. He walks slowly towards the shallow end of the pool, probably very aware that the
upper gallery where people sit and watch the swimmers is still in darkness. He stops at the
edge of the pool and turns, trying to see up into the viewing gallery. Finally he turns towards
the pool again, raising one hand and holding up the memory stick.
SHERLOCK (loudly): Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. Oh, thats what its all
been for, hasnt it? All your little puzzles; making me dance all to distract me from this.
(He gestures with the memory stick, then begins to turn in a slow circle while he waits for a
response. When his back is turned to the pool, a door opens halfway down the room. Sherlock
looks over his shoulder, still holding the memory stick aloft. And John Watson walks through the
door and into the pool area, wrapped snugly in a hooded jacket with his hands tucked into the
pockets. He turns and looks at Sherlock as the detective stares back at him in absolute shock.)
JOHN: Evening.
(Sherlocks raised hand begins to lower slowly but otherwise he doesnt move, still staring over
his shoulder in utter disbelief.)
JOHN: This is a turn-up, isnt it, Sherlock?
SHERLOCK (softly, shocked): John. What the hell ...?
JOHN: Bet you never saw this coming.
(Finally Sherlock manages to move, and starts to walk slowly towards the man he had believed
to be his friend until now. The shock and bewilderment on his face make him look about twelve
years old. Then, with a look of despair which matches Sherlocks, John takes his hands from his
pockets and pulls open his jacket to reveal the bomb strapped to his chest. From somewhere in
the upper gallery, a snipers laser immediately begins to dance around over the bomb.)
JOHN: What ... would you like me ... to make him say ... next?
(Sherlock continues to step towards him but now he is looking everywhere but at John as he
tries to see who else is in the area.)
JOHN (obviously narrating words spoken into an earpiece): Gottle o geer ... gottle o geer ...
gottle o geer.
(His voice almost breaks on the last phrase.)
SHERLOCK: Stop it.
JOHN (narrating): Nice touch, this: the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him. (He tries not
to cringe as he listens to the next words.) I can stop John Watson too. (He looks down at the
laser point on his chest.) Stop his heart.
SHERLOCK (turning on the spot while he tries to look in all directions): Who are you?
(A door opens at the far end of the pool and a soft male voice with an Irish accent speaks from
that direction.)
VOICE: I gave you my number.
(We get a brief glimpse of a man wearing a suit and tie, but he is currently mostly obscured by
a column.)
VOICE (plaintively): I thought you might call.
(Sherlock turns towards the new arrival, who now slowly walks out into the open. Its Jim,
Mollys boyfriend. But this isnt the fumble-fingered casually-dressed Londoner who did indeed
leave his number for Sherlock in the lab at Barts; this is a sharply-dressed man with
immaculate hair and a murderous look on his face. With his hands in his pockets, he casually

150
begins to stroll alongside the deep end of the pool, heading towards Sherlock and John. All hint
of plaintiveness has now gone from his voice.)
JIM: Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket ...
(Sherlock reaches down to his trouser pocket and removes a pistol from it.)
JIM: ... or are you just pleased to see me?
SHERLOCK (raising the pistol and aiming it towards Jim): Both.
(Jim stops and looks back at him, unafraid.)
JIM: Jim Moriarty. Hi!
(Sherlock tilts his head as he looks more closely at the man. Jim acts as if he needs to remind
Sherlock who he is.)
JIM: Jim? Jim from the hospital?
(He begins to walk alongside the deep end again. Sherlock brings up his other hand to support
the one aiming the gun. Jim bites his lip as if disappointed.)
JIM: Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the
point.
(He turns to face Sherlock just as the snipers laser flickers over Johns upper chest. Sherlock
briefly turns his head towards John, a questioning look on his face.)
JIM (starting to walk again): Dont be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I dont like getting
my hands dirty.
(He reaches the corner of the pool and stops.)
JIM: Ive given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what Ive got going on out
there in the big bad world. Im a specialist, you see ...
(He looks surprised, as if he has only just realised the connection.)
JIM: ... like you!
SHERLOCK: Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lovers nasty sister?
(Starting to walk forward again, Jim grins as he recognises the TV show and catchphrase that
Sherlock is quoting.) [See footnotes]
SHERLOCK: Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?
JIM (stopping again): Just so.
SHERLOCK: Consulting criminal. (softly) Brilliant.
JIM (smiling proudly): Isnt it? No-one ever gets to me and no-one ever will.
SHERLOCK (cocking the pistol): I did.
JIM: Youve come the closest. Now youre in my way.
JIM: Didnt mean it as a compliment.
SHERLOCK: Yes you did.
JIM (shrugging): Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirtings over, Sherlock ... (His voice becomes high-
pitched and sing-song.) Daddys had enough now!
(He again starts to stroll closer.)
JIM (back to his normal tone): Ive shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all
those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play.
(John is starting to feel the strain and closes his eyes briefly. Sherlocks eyes cant help but
flicker across to him a couple of times as he tries to keep his focus on the man approaching
them.)
JIM: So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off.
(He smiles.)
JIM: Although I have loved this this little game of ours. (He puts on his London accent for a
moment.) Playing Jim from I.T. (He switches back to his Irish accent.) Playing gay. Did you like
the little touch with the underwear?
SHERLOCK: People have died.
JIM: Thats what people DO!
(He screams the last word furiously, his personality changing in an instant.)
SHERLOCK (softly): I will stop you.
JIM (calmer again): No you wont.
(Sherlock looks across to John.)
SHERLOCK: You all right?
(John deliberately keeps his gaze away from his friend, presumably having been given
instructions earlier about not talking to him. Jim walks forward again and reaches his side.)
JIM: You can talk, Johnny-boy. Go ahead.
(Refusing to specifically obey Jims orders, John meets Sherlocks eyes and nods once. Sherlock
takes one hand off the pistol and holds out the memory stick towards Jim.)

151
SHERLOCK: Take it.

JIM: Huh? Oh! That!
(He strolls past John and reaches out for the stick, grinning.)
JIM: The missile plans!
(He takes the stick from Sherlocks fingers and brings it to his mouth, kissing it. Behind him,
John is silently murmuring to himself, perhaps trying to keep himself focussed, perhaps winding
himself up to take action. Jim lowers the memory stick and looks at it.)
JIM (sing-song): Boring!
(He shakes his head.)
JIM: I could have got them anywhere.
(He nonchalantly tosses the stick into the pool. Seeing his opportunity, John races forward and
slams himself up against Jims back, wrapping one arm around his neck and the other around
his chest. Sherlock backs up a step in surprise but keeps the pistol raised and aimed at Jim.)
JOHN: Sherlock, run!
(Jim laughs in delight.)
JIM: Good! Very good.
(Sherlock doesnt move, still aiming his gun at Jims head but now starting to look up a little
anxiously, as if wondering what action the hidden sniper might take.)
JOHN (savagely): If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr Moriarty, then we both go up.
JIM (calmly, to Sherlock): Isnt he sweet? I can see why you like having him around. But then
people do get so sentimental about their pets.
(Grimacing angrily, John pulls him even closer onto the bomb which is now sandwiched between
them. Jim scowls round at him.)
JIM: Theyre so touchingly loyal. But, oops!
(He grins briefly at John, then looks towards Sherlock.)
JIM: Youve rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson.
(He chuckles as a new laser point appears in the middle of Sherlocks forehead. John stares in
horror as Jim looks round at him expectantly. Sherlock, either seeing the edge of the laser
beam shining from the gallery or realising whats happening from Johns expression, shakes his
head slightly.)
JIM (sing-song): Gotcha!
(He chuckles as John releases his grip on him and steps back, holding his hands up to signal to
the sniper that he wont be trying anything else. Jim glances round at him, then turns back
towards Sherlock while brushing his hands down his suit to straighten it. He gestures to it
indignantly.)
JIM: Westwood! [See footnotes.]
(He lowers his hands and stands calmly in front of Sherlock who is still aiming the pistol at his
head.)
JIM: Dyou know what happens if you dont leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?
SHERLOCK (sounding bored): Oh, let me guess: I get killed.
JIM: Kill you? (He grimaces.) N-no, dont be obvious. I mean, Im gonna kill you anyway some
day. I dont wanna rush it, though. Im saving it up for something special. No-no-no-no-no. If
you dont stop prying, Ill burn you.
(He runs his eyes briefly down Sherlocks body, then meets his eyes again and his voice
becomes vicious.)
JIM: Ill burn the heart out of you.
(His face is a snarl as he says the word heart but at the end of the sentence he looks almost
regretful.)
SHERLOCK (softly): I have been reliably informed that I dont have one.
JIM: But we both know thats not quite true.
(Sherlock blinks involuntarily. Jim looks down, smiling, then shrugs.)
JIM: Well, Id better be off.
(He nonchalantly looks around, perhaps checking his exit route, before turning back to
Sherlock.)
JIM: Well, so nice to have had a proper chat.
(Sherlock raises the pistol higher and extends it closer to Jims head.)
SHERLOCK: What if I was to shoot you now right now?
JIM (completely unperturbed): Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face.
(He opens his eyes and mouth wide, mimicking surprise, then grins at Sherlock.)
JIM: Cause Id be surprised, Sherlock; really I would.
(He screws up his nose.)

152
JIM: And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldnt be able to cherish it for
very long.
(Slowly he begins to turn away.)
JIM: Ciao, Sherlock Holmes.
(Looking back at Sherlock with some distaste, he walks calmly towards the side door through
which John came earlier. Sherlock slowly steps forward to keep him in his sights.)
SHERLOCK: Catch ... you ... later.
(The door opens and Jims voice can be heard, high-pitched and sing-song.)
JIM: No you wont!
(The door closes. Sherlock doesnt move for a few seconds, his gun still aimed towards the
door, then his gaze drifts across to John and he instantly bends, putting the pistol on the floor,
then drops to his knees in front of John [hush now ...] and starts unfastening the vest to which
the bomb is attached.)
SHERLOCK: All right?
(John tilts his head back, breathing heavily [I said hush now ...].)
SHERLOCK (urgently): Are you all right?
JOHN: Yeah-yeah, Im fine.
(Having unfastened the vest, Sherlock jumps up and hurries round behind John, starting to pull
off the jacket and the bomb vest.)
JOHN: Im fine.
(Sherlock, also breathing too fast, continues tugging at the jacket and vest.)
JOHN: Sherlock.
(Finally Sherlock manages to roughly strip the jacket and vest off Johns arms.)
JOHN: Sh-Sherlock!
(Sherlock bends and skims the items as far away along the floor as he can, while John staggers
at the vehemence with which his friend just ripped them off him.)
JOHN (softly): Jesus.
(He reaches up and pulls the earpiece from his ear, breathing heavily as delayed shock begins
to hit him. Sherlock turns and stares at him for a moment, then hurries back to pick up the
pistol before racing towards the door through which Moriarty left. Johns knees buckle and he
staggers towards the nearest support, the edge of one of the changing cubicles.)
JOHN: Oh, Christ.
(He turns and drops down into a squat, bracing his back against the cubicles edge as he blows
out a long breath and tries to calm himself down. Sherlock comes back in, having apparently
seen no sign of Moriarty outside. He starts to pace up and down near John, so hyper and
distracted that he doesnt even realise that he is scratching his head with the business end of a
loaded and cocked pistol.)
JOHN (breathlessly): Are you okay?
SHERLOCK (quick fire, still pacing and scratching his head with the gun): Me? Yeah, Im fine,
Im fine. Fine.
(He turns to John, wide-eyed and breathless.)
SHERLOCK: That, er ... thing that you, er, that you did that, um ... (he clears his throat) ...
you offered to do. That was, um ... good.
JOHN (staring blankly ahead of himself): Im glad no-one saw that.
(Sherlock had temporarily lowered his hand long enough not to be risking accidentally shooting
himself in the head, although he had terrible jitters as he held the gun down by his side. Now
he lifts the gun again as he raises his hand to rub his chin while looking down at John in
confusion.)
SHERLOCK: Hmm?
JOHN (still not meeting his eyes): You, ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool.
People might talk.
(Sherlock shrugs.)
SHERLOCK: People do little else.
(He looks down at John, then grins. John snorts laughter, then leans forward and prepares to
stand up. But before he can move, the beam from a snipers laser begins to dance over his
chest. John looks down at it and his face fills with horror.)
JOHN (anguished): Oh ...
(A door near the deep end of the pool opens and Jim comes through, clapping his hands
together and turning to face our heroes.)
JIM (cheerfully): Sorry, boys! Im soooooo changeable!

153
(John grimaces in disbelief. Sherlock keeps his back to Jim, looking up into the gallery to try
and judge how many snipers there might be up there. Its becoming clear that there are quite a
few because there are at least two laser points hovering over John, and at least three more
travelling over Sherlocks body. Jim laughs and spread his arms wide.)
JIM: It is a weakness with me but, to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness.
(He lowers his hands and puts them in his pockets. Sherlock turns his head and looks down at
John, who lifts his own head to meet his gaze.)
JIM: You cant be allowed to continue. You just cant. I would try to convince you but ... (he
laughs and his voice becomes sing-song again) ... everything I have to say has already crossed
your mind!
(Sherlock, who had looked away from John for a moment, now turns and looks down at him
again, his face showing no emotion but his eyes screaming a silent request. John responds
instantly with a tiny nod, giving him full permission to do whatever he deems necessary.)
SHERLOCK (turning to face Jim): Probably my answer has crossed yours.
(He raises the pistol and aims it at him. Jim smiles confidently with no fear in his expression.
Slowly Sherlock lowers the pistol downwards until its pointing directly at the bomb jacket. All
three sets of eyes lock onto the jacket, John breathing heavily, Sherlock calm. Jim tilts his head,
looking a little anxious for the first time. As Sherlock holds his hand steady, continuing to aim
towards the jacket, Jim lifts his head and locks eyes with his nemesis. Sherlock gazes back at
him and Jim begins to smile. Sherlocks eyes narrow slightly.)
And the scream that went up from the viewers in August 2010 as the end credits began to roll
still echoes around the universe to this day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Footnotes To clarify a couple of points which Ive seen raised elsewhere, and which may be
helpful for non-British readers in particular:
(1) Dear Jim: Sherlock is mock-quoting a standard format from a very well-known TV show
called Jimll Fix It which ran on the BBC from 1975 to 1994 and was hosted by Jimmy Savile.
Viewers mostly children would write to the show and would always begin their letter, Dear
Jim, please can you fix it for me to ... and would ask for their wildest dream to be met, e.g. to
be a train driver for a day, or to meet their favourite athlete, or to work in a chocolate factory
for a few hours. Nowadays we would all be writing in and saying, Dear Jim, please can you fix
it for me to meet Benedict Cumberbatch/Martin Freeman, or ... to be the make-up girl on the
next season of Sherlock, or ... to be Steve Thompsons beta reader and point out all his plot
inconsistencies to him, etc. [What? Dont look at me like that third request is from me ...]
In a rather unfortunate piece of timing, within the last couple of weeks (in mid-October 2012
when this transcript was published) the reputation of the late Jimmy Savile has plummeted
after terrible allegations have recently surfaced about his behaviour during his years at the BBC.
If you havent heard of this show before, now is not the time to be googling it.
(2) Westwood: Jim is wearing a suit designed by Dame Vivienne Westwood, which will
therefore have been very expensive, hence his mock-indignation at John ruffling it up. He
directs the comment to Sherlock rather than to John because he knows that Sherlock is more
likely to be appreciative of the expense of his clothing.
A Scandal in Belgravia
The episode picks up precisely where The Great Game left off, with Sherlock aiming the pistol
down at the bomb jacket. As he and Jim Moriarty stare at each other, the introduction to The
Bee Gees song Stayin Alive begins to play tinnily. Sherlock and John look around, confused.
Jim briefly closes his eyes and sighs in exasperation.
JIM: Dyou mind if I get that?
SHERLOCK (nonchalantly): No, no, please. Youve got the rest of your life.
(Jim takes his phone from his pocket and answers it.)
JIM: Hello? ... Yes, of course it is. What do you want?
(He mouths Sorry at Sherlock, who sarcastically mouths Oh, its fine back at him. Jim rolls his
eyes as he listens to the phone, turning away from Sherlock for a moment, then he spins back
around, his face full of fury.)

154
JIM (loudly into phone): SAY THAT AGAIN!

(Sherlock frowns.)
JIM (venomously, into phone): Say that again, and know that if youre lying to me, I will find
you and I will ssssskin you.
(He hisses out the s of skin. Sherlock briefly looks round at John.)
JIM (into phone): Wait.
(Lowering the phone, he begins to walks forward. Sherlock looks at the bomb jacket and
fretfully adjusts the grip on his pistol as Jim approaches. Jim stops at the jacket and gazes
down at the floor thoughtfully before lifting his eyes to Sherlock.)
JIM: Sorry. Wrong day to die.
SHERLOCK (casually): Oh. Did you get a better offer?
(Jim looks down at the phone, then turns and slowly starts to walk away.)
JIM: Youll be hearing from me, Sherlock.
(He strolls back around the pool towards the door through which he originally came, lifting the
phone to his ear again.)
JIM (into phone): So if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you dont, Ill
make you into shoes.
(Reaching the door, he raises his free hand and clicks his fingers. Instantly all the lasers
focused on Sherlock and John disappear. As Jim walks through the door and vanishes from
sight, Sherlock looks around the gallery but apparently can see no sign of the retreating
snipers. John sighs out a relieved breath.)
JOHN: What happened there?
SHERLOCK: Someone changed his mind. The question is: who?
(Elsewhere, a womans hand lowers her phone and switches it off. Wearing a pair of black
Brazilian knickers under a sheer lace robe, she walks from the landing into a bedroom, lashing a
riding crop against the door jamb as she speaks.)
IRENE: Well now. Have you been wicked, Your Highness?
(Inside the bedroom, a pair of naked legs can be seen lying on a bed. The persons ankles
appear to be tied to the foot of the bed.)
SULTRY FEMALE VOICE: Yes, Miss Adler.
NEW OPENING CREDITS!
221B BAKER STREET. MAY 30. John is sitting at the dining table in the living room updating his
blog on his laptop. Sherlock, wearing a red dressing gown over his shirt and trousers, is
standing at the other side of the table drinking from a mug while leafing through a newspaper.
SHERLOCK: What are you typing?
JOHN: Blog.
SHERLOCK: About?
JOHN: Us.
SHERLOCK: You mean me.
JOHN: Why?
SHERLOCK: Well, youre typing a lot.
(The doorbell rings.)
SHERLOCK: Right then. (He walks towards the door.) So, what have we got?
Over a period of many weeks, people are coming to 221B to consult with Sherlock. Each of
them sits on a dining chair facing the fireplace as he or she speaks.
MAN: My wife seems to be spending a very long time at the office.
SHERLOCK: Boring.
WOMAN: I think my husband might be having an affair.

SHERLOCK: Yes.
CREEPY GUY (holding a funeral urn): Shes not my real aunt. Shes been replaced I know she
has. I know human ash.
SHERLOCK (pointing to the door): Leave.
BUSINESSMAN (sitting on the dining chair while two aides stand behind him): We are prepared
to offer any sum of money you care to mention for the recovery of these files.
SHERLOCK: Boring.

155
GEEKY YOUNG MAN (sitting on the dining chair while two other geeky young men stand behind
him): We have this website. It explains the true meaning of comic books, cause people miss a
lot of the themes.
(Sherlock is already walking away, disinterested.)
GEEKY YOUNG MAN: But then all the comic books started coming true.
(Sherlock comes back.)
SHERLOCK: Oh. Interesting.
Later, John is sitting in his armchair and updating his blog again. He has titled the entry The
Geek Interpreter. Sherlock leans over his shoulder.
SHERLOCK: Geek Interpreter. Whats that?
JOHN: Its the title.
SHERLOCK: What does it need a title for?
(John smiles tightly. Sherlock straightens up and walks away.)
Later, theyre at the morgue at St Bartholomews Hospital. Sherlock is using his magnifier to
look at a womans body lying on the table. John is standing at the other side of the table and
Detective Inspector Lestrade is nearby.
SHERLOCK: Do people actually read your blog?
JOHN: Where dyou think our clients come from?
SHERLOCK: I have a website.
JOHN: In which you enumerate two hundred and forty different types of tobacco ash. Nobodys
reading your website.
(Sherlock straightens up and glares at him, then pouts adorably momentarily as John continues
to look at the body.)
JOHN: Right then: dyed blonde hair; no obvious cause of death except for these speckles,
whatever they are.
(He points at the tiny red marks on the womans body but Sherlock has already turned and
flounced out of the room.)
Later, back at the flat, John is updating his blog again. Sherlock walks past eating a piece of
toast. He stops and looks at the title for this entry.
SHERLOCK (with his mouth full): Oh, for Gods sakes!
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: The Speckled Blonde?!
(John purses his lips as Sherlock walks away again.)
On another occasion, two little girls are sitting together on one of the dining chairs while
Sherlock paces in front of the fireplace.
LITTLE GIRL: They wouldnt let us see Granddad when he was dead. Is that cause hed gone to
heaven?
SHERLOCK: People dont really go to heaven when they die. Theyre taken to a special room
and burned.
(The two girls look at each other in distress.)
JOHN (reprovingly): Sherlock ...
Lestrade is leading Sherlock and John across some open ground.

LESTRADE: There was a plane crash in Dusseldorf yesterday. Everyone dead.
SHERLOCK: Suspected terrorist bomb. We do watch the news.
JOHN: You said, Boring, and turned over.
[Transcribers note: Much as I would love to confirm that You ... turned over means that
Sherlock turned over in bed, where he and John were watching the news, I reluctantly have to
confirm that in this context it does sadly mean You ... changed the channel. Sorry.]
(Lestrade leads them to a car which has its boot opened. Theres a body inside the boot. While
Lestrade continues to speak, Sherlock looks all around the rear of the car.)
LESTRADE (looking at a bag of evidence): Well, according to the flight details, this man was
checked in on board. Inside his coat hes got a stub from his boarding pass, napkins from the
flight, even one of those special biscuits. Heres his passport stamped in Berlin Airport. So this
man should have died in a plane crash in Germany yesterday but instead hes in a car boot in
Southwark.

156
JOHN: Lucky escape(!)

LESTRADE (to Sherlock): Any ideas?
SHERLOCK (examining the mans hand with his magnifier): Eight, so far.
(He straightens up and looks at the body again, then frowns momentarily.)
SHERLOCK: Okay, four ideas.
(He turns to Lestrade and looks down at the passport and the ticket stub of the passenger, John
Coniston, who was meant to be travelling on Flyaway Airways [oh, good invented name,
production guys(!)]. Straightening up again, he gazes up into the sky.)
SHERLOCK: Maybe two ideas.
(The shadow of a passenger jet passes overhead.)
Back at the flat, Sherlock wearing heavy protective gloves and safety glasses and carrying a
blowtorch in one hand and a glass container of green liquid in the other has come to the living
room table to look at Johns latest blog entry which is titled Sherlock Holmes baffled.
SHERLOCK (indignantly): No, no, no, dont mention the unsolved ones.
JOHN: People want to know youre human.
SHERLOCK: Why?
JOHN: Cause theyre interested.
SHERLOCK: No theyre not. Why are they?
(John smiles at his laptop.)
JOHN: Look at that.
(Hes looking at the hit counter on the front page of his blog. Its count is currently 1895.)
JOHN: One thousand, eight hundred and ninety-five.
JOHN: I re-set that counter last night. This blog has had nearly two thousand hits in the last
eight hours. This is your living, Sherlock not two hundred and forty different types of tobacco
ash.
SHERLOCK (sulkily): Two hundred and forty-three.
(Firing up the blowtorch, he puts his safety glasses back on and heads back towards the
kitchen.)
THEATRE. Sherlock and John are walking across the stage of a theatre while police officers mill
around nearby.
SHERLOCK: So, whats this one? Belly Button Murders?
JOHN: The Navel Treatment?
SHERLOCK: Eurgh!
(They walk backstage and meet up with Lestrade as they head for the exit.)
LESTRADE: Theres a lot of press outside, guys.
SHERLOCK: Well, they wont be interested in us.
LESTRADE: Yeah, that was before you were an internet phenomenon. A couple of them
specifically wanted photographs of you two.
SHERLOCK (exasperated, glaring round at John): For Gods sake!
(John quirks a smile as they walk on, then Sherlock spots some costumes on a rack just inside a
nearby dressing room. He walks in and grabs a couple of items off the rack.)
SHERLOCK: John.
(He tosses a cap at him.)
SHERLOCK: Cover your face and walk fast.
LESTRADE: Still, its good for the public image, a big case like this.
SHERLOCK: Im a private detective. The last thing I need is a public image.
(He puts on the other hat that he had picked up a deerstalker and heads out the exit door
pulling the hat as low as possible over his eyes and tugging up the collar of his coat. Outside,
photographers start taking pictures of him and John.)
(Later, some of the pictures have been used in various newspapers, together with headlines
such as Hat-man and Robin: The web detectives, Sherlock Net Tec, Sherlock & John:
Blogger Detectives and Sherlock Holmes: net phenomenon. [N.B. see the text of the
newspaper articles in the Comments below (click here to jump to the articles).]
The last of these newspaper reports has caught the attention of Irene Adler, who slowly strokes
her hand over the photograph of Sherlock, then runs her hand along her riding crop before
laying it down on top of the photograph. She picks up her phone and dials.)
IRENE (into phone): Hello. I think its time, dont you?

157
221B BAKER STREET. Mrs Hudson picks up a mug and an almost empty bottle of milk from the
mantelpiece and walks into the kitchen, tutting in exasperation at the mess in there. Putting the
mug onto the table she takes the milk across to the fridge door and opens it, recoiling from the
smell emanating from inside. Putting the milk into the fridge door she picks up the offending
smelly item and drops it into the bin, then pulls open the salad crisper at the bottom and takes
out a clear plastic bag from it. Peering at the contents, she cringes when she realises whats
inside.
MRS HUDSON: Ooh dear! Thumbs!
(She drops the bag back into the salad crisper, then turns as an overweight man stumbles into
the kitchen from the landing and stares at her wide-eyed and confused.)
MAN: The door was ... the door was ...
(He breathes heavily, then drops to the floor in a faint. Mrs Hudson stares at him in terror for a
moment, then calls out.)
MRS HUDSON: Boys! Youve got another one!
(She bends down to the unconscious man.)
MRS HUDSON: Ooh!
Later the man whose name is Phil has regained consciousness and is sitting on a dining
chair facing the fireplace, staring rather blankly in front of himself. John is sitting on the sofa
behind him and Sherlock is out of sight but presumably pacing.
SHERLOCK (sternly): Tell us from the start. Dont be boring.
(Flashback to fourteen hours earlier. Somewhere out in the countryside Phils car has broken
down in a quiet country lane. He tries to start the engine for what is apparently the umpteenth
time but it just whines and refuses to start. Phil slams his hands angrily onto the steering wheel
and gets out again to stare uselessly down under the open bonnet and tweak a few connections
hopefully. He looks around but there is no sign of any other traffic. He looks into the field at the
side of the road. The field stretches down to a river some distance away and a man wearing a
red jacket is standing at the edge of a stream which leads down to the river. He has his back to
the road. Phil peers at him for a moment but hes too far away to have even noticed whats
happening on the road and eventually Phil gets back into the car again and tries once more to
start the engine. It whines ferociously and then loudly backfires. Phil sighs, then looks across
towards the river and realises that the man is now lying on the ground. He gets out of the car
and stares.)
PHIL (calling out): Hey! Are you okay?
(The man doesnt respond or react.)
PHIL (starting to walk towards him): Excuse me! Are you all right?
(As yet unseen by Phil, the man has fallen onto his back. There is a lot of blood underneath the
back of his head.)
Many hours later a crime scene has been set up at the riverside. A young police officer brings a
mobile phone over to Detective Inspector Carter.
POLICE OFFICER: Sir. Phone call for you.
CARTER (taking the phone and speaking into it): Carter.
(Lestrade is at the other end of the line, sitting in his car in Baker Street.)
LESTRADE: Have you heard of Sherlock Holmes?
CARTER: Who?
LESTRADE: Well, youre about to meet him now. This is your case. Its entirely up to you. This
is just friendly advice, but give Sherlock five minutes on your crime scene and listen to
everything that he has to say. And as far as possible, try not to punch him.
(While Lestrade has been speaking, a car has driven up and stopped near the crime scene.
Carter looks at the phone in bewilderment as Lestrade ends the call. The young police officer
has been leaning into the car speaking to the person in the back seat.)
POLICE OFFICER: Okay.
(He turns to Carter as he approaches.)
POLICE OFFICER: Sir, this gentleman says he needs to speak to you.
CARTER: Yes, I know. (He walks closer to the car.) Sherlock Holmes.
JOHN (getting out of the car and shaking Carters hand): John Watson. Are you set up for Wi-
Fi?
221B. Yawning, Sherlock wanders out from the hallway behind the kitchen and strolls into the
kitchen wearing only a sheet wrapped around him.

158
JOHN (offscreen): You realise this is a tiny bit humiliating?

SHERLOCK (still yawning as he picks up a mug of tea from the side table): Its okay, Im fine.
(He walks over to an open laptop on the work surface, picks it up and looks into the screen as
he carries the laptop into the living room.)
SHERLOCK: Now, show me to the stream.
JOHN (offscreen): I didnt really mean for you.
SHERLOCK: Look, this is a six.
(He sits down at the table in the living room and puts the laptop onto the table. Just then the
doorbell rings but he ignores it.)
SHERLOCK (adjusting the screen so that his face can be seen by the laptops camera): Theres
no point in my leaving the flat for anything less than a seven. We agreed. Now, go back. Show
me the grass.
(John is at the crime scene and has walked down to the stream while Skypeing with Sherlock.
He points the camera on his own laptop towards the grass at the streams edge and squats
down.)
JOHN: When did we agree that?
SHERLOCK: We agreed it yesterday. Stop!
(He leans closer to the screen and looks at the mud on the ground.)
SHERLOCK: Closer.
(Instead of following his instructions, John swings the laptop around so that he can look into the
camera.)
JOHN: I wasnt even at home yesterday. I was in Dublin.
SHERLOCK: Well, its hardly my fault you werent listening.
(The doorbell rings more insistently. Sherlock briefly looks round in the direction of the stairs.)
SHERLOCK (angrily): SHUT UP!
JOHN: Dyou just carry on talking when Im away?
SHERLOCK (shrugging as he turns back to the camera): I dont know. How often are you away?
Now, show me the car that backfired.
(Sighing, John stands up and turns the laptop and its camera towards the road to show Phils
car.)
JOHN: Its there.
SHERLOCK: Thats the one that made the noise, yes?
JOHN (swinging the camera back around to look into it): Yeah. And if youre thinking gunshot,
there wasnt one. He wasnt shot; he was killed by a single blow to the back of the head from a
blunt instrument which then magically disappeared along with the killer. Thats gotta be an
eight at least.
(Sherlock has leaned back in his chair and is running his finger back and forth over his top lip
while he thinks. Your humble transcriber melts into a puddle of goo. As John walks back
towards the road, Carter follows along behind him.)
CARTER: Youve got two more minutes, then I want to know more about the driver.
SHERLOCK (waving his hand dismissively): Oh, forget him. Hes an idiot. Why else would he
think himself a suspect?
(Carter catches up to John and leans over to look into the camera.)
CARTER: I think hes a suspect!
(Sherlock leans forward angrily.)
SHERLOCK: Pass me over.
JOHN: All right, but theres a Mute button and I will use it.
(He tilts the laptop at an angle that Sherlocks not happy with.)
SHERLOCK (irritated): Up a bit! Im not talking from down ere!
(John has had enough and offers the laptop to Carter.)
JOHN: Okay, just take it, take it.
(Carter takes the laptop as Sherlock starts talking at double the usual speed.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Having driven to an isolated location and successfully committed a
crime without a single witness, why would he then call the police and consult a detective? Fair
play?(!)
CARTER: Hes trying to be clever. Its over-confidence.
SHERLOCK (sighing in exasperation): Did you see him? Morbidly obese, the undisguised
halitosis of a single man living on his own, the right sleeve of an internet porn addict and the
breathing pattern of an untreated heart condition. Low self-esteem, tiny IQ and a limited life
expectancy and you think hes an audacious criminal mastermind?!

159
(He turns around to Johns chair where unseen by us until now Phil has been sitting all the
time.)
SHERLOCK: Dont worry this is just stupid.
PHIL (anxiously): What did you say? Heart what?
(Ignoring him, Sherlock turns back to the camera.)
SHERLOCK: Go to the stream.
CARTER: Whats in the stream?
SHERLOCK: Go and see.
(As Carter hands the laptop back to John, Mrs Hudson comes up the stairs and into the living
room followed by two men wearing suits.)
MRS HUDSON: Sherlock! You werent answering your doorbell!
(One of the men, Plummer, looks at his colleague while pointing with his thumb in the direction
of the kitchen.)
PLUMMER: His rooms through the back. Get him some clothes.
SHERLOCK: Who the hell are you?
PLUMMER: Sorry, Mr Holmes. Youre coming with us.
(He reaches forward to close down the lid of the laptop. John calls out in alarm.)
JOHN: Sherlock, whats going on? Whats happening?
(As his screen goes black, he pokes at the keyboard frantically.)
JOHN: Ive lost him. I dont know what ...
(The young police officer hurries over to him with a phone pressed to his ear.)
POLICE OFFICER: Doctor Watson?
JOHN: Yeah.
POLICE OFFICER: Its for you.
JOHN: Okay, thanks.
(Still looking at the screen, he holds out his hand for the phone.)
POLICE OFFICER: Uh, no, sir. The helicopter.
(They both turn and look at the helicopter which is just coming in to land at the edge of the
river.)
Back at 221B, Plummers colleague has collected a pile of clothes and a pair of shoes and puts
them down onto the table in front of Sherlock, who raises his eyebrows and shrugs
disinterestedly.
PLUMMER: Please, Mr Holmes. Where youre going, youll want to be dressed.
(Sherlock turns his head, gazes at the man and begins to deduce the hell out of him:
Looking at his clothes: Suit 700

Glancing at his breast pocket and the area where a pistol would be if Plummer was carrying
one: Unarmed
Thumbnail: Manicured
Forehead: Office worker
The way his hands are folded in front of him: Right handed
Looking down to his shoes: Indoor worker
Seeing some wiry hairs on the cuff of his trouser leg, and imagining a high-pitched yapping
sound: Small dog
Seeing a mark higher up the same trouser leg and imagining two yapping sounds: Two small
dogs
Seeing more hairs on the other trouser leg and imagining more yapping: Three small dogs
Back at the crime scene, the helicopter takes off.

At 221B, Sherlock smiles smugly and looks up into Plummers face.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, I know exactly where Im going.
Some time later, sitting beside the pilot, John frowns and looks down as the helicopter flies over
London. As it approaches Buckingham Palace the pilot begins to speak into his comms.
Not long afterwards, John has been shown into an enormous ornate hall with massive crystal
chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. He looks around for a moment, then follows his escort
who gestures him to a nearby room before walking away. John stops in the doorway. On a small
round table in the middle of the room is the pile of clothes and shoes which had been put down

160
in front of Sherlock earlier. There is a sofa either side of the table and sitting on the left-hand
one is Sherlock, still wrapped in his sheet. He calmly looks across to John. John holds out his
hands in a What the hell?! gesture. Sherlock shrugs disinterestedly and looks away again.
Nodding in a resigned way, John walks slowly into the room, then sits down on the sofa beside
his friend. He gazes in front of himself for a moment, chewing back a giggle, looks around the
room again and then looks at Sherlock, peering closely at his sheet and particularly the section
wrapped around his backside. He turns his head away again.
JOHN: Are you wearing any pants?
SHERLOCK: No.
JOHN: Okay.
(He sighs quietly. A moment later Sherlock turns and looks at him just as John also turns to
look. Their eyes meet and they promptly burst out laughing.)
JOHN (gesturing around the building): At Buckingham Palace, fine. (He tries to get himself
under control.) Oh, Im seriously fighting an impulse to steal an ashtray.
(Sherlock chuckles again.)
JOHN: What are we doing here, Sherlock? Seriously, what?
SHERLOCK (still smiling): I dont know.
JOHN: Here to see the Queen?
(At that moment Mycroft walks in from the next room.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, apparently yes.
(John cracks up again and Sherlock promptly joins in. The two of them continue to giggle as
Mycroft looks at them in exasperation.)
MYCROFT: Just once, can you two behave like grown-ups?
JOHN: We solve crimes, I blog about it and he forgets his pants, so I wouldnt hold out too
much hope.
(Sherlock looks up at his brother as he walks into the room, all humour gone from his face.)
SHERLOCK: I was in the middle of a case, Mycroft.
MYCROFT: What, the hiker and the backfire? I glanced at the police report. Bit obvious, surely?
SHERLOCK: Transparent.
(John looks startled.)
MYCROFT: Time to move on, then.
(He bends down and picks up the clothes and shoes from the table, turning to offer them to
Sherlock. His brother gazes at them uninterestedly. Mycroft sighs.)
MYCROFT: We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation. (Sternly) Sherlock
Holmes, put your trousers on.
SHERLOCK (shrugging): What for?
MYCROFT: Your client.
SHERLOCK (standing up): And my client is?
EQUERRY: Illustrious ...
(Sherlock turns to look at the man who has just walked into the room.)
EQUERRY: ... in the extreme.
(John stands up respectfully.)
EQUERRY: And remaining I have to inform you entirely anonymous.
(He looks across to Mycroft.)
EQUERRY: Mycroft!
MYCROFT: Harry.
(Smiling, he walks over and shakes the equerrys hand.)
MYCROFT: May I just apologise for the state of my little brother?
EQUERRY: Full-time occupation, I imagine.
(Sherlock scowls.)
EQUERRY: And this must be Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland
Fusiliers.
JOHN: Hello, yes.
(They shake hands.)
EQUERRY: My employer is a tremendous fan of your blog.
JOHN (looking startled): Your employer?
EQUERRY: Particularly enjoyed the one about the aluminium crutch.
JOHN: Thank you!
(He looks round at Sherlock, clearing his throat smugly.)
EQUERRY (walking closer to Sherlock): And Mr Holmes the younger. You look taller in your
photographs.

161
SHERLOCK: I take the precaution of a good coat and a short friend.

(He walks abruptly past John, forcing him to step back, and approaches his brother.)
SHERLOCK: Mycroft, I dont do anonymous clients. Im used to mystery at one end of my cases.
Both ends is too much work.
(He looks round to the equerry.)
SHERLOCK: Good morning.
(He starts to walk out of the room but Mycroft steps onto the trailing edge of the sheet behind
him. Sherlocks impetus carries him forward while pulling the sheet off his body. He stops and
grabs at it before hes completely naked and tries to tug it back around himself, looking
furious.)
MYCROFT: This is a matter of national importance. Grow up.
(With his back still turned to his brother, Sherlock speaks through gritted teeth.)
SHERLOCK: Get off my sheet!
MYCROFT: Or what?
SHERLOCK: Or Ill just walk away.
MYCROFT: Ill let you.
JOHN: Boys, please. Not here.
SHERLOCK (almost incandescent with rage): Who. Is. My. Client?
MYCROFT: Take a look at where youre standing and make a deduction. You are to be engaged
by the highest in the land. Now for Gods sake ...
(He breaks off and glances at the equerry briefly, trying to get his anger under control before he
turns back to his brother again.)
MYCROFT (exasperated): ... put your clothes on!
(Sherlock closes his eyes furiously, then pulls in a sharp breath.)
Some time later, Sherlock has dressed and is sitting on the sofa beside John. Mycroft and the
equerry sit on the opposite sofa. Mycroft is pouring tea from a teapot. Following the old-
fashioned superstition that only one person in the household usually the mother of the family
should pour the tea, and so any person pouring tea is being mother, he looks at the equerry
and smiles.
MYCROFT: Ill be mother.
SHERLOCK (pointedly): And there is a whole childhood in a nutshell.
(Mycroft glowers at him, then puts down the teapot. The equerry looks at Sherlock.)
EQUERRY: My employer has a problem.
MYCROFT: A matter has come to light of an extremely delicate and potentially criminal nature,
and in this hour of need, dear brother, your name has arisen.
SHERLOCK: Why? You have a police force of sorts, even a marginally Secret Service. Why come
to me?
EQUERRY: People do come to you for help, dont they, Mr Holmes?
SHERLOCK: Not, to date, anyone with a Navy.
MYCROFT: This is a matter of the highest security, and therefore of trust.
JOHN: You dont trust your own Secret Service?
MYCROFT: Naturally not. They all spy on people for money.
(John bites back a smile.)
EQUERRY: I do think we have a timetable.
MYCROFT: Yes, of course. Um ...
(He opens his briefcase, takes out a glossy photograph and hands it to Sherlock who looks at
the picture of Irene Adler.)
MYCROFT: What do you know about this woman?
SHERLOCK: Nothing whatsoever.
MYCROFT: Then you should be paying more attention.
(As he continues to speak, we switch between the palace and footage of Irene who is being
driven through London. Her phone trills a text alert and she looks at the message which reads
Im sending you a treat.)
MYCROFT: Shes been at the centre of two political scandals in the last year, and recently ended
the marriage of a prominent novelist by having an affair with both participants separately.
SHERLOCK: You know I dont concern myself with trivia. Who is she?
MYCROFT: Irene Adler, professionally known as The Woman.
(Arriving at an elegant house in London, Irenes female chauffeur opens the car door for her
and then precedes her into the house. Irenes phone shows that it is downloading an image as
she walks indoors.)

162
JOHN: Professionally?
MYCROFT: There are many names for what she does. She prefers dominatrix.
SHERLOCK (thoughtfully): Dominatrix.
MYCROFT: Dont be alarmed. Its to do with sex.
SHERLOCK: Sex doesnt alarm me.
MYCROFT (smiling snidely at him): How would you know?
(Sherlock raises his head and stares at his brother.)
MYCROFT: She provides shall we say recreational scolding for those who enjoy that sort of
thing and are prepared to pay for it. (He takes more photographs from his briefcase and hands
them to Sherlock.) These are all from her website.
(Sherlock takes the photographs and leafs through them. They are professional-looking publicity
shots for her services and show Irene at her glamorous and sexy best. At the same time,
walking up the stairs at her house, Irene looks down at her phone and flicks through shots
which someone has taken of Sherlock wrapped in his sheet as he left 221B and got into
Plummers car.)
SHERLOCK: And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs.
EQUERRY: Youre very quick, Mr Holmes.
SHERLOCK: Hardly a difficult deduction. Photographs of whom?
EQUERRY: A person of significance to my employer. Wed prefer not to say any more at this
time.
(Glaring angrily at him, Sherlock puts the photographs down on the table.)
JOHN: You cant tell us anything?
MYCROFT: I can tell you its a young person.
(John drinks from his teacup.)
MYCROFT: A young female person.
(Johns eyes widen. Sherlock smirks.)
SHERLOCK: How many photographs?
MYCROFT: A considerable number, apparently.
SHERLOCK: Do Miss Adler and this young female person appear in these photographs together?
MYCROFT: Yes, they do.
SHERLOCK: And I assume in a number of compromising scenarios.
MYCROFT: An imaginative range, we are assured.
(Without looking round at him, Sherlock realises that John is staring blankly at Mycroft with his
teacup still half raised.)
SHERLOCK: John, you might want to put that cup back in your saucer now.
(John quickly does as advised.)
EQUERRY: Can you help us, Mr Holmes?
SHERLOCK: How?
EQUERRY: Will you take the case?
SHERLOCK: What case? Pay her, now and in full. As Miss Adler remarks in her masthead, Know
when you are beaten.
(He turns and reaches for his overcoat which is draped on the back of the sofa.)
MYCROFT: She doesnt want anything.
(Sherlock turns back towards him.)
MYCROFT: She got in touch, she informed us that the photographs existed, she indicated that
she had no intention to use them to extort either money or favour.
SHERLOCK (finally interested for the first time): Oh, a power play. A power play with the most
powerful family in Britain. Now that is a dominatrix. Ooh, this is getting rather fun, isnt it?
JOHN: Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK: Hmm.
(He turns around and reaches for his coat again.)
SHERLOCK: Where is she?
MYCROFT: Uh, in London currently. Shes staying ...
(Not waiting for him to finish, Sherlock picks up his coat, stands and starts to walk away.)
SHERLOCK: Text me the details. Ill be in touch by the end of the day.
(The other three men get to their feet.)
EQUERRY: Do you really think youll have news by then?
SHERLOCK (turning back to him): No, I think Ill have the photographs.
EQUERRY: One can only hope youre as good as you seem to think.
(Sherlock looks at him sharply, apparently indignant that he should doubt him. We see a stream
of deductions as Sherlock glances down his body.

163
Dog Lover
Public School
Horse Rider
Early Riser
Left Side Of Bed
Sherlocks eyes begin to rise up the mans body again as his deductions continue.
Non-Smoker
Father Half Welsh
Keen Reader
Tea Drinker
Sherlock looks across to Mycroft.)

SHERLOCK: Ill need some equipment, of course.
MYCROFT: Anything you require. Ill have it sent to ...
SHERLOCK (interrupting): Can I have a box of matches?
(Hes looking at the equerry as he speaks.)
EQUERRY: Im sorry?
SHERLOCK: Or your cigarette lighter. Either will do.
(He holds out his hand expectantly.)
EQUERRY: I dont smoke.
SHERLOCK: No, I know you dont, but your employer does.
(After a pause during which John frowns in puzzlement, the equerry reaches into his pocket and
takes out a lighter which he hands to Sherlock.)
EQUERRY: We have kept a lot of people successfully in the dark about this little fact, Mr
Holmes.
SHERLOCK: Im not the Commonwealth.
(Taking the lighter and putting it into his trouser pocket, he turns away.)
JOHN (to the equerry): And thats as modest as he gets. Pleasure to meet you.
(He follows after Sherlock as he strolls out of the room.)
SHERLOCK (in an Estuary English accent, not sounding the t in the word): Laters!
(John throws an apologetic glance over his shoulder as they leave.)
Not long afterwards, the boys are in a taxi.

JOHN: Okay, the smoking. How did you know?
(Sherlock smiles briefly, then shakes his head.)
SHERLOCK: The evidence was right under your nose, John. As ever, you see but do not
observe.
JOHN: Observe what?
(Sherlock reaches into his coat.)
SHERLOCK: The ashtray.
(He pulls out a glass ashtray. John laughs with delight as Sherlock tosses the ashtray into the
air, catches it and tucks it back into his coat, chuckling. They are both unaware that someone
presumably in a car driving alongside theirs is photographing them.)
(Some time later, the photos have been sent to Irenes phone. Sitting on the side of her bed,
she looks through them, smiling, then calls out.)
IRENE: Kate!
(Kate, the woman who drove her earlier, comes into the room.)
IRENE: Were going to have a visitor. Ill need a bit of time to get ready.
(She walks over to her dressing table while Kate bends down to pick up a discarded stocking
from the floor.)
KATE: A long time?
IRENE: Ages!
Later, wearing a see-through negligee over her knickers and stockings, Irene opens the doors to
her enormous walk-in wardrobe and walks inside, running her fingers along her outfits as she
decides what to wear.

164
At 221B, John is sitting at the table in the kitchen while Sherlock hurls clothes around his
bedroom. With the door open, the noise is distracting and finally John looks up from what hes
reading.
SHERLOCK: Going into battle, John. I need the right armour.
(He walks into view, wearing a large yellow hi-vis jacket.)
SHERLOCK: No.
(He rips it off again.)
At her house, Irene is looking at herself in a full-length mirror, turning side-on to look at the
glittery dark purple cocktail dress shes wearing.
IRENE: Nah.
KATE (leaning against the door jamb): Works for me.
IRENE: Everything works on you.
TAXI. Sherlock and John are on the move. Sherlock is wearing his usual coat and scarf.
JOHN: So, whats the plan?
SHERLOCK: We know her address.
JOHN: What, just ring her doorbell?
SHERLOCK: Exactly.
(He calls out to the cab driver.)
SHERLOCK: Just here, please.
JOHN: You didnt even change your clothes.
SHERLOCK: Then its time to add a splash of colour.
At her house, Irene is doing the same thing as Kate carefully applies make-up to her eyes.
Nearby, the boys have got out of the taxi and Sherlock leads John down a narrow street, pulling
his scarf off as he goes. Eventually he stops and turns around to face John.
JOHN: Are we here?
SHERLOCK: Two streets away, but thisll do.
JOHN: For what?
SHERLOCK (gesturing to his own left cheek): Punch me in the face.
Kate runs her thumb over Irenes mouth, wondering what colour lipstick to apply.
KATE: Shade?
(Irene smiles.)
IRENE: Blood.
JOHN: Punch you?

SHERLOCK: Yes. Punch me, in the face. (He gestures to his left cheek again.) Didnt you hear
me?
JOHN: I always hear punch me in the face when youre speaking, but its usually sub-text.
SHERLOCK (exasperated): Oh, for Gods sakes.
(He punches John in the face. As John grunts in pain and reels from the blow, Sherlock shakes
out his hand and then blows out a breath, bracing himself. John straightens up and immediately
punches Sherlock. However, despite his anger and his left-handedness he does so right-
handed and therefore strikes him on the left cheek just as Sherlock had indicated.)
JOHN: Ow!
(Turning away as Sherlock picks himself up, he flexes his hand painfully and examines his
knuckles. Sherlock finally straightens up, holding his fingers to the cut on his cheek.)
SHERLOCK: Thank you. That was that was ...
(Still fighting right-handed, John punches him in the stomach, sending him crashing to the
ground.)
Slowly Kate paints blood-red lipstick onto Irenes mouth.
In the street, Sherlock is doubled over with John on his back halfstrangling him. Johns face is
contorted with pent-up anger and frustration, and Sherlock is struggling to pull his hands off
him.
SHERLOCK (half-choking): Okay! I think were done now, John.

165
JOHN (savagely): You wanna remember, Sherlock: I was a soldier. I killed people.
SHERLOCK: You were a doctor!
JOHN: I had bad days!
Kate finishes painting Irenes lips.

KATE: What are you gonna wear?
IRENE: My battle dress.
KATE: Ooh! Lucky boy!
(Downstairs, the intercom buzzes. Kate goes downstairs and activates it, looking at the camera
footage from the front door.)
KATE (into intercom): Hello?
(Sherlock stares into the camera wide-eyed and flustered. He talks in an anxious, tearful, posh
voice and keeps looking around behind him as he speaks.)
SHERLOCK: Ooh! Um, sorry to disturb you. Um, Ive just been attacked, um, and, um, I think
they ... they took my wallet and, um, and my phone. Umm, please could you help me?
(Kate has been holding back her laughter while listening to him.)
KATE: I can phone the police if you want.
SHERLOCK (tearfully): Thank you, thank you! Could you, please?
(He takes a step back and the camera now shows that his shirt is buttoned right up to the top
and there is a piece of white plastic under the collar which makes him look like he is wearing
the dog collar of a vicar.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, would you ... would you mind if I just waited here, just until they come? Thank
you. Thank you so much.
(Holding a handkerchief to his cheek, he starts to grizzle pathetically. Grinning, Kate buzzes him
in. Sherlock comes in, followed by John.)
SHERLOCK (still in character): Thank you. (He briefly looks around the large entrance hall.) Er,
ooh!
JOHN (closing the door): I I saw it all happen. Its okay, Im a doctor.
(Kate nods.)
JOHN: Now, have you got a first aid kit?
KATE: In the kitchen.
(She gestures for Sherlock to go into the front room.)
KATE: Please.
SHERLOCK: Oh! Thank you!
JOHN: Thank you. (He follows Kate towards the kitchen.)
Very shortly afterwards Sherlock has taken off his coat and is sitting on a sofa in the elegant
sitting room and looking around. Hearing footsteps approaching, he sits up a little and holds his
handkerchief to his cheek.
IRENE (offscreen): Hello. Sorry to hear that youve been hurt. I dont think Kate caught your
name.
SHERLOCK (in his posh tremulous voice): Im so sorry. Im ...
(He turns and looks at Irene as she walks into view and stops at the doorway. His voice fails
him when he realises that, with the exception of high-heeled shoes, she is stark naked. His jaw
drops a little.)
IRENE: Oh, its always hard to remember an alias when youve had a fright, isnt it?
(She walks into the room and stands directly in front of him, straddling his legs and half-
kneeling on the sofa, then reaches forward and pulls the white dog collar from his shirt collar.)
IRENE: There now were both defrocked ...
(She smiles down at him.)
IRENE: ... Mr Sherlock Holmes.
SHERLOCK (in his normal voice): Miss Adler, I presume.
IRENE (gazing down at his face): Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that
face. Would you like me to try?
(Narrowing her eyes, she lifts the dog collar to her mouth and bites down onto the edge of it. As
Sherlock stares up at her in confusion, John walks into the room carrying a bowl of water and a
fabric napkin. His eyes are lowered to the bowl to avoid spilling its contents.)
JOHN: Right, this should do it.
(He stops dead in the doorway as he lifts his eyes and sees the scene in front of him. Irene
looks round to him, the dog collar still in her teeth. John looks at her awkwardly, then down at
the bowl before looking up again.)

166
JOHN: Ive missed something, havent I?

(Irene takes the collar from her teeth.)
IRENE: Please, sit down.
(She steps back from Sherlock, who fidgets uncomfortably on the sofa as she walks away.)
IRENE: Oh, if youd like some tea I can call the maid.
SHERLOCK: I had some at the Palace.
IRENE: I know.
(She sits down in a nearby armchair and crosses her legs, folding her arms gracefully to
obscure the view of her chest.)
SHERLOCK: Clearly.
(They stare silently at each other for several seconds, weighing each other up. John looks at
them awkwardly.)
JOHN: I had a tea, too, at the Palace, if anyones interested.
(Sherlocks eyes are still fixed on Irene while he attempts to make as many deductions about
her as he can. His final analysis is as follows:
???????
Bewildered, he turns and looks at John and starts to analyse him:
Looking at his neckline: Two Day Shirt

Looking at his lower face: Electric not blade
Looking at the bottom of his jeans and his shoes: Date tonight
John frowns as Sherlock continues to gaze at him.
Looking at Johns right eyebrow: Hasnt phoned sister

Looking at Johns lower lip: New toothbrush
Looking just underneath his eyes: Night out with Stamford
Relieved that he hasnt had a brain embolism, he slowly turns his head and looks at Irene
again. Narrowing his eyes slightly, he applies all his deductive reasoning as she smiles
confidently back at him, and he quickly comes to the following conclusion:
???????
He frowns.)
IRENE: Dyou know the big problem with a disguise, Mr Holmes?
(He quirks an eyebrow at her.)
IRENE: However hard you try, its always a self-portrait.
SHERLOCK: You think Im a vicar with a bleeding face?
IRENE: No, I think youre damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case, its
yourself.
(Apparently fed up with the tightness of his shirt, Sherlock starts unbuttoning the top two
buttons. Irene leans forward.)
IRENE: Oh, and somebody loves you. Why, if I had to punch that face, Id avoid your nose and
teeth too.
(She glances across to John momentarily. John forces a laugh.)
JOHN: Could you put something on, please? Er, anything at all. (He looks down at what hes
holding.) A napkin.
IRENE: Why? Are you feeling exposed?
SHERLOCK (standing up): I dont think John knows where to look.
(He picks up his coat, shakes it out and holds it out towards Irene. Ignoring him for the
moment, she stands up and walks closer to John, who rolls his head on his neck uncomfortably
and forces himself to maintain eye contact with her and not to let his eyes wander lower.)
IRENE: No, I think he knows exactly where.
(She turns to Sherlock who is still holding out the coat while steadfastly keeping his gaze
averted.)
IRENE (taking the coat from him): Im not sure about you.
SHERLOCK: If I wanted to look at naked women Id borrow Johns laptop.

167
JOHN: You do borrow my laptop.

SHERLOCK: I confiscate it.
(He walks over to the fireplace opposite the sofa.)
IRENE (putting on the coat and wrapping it around her): Well, never mind. Weve got better
things to talk about. Now tell me I need to know.
(She walks over to the sofa and sits down.)
IRENE: How was it done?
SHERLOCK: What?
IRENE (taking off her shoes): The hiker with the bashed-in head. How was he killed?
(The boys look confused.)
SHERLOCK: Thats not why Im here.
IRENE: No, no, no, youre here for the photographs but thats never gonna happen, and since
were here just chatting anyway ...
JOHN: That storys not been on the news yet. How do you know about it?
IRENE: I know one of the policemen. Well, I know what he likes.
JOHN: Oh. (He sits down beside her.) And you like policemen?
IRENE: I like detective stories and detectives. Brainys the new sexy.
SHERLOCK (incoherently): Positionofthecar ...
(John and Irene stare at him while he quickly pulls himself together.)
SHERLOCK (starting to pace slowly): Er, the position of the car relative to the hiker at the time
of the backfire. That and the fact that the death blow was to the back of the head. Thats all you
need to know.
IRENE: Okay, tell me: how was he murdered?
SHERLOCK: He wasnt.
IRENE: You dont think it was murder?
SHERLOCK: I know it wasnt.
IRENE: How?
SHERLOCK: The same way that I know the victim was an excellent sportsman recently returned
from foreign travel and that the photographs Im looking for are in this room.
IRENE: Okay, but how?
SHERLOCK: So they are in this room. Thank you. John, man the door. Let no-one in.
(The two of them exchange a significant look, then John gets up and puts the bowl and napkin
on a table before leaving the room and closing the door behind him. In the hallway he looks
around, then picks up a magazine from a nearby table and rolls it up. Back in the sitting room,
Irene sits up straighter, looking suspiciously at the closed door.)
SHERLOCK (starting to pace again): Two men alone in the countryside several yards apart, and
one car.
IRENE: Oh. I I thought you were looking for the photos now.
SHERLOCK: No, no. Looking takes ages. Im just going to find them but youre moderately
clever and weve got a moment, so lets pass the time.
(He stops and turns to her.)
SHERLOCK: Two men, a car, and nobody else.
(He squats down and suddenly its as if he is at the crime scene, squatting down next to the
drivers door of Phils car. Inside, frozen in time, Phils face is screwed up with rage while his
hands are raised, about to slam down angrily onto the steering wheel.)
SHERLOCK: The drivers trying to fix his engine. Getting nowhere.
(Straightening up, he turns and looks into the field.)
SHERLOCK: And the hikers taking a moment, looking at the sky.
(Now hes down in the field, walking around the hiker who is also frozen in time.)
SHERLOCK: Watching the birds?
(He looks doubtful.)
SHERLOCK: Any moment now, somethings gonna happen. What?
(Nearby, Irene is sitting on her sofa which has mysteriously appeared in the field near the
hiker.)
IRENE: The hikers going to die.
SHERLOCK: No, thats the result. Whats going to happen?
IRENE: I dont understand.
SHERLOCK: Oh, well, try to.
IRENE: Why?
SHERLOCK: Because you cater to the whims of the pathetic and take your clothes off to make
an impression. Stop boring me and think. (Sarcastically) Its the new sexy.

168
IRENE: The cars going to backfire.

SHERLOCK: Theres going to be a loud noise.
IRENE: So, what?
SHERLOCK: Oh, noises are important. Noises can tell you everything. For instance ...
(Back in the sitting room which they obviously never really left he pauses dramatically and a
moment later a smoke alarm starts to beep insistently from the hall. Out in the hall, John had
set light to the end of the rolled-up magazine, blown it mostly out again and allowed the smoke
to drift upwards. Now he waves his hand over the magazine and blows on it to try to put it out
completely. In the sitting room, Irene turns and looks at the large mirror over the fireplace.
Sherlock turns his head and follows her gaze.)
SHERLOCK: Thank you. On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child.
Amazing how fire exposes our priorities.
(He walks over to the fireplace and begins running his fingers underneath the mantelpiece.
Finding a switch under there, he presses it and the mirror slides upwards, revealing a small wall
safe behind it. Sherlock turns and looks at Irene as she stands up.)
SHERLOCK: Really hope you dont have a baby in here.
(He calls out.)
SHERLOCK: All right, John, you can turn it off now.
(In the hall, John is still trying to put out the smouldering magazine.)
SHERLOCK (loudly): I said you can turn it off now.
JOHN: Give me a minute.
(He starts thwacking the end of the magazine on the table, grimacing when sparks fly up from
the paper, but then looks round as three men run down the stairs. The first one raises an
enormous pistol the silencer of which is so long that he must be compensating for some other
shortcoming and fires it up at the smoke alarm, shattering it. The beeping stops. One of the
other men hurries towards John, aiming his pistol at him and John instantly raises his hands,
looking at the first man as he walks over and stops in front of him.)
JOHN: Thank you.
(In the sitting room Sherlock is looking closely at the number pad on the front of the safe.)
SHERLOCK: Hmm. Should always use gloves with these things, you know. Heaviest oil deposits
always on the first key used thats quite clearly the three but after that the sequence is
almost impossible to read. Id say from the make that its a six digit code. Cant be your
birthday no disrespect but clearly you were born in the eighties; the eights barely used, so ...
IRENE: Id tell you the code right now but you know what? I already have.
(Sherlock frowns at her.)
IRENE: Think.
(The door bursts open and the leader of the group, Neilson, comes in and aims his pistol at
Sherlock.)
NEILSON: Hands behind your head. (To Irene) On the floor. Keep it still.
(A second man goes over to Irene and walks her nearer to John who is being bundled in by a
third man.)
JOHN: Sorry, Sherlock.
(As Sherlock raises his hands, Neilson looks round at Irene.)
NEILSON: Ms Adler, on the floor.
(His colleague shoves her to her knees beside John who has also been pushed to his knees and
is doubled over with his hands behind his head and a pistol pointed to the back of his neck.)
SHERLOCK: Dont you want me on the floor too?
NEILSON: No, sir, I want you to open the safe.
SHERLOCK (clocking his accent): American. Interesting. Why would you care?
(He glances across at Irene as she puts her hands behind her head.)
NEILSON: Sir, the safe, now, please.
SHERLOCK: I dont know the code.
NEILSON: Weve been listening. She said she told you.
SHERLOCK: Well, if youd been listening, youd know she didnt.
NEILSON: Im assuming I missed something. From your reputation, Im assuming you didnt, Mr
Holmes.
JOHN: For Gods sake. Shes the one who knows the code. Ask her.
NEILSON: Yes, sir. She also knows the code that automatically calls the police and sets off the
burglar alarm. Ive learned not to trust this woman.
IRENE: Mr Holmes doesnt ...

169
NEILSON: Shut up. One more word out of you just one and I will decorate that wall with the
insides of your head. That, for me, will not be a hardship.
(Sherlock glares at him ferociously.)
NEILSON: Mr Archer. At the count of three, shoot Doctor Watson.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: I dont have the code.
(John cowers down as Archer presses the muzzle of his pistol into the back of his neck and
cocks the gun.)
NEILSON: One.
SHERLOCK (emphatically): I dont know the code.
NEILSON: Two.
SHERLOCK: She didnt tell me. (Raising his voice) I dont know it!
NEILSON: Im prepared to believe you any second now.
(Sherlock looks across to Irene who lowers her gaze pointedly downwards.)
NEILSON: Three.
SHERLOCK: No, stop!
(Neilson holds up his free hand to stop Archer. John closes his eyes. Sherlocks gaze becomes
distant while his mind works frantically, then he slowly turns towards the safe and lowers his
hands. As Neilson watches him closely, he slowly reaches out a finger towards the keypad and
punches the 3 and then the 2. Hesitating for a moment, he then punches 2 and 4. Pausing
again, he hits 3 and 4. The safe beeps and noisily unlocks. Irene smiles in satisfaction as
Sherlock sighs and closes his eyes briefly. John sags lower on his knees and shuts his own eyes
again.)
NEILSON: Thank you, Mr Holmes. Open it, please.
(Twisting the button that will open the door, Sherlock looks across to Irene again who lowers
her gaze to the floor and makes a tiny jerk with her head. He turns back to the safe.)
SHERLOCK (urgently): Vatican cameos.
(Instantly John throws himself to the floor. At the same moment Sherlock pulls open the door of
the safe while ducking down below the fireplace. Inside the safe, a tripwire attached to the door
tugs on the trigger of a pistol with an equally long and over-compensatory silencer which is
aimed straight out of the safe. The gun fires and Archer who happened to be standing directly
in front of it is shot in the chest. Sherlock grabs for Neilsons pistol and Irene spins around on
her knees and savagely elbows her guard in the groin. Pulling the pistol from Neilsons grip,
Sherlock holds the silencer end and smashes the butt across his face and Neilson drops to the
floor unconscious. As Irenes guard crumples under her blow, she grapples for his pistol and is
on her feet and aiming it down at him while hes still falling. Sherlock turns to her.)
SHERLOCK: Dyou mind?
IRENE: Not at all.
(As her guard tries to get up, she slams the gun across his face and knocks him unconscious.
While shes distracted, Sherlock reaches into the safe and takes something out of it. Nearby,
John has checked Archer over and now stands up.)
JOHN: Hes dead.
IRENE (to Sherlock, continuing to aim her pistol down at her guard): Thank you. You were very
observant.
JOHN: Observant?
IRENE: Im flattered.
SHERLOCK: Dont be.
JOHN: Flattered?
SHERLOCK: Therell be more of them. Theyll be keeping a eye on the building.
(Still holding Neilsons pistol but having removed the silencer [obviously because he doesnt
need to over-compensate ...], he hurries out of the room. John tucks Archers gun into the back
of his jeans and follows him. Irene goes over to the safe and stares into it wide-eyed. Sherlock
trots out onto the street with John behind him.)
JOHN: We should call the police.
SHERLOCK: Yes.
(Pointing the pistol into the air, he fires it five times. Nearby, tyres screech.)
SHERLOCK: On their way.
(He turns and trots back into the house.)
JOHN: For Gods sake!
SHERLOCK: Oh shut up. Its quick.
(He goes back into the sitting room. Irene turns around from the safe to face him.)

170
SHERLOCK (to John): Check the rest of the house. See how they got in.
(John heads off and Sherlock takes the item which he just stole from the safe out of his pocket
and flips it nonchalantly into the air before catching it again.)
SHERLOCK: Well, thats the knighthood in the bag.
IRENE: Ah. And thats mine.
(She holds out her hand. Ignoring her, Sherlock switches on the security lock on the phone hes
holding. It requires four letters or numbers to activate it and it has I AM above the four
spaces and LOCKED below them.)
SHERLOCK: All the photographs are on here, I presume.
IRENE: I have copies, of course.
SHERLOCK: No you dont. Youll have permanently disabled any kind of uplink or connection.
Unless the contents of this phone are provably unique, you wouldnt be able to sell them.
IRENE (lowering her hand): Who said Im selling?
SHERLOCK (looking at the dead and unconscious bodies lying on the floor): Well, why would
they be interested? Whatevers on the phone, its clearly not just photographs.
IRENE: That camera phone is my life, Mr Holmes. Id die before I let you take it. (She walks
closer and holds her hand out again.) Its my protection.
JOHN (calling out): Sherlock!
SHERLOCK (pulling the phone back and looking at Irene pointedly): It was.
(He turns and leaves the room. She chases after him.
Upstairs in the bedroom, John is kneeling over the silent figure of Kate lying on the floor.
Putting his ear to her mouth to check her breathing, he straightens up and takes her pulse.
Standing up, he goes into the en suite bathroom and looks at the open window in there.
Sherlock comes into the bedroom followed by Irene.)
JOHN: Must have come in this way.
SHERLOCK: Clearly.
(He goes into the bathroom to look out of the window as Irene walks anxiously towards Kate.)
JOHN: Its all right. Shes just out cold.
IRENE: Well, God knows shes used to that. Theres a back door. Better check it, Doctor
Watson.
(Sherlock has come out of the bathroom and nods to him.)
JOHN: Sure.
(He leaves the room. Irene goes over to the dressing table, opens a drawer and covertly takes a
syringe out of it. Sherlock is looking at the camera phone and doesnt notice.)
SHERLOCK: Youre very calm.
(She looks round at him blankly.)
SHERLOCK: Well, your booby trap did just kill a man.
IRENE: He would have killed me. It was self defence in advance.
(Walking across to Sherlock, she strokes her hand down his left arm. As he looks down at her
hand she steps around behind him and stabs the syringe into his right arm. He gasps and spins
around, trying to grab at his arm.)
SHERLOCK: What? What is that? What ...?
(As his face turns towards her again, she slaps him hard. He stumbles and falls to the floor. She
holds out her hand to him.)
IRENE: Give it to me. Now. Give it to me.
(Sherlocks vision is going fuzzy. Grunting, he tries to get back to his feet.)
SHERLOCK: No.
IRENE: Give it to me.
(Starting to lose control of his muscles, Sherlock slumps to his hands and knees, still holding
onto the phone.)
SHERLOCK: No.
IRENE: Oh, for goodness sake.
(She picks up her riding crop from the dressing table and wields it at him.)
IRENE: Drop it.
(Sherlock continues trying to struggle to his feet.)
IRENE: I ... (she thrashes him) ... said ... (she thrashes him again) ... drop it.
(She strikes him a third time and he falls to the floor, unintentionally dropping the phone.)
IRENE: Ah. Thank you, dear.
(As he lies on his back unable to move, she picks up the phone and types on it, standing over
Sherlock and looking down at him smugly.)

171
IRENE: Now tell that sweet little posh thing the pictures are safe with me. Theyre not for
blackmail, just for insurance.
(She puts the phone into the pocket of Sherlocks coat which shes still wearing.)
IRENE: Besides, I might want to see her again.
(Grunting, Sherlock tries to get up. Irene presses him back down to the floor with one foot and
the end of her crop.)
IRENE: Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. Its been a pleasure. Dont spoil it.
(She gently strokes the end of the crop against his face.)
IRENE: This is how I want you to remember me. The woman who beat you.
(Sherlocks vision becomes more fuzzy.)
IRENE: Goodnight, Mr Sherlock Holmes.
(She heads for the bathroom just as John walks back into the bedroom.)
JOHN: Jesus. What are you doing?
IRENE: Hell sleep for a few hours. Make sure he doesnt choke on his own vomit. It makes for a
very unattractive corpse.
(She sits on the windowsill in the bathroom, puts her feet up on the edge of the bath and takes
hold of a cord hanging from the ledge.)
JOHN (picking up the syringe lying on the floor): Whats this? What have you given him?
Sherlock!
IRENE: Hell be fine. Ive used it on loads of my friends.
JOHN (kneeling and looking down at his flatmate): Sherlock, can you hear me?
IRENE: You know, I was wrong about him. He did know where to look.
JOHN (standing up again and turning to her): For what? What are you talking about?
IRENE: The key code to my safe.
JOHN: What was it?
(She looks down to Sherlock who is gazing at her barely conscious but still trying in vain to get
up.)
IRENE: Shall I tell him?
(John looks down at him for a moment then turns back to Irene just as sirens announce the
arrival of the police. Irene smiles at him.)
IRENE: My measurements.
(And with that she pushes her feet against the edge of the bath and topples backwards out of
the window, still holding what looked like a cord but is apparently more like a thin rope. John
hurries over to the window and looks out while Sherlock still tries vainly to lift himself up but
continues to fall back helplessly.)
(As he lapses into unconsciousness, he finds himself inside his own mind anyway back at
the crime scene in the country and sitting in the drivers seat of Phils car. Irene is standing
outside clinging onto the ledge of the rolled-down window and looking in at him urgently.)
IRENE: Got it!
(Blinking and trying to clear his head, he turns as if to get out of the car but she holds up a
finger.)
IRENE: Oh, shush now. Dont get up. Ill do the talking.
(She goes around to the rear of the car and bends down to look more closely at the exhaust
pipe.)
IRENE: So the cars about to backfire ...
(She stands up again and suddenly she and Sherlock are standing near the hiker in the field
while he stands frozen and staring upwards at a forty-five degree angle.)
IRENE: ... and the hiker, hes staring at the sky. Now, you said he could be watching birds but
he wasnt, was he?
(She walks around to the front of the hiker, following his gaze. Sherlock follows her.)
IRENE: He was watching another kind of flying thing. The car backfires and the hiker turns to
look ...
(The hiker turns his head to look back towards the car and at the same moment an object flies
in so rapidly that we cant see what it is. It strikes him on the back of the head, bounces off and
skims quickly away. The man falls backwards and for a brief moment Sherlock is back in
Irenes bedroom and falls backwards to the floor. Then hes back at the crime scene and he and
Irene look down at the ground just in front of the hiker.)
IRENE: ... which was his big mistake.
(She looks towards the road again.)
IRENE: By the time the driver looks up, the hikers already dead. What he doesnt see is what
killed him because its already being washed downstream.

172
(Floating at the edge of the stream is the most unlikely item youd ever expect to see a
boomerang.)
IRENE: An accomplished sportsman recently returned from foreign travel with ... a boomerang.
You got that from one look? Definitely the new sexy.
(She turns and smiles at Sherlock.)
SHERLOCK (vaguely): I ...
(He blinks, looking around in confusion.)
SHERLOCK: I ...
(Behind him, a bed rises up to meet him. The angle changes and he sinks down onto the bed
and a sheet rises up to wrap around him. His eyes close.)
IRENE (softly): Hush now.
(She leans down over him. Sherlocks fuzzy view of her shows that shes no longer in the field
but inside a room.)
IRENE: Its okay. Im only returning your coat.
(She leans closer towards him, then fades out. Sherlock jerks back into consciousness and finds
himself alone and in bed in his own bedroom, fully clothed and covered with a sheet. He lifts his
head.)
SHERLOCK: John?
(He shakes his head, trying to clear it.)
SHERLOCK (louder): John!
(In the living room, John looks round. Sherlock throws the sheet off and kneels up on the bed,
then promptly loses his balance, falls forward and rolls over the foot of the bed and onto the
floor. John opens the bedroom door and comes in as he sits up.)
JOHN: You okay?
SHERLOCK: How did I get here?
JOHN: Well, I dont suppose you remember much. You werent making a lot of sense. Oh, I
should warn you: I think Lestrade filmed you on his phone.
SHERLOCK (getting to his feet): Where is she?
JOHN: Wheres who?
SHERLOCK: The woman. That woman.
JOHN: What woman?
SHERLOCK (stumbling around the room aimlessly): The woman. The woman woman!
JOHN: What, Irene Adler? She got away. No-one saw her.
(Sherlock stumbles over to the open window and looks through it.)
JOHN: She wasnt here, Sherlock.
(Turning around, Sherlock either falls down again or deliberately drops to the floor its not
clear which. While hes down there he drags himself across the floor and peers under the bed as
if looking to see whether Irene is hiding under there, then he squints around as if checking that
shes not hidden under or behind the wardrobe.)
JOHN: What are you ...? What ...? No, no, no, no.
(He hauls Sherlock up and drops him face-down onto the bed.)
JOHN: Back to bed. (He covers him over with the sheet again.) Youll be fine in the morning.
Just sleep.
SHERLOCK (blurrily): Of course Ill be fine. I am fine. Im absolutely fine.
JOHN: Yes, youre great. Now Ill be next door if you need me.
SHERLOCK (fuzzily): Why would I need you?
JOHN: No reason at all.
(He walks out of the room shutting the door behind him. Sherlocks coat is hanging on the back
of the door. A few moments later his pocket lights up as his phone activates and an orgasmic
female sigh comes from the speaker. Sherlock opens his eyes and sits up, looking blearily
across to his coat. Frowning at it as if realising that it can only have been returned by Irene, he
gets out of bed and wobbles across the floor towards it, losing his balance a couple of times en
route but managing to stay on his feet. Finally he gets to the door and takes the phone out of
his pocket. Bracing himself against the wall he activates the phone. A new text message reads:
Till the next time, Mr. Holmes
Sherlock peers at it for a long moment and then looks around suspiciously, totally oblivious to
the fact that the most suspicious thing in the room is the red kiss-shaped lipstick mark just to
the left of his mouth.)

173
NEXT MORNING. Sherlock now fully recovered and John are sitting at the table in the living
room. John is eating breakfast while Sherlock is reading a newspaper. Mycroft stands nearby.
SHERLOCK: The photographs are perfectly safe.
MYCROFT: In the hands of a fugitive sex worker.
SHERLOCK: Shes not interested in blackmail. She wants ... protection for some reason. I take
it youve stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?
MYCROFT: How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied.
SHERLOCK: Shed applaud your choice of words.
(John smirks.)
SHERLOCK: You see how this works: that camera phone is her Get out of jail free card. You
have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty, Mycroft.
JOHN: Though not the way she treats royalty.
(He smiles sarcastically at Mycroft, who returns the smile humourlessly. Just then the sound of
an orgasmic female sigh fills the room. John and Mycroft frown.)
JOHN: What was that?
SHERLOCK (trying to look nonchalant): Text.
JOHN: But what was that noise?
(Sherlock gets up and goes over to pick up his phone from nearby. He looks at the message
which reads:
Good morning, Mr. Holmes
SHERLOCK: Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft, before you sent John
and I in there? CIA-trained killers, at an excellent guess.
(He goes back to the table and sits down again as John looks round at Mycroft.)
JOHN: Yeah, thanks for that, Mycroft.
(Mrs Hudson brings in a plate of breakfast from the kitchen and puts it down in front of
Sherlock.)
MRS HUDSON (sternly): Its a disgrace, sending your little brother into danger like that. Family
is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes.
MYCROFT: Oh, shut up, Mrs Hudson.
SHERLOCK (furiously): MYCROFT!
JOHN (simultaneously and equally furiously): OI!
(Mycroft looks at their angry faces glaring at him, then cringes and looks contritely at Mrs
Hudson.)
MYCROFT: Apologies.
MRS HUDSON: Thank you.
SHERLOCK: Though do, in fact, shut up.
(His phone sighs orgasmically again. Mrs Hudson, who was going back into the kitchen, turns
back.)
MRS HUDSON: Ooh. Its a bit rude, that noise, isnt it?
(Sherlock looks at the latest message which reads:
Feeling better?
SHERLOCK: Theres nothing you can do and nothing she will do as far as I can see.
MYCROFT: I can put maximum surveillance on her.
SHERLOCK: Why bother? You can follow her on Twitter. I believe her user name is
TheWhipHand.
MYCROFT: Yes. Most amusing.
(His phone rings and he takes it from his pocket.)
MYCROFT: Scuse me.
(He walks out into the hall.)
MYCROFT (into phone): Hello.
(Sherlock watches him leave, frowning suspiciously. John looks at him.)
JOHN: Why does your phone make that noise?
SHERLOCK: What noise?
JOHN: That noise the one it just made.
SHERLOCK: Its a text alert. It means Ive got a text.
JOHN: Hmm. Your texts dont usually make that noise.

174
SHERLOCK: Well, somebody got hold of the phone and apparently, as a joke, personalised their
text alert noise.
JOHN: Hmm. So every time they text you ...
(Right on cue, the phone sighs orgasmically again.)
SHERLOCK: It would seem so.
MRS HUDSON: Could you turn that phone down a bit? At my time of life, its ...
(The latest text message reads:
Im fine since you didnt ask
Sherlock puts down the phone again and goes back to reading the paper which is showing the
headline Refit for Historical Hospital.)
JOHN: Im wondering who could have got hold of your phone, because it would have been in
your coat, wouldnt it?
(Sherlock raises his newspaper so that its obscuring his face.)
SHERLOCK: Ill leave you to your deductions.
(John smiles.)
JOHN: Im not stupid, you know.
SHERLOCK: Where do you get that idea?
(Mycroft comes back into the room, still talking on his phone.)
MYCROFT: Bond Air is go, thats decided. Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later.
(He hangs up. Sherlock looks at him.)
SHERLOCK: What else does she have?
(Mycroft looks at him enquiringly.)
SHERLOCK: Irene Adler. The Americans wouldnt be interested in her for a couple of
compromising photographs. Theres more.
(He stands up and faces his brother.)
SHERLOCK: Much more.
(Mycroft looks at him stony-faced. Sherlock walks closer to him.)
SHERLOCK: Something bigs coming, isnt it?
MYCROFT: Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours. From now on you will stay out of this.
SHERLOCK (locking eyes with him): Oh, will I?
MYCROFT: Yes, Sherlock, you will.
(Sherlock shrugs and turns away.)
MYCROFT: Now, if youll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old
friend.
SHERLOCK (picking up his violin): Do give her my love.
(He begins to play the National Anthem, God Save The Queen. Mycroft rolls his eyes, turns
and leaves the room, Sherlock following along behind him while John grins. As Mycroft hurries
down the stairs, Sherlock turns back and walks over to the window, still playing.)
Time passes and now its Christmas. Fairy lights are strung up around the window frame of the
flat and its snowing outside. Inside, the living room is festooned with Christmas decorations
and cards, and Sherlock is walking around playing We Wish You a Merry Christmas on his
violin. Mrs Hudson is sitting in his chair with a glass in her hand, watching him happily. Lestrade
is standing at the entrance to the kitchen holding a wine glass, and John wearing a very
snazzy Christmassy jumper walks across the room with a cup and saucer in one hand and a
bottle of beer in the other. As Sherlock finishes the tune with a fancy flourish, Lestrade whistles
in appreciation.
MRS HUDSON: Lovely! Sherlock, that was lovely!
JOHN: Marvellous!
(Sherlock sketches a small bow to his audience. Mrs Hudson, apparently a little bit squiffy,
giggles up at him.)
MRS HUDSON: I wish you could have worn the antlers!
SHERLOCK: Some things are best left to the imagination, Mrs Hudson.
JOHN (handing her a cup of tea, perhaps in an attempt to sober her up): Mrs H.
(A dark-haired woman in her thirties brings over a tray containing mince pies and slices of cake
and offers it to Sherlock.)
SHERLOCK (politely): No thank you, Sarah.
(Her face falls. John hurries over to her and puts his arm around her as she turns away.)
JOHN: Uh, no, no, no, no, no. Hes not good with names.

175
SHERLOCK: No-no-no, I can get this.

(The woman puts the tray down and straightens up, folding her arms and looking at Sherlock
rather grimly.)
SHERLOCK: No, Sarah was the doctor; and then there was the one with the spots; and then the
one with the nose; and then ... who was after the boring teacher?
JEANETTE: Nobody.
SHERLOCK: Jeanette! (He grins falsely at her.) Ah, process of elimination.
(John awkwardly shepherds Jeanette away. Sherlock looks across to the door as a new arrival
comes in.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, dear Lord.
(Molly Hooper walks in, smiling shyly and carrying two bags which appear to be full of
presents.)
MOLLY: Hello, everyone. Sorry, hello.
(John walks over to greet her, smiling.)
MOLLY: Er, it said on the door just to come up.
(Everyone greets her cheerfully. Sherlock rolls his eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, everybodys saying hullo to each other. How wonderful(!)
(Smiling at him nervously, Molly starts to take her coat and scarf off.)
JOHN (standing ready to take her coat): Let me, er ... holy Mary!
(Lestrade gawps in similar appreciation as Molly reveals that shes wearing a very attractive
black dress.)
LESTRADE: Wow!
MOLLY: Having a Christmas drinkies, then?
SHERLOCK (sitting down at the dining table): No stopping them, apparently.
MRS HUDSON: Its the one day of the year where the boys have to be nice to me, so its almost
worth it!
(Molly giggles nervously, her eyes still fixed on Sherlock as he starts typing on Johns laptop.
John brings a chair over for her.)
JOHN: Have a seat.
SHERLOCK: John?
JOHN: Mmm?
(He goes over to see what Sherlock is looking at. Lestrade touches Mollys arm to get her
attention.)
LESTRADE: Molly? (She turns to him.) Want a drink?
(As she accepts his offer, John leans over Sherlocks shoulder to look at the screen.)
SHERLOCK: The counter on your blog: still says one thousand eight hundred and ninety-five.
JOHN (pulling a mock-angry face): Ooh, no! Christmas is cancelled!
(Sherlock points to the side bar which has one of the press pictures of him in his deerstalker.)
SHERLOCK: And youve got a photograph of me wearing that hat!
JOHN: People like the hat.
SHERLOCK: No they dont. What people?
(He continues looking at the laptop as John walks away. Molly turns to Mrs Hudson.)
MOLLY: Hows the hip?
MRS HUDSON: Ooh, its atrocious, but thanks for asking.
MOLLY: Ive seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems.
(An awkward silence falls. Molly looks embarrassed.)
MOLLY: Oh, God. Sorry.
SHERLOCK: Dont make jokes, Molly.
MOLLY: No. Sorry.
(Lestrade hands her a glass of red wine.)
MOLLY: Thank you. I wasnt expecting to see you. I thought you were gonna be in Dorset for
Christmas.
LESTRADE: Thats first thing in the morning, me and the wife. Were back together. Its all
sorted.
(He grins at her.)
SHERLOCK (without looking up from the computer): No, shes sleeping with a P.E. teacher.
(Lestrades smile becomes rather fixed. Molly turns to John who is sitting on the arm of his
armchair. Jeanette is sitting in the chair itself.)
MOLLY: And John. I hear youre off to your sisters, is that right?
JOHN: Yeah.
MOLLY: Sherlock was complaining.

176
(Sherlock raises his eyebrows indignantly. Molly corrects herself.)

MOLLY: ... saying.
(Nearby, Lestrade has been running Sherlocks comment through his mind, and his face slowly
becomes a picture of exasperation when he seems to realise that its probably true.)
JOHN: First time ever, shes cleaned up her act. Shes off the booze.
SHERLOCK: Nope.
JOHN: Shut up, Sherlock.
SHERLOCK: I see youve got a new boyfriend, Molly, and youre serious about him.
MOLLY: Sorry, what?
SHERLOCK: In fact, youre seeing him this very night and giving him a gift.
JOHN (quietly, exasperated): Take a day off.
LESTRADE (taking a glass across to the table and putting it down near Sherlock): Shut up and
have a drink.
SHERLOCK: Oh, come on. Surely youve all seen the present at the top of the bag perfectly
wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best.
(He stands up and walks towards Molly, looking at the other presents which arent so carefully
wrapped.)
SHERLOCK: Its for someone special, then.
(He picks up the well-wrapped present.)
SHERLOCK: The shade of red echoes her lipstick either an unconscious association or one that
shes deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has lurrrve on her mind. The
fact that shes serious about him is clear from the fact shes giving him a gift at all.
(John looks anxiously at Molly as she squirms in front of Sherlock.)
SHERLOCK: That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn; and that shes seeing him
tonight is evident from her make-up and what shes wearing.
(Smiling smugly across to John and Jeanette, he starts to turn over the gift tag attached to the
present.)
SHERLOCK: Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts ...
(He trails off as he looks down at the writing on the tag. Written in red ink, the greeting reads:
Dearest Sherlock
Love Molly xxx
Sherlock gazes at the words in shock when he realises the terrible thing that he has just done.
Molly gasps quietly.)
MOLLY: You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always.
(As she fights back tears, Sherlock turns to walk away ... but then stops and turns back to her.)
SHERLOCK: I am sorry. Forgive me.
(John looks up, startled and amazed at such a human reaction from his friend. Sherlock steps
closer to Molly.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper.
(He leans forward and gently kisses her on the cheek. Its a sweet and beautiful moment, which
is instantly ruined by the sound of an orgasmic sigh. Molly gasps in shock.)
MOLLY: No! That wasnt ... I I didnt ...
SHERLOCK: No, it was me.
LESTRADE: My God, really?!
MOLLY: What?!
SHERLOCK: My phone.
(He reaches into his jacket pocket to get the phone. John narrows his eyes.)
JOHN: Fifty-seven?
JOHN: Fifty-seven of those texts the ones Ive heard.
(Sherlock looks at the message which reads simply:
Mantelpiece
SHERLOCK (walking to the mantelpiece): Thrilling that youve been counting.

(He picks up a small box wrapped in blood-red paper and tied with black rope-like string.
Instantly he flashes back to the colour of Irenes lipstick, which was identical to this paper.)
SHERLOCK: Scuse me.
(He walks toward the kitchen.)

177
JOHN: What whats up, Sherlock?

SHERLOCK (continuing walking): I said excuse me.
JOHN (calling after him): Dyou ever reply?
(Ignoring him, Sherlock walks into his bedroom, sits on the bed and opens the box. Inside is
Irenes camera phone. He takes it out of the box and looks at it closely, then gazes off into the
distance thoughtfully.)
(In his own house or possibly in an official government residence or even just a fancy office
Mycroft is sitting by the fireside. His phone rings and he takes it from his jacket, looks at the
Caller ID and then, with a look of Good grief! on his face, he puts the phone to his ear.)
MYCROFT: Oh dear Lord. Were not going to have Christmas phone calls now, are we? Have
they passed a new law?
SHERLOCK: I think youre going to find Irene Adler tonight.
(John has come to the door of the bedroom and stands there listening to the conversation.)
MYCROFT: We already know where she is. As you were kind enough to point out, it hardly
matters.
SHERLOCK: No, I mean youre going to find her dead.
(Hanging up the phone, he stands up and walks towards the bedroom door.)
JOHN: You okay?
SHERLOCK: Yes.
(He pushes the door closed, shutting John out. At his place, Mycroft gazes out of the window at
the falling snow.)
ST BARTHOLOMEWS HOSPITAL. Sherlock and Mycroft walk to the morgue and go inside. Molly
is waiting inside. She has changed into trousers and a Christmassy jumper and is wearing her
lab coat open over the top of her clothes. A body is lying on the table covered with a sheet.
MYCROFT (to Sherlock): The only one that fitted the description. Had her brought here your
home from home.
SHERLOCK: You didnt need to come in, Molly.
MOLLY: Thats okay. Everyone else was busy with ... Christmas.
(Looking awkward, she gestures to the body.)
MOLLY: The face is a bit, sort of, bashed up, so it might be a bit difficult.
(She pulls the sheet down to reveal the face.)
MYCROFT: Thats her, isnt it?
SHERLOCK (to Molly): Show me the rest of her.
(Grimacing, Molly walks along the side of the table, pulling the sheet back as she goes. Sherlock
looks along the length of the body once, then turns and starts to walk away.)
SHERLOCK: Thats her.
MYCROFT: Thank you, Miss Hooper.
MOLLY: Who is she? How did Sherlock recognise her from ... not her face?
(Mycroft smiles politely at her, then turns and follows his brother. He finds him standing in the
corridor outside, looking out of the window. Walking up behind him, he holds a cigarette over
his shoulder.)
MYCROFT: Just the one.
SHERLOCK: Why?
MYCROFT: Merry Christmas.
(Sherlock takes the cigarette and Mycroft digs into his coat pocket to find a lighter.)
SHERLOCK: Smoking indoors isnt there one of those ... one of those law things?
(Mycroft lights the cigarette for him.)
MYCROFT: Were in a morgue. Theres only so much damage you can do.
(Sherlock inhales deeply and then blows the smoke out again.)
MYCROFT: How did you know she was dead?
SHERLOCK: She had an item in her possession, one she said her life depended on. She chose to
give it up.
(He takes another drag on his cigarette.)
MYCROFT: Where is this item now?
(Sherlock looks round at the sound of sobbing. A family of three people is standing on the other
side of the doors at the end of the corridor, cuddled together and clearly grieving the death of
someone close to them. Sherlock and his brother turn to look at the family.)
SHERLOCK: Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if theres something
wrong with us?

178
MYCROFT: All lives end. All hearts are broken. (He looks round at his brother.) Caring is not an
advantage, Sherlock.
(Sherlock blows out another lungful of smoke, then looks down at the cigarette in disgust.)
SHERLOCK: This is low tar.
MYCROFT: Well, you barely knew her.
SHERLOCK: Huh!
(He walks away down the corridor.)
SHERLOCK: Merry Christmas, Mycroft.
MYCROFT: And a happy New Year.
(As his brother continues down the corridor, flicking the ash from his cigarette onto the floor,
Mycroft gets out his phone and hits a speed dial.)
MYCROFT (into phone): Hes on his way.
(Hes talking to John who is still back at the flat.)
MYCROFT: Have you found anything?
JOHN: No. Did he take the cigarette?
MYCROFT: Yes.
JOHN: Shit. (He looks round to Mrs Hudson.) Hes coming. Ten minutes.
MRS HUDSON: Theres nothing in the bedroom.
JOHN (into phone): Looks like hes clean. Weve tried all the usual places. Are you sure tonights
a danger night?
MYCROFT: No, but then I never am. You have to stay with him, John.
JOHN: Ive got plans.
MYCROFT: No.
(He hangs up.)
JOHN: Mycroft. M...
(The line goes dead. Chewing the inside of his mouth, he walks across to where Jeanette is
sitting on the sofa and sits down beside her.)
JOHN: I am really sorry.
JEANETTE: You know, my friends are so wrong about you.
JOHN: Hmm?
JEANETTE: Youre a great boyfriend.
JOHN (looking a little startled): Okay, thats good. I mean, I always thought I was great.
JEANETTE: And Sherlock Holmes is a very lucky man.
(John groans.)
JOHN: Jeanette, please.
JEANETTE (bitterly, putting on her shoes): No, I mean it. Its heart-warming. Youll do anything
for him and he cant even tell your girlfriends apart.
(She stands up and heads for the door. He jumps up and follows her as she puts on her coat.)
JOHN: No, Ill do anything for you. Just tell me what it is Im not doing. Tell me!
JEANETTE: Dont make me compete with Sherlock Holmes.
JOHN: Ill walk your dog for you. Hey, Ive said it now. Ill even walk your dog ...
JEANETTE: I dont have a dog!
JOHN: No, because that was ... the last one. Okay.
JEANETTE: Jesus!
(Picking up her bag, she storms out.)
JOHN: Ill call you.
JEANETTE: No!
JOHN: Okay.
(Exasperated, he turns back into the room as she runs down the stairs. Mrs Hudson looks at
him sympathetically.)
MRS HUDSON: That really wasnt very good, was it?
Shortly afterwards, John is sitting in his chair reading a book. Sherlock comes up the stairs and
stops in the doorway of the living room. John looks round at him.
JOHN: Oh, hi.
(Sherlock stands there, his eyes roaming all around the living room.)
JOHN: You okay?
(Sherlock continues to scan the room for a long moment, then turns and walks back to the
kitchen door, heading for his bedroom.)
SHERLOCK: Hope you didnt mess up my sock index this time.
(His bedroom door slams shut. John puts down his book and sighs heavily.)

179
MORNING. 221B. Sherlock is standing at the left-hand window with his back to the living room
and playing a sad lament on his violin. John walks into the room and sighs at the sight of him.
Mrs Hudson walks across to the table and picks up the plates, looking at John pointedly to make
him realise that Sherlock hasnt touched his breakfast. John hums resignedly as he takes his
jacket from the back of a chair and puts it on. Sherlock stops playing and picks up a pencil to
make a notation on his music.
MRS HUDSON: Lovely tune, Sherlock. Havent heard that one before.
JOHN: You composing?
SHERLOCK: Helps me to think.
(He turns back to the window, lifts the violin and begins to play the same tune again.)
JOHN: What are you thinking about?
(Sherlock suddenly spins around and puts down the violin. He points at Johns laptop.)
SHERLOCK (rapidly): The counter on your blog is still stuck at one thousand eight hundred and
ninety-five.
JOHN: Yeah, its faulty. Cant seem to fix it.
SHERLOCK (taking out Irenes camera phone): Faulty or youve been hacked and its a
message.
(He pulls up the security lock with its I AM ---- LOCKED screen.)
JOHN: Hmm?
(Sherlock types 1895 into the phone. The phone beeps warningly and a message comes up
reading: WRONG PASSCODE. 3 ATTEMPTS REMAINING. The enthusiasm in his eyes dies
again.)
SHERLOCK: Just faulty.
(He turns away and picks up his violin again.)
JOHN: Right.
(Sherlock begins to play the sad tune once more.)
JOHN: Right. Well, Im going out for a bit.
(Sherlock doesnt respond. John turns and walks to the kitchen where Mrs Hudson is tidying
up.)
JOHN (quietly): Listen: has he ever had any kind of ... (he sighs) ... girlfriend, boyfriend, a
relationship, ever?
MRS HUDSON: I dont know.
JOHN (sighing in frustration): How can we not know?
MRS HUDSON: Hes Sherlock. How will we ever know what goes on in that funny old head?
(John smiles sadly.)
JOHN: Right. See ya.
(He trots off down the stairs. Mrs Hudson looks at Sherlock playing his violin at the window, and
then leaves the room.
Downstairs, John goes out of the front door and pulls it closed. As he turns to go to the left, a
woman is standing just to the right of the flat. She calls out to him.)
WOMAN: John?
JOHN: Yeah.
(He stops and turns around to her as she looks at him flirtatiously.)
JOHN: Hello.
(It takes him a moment but then he realises that shes very pretty and her body language
appears to be saying, Take me big boy Im all yours.)
JOHN: Hello!
WOMAN (walking closer): So, any plans for New Year tonight?
(John laughs while his eyes continually roam over her body.)
JOHN: Er, nothing fixed. Nothing I couldnt heartlessly abandon. You have any ideas?
(The woman looks over her shoulder towards the road.)
WOMAN: One.
(John follows her gaze and sighs in exasperation when a black car pulls up and stops beside
them.)
JOHN: You know, Mycroft could just phone me, if he didnt have this bloody stupid power
complex.
(They get into the car and it pulls away ... and takes them to the biggest power complex in the
neighbourhood the empty shell of Battersea Power Station. Pulling up inside the building, John
and the woman get out and she leads him through the abandoned structure.)
JOHN: Couldnt we just go to a caf? Sherlock doesnt follow me everywhere.

180
(Still walking, the woman types onto her phone, then stops and gestures ahead of herself.)
WOMAN: Through there.
(John gives her a look, then walks on. The woman turns and heads back the way she came,
lifting her phone to her ear.)
WOMAN (into phone): Hes on his way. You were right he thinks its Mycroft.
(John reaches a large room and starts talking straightaway even though he cant yet see
anybody.)
JOHN: Hes writing sad music; doesnt eat; barely talks only to correct the television.
(He walks further into the room and finally a figure begins to step out of the shadows at the
other end.)
JOHN: Id say he was heartbroken but, er, well, hes Sherlock. He does all that anyw...
(He trails off as Irene Adler walks into view.)
IRENE: Hello, Doctor Watson.
(She stops some distance away from him and he simply stares at her for several seconds before
he finally finds some words.)
JOHN (quietly, but with a note of pleading in his voice): Tell him youre alive.
IRENE (shaking her head): Hed come after me.
JOHN: Ill come after you if you dont.
IRENE: Mmm, I believe you.
JOHN (louder): You were dead on a slab. It was definitely you.
IRENE: DNA tests are only as good as the records you keep.
JOHN: And I bet you know the record-keeper.
IRENE: I know what he likes, and I needed to disappear.
JOHN: Then how come I can see you, and I dont even want to?
IRENE: Look, I made a mistake. I sent something to Sherlock for safe-keeping and now I need
it back, so I need your help.
JOHN: No.
IRENE: Its for his own safety.
JOHN: Sos this: tell him youre alive.
IRENE: I cant.
JOHN (breathing heavily and fighting back his anger): Fine. Ill tell him, and I still wont help
you.
(He turns and starts to walk away.)
IRENE: What do I say?
JOHN (furiously, turning back to her): What do you normally say? Youve texted him a lot.
(Irene has taken out her phone and holds it up as John stops and glares at her.)
IRENE: Just the usual stuff.
JOHN: There is no usual in this case.
(Irene looks down at her phone and starts to read back messages she has sent to Sherlock.)
IRENE: Good morning; I like your funny hat; Im sad tonight. Lets have dinner ...
(John looks round at her, startled.)
IRENE: ... You looked sexy on Crimewatch. Lets have dinner; Im not hungry, lets have
dinner.
(John stares at her in disbelief.)
JOHN: You ... flirted with Sherlock Holmes?!
IRENE (still looking at her phone): At him. He never replies.
JOHN: No, Sherlock always replies to everything. Hes Mr Punchline. He will outlive God trying
to have the last word.
IRENE: Does that make me special?
JOHN: ... I dont know. Maybe.
IRENE: Are you jealous?
JOHN: Were not a couple.
IRENE: Yes you are. There ...
(She holds up her phone to show John the screen, although hes too far away to read it. She
tells him what she has typed anyway.)
IRENE: Im not dead. Lets have dinner.
(She presses the Send button. John turns away momentarily and then turns back to her.)
JOHN (quietly): Who ... who the hell knows about Sherlock Holmes, but for the record if
anyone out there still cares, Im not actually gay.
IRENE: Well, I am. Look at us both.

181
(John laughs ruefully. Just then an orgasmic female sigh can be heard a short distance away. In
the corridor outside the room, unseen by either of them, Sherlock switches off his phone and
rapidly walks away. John starts to walk in the direction of the sound but Irene holds out her
hand to stop him. She looks at him pointedly.)
IRENE: I dont think so, do you?
Some time later, Sherlock is walking down Baker Street towards his flat, his gaze distant and
lost. As he arrives at the front door of 221B and turns to put his key in the door, his expression
sharpens when he realises that the door has been jemmied open. Slowly pushing the door
open, he goes inside and carefully puts his hand onto the opaque glass window of the interior
door before also pushing that one open and stepping through into the hall. Immediately he sees
that the door to 221A is ajar, and partway down the hall is a plastic bucket. He takes a quick
glance at the various items inside the bucket and sees that theyre cleaning materials: a pair of
rubber gloves, a duster, a spray can of what is probably screen and telephone sanitizer, a toilet
brush and a bottle of disinfectant, and a couple of other items.
Sherlock steps closer to the stairs and sees a couple of scuff marks on the wall just above the
risers. He instantly realises that one of the marks was made by someone awkwardly walking
backwards up the stairs and having to feel their way with their feet, while the second was made
by someone following the first person while facing forwards but being thrown off-balance by
something. Looking more closely at the wall he sees a small indentation in the wallpaper.
Putting a finger against the dent, his gaze becomes more intense as he deduces that it was
formed by someone dragging their hand along the wall, clawing at it in a desperate attempt to
stop themselves being hauled backwards up the stairs. The depth of the nail mark can only
have been made by someone with fairly long nails, and now Sherlock knows that the person
being dragged was Mrs Hudson. Slowly he raises his head while he visualises her struggling as
she is half-pulled and half-carried upstairs by a couple of men, a third man preceding them. In
his mind, he hears her panic-stricken protests of, Stop it! at her assailants before she cries
out Sherlocks name in terror and anguish.
Sherlock stares intensely up the stairs and slowly, without a muscle in his face moving, his
expression changes from deductive to outright murderous. Your transcriber sobs at the ferocity
in his gaze and challenges anyone to say that Benedict Cumberbatch isnt one of the finest
actors of our time. Sherlock stands there for a few seconds while his rage builds, and then he
gets moving.
Not long afterwards he slowly pushes open the door to the living room of 221B. In front of the
fireplace Mrs Hudson is sitting on a dining chair facing the sofa, and behind her stands Neilson,
the CIA man who led the raid on Irenes house. He is holding another pistol with an over-
compensatory silencer attached and is aiming the gun at the back of Mrs Hudsons head. One of
his men is standing looking out of the window but turns when the door opens; the other stands
near the sliding door into the kitchen. As Sherlock slowly strolls into the room with his hands
clasped behind his back, Mrs Hudson already crying quietly begins to sob a little louder.
MRS HUDSON: Oh, Sherlock, Sherlock!
SHERLOCK: Dont snivel, Mrs Hudson. Itll do nothing to impede the flight of a bullet.
(He looks at Neilson.)
SHERLOCK: What a tender world that would be.
MRS HUDSON (sobbing quietly as she gazes up at him): Oh, please, sorry, Sherlock.
NEILSON: I believe you have something that we want, Mr Holmes.
SHERLOCK: Then why dont you ask for it?
(He walks closer and holds out his right hand towards Mrs Hudson. She flails towards it,
whimpering, and he gently turns back the sleeve of her right hand and looks at the bruises on
her wrist.)
MRS HUDSON (crying): Sher...
NEILSON: Ive been asking this one. She doesnt seem to know anything.
(Sherlocks gaze rises a little and he sees that the right shoulder of Mrs Hs cardigan has been
ripped at the seam, exposing her skin underneath.)
NEILSON: But you know what Im asking for, dont you, Mr Holmes?
(Sherlock looks a little higher and sees a cut on her right cheek. His eyes flick across to
Neilsons right hand holding the pistol. He has a silver ring on his third finger and there is blood
on it. Sherlock raises his head and looks directly at Neilson but he isnt deducing him. In very
rapid succession he is picking out target points on his body:
Carotid Artery

182
Skull
Eyes
His eyes drop to Neilsons arm and chest:
Artery
Lungs
Ribs
He raises his eyes to Neilsons again.)

SHERLOCK: I believe I do.
(Mrs Hudson whimpers as he releases her hands and straightens up, putting his hands behind
his back again.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh, please, Sherlock.
SHERLOCK (to Neilson): First, get rid of your boys.
NEILSON: Why?
SHERLOCK: I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room.
(Neilson hesitates for a moment, then glances at his colleagues.)
NEILSON: You two, go to the car.
SHERLOCK: Then get into the car and drive away. (He looks back to Neilson.) Dont try to trick
me. You know who I am. It doesnt work.
(He loudly clicks the k of work. Your transcriber faints. The two men leave the room and head
down the stairs.)
SHERLOCK: Next, you can stop pointing that gun at me.
NEILSON: So you can point a gun at me?
SHERLOCK (stepping back and spreading his arms to either side): Im unarmed.
NEILSON: Mind if I check?
SHERLOCK: Oh, I insist.
(Neilson comes around from behind Mrs Hudson. She whimpers nervously.)
MRS HUDSON: Dont do anything.
(Neilson walks over to Sherlock and pats his breast pocket and flicks the coat open while
Sherlock stands meekly with his arms still spread. Walking around behind him, Neilson starts
patting for any hidden weapon at his back. Sherlock rolls his eyes dramatically at Mrs Hudson,
but he is already covertly starting to bend his right arm towards himself. So fast that your
transcriber absolutely cant tell where it came from, he whips out the sanitizer spray can, twists
around and sprays the contents directly into Neilsons eyes. As Neilson screams, Sherlock rears
back and then savagely headbutts him in the face. Neilson falls back onto the coffee table,
unconscious, and Sherlock triumphantly flips the can into the air.)
SHERLOCK: Moron.
(Slamming the can onto the dining table, he hurries over to Mrs Hudson and, tutting probably
in annoyance at what the man has done to her he drops to his knees in front of her.)
MRS HUDSON (tearfully): Oh, thank you.
SHERLOCK (gently stroking her face): Youre all right now, youre all right.
MRS HUDSON: Yes.
(Sherlock looks over his shoulder towards Neilsons prone body, his expression still promising
murder.)
Not long afterwards, the black car pulls up outside 221 and John gets out. The car drives away
and he walks to the door, then stops when he sees a handwritten note attached underneath the
knocker. He looks around the street for a moment, then pushes the door open and goes inside.
Written on the note is:
CRIME IN PROGRESS
PLEASE DISTURB
He goes upstairs and hurries into the living room.

JOHN: Whats going on?
(He stops at the sight of Neilson, bound and gagged with duct tape and sitting on the chair near
the fireplace. His nose is broken and blood has run down his face and is dripping from his chin.

183
Mrs Hudson is sitting on the sofa and Sherlock is in a chair nearby, holding Neilsons pistol
aimed at him with one hand, and his phone to his ear with the other.)
JOHN: Jeez. What the hell is happening?
SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudsons been attacked by an American. Im restoring balance to the universe.
(John immediately hurries over to sit down next to her.)
JOHN: Oh, Mrs Hudson, my God. Are you all right? (Glaring at Neilson as he puts his arm
around her shoulders) Jesus, what have they done to you?
(Mrs Hudson breaks down in tears again.)
MRS HUDSON (covering her face with her hands): Oh, Im just being so silly.
JOHN (pulling her closer): No, no.
(Sherlock gets to his feet, still holding the phone to his ear while aiming the gun at Neilson.)
SHERLOCK (to John): Downstairs. Take her downstairs and look after her.
(John stands up and helps her to her feet.)
JOHN (gently): All right, its all right. Ill have a look at that.
MRS HUDSON (tearfully): Im fine, Im fine.
(As she walks out of the room, John steps over to Sherlock, whose eyes are fixed on Neilson.)
JOHN: Are you gonna tell me whats going on?
SHERLOCK: I expect so. Now go.
(They look at each other for a moment, then turn their gazes to Neilson and now hes got two
murderous expressions aimed at him. John turns to leave the room but just before his head is
completely turned away, a small smile begins to form on his face as if he wants Neilson to
understand that he is about to encounter a whole world of hurt.)
SHERLOCK (into phone as John walks away): Lestrade. Weve had a break-in at Baker Street.
Send your least irritating officers and an ambulance. (Finally taking his eyes off Neilson, he
walks across to the dining table and lays the pistol down on it.) Oh, no-no-no-no-no, were fine.
No, its the, uh, its the burglar. Hes got himself rather badly injured.
(Neilson looks nervous while Sherlock listens to Lestrades question.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, a few broken ribs, fractured skull ... suspected punctured lung.
(He looks over his shoulder at Neilson.)
SHERLOCK (into phone): He fell out of a window.
(Still looking into Neilsons eyes, he hangs up.)
Downstairs in Mrs Hudsons kitchen, she and John are standing by the sink while he gently
applies some antiseptic to the cut on her cheek with a piece of cotton wool. She flinches.
MRS HUDSON: Ooh, it stings.
(John nods as he continues cleaning the cut. A moment later a shape plummets down past the
window and lands with a crash. John and Mrs H look at the window.)
MRS HUDSON: Ooh. That was right on my bins.
(Theres an agonised groan from outside.)
Some time later, its fully dark outside and an ambulance is only now pulling away from 221.
Sherlock is standing outside Speedys caf with Lestrade, who apparently decided that his least
irritating officer was himself.
LESTRADE: And exactly how many times did he fall out the window?
SHERLOCK: Its all a bit of a blur, Detective Inspector. I lost count.
(Not bothering to comment, Lestrade walks away. A little later Sherlock comes in through the
kitchen door of 221A and carefully wipes his feet on the doormat. Mrs Hudson and John are
sitting at her small kitchen table. Mrs H still looks very shaken.)
JOHN: Shell have to sleep upstairs in our flat tonight. We need to look after her.
MRS HUDSON: No.
SHERLOCK: Of course, but shes fine.
JOHN: No, shes not. Look at her.
(Sherlock opens the fridge door and peers inside before picking something up.)
JOHN: Shes got to take some time away from Baker Street. She can go and stay with her
sister. Doctors orders.
(Kicking the fridge door shut, Sherlock frowns at John and bites into a mince pie.)
SHERLOCK: Dont be absurd.
JOHN: Shes in shock, for Gods sake, and all over some bloody stupid camera phone. Where is
it, anyway?
SHERLOCK: Safest place I know.

184
(Wiping crumbs from his mouth, he looks down at Mrs Hudson who reaches down inside her top
and pulls the phone out of her bra before handing it to Sherlock.)
MRS HUDSON: You left it in the pocket of your second-best dressing gown, you clot. (She
laughs briefly.) I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry.
SHERLOCK (tossing it into the air before putting it in his coat pocket): Thank you.
(He looks at John.)
SHERLOCK: Shame on you, John Watson.
JOHN: Shame on me?!
SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson leave Baker Street?
(He puts a protective arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer to him.)
SHERLOCK (sternly): England would fall.
(She laughs and strokes his hand. He chuckles gently. John smiles at them both.)
Later, the boys are back upstairs. John fixes himself a drink in the kitchen and then comes into
the living room where Sherlock is taking off his coat.
JOHN: Where is it now?
SHERLOCK: Where no-one will look.
(Walking across to the window, he picks up his violin and turns his back to the room.)
JOHN: Whatevers on that phone is more than just pictures.
SHERLOCK: Yes, it is.
(He tinkers with his violin and checks its tuning. John watches him for a moment.)
JOHN: So, shes alive then. How are we feeling about that?
(In the distance, Big Ben begins to toll the hour. Sherlock pulls in a sharp breath.)
SHERLOCK: Happy New Year, John.
JOHN: Do you think youll be seeing her again?
(Turning around but not yet meeting his eyes, Sherlock picks up his bow and flips it in the air
before catching it and then starting to play Auld Lang Syne, looking pointedly at John. John
gets the message and sits down in his chair while Sherlock turns back to the window and
continues to play.)
(Not far away, within sight of St Pauls Cathedral, Irene is walking along the street when her
phone trills a text alert. Taking the phone from her bag and checking the message, she sees
that it reads:
Happy New Year

SH
She looks at the message for a long time before continuing onwards.)
DAY TIME. ST BARTS. In the Molly lab, Sherlock is looking at an X-ray on a computer screen
which is showing the interior parts of a phone. Molly is nearby. He leans closer to the screen
and sees four small round dark areas scattered around the phone. He looks exasperated.
MOLLY: Is that a phone?
SHERLOCK: Its a camera phone.
MOLLY: And youre X-raying it?
SHERLOCK: Yes, I am.
MOLLY: Whose phone is it?
SHERLOCK: A womans.
MOLLY: Your girlfriend?
SHERLOCK: You think shes my girlfriend because Im X-raying her possessions?
MOLLY (laughing nervously): Well, we all do silly things.
SHERLOCK: Yes.
(He lifts his head as if suddenly inspired and he looks round to Molly.)
SHERLOCK: They do, dont they? Very silly.
(She looks confused as he gets to his feet and takes the phone out of the X-ray machine and
holds it up.)
SHERLOCK: She sent this to my address, and she loves to play games.
MOLLY: She does?
(Sherlock pulls up the I AM ---- LOCKED screen and types 221B into the phone. The phone
beeps warningly and a message comes up reading: WRONG PASSCODE. 2 ATTEMPTS
REMAINING. He looks exasperated and sits down again.)

185
SOME MONTHS LATER. 221B. Sherlock reaches the top of the stairs and then stops abruptly
outside the kitchen door. He sniffs deeply. Taking a couple more deep breaths, he turns and
looks into the kitchen, then walks across to the window and checks it, realising that it is open.
Turning and sniffing again, he starts to walk slowly towards his bedroom just as the downstairs
door slams and feet start trotting up the stairs. Reaching his room, he pushes the door open as
John comes into the kitchen with bags of shopping. Sherlock walks into the bedroom and turns
to stand and look down at the bed. John notices him.
JOHN: Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK: We have a client.
JOHN: What, in your bedroom?!
(He walks along the passage and into the bedroom, then his jaw drops when he sees the bed.)
JOHN: Ohhh.
(Irene fully clothed is asleep in Sherlocks bed.)
Some time later Irene has apparently showered, as her hair is loose and damp. She is wearing
one of Sherlocks dressing gowns and is sitting in his chair in the living room. The boys are
sitting at the dining table looking at her.
SHERLOCK: So whos after you?
IRENE: People who want to kill me.
SHERLOCK: Whos that?
IRENE: Killers.
JOHN: It would help if you were a tiny bit more specific.
SHERLOCK: So you faked your own death in order to get ahead of them.
IRENE: It worked for a while.
SHERLOCK: Except you let John know that you were alive, and therefore me.
IRENE: I knew youd keep my secret.
SHERLOCK: You couldnt.
IRENE: But you did, didnt you? Wheres my camera phone?
JOHN: Its not here. Were not stupid.
IRENE: Then what have you done with it? If theyve guessed youve got it, theyll be watching
you.
SHERLOCK: If theyve been watching me, theyll know that I took a safety deposit box at a bank
on the Strand a few months ago.
IRENE: I need it.
JOHN: Well, we cant just go and get it, can we?
(He looks round to Sherlock, inspired.)
JOHN: Molly Hooper. She could collect it, take it to Barts; then one of your homeless network
could bring it here, leave it in the caf, and one of the boys downstairs could bring it up the
back.
SHERLOCK (smiling): Very good, John. Excellent plan, with intelligent precautions.
JOHN: Thank you. (He picks up his phone.) So, why dont ... Oh, for ...
(He has just seen Sherlock take the camera phone out of his jacket pocket and hold it up.
Sherlock looks at the phone closely as Irene stands up.)
SHERLOCK: So what do you keep on here in general, I mean?
IRENE: Pictures, information, anything I might find useful.
JOHN: What, for blackmail?
IRENE: For protection. I make my way in the world; I misbehave. I like to know people will be
on my side exactly when I need them to be.
SHERLOCK: So how do you acquire this information?
IRENE: I told you I misbehave.
SHERLOCK: But youve acquired something thats more danger than protection. Do you know
what it is?
IRENE: Yes, but I dont understand it.
SHERLOCK: I assumed. Show me.
(Irene holds out her hand for the phone. Sherlock holds it up out of her reach.)
SHERLOCK: The passcode.
(She continues to hold her hand out, and eventually Sherlock sits forward and hands her the
phone. Activating it and holding it so he cant see the screen or the keypad, she types in four
characters. The phone beeps warningly.)
IRENE: Its not working.

186
SHERLOCK (standing up and taking the phone from her): No, because its a duplicate that I had
made, into which youve just entered the numbers one oh five eight.
(He walks over to his chair in which she was just sitting and retrieves the real camera phone
from under the cushion.)
SHERLOCK: I assumed youd choose something more specific than that but, um, thanks
anyway.
(He pulls up the I AM ---- LOCKED screen and types 1058 into the phone. He looks at her
smugly but then the phone beeps warningly and a message comes up reading: WRONG
PASSCODE. 1 ATTEMPT REMAINING. He stares in disbelief.)
IRENE: I told you that camera phone was my life. I know when its in my hand.
SHERLOCK: Oh, youre rather good.
IRENE (smiling at him): Youre not so bad.
(She holds out her hand again and takes the phone from him. John frowns at the pair of them
while they have intense eyesex for the next few seconds.)
JOHN (abruptly): Hamish.
(They both turn to look at him.)
JOHN: John Hamish Watson just if you were looking for baby names.
IRENE: There was a man an MOD official. I knew what he liked.
(Walking a short distance away from the boys so they cant see her screen or keypad, she types
in her real passcode and calls up a photo.)
IRENE: One of the things he liked was showing off. He told me this email was going to save the
world. He didnt know it, but I photographed it. (She hands the phone to Sherlock.) He was a
bit tied up at the time. Its a bit small on that screen can you read it?
(Sherlock sits down on the other side of the table to John and narrows his eyes at the
photograph. The top of the email possibly the subject line reads:
007 Confirmed allocation
Underneath in smaller print is a string of numbers:
4C12C45F13E13G60A60B61F34G34J60D12H33K34K
SHERLOCK: Yes.
IRENE: A code, obviously. I had one of the best cryptographers in the country take a look at it
though he was mostly upside down, as I recall. Couldnt figure it out.
(Sherlock leans forward, concentrating on the screen.)
IRENE: What can you do, Mr Holmes?
(She leans over his shoulder.)
IRENE: Go on. Impress a girl.
(Time slows down as she begins to lean towards him. Oblivious to her approach, the numbers in
the code race through Sherlocks mind and begin to form into shapes for him. Opposite him,
John has taken a drink of tea and is lowering his mug in slow motion towards the table. By the
time the mug reaches the table and Irene has leaned in and kissed Sherlocks cheek, he has
already solved it. His eyes drift momentarily in her direction as she pulls back smiling, but then
he concentrates on the screen again.)
SHERLOCK (speaking rapidly): Theres a margin for error but Im pretty sure theres a Seven
Forty-Seven leaving Heathrow tomorrow at six thirty in the evening for Baltimore. Apparently
its going to save the world. Not sure how that can be true but give me a moment; Ive only
been on the case for eight seconds.
(He looks at Johns blank face in front of him, then glances round at Irene who hasnt even fully
straightened up yet.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, come on. Its not code. These are seat allocations on a passenger jet. Look ...
(He shows the screen to John.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Theres no letter I because it can be mistaken for a 1; no letters past
K the width of the plane is the limit. The numbers always appear randomly and not in
sequence but the letters have little runs of sequence all over the place families and couples
sitting together. Only a Jumbo is wide enough to need the letter K or rows past fifty-five, which
is why theres always an upstairs. Theres a row thirteen, which eliminates the more
superstitious airlines. Then theres the style of the flight number zero zero seven that
eliminates a few more; and assuming a British point of origin, which would be logical

187
considering the original source of the information and assuming from the increased pressure on
you lately that the crisis is imminent, the only flight that matches all the criteria and departs
within the week is the six thirty to Baltimore tomorrow evening from Heathrow Airport.
(By now he has stood up, and now he lowers the phone and looks down at Irene, who gazes up
at him in admiration.)
SHERLOCK (engaging the full force of his cello jaguar voice and sending your transcriber into a
complete meltdown): Please dont feel obliged to tell me that was remarkable or amazing.
Johns expressed the same thought in every possible variant available to the English language.
IRENE (intensely): I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice.
(The two of them stare at each other for a long moment before Sherlock speaks again.)
SHERLOCK (with his eyes still locked on Irenes): John, please can you check those flight
schedules; see if Im right?
JOHN (vaguely, overcome by all the sex in the air): Uh-huh. Im on it, yeah.
(Clearing his throat, he starts to type on his laptop. Sherlock and Irene continue to stare at
each other.)
SHERLOCK: Ive never begged for mercy in my life.
IRENE (emphatically): Twice.
JOHN (looking at his screen): Uh, yeah, youre right. Uh, flight double oh seven.
SHERLOCK (looking round at him): What did you say?
JOHN: Youre right.
SHERLOCK: No, no, no, after that. What did you say after that?
JOHN: Double oh seven. Flight double oh seven.
SHERLOCK (quietly to himself): Double oh seven, double oh seven, double oh seven, double oh
seven ...
(Pushing Irene out of the way, he begins to pace.)
SHERLOCK: ... something ... something connected to double oh seven ... What?
(As he continues to pace and mutter the numbers to himself, Irene puts her other phone behind
her back and begins to type blind on it:
747 TOMORROW 6:30PM HEATHROW
(The message is sent to the phone of Jim Moriarty. Standing in Westminster very near the
Houses of Parliament, he takes out his phone and reads the message.
Back at 221B, Sherlock has walked to the fireplace and is standing in front of the mirror with his
eyes closed.)
SHERLOCK (quietly): Double oh seven, double oh seven, what, what, something, what?
(His eyes snap open as he begins to remember and he turns and looks at the living room door,
remembering Mycroft standing on the landing talking into his phone.)
MYCROFT (in flashback): Bond Air is go.
(Sherlock walks towards the door.)
MYCROFT (in flashback): Bond Air is go. ... Bond Air is go.
(While the words continue to echo in Sherlocks mind, at Westminster Jim is typing a message
onto his phone:
Jumbo Jet. Dear me Mr Holmes, dear me.
He presses Send and the message wings its way up into the air. As if watching it go, Jim raises
his eyes towards Big Ben, the very image of the seat of the British government, and blows a
long and loud raspberry at it.
At Mycrofts house/residence/fancy office he picks up his phone from the dining table and looks
at a newly arrived message. It reads:
Jumbo Jet. Dear me Mr Holmes, dear me.
Time passes and Mycroft returns to the chair at the end of the dining table and sinks down into
it, running his hand over his face and clearly still shocked by the turn of events.
More time passes and Mycroft has removed his jacket and has a glass of brandy in front of him.
His hands are folded in front of his mouth and he is lost in wide-eyed and horrified thought.
Much later, as night begins to fall, Mycrofts face is furrowed with anguish and his eyes are still
wide at the horror which only he knows about. The glass beside him is empty. Slowly he closes
his eyes and sinks his head into his hands in despair.)

188
NIGHT TIME. 221B. Sherlock sits in his armchair gently plucking the strings of his violin. In his
mind he can still hear Mycrofts phone call.
MYCROFT (voiceover): Bond Air is go, thats decided. Check with the Coventry lot.
(Sherlock finally rouses a little and looks up.)
SHERLOCK: Coventry.
(Irene, still wearing Sherlocks dressing gown and with her hair down, is curled up in Johns
chair watching him closely.)
IRENE: Ive never been. Is it nice?
SHERLOCK: Wheres John?
IRENE: He went out a couple of hours ago.
SHERLOCK: I was just talking to him.
IRENE (smiling): He said you do that. Whats Coventry got to do with anything?
SHERLOCK: Its a story, probably not true. In the Second World War, the Allies knew that
Coventry was going to get bombed because theyd broken the German code but they didnt
want the Germans to know that theyd broken the code, so they let it happen anyway.
IRENE: Have you ever had anyone?
(Sherlock frowns at her blankly.)
SHERLOCK: Sorry?
IRENE: And when I say had, Im being indelicate.
SHERLOCK: I dont understand.
IRENE: Well, Ill be delicate then.
(Getting up from the chair she walks over and kneels in front of Sherlock, putting her left hand
on top of his right hand and curling her fingers around it.)
IRENE: Lets have dinner.
SHERLOCK: Why?
IRENE: Might be hungry.
SHERLOCK: Im not.
IRENE: Good.
(Hesitantly, Sherlock sits forward a little and slowly turns his right hand over, curling his own
fingers around her wrist.)
SHERLOCK: Why would I want to have dinner if I wasnt hungry?
(Slowly Irene begins to lean forward, her gaze fixed on his lips.)
IRENE (softly): Oh, Mr Holmes ...
(Sherlocks fingers gently stroke across the underside of her wrist.)
IRENE: ... if it was the end of the world, if this was the very last night, would you have dinner
with me?
MRS HUDSON (calling up the stairs): Sherlock!
(Sherlocks eyes slide towards the door.)
IRENE (ruefully): Too late.
SHERLOCK: Thats not the end of the world; thats Mrs Hudson.
(Irene pulls her hand free and stands up, walking away from him as Mrs Hudson comes in with
none other than Plummer from the Palace.)
MRS HUDSON: Sherlock, this man was at the door. Is the bell still not working?
(She turns around to Plummer and points at Sherlock.)
MRS HUDSON: He shot it.
SHERLOCK (tetchily, to Plummer): Have you come to take me away again?
PLUMMER: Yes, Mr Holmes.
SHERLOCK: Well, I decline.
PLUMMER (taking an envelope from his jacket and offering it to him): I dont think you do.
(Sherlock snatches it from him and opens it. Inside is a Business Class boarding pass for
Flyaway Airways in the name of Sherlock Holmes for flight number 007 to Baltimore, scheduled
to leave at 18.30.
Very shortly afterwards, Sherlock has put on his coat and is getting into the back of a car
outside the flat. As Plummer gets into the passenger seat and the car drives away, Irene stands
at the window of the flat and watches them go.)
In the car, Sherlock gets out the plane ticket again, then tells Plummer what he has deduced.
SHERLOCK: Theres going to be a bomb on a passenger jet. The British and American
governments know about it but rather than expose the source of that information theyre going

189
to let it happen. The plane will blow up. Coventry all over again. The wheel turns. Nothing is
ever new.
(Neither Plummer nor the driver respond to him in any way. Some time later the car arrives at
Heathrow Airport and is driven past hangars to a 747 Jumbo Jet parked on the tarmac. The car
stops near the plane and Sherlock gets out and walks over to the steps which lead up to the
entry door. A familiar figure is standing at the bottom of the steps. Its Neilson.)
SHERLOCK (nonchalantly, in a deliberately fake American accent): Well, youre lookin all better.
How ya feelin?
NEILSON: Like putting a bullet in your brain ... sir.
(Sherlock lets out a quiet snigger and starts to walk up the steps.)
NEILSON: Theyd pin a medal on me if I did ...
(Sherlock stops.)
NEILSON (insincerely): ... sir.
(Sherlock half-turns back towards him, then apparently decides he cant be bothered and
continues up the steps. Inside, he pulls back the curtain obscuring the passenger seating and
walks into the aisle. The lighting is very low and its hard to see. There are people sitting in
almost all the seats but none of them is moving or speaking or showing any signs of life at all.
Frowning, he walks forward and looks more closely at the nearest passengers. An overhead
light shows more clearly the faces of two men sitting beside each other and Sherlock now
realises the truth: they are dead. Although theyre not yet showing any signs of decomposition,
their skin is very grey and theyve clearly been dead for some time. He turns and looks to the
passengers on the other side of the aisle, turning on another overhead light to get a better
view. The man and woman sitting there are also long dead. As he straightens up, realising that
everyone on board the plane must be in the same condition, his brother speaks from the other
end of the section.)
MYCROFT: The Coventry conundrum.
(Sherlock turns as Mycroft pushes back the curtain and steps through into the cabin. For the
first part of the ensuing conversation he talks softly, almost as if out of respect for the dead
bodies in front of him.)
MYCROFT: What do you think of my solution?
(Sherlock gazes around the cabin, still taking it all in.)
MYCROFT: The flight of the dead.
SHERLOCK: The plane blows up mid-air. Mission accomplished for the terrorists. Hundreds of
casualties, but nobody dies.
MYCROFT: Neat, dont you think?
(Sherlock smiles humourlessly.)
MYCROFT: Youve been stumbling round the fringes of this one for ages or were you too bored
to notice the pattern?
(Sherlock flashes back in his mind to the two little girls sitting in his living room.)
LITTLE GIRL: They wouldnt let us see Granddad when he was dead.
(He lifts his head a little, remembering the creepy guy sitting in the same chair on a different
occasion, holding a funeral urn.)
CREEPY GUY: Shes not my real aunt. I know human ash.
MYCROFT: We ran a similar project with the Germans a while back, though I believe one of our
passengers didnt make the flight.
(Sherlock flashes back to the car with the body in the boot and the passport stamped in Berlin
airport.)
MYCROFT: But thats the deceased for you late, in every sense of the word.
SHERLOCK: Hows the plane going to fly? (He answers himself immediately.) Of course:
unmanned aircraft. Hardly new.
MYCROFT: It doesnt fly. It will never fly. This entire project is cancelled. The terrorist cells have
been informed that we know about the bomb. We cant fool them now. Weve lost everything.
One fragment of one email, and months and years of planning finished.
SHERLOCK: Your MOD man.
MYCROFT: Thats all it takes: one lonely nave man desperate to show off, and a woman clever
enough to make him feel special.
SHERLOCK (quirking an eyebrow): Hmm. You should screen your defence people more
carefully.
MYCROFT (loudly, furiously): Im not talking about the MOD man, Sherlock; Im talking about
you.
(He slams the tip of his umbrella on the floor. Sherlock frowns, genuinely confused.)

190
MYCROFT (more softly): The damsel in distress. (He smiles ironically.) In the end, are you
really so obvious? Because this was textbook: the promise of love, the pain of loss, the joy of
redemption; then give him a puzzle ... (his voice drops to a whisper while he twirls the end of
his umbrella in the air) ... and watch him dance.
SHERLOCK: Dont be absurd.
MYCROFT: Absurd? How quickly did you decipher that email for her? Was it the full minute, or
were you really eager to impress?
IRENE (from behind Sherlock): I think it was less than five seconds.
(Sherlock spins around to see her standing at the end of the cabin, dressed beautifully, fully
made up and with her hair perfectly coiffured. This is The Woman at her immaculate best.)
MYCROFT (ruefully to Sherlock): I drove you into her path. (He pauses momentarily.) Im sorry.
(He lowers his eyes.) I didnt know.
(Sherlock is still looking at Irene as she walks towards him.)
IRENE: Mr Holmes, I think we need to talk.
SHERLOCK: So do I. There are a number of aspects Im still not quite clear on.
IRENE (walking past him): Not you, Junior. Youre done now.
(She continues down the aisle towards Mycroft. Sherlock turns and watches her go as she
activates her phone and holds it up to show his brother.)
IRENE: Theres more ... loads more. On this phone Ive got secrets, pictures and scandals that
could topple your whole world. You have no idea how much havoc I can cause and exactly one
way to stop me unless you want to tell your masters that your biggest security leak is your
own little brother.
(Mycroft can no longer hold her gaze and turns his head away, lowering his eyes.)
Some time later Mycroft has brought Irene and Sherlock to his residence/office. The older
brother sits at the dining table with Irene seated opposite him. Sherlock is in the armchair near
the fireplace a few yards away, half turned away from the pair of them. The fingers on his right
hand are repeatedly clenching while he listens to the other two speak. Mycroft points down at
the camera phone which is lying on the table in front of him. There is no aggression or threat in
his voice as he speaks to Irene.
MYCROFT: We have people who can get into this.
IRENE: I tested that theory for you. I let Sherlock Holmes try it for six months.
(Sherlock closes his eyes briefly, grimacing slightly.)
IRENE: Sherlock, dear, tell him what you found when you X-rayed my camera phone.
SHERLOCK (flatly): There are four additional units wired inside the casing, I suspect containing
acid or a small amount of explosive.
(Mycroft lowers his head into his hand.)
SHERLOCK: Any attempt to open the casing will burn the hard drive.
IRENE: Explosive. (She looks at Mycroft.) Its more me.
MYCROFT (lifting his head and looking at her again): Some data is always recoverable.
IRENE: Take that risk?
MYCROFT: You have a passcode to open this. I deeply regret to say we have people who can
extract it from you.
IRENE (calmly): Sherlock?
SHERLOCK: There will be two passcodes: one to open the phone, one to burn the drive. Even
under duress you cant know which one shes given you and there will be no point in a second
attempt.
IRENE: Hes good, isnt he? I should have him on a leash in fact, I might.
(She gazes intensely at Sherlock but he remains turned away from her and cant see her
expression.)
MYCROFT: We destroy this, then. No-one has the information.
IRENE: Fine. Good idea ... unless there are lives of British citizens depending on the information
youre about to burn.
MYCROFT: Are there?
IRENE: Telling you would be playing fair. Im not playing any more.
(She reaches into her handbag on the table in front of her and takes out an envelope which she
pushes across the table to him.)
IRENE: A list of my requests; and some ideas about my protection once theyre granted.
(Mycroft takes the sheet of paper from the envelope and starts to unfold it.)
IRENE: Id say it wouldnt blow much of a hole in the wealth of the nation but then Id be
lying.

191
(He raises his eyebrows in amazement as he reads through the demands she has listed.)
IRENE: I imagine youd like to sleep on it.
MYCROFT (still reading): Thank you, yes.
IRENE: Too bad.
(He looks up at her. In the armchair, Sherlock snorts in almost silent amusement.)
IRENE (to Mycroft): Off you pop and talk to people.
(Sighing, Mycroft sinks back in his chair.)
MYCROFT: Youve been very ... thorough. I wish our lot were half as good as you.
IRENE: I cant take all the credit. Had a bit of help.
(She looks across to Sherlock.)
IRENE: Oh, Jim Moriarty sends his love.
(Sherlock raises his head.)
MYCROFT: Yes, hes been in touch. Seems desperate for my attention ... (his voice becomes
more ominous) ... which Im sure can be arranged.
(Unseen by the others, Sherlocks gaze begins to sharpen as Irene stands up and walks round
the table to sit on its edge nearer Mycroft.)
IRENE: I had all this stuff, never knew what to do with it. Thank God for the consultant criminal.
Gave me a lot of advice about how to play the Holmes boys. Dyou know what he calls you?
(Softly) The Ice Man ... (she looks across to Sherlock) ... and the Virgin.
(Sherlocks eyes are starting to flicker back and forth, though its not yet clear whether in
reaction to what Irene is saying or whether hes working something out.)
IRENE: Didnt even ask for anything. I think he just likes to cause trouble. Now thats my kind
of man.
(Sherlock closes his eyes, sighing softly.)
MYCROFT: And here you are, the dominatrix who brought a nation to its knees.
(Sherlocks eyes snap open again. He is definitely working something out. Mycroft stands and
appears to bow slightly to Irene.)
MYCROFT: Nicely played.
(He turns away, about to go and begin meeting her demands. Smiling in satisfaction, she
stands up, confident that she has won.)
SHERLOCK: No.
(They both turn to him.)
IRENE: Sorry?
(Sherlock turns his head towards them.)
SHERLOCK: I said no. Very very close, but no.
(He stands and starts to walk towards her.)
SHERLOCK: You got carried away. The game was too elaborate. You were enjoying yourself too
much.
IRENE: No such thing as too much.
SHERLOCK (walking closer and looking down at her): Oh, enjoying the thrill of the chase is fine,
craving the distraction of the game I sympathise entirely but sentiment? Sentiment is a
chemical defect found in the losing side.
(He bares his teeth slightly as he finishes the sentence.)
IRENE: Sentiment? What are you talking about?
SHERLOCK: You.
IRENE (smiling calmly): Oh dear God. Look at the poor man. You dont actually think I was
interested in you? Why? Because youre the great Sherlock Holmes, the clever detective in the
funny hat?
(He steps even closer to her, their bodies almost touching.)
SHERLOCK (softly): No.
(He reaches out and slowly wraps the fingers of his right hand around her left wrist, then leans
forward and brings his mouth close to her right ear.)
SHERLOCK (in a whisper): Because I took your pulse.
(Flashback to Irene kneeling in front of him at the flat and putting her hand on top of his, then
him turning his hand over and resting his fingertips on the underside of her wrist. In the
present, Irene frowns in confusion, while Sherlock tightens his grip a little around her wrist.)
SHERLOCK (softly into her ear): Elevated; your pupils dilated.
(Flashback to her kneeling in front of him, her pupils widening as she gazes at him. In the
present, he releases her hand and leans past her to pick up the camera phone from the table.)
SHERLOCK (in a more normal voice): I imagine John Watson thinks loves a mystery to me but
the chemistry is incredibly simple, and very destructive.

192
(He turns and walks a few paces away from her. She follows behind him until he turns and faces
her again.)
SHERLOCK: When we first met, you told me that disguise is always a self-portrait. How true of
you: the combination to your safe your measurements; but this ... (he tosses the phone into
the air and catches it again) ... this is far more intimate.
(He pulls up the security lock with its I AM ---- LOCKED screen.)
SHERLOCK: This is your heart ...
(Without breaking his gaze into her eyes, he punches in the first of the four characters with his
thumb.)
SHERLOCK: ... and you should never let it rule your head.
(She stares at him, trying to stay calm but the panic is beginning to show behind her eyes.)
SHERLOCK: You could have chosen any random number and walked out of here today with
everything youve worked for ...
(He punches in the second character, his eyes still locked on hers.)
SHERLOCK: ... but you just couldnt resist it, could you?
(Her breathing becomes heavier. Sherlock smiles briefly and triumphantly.)
SHERLOCK: Ive always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage ...
(He hits the third character, still gazing at her.)
SHERLOCK: Thank you for the final proof.
(He lifts his thumb again but before he can type in the fourth character, she seizes his hand and
gazes up at him intensely.)
IRENE (softly): Everything I said: its not real. (In a whisper) I was just playing the game.
SHERLOCK (in a whisper): I know.
(Gently pulling his hand free, he types in the final character.)
SHERLOCK: And this is just losing.
(Slowly he turns the phone towards her and shows her the screen. She looks down at it, tears
spilling from her eyes as she reads the sequence which says:
I AM
SHER
LOCKED
She gazes down at the screen in despair for a few seconds, then Sherlock lifts the phone away
and holds it out towards Mycroft even as the phone unlocks and presents its menu.)
SHERLOCK (his eyes still fixed on Irenes): There you are, brother. I hope the contents make up
for any inconvenience I may have caused you tonight.
MYCROFT: Im certain they will.
(He takes the phone and Sherlock turns and begins to walk towards the door.)
SHERLOCK: If youre feeling kind, lock her up; otherwise let her go. I doubt shell survive long
without her protection.
(Irene stares after him, her eyes wide with dread.)
IRENE: Are you expecting me to beg?
SHERLOCK (flatly, calmly): Yes.
(He stops near the door, his face in profile to her. She stares at him in anguish for several
seconds, then realises that she has no choice.)
IRENE: Please.
(He doesnt move.)
IRENE: Youre right.
(Now he turns to look at her.)
IRENE (staring at him pleadingly): I wont even last six months.
SHERLOCK: Sorry about dinner.
(He turns away and walks to the door, opening it and walking through. She watches him go, her
eyes full of horror as the door closes behind him.)
BAKER STREET. DAY TIME. It is pouring with rain. Outside Speedys caf, Mycroft is standing
under the protection of his umbrella, smoking a cigarette. He has a clear plastic wallet tucked
under one arm and his briefcase is at his feet. John hurries towards home, hunched over and
soaking wet because macho BAMFs like John Watson dont take umbrellas with them. He sees
Mycroft standing there and stops in surprise, then walks over to him.
JOHN: You dont smoke.
MYCROFT: I also dont frequent cafs.

193
(Dropping the cigarette on the ground and treading it out [apparently not bothered about
incurring a set fine for littering], he closes his umbrella, picks up his briefcase and turns and
walks into Speedys. John follows him.
Not long afterwards they are sitting opposite each other at one of the tables. John picks up his
mug and looks at the plastic wallet which Mycroft has put on the table in front of himself. There
is a sticker on the wallet saying RESTRICTED ACCESS CONFIDENTIAL. The camera phone is
inside the wallet on top of various documents.)
JOHN: This the file on Irene Adler?
MYCROFT: Closed forever. I am about to go and inform my brother or, if you prefer, you are
that she somehow got herself into a witness protection scheme in America. New name, new
identity. She will survive and thrive but he will never see her again.
JOHN: Why would he care? He despised her at the end. Wont even mention her by name just
the Woman.
MYCROFT: Is that loathing, or a salute? One of a kind; the one woman who matters.
JOHN: Hes not like that. He doesnt feel things that way ... I dont think.
MYCROFT: My brother has the brain of a scientist or a philosopher, yet he elects to be a
detective. What might we deduce about his heart?
JOHN: I dont know.
MYCROFT: Neither do I ... but initially he wanted to be a pirate.
(He smiles briefly at John, then his gaze becomes distant and reflective.)
JOHN: Hell be okay with this witness protection, never seeing her again. Hell be fine.
MYCROFT: I agree. (He breathes in sharply.) Thats why I decided to tell him that.
JOHN: Instead of what?
MYCROFT: Shes dead. She was captured by a terrorist cell in Karachi two months ago and
beheaded.
(John looks at him silently for several seconds, then quietly clears his throat.)
JOHN: Its definitely her? Shes done this before.
MYCROFT: I was thorough this time. It would take Sherlock Holmes to fool me, and I dont
think he was on hand, do you?
(They look at each other for a moment.)
MYCROFT: So ... (he pushes the wallet across the table towards John, then puts his elbows on
the table, clasps his hands in front of him and rests his chin on them) ... what should we tell
Sherlock?
221B. Sherlock is sitting at the kitchen table looking into his microscope. Footsteps can be
heard coming up the stairs and he speaks before John even comes into view.
SHERLOCK: Clearly youve got news.
(John stops in the doorway with the wallet in his hand. Sherlock doesnt lift his head.)
SHERLOCK: If its about the Leeds triple murder, it was the gardener. Nobody noticed the
earring.
JOHN: Hi. Er, no, its, um ... (he takes a couple of steps into the kitchen) ... its about Irene
Adler.
(Sherlock looks up, his face unreadable.)
SHERLOCK: Oh? Something happened? Has she come back?
JOHN: No, shes, er ... I just bumped into Mycroft downstairs. He had to take a call.
SHERLOCK (standing up and walking around the table towards John): Is she back in London?
JOHN: No. Shes, er ...
(He gazes at the table for a long moment, then drags in a sharp breath and raises his eyes to
Sherlocks as his flatmate steps closer, frowning.)
JOHN: Shes in America.
SHERLOCK: America?
JOHN: Mmm-hmm. Got herself on a witness protection scheme, apparently. Dunno how she
swung it, but, er, well, you know.
SHERLOCK: I know what?
JOHN: Well, you wont be able to see her again.
SHERLOCK: Why would I want to see her again?
JOHN (smiling ruefully as Sherlock turns away and walks back around the table): Didnt say you
did.
SHERLOCK: Is that her file?
JOHN: Yes. I was just gonna take it back to Mycroft.
(He offers the wallet to Sherlock.)

194
JOHN: Do you want to ...?

SHERLOCK (sitting down): No.
(He looks into his microscope again.)
JOHN: Hmm.
(He looks at his friend for a long while, considering his options. Eventually he steps forward
again.)
JOHN: Listen, actually ...
SHERLOCK: Oh, but I will have the camera phone, though.
(He holds out his hand towards John, not lifting his gaze from his work.)
JOHN: Theres nothing on it any more. Its been stripped.
SHERLOCK: I know, but I ...
(He pauses for a long moment before continuing.)
SHERLOCK: ... Ill still have it.
JOHN: Ive gotta give this back to Mycroft. You cant keep it.
(Sherlock keeps his hand extended and his eyes fixed on the microscope.)
JOHN: Sherlock, I have to give this to Mycroft. Its the governments now. I couldnt even give
...
SHERLOCK: Please.
(He extends his hand a little further. John looks at him, clearly wondering what to do, then
finally he reaches into the wallet, takes out the phone and lays it gently into Sherlocks hand.
Sherlock closes his fingers around it, draws his hand back and puts the phone into his trouser
pocket before returning his hand to the microscope.)
JOHN (raising the wallet): Well, Id better take this back.
SHERLOCK: Yes.
(John turns and walks out onto the landing, then pauses as if wondering whether to ask the
question that has now come into his mind. After several seconds he turns round and comes
back into the kitchen. Sherlock still doesnt lift his eyes from his microscope.)
JOHN: Did she ever text you again, after ... all that?
SHERLOCK: Once, a few months ago.
JOHN: What did she say?
SHERLOCK: Goodbye, Mr Holmes.
(John looks at him thoughtfully.)
JOHN (softly): Huh.
(He paces around in front of the kitchen door for a few seconds, wondering if theres anything
more he can say, then eventually turns and heads off down the stairs. As soon as hes out of
sight Sherlock raises his head and gazes across the room for a moment, then he reaches down
to his own phone which is on the table and picks it up, calling up his saved messages. Getting
up and walking into the living room, he scrolls through the messages sent by The Woman, all
of which he has kept. They go on for a long time:
Im not hungry, lets have dinner.

Bored in a hotel. Join me. Lets have dinner.
Johns blog is HILARIOUS. I think he likes you more than I do. Lets have dinner.
I can see tower bridge and the moon from my room. Work out where I am and join
me.
I saw you in the street today. You didnt see me.
You do know that hat actually suits you, dont you?
Oh for Gods sake. Lets have dinner.
I like your funny hat.
Im in Egypt talking to an idiot. Get on a plane, lets have dinner.
You looked sexy on Crimewatch.
Even you have got to eat. Lets have dinner.
BBC1 right now. Youll laugh.
Im thinking of sending you a Christmas present.
Mantelpiece.
Im not dead. Lets have dinner.
Then comes the one reply he sent to her:

195
Happy New Year
And at the bottom of the list is her last message to him:
Goodbye Mr Holmes
Reaching the living room window, he looks down at the final message for a long time before
lifting his eyes and gazing out at the pouring rain.)
Flashback to (presumably) two months earlier in Karachi. It is night time and there is
background noise of male voices shouting in a foreign language. Shaky camera footage
eventually resolves into clearer resolution, revealing Irene kneeling on the ground in front of a
military vehicle. She is dressed in black robes, her hair covered by a black headscarf, and is
typing one-handed onto her phone. Standing to her right is a man holding a rifle with one hand
while he repeatedly gestures for her phone with the other. She ignores him, refusing to hand it
over until she has finished her message, which reads:
Goodbye Mr Holmes
She presses Send and then gives the phone to the man. To her left, a second man walks over
and raises a wide-bladed curved sword above her head, bringing it slowly down towards the
back of her neck while he checks that his aim will be correct. Irene stares ahead of herself,
fighting her tears, then the screen fades to black as she slowly closes her eyes.
A couple of seconds later, an orgasmic female sigh fills the air. Irenes eyes snap open and fill
with hope as she turns her head to look at her executioner. His face is completely shrouded
apart from his eyes, but a very recognisable blue-grey gaze meets her own.
SHERLOCK (quietly): When I say run, run!
(She turns her head to the front again. Sherlock pulls back the sword as if hes about to strike
the death blow, then he spins and begins to strike out at the nearby militia. Irene stares ahead
of herself, her eyes wide with disbelief that she is going to live. Slowly she begins to smile.)
In London in the present, Sherlock smiles at the memory, then chuckles to himself as he takes
Irenes camera phone from his pocket. Tossing it into the air and catching it again, he looks at it
for a couple of seconds.
SHERLOCK: The Woman.
(Opening the top drawer of a nearby cabinet, he puts the phone into it and is about to withdraw
his hand when he pauses, then puts his fingers onto the phone again and looks at it
thoughtfully.)
SHERLOCK: The Woman.
(He lifts his head and gazes out at the rainy city for a while, then turns and walks away.)
The Hounds of Baskerville
In woodland just before sunrise, seven year old Henry Knight is running through the trees
panting heavily. He is repeatedly looking behind him and having flashbacks to the terrible scene
he has recently witnessed where a man was being attacked by someone or something. The
man was screaming and crying out in terror, scrabbling at the ground as he tried to get away
from his attacker, which was growling and snarling ferociously. Henry runs on, trying to get
away from the horror. After some time, he has cleared the trees and is out on moorland. He
runs up an incline just as an elderly woman comes over the top of the rise. She is walking her
dog.
GRACE: Oh, hello.
(Henry stops and looks at her, but his attention is mostly focused on her dog some kind of
spaniel which just stands there pretty much ignoring him.)
GRACE: Are you all right?

196
(Still Henry stares at the dog, whose features are mostly obscured in shadow due to the sun
rising behind it.)
GRACE: What is it, dear? Are you lost?
(The dog pokes its nose towards him in a friendly way. Henry screams in utter terror.)
Twenty years later, the young boys screams are echoing in adult Henrys ears. He looks around
blankly as if he doesnt know where he is or how he got there, then his face fills with horror
when he realises that he is standing in the middle of a deep hollow in the woods. He starts to
stumble away.
OPENING CREDITS.
BAKER STREET. The door to 221B slams closed on someone who has just gone inside, and the
camera pans across to show two nodding dogs in the window of Speedys caf. Upstairs in the
flat, the living room door bursts open and Sherlock charges in, stopping just inside the room
and slamming the end of a long pole down onto the ground. Sitting in his chair, John looks
round and his eyes widen at the sight of his flatmate, who is wearing black trousers and a white
shirt and whose arms, chest and face are covered with blood far too much blood for it to be
his own and who is holding a harpoon. He looks round to John, breathing heavily.
SHERLOCK: Well, that was tedious.
JOHN: You went on the Tube like that?!
SHERLOCK (irritated): None of the cabs would take me.
(He walks out of the room.)
Later he is back in the room having cleaned himself up and changed into a clean shirt and
trousers with one of his blue dressing gowns over the top. He is still carrying the harpoon and is
pacing rapidly between the door and the window, looking round repeatedly at John who is
sitting in his chair and flicking through the newspapers.
SHERLOCK (impatiently): Nothing?
JOHN: Military coup in Uganda.
SHERLOCK: Hmm.
(John chuckles in amusement when he sees something in one of the papers.)
JOHN: Another photo of you with the, er ...
(He points to a photograph of Sherlock wearing the deerstalker hat. Sherlock makes a disgusted
noise. John moves on to another newspaper.)
JOHN: Oh, um, Cabinet reshuffle.
SHERLOCK (furious): Nothing of importance?
(He slams the end of the harpoon onto the ground and roars with rage.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, God!
(He looks round at John intensely.)
SHERLOCK: John, I need some. Get me some.
JOHN (calmly): No.
SHERLOCK (intensely): Get me some.
JOHN (more loudly): No. (He points sternly at him.) Cold turkey, we agreed, no matter what.
(Irritated, Sherlock leans the harpoon against the dining table.)
JOHN: Anyway, youve paid everyone off, remember? No-one within a two mile radiusll sell you
any.
SHERLOCK: Stupid idea. Whose idea was that?
(John looks round at him and clears his throat pointedly. Sherlock looks towards the door.)
SHERLOCK (shouting): Mrs Hudson!
(He starts hurling paperwork off the table, desperately searching for what he needs.)
JOHN: Look, Sherlock, youre doing really well. Dont give up now.
SHERLOCK (frantically as he continues his search): Tell me where they are. Please. Tell me.
(As John remains silent, Sherlock straightens up and then turns his most appealing puppy-dog
eyes on him, hesitating before he speaks and almost forming the word a couple of times before
actually speaking it.)
SHERLOCK: Please.
JOHN: Cant help, sorry.
SHERLOCK: Ill let you know next weeks lottery numbers.
(John chuckles.)
SHERLOCK (exasperated): Oh, it was worth a try.

197
(He looks around the room, then gets inspired and hurls himself to the floor in front of the
fireplace. Unearthing a slipper from the pile of papers in front of the unlit fire, he holds it up and
scrabbles about inside as Mrs Hudson arrives at the door and comes in.)
SHERLOCK (rummaging about in the fireplace and speaking almost sing-song): My secret
supply. What have you done with my secret supply?
MRS HUDSON: Eh?
SHERLOCK: Cigarettes! What have you done with them? Where are they?
MRS HUDSON: You know you never let me touch your things!
(She looks around at the mess.)
MRS HUDSON: Ooh, chance would be a fine thing.
SHERLOCK (standing up and facing her): I thought you werent my housekeeper.
MRS HUDSON: Im not.
(Making a frustrated noise, Sherlock stomps back over to the harpoon and picks it up again.
Behind him, Mrs Hudson looks down at John who does the universal mime for offering someone
a drink. She looks at Sherlock again.)
MRS HUDSON: How about a nice cuppa, and perhaps you could put away your harpoon.
SHERLOCK: I need something stronger than tea. Seven per cent stronger.
(He glares out of the window, then turns back towards Mrs Hudson and aims the point of the
harpoon at her. She flinches.)
SHERLOCK: Youve been to see Mr Chatterjee again.
MRS HUDSON: Pardon?
SHERLOCK (pointing with the harpoons tip): Sandwich shop. Thats a new dress, but theres
flour on the sleeve. You wouldnt dress like that for baking.
JOHN: Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK: Thumbnail: tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again. We all know where
that leads, dont we?
(He sniffs deeply as he finally stops aiming the harpoon at her.)
SHERLOCK: Mmm: Kasbah Nights. Pretty racy for first thing on a Monday morning, wouldnt
you agree? Ive written a little blog on the identification of perfumes. Its on the website you
should look it up.
MRS HUDSON (exasperated): Please.
SHERLOCK: I wouldnt pin your hopes on that cruise with Mr Chatterjee. Hes got a wife in
Doncaster (he adopts a south Yorkshire accent to say the towns name) that nobody knows
about.
JOHN (angrily): Sherlock!
SHERLOCK: Well, nobody except me.
MRS HUDSON (upset): I dont know what youre talking about, I really dont.
(She storms out of the flat, slamming the living room door closed as she goes. Sherlock leaps
over the back of his chair from behind it, then perches on the seat, wrapping his arms around
his knees like a petulant child. John slams his newspaper down.)
JOHN: What the bloody hell was all that about?
SHERLOCK (rocking back and forth): You dont understand.
JOHN (sternly): Go after her and apologise.
SHERLOCK (staring at him): Apologise?
JOHN: Mmm-hmm.
SHERLOCK (sighing): Oh, John, I envy you so much.
(John hesitates, wondering whether to rise to the bait, but eventually asks.)
JOHN: You envy me?
SHERLOCK: Your mind: its so placid, straightforward, barely used. Mines like an engine, racing
out of control; a rocket tearing itself to pieces trapped on the launch pad. (Loudly, frantically) I
need a case!
JOHN (equally loudly): Youve just solved one! By harpooning a dead pig, apparently!
(With an exasperated noise, Sherlock jumps up in the air and then lands in the seated position
on the chair.)
SHERLOCK: That was this morning!
(He starts drumming the fingers of both hands on the arms of the chair while stomping his feet
on the floor.)
SHERLOCK: Whens the next one?
JOHN: Nothing on the website?

198
(Sherlock gets up and walks over to the table, collects his laptop and hands it to John, who
looks at the message on there while Sherlock stomps over to the window and narrates part of
it.)
SHERLOCK: Dear Mr Sherlock Holmes. I cant find Bluebell anywhere. Please please please can
you help?
JOHN: Bluebell?
SHERLOCK (irritated): A rabbit, John!
JOHN: Oh.
SHERLOCK (sarcastically): Ah, but theres more! Before Bluebell disappeared, it turned
luminous ...
(He adopts a little girls voice for the next three words.)
SHERLOCK: ... like a fairy according to little Kirsty; then the next morning, Bluebell was gone!
Hutch still locked, no sign of a forced entry ...
(He stops and his expression becomes more intense.)
SHERLOCK: Ah! What am I saying? This is brilliant! Phone Lestrade. Tell him theres an escaped
rabbit.
JOHN: Are you serious?
SHERLOCK: Its this, or Cluedo.
JOHN: Ah, no!
(He closes the laptop and gets up to put it back on the table.)
JOHN: We are never playing that again!
SHERLOCK: Why not?
JOHN: Because its not actually possible for the victim to have done it, Sherlock, thats why.
SHERLOCK: Well, it was the only possible solution.
JOHN (sitting down again): Its not in the rules.
SHERLOCK (furiously): Then the rules are wrong!
(The doorbell rings. John thoughtfully holds up a finger as Sherlock looks towards the living
room door.)
JOHN: Single ring.
SHERLOCK: Maximum pressure just under the half second.
JOHN and SHERLOCK (simultaneously): Client.
Not long afterwards, a recording of a documentary is playing on the TV. Sherlock has taken off
the dressing gown and exchanged it for a jacket and is sitting in his chair. John has relocated to
the dining table chair near Sherlocks, and a man is sitting in Johns chair. The documentary
footage shows scenes of Dartmoor. Sherlock instantly looks bored.
PRESENTER (voiceover): Dartmoor. Its always been a place of myth and legend, but is there
something else lurking out here something very real?
(Footage of Keep Out signs.)
PRESENTER (walking along a narrow road): Because Dartmoors also home to one of the
governments most secret of operations ...
(Sherlocks eyes flick repeatedly between the screen and the man in Johns chair as the footage
shows a large sign saying:
AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY

YOU ARE NOW ENTERING A RESTRICTED AREA
BASKERVILLE
By this time Sherlocks eyes are permanently fixed on the newcomer who we now see is
Henry Knight as he watches the documentary anxiously.)
PRESENTER (voiceover): ... the chemical and biological weapons research centre which is said
to be even more sensitive than Porton Down. Since the end of the Second World War, thereve
been persistent stories about the Baskerville experiments: genetic mutations, animals grown for
the battlefield. There are many who believe that within this compound, in the heart of this
ancient wilderness, there are horrors beyond imagining. But the real question is: are all of them
still inside?
(The footage switches to an indoor scene where Henry is sitting in front of the camera talking to
an offscreen interviewer. A caption at the bottom of the screen shows him as Henry Knight,
Grimpen resident.)
HENRY: I was just a kid. It-it was on the moor.

199
(Theres a cut-away to a childs drawing of a huge snarling dog with red eyes. The caption says,
Henrys drawing (aged 9).)
HENRY: It was dark, but I know what I saw. I know what killed my father.
(Sighing, Sherlock picks up the remote control and switches off the footage.)
SHERLOCK (to Henry): What did you see?
HENRY: Oh. (He points to the television.) I ... I was just about to say.
SHERLOCK: Yes, in a TV interview. I prefer to do my own editing.
HENRY: Yes. Sorry, yes, of course. Scuse me.
(He reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a paper napkin and wipes his nose on it.)
JOHN: In your own time.
SHERLOCK: But quite quickly.
(Henry lowers the napkin.)
HENRY: Do you know Dartmoor, Mr Holmes?
SHERLOCK: No.
HENRY: Its an amazing place. Its like nowhere else. Its sort of ... bleak but beautiful.
SHERLOCK: Mmm, not interested. Moving on.
HENRY: We used to go for walks, after my mum died, my dad and me. Every evening wed go
out onto the moor.
SHERLOCK: Yes, good. Skipping to the night that your dad was violently killed. Where did that
happen?
(Johns eyes raise skywards at Sherlocks insensitive question.)
HENRY: Theres a place its... its a sort of local landmark called Dewers Hollow.
(He gazes at Sherlock who tilts his head at him as if to say, And...?)
HENRY: Thats an ancient name for the Devil.
SHERLOCK (quirking an eyebrow): So?
JOHN: Did you see the Devil that night?
(His face haunted with memories, Henry looks across to him and nods.)
HENRY (in a whisper): Yes.
(Flashback to Henrys father screaming as he is pulled off his feet by something while young
Henry watches in horror nearby.)
HENRY (voiceover): It was huge. Coal-black fur, with red eyes.
(In the flashback, Henrys father finally falls silent. The creature growls savagely and young
Henry turns and begins to scramble away.)
HENRY (tearfully): It got him, tore at him, tore him apart.
(Sherlock watches him intensely.)
HENRY: I cant remember anything else. They found me the next morning, just wandering on
the moor. My dads body was never found.
JOHN: Hmm. (He looks across to Sherlock.) Red eyes, coal-black fur, enormous: dog? Wolf?
SHERLOCK: Or a genetic experiment.
(He looks away, biting back a smile.)
HENRY: Are you laughing at me, Mr Holmes?
SHERLOCK: Why, are you joking?
HENRY: My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville; about the
type of monsters they were breeding there. People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people
took me seriously.
SHERLOCK: And, I assume, did wonders for Devon tourism.
JOHN (uncomfortably): Yeah ...
(In an attempt to stop Sherlocks continuing sarcasm, he leans forward to Henry. Sherlock rolls
his eyes when he realises what John is doing.)
JOHN: Henry, whatever did happen to your father, it was twenty years ago. Why come to us
now?
(Henry sits forward, staring at Sherlock.)
HENRY: Im not sure you can help me, Mr Holmes, since you find it all so funny.
(He stands up and walks around the chair, heading towards the door.)
SHERLOCK: Because of what happened last night.
JOHN: Why, what happened last night?
(Henry turns back towards them.)
HENRY: How ... how do you know?
SHERLOCK: I didnt know; I noticed.
(John shuffles on his chair with an Oh dear lord, here we go expression on his face.)

200
SHERLOCK (quick fire): You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You
had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle
fancied you. Although you were initially keen, youve now changed your mind. You are,
however, extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr Knight, and do
please smoke. Id be delighted.
(Henry stares at him, then glances across to John who averts his gaze and sighs. Hesitantly,
Henry walks back to the chair and sits down, fishing in his jacket pocket.)
HENRY: How on earth did you notice all that?!
JOHN: Its not important ...
(But Sherlocks already off.)
SHERLOCK (looking at two small round white pieces of paper stuck to Henrys coat): Punched-
out holes where your tickets been checked ...
JOHN: Not now, Sherlock.
SHERLOCK: Oh please. Ive been cooped up in here for ages.
JOHN: Youre just showing off.
SHERLOCK: Of course. I am a show-off. Thats what we do.
(He turns his attention back to Henry and the napkin that hes still holding.)
SHERLOCK: The train napkin that you used to mop up the spilled coffee: the strength of the
stain shows that you didnt take milk. There are traces of ketchup on it and round your lips and
on your sleeve. Cooked breakfast or the nearest thing those trains can manage. Probably a
sandwich.
(Henry half-sobs, over-awed.)
HENRY: How did you know it was disappointing?
SHERLOCK: Is there any other type of breakfast on a train? The girl female handwritings
quite distinctive. Wrote her phone number down on the napkin. I can tell from the angle she
wrote at that she was sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later after she got
off, I imagine you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the
numbers. Youve been over the last four digits yourself with another pen, so you wanted to
keep the number. Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose. Maybe youre not
that into her after all. Then theres the nicotine stains on your fingers ... your shaking fingers. I
know the signs.
(His gaze becomes intense.)
SHERLOCK: No chance to smoke one on the train; no time to roll one before you got a cab
here.
(He glances at his watch.)
SHERLOCK: Its just after nine fifteen. Youre desperate. The first train from Exeter to London
leaves at five forty-six a.m. You got the first one possible, so something important must have
happened last night. Am I wrong?
(Henry stares at him in amazement, then draws in a shaky breath.)
HENRY: No.
(Sherlock smiles smugly. John takes a drink from his mug to hide his oh bugger it look.)
HENRY (awestruck): Youre right. Youre completely, exactly right. Bloody hell, I heard you were
quick.
SHERLOCK: Its my job.
(He leans forward in his seat and glares at Henry intensely.)
SHERLOCK: Now shut up and smoke.
(John frowns towards him. As Henry takes out a roll-up and lights it, John consults the notes
hes taken so far.)
JOHN: Um, Henry, your parents both died and you were, what, seven years old?
(Henry is concentrating on taking his first drag on his cigarette. As he exhales his first lungful,
Sherlock stands up and steps closer to him.)
HENRY: I know. That ... my ...
(He stops as Sherlock leans into the smoke drifting up from the cigarette and from Henrys
mouth and breathes in deeply and noisily through his nose. Having sucked up most of the
smoke, he sits down again and breathes out, whining quietly in pleasure.)
JOHN (trying hard to ignore him): That must be a ... quite a trauma. Have you ever thought
that maybe you invented this story, this ...
(Henry has exhaled another lungful of smoke and Sherlock dives in to noisily hoover up the
smoke again. John pauses patiently until he sits down again.)
JOHN: ... to account for it?
(Henry drags his eyes away from Sherlock.)

201
HENRY: Thats what Doctor Mortimer says.

JOHN: Who?
SHERLOCK: His therapist.
HENRY (almost simultaneously): My therapist.
HENRY: Louise Mortimer. Shes the reason I came back to Dartmoor. She thinks I have to face
my demons.
SHERLOCK: And what happened when you went back to Dewers Hollow last night, Henry? You
went there on the advice of your therapist and now youre consulting a detective. What did you
see that changed everything?
HENRY: Its a strange place, the Hollow.
(He flashes back in his mind to when he was standing in the Hollow the previous night.)
HENRY: Makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid.
SHERLOCK (rolling his eyes): Yes, if I wanted poetry Id read Johns emails to his girlfriends.
Much funnier.
(John sighs hard in an attempt to release the tension that might make him kill his flatmate.)
SHERLOCK (to Henry): What did you see?
HENRY: Footprints on the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart.
(Looking exasperated, Sherlock leans back in his seat.)
JOHN: Mans or a womans?
HENRY: Neither. They were ...
SHERLOCK (interrupting): Is that it? Nothing else. Footprints. Is that all?
HENRY: Yes, but they were ...
SHERLOCK (interrupting): No, sorry, Doctor Mortimer wins. Childhood trauma masked by an
invented memory. Boring! Goodbye, Mr Knight. Thank you for smoking.
HENRY: No, but what about the footprints?
SHERLOCK: Oh, theyre probably paw prints; could be anything, therefore nothing.
(He leans forward in his seat and flicks his fingers at Henry, gesturing him towards the door.)
SHERLOCK: Off to Devon with you; have a cream tea on me.
(Standing up and buttoning his jacket, he heads into the kitchen. Henry turns in his seat to look
at him.)
HENRY: Mr Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!
(Sherlock stops dead in his tracks, then slowly turns and comes back to the kitchen doorway
and stares down at Henry.)
SHERLOCK: Say that again.
HENRY: I found the footprints; they were ...
SHERLOCK: No, no, no, your exact words. Repeat your exact words from a moment ago,
exactly as you said them.
(Henry thinks for a second, then slowly recites his words back to him.)
HENRY: Mr Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic ... hound.
(Sherlock raises his head.)
SHERLOCK: Ill take the case.
JOHN (startled): Sorry, what?
(Sherlock adopts the prayer position in front of his mouth and begins to pace slowly across the
living room.)
SHERLOCK: Thank you for bringing this to my attention. Its very promising.
JOHN: No-no-no, sorry, what? A minute ago, footprints were boring; now theyre very
promising?
SHERLOCK (stopping): Its nothing to do with footprints. As ever, John, you werent listening.
Baskerville: ever heard of it?
JOHN: Vaguely. Its very hush-hush.
SHERLOCK: Sounds like a good place to start.
HENRY: Ah! Youll come down, then?
SHERLOCK: No, I cant leave London at the moment. Far too busy. Dont worry putting my
best man onto it.
(He walks over to John and pats his shoulder.)
SHERLOCK: Always rely on John to send me the relevant data, as he never understands a word
of it himself.
JOHN: What are you talking about, youre busy? You dont have a case! A minute ago you were
complaining ...

202
SHERLOCK (interrupting): Bluebell, John! Ive got Bluebell! The case of the vanishing, glow-in-
the-dark rabbit! (He looks at Henry.) NATOs in uproar.
HENRY: Oh, sorry, no, youre not coming, then?
(Putting on a regretful expression, Sherlock shakes his head sadly. John groans.)
JOHN: Okay. (He stands up while Sherlock smiles smugly.) Okay.
(He walks over to the mantelpiece and picks up the skull, taking a packet of cigarettes from
underneath it. Putting down the skull again, he turns and tosses the packet across to Sherlock,
who catches it and then instantly tosses it over his shoulder.)
SHERLOCK: I dont need those any more. Im going to Dartmoor.
(He walks out of the living room.)
SHERLOCK: You go on ahead, Henry. Well follow later.
HENRY (scrambling to his feet): Er, sorry, so you are coming?
(Sherlock turns and walks back into the room.)
SHERLOCK: Twenty year old disappearance; a monstrous hound? I wouldnt miss this for the
world!
Later, John carries two large bags out onto the street, shuts the front door and walks over to
Sherlock who is holding a taxi door open. Next door in Speedys, Mrs Hudson is shouting angrily
at an unseen Mr Chatterjee.
MRS HUDSON: ... cruise together. You had no intention of taking me on it ...
(She throws something at the closed door. As it bounces heavily off the glass, John recoils.)
JOHN: Oh! Looks like Mrs Hudson finally got to the wife in Doncaster.
SHERLOCK: Mmm. Wait til she finds out about the one in Islamabad.
(John sniggers and gets into the taxi. Sherlock follows him in.)
SHERLOCK (to the driver): Paddington Station, please.
DARTMOOR. After many shots of the beautiful Devon scenery which your transcriber is
delighted to sit back and watch while resting her aching fingers, we find our boys driving across
the moors in a large black Land Rover jeep. Sherlock is driving ... and if theyre not playing
Yellow Car I shall be most disappointed.
Some time later, away from the road, Sherlock is standing dramatically skylined on a large
stone outcrop while John stands at the foot of it consulting a map. He points ahead of himself at
a large array of buildings in the distance.
JOHN: Theres Baskerville.
(He turns and points behind them. Sherlock turns to look.)
JOHN: Thats Grimpen Village.
(He turns and looks ahead of them again, checking the map for the name of the heavily wooded
area to the left of the Baskerville complex.)
JOHN: So that must be ... yeah, its Dewers Hollow.
(Sherlock points to an area in between the complex and the Hollow.)
SHERLOCK: Whats that?
JOHN: Hmm?
(He has binoculars on a strap around his neck and now he lifts them and looks more closely at
the fencing and the warning signs.)
JOHN: Minefield? Technically Baskervilles an army base, so I guess theyve always been keen
to keep people out.
SHERLOCK: Clearly.
Later, they drive into Grimpen Village and pull into the car park of the Cross Keys inn. They get
out and walk towards the entrance of the pub, where a young man who is apparently a tour
guide is talking to a group of tourists.
FLETCHER: ... three times a day, tell your friends. Tell anyone!
(The boys walk past the group and see that Fletcher is standing next to a large sign on which is
painted a black image of a wolf-like creature with the words BEWARE THE HOUND!! above it.)
FLETCHER (to the tourists): Dont be strangers, and remember ... stay away from the moor at
night if you value your lives!
(Sherlock has been pulling his overcoat around him as he walks towards the pub, and now he
pops the collar. John looks round at him pointedly.)
SHERLOCK (trying and failing to look nonchalant): Im cold.
(The tourist group walks away from Fletcher. Once their backs are turned he puts on a large
shaggy wolfs-head mask. Sherlock and John walk into the pub, which has a blackboard outside

203
advertising Boutique Rooms & Vegetarian Cuisine. Fletcher runs over to a couple of the nearby
tourists and roars. They flinch and the woman shrieks in surprise.)
Flashback to Henry Knights father being grabbed by something in Dewers Hollow, and young
Henrys horrified face. In the present, adult Henry flinches, his eyes closed as he sits half
reclined on a comfortable armchair. The flashbacks continue to haunt him until he opens his
eyes and sighs. A woman is sitting a short distance away with a notebook and pen on her lap.
HENRY: That part doesnt change.
MORTIMER: What does?
(Henry runs his hands over his face.)
HENRY: Oh, theres something else. It-its a word.
(Sighing heavily in concentration, he closes his eyes again and sees the word as if it is stitched
or knitted into some fabric.)
HENRY: Liberty.
(He opens his eyes again.)
MORTIMER: Liberty?
HENRY (closing his eyes again): Theres another word. (He concentrates and sees the next word
stitched in the fabric.) In. I-N. Liberty In. (He looks at his therapist.) What do you think it
means?
(She shakes her head. He sighs in frustration.)
CROSS KEYS INN. While Sherlock prowls around the interior of the pub, John is at the bar
checking in. The manager and barman, Gary, hands him some keys.
GARY: Eh, sorry we couldnt do a double room for you boys.
JOHN: Thats fine. We-were not ...
(He looks at the smug knowing smile on Garys face and gives up.)
JOHN (giving him some money for the drink he has just bought): There you go.
GARY: Oh, ta. Ill just get your change.
JOHN: Ta.
(As Gary goes to the till, Johns glance falls on a pile of receipts and invoices which have been
punched onto a spike on the bar. He frowns when he sees that one is labelled Undershaw Meat
Supplies. Quickly he reaches out and rips it from the spike, putting it into his pocket as Gary
comes back with his change.)
GARY: There you go.
JOHN: I couldnt help noticing on the map of the moor: a skull and crossbones.
GARY: Oh that, aye.
JOHN: Pirates?!
GARY: Eh, no, no. The Great Grimpen Minefield, they call it.
JOHN: Oh, right.
GARY: Its not what you think. Its the Baskerville testing site. Its been going for eighty-odd
years. Im not sure anyone really knows whats there any more.
(Nearby, Sherlock is still prowling around and now seems to find something of interest at one of
the tables.)
JOHN (to Gary): Explosives?
GARY: Oh, not just explosives. Break into that place and if youre lucky you just get blown
up, so they say ... in case youre planning on a nice wee stroll.
(Sherlock loses interest in the table and wanders off again.)
JOHN: Ta. Ill remember.
GARY: Aye. No, it buggers up tourism a bit, so thank God for the demon hound! (He chuckles,
coming out from behind the bar presumably to clear some glasses.) Did you see that show, that
documentary?
JOHN: Quite recently, yeah.
GARY: Aye. God bless Henry Knight and his monster from hell.
JOHN: Ever seen it the hound?
GARY: Me? No.
(He points out the door past Sherlock, where Fletcher is just outside the pub and talking on his
phone.)
GARY: Fletcher has. He runs the walks the Monster Walks for the tourists, you know? Hes
seen it.
JOHN: Thats handy for trade.

204
(Gary turns to a man who is clearly the inns cook who has just arrived behind the bar.
Meanwhile Sherlock turns and follows Fletcher as he walks away from the doorway.)
GARY: Im just saying weve been rushed off our feet, Billy.
BILLY: Yeah. Lots of monster-hunters. Doesnt take much these days. One mention on Twitter
and oomph.
(He looks at Gary.)
BILLY: Were out of WKD.
[Transcribers note: WKD is a brand of alcopop aimed at the trendy young and mostly male
drinkers market.]
GARY: All right.
(He walks behind the bar again. Billy turns to John.)
BILLY: What with the monster and that ruddy prison, I dont know how we sleep nights. Do you,
Gary?
(Gary stops and puts a hand on his shoulder and looks at him affectionately.)
GARY: Like a baby.
BILLY: Thats not true. (He looks at John.) Hes a snorer.
GARY (embarrassed, trying to shut him up): Hey, wheesht!
BILLY (to John): Is yours a snorer?
JOHN: ... Got any crisps?
Outside, Sherlock swipes a half-drunk pint of beer from a nearby empty table and walks over
towards Fletcher, noticing as he does so that he has a copy of the Racing Post in his trouser
pocket. Fletcher has gone over to another of the tables and is just finishing his phone call.
FLETCHER: Yeah ... No. All right? Right. Take care. Bye.
SHERLOCK: Mind if I join you?
(Fletcher shrugs and gestures to the table. Sherlock puts his pint down and sits on the bench on
the other side of the table.)
SHERLOCK: Its not true, is it? You havent actually seen this ... hound thing. (He grins in a
friendly way.)
FLETCHER (looking at him suspiciously): You from the papers?
SHERLOCK: No, nothing like that. Just curious. Have you seen it?
FLETCHER: Maybe.
SHERLOCK: Got any proof?
FLETCHER: Why would I tell you if I did? Scuse me.
(He stands up to leave just as John comes over with his own drink.)
JOHN: I called Henry ...
SHERLOCK (talking over him): Bets off, John, sorry.
JOHN (sitting down): What?
FLETCHER: Bet?
SHERLOCK (looking at his watch): My plan needs darkness. (He looks up at the sky.) Reckon
weve got another half an hour of light ...
FLETCHER: Wait, wait. What bet?
SHERLOCK: Oh, I bet John here fifty quid that you couldnt prove youd seen the hound.
JOHN (catching on immediately and looking at Fletcher): Yeah, the guys in the pub said you
could.
(Fletcher smiles and points to Sherlock.)
FLETCHER: Well, youre gonna lose your money, mate.
SHERLOCK: Yeah?
FLETCHER: Yeah. Ive seen it. Only about a month ago, up at the Hollow. It was foggy, mind
couldnt make much out.
SHERLOCK: I see. No witnesses, I suppose.
FLETCHER: No, but ...
SHERLOCK: Never are.
FLETCHER: Wait ...
(He shows Sherlock a photograph on his smart phone.)
FLETCHER: There.
(Sherlock looks at the photograph which shows a dark-furred four-legged something in the
distance but, with no scale amongst the surrounding vegetation, its impossible to tell the size
or even the species of the animal. He snorts.)
SHERLOCK: Is that it? Its not exactly proof, is it?
(Fletcher shows the photo to John.)

205
SHERLOCK: Sorry, John. I win.

(He picks up the stolen beer glass and makes as if to drink from it, although he never does.)
FLETCHER: Wait, wait. Thats not all. People dont like going up there, you know to the
Hollow. Gives them a ... bad sort of feeling.
SHERLOCK: Ooh! Is it haunted?(!) Is that supposed to convince me?
(He puts down the glass again.)
FLETCHER: Nah, dont be stupid, nothing like that, but I reckon there is something out there
something from Baskerville, escaped.
SHERLOCK (not really trying to hold back his sceptical snigger): A clone, a super-dog?(!)
FLETCHER: Maybe. God knows what theyve been spraying on us all these years, or putting in
the water. I wouldnt trust em as far as I could spit.
SHERLOCK (nodding to the phone photograph): Is that the best youve got?
(Fletcher hesitates for a long moment, uncertain whether to continue, but eventually he speaks
reluctantly, lowering his voice.)
FLETCHER: I had a mate once who worked for the MOD. One weekend we were meant to go
fishin but he never showed up well, not til late. When he did, he was white as a sheet. I can
see him now. Ive seen things today, Fletch, he said, that I never wanna see again. Terrible
things. Hed been sent to some secret Army place Porton Down, maybe; maybe Baskerville,
or somewhere else.
(He leans closer.)
FLETCHER: In the labs there the really secret labs, he said hed seen ... terrible things. Rats
as big as dogs, he said, and dogs ...
(He reaches into his bag and pulls something out, showing it to the boys.)
FLETCHER: ... dogs the size of horses.
(He is holding a concrete cast of a dogs paw print but the print is at least six inches long from
the tip of the claws to the back of the pad. Sherlock stares at it in surprise. John immediately
pounces.)
JOHN: Er, we did say fifty?
(As Fletcher smiles triumphantly, Sherlock gets out his wallet and hands John a fifty pound
note.)
JOHN: Ta.
(Sulkily, Sherlock gets up and walks away. John finishes his drink and follows him.)
Later, Sherlock and John take the car to Baskerville, Sherlock still driving. As they approach the
complex, he observes that there are very many military personnel guarding the place, walking
the perimeter etc. He drives up to the gates and a military security guard holding a rifle raises a
hand. As Sherlock stops the jeep, the man walks around to the drivers window.
SECURITY GUARD: Pass, please.
(Sherlock reaches into his coat pocket and hands him a pass.)
SECURITY GUARD: Thank you.
(He walks away with the pass. At the front of the vehicle, another security man encourages a
sniffer dog to check the jeep, presumably for explosives.)
JOHN (quietly): Youve got ID for Baskerville. How?
SHERLOCK (quietly): Its not specific to this place. Its my brothers. Access all areas. I, um ...
(he clears his throat) ... acquired it ages ago, just in case.
(The security guard swipes Sherlocks pass through a reader at the gate room. The screen
shows a fairly small photograph of Mycroft and names the card holder as Mycroft Holmes, giving
him Unlimited Access and showing his security status as Secure (No Threat).)
JOHN: Brilliant(!)
SHERLOCK: Whats the matter?
JOHN: Well get caught.
SHERLOCK: No we wont well, not just yet.
JOHN: Caught in five minutes. Oh, hi, we just thought wed come and have a wander round
your top secret weapons base. Really? Great! Come in kettles just boiled. Thats if we dont
get shot.
(The gates begin to slide open as the security guard comes back over to the car.)
SECURITY DOG HANDLER: Clear.
SECURITY GUARD (handing Sherlock his pass): Thank you very much, sir.
(He puts the car in gear and eases the vehicle forward.)
SECURITY GUARD: Straight through, sir.

206
JOHN: Mycrofts name literally opens doors!

SHERLOCK: Ive told you he practically is the British government. I reckon weve got about
twenty minutes before they realise somethings wrong.
Sherlock drives up to the main complex at Baskerville, parks the car and he and John get out.
Another soldier leads them through barriers and towards an entrance to the main building. As
they walk, Sherlock looks around at all the military men patrolling the area, many of them
armed. Even the scientists in lab coats are being escorted. As they approach the entrance, a
military jeep pulls up and a young corporal gets out.
LYONS: What is it? Are we in trouble?
SHERLOCK (sternly): Are we in trouble, sir?
LYONS: Yes, sir, sorry, sir.
(Nevertheless, he steps in front of them and holds out his hands to prevent them getting nearer
to the entrance.)
SHERLOCK: You were expecting us?
LYONS: Your ID showed up straight away, Mr Holmes. Corporal Lyons, security. Is there
something wrong, sir?
SHERLOCK: Well, I hope not, Corporal, I hope not.
LYONS: Its just we dont get inspected here, you see, sir. It just doesnt happen.
JOHN: Ever heard of a spot check?
(He takes a small wallet from his pocket and shows the ID inside to the corporal.)
JOHN: Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.
(Even before he finishes speaking, the corporal comes to attention and salutes. John crisply
returns the salute. Fangirls faint.)
LYONS: Sir. Major Barrymore wont be pleased, sir. Hell want to see you both.
JOHN: Im afraid we wont have time for that. Well need the full tour right away. Carry on.
(The corporal hesitates.)
JOHN (instantly): Thats an order, Corporal.
LYONS: Yes, sir.
(He spins around and walks towards the entrance. Sherlock glances across to John with a proud
smile on his face as they follow. At the entrance, which is marked AUTOMATIC SECURITY
DOOR, Lyons swipes his pass through a reader, then waits for Sherlock to walk over and do
the same with his own pass. The message ACCESS GRANTED appears on the reader. Lyons
then presses a button and the locks on the door disengage. Sherlock checks his watch.
Elsewhere, probably a long way from Baskerville, a message flashes up on a screen:
CCV1 security authorization requested

holmes, mycroft priority ultra
processing CCV1
5555*0000*x1 //5894
The security request begins to process. At Baskerville, the door swings open and Lyons leads
the other two inside, taking off his beret as he goes. As he leads them towards the next security
door, the boys talk quietly.)
SHERLOCK: Nice touch.
JOHN: Havent pulled rank in ages.
SHERLOCK: Enjoy it?
JOHN: Oh yeah.
(Reaching the door, Lyons swipes his pass and then steps aside for Sherlock to do likewise. As
he does so and another ACCESS GRANTED message appears, the authorisation request is sent
out again. The doors slide opens and reveal an elevator on the other side. Lyons leads them
inside and Sherlock looks at the wall panel. The lift, now on the ground floor, only goes
downwards to five floors marked -1, -2, -3, -4 and B. Lyons presses the -1 button and the doors
close, opening shortly afterwards on the next floor down. Lyons leads them out into a brightly lit
and white tiled laboratory. As they walk forward, various scientific staff dressed either in white
coveralls including full breathing masks, or in lab coats and face masks walk around the lab.
There are large cages to the right of the elevator and as Lyons leads the way past them, a
monkey screams and hurls itself at the bars towards them. Sherlock spins on his heel as he
passes the cage, looking at the monkey and the chain around its neck.)
SHERLOCK: How many animals do you keep down here?
LYONS: Lots, sir.

207
(At the far end of the lab, a scientist wearing coveralls and a breathing mask comes out of
another room and takes off his mask. Another scientist walks across the lab with a beagle on a
lead.)
SHERLOCK: Any ever escape?
LYONS: Theyd have to know how to use that lift, sir. Were not breeding them that clever.
SHERLOCK: Unless they have help.
(The man who just took off his mask comes over to the group.)
FRANKLAND: Ah, and you are?
LYONS: Sorry, Doctor Frankland. Im just showing these gentlemen around.
FRANKLAND (smiling at them): Ah, new faces, huh? Nice. Careful you dont get stuck here,
though. I only came to fix a tap!
(John chuckles politely as Frankland walks towards the lift. John turns to Lyons.)
JOHN: How far down does that lift go?
LYONS: Quite a way, sir.
JOHN: Mmm-hmm. And whats down there?
LYONS: Well, we have to keep the bins somewhere, sir. This way please, gentlemen.
(Sherlock is watching Frankland as he reaches the elevator. Frankland in turn looks around to
gaze with interest at the new arrivals. While Lyons leads John away, Sherlock walks backwards
for a couple of paces before turning to follow.)
JOHN: So what exactly is it that you do here?
LYONS: I thought youd know, sir, this being an inspection.
(Sherlock is looking at the various scientists around the room, a couple looking at a rat in a
glass cage, another one doing something to the leg of a monkey on a leash which is sitting on a
metal table. Nearby, another scientist picks up what looks ominously like a glass container of
serum.)
JOHN: Well, Im not an expert, am I?
LYONS: Everything from stem cell research to trying to cure the common cold, sir.
JOHN: But mostly weaponry?
LYONS: Of one sort or another, yes.
(He swipes his card through the reader of the door at the end of the lab, then steps aside for
Sherlock to do likewise.)
JOHN: Biological, chemical ...?
LYONS: One war ends, another begins, sir. New enemies to fight. We have to be prepared.
(As the door releases, Sherlock checks his watch and the security authorisation message goes
out again, the message changing slightly:
CCV1 security authorization //5894

query query query
CCV1 5555*0000*x1
Lyons leads them through the doors and into another lab where a monkey stands up on its back
legs with one hand high in the air and shrieks before sitting down again on a high metal table. A
female scientist looks at it and then turns to her colleague.)
STAPLETON: Okay, Michael, lets try Harlow Three next time.
(As she walks away from the table, Lyons approaches her.)
LYONS: Doctor Stapleton.
SHERLOCK (thoughtfully): Stapleton.
STAPLETON: Yes? (She looks at Sherlock and John.) Whos this?
LYONS: Priority Ultra, maam. Orders from on high. An inspection.
STAPLETON: Really?
SHERLOCK: Were to be accorded every courtesy, Doctor Stapleton. Whats your role at
Baskerville?
(Stapleton looks at him and snorts with disbelieving laughter.)
JOHN: Er, accorded every courtesy, isnt that the idea?
STAPLETON: Im not free to say. Official secrets.
SHERLOCK (smiling at her): Oh, you most certainly are free ... (his smile fades and his voice
becomes ominous) ... and I suggest you remain that way.
(She looks at him for a moment.)
STAPLETON: I have a lot of fingers in a lot of pies. I like to mix things up genes, mostly; now
and again actual fingers.

208
(Sherlock has had a lightbulb moment when she said the words genes and is reaching into his
pocket before she finishes the sentence.)
SHERLOCK: Stapleton. I knew I knew your name.
STAPLETON: I doubt it.
SHERLOCK: People say theres no such thing as coincidence. What dull lives they must lead.
(He holds up his notebook to her on which he has written a single large word: BLUEBELL. She
stares at it in amazement while Sherlock watches her face closely.)
STAPLETON: Have you been talking to my daughter?
SHERLOCK (putting his notebook away): Why did Bluebell have to die, Doctor Stapleton?
JOHN (bewildered): The rabbit?
SHERLOCK (to Stapleton, as she stares at him blankly): Disappeared from inside a locked
hutch, which was always suggestive.
JOHN: The rabbit?
SHERLOCK: Clearly an inside job.
STAPLETON: Oh, you reckon?
SHERLOCK: Why? Because it glowed in the dark.
(He loudly clicks the k on the last word. Your transcriber giggles like an idiot.)
STAPLETON: I have absolutely no idea what youre talking about. Who are you?
(Even as she speaks Sherlock has been keeping a mental note of the time and now checks his
watch again. Out in the security system somewhere, the authorisation request changes:
CCV1 security authorization

alert alert
potential level 5 security breach
5555*0000*x1 //5894
Someone looking at the screen picks up a phone and lifts the handset to their ear. At
Baskerville, Sherlock lowers his hand and turns to Lyons.)
SHERLOCK: Well, I think weve seen enough for now, Corporal. Thank you so much.
LYONS (surprised): Thats it?
SHERLOCK: Thats it. (He turns and heads briskly back towards the door, John following behind
and Lyons trailing after them.) Its this way, isnt it?
STAPLETON (calling after them): Just a minute!
(John catches up to his friend and speaks quietly so that Lyons cant overhear him. His tone
suggests that he is not best pleased.)
JOHN: Did we just break into a military base to investigate a rabbit?
(Sherlock reaches the door and swipes his card, then waits for Lyons to catch up to them and
do the same with his own card. In Whitehall or somewhere similar, telephones begin to ring as
a chain of calls relays the potential security breach and the message goes out:
URGENT URGENT URGENT

refer holmes, mycroft
Sitting in what can surely only be the Diogenes Club with a cup of coffee on the table beside
him, Mycroft takes out his phone when it trills quietly. Looking at the message, he rolls his eyes
in exasperation, gazes off into space with a Good God what now?! look on his face for a
moment and then begins to text.
At Baskerville, Sherlock walks swiftly through the security doors and heads for the lift as his
phone trills a text alert. He takes out his phone without stopping and reads the message:
What are you

doing?
M
He laughs sarcastically.)
SHERLOCK: Twenty-three minutes. Mycrofts getting slow.
(Reaching the lift doors, he swipes his card and Lyons does likewise. The doors open revealing
Doctor Frankland standing inside as if he has been waiting in there. Trying to look nonchalant,
he smiles at them.)
FRANKLAND: Hello ... again.

209
(Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Sherlock walks into the lift with the others. Very shortly
afterwards, one floor up, the doors open again and reveal a bearded man in military uniform
waiting for them. He does not look happy.)
LYONS: Er, um, Major ...
BARRYMORE: This is bloody outrageous. Why wasnt I told?
JOHN: Major Barrymore, is it? (He steps out of the lift towards him.) Yes, well, good. Very good.
(He offers him his hand to shake.) Were very impressed, arent we, Mr Holmes?
(Barrymore refuses to take Johns hand. Sherlocks phone sounds another text alert and he
reaches into his pocket for it again.)
SHERLOCK: Deeply; hugely.
(He walks past Barrymore as he looks at his text message which reads:
Whats going on
Sherlock?
M
The major follows along behind the boys while Sherlock hurries towards the exit door.)
BARRYMORE: The whole point of Baskerville was to eliminate this kind of bureaucratic nonsense
...
SHERLOCK: Im so sorry, Major.
BARRYMORE: Inspections?!
SHERLOCK: New policy. Cant remain unmonitored forever. Goodness knows what youd get up
to. (Urgently and quietly to John) Keep walking.
(Lyons has briefly ducked into a side room but now hurries out again.)
LYONS: Sir!
(He slaps an alarm button on the wall. Alarms start to blare, red lights flash and the automated
security door locks itself. The others turn back to him.)
LYONS: ID unauthorised, sir.
BARRYMORE: What?
LYONS: Ive just had the call.
BARRYMORE: Is that right?
(He turns to Sherlock and John.)
BARRYMORE: Who are you?
JOHN: Look, theres obviously been some kind of mistake.
(A little further back, Frankland is slowly walking towards the group, looking thoughtful.
Barrymore holds out his hand for Sherlocks ID card, which he gives to him. He looks at the
card and then up at Sherlock.)
BARRYMORE: Clearly not Mycroft Holmes.
JOHN (getting out a notebook and starting to write): Computer error, Major. Itll all have to go
in the report.
BARRYMORE: What the hells going on?!
FRANKLAND: Its all right, Major. I know exactly who these gentlemen are.
BARRYMORE: You do?
FRANKLAND: Yeah. Im getting a little slow on faces but Mr Holmes here isnt someone I
expected to show up in this place.
SHERLOCK: Ah, well ...
FRANKLAND (offering him his hand to shake): Good to see you again, Mycroft.
(John tries to mask his surprise. Smiling falsely, Sherlock shakes Franklands hand.)
FRANKLAND: I had the honour of meeting Mr Holmes at the W.H.O. conference in ... (he
pretends to think) ... Brussels, was it?
SHERLOCK: Vienna.
FRANKLAND: Vienna, thats it.
(He looks at Barrymore.)
FRANKLAND: This is Mr Mycroft Holmes, Major. Theres obviously been a mistake.
(Barrymore turns and nods to Lyons, who goes back to the alarm switch and turns it off. The
lights stop flashing and the alarm falls silent. A moment later the entrance doors lock
disengages noisily.)
BARRYMORE (turning back to Frankland): On your head be it, Doctor Frankland.
FRANKLAND (laughing as he looks at the approaching Corporal Lyons): Ill show them out,
Corporal.
LYONS: Very well, sir.

210
(Sherlock spins on his heel and walks towards the now open entrance door. John and Frankland
follow him while Barrymore glares after them unhappily. The boys go outside, John grimacing
anxiously with an Oh gods, I really hope were going to get away with this! expression on his
face. Frankland trots after them.)
FRANKLAND: This is about Henry Knight, isnt it?
(They dont answer him but he takes their silence as agreement.)
FRANKLAND: I thought so. I knew he wanted help but I didnt realise he was going to contact
Sherlock Holmes!
(Sherlock grimaces.)
FRANKLAND: Oh, dont worry. I know who you really are. Im never off your website. Thought
youd be wearing the hat, though.
SHERLOCK: That wasnt my hat.
FRANKLAND (to John): I hardly recognise him without the hat!
(John tries unsuccessfully to bite back a smile.)
SHERLOCK (tetchily, sounding the ts loudly): It wasnt my hat.
FRANKLAND: I love the blog too, Doctor Watson.
JOHN: Oh, cheers!
FRANKLAND: The, er, the Pink thing ...
JOHN: Mmm-hmm.
FRANKLAND: ... and that one about the aluminium crutch!
JOHN: Yes.
SHERLOCK (stopping and turning back to Frankland): You know Henry Knight?
FRANKLAND: Well, I knew his dad better. He had all sorts of mad theories about this place.
Still, he was a good friend.
(He looks back the way they came and sees that Major Barrymore is standing some distance
away and watching them. He turns back to Sherlock.)
FRANKLAND: Listen, I cant really talk now.
(He takes a card from his coat pocket and hands it over.)
FRANKLAND: Heres my, er, cell number. If I could help with Henry, give me a call.
SHERLOCK: I never did ask, Doctor Frankland. What exactly is it that you do here?
FRANKLAND: Oh, Mr Holmes, I would love to tell you but then, of course, Id have to kill you!
(He laughs cheerfully.)
SHERLOCK (straight faced): That would be tremendously ambitious of you.
(Franklands smile fades and he shrugs in embarrassment.)
SHERLOCK: Tell me about Doctor Stapleton.
FRANKLAND: Never speak ill of a colleague.
SHERLOCK: Yet youd speak well of one, which youre clearly omitting to do.
FRANKLAND: I do seem to be, dont I? (He shrugs.)
SHERLOCK (raising the card that Frankland just gave him): Ill be in touch.
FRANKLAND: Any time.
(The boys walk away from him and head towards their Land Rover.)
JOHN: So?
SHERLOCK: So?
JOHN: What was all that about the rabbit?
(Smiling briefly, Sherlock pulls his coat tighter around him, flipping the collar up just as they
reach the car. John rolls his eyes and turns to him.)
JOHN: Oh, please, can we not do this, this time?
SHERLOCK: Do what?
JOHN: You being all mysterious with your cheekbones and turning your coat collar up so you
look cool.
(As he turns to go to the car door, Sherlock opens his mouth to speak but is apparently so
disconcerted that for a moment he cant find the words.)
SHERLOCK: ... I dont do that.
JOHN: Yeah you do.
(They get into the car.)
Later, Sherlock is driving them across the moors.

JOHN: So, the email from Kirsty the, er, missing luminous rabbit.
SHERLOCK: Kirsty Stapleton, whose mother specialises in genetic manipulation.
JOHN: She made her daughters rabbit glow in the dark.

211
SHERLOCK: Probably a fluorescent gene removed and spliced into the specimen. Simple enough
these days.
JOHN: So ...
(He looks across to Sherlock and waits for him to continue the sentence.)
SHERLOCK: So we know that Doctor Stapleton performs secret genetic experiments on animals.
The question is: has she been working on something deadlier than a rabbit?
JOHN: To be fair, that is quite a wide field.
(Sherlock looks round at John in startled surprise as if realising that thats true.)
HENRY KNIGHTS HOUSE. His home is enormous a four-storey stone building that was
probably a very important property in the area in the past. A large old-fashioned glass
conservatory is attached to the rear of the building on the ground floor and a modern two-
storey glass extension has been built onto the side of the house to join it to another two-storey
stone building nearby. Sherlock and John go into the conservatory, which looks very run-down
and clearly hasnt had a paint job in years, and walk across to the door on the opposite side.
Sherlock rings the doorbell and Henry opens the door.
HENRY: Hi.
JOHN: Hi.
HENRY: Come in, come in.
(Wiping his feet on the doormat, Sherlock walks in and heads down the hallway. John follows
more slowly, stopping to look into a large high-ceilinged sitting room before following Henry
again.)
JOHN: This is, uh ... Are you, um ...
(He searches for the right word for a moment before finding it.)
JOHN: ... rich?
HENRY: Yeah.
JOHN: Right.
(Henry leads off again. Sherlock throws a dark look at John before following him.)
Not long afterwards, in the kitchen in the glass extension, Sherlock puts two sugar lumps into
his mug and stirs them in. He is sitting on a stool at the central island and John is sitting next to
him. Henry is standing on the other side of the island gazing down at the work surface.
HENRY: Its-its a couple of words. Its what I keep seeing. Liberty ...
JOHN (reaching into his pocket for his notebook): Liberty.
HENRY (looking up to him): Liberty and ... in. Its just that.
(He picks up the bottle of milk thats on the island.)
HENRY: Are you finished?
JOHN: Mmm.
(Henry turns around to put the milk into the fridge. John looks at Sherlock.)
JOHN: Mean anything to you?
SHERLOCK (softly): Liberty in death isnt that the expression? The only true freedom.
(John nods in agreement as Henry turns back around, sighing. Sherlock takes a drink from his
mug.)
HENRY: What now, then?
JOHN: Sherlocks got a plan.
SHERLOCK: Yes.
HENRY: Right.
SHERLOCK: We take you back out onto the moor ...
HENRY (nervously): Okay ...
SHERLOCK: ... and see if anything attacks you.
JOHN: What?!
SHERLOCK: That should bring things to a head.
HENRY: At night? You want me to go out there at night?
SHERLOCK: Mmm.
JOHN: Thats your plan? (He snorts laughter.) Brilliant(!)
SHERLOCK: Got any better ideas?
JOHN: Thats not a plan.
SHERLOCK: Listen, if there is a monster out there, John, theres only one thing to do: find out
where it lives.
(He looks round to Henry and smiles widely at him before taking another drink from his mug.
Henry does not look encouraged by this.)

212
DUSK. THE MOORS. As night begins to fall, Henry leads Sherlock and John across the rocks
towards Dewers Hollow. All three of them have flashlights to light the uneven ground below
their feet. Foxes scream repeatedly in the distance. By the time they reach the woods it is
almost full dark and it becomes even darker when they head into the trees. John, bringing up
the rear, hears rustling to his right and turns around to look. The other two dont notice and
continue onwards while John walks cautiously towards the sound he heard. He shines his torch
into the bushes as an owl shrieks overhead, but he can see nothing. Raising his head he sees a
light repeatedly winking on and off at the top of a hillside a fair distance away. He looks around
to alert his friend.
JOHN: Sher...
(Its only then that he realises that the other two have disappeared out of sight. He shines his
flashlight in the direction they went but theres no sign of them. He looks back to the light on
the hillside, which is still intermittently flashing, and gets his notebook out of his pocket
because he has recognised that the flashes are Morse code. He starts to write down the letters
while speaking them aloud.)
JOHN (softly): U ... M ... Q ... R ... A.
(The light stops flashing. John looks down at his notebook.)
JOHN (in a whisper): U, M, Q, R, A. (He tries it as a word.) Umqra?
(Shaking his head, he looks up to the hillside again but no more light comes from it. Shutting
the notebook, he heads off in the direction of the other two.)
JOHN (whispering): Sherlock ...
(Henry and Sherlock are a long way ahead and Henrys torch shows that theyre at the edge of
the minefield with its fencing and warning signs. They make their way along the edge of the
fencing while John trails a long way behind them, still whispering his friends name repeatedly.)
JOHN: Sherlock ... Sherlock ...
(Up ahead, Sherlock breaks the silence.)
SHERLOCK: Met a friend of yours.
HENRY: What?
SHERLOCK: Doctor Frankland.
HENRY: Oh, right. Bob, yeah.
SHERLOCK: Seems pretty concerned about you.
HENRY: Hes a worrier, bless him. Hes been very kind to me since I came back.
SHERLOCK: He knew your father.
HENRY: Yeah.
SHERLOCK: But he works at Baskerville. Didnt your dad have a problem with that?
HENRY: Well, mates are mates, arent they? I mean, look at you and John.
SHERLOCK: What about us?
HENRY: Well, I mean, hes a pretty straightforward bloke, and you ...
(Glancing back at Sherlocks grim expression, he decides not to follow that line.)
HENRY: They agreed never to talk about work, Uncle Bob and my dad.
(He stops and turns to his left. As Sherlock stops and looks at him, Henry nods in the direction
hes looking.)
HENRY (unhappily): Dewers Hollow.
(Sherlock turns and looks at the steep drop in the land that leads down into a misty dark
valley.)
(Some distance behind them, John is still following their trail.)
JOHN (whispering): Sherlock ...
(As he progresses onwards, he hears an eerie metallic thrumming sound. He stops and aims his
flashlight in the direction of the sound, then goes to move onwards just as the thrum sounds
again. The sound continues to repeat, now interspersed with a short metallic ping. John walks
slowly towards the sound, then quietly chuckles when he sees a rusty metal container, possibly
an oil drum, which is lying in the undergrowth. Water is dripping from the tree above it and
causing the thrums and pings as it strikes the drum. Just as John looks at it and sighs with
relief, something massive flashes past behind him. John spins and looks but its already gone,
but a couple of seconds later an anguished howl sounds in the distance. John turns and begins
to hurry to find the others.)
(Sherlock is heading down into the Hollow, being careful to keep his balance on the steep
slippery ground. Henry follows him down more slowly. Sherlock reaches the bottom and shines
his torch around, finding giant paw prints all around the area. Some distance away, John is now
running to get to the others. Another long anguished howl rings out. Still halfway down the

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slope, Henry pauses. Sherlock shines his torch up in the direction of the sound ... and his face
begins to fill with horror at the sight which greets him. Unfortunately for the viewers, we cant
see what he is looking at, but whatever it is growls savagely from the top of the Hollow. As the
beam from Sherlocks flashlight flails along the Hollows rim, the whatever-it-is has already
retreated. Sherlock recoils, his face confused and bewildered as he tries to take in what he just
saw. From his position some distance away, Henry hurries down to join him.)
HENRY: Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Did you see
it?
(Sherlock lowers his head, still unable to get his mind to accept the evidence of his eyes. He
stares around, shaking his head, then shoves Henry out of his way and hurries back up the
hillside. Henry follows him.
Very shortly afterwards, John finally meets up with the other two making their way back.)
JOHN (referring to the howling): Did you hear that?
(Sherlock storms straight past him. John turns and follows.)
HENRY: We saw it. We saw it.
SHERLOCK: No. I didnt see anything.
HENRY (chasing after him): What? What are you talking about?
SHERLOCK: I didnt. See. Anything.
(He hurries onwards with Henry and John trailing along behind him.)
Some time later at Henrys house, Henry and John hurry indoors. Sherlock has disappeared off
elsewhere.
HENRY: Look, he must have seen it. I saw it he must have. He must have. I cant ... Why?
Why?
(He stops in the doorway of the sitting room, turning back to John in anguish.)
HENRY: Why would he say that? It-it-it-it it was there. It was.
(Taking off his gloves, John ushers him across to the sofa.)
JOHN: Henry, Henry, I need you to sit down, try and relax, please.
HENRY (sitting on the sofa): Im okay, Im okay.
JOHN: Listen, Im gonna give you something to help you sleep, all right?
(He looks around the room and sees a bottle of water on a bureau nearby. He goes over to get
it, while Henry unwraps his scarf from his neck, smiling.)
HENRY: This is good news, John. Its-its-its good. Im not crazy. There is a hound, there ...
there is. And Sherlock he saw it too. No matter what he said, he saw it.
Later, Sherlock is back at the inn. Sitting in an armchair by a roaring open fire, his face is still
full of shock and disbelief. Unaware of his distress, other patrons sit at nearby tables having
their evening meal. John comes in and sits down in the armchair on the other side of the fire.
JOHN: Well, he is in a pretty bad way. Hes manic, totally convinced theres some mutant super-
dog roaming the moors.
(With his hands in the prayer position in front of his mouth, Sherlock glances nervously at John
for a moment, then continues to gaze in the direction of the fire, lost in thought.)
JOHN: And there isnt, though, is there? Cause if people knew how to make a mutant super-
dog, wed know.
(Sherlock clasps his fingers together, closing his eyes and breathing heavily as if trying to fend
off a panic attack.)
JOHN: Theyd be for sale. I mean, thats how it works.
(He remembers something and reaches for his notebook.)
JOHN: Er, listen: er, on the moor I saw someone signalling. Er, Morse I guess its Morse.
(Sherlock blinks rapidly and repeatedly.)
JOHN (looking at his notes): Doesnt seem to make much sense.
(Sherlock pulls in a sharp breath through his nose and then blows the breath out again through
his mouth.)
JOHN: Er, U, M, Q, R, A. Does that mean ... anything ...
(He finally realises how distressed his colleague is looking and pauses for a moment, then
decides that he cant be right. He puts his notebook away again and sits back in his chair.)
JOHN: So, okay, what have we got? We know theres footprints, cause Henry found them; so
did the tour guide bloke. We all heard something.
(Sherlock blows out another shaky breath. John looks across to him and frowns momentarily.)
JOHN: Maybe we should just look for whoevers got a big dog.
SHERLOCK: Henrys right.

214
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK (his voice shaking): I saw it too.
JOHN (shocked): What?
SHERLOCK: I saw it too, John.
JOHN: Just ... just a minute. (He sits forward.) You saw what?
(Sherlock finally meets his gaze but his face is twisted with self-loathing as he forces himself to
admit the truth.)
SHERLOCK: A hound, out there in the Hollow. (He talks through gritted teeth.) A gigantic
hound.
(John almost laughs as Sherlock looks away, trying unsuccessfully to blink back tears. John sits
back in his chair again, not quite able to cope with this strange reaction from his friend.)
JOHN: Um, look, Sherlock, we have to be rational about this, okay? Now you, of all people,
cant just ...
(Sherlock blows out another breath.)
JOHN: Lets just stick to what we know, yes? Stick to the facts.
(Sherlock looks round at him.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Once youve ruled out the impossible, whatever remains however
improbable must be true.
(Looking away again, Sherlock reaches down and picks up a drink from a nearby table. Looking
down at his trembling hand, he sniggers.)
SHERLOCK: Look at me. Im afraid, John. Afraid.
(He takes a drink and then holds up the glass again, his hand still shaking.)
JOHN: Sherlock?
SHERLOCK: Always been able to keep myself distant ... (he takes another drink from the glass)
... divorce myself from ... feelings. But look, you see ...
(He holds up the glass and glares at his shaking hand.)
SHERLOCK: ... bodys betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions. (He slams the glass down onto
the table.) The grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment.
JOHN: Yeah, all right, Spock, just ...
(Realising that he is starting to raise his voice, he looks around at the other people in the
restaurant behind him and then looks back to Sherlock.)
JOHN (more softly): ... take it easy.
(Sherlock is blowing out a few more breaths and still failing to bring himself under control. He
glances panic-stricken at John.)
JOHN: Youve been pretty wired lately, you know you have. I think youve just gone out there
and got yourself a bit worked up.
SHERLOCK: Worked ... up?
JOHN: It was dark and scary ...
SHERLOCK (laughing sarcastically): Me?! Theres nothing wrong with me.
(He looks away, almost beginning to hyperventilate, then puts his fingertips to his temples,
groaning in anguish. John looks at him in concern.)
JOHN: Sherlock ...
(Sherlock begins blowing out breaths again, his fingers trembling against his skin.)
JOHN: Sher...
SHERLOCK (loudly, furiously): THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!
(He glares round at John.)
SHERLOCK: DO YOU UNDERSTAND?
(He looks round at the other patrons, all of whom are now staring at him. He looks away again,
then looks at John.)
SHERLOCK: You want me to prove it, yes?
(He pulls in a deep breath, trying to get himself under control.)
SHERLOCK: Were looking for a dog, yes, a great big dog, thats your brilliant theory. Cherchez
le chien. Good, excellent, yes, where shall we start?
(The patrons have gone back to their eating. Sherlock looks over his shoulder and points
towards a man and woman sitting opposite each other at a table in the corner of the restaurant.
His voice becomes savage and relentless as he goes into deduction mode.)
SHERLOCK: How about them? The sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman.
The answers yes.
JOHN: Yes?
SHERLOCK: Shes got a West Highland terrier called Whisky. Not exactly what were looking for.

215
JOHN (quietly): Oh, Sherlock, for Gods sake ...

(Sherlock looks briefly across at the man and his jumper with reindeer and holly leaves knitted
into it before turning away again.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Look at the jumper hes wearing. Hardly worn. Clearly hes
uncomfortable in it. Maybe its because of the material; more likely the hideous pattern,
suggesting its a present, probably Christmas. So he wants into his mothers good books. Why?
Almost certainly money.
(He takes another quick glance at the man.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Hes treating her to a meal but his own portion is small. That means he
wants to impress her, but hes trying to economise on his own food.
JOHN: Well, maybe hes just not hungry.
SHERLOCK (quick fire, becoming almost frenetic): No, small plate. Starter. Hes practically
licked it clean. Shes nearly finished her pavlova. If shed treated him, hed have had as much
as he wanted. Hes hungry all right, and not well-off you can tell that by the state of his cuffs
and shoes.
(He asks the question hes expecting to come from John at any moment.)
SHERLOCK: How dyou know shes his mother?
(John, who until now has been looking at his colleague with concern as Sherlocks voice while
lowered has become increasingly intense, smiles briefly.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Who else would give him a Christmas present like that? Well, it could be
an aunt or an elder sister, but mothers more likely. Now, he was a fisherman. Scarring pattern
on his hands, very distinctive fish hooks. Theyre all quite old now, which suggests hes been
unemployed for some time. Not much industry in this part of the world, so hes turned to his
widowed mother for help. Widowed? Yes, obviously. Shes got a mans wedding ring on a
chain round her neck clearly her late husbands and too big for her finger. Shes well-dressed
but her jewellerys cheap. She could afford better, but shes kept it its sentimental. Now, the
dog ... (he looks at the thick wiry hairs on the lower part of the womans black trousers) ... tiny
little hairs all over the leg from where it gets a little bit too friendly, but no hairs above the
knees, suggesting its a small dog, probably a terrier. In fact it is a West Highland terrier
called Whisky. How the hell do you know that, Sherlock? Cause she was on the same train as
us and I heard her calling its name and thats not cheating, thats listening. I use my senses,
John, unlike some people, so you see, I am fine, in fact Ive never been better, so just Leave.
Me. Alone.
(He glares at John, who stares back at him in shock.)
JOHN: Yeah.
(He clears his throat.)
JOHN: Okay. Okay.
(Distressed by his colleagues venom, he tries to settle back in his chair while Sherlock stares
towards the fire, breathing heavily.)
JOHN: And why would you listen to me? Im just your friend.
SHERLOCK (savagely): I dont have friends.
JOHN (softly): Naah. Wonder why?
(He gets up and walks away.)
Shortly afterwards, John storms out of the pub and stops just outside, breathing heavily. He
gazes up into the sky and blows out a breath, pulling himself together, then looks into the
distance and his eyes narrow. The flashing light is back on the hillside. As it continues to flash,
he starts to walk in its direction.
HENRYS HOUSE. Henry is asleep on the sofa at the edge of the kitchen. He has a duvet over
him and a pillow under his head, presumably brought in by John after giving him a sleeping pill.
Now he wakes, sits up and rubs his hands over his face, sighing. He stands up and walks over
to the floor-to-ceiling glass doors and looks out into the dark garden. Still half asleep, he has a
sudden mental flash of the word Liberty stitched into material, and then the following In
word. Recoiling from the memory, he buries his face in his hands and sighs in anguish.
MOORS. Using his torch to illuminate the way, John is walking towards the flashing light on the
hillside. As he reaches the top of the hill he can hear a rhythmic squeaking noise, and then as
he shines his light around he realises that there are several cars parked up there. The drivers
sitting in each car flinch and hold up their hands to shield their faces from the beam from Johns
torch, but they are also trying to avoid being identified and John now realises why when he

216
turns his beam onto a car which has slightly steamed-up windows and which is rocking from
side to side. Its headlights are intermittently flashing on and off. A womans voice comes from
inside the car.
WOMANs VOICE: Oh! Mr Selden! Youve done it again!
MANs VOICE: Oh, I keep catching it with my belt.
(As the inhabitants of the car groan and continue about their ... ahem, business, John lowers
his torch.)
JOHN: Oh, God.
(He hesitates and squints at the car, half-raising his torch again as if almost tempted to take
another look, but then it fully hits him that the Morse messages he wrote down were nothing
more than the random flashings of a cars headlights during the sexual goings-on of a dogging
site. He turns and heads back towards the pub.)
JOHN: Sh...
(As he walks away from the hillside his phone trills a text alert. He gets out the phone and looks
at the message:
Henrys therapist currently in Cross Keys Pub

S
John writes a brief reply in capital letters, speaking it aloud as he types.)

JOHN: So?
(The reply comes almost instantly:
Interview her?
John answers:
WHY SHOULD I?
After a moment he gets another alert:
Downloading image ...
Shortly afterwards the image arrives and he opens it. Its a covertly-taken photograph of Louise
Mortimer standing at the bar. Shes pretty, and around Johns age. He looks at the photo for a
moment and then walks on.)
JOHN: Ooh, youre a bad man.
(Its not clear, however, whether hes talking to himself or to Sherlock.)
HENRYS HOUSE. Henry has sat back down on the sofa and has wrapped the duvet around
himself. The television is on nearby but he is dozing and not paying attention to it. He wakes a
little and looks out in the dark garden again, his eyes tired and heavy, then he turns to look at
the TV. An old black and white film is showing several dogs running around somewhere dark
and spooky-looking. Henry quickly changes the channel to a less threatening film that looks as
if its set in a rural village during the 1940s.
Suddenly the security lights outside the house come on. Henry looks anxiously into the garden
but can see nothing moving in the bright lights. A few seconds later the lights fade out again.
Henry turns his head away and instantly unseen by him something moves quickly across the
garden near the back fence. Henry changes the TV channel again and picks the worst possible
choice as a wolf snarls straight into the camera while a woman screams in terror offscreen.
Recoiling in annoyed frustration, Henry turns off the TV. Instantly the security lights come on
again. There still appears to be nothing out there but Henry gets up and walks closer to the
glass doors. Just as the lights begin to fade again, a huge shape flicks across the garden at the
far end. It moves so fast that its impossible to see what it is, except that it appears to be fairly
low to the ground. Henry recoils in horror and looks across to a small cabinet on the other side
of the room. He hesitates, almost afraid to move, but then runs across and scrabbles in the
cabinet before pulling out a old-looking pistol. Panting in terror, he turns and looks out into the
dark garden again and then, in a move that has every viewer yelling at the screen, Never go
nearer to the danger, you idiot! he walks slowly towards the glass doors. Just as he has almost
got his nose pressed to the glass the lights blaze again and a massive shape, most definitely

217
looking like the head of a huge dog, slams against the glass on the other side and then
immediately vanishes again. Screaming and wailing in panic, Henry stumbles back and aims his
pistol at the glass. The lights fade out again. Henry sobs and a couple of seconds later the lights
flash on yet again. His eyes rake over the garden but theres nothing to be seen. The lights fade
one more time and by now Henry has sunk to the floor, his hands over his face while he sobs in
absolute terror.
CROSS KEYS INN. John is sitting at a table in the pub with Louise Mortimer. They are chatting
and laughing.
MORTIMER (giggling): Thats so mean!
(John picks up a half-empty wine bottle from the table.)
JOHN: Um, more wine, Doctor?
MORTIMER: Are you trying to get me drunk, Doctor?
JOHN: The thought never occurred! (He refills her glass.)
MORTIMER: Because a while ago I thought you were chatting me up.
JOHN (refilling his own glass): Ooh! Where did I go wrong?
MORTIMER: When you started asking me about my patients.
JOHN: Well, you see, I am one of Henrys oldest friends.
MORTIMER: Yeah, and hes one of my patients, so I cant talk about him.
JOHN: Mmm.
MORTIMER: Although he has told me about all his oldest friends. (She looks at him
thoughtfully.) Which one are you?
JOHN (hopefully): A new one?
(She scoffs.)
JOHN: Okay, what about his father? He wasnt one of your patients. Wasnt he some sort of
conspiracy nutter ... (he quickly corrects himself) ... theorist?
MORTIMER: Youre only a nutter if youre wrong.
JOHN: Mmm. And was he wrong?
MORTIMER: I should think so!
JOHN: But he got fixated on Baskerville, didnt he? With what they were doing in there ...
Couldnt Henry have gone the same way, started imagining a hound?
(Louise looks at him pointedly.)
MORTIMER: Why dyou think Im going to talk about this?!
JOHN (laughing in acknowledgement of her seeing through him): Because I think youre worried
about him, and because Im a doctor too ...
(His face becomes more serious.)
JOHN: ... and because I have another friend who might be having the same problem.
(They lock eyes for a long moment and finally Louise sighs. She has apparently decided to tell
him more than she really ought to ... but before she can even begin a hand claps down onto
Johns shoulder from behind him. John looks round and sees Bob Frankland grinning down at
him.)
FRANKLAND: Doctor Watson!
JOHN (unhappily): Hi.
FRANKLAND (to Louise): Hello. (To John) Hows the investigation going?
JOHN (doing everything but roll his eyes in dismay): Hello.
MORTIMER: What? Investigation?
FRANKLAND: Didnt you know? Dont you read the blog? Sherlock Holmes!
JOHN: Its ...
MORTIMER: Sherlock who?
JOHN: No, its ...
FRANKLAND: Private detective! (He claps John on the shoulder again.) This is his PA!
JOHN: PA?
FRANKLAND: Well, live-in PA.
JOHN: Perfect(!)
MORTIMER: Live-in.
JOHN: This is Doctor Mortimer, Henrys therapist.
FRANKLAND: Oh, hello. (He shakes hands with her.) Bob Frankland.
(He turns back to John. As he speaks, Louise is already twisting on her chair to take her coat off
the back.)
FRANKLAND: Listen, tell Sherlock Ive been keeping an eye on Stapleton. Any time he wants a
little chat ... right?

218
JOHN: Mmm.
(Frankland laughs heartily, claps John on the shoulder yet again and then walks away. John
looks at Louise and realises that she has got her coat in her hands.)
JOHN: Oh.
MORTIMER: Why dont you buy him a drink? I think he likes you.
(She stands up and leaves. John sighs.)
DAY TIME. THE MOORS. Sherlock is back on the stony outcrop again, staring towards
Baskerville. His eyes flick between the complex and Dewers Hollow, then he turns and looks
back towards Grimpen Village.
HENRYS HOUSE. Henry goes to the door at the sound of a knock. As soon as he opens it
Sherlock surges though, being loudly cheerful.
SHERLOCK: Morning!
(He seems about to head for the kitchen but suddenly turns around and clasps Henry by the
shoulders.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, how are you feeling?
(Henry looks terrible. Sherlock ducks his head down to get a better look into his face.)
HENRY (exhaustedly): Im ... I didnt sleep very well.
SHERLOCK: Thats a shame. Shall I make you some coffee? (He looks up at the ceiling above
the door and points.) Oh look, youve got damp!
(He grins falsely at him until Henry turns his head to look at the ceiling, then drops the smile
and turns and walks away towards the kitchen. Hurrying over to the cupboards, he starts
opening and closing each one rapidly. Finally he finds the metal jar that hes looking for and
takes it out, rummaging inside it while he elbows the cupboard door closed. Tucking something
from the jar inside his coat, he goes over to the sink and picks up a couple of mugs, taking
them over to the central island just as Henry tiredly wanders in.)
HENRY: Listen ... last night.
(Sherlock gives him that horrifying attempt at a friendly smile while he takes the top off the
coffee tin.)
HENRY: Why did you say you hadnt seen anything? I mean, I only saw the hound for a minute,
but...
(Sherlock has been dumping spoonfuls of coffee into the mugs without even looking, his eyes
locked on Henrys, and now he slams the coffee tin down onto the surface and steps closer to
him, his eyes back to their normal intensity.)
SHERLOCK: Hound.
HENRY: What?
SHERLOCK: Why do you call it a hound? Why a hound?
HENRY: Why what do you mean?
SHERLOCK: Its odd, isnt it? Strange choice of words archaic. Its why I took the case. Mr
Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound. Why say hound?
HENRY: I dont know! I ...
SHERLOCK: Actually, Id better skip the coffee.
(He flares out of the kitchen. Henry sighs wearily.)
Later, Sherlock is walking back through the village but stops when he sees John in the church
graveyard, sitting on the steps of a war memorial and looking through the notes in his
notebook. Sherlock goes through the kissing gate [shut up, my imagination ...] and walks along
the path towards John, who looks up as he hears him approach. Johns expression becomes
uncomfortable as he tucks his notebook into his pocket. Grimacing briefly, Sherlock stops in
front of him, also looking awkward.
SHERLOCK: Did you, er, get anywhere with that Morse code?
JOHN (stepping down): No.
(He starts to walk away.)
SHERLOCK: U, M, Q, R, A, wasnt it?
(John keeps walking and Sherlock follows along behind him. He voices the initials as a word.)
SHERLOCK: UMQRA.
JOHN: Nothing.
(In Sherlocks mind, he puts full stops in between the letters but still voices it as a word.)
SHERLOCK: U.M.Q...
JOHN: Look, forget it. Its ... I thought I was on to something. I wasnt.

219
SHERLOCK: Sure?
JOHN: Yeah.
SHERLOCK: How about Louise Mortimer? Did you get anywhere with her?
JOHN: No.
SHERLOCK: Too bad. Did you get any information?
(John smiles briefly and glances over his shoulder but still keeps walking.)
JOHN: You being funny now?
SHERLOCK: Thought it might break the ice a bit.
JOHN: Funny doesnt suit you. Id stick to ice.
(Sherlock looks at Johns retreating back, his face full of pain.)
SHERLOCK: John ...
JOHN: Its fine.
SHERLOCK: No, wait. What happened last night ... Something happened to me; something Ive
not really experienced before ...
JOHN: Yes, you said: fear. Sherlock Holmes got scared. You said.
(Sherlock catches him up, takes hold of his arm and pulls him round to face him.)
SHERLOCK: No-no-no, it was more than that, John. It was doubt. I felt doubt. Ive always been
able to trust my senses, the evidence of my own eyes, until last night.
JOHN: You cant actually believe that you saw some kind of monster.
SHERLOCK: No, I cant believe that. (He grins bitterly for a moment.) But I did see it, so the
question is: how? How?
JOHN: Yes. Yeah, right, good. So youve got something to go on, then? Good luck with that.
(He turns and starts to walk away again. Sherlock turns and calls after him.)
SHERLOCK: Listen, what I said before, John. I meant it.
(John stops and turns back to face him.)
SHERLOCK: I dont have friends.
(He bites his lip briefly.)
SHERLOCK: Ive just got one.
(John looks away as he takes in that statement for a moment, then he nods briefly and glances
back at Sherlock.)
JOHN: Right.
(He turns and walks away again. Sherlock looks down, then instantly raises his head again and
his eyes begin to flicker in realisation of something.)
SHERLOCK: John? John!
(He starts to chase after him.)
SHERLOCK: You are amazing! You are fantastic!
JOHN (not stopping): Yes, all right! You dont have to overdo it.
SHERLOCK (catching up and overtaking him, then walking backwards in front of him): Youve
never been the most luminous of people, but as a conductor of light you are unbeatable.
JOHN: Cheers. ... What?
(Sherlock turns round and walks beside him, taking out his own notebook and starting to write
in it.)
SHERLOCK: Some people who arent geniuses have an amazing ability to stimulate it in others.
JOHN: Hang on you were saying Sorry a minute ago. Dont spoil it. Go on: what have I done
thats so bloody stimulating?
(Sherlock stops just outside the pub door and turns back to John, showing what he has just
written in his notebook:
HOUND
JOHN: Yeah?
SHERLOCK (pulling the notebook back and writing in it again): But what if its not a word? What
if it is individual letters?
(He shows him the page of the notebook again, which now reads:
H.O.U.N.D.
JOHN: You think its an acronym?

SHERLOCK (putting his notebook away): Absolutely no idea but ...
(He turns towards the pub door and trails off when he sees a familiar figure standing inside at
the bar. Wearing grey trousers and a grey shirt with a light jacket over the top, heavily

220
suntanned and with sunglasses on, Detective Inspector Lestrade has his hands in his trouser
pockets and is looking the absolute epitome of casual drop-dead gorgeousness. Fandoms
underwear simultaneously explodes worldwide and hello, Inspector, have you come to take
down my particulars? Your transcriber sticks her head into a bucket of cold water for a minute
and then gets back to work as Sherlock storms into the pub.)
SHERLOCK: What the hell are you doing here?
LESTRADE: Well, nice to see you too(!) Im on holiday, would you believe?
SHERLOCK: No, I wouldnt.
LESTRADE (taking off his sunglasses as John walks over to the bar): Hullo, John.
JOHN: Greg!
LESTRADE: I heard you were in the area. What are you up to? You after this Hound of Hell like
on the telly?
SHERLOCK: Im waiting for an explanation, Inspector. Why are you here?
LESTRADE: Ive told you: Im on holiday.
SHERLOCK: Youre brown as a nut. Youre clearly just back from your holidays.
LESTRADE (trying to look nonchalant): Yeah, well I fancied another one.
SHERLOCK: Oh, this is Mycroft, isnt it?
LESTRADE: No, look ...
SHERLOCK: Of course it is! One mention of Baskerville and he sends down my handler to ... to
spy on me incognito. Is that why youre calling yourself Greg?
JOHN: Thats his name.
SHERLOCK (frowning): Is it?
LESTRADE: Yes if youd ever bothered to find out. Look, Im not your handler ... (he turns
away to pick up his pint from the bar) ... and I dont just do what your brother tells me.
JOHN: Actually, you could be just the man we want.
SHERLOCK: Why?
JOHN: Well, Ive not been idle, Sherlock. (He rummages in his trouser pocket.) I think I might
have found something.
(He shows Sherlock the sales invoice from Undershaw Meat Supplies which he stole off the bar
while he was checking in.)
JOHN: Here. Didnt know if it was relevant; starting to look like it might be. That is an awful lot
of meat for a vegetarian restaurant.
SHERLOCK: Excellent.
JOHN (looking at Greg): Nice scary inspector from Scotland Yard who can put in a few calls
might come in very handy.
(Sherlock and Greg exchange a look, and John slaps his hand down on the bell on top of the
bar.)
JOHN: Shop!
Later, in the small Snug next to the bar, Greg is sitting at a table looking through paperwork
presumably previous invoices from Undershaw while Gary the manager and Billy the chef sit
at the other side of the table looking at him anxiously. Nearby, Sherlock has poured a cup of
coffee from a filter machine and is stirring it. He ostentatiously taps the drips off the spoon into
the cup and then picks it up and carries it over to John, offering it to him.
JOHN: Whats this?
SHERLOCK: Coffee. I made coffee.
JOHN: You never make coffee.
SHERLOCK: I just did. Dont you want it?
JOHN: You dont have to keep apologising.
(Sherlock looks away with a hurt expression on his face. John relents and takes the cup and
saucer.)
JOHN: Thanks.
(Sherlock smiles happily. John takes a mouthful and grimaces.)
JOHN: Mm. I dont take sugar ...
(The hurt expression comes back onto Sherlocks face as he looks away again. Hes like a puppy
whose owner has just told him off for chewing his slippers. John looks at his face and feels that
he has no choice but to take a longer drink from the cup.)
LESTRADE: These records go back nearly two months.
(Grimacing at the taste, John puts the cup back into the saucer and looks at Sherlock.)
JOHN: Thats nice. Thats good.
(He turns away to put the drink down while Greg continues interrogating Gary and Billy.)

221
LESTRADE: Is that when you had the idea, after the TV show went out?
BILLY: Its me. It was me. (He turns to his partner.) Im sorry, Gary I couldnt help it. I had a
bacon sandwich at Cals wedding and one thing just led to another ...
(Sherlock grins behind him. Greg is equally disbelieving.)
LESTRADE: Nice try.
GARY: Look, we were just trying to give things a bit of a boost, you know? A great big dog run
wild up on the moor it was heaven-sent. It was like us having our own Loch Ness Monster.
LESTRADE: Where do you keep it?
GARY: Theres an old mineshaft. Its not too far. It was all right there.
SHERLOCK: Was?
GARY (sighing): We couldnt control the bloody thing. It was vicious. (He sighs again.) And
then, a month ago, Billy took him to the vet and, er ... you know.
JOHN: Its dead?
GARY: Put down.
BILLY: Yeah. No choice. So its over.
GARY: It was just a joke, you know?
LESTRADE: Yeah, hilarious(!)
(He stands up and looks down at them angrily.)
LESTRADE: Youve nearly driven a man out of his mind.
(He walks out of the room. John follows him. Sherlock watches him go, then peers into Johns
coffee cup before following. John follows Greg across the bar and out of the pub.)
JOHN: You know hes actually pleased youre here?
(Greg throws him a disbelieving look.)
JOHN: Secretly pleased.
LESTRADE: Is he? Thats nice(!) I suppose he likes having all the same faces back together.
Appeals to his ... his ...
(He stops and searches for the right word. John provides an appropriate suggestion.)
JOHN: ... Aspergers?
(Sherlock comes out of the pub and glowers at John, having heard the last word.)
LESTRADE: So, you believe him about having the dog destroyed?
SHERLOCK: No reason not to.
LESTRADE: Well, hopefully theres no harm done. Not quite sure what Id charge him with
anyway. Ill have a word with the local Force.
(He nods to the boys.)
LESTRADE: Right, thats that, then. Catch you later. (He smiles.) Im enjoying this! Its nice to
get London out of your lungs!
(John watches him walk away, then turns to Sherlock.)
JOHN: So that was their dog that people saw out on the moor?
SHERLOCK: Looks like it.
JOHN: But that wasnt what you saw. That wasnt just an ordinary dog.
SHERLOCK: No. (His gaze become distant.) It was immense, had burning red eyes and it was
glowing, John. Its whole body was glowing.
(He shudders, shaking off the memory, then turns and walks towards the car park.)
SHERLOCK: Ive got a theory but I need to get back into Baskerville to test it.
JOHN: How? Cant pull off the ID trick again.
SHERLOCK: Might not have to.
(He has just taken out his phone and hit a speed dial and now he lifts the phone to his ear.)
SHERLOCK (insincerely into phone): Hello, brother dear. How are you?
BASKERVILLE. After many generic scenes of some of the scientific experiments being conducted
at the facility, none of which your humble transcriber can be bothered to type out [buy the DVD
and support your favourite production team!], Doctor Stapleton can be seen handling a fluffy
white bunny inside a large clear plastic dome. At the entrance gates, the Land Rover
approaches and stops. An armed security man goes over to Sherlocks side while the dog
handler and sniffer dog also approach.
SECURITY GUARD: Afternoon, sir. If you could turn the engine off.
(Sherlock hands over his ID pass and switches the car off.)
SECURITY GUARD: Thank you.
(As he goes over to the gate room to swipe the card and other soldiers check the vehicle over
from the outside, Sherlock speaks quietly to John.)
SHERLOCK: I need to see Major Barrymore as soon as we get inside.

222
JOHN: Right.
SHERLOCK: Which means youll have to start the search for the hound.
JOHN: Okay.
SHERLOCK: In the labs; Stapletons first.
(The guard brings back the ID card and hands it over.)
SHERLOCK (quietly to John): Could be dangerous.
(John smiles momentarily. The gate slides open and Sherlock starts the car and drives onto the
base.)
LATER. MAJOR BARRYMORES OFFICE. The major is talking snarkily to Sherlock.

BARRYMORE: Oh, you know Id love to. Id love to give you unlimited access to this place. Why
not?(!)
SHERLOCK: Its a simple enough request, Major.
BARRYMORE: Ive never heard of anything so bizarre.
SHERLOCK: Youre to give me twenty-four hours. Its what Ive ... (he pauses momentarily) ...
negotiated.
BARRYMORE (sternly): Not a second more. I may have to comply with this order but I dont
have to like it.
(He swings around to his computer on the desk behind him as Sherlock starts to leave the
office.)
BARRYMORE: I dont know what you expect to find here anyway.
SHERLOCK (turning back): Perhaps the truth.
BARRYMORE (looking round again): About what? Oh, I see. The big coat should have told me.
(Sherlock frowns.)
BARRYMORE: Youre one of the conspiracy lot, arent you?
(He grins as Sherlock rolls his eyes.)
BARRYMORE: Well, then, go ahead, seek them out: the monsters, the death rays, the aliens.
SHERLOCK (nonchalantly): Have you got any of those?
(Now its Barrymores turn to roll his eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, just wondering.
BARRYMORE (leaning forward secretively): A couple. Crash landed here in the sixties.
(Sarcastically) We call them Abbott and Costello.
(He straightens up and turns back to his computer.)
BARRYMORE: Good luck, Mr Holmes.
HENRYS HOUSE. Henry is in the sitting room holding a framed photograph of himself when he
was about five years old standing in between his parents. As he sits clutching the photograph
he gazes into the distance with a lost expression on his face but gradually exhaustion begins to
claim him and his eyelids start to droop. Eventually his eyes close completely and immediately
the red glowing eyes of the hound flash in his mind. Gasping in horror, Henry opens his eyes
again, and then wails in anguish.
HENRY: Oh, God!
(Sobbing, he clutches at his head and then buries his face in his hands and weeps in despair.)
BASKERVILLE. The lift doors open into the first lab that the boys visited but this time only John
comes out of the elevator. Walking forward he sees that there are only two scientists in the
room and even they are leaving through a side door. One of them turns off the main overhead
lights as he goes, which leaves the room lit far more dimly by a few arc lights on stands which
are dotted around, and by the screens of some computers. John looks around a little anxiously
when he realises how spooky and quiet it is, then he walks towards a door at the far end of the
lab, the door which Doctor Frankland came out of on the first occasion that they met him. He
has a security pass in his pocket and he takes it out and swipes it through the reader, then pulls
the door open and goes inside, having apparently ignored or been too BAMF to care about
the handwritten notice stuck on the outside which reads:
KEEP OUT
UNLESS YOU WANT
A COLD!
He walks through the decontamination zone to the door at the far end and taps a finger on the
glass window in the door. When nobody replies he pushes the door open and goes into a room

223
which has a glass-walled section on the left hand side. Theres a glass-fronted cage inside the
sealed section but there doesnt appear to be anything inside. In front of him is a desk with
equipment, folders, a phone and various other things on it, and above the desk are small plastic
tubes coming out of the wall and dials which indicate that these tubes dispense various gases.
John opens the door of a small cupboard set into the desk but finds nothing of interest and so
continues looking around. On the right hand side of the room are large metal pipes which
presumably also carry gases. One of them is leaking slightly.
John peers around a little longer and then comes out of the room and goes back through the
decontamination zone and into the lab. Just to his right is a large arc light on a stand. As John
turns to his right to close the door behind him, the device lights up and nine bright bulbs shine
straight into his eyes. He squinches his eyes shut and turns his head away, grimacing at the
pain.
JOHN: Oh, no! Jesus! Ow!
(Opening his eyes a little, he squints and tries to see into the room. All the other lights in the
room appear to have come on as well and with his own vision blanked out by the arc lights
theres a wall of whiteness all around him. Just then a loud insistent alarm begins to blare into
the room. John groans and covers his ears, completely overwhelmed by the bright light, lack of
vision and the noise. Grimacing, he starts to make his way across the lab towards the lift,
holding his hand up in front of his eyes as the after-image of the arc lights keeps blanking out
his vision. Finally reaching the other end of the lab, he pulls out the ID card and swipes it
through the reader. It whines and tells him ACCESS DENIED. He stares in disbelief and swipes
the card again but it whines and gives him the same message. Holding one hand to an ear while
the alarm continues to blare, he tries once more.)
JOHN: Come on.
(The same whine and message is repeated. John glares at it in exasperation and at that
moment all the lights go out and the alarm drones into silence. The room is now under
emergency lighting only, which is dark red and barely illuminates the area.)
JOHN (under his breath): What the f...?
(He scrabbles in his pocket for his flashlight and switches it on, although its beam isnt very
helpful against the continued after-image of the arc lights which is still affecting his retinas. He
calls out.)
JOHN: Hello?
(He screws his eyes shut for a moment in a failed attempt to clear the after-images. As he
opens his eyes again and peers through the bright dots, a shadow seems to flicker across the
room some distance away. John blinks and looks around the room, the after-images still
frustrating his ability to see anything clearly. He lowers his head into his hand and rubs his eyes
for a few seconds, then raises his head again, realising how ominously quiet it now is in the lab.
But that doesnt last long, because something rattles to his right. He walks forward cautiously,
looking a little anxiously at the row of large cages which he now realises are all covered with
sheeting which obscures their contents. The rattle sounds again. John walks slowly to the first
of the cages, turning once to check behind him, then grabs hold of the sheeting and pulls it
back to show that the first cage is empty. Pulling the sheet back down again, he walks to the
next cage as something clinks near the lift doors. He swings around to look and shines his torch
in that direction but can see nothing. He turns again and grabs the sheet over the second cage,
tossing that back. Again the cage is empty, and the door is open. He moves on to the third cage
and throws back the sheet. The monkey inside hurls itself at him, screaming as it grabs at the
bars. John drops the sheet and stumbles back several paces, breathing heavily. He walks to the
final cage and looks at it, then slowly his gaze is pulled down to the bottom of the bars where
the sheeting has been pushed back a little. The door of the cage is slightly ajar and the bottom
of it has been bent back by something which must be incredibly strong. As John stares at the
bent bars in disbelief, a low savage growl sounds behind him. John spins around, his eyes going
wide as he shines his flashlight around but he can see nothing. He sees the nearby door to the
Cold Lab and walks briskly over to it, taking out his ID card and swiping it. The reader whines
its ACCESS DENIED alert.)
JOHN: No, come on, come on.
(He swipes the card again. Again it refuses to open the door. He stares in anguish, then pulls
his mobile out of his pocket while shining his light around the room. He hits the speed dial and
holds the phone to his ear as it begins to ring out and continues to ring.)
JOHN (under his breath): No, you ... Dont be ridiculous, pick up.
(Eventually he gives up and switches off the phone.)
JOHN (in a whisper): Oh, dammit!

224
(Putting the phone back in his pocket he looks across the room determinedly.)
JOHN (softly): Right.
(Trying to shine his torch in all directions at once and making his way cautiously around all the
workstations and islands, he hurries as quickly as he can towards the side door through which
the scientists left earlier. As he goes, the distinctive sound of claws on floor tiles skitters across
the room.)
JOHN (under his breath): Oh sh...
(Ducking low, he hurries to the door and takes out his card again.)
JOHN (in a whisper): Okay ...
(As he reaches towards the card reader, the claws trot across the floor to his right, and then
something snarls. John turns and stares, breathing heavily, as there are more sounds nearby
claws on the floor tiles, equipment being pushed aside, and then a deep ominous growl. John
shoves the card back into his pocket and then claps his hand over his mouth to dampen his own
panicked breathing while the growl rumbles on. As the growl finally falls silent, John makes a
break for it and races across the room, running towards the cages and pulling open the door of
one of the empty ones before scrambling inside, slamming the door shut and bolting it and then
reaching through the bars and pulling the sheet down over the cage. Elsewhere in the lab, the
whatever-it-is snarls as John retreats from the door and squats down against the side bars,
wrapping his hand around his mouth again and trying not to sob as the creature growls again.
Suddenly Johns phone starts to ring. Gasping, he scrabbles in his pocket to retrieve it. He
answers it on the second ring and holds it up towards his mouth. He keeps his voice as soft as
he possibly can but even at such a low volume his terror is evident.)
JOHN (softly): Its here. Its in here with me.
SHERLOCK (over phone): Where are you?
JOHN (softly): Get me out, Sherlock. You have got to get me out. The big lab: the first lab that
we saw.
(He breathes heavily. Outside, the creature growls. John whines loudly in terror and claps his
hand over his mouth again.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): John? John?
JOHN (lowering his hand and keeping his voice no more than a whisper): Now, Sherlock. Please.
SHERLOCK (over phone): All right, Ill find you. Keep talking.
JOHN (softly): I cant. Itll hear me.
SHERLOCK (over phone): Keep talking. What are you seeing?
(Throughout the conversation John has been peering through the small gap in the sheeting but
the room is so dimly lit that he hasnt been able to see anything.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): John?
(The creature snarls again.)
JOHN (softly): Yes, Im here.
SHERLOCK (insistently, over phone): What can you see?
(Getting onto his knees, John crawls closer to the gap in the sheeting, trying to keep his
terrified breathing under control.)
JOHN (softly): I dont know. I dont know, but I can hear it, though.
(The creature growls loudly.)
JOHN (softly, terrified): Did you hear that?
SHERLOCK (over phone): Stay calm, stay calm. Can you see it?
(John peers into the gloom.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): Can you see it?
JOHN (quietly): No. I can...
(He trails off, then slowly straightens up, retreats backwards and sits back against the side bars
while his face fills with absolute horror.)
JOHN (in a whisper): I can see it.
(He stares ahead of himself, his eyes full of dread as a shadow begins to move on the other side
of the sheeting.)
JOHN (flatly): Its here.
(The shadow moves closer as the creature growls once more.)
JOHN (flatly): Its here.
(The shadow moves closer ... and then the sheeting is tugged upwards and the lights come on
in the lab at the same moment that Sherlocks face appears on the other side of the cage,
looking down anxiously at John as he pulls open the door and goes inside.)
SHERLOCK (worriedly): Are you all right?

225
(Johns eyes widen in utter bewilderment as Sherlock bends down to him and puts a hand onto
his shoulder.)
SHERLOCK: John ...
JOHN: Jesus Christ ...
(He grabs the bars and pulls himself to his feet, hurrying out of the cage and stuffing his phone
away as he turns back to his friend.)
JOHN (still breathless and panic-stricken): It was the hound, Sherlock. It was here. I swear it,
Sherlock. It must ...
(He looks around the lab which now fully illuminated shows that theres nowhere that a
large monster can be hiding.)
JOHN: It must ...
(His voice becomes high-pitched.)
JOHN: Did ... did ... did you see it? You must have!
(Sherlock holds out a placatory hand towards him.)
SHERLOCK: Its all right. Its okay now.
JOHN (high-pitched, frantic and hysterical): NO ITS NOT! ITS NOT OKAY! I saw it. I was
wrong!
(Sherlock shrugs while John breathes heavily.)
SHERLOCK: Well, lets not jump to conclusions.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: What did you see?
JOHN: I told you: I saw the hound.
SHERLOCK: Huge; red eyes?
JOHN: Yes.
SHERLOCK: Glowing?
JOHN: Yeah.
SHERLOCK: No.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: I made up the bit about glowing. You saw what you expected to see because I told
you. You have been drugged. We have all been drugged.
JOHN: Drugged?
SHERLOCK: Can you walk?
JOHN (his voice shaky): Course I can walk.
SHERLOCK: Come on, then. Its time to lay this ghost.
(He turns and heads for the door. Still trying to catch his breath, John looks around the lab
again, then stumbles after Sherlock.)
In a small room full of cages, Doctor Stapleton is examing a fluffy white rabbit on a metal table.
She looks up when Sherlock comes through the door, followed by John.
STAPLETON: Oh. Back again? Whats on your mind this time?
SHERLOCK: Murder, Doctor Stapleton. Refined, cold-blooded murder.
(He reaches back and turns off the light switch by the door. The limited lighting coming from
the window at the end of the room is just enough to show that the rabbit is brightly glowing
green. Sherlock turns the lights back on again.)
SHERLOCK: Will you tell little Kirsty what happened to Bluebell or shall I?
(He smiles unpleasantly at her. She sighs.)
STAPLETON: Okay. What do you want?
SHERLOCK: Can I borrow your microscope?
LATER. In a larger lab, Sherlock has taken off his coat and is sitting at a bench and gazing into
a microscope. Unhappy with what hes seeing, he turns away from the scope and crushes
something which looks crystalline into smaller pieces with a little hammer. Time passes and he
varies between sitting with his back to the microscope, his hands folded in the prayer position in
front of him as he thinks, or gazing into the scope, or scribbling chemical formulae onto the
desk with different coloured marker pens. Nearby, John sits on a stool with his head propped on
his hand, gazing blankly into space. Doctor Stapleton is standing near him.
STAPLETON: Are you sure youre okay?
(John looks up at her, blinking.)
STAPLETON: You look very peaky.
JOHN: No, Im all right.
STAPLETON: It was the GFP gene from a jellyfish, in case youre interested.

226
JOHN: What?
STAPLETON: In the rabbits.
JOHN: Mmm, right, yes.
STAPLETON (proudly): Aequoria Victoria, if you really want to know.
(John looks up at her.)
JOHN: Why?
STAPLETON: Why not? We dont ask questions like that here. It isnt done.
(A short distance from them, Sherlock looks increasingly irritated as he picks up another slide
and puts it under the microscope.)
STAPLETON: There was a mix-up, anyway. My daughter ended up with one of the lab
specimens, so poor Bluebell had to go.
JOHN (cynically): Your compassions overwhelming.
STAPLETON (mockingly): I know. I hate myself sometimes.
JOHN: So, come on then. You can trust me Im a doctor. What else have you got hidden away
up here?
(Exasperated, Sherlock takes out the slide again. Stapleton sighs.)
STAPLETON: Listen: if you can imagine it, someone is probably doing it somewhere. Of course
they are.
(Sherlock is staring intently at his latest slide, then his eyes slide across to a nearby read-out
on a screen.)
JOHN: And cloning?
STAPLETON: Yes, of course. Dolly the Sheep, remember?
JOHN: Human cloning?
STAPLETON: Why not?
JOHN: What about animals? Not sheep ... big animals.
STAPLETON: Size isnt a problem, not at all. The only limits are ethics and the law, and both
those things can be ... very flexible. But not here not at Baskerville.
(Furious, Sherlock stands up, snatches the latest slide out from under the scope and hurls it
against the nearest wall.)
SHERLOCK (livid): Its not there!
JOHN: Jesus!
SHERLOCK: Nothing there! Doesnt make any sense.
STAPLETON: What were you expecting to find?
SHERLOCK (pacing): A drug, of course. There has to be a drug a hallucinogenic or a deliriant
of some kind. Theres no trace of anything in the sugar.
JOHN: Sugar?
SHERLOCK: The sugar, yes. Its a simple process of elimination. I saw the hound saw it as my
imagination expected me to see it: a genetically engineered monster. But I knew I couldnt
believe the evidence of my own eyes, so there were seven possible reasons for it, the most
possible being narcotics. Henry Knight he saw it too but you didnt, John. You didnt see it.
Now, we have eaten and drunk exactly the same things since we got to Grimpen apart from one
thing: you dont take sugar in your coffee.
JOHN: I see. So ...
SHERLOCK: I took it from Henrys kitchen his sugar. (He glares down at the microscope.) Its
perfectly all right.
JOHN: But maybe its not a drug.
SHERLOCK: No, it has to be a drug.
(He has sat on the stool with his head buried in his hands. Now he lowers his hands a little but
keeps his head bowed and his eyes closed.)
SHERLOCK: But how did it get into our systems. How?
(Slowly he begins to raise his head, still keeping his eyes closed.)
SHERLOCK: There has to be something ...
(The word hound keeps drifting across his minds eye. He turns his head repeatedly as he tries
to follow the words inside his head.)
SHERLOCK: ... something ... ah, something ...
(His eyes open.)
SHERLOCK: ... something buried deep.
(Taking a sharp breath through his nose, he turns and points imperiously at Stapleton.)
SHERLOCK: Get out.
STAPLETON: What?
SHERLOCK: Get out. I need to go to my mind palace.

227
(John sags on his seat with an Oh, not again look.)

STAPLETON: Your what?
(Sherlock has already turned his head away again and is staring ahead of himself. John gets off
his stool and picks up his jacket.)
JOHN: Hes not gonna be doing much talking for a while. We may as well go.
(Sherlock is breathing deeply, focusing his thoughts. Stapleton follows John as he heads for the
door.)
STAPLETON: His what?
JOHN: Oh, his mind palace. Its a memory technique a sort of mental map. You plot a map
with a location it doesnt have to be a real place and then you deposit memories there that
... Theoretically, you can never forget anything; all you have to do is find your way back to it.
STAPLETON: So this imaginary location can be anything a house or a street.
JOHN: Yeah.
STAPLETON: But he said palace. He said it was a palace.
JOHN (looking back towards Sherlock for a moment): Yeah, well, he would, wouldnt he?
(He leads her out of the room.
Sherlock gazes ahead of himself, his mind turned inwards as he walks through his memories
unearthing everything he can recall in connection with the word Liberty. I could possibly do
much better justice to describing the visual process that we watch, but if you want this
transcript printed this side of the London Olympics, I need to get it finished and I may try to
come back and improve this section in the future. While Sherlock accesses different examples of
the word and finds them unsuitable, he physically flicks them away with his hands and pulls in
new variations before brushing those aside. The word hound creeps into his mind and drifts
across it as he temporarily gives up on Liberty and shifts to In, adding various letters onto
the word to form new ones like Inn, India, Ingolstadt [and Frankenstein fans sob] and
Indium atomic number = 49.
Flicking that line of thought away, he starts calling up images of large dogs, running through
various breeds and temporarily being distracted by the image of Elvis Presley starting to sing
Hound Dog. Irritated, he brushes that aside and tries to pull in all three words Liberty, In,
Hound simultaneously and suddenly his eyes snap open and he jolts three times as if hes
being repeatedly struck by lightning as the words finally crash into place:
Liberty,
Indiana
H.O.U.N.D.
He sinks back on his seat for a moment, then stands up and heads out of the lab.)
NIGHT TIME. THE MOORS. The hound howls and Henry races across the grass, his pistol in one
hand, terrified as the hound snarls behind him. Henry runs on, glancing back repeatedly as he
hears his pursuer gaining on him. Two red glowing eyes loom out of the darkness each time he
looks around, but now he suddenly seems to realise that he has a gun in his hand and he turns
and fires towards the eyes.
Glass shatters and Louise Mortimer screams and throws herself out of her chair in the sitting
room of Henrys house and cowers on the floor. Just beside her chair, the mirror on the wall has
shattered under the impact of the bullet which Henry just fired into it. Sobbing and cowering,
she looks up at Henry as he continues to aim at the mirror, his face blank, but now he comes
back to himself and looks at the pistol in horror.
HENRY: Oh my God.
(Louise continues to sob.)
HENRY: Oh my God. Oh my God. I am so ... I am so sorry. I am so sorry.
(He turns and runs from the room.)
BASKERVILLE. Stapleton leads Sherlock and John along a corridor and uses her card to swipe
them into the area leading to Major Barrymores office. As they go into the room, Sherlock
points back to the door they just came through.
SHERLOCK: John.
JOHN: Yeah, Im on it.
(He turns back to keep an eye on the door while Stapleton goes over to sit down at a
computer.)

228
SHERLOCK: Project HOUND. Must have read about it and stored it away. An experiment in a
CIA facility in Liberty, Indiana.
(He stands behind Stapleton while she types her User ID onto the computer, then adds her
password. A request to Enter Search String comes up and she looks up at Sherlock who
dictates the letters.)
SHERLOCK: H, O, U, N, D.
(She types in the letters and hits Enter. A message comes up saying NO ACCESS. CIA
Classified and requesting an authorisation code.)
STAPLETON: Thats as far as my access goes, Im afraid.
JOHN: Well, there must be an override and password.
STAPLETON: I imagine so, but thatd be Major Barrymores.
(Sherlock spins around and walks into Barrymores office.)
SHERLOCK: Password, password, password.
(Switching on the lights in the room he sits down at the desk.)
SHERLOCK: He sat here when he thought it up.
(Folding his hands in front of his mouth, he slowly spins a full circle on the chair, looking around
the office as he goes. Stapleton comes to the doorway.)
SHERLOCK: Describe him to me.
STAPLETON: Youve seen him.
SHERLOCK: But describe him.
STAPLETON: Er, hes a bloody martinet, a throw-back, the sort of man theyd have sent into
Suez.
SHERLOCK: Good, excellent. Old-fashioned, traditionalist; not the sort that would use his
childrens names as a password. (He gestures towards the childrens drawings pinned on the
board above the desk.) He loves his job; proud of it and this is work-related, so whats at eye
level?
(He rapidly scans around everything in the room without altering the angle of his eyes.)
SHERLOCK (gesturing to the right): Books. (Pointing to the left) Janes Defence Weekly bound
copies. (He looks to the right again and at the subject matter of some of the books on the
bookshelf.) Hannibal; Wellington; Rommel; Churchills History of the English-Speaking Peoples
all four volumes.
(He stands up and looks at a bronze bust on a shelf.)
SHERLOCK: Churchill well, hes fond of Churchill. (He looks back to the bookcases again.)
Copy of The Downing Street Years; one, two, three, four, five separate biographies of
Thatcher.
(He looks down to a framed photograph on the desk of a man in uniform standing with his
teenage son.)
SHERLOCK: Mid 1980s at a guess. Father and son: Barrymore senior. (Looking at the uniform
of the older man) Medals: Distinguished Service Order.
(He looks around to John who has come to the office door.)
JOHN: That date? Id say Falklands veteran.
SHERLOCK: Right. So Thatchers looking a more likely bet than Churchill.
(He walks out of the office and heads back towards the computer.)
STAPLETON (following him): So thats the password?
SHERLOCK: No. With a man like Major Barrymore, only first name terms would do.
(Leaning down to the keyboard, he starts to type Margaret Thatchers first name into the Auth
code box but stops when he reaches the penultimate letter. Its possible that the password is
limited to seven letters, or he may have already realised that its not the correct password. He
narrows his eyes and deletes everything back to the first letter, then retypes it as Maggie.
Looking into the screen and gritting his teeth ever so slightly, he hits Enter. The computer
beeps happily and announces OVERRIDE 300/421 ACCEPTED. Loading ...
John comes over from the door to look at the screen. After a slight pause information begins to
stream across the screen as everything related to Project H.O.U.N.D. becomes available.
Sherlocks concentration becomes intense while he takes it all in, focusing on certain phrases
like extreme suggestibility, fear and stimulus, conditioned terror, aerosol dispersal. A
photograph comes up of the project team posing happily together and he identifies the five
project leaders amongst the larger group: Elaine Dyson, Mary Uslowski, Rick Nader, Jack
OMara and Leonard Hansen. Clearing the photo from the screen he rearranges the names into
another order:

229
Leonard Hansen
Jack OMara
Mary Uslowski
Rick Nader
Elaine Dyson
Standing beside him, Doctor Stapleton finally begins to understand.)

STAPLETON: HOUND.
(She stares in growing horror at the screen as more information from the project appears and
words and phrases are highlighted such as Paranoia, Severe frontal lobe damage, Blood-
brain, Gross cranial trauma, Dangerous acceleration, Multiple homicide, accompanied by
photographs of some of the subjects of the project screaming insanely.)
SHERLOCK (still scanning the information as it flows across the screen): Project HOUND: a new
deliriant drug which rendered its users incredibly suggestible. They wanted to use it as an anti-
personnel weapon to totally disorientate the enemy using fear and stimulus; but they shut it
down and hid it away in 1986.
STAPLETON: Because of what it did to the subjects they tested it on.
SHERLOCK: And what they did to others. Prolonged exposure drove them insane made them
almost uncontrollably aggressive.
JOHN: So someones been doing it again carrying on the experiments?
SHERLOCK: Attempting to refine it, perhaps, for the last twenty years.
STAPLETON: Who?
(John nods at the screen, indicating the names of the project leaders.)
JOHN: Those names mean anything to you?
STAPLETON: No, not a thing.
SHERLOCK (sighing): Five principal scientists, twenty years ago.
(He pulls up the photograph of the team and begins zooming in on individuals within it. The
closer footage shows that they are all wearing identical sweatshirts. Looming out of a diamond
pattern in the centre of the sweatshirts is a large snarling wolfs head and the legend
H.O.U.N.D. is printed underneath. There is some smaller text underneath but its not yet clear
what it says. Sherlock continues to zoom in and out of the photo to look more closely at the
faces.)
SHERLOCK: Maybe our friends somewhere in the back of the picture someone who was old
enough to be there at the time of the experiments in 1986 ...
(He stops when he sees a face he recognises, and rolls his eyes a little as he realises the truth.)
SHERLOCK: Maybe somebody who says cell phone because of time spent in America. You
remember, John?
JOHN: Mmm-hmm.
(Brief flashback to Doctor Frankland giving a card to Sherlock and saying, Heres my, er, cell
number.)
SHERLOCK: He gave us his number in case we needed him.
STAPLETON (staring at the photo on the screen): Oh my God. Bob Frankland. But Bob doesnt
even work on ... I mean, hes a virologist. This was chemical warfare.
SHERLOCK: Its where he started, though ... and hes never lost the certainty, the obsession
that that drug really could work. Nice of him to give us his number. (He reaches into his pocket
and takes out Franklands card.) Lets arrange a little meeting.
(He walks away from the computer. John walks closer to it and looks at the last image a very
tight close-up of one of the sweatshirts. Stitched below the H.O.U.N.D. legend is the name of
the American town and state where the project was based: Liberty, In.
Just then Johns phone begins to ring. He digs it out of his pocket and frowns at the number on
the screen, apparently not recognising it. He answers.)
JOHN: Hello?
(Initially the only sound he can hear is a woman crying.)
JOHN: Whos this?
MORTIMER (over the phone): Youve got to find Henry.
(John looks round to Sherlock.)
JOHN: Its Louise Mortimer. (Into phone) Louise, whats wrong?
MORTIMER (tearfully): Henry was ... was remembering; then ... he tried ...
(She gasps.)

230
MORTIMER: Hes got a gun. He went for the gun and tried to ...
JOHN: What?
(She breaks down in tears again.)
MORTIMER: Hes gone. Youve got to stop him. I dont know what he might do.
JOHN: Where-where are you?
MORTIMER: His house. Im okay, Im okay.
JOHN: Right: stay there. Well get someone to you, okay?
(Lowering his phone, he begins to text.)
SHERLOCK: Henry?
JOHN: Hes attacked her.
SHERLOCK: Gone?
JOHN: Mmm.
SHERLOCK (hitting a speed dial on his own phone): Theres only one place hell go to: back to
where it all started. (Into phone) Lestrade. Get to the Hollow. ... Dewers Hollow, now. And
bring a gun.
With the pistol still in his hand, Henry is walking briskly across the moors towards the woods
surrounding Dewers Hollow. Some distance behind him, Sherlock and John race across the
terrain in the Land Rover. Unaware of this, Henry continues onwards, stopping momentarily to
stare tearfully at the woods ahead of him, but then he continues onwards. Not long afterwards
Sherlock pulls up presumably where the woods begin and he and John get out and continue on
foot. Henry reaches the lip of the Hollow and begins to make his way down into the misty
valley. Reaching the bottom he slows down and stumbles slowly forward, wandering around
vaguely for a moment before coming to a halt.
HENRY (softly): Im sorry. Im so sorry, Dad.
(Squatting down, he brings up the pistol and opens his mouth as he aims the muzzle towards
it.)
SHERLOCK: No, Henry, no! No!
(He and John scramble down the slope, shining their torches towards him. Henry stands up and
stumbles backwards, waving the pistol vaguely in their direction. His voice is high-pitched and
hysterical.)
HENRY: Get back. Get get away from me!
JOHN: Easy, Henry. Easy. Just relax.
HENRY: I know what I am. I know what I tried to do!
JOHN: Just put the gun down. Its okay.
HENRY (his voice hoarse with anguish): No, no, I know what I am!
SHERLOCK (as reassuring as hell ever sound): Yes, Im sure you do, Henry. Its all been
explained to you, hasnt it explained very carefully.
HENRY: What?
SHERLOCK: Someone needed to keep you quiet; needed to keep you as a child to reassert the
dream that youd both clung on to, because you had started to remember.
(He begins to step closer to the young man.)
SHERLOCK: Remember now, Henry. Youve got to remember what happened here when you
were a little boy.
(Henrys gun hand begins to droop momentarily but then he raises it again, his face full of his
struggle to understand.)
HENRY: I thought it had got my dad the hound. I thought ...
(He loses control and begins to scream in anguish.)
HENRY: Oh Je... oh Jesus, I dont I dont know any more!
(Sobbing, he bends forward and aims the muzzle into his mouth again.)
JOHN (lurching forward towards him): No, Henry! Henry, for Gods sake!
SHERLOCK (urgently): Henry, remember. Liberty In. Two words; two words a frightened little
boy saw here twenty years ago.
(Henry begins to calm a little but still remains hunched over with the guns muzzle against his
mouth.)
SHERLOCK: Youd started to piece things together, remember what really happened here that
night. It wasnt an animal, was it, Henry?
(Henry starts to straighten up, blinking.)
SHERLOCK: Not a monster.
(Henry turns to look at him.)
SHERLOCK: A man.

231
(Henrys eyes widen as the memories begin to come. In brief flashes he starts to relive the
truth. As he has always remembered, his father is scrabbling at the ground trying to get away
from his attacker, but now for the first time Henry can see that what is pulling him backwards
across the earth is not a creature but a man wearing a dark leather old-fashioned gas mask.
The glass of the two large eye pieces is tinted a dark red and in the limited light available the
eye pieces seem to be glowing. Young Henry watches from partway up the slope, cringing and
terrified as the attacker pummels at his father, half strangling him and then punching wildly at
his face. Mr Knight manages to pull himself from under his assailant and starts to crawl away
but the other man, growling fiercely, tugs him backwards and Henrys father loses his balance
and falls forward. His head strikes a rock and he collapses to the ground unmoving. Breathing
heavily through the gas mask, the other man pokes at him, realises that he isnt going to move
again and gets to his feet. He looks down at the man he has just killed and young Henry sees
the sweatshirt he is wearing, with its picture of a snarling wolf-like creature, the letters
H.O.U.N.D. underneath and Liberty, In below them. Young Henrys mind begins to mix
everything up and, some hours later when he meets the old lady walking her dog, his new
horror is complete and he screams in utter terror.
In the present he gapes at Sherlock as the truth reasserts itself in his mind.)
SHERLOCK: You couldnt cope. You were just a child, so you rationalised it into something very
different. But then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped; driven out of your mind
so that no-one would believe a word that you said.
(Quietly John steps forward, holding out his hand encouragingly towards Henry as Greg
Lestrade arrives and calls out while he trots down the slope towards them.)
LESTRADE: Sherlock!
JOHN (gently to Henry): Okay, its okay, mate.
(He carefully takes the pistol from Henrys fingers. Henry speaks tearfully to Sherlock.)
HENRY: But we saw it: the hound, last night. We s... we, we, we did, we saw ...
SHERLOCK: Yeah, but there was a dog, Henry, leaving footprints, scaring witnesses, but it was
nothing more than an ordinary dog. We both saw it saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to
see it. Fear and stimulus; thats how it works.
(Henry stares at him in confusion. Sherlock returns his look sympathetically.)
SHERLOCK: But there never was any monster.
(The hound has different ideas, however, and now its anguished howl rings out in the woods
above them. Everyones head snaps up and John and Greg aim their flashlights upwards to the
top of the Hollow where a low shape can be seen slowly stalking along the rim and snarling.)
JOHN: Sherlock ...
(Sherlock stares up in disbelief as Henry turns to him, horrified.)
HENRY: No. (He begins to wail in panic.) No, no, no, no!
(He backs away as Sherlock tries simultaneously to hold out a calming hand towards him while
keeping his own torch shining up towards the creature above them.)
SHERLOCK: Henry, Henry ...
JOHN: Sherlock ...
(The creature continues to slink along the rim of the Hollow as Henry begins to scream in abject
terror. He crumples to his knees, continually screaming, No!)
JOHN: Henry!
(The hound turns towards the Hollow and looks down at everyone, snarling viciously. Its eyes
glow in the torchlight as Henry continues to wail.)
LESTRADE (staring up at the rim): Shit!
(John turns and shines his torch into his face.)
JOHN: Greg, are you seeing this?
(Greg glances at him momentarily and his expression answers the question. Sherlock takes a
quick look around to the inspector to see his face before turning back to stare up at the hound.)
JOHN: Right: he is not drugged, Sherlock, so whats that? What is it?!
(As Henry continues to wail behind them, Sherlock screws his eyes shut for a brief moment,
trying to handle the overload in his mind. He stares upwards again.)
SHERLOCK: All right! Its still here ... (he pants heavily for a moment before pulling himself
together) ... but its just a dog. Henry! Its nothing more than an ordinary dog!
(The hound doesnt think so and it raises its head and lets out a long terrifying howl.)
LESTRADE (stumbling backwards): Oh my God.
(And now the hound turns and leaps a short way down the slope, its eyes flashing red in the
torchlight.)
LESTRADE: Oh, Christ!

232
(John stares at it as it stops again, its red glowing eyes now clearly visible as it opens its mouth
and reveals a mouthful of long pointed teeth that you would never see on any dog. Its snarl is
completely terrifying. Henry has fallen silent, gazing up at it as if he knows that it is going to kill
him shortly. Sherlock is still trying to believe what his own eyes are telling him ... and now
theres movement behind them. Sherlock looks over his shoulder and sees a tall human figure
through the mist. The new arrival is wearing a breathing mask with a clear visor over his face.
Sherlock turns and rushes towards him, grabbing at the mask and ripping it upwards to fully
reveal the mans face ... and Jim Moriarty grins manically back at him.)
SHERLOCK (staring at him in appalled horror): No!
(Behind him the hound growls ominously again. Jims expression becomes intense and
murderous but then his head begins to distort and flail about, morphing between Jims face and
someone elses so quickly that its impossible to keep up with the changes. Sherlock grimaces,
groaning at the insanity going on in front of him while Jims face keeps reasserting itself.)
SHERLOCK (frantically): Its not you! Youre not here!
(Grabbing at the figure, he spins him around and then headbutts him in the face. The figure
crumples slightly and raises his hand to his face as he straightens up ... and now the man in
front of Sherlock is Bob Frankland. Sherlock clings onto his jacket, his breathing panicked and
frantic ... but then he turns his head to one side and looks at the mist surrounding them.
Frankland still has his hand clamped over his mouth and nose, and suddenly it all begins to
make sense to Sherlock.)
SHERLOCK: The fog.
JOHN (still aiming his torch up at the hound): What?
SHERLOCK: Its the fog! The drug: its in the fog! Aerosol dispersal thats what it said in those
records. Project HOUND its the fog! A chemical minefield!
(Greg instantly throws his arm across his face, trying to stop himself from breathing too much
of the mist. The hound stalks closer to the group, snarling.)
FRANKLAND: For Gods sake, kill it! Kill it!
(The hounds movements become more jittery as if its winding itself up to attack. Greg aims his
pistol and fires three times at it. His bullets fly past it and it flinches momentarily but then rises
up and leaps towards them. Johns aim is truer and his bullets strike the hound accurately and
throw it backwards. It squeals in pain and crashes to the ground, unmoving. John and Greg
watch it anxiously for any signs of movement, and Sherlock runs over to Henry and pushes him
towards the hound.)
SHERLOCK: Look at it, Henry.
HENRY (digging his heels in): No, no, no!
SHERLOCK (shoving him forward determinedly): Come on, look at it!
(He bullies the young man forward until they can both clearly see it lying on the ground. In
Sherlocks torchlight it is clearly nothing more than a huge dog. Henry stares at it for a moment
and then turns back to where Frankland is still holding his injured face while Greg has his hands
over his mouth as he tries to draw breath and come to terms with what he just experienced.
Henry looks at Frankland.)
HENRY: Its just ... You bastard.
(Hurling himself at the older man, he screams with rage.)
HENRY: You bastard!
(Bundling him to the ground, he screams into his face while John and Greg run over and try to
pull him off.)
HENRY: Twenty years! Twenty years of my life making no sense! Why didnt you just kill me?!
(Finally the others manage to pull him up.)
SHERLOCK: Because dead men get listened to. He needed to do more than kill you. He had to
discredit every word you ever said about your father, and he had the means right at his feet a
chemical minefield; pressure pads in the ground dosing you up every time that you came back
here.
(He holds his arms out wide and spins slowly in a circle, gesturing around the Hollow.)
SHERLOCK: Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once.
(He laughs with delight.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, this case, Henry! Thank you. Its been brilliant.
JOHN: Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK (turning to him): What?
(John glares at him pointedly.)
JOHN: Timing.
SHERLOCK: Not good?

233
HENRY: No, no, its its okay. Its fine, because this means ...
(He starts to step towards Frankland. John moves with him, ready to intervene if he should try
to attack him again.)
HENRY: ... this means that my dad was right.
(Frankland gets up onto his knees as Henry still tries to move towards him. John and Greg both
put a gentle hand onto his shoulders to keep him back.)
HENRY (tearfully): He found something out, didnt he, and thats why youd killed him
because he was right, and hed found you right in the middle of an experiment.
(Frankland gets to his feet but before he can say anything theres a savage snarl from behind
the group. Everybody spins towards the dog and bizarrely, when the camera angle changes it
looks as if John and Greg were just having a cuddle before they were interrupted. The dog
whines in pain but gets up off the ground. John aims and fires towards it twice and it goes down
again. Frankland takes the opportunity of the distraction to turn and run off in the opposite
direction. Like the single-minded idiot that he is, Sherlock runs right across Johns line of fire,
forcing him to lower his pistol, and chases off after the scientist. John turns and follows him up
the slope.)
SHERLOCK: Frankland!
(Frankland runs through the woods with Sherlock and John in hot pursuit, Greg and Henry a
little behind the other two.)
SHERLOCK: Frankland!
LESTRADE (to Henry): Come on, keep up!
(They run on.)
SHERLOCK: Its no use, Frankland!
(Reaching the barbed wire fence surrounding the minefield, Frankland doesnt hesitate and
jumps over. His feet tangle in the wire and he falls to the ground on the other side. He jumps
up and runs on a few yards but then stops abruptly when his foot thumps down onto a mine,
which makes a distinctive clink indicating that he has activated its pressure pad. He stares down
at his foot, shining his torch onto the mine underneath and realising that unless he remains
completely still and doesnt lift any pressure off it, the mine will blow. As the others hurry
towards the barbed wire, he raises his head, sighs in resignation and deliberately lifts his foot.
The others skid to a halt and duck down as a massive explosion rips into the air. As the blast
dies down, Henry sinks back against a nearby tree while Sherlock gazes reflectively across the
minefield.)
DAY TIME. CROSS KEYS INN. John is sitting at one of the outdoor tables [and, for reasons that
Im sure wed all like an explanation for, appears to be wearing Sherlocks Purple Shirt of Sex
]. Billy brings out a plate containing whatever is the vegetarian equivalent of a full English
breakfast and puts it on the table in front of him.
JOHN: Mmm. Thanks, Billy.
(As Billy walks away, Sherlock brings over two mugs and puts one down on the table.)
SHERLOCK: So they didnt have it put down, then the dog.
JOHN (tucking into his breakfast while Sherlock stands next to him and drinks his coffee):
Obviously. Suppose they just couldnt bring themselves to do it.
SHERLOCK: I see.
JOHN (smiling): No you dont.
SHERLOCK: No, I dont. Sentiment?
JOHN: Sentiment!
SHERLOCK (rolling his eyes): Oh.
(He sits down on the bench next to John.)
JOHN: Listen: what happened to me in the lab?
(Sherlock looks at him for a moment, then turns around and reaches for a box of sauce sachets,
looking worried about how hes ever going to explain all this.)
SHERLOCK: Dyou want some sauce with that?
JOHN: I mean, I hadnt been to the Hollow, so how come I heard those things in there? Fear
and stimulus, you said.
SHERLOCK (rummaging through the box of sachets): You must have been dosed with it
elsewhere, when you went to the lab, maybe. You saw those pipes pretty ancient, leaky as a
sieve; and they were carrying the gas, so ... Um, ketchup, was it, or brown ...?
JOHN: Hang on: you thought it was in the sugar.
(Sherlock stares at him while trying to maintain a neutral expression.)
JOHN: You were convinced it was in the sugar.

234
(Sherlock looks away again.)

SHERLOCK: Better get going, actually. (He looks at his watch.) Theres a train that leaves in
half an hour, so if you want ...
(John turns his head away as he begins to realise the horrible truth.)
JOHN: Oh God. It was you. You locked me in that bloody lab.
SHERLOCK: I had to. It was an experiment.
JOHN (furiously): An experiment?!
SHERLOCK (looking at people sitting nearby): Shhh.
JOHN (quieter, but still furious): I was terrified, Sherlock. I was scared to death.
SHERLOCK: I thought that the drug was in the sugar, so I put the sugar in your coffee, then I
arranged everything with Major Barrymore.
(John sighs in exasperation.)
SHERLOCK: It was all totally scientific, laboratory conditions well, literally.
(Flashback to Sherlock alone in a room from where he can monitor the lab. Lazily sitting in a
chair with his feet up on the table, he watches the screen in front of him which shows John
racing across the darkened lab towards the cages as the hound growls. A little later Sherlock
wiggles his feet comfortably on the desk while John breathes panic-stricken into his phone. John
cant be seen on the screen because hes hidden inside the cage.)
JOHN (whispering over phone): Its in here with me.
SHERLOCK (into his phone): All right. Keep talking. Ill find you.
(Theres a momentary silence.)
SHERLOCK (into phone): Keep talking!
JOHN (over phone): I cant, itll hear me.
SHERLOCK: Tell me what youre seeing!
(He switches on a small recorder and holds it up to a nearby microphone. Savage growling is
played into the lab.)
JOHN (over phone): I dont know, but I can hear it now.
(Back in the present, Sherlock continues his explanation.)
SHERLOCK: Well, I knew what effect it had had on a superior mind, so I needed to try it on an
average one.
(John looks up from his plate.)
SHERLOCK: You know what I mean.
(John gets back to eating.)
JOHN: But it wasnt in the sugar.
SHERLOCK: No, well, I wasnt to know youd already been exposed to the gas.
JOHN: So you got it wrong.
SHERLOCK: No.
JOHN: Mmm. You were wrong. It wasnt in the sugar. You got it wrong.
SHERLOCK: A bit. It wont happen again.
(Sighing, John continues eating, then looks round.)
JOHN: Any long-term effects?
SHERLOCK: None at all. Youll be fine once youve excreted it. We all will.
JOHN: Think I might have taken care of that already.
(Sherlock snorts laughter, then looks across to a nearby table where Gary is pouring coffee for
two other customers. He smiles apologetically across to Sherlock, who puts his mug on the
table and stands up.)
JOHN: Wherere you going?
SHERLOCK: Wont be a minute. Gotta see a man about a dog.
(Smiling down at John, he turns and walks away.)
Jim Moriarty sits silently and calmly with his eyes closed in the middle of a small windowless
concrete-lined cell. In an adjoining room, Mycroft walks towards the other side of the one-way
mirror which Jim is facing, and narrows his eyes as he looks closely at the other man.
Some time afterwards, the door to the cell is unlocked and Jim opens his eyes but does not turn
around as Mycroft walks in.
Later, Mycroft has left the cell again. A man in a suit has opened the cell door and has walked
inside.
MYCROFT (voiceover): All right. Let him go.

235
(Jim turns and casually strolls out of the cell. Behind him, the man turns and looks around the
room. On almost every plain concrete panel of the walls, Jim has somehow carved a single word
into the cement. In different sizes and at different angles, the word repeats all around the cell
and the word is SHERLOCK.
And with the dust which was loosened by the carving, Jim has scratched Sherlocks name
backwards on the mirror so that whoever is watching him from the other side of the mirror will
see the name the right way round.
The man in the suit turns and walks away, closing the cell door behind him.)
The Reichenbach Fall
John Watson sits in a chair as rain pours down outside the window and thunder rumbles. He
looks tired and his face is full of pain.
ELLA (offscreen): Why today?
(John frowns enquiringly. His therapist is sitting opposite him.)
JOHN: Dyou want to hear me say it?
ELLA: Eighteen months since our last appointment.
JOHN (his voice becoming quietly angry): Dyou read the papers?
ELLA: Sometimes.
JOHN: Mmm, and you watch telly? You know why Im here.
(Theres a pained groan in his voice as he ends the sentence.)
JOHN: Im here because ...
(His voice breaks and he cant continue. He looks down, swallowing hard while he fights not to
weep. Ella leans forward sympathetically.)
ELLA: What happened, John?
(John closes his eyes, trying to get control of himself, then looks up at her again, his eyes full of
loss. He clears his throat and breathes heavily.)
JOHN (his voice breaking): Sher...
(He cant continue and he clears his throat again, swallowing hard.)
ELLA (gently): You need to get it out.
JOHN (softly, his voice full of pain and tears): My best friend ... Sherlock Holmes ...
(He sniffs, forcing his voice through the anguish.)
JOHN: ... is dead.
(He breaks and begins to cry.)
Opening Credits.
THREE MONTHS EARLIER. In an art gallery, the Director of the gallery is finishing his speech as
he stands near a painting.
GALLERY DIRECTOR: Falls of the Reichenbach, Turners masterpiece, thankfully recovered
owing to the prodigious talent of Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
(The patrons applaud. Sherlock and John are standing nearby. The Director gives a small gift-
wrapped box to Sherlock.)
DIRECTOR: A small token of our gratitude.
(Sherlock takes the box and looks at it.)
SHERLOCK: Diamond cufflinks. All my cuffs have buttons.
JOHN (to the Director): He means thank you.
SHERLOCK: Do I?
JOHN: Just say it.
SHERLOCK (insincerely to the Director): Thank you.
(He starts to walk away but John holds him back.)
JOHN: Hey.
(Sherlock unwillingly stops and the press start taking photographs. Later, one of the
photographs appears in a newspaper article headed Hero of the Reichenbach. The straplines
read Turner masterpiece recovered by amateur ; Scotland Yard embarrased [sic] by
overlooked clues. The text of the article reads: A Turner masterpiece worth 1.7million that
was stolen from an auction house ten days ago has been recovered by an amateur detective
from North London. Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street has been investigating the art crime
simply as a hobby, and yet he was able to follow the trail that lead [sic] him to the famous work

236
a trail that Scotland Yard missed completely. Sherlock Holmes has gained cult following
following the publication of his website The Sci- ... at which point the text disappears
offscreen. [And, really, Sherlock production team, could you not take just a couple more
minutes to make your newspaper articles more professional-looking, write sensible English and
check the bleedin spelling?!]
A new newspaper article reads Top Banker Kidnapped and the text reads: Sherlock Holmes
was last night being hailed a hero yet again for masterminding the daring escape of the
kidnapped man. // Scotland Yard had to secretly bring in their special weapon (in the form of Mr
Holmes) yet again. The case has drawn a huge amount of attention as the nation became
divided about the outcome of the kidnapping. Bankers are certainly not the nations [sic]
sweethearts any more, but Mr. Holmes certainly seems to be. As huge crowds gathered for the
press conference, Mr Holmes was presented with a gift from ... and then the text disappears
offscreen.
Outside the bankers house, the rescued man is standing with his arms around his wife and
young son and the press film and photograph them while Sherlock and John stand
uncomfortably nearby.)
FATHER: Back together with my family after my terrifying ordeal; and we have one person to
thank for my deliverance Sherlock Holmes.
(As the public applaud, the boy smiles and offers a small gift-wrapped box to Sherlock. He takes
it and rattles it briefly.)
SHERLOCK (to John): Tie pin. I dont wear ties.
JOHN: Shh.
(A photograph of the scene appears in the next edition of the newspaper, headed Reichenbach
hero finds kidnap victim.)
(New article: Ricoletti evades capture. Your transcriber is already nearing page three of this
transcript and is only two and a half minutes into the episode so lets leave out the text of the
article, but it suggests that the man named in the headline was responsible for the bankers
kidnap. We cut to Scotland Yard where D.I. Greg Lestrade is addressing a press conference.
Sherlock and John stand nearby, and D.S. Sally Donovan and Doctor
WhoCaresWhatHisFirstNameIs Anderson are at the back of the room.)
LESTRADE: Peter Ricoletti: number one on Interpols Most Wanted list since 1982. But we got
him; and theres one person we have to thank for giving us the decisive leads ... with all his
customary diplomacy and tact(!)
(Sherlock smiles insincerely towards Greg while John leans closer to Sherlock and speaks
quietly.)
JOHN: Sarcasm.
SHERLOCK: Yes.
(As the press applaud, Greg walks over to Sherlock and gives him a gift-wrapped package,
smiling cheerfully.)
LESTRADE: We all chipped in.
(As Sherlock tears open the wrapping paper, Sally and Anderson grin expectantly. He pulls out
a deerstalker hat.)
SHERLOCK (trying to smile): Oh!
FIRST REPORTER: Put the hat on!
SECOND REPORTER: Put the hat on!
LESTRADE: Yeah, Sherlock, put it on!
(Sherlock looks at the reporters as if hed like to kill them. John clears his throat
uncomfortably.)
JOHN (quietly): Just get it over with.
(Glowering at him, Sherlock shoves the wrapping paper into his hands, then unhappily puts the
hat on his head. Flashbulbs go mad and everyone applauds. At the back of the room, Sally claps
with sarcastic delight while Anderson, the douche, grins smugly. Sherlock smiles at the press
through gritted teeth and glances at Greg as if promising him a world of pain later.
Some time later, the Daily Star prints a World Exclusive on its front page: Boffin Sherlock
solves another with the strapline: Hero Tec cracks unsolvable case.)
221B BAKER STREET. John is sitting on the sofa reading the papers while Sherlock, wearing his
blue dressing gown over his shirt and trousers, stomps across the room and throws the Daily
Star onto the pile of newspapers on the coffee table.
SHERLOCK (indignantly): Boffin. Boffin Sherlock Holmes.
JOHN: Everybody gets one.

237
SHERLOCK: One what?

JOHN: Tabloid nickname: SuBo; Nasty Nick. Shouldnt worry Ill probably get one soon.
SHERLOCK: Page five, column six, first sentence.
(John turns to the relevant page. Sherlock goes over to the fireplace, picks up the deerstalker,
holds it up and punches it angrily.)
SHERLOCK: Why is it always the hat photograph?
JOHN (looking at the newspaper article): Bachelor John Watson?
SHERLOCK: What sort of hat is it anyway?
JOHN: Bachelor? What the hell are they implying?
SHERLOCK (holding up the hat and twisting it back and forth rapidly): Is it a cap? Why has it
got two fronts?
JOHN (glancing up briefly): Its a deerstalker. (He reads more of the article.) Frequently seen
in the company of bachelor John Watson ...
SHERLOCK: You stalk a deer with a hat? What are you gonna do throw it?
JOHN (looking at another part of the article): ... confirmed bachelor John Watson!
SHERLOCK: Some sort of death frisbee?
JOHN: Okay, this is too much. We need to be more careful.
SHERLOCK: Its got flaps ... ear flaps. Its an ear hat, John.
(He accurately skims the hat across the room to John, who doesnt have to do more than bend
his wrist to catch it.)
SHERLOCK: What do you mean, more careful?
JOHN: I mean this isnt a deerstalker now; its a Sherlock Holmes hat. I mean that youre not
exactly a private detective any more. (He holds his thumb and forefinger an inch apart.) Youre
this far from famous.
SHERLOCK: Oh, itll pass.
(He slumps down into his armchair and folds his hands in the prayer position in front of his
mouth.)
JOHN: Itd better pass. The press will turn, Sherlock. They always turn, and theyll turn on you.
(Sherlock lowers his hands and looks more closely at John.)
SHERLOCK: It really bothers you.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: What people say.
JOHN: Yes.
SHERLOCK: About me? I dont understand why would it upset you?
(John holds his gaze for a moment, then looks away.)
JOHN: Just try to keep a low profile. Find yourself a little case this week. Stay out of the news.
TOWER OF LONDON 11:00

Tourists are walking about in the grounds, looking around, talking to the Beefeaters, taking
photographs. One tourist wearing jeans, trainers, a light grey jacket and a cap with London
printed on it and with a union flag on the peak is aiming his camera phone around and taking
pictures like all the others, but this person appears to be more interested in the security staff
than anything else. The other thing that piques his interest is the sign pointing the way to the
Crown Jewels. He lowers his camera, chewing nonchalantly on a piece of gum, and we see that
this is none other than Jim Moriarty.
At 221B, a phone in the living room trills a text alert. Sherlock is sitting at the table in the
kitchen, looking into his microscope. John comes along the corridor leading from Sherlocks
bedroom [your transcriber is saying nothing, but just look at the height of her raised eyebrows
...] with wet hair, wearing a bathrobe and rubbing the back of his neck with a towel.
JOHN: Its your phone.
SHERLOCK (disinterestedly): Mm. Keeps doing that.
(John walks into the living room, goes past the body in a suit which is hanging by its neck from
the ceiling, sits down in his chair and picks up a newspaper. The body sways gently in the
breeze.)
JOHN: So, did you just talk to him for a really long time?
(Sherlock looks up and glances across to the body. We realise that its not a real person but a
mannequin.)
SHERLOCK: Oh. Henry Fishgard never committed suicide.
(He picks up an old hardback book from the table and slams it shut in a flurry of dust before
going back to his microscope.)

238
SHERLOCK: Bow Street Runners: missed everything.

JOHN: Pressing case, is it?(!)
SHERLOCK: Theyre all pressing til theyre solved.
At the White Tower in the Tower of London, tourists are passing through a metal detector on
their way to see the Crown Jewels. A security man gives some items back to a tourist.
SECURITY MAN: Put this in your bag, please.
(Jim walks through the detector which beeps an alarm.)
SECURITY MAN: Excuse me, sir.
(Still chewing on his gum, Jim stops and steps back again.)
SECURITY MAN: Any metal objects keys, mobile phones?
(Smiling apologetically, Jim takes his phone out of his pocket and puts it into the tray.)
SECURITY MAN: You can go through.
(Jim steps through the detector again, which stays silent this time. The security man slides the
tray across and Jim takes the phone again.)
SECURITY MAN: Thank you.
(Jim walks on and enters the room. He stops at the large display case in the middle of the room
and looks at the throne inside the case. On the throne is a red velvet cushion with an ornate
crown resting on it. An equally ornate orb is balanced on one arm of the throne and a sceptre
rests across the other arm. As other tourists walk around the case, Jim takes a pair of
earphones from his pocket and pokes them into his ears. Bending his head from side to side to
crack his neck, he lifts his phone and switches it on, then closes his eyes in bliss, still rolling his
head on his neck and spreading his arms either side of him and then slowly beginning to lower
them as the Overture to Rossinis The Thieving Magpie begins to play.
In the nearby surveillance room, one of the two men watching the security footage from all
around the Tower turns to his colleague.)
SURVEILLANCE MAN 1: Fancy a cuppa, then, mate?
SURVEILLANCE MAN 2: Yeah, why not?
(The first man stands up and walks away.)
BANK OF ENGLAND 11:00

A man brings a tray containing a cup and saucer and a milk jug into the office of the banks
Director.
BANK DIRECTOR (looking at his computer screen): Gilts at seven; Dutch telecoms in freefall.
Thank you, Harvey.
(Harvey puts down the tray onto the table and leaves the room again.)
PENTONVILLE PRISON 11:00

The prisons governor, with an enormous Keep calm and carry on mug full of tea on his desk,
slams a file down onto his desk while several warders sit or stand nearby.
PRISON GOVERNOR: What do you say: refuse them all parole and bring back the rope(!) Lets
begin.
At the Tower, Jim finishes lowering his arms and then lifts up the phone and scrolls through the
app icons on it. He pushes aside the one that has a cartoon of a prisoner with striped prison
clothes and standing behind bars, scrolls past the one of a piggy bank with the English flag on
it, and selects the one with a crown on it. The icon of the crown unfolds like a padlock being
unlocked and digital code begins to stream out into the air, and in the surveillance room alarms
begin to beep in warning as some of the TV screens go blank. An automated voice plays into the
White Tower.
VOICE (repeatedly): This is an emergency. Please leave the building.
(The tourists start to hurry out of the room. A security guard walks over to Jim, perhaps
assuming that he cant hear the alarm through his earphones, and puts a hand onto his
shoulder to attract his attention.)
SECURITY GUARD: Sir, Im gonna have to ask you to leave.
(Jim turns and sprays something into his face and he immediately collapses. The security door
closes and locks, and Jim takes off his cap and smoothes out his hair. In the surveillance room,
the man slams down the cups of tea he was bringing back, grabs a phone and starts to dial.)
At Scotland Yard, Sally Donovan hurries across the office and opens the door to Gregs office.
DONOVAN: Sir, theres been a break-in.

239
(Greg has his feet up on the desk and is drinking coffee and eating a pastry.)
LESTRADE (with his mouth full): Not our division.
DONOVAN: Youll want it.
At the White Tower, Jim scrolls through the apps on his phone and selects the English piggy
bank. The piggy bank breaks open to reveal many gold coins, and digital code streams out into
the air. At the Bank of England, the Director looks down at the cup of tea he is holding as the
liquid inside begins to shimmer and the building vibrates gently.
BANK DIRECTOR: The vault!
(Alarms blare and his screen flashes the alarm VAULT OPENING. A graphic on the screen
shows the door to the vault swinging slowly open. The Directors jaw drops and he stares in
disbelief, his tea cup slowly tilting in his hand until the tea pours out into his lap.)
Greg is driving Sally over a bridge across the river with sirens blaring. Sally has just got an
update on her phone.
LESTRADE: Hacked into the Tower of bloody London security?! How?!
(Sallys phone rings and she answers it.)
LESTRADE: Tell them were already on our way.
DONOVAN: Theres been another one; another break-in.
(Greg stares across at her while she listens.)
DONOVAN: Bank of England!
At the White Tower, Jim is chomping on his gum while he flamboyantly scrawls a message onto
the glass of the display case with a white crayon. Finishing the message which we cant yet
clearly see he draws a smiley face inside the letter O. Lifting his phone once more, he
selects the app with the prisoner on it. The bars over the prisoner lift away and the striped top
which the icon is wearing turns into a plain black one, then the image changes to a keyhole.
Digital code streams out into the air. In Pentonville Prison, the governor is just lifting his mug to
his mouth when alarms begin to sound. A prison warder bursts into the room.
PRISON WARDER: Sir, securitys down, sir. Its failing!
(The governor surges to his feet, accidentally sweeping his mug off the table and onto the
floor.)
On the road, Sally gets another phonecall. Greg looks across to her.
LESTRADE: What is it now?
DONOVAN: Pentonville Prison!
(Greg stares at her in disbelief.)
LESTRADE: Oh no!
At the White Tower, Jim holds his piece of chewing gum between his teeth and pulls the end of
it out towards the case and sticks it onto the glass. Leaving the whole piece of gum stuck there,
he takes a tiny diamond from a box and, grinning manically, carefully presses the jewel into the
gum. Turning away from the case, he slips off his jacket and drops it to the floor, revealing a
plain white V-necked T-shirt underneath, then raises his arms upwards either side above his
head in an almost balletic flourish. Outside, police cars and vans begin to pour into the Tower
grounds. Jim continues to dance around the White Tower while outside, the last of the tourists
are hustled out of the building. Pulling black leather mitts onto his hands, Jim goes to the wall
and picks up a fire extinguisher. Outside, armed police leap out of a van and run into the Tower.
Inside, Jim dances dramatically towards the case, raises the fire extinguisher with the bottom
end pointed towards the glass and, grinning happily, rams it towards the chewing gum and
diamond. The glass shatters around the impact point. The armed police charge through the
metal detector, repeatedly setting off the alarm. Jim smashes the extinguisher into the glass a
couple more times and eventually the entire pane disintegrates and falls to the floor.
Gregs car screams into the grounds and he and Sally jump out and race into the White Tower.
Inside, the armed police disable the lock to the door and it swings open. They charge inside and
are greeted by the sight of Jim Moriarty sitting on the throne inside the case, wearing an ermine
trimmed robe, the crown on his head, the orb between his knees and holding the sceptre across
his lap, with his earphones still in. He has his eyes closed in bliss as the music comes to an end.
He opens his eyes and smiles at the new arrivals.
JIM (calmly): No rush.

240
221B. Sherlocks phone trills another text alert. John lowers his newspaper.
JOHN (tetchily): Ill get it, shall I?
(He stands up and walks over to the phone, picking it up and checking the message while
Sherlock continues to look into his microscope. Johns face slowly fills with shock. He turns and
takes the phone into the kitchen, holding it out to Sherlock.)
JOHN: Here.
SHERLOCK (not looking up): Not now, Im busy.
JOHN: Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK: Not now.
JOHN (breathing heavily): Hes back.
(Sherlock lifts his head and takes the phone. The message on the screen reads:
Come and play.

Tower Hill.
Jim Moriarty x.
Sherlocks eyes widen and he sinks back on his chair and gazes into space.)
Back at the Tower, Jim is smiling calmly as he is being put into the back of a police car. Behind
him, Greg and Sally come out of the building and watch, then Greg looks down at Jims phone
which he is holding.
Later, Sherlock and John have arrived at the Tower and they are watching the recorded security
footage taken from behind Jim as he sticks the gum onto the glass. From a distance its not
clear what he then pushes into the gum.
LESTRADE: That glass is tougher than anything.
SHERLOCK: Not tougher than crystallised carbon. He used a diamond.
(Greg adjusts the footage, which shifts to a recording taken from the other side of the glass.
The footage also goes into reverse, showing the glass rising back up into place before it
shattered. As Jim pulls back the fire extinguisher again and the glass becomes whole, the
message which he scrawled onto it becomes clear. He deliberately wrote the words backwards
on the glass so that they would be seen from the camera on the other side of the case. With the
smiley face inside the O, the message reads:
GET
SHERLOCK
John turns and stares at Sherlock but his eyes are fixed on the screen.)
Nina Simones song Sinnerman plays over the next few scenes.
The Daily Express has somehow obtained the security image with the message clear on the
glass, and has run it on its front page with the headline: Crime of the Century? The rest of the
text reads: Questions are being asked in parliament as to how the Tower of London,
Pentonville Prison and the Bank of England were all broken into at the same time by the same
man James Moriarty. // There are unconfirmed reports that Scotland Yards favourite sleuth
Mr Sherlock Holmes has been called in to help the team piece together the most audacious
crime ... Turn to page 5.
Some indeterminate time later a new front page headline [from the Daily Mail, I think] reads:
Jewel Thief on trial at Bailey and the first few paragraphs read: Crown Jewel thief is to be
tried at the Old Bailey and Sherlock Holmes is named as a witness for the prosecution. // Master
criminal Moriarty taunted Holmes with his graffitied GET SHERLOCK at the scene of the crime.
The crime is attracting huge attention internationally too. // Irish born Moriarty of no fixed
abode, seems to be taunting the master detective. // Boffin Holmes, accompanied by confirmed
bachelor John Watson refused to comment. // Crowds gathered yesterday for what is being
described as the trial of the century. [After that the text keeps repeating. Do the production
team not know that we have the ability to freeze frame and read these articles because we are
ludicrously obsessive and will not only notice the repetition but the annoying mixed up use of
dashes and commas?!]
The Guardian leads with the headline Amateur detective to be called as expert witness and
the strapline Scotland Yard calls upon nations favourite detective in Moriarty trail [which

241
your transcriber assumes should read trial ...]. The picture is of Sherlock putting on the
deerstalker hat at the Scotland Yard press conference and the text reads: In a twist worthy of
a Conan Doyle novella, Mr Sherlock Holmes was yesterday revealed to be an expert witness at
the trial of Jim Moriarty. Described by many commentators as the trial of the century, the case
has all the ingredients of a block buster film. The royal family, Scotland yard [sic], the world of
finance and greed, the underclass of prisoners out to reek [sic] revenge as they enjoy their
own fifteen minutes of freedom. The case is riddled with irony and intrigue but perhaps reflects
a deeper malaise that seems to be at the heart of a society. // Mr Holmes, a man of few words,
declined to comment when asked his involvement in the case. It is understood that a woefully
depleted Scotland ... [and then the text goes off the screen].
221B. John is standing in front of the mirror in the living room. He is wearing a suit and finishes
tying his tie before putting on his jacket. Near the sofa, Sherlock is buttoning up his own jacket
while watching Johns reflection. Your transcriber bites her lip while her imagination goes to its
happy place. Sherlock leads the way downstairs and goes to the front door, then stops and
turns to the side to allow John to pass him and reach out towards the door.
JOHN: Ready?
SHERLOCK: Yes.
(Bracing himself, John opens the door. Police officers are trying to hold back the large crowd of
journalists who immediately start photographing the pair and calling out questions as the police
clear the way and allow the boys through to the waiting police car. John points Sherlock
towards the nearest rear door of the car.)
JOHN: Get in.
(As Sherlock does as instructed, John goes round the back and gets in the other side and the
car pulls away and races off with its sirens wailing.)
(At the Old Bailey, Jim is in a cell wearing a smart light grey suit, white shirt and pale grey tie
and silver tie pin with matching grey handkerchief in the breast pocket. A prison guard is
checking the handcuffs which shackle him to two nearby officers. Not long afterwards and
surrounded by prison officers, he is being escorted along the corridors towards the court. As he
walks along, a small smile begins to creep onto his face.)
(The police car is just going around Trafalgar Square.)</i>
JOHN: Remember ...
SHERLOCK (instantly): Yes.
JOHN (insistently): Remember ...
SHERLOCK (even more quickly): Yes.
(John looks away in frustration, then goes for broke and speaks quickly.)
JOHN: Remember what they told you: dont try to be clever ...
SHERLOCK (talking over him): No.
JOHN: ... and please, just keep it simple and brief.
SHERLOCK: God forbid the star witness at the trial should come across as intelligent.
JOHN: Intelligent, fine; lets give smart-arse a wide berth.
(Theres a slight pause.)
SHERLOCK: Ill just be myself.
JOHN (irritated): Are you listening to me?!
(At the Old Bailey Jim is marched up the stairs into the courtroom, two prison officers holding
him by the shoulders. Outside, TV reporters are talking into various cameras as they record
pieces for the news programmes.)
ITN REPORTER: ... here today standing outside ...
SKY NEWS REPORTER: ... This is the trial of the century ...
BBC NEWS REPORTER: ... the trial of James Moriarty ...
(We see brief clips of their broadcasts as seen on television.)
SKY NEWS REPORTER: ... James Moriarty, earlier today accused of attempt...
ITN REPORTER: ... of attempting to steal the Crown Jewels ...
BBC NEWS REPORTER: ... at the Old Bailey we have Reichenbach Hero Sherlock Holmes ...
(Jim and his prison escort reach the top of the stairs and he is turned sideways and walked into
the dock. As a female prison officer comes across to check his restraints, he turns his head and
murmurs into her ear.)
JIM: Would you mind slipping your hand into my pocket?
(The officer looks at one of her male colleagues, who nods in agreement. Looking rather
uncomfortable, she slides her fingers into Jims trouser pocket and pulls out the contents while
Jim breathes very close to her face and gazes into her eyes before poking out his tongue. She

242
puts what she has found in his pocket a piece of chewing gum onto his tongue and he draws
his tongue back in and begins to chew, smiling at her creepily.)
JIM: Thanks.
Sherlock is in the toilets at the Old Bailey washing his hands.

TANNOY ANNOUNCEMENT: Crown versus Moriarty please proceed to Court Ten.
(As he turns off the taps, a woman standing behind him and wearing a deerstalker hat stares at
him in awestruck amazement. Her bag slips out of her fingers and drops to the floor.)
KITTY: Youre him.
(Sherlock sees that shes also wearing an I (heart) Sherlock badge on her jacket.)
SHERLOCK: Wrong toilet.
KITTY: Im a big fan.
SHERLOCK (turning towards her): Evidently.
KITTY: I read your cases; follow them all. (She steps closer, gazing at him adoringly.) Sign my
shirt, would you?
(She peels back her jacket to reveal that her blouse is opened quite low and she is showing a
lot of cleavage. She offers him a pen which she already has in her hand.)
SHERLOCK: There are two types of fans.
KITTY: Oh?
SHERLOCK: Catch me before I kill again Type A ...
KITTY: Uh-huh. Whats Type B?
SHERLOCK: Your bedrooms just a taxi ride away.
(Kitty grins, her eyes still locked on his.)
KITTY: Guess which one I am.
(Sherlock runs his eyes down her body [and other fans vow to kill her at the first possible
chance] and does a speed deduction:
pressure marks
pocket
ink
SHERLOCK: Neither.
KITTY (blinking a little nervously): Really?
SHERLOCK: No. Youre not a fan at all.
(He looks at the indentations in her skin just below her right wrist.)
SHERLOCK: Those marks on your forearm: edge of a desk. Youve been typing in a hurry,
probably. Pressure on; facing a deadline.
KITTY (looking away): That all?
SHERLOCK: And theres a smudge of ink on your wrist; and a bulge in your left jacket pocket.
(He and Kitty look down to her pocket from which is protruding the edge of a dictaphone, which
has a red light shining on it showing that its recording.)
KITTY: Bit of a giveaway.
SHERLOCK: The smudge is deliberate, to see if Im as good as they say I am.
(He lifts her hand and sniffs the ink on her wrist.)
SHERLOCK: Hmm. Oil-based, used in newspaper print, but drawn on with an index finger; your
finger.
KITTY: Hmm!
SHERLOCK: Journalist. Unlikely youd get your hands dirty at the press. You put that there to
test me.
KITTY: Wow, Im liking you!
SHERLOCK: You mean Id make a great feature: Sherlock Holmes the man beneath the hat.
KITTY: Kitty ... (she takes off the hat) ... Riley. Pleased to meet you.
(She offers her hand for him to shake.)
SHERLOCK: No. Im just saving you the trouble of asking. No, I wont give you an interview; no,
I dont want the money.
(Pushing past her, he heads for the door. She chases after him.)
KITTY: You and John Watson just platonic? Can I put you down for a no there, as well?
(She stops him from opening the door and gets in his way, stepping well into his personal
space. He breathes loudly and angrily.)
KITTY: Theres all sorts of gossip in the press about you. Sooner or later youre gonna need
someone on your side ...

243
(Reaching into her pocket, she holds up her business card and then tucks it into his breast
pocket.)
KITTY: ... someone to set the record straight.
SHERLOCK (smiling sarcastically): And you think youre the girl for that job, do you?
KITTY: Im smart, and you can trust me, totally.
SHERLOCK: Smart, okay: investigative journalist. Good. Well, look at me and tell me what you
see.
(She stares at him blankly, perhaps a little overwhelmed by the way he is swaying gently in
front of her.)
SHERLOCK: If youre that skilful, you dont need an interview. You can just read what you need.
(She looks awkward and cant continue to meet his eyes.)
SHERLOCK: No? Okay, my turn.
(He paces around her and looks her over.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): I look at you and I see someone whos still waiting for their first big
scoop so that their editor will notice them. Youre wearing an expensive skirt but its been re-
hemmed twice; only posh skirt youve got. And your nails: you cant afford to do them that
often. I see someone whos hungry. I dont see smart, and I definitely dont see trustworthy,
but Ill give you a quote if you like three little words.
(He reaches down and takes the dictaphone from her pocket, holding it up to his mouth as she
steps closer hopefully.)
SHERLOCK (slowly, deliberately): You ... repel ... me.
(He turns and leaves the room.)
OLD BAILEY, COURT TEN. Sherlock has been called to give his evidence and is standing in the
witness box. Jim is in the dock opposite him, nonchalantly chewing on his gum. John is sitting in
the public gallery upstairs.
PROSECUTING BARRISTER: A consulting criminal.
SHERLOCK: Yes.
PROSECUTING BARRISTER: Your words. Can you expand on that answer?
SHERLOCK: James Moriarty is for hire.
PROSECUTING BARRISTER: A tradesman?
SHERLOCK: Yes.
PROSECUTING BARRISTER: But not the sort whod fix your heating.
SHERLOCK: No, the sort whod plant a bomb or stage an assassination, but Im sure hed make
a pretty decent job of your boiler.
(Theres muffled laughter from some people in the court, and the prosecuting barrister tries to
hide her smile.)
PROSECUTING BARRISTER: Would you describe him as ...
SHERLOCK (interrupting): Leading.
PROSECUTING BARRISTER: What?
SHERLOCK: Cant do that. Youre leading the witness. (He looks towards the defending
barrister.) Hell object and the judge will uphold.
(The judge looks exasperated apparently this isnt the first time Sherlock has done this during
his evidence.)
JUDGE: Mr Holmes.
SHERLOCK (to the prosecuting barrister): Ask me how. How would I describe him? What
opinion have I formed of him? Do they not teach you this?
JUDGE: Mr Holmes, were fine without your help.
(Kitty comes into the public gallery. John looks round at her as she finds a seat.)
PROSECUTING BARRISTER: How would you describe this man his character?
SHERLOCK: First mistake. (He raises his eyes and locks his gaze onto Jim.) James Moriarty isnt
a man at all hes a spider; a spider at the centre of a web a criminal web with a thousand
threads and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances.
(Jim almost imperceptibly nods his head as if approving of the description. The prosecuting
barrister clears her throat awkwardly.)
PROSECUTING BARRISTER: And how long ...
SHERLOCK (closing his eyes in exasperation): No, no, dont-dont do that. Thats really not a
good question.
JUDGE (angrily): Mr Holmes.

244
SHERLOCK: How long have I known him? Not really your best line of enquiry. We met twice,
five minutes in total. I pulled a gun; he tried to blow me up. (Sarcastically) I felt we had a
special something.
(Jim raises his eyebrows in an ooh! expression.)
JUDGE: Miss Sorrel, are you seriously claiming this man is an expert, after knowing the accused
for just five minutes?
SHERLOCK: Two minutes would have made me an expert. Five was ample.
JUDGE: Mr Holmes, thats a matter for the jury.
SHERLOCK: Oh, really?
(His eyes turn towards the jury box. John raises his hand to his head in an all-too-recognisable
oh, shit, NO! gesture. Sherlock turns the full force of his gaze onto the twelve people sitting in
the jury box and has deduced all of them within a couple of seconds.)
SHERLOCK: One librarian; two teachers; two high-pressured jobs, probably the City.
(He focuses on the woman at the far left of the front row. She has a notebook resting on the
ledge in front of her and is writing in shorthand.)
SHERLOCK: The foremans a medical secretary, trained abroad judging by her shorthand.
JUDGE: Mr Holmes!
SHERLOCK (scanning rings on the jury members fingers): Seven are married and two are
having an affair with each other, it would seem! Oh, and theyve just had tea and biscuits.
(He turns to the judge.)
SHERLOCK: Would you like to know who ate the wafer?
JUDGE (angrily): Mr Holmes. Youve been called here to answer Miss Sorrels questions, not to
give us a display of your intellectual prowess.
(Sherlock takes a breath but cant help looking up towards John and smiling a little at the
acknowledgement of his intellectual prowess. John stares at him sternly.)
JUDGE: Keep your answers brief and to the point. Anything else will be treated as contempt.
(Sherlock raises his eyes in a Were surrounded by idiots type way. Jim smiles slightly as if
agreeing.)
JUDGE: Do you think you could survive for just a few minutes without showing off?
(Sherlock pauses while he gives the question some thought, then opens his mouth and draws in
a breath.)
Shortly afterwards, a prison officer marches Sherlock into one of the cells under the courts and
shoves him inside, slamming the door shut behind him. A recess has apparently been called in
the trial and so a little later two more officers walk Jim to the adjoining cell and lock him inside.
As if sensing each other, the two men turn and look at the wall separating them. Jims
expression slowly becomes murderous.
Some time later Sherlock is being released. While he signs for his personal property, John is
standing beside him leaning back against the desk with his arms folded.
JOHN: What did I say? I said, Dont get clever.
SHERLOCK: I cant just turn it on and off like a tap.
(Taking the bag of items from the custody officer, he turns to John as they begin to walk away.)
SHERLOCK: Well?
JOHN: Well what?
SHERLOCK: You were there for the whole thing, up in the gallery, start to finish.
JOHN: Like you said it would be. (Referring to Jims defending barrister) He sat on his backside,
never even stirred.
SHERLOCK: Moriartys not mounting any defence.
221B. The boys walk into the living room.

JOHN: Bank of England, Tower of London, Pentonville. Three of the most secure places in the
country and six weeks ago Moriarty breaks in, no-one knows how or why.
(He sits down in his armchair while Sherlock begins to pace.)
JOHN: All we know is ...
SHERLOCK: ... he ended up in custody.
(He stops and turns to John. John takes a breath.)
JOHN: Dont do that.
SHERLOCK: Do what?
JOHN: The look.
SHERLOCK: Look?

245
JOHN: Youre doing the look again.

SHERLOCK: Well, I cant see it, can I?
(John points to the mirror above the fireplace as if Sherlocks an idiot for not realising its there.
Sherlock turns his head and looks at his reflection.)
SHERLOCK: Its my face.
JOHN: Yes, and its doing a thing. Youre doing a we both know whats really going on here
face.
SHERLOCK: Well, we do.
JOHN: No. I dont, which is why I find The Face so annoying.
SHERLOCK: If Moriarty wanted the Jewels, hed have them. If he wanted those prisoners free,
theyd be out on the streets. The only reason hes still in a prison cell right now is because he
chose to be there.
(He starts to pace again.)
SHERLOCK: Somehow this is part of his scheme.
NEXT DAY (presumably, because there cant be that many more witnesses for the prosecution).
OLD BAILEY.
JUDGE: Mr Crayhill, can we have your first witness?
(The defending barrister rises to his feet.)
DEFENDING BARRISTER: Your Honour, were not calling any witnesses.
(There are cries of surprise around the court, and John sitting in the public gallery frowns in
confusion.)
JUDGE: I dont follow. Youve entered a plea of Not Guilty.
DEFENDING BARRISTER: Nevertheless, my client is offering no evidence. The defence rests.
(He sits down. Jim purses his lips ruefully at the judge, then turns, looks up towards the public
gallery and shrugs.)
THE FOLLOWING DAY (probably). Sherlock who, like on the previous day, either chose to stay
at home or more likely has been banned from the court sits sideways on the sofa with his
back against the arm nearest the window. Wearing his blue dressing gown over his clothes, he
softly recites the only words that the judge can possibly say in his summing-up speech. His
recitation is interspersed with the actual words from the judge, and frequently their lines
overlap.
SHERLOCK/JUDGE: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. James Moriarty stands accused of several
counts of attempted burglary, crimes which if hes found guilty will elicit a very long
custodial sentence; and yet his legal team has chosen to offer no evidence whatsoever to
support their plea. I find myself in the unusual position of recommending a verdict
wholeheartedly. You must find him guilty.
(Sherlock closes his eyes.)
SHERLOCK (in a whisper): Guilty.
JUDGE: You must find him guilty.
(The court adjourns at 10:42. At 10:50 John is sitting on a bench just outside the courtroom
when the Clerk of the Court hurries out of a side room.)
CLERK: Theyre coming back.
(John looks at his watch.)
JOHN: Thats six minutes.
([Yes, he does say six minutes and the two times above are correct. Either John took into
account how long it took the jury to leave the court and go to their allocated room, or the
production team needs another slap.])
CLERK: Surprised it took them that long, to be honest. Theres a queue for the loo.
(He hurries into the court. John stands up, takes a moment to brace himself and then follows. A
few minutes later the Clerk rises to his feet in the courtroom and turns to face the jury.)
CLERK: Have you reached a verdict on which you all agree?
(One of the jury members lowers his head and shakes it in tiny despairing motions as the
foreman gets to her feet and stares unhappily at the Clerk.)
At 221B, Sherlocks phone begins to ring. His eyes snap open. Outside the court, John is
hurrying along the pavement.
JOHN (into phone): Not Guilty. They found him Not Guilty. No defence, and Moriartys walked
free.
(Sherlock lowers his phone.)

246
JOHN (into phone): Sherlock. Are you listening? Hes out. You-you know hell be coming after
you. Sher...
(Sherlock switches off the phone and gets up off the sofa. In the kitchen he switches on the
kettle and slams down a small tray beside it, putting a jug of milk, a sugar bowl, a teapot and
two cups and saucers with teaspoons onto the tray. The kettle comes to the boil and switches
off and Sherlock, now wearing a jacket in place of the dressing gown, makes the tea and takes
the tray to the table beside Johns chair, then walks over to his own chair and picks up his violin
and bow. As he begins to play Bachs Sonata No. 1 in G minor, downstairs the front door is
expertly lockpicked and pushed open. Jims easily-recognisable shadow precedes him as he
slowly walks along the hall and up the stairs. Partway up, one of the stairs creaks noisily and
Jim pauses for a moment, as does Sherlocks playing. A couple of seconds later Sherlock
resumes from a few notes before where he stopped and Jim starts to climb the stairs again.
Sherlock, standing with his back to the living room door, keeps playing until Jim pushes open
the door, then he stops but doesnt yet turn around.)
SHERLOCK: Most people knock. (He shrugs.) But then youre not most people, I suppose.
(He gestures over his shoulder with his bow towards the table.)
SHERLOCK: Kettles just boiled.
(Jim walks further into the room and bends to pick up an apple from the bowl on the coffee
table.)
JIM: Johann Sebastian would be appalled.
(Tossing the apple and catching it [in an Arthur Shappey-like attempt to be really happy for a
brief moment], he looks around the living room as if searching for a seat.)
JIM: May I?
SHERLOCK (turning to face him): Please.
(He gestures with the end of his bow towards Johns chair. Jim immediately walks over to
Sherlocks chair and sits in that one instead. Sherlock looks slightly unnerved. Jim takes out a
small penknife and starts to cut into the apple while Sherlock puts down the violin and begins to
pour tea into the cups.)
JIM: You know when he was on his death bed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one
of his pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end ...
SHERLOCK: ... and the dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano and finished
it.
JIM: Couldnt cope with an unfinished melody.
SHERLOCK: Neither can you. Thats why youve come.
JIM: But be honest: youre just a tiny bit pleased.
SHERLOCK: What, with the verdict?
(He picks up one of the teacups, adds a splash of milk and turns and offers the cup to Jim, who
sits up straighter and takes it.)
JIM: With me ... (softly) ... back on the streets. (He gazes up into Sherlocks eyes, smiling.)
Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain.
(He grins. Sherlock turns away and adds milk to his own cup.)
JIM: You need me, or youre nothing. Because were just alike, you and I except youre
boring.
(He shakes his head in disappointment.)
JIM: Youre on the side of the angels.
(He sips his tea as Sherlock picks up his own cup and stirs his drink.)
SHERLOCK: Got to the jury, of course.
JIM: I got into the Tower of London; you think I cant worm my way into twelve hotel rooms?
SHERLOCK: Cable network.
(Flashback to the foreman of the jury in her hotel room sitting on the side of the bed and
looking at her TV screen.)
JIM (voiceover): Every hotel bedroom has a personalised TV screen ...
(Close-up of the TV screen showing the Westhampton Hotels Information Service. At the top of
the page the message reads Hello Ms Williams. The information underneath instantly changes
to a photograph of two young children and a baby. A message in red above the photograph
reads, IF YOU WANT YOUR BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN TO STAY BEAUTIFUL THEN FOLLOW MY
INSTRUCTIONS.)
JIM (voiceover): ... and every person has their pressure point; someone that they want to
protect from harm.
(The foreman stares at the TV screen in horror. At 221B, Jim lifts his teacup to his mouth
again.)

247
JIM (softly): Easy-peasy.

(By now Sherlock has unbuttoned his jacket and sat down in Johns chair. In a perhaps
unconscious mimicking of the man seated opposite him, he too has his cup lifted close to his
mouth.)
SHERLOCK: So howre you going to do it ...
(He pointedly blows gently on his tea.)
SHERLOCK: ... burn me?
JIM (softly): Oh, thats the problem the final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet?
(Sherlock has taken a sip of his tea and looks across his cup to the other man.)
JIM: Whats the final problem?
(He smiles across his own cup.)
JIM: I did tell you ... (sing-song but still softly) ... but did you listen?
(He takes another sip of tea and then puts the cup down into the saucer. Putting his hand onto
his knee, he starts idly drumming his fingers. Sherlocks eyes lower to watch the movement.)
JIM (still drumming his fingers): How hard do you find it, having to say I dont know?
(Sherlock puts his cup into its saucer and shrugs.)
SHERLOCK (nonchalantly): I dunno.
JIM: Oh, thats clever; thats very clever; awfully clever.
(He chuckles in an upper class tone. Sherlock smiles humourlessly while putting his cup back
onto the tray.)
JIM: Speaking of clever, have you told your little friends yet?
SHERLOCK: Told them what?
JIM: Why I broke into all those places and never took anything.
SHERLOCK: No.
JIM: But you understand.
JIM: Off you go, then.
(He has carved a piece off his apple and puts it into his mouth with the flat of his penknife.)
SHERLOCK: You want me to tell you what you already know?
JIM: No; I want you to prove that you know it.
SHERLOCK: You didnt take anything because you dont need to.
JIM (softly): Good.
SHERLOCK: Youll never need to take anything ever again.
JIM: Very good. Because ...?
SHERLOCK: Because nothing ... nothing in the Bank of England, the Tower of London or
Pentonville Prison could possibly match the value of the key that could get you into all three.
JIM: I can open any door anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a
private bank account now theyre all mine. No such thing as secrecy I own secrecy. Nuclear
codes I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world with locked rooms, the man with
the key is king; and honey, you should see me in a crown.
(He smiles in delight at Sherlock.)
SHERLOCK: You were advertising all the way through the trial. You were showing the world
what you can do.
JIM: And you were helping. Big client list: rogue governments, intelligence communities ...
terrorist cells. They all want me.
(He lifts another piece of apple to his mouth with the penknife.)
JIM: Suddenly, Im Mr Sex.
SHERLOCK: If you could break any bank, what do you care about the highest bidder?
JIM: I dont. I just like to watch them all competing. Daddy loves me the best! Arent ordinary
people adorable? Well, you know: youve got John. I should get myself a live-in one.
SHERLOCK: Why are you doing all of this?
JIM (still thinking about having a live-in ordinary person): Itd be so funny.
SHERLOCK: You dont want money or power not really.
(Jim digs the point of his penknife into the apple.)
SHERLOCK: What is it all for?
JIM (sitting forward and speaking softly): I want to solve the problem our problem; the final
problem.
(He lowers his head.)
JIM: Its gonna start very soon, Sherlock: the fall.
(In a cut-away moment, he raises his head and whistles a slowly descending note while
simultaneously lowering his gaze towards the floor.)

248
JIM: But dont be scared. Fallings just like flying, except theres a more permanent destination.
(In the cut-away, his gaze reaches the floor and he makes the sound of something thudding to
the ground. Raising his head slowly, he glowers across at Sherlock, who bares his teeth slightly
and then stands and buttons his jacket.)
SHERLOCK: Never liked riddles.
(Jim stands as well and straightens his jacket, locking his gaze onto Sherlocks eyes.)
JIM: Learn to. Because I owe you a fall, Sherlock. I ... owe ... you.
(He continues to gaze at Sherlock for about six seconds, sealing his promise, then slowly turns
and walks away. Sherlock doesnt move as Jim leaves the room, but after a while he moves
towards the apple which Jim left on the arm of his chair with the penknife still stuck in it. He
picks it up by the knife handle and looks at it. Jim has dug a large circular piece out of the
apple, and on the left of the circle he has carved an I shape while on the right of the circle is a
U shape, forming the letters I O U. Sherlocks mouth twitches into the beginning of a smile.)
The next morning the Daily Express front page headline screams MORIARTY WALKS FREE
with the strapline Shock verdict at Old Bailey trial. The opening paragraph reads: The Judge
could only look on dumbfounded as the Jury found Jimbo Moriarty Not Guilty. Gasps were
heard around the courtroom as the Jury declared their verdict. The Guardian declares Shock
verdict at trial and the article begins, In an unbelievable turn of events Moriarty walked free
today after putting up no defence at all for what has been described as the Trial of the Century.
Star witness Sherlock Holmes was not present for the verdict as in another twist to the case
was thrown out of court by the Judge. Questions have been asked in Parliament and the Prime
Minister was quoted as saying This is a disgrace, a sign if ever we needed one that broken
Britain is still broken... [and yes, they do open the quote with single speech marks, then close
it with double speech marks]. The Daily Star goes with How was he ever acquitted [but
apparently cant be bothered to put a question mark after it].
Some time later The Guardian declares Moriarty vanishes while on one of its inside pages is
a cartoon caricature of Sherlock holding a crystal ball with the caption underneath reading,
What Next for the Reichenbach Hero?
TWO MONTHS LATER.

John goes to a NatWest cashpoint machine and inserts his card. Typing in his PIN, he then
selects a transaction. After a few seconds he is greeted with the onscreen message:
There is a problem with

your card
Please wait
(John grimaces and a second later a new message appears:
Thank you for

your patience.
A moment later the message adds:
John
John frowns and behind him a black car pulls up to the kerb and stops. John turns and looks at
it, then turns back to the ATM, sighing in exasperation. However, he still hasnt learned his
lesson about getting into strange cars and apparently meekly gets in and allows himself to be
driven to an elegant white painted building which has a brass plaque outside declaring the
venue to be THE DIOGENES CLUB. He goes inside and enters a large room which back when
the building used to be a house was probably a drawing room. A large marble fireplace
surrounds an unlit fire and the walls have heavy wooden panelling and ornate white plaster
coving. The room contains five small round tables, each with a single armchair beside it, and
four of the chairs are currently occupied by smartly dressed middle aged or elderly gentlemen
reading newspapers and taking no notice of each other or of the new arrival. John looks around
and then walks over to one of the older men sitting at the far end of the room.)
JOHN: Er, excuse me. Um, Im looking for Mycroft Holmes.
(The old mans face becomes appalled but he doesnt look up.)

249
JOHN: Would you happen to know if hes around at all?

(Some of the other inhabitants of the room behind John look round at him but dont speak.)
JOHN: Can you not hear me?
(The old man looks up at him, huffing indignantly. John holds out a placatory hand to him.)
JOHN: Yes, all right.
(He turns around to the others in the room.)
JOHN: Anyone?
(The others turn their faces away from him.)
JOHN: Anyone at all know where Mycroft Holmes is? Ive been asked to meet him here.
(The old man lifts his walking stick and pushes the end of it repeatedly onto a button on the
nearby wall. A distant bell rings. John looks around in confusion while the gentlemen either
ignore him or look at him in annoyance.)
JOHN: No takers? Right. (He raises his voice.) Am I invisible? Can you actually see me?
(Just then two men wearing dress coats walk into the room. John turns to them.)
JOHN: Ah, thanks, gents.
(Behind him, the elderly gentleman flaps his hand frantically at the new arrivals as if to say,
Get him out of here! The dress coated men, wearing white gloves and soft white overshoes to
muffle their footsteps, walk briskly over to John.)
JOHN: Ive been asked to meet Mycroft Holm...
(He breaks off as the men walk either side of him and firmly seize his arms.)
JOHN: What the ...? Hey!
(As they almost lift him off his feet, one of them puts his other hand over Johns mouth to
silence him. His muffled protests continue while they rapidly bundle him out of the room.)
[As a footnote of potential interest, VerityBurns alerted me to the fact that the old gentleman is
played by Douglas Wilmer who played the role of Sherlock Holmes in a BBC series in the 1960s.
Callie-Ariane transcripts: not only hopefully entertaining and useful but educational as well!]
Shortly afterwards John has been taken to a smaller room and the door has been closed firmly
behind him. Mycroft is in the room with him and pours himself a drink from a crystal decanter.
MYCROFT: Tradition, John. Our traditions define us.
JOHN: So total silence is traditional, is it? You cant even say, Pass the sugar.
MYCROFT: Three-quarters of the diplomatic service and half the government front bench all
sharing one tea trolley. Its for the best, believe me.
(He smiles round at John but then his face becomes more grim as he walks towards a pair of
armchairs in the middle of the room.)
MYCROFT: They dont want a repeat of 1972. But we can talk in here.
(John walks to a small table and picks up a copy of The Sun which is lying on it. He brandishes
it at Mycroft.)
JOHN: You read this stuff?
MYCROFT: Caught my eye.
JOHN (sitting down in one of the armchairs): Mmm-hmm.
MYCROFT: Saturday: theyre doing a big expos.
(John reads the announcement at the top of the front page. The headline reads: SHERLOCK:
THE SHOCKING TRUTH with the strapline Close Friend Richard Brook Tells All. The article
reveals that it is an Exclusive from Kitty Riley and the text reads: Super-sleuth Sherlock
Holmes has today been exposed as a fraud in a revelation that will shock his new found base of
adoring fans. // Out-of-work actor Richard Brook revealed exclusively to THE SUN that he was
hired by Holmes in an elaborate deception to fool the British public into believing Holmes had
above-average detective skills. // Brook, who has known Holmes for decades and until recently
considered him to be a close friend, said he was at first desperate for the money, but later
found he had no [at which point the text just stops].)
JOHN: Id love to know where she got her information.
MYCROFT: Someone called Brook. Recognise the name?
(John lowers the paper and shakes his head.)
JOHN: School friend, maybe?
(Mycroft laughs in a snide way. Your transcriber wants to slap him really quite hard.)
MYCROFT: Of Sherlocks? (He chuckles again.) But thats not why I asked you here.
(He walks to a side table and picks up several folders. Returning to John he gives him one of
them. John opens the file and looks at the photograph on the top page.)
JOHN: Whos that?
MYCROFT: Dont know him?

250
JOHN: No.
MYCROFT: Never seen his face before?
JOHN (looking at the photo again): Umm ...
MYCROFT: Hes taken a flat in Baker Street, two doors down from you.
JOHN: Hmm! I was thinking of doing a drinks thing for the neighbours.
(He smiles sarcastically up at Mycroft who looks back at him straight-faced.)
MYCROFT: Not sure youll want to. (He nods towards the folder.) Sulejmani. Albanian hit squad.
Expertly-trained killer living less than twenty feet from your front door.
JOHN: Its a great location. Jubilee lines handy.
MYCROFT: John ...
JOHN: Whats it got to do with me?
MYCROFT (walking over and giving him another of the files): Dyachenko, Ludmila.
(He sits down opposite John, who lets out a long tired groan as he opens the file and looks at
the photograph inside before frowning a little.)
JOHN: Um, actually, I think I have seen her.
[Of course you have, John you dog ...]
MYCROFT: Russian killer. Shes taken the flat opposite.
JOHN (now sounding a little nervous): Okay ... Im sensing a pattern here.
MYCROFT (handing him the rest of the files): In fact, four top international assassins relocate to
within spitting distance of two hundred and twenty-one B. Anything you care to share with me?
(Looking at the photographs of the other assassins, John chuckles, then looks up at Mycroft.)
JOHN: Im moving?!
(Mycroft looks back at him unamused, then narrows his eyes.)
MYCROFT: Its not hard to guess the common denominator, is it?
JOHN: You think this is Moriarty?
MYCROFT: He promised Sherlock hed come back.
JOHN: If this was Moriarty, wed be dead already.
MYCROFT: If not Moriarty, then who?
JOHN: Why dont you talk to Sherlock if youre so concerned about him?
(Mycroft looks away and toys with the glass on the table beside him. John rolls his eyes.)
JOHN: Oh God, dont tell me.
MYCROFT: Too much history between us, John. Old scores; resentments.
JOHN: Nicked all his Smurfs? Broke his Action Man?
(Mycroft glowers at him. John cant help but laugh, then pulls himself together and puts the files
onto the table beside him.)
JOHN (in a whisper): Finished.
(He stands up and turns to leave the room.)
MYCROFT: We both know whats coming, John.
(John stops and turns back, clearly now struggling to control his anger.)
MYCROFT: Moriarty is obsessed. Hes sworn to destroy his only rival.
JOHN (tightly): So you want me to watch out for your brother because he wont accept your
help.
MYCROFT: If its not too much trouble.
(He directs a smile at John but it quickly fades and his expression becomes more threatening.
John holds his gaze, then looks away, nods in a resigned way and turns to go to the door again.
Opening it, he looks back at Mycroft once more, who still has the same look on his face, then
leaves the room.)
221B. A taxi drops John off opposite the flat. As he crosses the road, he cant help but be aware
of people passing by in the street, wondering if any of them are the assassins keeping an eye
on the flat. When John reaches the front door which is standing wide open he sees that a
brown envelope has been left on the doorstep. There is nothing written on the front but the
back has a large old fashioned wax seal on it. He peels open one corner of the envelope and
puts his finger in to slide it along the edge and slice the rest of the envelope open. Immediately
a lot of brown dust, with some larger chunks of brown something, fall out. As he catches some
of the debris and looks at it, a mans Cockney voice speaks behind him.
MAN: Scuse, mate.
JOHN: Oh.
(He steps aside as a heavily tattooed bald-headed man wearing jeans and a black vest carries a
stepladder into the hallway. John follows him in, putting the envelope into his pocket as he
goes. He trots upstairs and goes into the living room.)

251
JOHN: Sherlock, something weird ...

(He stops when he sees that Greg and Sally are in the room with Sherlock.)
JOHN: Whats going on?
SHERLOCK: Kidnapping.
(He goes over to the dining table and sits down and starts to type on the laptop.)
LESTRADE: Rufus Bruhl, the ambassador to the U.S.
JOHN: Hes in Washington, isnt he?
LESTRADE: Not him his children, Max and Claudette, age seven and nine.
(Sally shows photographs of the two children to John.)
LESTRADE: Theyre at St Aldates.
DONOVAN: Posh boarding place down in Surrey.
LESTRADE (to Sherlock, who is still typing): The school broke up; all the other boarders went
home just a few kids remained, including those two.
DONOVAN: The kids have vanished.
LESTRADE: The ambassadors asked for you personally.
(Sherlock is already on his feet and heading out of the door with his coat over his arm.)
DONOVAN (sarcastically): The Reichenbach Hero.
(Sherlock hesitates momentarily but then continues on. After a second Greg follows him out.)
LESTRADE: Isnt it great to be working with a celebrity(!)
(As John gestures for Sally to precede him out of the room, their actions are being watched by a
camera high up on the living room wall near the left-hand front window.)
ST ALDATES SCHOOL. Gregs car drives into the grounds of the boarding school and pulls up
outside the front entrance. Two police cars are already there and a woman is standing in front
of one of them, leaning against the bonnet wearing a shock blanket around her shoulders and
crying while a uniformed female police officer talks reassuringly to her. A man, probably a plain
clothed police officer, is also talking to her but walks away as Greg, Sally and the boys get out
of the car and approach. The woman blows her nose on her handkerchief.
FEMALE POLICE OFFICER (comfortingly): Its all right.
LESTRADE (quietly to Sherlock): Miss Mackenzie, House Mistress. Go easy.
(He stays back and lets Sherlock walk over to the woman on his own.)
SHERLOCK: Miss Mackenzie, youre in charge of pupil welfare, yet you left this place wide open
last night. (His voice rises angrily.) What are you: an idiot, a drunk or a criminal?
(He grabs the blanket and abruptly pulls it from around her shoulders. She gasps in fear as he
glares furiously at her.)
SHERLOCK (loudly): Now quickly, tell me!
MISS MACKENZIE (tearfully and cringing in terror): All the doors and windows were properly
bolted. No-one not even me went into their room last night. You have to believe me!
(Sherlocks demeanour instantly changes and he smiles reassuringly and gently takes hold of
her shoulders.)
SHERLOCK: I do. I just wanted you to speak quickly.
(He looks at the nearby police officers as he turns and walks away.)
SHERLOCK: Miss Mackenzie will need to breathe into a bag now.
(She sobs in distress and the female police officer hurries over to comfort her.
Shortly afterwards, inside the school, Sherlock leads the others into one of the dormitories.)
JOHN: Six grand a term, youd expect them to keep the kids safe for you. You said the other
kids had all left on their holidays?
(Sherlock has already looked in a cupboard beside one of the beds and now drops to his knees
and peers under the bed.)
LESTRADE: They were the only two sleeping on this floor. Absolutely no sign of a break-in.
(Sherlock picks up a lacrosse stick lying on the floor and gets to his feet while looking at the
stick closely. He briefly wields it as if using it as a weapon but then apparently decides it wasnt
used in that way and drops it to the floor.)
LESTRADE: The intruder must have been hidden inside some place.
(Sherlock goes over to a wooden trunk and opens the lid. Amongst the other items inside the
trunk he finds a large brown envelope with a wax seal on the back which has already been
broken as if someone has opened the envelope. Inside is a large hardback book. Carefully
checking the envelope first, he then takes out the book and flips it over to look at the cover.
The book is Grimms Fairy Tales. He looks along the edges of the book and then riffles the
pages quickly. Finding nothing of interest, he looks up.)
SHERLOCK: Show me where the brother slept.

252
(He is taken to another smaller dormitory and looks around, going to stand beside the only bed
in the room which still has bedding on it. The bed is opposite the door, which has a frosted glass
pane in it. He looks towards the door while gesturing down to the bed.)
SHERLOCK: The boy sleeps there every night, gazing at the only light source outside in the
corridor. Hed recognise every shape, every outline, the silhouette of everyone who came to the
door.
LESTRADE: Okay, so ...
SHERLOCK: So someone approaches the door who he doesnt recognise, an intruder. Maybe he
can even see the outline of a weapon.
(Leaving the other three inside the room, he goes outside the door and pulls it almost closed,
then raises his hand and points his fingers as if theyre a gun, showing the others how it would
be seen through the frosted glass. He pushes the door open and comes back into the room.)
SHERLOCK: What would he do in the precious few seconds before they came into the room?
How would he use them if not to cry out?
(He walks around the bed, looking at the boys possessions.)
SHERLOCK: This little boy; this particular little boy ... (he looks at the bedside table and points
towards it) ... who reads all of those spy books. What would he do?
JOHN: Hed leave a sign?
(Sherlock starts sniffing noisily. He picks up a cricket bat leaning against the nearby cupboard
and sniffs along both sides of it. Putting the bat down again he squats and sniffs around the
bedside table, then reaches under the bed and picks up an almost empty glass bottle of linseed
oil. He looks up.)
SHERLOCK (sternly): Get Anderson.
Not long afterwards the room has been darkened as much as possible by closing the wooden
shutters over the windows. Sherlock shines an ultraviolet light onto the wall beside the boys
bed where the words HELP US have been written on the wall, only now visible in the light.
SHERLOCK: Linseed oil.
ANDERSON: Not much use. Doesnt lead us to the kidnapper.
SHERLOCK: Brilliant, Anderson.
ANDERSON: Really?
SHERLOCK: Yes. Brilliant impression of an idiot.
(He points downwards, shining the light close to the wooden floorboards.)
SHERLOCK: The floor.
(There are several sets of illuminated footprints of varying sizes leading towards the door.
Sherlock slowly follows them.)
JOHN: He made a trail for us!
SHERLOCK: The boy was made to walk ahead of them.
JOHN (looking at the shape of some of the smaller footprints): On, what, tiptoe?
SHERLOCK: Indicates anxiety; a gun held to his head.
(He walks slowly out into the corridor, which has also been blacked out, and follows the
footsteps. Anderson walks beside him with another ultraviolet light.)
SHERLOCK: The girl was pulled beside him, dragged sideways. He had his left arm cradled
about her neck.
(A few yards along the corridor the glowing footsteps stop.)
ANDERSON: Thats the end of it. We dont know where they went from here.
(Sherlock stops. Anderson turns back to him.)
ANDERSON: Tells us nothing after all.
SHERLOCK: Youre right, Anderson nothing.
(He pauses for a moment, then takes a breath.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Except his shoe size, his height, his gait, his walking pace.
(He reaches to the closest window and tears down the blackout material that had been stuck
across it. Daylight floods back into the corridor. Putting the light onto the window sill, he kneels
down and takes his wallet of tools and a small lidded plastic Petri dish from his inside pocket.
While the police go back towards the bedroom, he puts the dish on the floor, opens the wallet
and chuckles contentedly. John squats down beside him.)
JOHN: Having fun?
SHERLOCK: Starting to.
JOHN: Maybe dont do the smiling.
(Sherlock lifts his head.)
JOHN: Kidnapped children?

253
(Sherlock lowers his head again and concentrates on scraping some of the dried linseed oil and
floor wax loose with a small scalpel and then using tweezers to pick up the loosened pieces and
put them into the container.)
LONDON. Sherlock and John are in a taxi.

JOHN: But how did he get past the CCTV? If all the doors were locked ...
SHERLOCK: He walked in when they werent locked.
JOHN: But a stranger cant just walk into a school like that.
SHERLOCK: Anyone can walk in anywhere if they pick the right moment. Yesterday end of
term, parents milling around, chauffeurs, staff. Whats one more stranger among that lot?
(A flashback shows one of the school children outside the entrance being embraced by her
mother. Other adults and children are all around, and one man walks alone up the steps
towards the door.)
SHERLOCK: He was waiting for them. All he had to do was find a place to hide.
ST BARTHOLOMEWS HOSPITAL. Molly Hooper walks along a corridor, pulling her coat on. Just
as she reaches the fire doors at the end of the corridor, Sherlock and John walk through them.
SHERLOCK: Molly!
MOLLY: Oh, hello. Im just going out.
SHERLOCK (putting his hands onto her shoulders and turning her back the way she just came):
No youre not.
MOLLY: Ive got a lunch date.
SHERLOCK (putting a hand on her back to start her walking again): Cancel it. Youre having
lunch with me.
(Reaching into his coat pockets, he dramatically produces a bag of Quavers crisps from each
pocket.)
MOLLY: What?
SHERLOCK (putting the crisps back into his pockets): Need your help. Its one of your old
boyfriends were trying to track him down. Hes been a bit naughty!
(Reaching the fire doors at the other end of the corridor, he turns and smiles back at Molly, who
has stopped dead a few paces back. John also stops and stares at him.)
JOHN: Its Moriarty?
SHERLOCK: Course its Moriarty.
MOLLY: Er, Jim actually wasnt even my boyfriend. We went out three times. I ended it.
SHERLOCK: Yes, and then he stole the Crown Jewels, broke into the Bank of England and
organised a prison break at Pentonville. For the sake of law and order, I suggest you avoid all
future attempts at a relationship, Molly.
(Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out and brandishes a bag of Quavers at her again, then
continues on through the fire door. She stares after him in utter bewilderment.)
Shortly afterwards, wearing her lab coat, she pushes her way through the door into Sherlocks
favourite lab weighed down by the huge pile of books and files she is carrying. As she staggers
into the room, Sherlock is sitting at the bench in front of a microscope. John is standing at the
other side of the bench.
SHERLOCK: Oil, John.
(He opens the plastic Petri dish and takes out one of the samples with tweezers.)
SHERLOCK: The oil in the kidnappers footprint itll lead us to Moriarty.
(He drops the sample into a test tube which has some liquid in the bottom. The fluid begins to
fizz. He suctions up some of the liquid and drops it onto a slide.)
SHERLOCK: All the chemical traces on his shoe have been preserved. The sole of the shoe is
like a passport. If were lucky we can see everything that hes been up to.
(He looks at the slide under the microscope. Time passes and we see brief extracts of the work
which he and Molly are doing. She puts on latex gloves.)
SHERLOCK: I need that analysis.
(Molly squeezes some liquid into a glass dish and applies some Litmus paper to it. The paper
turns blue.)
MOLLY: Alkaline.
SHERLOCK: Thank you, John.
MOLLY: Molly.
SHERLOCK: Yes.

254
(She turns away unhappily. Sherlock has found the first component in the mixture of items and
makes a note of it:
1. Chalk
He takes another sample and dissolves it. The results reveal another item:
2. Asphalt
Dissolving another sample into a dish:
3. Brick Dust
And another sample dissolved and heated over a Bunsen burner:
4. Vegetation
Later, he has another sample on a slide and is looking at it in the microscope. He quietly
murmurs to himself.)
SHERLOCK (softly): I ... owe ... you.
(He turns his head and looks at a nearby computer screen.)
SHERLOCK: Glycerol molecule.
(He sighs heavily as he struggles to identify the item, seeing it in his head as:
5. ?????
SHERLOCK: What are you?

(He looks into the microscope again as Molly stands beside him typing onto a laptop.)
MOLLY: What did you mean, I owe you?
(John walks across the lab on the other side of the bench. Sherlock raises his eyes from the
microscope and watches him crossing the room.)
MOLLY: You said, I owe you. You were muttering it while you were working.
SHERLOCK (looking into the scope again): Nothing. Mental note.
(Molly looks at him.)
MOLLY: Youre a bit like my dad. Hes dead.
(She closes her eyes, embarrassed.)
MOLLY: No, sorry.
SHERLOCK: Molly, please dont feel the need to make conversation. Its really not your area.
(Molly cringes but continues.)
MOLLY: When he was ... dying, he was always cheerful; he was lovely except when he
thought no-one could see. I saw him once. He looked sad.
SHERLOCK (sternly): Molly ...
MOLLY: You look sad ... (she glances towards John) ... when you think he cant see you.
(Sherlocks eyes lift from the microscope and drift towards John who is looking through papers
on the other side of the lab some distance away, unaware of the conversation. Sherlock turns
his head and looks at Molly.)
MOLLY: Are you okay?
(He opens his mouth but she interrupts before he can speak.)
MOLLY: And dont just say you are, because I know what that means, looking sad when you
think no-one can see you.
SHERLOCK: But you can see me.
MOLLY: I dont count.
(Sherlock blinks and really looks at her, possibly for the first time since he has known her.)
MOLLY: What Im trying to say is that, if theres anything I can do, anything you need, anything
at all, you can have me.
(She flinches and looks away briefly.)
MOLLY: No, I just mean ... I mean if theres anything you need ...
(She shakes her head.)
MOLLY: Its fine.
(She turns away. Sherlock looks shaken.)

255
SHERLOCK: What-what-what could I need from you?

MOLLY (turning back to him): Nothing. (She shrugs.) I dunno. You could probably say thank
you, actually.
(She nods nervously but firmly. The side of Sherlocks mouth twitches as if it doesnt know how
to say the words.)
SHERLOCK (hesitantly): ... Thank you.
(He frowns and turns his head away as if surprised that he has said it. Molly starts to walk
towards the door.)
MOLLY: Im just gonna go and get some crisps. Do you want anything?
(He starts to open his mouth but she turns back and beats him to it.)
MOLLY: Its okay, I know you dont.
SHERLOCK: Well, actually, maybe Ill ...
MOLLY: I know you dont.
(She turns and walks away, leaving the room. He watches her go, then gazes into the distance
thoughtfully for a moment before looking back to his microscope.
On the other side of the lab, ignorant of the conversation that has just taken place, John is
looking through police photographs taken at the school. He finds one of the inside of the
wooden trunk which shows the envelope with the wax seal, and another with a close-up of the
seal.)
JOHN: Sherlock.
SHERLOCK: Hmm?
JOHN: This envelope that was in her trunk. Theres another one.
(He walks over to where he has put his jacket.)
SHERLOCK: What?
JOHN: On our doorstep. Found it today.
(He gets the envelope out of his pocket and looks at it.)
JOHN: Yes, and look at that.
(He brings the envelope round the bench and gives it to Sherlock.)
JOHN: Look at that. Exactly the same seal.
(Sherlock reaches into the envelope and takes out some of the brown dust which we now see
more clearly.)
SHERLOCK: Breadcrumbs.
JOHN: Uh-huh. It was there when I got back.
SHERLOCK: A little trace of breadcrumbs; hardback copy of fairy tales.
(His eyes widen.)
SHERLOCK: Two children led into the forest by a wicked father follow a little trail of
breadcrumbs.
JOHN: Thats Hansel and Gretel. What sort of kidnapper leaves clues?
SHERLOCK: The sort that likes to boast; the sort that thinks its all a game. He sat in our flat
and he said these exact words to me ...
(Jims voice overlays Sherlocks as he relates the words.)
SHERLOCK/JIM: All fairytales need a good old-fashioned villain.
[Dont go back and check thats not the exact words that Jim said. He said Every fairytale
needs a good old-fashioned villain. Please excuse your transcriber for a moment while she goes
and slaps the scriptwriter ...]
(Sherlock puts down the envelope and adjusts his microscope before starting to look into it
again.)
SHERLOCK: The fifth substance: its part of the tale.
(He looks up again.)
SHERLOCK: The witchs house.
JOHN: What?
(In repeated cut-aways during the next few lines, the two kidnapped children are kneeling on a
concrete floor somewhere, rapidly peeling the wrappers from sweets and eating them.)
SHERLOCK: The glycerol molecule.
(The final element in the sample becomes clear to him:
5. PGPR
SHERLOCK: PGPR!
JOHN: Whats that?
SHERLOCK (leaping to his feet): Its used in making chocolate.

256
(He hurries out of the lab while, in the cut-away, the children continue to scoff the sweets on
the floor. The camera pulls back to show that they are in what looks like an abandoned factory
or warehouse.)
SCOTLAND YARD. Greg hands a sheet of paper to Sherlock as he leads him and John into the
departments main office.
LESTRADE: This fax arrived an hour ago.
(There is a large handwritten note on the paper saying:
HURRY UP
THEYRE
DYING!
Sherlock hands the note to John.)

LESTRADE: What have you got for us?
SHERLOCK: Need to find a place in the city where all five of these things intersect.
(He hands a piece of paper to Greg, who reads it aloud.)
LESTRADE: Chalk, asphalt, brick dust, vegetation ... What the hell is this? Chocolate?
SHERLOCK: I think were looking for a disused sweet factory.
LESTRADE: We need to narrow that down. A sweet factory with asphalt?
SHERLOCK: No. No-no-no. Too general. Need something more specific. Chalk; chalky clay
thats a far thinner band of geology.
(He calls up a map of London in his head, overlaying it with the names of the towns, then
begins zooming in and out of various areas.)
LESTRADE: Brick dust?
SHERLOCK: Building site. Bricks from the 1950s.
LESTRADE (rubbing his face in despair): Theres thousands of building sites in London.
(Sherlock looks exasperated at the distraction.)
SHERLOCK: Ive got people out looking.
LESTRADE: So have I.
SHERLOCK: Homeless network faster than the police. (He smiles snidely.) Far more relaxed
about taking bribes.
(Sitting at a nearby desk, Anderson looks up and rolls his eyes. Sherlocks phone trills a text
alert, followed by several more alerts. He brandishes his phone triumphantly at Greg while the
messages continue to pour in. Smiling smugly, he lifts the phone up high and calls up his
mental London map in front of him, flicking his eyes across to the phone to look at each
photograph and then transfer it to the map. One of the photos, a close-up shot of some purple
flowers, attracts his particular attention.)
SHERLOCK: John.
(He holds the phone out to show him the picture.)
SHERLOCK: Rhododendron ponticum. It matches.
(He goes back to the mental map and scans around it to the only places in London where such a
plant grows, then finds the one place which contains the other elements as well.)
SHERLOCK: Addlestone.
LESTRADE: What?
SHERLOCK: Theres a mile of disused factories between the river and the park. It matches
everything.
(He turns and hurries out of the office with John in hot pursuit. Greg turns to his team.)
LESTRADE: Right, come on.
(Sally hesitates.)
LESTRADE: Come on!
(She jumps up and hurries after him.)
ADDLESTONE. Several police cars race to a disused factory and the police officers, together with
Sherlock and John, run inside the dark building. Everyone switches on flashlights and Sally
coordinates the police as they start to search in all directions.
DONOVAN: You, look over there. Look everywhere. Okay, spread out, please. Spread out.
(Greg leads another team, including Sherlock and John, into another part of the factory. Greg
directs his officers.)
LESTRADE (softly): Look in there. Quietly. Quietly.

257
(As they make their way deeper into the factory, Sherlock finds a large number of empty sweet
wrappers scattered on the floor around a candle on a plate. Sherlock touches the wick of the
candle.)
SHERLOCK: This was alight moments ago.
(He calls out loudly.)
SHERLOCK: Theyre still here.
(The search continues all around.)
SHERLOCK: Sweet wrappers. Whats he been feeding you?
(He picks up one of the wrappers and looks at it more closely.)
SHERLOCK: Hansel and Gretel.
(He holds the wrapper closer to the beam of his flashlight and sniffs the paper before touching
the tip of his tongue to it and grimacing. He looks at the wrapper in startled realisation of what
he has just tasted.)
SHERLOCK: Mercury.
LESTRADE: What?
SHERLOCK: The papers: theyre painted with mercury.
(John groans.)
SHERLOCK: Lethal. The more of the stuff they ate ...
JOHN: It was killing them.
SHERLOCK: But its not enough to kill them on its own. Taken in large enough quantities,
eventually it would kill them.
(The police continue searching the building but Sherlock is now locked onto his thoughts about
Moriarty.)
SHERLOCK: He didnt need to be there for the execution. Murder by remote control. He could be
a thousand miles away.
(Nearby, Sally sees something in the light of her torch. She moves closer and sees a little girl
sitting on the ground with her brothers head in her lap. His eyes are closed. The girl looks
around at Sally.)
SHERLOCK (softly, to himself): The hungrier they got, the more they ate ... the faster they
died.
(He grins.)
SHERLOCK: Neat.
JOHN (reprovingly): Sherlock.
DONOVAN (calling out): Over here!
(Everyone runs in the direction of her voice. Sally and other officers reach down to the
children.)
DONOVAN: Ive got you. Dont worry.
SCOTLAND YARD. Sherlock is pacing outside an office while John sits nearby. The door to the
office opens and Sally and Greg come out.
DONOVAN (sarcastically to Sherlock): Right, then. The professionals have finished. If the
amateurs wanna go in and have their turn ...
(John stands up and walks over to the others. Greg looks seriously at Sherlock.)
LESTRADE: Now, remember, shes in shock and shes just seven years old, so anything you can
do to ...
SHERLOCK: ... not be myself.
LESTRADE: Yeah. Might be helpful.
(Sherlock looks round to John and, doing everything but roll his eyes, reaches up and unpops
the collar of his coat, folding it down flat before leading John and the others into the office. The
little girl is sitting at a table looking down into her lap. A female liaison officer is sitting beside
her stroking her arm reassuringly.)
SHERLOCK: Claudette, I ...
(He gets no further because the girl lifts her head, takes one look at him and begins to scream
in terror.)
SHERLOCK: No-no, I know its been hard for you ...
(She continues screaming and scrambles to get away while pointing at him.)
SHERLOCK: Claudette, listen to me ...
LESTRADE: Out. Get out!
(Grabbing his arm, he bundles Sherlock out of the room as the girls screams continue.)

258
Shortly afterwards, Sherlock is standing at the window of another office looking out into the
night through the slats of the Venetian blinds. Sally stands at the other side of the office
watching him thoughtfully.
JOHN: Makes no sense.
LESTRADE: The kids traumatised. Something about Sherlock reminds her of the kidnapper.
JOHN: So whats she said?
DONOVAN: Hasnt uttered another syllable.
JOHN: And the boy?
LESTRADE: No, hes unconscious; still in intensive care.
(In the building opposite Scotland Yard, all the lights in the offices come on. On the second
floor, spray paint has been applied to three of the office windows. Sherlock stares at the
enormous letters that have been painted:
IOU
Seconds later, the lights on that floor go out again. Behind Sherlock, the others are unaware of
what he has just seen, their view blocked by the blinds.)
LESTRADE: Well, dont let it get to you. I always feel like screaming when you walk into a room!
In fact, so do most people.
(He looks round to Sally and John.)
LESTRADE: Come on.
(He and John leave the room. Sally stays behind as Sherlock turns away from the window and
walks towards the door.)
DONOVAN: Brilliant work you did, finding those kids from just a footprint. Its really amazing.
DONOVAN (pointedly): Unbelievable.
(Sherlock hesitates momentarily, then continues on. She watches him go with a thoughtful
expression.
Outside shortly afterwards, John waits for Sherlock to join him and then looks down the street.)
JOHN: Ah.
(He raises his hand to hail the approaching taxi. As the boys walk to the edge of the kerb, John
looks round to Sherlock.)
JOHN: You okay?
SHERLOCK: Thinking.
(The taxi pulls up at the kerb.)
SHERLOCK: This is my cab. You get the next one.
JOHN: Why?
SHERLOCK: You might talk.
(He gets in and closes the door and the taxi pulls away. John stares after him in disbelief, then
sighs.)
Back inside Scotland Yard, Sally is in a large office and has scattered all the police photographs
and other evidence over a long table. She stands looking down at everything thoughtfully. Greg
walks along the corridor outside and notices her. He stops and looks into the room as Sally
mentally plays back earlier moments.
LESTRADE: What the hell is this? Chocolate?
SHERLOCK: I think were looking for a disused sweet factory.
(Claudette screams in terror.)
LESTRADE: Get out!
(Now Greg comes into the room and walks over to Sally as Claudettes screams fade from her
mind.)
LESTRADE: Problem?
(She looks around at him, then down at the evidence again.)
TAXI. Sherlock sits in the back lost in thought. Partway into the journey, the TV screen on the
back of the drivers seat switches on and an advertisement starts to play. London Taxi Shopping
is advertising jewellery.
VOICEOVER: This is a stunning evening wear set from us here at London Taxi Shopping.
SHERLOCK (to the driver): Can you turn this off, please?
(The driver doesnt respond and the advert continues.)
VOICEOVER: As you can see, the set comprises of a beautiful ...

259
SHERLOCK (louder, angrily): Can you turn this off ...

(The image on the screen begins to fritz as if another channel is breaking through. There are
momentary glimpses of someone who can only be Jim Moriarty grinning at the screen.
Eventually the advert disappears and Jim is seen smiling cheerfully. Behind him is a pale blue
wall with painted white fluffy clouds floating across it. Jims voice takes on a sing-song quality
as if he is talking to children.)
JIM: Hullo. Are you ready for the story? This is the story of Sir Boast-a-lot.
(Sherlock stares at the screen, his face intense.)
SCOTLAND YARD. Sally is showing Greg one of the photographs.

DONOVAN: The footprint. Its all he has. A footprint.
LESTRADE: Yeah, well, you know what hes like CSI Baker Street.
DONOVAN: Well, our boys couldnt have done it.
LESTRADE: Well, thats why we need him. Hes better.
DONOVAN: Thats one explanation.
LESTRADE: And whats the other?
TAXI. Jims image continues to smile from the TV screen.

JIM: Sir Boast-a-lot was the bravest and cleverest knight at the Round Table, but soon the
other knights began to grow tired of his stories about how brave he was and how many dragons
hed slain ...
(Behind him, the pale blue sky gets darker and the white clouds become grey and threatening.)
JIM: And soon they began to wonder ...
(Behind him, rain begins to pour from the clouds.)
JIM: ... Are Sir Boast-a-lots stories even true?
SCOTLAND YARD (offscreen).

DONOVAN (voiceover): Only he could have found that evidence.
TAXI TV SCREEN. Jim sadly shakes his head.

JIM: Oh, no.
SCOTLAND YARD.
DONOVAN: And then the girl screams her head off when she sees him a man she has never
seen before ... unless she had seen him before.
LESTRADE: Wh-whats your point?
DONOVAN: You know what my point is. You just dont wanna think about it.
JIM (on the taxi TV screen): So one of the knights went to King Arthur and said ... (in a
dramatic whisper) ... I dont believe Sir Boast-a-lots stories. Hes just a big old liar who makes
things up to make himself look good.
(At Scotland Yard, Anderson has now come in and he and Sally stand opposite Gregs desk as
he sits talking with them.)
LESTRADE: Youre not seriously suggesting hes involved, are you?
ANDERSON: I think we have to entertain the possibility.
(Greg stares at him, bewildered.)
JIM (on the TV screen): And then even the King began to wonder ...
(He frowns, raising a finger to his mouth and gazing off to the side with a thoughtful look on his
face. At Scotland Yard, Greg sinks his face into his hand as he is forced to consider what his
officers are telling him. On the taxi TV screen, Jim frowns thoughtfully while cartoon lightning
bolts shoot out of the clouds behind him.)
JIM (shaking his head repeatedly): But that wasnt the end of Sir Boast-a-lots problem. No.
(He looks down for a moment, then raises his eyes to the camera again.)
JIM: That wasnt the final problem.
(Sherlock bares his teeth at the screen as the camera pulls back to show Jim sitting with a
storybook held in his hands. He looks up at the camera and finishes in an even more sing-song
voice.)
JIM: The End.
(Behind him, a red velvet curtain drops down as if covering a theatre stage. The shot changes
to an extreme close-up of Jim grinning hugely and showing his teeth, then the screen fritzes a
few times and eventually returns to the jewellery advert.)
SHERLOCK: Stop the cab! Stop the cab!

260
(The taxi begins to pull up to the kerb.)

SHERLOCK: What was that?
(He jumps out of the right-hand door and runs forward to the drivers door.)
SHERLOCK: What was that?
(The cabbie, wearing a cloth cap very reminiscent of the one worn by the cabbie in A Study in
Pink, turns his head towards Sherlock and reveals that he is Jim Moriarty, who adopts a
London accent as he speaks.)
JIM: No charge.
(He immediately accelerates away as Sherlock tries to grab hold of the door and pull the cab
back. Forced to let go, he chases after the taxi but it soon speeds away. He stops in the middle
of the road, glaring after it and unaware that another car is speeding along behind him. As it
sounds its horn in warning, a man hurries off the pavement, grabs him and pulls him out of
danger.)
MAN: Look out!
(Not yet fully realising what the man is doing, Sherlock strikes out at him but then stops as the
car roars past and he realises what has happened. He stands with the man at arms length,
breathing heavily while the man looks warily at him. Those of us who have been paying
attention or who just rewound the recording to check realise that this is Sulejmani, the
Albanian assassin who lives on Baker Street.)
SHERLOCK (catching his breath): Thank you.
(He holds out his hand for the man to shake. Sulejmani somewhat reluctantly takes it and we
soon realise why he wasnt keen when three bullets are fired into him in quick succession from
somewhere behind Sherlock. Sulejmani slumps to the ground and Sherlock spins around, trying
to find the source of the gunfire. Just then another black cab comes around the corner and pulls
up a short distance away. John jumps out and hurries towards him.)
JOHN: Sherlock!
Some time later Sherlock stands twitching his fingers fretfully while an ambulance crew wheels
Sulejmanis body away.
JOHN: That ... its him. Its him. Sulejmani or something. Mycroft showed me his file. Hes a big
Albanian gangster lives two doors down from us.
SHERLOCK: He died because I shook his hand.
SHERLOCK: He saved my life but he couldnt touch me. Why?
(He storms off. John follows.)
221B. Sherlock walks rapidly into the living room, pulling off his scarf and then his coat as he
goes across to the laptop on the dining table. Sadly, at this point he stops removing clothing.
SHERLOCK: Four assassins living right on our doorstep. They didnt come here to kill me; they
have to keep me alive.
(He sits down at the table while John goes over to the window near him and looks out.)
SHERLOCK: Ive got something that all of them want, but if one of them approaches me ...
JOHN: ... the others kill them before they can get it.
(Sherlock grunts in agreement and types rapidly on the laptop, navigating away from the
website for St Aldates School and calling up a list of local Wi-Fi networks. There are five of
them and he checks their signal strength and the names of the networks, each of which is in a
foreign language.)
SHERLOCK: All of the attention is focussed on me. Theres a surveillance web closing in on us
right now.
JOHN: So what have you got thats so important?
(Sherlock gazes into the distance and thinks for a moment, then runs his finger along the table
beside the computer before lifting it and looking at his fingertip.)
SHERLOCK: We need to ask about the dusting.
Shortly afterwards, Mrs Hudson has been dragged upstairs in her nightdress and dressing gown.
Sherlock is hurrying around the room checking for dust on all the furniture.
SHERLOCK: Precise details: in the last week, whats been cleaned?
MRS HUDSON: Well, Tuesday I did your lino ...
SHERLOCK: No, in here, this room. This is where well find it any break in the dust line. You
can put back anything but dust.

261
(He lifts his hand from the latest piece of furniture that he has been running his finger along,
and twirls his finger dramatically in the air.)
SHERLOCK: Dust is eloquent.
(Mrs Hudson looks over her shoulder at John.)
MRS HUDSON (quietly): Whats he on about?
(John shakes his head and mumbles. By now Sherlock is climbing on the furniture to look more
closely at the top shelves of the bookcase to the left of the fireplace.)
SHERLOCK: Cameras. Were being watched.
MRS HUDSON: What? Cameras? (She cringes.) Here? Im in my nightie!
(The doorbell has just rung and she hurries out of the room, John following her. Sherlock has
climbed down and now checks in the eye sockets of the skull on the mantelpiece before
climbing onto small tables on the other side of the fireplace to look at the bookshelves there.
Checking the books on the top shelf, he apparently realises that the one on the far right has
more movement around it than it ought and he pushes it deeper into the shelf, revealing a
camera stuck to the side of the bookshelf. As he reaches up to remove it, Greg comes into the
room followed by John.)
SHERLOCK (without turning around, still concentrating on removing the camera): No, Inspector.
LESTRADE: What?
SHERLOCK (stepping down with the camera in his fingers): The answers no.
LESTRADE: But you havent heard the question!
SHERLOCK: You want to take me to the station. Just saving you the trouble of asking.
(He walks closer. Greg pulls in a breath.)
LESTRADE: Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK (interrupting): The scream?
LESTRADE: Yeah.
SHERLOCK: Who was it? Donovan? I bet it was Donovan. Am I somehow responsible for the
kidnapping? Ah, Moriarty is smart. He planted that doubt in her head; that little nagging
sensation. Youre going to have to be strong to resist. You cant kill an idea, can you? Not once
its made a home ... (he reaches forward and briefly places his index fingertip on Gregs
forehead between his eyes) ... there.
SHERLOCK (turning away, sitting down at the laptop and beginning to type): One photograph
thats his next move. Moriartys game: first the scream, then a photograph of me being taken in
for questioning. He wants to destroy me inch by inch.
(Picking up the camera again, he looks at it for a moment, then raises his eyes to Gregs.)
SHERLOCK: It is a game, Lestrade, and not one Im willing to play.
[Memo to Benedict Cumberbatch: could you please not go into full cello-jaguar voice when Im
typing late at night and wearing headphones cranked up loud? Its not good for my underwear.
Kthxbai.]
SHERLOCK (looking away again): Give my regards to Sergeant Donovan.
(Sighing and exchanging a brief look with John, Greg turns and heads off down the stairs. John
watches him go [with a Yeah, definitely would look on his face, if you ask me ...], then turns
back towards Sherlock who has now linked the camera into the computer so that he can pull up
the live footage on the computer screen. Downstairs, Greg walks along the hallway and glowers
at Sally who is waiting at the front door. He walks past her and out into the street. She turns
and watches him unhappily, then follows. Upstairs, John has gone over to the right-hand
window and looks out at the car parked outside as Greg and Sally go over to it and get in, Greg
glancing up towards the window momentarily. As the car starts, Sherlock briefly looks at John.)
SHERLOCK: Theyll be deciding.
JOHN: Deciding?
SHERLOCK: Whether to come back with a warrant and arrest me.
JOHN: You think?
SHERLOCK: Standard procedure.
JOHN: Should have gone with him. Peoplell think ...
SHERLOCK: I dont care what people think.
JOHN: Youd care if they thought you were stupid, or wrong.
SHERLOCK: No, that would just make them stupid or wrong.
(Angrily, John turns towards him.)
JOHN: Sherlock, I dont want the world believing youre ...
(He breaks off as Sherlock lifts his head to look at him. They lock eyes for a long moment.)
SHERLOCK: That I am what?

262
JOHN: A fraud.
(Sherlock rolls his eyes and sits back in the seat.)
SHERLOCK: Youre worried theyre right.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: Youre worried theyre right about me.
JOHN: No.
SHERLOCK: Thats why youre so upset. You cant even entertain the possibility that they might
be right. Youre afraid that youve been taken in as well.
JOHN (turning away and look out of the window again): No Im not.
(Sherlock leans forward.)
SHERLOCK: Moriarty is playing with your mind too. (Furious, he slams his hand onto the table.)
Cant you see whats going on?
(John looks at him for a few seconds, then looks out of the window again.)
JOHN: No, I know youre for real.
SHERLOCK: A hundred percent?
JOHN (quietly, turning back towards him): Well, nobody could fake being such an annoying dick
all the time.
(Sherlock locks eyes with him again, then his mouth twitches with the trace of a smile. John
looks away once more.)
SCOTLAND YARD. Greg is sitting in front of the desk of the Chief Superintendant while Sally and
Anderson stand nearby. The Chief walks around his desk to sit down behind it.
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: Sherlock Holmes?
LESTRADE: Yes, sir.
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: That bloke thats been in the press.
LESTRADE: Mmm-hmm.
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: I thought he was some sort of private eye.
LESTRADE: He is.
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: Weve been consulting with him thats what youre ... youre telling
me?
(Greg nods.)
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: Not used him on any proper cases, though, have we?
LESTRADE: Well, one or two.
(Anderson, his arms folded and looking down at his feet, snorts quietly.)
ANDERSON (softly): Or twenty or thirty.
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: What?
LESTRADE: Look, Im not the only senior officer who did this. Gregson ...
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT (interrupting): Shut up! An amateur detective given access to all sorts
of classified information, and now hes a suspect in a case!
LESTRADE: With all due respect, sir ...
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT (interrupting): Youre a bloody idiot, Lestrade! Now go and fetch him
in right now!
(Greg hesitates.)
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT (sternly): Do it.
(Greg stands up and the three of them leave the room. The Chief Superintendant takes off his
glasses and buries his head in his hand. Outside the others are on their way across the main
office.)
LESTRADE: Are you proud of yourselves?
ANDERSON: Well, what if its not just this case? What if hes done this to us every single time?
(Sally grabs her coat from the coat stand as she goes past. Anderson apparently doesnt need
one, being a cold-blooded reptile who wont feel the temperature drop outside. Greg stops for
his own coat, then takes out his phone and starts dialling. Hanging back from the other two, he
raises the phone to his ear.)
Shortly afterwards, John standing in the centre of the living room at 221B lowers his own
phone from his ear and switches it off. He turns to Sherlock who is now sitting in his armchair.
JOHN: So, still got some friends on the Force. Its Lestrade. Says theyre all coming over here
right now, queuing up to slap on the handcuffs: every single officer you ever made feel like a
tit, which is a lot of people.

263
(Sherlock appears to be taking no notice of him, and now Mrs Hudson knocks on the closed
living room door with her customary Ooh-ooh! and then comes in, still in her nightwear. She
apparently feels the tension in the room.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh, sorry, am I interrupting?
(Sherlock rolls his eyes and looks away. She turns her attention to John.)
MRS HUDSON: Some chap delivered a parcel. I forgot. Marked Perishable I had to sign for it.
(John takes the Jiffy bag from her and immediately realises that theres a wax seal over the
flap. Sherlock looks across and also sees the seal.)
MRS HUDSON: Funny name. German, like the fairytales.
(Sherlock rises to his feet and walks forward, his gaze intense and locked on the Jiffy bag as
John opens it and pulls out the contents. Outside, the sirens of several different vehicles are
approaching. In Johns hand is a large gingerbread man but its an unusual colour. He tilts it so
that Sherlock can see it better.)
SHERLOCK: Burnt to a crisp.
(The vehicles pull up outside and the sirens stop, and doors start to slam as people get out of
the cars.)
JOHN (referring to the burnt gingerbread man): What does it mean?
(The doorbell rings and at the same time someone pounds on the front door knocker.)
VOICE: Police!
MRS HUDSON: Ill go.
(She turns and hurries down the stairs as someone continues to knock on the door. Voices can
be heard as she opens the door.)
DONOVAN (offscreen): Sherlock ...
LESTRADE (offscreen): Evening, Mrs Hudson.
DONOVAN (calling up the stairs): We need to talk to you!
(John puts the gingerbread man back into the envelope and puts it on the table before heading
out of the flat. Downstairs, Mrs Hudson sounds angry.)
MRS HUDSON (offscreen): Dont barge in like that!
(Feet can be heard trotting up the stairs. Calmly Sherlock turns around and picks up his scarf
and loops it around his neck. John is apparently blocking the stairs partway up.)
JOHN (offscreen): Have you got a warrant? Have you?
LESTRADE (offscreen): Leave it, John.
MRS HUDSON (offscreen): Really! Manners!
(Sherlock puts on his coat.
Shortly afterwards Greg stands in front of him while one of two armed officers attaches
handcuffs to his left wrist.)
LESTRADE: Sherlock Holmes, Im arresting you on suspicion of abduction and kidnapping.
(John gestures towards Sherlock while looking at Greg as the officer pulls Sherlocks left hand
behind his back in order to cuff his other wrist.)
JOHN: Hes not resisting.
SHERLOCK: Its all right, John.
JOHN: Hes not resisting. No, its not all right. This is ridiculous.
LESTRADE (to the officer who just handcuffed Sherlock): Get him downstairs now.
(The officer spins Sherlock around and marches him out of the door. Mrs Hudson stands nearby
almost in tears.)
JOHN (to Greg): You know you dont have to do ...
LESTRADE (getting into his face and pointing at him sternly): Dont try to interfere, or I shall
arrest you too.
(He turns and leaves the room. John turns to Sally who is standing near the door.)
JOHN: You done?
DONOVAN (looking smug and oh-so-very punchable as she walks into the room): Oh, I said it.
JOHN: Mmm-hmm?
DONOVAN: First time we met.
JOHN: Dont bother.
DONOVAN: Solving crimes wont be enough. One day hell cross the line. Now, ask yourself:
what sort of man would kidnap those kids just so he can impress us all by finding them?
(Mrs Hudson gasps. Just then the Chief Superintendant walks in.)
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: Donovan.
DONOVAN: Sir.
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: Got our man?
DONOVAN: Er, yes, sir.

264
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: Looked a bit of a weirdo, if you ask me.

(John turns towards him.)
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: Often are, these vigilante types.
(He has been looking around the living room but now he turns and sees John staring at him.)
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: What are you looking at?
(Sallys eyes widen and she instantly lowers her head as if she knows whats coming and cant
bear to look. John starts to move.)
A minute or two later, the Chief Superintendant walks out onto the street holding a
handkerchief to his bleeding nose.
POLICE OFFICER: Are you all right, sir?
(Nearby, Sherlock has been leaned against the side of a police car, facing it. Now John is
slammed up against the car next to him and to his left. Sherlock looks across to him with an
amused expression on his face.)
SHERLOCK: Joining me?
JOHN: Yeah. Apparently its against the law to chin the Chief Superintendant.
(Behind them, a couple of armed officers unlock the cuff on Sherlocks right hand and transfer it
to Johns right wrist, chaining the boys together. Fandom collectively faints. Sherlock looks over
his shoulder, watching what the officers are doing and where theyre standing.)
SHERLOCK (to John): Hmm. Bit awkward, this.
JOHN: Huh. No-one to bail us.
SHERLOCK: I was thinking more about our imminent and daring escape.
(He looks down at the radio lying on the dashboard of the car theyre leaning against. The radio
squeals as the dispatcher speaks.)
RADIO DISPATCHER: All units to two-seven.
(John looks round at Sherlocks previous statement.)
JOHN: What?
RADIO DISPATCHER: All units to two ...
(Rapidly Sherlock reaches through the open window of the car with his free hand and presses
down on the Talk button. Instantly the officer behind the boys doubles over in pain and grabs at
his earpiece when a high-pitched squeal of feedback rips through it. Sherlock reaches behind
him and pulls the officers pistol free, instantly raising it. Because its in his left hand, Johns
shackled right hand is yanked upwards as well and he gasps in surprise at the rapid turn of
events. Sherlock calls out as he aims the pistol towards the nearest officers.)
SHERLOCK: Ladies and gentlemen, will you all please get on your knees?
(Nearby, Gregs whole body language says, Oh, FFS ... When nobody reacts very quickly,
Sherlock raises the gun skywards and fires it twice.)
SHERLOCK: NOW would be good!
(He lowers it and points it at the police again.)
LESTRADE: Do as he says!
(He gestures everybody downwards and all the police start to kneel. The boys start to back
away.)
JOHN (loudly): Just-just so youre aware, the gun is his idea. Im just a ... you know ...
(Sherlock transfers the pistol to his right hand and promptly aims it at Johns head.)
SHERLOCK (loudly): ... my hostage.
(John gasps.)
JOHN (quietly, to Sherlock): Hostage! Yes, that works that works(!)
(They continue backing away from the kneeling police. Behind them and probably unnoticed in
all the excitement, a piece of artistic graffiti has been sprayed on the wall of the house on the
street corner. In red paint, huge letters spelling out iou are at least three feet high and are
surrounded by an elaborate dark set of angels wings. The boys begin to back carefully around
the corner.)
JOHN: So what now?
SHERLOCK: Doing what Moriarty wants Im becoming a fugitive. Run.
(He turns and begins to race off down the road, dragging John with him. Back at the police cars,
Greg buries his head in his hands. The Chief Superintendant gets to his feet and turns to him.)
CHIEF SUPERINTENDANT: Get after him, Lestrade!
(Greg glares furiously at Sally as she begins to head in the direction the boys have gone. Greg
is a lot slower in getting moving. Around the corner as the boys run along side by side, Sherlock
loops the loose chain between their handcuffs around his wrist.)
SHERLOCK: Take my hand.

265
JOHN (grabbing his hand as they race onwards): Now people will definitely talk.
(Sirens are approaching at the junction ahead of them. Sherlock swerves to his left and drops
the pistol in the process. It clatters to the ground.)
JOHN: The gun!
SHERLOCK: Leave it!
(He shoves John down a side alley as the police car races straight across the junction. They run
down the alleyway and reach high railings blocking their way. Sherlock, with his customary flair,
leaps up onto the top of a dustbin and vaults straight over the top of the railings. John, being an
adorable short-arse and also not as close to the dustbin, is left behind; his right hand is
dragged upwards and his face almost smashes against the railings as Sherlock drops to the
other side.)
JOHN: Sherlock, wait!
(He reaches through the railings with his free hand and grabs Sherlocks coat, dragging him
closer and glaring into his face. The fandom screams with one voice, KISS HIM!!)
JOHN (speaking clearly and sternly): Were going to need to coordinate.
(Sherlock quickly scans all around them.)
SHERLOCK: Go to your right.
JOHN: Huh?
SHERLOCK: Go to your right.
(He looks upwards and goes up onto his tiptoes to get the chain of the cuffs over the top of one
of the spikes at the top of the railings.
Not long afterwards, theyre on the same side of the railings and running down the alley again.
Reaching a T-junction Sherlock turns to the right, then immediately brakes and ducks back
again as a sirening police car races past the end of the alley. The two of them lean side by side
against the wall catching their breath for a moment.)
SHERLOCK: Everybody wants to believe it thats what makes it so clever. (He looks at John.)
A lie thats preferable to the truth. (Looking away again, his voice becomes bitter.) All my
brilliant deductions were just a sham. No-one feels inadequate Sherlock Holmes is just an
ordinary man.
JOHN: What about Mycroft? He could help us.
(He grunts as Sherlock drags him across to the other side of the alley and peers down the left
arm of the T-junction.)
SHERLOCK: A big family reconciliation? Nows not really the moment.
(He spins around, dragging John in a circle behind him and looking back the way they came.
John spots something at the end of the right arm of the T-junction.)
JOHN: Sher... Sherlock.
(He elbows him with his cuffed arm to turn him in that direction. A face is peering around the
corner at the end of the alley.)
JOHN: Were being followed. I knew we couldnt outrun the police.
SHERLOCK: Thats not the police. Its one of my new neighbours from Baker Street. Lets see if
he can give us some answers.
(He breaks in the opposite direction from where the man is watching them. Running to the next
corner, they flatten themselves against the wall as they reach it and Sherlock looks around the
corner. Theres no sign of any police in the street but a double decker bus the number 74 to
Baker Street Station is approaching. Sherlock presses himself back against the wall again.)
SHERLOCK: Were going to jump in front of that bus.
JOHN: What?!
(But Sherlocks already on the move and drags John out into the street. The assassin races
after them. Halfway across the road, Sherlock screeches to a halt directly in front of the
approaching bus. Johns impetus carries him past Sherlock before hes able to stop and turn and
now theyre both facing the bus and not moving. The assassin charges into the road, throws
himself at them and shoves them out of the way and all three of them tumble to the ground as
the bus drives past, its horn blaring. Before the assassin can recover, Sherlock sits up and
drags the mans own gun from his jeans, then cocks and points it at him.)
SHERLOCK: Tell me what you want from me.
(The man stares at him wide-eyed but doesnt speak. Sherlock moves the guns muzzle closer
to him.)
SHERLOCK: Tell me.
ASSASSIN: He left it at your flat.
SHERLOCK: Who?

266
ASSASSIN: Moriarty.
SHERLOCK: What?
(All three of them start to get to their feet, Sherlock still holding the gun on the other man.)
ASSASSIN: The computer keycode.
SHERLOCK: Of course. Hes selling it the programme he used to break into the Tower. He
planted it when he came around.
(Three gunshots ring out and the assassin reels and drops to the ground. Sherlock stares up in
the direction the bullets came from, then swings around and he and John race off. As police
sirens approach again, they duck into an open doorway and yet another police car drives past
the end of the road. They take a moment to catch their breath.)
SHERLOCK: Its a game-changer. Its a key it can break into any system and its sitting in our
flat right now. Thats why he left that message telling everyone where to come. Get Sherlock.
We need to get back into the flat and search.
JOHN: CIDll be camped out. Why plant it on you?
SHERLOCK: Its another subtle way of smearing my name. Now Im best pals with all those
criminals.
(John has spotted a pile of newspapers nearby and he picks up the top copy.)
JOHN: Yeah, well, have you seen this?
(Its a copy of The Sun the same edition that Mycroft had at the Diogenes Club that
morning, telling of the upcoming expos by Kitty Riley. John shows it to Sherlock.)
JOHN: A kiss and tell. Some bloke called Rich Brook.
(Sherlock slowly turns his head clearly the name means something to him. John is still looking
at the paper and doesnt see his expression.)
JOHN: Who is he?
Kitty Riley parks her car outside her home, gets out and locks the car before walking to the
front door. Opening it, she walks along the hall to the door of her flat, then pauses and looks at
the door nervously when she realises that it is slightly ajar. Hesitantly she pushes the door open
and reaches for the light switch on the wall. The lights come on and she is greeted with the
sight of Sherlock and John sitting side by side on her sofa, each of them drumming the fingers
of their handcuffed hand on their respective knees.
SHERLOCK: Too late to go on the record?
Not long afterwards, Kitty is sitting in an armchair while the boys stand in the middle of the
room. Sherlock is using a hairpin to pick the lock on his handcuff.
SHERLOCK (to Kitty): Congratulations. The truth about Sherlock Holmes.
(He frees his hand and gives the hairpin to John before starting to pace back and forth in front
of Kitty.)
SHERLOCK: The scoop that everybody wanted and you got it. Bravo(!)
KITTY: I gave you your opportunity. I wanted to be on your side, remember? You turned me
down, so ...
SHERLOCK: And then, behold, someone turns up and spills all the beans. How utterly
convenient. Who is Brook?
(Kitty shakes her head, refusing to tell him any more.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, come on, Kitty. No-one trusts the voice at the end of a telephone.
(John finally frees his own hand from the cuffs.)
SHERLOCK: There are all those furtive little meetings in cafs; those sessions in the hotel room
where he gabbled into your dictaphone. How do you know that you can trust him? A man turns
up with the Holy Grail in his pockets. (Sternly) What were his credentials?
(Outside in the hallway there have been the sounds of someone coming in through the main
front door. Now Kitty looks towards the door of the flat and rises to her feet with a concerned
look on her face when someone pushes her door open. Sherlock turns to follow her gaze as Jim
Moriarty, unshaven and with his hair messy and wearing casual clothes including a cardigan,
walks in with a shopping bag.)
JIM: Darling, they didnt have any ground coffee so I just got normal ...
(He raises his eyes and stares in terror at the sight of Sherlock, whose own eyes widen. Jim
drops the shopping bag and backs away until he bumps into the wall behind him, holding up his
hands protectively in front of him.)
JIM (his voice trembling): You said that they wouldnt find me here. You said that Id be safe
here.
KITTY: You are safe, Richard. Im a witness. He wouldnt harm you in front of witnesses.

267
(John, his face full of shock, points at Jim.)

JOHN (to Kitty): So thats your source? Moriarty is Richard Brook?!
(His teeth are bared and he glares at Jim, breathing heavily in pure fury.)
KITTY: Of course hes Richard Brook. There is no Moriarty. There never has been.
JOHN: What are you talking about?
KITTY: Look him up. Rich Brook an actor Sherlock Holmes hired to be Moriarty.
(Sherlock stares at Jim, who is still holding up his hands and looking at everyone nervously.
Jims voice is shaking as he turns to John.)
JIM: Doctor Watson, I know youre a good man.
(He backs into the corner of the room, appearing terrified under Johns ferocious glare.)
JIM: Dont ... dont h... Dont hurt me.
(John screams at him, pointing towards him furiously.)
JOHN: No, you are Moriarty! (He turns his head briefly and yells at Kitty.) Hes Moriarty! (He
turns back to Jim.) Weve met, remember? You were gonna blow me up!
(Jim puts his hands briefly over his face, then holds them up in front of himself again, sounding
as if he is almost crying in fear.)
JIM: Im sorry. Im sorry. (He gestures towards Sherlock.) He paid me. I needed the work. Im
an actor. I was out of work. Im sorry, okay?
(Breathing heavily, John turns to Sherlock.)
JOHN: Sherlock, youd better ... explain ... because I am not getting this.
KITTY: Oh Ill ... Ill be doing the explaining in print. (She hands John a folder.) Its all here
conclusive proof.
(John looks at an early typed sheet of her upcoming article, then turns to the proof copy
showing the layout of how it will appear in the newspaper, with spaces left for photographs. The
headline reads, Sherlocks a fake! with the strapline, He invented all the crimes.)
KITTY (looking at Sherlock): You invented James Moriarty, your nemesis.
JOHN (upset): Invented him?
KITTY: Mmm-hmm. Invented all the crimes, actually and to cap it all, you made up a master
villain.
JOHN: Oh, dont be ridiculous!
(Kitty turns and points towards Jim.)
KITTY: Ask him. Hes right here! Just ask him. Tell him, Richard.
JOHN (furiously): Look, for Gods sake, this man was on trial!
KITTY: Yes ... (she points at Sherlock) ... and you paid him; paid him to take the rap. Promised
youd rig the jury.
(Sherlock stares at her silently.)
KITTY: Not exactly a West End role, but Ill bet the money was good.
(She walks over to Jim and puts her arm around his shoulders while he stands with his hands
still held out in front of himself.)
KITTY: But not so good he didnt want to sell his story.
(Jim looks plaintively at John, putting his hands together pleadingly.)
JIM: I am sorry. I am. I am sorry.
JOHN (to Kitty): So-so this is the story that youre gonna publish. The big conclusion of it all:
Moriartys an actor?!
(He shakes his head in disbelief.)
JIM: He knows I am. I have proof. I have proof. Show him, Kitty! Show him something!
JOHN: Yeah, show me something.
(Kitty walks across the room. John turns to watch her as she reaches into a bag for more
information. Behind them, Jim has put his hands over his face but now he pulls his hands away
from his eyes a little and looks towards Sherlock, whose own gaze has barely left him since he
arrived. For a brief moment, James Moriarty reveals his true self and he smiles triumphantly at
his enemy. Sherlock half-smiles back at him but theres no humour in his eyes. Kitty takes out a
folder, walks over to John and gives it to him.)
JIM (slipping back into his Richard persona and sounding plaintive and panicked): Im on TV.
Im on kids TV. Im The Storyteller.
(John looks at copies of Richard Brooks contact details apparently taken from an agency
website, then a newspaper article showing a picture of Richard in glasses wearing medical
scrubs and with a stethoscope around his neck. The article is headlined, Award Winning Actor
Joins The Cast of Top Medical Drama.)
JIM: Im ... Im The Storyteller. Its on DVD.

268
(He looks across to Sherlock again, this time keeping his Richard face on. John continues
looking through the folder at other publicity stills of Rich together with his CV. Jim gestures
towards John, looking at Sherlock pleadingly.)
JIM: Just tell him. Its all coming out now. Its all over. (His voice becomes more frantic.) Just
tell them. Just tell them. Tell him!
(Baring his teeth, Sherlock starts to walk towards him.)
JIM: Its all over now ... NO!
(He backs away from Sherlock and up a short flight of stairs towards the bedroom on the upper
level of the flat. His eyes are wide and terrified.)
JIM: Dont you touch me! Dont you lay a finger on me!
SHERLOCK (furiously): Stop it. Stop it NOW!
(Jim turns and bolts up the stairs.)
JIM: Dont hurt me!
(Sherlock and John chase after him.)
JOHN: Dont let him get away!
KITTY: Leave him alone!
(Jim runs into the bathroom on the other side of the bedroom. With Kitty still at the bottom of
the stairs and therefore unsighted, and John halfway up the stairs with his vision blocked by
Sherlock ahead of him, Jim turns and grins manically at Sherlock for a brief second before
slamming the door shut. Sherlock runs to the door and struggles momentarily to open it, then
shoves it open but Jim has already disappeared through the open window opposite. Theres a
crash outside as if Jim has landed on top of a dustbin. Sherlock looks out of the window, then
turns to stop John.)
SHERLOCK: No, no, no. Hell have back-up.
(He heads towards the stairs. Kitty backs down to get out of his way but doesnt move quickly,
slowing him down.)
KITTY: Dyou know what, Sherlock Holmes? I look at you now and I can read you.
(He stops at the bottom of the stairs as she gets into his face.)
KITTY: And you ... repel ... me.
(Sherlock turns and heads out of the door. John, still holding the folder of the articles about
Rich, shoves Kitty aside and follows him. She closes the door behind them. The boys go out
onto the street and John stops while Sherlock begins to pace rapidly back and forth in the
middle of the road.)
JOHN: Can he do that? Completely change his identity; make you the criminal?
SHERLOCK: Hes got my whole life story. Thats what you do when you sell a big lie; you wrap it
up in the truth to make it more palatable.
JOHN: Your word against his.
SHERLOCK: Hes been sowing doubt into peoples minds for the last twenty-four hours. Theres
only one thing he needs to do to complete his game, and thats to ...
(He stops dead. John, who has been rifling through the folder, looks up at his friend, who is
turned away from him.)
JOHN: Sherlock?
SHERLOCK: Something I need to do.
JOHN: What? Can I help?
SHERLOCK: No on my own.
(He briskly walks away. John watches him, sighing, then looks down at the papers again. He
looks up and down the road and then apparently decides where he needs to go and heads off in
the opposite direction.)
BARTS. Molly comes out of a small side room in a lab, switches off the lights and walks across
the darkened lab, sighing tiredly. As she reaches the door to the corridor, Sherlock is standing
in the darkness behind her with his face turned away from her. She doesnt see him and
reaches for the door handle.
SHERLOCK: Youre wrong, you know.
(She gasps and jumps, spinning around towards him.)
SHERLOCK: You do count. Youve always counted and Ive always trusted you.
(He turns his head towards her.)
SHERLOCK: But you were right. Im not okay.
MOLLY: Tell me whats wrong.
SHERLOCK (slowly walking towards her): Molly, I think Im going to die.
MOLLY: What do you need?

269
SHERLOCK (still slowly approaching her): If I wasnt everything that you think I am
everything that I think I am would you still want to help me?
(She gazes up at him as he stops close to her.)
MOLLY: What do you need?
(He steps even closer, his expression intense.)
SHERLOCK: You.
THE DIOGENES CLUB. Mycroft walks across one of the common rooms, where an old man is fast
asleep in an armchair, and goes into the smaller private room, reaching for the door handle to
close it, but he stops when he realises that John is sitting in one of the armchairs with his back
to him. John is still looking through Kittys file.
JOHN: She has really done her homework, Miss Riley things that only someone close to
Sherlock could know.
MYCROFT (closing the door): Ah.
JOHN: Have you seen your brothers address book lately? Two names: yours and mine, and
Moriarty didnt get this stuff from me.
(Mycroft walks across the room to face him.)
MYCROFT: John ...
JOHN: So how does it work, then, your relationship? Dyou go out for a coffee now and then,
eh, you and Jim?
(Mycroft sits down in the chair opposite and opens his mouth but John interrupts again. His
voice is full of controlled anger.)
JOHN: Your own brother, and you blabbed about his entire life to this maniac.
MYCROFT: I never inten... I never dreamt ...
JOHN (interrupting): So this ...th-th-this ... (he looks through the papers again) ... is what you
were trying to tell me, isnt it: Watch his back, cause Ive made a mistake.
(He slaps the papers down on the table beside his chair and sits back, clearing his throat as he
tries to stay calm.)
JOHN: How did you meet him?
(Mycroft draws in a long breath.)
MYCROFT: People like him: we know about them; we watch them. But James Moriarty ... the
most dangerous criminal mind the world has ever seen, and in his pocket the ultimate weapon:
a keycode. A few lines of computer code that could unlock any door.
JOHN: And you abducted him to try and find the keycode?
MYCROFT: Interrogated him for weeks.
(Flashback to Mycroft watching through a one-way mirror while, in the cell on the other side of
the mirror the cell we saw at the end of The Hounds of Baskerville a man viciously beats a
seated Jim across the face.)
JOHN: And?
MYCROFT: He wouldnt play along.
(In the flashback, Jim slowly turns his head towards the front after the blow and stares up at his
interrogator, who strikes him again.)
MYCROFT: He just sat there, staring into the darkness.
(Again Jim turns his head to the front, appearing unfazed by the assault. The interrogator
strikes him again.)
MYCROFT: The only thing that made him open up ...
(Ruefully he gestures to himself. In the flashback, Mycroft opens the door to the cell and stops
in the doorway. Jim lifts his head and looks at Mycrofts reflection in the mirror in front of him.)
MYCROFT: I could get him to talk ...
(Mycroft comes into the room and turns to shut the door behind him. Jim closes his eyes and
smiles blissfully as Mycroft walks closer.)
MYCROFT: ... just a little, but ...
(He trails off. John grimly finishes the sentence for him.)
JOHN: ... in return you had to offer him Sherlocks life story. So one big lie Sherlocks a fraud
but people will swallow it because the rest of its true.
(He leans forward in his chair.)
JOHN: Moriarty wanted Sherlock destroyed, right? And you have given him the perfect
ammunition.
(He smiles bitterly at him. Mycroft lowers his eyes. John pulls in a sharp breath and then gets to
his feet, turning towards the door.)
MYCROFT: John ...

270
(John turns back. Mycroft looks up at him.)

MYCROFT (softly): Im sorry.
JOHN (tightly): Oh, please ...
(He shakes his head in disbelief and turns away, laughing humourlessly as he walks to the
door.)
MYCROFT: Tell him, would you?
(John opens the door and walks away, leaving the door open behind him.)
BARTS LAB. The lights are now on. Sherlock sits alone on the floor with his back against the
bench. He is bouncing a small rubber ball off the floor and cupboard in front of him and catching
it before repeating the action constantly. John comes in.
JOHN: Got your message.
(Sherlock catches the ball and holds on to it.)
SHERLOCK: The computer code is key to this. If we find it, we can use it beat Moriarty at his
own game.
JOHN: What dyou mean, use it?
SHERLOCK: He used it to create a false identity, so we can use it to break into the records and
destroy Richard Brook.
JOHN: And bring back Jim Moriarty again.
SHERLOCK (standing up): Somewhere in 221B, somewhere on the day of the verdict he left
it hidden.
(He turns and faces the bench, putting both hands on the work surface. John walks to stand
beside him, unconsciously mimicking his stance.)
JOHN: Uh-huh.
(Both of them stare ahead of them, thinking. John purses his lips, then looks at Sherlock.)
JOHN: What did he touch?
SHERLOCK: An apple. Nothing else.
(He briefly drums his fingers on the bench.)
JOHN: Did he write anything down?
SHERLOCK: No.
(John hisses in a breath and looks away, racking his brains and again unconsciously mimicking
his friend by drumming his own fingers on the bench. After a moment, he turns and walks
across the lab, blowing the breath out again. Sherlock lifts the fingers of his right hand,
hesitates for a moment, then begins to drum them again but now hes beating out a specific
rhythm and, in his mind, binary code begins to stream out from his fingers. He lifts his head as
John sighs heavily, unaware of Sherlocks sharpened expression. Straightening up, Sherlock
turns his back to John, takes his phone out of his pocket and begins to type a text message:
Come and play.

Barts Hospital rooftop.
SH
He pauses for a moment, then adds:
PS. Got something

of yours you might
want back.
Sending the message, he tucks his phone away into his jacket and then turns back towards the
bench, his eyes full of thought.)
Some hours later, dawn is breaking. Sherlock is still in the same place in the lab, sitting on a
stool with his feet up on the bench. He is rapidly rolling the rubber ball from side to side across
the bench, his fingers flickering rapidly over the top of the ball. John has sat on a stool at a
nearby bench and he has his head down on his folded arms, asleep. His phone rings. Lifting his
head tiredly, he groans and answers the phone.
JOHN: Yeah, speaking.
(He listens for a moment.)
JOHN (shocked): Er, what?
(He gets to his feet.)

271
JOHN: What happened? Is she okay? (He listens.) Oh my God. Right, yes, Im coming.
(He switches the phone off.)
SHERLOCK: What is it?
JOHN: Paramedics. Mrs Hudson shes been shot.
SHERLOCK: What? How?
JOHN (frantically): Well, probably one of the killers you managed to attract ... Jesus. Jesus.
Shes dying, Sherlock. Lets go.
(He turns towards the door.)
SHERLOCK (disinterestedly): You go. Im busy.
(John turns back towards him, his face appalled.)
JOHN: Busy?
SHERLOCK: Thinking. I need to think.
JOHN: You need to ...? Doesnt she mean anything to you? You once half killed a man because
he laid a finger on her.
SHERLOCK (shrugging): Shes my landlady.
JOHN (furiously): Shes dying ...
(He flails a hand in front of himself in utter disbelief at Sherlocks attitude.)
JOHN: You machine.
(He looks down, shaking his head.)
JOHN: Sod this. Sod this. (He heads towards the door.) You stay here if you want, on your own.
SHERLOCK: Alone is what I have. Alone protects me.
JOHN (opening the door and looking back at him angrily): No. Friends protect people.
(He storms out of the room. Sherlock lifts his gaze towards the door. A moment later his phone
trills a text alert. He reaches into his pocket and looks at the message:
Im waiting...
JM
Taking his feet off the bench and standing up, he walks across the lab buttoning his jacket. He
picks up his coat, opens the door and leaves the room.)
On the roof of the hospital, daylight has come. Jim Moriarty now back in a typical smart suit
and overcoat and with his hair slicked back calmly sits on the raised ledge at the edge of the
roof with his phone in his hand while The Bee Gees Stayin Alive plays from it. He doesnt look
at Sherlock as he comes onto the roof and walks towards him.
JIM: Ah. Here we are at last you and me, Sherlock, and our problem the final problem.
(He holds the phone up higher.)
JIM: Stayin alive! Its so boring, isnt it?
(Angrily he switches off the phone.)
JIM: Its just ... (he holds his hand out flat with the palm down and skims it slowly through the
air level to the roof) ... staying.
(He pulls his hand back and briefly sinks his head into it while Sherlock paces around the roof in
front of him.)
JIM: All my life Ive been searching for distractions. You were the best distraction and now I
dont even have you. Because Ive beaten you.
(Sherlocks head turns sharply towards him as he continues to pace.)
JIM: And you know what? In the end it was easy.
(Sherlock stops and folds his hands behind his back.)
JIM (quietly, disappointed): It was easy. Now Ive got to go back to playing with the ordinary
people. And it turns out youre ordinary just like all of them.
(He lowers his head again and rubs his face before looking up at Sherlock.)
JIM: Ah well.
(He stands up and walks closer, then starts to pace slowly around the detective.)
JIM: Did you almost start to wonder if I was real? Did I nearly get you?
SHERLOCK: Richard Brook.
JIM: Nobody seems to get the joke, but you do.
SHERLOCK: Of course.
JIM: Attaboy.
SHERLOCK: Rich Brook in German is Reichen Bach the case that made my name.
JIM (in a fake American accent): Just tryin to have some fun.

272
(Continuing to pace around him, he looks down to Sherlocks hands and sees that he is tapping
out a rhythm with his fingers.)
JIM: Good. You got that too.
SHERLOCK: Beats like digits.
(Flashback to Jim sitting at 221B drumming his fingers on his knee.)
SHERLOCK: Every beat is a one; every rest is a zero. Binary code. Thats why all those
assassins tried to save my life. It was hidden on me; hidden inside my head a few simple lines
of computer code that can break into any system.
JIM: I told all my clients: last one to Sherlock is a sissy.
SHERLOCK (gesturing to his own head): Yes, but now that its up here, I can use it to alter all
the records. I can kill Rich Brook and bring back Jim Moriarty.
(Jim gazes at him for a moment, then turns away with a disappointed look on his face.)
JIM: No, no, no, no, no, this is too easy.
(He buries his head in his hands.)
JIM: This is too easy.
(Lowering his hands, he turns back to Sherlock.)
JIM: There is no key, DOOFUS!
(He screams the last word into Sherlocks face.)
JIM: Those digits are meaningless. Theyre utterly meaningless.
(Sherlock cant hide the confusion on his face.)
JIM: You dont really think a couple of lines of computer code are gonna crash the world around
our ears? Im disappointed.
(He turns away and lumbers across the roof, making his voice sound moronic as he continues
speaking.)
JIM: Im disappointed in you, ordinary Sherlock.
SHERLOCK: But the rhythm ...
JIM: Partita number one. Thank you, Johann Sebastian Bach.
SHERLOCK: But then how did ...
JIM (speaking over him): Then how did I break into the Bank, to the Tower, to the Prison?
(He turns and spreads his arms wide.)
JIM: Daylight robbery. All it takes is some willing participants.
(In flashback at the White Tower, Jim selects the Crown icon on his phone. A message is
automatically sent to the man in the surveillance room who hasnt gone to make tea. He lifts his
own phone to see the message: its showtime ! then types on his keyboard and the alarms
begin to sound as the security screens go blank. He gets up from the desk and hurries off,
presumably to close the security door that will shut Jim into the Crown Jewels display room.)
JIM: I knew youd fall for it. Thats your weakness you always want everything to be clever.
Now, shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building nice way to do it.
(Sherlock has been staring blankly into the distance. Now he sounds bewildered.)
SHERLOCK: Do it? Do do what?
(He blinks as it becomes clearer to him and he turns towards Jim.)
SHERLOCK: Yes, of course. My suicide.
JIM: Genius detective proved to be a fraud. I read it in the paper, so it must be true. I love
newspapers. Fairytales.
(Sherlock walks to the edge of the roof and leans forward, looking over the side to the ground
below. Jim walks to stand beside him and looks over the side as well.)
JIM: And pretty Grimm ones too.
(He turns his head and looks ominously at Sherlock.)
221B. A taxi pulls up outside and John jumps out and hurries towards the door, scrabbling for
his keys. Hurrying inside, he sees the tattooed bald workman standing at the top of his
stepladder just in front of the stairs, drilling a hole into the wall. Mrs Hudson is standing nearby
watching him. As John runs towards her, she jolts in startlement, having not heard his approach
over the sound of the drill.
MRS HUDSON: Oh, God, John! You made me jump!
JOHN (staring at her in confusion): But ...
MRS HUDSON: Is everything okay now with the police? Has, um, Sherlock sorted it all out?
(John stares for a moment longer and then it suddenly sinks in.)
JOHN (softly, his voice full of horror): Oh my God.
(He turns around and runs outside, looking up and down the street frantically. Luckily he
immediately sees what he needs.)

273
JOHN: Taxi!
(A cab begins to pull over on the other side of the road. John chases across the road towards
it.)
JOHN: Taxi!
(A man is standing at the side of the road having also just hailed the cab. As he leans into the
front window to tell the driver his destination, John runs around the cab and pulls open the rear
door, talking even as he scrambles inside.)
JOHN: No, no, no, no, police! ... Sort of.
MAN (walking away angrily): Oh, thanks, mate thanks a lot(!)
BARTS ROOFTOP. The two men have turned towards each other at the edge of the roof.
SHERLOCK: I can still prove that you created an entirely false identity.
JIM (wearily exasperated): Oh, just kill yourself. Its a lot less effort.
(Sherlock turns away, pacing distractedly.)
JIM: Go on. For me.
(He makes his voice into a high-pitched squeal for the next word.)
JIM: Pleeeeeease?
(In a sudden movement, Sherlock grabs him by the collar of his coat with both hands and spins
him around so that Jims back is to the drop. He stares into his face and then shoves him back
one step nearer the edge. Jim looks at him with interest as Sherlocks breathing becomes
shorter.)
SHERLOCK: Youre insane.
(Jim blinks.)
JIM: Youre just getting that now?
(Sherlock shoves him further back, now holding him over the edge. Jim whoops almost
triumphantly and gazes back at him with no fear in his eyes, holding his hands out wide and
committing himself to Sherlocks grasp.)
JIM: Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive.
(Sherlock frowns. Jims voice becomes more savage.)
JIM: Your friends will die if you dont.
(Fear begins to creep into Sherlocks eyes.)
SHERLOCK: John.
JIM: Not just John. (In a whisper) Everyone.
SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson.
JIM (in a whisper, with a delighted smile): Everyone.
SHERLOCK: Lestrade.
JIM: Three bullets; three gunmen; three victims. Theres no stopping them now.
(Furiously, Sherlock pulls Jim back upwards to safety. Jim stares into his face.)
JIM: Unless my people see you jump.
(Sherlock gazes past him, breathing heavily and appearing lost in horror. Jim shakes himself
free of his grasp and smiles triumphantly.)
JIM: You can have me arrested; you can torture me; you can do anything you like with me; but
nothings gonna prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your only three friends in the world will
die ... unless ...
SHERLOCK: ... unless I kill myself complete your story.
(Jim nods and smiles ecstatically.)
JIM: Youve gotta admit thats sexier.
SHERLOCK (his gaze distant and lost): And I die in disgrace.
JIM (in a matter-of-fact tone): Of course. Thats the point of this.
(He looks over the side and sees that someone has stopped at the benches near the bus stop
below them, and several other people are in the vicinity.)
JIM: Oh, youve got an audience now. Off you pop.
(He rolls his head from side to side on his neck.)
JIM: Go on.
(Sherlock slowly steps past him and up onto the ledge.)
JIM: I told you how this ends.
(Sherlocks breathing becomes more shaky as he looks down.)
JIM (not even looking at him): Your death is the only thing thats gonna call off the killers. Im
certainly not gonna do it.
(Now he turns his head and looks up at his enemy expectantly. Sherlock blinks anxiously.)
SHERLOCK: Would you give me ... one moment, please; one moment of privacy?

274
(He glances down at Jim.)

SHERLOCK: Please?
(Jim looks disappointed that Sherlock should be so ordinary.)
JIM: Of course.
(He moves away across the roof. Sherlock takes several shallow anxious breaths, then he stops
breathing for a moment as his brain kicks into gear again. He lifts his gaze and his expression
becomes more like the Sherlock we know while his eyes become thoughtful. Slowly a smile
spreads across his face and he starts to chuckle. Behind him, Jim is slowly walking away across
the roof but he stops, his expression livid, when Sherlock laughs with delight. Jim spins around
furiously.)
JIM: What?
(Sherlock continues to laugh.)
JIM (angrily): What is it?
(Sherlock half turns on the ledge, smiling towards him as he glares back.)
JIM (angrily): What did I miss?
(Sherlock hops down off the ledge and walks closer to him.)
SHERLOCK: Youre not going to do it. So the killers can be called off, then theres a recall
code or a word or a number.
(Now hes the one circling his prey.)
SHERLOCK: I dont have to die ... (his voice becomes sing-song) ... if Ive got you.
JIM: Oh! (He laughs in relieved delight.) You think you can make me stop the order? You think
you can make me do that?
SHERLOCK (still circling him): Yes. So do you.
JIM: Sherlock, your big brother and all the Kings horses couldnt make me do a thing I didnt
want to.
SHERLOCK (stopping and getting into Jims face): Yes, but Im not my brother, remember? I am
you prepared to do anything; prepared to burn; prepared to do what ordinary people wont
do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell? I shall not disappoint you.
(Jim shakes his head slowly.)
JIM: Naah. You talk big. Naah. Youre ordinary. Youre ordinary youre on the side of the
angels.
SHERLOCK (his voice becoming more ominous): Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but
dont think for one second that I am one of them.
(The enemies lock eyes for a long moment while Jim tries to deduce how far Sherlock will go.)
JIM: No, youre not.
(He blinks, then closes his eyes briefly. Sherlock does likewise in an unintentional mirror
movement. Jim smiles and opens his eyes again.)
JIM (softly, insanely): I see. Youre not ordinary. No. Youre me.
(He hisses out a delighted laugh and his voice becomes more high-pitched.)
JIM: Youre me! Thank you!
(He lifts his right hand as if to embrace Sherlock, but then lowers it and offers it to him to shake
instead.)
JIM: Sherlock Holmes.
(They both look down at the offered hand, then Sherlock slowly raises his own right hand and
takes it.)
JIM (nodding almost frenetically, though his voice stays soft): Thank you. Bless you.
(He blinks and lowers his gaze as if blinking back tears.)
JIM: As long as Im alive, you can save your friends; youve got a way out.
(He continues to blink with his gaze lowered.)
JIM: Well, good luck with that.
(In rapid succession he raises his eyes to Sherlocks, grins manically, opens his mouth wide and
pulls Sherlock closer while he reaches into his waistband with his other hand and pulls out a
pistol and raises it towards his own mouth. As Sherlock instinctively pulls back, crying out in
alarm, Jim sticks the muzzle into his own mouth and pulls the trigger, dropping to the roof
instantly. Sherlock stares in horror as blood begins to trickle across the roof underneath Jims
head. Jims eyes are fixed and open and there is a smile of victory on his face. Sherlock spins
away from him, his breathing noisy and frantic as he raises his hands to his head in horror.
Not far away and obviously unseen by Sherlock, a man trots up a staircase and then sits down
on the stairs and begins to assemble a high-powered rifle. Meanwhile John sits anxiously in the
taxi on his way back to Barts.

275
At 221, Mrs Hudson gives a mug of tea to the workman who is squatting in the hallway. He
takes it and smiles gratefully, and once she has moved away he picks up one of his tools and
puts it into his toolbox. Lying on top of all the other tools is a pistol with a small silencer
attached to it. He raises his eyes ominously in the direction of Mrs H as she goes back into
221A.
While the assassin on the staircase continues to assemble his rifle, at Scotland Yard a plain
clothed police officer in the general office looks round to Gregs office with his eyes narrowed as
the D.I. speaks on the phone.)
LESTRADE (into phone): Yes, sir, thank you. Bye.
(On the stairwell, the assassin finishes his assembly, opens the nearby window and aims his
gun out of it as Johns taxi gets closer to Barts.
On the rooftop, Sherlock breathes shallowly and rapidly, holding his sleeve up over his mouth in
horror as he turns to look again at Jims fixed grin. He thinks frantically for a while, then slowly
turns towards the edge of the building. His breathing begins to slow as he steps up onto the
ledge, blows out another breath and looks down towards the ground. In the street below, Johns
taxi pulls up. Sherlock takes out his phone and selects a speed dial. The answering phone
begins to ring below him as John gets out of the taxi and raises his phone to his ear as he trots
towards the hospital.)
JOHN: Hello?
SHERLOCK: John.
JOHN: Hey, Sherlock, you okay?
SHERLOCK: Turn around and walk back the way you came now.
JOHN: No, Im coming in.
SHERLOCK (frantically): Just do as I ask. Please.
JOHN (turning back and looking around bewildered): Where?
(Sherlock pauses for a moment while John walks back along the road, then speaks urgently.)
SHERLOCK: Stop there.
JOHN (stopping): Sherlock?
SHERLOCK: Okay, look up. Im on the rooftop.
(John turns and looks up, his face filling with horror.)
JOHN: Oh God.
SHERLOCK: I ... I ... I cant come down, so well ... well just have to do it like this.
JOHN (anxiously): Whats going on?
SHERLOCK: An apology. Its all true.
JOHN: Wh-what?
SHERLOCK: Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty.
(He looks around briefly at his enemys grinning body lying behind him. On the ground, John
stares up at his friend in disbelief.)
JOHN: Why are you saying this?
(Sherlock turns back to look down at him. His voice breaks.)
SHERLOCK: Im a fake.
JOHN: Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK (his voice becoming tearful): The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell
Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs Hudson, and Molly ... in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you
that I created Moriarty for my own purposes.
JOHN: Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up. The first time we met ... the first time we met, you
knew all about my sister, right?
SHERLOCK: Nobody could be that clever.
JOHN: You could.
(Sherlock laughs and gazes down at his friend, a tear dripping from his chin.)
SHERLOCK: I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress
you. (He sniffs quietly.) Its a trick. Just a magic trick.
(John has his eyes closed and is shaking his head repeatedly.)
JOHN: No. All right, stop it now.
(He starts to walk towards the hospital entrance.)
SHERLOCK (urgently): No, stay exactly where you are. Dont move.
(John stops and backs up, holding up his hand towards Sherlock in capitulation.)
JOHN: All right.
(Breathing rapidly, Sherlock has his own hand stretched out towards his friend.)
SHERLOCK: Keep your eyes fixed on me. (His voice becomes frantic.) Please, will you do this
for me?

276
JOHN: Do what?
SHERLOCK: This phone call its, er ... its my note. Its what people do, dont they leave a
note?
(John shakes his head, momentarily taking his phone from his ear as the stress of what hes
beginning to understand hits him, then he raises it again, his voice shaky.)
JOHN: Leave a note when?
SHERLOCK: Goodbye, John.
JOHN (shaking his head): No. Dont.
(Sherlock gazes down at his friend for several seconds, then he lowers his arm and drops the
phone onto the roof, gazing ahead of himself. John lowers his own phone and screams
upwards.)
JOHN: No. SHERLOCK!
(Sherlock spreads his arms to either side and falls forward, plummeting towards the ground.
John stares in utter horror.)
JOHN: Sher...
(A couple of seconds later the body impacts the ground. Johns hearing whites out as his entire
body focuses on getting to Sherlock as soon as he can. Sherlock had disappeared from view
towards the end of his fall because a building was in the way of Johns view of him, and John
now runs to the corner of the building, then slows down and stops in the middle of the road
when he gets his first glimpse of the still figure lying on the wet pavement, the lower part of his
body obscured by a lorry parked at the roadside. Behind John, a young man on a fast pedal
cycle slams into him and sends him crashing to the ground, his head hitting the asphalt hard.
Groaning, he struggles to stay conscious while, nearby, people begin to run towards the body
on the pavement. The lorry pulls away and a couple of medics from the hospital hurry out and
start trying to prevent the onlookers from getting too close. Grimacing with pain, John rolls onto
his side and looks across to the pavement where Sherlock is lying on his side with a lot of blood
under his head. Slowly John hauls himself to his feet and stumbles towards him as more
onlookers gather, talking excitedly about what they saw. John forces himself onwards.)
JOHN (in a whisper): Sherlock, Sherlock ...
(He reaches the crowd.)
JOHN: Im a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through, please.
(Some of the crowd try to hold him back but he pushes through them.)
JOHN: No, hes my friend. Hes my friend. Please.
(He reaches down to take hold of Sherlocks wrist, searching for a pulse. A woman peels his
fingers off and she and another person pull him away. As he reaches towards his friend again,
more medics arrive with a wheeled stretcher.)
JOHN (frantically): Please, let me just ...
(The impact of the shock and the bang on his head begin to take effect and his knees give out.
As he slumps to the floor supported by a couple of onlookers, two people gently roll Sherlock
onto his back revealing his blood stained face and wide staring eyes. John groans in utter
despair.)
JOHN: Nggh, Jesus, no.
(He tries to stand but sinks back again.)
JOHN: God, no.
(As the onlookers support him, four people lift Sherlocks body onto the stretcher and then
rapidly wheel it away into the hospital. John stares after it, his face blank and
uncomprehending. He finally manages to get to his feet and shakes off his helpers, staring
blindly in the direction that his friends body was taken.
In a nearby building, a rifle sight is aimed directly at Johns head. As John continues to stand in
profile to the sniper, a perfect target, the assassin lifts his gun back inside the window and
begins to disassemble the weapon. Packing it into his bag, he stands up and walks away.)
DIOGENES CLUB. Sitting in one of the chairs in the common room, Mycroft is holding a copy of
The Sun. Its headline screams SUICIDE OF FAKE GENIUS and the straplines state SUPER-
SLEUTH IS DEAD and Fraudulent detective takes his own life. Folding the paper and putting it
down on the table beside him, he stares blankly into the distance and then folds his hands in
front of his face in the prayer position.
221B. John sits in his armchair, dressed but with his feet bare and tucked together in front of
him. One hand is propping up his head and he gazes into the distance, lost and alone.

277
ELLAS OFFICE. As the rain continues to pour down, John gazes blankly at his therapist.
ELLA: Theres stuff that you wanted to say ...
(John opens his mouth briefly but then closes it.)
ELLA: ... but didnt say it.
JOHN (his voice breaking): Yeah.
ELLA: Say it now.
JOHN (tearfully): No. (He shakes his head.) Sorry. I cant.
TAXI. John and Mrs Hudson are sitting in the back of a cab as it drives into a graveyard. Mrs H
is holding a bunch of flowers. Not long afterwards, they stand beside each other in front of a
black marble headstone. The flowers are now resting at the base of the headstone.
MRS HUDSON: Theres all the stuff, all the science equipment. I left it all in boxes. I dont know
what needs doing. I thought Id take it to a school.
(She looks at John.)
MRS HUDSON: Would you ...?
JOHN: I cant go back to the flat again not at the moment.
(She takes his arm sympathetically.)
JOHN: Im angry.
(He takes a deep breath through his nose, trying not to break down. She gently pats his arm.)
MRS HUDSON: Its okay, John. Theres nothing unusual in that. Thats the way he made
everyone feel.
(She gazes at the smooth black marble which simply bears the words SHERLOCK HOLMES.)
MRS HUDSON: All the marks on my table; and the noise firing guns at half past one in the
morning!
JOHN: Yeah.
MRS HUDSON: Bloody specimens in my fridge. Imagine keeping bodies where theres food!
JOHN: Yes.
(He closes his eyes as she continues, her own voice breaking.)
MRS HUDSON: And the fighting! Drove me up the wall with all his carryings-on!
(John turns to her.)
JOHN: Yeah, listen: I-Im not actually that angry, okay?
MRS HUDSON: Okay.
(She turns away, pulling her arm free of his.)
MRS HUDSON: Ill leave you alone to, erm ... (her voice breaks again) ... you know.
(Crying, she walks away, fishing out a tissue to blow her nose. John looks down at the grave,
drawing in a deep breath. He looks back over his shoulder to see that Mrs Hudson is now out of
earshot, then turns back to the grave again.)
JOHN (thoughtfully): Um ... mmm. (He pulls himself together a little.) You ... you told me once
that you werent a hero. Umm ... there were times I didnt even think you were human, but let
me tell you this: you were the best man, and the most human ... human being that Ive ever
known and no-one will ever convince me that you told me a lie, and so ... There.
(He blows out a breath, whimpering slightly. Looking over his shoulder again, he walks over to
the headstone and puts his fingertips onto the top of it.)
JOHN: I was so alone, and I owe you so much.
(He takes a tearful breath.)
JOHN: Okay.
(He turns and starts to walk away but only reaches the foot of the grave before he turns back
again.)
JOHN: No, please, theres just one more thing, mate, one more thing: one more miracle,
Sherlock, for me. Dont ... be ... (his voice breaks and fills with tears) ... dead. Would you do
...? Just for me, just stop it. (He gestures down at the grave.) Stop this.
(He sighs and lowers his head and stands there, broken. Reflected in the smooth marble of the
headstone, his figure appears to have the name SHERLOCK carved directly across his chest. He
lowers his head further, covers his eyes with one hand and weeps. Finally he wipes his eyes,
sniffs deeply and raises his head, coming to attention in front of his best friend. Nodding in
salute to him and giving himself permission to dismiss, he turns smartly on one heel and then
walks away.)

278
Standing some distance away under a tree and obscured from view by other headstones,
Sherlock Holmes watches his best friend walk across the graveyard until he disappears from
view. He looks reflective for a long moment, then turns and walks away.
Many Happy Returns
THE HIMALAYAS. In a monastery in the mountains, a Buddhist monk lights the last of many
small white candles. Close by, several monks are kneeling side by side, their heads covered by
cowls and their hands raised in front of them. Another monk, apparently the abbot, comes into
the large tent, his head also hidden under a cowl, and hobbles towards them. He works his way
along the row, running his hands quickly over each monks head, murmuring, Tashi delek, and
then briefly clasping his hands. When he reaches the last monk in the row he reaches towards
that monks head but pauses for a couple of seconds, then reaches towards the cowl and flips it
up to reveal a blonde woman. She glares up at him.
WOMAN: You bastard!
(The other monks, all men, pull back their own cowls and stare in surprise at the abbot. He
begins to raise his head, his face still in shadow.)
LONDON. Greg Lestrade and Doctor Anderson are sitting at a table in a corner of a pub. Greg is
wearing a shirt and jacket, and Anderson has a beard and is wearing an oatmeal knitted
jumper. Greg stares at Anderson in disbelief.
LESTRADE: A breakaway sect of Buddhist warrior monks infiltrated by a blonde drug smuggler?!
That never really happened!
ANDERSON: A-A blonde drug smuggler who was exposed by an abbot with unusual powers of
observation and deduction!
LESTRADE: A blonde woman hiding amongst bald monks? That wouldnt exactly take Sherlock
Holmes!
ANDERSON: Well, perhaps it did.
LESTRADE: Hes dead.
(Anderson looks at him with a hurt expression on his face.)
LESTRADE: Im sorry. I wish he wasnt, but he really is dead and gone.
(Anderson looks away.)
ANDERSON: Well, how dyou explain this?
(He pulls a map of the world towards himself and points at a red cross drawn above New Delhi.)
ANDERSON: Sighting number two: Incident at New Delhi.
(Greg looks at him, appalled.)
LESTRADE: You havent been titling these?
FLASHBACK. NEW DELHI. Photographers are taking pictures of a police inspector sitting at a
table with a couple of his colleagues either side of him. Many microphones are set up on the
table in front of him. He smiles smugly at his audience.
INSPECTOR PRAKESH: After that it was simply a matter of tracking down the killer, which I did
by working out the depth to which the chocolate Flake had sunk into the victims ice-cream
cone.
(He chuckles contentedly as the photographers and reporters crowd closer to the table.)
Shortly afterwards he leaves the room while the photographers continue trying to get one last
picture. Closing the door behind him, he turns and looks at someone waiting a little way down
the corridor.
PRAKESH: My friend!
(He looks over his shoulder as if to make sure that nobody is looking through the round glass
window in the door, then turns back to the person in front of him.)
PRAKESH: Will you not take any of the credit? This was all down to you.
(We see who hes looking at. A very familiar shape with curly hair and wearing a greatcoat is
standing facing him. His face is obscured in shadow.)
THE PRESENT. PUB.

LESTRADE: Clever man, Inspector Prakesh.
ANDERSON: Oh, for ...! What police inspector could have made that deduction?

279
LESTRADE: Oh, thank you(!)

ANDERSON: You remember how Sherlock never took the credit when he solved all of your
cases?
LESTRADE (indignantly): He didnt solve all of my cases!
ANDERSON (gazing thoughtfully into the distance): Hes out there. Hes hiding. But he cant
stop himself from getting involved.
(He chuckles.)
ANDERSON: Its so obviously him, if you know how to spot the signs!
LESTRADE: The Klein Brothers, the Tower House thing, the Kensington Ripper I solved all
those myself!
ANDERSON: Well, you got Tower House wrong.
LESTRADE: No I didnt!
ANDERSON: Yep, you did.
(He folds the map to another location.)
ANDERSON: Okay, sighting number three ... (he taps Hamburg on the map) ... the Mysterious
Juror.
(Greg literally head-desks, thumping his forehead down onto the table.)
FLASHBACK. HAMBURG. In a jury room, the male foreman rubs his head tiredly before
addressing the rest of the jury in German.
FOREMAN: Nun, wie wir alle wissen, wurde diese Jury unter hchst ungewhnlichen Umstnden
zusammengerufen. Aber ich muss Sie jetzt auf ein Urteil drngen. Ist Herr Trephoff schuldig
oder nicht schuldig am Mord seiner Frau?
[Translation as subtitled: As we all know this jury was convened under highly unusual
circumstances, but now I must press you for a judgment. Is Herr Trepoff guilty or not guilty of
the murder of his wife?]
(One by one, the jurors answer in German.)
FEMALE JUROR 1: Nicht schuldig. [Not guilty.]
(At the end of the table, the fingers of a male juror wearing a shirt and dark coat drum
impatiently on the table.)
FEMALE JUROR 2: Nicht schuldig.
MALE JUROR 1: Nicht schuldig.
(The jurors fingers continue to drum ...)
(... and drum ...)
(... and drum ...)
(... and drum ... and then stop above the table. The foreman sighs wearily and looks at the last
juror.)
FOREMAN (in an exasperated voice): Nun? [Well?]
(We see part of the juror from behind. He has dark curly hair and is wearing a dark greatcoat
with the collar popped.)
Some time later, a man walks across to a display of newspapers. The CAM Global News front
page headline reads Trepoff Guilty Sensation! while a German newspaper beside it reads
TREPOFF SCHULDIG! [Trepoff guilty!]
THE PRESENT. PUB.

ANDERSON: It had to be him! Theres no-one else it can be! Do you not see?
LESTRADE: I see that you lost a good job fantasising about a dead man coming back to life, and
I know why you want that to happen. (He grimaces.) But its never gonna.
(Anderson shakes his head.)
LESTRADE: Okay ... (he finishes his pint) ... Im gonna go and see an old friend.
(He picks up his coat and looks across to Anderson.)
LESTRADE: You take care, okay?

280
(He stands and picks up a white box from a nearby stool, then looks down at his former
colleague sympathetically.)
LESTRADE: Ill put a word in see if they wont review your case.
ANDERSON: Just look at the map, though.
(An imaginary dotted line works its way from New Delhi to Hamburg and then on to
Amsterdam, and then Brussels.)
ANDERSON: Hes getting closer.
(He looks up at Greg.)
ANDERSON: Its like hes coming back.
(Greg looks thoughtful for a minute, then nods politely to Anderson and leaves the pub.)
JOHN WATSONS HOME. John walks across the living room of his flat or house and puts the
white box down on top of a filing cabinet. He turns and smiles at Greg.
JOHN: Its good to see you, Greg.
LESTRADE: And you.
(They shake hands.)
JOHN: Have a seat.
LESTRADE (sitting down in an armchair): So, howve you been?
JOHN (sitting down on the sofa): Er, yeah, good. Yeah. Much better.
(Greg nods. John points towards the box.)
JOHN: Er, so whats in the, er ...?
LESTRADE: Oh, that, yeah. Thats, er, thats some stuff from my office some stuff of
Sherlocks, actually. I probably should have thrown it out, but I didnt know if ...
(He looks awkwardly at John.)
JOHN: No, fine, yeah.
(He smiles at Greg, who stands up and walks over to the box, smiling.)
LESTRADE: Yeah, theres-theres-theres something here. Um, wasnt sure whether I should
have kept it in.
(He takes off the lid. Inside the box are a pink iPhone perhaps the pink phone together with
a box of nicotine patches, a small sheet of paper with some writing on it, a toy train engine, a
yellow mask of a face and a DVD in a case. He takes out the DVD.)
LESTRADE: You remember the video message he made for your birthday?
(John nods.)
LESTRADE: Oh, I had to practically threaten him.
(John smiles a little.)
LESTRADE: This is the uncut version. Its quite funny.
(Smiling, he hands the DVD to John.)
JOHN: Oh, right.
(He takes it and looks at it.)
LESTRADE: Maybe I shouldnt have brought it.
JOHN: Dont worry. Its okay. Probably wont even watch it.
(They smile awkwardly at each other, then John looks down at the DVD again.)
LATER. Greg has gone. John is sitting in the armchair pouring himself a glass of whisky.
Screwing the lid back on, he stands up and puts the bottle away in a nearby cupboard, then sits
down again, picks up the glass and takes a drink. Gazing at the DVD on the table in front of him
for a while, he eventually picks it up, looks thoughtfully across to the TV, then gets up and
walks across the room to put the disc into the player. It loads and he walks back to get his
glass. On the TV screen is the very familiar sight of the sofa in 221B Baker Street, with the
smiley face sprayed on the wall behind it. John sits down on the sofa opposite the TV and takes
another drink.
SHERLOCKs VOICE: Was that supposed to happen the light going down? Yeah, okay.
(On the TV screen, Sherlock paces across the living room in front of the sofa.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, er, mmm. So, what do I, what do I, what dyou want me to do at the end?
(He stops and looks at Greg who is presumably behind the camera.)
SHERLOCK: Shall I, um ...? Smile and wink. I do that sometimes. Ive no idea why. People
seem to like it humanises me.
(He turns away.)
LESTRADE: Fine. Whatever.
SHERLOCK (turning back around): Why am I doing this, again?
LESTRADE: Youre gonna miss the dinner.

281
SHERLOCK: Of course Im gonna miss dinner. Therell be people.

(He starts to turn away, then turns back.)
SHERLOCK: How can John be having a birthday dinner? All his friends hate him.
(John smiles very briefly.)
SHERLOCK: You only have to look at their faces. I wrote an essay on suppressed hatred in close
proximity based entirely on his friends.
(John smiles again. Sherlock looks away thoughtfully.)
SHERLOCK: On reflection, it probably wasnt a very good choice of gift.
(He pulls himself together and looks into the camera for a moment before looking past it to
Greg.)
SHERLOCK: What was my excuse again?
LESTRADE: You said you had a thing.
SHERLOCK: Ah, right, yes! Thats right. A thing.
LESTRADE: You might wanna elaborate.
SHERLOCK: No, no, no. Only lies have detail.
(John closes his eyes and shakes his head minutely. Sherlock stares intensely into the camera
for a couple of seconds.)
SHERLOCK: Right, I just ... I need a moment to, um, figure out what Im going to do.
(He walks towards the window. John looks down at his glass.)
JOHN: I can tell you what you can do. You can stop being dead.
(He drinks.)
SHERLOCK (back in front of the camera and looking straight into it): Okay.
(John looks at the screen, startled, but Sherlock has already walked away again.)
SHERLOCK: Okay, Im ready now.
(He sits down in his armchair, settles into it, then looks into the camera.)
SHERLOCK: Hallo, John. (He smiles.) Im sorry Im not there at the moment. Im very busy.
However, many happy returns.
(John looks at the screen, his face hard to read.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, and dont worry. Im going to be with you again very soon.
(Johns doorbell rings. He looks round, then sits forward, putting his glass on the table and
pressing the Pause button on the remote control. The picture freezes on Sherlock looking
intensely into the camera. John stands up and walks out of the room.)
ANDERSON: Hes coming back.

(In the pub, he looks up and smiles to himself, then laughs quietly and looks down at the map,
chuckling with delight.)
Greg is walking along a road, intermittently looking down at his phone, but then stops and
stares at a man with a white beard standing nearby. The man is reading a copy of the Daily
Express and the back page of the newspaper is facing towards Greg. It shows three footballers
in the middle of a match, and the headline reads, THE GAME IS BACK ON! Greg stares at the
headline for a few seconds, then smiles cynically and walks into a nearby shop.
Back in Johns living room, the Pause button shifts to Play on its own. Sherlock smiles widely
into the camera and winks.
The Empty Hearse
As John Watsons anguished cry of Sherlock! rings in the air, John himself approaches
Sherlock Holmes headstone. We see brief flashback clips of Sherlock and Jim Moriarty on the
rooftop of Barts Hospital, then of John arriving by taxi at the hospital and Sherlock standing on
the roofs edge talking to him by phone.
SHERLOCK: Its a trick. Just a magic trick.
JOHN: No. All right, stop it now.
(He starts to walk towards the hospital.)
SHERLOCK: No, stay exactly where you are.
(John backs up.)
SHERLOCK: Dont move.
JOHN: All right.

282
(They seem to hold out their hands towards each other.)

SHERLOCK: Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?
JOHN: Do what?
SHERLOCK: This phone call its ... its my note.
(But now were seeing new footage. Behind Sherlock, two men are dragging the body of Jim
Moriarty across the roof towards the door. Sherlock doesnt react to them and continues to
concentrate on John.)
SHERLOCK: Its what people do, dont they? Leave a note?
JOHN: Leave a note when?
JOHN: No. Dont.
(The men drag Jims body into a service elevator inside the hospital, and lay it on the floor.
While Sherlock continues to look down towards John, one of the men opens a case. Inside is a
latex mask which is a perfect replica of Sherlocks face. The other man closes the lift doors,
while the first man takes a small bottle from the case and, using tweezers, carefully extracts a
blue soft contact lens.
On the roof, Sherlock drops his phone behind him and stares intensely ahead of himself as John
screams, Sherlock! up at him.
In the elevator, Jims dead open eyes are now blue instead of brown. The man takes the mask
out of the case and lays it over Jims face, then picks up a scalpel and reaches forward to start
lifting the closed eyes on the mask. The second man starts to apply a dark curly wig to Jims
slicked-down hair.
On the roof, Sherlock spreads his arms and falls forward. John stares in horror, and a man on a
pushbike slams into him from behind, sending him crashing to the ground. Sherlock plummets
towards the ground, but now its clear that he is attached to a bungee cord. While John lies on
the ground still trying to catch his breath, Molly Hooper watches from a window of Barts as
Sherlock plunges past, the bungee cord trailing behind him. He heads towards the pavement
but the cord stops his fall when it reaches its full extension. Sherlocks breath whooshes out of
him ... then the elastic begins to contract and Sherlock is yanked skywards. Molly gasps as he
shoots back into view, flailing to change his direction and, before she can react, he wraps his
arms around his head and kicks his way through the window in front of her. She cringes back
from the breaking glass and Sherlock lands on his feet and quickly unclips the bungee cord from
his waist. It is whipped out of the window and disappears from view and Sherlock straightens
his coat, ruffles his hands through his hair and marches over to Molly, taking her head in his
hands and kissing her deeply for a couple of seconds. She reaches up to hold his head but he
pulls away, gives her a long last look and then leaves the room. She watches him go with a girly
smile on her face.
Downstairs, the two men are dragging Jims body now perfectly disguised as Sherlocks,
including being dressed in a Belstaff coat and blue scarf out onto the street. Nearby, a man
wearing a fur-lined hooded jacket is approaching John. The men put the body into position on
the pavement and one of them squirts fake blood onto the paving stones around the head.
Other people various fake medical staff and passers-by are running into position around the
body. The jacket-wearing man walks over to John as more people run towards the scene. John
gets up onto his knees, seeing the passers-by running over to the body and pointing upwards as
they appear to discuss what they just saw. John gets to his feet, and the man steps into his
way.)
DERREN: John.
(Its none other than Derren Brown, the famous illusionist and hypnotist! [Click here for more
information about him.] He puts his hand onto Johns shoulder.)
DERREN: John. Look at me. Look at me.
(John drags his eyes away from the scene of Sherlocks fall and looks at Derren, whose face is a
little fuzzy so close-up. Derren puts his fingers over Johns face.)
DERREN: And sleep!
(John collapses forward, his eyes closing. Derren supports him and gently lowers him to the
ground.)
DERREN: Right the way down, right the way deep, right the way sound asleep. Thats right.
Thats good keeping my voice just there in the centre of your head and floating all the way
around you.
(While hes speaking, he reaches down to Johns wrist and adjusts his watch, turning it back a
few minutes. He straightens up and looks down at John.)
DERREN: And you will awaken in three, two, one ...

283
(John starts to move on the ground.)

DERREN: ... zero.
(Flipping up his hood to cover his head again, he walks away. John rolls over onto his side,
grimacing with pain. The crowd continues to gather around the body and John unaware of the
passage of time since he first was knocked over by the bike clambers to his feet and stumbles
towards the pavement.
Inside the hospital, Sherlock walks towards a set of double doors.
John hurries over to the crowd and tries to push his way through them, while they do all they
can to hold him back.)
JOHN (anguished): Let me come through, please. Hes my friend.
(Sherlock half-turns as he walks, taking one last look behind him.
Outside, Johns knees give out and he half-collapses, supported by some of the bystanders. The
wrist of the dead man falls limply out of Johns grasp. Paramedics arrive with a stretcher and
load the body onto it while John watches in anguish. The stretcher is wheeled away; and
Sherlock pushes his way through the doors and walks around the corner, disappearing from
view.)
LESTRADE (offscreen): Bollocks!
(The dramatic action-movie music which has played all through the previous scene stops, and
suddenly were in a different part of London. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade and Doctor
Anderson the latter sporting a scruffy beard and with unwashed hair are standing at a
mobile coffee stall.)
ANDERSON: No-no-no-no! Its obvious! Thats how he did it! Its obvious!
LESTRADE: Derren Brown?! Let it go. Sherlocks dead.
ANDERSON: Is he?
LESTRADE: There was a body. It was him. It was definitely him. Molly Hooper laid him out.
ANDERSON: No, shes lying. It was Jim Moriartys body with a mask on!
LESTRADE: A mask?!
(Anderson nods eagerly.)
LESTRADE: A bungee rope, a mask, Derren Brown. Two years, and the theories keep getting
more stupid. How many moreve you got for me today?
ANDERSON: Well, you know the paving slabs in that whole area even the exact ones that he
landed on you know they were all ...
LESTRADE (interrupting): Guilt. (He looks sternly at Anderson.) Thats all this is. You pushed us
all into thinking that Sherlock was a fraud, you and Donovan.
(Anderson looks down sadly.)
LESTRADE: You did this, and it killed him, and hes staying dead. Do you honestly believe that if
you have enough stupid theories, its gonna change what really happened?
(Taking his cup of coffee with him, he starts to walk away.)
ANDERSON: I believe in Sherlock Holmes.
(Greg turns around.)
LESTRADE: Yeah, well that wont bring him back.
(He continues on towards where several camera crews are filming reporters.)
REPORTER 1 (into his crews camera): ... that after extensive police investigations, Richard
Brook did indeed prove to be the creation of James Moriarty ...
REPORTER 2 (into a different camera): ... amidst unprecedented scenes, there was uproar in
court as Sherlock Holmes was vindicated and cleared of all suspicion ...
REPORTER 3: ... but sadly, all this comes too late for the detective who became something of a
celebrity two years ago ...
REPORTER 1: ... Questions are now being asked as to why police let matters get so far.
(Greg and Anderson are now standing side by side, each holding a coffee cup and watching the
reporters.)
REPORTER 2: Sherlock Holmes fell to his death from the top of Londons Barts Hospital.
Although he left no note, friends say its unlikely he was able to cope with ...
(Greg turns to Anderson.)
LESTRADE: Well then. (He raises his cup.) Absent friends. Sherlock.
ANDERSON (sadly raising his own cup): Sherlock.
(They tap their mugs together.)
LESTRADE: And may God rest his soul.
(They drink.)

284
At Sherlocks grave, John gazes down at the headstone, his eyes haunted with memories and
loss. Since we last saw him he has grown a moustache. As he continues to look at the grave,
which has several bunches of flowers some of them fading with age at the base of the
headstone, a woman steps to Johns side and takes his hand. He clasps it tightly.
SERBIA. NIGHT TIME. A man with long straggly hair is running through a forest. Above him, a
helicopter is circling around, shining a searchlight into the trees while the crew watch their
infrared camera, radioing instructions in Serbian to the ground crew. There is much shouting
and running and chasing of the man through the woods which your transcriber cant be
bothered to relate second by second but eventually some of the soldiers block the way in front
of the man. One of them sends a burst of automatic gunfire towards his feet and he has no
choice but to stop. The soldiers surround the man and aim their rifles at him. He slumps to the
ground, exhausted.
Some time later, in what may be a bunker or an interrogation centre, a soldier wearing a thick
coat and a furry hat is guarding the entrance to a room. He has earphones in his ears playing
loud music. Behind the closed door, the prisoner cries out as he is struck for what is apparently
the umpteenth time. Hearing the noise, the soldier takes out one of his ear buds and looks
round to the door as the prisoner is struck again and groans. The soldier puts his ear bud back
in and turns away. Inside the room, the torturer shouts repeatedly at the prisoner, who is
naked from the waist up and whose arms are chained to opposite walls of the small room,
forcing him to stay upright. The man is slumped forward as far as he can, apparently exhausted
by the repeated blows and unable to support his own weight. In a dark corner of the room
another soldier, well wrapped against the cold and with a furry hat on his head, sits with his
feet up on a small table and watches while the torturer paces across the room.
TORTURER (in Serbian): You broke in here for a reason.
(He picks up a large metal pipe and walks towards the prisoner again, whose face we cannot
see through the long straggly hair which is falling across it.)
TORTURER (in Serbian): Just tell us why and you can sleep. Remember sleep?
(He draws back the pipe over his shoulder and prepares to strike the prisoner but the man
quietly whispers something. The torturer stops, lowering the pipe and leaning forward.)
TORTURER (in Serbian): What?
(He reaches down and pulls the mans head back by the hair, leaning closer as the prisoner
continues to whisper. The soldier in the corner speaks ... in a voice which sounds more than a
little familiar, although it is currently speaking with a heavy accent.)
SOLDIER (in Serbian): Well? What did he say?
(Straightening up and releasing the prisoners head, the torturer looks down at him in
puzzlement.)
TORTURER (in Serbian): He said that I used to work in the navy, where I had an unhappy love
affair.
SOLDIER (in Serbian): What?
(The prisoner continues to whisper and the torturer relays his words to the other man.)
TORTURER (in Serbian): ... that the electricity isnt working in my bathroom; and that my wife
is sleeping with our next door neighbour!
(He reaches down and pulls up the prisoners head by the hair again.)
TORTURER (in Serbian): And?
(The prisoner replies briefly and the man releases his head.)
TORTURER (in Serbian): The coffin maker!
(Once again he bends to the prisoner, lifting his head with a fist in his hair.)
TORTURER (in Serbian): And? And?
(The prisoner continues whispering, then the torturer drops his head and relays the words to
the soldier.)
TORTURER (in Serbian): If I go home now, Ill catch them at it! I knew it! I knew there was
something going on!
(He storms out of the room, leaving the prisoner slumped in his chains.)
SOLDIER (in Serbian): So, my friend. Now its just you and me.
(He takes his feet off the table and stands up.)
SOLDIER (in Serbian): You have no idea the trouble it took to find you.
(He walks across the room to the prisoner, whose back is covered in blood and wounds from his
beating. The soldier grabs a handful of the prisoners hair and pulls his head up a little. Leaning
close to the mans ear, he speaks in English and now we know that the familiar voice is none
other than that of Mycroft Holmes.)

285
MYCROFT: Now listen to me. Theres an underground terrorist network active in London and a
massive attack is imminent. Sorry, but the holiday is over, brother dear.
(He releases the prisoners head and straightens up.)
MYCROFT: Back to Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes.
(Under the long hair draped across his face, Sherlock smiles.)
OPENING CREDITS
LONDON. In an Underground station, the doors of a Tube train close and the train moves off.
John sits inside.
Above ground, a black car with tinted rear windows heads through the streets.
The two journeys continue, while Mycroft sits behind a desk in a dark-walled windowless office
(although there might be skylights letting in a little daylight) looking through paperwork. The
car pulls up outside the Diogenes Club, which presumably contains this office.
BAKER STREET. John walks across the road towards 221. Two young boys come around the
corner, one of them pushing a pushchair in front of him. Sitting in the pushchair is a home-
made Guy Fawkes guy with an orange balloon for a head, with a face drawn on with marker
pen. One of them calls out the traditional plea to a passer-by.
BOY: Penny for the guy?
[See more about Guy Fawkes traditions here and here.]
(The woman shakes her head as she walks past and the boys continue on, reaching John just
before he gets to the front door.)
BOY: Oi, mate! Penny for the guy?
(John rolls his eyes.)
SECOND BOY: Penny for the guy, mate?
FIRST BOY: Penny for the guy?
(John looks round at them quizzically and they continue onwards, calling out their plea to
everyone they see. He unlocks the front door and goes inside. Partway down the hall, he stops,
staring at Mrs Hudsons front door and letting out an anxious breath. In his head he starts to
hear Sherlocks violin playing a fragment of Irenes lament, and his head snaps up and he looks
up the stairs as a snippet of an old conversation sounds inside his mind.)
JOHN: That was the most ridiculous thing Ive ever done.
SHERLOCK: And you invaded Afghanistan!
(John blinks, his face sad as the violin fades from his mind. Just then, Mrs Hudson opens her
door and comes out, staring at John in surprise. He raises a hand in greeting, clearing his throat
before walking towards her after a final glance up the stairs.)
In Mycrofts office, someone is reading the front page headline of a newspaper which reads,
SKELETON MYSTERY. The strapline, of which we can only see the beginning, says, Remains
found in the wall of a ... The reader folds down the newspaper to reveal Mycroft sitting behind
his desk a short distance away, reading a file.
MYCROFT: You have been busy, havent you?
(We now see that its Sherlock whos holding the newspaper. He is reclined flat on his back in a
barbers chair while a man is shaving his face with a cut-throat razor. Sherlocks hair has been
cut back to its normal length and is currently wet and straight. He tosses the paper onto a
nearby trolley.)
MYCROFT: Quite the busy little bee. (He chuckles.)
SHERLOCK: Moriartys network took me two years to dismantle it.
MYCROFT: And youre confident you have?
SHERLOCK: The Serbian side was the last piece of the puzzle.
MYCROFT: Yes. You got yourself in deep there ... (he checks his report) ... with Baron
Maupertuis. Quite a scheme.
SHERLOCK: Colossal.
MYCROFT (shutting the file): Anyway, youre safe now.
SHERLOCK: Hmm.
MYCROFT: A small thank you wouldnt go amiss.
SHERLOCK: What for?
MYCROFT: For wading in.
(Sherlock raises a hand to the barber to make him stop shaving him. The man steps back a
little.)

286
MYCROFT: In case youd forgotten, fieldwork is not my natural milieu.

(Grunting in pain, Sherlock slowly sits up and looks at his brother angrily.)
SHERLOCK: Wading in? You sat there and watched me being beaten to a pulp.
MYCROFT (frowning indignantly): I got you out.
SHERLOCK: No I got me out. Why didnt you intervene sooner?
MYCROFT: Well, I couldnt risk giving myself away, could I? It would have ruined everything.
SHERLOCK (glowering at him): You were enjoying it.
MYCROFT: Nonsense.
SHERLOCK: Definitely enjoying it.
MYCROFT (leaning forward): Listen: do you have any idea what it was like, Sherlock, going
under cover, smuggling my way into their ranks like that? (He grimaces.) The noise; the
people.
(He sits back. Groaning softly, Sherlock painfully sinks back to lie down in the chair again. The
barber resumes his work.)
SHERLOCK: I didnt know you spoke Serbian.
MYCROFT: I didnt, but the language has a Slavic root, frequent Turkish and German loan
words. (He shrugs.) Took me a couple of hours.
SHERLOCK: Hmm youre slipping.
MYCROFT (smiling tightly): Middle age, brother mine. Comes to us all.
(The door opens and Anthea or not-Anthea, who we last saw in A Study in Pink holds up a
dark suit and white shirt on a hanger to show to Sherlock.)
221A BAKER STREET. John is sitting at Mrs Hudsons kitchen table. She firmly slams down a
small tray containing a cup and saucer and a jug of milk, then goes across the room to pick up
a plate of biscuits, which she equally loudly slams down onto the table. John silently watches
her while she picks up a sugar bowl and thumps that onto the table. She hesitates, then points
at the sugar bowl.
MRS HUDSON: Oh no you dont take it, do you?
JOHN: No.
MRS HUDSON: You forget a little thing like that.
JOHN: Yes.
MRS HUDSON (pointedly): You forget lots of little things, it seems.
JOHN: Uh-huh.
(Mrs H purposely runs her finger between her nose and her upper lip while looking at John.)
MRS HUDSON: Not sure about that.
(John reaches up to touch his moustache.)
MRS HUDSON: Ages you.
JOHN: Just trying it out.
MRS HUDSON: Well, it ages you.
(John looks awkwardly at her.)
JOHN: Look ...
MRS HUDSON: Im not your mother. Ive no right to expect it ...
JOHN: No ...
MRS HUDSON: ... but just one phone call, John.
(Her anger dissipates and she looks upset.)
MRS HUDSON: Just one phone call would have done.
JOHN: I know.
(He looks down.)
MRS HUDSON: After all we went through.
JOHN (looking her in the eye): Yes. I am sorry.
MRS HUDSON (sitting down at the table): Look, I understand how difficult it was for you after
... after ...
(She stops, shaking her head sadly.)
JOHN: I just let it slide, Mrs Hudson. I let it all slide. And it just got harder and harder to pick
up the phone somehow.
(Sighing, he looks away for a moment, then turns his eyes back to hers.)
JOHN: Dyou know what I mean?
(After a moment, Mrs Hudson sighs too and reaches out to put her hand on his arm. He
immediately puts his hand over hers.)

287
MYCROFTS OFFICE. Sherlocks hair is now dry and curly, and he is on his feet and almost
dressed. He tucks his shirt into his trousers while he looks at himself in a large mirror on the
wall. Mycroft and not-Anthea stand nearby.
MYCROFT: I need you to give this matter your full attention, Sherlock. Is that quite clear?
SHERLOCK: What do you think of this shirt?
MYCROFT (exasperated): Sherlock!
SHERLOCK: I will find your underground terror cell, Mycroft.
(He briefly looks at his brother.)
SHERLOCK: Just put me back in London. I need to get to know the place again, breathe it in
feel every quiver of its beating heart.
NOT-ANTHEA: One of our men died getting this information. All the chatter, all the traffic,
concurs theres going to be a terror strike on London a big one.
SHERLOCK (putting on his jacket): And what about John Watson?
(Anthea throws an exasperated glance towards Mycroft.)
MYCROFT: John?
SHERLOCK: Mmm. Have you seen him?
MYCROFT: Oh, yes we meet up every Friday for fish and chips(!)
(He gestures to Anthea, who hands Sherlock a folder.)
MYCROFT: Ive kept a weather eye on him, of course.
(Sherlock opens the file. There are two black and white surveillance photos of John and a
printed report underneath.)
MYCROFT: You havent been in touch at all, to prepare him?
SHERLOCK (distractedly): No.
(He looks at the picture of John with his new moustache.)
SHERLOCK: Well, well have to get rid of that.
MYCROFT: We?
SHERLOCK: He looks ancient. I cant be seen to be wandering around with an old man.
(He closes the file and drops it onto the desk.)
221B. John has gone upstairs and opens the door to the living room. He stands in the doorway,
looking into the room. Its quite dark because the curtains are closed, but lots of dust is floating
around, illuminated by the few shafts of light coming into the room. John continues to stand
still, looking towards Sherlocks chair by the fireside. Mrs Hudson comes in and switches on the
lights.
MRS HUDSON: I couldnt face letting it out.
(She walks across to the right-hand window and pulls the curtains back, coughing at the dust.)
MRS HUDSON: He never liked me dusting.
JOHN (turning to look into the kitchen): No, I know.
(Mrs Hudson goes across the room to open the other curtains.)
MRS HUDSON: So, why now? What changed your mind?
(Drawing in a deep breath, John turns back to face her.)
JOHN: Well, Ive got some news.
(Mrs H turns to him and her face fills with horror.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh, God. Is it serious?
JOHN: What? No no, Im not ill. Ive, er, well, Im ... moving on.
MRS HUDSON (sadly): Youre emigrating.
JOHN: Nope. Er, no Ive, er ... Ive met someone.
(Mrs Hudson giggles with delight. Clapping her hands, she walks towards him smiling happily.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh, lovely!
JOHN (smiling): Yeah. Were getting married ... well, Im gonna ask, anyway.
MRS HUDSON (looking more doubtful): So soon after Sherlock?
JOHN: Well, yes.
(Mrs H looks away thoughtfully for a moment, then smiles at John.)
MRS HUDSON: Whats his name?
JOHN (letting out a huge exasperated sigh): Its a woman.
MRS HUDSON: A woman?!
JOHN: Yes, of course its a woman.
(Mrs H laughs in surprise.)
MRS HUDSON: You really have moved on, havent you?
JOHN: Mrs Hudson! How many times ...? Sherlock was not my boyfriend.
MRS HUDSON (smiling affectionately): Live and let live thats my motto.

288
JOHN (slowly getting louder): Listen to me: I am not gay!
MYCROFTS OFFICE.
SHERLOCK (straightening his jacket): I think Ill surprise John. Hell be delighted!
MYCROFT (smiling cynically): You think so?
SHERLOCK: Hmm. Ill pop into Baker Street. Who knows jump out of a cake.
MYCROFT (frowning): Baker Street? He isnt there any more.
(Sherlock looks surprised.)
MYCROFT: Why would he be? Its been two years. Hes got on with his life.
SHERLOCK: What life? Ive been away.
(Mycroft pretty much rolls his eyes without actually rolling them.)
SHERLOCK: Wheres he going to be tonight?
MYCROFT: How would I know?
SHERLOCK: You always know.
MYCROFT: He has a dinner reservation in the Marylebone Road. Nice little spot. They have a
few bottles of the 2000 Saint-Emilion ... though I prefer the 2001.
SHERLOCK: I think maybe Ill just drop by.
MYCROFT: You know, it is just possible that you wont be welcome.
SHERLOCK: No it isnt. Now, where is it?
MYCROFT: Wheres what?
SHERLOCK: You know what.
(Anthea also knows what, because she immediately appears in the open doorway holding
Sherlocks Belstaff coat. Sherlock smiles with delight, and slides his arms into the sleeves as
Anthea lifts it into position. She has even already popped the collar for him.)
ANTHEA: Welcome back, Mr Holmes.
SHERLOCK (pulling the collar tips into a better position): Thank you ...
(He turns to face his brother.)
SHERLOCK (sarcastically): ... blud.
[See urban dictionary definition of blud here. Also see some of the Comments below (here) for
an alternative possibility, although Benedict later admitted that he ad-libbed the word during
filming.]
Later, Sherlock stands on a rooftop or a balcony of a tall building and gazes over his favourite
city.
[Thanks to the anonymous informant who used Google maps to find out that the building is 55
Whitehall, the Department of Energy and Climate Change.]
EVENING. THE LANDMARK HOTEL, MARYLEBONE ROAD. Sherlock approaches the door to the
restaurant, handing his Belstaff to a member of staff. Waiters open the doors for him and he
walks in. The matre d steps forward.
MAITRE D: Sir, may I help you?
(Having only glanced briefly at him, Sherlock has gone into full-blown deduction mode, seeming
to hear a woman crying out in pain:
Expectant Father
The mans phone beeps a text alert.)

SHERLOCK: Your wife just texted you. Possibly her contractions have started.
(The man fishes his phone out of his pocket, looks at the screen and hurries away. Sherlock
smiles smugly to himself.
Nearby, John is sitting alone at a table, checking the inside pocket of his jacket before taking a
drink from a glass of water. Sherlock looks across the room at him, then hesitates. A waitress
picks up some menus from the bar and walks across in front of him.)
WAITRESS: Scuse me, sir.
(Sherlocks attention is drawn to the bowtie she is wearing as part of her uniform. He looks to a
nearby table where a couple are sitting. There is a glass of red wine and a glass of water to the
mans left. The man has his back to the door but Sherlock can see him reflected in the water
glass. As John picks up the wine list and starts looking at it, Sherlock smiles to himself again
and walks over to the side of the other couples table where he picks up the glass of water and
pours it down the mans front. The man wearing a white shirt, black jacket and a bowtie
recoils and cries out in shock.)

289
SHERLOCK: Sorry! Im so, so sorry!

(The man lifts his napkin from his lap and starts mopping himself with it. Sherlock steps behind
him, pulling the napkin higher up the mans chest.)
SHERLOCK: Please, let me just go to the kitchen and, er, dry that off for you.
(With one smooth tug, he pulls off the mans bowtie and walks away, tying the bowtie around
his own neck. Continuing across the restaurant, he sees a man at another table taking off his
glasses and putting them down on top of the menu he has just been reading. Sherlock walks to
his side.)
SHERLOCK: Finished with that, sir? Allow me to take it for you.
(Not paying much attention, the man waves him away. Sherlock picks up the menu and the
glasses and walks away, putting on the glasses as he goes. At a nearby table, a womans small
handbag is open beside her. Sherlock sees that there is an eyeliner pencil on the top. He steps
close behind her, offering her the menu hes holding with his right hand while simultaneously
taking the menu she is holding with his left hand.)
SHERLOCK: Madam, can I suggest you look at this menu? Its, er, completely identical.
(She automatically takes the menu from his right hand and he instantly pinches the eyeliner
from her bag and steps away, turning his back to the bulk of the restaurant and lifting the
eyeliner towards his face. When he turns back, he has drawn a small pencil moustache on his
top lip. He goes over to Johns table, standing to his left and one step behind him. He addresses
John in a French accent.)
SHERLOCK: Can I elp you with anything, sir?
JOHN (not looking round at him): Hi, yeah. Im looking for a bottle of champagne a good one.
SHERLOCK (leaning closer): Mmm! Well, these are all excellent vintages.
JOHN: Er, its not really my area. What do you suggest?
SHERLOCK (his French accent becoming a little Captain du Creff-esque): Well, you cannot
possibly go wrong, but, erm, if youd like my personal recommendation ...
JOHN: Mm-hm.
SHERLOCK (French accent) (gesturing at the list with his eyeliner pencil): ... this last one on the
list is a favourite of mine.
(John nods, still not looking up at him.)
SHERLOCK (French accent) (straightening up): It is you might, in fact, say like a face from
ze past.
(He takes off his glasses and waits expectantly. John still doesnt look round.)
JOHN: Great. Ill have that one, please.
(He finishes his glass of red wine. Sherlock looks startled that John hasnt recognised him yet.)
SHERLOCK (French accent): It is familiar, but, er, with the quality of surprise!
(He almost lapses into his own voice on the final word and he gestures grandly. John grimaces
at the taste of his wine, then still without looking round hands the wine list to the man he
thinks is the wine waiter.)
JOHN: Well, er, surprise me.
SHERLOCK (tetchily, in pretty much his own voice): Certainly endeavouring to, sir.
(He walks away. John reaches into his inside jacket pocket and pulls out a small red velvet box.
Opening it, he looks at the three-stone diamond ring inside, then closes the box and puts it on
the table in front of him. Nearby, a woman walks down the stairs. John fidgets with the box,
turning it this way and that, perhaps in an attempt to make it look perfectly placed. He blows
out a nervous breath as his dinner date, Mary Morstan, rejoins him, patting his shoulder before
walking round to her own seat.)
MARY: Sorry that took so long.
(John snatches the box off the table and shoves it back into his pocket. She sits down and
smiles at him.)
MARY: You okay?
JOHN: Yeah, yeah. Me? Fine. I am fine.
(She smiles sweetly. John chuckles and gazes at her with a delighted look on his face.)
MARY: Now then, what did you want to ask me?
(Johns smile fades and he looks nervous.)
JOHN: More wine?
MARY: No, Im good with water, thanks.
JOHN: Right. (He briefly looks away.)
MARY: So ...
JOHN: Er, so ... Mary. Listen, erm ... I know it hasnt been long ... I mean, I know we havent
known each other for a long time ...

290
(He looks down, clearly struggling.)

MARY (encouragingly): Go on.
JOHN: Yes, I will. As you know, these last couple of years havent been easy for me; and
meeting you ...
(He looks at her for a moment, then nods.)
JOHN: Yeah, meeting you has been the best thing that could have possibly happened.
MARY: I agree.
JOHN: What?
MARY (smiling): I agree Im the best thing that could have happened to you.
(John laughs. Mary screws up her nose apologetically.)
MARY: Sorry.
JOHN: Well, no. Thats, um ...
(He pauses, then looks at her.)
JOHN: So ... if youll have me, Mary, could you see your way, um ...
(She giggles. He clears his throat.)
JOHN: ... if you could see your way to ...
(Just as hes about to go for it, Sherlock glides over to the table, still with the glasses, the
ridiculous fake moustache and the ridiculous fake accent, but now with the added bonus of a
bottle of champagne which he shows to John.)
SHERLOCK (French accent): Sir, I think youll find this vintage exceptionally to your liking.
(Mary shields her face with her hand so that the waiter cant see her as she giggles silently at
John.)
SHERLOCK (French accent): It as all the qualities of the old, with some of the colour of the
new.
JOHN (his eyes locked on Marys): No, sorry, not now, please.
SHERLOCK (French accent): Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers ...
(Mary pulls a face at John.)
SHERLOCK (French accent): ... suddenly one is aware of staring into ze face of an old friend.
(He takes off his glasses.)
JOHN: No, look, seriously ... (he finally lifts his gaze to meet the waiters eyes) ... could you
just ...
(His face drops. His entire body jolts and he stares with an expression of utter disbelief.)
SHERLOCK (in his normal accent): Interesting thing, a tuxedo. Lends distinction to friends, and
anonymity to waiters.
(John turns his head towards Mary, then his eyes fill with tears and he ducks his head
momentarily before he stumbles clumsily to his feet.)
MARY (concerned): John?
(As John straightens up, Sherlock begins to move his right hand forward as if expecting John to
shake it. John looks down at the table breathing heavily before lifting his head and briefly
locking eyes with him.)
MARY (worried): John, what is it? What?
(John looks down again, clearly still in shock.)
SHERLOCK (a little awkwardly): Well, short version ...
(John raises his eyes to him again.)
SHERLOCK: ... Not Dead.
(John stares at him, his face full of pain, shock and growing anger. Sherlock finally seems to
catch on and looks a little guilty.)
SHERLOCK: Bit mean, springing it on you like that, I know. Could have given you a heart
attack, probably still will. But in my defence, it was very funny.
(He laughs nervously, not meeting Johns eyes, which is probably for the best because Johns
gaze is slowly turning murderous.)
SHERLOCK: Okay, its not a great defence.
MARY: Oh no! Youre ...
SHERLOCK (glancing towards her): Oh yes.
MARY (shocked): Oh, my God.
SHERLOCK: Not quite.
MARY: You died. You jumped off a roof.
SHERLOCK: No.
MARY (appalled): Youre dead!
SHERLOCK: No. Im quite sure. I checked. Excuse me.

291
(Picking up a napkin from the table, he dips it into Marys glass of water and then starts to rub
off his moustache.)
SHERLOCK (trying to sound nonchalant as he meets Johns furious gaze): Does, er, does yours
rub off, too?
(The tight smile which John directs at him bears absolutely no humour at all. Marys anger is
clear in her voice as she speaks.)
MARY: Oh my God, oh my God. Do you have any idea what youve done to him?
SHERLOCK (looking down nervously): Okay, John, Im suddenly realising I probably owe you
some sort of an apology.
(Clenching his left fist, John slams it down onto the table. Its a credit to the manufacturers of
the table that he doesnt shatter it. He hunches over his fist.)
MARY: All right, just ... John? Just keep ...
(John pulls in a deep shaky breath before looking up at Sherlock.)
JOHN (in a whisper): Two years.
(He shakes his head, dragging in another long breath and blowing it out again before starting to
straighten up.)
JOHN (still in a tight whisper): Two years.
(He moans and slumps down over his hands again. Sherlock has the decency to look awkward.
John glances up at him momentarily.)
JOHN: I thought ...
(He groans, unable to continue and gesturing helplessly. Mary stares at him in sympathy. John
finally straightens and turns to Sherlock.)
JOHN: I thought ... you were dead. (His face begins to fill with anger again.) Hmm?
(He breathes rapidly and shallowly.)
JOHN: Now, you let me grieve, hmm? How could you do that?
(Sherlock looks down, biting his lip.)
JOHN (softly but furiously): How?
SHERLOCK (as Johns breathing becomes more intense): Wait before you do anything that
you might regret ...
(John half-groans again.)
SHERLOCK: ... um, one question. Just let me ask one question. Um ...
(John looks at him, his eyes still full of fury.)
SHERLOCK (almost giggling as he gestures towards his own top lip): Are you really gonna keep
that?!
(He grins as he turns his head to look at Mary. She laughs in disbelief. John draws in one more
long breath, then hurls himself at Sherlock, grabbing his lapels and bundling him back across
the floor until Sherlock loses his footing and they both fall to the floor, John on top of Sherlock
and trying to throttle him. Mary and various waiters run to pull John off.)
LATER. The three of them have presumably been thrown out of the restaurant and have
relocated to a caf. Sherlock sits on one side of a table wearing his coat, his fingers steepled in
front of him. John and Mary, also in their coats, sit side by side opposite him with their arms
folded.
SHERLOCK: I calculated that there were thirteen possibilities once Id invited Moriarty onto the
roof.
(Flashbacks of Sherlock on the rooftop of Barts intersperse the following dialogue.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): I wanted to avoid dying if at all possible.
(Sherlock rapidly looks around the roof and all the surrounding buildings, visually calculating
trajectories, angles and even the possibility of a ladder being lowered from a helicopter.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): The first scenario involved hurling myself into a parked hospital van
filled with washing bags. Impossible. The angle was too steep. Secondly, a system of Japanese
wrestling ...
JOHN (interrupting): You know, for a genius you can be remarkably thick.
SHERLOCK: What?
JOHN (tightly): I dont care how you faked it, Sherlock. I wanna know why.
SHERLOCK (bewildered): Why? Because Moriarty had to be stopped.
(He looks at Johns expression.)
SHERLOCK: Oh. Why as in ...
(He lifts a finger, pointing it in Johns direction. John nods.)
SHERLOCK: I see. Yes. Why? Thats a little more difficult to explain.
JOHN (darkly): Ive got all night.

292
SHERLOCK (clearing his throat and looking down): Actually, um, that was mostly Mycrofts idea.
JOHN: Oh, so its your brothers plan?
MARY (pointing towards Sherlock): Oh, he would have needed a confidant ...
SHERLOCK (nodding at her in agreement): Mm-hm.
(Mary trails off at Johns look.)
MARY: Sorry.
(She refolds her arms and looks down. John turns back to Sherlock.)
JOHN: But he was the only one? The only one who knew?
(Sherlock closes his eyes briefly and seems to force the next sentence out.)
SHERLOCK: Couple of others.
(John lowers his head. Sherlock talks quickly.)
SHERLOCK: It was a very elaborate plan it had to be. The next of the thirteen possibilities ...
JOHN (in a despairing whisper): Who else?
(He looks up to Sherlock.)
JOHN: Who else knew?
(Sherlock hesitates.)
JOHN: Who?
SHERLOCK: Molly.
JOHN (angrily): Molly?
MARY (softly): John.
SHERLOCK: Molly Hooper and some of my homeless network, and thats all.
JOHN: Okay. (He sits up a little and glances round at Mary, who gives him a sympathetic smile.
He turns to Sherlock again.) Okay. So just your brother, and Molly Hooper, and a hundred
tramps.
(Sherlock chuckles.)
SHERLOCK: No! Twenty-five at most.
(John hurls himself across the table and attempts to throttle his old friend again.)
LATER. The three of them have presumably been thrown out of the caf and have relocated to a
kebab shop. John and Mary stand leaning with their backs against the counter. John apparently
managed more than just an attempted throttling, because Sherlock has taken his coat off and is
holding a paper napkin to a cut on his lower lip. He looks at the blood on the napkin, wincing,
then presses it to his lip again. He looks at John as he raises his head, avoiding Sherlocks gaze.
SHERLOCK: Seriously, its not a joke? (He gestures to his own top lip.) Youre-youre really
keeping this?
(John clears his throat and meets Sherlocks eyes.)
JOHN: Yeah.
SHERLOCK: Youre sure?
JOHN: Mary likes it.
SHERLOCK: Mmmmmm, no she doesnt.
JOHN: She does.
SHERLOCK: She doesnt.
(John glances briefly round at Mary, then does a double-take. She makes incoherent apologetic
noises.)
JOHN: Oh! (He tries to cover his moustache with his hand.) Brilliant.
MARY: Im sorry. Oh, Im sorry I didnt know how to tell you.
JOHN: No, no, this is charming(!)
(He points angrily at Sherlock, clearly referring to his talent of instant deduction.)
JOHN: Ive really missed this(!)
(He looks down, then takes an aggressive step towards Sherlock and gets into his face.)
JOHN: One Word, Sherlock. That is all I would have needed. One word to let me know that you
were alive.
(He steps back, breathing heavily.)
SHERLOCK (quietly): Ive nearly been in contact so many times, but ...
(John laughs disbelievingly.)
SHERLOCK: ... I worried that, you know, you might say something indiscreet.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: Well, you know, let the cat out of the bag.
JOHN (stepping closer again): Oh, so this is my fault?!
(Mary laughs with disbelief.)
MARY: Oh, God!

293
JOHN (shouting angrily): Why am I the only one who thinks that this is wrong the only one
reacting like a human being?!
SHERLOCK: Over-reacting.
JOHN (furiously): Over-reacting?!
MARY: John!
JOHN (still shouting): Over-reacting. So you fake your own death ...
SHERLOCK: Shh!
JOHN: ... and you waltz in ere large as bloody life ...
SHERLOCK: Shh!
JOHN (initially more quietly, but getting louder all the time): ... but Im not supposed to have a
problem with that, no, because Sherlock Holmes thinks its a perfectly OKAY THING TO DO!
SHERLOCK (shouting): Shut up, John! I dont want everyone knowing Im still alive!
JOHN (shouting): Oh, so its still a secret, is it?
SHERLOCK (loudly): Yes! Its still a secret.
(He looks round at the other customers in the shop.)
SHERLOCK (casually): Promise you wont tell anyone.
JOHN (angrily, sarcastically): Swear to God!
(Finally he looks round at the other customers and backs down a little, blowing out a long
breath. Sherlock steps closer to him and speaks quietly.)
SHERLOCK: London is in danger, John. Theres an imminent terrorist attack and I need your
help.
(John stares at him in amazement, then turns to throw a quirky can you believe this guy?! look
at Mary. He turns back to Sherlock.)
JOHN: My help?
(Sherlocks eyes narrow as he deduces Johns genuine reaction to his request, then he smiles.)
SHERLOCK: You have missed this. Admit it. The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through
your veins, just the two of us against the rest of the world ...
(John grabs his lapels, rears his head back and then moves in for the kill.)
LATER. The three of them have presumably been thrown out of the kebab shop. Sherlock,
wearing his coat again, stands just outside the door with his head tilted back a little. Blood is
running from his nose.
(He pinches the bridge of his nose with one hand and holds a paper napkin underneath with the
other.)
SHERLOCK: I said Im sorry. Isnt that what youre supposed to do?
(Mary is standing beside him, while John is a few yards up the road hailing an approaching
taxi.)
MARY: Gosh. You dont know anything about human nature, do you?
(Sherlock lowers his head and looks at her.)
SHERLOCK: Mmm, nature? No. Human? ... No.
MARY: Ill talk him round.
(Sherlock takes the napkin from under his nose and looks at her curiously.)
SHERLOCK: You will?
MARY (smiling confidently): Oh yeah.
(Sherlock looks at her closely and goes into deduction mode. Many, many words appear in his
mind, some of them repeated several times. They include, in no particular order:
only child linguist Clever part time nurse Shortsighted Guardian Bakes Own Bread
Disillusioned Cat Lover Romantic Appendix Scar Lib Dem Secret Tattoo Size 12 Liar
She smiles at him, then looks round as John calls to her.)

JOHN: Mary.
(She turns to give Sherlock a last smile, then walks over to John. They get into the taxi and it
drives away. Sherlock watches them go.
In the taxi John indignantly turns to Mary.)
JOHN: Can you believe his nerve?
(Smiling, Mary looks round at him.)
MARY: I like him.
JOHN: What?
MARY (shrugging and still smiling): I like him.

294
(She turns her head away and looks out of the window. John narrows his eyes, looking
completely bewildered.
Back at the kebab shop, Sherlock looks down thoughtfully, then turns and walks away.)
ST BARTHOLOMEWS HOSPITAL. Molly Hooper walks into a locker room, takes out her keys and
opens her locker. As the door swings open, the mirror on the inside reveals Sherlock standing a
short distance away behind her, smiling slightly. She gasps and turns to look at him, starting to
smile.
In an underground car park, Greg Lestrade walks across the area searching his pockets as he
goes. Behind him, Sherlocks distinctive silhouette quickly walks past and disappears into the
shadows of an unlit area of the car park. Unaware of this, Greg continues rummaging in various
pockets. Something metallic clinks noisily in the darkness. Greg looks around but can see
nothing and he resumes his search through his pockets until he finally finds what he was
looking for. Tipping a cigarette out of the pack, he sticks it into his mouth, puts the rest of the
pack back into his pocket and then flicks his lighter and raises it towards the end of the
cigarette.
SHERLOCKs VOICE (in the darkness): Those thingsll kill you.
(Greg freezes, the flame not quite reaching the end of his cigarette as he stares into the
distance while his brain catches up with what and who he just heard. Finally he lowers his
lighter and takes his fag out of his mouth.)
LESTRADE: Ooh, you bastard!
SHERLOCK (walking towards him out of the darkness): Its time to come back. Youve been
letting things slide, Graham.
LESTRADE: Greg!
SHERLOCK: Greg.
(Greg stares at him for a long moment, his lips slowly lifting to reveal his teeth. Grimacing, he
lunges towards Sherlock ... and wraps his arms around his neck and pulls him into a tight hug.
Sherlock groans quite possibly because the hug, while adorable for us to look at, is doing no
good to his recent injuries acquired in Serbia but he tolerates Gregs affection.)
John and Mary are in bed. Mary is asleep, but John stares up at the ceiling, lost in thought.
221A BAKER STREET. Mrs Hudson is in the kitchen washing up a pan. The radio is on.
RADIO: ... with an anti-terrorism bill this important, the government feels duty-bound to push
through the legislation with all due expe...
(Hearing the main front door being opened, she turns down the volume and goes to her front
door and opens it, brandishing the pan in front of her. The front door closes, and a familiar
silhouette appears behind the frosted window of the internal door. Mrs Hudson stares at it in
disbelief and then Sherlock pushes open the door and looks at her. She screams hysterically.)
FLASHBACK to the end of The Reichenbach Fall. John gets out of the taxi and heads towards
the hospital. Cut to partway through his phone conversation with Sherlock when John tries
again to go towards the hospital.
SHERLOCK (over phone): No, stay exactly where you are.
JOHN (into phone): Where are you?
SHERLOCK: Dont move. Keep your eyes fixed on me.
(On the rooftops edge, a dummy has been dressed in replicas of Sherlocks coat and scarf. Its
wearing a curly dark wig, and a life-sized photo of Sherlocks face has been stuck on the front of
its head. One hand is raised to hold a phone.)
JOHNs VOICE (over phone): What-whats happening? Whats going on?
(A few feet behind the dummy, Sherlock is sitting on the roof with his back against a low
chimney. Jim Moriarty is sitting beside him. Sherlock is holding a rope to keep the dummy
upright. He speaks tearfully into another phone.)
SHERLOCK: Please, will you do this for me? Please.
JOHN: Do what?
SHERLOCK: This phone call its my note. Thats what people do, dont they? Leave a note.
(Beside him, Jim lowers his head and giggles quietly. Sherlock takes the phone away from his
mouth and angrily but silently shushes him.)
JOHNs VOICE (over phone): Leave a note when?
SHERLOCK (raising the phone to his mouth again): Goodbye, John.

295
JOHNs VOICE (over phone): No ...

(Switching off the phone, Sherlock flicks the rope and releases it and the dummy topples over
the edge of the roof. Jim chuckles, and Johns horrified voice can be heard screaming from
ground level.)
JOHN: Sherlock!
JIM: Oh-ho!
(He and Sherlock both laugh as if delighted that their plan has worked. They turn and look at
each other, still giggling, but when their eyes meet their smiles slowly begin to fade as if they
are starting to realise something or to feel something new. Sherlock frowns a little, looking
puzzled, but Jim waits patiently for him to catch up. After a few moments Sherlock works it out
and begins to lean towards him, and Jim moves to meet him. Their lips are just about to touch
when ...
ANDERSON (horrified): What?! Are you out of your mind?!

(He is standing and staring down at a dark-haired young woman sitting in his living room. She
shrugs.)
LAURA: I dont see why not. Its just as plausible as some of your theories.
(Behind her, the walls of the room are absolutely covered with notes, photographs and Post It
notes. Pieces of red string link some of the paperwork together, some of the strings even
crossing the room. Laura is not the only person in the room with Anderson six or seven others
are squeezed onto the furniture. At least three of them are wearing deerstalker hats, and one is
wearing a Sherlock-like coat and scarf.)
ANDERSON: Look, if youre not going to take it seriously, Laura, you can ... (He makes a get
out gesture.)
LAURA (angrily): I do take it seriously. (She looks disapprovingly around at the others.) I dont
think we should wear hats.
ANDERSON: I founded The Empty Hearse so like-minded people could meet, discuss theories
...
(He chokes on his words and steps closer to Laura, looking down at her angrily.)
ANDERSON: Sherlocks still out there.
(She rolls her eyes.)
ANDERSON: Im convinced of it.
(Lauras eyes have drifted to the TV behind him and her eyes widen. Anderson turns to look.
The sound is muted but a reporter talking live from somewhere in London is bringing some
breaking news. The rolling headline at the bottom of the screen announces, HAT DETECTIVE
ALIVE. Underneath, a separate headline states, Magnussen summoned before parliamentary
... and presumably the next word is commission but nobody is paying attention to that
news.)
LAURA: Oh my God.
(Instantly everyones phones begin to signal text alerts. Everybody scrabbles in their pockets.
Laura holds up her own phone to show the screen to Anderson, her face alight with
excitement.)
LAURA: Oh. My. God!
(On the phones, Twitter is full of hashtags like #SherlockHolmesAlive! and #SherlockIsNotDead,
and #SherlockLives, and more messages stream in by the second.)
Sitting up in bed, Mary is holding an iPad and reading aloud from one of Johns old blog entries.
MARY (narrating dramatically): His movements were so silent. So furtive, he reminded me of a
trained bloodhound picking out a scent.
JOHN (offscreen a short distance away): You what?
MARY: I couldnt help thinking what an amazing criminal hed make if he turned his talents
against the law.
(John comes out of the small ensuite bathroom, his lower face and upper lip covered with
shaving foam.)
JOHN: Dont read that.
MARY (still looking at the screen): The famous blog, finally!
JOHN: Come on thats ...
MARY: ... ancient history, yes, I know. But its not, though, is it, because hes ...
(She raises her eyes from the iPad and stops when she sees John.)
MARY (smiling): What are you doing?!
JOHN: Having a wash.

296
MARY (grinning): Youre shaving it off.

JOHN: Well, you hate it.
MARY: Sherlock hates it.
JOHN: Apparently everyone hates it.
(Mary giggles.)
MARY: Are you gonna see him again?
JOHN: No Im going to work.
MARY: Oh. And after work, are you gonna see him again?
(Rolling his eyes, John walks back into the bathroom.)
MARY: Cor, I dunno six months of bristly kisses for me, and then His Nibs turns up ...
JOHN (looking into the mirror while he applies more shaving foam): I dont shave for Sherlock
Holmes.
MARY: Oh! You should put that on a T-shirt!
JOHN: Shut up.
MARY (cheekily): Or what?
JOHN: Or Ill marry you.
(He turns to look at her. She grins. Rinsing off his hands, John picks up his razor, looks into the
mirror, sighs, then lifts the razor towards his upper lip.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): London. Its like a great cesspool into which all kinds of criminals,
agents and drifters are irresistibly drained.
(In the living room of 221B, Sherlock wearing a red dressing gown over his clothes has
been peering at the wall behind the sofa, and now he steps onto the sofa and begins to stick up
maps, notes and paperwork.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): Sometimes its not a question of Who?; its a question of Who
Knows?
(Somewhere in London a man in his twenties or thirties with a shaved head is sitting on a park
bench eating a sandwich.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): If this man cancels his papers ...
(Near the bench, a scruffily dressed and rather grubby woman presumably one of Sherlocks
Homeless Network takes photos of the man on her phone.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): ... I need to know.
(Keeping a wary eye on the man, the woman sends her photos to Sherlock, and he pins one of
them onto the wall.
Elsewhere, a woman with a dog on a lead walks through a street market.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): If this woman leaves London without putting her dog into kennels, I
need to know.
(Another homeless woman photographs the dog owner and texts it to Sherlock, who again pins
the photo onto the wall. He continues sticking up pictures of people and adding crosses and
other marks to the pictures and the map underneath.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): There are certain people they are markers. If they start to move, Ill
know somethings up like rats deserting a sinking ship.
John, now moustache-free, approaches and goes into the surgery in which he works.
221B. LIVING ROOM.

MYCROFT: All very interesting, Sherlock, but the terror alert has been raised to Critical.
(The brothers are sitting opposite each other in front of the unlit fire, Sherlock still in his
dressing gown. We can see a chess set between them. Sherlock sits back from making a move,
his eyes locked onto Mycrofts.)
SHERLOCK: Boring. Your move.
MYCROFT: We have solid information. An attack is coming.
(He glances down towards the table between them.)
SHERLOCK: Solid information. A secret terrorist organisations planning an attack thats
what secret terrorist organisations do, isnt it? Its their version of golf.
MYCROFT: An agent gave his life to tell us that.
SHERLOCK: Oh, well, perhaps he shouldnt have done. He was obviously just trying to show off.
(Mycroft appears to hold back a sigh.)
MYCROFT: None of these markers of yours is behaving in any way suspiciously? (He glances
down again and we hear him makes a move.) Your move.

297
SHERLOCK: No, Mycroft, but you have to trust me. Ill find the answer. Itll be in an odd phrase
in an online blog, or an unexpected trip to the countryside, or a misplaced Lonely Hearts ad.
(He had only glanced down briefly before speaking, but out of view theres a slight click as he
moves his piece.)
SHERLOCK: Your move.
(Mycroft glances down briefly before raising his eyes to Sherlocks again.)
MYCROFT: Ive given the Prime Minister my personal assurance youre on the case.
SHERLOCK: I am on the case. Were both on the case. Look at us right now.
(On the table in between them, theres a loud buzzing and a red light flashes.)
MYCROFT: Oh, bugger!
(He angrily drops the small tweezers he was using in their game of Operation. We realise that
a clever perspective shot had lured us into believing they were playing chess, but the chess set
is actually on the coffee table in front of the sofa.)
[More details about Operation here if you need them; and then do check out Redscharlachs
hilarious Sherloperation!]
SHERLOCK: Oopsie!
(Mycroft returns the piece to the board.)
SHERLOCK (looking at which piece Mycroft had failed to remove successfully): Cant handle a
broken heart how very telling.
(Looking smug, he sits back in his chair and crosses his legs.)
MYCROFT: Dont be smart.
SHERLOCK: That takes me back. (In a little boys voice) Dont be smart, Sherlock. Im the
smart one.
MYCROFT (glowering at him): I am the smart one.
(Sherlock looks off to the side reflectively.)
SHERLOCK: I used to think I was an idiot.
MYCROFT: Both of us thought you were an idiot, Sherlock. We had nothing else to go on til we
met other children.
SHERLOCK: Oh, yes. That was a mistake.
MYCROFT: Ghastly. What were they thinking of?
SHERLOCK: Probably something about trying to make friends.
MYCROFT: Oh yes. Friends. Of course, you go in for that sort of thing now.
SHERLOCK (looking at him closely): And you dont? Ever?
MYCROFT: If you seem slow to me, Sherlock, can you imagine what real people are like? Im
living in a world of goldfish.
(Sherlock steeples his fingers in front of him and looks at his brother.)
SHERLOCK: Yes, but Ive been away for two years.
MYCROFT: So?
SHERLOCK (shrugging): Oh, I dont know. I thought perhaps you might have found yourself a
... goldfish.
MYCROFT (looking appalled): Change the subject now!
(He stands up and walks over to the fireplace.)
SHERLOCK: Rest assured, Mycroft whatever this underground network of yours is up to, the
secret will reside in something seemingly insignificant or bizarre.
(Mrs Hudson, carrying a tray of tea things, walks into the room with her traditional Ooh-ooh!)
MYCROFT: Speaking of which ...
(Sherlock smiles.)
MRS HUDSON (happily, putting the tray on the dining table): I cant believe it. I just cant
believe it! Him sitting in his chair again!
(She looks at Mycroft.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh, isnt it wonderful, Mr Holmes?
MYCROFT: I can barely contain myself(!)
SHERLOCK: Oh, he really can, you know.
MRS HUDSON: Hes secretly pleased to see you underneath all that ... (she pulls a sour face).
MYCROFT: Sorry which of us?
MRS HUDSON: Both of you.
(She leaves the room.)
SHERLOCK: Lets play something different.
MYCROFT (with an exasperated sigh): Why are we playing games?
SHERLOCK: Well, Londons terror alert has been raised to Critical. (He flails his legs over the
table in front of him and stands up.) Im just passing the time. Lets do deductions.

298
(He walks over to the dining table and picks up a woollen bobble hat which has earflaps [Its an
ear hat, John!] and a dangly woollen pom pom hanging from each flap.)
SHERLOCK: Client left this while I was out. What dyou reckon?
(He tosses it to his brother.)
MYCROFT (catching it): Im busy.
SHERLOCK: Oh, go on. Its been an age.
(Mycroft lifts the hat to his nose and sniffs, then looks across to Sherlock.)
MYCROFT: I always win.
SHERLOCK: Which is why you cant resist.
MYCROFT (quick fire): I find nothing irresistible in the hat of a well-travelled anxious
sentimental unfit creature of habit with appalling halitosis ...
(He stops when he notices Sherlocks widening smile.)
MYCROFT: Damn.
(He throws the hat back to Sherlock.)
SHERLOCK: Isolated, too, dont you think?
MYCROFT: Why would he be isolated?
SHERLOCK: He?
MYCROFT: Obviously.
SHERLOCK: Why? Size of the hat?
MYCROFT: Dont be silly. Some women have large heads too.
(Sherlock flinches slightly, possibly at Mycrofts insult to his intelligence.)
MYCROFT: No hes recently had his hair cut. You can see the little hairs adhering to the
perspiration stains on the inside.
(Sherlock looks down at the hat, pouting slightly.)
SHERLOCK: Some women have short hair, too.
MYCROFT: Balance of probability.
SHERLOCK: Not that youve ever spoken to a woman with short hair or, you know, a woman.
MYCROFT: Stains show hes out of condition, and hes sentimental because the hat has been
repaired three, four ...
SHERLOCK: Five times. (He throws the hat back to his brother.) Very neatly. (Quick fire) The
cost of the repairs exceeds the cost of the hat, so he's mawkishly attached to it, but its more
than that. One, perhaps two, patches would indicate sentimentality, but five? Fives excessive
behaviour. Obsessive compulsive.
MYCROFT: Hardly. Your client left it behind. What sort of an obsessive compulsive would do
that?
(He throws the hat back to Sherlock, who grabs it with an exasperated grimace.)
MYCROFT: The earlier patches are extensively sun-bleached, so hes worn it abroad in Peru.
SHERLOCK: Peru?
MYCROFT: This is a chullo the classic headgear of the Andes. Its made of alpaca.
SHERLOCK (smirking): No.
MYCROFT: No?
SHERLOCK: Icelandic sheep wool. Similar, but very distinctive if you know what youre looking
for. Ive written a blog on the varying tensile strengths of different natural fibres.
MRS HUDSON (coming back into the room with a teapot): Im sure theres a crying need for
that.
(Sherlock pauses for a moment, then turns back to his brother.)
SHERLOCK: You said he was anxious.
MYCROFT: The bobble on the left side has been badly chewed, which shows hes a man of a
nervous disposition but ...
SHERLOCK (talking over him): ... but also a creature of habit because he hasnt chewed the
bobble on the right.
MYCROFT: Precisely.
(Sherlock lifts the hat and sniffs it before lowering it again, grimacing.)
SHERLOCK: Brief sniff of the offending bobble tells us everything we need to know about the
state of his breath.
(He turns away.)
SHERLOCK (sarcastically): Brilliant(!)
MYCROFT: Elementary.
SHERLOCK: But youve missed his isolation.
MYCROFT: I dont see it.
SHERLOCK: Plain as day.

299
MYCROFT: Where?
SHERLOCK: There for all to see.
MYCROFT: Tell me.
SHERLOCK: Plain as the nose on your ...
MYCROFT: Tell me.
SHERLOCK (turning back to him): Well, anybody who wears a hat as stupid as this isnt in the
habit of hanging around other people, is he?
MYCROFT: Not at all. Maybe he just doesnt mind being different. He doesnt necessarily have to
be isolated.
SHERLOCK: Exactly.
(He looks down at the hat again. Mycroft blinks several times, apparently confused.)
MYCROFT: Im sorry?
SHERLOCK (looking at him): Hes different so what? Why would he mind? Youre quite right.
(He lifts the hat and perches it on the top of his head, then looks pointedly at his brother.)
SHERLOCK: Why would anyone mind?
(Mycroft opens his mouth but seems to struggle to speak for a moment.)
MYCROFT: ... Im not lonely, Sherlock.
(Sherlock tilts his head down and looks closely at him, then steps nearer with an intense
expression on his face.)
SHERLOCK: How would you know?
(Taking off the hat, he turns away. Mrs Hudson, who has been pottering in the kitchen, comes
to the doorway and smiles.)
MYCROFT: Yes. Back to work if you dont mind. Good morning.
(Looking a little wide-eyed as a result of the recent conversation, he heads for the door. Behind
him, Sherlock winks at Mrs Hudson, who giggles happily.)
SHERLOCK (turning to face the wall of information behind the sofa): Right. Back to work.
JOHNS SURGERY. Mary knocks on the door and looks in.

MARY: Mr Summerson.
JOHN: Right.
MARY: Undescended testicle.
JOHN: ... Right.
(Mary leaves again. The clock shows 10 past 10.)
221B. Sherlock holds up his phone and looks at the latest photos of one of his markers. Mrs
Hudson comes to the door of the living room and watches while Sherlock draws a cross over the
photo of the man which is pinned to the wall.
MRS HUDSON: Sherlock.
SHERLOCK (absently): Mm?
MRS HUDSON: Talk to John.
SHERLOCK: I tried talking to him. He made his position quite clear.
In his surgery, John has his hand held up in front of him with the middle finger pointing
upwards. With his other hand he pulls a medical glove tighter down onto his fingers. His patient
is standing in front of him, naked from the waist down and looking awkward.
JOHN: Just relax, Mr Summerson.
(He walks towards him.)
MRS HUDSON: What did he say?

SHERLOCK: F...
JOHN: Cough.
(He is cradling Mr Summersons testicles with his gloved hand.)
MRS HUDSON: Ooh dear!

(She turns away.)
Later, John sits looking at his computer in his surgery. The intercom beeps and he switches it
on.
JOHN: Hi.
MARY (over intercom): Er, Mrs Reeves. Thrush.

300
(John lowers his head momentarily.)

JOHN: Right.
(The clock shows 4 minutes past 1.)
At 221B, Sherlock is standing at the window. He grimaces slightly as Molly walks into the room
behind him.
MOLLY: You wanted to see me?
SHERLOCK (turning to face her): Yes.
(He starts to walk towards her.)
SHERLOCK: Molly?
MOLLY: Yes?
SHERLOCK: Would you ...
(He stops, looking down, then slowly starts to walk closer.)
SHERLOCK: Would you like to ...
MOLLY: ... have dinner?
SHERLOCK (simultaneously): ... solve crimes?
MOLLY (awkwardly): Ooh.
John writes out a prescription while talking to the patient sitting behind him.
JOHN: Absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, Mrs Reeves. Its very common ... (he turns and
hands the prescription to her) ... but Im recommending a course of ...
SHERLOCK: ... monkey glands.

(He is looking at the wall, while Molly sits on a dining chair beside Sherlocks armchair. She
bites back a smile as Sherlock turns towards the two clients in the room. A woman is sitting in
what was Johns chair and a man stands beside her.)
SHERLOCK: But enough about Professor Presbury. Tell us more about your case, Mr Harcourt.
(Molly speaks quietly to him as he walks past her.)
MOLLY: Are you sure about this?
SHERLOCK: Absolutely.
MOLLY: Should I be making notes?
SHERLOCK: If it makes you feel better.
MOLLY: Its just that thats what John says he does, so if Im being John ...
SHERLOCK (sitting down in his chair): Youre not being John youre being yourself.
(Molly smiles proudly.)
MR HARCOURT: Well, absolutely no one should have been able to empty that bank account
other than myself and Helen.
(Sherlock looks closely at him, zooming in on his jacket, then his hairline and then the skin
above his eyes. He stands and walks closer to him.)
SHERLOCK: Why didnt you assume it was your wife?
MR HARCOURT: Because Ive always had total faith in her.
SHERLOCK: No its because you emptied it. (He points at the three areas on the man at which
he had just looked and speaks rapidly.) Weight loss, hair dye, Botox; affair. (Whipping out a
business card, he holds it out to Mrs Harcourt.) Lawyer. Next!
Mary shows the next patient into the room and looks at John.
MARY: This is Mr Blake. (Whispering) Piles.
(John nods politely. The clock shows half past 3. John turns and smiles at his patient.)
JOHN: Mr Blake, hi.
Sherlock is sitting on a stool close to a young woman who is sitting on the sofa. He is clasping
her hands and patting them sympathetically while he talks softly to her.
SHERLOCK: And your pen pals emails just stopped, did they?
(The woman nods, whimpering as she cries. Molly looks across to her but then continues writing
notes at the dining table. An older man is sitting beside the woman.)
SHERLOCK (softly): And you really thought he was the one, didnt you? The love of your life?
(As the woman takes off her glasses and cries harder, Sherlock turns and looks at Molly for a
moment, then stands and walks across to her. Keeping his back to the clients, he speaks
quietly.)
SHERLOCK: Stepfather posing as online boyfriend.
MOLLY (shocked): What?!

301
SHERLOCK: Breaks it off, breaks her heart. She swears off relationships, stays at home he
still has her wage coming in.
(He turns to the man and addresses him sternly.)
SHERLOCK: Mr Windibank, you have been a complete and utter ...
JOHN: ... piss pot.

(He is holding up a small plastic cylinder used for collecting urine samples. He hands it to his
latest patient who is sitting facing him.)
JOHN: Its nothing to worry about. Just a small infection by the sound of it. Er, Doctor Verner is
your usual GP, yes?
(The man speaks in a rough voice with a thick accent.)
MR SZIKORA: Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
(John looks startled. The man appears to be in his sixties, has long white hair and a white beard
and is wearing very dark glasses and a black knitted hat.)
MR SZIKORA: He looked after me, man and boy.
(He beckons John closer and talks confidentially.)
MR SZIKORA: I run a little shop, just on the corner of Church Street.
JOHN: Oh, right.
MR SZIKORA (picking up a plastic bag from the floor): Er, magazines, DVDs. Brought along a
few little beauties that might interest you.
(Taking a DVD from the bag, he shows it to John.)
MR SZIKORA: Tree Worshippers. Oh, thats a corker. Its very saucy.
(John nods in a bemused way, looking closely at the man as if he is beginning to suspect
something. The man gets out a magazine and holds it up.)
MR SZIKORA: British Birds. Same sort of thing.
(The magazine cover shows two glamorous women in skimpy clothing, and some of the captions
around the photograph read, Were a real handful, Hot British Birds! XXX and Knocker
Glory.)
JOHN: Im fine, thanks.
MR SZIKORA (holding up another DVD and translating its foreign title): The Holy War. Sounds
a bit dry, I know, but theres a nun with all these holes in her habit ...
JOHN: Jesus. Sherlock ...
MR SZIKORA: Huh?
JOHN: ... what do you want?
MR SZIKORA: Huh?
JOHN: Have you come to torment me?
MR SZIKORA: What are you talking about?
JOHN (impersonating his accent): What are you talking ... (He stands up and walks closer.)
What, dyou think Im gonna be fooled by this bloody beard?
(He tugs at it while the man flails in panic.)
MR SZIKORA: Are you crazy?!
(John straightens a little and imitates his flaily hands, mockingly saying, No, no, no, no! in the
mans accent, then leans into his face.)
JOHN: Its not as good as your French. Not as good as your French. Its not even a good
disguise, Sherlock!
(He rips off the mans hat and glasses. The man stares up at him with a terrified look on his
face.)
JOHN: Whered you get it from? A bloody joke ... sh-shop ...?
(Staring at the man with dawning horror, he reaches out and pulls his head forward to confirm
that he genuinely is bald on top.)
JOHN: Oh my God.
(The man whimpers as John gently puts his glasses back onto his face.)
JOHN: I am so sorry. Oh my God.
(Mary comes in, having presumably heard the noise. John puts the mans hat back onto his
head.)
JOHN: Please for... (He looks across to Mary, speaking a little plaintively.) Its fine.
(Clearing his throat, he sits down again. Mary goes out and closes the door.)
Greg Lestrade tears down the police tape sealing a door inside a building.
LESTRADE: This ones got us all baffled.
SHERLOCK: Mmm. I dont doubt it.

302
(Greg opens the door and leads Sherlock and Molly down the stairs into the basement. At the
foot of the stairs, a large hole has been knocked through the brickwork of one wall. They go
through the hole and Greg switches on the mobile lighting which has been set up in the room.
As he switches on more lights, the skeleton mystery which Sherlock had been reading earlier
is revealed. A white-painted wooden table is at the far end of the room and seated on a chair
behind it is a skeleton dressed in an old-fashioned suit. There is a carafe and a glass and what
looks like a writing set on the table in front of it. The corpse is holding a syringe in one skeletal
hand. Frowning, Sherlock is already zooming in on details of the scene before he walks across
the room, lays his pouch of tools on the table and gets to work, examining the corpse in minute
detail. Molly stands nearby, her notebook open and pen poised. Sherlock sniffs at the body and
tries to decide what he is picking up:
PINE?
SPRUCE?
CEDAR
NEW MOTHBALLS
The writing in his mind turns into mothballs and bounces away. Moving on, he sniffs again:
Carbon particulate
He sniffs more deeply:
Fire Damage
The writing burns away. He straightens up and shuts his magnifier.)

MOLLY: What is it?
(Sherlock gets out his phone and holds it up high to try and get a signal.)
MOLLY: Youre on to something, arent you?
SHERLOCK: Mm, maybe.
(Johns voice sounds in his head and the words he speaks appear in Sherlocks mind.
SHOW OFF
SHERLOCK (in a whisper): Shut up, John.

(Gregs eyes flicker across to him.)
MOLLY: What?
SHERLOCK: Hmm? Nothing.
(He walks around to the other side of the table and continues his investigations.)
At the surgery, Mary walks into Johns office wearing her coat and scarf. She goes across to
where he is sitting at his desk.
MARY (smiling): Hello.
JOHN: Mmm.
MARY: You sure?
JOHN: Im sure.
MARY: Okay. Im late for Cath. Ill see you later.
(She bends down and kisses him, then turns and leaves.)
JOHN: Bye.
MARY: Bye.
CRIME SCENE. Sherlock carefully uses tweezers to lift the lapel of the skeletons jacket. Molly
still stands some distance away waiting to write anything down. Greg leans close to Sherlock
and speaks softly.
LESTRADE (glancing towards Molly): This gonna be your new arrangement, is it?
SHERLOCK: Just giving it a go.
LESTRADE: Right. So, John?
SHERLOCK: Not really in the picture any more.
(He moves away from the table and turns back to look at the whole picture. Cement dust drifts
down from the ceiling as a distant rumbling can be heard.)

303
MOLLY: Trains?
SHERLOCK: Trains.
(He drops into a squat and calls up a mental compass showing the orientation of the room.
Steepling his fingers in front of his mouth he zooms in on the corpse. Molly walks across to the
body and starts to look closely at the bones in its neck. Sherlock stands up and walks over to
join her.)
MOLLY: Male, forty to fifty.
(She looks round at Sherlock.)
MOLLY: Ooh, sorry, did you want to be ...?
SHERLOCK: Er, no, please. Be my guest.
(Johns voice sounds in his mind again.)
JOHN (voiceover): You jealous?
(His second word appears simultaneously in front of Sherlocks minds eye.)
JEALOUS?
SHERLOCK (angrily, through gritted teeth): Shut up!

(Molly glances nervously at Greg. Sherlock takes out his magnifier to look more closely at the
hand holding the syringe while Molly continues investigating the skeleton.)
MOLLY: Doesnt make sense.
LESTRADE: What doesnt?
(Sherlock gently blows away the dust around the hand and continues blowing towards the edge
of the table.)
MOLLY: This skeleton its ... it cant be any more than ...
SHERLOCK and MOLLY (simultaneously): ... six months old.
(Sherlock has found a hidden compartment in the side of the table and he opens it and slides
out a book from inside it. He blows the dust from the cover, gives it a sarcastic glance and
shows it to Molly. Scrawled across the cover are the words:
How I Did It
By
Jack the Ripper
MOLLY: Wow!
SHERLOCK: Hmm.
(He flamboyantly drops the book onto the table. Greg leans forward to peer at the cover.)
LESTRADE: How I Did It by Jack the Ripper?!
SHERLOCK: Mm-hm.
MOLLY: Its impossible!
SHERLOCK: Welcome to my world.
(Greg grins with delight. As Sherlock leans down to repack his pouch of tools, Johns voice
sounds in his head.
SMART ARSE
Sherlock grimaces, flailing towards his own head.)

SHERLOCK (quietly, through clenched teeth): Get out.
(Continuing to repack his pouch, he talks more loudly to Molly and a grinning Greg.)
SHERLOCK: I wont insult your intelligence by explaining it to you.
LESTRADE: No, please insult away!
(Sherlock has already picked up his pouch and is heading for the door but he stops when his
internal John throws in another comment:
You forgot to put your collar up
Appearing confused and disoriented by this internal commentary, Sherlock turns back to the
others.)
SHERLOCK: The-the-the corpse is-is six months old; its dressed in a shoddy Victorian outfit
from a museum. Its been displayed on a dummy for many years in a case facing south-east

304
judging from the fading of the fabric. It was sold off in a fire-damage sale ... (he gets out his
phone and shows the screen to Greg) ... a week ago.
LESTRADE: So the whole thing was a fake.
SHERLOCK: Yes.
(He turns and heads out of the room.)
LESTRADE: Looked so promising.
SHERLOCK (already out of sight): Facile.
MOLLY: Why would someone go to all that trouble?
SHERLOCK (offscreen): Why indeed, John?
(Molly looks awkwardly at Greg.)
LATER. Sherlock with Molly at his side pushes the doorbell to a flat. Instead of the bell
ringing or buzzing, it plays a recording of a London Underground announcement of a male voice
saying, Mind the gap. Mind the gap. Molly giggles quietly. A young man answers the door and
Sherlock immediately holds out the bobble hat towards him.
HOWARD: Oh. Thanks for hanging on to it.
SHERLOCK: No problem.
(Taking the hat, Howard leads them inside.)
SHERLOCK: So, whats this all about, Mr Shilcott?
(They go into a room which is mostly taken up by a train set with model Tube trains running
round it. On the wall is a photo of Howard, wearing his bobble hat, grinning happily and doing a
thumbs-up to the camera while he stands in front of a train which doesnt seem to be in Britain.
The rest of the room is full of all sorts of different train memorabilia.)
HOWARD: My girlfriends a big fan of yours.
SHERLOCK (chuckling sarcastically): Girlfriend?!
(Howard looks round indignantly and Molly throws Sherlock a look.)
SHERLOCK: Sorry. Do go on.
HOWARD: I like trains.
SHERLOCK: Yyyes.
HOWARD: I work on the Tube, on the District Line, and part of my job is to wipe the security
footage after its been cleared.
(He sits down at his computer.)
HOWARD: I was just whizzing through and, er, I found something a bit bizarre.
(He turns towards the computer and Sherlock throws a silent and quirky Ooh! at Molly, who
smiles. Howard pulls up the relevant footage and the others walk to either side of him to look at
the screen, which shows the platform of a Tube station. A train is stationary and its doors are
open. There is only one man on the platform. He looks like a business man and is carrying a
briefcase.)
HOWARD: Now, this was a week ago. The last train on the Friday night, Westminster station,
and this man gets into the last car.
MOLLY: Car?
HOWARD: Theyre cars, not carriages. Its a legacy of the early American involvement in the
Tube system.
(Molly turns and throws a look at Sherlock.)
SHERLOCK: He said he liked trains.
MOLLY: Hmm!
HOWARD: And the next stop ... (he shows the appropriate footage) ... St Jamess Park station
... and ...
(The footage shows the doors of the last car opening and nobody gets out. Suddenly Sherlock
is more interested. The doors close again.)
HOWARD: I thought youd like it.
(He replays the earlier footage.)
HOWARD: He gets into the last car at Westminster, the only passenger ...
(He switches to the later footage.)
HOWARD: ... and the car is empty at St Jamess Park station. Explain that, Mr Holmes.
MOLLY: Couldnt he have just jumped off?
(Sherlock shakes his head. Molly looks away from the video footage and watches him.)
HOWARD: Theres a safety mechanism that prevents the doors from opening in transit. But
theres something else. The driver of that train hasnt been to work since. According to his
flatmate, hes on holiday. Came into some money.
SHERLOCK (turning to look at Molly): Bought off?

305
(Molly has been gazing at him for the last few seconds and now looks startled by his question.)
MOLLY (blankly): Hmm?
(Sherlock looks disapprovingly at her for a moment, then turns to Howard. Molly looks
embarrassed.)
SHERLOCK: So if the driver of the train was in on it, then the passenger did get off.
HOWARD: Theres nowhere he could go. Its a straight run on the District Line between the two
stations. Theres no side tunnels, no maintenance tunnels nothing on any map. Nothing. The
train never stops, and the man vanishes. Good, innit?!
(Sherlock closes his eyes, replaying a close-up of the passenger on the platform as his head
turned towards the camera.)
SHERLOCK: I know that face.
(His eyes snap open, but now hes in his Mind Palace, calling up footage of trains travelling
along Tube lines, racing along the various lines on the Tube map, and generally recalling
everything he can about the London Underground. Some time during the process he physically
relocates to the stairs outside the flat, presumably so that he can concentrate better, but he
frowns when he realises where he is, as if he doesnt remember moving. Shutting his eyes to
get back into the zone, he continues his search, mentally walking down a long flight of stairs
beside escalators in an Underground station. Briefly the face of the disappearing man appears in
his mind before more images from the Tube network and maps flash though his brain, and then
the mans face appears again.)
BAKER STREET. John walks towards the front door of 221 and stops a couple of feet away from
the doorstep, looking thoughtfully at the door. A man comes around the corner and walks along
the road, barging past him and bumping roughly into his shoulder. John turns to look at him as
he continues onwards without speaking.
JOHN (sarcastically): Scuse you.
(The man glances over his shoulder at him but doesnt stop. Behind John, another man walks
up to him, grabs his left wrist and instantly jabs the needle of a syringe into the right side of his
neck. John tries to grab at him but the drug is already starting to take effect and his weakening
struggles are in vain. The first man comes back and they both hold him as he starts to fall. They
carefully lower him to the ground and he lies there, still vaguely conscious but unable to move.)
HOWARDS BUILDING. Molly looks up the stairs and slowly walks up them towards Sherlock as
he stands there with his eyes closed. After a moment he opens his eyes but can see only a
ticking clock, followed by a journey through a Tube tunnel.
SHERLOCK (quick fire, his eyes rapidly flickering back and forth): The journey between those
stations usually takes five minutes. That journey took ten minutes ten minutes to get from
Westminster to St Jamess Park. (He looks down at Molly.) So Im going to need maps lots of
maps, older maps, all the maps.
MOLLY: Right.
SHERLOCK (walking past her and continuing down the stairs): Fancy some chips?
MOLLY: What?
SHERLOCK: I know a fantastic fish shop just off the Marylebone Road. The owner always gives
me extra portions.
MOLLY (following him): Did you get him off a murder charge?
SHERLOCK: No I helped him put up some shelves.
(She giggles and he smiles briefly.)
MOLLY: Sherlock?
SHERLOCK: Hmm?
(He stops at the bottom of the stairs and turns back to her.)
MOLLY: What was today about?
SHERLOCK: Saying thank you.
MOLLY: For what?
SHERLOCK: Everything you did for me.
MOLLY: Its okay. It was my pleasure.
(She reaches the bottom of the stairs and starts towards the door but turns back as he speaks.)
SHERLOCK: No, I mean it.
MOLLY: I dont mean pleasure. I mean, I didnt mind. I wanted to.
SHERLOCK (stepping closer and speaking intensely but softly): Moriarty slipped up. He made a
mistake. Because the one person he thought didnt matter at all to me was the one person that
mattered the most. You made it all possible.

306
(He draws in a breath.)

SHERLOCK: But you cant do this again, can you?
(She smiles, and when she speaks her voice is a little choked.)
MOLLY: I had a lovely day. Id love to I just ... um ... (She looks down.)
SHERLOCK (following her gaze): Oh, congratulations, by the way.
(Molly is wearing a diamond solitaire engagement ring.)
MOLLY: Hes not from work.
(Sherlock smiles.)
MOLLY: We met through friends, the old-fashioned way. Hes nice. We ... hes got a dog ... we-
we go to the pub on weekends and he ... Ive met his mum and dad and his friends and all his
family. Ive no idea why Im telling you this.
SHERLOCK: I hope youll be very happy, Molly Hooper. You deserve it. After all, not all the men
you fall for can turn out to be sociopaths(!)
MOLLY: No?
SHERLOCK: No.
(Stepping closer to her, he gives her a beautiful smile, then leans in and kisses her on the
cheek. She closes her eyes and keeps them closed as he turns and walks out of the front door.
After a moment she turns and looks at his disappearing back.)
MOLLY: Maybe its just my type.
(Outside its snowing. Sherlock walks down the path, sighing a little and pulling his coat around
him. He turns to the right and walks off down the road. Molly follows down the path, pulling out
her gloves and putting them on. She stops at the pavement and watches Sherlock walk away,
then turns and walks off in the opposite direction.)
NIGHT TIME. Theres a full moon in the sky. John slowly starts to regain consciousness. He
seems to be surrounded by foliage, and the flickers of moonlight coming through the greenery
seem like a flashlight being shone on him. Choking, he tries to move his hands but finds that he
cant. He opens his mouth to cry out but no sound will come. He tries to raise his head but
eventually sinks back down again. There is a bleeding wound on the right side of his head just
at his hairline.
Elsewhere, Mary is walking along a street but stops to take out her phone when it beeps a text
alert. Taking off her glove to activate the phone, she sees the message:
Save souls now!

John or James Watson?
She flicks to the next screen:
Saint or Sinner?
James or John?
The more is Less?
Frowning, she lowers the phone and hurries on.

Some time later she is at the door of 221. Mrs Hudson opens the door to her knock.
MARY: Oh, Mrs Hudson.
(Mrs H frowns as Mary gently pushes her way in.)
MARY: Sorry I-I think someones got John John Watson.
(Upstairs in 221Bs living room, Sherlock still in his coat and holding a bag of chips just inside
the door turns at the sound of her voice. Mrs H follows her.)
MRS HUDSON: Hang on! Who are you?
MARY (stopping partway up the stairs and turning back to her): Oh, Im his fiance.
MRS HUDSON (smiling): Ah!
(Sherlock is already coming onto the landing as Mary hurries up the stairs.)
SHERLOCK: Mary? Whats wrong?
MARY (taking her phone from her pocket): Someone sent me this. At first I thought it was just
a Bible thing, you know, spam, but its not. Its a skip-code.
(Sherlock looks at her closely, then turns his attention to her phone as she shows him the first
part of the message:

307
Save souls now!

John or James Watson?
SHERLOCK: First word, then every third. Save ... John ... Watson.
(Mary pulls up the next message:
Saint or Sinner?
James or John?
The more is Less?
The unimportant words seem to fade, leaving just the vital ones:
Saint
James
The Less
SHERLOCK (urgently): Now!

(Dropping his chips to the floor, he races down the stairs with Mary following.)
MARY: Where are we going?
SHERLOCK: St James the Less. Its a church. Twenty minutes by car.
(He pelts out into the street.)
SHERLOCK: Did you drive here?
MARY: Er, yes.
SHERLOCK (pacing about in the middle of the road): Its too slow. Its too slow.
(He is oblivious to the approach of a car, which swerves around him, the driver blaring his
horn.)
MARY (frantically): Sherlock, what are we waiting for?
(Sherlock turns towards a single oncoming headlight.)
SHERLOCK: This.
(He steps directly into the path of the approaching motorcycle and holds up an imperious hand.
The driver slams on the brakes and the bike skids to a halt just in time.)
Shortly afterwards Sherlock and Mary wearing the helmets of the driver and his pillion
passenger are racing through the streets on the bike. In Sherlocks mind, he is calculating
how long it will take to get to St James the Less Church. Currently the journey will take 10
minutes. Marys phone sounds a text alert and she checks it. It reads:
Getting warmer Mr Holmes

You have about ten minutes
They drive on.

MARY: What does it mean? What are they going to do to him?
SHERLOCK: I dont know.
Wherever John is, he is struggling to move. The sound of childrens voices can be heard some
distance away. He grunts as he frantically strains to escape but he can make no louder noise.
On the motorcycle, Mary holds her phone over Sherlocks shoulder so that he can see the latest
message:
8 minutes
and counting...
Sherlock turns his attention back to the road and accelerates, but shortly afterwards they
approach a roadblock. The road ahead is cordoned off with police tape, and two police officers
are explaining the situation to stopped cars.
SHERLOCK (slamming on the brakes and halting the bike): Damn!
(He looks to his left and rapidly works out an alternative route which he overlays onto the
original route. The original one has an ETA of 8 minutes; the new, more direct route shows an

308
ETA of 5 minutes. Sherlock turns the bike and heads up onto the pavement and into a walkway
between two buildings. One of the police officers uselessly chases after him.)
POLICE OFFICER: Oi! Oi! You cant go down there!
(On the other side of the buildings, the path descends down a long flight of steps but Sherlock
heads straight down them and turns onto the road at the bottom, which happens to be The
Mall. They race onwards towards Buckingham Palace.)
Elsewhere, a fireworks party is starting in a small park in a square near a church. Children wave
their sparklers around, and some people are playing small drums. One little girl, Zoe, gazes at
the gigantic bonfire which has been piled up in the middle of the park, made up of broken
wooden pallets, furniture and anything else which has been scavenged. She looks up at the Guy
Fawkes guy which has been perched on the top, completely unaware that John is lying on the
ground in the middle of the bonfire, out of sight of all the people nearby. The children gather
near, perhaps knowing that it is not long until the fire will be lit. John opens his mouth and tries
again to cry out but all he can manage is a faint moan. He thrashes, trying to push himself up
and continuing to moan quietly. And now a man approaches the bonfire carrying a flaming
brand of wood. The children watch him delightedly. John manages to produce some slightly
louder croaks but they cannot be heard above the excited chatter of the children and the
drumming. Smiling cheerfully, the man lowers the brand to the foot of the fire.
On the motorcycle, Mary receives a new message:
Better hurry
things are
hotting up here...
They continue onwards but their speed is impeded when they cross a bridge and are blocked by
a slow-moving lorry.
At the park the man with the brand, trying to light the bonfire without any success, looks round
and shakes his head.
MAN: No. Its not gonna work. Bit damp. Ill get something to help it along, yeah?
(He walks away. Part of the bonfire is smouldering and the smoke drifts across John, who
continues to try and cry out. His voice is getting a little stronger and he manages to let out a
couple of louder but wordless cries. Standing nearby, Zoe frowns at the sound, looking in
concern at the guy on top of the fire as the noises continue.)
On the motorcycle, Mary shows Sherlock the newest message:
Stay of execution.
youve got two
more minutes
Sherlock checks his mental map, which shows that if he continues by road, their ETA is 3
minutes. However, if he goes in a straight line it will only take 1 minute. He swerves the bike off
the road and heads straight down into a pedestrian underpass.
At the bonfire, Zoes father the one who tried to light the fire comes back with a small can
of petrol. Zoe turns to him.
ZOE (plaintively): He doesnt like it, Daddy.
DAD: Eh?
ZOE (pointing up at the guy): Guy Fawkes he doesnt like it!
DAD (unscrewing the lid of the can): Stay back, Zoe. Back. Now.
(She stares at him as he starts to splash fuel over the wood of the bonfire. Inside, Johns cries
are getting louder.)
The motorcycle charges on through the underpass.

Zoes dad continues pouring petrol over the fire.
Sherlock forces the bike up a steep flight of steps and out onto the street again. They are finally
driving along beside the fence surrounding the park. Mary receives one more text:

309
What a shame
Mr Holmes.
John is quite a Guy!
She holds the phone over Sherlocks shoulder to show him.

MARY: What does it mean?
(Smiling, Zoes dad takes his flaming brand to the fire and tosses it onto the petrol-soaked
wood. Sherlocks head whips round as the bonfire begins to blaze and all the onlookers cheer.)
SHERLOCK: Oh my God.
(He accelerates around the square towards the only gap in the fence surrounding the park. The
onlookers continue to celebrate the ignition of the fire. Johns voice finally comes to him and he
yells as loudly as he can.)
JOHN: Help!
(Zoe screams, and now others can hear Johns voice and react with horror. Her father runs to
hold her back and to comfort her.
Sherlock races the bike into the park and hurls himself off.)
SHERLOCK (to Mary): Jump off!
(She quickly steps off as he drops the bike onto its side. The fire is really taking hold now, and
John wails as the heat increases. Throwing off his helmet, Sherlock runs towards the fire,
shoving people out of his way.)
SHERLOCK: Move! Move! Move! Move! Move!
(He reaches the front of the crowd and races on towards the bonfire.)
SHERLOCK: John!
MARY (running behind him): John! Get out, John!
(Sherlock crouches down, peering through the flames and trying to see where John is while
throwing some of the wood aside. He and Mary continue to cry Johns name and he hears
them.)
JOHN: Help!
(Now Sherlock has a location and he plunges his arms into the inferno, throwing pieces of the
bonfire aside and creating a path into it. At last he is able to reach in and he grabs Johns arms
and hauls him out, pulling him across the ground to safety before rolling him over onto his
back. John lies there, looking extremely dazed as Sherlock looms over him.)
SHERLOCK: John? John!
(He gently pats Johns face.)
MARY (covering her mouth and crying): John.
SHERLOCK (softly): Hey, John.
(John gazes up at them blankly and their faces fade out for a moment. He blinks as if trying to
force his vision to work.)
221B. DAY TIME. Wearing a suit but without the usual dressing gown over it, Sherlock sits in his
armchair with his eyes closed, sighing quietly and occasionally drumming his fingers on the
arms of the chair. A grey-haired couple are sitting on the sofa and the woman appears to have
been talking for some time.
WOMAN: ... which wasnt the way Id put it at all. Silly woman. Anyway, it was then that I first
noticed it was missing. I said, Have you checked down the back of the sofa?
(Sherlock screws his face up, then tilts his head forward a little, almost nodding off to sleep
until his head jerks back up again. He steeples his fingers in front of his face as the woman
looks round at her husband.)
WOMAN: Hes always losing things down the back of the sofa, arent you, dear?
MAN: Fraid so.
(Sherlock glares towards the kitchen.)
WOMAN: Keys, small change, sweeties. Especially his glasses.
MAN: Glasses.
WOMAN: Blooming things. I said, Why dont you get a chain wear em round your neck? And
he says, What like Larry Grayson?
MAN (almost simultaneously): Larry Grayson.
(Sherlock rises quickly to his feet, buttoning his jacket as he walks towards the couple.)
SHERLOCK: So did you find it eventually, your lottery ticket?

310
(He steps onto the coffee table and then onto the sofa between the couple. The woman leans to
the side to get out of his way, and the man stares up at him as he starts idly flicking through
the paperwork stuck to the wall.)
WOMAN: Well, yes, thank goodness. We caught the coach on time after all. We managed to
see, er, St Pauls, the Tower ... but they werent letting anyone in to Parliament.
(Sherlock frowns and looks down at her.)
WOMAN: Some big debate going on.
(The living room door opens and John walks in. Sherlock looks round in surprise.)
SHERLOCK: John!
JOHN: Sorry youre busy.
SHERLOCK (stepping off the sofa and reaching down to pull the woman to her feet): Er, no-no-
no, they were just leaving.
WOMAN: Oh, were we?
SHERLOCK: Yes.
JOHN: No, no, if youve got a case ...
SHERLOCK: No, not a case, no-no-no. (To the woman) Go. Bye.
WOMAN: Yeah, well, were here til Saturday, remember.
SHERLOCK: Yes, great, wonderful. Just get out.
(He herds the couple towards the door.)
WOMAN: Well, give us a ring.
SHERLOCK: Very nice, yes, good. Get out.
(Bundling them onto the landing, he tries to close the door but the woman turns and sticks her
heavy shoe into the doorway to stop the door from shutting. Sherlock pulls the door open a
little, staring down at her foot.)
WOMAN (quietly): I cant tell you how glad we are, Sherlock. All that time people thinking the
worst of you.
(Sherlock glances round at John, who has walked over to the window and is deliberately
keeping his back to the others.)
WOMAN: Were just so pleased its all over.
(Grimacing, Sherlock tries to slam the door on her foot to make her remove it. She doesnt
budge.)
MAN: Ring up more often, wont you?
SHERLOCK (hurriedly): Mm-hm.
MAN: She worries.
WOMAN: Promise?
(Again Sherlock glances round towards John as if to ascertain that he cant hear him, then he
leans close to the woman.)
SHERLOCK (quietly): Promise.
(Smiling, she reaches up to stroke his cheek.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, for God...
(He shoves the door closed and lets out a deep sigh before turning to John.)
SHERLOCK: Sorry about that.
JOHN: No, its fine. Clients?
SHERLOCK (hesitating briefly): ... Just my parents.
JOHN: Your parents?
SHERLOCK: In town for a few days.
JOHN: Your parents?
SHERLOCK: Mycroft promised to take them to a matinee of Les Mis. Tried to talk me into
doing it.
JOHN: Those were your parents?
(He goes to the window to look out.)
SHERLOCK: Yes.
JOHN: Well ... (He chuckles briefly.) That is not what I ...
(He turns to look at Sherlock, then looks out of the window again.)
SHERLOCK: What?
JOHN: I-I mean theyre just ... so ...
(He looks at Sherlock who directs a hard gaze at him, narrowing his eyes.)
JOHN: ... ordinary.
(He smiles. Sherlock tuts disparagingly.)
SHERLOCK: Its a cross I have to bear.
(John chuckles, then slowly takes a few steps across the room before turning back.)

311
JOHN: Did they know, too?

(Sherlock wont meet his eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Hmm?
JOHN: That you spent the last two years playing hide and seek.
(Sherlock picks an imaginary piece of fluff off the keyboard of his laptop which is open on the
dining table.)
SHERLOCK: Maybe.
JOHN: Ah! So thats why they werent at the funeral.
SHERLOCK (defensively): Sorry. Sorry again.
JOHN (cynically): Mm.
(He slowly steps towards the door. Sherlock watches him for a moment, then lowers his head.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Sorry.
(Drawing in a deep breath, John meets his eyes for a second and then looks down, breathing
out slowly.)
SHERLOCK: See youve shaved it off, then.
JOHN: Yeah. Wasnt working for me.
SHERLOCK: Mm, Im glad.
JOHN: What, you didnt like it?
SHERLOCK (smiling): No. I prefer my doctors clean-shaven.
JOHN: Thats not a sentence you hear every day!
(He has been slowly walking across the room again and is now in front of his old chair. He sits
down in it, grunting a little. There are healing cuts and gashes on the side of his head where it
was scratched by the foliage while he was thrashing about under the bonfire.)
SHERLOCK: How are you feeling?
JOHN: Yeah, not bad. Bit ... smoked.
SHERLOCK: Right.
(John looks at him seriously.)
JOHN: Last night who did that? And why did they target me?
SHERLOCK: I dont know.
JOHN: Is it someone trying to get to you through me? Is it something to do with this terrorist
thing you talked about?
SHERLOCK: I dont know. I cant see the pattern. Its too nebulous.
(He walks towards his wall of information.)
SHERLOCK: Why would an agent give his life to tell us something incredibly insignificant? Thats
whats strange.
JOHN: Give his life?
SHERLOCK: According to Mycroft. Theres an underground network planning an attack on
London thats all we know.
(He looks down and frowns as an apparently random memory comes to him of the dust trickling
down from the ceiling in the Jack the Ripper room. He turns and gestures to the paperwork on
the wall.)
SHERLOCK: These are my rats, John.
JOHN: Rats?
SHERLOCK: My markers: agents, low-lifes, people who might find themselves arrested or their
diplomatic immunity suddenly rescinded. If one of them starts acting suspiciously, we know
somethings up. Five of them are behaving perfectly normally, but the sixth ...
(He points to the relevant photograph.)
JOHN (pointing to that photo): I know him, dont I?
(If we hadnt already realised it, the photograph is of the man who got into the disappearing
Tube car.)
SHERLOCK: Lord Moran, peer of the realm, Minister for Overseas Development. Pillar of the
establishment.
JOHN: Yes!
SHERLOCK: Hes been working for North Korea since 1996.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: Hes the Big Rat. Rat Number One. And hes just done something very suspicious
indeed.
Later, Sherlock is showing Howards footage of the mysterious Tube train disappearance to
John, who has taken off his coat and is sitting at the dining table.
JOHN (looking at the screen): Yeah, thats ... odd. Theres nowhere he could have got off?

312
SHERLOCK: Not according to the maps.

JOHN: Mm.
SHERLOCK: Theres something something, something Im missing, something staring me in
the face.
(He turns to the wall again but then his phone beeps. He takes it out of his pocket.)
JOHN (sitting down in front of the computer): Any idea who they are this underground
network?
(Sherlock looks at a sequence of photos taken of Lord Moran walking along a road next to the
Houses of Parliament. The sequence seems to indicate that he has just come up from
Westminster Tube station.)
JOHN (looking at the computer screen): Intelligence must have a-a list of the most obvious
ones.
SHERLOCK: Our rats just come out of his den.
JOHN: Al-Qaeda; the IRA have been getting restless again maybe theyre gonna make an
appearance ...
SHERLOCK (triumphantly): Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES! Ive been an idiot a blind idiot!
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK (pacing across the room): Oh, thats good. That could be brilliant.
JOHN: What are you on about?
SHERLOCK: Mycrofts intelligence its not nebulous at all. Its specific incredibly specific.
JOHN (firmly): What do you mean?
SHERLOCK: Not an underground network, John. Its an Underground network.
JOHN: Right. ... What?
SHERLOCK: Sometimes a deception is so audacious, so outrageous that you cant see it even
when its staring you in the face.
(He leans over Johns shoulder to replay the Tube footage of the lone passenger Lord Moran
getting into the train at Westminster.)
SHERLOCK: Look seven carriages leave Westminster ... (the footage switches to show the
next station) ... but only six carriages arrive at St Jamess Park.
JOHN: But thats ... I ... its-its impossible.
SHERLOCK: Moran didnt disappear the entire Tube compartment did. The driver must have
diverted the train and then detached the last carriage.
JOHN: Detached it where?! You said there was nothing between those stations.
SHERLOCK: Not on the maps, but once you eliminate all the other factors, the only thing
remaining must be the truth. (He points at the screen.) That carriage vanished, so it must be
somewhere.
JOHN: But why, though? Why detach it in the first place?
SHERLOCK (pacing): It vanishes between St Jamess Park and Westminster. Lord Moran
vanishes. Youre kidnapped and nearly burned to death at a fireworks par...
(He stops. Hes got it.)
SHERLOCK (turning to John): Whats the date, John todays date?
JOHN: Hmm? November the ... My God.
(Sherlock looks at the information wall and walks slowly towards it.)
SHERLOCK: Lord Moran hes a peer of the realm. Normally hed sit in the House. Tonight
theres an all-night sitting to vote on the new anti-terrorism Bill.
(He stops in front of the sofa and smiles.)
SHERLOCK: But he wont be there. Not tonight. (He turns to look down at John.) Not the fifth of
November.
JOHN: Remember, remember.
SHERLOCK: Gunpowder treason and plot.
[More information about the rhyme theyre reciting here]
Shortly afterwards Howard Shilcott sitting in his living room and wearing his bobble hat is
Skypeing with the boys on the laptop while Sherlock and John frantically search through maps
and papers on the kitchen table at 221B.
HOWARD: Theres nothing down there, Mr Holmes, I told you. No sidings, no ghost stations.
SHERLOCK (turning the laptop around so that John can see the screen): There has to be. Check
again.
(Howard leans offscreen. John is looking through a book.)

313
JOHN: Look this whole area is a big mess of old and new stuff. Charing Cross is made up of
bits of older stations like Trafalgar Square, Strand ...
SHERLOCK: No, its none of those. Weve accounted for those.
(He looks closer at an old map.)
SHERLOCK: St Margarets Street, Bridge Street, Sumatra Road, Parliament Street ...
HOWARD (taking the pom pom that hes been chewing out of his mouth): Hang on, hang on.
Sumatra Road. You mentioned Sumatra Road, Mr Holmes. (He leans offscreen.) There is
something. I knew it rang a bell. (Muttering) Where is it? (He comes back into view.) There was
a station down there.
JOHN: Well, why isnt it on the maps?
HOWARD: Cause it was closed before it ever opened.
JOHN: What?
HOWARD (holding up a book to the camera to show the relevant page): They built the
platforms, even the staircases, but it all got tied up in legal disputes, so they never built the
station on the surface.
(Grinning, he points to the appropriate spot on the page. Sherlock has been slowly
straightening up while Howard spoke.)
SHERLOCK: Its right underneath the Palace of Westminster.
JOHN: And so whats down there? A bomb?
(Sherlock walks away.)
JOHN: Oh ...
(He hurries after him, grabbing his coat as he goes.)
NEWSREADER (on the television): With many commentators saying the vote on the terrorism
Bill will be too close to call, MPs are now making their way into the Chamber for what the
government is calling the most important vote of this parliament. Over now to our ...
(In a hotel room, Lord Moran is lying fully dressed on the bed watching the TV. He points the
remote control at the television and changes to a different channel.)
MALE VOICE (on the TV): What freedoms exactly are we protecting if we start spying on our
own people? This is an Orwellian measure on a scale unprecedented ...
Sherlock and John walk briskly along the road near the Houses of Parliament and head to the
stairs leading down into Westminster station. They walk across the concourse, past the fangirls,
through the ticket barriers and along the corridors.
JOHN: So its a bomb, then? A Tube carriage is carrying a bomb.
SHERLOCK: Must be.
JOHN: Right.
(Taking off his glove, he gets his phone from his pocket.)
SHERLOCK: What are you doing?
JOHN: Calling the police.
SHERLOCK: What? No!
JOHN: Sherlock, this isnt a game. They need to evacuate Parliament.
SHERLOCK: Theyll get in the way. They always do. This is cleaner, more efficient.
(Stopping at a locked maintenance entrance, he reaches into his coat, takes out a crowbar and
starts to force the gate open.)
JOHN: And illegal.
SHERLOCK: A bit.
(The gate opens and the boys go inside. Sherlock pulls the gate closed behind them and they
take out flashlights and start to walk down into the maintenance tunnels. A couple of paces
behind Sherlock, John checks his phone, which reads, NO SERVICE. Sherlock raises his head
as if sensing what Johns doing.)
SHERLOCK (not even looking round): What are you doing?
JOHN (sighing): Coming.
(He puts his phone away. They continue onwards for a long time, walking along narrow tunnels
and walkways and climbing down steep metal ladders. Your transcriber sits back and flexes her
aching fingers for a few blissful moments, secure in the knowledge that theres no need to
transcribe this bit in detail. At long last they walk onto the platform of Sumatra Road station.
Sherlock shines his torch along the length of the track but there is no sign of a train.)
JOHN: Well, thats a first!
SHERLOCK: Theres nowhere else it could be.

314
(He turns to face the track and brings his hands up to either side of his head, screwing his eyes
shut and concentrating. In his mind, he finds himself sitting on a seat inside the missing Tube
car/carriage. He is the only passenger. At the far end, smoke comes under the bottom of the
cab door and pours towards him. He turns his head to look and a fireball ignites behind the
smoke and then races along the carriage, engulfing Sherlocks position and continuing onwards.
Sherlocks mental image of himself relocates to the tunnel about a hundred yards away from
the front of the carriage. The inferno billows out of the carriage towards him but just before it
reaches him it is sucked up a large open vent in the tunnels roof.
At ground level above the Tube line, heated gas shimmers as it is forced through various air
vents inside the Houses of Parliament. Outside, the perspective shifts to the opposite side of the
River Thames ... and the entire Palace of Westminster goes up in a massive explosion.
Sherlocks eyes snap open.)
SHERLOCK: Oh!
(Turning to the left, he runs towards the end of the platform.)
JOHN (chasing after him): What?
(Sherlock carefully jumps off the end of the platform onto the tracks.)
JOHN: Hang on. Sherlock?
SHERLOCK (turning back): What?
JOHN: Thats ... Isnt it live?
SHERLOCK (setting off along the tracks): Perfectly safe as long as we avoid touching the rails.
JOHN: Course, yeah(!) Avoid the rails. Great(!)
(He jumps down onto the tracks.)
SHERLOCK: This way.
JOHN: You sure?
SHERLOCK: Sure.
(They dont have to walk far before the missing carriage is revealed partway round a gentle
bend.)
JOHN: Ah. Look at that.
(They continue on, then Sherlock looks up and sees the large open vent which he just saw in his
mind. He shines his flashlight into it.)
SHERLOCK: John.
JOHN: Hmm?
(They both stop and shine their torches upwards, realising that there are several small
explosive devices attached to the sides of the vent.)
JOHN: Demolition charges.
(They continue towards the carriage, John ducking down and shining his light underneath and
around it as they approach. He blows out a long breath as they get close and again he squats
down to check the underside while Sherlock looks along the side. Sherlock opens the door to
the drivers cab and they climb in and then go carefully through the opposite door into the
carriage itself. Slowly they work their way along it, looking at every seat, every corner, shining
their torches along the ceiling and the floor. At the second set of side doors, Sherlock slows
down, paying particular attention to something. John progresses on to the very end.)
JOHN: Its empty. Theres nothing.
(Unfortunately, hes wrong. Sherlock has already spotted a pair of intertwined black and red
cables strung along the wall and down to one of the seat backs.)
SHERLOCK: Isnt there?
(John turns back and points his torch where Sherlock is gently lifting the cushion, bending low
to shine his light underneath. Sherlock lifts his head and looks round at him.)
SHERLOCK: This is the bomb.
JOHN: What?
(Sherlock stands up and lifts the cushion all the way up. The cavity underneath is full of wired-
up explosives.)
SHERLOCK: Its not carrying explosives. The whole compartment is the bomb.
(He and John work their way along the carriage, lifting other cushions at random. Each one has
an identical explosive device under it.)
In his hotel room, Moran opens a briefcase and lifts the lid. Inside is what is clearly a detonator
it has a small screen, a number pad, a slot for a key, and a LetsSendTheWorldToHell button
which almost disappointingly is neither very big nor painted red. A couple of keys lie beside the
device.

315
While John continues lifting seat cushions, Sherlock looks around the carriage and then takes a
few steps along the aisle before realising that a floor panel is loose. As John looks down at the
latest batch of explosives, Sherlock takes off his gloves and bends to the panel, forcing his
fingers into the gap and lifting it. Underneath is what can only be described as the mother
bomb a device massively larger than the ones under the cushions. While John takes several
deep nervous breaths, Sherlock props the panel up against the wall of the train. They both look
down at the massive device, then John looks up at Sherlock.
JOHN: We need bomb disposal.
SHERLOCK: There may not be time for that now.
JOHN: So what do we do?
SHERLOCK (after a brief pause): I have no idea.
JOHN (sternly): Well, think of something.
SHERLOCK: Why dyou think I know what to do?
JOHN: Because youre Sherlock Holmes. Youre as clever as it gets.
SHERLOCK: Doesnt mean I know how to defuse a giant bomb. What about you?
JOHN: I wasnt in bomb disposal. Im a bloody doctor.
SHERLOCK (angrily pointing his torch at him): And a soldier, as you keep reminding us all.
(John looks down at the countdown clock currently frozen at 2:30.)
JOHN: Cant-cant we rip the timer off, or something?
SHERLOCK: That would set it off.
JOHN: You see? You know things.
(Sherlock turns away, sighing.)
In his room, Moran types the code 051113 onto the number pad. He inserts one of the keys into
its slot and turns it. The device beeps. He releases the key, then reaches to the Not Big Red
Button and presses it.
In the Tube carriage, all the lights come on and the countdown clock on the mother bomb
begins to tick down. The boys look around in shock, and John groans.
SHERLOCK: Er ...
JOHN (breathing fast): My God!
(Sherlock paces away from him.)
SHERLOCK: Er ...
JOHN: Why didnt you call the police?
SHERLOCK: Please just ...
JOHN (furiously): Why do you never call the police?
SHERLOCK: Well, its no use now.
2:15
JOHN (angrily): So you cant switch the bomb off. You cant switch the bomb off and you didnt
call the police.
(He turns away for a moment, then turns back again. Sherlock looks at him.)
SHERLOCK: Go, John. (He points towards the drivers cab.) Go now.
JOHN: Theres no point now, is there, because theres not enough time to get away; and if we
dont do this ... (he gestures down to the mother bomb) ... other people will die!
1:57
(He looks down at the clock for a moment, then points at Sherlock.)
JOHN: Mind Palace.
SHERLOCK: Hmm?
JOHN: Use your Mind Palace.
SHERLOCK: How will that help?
JOHN: Youve salted away every fact under the sun!
SHERLOCK: Oh, and you think Ive just got How To Defuse A Bomb tucked away in there
somewhere?
JOHN: Yes!
(Sherlock thinks about it for a second.)
SHERLOCK: Maybe.
(He brings his fingers up to the sides of his face and screws his eyes shut.)

316
JOHN (intensely): Think.

(Sherlock lifts his head a little, still concentrating.)
JOHN (softly): Think. Please think.
(Sherlock groans.)
JOHN: Think!
(Sherlocks hands come away from his face and flail, while his eyes remain closed and he
continues to make groaning noises. John closes his eyes, shaking his head as the noises get
louder and finally Sherlock lets out a cry and opens his eyes. He breathes heavily for a moment,
then he lowers his hands and looks at John with a blank but apologetic look on his face. John
stares at him in disbelief.)
JOHN: Oh my God.
(He turns away. Sherlock tears his scarf from around his neck and doubles over, burying his
head in his hands, still making incoherent groaning noises. He drops to his knees next to the
bomb while John wanders a little way down the carriage.)
JOHN: This is it.
(Behind him, Sherlock is flailing uselessly over the bomb.)
SHERLOCK: Um, er ...
(John stops and stares into space.)
JOHN (softly): Oh my God.
SHERLOCK (still patting around the device and mumbling vaguely): Turn that off. Oh God! Er,
um, er ...
1:29
(John turns back towards him, and Sherlock raises his head.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Im sorry.
(John screws his eyes closed for a moment, then looks at him again.)
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK (softly, his eyes starting to fill with tears): I cant ... I cant do it, John. I dont know
how.
(He straightens up on his knees.)
SHERLOCK: Forgive me?
JOHN (tightly, furiously): What?
SHERLOCK (bringing his hands up into a praying position): Please, John, forgive me ... for all
the hurt that I caused you.
JOHN (waving a finger at him): No, no, no, no, no, no. This is a trick.
SHERLOCK: No.
JOHN: Another one of your bloody tricks.
SHERLOCK: No.
JOHN: Youre just trying to make me say something nice.
(Sherlock chuckles briefly.)
SHERLOCK: Not this time.
JOHN: Its just to make you look good even though you behaved like ...
(He grimaces, fighting back tears, and turns away as he tries to steady his breathing. Sherlock
moves away from the bomb and sits on the edge of one of the nearby seats. John grips one of
the handrails, looking down at the floor, then stamps his foot furiously. His voice is low but
savage when he speaks.)
JOHN: I wanted you not to be dead.
SHERLOCK: Yeah, well, be careful what you wish for.
(John sighs.)
SHERLOCK: If I hadnt come back, you wouldnt be standing there and ...
(Baring his teeth, John turns away, shaking his head.)
SHERLOCK: ... youd still have a future ... with Mary.
JOHN (turning and pointing at him): Yeah. I know.
(He grimaces and turns away again. Sherlock clenches his fist against his mouth, then wipes his
nose, his face full of despair. Finally John turns back.)
JOHN (his voice low and tight): Look, I find it difficult.
(Sherlock nods, his head lowered.)
JOHN: I find it difficult, this sort of stuff.
SHERLOCK (looking up at him): I know.
(John blows out a breath, lowering his head, then he straightens up and looks at Sherlock.)

317
JOHN (his voice not much more than a whisper): You were the best and the wisest man ... (he
sniffs) ... that I have ever known.
(Sherlock looks at him, his eyes wide and tear-filled. John sighs, lowering his head again before
raising it once more.)
JOHN: Yes, of course I forgive you.
(Sherlock gazes at him. John meets his eyes for a moment, then he takes in a deep breath
through his nose, closes his eyes, raises his head and braces himself for death.)
The scene whites out.
From the point of view of a video camera, Sherlock is sitting on a sofa in front of a window and
looking directly into the camera.
SHERLOCK: The criminal network Moriarty headed was vast.
(Cut-away shot of Sherlock standing beside Mycroft as he sits in his office in the Diogenes Club.
Mycroft appears to be reading a report; Sherlock is looking at his phone.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): Its roots were everywhere like a cancer, so we came up with a plan.
(Mycroft starts to type on his laptop. Sherlock leans down to look at the screen.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): Mycroft fed Moriarty information about me.
(Flashback to Mycroft walking into Jims cell, and Jim closing his eyes delightedly.)
SHERLOCK (part voiceover, part into the camera): Moriarty in turn gave us hints just hints
as to the extent of his web. We let him go ...
(Flashback to Jim being taken into court for his trial.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): ... because it was important to let him believe he had the upper hand.
(Into camera) And then I sat back and watched Moriarty destroy my reputation bit by bit.
(Flashback to Sherlock sitting on the floor in the lab at Barts, repeatedly bouncing a small ball
off the cupboard in front of him.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): I had to make him believe hed beaten me, utterly defeated me, and
then hed show his hand.
(Various flashbacks of Sherlock and Jim on the rooftop, interspersed with Sherlock continuing to
bounce the ball in the lab, and shots of Sherlock on the roof looking around the area
surrounding Barts as if calculating escape routes.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): There were thirteen likely scenarios once we were up on that roof. Each
of them were rigorously worked out and given a code name. It wasnt just my reputation that
Moriarty needed to bury I had to die.
(Brief shot of Sherlock falling from the roof and Johns anguished cry of his name.)
(Flashback to the roof.)
JIM: You can have me arrested ...
(Flashback to Mrs Hudson in the hallway of 221, bringing a mug of tea to the workman which he
gratefully accepts, then out of her sight puts one of his tools into his toolbox, revealing the
pistol and silencer lying inside.)
JIM: ... you can torture me; you can do anything you like with me ...
(Flashback to the plain clothes police officer looking ominously round to Greg in his office.)
JIM: ... but nothings gonna prevent them from pulling the trigger.
(Flashback to the sniper assembling his rifle in a building overlooking the pavement outside
Barts, while John is in a taxi on his way back to the hospital.)
JIM: Your only three friends in the world will die ... unless ...
SHERLOCK: ... unless I kill myself complete your story.
(Jim nods and smiles ecstatically.)
JIM: Youve gotta admit thats sexier.
(Flashback to Sherlock shaking Jims hand.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): But the one thing I didnt anticipate was just how far Moriarty was
prepared to go. I suppose that was obvious, given our first meeting at the swimming pool his
death wish.
(Flashback to Moriarty shoving the pistol into his mouth and pulling the trigger, and Sherlocks
cry of alarm as he recoils in shock, then looks around and slowly goes to the edge of the roof.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): I knew I didnt have long. I contacted my brother; set the wheels in
motion.
(On the roof, Sherlock types a single word LAZARUS into his phone and sends the
message.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): And then everyone got to work.

318
(On the ground, a group of men carry a giant airbag currently deflated out into the street.
Molly looks out of the window. Sherlock steps up onto the ledge. Beside the ambulance station,
on the other side to where John will later stand, the team is rolling out the airbag. Molly closes
her eyes briefly, then looks upwards. Standing a short distance away from the hospital, a
woman looks up towards the roof as if awaiting a signal. Johns taxi continues on its way to the
hospital. As the airbag team continue their work, other people are standing and waiting. One of
them has a stethoscope around his neck. The first woman looks around and sees the man on
the cycle waiting nearby, one foot on a pedal and ready to go. A few feet away a second cyclist
pushes his bike into position. The first cyclist has an earpiece in his ear, and many of the others
possibly all of them do too. A faint male voice can be heard, presumably relaying
instructions through the earpieces. Johns taxi turns into the road near the ambulance station,
and a large group of men comes around the corner behind it. The taxi pulls up. Sherlock takes
his phone from his pocket and sees a reply to his earlier text:
LAZARUS IS GO
John gets out of the taxi and heads towards the hospital, taking Sherlocks phone call as he
goes. Unseen by John whose view is blocked by the ambulance station the truck full of
rubbish bags is in position by the bus stop, several people are waiting by the wall of the
ambulance station, and the airbag is inflating at the other side of the station.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): Its a trick. Just a magic trick.
JOHN (into phone): All right, stop it now.
SHERLOCK: No, stay exactly where you are. Dont move.
(On the far side of the station, the team is carrying the airbag forward with blowers still
attached to it as it continues to inflate.
Johns attention is fully focussed on Sherlock.)
JOHN (into phone): All right.
(The team puts the airbag down on the road just behind the truck.)
SHERLOCK: Keep your eyes fixed on me. (His voice becomes frantic.) Please, will you do this
for me?
(The woman takes a phone call, and the second cyclist gets onto his bike.
Sherlock lowers his phone to his side, then drops it onto the roof.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): It was vital that John stayed just where I put him. That way, his view
was blocked by the ambulance station.
(John lowers his own phone and screams upwards.)
JOHN: SHERLOCK!
(Sherlock spreads his arms to either side and falls forward, plummeting towards the ground.
Inside the building, Molly gasps as he falls past her window. We see from Johns point of view
that the last thirty feet or so of the fall are blocked from his view by the station.
Unseen by him, Sherlock is plunging towards the airbag, twisting as he goes.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): I needed to hit the airbag which I did.
(He has turned himself onto his back in mid-air and makes a perfect landing in the centre of the
airbag. Immediately everyone else springs into action, starting to run into position.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): Speed was paramount.
(He scrambles towards the edge, the team pushing the bag down to help him get off quickly.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): The airbag needed to be got out of the way just as John cleared the
station.
(The moment Sherlock is on the ground, the team picks up the airbag and starts to run towards
the left-hand side of the station. John starts to run along the right-hand side of the station.
More extras are running into position.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): But we needed him to see a body.
(Inside the hospital, a body is lying on a stretcher dressed in a Belstaff coat and a blue scarf.
Molly and two male team members haul the body up and shove it out of the open window. The
body impacts the ground directly below where Sherlock fell.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): Thats where Molly came in.
(He runs with the airbag team as they head around the left side of the station. On the other
side of the station, the cyclist is pedalling after John.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): Like figures on a weather clock, we went one way, John went the other.
(John runs to the corner of the station, then slows down and stops in the middle of the road as
he gets his first glimpse of the still figure lying on the pavement. The extras are already starting
to gather around it, and the truck drives away.)

319
SHERLOCK (voiceover): Then our well-timed cyclist ...

(The cyclist slams into John and sends him crashing to the ground.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): ... put John briefly out of action ...
(At the other side of the station, a man is applying fake blood to Sherlocks head. Two men
come out of the hospital gates and race towards the body.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): ... giving me time to switch places with the corpse on the pavement.
(The two men pick up the body and drag it away. While John lies on the ground struggling to
remain conscious, Sherlock races in and lies on the pavement, while the extras run in to
surround him. The body is dragged back into the hospital grounds and the gates are closed.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): The rest was just window dressing.
(A woman kneels down and pours a bag of blood onto the pavement around Sherlocks head,
and the man with the stethoscope applies more blood to Sherlocks face. Grimacing with pain,
John rolls onto his side and looks across to the pavement.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): And one final touch ...
(While the extras finish applying blood to him, Sherlock reaches into his coat pocket and takes
out the rubber ball he was playing with earlier.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): ... a squash ball under the armpit.
(He reaches inside his shirt and pushes the ball under his right arm.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): Apply enough pressure and it momentarily cuts off the pulse.
(Slowly John hauls himself to his feet and stumbles across the road, while one of the extras
checks Sherlocks right wrist to make sure theres no pulse. John finally reaches the crowd.)
JOHN: Let me come through, please.
(The bystanders try to hold him back.)
WOMAN: Its all right ...
JOHN: No, hes my friend.
WOMAN: Its all right, its all right.
JOHN: No, hes my friend.
(The woman continues trying to reassure him as John pushes forward to take hold of Sherlocks
wrist.)
JOHN: Hes my friend. Please, let me just check ...
(The bystanders pull him away. A stretcher is wheeled over and, while John watches in anguish,
the body is lifted onto it.)
In front of the video camera, Sherlock looks dispassionately into the lens. Anderson is sitting on
a chair on the other side of the camera. They are in Andersons living room.
SHERLOCK: Everything was anticipated; every eventuality allowed for. It worked ... (he smiles
slightly) ... perfectly.
ANDERSON: Molly? Molly Hooper? She was in on it?
SHERLOCK: Yes. You remember the little girl who was abducted by Moriarty?
(Flashback to Claudette Bruhl screaming at the sight of Sherlock and pointing at him, and
Lestrade dragging him out of the room.)
LESTRADE: Get out!
(Brief flashback of Anderson and Sally Donovan standing in front of Lestrade while they made
him consider Sherlocks guilt.)
SHERLOCK: You assumed she reacted like that because I was her kidnapper. But I deduced
Moriarty must have found someone who looked very like me to plant suspicion, and that that
man whoever he was had to be got out of the way as soon as his usefulness ended. That
meant there was a corpse in a morgue somewhere that looked just like me.
(Anderson nods.)
ANDERSON: Clever.
SHERLOCK: Molly found the body, faked the records, and I provided the other coat. Ive got lots
of coats.
ANDERSON: And what about the sniper aiming at John?
SHERLOCK: Mycrofts men intervened before he could take the shot. He was invited to
reconsider.
(Cut-away shot to Mycroft answering his ringing phone.)
MYCROFT: Is it done?
(He listens for a moment.)
MYCROFT: Good.
(He hangs up.)
ANDERSON: And your homeless network?

320
SHERLOCK: As I explained, the whole street was closed off ... (he smiles) ... like a scene from a
play.
(Anderson looks at him thoughtfully.)
SHERLOCK: Neat, dont you think?
(Anderson looks off to the side.)
ANDERSON: Hmm.
SHERLOCK: What?
(Anderson shrugs.)
ANDERSON: Not the way Id have done it.
SHERLOCK (folding his arms): Oh really?
ANDERSON: No, Im not saying its not clever, but ...
SHERLOCK (sternly): What?
(Anderson shrugs again and waves his arm about as if hes searching for the right words.)
ANDERSON: ... Bit ... disappointed.
(Sherlock sighs.)
SHERLOCK: Everyones a critic. Anyway, thats not why I came.
ANDERSON: No?
SHERLOCK: No. I think you know why Im here, Phillip. How I Did It by Jack the Ripper?
(Anderson looks at him wide-eyed, his mouth opening but no words coming out for a moment.
He lowers his head.)
ANDERSON: Didnt you think it was intriguing? (He looks up hopefully.)
SHERLOCK (standing up): Lurid. A case so sensational, you hoped Id be interested. But you
overdid it, Phillip you and your little fan club.
(He starts to pace around him.)
ANDERSON: I just couldnt live with myself, knowing that Id driven you to ... (He stops.)
SHERLOCK: But you didnt. You were always right. I wasnt dead.
ANDERSON (staring up at him while he continues to pace): No. No, and everythings okay now,
isnt it?
SHERLOCK: Yeah.
(Anderson laughs in a relieved way.)
SHERLOCK (stopping and looking down at him): Of course youve wasted police time, perverted
the course of justice, risked distracting me from a massive terrorist assault that could have both
destroyed Parliament and caused the death of hundreds of people.
ANDERSON (tearfully): Oh, God.
(He breaks down in tears, grabbing Sherlock and pulling him close.)
ANDERSON: Oh, God, Im sorry, Sherlock. Im so sorry.
(He hangs on to him and weeps against his coat. Looking uncomfortable, Sherlock tentatively
pats him on the shoulder a couple of times.)
ANDERSON (abruptly stopping crying and looking round): Hang on.
(He stands up and walks over to his wall of papers.)
ANDERSON: That doesnt make sense.
(Behind him Sherlock rolls his eyes and quietly sighs with an exasperated sound.)
ANDERSON: How could you be sure John would stand on that exact spot? I mean, what if hed
moved?
(Sherlock turns and quietly leaves the room.)
ANDERSON (oblivious to his departure): Hey how did you do it all so quickly? What if the bike
hadnt hit him? (Suspiciously) And anyway, why are you telling me all this? (He chuckles.) If
youd pulled that off, Im the last person youd tell the truth ...
(Turning around, he trails off when he realises that hes alone in the room. He stares for a
moment, then chuckles. He switches between looking at all his paperwork and looking to where
Sherlock had been standing.)
ANDERSON (quietly, sounding amused): Sherlock Holmes!
(He chuckles again, pointing to the spot where Sherlock had just been standing.)
ANDERSON (even softer, with a combination of amusement and exasperation): Sherlock!
(His chuckle slowly develops into laughter, and then into hysterical laughter as he starts tearing
at the papers on the wall, ripping them off and whooping and giggling. Eventually he collapses
in the corner, rising up onto his knees to continue clawing at the papers and still laughing
hysterically until he slumps back down again.)
The whited-out scene fades back in again and John is standing in the Tube carriage with his
eyes closed and his head raised. He grips the handrail and lowers his head, blowing out a long

321
breath. Nearby it sounds as if Sherlock is crying. His head is lowered and the back of his hand is
across his mouth while his body shakes with what seem to be sobs. John screws his eyes even
more tightly closed. Sherlock lowers his hand and turns his head away, then turns back, hooting
with laughter. John opens his eyes and looks across to him as Sherlock giggles in high-pitched
hilarity. Staring at him, John steps forward and looks down at the countdown clock on the
mother bomb. It is repeatedly flicking back and forth between 1:28 and 1:29. John turns away
as if he cant believe it.
Flashback to Sherlock frantically staring down at the bomb while John turns away. Sherlocks
gaze immediately falls on a small switch on the side of the bomb. He grins, then squeezes his
fingers down the side of the device to flick the switch.
In the present, John turns back to look at the clock again and then stares upwards in disbelief.
JOHN: You ...
(Sherlock stands up, tears of mirth streaming down his cheeks.)
SHERLOCK (laughing hysterically): Oh, your face!
JOHN: ... utter ...
SHERLOCK: Your face!
JOHN: You ...
(Sherlock grins.)
SHERLOCK: I totally had you.
JOHN: You cock! I knew it! I knew it! You f...
SHERLOCK (simultaneously): Oh, those things you said such sweet things! I-I never knew you
cared(!)
JOHN (glaring at him): I will kill you if you ever breathe a word of this ...
SHERLOCK (grinning while holding up two fingers in a Boy Scouts salute): Scouts honour.
JOHN: ... to anyone. You KNEW!
SHERLOCK: Ahh. (He squats down to the bomb.)
JOHN (furiously): You knew how to turn it off!
SHERLOCK: Theres an Off switch.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: Theres always an Off switch.
(John bends down to look at the switch.)
SHERLOCK (standing up again): Terrorists can get into all sorts of problems unless theres an
Off switch.
JOHN (tightly): So why did you let me go through all that?
SHERLOCK: I didnt lie altogether. Ive absolutely no idea how to turn any of these silly little
lights off.
(He chuckles and wipes the tears off his cheeks.)
SHERLOCK: Oh!
(Through the open door of the drivers cab, a voice over a walkie-talkie radio can be heard, and
flashlight beams are approaching along the tunnel. John stares, then points towards them.)
JOHN: And you did call the police.
SHERLOCK: Course I called the police.
(Three armed officers are approaching, flashlights shining from their raised rifles.)
JOHN: Im definitely gonna kill you.
SHERLOCK: Oh, please(!) Killing me thats so two years ago.
(Quirking a smile at John, he turns and heads towards the drivers cab. Despite himself, John
lets out a silent laugh. Sherlock chuckles as he continues on, and John lets out an exasperated
sigh.)
HOTEL. A uniformed female member of staff wheels a trolley along the corridor, presumably on
her way to deliver a meal to one of the rooms. She passes Room 305 and the camera stops and
focuses on the door. Your transcriber exhausted and almost delirious by now raises her
eyebrows and hopes very much that this is the room in which Sherlock and John are celebrating
their reunion. Sadly, its Lord Moran who opens the door and looks cautiously up and down the
corridor before picking up his briefcase and leaving the room. When he gets to the lift he
presses the Down button repeatedly, clearly not understanding that, like traffic lights, pushing
the button more than once will never make things happen more quickly. It doesnt matter
anyway, because almost immediately a gun is cocked behind his head and the muzzle held to
the back of his neck. The gun is being held by the uniformed woman we just saw. As Moran
raises his hands, two men run towards him from opposite directions, also aiming pistols at him.

322
BAKER STREET. DAY TIME. Outside the door to 221, reporters and photographers are milling
around in the road. Over a phone can be heard the song Do you hear the people sing? from
Les Miserables. Mycrofts voice comes over the phone, his tone desperate.
MYCROFTs VOICE: Sherlock, please. I beg of you. You can take over at the interval.
(Sherlock is in his bedroom, walking over to the wardrobe mirror and one-handedly buttoning
his jacket over the Purple Shirt of Sex.)
SHERLOCK (into phone): Oh, Im sorry, brother dear, but you made a promise. Theres nothing
I can do to help.
MYCROFT (over phone): But you dont understand the pain of it the horror!
(Grinning, Sherlock ends the call and turns to John who is approaching along the corridor.)
JOHN: Come on. Youll have to go down. They want the story.
(Rolling his eyes, Sherlock walks past him.)
SHERLOCK: In a minute.
(They walk into the living room where Mary is sitting on the sofa holding a glass of champagne.
Mrs Hudson sits in the nearby chair and Greg is sitting in Johns chair, also holding a
champagne glass. Sherlock pops the cork on a new bottle and walks across the room with the
bottle and a glass, kneeling down beside the coffee table to pour.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh, Im really pleased, Mary. Have you set a date?
MARY: Er, well we thought May.
MRS HUDSON: Oh! Spring wedding!
MARY: Yeah. Well, once weve actually got engaged.
JOHN: Yeah.
MARY (looking pointedly at Sherlock): We were interrupted last time.
JOHN: Yeah.
(Sherlock smiles at her.)
LESTRADE: Well, I cant wait.
(He raises his glass in a toast. John, who has just put his jacket on, smiles round at him.
Putting down the glass he just poured, Sherlock stands up and walks towards the far window.)
MARY: You will be there, Sherlock?
SHERLOCK: Weddings not really my thing.
(He looks across and winks at her. She smiles.
The door opens.)
MOLLY: Hello, everyone.
JOHN: Hey, Molly.
MOLLY (holding hands with the man accompanying her): This is Tom.
(John stares at her boyfriend, almost does a double-take and then looks across the room to
where Sherlock is looking out of the window.)
MOLLY: Tom, this is everyone.
TOM: Hi.
(John continues to look at him in surprise. The man could practically cosplay Sherlock at any
respectable fandom convention. He is tall and slender, has dark curly hair a little shorter than
Sherlocks and has large pale blue eyes and prominent cheekbones. He is wearing a dark coat
with the collar turned up and the scarf around his neck is tied the same way that Sherlock ties
his.)
LESTRADE: Hi.
TOM: Its really nice to meet you all. (He looks at John.) Hi.
(John looks him up and down, grinning, then finally pulls himself together.)
JOHN: Wow. Yeah, hi. Im John. (He shakes his hand.) Good to meet you.
(He looks across to Sherlock, who turns round from the window.)
SHERLOCK: Ready?
JOHN: Ready.
(Tom turns to meet Sherlock, who smiles down at Greg as he walks past him, then catches
sight of Tom for the first time. He stops dead and his eyes widen. Tom looks at him equally
wide-eyed as Sherlock gives him the once-over from his feet upwards.)
LESTRADE (walking across the room behind them): Champagne?
MOLLY: Yes.
(Sherlocks jaw drops open a little and he turns his eyes towards John, who grins back at him
expectantly. Finally Sherlock holds out his hand to Tom, and they shake hands. Glancing down
at Molly, Sherlock walks in between the couple and out of the door. Tom turns to watch him go.
Greg hands Molly a glass of champagne.)
MOLLY: Thanks.

323
(John starts to follow Sherlock, but stops briefly to take another look at Tom, who is taking a
glass from Greg.)
TOM: Thank you.
(Still apparently not quite able to take in the similarity, John heads out of the room and closes
the door behind him. Mrs Hudson gestures Tom towards the sofa.)
MRS HUDSON: Sit down, love.
TOM: Oh, thanks.
(As he walks over there, Greg turns to Molly.)
LESTRADE: So, um, is it serious, you two?
MOLLY (smiling): Yeah! Ive moved on!
(A little doubtfully, Greg looks across to Tom who is already being chatted to by Mary and Mrs
H.
Outside on the landing, John walks over to Sherlock, who is looping his scarf around his neck.
John points back towards the door.)
JOHN (quietly): Did you, er ...?
SHERLOCK (quietly): Im not saying a word.
JOHN: No, best not.
(Sherlock looks down at how he has just tied his scarf, then throws up his hands with an
exasperated expression and sighs. John looks at the door again, then turns back to Sherlock.)
JOHN: Im still waiting.
SHERLOCK: Hmm?
JOHN: Why did they try and kill me? If they knew you were on to them, why go after me put
me in the bonfire?
SHERLOCK (picking up his coat): I dont know. I dont like not knowing.
(He trots down the stairs, John following.)
SHERLOCK: Unlike the nicely embellished fictions on your blog, John, real life is rarely so neat.
(He stops at the bottom of the stairs to put on his coat. John stops a couple of steps from the
bottom.)
SHERLOCK: I dont know who was behind all this, but I will find out, I promise you.
JOHN: Dont pretend youre not enjoying this.
SHERLOCK (not looking round): Hmm?
JOHN: Being back. Being a hero again.
SHERLOCK: Oh, dont be stupid.
JOHN: Youd have to be an idiot not to see it. You love it.
SHERLOCK (turning to face him): Love what?
JOHN: Being Sherlock Holmes.
SHERLOCK: I dont even know what thats supposed to mean.
(He turns and walks down the hall, putting on his gloves.)
JOHN: Sherlock, you are gonna tell me how you did it? How you jumped off that building and
survived?
SHERLOCK (stopping but not turning round): You know my methods, John. I am known to be
indestructible.
JOHN: No, but seriously. When you were dead, I went to your grave.
SHERLOCK: I should hope so.
JOHN: I made a little speech. I actually spoke to you.
SHERLOCK (turning to look at him): I know. I was there.
JOHN: I asked you for one more miracle. I asked you to stop being dead.
SHERLOCK (softly): I heard you.
(They look at each other for a moment, then Sherlock draws in a sharp breath and turns
round.)
SHERLOCK: Anyway, time to go and be Sherlock Holmes.
(He smiles and starts towards the door, then hesitates for a moment and grimaces slightly
before reaching to the coat rack. Taking his deerstalker from its peg, he puts it onto his head
and tugs it into position, then opens the front door and goes out to meet the reporters as they
gather round him, taking photos and shouting questions. John closes the door and steps to his
side.)
Somewhere in a creepy-looking storage room, or laboratory, or warehouse, many rows of

shelves are filled with files and folders. Displayed around the room are grotesque dolls, stuffed
animals and unpleasant-looking sculptures. At the end of the room, a man wearing thin-rimmed
glasses is watching film or CCTV footage displayed on the wall. It shows several angles of John

324
being rescued from the bonfire. Some of it is on a loop, and Marys anguished cry of John!
repeats several times while Sherlock drags John out from underneath the bonfire. The man
watches intently as the footage repeats over and over again, and his gaze finally settles on a
freeze-frame of Sherlock leaning down to the fire just before he pulls John free. The man looks
fixedly at Sherlocks image ... and his pupils rapidly contract.
The Sign of Three
EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO. A newspaper article is headed, BANK GANG LEAVE COPS CLUELESS.
The accompanying photograph shows two men outside a court holding their hands up in front of
their faces so they cannot be recognised in the pictures. At the entrance to the court itself
Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade and Detective Sergeant Sally Donovan walk briskly out
through the door.
LESTRADE: They just walked out of there!
DONOVAN: Yeah, I know. I was sort of sitting next to you.
LESTRADE: The whole Waters family! They just walked right out of there!
DONOVAN: Again, I was in the room.
LESTRADE (angrily): How do they always manage that?
DONOVAN: Theyre good.
LESTRADE: Theyre greedy, and theyll do it again, and next time were gonna catch em in the
act.
DONOVAN: How?
[Transcribers note: some of the newspaper articles name Greg as DCI Lestrade but in the end
credits of the programme he is named as DI Lestrade. I am far more inclined to believe the
end credits.]
TWELVE MONTHS AGO. A newspaper article is headed, WHO STOLE OUR TWO MILL? and
shows police officers standing in a cordoned-off area outside a building, with a police car parked
behind the cordon. In real life, Greg gets into the drivers seat of his car parked just outside the
cordon and angrily slams the door closed. Sally is sitting in the passenger seat.
DONOVAN: No good?
LESTRADE: They always know were coming. (Furiously) How do they always know?
DONOVAN: Theyre good. They work at it.
LESTRADE: Theyre never gonna stop.
DONOVAN: Well, neither are we.
SIX MONTHS AGO. A new headline reads, POLICE ARE NO CLOSER TO WATERS GANG
CONVICTION and the photograph again shows the court. Greg storms out of the building with
Sally behind him. He lets out an angry incoherent noise as he walks away.
THREE MONTHS AGO. This time the headline reads, Waters gang walk free again! and there
is another photo of two men near the court, covering their faces against the photographers. On
the steps outside the court, two uniformed police officers stand and watch while Greg
repeatedly kicks the living daylights out of the back tyre of his car, grunting with fury. Sally
stands beside the drivers door and helplessly watches him. Finally she has had enough.
DONOVAN (loudly): Greg!
(Greg gestures dramatically at her.)
LESTRADE (loudly): In the act! The only way were gonna do this! In. The. Act!
(He kicks the tyre once more and then storms forward and angrily tugs the drivers door open,
inadvertently shoving Sally out of the way.)
YESTERDAY. A man wearing a gruesome clowns mask and holding a sawn-off shotgun looks
around a bank vault and then turns to where a second man, wearing a different but equally
horrid-looking mask, straightens up from typing on a laptop. A third masked man is inside a
nearby open strong room and is slowly carrying three heavy gold ingots toward the door. The
laptop screen shows, ALARMS OFFLINE. The second man goes into the strong room where
hundreds of gold ingots are stacked up on a couple of pallets. He lifts three ingots on top of
each other, then hauls them up in his hands and makes his way out.

325
On a different laptop the screen shows the same information as the one in the vault but this one
now displays a second message reading, *** HACKING DETECTED***. In a car outside the
bank, Sally sits in the passenger seat with the laptop on her lap. The rooftop lights of nearby
police cars are flashing and police officers are walking around. Greg sits beside her.
LESTRADE: You still blocking it?
DONOVAN: Yeah. Very efficiently hacked. They must be bloody pleased with themselves.
LESTRADE: They must be! (He smiles at her.)
(Inside the strong room the third clown is looking down at the two pallets, which are now
empty. The second clown walks over to him and puts his hand on his shoulder.
Outside, armed police begin to run into the bank. Greg and Sally are out of the car and Greg
gestures to her as they follow the others.)
LESTRADE: Right then?
DONOVAN: Oh, no! No, youve gotta make the arrest. This ones yours, boss.
LESTRADE: Youve never called me boss before.
DONOVAN: Ah, well, look what happens when youre good!
(They both grin as they walk on.)
LESTRADE: You know how most days arent good days? This is a good day.
DONOVAN: Not for the Waters family.
(Gregs phone beeps a text alert. He looks down towards his pocket and grimaces, but then
ignores it.)
DONOVAN: Okay: ten men on the roof; all exits covered; the banks closed, so there are no
hostages to worry about ...
(Gregs phone beeps again. Again he grimaces and Sally looks round at him.)
LESTRADE: Sorry, no, go on, go on.
DONOVAN: Um, weve got the tunnel entrance covered; and Davies, Willard and Christie are
heading up our Response on Mafeking Road.
(Gregs phone beeps twice more. He takes it from his pocket and stops to look at it.)
LESTRADE: Sorry, Id better get this.
DONOVAN (continuing onwards with the other officers): Its him, isnt it?
(Gregs face fills with shock as he reads the string of messages he has received:
HELP.
BAKER ST.
NOW.
HELP ME.
PLEASE.
He looks up at Sally.)
LESTRADE: I-I, I have to go.
DONOVAN (turning back in surprise): What?!
LESTRADE: You make the arrest.
DONOVAN: No way!
LESTRADE: Sorry. Youll be fine. Im-Im-Im cool with this.
DONOVAN: Jonesll get all the credit if you leave now! You know he will!
(Greg hesitates, clearly reluctant to give up his chance for success.)
LESTRADE: Yeah, but d... It doesnt matter. I have to go.
(He turns and hurries away. Sally watches him for a moment, grimacing, then continues on with
the other officers.
Outside, Greg is running for his car, making a phone call as he goes.)
LESTRADE (into phone): Back-up. I need maximum back-up. Baker Street, now!
(He gets into his car and speeds off.)
221B BAKER STREET. Greg races up the stairs and into the living room.
LESTRADE (breathlessly): Whats going on?
(Sherlock is sitting at the dining table looking at his laptop. The fingers of both his hands are
pressed into his temples.)
SHERLOCK: This is hard.
LESTRADE: What?
SHERLOCK: Really hard. Hardest thing Ive ever had to do.

326
(Lowering his hands, he picks up a book and holds it up to show Greg. The book is called How
to write an unforgettable best man speech.)
SHERLOCK: Have you any funny stories about John?
(Greg stares at him in disbelief. Outside, police cars are sirening their way into Baker Street and
screeching to a halt.)
LESTRADE: What?!
(Putting the book down, Sherlock looks up at him.)
SHERLOCK: I need anecdotes.
(He seems to notice Gregs expression.)
SHERLOCK: Didnt go to any trouble, did you?
(Greg stares at him, still breathing heavily. Outside, an ambulance is sirening its way up the
road, and a helicopter can be heard approaching. Sherlocks eyes shift sideways when he
becomes aware of the noise outside, and the curtains in the open window behind him billow
inwards as the helicopter hovers lower. Sherlock looks round as the billowing curtains knock
some sheet music off its stand. Greg closes his eyes in exasperation.)
OPENING CREDITS.
At 221B Baker Street, violin playing can be heard, playing a gentle waltz. Mrs Hudson comes
out of 221A carrying a tray of tea things. She stops, smiling with delight at the sound of the
music, then goes up the stairs. The living room door is closed and she stops outside for a
moment, then opens the door. Inside, Sherlock isnt playing his violin as she believed. Instead,
wearing a camel coloured dressing gown over his shirt and trousers, he is waltzing around the
room on his own, holding an imaginary partner while he dances in time to the music. He
glances over his shoulder when his landlady walks in.
SHERLOCK: Shut up, Mrs Hudson.
MRS HUDSON: I havent said a word.
SHERLOCK (sighing as he continues to waltz): Youre formulating a question. Its physically
painful watching you thinking.
(He stops dancing.)
MRS HUDSON: I thought it was you playing.
SHERLOCK (gesturing to a music player on the dining table): It was me playing.
(He picks up a remote control, switches off the music player and bends down to make a
notation on the sheet music lying on the table.)
SHERLOCK: I am composing.
MRS HUDSON (putting her tray onto the table beside Johns chair): You were dancing.
SHERLOCK: I was road-testing.
MRS HUDSON: You what?
SHERLOCK (throwing down his pen and turning to her): Why are you here?
MRS HUDSON: Im bringing you your morning tea. (She pours some milk into the teacup.)
Youre not usually awake.
SHERLOCK (sitting down in his chair): You bring me tea in the morning?
MRS HUDSON (pouring the tea): Well, where dyou think it came from?!
SHERLOCK: I dont know. I just thought it sort of happened.
MRS HUDSON: Your mother has a lot to answer for.
(She takes the cup and saucer over to him.)
SHERLOCK: Mm, I know. I have a list. Mycroft has a file.
(Giggling, Mrs H sits down in Johns chair.)
MRS HUDSON (excitedly): So its the big day, then!
SHERLOCK (taking a sip of tea): What big day?
MRS HUDSON: The wedding! John and Mary getting married!
SHERLOCK: Two people who currently live together are about to attend church, have a party,
go on a short holiday and then carry on living together. Whats big about that?
MRS HUDSON: It changes people, marriage.
SHERLOCK: Mmm, no it doesnt.
MRS HUDSON: Well, you wouldnt understand cause you always live alone.
(Sherlock is lifting his teacup to his mouth but stops momentarily.)
SHERLOCK: Your husband was executed for double murder. Youre hardly an advert for
companionship. (He drinks.)
MRS HUDSON: Marriage changes you as a person, in ways that you cant imagine.
SHERLOCK: As does lethal injection. (He smiles pointedly at her.)

327
MRS HUDSON: My best friend, Margaret she was my chief bridesmaid.

(Putting his cup and saucer down on the table beside him, Sherlock rolls his eyes.)
MRS HUDSON: We were going to be best friends forever, we always said that; but I hardly saw
her after that.
SHERLOCK (standing up): Arent there usually biscuits?
MRS HUDSON: Ive run out.
SHERLOCK: Have the shops?
(He pointedly walks towards the door.)
MRS HUDSON: She cried the whole day, saying, Ooh, its the end of an era.
SHERLOCK (gesturing towards the stairs): Im sure the shop on the corner is open.
MRS HUDSON: She was probably right, really.
(Sherlock closes his eyes and grimaces.)
MRS HUDSON: I remember she left early. I mean, who leaves a wedding early? (She shakes
her head.) So sad.
SHERLOCK: Mmm. Anyway, youve got things to do.
MRS HUDSON: No, not really. Ive got plenty of time to ...
SHERLOCK (sternly): Biscuits.
(She gets out of her chair, tutting.)
MRS HUDSON (walking towards the door): I really am going to have a word with your mother.
SHERLOCK: You can if you like. She understands very little.
(He closes the door on her, then turns around sighing. He turns his head and looks towards
Johns chair for a few long moments, then walks through the kitchen and down the hallway.)
SHERLOCK (taking off his dressing gown): Right, then.
(He walks through his bedroom to his wardrobe, where a morning suit is hanging from the open
door. He looks at it.)
SHERLOCK: Into battle.
A man is doing up the buttons on the jacket of his military dress uniform. Although it would
seem easier to use two hands to do this, he is only using his right hand. A suitcase is on the
nearby bed and laid out beside it is a white webbing belt, a pair of white gloves, a military cap
and a ceremonial sword. The man reaches down and picks up the belt and swings it around the
left-hand side of his waist and then clamps it to his side with his left arm and now we see why
he is only using his right hand. His left hand has been badly burned in the past and is very
scarred. It is clear that he is unable to use this hand. Reaching behind himself he tugs the belt
around his waist, pulls it tight and does it up. He bends down to the cap, picks it up and puts it
on, and we now see that the left side of his face is also severely scarred. He stares ahead of
himself as he straightens his jacket.
Church bells peal and the doors to a church open. John and Mary, newly married, walk out
followed by Sherlock and the chief bridesmaid, whose name is Janine, then two more
bridesmaids and the vicar. A photographer is waiting outside.
PHOTOGRAPHER: Congratulations! Okay, hold it there I wanna get this shot of the
newlyweds.
(John and Mary stop and the bridesmaids stand behind them. Sherlock steps to Marys side.)
PHOTOGRAPHER: Er, just the bride and groom, please.
(Sherlock doesnt move. John looks round at him.)
JOHN: Sherlock?
SHERLOCK: Oh, sorry.
(He walks out of shot.)
PHOTOGRAPHER: Okay three, two, one, cheese!
(The bridesmaids throw handfuls of confetti into the air and the photographer starts taking
pictures. The rest of the congregation come out and the photo-taking continues, including one
of John, Sherlock and Greg standing side by side, with a young pageboy about eight years old
standing in front of them wearing either Johns or Sherlocks top hat. Later, the photographer
takes a picture of Sherlock and Janine. Nearby, Molly stands with her fianc Tom. She is gazing
at Sherlock and if she really believes that she has moved on, her expression suggests that
shes not fooling anyone but herself.
After the photographer has finished with them, Janine looks round at Sherlock.)
JANINE: The famous Mr Holmes! Im very pleased to meet you. But no sex, okay?
SHERLOCK (startled): Um, sorry?

328
JANINE (laughing): You dont have to look so scared. Im only messing. Bridesmaid, best man
... Its a bit traditional.
(She gently punches his arm. He looks down with distaste.)
SHERLOCK: Is it?
JANINE (a little awkwardly): But not obligatory(!)
SHERLOCK: If thats the sort of thing youre looking for ... (he jerks his head towards one of the
wedding guests) ... the man over there in blue is your best bet. Recently divorced doctor with a
ginger cat ... (theres a close-up of a ginger cat hair stuck on the mans suit, and the sound of a
miaow) ... a barn conversion ... (close-up of sawdust on the mans footwear) ... and a history of
erectile dysfunction.
(The close-up pulls out a little to reveal that the man is wearing cowboy boots. Theres the
sound of a bullet ricocheting off something with a high-pitched ping, like in a Western movie.
Sherlock blinks.)
SHERLOCK: Reviewing that information, possibly not your best bet.
JANINE: Yeah, maybe not.
SHERLOCK (looking puzzled): Sorry there was one more deduction there than I was
expecting.
JANINE: Mr Holmes ... (she takes his arm) ... youre going to be incredibly useful.
(Again Sherlock looks down at her hand. He frowns.)
Later, John and Mary, with Sherlock at Johns side, are standing outside the venue for the
reception, greeting the guests.
MARY (shaking a mans hand): Hello. Lovely to meet you.
(She then kisses a woman. The woman moves on to kiss John, and another man moves in to
kiss Mary.)
MARY: How are you?
MAN: You look beautiful, Mary.
MARY: Thank you!
MAN: Congratulations.
(More guests move past the three of them, then a man wearing a lurid purple tie comes
forward. Mary looks at him with delight.)
MARY: David!
(She reaches out her arms ready to hug him. He leans away, laughing nervously, and just
clasps her arms briefly.)
DAVID: Mary. Congratulations. You look, um, very nice.
(He quickly moves away from her. Mary looks puzzled. He shakes Johns hand.)
DAVID: John, congratulations. Youre a lucky man.
JOHN: Thank you.
MARY: Um, er, David, this is Sherlock.
(Sherlock smiles at him, tight-lipped.)
DAVID: Um, yeah. Weve, um, weve met.
(He looks down nervously.)
FLASHBACK. David, sitting at the dining table in 221B, looks around the room and then turns to
where Sherlock is sitting opposite him holding a pen.
DAVID: So, what exactly are my duties as an usher?
(He picks up the Sudokube [Click for image] from the desk and idly plays with it. Sherlock
frowns disapprovingly, then puts down his pen and folds his hands.)
SHERLOCK: Lets talk about Mary, first.
DAVID: Sorry, what?
SHERLOCK: Oh, I think you know what. You went out with her for two years.
DAVID: A-ages ago. Were j... were just good friends now.
SHERLOCK: Is that a fact?
(He looks down at his notes in front of him.)
SHERLOCK: Whenever she tweets, you respond within five minutes regardless of time or
current location, suggesting you have her on text alert. In all your Facebook photographs of the
happy couple, Mary takes centre frame whereas John is always partly or entirely excluded.
DAVID (laughing uncomfortably): You cant assume from that Ive still got some kind of interest
in Mary.
SHERLOCK: You volunteered to be a shoulder to cry on on no less than three separate
occasions. Do you have anything to say in your defence?

329
(David opens his mouth but is unable to speak.)

SHERLOCK (looking down and making a note): I think from now on well downgrade you to
casual acquaintance. No more than three planned social encounters a year, and always in
Johns presence.
(He puts the pen down and folds his hands again, looking intensely at David.)
SHERLOCK: I have your contact details. I will be monitoring.
DAVID (a little wide-eyed): Theyre right about you. Youre a bloody psychopath.
SHERLOCK: High-functioning sociopath ... with your number.
(He grins manically, showing a lot of teeth, then drops the smile and steeples his hands in front
of his chin, looking sternly at David. David looks down, then lets out a nervous breath and gets
up and walks away. Sherlock picks up the Sudokube and puts it back into its proper position on
the table.)
THE PRESENT. David makes a couple of anxious noises, waves briefly to Mary and goes indoors.
John looks round at Sherlock with a curious expression but Sherlock raises his head and looks
inscrutable. The next guest approaches.
MARY: Hello!
(The greetings continue. A woman in a black and white dress approaches and kisses Mary.)
MARY: Pleased to see you.
(The woman moves on to kiss and hug John.)
WOMAN: Congratulations.
JOHN: Thanks for coming, thank you.
(The young pageboy is standing a few paces away. Mary smiles down at him.)
MARY: Hello, Archie!
(The boys eyes are fixed on Sherlock and the moment he has a clear route he runs straight to
him and wraps his arms around him, smiling happily. Sherlock looks awkwardly down at him.)
SHERLOCK: Mm, yes, um, well done in the service, Archie.
(The woman in the black and white dress, obviously Archies mother, smiles at them.)
MUM: Hes really come out of his shell. I dont know how you did it.
SHERLOCK: Um ...
FLASHBACK. 221B. Sherlock sits in his chair and looks at Archie sitting in Johns chair. They
stare straight-faced at each other for a moment, then Sherlock draws in a breath.
SHERLOCK: Basically its a cute smile to the brides side, cute smile to the grooms side and
then the rings.
ARCHIE (instantly): No.
SHERLOCK: And you have to wear the outfit.
ARCHIE (instantly): No.
SHERLOCK: You really do have to wear the outfit.
ARCHIE (instantly): What for?
SHERLOCK: Grown-ups like that sort of thing.
ARCHIE (instantly): Why?
(Sherlock pauses for a moment.)
SHERLOCK: ... I dont know. Ill ask one.
ARCHIE (more slowly, thoughtfully): Youre a detective.
SHERLOCK: Yep. (He pops the p loudly.)
ARCHIE: Have you solved any murders?
SHERLOCK: Sure. Loads.
ARCHIE: Can I see?
SHERLOCK (after only a momentary hesitation): Yeah, all right.
(They get up and go over to the laptop on the dining table. Sherlock shows him a series of
pictures which we cant see and after a while Archie leans in to look more closely at an
image.)
ARCHIE: Whats all the stuff in his eye?
SHERLOCK: Maggots.
ARCHIE: Cool!
SHERLOCK (looking at him for a moment): Mm!
THE PRESENT. Archie is still hugging Sherlock.

MUM: He said you had some pictures for him, as a treat.
SHERLOCK: Er, yes ... (he pats Archies head) ... if hes good.

330
ARCHIE (turning to look at his mum): Beheadings.

SHERLOCK (quickly): Lovely little village.
(He unwraps Archie from around him and gently pushes him towards the entrance.)
MUM: Hmm? (She looks down at Archie as they go inside.) What did you say?
INSIDE. Molly is canoodling with Tom, repeatedly kissing his cheek. Tom indicates that the
photographer is approaching them, and she turns and smiles into the camera while he takes
some pictures.
PHOTOGRAPHER: Nice.
(He moves on to the next nearest couple, who are Mrs Hudson and what must surely be Mr
Chatterjee from the sandwich shop. Apparently Mrs H has forgiven him for already having two
wives or she hasnt yet found out about the one in Islamabad. She smiles happily for the
camera; Mr Chatterjee doesnt look quite so happy to be there. The photographer turns and
snaps several pictures of Greg who is sitting at a table and drinking. Greg, looking a little glum,
raises his glass to him.
John and Mary are standing nearby. John indicates as a waiter approaches with a plate of
canaps.)
JOHN: Oh, dyou want ...?
MARY (taking one from the plate): Im starving.
JOHN (declining the waiters offer of the plate): Thanks.
MARY: Had to lose so much weight to get into this dress.
(John chuckles. Sherlock and Janine are standing together a short distance away. Janine looks
admiringly at the waiter as he walks past.)
JANINE: Hes nice.
(Sherlock sniffs deeply.)
SHERLOCK: Traces of two leading brands of deodorant, both advertised for their strength,
suggestive of a chronic body odour problem manifesting under stress.
JANINE: Okay, done there. What about his friend?
(Sherlock turns to look where shes looking. In the nearby kitchen, another waiter is carefully
pulling out the skewer from the middle of a large joint of roast beef.)
SHERLOCK: Long-term relationship, compulsive cheat.
JANINE: Seriously?
SHERLOCK: Waterproof cover on his smartphone. (Close-up of the phone in the mans jacket
pocket.) Yet his complexion doesnt indicate outdoor work. (Close-up of the mans face.)
Suggests hes in the habit of taking his phone into the shower with him, which means he often
receives texts and emails hed rather went unseen.
JANINE (smiling admiringly at Sherlock): Can I keep you?
SHERLOCK: Dyou like solving crimes?
JANINE: Do you have a vacancy?
(Sherlocks eyes drift over to John, then he looks away again.
Mary puts a hand on Johns shoulder.)
MARY: So, Harry?
JOHN: Er, no. No show.
MARY: Darling, Im so sorry.
JOHN: It was a bit of a punt asking her, I suppose. Still, free bar wouldnt have been a good
mix.
(He looks down, then raises his eyes towards the entrance and looks surprised.)
JOHN: Oh, God, wow!
(The scarred uniformed man we saw earlier has just walked in.)
MARY: Oh, G... Is that ...?
JOHN: He came!
(While Mary smiles with delight, John walks over to the man and they salute each other.
Sherlock walks over to Mary.)
SHERLOCK: So thats him. Major Sholto.
(His voice sounds disapproving.)
MARY: Uh-huh.
(Sherlock narrows his eyes as he looks at the two men.)
SHERLOCK: If theyre such good friends, why does he barely even mention him?
MARY: He mentions him all the time to me. He never shuts up about him.
SHERLOCK: About him?
MARY: Mm-hmm.

331
(She takes a drink from her wine glass, then grimaces.)

MARY: Urgh. I chose this wine. Its bloody awful.
SHERLOCK: Yes, but its definitely him that he talks about?
MARY: Mm-hmm.
(At the entrance)
JOHN: Im very, very glad to see you, sir. I know you dont really do this sort of thing.
SHOLTO: Well, I do for old friends, Watson ... John. Its good to see you.
JOHN: You too.
(Sholto nods, then looks around the room.)
SHOLTO: Civilian life suiting you, then?
JOHN: Er, er, yes, well ... (he gestures towards Mary) ... I think so, sir.
SHOLTO: No more need for the trick cyclist?
JOHN: No, I-I go now and then. Sort of a top-up.
(Sholto nods.)
JOHN: Therapy can be very helpful.
(Sholto awkwardly looks away.)
JOHN: Where are you living these days?
SHOLTO: Oh, way out in the middle of nowhere. You wouldnt know it.
(Back at Sherlock and Mary)
SHERLOCK: Ive never even heard him say his name.
MARY: Well, hes almost a recluse you know, since ...
SHERLOCK: Yes.
MARY: I didnt think hed show up at all. John says hes the most unsociable man hes ever met.
SHERLOCK: He is? Hes the most unsociable?
MARY: Mm.
SHERLOCK: Ah, thats why hes bouncing round him like a puppy.
(Mary grins and hugs his arm.)
MARY: Oh, Sherlock! Neither of us were the first, you know.
(He looks round at her.)
SHERLOCK: Stop smiling.
MARY (indignantly): Its my wedding day!
(Rolling his eyes, Sherlock pulls free and walks away. She takes another drink from her wine
glass, then pulls a disgusted face at the taste.)
Elsewhere, the camera pans across the interior of a grand building and into a room with a large
old painting on the wall and a suit of armour standing nearby. A steady regular thumping sound
can be heard. The camera pans around the corner and reveals a running machine. Mycroft
dressed in gym clothes is jogging on the machine. After a while he switches it off and jumps
off, breathing heavily. He walks a few paces away, then stops and lifts his top to examine his
stomach, patting it reflectively and looking quite pleased with himself. On a nearby table, his
phone rings. He picks it up and answers.
MYCROFT (breathlessly): Yes, what, Sherlock?
SHERLOCK (walking through the wedding reception room as he talks into his phone): Why are
you out of breath?
MYCROFT: Filing.
SHERLOCK: Either Ive caught you in a compromising position or youve been working out
again. I favour the latter.
MYCROFT: What do you want?
SHERLOCK: I need your answer, Mycroft, as a matter of urgency.
MYCROFT: Answer?
SHERLOCK: Even at the eleventh hour its not too late, you know.
MYCROFT (sighing): Oh, Lord.
SHERLOCK: Cars can be ordered, private jets commandeered.
MYCROFT: Today. Its today, isnt it? No, Sherlock, I will not be coming to the night do, as you
so poetically put it.
SHERLOCK (insincerely): What a shame. Mary and John will be extremely d...
MYCROFT: ... delighted not to have me hanging around.
SHERLOCK: Oh, I dont know. There should always be a spectre at the feast.
MYCROFT (picking up a glass of juice from the table): So, this is it, then. The big day. (He sits
down in an armchair.) I suppose Ill be seeing a lot more of you from now on.
SHERLOCK: What do you mean?

332
MYCROFT: Just like old times.

SHERLOCK: No, I dont understand.
MYCROFT: Well, its the end of an era, isnt it? John and Mary domestic bliss.
SHERLOCK: No, no, no I prefer to think of it as the beginning of a new chapter.
(Mycroft simply smiles.)
SHERLOCK: What?
MYCROFT: Nothing!
SHERLOCK: I know that silence. What?
MYCROFT: Well, Id better let you get back to it. You have a big speech, or something, dont
you?
SHERLOCK (still demanding an answer to his previous question): What?
MYCROFT: Cake, karaoke ... mingling.
SHERLOCK (angrily): Mycroft!
MYCROFT: This is what people do, Sherlock they get married. I warned you: dont get
involved.
SHERLOCK: Involved? Im not involved.
MYCROFT (disbelievingly): No.
SHERLOCK: John asked me to be his best man. How could I say no?
MYCROFT (insincerely): Absolutely!
SHERLOCK: Im not involved!
MYCROFT (insincerely): I believe you! Really, I do! Have a lovely day, and do give the happy
couple my best.
SHERLOCK: I will.
(He lowers the phone, about to switch it off when Mycroft speaks again. Sherlock lifts the phone
to his ear once more.)
MYCROFT: Oh, by the way, Sherlock do you remember Redbeard?
(Sherlocks jaw tightens.)
SHERLOCK: Im not a child any more, Mycroft.
MYCROFT: No, of course youre not. Enjoy not getting involved, Sherlock.
(Sherlock hangs up. He looks down for a moment, then walks across the room towards the top
table.)
Fast-forward literally through the wedding meal as the guests eat their way through the
three courses and drink lots of champagne, and then the Master of Ceremonies or possibly
just the head waiter taps a spoon against a champagne glass to get everyones attention.
MASTER OF CEREMONIES: Pray silence for the best man.
(The guests applaud and cheer as Sherlock rises to his feet at the top table. John and Mary are
sitting to his right; Janine to his left. He buttons his jacket, looking a little uncomfortable.)
SHERLOCK: Ladies and gentlemen, family and friends ... and ... erm ... others.
(He stops and blinks. Theres an awkward pause.)
SHERLOCK: Er ... w...
(John narrows his eyes and looks up at him.)
SHERLOCK: A-a-also ...
(Mary lifts a thumb to her mouth, rubbing it on her top lip. Mrs Hudson looks nervous and Greg
sits back a little, looking concerned.)
FLASHBACK. Greg walks into Mollys lab at Barts.

MOLLY: Greg.
LESTRADE: Molly.
MOLLY (turning to him): I just had a thought.
(She is holding a large metal bowl in front of her. He looks into it.)
LESTRADE: Is that a brain?!
MOLLY: What if John asks Sherlock to be his best man?
LESTRADE: Well, he will, wont he? Hes bound to.
MOLLY: Exactly.
LESTRADE: So?
MOLLY: So hell have to make a speech in front of people.
(Greg gazes into the distance as if realising the ramifications of this for the first time.)
MOLLY: Therell be actual people there, actually listening.
LESTRADE (tentatively): Well, whats the worst that could happen?
MOLLY: Helen Louise probably wondered the same.

333
LESTRADE: Helen Louise?

(Molly pointedly looks down at the brain in her bowl.)
FLASHBACK. Mrs Hudson, sitting in her kitchen, answers the phone.

MRS HUDSON: Oh, hallo, dear.
(Molly is on the other end of the line, again in her lab. She is wearing safety goggles and there
is blood spatter on her lab coat. She is holding an electric bone saw in the blood-covered glove
on her other hand.)
MOLLY (into phone): I was just thinking. If-if John does ask Sherlock ...
MRS HUDSON: What, the speech, dear? No, itll be fine.
MOLLY: It-its not just the speech, though, is it?
Shortly afterwards, John lets himself in the front door of 221 and walks towards the stairs.
High-pitched hysterical noises are coming through the open door of 221A. As the noises
continue, punctuated with an occasional squeal of, Oh, dear! and Oh, brilliant! John goes
into her flat and looks into the kitchen in concern.
JOHN: Mrs Hudson?
(She waves to him from where she is sitting at the table, laughing hysterically.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh, hello, darling! (She continues to giggle.)
JOHN: You all right?
(She covers her mouth, laughing.)
JOHN: I was I was coming to see Sherlock, and I thought you were ...
MRS HUDSON (giggling): Go!
JOHN: ... possibly dying. (He grins at the sight of her mirth.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh, sorry!
(She continues laughing.)
JOHN: Whats wrong?
MRS HUDSON: The-the telegrams!
(She giggles.)
JOHN (grinning but clearly with no idea what she means): Sorry, what?
MRS HUDSON (giggling): Oh, sorry, dear!
(Standing up, she pats his arm and walks away, still shrieking with laughter. John looks
bemused.)
THE PRESENT. John closes his eyes in realisation.

JOHN (quietly): Telegrams.
(Mary looks at him and Sherlock jolts out of his blankness.)
SHERLOCK: Right, um ...
(He pats his pockets, then seems to realise that the telegrams are in a pile in front of him. John
clears his throat. Sherlock does likewise and looks at the guests, swallowing hard.)
SHERLOCK: First things first. Telegrams.
(He picks up the cards and shows them to the guests.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Well, theyre not actually telegrams. We just call them telegrams. I
dont know why. Wedding tradition.
(He lifts the first card.)
SHERLOCK (sarcastically): ... because we dont have enough of that already, apparently.
(John narrows his eyes a little.)
SHERLOCK (reading): To Mr and Mrs Watson. So sorry Im unable to be with you on your
special day. Good luck and best wishes, Mike Stamford.
JOHN: Ah, Mike.
MARY: Ahh!
SHERLOCK (reading the next card): To John and Mary. All good wishes for your special day.
With love and many big ... (he breaks off, then continues slowly) ... big squishy cuddles, from
Stella and Ted.
(He looks up, blinking rapidly. Greg sniggers and Molly smiles.)
SHERLOCK (reading the next card): Mary lots of love, ...
(He breathes out an almost silent Oh. John and Mary look up at him.)
JOHN: Yeah?
SHERLOCK (disparagingly): ... poppet ...
(He loudly sounds the t at the end of the word. John and Mary giggle.)
SHERLOCK: ... Oodles of love and heaps of good wishes from CAM.

334
(Marys smile fades. Sherlock continues reading the message.)

SHERLOCK: Wish your family could have seen this.
(John looks round and sees Marys face. He reaches out and takes her hand.)
JOHN: Hey. Hmm?
(She smiles reassuringly at him.)
SHERLOCK (looking at the next card): Um, special day ... (he drops the card onto the table
and looks at the next one) ... very special day ... (he drops that one, then continues working
rapidly through the next ones) ... love ... love ... love ... love ... lo...; bit of a theme
you get the general gist. People are basically fond.
(Theres some laughter from the guests.)
SHERLOCK (looking at them): John Watson. (He gestures towards John.) My friend, John
Watson. (He looks down for a moment, then looks at John.) John.
(John smiles at him. Sherlock turns to his audience again.)
SHERLOCK: When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused.
FLASHBACK. John trots up the stairs to 221B.

JOHN: Sherlock?
SHERLOCK (from the kitchen): What was that noise downstairs?
(John turns into the kitchen. Sherlock is standing at the table in his camel coloured dressing
gown. Wearing safety glasses, he is holding an eyeball with a large pair of tweezers and is
holding a lit blowtorch near to the optic nerve dangling behind it.)
JOHN: Er, it was Mrs Hudson laughing.
SHERLOCK: Sounded like she was torturing an owl.
JOHN: Yeah. Well, it was laughter.
SHERLOCK: Could have been both.
JOHN (looking at what hes doing): Busy?
(Sherlock sighs heavily.)
SHERLOCK: Just occupying myself. (He lifts his head and looks dramatically towards the
ceiling.) Sometimes, its so-o-o hard not smoking.
(The eyeball slips out of the tweezers and drops with a splash into a mug on the table. Sherlock
looks down at it.)
SHERLOCK: Oh.
JOHN: Mm-hmm. Mind if I interrupt?
SHERLOCK (putting down the tweezers and gesturing to the chair at the end of the table): Er,
be my guest.
(He switches off the blowtorch and puts it down while John walks over and pulls back the chair
from the table. Sherlock picks up the mug and offers it to him.)
SHERLOCK: Tea?
JOHN: Er ...
(He shakes one hand to decline the offer. Sherlock puts down the mug and takes off his
glasses.)
JOHN (sitting down): So. The big question.
SHERLOCK (turning to face him): Mm-hm.
JOHN (folding his hands and putting them onto the table in front of him): The best man.
SHERLOCK: The best man?
JOHN: What do you think?
SHERLOCK (instantly): Billy Kincaid.
JOHN: Sorry, what?
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Billy Kincaid, the Camden Garrotter. Best man I ever knew. Vast
contributions to charity, never disclosed.
(John frowns.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Personally managed to save three hospitals from closure and ran the
best and safest childrens homes in north England.
(John tiredly rubs his fingers over his eyes.)
SHERLOCK (grimacing briefly): Yes, every now and again thered be some garrottings, but
stacking up the lives saved against the garrottings, on balance Id say ...
JOHN (interrupting): For my wedding! For me. I need a best man.
SHERLOCK: Oh, right.
JOHN: Maybe not a garrotter.
SHERLOCK: Gavin?
JOHN: Who?

335
SHERLOCK: Gavin Lestrade? Hes a man, and good at it.

JOHN: Its Greg. And hes not my best friend.
SHERLOCK: Oh, Mike Stamford, I see. Well, hes nice, um, though Im not sure how well hed
cope with all ...
JOHN (interrupting): No, Mikes great, but hes not my best friend.
(Sherlock looks thoughtfully at him as if he cant think of another friend to suggest.)
JOHN: Look, Sherlock, this is the biggest and most important day of my life.
SHERLOCK (dubiously, pulling a face): Well ...
JOHN: No, it is! It is, and I want to be up there with the two people that I love and care about
most in the world.
SHERLOCK: Yes.
(John nods. Clearly oblivious, Sherlock waits for him to tell him who these people are.)
JOHN: So, Mary Morstan ...
SHERLOCK: Yes.
JOHN (sighing tightly): ... and ...
(He looks up at Sherlock, who is still patiently waiting for further information. Eventually John
pulls in a long breath.)
JOHN: ... you.
(Sherlock blinks rapidly several times but otherwise doesnt move or react.)
RECEPTION.
SHERLOCK: I confess at first I didnt realise he was asking me. When finally I understood, I
expressed to him that I was both flattered and ... surprised.
FLASHBACK. Sherlock has frozen solid, staring blankly in Johns direction but not actually
looking at him. John taps his foot patiently.
RECEPTION.
SHERLOCK: I explained to him that Id never expected this request and I was a little daunted in
the face of it.
FLASHBACK. Sherlock is still motionless.

JOHN: Sherlock.
(Sherlock doesnt react.)
RECEPTION.
SHERLOCK: I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best to accomplish a task which
was for me as demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I
thanked him for the trust hed placed in me ...
(John frowns as if unable to remember this conversation.)
SHERLOCK: ... and indicated that I was, in some ways, very close to being ... moved by it.
FLASHBACK. Sherlock is still fixed in place, staring sightlessly ahead of him. The silence drags
on for long seconds.
JOHN: Thats getting a bit scary now.
RECEPTION.
SHERLOCK: It later transpired that I had said none of this out loud.
(John laughs, and some of the guests join in.)
FLASHBACK. Sherlocks brain finally begins to reboot and he takes a breath. He swallows and
narrows his eyes slightly as he refocuses and looks at John.
SHERLOCK: So, in fact ...
(He thinks for a moment.)
SHERLOCK: You-you mean ...
JOHN: Yes.
SHERLOCK: Im your ...
(John nods.)
SHERLOCK: ... best ...
JOHN: ... man.
SHERLOCK (almost simultaneously): ... friend?

336
JOHN: Yeah, course you are. Course youre my best friend.

(He smiles. Without looking down, Sherlock absently picks up the mug from the table and raises
it towards his mouth. John watches with interest while he takes a long slurping drink and then
swallows.)
JOHN: Well, how was that?
(Sherlock licks his lips, thinks about it for a moment, then nods.)
SHERLOCK: Surprisingly okay.
(Inside the mug, the eyeball pops up to the surface of the tea.)
JOHN: So youll have to make a speech, of course.
(Sherlock offlines again for a moment, then looks at John.)
RECEPTION. Sherlock reaches into his jacket pocket, clearing his throat, and takes out a handful
of cue cards, looking at each one and putting it onto the table as he talks to himself.
SHERLOCK: Done that. ... Done that ... Done that bit ... Done that bit ... Done that bit ... Hmm
...
(He looks up at the guests again, then turns to John.)
SHERLOCK: Im afraid, John, I cant congratulate you.
(Mary looks surprised and John looks up at him.)
SHERLOCK (looking at the guests): All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the
pure, cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short
of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and
morally compromised world.
(The guests begin to look uncomfortable and some of them start murmuring quietly to each
other. Greg and Molly look at Sherlock in horror.)
SHERLOCK: Today we honour the death-watch beetle that is the doom of our society and, in
time one feels certain our entire species.
(The guests stare at him. Sherlock pauses for a moment.)
SHERLOCK: But anyway ... (he looks down at his cards) ... lets talk about John.
JOHN (quietly): Please.
SHERLOCK (looking up again): If I burden myself with a little help-mate during my adventures,
it is not out of sentiment or caprice it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has
overlooked in his obsession with me.
(Greg laughs silently.)
SHERLOCK: Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes, in truth,
from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides.
(John sighs heavily, while Mary frowns.)
SHERLOCK: It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favour exceptionally plain bridesmaids for
their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel.
(Janine stares up at him and the other two bridesmaids look uncomfortable.)
SHERLOCK (moving on to his next card): ... and contrast is, after all, Gods own plan to
enhance the beauty of his creation ...
(The vicar smiles.)
SHERLOCK: ... or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career
opportunity for the family idiot.
(Mary face-palms and John is half-hiding behind his clasped hands. The vicar looks at Sherlock
grimly, and more guests are muttering amongst themselves. Sherlock pauses for a moment.)
SHERLOCK: The point Im trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant and
all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet.
(He looks at the vicar.)
SHERLOCK: I am dismissive of the virtuous ...
(He turns to Janine.)
SHERLOCK: ... unaware of the beautiful ...
(He turns towards Mary and John.)
SHERLOCK: ... and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So if I didnt understand I was
being asked to be best man, it is because I never expected to be anybodys best friend.
(The guests have fallen silent again and are listening intently. Molly and Greg exchange a long
glance.)
SHERLOCK: Certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I
have ever had the good fortune of knowing.
(Mary smiles proudly at her husband. Several of the guests make appreciative aww sounds.)
SHERLOCK: John, I am a ridiculous man ...

337
(John smiles and nods his agreement.)

SHERLOCK: ... redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship. But, as Im
apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion.
(He looks down for a moment, then smiles a little.)
SHERLOCK: Actually, now I can.
(The guests murmur again, but now their tone is much more approving. John and Mary smile.)
SHERLOCK: Mary, when I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am
capable. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss ... (he leans closer to John) ...
so sorry again about that last one ... (he straightens up again) ... so know this: today you sit
between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved in short, the two
people who love you most in all this world. And I know I speak for Mary as well when I say we
will never let you down, and we have a lifetime ahead to prove that.
(Mrs Hudson whimpers and holds a tissue to her nose. Molly wipes tears from her eyes with her
serviette. Other guests even some of the men sniffle. John turns to Mary and whispers to
her.)
JOHN: If I try and hug him, stop me.
MARY: Certainly not.
(She pats his arm. Sherlock moves on to his next card.)
SHERLOCK: Ah, yes. Now on to some funny stories about John ...
(He trails off as he looks up and sees so many of the guests crying.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Whats wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? John?
(Molly smiles proudly at him.)
MRS HUDSON (tearfully): Oh, Sherlock!
(Sherlock looks down at John.)
SHERLOCK: Did I do it wrong?
JOHN (standing up): No, you didnt. Come here.
(He pulls him into a tight hug. The guests break into applause. The fandom goes crazy.)
SHERLOCK: I havent finished yet.
JOHN: Yeah, I know, I know.
SHERLOCK (holding up his next card and talking over the applause as John releases him): So,
on to some funny stories ...
JOHN: Can you can you wait til I sit down?
(Sherlock nods as the applause continues. John sits down, clearing his throat, and the applause
finally fades.)
SHERLOCK: So, on to some funny stories about John.
(John chuckles. Sherlock looks at the guests.)
SHERLOCK: If you could all just cheer up a bit, that would ...
(The guests laugh.)
SHERLOCK: ... be better. On we go. So, for funny stories ... (he reaches into his pocket and
takes out his phone) ... one has to look no further than Johns blog.
(He holds up the phone. John laughs and turns to speak quietly to Mary.)
JOHN: Here we go.
SHERLOCK: The record of our time together. Of course, he does tend to romanticise things a
bit, but then, you know ... (he looks down at John and Mary and half-winks at them) ... hes a
romantic. Weve tackled some strange cases: the Hollow Client ...
FLASHBACK. John and Sherlock walk up the stairs and into the living room of 221B, then stop
dead at the sight which greets them. In Johns chair which is facing towards the door is a suit,
laid out exactly as it would appear if there was actually anyone inside it and sitting in the chair.
There is even a pair of shoes at the bottom of the trousers.
SHERLOCK: ... the Poison Giant ...
FLASHBACK. A man is running across a rooftop. As he comes into full view we see that he is a
person of short stature. He stops and raises a blowpipe to his lips.
SHERLOCK (offscreen): Get down, John!
(The man blows into the pipe and on the other side of the roof Sherlock and John duck down to
avoid the dart which flies out of it. They immediately jump up again and run on in pursuit of the
man.)
SHERLOCK: Weve had some frustrating cases ...

338
FLASHBACK. In 221B John sits down at the dining table with a mug of tea. He looks across to
Sherlock sitting in his chair, who is running his finger across his top lip and frowning down
thoughtfully at a matchbox held in his other hand.
JOHN: What is that?
(Sherlock looks at him.)
SHERLOCK: A French decathlete found completely out of his mind, surrounded by one
thousand, eight hundred and twelve matchboxes all empty except this one.
JOHN: And whats in that one?
SHERLOCK (looking at the matchbox): The inexplicable.
(He slowly pushes open the matchbox. Whatever is inside glows brightly, illuminating Sherlocks
face. He grins with delight.)
SHERLOCK (rolling his eyes): ... touching cases ...
FLASHBACK. John is standing at the window of 221B looking down into the street.
JOHN: Shes going to ring the doorbell.
(Hes looking at a young woman who is hovering outside Speedys and looking towards 221s
front door. She stops and then turns around.)
JOHN: Oh, no. Shes changed her mind.
(The woman walks away a few paces, then stops and turns around again.)
JOHN: No, shes gonna do it ... No, shes leaving. Shes leaving. ... Oh, shes coming back.
(Sherlock is sprawled in his chair with his head raised towards the ceiling. His eyes are closed.)
SHERLOCK: Shes a client. Shes boring. Ive seen those symptoms before.
JOHN: Hmm?
SHERLOCK: Oscillation on the pavement always means theres a love affair.
SHERLOCK: ... and of course I have to mention the elephant in the room.
FLASHBACK. The boys stand in the doorway of what looks like a fairly ordinary room
somewhere. They stare up wide-eyed at what they can see inside. Sherlock opens his mouth.
Offscreen, an elephant trumpets loudly. Sherlock closes his mouth again.
SHERLOCK: But we want something ... very particular for this special day, dont we?
(He looks down at his phone, then raises his eyes again.)
SHERLOCK: The Bloody Guardsman.
FLASHBACK. Johns blog entry entitled The Bloody Guardsman drifts across the screen for a
moment, then fades to a view of Sherlock standing in the living room of 221B looking at his
information wall behind the sofa. He turns to where Mary is sitting at the dining table and John
is sitting in his armchair and looking at his phone.
SHERLOCK: Need to work on your half of the church, Mary. Looking a bit thin.
MARY (smiling): Ah, orphans lot. Friends thats all I have. Lots of friends.
(We get a glimpse of the paperwork on the wall and realise that Sherlock is organising the hell
out of the wedding. There is a list of things which need to be done, all of them ticked off, and
the wall is divided into areas which are headed, Transport, Catering, Rehearsal, Wine,
and probably other items too. On the table beside Mary is a cardboard 3D model of the
reception venue.)
SHERLOCK: Schedule the organ music to begin at precisely 11.48.
MARY: But the rehearsals not for another two weeks. Just calm down.
SHERLOCK: Calm? I am calm. Im extremely calm.
MARY: Lets get back to the reception, come on.
(He walks over to the table.)
MARY (handing him an RSVP card): Johns cousin. Top table?
SHERLOCK (looking at the card): Hmm. Hates you. Cant even bear to think about you.
MARY (looking up at him): Seriously?
SHERLOCK: Second class post, cheap card ... (he sniffs it and grimaces) ... bought at a petrol
station. Look at the stamp: three attempts at licking. Shes obviously unconsciously retaining
saliva.
MARY: Ah. (Over her shoulder to John) Lets stick her by the bogs.
[Transcribers note: bogs is a slang word for toilets.]

339
SHERLOCK: Oh yes.
(He sits down. Mary leans closer to him.)
MARY: Who else hates me?
(Instantly Sherlock hands her a sheet of paper. Theres a long list of names on it.)
MARY: Oh great thanks(!)
JOHN (looking at his phone): Priceless painting nicked. Looks interesting.
MARY (looking at paperwork on the table): Table four ...
SHERLOCK: Done.
JOHN (chuckling at something on his screen): My husband is three people.
MARY: Table five.
SHERLOCK (looking at a list): Major James Sholto. Who he?
MARY: Oh, Johns old commanding officer. I dont think hes coming.
JOHN: Hell be there.
MARY: Well, he needs to RSVP, then.
JOHN (firmly): Hell be there.
MARY: Mmm ...
JOHN (reading from his phone): My husband is three people. Its interesting. Says he has
three distinct patterns of moles on his skin.
SHERLOCK (standing up and speaking quick fire): Identical triplets one in half a million births.
Solved it without leaving the flat. Now, serviettes.
(He squats down beside the coffee table, reaches under it and pulls out a tray with two
serviettes folded into different shapes. He gestures to them as he looks up at Mary.)
SHERLOCK: Swan, or Sydney Opera House?
MARY: Whered you learn to do that?!
SHERLOCK (looking down): Many unexpected skills required in the field of criminal investigation
...
MARY: Fibbing, Sherlock.
SHERLOCK: I once broke an alibi by demonstrating the exact severity of ...
MARY: Im not John. I can tell when youre fibbing.
SHERLOCK (exasperated): Okay I learned it on YouTube.
MARY: Opera House, please.
(She leans to one side and reaches into her trouser pocket.)
MARY: Ooh, hang on. Im buzzing.
(She takes out her phone and lifts it to her ear.)
MARY: Hello?
(She listens for a second, then stands up.)
MARY: Oh, hi, Beth!
(Johns eyes lift from his phone as Mary heads for the kitchen.)
MARY (into phone): Yeah, yeah, dont see why not.
JOHN (standing up and looking at Sherlock): Actually, if thats Beth, its probably for me too.
Hang on.
(He heads for the kitchen, while Sherlock sits down on the floor cross-legged and facing the
coffee table.
In the kitchen, John smiles at Mary as he walks closer to her. They talk quietly.)
JOHN: He knows we dont have a friend called Beth. Hes gonna figure out that its code.
MARY: Hes YouTube-ing serviettes.
JOHN: Hes thorough.
MARY: Hes terrified.
JOHN: Course hes not.
MARY: Right, you know when youre scared of something, you start wishing it sooner just to get
it all going? Thats what hes doing.
JOHN: Why would he be scared that were getting married? Its not gonna change anything
well still do stuff.
MARY: Well, you need to prove it to him. I told you to find him a new case.
JOHN: Im trying.
MARY: You need to run him, okay? Show him its still the good old days.
(She nods encouragingly to him. He doesnt immediately respond, and she nods again and
gestures towards the living room. He looks around, then turns and slowly starts towards the
door between the kitchen and the living room. Mary puts her hands on his back and shoves him
forward.

340
Sherlock is still sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, his head propped up
on one hand. He briefly looks round at John, then turns back and gestures at whats in front of
him. There are at least seven serviettes folded in Sydney Opera House shapes on the table, and
sixteen or so more on the floor.)
SHERLOCK: That just sort of ... happened.
(He looks round at John again, who frowns but then smiles. Glancing back into the kitchen for a
moment, he walks towards his friend.)
JOHN: Sherlock, um ...
(Sherlock stands up.)
JOHN: ... mate ...
(Again he frowns briefly, perhaps wondering if he is overdoing it.)
JOHN: I-Ive ...
(He walks over to the dining table. Sherlock glances towards the kitchen where Mary can be
heard talking as if shes on a phone call, then they both sit down at the table.)
JOHN: Ive smelled eighteen different perfumes; Ive sampled ... (he stops to think) ... nine
different slices of cake which all tasted identical; I like the bridesmaids in purple ...
SHERLOCK: Lilac.
JOHN: ... lilac. Um, there are no more decisions left to make. I dont even understand the
decisions that we have made. Im faking opinions and its exhausting, so please, before she
comes back ...
(He glances towards the kitchen, activates his phone, clears his throat and holds the phone
across the table. The screen is showing Sherlocks Science of Deduction website.)
JOHN: ... pick something.
(Sherlocks eyes flicker down to the screen a couple of times.)
JOHN: Anything. Pick one.
SHERLOCK: Pick what?
(John blinks a few times and then laughs.)
JOHN: A case. Your Inbox is bursting. Just ... get me out of here.
SHERLOCK (leaning closer and speaking quietly): You want to go out on a case? N-now?
JOHN: Please, Sherlock, for me.
(Sherlock takes the phone.)
SHERLOCK (quietly): Dont you worry about a thing. Ill get you out of this.
(He starts to flick through messages on his website. After only a few seconds he finds
something of interest.)
SHERLOCK: Oh.
[Transcribers note for the following scenes: my knowledge of military terminology is extremely
limited. I have googled the heck out of certain terms in the hope of getting them right but am
not confident that I am using the correct words all the time. Im happy to take corrections from
people with expertise.
Click here for information about Her Majestys Foot Guards, which also indicates that Sherlock is
incorrect in referring to his new client as a Grenadier. While I wouldnt necessarily expect him
to have the knowledge of how to distinguish between the different Guards, I would have
expected the writers to do their homework.]
In a military barracks inside a grand building, two members of The Queens Foot Guards
wearing full dress uniform and carrying their tall fur bearskin caps walk up the stairs. The voice
of one of them narrates his message to Sherlock.
BAINBRIDGE (voiceover): Dear Mr Holmes, My name is Bainbridge. Im a Private in Her
Majestys Household Guard. Im writing to you about a personal matter ...
(Outside Wellington Barracks in London, Bainbridge is one of two men standing on duty outside
the gates in the full uniform of the Welsh Guards [not the Grenadier Guards]. A Japanese tourist
stands beside him posing with her thumbs up while her male friend takes photographs.)
BAINBRIDGE (voiceover): ... one I dont care to bring before my superiors it would sound so
trivial but I think someones stalking me.
(Over the other side of the road, three tourists are taking photos of the view. Bainbridge with
his gaze fixed ahead of him as he must do while on duty has a clear view of them.)
BAINBRIDGE (voiceover): Im used to tourists its part of the job but this is different.
Someones watching me.

341
(The tourists over the road walk away. Standing behind them is a man with the hood of his
jacket pulled up and obscuring the view of his face. He seems to be looking directly at
Bainbridge but as soon as the tourists are no longer blocking him, he turns and walks away.)
BAINBRIDGE (voiceover): Hes taking pictures of me every day.
(Inside the barracks, Bainbridge walks across what may be his bedroom or dorm room, which
overlooks the parade ground. He is bare chested. He idly looks out of the window and sees the
usual group of tourists outside the gates but his attention is immediately drawn to a man
wearing an overcoat and with a cap on his head. The man is standing close to the fence and is
initially aiming his camera in a different direction, but he then swings the camera across and up
to point at Bainbridge in the window.)
BAINBRIDGE (voiceover): Dont want to mention it to the major, but its really preying on my
mind.
(The man snaps a couple of photographs, then hurries away.)
SHERLOCK (still looking at Johns phone in 221B): Uniform fetishist. All the nice girls like a
soldier.
JOHN: Its sailor.
[Click here for the lyrics of the song to which the boys are referring.]
JOHN: And Bainbridge thinks his stalker is a bloke.
(Sherlock looks at the phone again, perhaps reading more of Bainbridges email.)
JOHN: Lets go and investigate. Please?
SHERLOCK (reading): Elite Guard.
JOHN: Forty enlisted men and officers.
SHERLOCK: Why this particular Grenadier? Curious.
JOHN: Now youre talking.
SHERLOCK (handing his phone back): Okay.
(They stand up and walk towards the doors just as Mary comes back into the room with her
phone at her ear.)
MARY (into phone): Bye.
JOHN: Er, were just going to ... I need, um, Sherlock to help me choose some, er, socks.
SHERLOCK (simultaneously): ... ties.
MARY (looking from one to the other): Why dont we go with socks?
JOHN: Yeah.
MARY: I mean, youve got to get the right ones.
JOHN: Exactly to go with my ...
SHERLOCK: ... tie.
JOHN (simultaneously): ... outfit.
MARY (looking at John): Thatll take a while, right?
(John points towards the kitchen.)
JOHN: My coat in there?
MARY: Yes!
(He walks into the kitchen and Mary and Sherlock walk closer together.)
SHERLOCK (quietly): Just going to take him out for a bit run him.
MARY: I know.
(Sherlock smiles at her.)
MARY (gesturing happily towards him): You said youd find him a case!
SHERLOCK: Mm.
JOHN (from the kitchen doorway): Come on, Sherlock.
SHERLOCK: Coming.
(He turns and goes to the living room door, then turns back to face Mary. Unseen by each
other, Sherlock does a double thumbs-up at her and gives her a only you and I know about
what were doing here grin, while from the kitchen John circles his thumb and forefinger at her
and winks much the same message. She holds up her thumbs to both of them and grins widely.
The boys both turn and head for the stairs. Going out of the front door, Sherlock finishes
putting his coat on and calls out to an approaching cab.)
SHERLOCK: Taxi!
There are a few interspersed scenes of a group of Guards marching back to the barracks, and
Sherlock and John making their way to the barracks themselves. The Guards arrive back and
are in the parade ground marching into position preparing to be dismissed.
PARADE SERGEANT: Company, halt! ... Right turn!

342
(Our boys are at the entrance to the barracks. John has given his wallet containing his military
ID card to the duty sergeant.)
JOHN: Were here to see Private Stephen Bainbridge.
DUTY SERGEANT: Hes on duty right now, sir ... (he hands the wallet back) ... but Ill certainly
let him know when hes free.
SHERLOCK: And when will that be?
DUTY SERGEANT: Another hour.
Bainbridge, with another Foot Guard, is on duty outside the gates of the barracks. He stands
fixed in position and tourists take photographs. Over the other side of the road and a few yards
back from the pavement, Sherlock and John are sitting on a bench in the park looking towards
the gates.
SHERLOCK: Do you think they give them classes?
JOHN: Classes?
SHERLOCK: How to resist the temptation to scratch their behinds?
JOHN: Afferent neurons in the peripheral nervous system.
(Sherlock turns his head slightly in Johns direction.)
JOHN: Bum itch.
SHERLOCK: Oh!
(They sit in silence for a few seconds.)
SHERLOCK: So why dont you see him any more?
JOHN: Who?
SHERLOCK: Your previous commander, Sholto.
JOHN: Previous commander.
SHERLOCK (briefly closing his eyes awkwardly): I meant ex.
JOHN: Previous suggests that I currently have a commander.
SHERLOCK: Which you dont.
JOHN: Which I dont.
SHERLOCK (with a small smile): Course you dont. He was decorated, wasnt he? A war hero.
JOHN: Not to everyone. He led a team of crows into battle.
SHERLOCK: Crows?
JOHN: New recruits. Its standard procedure; break the new boys in but it went wrong. They
all died; he was the only survivor. The press and the families gave him hell. He gets more death
threats than you.
SHERLOCK: Oh, I wouldnt count on that.
JOHN: Why have you suddenly taken an interest in another human being?
SHERLOCK: Im ... chatting.
(John raises his eyebrows and looks round at him. Sherlock half-turns his head and looks at him
out of the corner of his eye.)
SHERLOCK (turning his head back to the front): Wont be trying that again.
JOHN: Changing the subject completely ... (he pulls in a breath through his nose, then looks at
Sherlock again) ... you know it wont alter anything, right, me and Mary, getting married? Well
still be doing all this.
SHERLOCK: Oh, good.
JOHN: If you were worrying.
SHERLOCK: Wasnt worried.
(John looks down and chuckles thoughtfully.)
JOHN: See, the thing about Mary she has completely turned my life around; changed
everything. But, for the record, over the last few years there are two people who have done
that ... and the other one is ...
(He looks round. Sherlock is no longer sitting at his side.)
JOHN: ... a complete dickhead.
(He looks all around the park but there is no sign of said dickhead.)
Inside the barracks, the duty sergeant sits at his desk looking through paperwork. Through the
window behind him, three pairs of Guards march past, only the upper part of their bodies and
their bearskins visible. A seventh bearskin-wearing person marches behind them ... except that
this one is wearing a highly non-regulation Belstaff coat.
Outside, Sherlock marches along behind the others, smartly swinging his arms, then he stops,
takes off the bearskin and puts it down on a nearby ledge. Using the window above the ledge as

343
a mirror, he ruffles his flattened hair back into position, then heads off across the parade
ground.
Inside the barracks, he walks across the entrance hall towards one of two flights of stairs. Two
Guards wearing standard khaki army attire walk down the other flight and Sherlock turns his
head away from them and apparently instantly becomes invisible, because they take no notice
of him. He trots up the stairs, employing the Im invisible if I dont look at you trick again
partway up when two more soldiers walk across the landing, then he goes up onto the landing.
Several voices can be heard talking and laughing from a nearby room, and he walks across and
opens the door. Inside is a rec room where many soldiers are sitting and chatting. Two are
playing table tennis and others are watching them. Sherlock must have gone into invisibility
mode again, because nobody looks at him or reacts in any way. He closes the door again and
moves on.
Outside the barracks, a new Guard has come to relieve Bainbridge. He marches over, turns to
stand at Bainbridges side and shuffles sideways until their shoulders touch. Bainbridge marches
forward a few paces, then turns and marches into the barracks.
Inside, now holding his bearskin under his arm, he walks up the stairs. His face appears to be
rather sweaty. He walks into the shower room, puts the bearskin down and undoes his white
webbing belt, grimacing a little. Putting the belt down, he starts to unbutton his jacket.
In an office nearby, an officer called Major Reed is sitting behind his desk and looking at Johns
military ID card. He looks up at John who is sitting opposite him.
REED: Can I ask what this is in connection with?
JOHN: Private Bainbridge contacted us about a personal matter, sir.
REED: Nothings personal when it concerns my troops. What do you really want?
JOHN: Im here on a legitimate enquiry.
REED: Press? Digging for some bloody Royal story or something?
JOHN (pointing at his ID card): No, sir, Im Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland
Fusiliers.
REED: Retired. You could be a used car salesman now, for all I know.
The duty sergeant walks into the shower room. One of the showers is running and steam billows
across the floor.
DUTY SERGEANT: Bainbridge! Gentleman here to see you!
(He walks across towards the cubicle.)
DUTY SERGEANT: Bainbridge!
(He raps on the closed door of the cubicle, then looks down. Through the almost-opaque door,
Bainbridge can be seen slumped on the floor with his back against the door, and bloodstained
water is pouring out of the cubicle.)
REEDS OFFICE. Major Reed looks closely at John.

REED: I know you, dont I?
JOHN: Hmm?
(Reed tosses Johns card across the table. John picks it up and puts it back into his wallet.)
REED: Ive seen you in the papers.
(John clears his throat uncomfortably.)
REED: Hang around with that detective the one with the silly hat. What the hell does
Bainbridge want with a detective?
JOHN: Im afraid Im not at liberty to say.
REED: Youre not at liberty to say?! Hes a soldier in my regiment Ill be damned if hes going
to get up to cloak and dagger nonsense like this.
(The duty sergeant hurries into the room.)
DUTY SERGEANT: Sir ...
(He stops when he realises that Reed isnt alone in the room.)
DUTY SERGEANT: Sir.
REED: Whats going on?
DUTY SERGEANT: Its Bainbridge, sir. Hes dead.
(Looking horrified, Reed gets up and follows the sergeant out of the room. John hurries after
them.)

344
In the shower room, Bainbridge is now lying face down on the floor on top of a great deal of
broken glass. There is a lot of blood on his lower back. The duty sergeant leads the others in,
and Reed hurries over to the body staring at it in shock.
REED: My God!
(Sighing deeply at the sight, John walks towards Bainbridge but Reed holds up a hand to stop
him.)
JOHN: Ah, no, let me take a look, sir. Im a doctor.
REED: What? Sergeant, arrest this man.
(The duty sergeant instantly takes hold of Johns left arm and twists it behind his back.)
JOHN: What? No-no! Im a Im a doctor.
REED: Oh, youre a doctor now, too. Sergeant ...
(He jerks his head towards the door.)
JOHN: Let me examine him, please!
(The sergeant starts to pull John away but just then another sergeant comes in, bundling
Sherlock into the room. He has Sherlocks right arm twisted up behind his back.)
SERGEANT: Sir, caught this one snooping around.
(Reed looks at John.)
REED: Is that what this was all about? Distracting me so that this man could get in here and kill
Bainbridge?
JOHN: Dont be ...
(Sherlock has pulled free of his sergeant and is walking forward to look more closely at the
body. The sergeant follows him, taking hold of his arms and pulling him away again.)
SHERLOCK (to Reed): Kill him with what? Wheres the weapon?
REED: What?
SHERLOCK: Wheres the weapon? Go on, search me. (He holds his arms wide.) No weapon.
JOHN: Bainbridge was on parade. He came off duty five minutes ago. Whens this supposed to
have happened?
REED (to Sherlock): You obviously stabbed him before he got into the shower.
SHERLOCK: No.
REED: No?!
SHERLOCK: Hes soaking wet and theres still shampoo in his hair. He got into the shower and
then someone stabbed him.
DUTY SERGEANT: The cubicle was locked from the inside, sir. I had to break it open.
REED: You must have climbed over the top.
SHERLOCK: Well then Id be soaking wet too, wouldnt I?
JOHN (loudly): Major, please. Im John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. Three years in
Afghanistan, a veteran of Kandahar, Helmand, and Barts bloody Hospital. (Firmly) Let me
examine this body.
(Reed looks down at the body for a long moment, then finally looks at the duty sergeant and
nods sharply. The man releases John.)
JOHN (taking his jacket off): Thank you.
(Walking forward, he puts the jacket onto a bench and then goes over to crouch down beside
Bainbridge. The duty sergeant talks quietly to Sherlock.)
DUTY SERGEANT: Suicide?
SHERLOCK: No. The weapon again no knife.
(He walks to the front of the shower cubicle and bends down to look all around it, then squats
down at Bainbridges head. John is examining Bainbridges lower back.)
JOHN: Hmm. There is a wound to the abdomen incredibly fine.
SHERLOCK: Man stabbed to death. No murder weapon. Door locked from the inside. Only one
way in or out of here.
(John has moved to Bainbridges head and has peeled one of his eyes open.)
JOHN: Sherlock.
SHERLOCK: Mmm?
JOHN: Hes still breathing.
DUTY SERGEANT: Oh my God.
SHERLOCK (to John): What do we do?
JOHN: Give me your scarf.
SHERLOCK: What?
JOHN: Quickly, now.
(While Sherlock unwraps his scarf from his neck, John looks up at Reed and the others.)
JOHN: Call an ambulance.

345
SERGEANT: What?
JOHN (loudly): Call an ambulance now.
(He points towards the door. Still the men hesitate.)
JOHN (firmly): Do it!
(Both of the sergeants turn and hurry from the room. John has pressed the scarf against the
wound in Bainbridges back and now he takes Sherlocks hand and puts it on top of the scarf,
positioning his fingers where he wants them.)
JOHN: Nurse, press here hard.
SHERLOCK (wrinkling his nose in distaste): Nurse?
JOHN: Yeah, Im making do. Keep pressure on that wound.
(Sherlock leans closer so that he can press harder. John moves to Bainbridges head.)
JOHN: Stephen. Stephen, stay with me.
RECEPTION.
SHERLOCK: Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. Hed stood there for hours, plenty
of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly
dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon. Where did it go? Ladies and
gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that
can vanish but in all of this there is only one element which can be said to be truly
remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?
(The guests fidget and look at each other.)
SHERLOCK: Come on, come on, there is actually an element of Q and A to all of this.
(He clears his throat. Still the guests remain silent.)
SHERLOCK: Scotland Yard.
(Greg lifts his head.)
SHERLOCK: Have you got a theory?
(Greg stares at him blankly.)
SHERLOCK: Yeah, you. Youre a detective broadly speaking. Got a theory?
LESTRADE: Er, um, if the, uh, if the, if-if-if, if the blade was, er, propelled through the, um ...
(he stops to think for a moment) ... grating in the air vent ... maybe a-a ballista or a or a or
a catapult. Erm, somebody tiny could-could crawl in there. (He sucks in a breath.) So, yeah,
were loo... were looking for a-a-a-a dwarf.
(Sherlock is staring at him blankly.)
SHERLOCK: Brilliant.
LESTRADE: Really?
SHERLOCK (instantly): No.
(Greg sighs and lowers his head.)
SHERLOCK: Next!
TOM (whispering to Molly): He stabbed himself.
SHERLOCK: Hello? Who was that?
(Tom looks round, wide-eyed.)
SHERLOCK: Tom.
(Grimacing, Tom slowly stands up.)
SHERLOCK: Got a theory?
(Tom sways nervously from foot to foot for a moment.)
TOM (slowly, tentatively): Um ... attempted suicide, with a blade made of compacted blood and
bone; broke after piercing his abdomen ... like a meat ... dagger.
(A couple of the guests snigger. Sitting beside Tom, Mollys face is a picture of disbelief. She
may be reconsidering her marriage options. At the top table, Sherlocks expression also speaks
volumes.)
SHERLOCK (speaking precisely): A meat dagger.
TOM (awkwardly): Yes.
MOLLY (whispering through gritted teeth): Sit. Down.
SHERLOCK (to Tom, speaking precisely): No.
(Tom sits down.)
SHERLOCK (to the guests): There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the
whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual. John Watson who, while I was
trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life.
(Mary quietly laughs in delight, and John smiles.)
SHERLOCK: There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth telling.
(He looks down at John.)

346
SHERLOCK: The best and bravest man I know and on top of that he actually knows how to do
stuff.
(John lowers his head and chuckles with embarrassment.)
SHERLOCK: ... except wedding planning and serviettes hes rubbish at those.
JOHN: True!
(The guests laugh.)
SHERLOCK: The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly-planned murder or
attempted murder Ive ever had the pleasure to encounter; the most perfect locked-room
mystery of which I am aware. However, Im not just here to praise John Im also here to
embarrass him, so lets move on to some ...
LESTRADE (interrupting): No-no, wait, so how was it ... how was it done?
SHERLOCK: How was what done?
LESTRADE: The stabbing.
(Sherlock looks down awkwardly for a few moments, then raises his head.)
SHERLOCK: Im afraid I dont know. I didnt solve that one. Thats ... (he pauses) ... It can
happen sometimes. Its very ... very disappointing.
(He looks reflective for a second, then takes a breath and looks out to the guests again.)
SHERLOCK: Embarrassment leads me on to the stag night. Of course theres hours of material
here, but Ive cut it down to the really good bits.
FLASHBACK. An entry from Johns blog entitled The Mayfly Man drifts across the screen. It
starts, Wed just returned from a quiet, civilised evening in the pub ... The entry fades from
view and were in Mollys lab at Barts.
MOLLY: Murder scenes?
(She turns and looks at Sherlock standing beside her.)
MOLLY: Locations of ... murders?
SHERLOCK: Mmmm, pub crawl themed.
MOLLY: Yeah, but why-why cant you just do Underground stations?
SHERLOCK (wrinkling his nose in distaste): Lacks the personal touch. Were going to go for a
drink in every street where we ...
MOLLY (joining in, then finishing his sentence for him): ... every street where you found a
corpse! Delightful(!) Where do I come in?
SHERLOCK: Dont want to get ill. That would ruin it spoil the mood.
MOLLY: Youre a graduate chemist. Cant you just work it out?
SHERLOCK: I lack the practical experience.
(He smiles at her. She looks at him straight-faced and her voice drops half an octave.)
MOLLY: Meaning you think I like a drink.
SHERLOCK: Occasionally.
MOLLY: That Im a drunk.
SHERLOCK (quickly): No. No!
(She sternly holds his gaze. He looks away, blinking for a couple of seconds, then finally finds
something to say.)
SHERLOCK: You look ... well.
MOLLY (smiling slightly): I am.
SHERLOCK: Hows ...
(He looks to the side, clearly searching his brain for the name before finally finding one which
he doesnt seem totally confident of, because he offers it very tentatively.)
SHERLOCK: ... Tom?
MOLLY: Not a sociopath.
SHERLOCK: Still? Good.
MOLLY (smiling at him): And were having quite a lot of sex.
(Sherlock offlines momentarily, his eyes flickering between her and mid-air before he can move
on.)
SHERLOCK: Okay.
(He takes a large folder full of papers from his coat and puts it on the table.)
SHERLOCK: I want you to calculate Johns ideal intake, and mine, to remain in the sweet spot
the whole evening.
(The folder appears to be full of his and Johns medical records and other personal
documentation. Molly looks at what seems to be a birth certificate.)
SHERLOCK: Light-headed, good ...

347
(He hands her a picture of Vitruvian Man [click for image] with a photograph of Johns head
stuck over the original head.)
MOLLY: Urinating in wardrobes, bad.
SHERLOCK: Hmm.
PUB. Sherlock stands at the bar and looks at the barman.

SHERLOCK: Two, er ... beers, please.
BARMAN: Pints?
(Sherlock takes two tall and slender glass graduated cylinders from his coat pockets and puts
them onto the bar. [Thanks to opaljade for the correct terminology.])
SHERLOCK: Four hundred and forty-three point seven millilitres.
(Shortly afterwards he takes the cylinders, now almost full of beer, over to the nearby bench
where John is standing and puts them onto the table.)
JOHN: Ah...
(He looks at them in disbelief, then sighs heavily while Sherlock takes out his phone, selects an
app and puts it onto the bench. The phones stopwatch starts up.)
JOHN (picking up his cylinder): What, are we on a schedule?
SHERLOCK: Youll thank me.
(Smiling, he clinks his own cylinder against Johns and they drink.)
NEXT PUB. Sitting at a table in a bar, the boys clink their cylinders together and drink.
NEXT PUB. Standing at the bar, Sherlock drains his cylinder, grins widely, then delicately wipes
his lip. He seems to be feeling the beer a little. John looks down into his own cylinder with
perhaps a disappointed expression.
NEXT PUB. John takes a long pull on his drink and hums appreciatively, while Sherlock looks
thoughtfully at the level of beer remaining in his own cylinder. They both turn and look down at
Sherlocks phone on the bar, then John puts down his cylinder and Sherlock bends to look at the
level.
NEXT PUB. They clink their cylinders together again.

JOHN: Cheers.
SHERLOCK: Cheers.
(They drink. Sherlock is holding his phone in his other hand, updating their alcohol levels.)
NEXT PUB. Sitting at a table, the boys drain their latest beers, grimace and then put the
cylinders onto the table. This bar has loud music playing. John turns and looks all round the
room. Sherlock points over Johns shoulder.
SHERLOCK: Over there.
JOHN (leaning closer): What?
SHERLOCK: Toilets. Any second now, youre going to ...
JOHN (putting a hand on his arm): Hang on. Tell me after I need the loo. (He gets up.)
SHERLOCK: Mmm, on schedule.
JOHN (turning back): Eh?
SHERLOCK: Nothing go!
(John stumbles off, while Sherlock looks at his phone and pulls up his charts which will measure
urine output against blood alcohol level. He updates the alcohol level chart and finishes it with a
fancy flourish.
A little while later John returns to the table.)
SHERLOCK: How long?
JOHN: Sorry?
SHERLOCK: Your visit.
(John sits down and gives him a quizzical look. Sherlock looks down at his chart.)
SHERLOCK: If you could estimate approximate volume discharged ...
JOHN: Stop talking now.
(He half-winks at him.)
NEXT PUB. John is alone at the bar, and he takes a shot glass full of presumably whiskey
from the barman.
JOHN: Ooh, er ...

348
(He glances over his shoulder to where Sherlock is standing with his back to him.)
JOHN: Quick, one more. He mustnt see.
(He drinks the shot in one gulp, humming appreciatively, then takes the second shot which the
barman has brought him.)
JOHN: Ta.
(The two cylinders are on the bar in front of him, full of beer, and he pours the whiskey into the
left one. He takes both of them across towards Sherlock but then stops and looks at them,
apparently unable to remember which one has the shot in it. Sniffing the left one and
presumably thinking that that one contains only beer, he puts it onto the table.)
JOHN: There you go.
(Sherlock turns and picks it up.)
JOHN: Cheers.
(They drink.)
NEXT PUB. Sherlock is plastered. In the smoking area outside the pub, he is loudly and
drunkenly gesticulating and sounding off to a male customer over the very loud music.
SHERLOCK: I know ash!
(John is sitting at a nearby table, looking fairly legless himself. He covers his face with his
hand.)
SHERLOCK: Dont Tell Me I Dont!
(On each word he pokes the man in the upper chest with one finger, and on the last word he
puts his hand on the mans shoulder and pushes him. Sighing, John looks up as the man swings
a punch at Sherlocks face. Sherlock sways back possibly more by luck than judgement and
avoids it.)
JOHN (jumping up): Oh ...
(Thrown off-balance by his swing, the man stumbles forward and almost falls onto a nearby
table. One of his mates helps him up. John grabs Sherlock from behind and pulls him away
while Sherlock flails wildly towards the man.)
JOHN: All right, enough! Thats ...
(Grunting with the effort and slurring the rest of his words [possibly saying Come on], he
drags Sherlock a few feet away, supporting most of his weight, before propping him onto his
feet.)
JOHN: Stand up straight.
(Sherlock turns round towards him. John points towards the exit to Sherlocks left.)
JOHN: Yeah.
(Sherlock points back towards the customer.)
SHERLOCK (slurring): Ashtray. I know ashtray.
[A million thanks to miss-dramateen for posting this video with the music removed so that the
words finally became clear.]
All is silent. The camera pans slowly down a flight of stairs and reveals the boys lying on the
steps. John is on his back by the wall with his arms folded; Sherlock is on his side facing the
bannisters. Both of them have their eyes closed.
SHERLOCK (slurring): I have an international reputation.
(John briefly opens his eyes, then closes them again and settles his head into a more
comfortable position. Sherlock looks over his shoulder.)
SHERLOCK: Do you have an international reputation?
(He settles his head down and closes his eyes again.)
JOHN: No, I dont have an international reputation.
SHERLOCK: No.
(He pauses for a moment, then turns his head towards John a little but doesnt open his eyes.)
SHERLOCK: And I cant even remember what for.
(He thinks for a second.)
SHERLOCK: Sss... Crime ... something or other.
(He settles his head back down on the stair and grunts quietly. The camera pulls back a little
and we now realise if we hadnt already that the boys are lying near the bottom of their own
staircase in Baker Street. The door to 221A opens and Mrs Hudson comes out with a bag of
rubbish. She stops in surprise at the sight of them.)
MRS HUDSON: Ooh! What are you doing back? I thought you were going to be out late.
SHERLOCK (slurring): Ah, Hudders. What time is it?

349
(Mrs H looks at her watch.)

MRS HUDSON: Youve only been out two hours.
(The boys sit up, trying to stand but too tightly wedged together. Sherlock falls off the step and
thumps on his backside onto the next step down.)
Later, they are upstairs, sitting in their armchairs in the living room, and are playing the Rizla
Game. Rizlas are thin white pieces of paper, with glue along one of the long sides, which are
used to roll up loose tobacco to form a cigarette. I wont bother providing a link to explain the
game itself because youll see how it works here. Sherlock has a Rizla paper stuck to his
forehead. Written on it in Johns handwriting are the words SHERLOCK HOLMES. He looks
blurrily across to John, who has a Rizla stuck to his own forehead which reads, in somewhat
wobbly writing by Sherlock, MADONNA. John peers at him, apparently trying to keep his eyes
open.
JOHN: Am I a vegetable?
(Sherlock, holding a glass of whiskey in one hand, points at him.)
SHERLOCK: You, or the thing?
(They both snigger.)
JOHN: Funny!
(Sherlock looks down.)
SHERLOCK (bashfully): Thank you.
JOHN: Come on.
(Sherlock raises his head again.)
SHERLOCK (slurred): No, youre not a vegetable.
JOHN: Its your go.
(He picks up his own glass and drinks.)
SHERLOCK: Errr ... am I human?
JOHN: Sometimes.
SHERLOCK: Cant have sometimes. Has to be, um ...
(He struggles to pull himself up a little in his chair.)
JOHN: Yes, youre human. (He puts down his glass and slumps back in his seat.)
SHERLOCK (still finishing his previous sentence): ... yes or no. ... Okay.
(He leans woozily forward, bracing his upper arms on his legs.)
SHERLOCK: And am I a man?
JOHN: Yep.
SHERLOCK: Tall?
(John holds his hands wide.)
JOHN: Not as tall as people think.
SHERLOCK: Hmm. Nice?
JOHN: Ish.
SHERLOCK: Clever?
JOHN: Id say so.
SHERLOCK: You would?
(John chuckles.)
SHERLOCK: Mmm, am I important?
JOHN: To s-some people.
SHERLOCK: Do people ... (he makes vague air-quotes around the word) ... like me?
JOHN (reaching for his glass but not picking it up): Er, no, they dont. You tend to rub em up
the wrong way.
SHERLOCK: Okay.
(John sniggers. Sherlock slumps back in his chair and then leans forward again.)
SHERLOCK: Am I the current King of England?
JOHN: Are you ...? (He cackles with laughter.) You know we dont have a king?
SHERLOCK: Dont we?
JOHN: No. (He chuckles again briefly.)
SHERLOCK (sitting back): Your go.
(He drinks from his glass. Unfolding his legs, John shifts forward until he is sitting right on the
edge of his seat. He instantly starts to slide off and reaches out to brace himself with one hand
on Sherlocks right knee. He pushes himself back a little, then he and Sherlock look down at his
hand. John pulls it away and holds both his hands out, shrugging.)
JOHN: I dont mind.

350
(Sherlock raises his fingers around his glass and shrugs to indicate that hes not bothered
either.)
JOHN: Am I a woman?
(Sherlock looks at him for a second, then snorts laughter. He chuckles for a few moments.)
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: Yes.
(Again he tries to straighten himself up on the chair.)
JOHN: Am I ... pretty? (He points up to his Rizla.) This.
(He props his head up on one fist.)
SHERLOCK: Err ... Er, beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences
and role models.
JOHN: Yeah, but am I a pretty lady?
(He blinks owlishly at Sherlock, who leans forward and screws up his eyes to peer at the Rizla.)
SHERLOCK: I dont know who you are. I dont know who youre supposed to be.
JOHN: You picked the name!
SHERLOCK (flailing a hand towards another part of the room): Ah, but I picked it at random
from the papers.
JOHN (slumping back in his seat): Youre not really getting the hang of this game, are you,
Sherlock?
SHERLOCK (raising his eyes towards his own Rizla): So I am human, Im not as tall as people
think I am ...
(He sits back in the chair.)
SHERLOCK: Im-Im nice-ish ...
(John stretches out his socked feet and props them against the front of Sherlocks chair next to
his friends legs.)
SHERLOCK: ... clever, important to some people, but I tend to rub them up the wrong way.
(He laughs with delight.)
SHERLOCK: Got it.
JOHN: Go on, then.
SHERLOCK: Im you, arent I?
(Mrs Hudson knocks on the open door.)
(The boys look round at her. She is standing in the doorway with a young woman who is
wearing a nurses outfit with a cardigan over it.)
MRS HUDSON: Client!
JOHN: Hallo.
SHERLOCK (waving at the woman): Hallo!
(Mrs Hudson turns to go back down the stairs.)
JOHN (gesturing the woman into the room): Come on.
TESSA: Which one of you is Sherlock Holmes?
(Smiling broadly at her, John raises his hand and whistling a single rising note through his
teeth in time with his hand movement slowly points up towards the words on Sherlocks Rizla.
Sherlock grins widely at her.)
Shortly afterwards, the boys have removed the papers from their heads and have relocated to
sit side by side on the sofa. Tessa sits on a dining chair facing them.
TESSA (hesitantly): I dont ... a lot ... I mean, I dont ... date all that much ...
(Sherlock sinks back on the sofa and props his head up on his left hand.)
TESSA: ... and ... he seemed ... nice, you know?
(John smiles at her, then blinks slowly, trying to keep his eyes open.)
TESSA: We seemed to automatically connect. We had one night dinner, such interesting
conversation. It was ... lovely.
(John smiles again and glances briefly towards Sherlock.)
TESSA: To be honest, Id love to have gone further ...
(Sherlocks eyes drift closed. He forces them open and shakes his head, sitting up and
withdrawing his right hand from where he had draped it along the back of the sofa behind John.
Your transcriber wibbles and realises that that was probably why John smiled towards him a few
seconds ago.)
TESSA: ... but I thought, No, this is special. Lets take it slowly ...
(Sherlock leans forward, braces his elbows on his legs and folds his hands in front of his mouth.
John shifts his own position.)

351
TESSA: ... exchange numbers.

(Sherlocks eyes drift closed.)
TESSA: He said hed get in touch and then ...
(She looks down sadly.)
TESSA: Maybe he wasnt quite as keen as I was ...
(John is practically asleep with his eyes open but he shrugs vaguely at her.)
TESSA: ... but I I just thought ... (she becomes tearful) ... at least hed call to say that we
were finished.
(She lifts a hand to wipe a tear from her eye. Sherlocks face fills with sympathy and sadness
for her. She falls silent and Sherlock looks away, his face still full of sympathetic pain ... then he
frowns as if wondering where the hell that emotion came from.)
TESSA (pulling herself together): I went round there, to his flat.
(Sherlock has also recovered and props his chin on his clasped hands.)
TESSA: No trace of him. Mr Holmes ...
(Sherlock smiles cheesily at her, his eyes starting to close at the same time.)
TESSA (gazing down at the floor beside the sofa): ... I honestly think I had dinner ... with a
ghost.
(She turns her head and looks at Sherlock. The camera is behind him and John and we cant
see their faces. Neither of the boys reacts to what she just said, but a slight grunt comes from
Sherlock, followed by a noisy but brief exhale.)
TESSA: Mr Holmes?
(The camera angle changes and we see that both Sherlock and John have their eyes closed.
Sherlock snores gently and Johns head drops lower and he grunts quietly.)
TESSA (loudly): With a ghost, Mr Holmes!
(Sherlocks head falls off his hands and he almost tumbles off the sofa.)
SHERLOCK (forcing himself back upright): Boring, boring, boring no!
(John draws in a noisy breath and rolls his head on his neck.)
SHERLOCK: Fascinating!
(He turns round to John.)
SHERLOCK: John John! Wake up!
(He shakes Johns leg. John opens his eyes and flails at him. Sherlock turns to Tessa.)
SHERLOCK (slurred): Apologies about my ... (he points towards John) ... you know ... thing.
(He pulls in a breath, clears his throat, then turns to John and points at him.)
SHERLOCK (sternly): Rude. Rude!
(He turns back to Tessa.)
TESSA: I checked with the landlord, and the man who lived there died. Heart attack. And there
we are, having dinner one week on.
(She picks up her handbag from the floor and rummages in it.)
TESSA: And I found this thing online, sort of chatroom thing ...
(She takes out a printout and gives it to Sherlock.)
TESSA: ... for girls who think theyre dating men from the spirit world.
(John has fallen asleep again but Sherlock stands up and then wobbles a little unsteadily.)
SHERLOCK: Dont worry. Ill find him in ten minutes.
(Tessa smiles with delight.)
SHERLOCK: Whats your dogs name?
JOHN (blurrily, talking in his sleep): Yeah, Im there if you want it.
[People tend to speak the truth in their sleep. This statement is therefore now canon. *nods*]
SHERLOCK: John! Wake up!
(He reaches down and shoves Johns shoulder. John almost falls over sideways.)
SHERLOCK: Were meant to ... (he clicks his fingers) ... The games ... (he waves a hand
vaguely) ... something.
(He stumbles away. Johns eyes drift upwards as he applies all his mental skills to the problem
and then points at Sherlock.)
JOHN: ... on.
(Tessa gasps excitedly. Sherlock staggers over and points down at him.)
SHERLOCK: Yeah, that, that!
(He turns and wanders off again.)
TESSA (standing up): Okay!
(John slowly pushes himself to his feet.)

352
LATER. In a living room elsewhere, Sherlock wobbles unsteadily in front of a large clear glass
plate on a stand. The boys are in what looks like a warehouse conversion. Its a large apartment
with bare brick walls and a very high ceiling. The room is decorated with several pieces of
modern furniture and art. Sherlock grins drunkenly at the glass plate, then straightens up a bit
and looks around the room. He is currently kneeling on the sofa with his arms braced on its
back. John stands nearby, leaning against a supporting pillar in the middle of the room.
JOHN: Ohhh, its nice!
(Sherlock stands up off the sofa, then promptly falls back onto it. John turns a little and braces
his hand against the supporting pillar. Tessa is standing nearby, together with the landlord who
is holding a set of keys and looking at the boys in confusion.)
JOHN: Nice place.
(The landlord sighs and crosses his arms. Sherlock gets up and totters around the living room.)
TESSA: See anything?
SHERLOCK: Hmm?
TESSA: Any clues, Mr Holmes?
(John has now braced his back against the pillar and has closed his eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, errrrrr ...
(He looks blurrily down at the fancy coffee table and starts deducing:
designer
table
art?
He looks across to an armchair:
chair
seat
leather
sleeeeep
Moving on to a fancy-looking speaker:
thing
speaker
hi tech
thing
His eyes drift on to a painted animal skull on a stand ...
? death ?
skull
? deaded ?
... and then to a tall slender ornament on the window sill ...
wood ?
? pipe/tube/wotsit
thingamebob?
?
... and to a pale green egg chair ...
egg ?
chair??
sitty thing?
???????????

353
Still umming vaguely, he wanders over to the chair and looks more closely at it, then twirls
around and his eyes settle in a rather unfocused way on Tessa and he deduces her:
nurse
?? client ?
victim ??
cardigan
Scratching his head, he suddenly looks inspired. He grins at Tessa.)

SHERLOCK (slurred): Im just gonna whip this out.
(He puts his hand into his coat pocket, then stumbles in circles across the room while he tugs at
whatever hes trying to pull out. Eventually he manages to extract his pouch of equipment from
the pocket, simultaneously shaking off his coat and dropping it to the floor. He blinks at the
pouch, then unrolls it and takes out his magnifier. Tossing the pouch over his shoulder, he holds
the magnifier up to show the others.)
SHERLOCK: Mm-hmm?
(He clicks it open. The landlord sighs again while Tessa smiles awkwardly. John is still half-
asleep leaning against the pillar. Sherlock drops to his knees on a white rug, braces himself with
his left hand and slowly wobbles forward onto his right elbow. Tessa turns to John and gently
pushes him upright from the pillar.)
TESSA (smiling at him): You all right?
JOHN (vaguely): Hmm? Yeah. Hes clueing.
TESSA: What?
JOHN: Hes ... hmm? Hes clueing for looks.
(They look down at Sherlock, who has brought his face down to within about four inches of the
rug. He is holding his magnifier to his eye and looking through it, then his eyes drift closed and
he slowly topples forward and face-plants onto the rug.)
TESSA: Mr Holmes?
(Sherlock doesnt respond, still on his knees with his bum stuck up in the air. He snores noisily.
Tessa looks nervously at the landlord and steps forward towards Sherlock.)
TESSA (louder): Mr Holmes?!
LANDLORD: Im calling the police.
TESSA: Oh, no ...
(The landlord walks across to the rug and hauls Sherlock up onto his knees.)
SHERLOCK (flailing and indignant): Whoa, whoa, whoa!
(The landlord steps back as John holds out a warning hand to him.)
TESSA: This is a famous detective. Its Sherlock Holmes and his partner, John Hamish Watson.
(John steps towards the landlord, attempting and utterly failing to look threatening.)
SHERLOCK (indignantly): What dyou think youre doing? Dont compromise the integrity of the
...
(He turns round, bends over and throws up on the rug. The landlord closes his eyes, and Tessa
puts her hand across her mouth. Johns eyes drift upwards as he goes into full thinking mode
again. Eventually he finds the words he needs to finish Sherlocks sentence for him.)
JOHN (loudly): ... crime scene!
(He grins triumphantly at Tessa and holds up his right palm for her to high-five. She doesnt
take up the offer. Eventually he lowers his hand again, shaking his head. Sherlock coughs and
straightens up onto his knees again. He gestures towards John with the magnifier.)
SHERLOCK: Yeah, that.
(Looking up at the others, he holds up the magnifier and delicately clicks it closed, then wipes
the vomit off his mouth.)
Close-up of Johns face. He is in a bright room somewhere. His heartbeat can be heard, and his
gentle exhale sounds very loud. His eyes move behind his closed lids with a rasping sound. He
screws up his eyes a couple of times, the movements making squelchy sounds, then he opens
his eyes and blinks with a loud click. A door opens nearby and now we see that John is sitting
on the floor of a white-tiled room with his back against the wall. He grimaces at the sound of
the door.
LESTRADE (cheerfully, offscreen): Wakey-wakey!
JOHN (still grimacing): Oh my God.

354
(He peers towards the door and now we see that beside him, Sherlock is flat out on his back
and fast asleep on the bench of a police holding cell.)
JOHN: Greg. Is that Greg?
LESTRADE: Get up. Im gonna put you two in a taxi. Managed to square things with the desk
sergeant.
(John painfully climbs to his feet. Greg laughs disparagingly.)
LESTRADE: What a couple of lightweights! You couldnt even make it to closing time!
JOHN (quietly as he slowly walks towards him): Can you whisper?
LESTRADE (yelling in his ear as he walks past): NOT REALLY!
(Sherlock flails upwards on the bench, his eyes wide and his mouth open in shock. He looks
round the cell in bewilderment. John gives Greg a look of hurt betrayal, then leaves the cell.
Greg beckons to Sherlock.)
LESTRADE: Come on.
(He follows John. Sherlock sits up on the bench, stands, totters, falls back onto the bench, then
stands up and puts his fingers to his temples, wobbling on one foot. After a moment he lowers
his hands and delicately paddles out of the cell.)
POLICE STATION FRONT DESK. Grunting with the effort, Sherlock puts on his coat. John tucks
his wallet into his back pocket.
JOHN: Well, thanks for a ... you know ...
(They turn and walk away from the desk.)
JOHN: ... an evening.
SHERLOCK: It was awful.
JOHN: Yeah.
(Sherlock groans and pinches the bridge of his nose.)
JOHN: I was gonna pretend, but it was, truly.
SHERLOCK (lowering his hand): That woman, Tessa.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: Dated a ghost. The most interesting case for months. What a wasted opportunity.
JOHN: ... Okay.
Close-up of a glass of water. An effervescent antacid pill is dropped into it and starts to fizz as it
dissolves. After a few seconds John sighs quietly, picks up the glass and drinks.
MRS HUDSON: How are you feeling?
JOHN: Mmm. (He drinks again.)
MRS HUDSON: Its just like old times, having you back here.
(John puts down the glass and smiles towards her. She brings a plate across the kitchen to the
table where hes sitting.)
MRS HUDSON: Thought Id make your favourite, one last time.
(She puts down the plate in front of him. It contains a full English breakfast a fried egg, two
sausages, mushrooms, baked beans, tomato slices and two half-slices of buttered toast.)
JOHN: Mm. Dont sound so ... final about it. I will be visiting, you know.
MRS HUDSON: Ooh, Ive heard that one before!
JOHN (picking up his cutlery and cutting into his breakfast): Mm, no, its different now, though,
isnt it? Its different to when we thought wed lost him.
MRS HUDSON: Well, marriage changes everything, John.
(John lifts the forkful of food towards his mouth, then looks at it and pauses.)
JOHN: Does it?
MRS HUDSON: Yeah.
(She sits down opposite him.)
MRS HUDSON: You might not think it, but it does.
(John moves the fork closer to his mouth, then changes his mind and lowers it back to the
plate, groaning quietly.)
MRS HUDSON: Its a different phase in your life.
(John pushes the plate away from him a little.)
MRS HUDSON: You meet new people cause youre a couple ...
JOHN: Mmm.
MRS HUDSON: ... and then you just ... let your old friends slip away.
JOHN: It wont be like that.
MRS HUDSON: Well, if youve found the right one the person that you click with its the best
thing in the world.

355
JOHN: Well, I have. I know I have.

MRS HUDSON: Oh, Im sure. Shes lovely!
JOHN: Yeah. I think so. What about you?
MRS HUDSON: Me?
JOHN: Did you think youd found the right one when you married Mr Hudson?
MRS HUDSON (smiling): No! It was just a whirlwind thing for us. I knew it wouldnt work, but I
just got sort of swept along.
JOHN: Right.
MRS HUDSON: And then we moved to Florida. We had a fantastic time, but of course I didnt
know what he was up to. (Whispering) The drugs.
JOHN (laughing): Drugs? (He grimaces at the pain in his head.)
MRS HUDSON: He was running ... um, oh God, what dyou call it? Um, a ... cartel.
(John props up his head with his fingers.)
MRS HUDSON: Got in with a really bad crowd.
JOHN: Right.
MRS HUDSON: And then I found out about all the other women. I didnt have a clue! So, when
he was actually arrested for blowing someones head off ...
(Johns eyes drift sideways, perhaps a little confused by the matter-of-fact way she just said the
phrase.)
MRS HUDSON: ... it was quite a relief, to be honest.
JOHN: ... Right.
MRS HUDSON: It was purely physical between me and Frank. We couldnt keep our hands off
each other.
(John lowers his head, cringing.)
MRS HUDSON: I know: there was one night ...
(John holds up a finger to stop her, then turns the finger to point upwards.)
JOHN: Hang on was that ... Sherlock?
(Theres no sound coming from above them.)
MRS HUDSON: Is it?
(John continues to point upwards, and raises the finger of his other hand to his lips. After a
moment they hear footsteps upstairs.)
JOHN: Thats Sherlock.
(He gets up and painfully walks towards the kitchen door, groaning quietly.)
Upstairs, Sherlock has an online news article on his laptop screen. It shows a photograph of
Major Sholto before he was injured, and a large strapline beside the photo reads, He
destroyed us all. And he gets a medal for it. A few visible lines of text above and below the
photo show that this is an interview with Madeline Small, the mother of one of the soldiers who
died under Sholtos command. The headline of the article reads, V.C. Hero The Unanswered
Questions. Why did my boy have to die?
[Transcribers note: to see the full text of the online article about Sholto, together with the
newspaper articles which Sherlock looks at later, and the newspaper articles at the beginning of
the episode, click here.]
Sherlock looks towards the living room door when he hears John climbing the stairs. He
switches to a different tab on the laptop the website for I DATED A GHOST.COM. John comes
in and walks across to the dining table where Sherlock is sitting.
SHERLOCK: There are going to be others.
JOHN: Others?
SHERLOCK: Victims, women. Most ghosts tend to haunt a single house this ghost, however, is
willing to commute, look.
(He stands up and they look at a map of London spread out on the table behind the laptop.
Sherlock has stuck a pin in various places which presumably indicate an appearance of the
ghost date. There are seven pins in the map, forming a rough circle spanning a few miles
around the Thames.)
Overhead view of a large Council Chamber. The room has wood panelling on the walls and a
blue carpet. Banks of benches with red leather-covered seats form a semi-circle. There are six
rows of these benches in tiers. At the front of the room on top of a high dais is a large ornate
bench reminiscent of a judges bench in a courtroom behind which is a chair where the
Chairman would sit. This chair is high above the chamber floor. The chamber is initially empty
but then the perspective changes and Sherlock is standing in front of the closed door at the rear

356
of the room, and many women are standing silently in front of seats all around the room.
Sherlock walks down the steps towards the floor, looking around him as he goes, then he
reaches the bottom, walks across towards the Chairmans bench and turns to face the seats.
There are at least forty-eight women standing around the room. Sherlock slowly scans all of
them, then pulls a thoughtful face and points towards one of the women to his right.
SHERLOCK: Mmmmmm, not you.
(The woman sits down. He points to another woman on the right.)
SHERLOCK: Not you.
(That woman sits down. He takes a few steps forward and points to a woman on the left-hand
side of the seating.)
SHERLOCK: Not you.
(She sits and he points separately to two women behind her.)
SHERLOCK: Not you. Not you.
(The women sit down.)
[Transcribers note: Your humble transcriber is so anally obsessed with the accuracy of her
transcripts that normally she would type every single instance of what follows, carefully
counting every Not you and the location of the woman to whom Sherlock says it. However, it
would probably make for very boring reading and so for speed, convenience and the nurturing
of very sore typing fingers, suffice it to say that this scene continues for a long time, with
Sherlock dismissing woman after woman, each of whom sits down.]
(Eventually only four women remain standing. Sherlock looks around the room once more, then
walks over to the nearest of the standing women. She is wearing a black dress.)
SHERLOCK: Hi.
WOMAN: Gail.
(He turns and walks to the next nearest standing woman, who is wearing a denim jacket.)
SECOND WOMAN: Charlotte.
(He turns his head to look at the third woman, wearing a pink jacket.)
THIRD WOMAN: Robyn.
(He turns to the final standing woman, wearing a red dress and red leather jacket.)
FOURTH WOMAN: Vicky.
(He turns away and walks towards the Chairmans bench, then turns back and looks across the
room again. The perspective changes and now all the seated women have vanished and the four
remaining women are now standing in a semi circle in front of him. He looks at Gail.)
SHERLOCK: How did you meet?
GAIL: Came up to me in a pub.
(He looks at Charlotte.)
CHARLOTTE: Same gym as me.
(He turns his head to Robyn.)
ROBYN: We just got chatting on the bus.
(He looks at Vicky, who lowers her eyes flirtatiously at him.)
VICKY: Online.
(He turns his head back towards Gail.)
SHERLOCK: Name?
GAIL: Told you.
SHERLOCK: His name.
GAIL: Oscar.
(He turns his head to Charlotte and then in turn to the other two.)
CHARLOTTE: Mike.
ROBYN: Terry.
VICKY: Um, love_monkey.
(Sherlock frowns, then turns back to Gail.)
SHERLOCK: Your place?
ALL FOUR WOMEN (simultaneously): His place.
SHERLOCK (to Gail): Address?
(The four women simultaneously recite four different addresses. Your transcriber isnt so anal as
to try and decipher what each of them says.)
GAIL: Nothing happened. It was just ... very romantic.
SHERLOCK (looking above their heads): Four women in four nights. He must have something
special.
GAIL: He was very charming.
CHARLOTTE: He listened.

357
ROBYN: He was sweet.

VICKY: He had a lovely ...
JOHN: You okay?
(John is suddenly standing beside Sherlock. Sherlock raises his hand towards Vicky and theres
a beep as she freezes and falls silent. He lowers his hand and turns his head to John, and the
two of them are now standing in the living room of 221B. John looks down at the coffee table
which has six laptops open on it. One of them is showing a typed message reading, VICKY: He
had a lovely ... Also on the table is a plate containing a slice of gammon steak with a pineapple
slice on top of it, a fried egg and some chips.)
JOHN: Let your food go cold. Mrs Hudsonll play hell.
SHERLOCK: Not now, John.
(Unbuttoning his jacket, he squats down to the coffee table and types onto the laptop which is
showing Vickys message. The screen is on the website I DATED A GHOST.COM and he and
Vicky are writing on its forum. His message comes up reading, SHERLOCK: Sorry about that.
Back in the Council Chamber, Sherlocks hand is raised to Vicky but now he lowers it.)
SHERLOCK: Sorry about that.
(The beep sounds again.)
VICKY: He had a lovely manner.
(Sherlock looks away.)
SHERLOCK: Different names, different addresses.
(He turns to Gail.)
SHERLOCK: Describe him.
GAIL: Short blond hair.
CHARLOTTE: Dark hair long.
ROBYN: Ginger. (She shrugs.) I like gingers.
VICKY: Couldnt tell.
(Sherlock gives her a querying look.)
VICKY (in a laid-back way, signifying that it was nothing unusual): He had a mask on.
(Sherlock looks away.
Without transition he is standing at the side of the Chairmans bench, holding a newspaper and
quickly turning the pages until he reaches the Obituaries page.)
SHERLOCK: Hes stealing the identity of corpses ...
(He works through a different newspaper to its Obituaries page. He zooms in on a message
announcing the death of a Michael James Heaney.)
SHERLOCK: ... getting the names from the Obituary columns.
(He picks up another newspaper from the pile beside him and turns to the relevant page.)
SHERLOCK: All single men. Hes using the dead mans flat under the assumption itll be empty
for a while.
(He raises his head.)
SHERLOCK: Free love nest.
GAIL (looking down, appalled): I feel sick.
ROBYN: Its gruesome.
CHARLOTTE: Thats awful.
VICKY (looking impressed): Clever!
TESSA: Bastard!
(Sherlock now standing in front of the women again turns his head to see that Tessa is now
standing between Charlotte and Robyn.
In 221B, Sherlocks head turns at a beep from another laptop lying on one of the dining chairs.
He goes across to it, where Tessas message on the forum reads, TESSA: BASTARD! He types
onto that computer and his message appears reading, SHERLOCK: Hello Tessa.
In the Council Chamber, Sherlock greets her. Shes wearing casual clothes and a long cardigan.)
SHERLOCK: Hello, Tessa.
(She looks at him angrily.)
SHERLOCK: Meanwhile, back to business. No-one wants to use a dead mans home.
(Vicky shrugs as if shes not bothered. Sherlock throws her a disapproving look.)
SHERLOCK: ... Least not until its been cleared. So, he disguises himself, steals the mans
home, steals his identity.
JOHN (suddenly beside him in the chamber again): But only for one night.
(Sherlock turns to look at him.)
JOHN: Then hes gone.
SHERLOCK: Hes not a ghost, John. Hes a mayfly. He lives for a day.

358
(He turns back to the women and John has gone again.)
SHERLOCK: So what was it he was looking for?
(He turns his head to Gail.)
SHERLOCK: Job.
GAIL: Gardener. (She is now wearing a pale jumper and overalls.)
CHARLOTTE: Cook. (Shes wearing a cooks jacket and hat.)
TESSA (now back in her uniform): Private nurse.
ROBYN: I do security work. (Shes wearing a security officers uniform.)
VICKY (also wearing the appropriate outfit for her job): Maid.
(Sherlock looks down for a brief moment, then raises his head.)
SHERLOCK: Obvious. You all work for the same person!
(In 221B, he moves from laptop to laptop, typing onto each one, and in the Council Chamber
information rapidly scrolls across the face of each of the women in turn. His research goes on
for some time but finally, in the Council Chamber, he sighs.)
SHERLOCK: No, not the same employer. Damn.
(He screws his eyes closed.)
SHERLOCK: Come on. We can do this.
(He opens his eyes and looks towards Gail.)
SHERLOCK: Ideal night out.
GAIL: Clay pigeon shooting.
CHARLOTTE: Line dancing.
TESSA (shrugging): Pictures?
ROBYN: Wine in front of the telly.
VICKY (smiling quirkily at him): Dungeon.
(Sherlock shakes his head in disbelief. He turns his head to the front and shuts his eyes for a
moment, then turns to Gail again.)
SHERLOCK: Make-up.
GAIL: Clarins.
CHARLOTTE: No. 7.
TESSA: Maybelline.
ROBYN: Nothing special.
VICKY: Whatevers cheap.
SHERLOCK: Perfume.
GAIL: Chanel.
CHARLOTTE: Chanel.
TESSA: Chanel.
(Sherlocks face lights up with hope as he turns to Robyn.)
ROBYN: Chanel.
VICKY: Este Lauder.
(He shakes his head disappointedly at her, then looks directly at Tessa.)
SHERLOCK: Ideal man?
TESSA (looking off into the distance with a whimsical smile): George Clooney?
(She grins at him. He rolls his eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, no.
GAIL: Home-loving.
CHARLOTTE: Hed have to like cuddling.
ROBYN: Caring.
VICKY: Ten things. (She holds up her thumb.) One: someone who isnt competitive with other
men.
(Sherlock frowns at her, looking aghast.)
VICKY (holding up her forefinger): Two: someone who isnt constantly trying to define himself
by his masculinity ...
(Sherlock holds up his hand to her. She freezes. He closes his fingers and thumb together and
theres a beep from a computer. Sherlock looks up above the women.)
SHERLOCK: Theres a unifying factor. There has to be.
(He lowers his hand and frowns.)
SHERLOCK: None of you reported anything stolen.
(He looks down, then raises his eyes and points at the women one by one but this time not
going straight round the semi-circle. Presumably he is working in the order in which the ghost
dated the women.)

359
SHERLOCK: Security guard, gardener, cook, maid, private nurse. Hes romancing his way up a
pecking order, somebodys pecking order.
(He closes his eyes.)
SHERLOCK (sternly to himself): Come on, think.
(His eyes open again.)
SHERLOCK: Unless ...
(He twitches a small, brief smile and turns to Gail.)
SHERLOCK: Do you have a secret youve never told anyone?
ALL FIVE WOMEN (simultaneously): No.
(Sherlock smiles.)
SHERLOCK: Gotcha.
JOHN (suddenly at his side again): What dyou mean?
SHERLOCK: Everyone has secrets, and they all replied too quickly.
GAIL (looking anxious): Gotta go.
(She walks away, and theres a brief electronic sound of her logging off in the real world.)
CHARLOTTE: See ya.
(She too turns to leave/log off.)
SHERLOCK: No!
ROBYN: Bye-bye. (She leaves/logs off.)
SHERLOCK: Wait!
VICKY: Sorry, sexy. (She winks at him.) Some secrets have to stay secret.
(She walks away/logs off.)
TESSA (smiling at him): Enjoy the wedding.
(Sherlock makes an exasperated sound as she walks away/logs off.
In 221B, Sherlock shuts down the lid on Tessas laptop and straightens up.)
SHERLOCK: Why? Why would he date all of those women and not return their calls?
JOHN: Youre missing the obvious, mate.
SHERLOCK (turning to him): Am I?
JOHN: Hes a man.
SHERLOCK (slamming the lids down on each of the laptops by turn): But why would he change
his identity?
JOHN: Maybe hes married.
(Sherlock slowly straightens up as if realising something.)
SHERLOCK: Ohh.
RECEPTION.
SHERLOCK: Married. Obvious, really. Our Mayfly Man was trying to escape the suffocating
chains of domesticity ...
(John grimaces and shakes his head while Mary widens her eyes briefly and then smiles at him.)
SHERLOCK: ... and instead of endless nights in watching the telly or going to barbecues with
awful dreadful boring people he couldnt stand, he used his wits, cleverness and powers of
disguise ... (he finally takes a breath, and smiles slightly) ... to play the field. He was ...
(He stops when he realises that he has lost his audience again. The guests look silently back at
him. He looks down to his right to see John looking back at him straight-faced and Mary
wrinkling her nose and shaking her head slightly.)
SHERLOCK: On second thoughts I probably should have told you about the Elephant in the
Room. However, it does help to further illustrate how invaluable John is to me. I can read a
crime scene the way he can understand a human being. I used to think thats what made me
special quite frankly, I still do. But a word to the wise: should any of you require the services
of either of us, I will solve your murder, but it takes John Watson to save your life. Trust me on
that I should know. Hes saved mine so many times, and in so many ways.
(He holds up his phone.)
SHERLOCK: This blog is the story of two men and their frankly ridiculous adventures ...
(He smiles, and the guests chuckle.)
SHERLOCK: ... of murder, mystery and mayhem. But from now on, theres a new story a
bigger adventure.
(He looks down at the newlyweds, who smile happily.)
SHERLOCK: Ladies and gentlemen, pray charge your glasses and be upstanding.
(He picks up his own glass while the guests do likewise and stand up. The photographer walks
forward with his camera.)

360
SHERLOCK (raising his glass): Today begin the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John
Hamish Watson.
(John sighs a little, while Mary giggles.)
SHERLOCK: The two reasons why every single one of us is ...
(He stops, freezing in place, staring blindly towards the guests. The photographer snaps several
photos of him but the popping flashbulb doesnt make him react. Sherlocks fingers loosen
slightly and his champagne glass slips out of them and begins a very slow-motion tumble
towards the floor.
In the Council Chamber, Sherlock now in his wedding gear lowers his raised hand and turns
towards the five uniformed women.)
SHERLOCK: What did you say?
(He points at Tessa.)
SHERLOCK (walking slowly towards her): You said, John Hamish Watson. You said that. You
said, Hamish.
(Flashback to the landlord hauling a drunk Sherlock up onto his knees.)
SHERLOCK (in the flashback): ... whoa, whoa!
TESSA (in the flashback): This is a famous detective. Its Sherlock Holmes and his partner, John
Hamish Watson.
SHERLOCK (circling around Tessa in the Council Chamber): How did you know? How did you
know his middle name? (He walks backwards, still facing her.) He never tells anyone. He hates
it.
FLASHBACK. Sherlock, with at least ten unlit cigarettes stuffed in his mouth, walks across the
living room of 221B. John is sitting at the dining table facing the windows and typing on his
laptop, and Sherlock frowns down at the screen as he walks past. Taking the cigarettes out of
his mouth, he turns his back on John as he walks into his line of sight so that John cant see the
cigarettes. There is a lot less grey in Johns hair than in our present and so this flashback
presumably takes place not long after John moved into Baker Street.
SHERLOCK (reciting what he has just seen at the top of Johns blog page): John H. Watson?
JOHN (glancing briefly round at him): Yep.
(As he continues typing, Sherlock sits down on the sofa, stuffing the cigarettes into a Persian
slipper while keeping a wary eye on John in case he looks round. He taps the cigarettes down,
then lies down on the sofa and shoves the slipper underneath it.)
ANOTHER DAY. The boys are sitting at the kitchen table. John is reading the paper.
SHERLOCK: Henry?
JOHN (without looking up): Shut up.
(Sherlock bites into a piece of toast.)
ANOTHER DAY. Sherlock looks up from his microscope at the kitchen table and turns his head to
where John is sitting in his armchair reading.
SHERLOCK: Humphrey?
JOHN (firmly): Shut up.
ANOTHER DAY. Buttoning his jacket, Sherlock walks out of his bedroom and stops outside the
door to the bathroom. The shower is running inside.
SHERLOCK (loudly): Higgins?
JOHN (loudly from inside the bathroom): Go. Away.
(Grimacing, Sherlock walks on.)
THE PRESENT. COUNCIL CHAMBER.

SHERLOCK: Took him years to confide in me.
FLASHBACK. John walks up the stairs of 221 carrying bags of shopping. Sighing tiredly, he
walks into the living room where Sherlock is standing just to the left of the door with a sheet of
paper in his hands. John glances at it as he walks past, then stops and backs up.
JOHN: Thats my birth certificate.
SHERLOCK: Yep.
(Loudly popping the p, he walks away. John stares after him.)

361
THE PRESENT. COUNCIL CHAMBER. Sherlock looks quizzically at Tessa, then turns and walks
towards the Chairmans bench.
SHERLOCK: And The Woman she knew.
FLASHBACK to Irene Adler and Sherlock having eyesex in the living room of 221B during the
events of A Scandal in Belgravia.
JOHN (abruptly): Hamish.
(They both look at him.)
JOHN: John Hamish Watson just if you were looking for baby names.
COUNCIL CHAMBER.
SHERLOCK (still walking towards the front of the chamber): God knows where she is.
(She is standing right in front of him, her hair up, her face beautifully made-up, stark naked
and looking at him intensely. He stops and sighs with annoyance. She reaches forward and
strokes one finger down his cheek.)
SHERLOCK (exasperated): Out of my head. I am busy.
(She slowly pulls her hand away and he turns back to the other women. Irene has gone again.)
SHERLOCK (to Tessa): Theres only one time that names been made public.
FLASHBACK. A mock-up of the wedding invitation is on the screen of a laptop. The top part
reads:
Dr John Hamish WATSON & Miss Mary Elizabeth MORSTAN

Request the pleasure of your company
at their marriage
John points at the screen.

JOHN: Does it have to be on the invitation?
MARY: Its your name.
(She, John and Sherlock are in 221Bs living room looking at the laptop.)
MARY: Its traditional.
SHERLOCK (simultaneously): Its funny.
(John looks round at Sherlock while Mary bites back a smile.)
TESSA (voiceover): Enjoy the wedding.
At the reception, Sherlocks glass continues its ultra-slow-motion fall towards the floor.
In the Council Chamber, Tessa smiles brightly at Sherlock.

TESSA: Enjoy the wedding.
SHERLOCK (pointing at her): The wedding. You knew about the wedding; more importantly,
youd seen a wedding invitation. Now barely a hundred people had seen that invitation. The
Mayfly Man only saw five women. For one person to be in both groups ... (he tilts his hand back
and forth) ... could be a coincidence.
MYCROFT (disapprovingly, offscreen): Oh, Sherlock.
(Sherlock turns around. Mycroft is up on the dais, standing in front of the Chairmans chair. The
women have vanished.)
MYCROFT: What do we say about coincidence?
SHERLOCK (slowly walking towards him): The universe is rarely so lazy.
MYCROFT: So, the balance of probability is ...?
SHERLOCK: Someone went to great lengths to find out something about this wedding.
MYCROFT: What great lengths?
SHERLOCK (stopping, while continuing to stare intensely up at his brother): They lied, assumed
false identities.
MYCROFT: Which suggests ...?
SHERLOCK: Criminal intent.
MYCROFT: Also suggests ...?
SHERLOCK: Intelligence, planning.
MYCROFT: Clearly. But more importantly ...?
The champagne glass continues its fall.

362
SHERLOCK (in the Chamber): The Mayfly Man.
The champagne glass continues downwards.
SHERLOCK (in the Chamber): The Mayfly Man is ...
SHERLOCK (at the reception): ... here today.

(His champagne glass smashes on the floor at his feet. He looks down at it.)
SHERLOCK (raising his head): Ooh, sorry. I ...
(He looks down at the floor, making an exasperated noise and clearing his throat. The Master of
Ceremonies/Head Waiter hurries over to him.)
MASTER OF CEREMONIES: Another glass, sir?
SHERLOCK (taking the glass from him): Thank you, yes. Thank you, yes.
(He looks out at the guests.)
MYCROFT (in the Council Chamber): Something is going to happen right here.
(At the reception, Sherlock looks around, clearly thinking frantically. He flickers back and forth
between the Chamber and the reception but then looks at the guests.)
SHERLOCK: Now, where were we?
MYCROFT (in the Council Chamber): Could be any second.
(Holding their glasses in the reception room, Mrs Hudson and Greg look a little anxious. Greg
looks at Mrs H and frowns.)
MYCROFT (in the Council Chamber): You have control of the room.
SHERLOCK (shaking his head a little in the reception room): Ah, yes. Raising glasses and
standing up. Very good. Thank you.
MYCROFT (sternly, in the Council Chamber): Dont lose it.
(At the reception, Sherlock raises both hands and gestures downwards.)
SHERLOCK: And down again.
(Confused, the guests start to sit down, murmuring amongst themselves. Sherlock looks at
them for a moment, then puts his glass down on the table and straightens up.)
SHERLOCK: Ladies and gentlemen, people tell you not to milk a good speech get off early,
leave em laughing. Wise advice Ill certainly try to bear in mind. But for now ...
(He puts one hand on the table and quickly jumps over to the other side. The guests gasp in
surprise.)
SHERLOCK: ... part two.
(He walks into the central aisle between the tables.)
SHERLOCK: Part two is more action-based. Im gonna ... walk around, shake things up a bit.
(He looks at each person as he walks past, mentally tagging each of the men with a sign near
them reading, MAYFLY MAN? The only male guest who doesnt get a tag is young Archie.)
SHERLOCK: Whod go to a wedding? Thats the question. Who would bother to go to any
lengths to get themselves to a wedding?
(Two thirds of the way along the room he turns around.)
SHERLOCK: Well, everyone.
(He claps his hands once.)
SHERLOCK: Weddings are great! Love a wedding.
MARY (quietly, to John): Whats he doing?
JOHN (watching his friend with concern): Somethings wrong.
SHERLOCK (pointing towards him as he heads back along the room): And Johns great, too!
Havent said that enough. Barely scratched the surface. I could go on all night about the depth
and complexity of his ... jumpers ...
(John closes his eyes in disbelief. Out on the floor Sherlock is pacing and turning back and forth,
peering at each of the male guests and their imaginary tags.)
SHERLOCK: ... and he can cook. Does ... a ... thing ... thing with peas ...
(John and Mary exchange a puzzled glance. Sherlock continues to pace and look closely at the
guests.)
SHERLOCK: ... once. Might not be peas. Might not be him. But hes got a great singing voice ...
or somebody does.
(He sighs in frustration, his teeth clenched.)
SHERLOCK: Ahh, too many, too many, too many, too many!
(He grimaces angrily, the MAYFLY MAN? tags now huge and overwhelming him. He stops and
takes a breath and the tags disappear.)

363
SHERLOCK: Sorry. Too many jokes about John! Now, er ...

(Inside his head he slowly walks across the Council Chamber again towards Mycroft, staring up
at him.)
MYCROFT: Criminal intent.
SHERLOCK (at the reception): Where was I? Ah, yes ...
MYCROFT (in the Council Chamber): Extraordinary lengths.
SHERLOCK (at the reception): Speech! (He points towards the top table, grinning round at the
guests.) Speech. (He claps his hands together again.) Lets talk about ...
MYCROFT (in the Council Chamber): All of which is suggestive of ...?
(In the Chamber, Sherlocks eyes widen and he presses his lips together to begin forming the
word.)
SHERLOCK (at the reception): ... murder.
(John sighs and lowers his head, while Mary frowns.)
SHERLOCK: Sorry, did I say murder? I meant to say marriage but, you know, theyre quite
similar procedures when you think about it. The participants tend to know each other, and its
over when one of thems dead.
(He emphatically sounds the d at the end of the word. Again John sighs and lowers his head.)
SHERLOCK: In fairness, murder is a lot quicker, though. Janine!
(She looks up a little wide-eyed.)
SHERLOCK (walking over to stand behind one of the male guests): What about this one?
Acceptably hot? (He grins at Janine, then looks at the woman sitting beside the man.) More
importantly, his girlfriends wearing brand-new uncomfortable underwear ... (he zooms in on
the top part of the womans dress, where the seam of her ill-fitting bra or whatever shes
wearing underneath is visible through the material; then he zooms across to a thread of
cotton on the mans jacket) ... and hasnt bothered to pick this thread off the top of his jacket
... (he zooms to a smudge on the mans neck) ... or point out the grease smudge on the back of
his neck. Currently, hes going home alone.
(Sherlock now has his phone behind his own back and is rapidly typing onto it with his thumb.)
SHERLOCK: Also, hes a comics and sci-fi geek. Theyre always tremendously grateful really
put the hours in.
(He chuckles.)
SHERLOCK: Geoff, the gents.
(He looks across to Greg and jerks his head towards the door.)
SHERLOCK: The loos, now, please.
LESTRADE: Its Greg.
SHERLOCK: The loos, please.
(Gregs phone beeps a text alert.)
LESTRADE (reaching into his pocket): Why?
SHERLOCK: Oh, I dont know. Maybe its your turn.
(He jerks his head towards the door again, grimacing. Greg looks at his phone and the new text
message which reads:
Lock this place down.
LESTRADE: Yeah, actually, now you mention it ...

(He stands up. Sherlock pockets his own phone.)
JOHN: Sherlock, any chance of a an end date for this speech? Gotta cut the cake.
(While Greg heads out of the door, Sherlock smiles widely and dances down the aisle, gesturing
dramatically.)
SHERLOCK: Oh! Ladies and gentlemen, cant stand it when I finally get the chance to speak for
once, Vatican Cameos.
(He directs the last two words directly to John in a conversational way as if theyre a natural
part of the sentence. John straightens up in his chair.)
MARY: What did he say? Whats that mean?
JOHN (quietly, tugging the bottom of his waistcoat down): Battle stations. Someones gonna
die.
MARY: What?!
(He puts his hand over hers, silently shushing her. Sherlock turns to look at the guests, where
all the men are tagged with the MAYFLY MAN? question again.)
MYCROFT (in the Council Chamber): Narrow it down.
(At the reception, Sherlock grimaces, his eyes screwed tightly shut.)

364
MYCROFT (in the Council Chamber): Narrow it down.

(Sherlock blinks in the reception room, lowering his head and screwing his eyes shut again.)
MYCROFT (in the Council Chamber): Narrow. It. Down.
(Standing in front of him in the Chamber, Sherlock roars loudly with frustration and rage and
slaps himself hard on the right cheek. In the reception room, he does the same.)
SHERLOCK (loudly, angrily): No!
(In both worlds, he slaps his left cheek.)
SHERLOCK: (loudly, angrily, in the reception room): No!
(The tags disappear from above the mens heads. Sherlock angrily points upwards with the
index fingers of both hands.)
SHERLOCK: Not you! Not you!
(His mental image of Mycroft doubles, then floats away. Sherlock calms down and lowers his
hands a little to point his fingers towards the top table.)
SHERLOCK (quieter): You.
(John straightens again, looking back at him.)
SHERLOCK (walking towards him, now pointing at him with just one hand): Its always you.
John Watson, you keep me right.
(John stands as he walks up to the table.)
JOHN: What do I do?
SHERLOCK: Well, youve already done it. Dont solve the murder. (Intensely) Save the life.
(Drawing in a sharp breath through his nose, he turns towards the guests again with a manic
grin on his face.)
SHERLOCK: Sorry. Off-piste a bit. Back now. (High-pitched) Phew!
(He claps his hands together and looks down at the floor, dropping the smile.)
SHERLOCK: Lets play a game.
(He raises his eyes while lowering his head a little more, staring intensely out into the room.)
SHERLOCK: Lets play Murder.
(Behind him, John sits down again. Sherlock prowls forward, his eyes flickering around the room
at the guests.)
MRS HUDSON (disapprovingly): Sherlock.
SHERLOCK (steepling his hands in front of his chin as he progresses forward): Imagine
someones going to get murdered at a wedding. Who exactly would you pick?
MRS HUDSON: I think youre a popular choice at the moment, dear.
SHERLOCK (gesturing behind him): If someone could move Mrs Hudsons glass just slightly out
of reach, that would be lovely. More importantly, who could you only kill at a wedding?
(He turns back to look at the guests and gives each one both the men and the women a
new tag reading, TARGET? A line leads from each tag down to the relevant person and at the
end of that line a small white bullseye overlays their body.)
SHERLOCK: Most people you can kill any old place. As a mental exercise, Ive often planned the
murder of friends and colleagues.
(Rubbing his hands together in an Evil Genius sort of way, he walks back along the room, then
gestures towards John.)
SHERLOCK: Now John Id poison.
(Mary nervously looks across to her husband.)
SHERLOCK: Sloppy eater dead easy. Ive given him chemicals and compounds that way,
hes never even noticed. He missed a whole Wednesday once, didnt have a clue. Lestrades so
easy to kill, its a miracle no-ones succumbed to the temptation. (He turns and heads towards
the back of the room again.) Ive got a pair of keys to my brothers house I could easily break
in there and asphyxiate him.
(He makes strangly gestures with his hands, then seems to realise that he may have gone too
far.)
SHERLOCK: ... if, if the whim arose.
TOM (quietly to Molly): Hes pissed, isnt he?
(Without even looking round at him, Molly stabs a plastic fork onto the back of his hand.)
TOM (grabbing at his hand): Ow!
SHERLOCK: So, once again, who could you only kill here?
(He turns and faces the guests again. A few of the chairs nearest him are now suddenly empty
but still have their TARGET? tag pointing to the seats. He twirls his fingers and the tags
disappear.)
SHERLOCK: Clearly its a rare opportunity, so its someone who doesnt get out much.
(The camera angle changes and more guests and their tags have vanished.)

365
SHERLOCK: Someone for whom a planned social encounter known about months in advance is
an exception. Has to be a unique opportunity.
(He turns around and more of the guests have gone.)
SHERLOCK: And since killing someone in public is difficult ...
(He turns again and more guests have disappeared.)
SHERLOCK: ... killing them in private isnt an option. Someone who lives in an inaccessible or
unknown location, then.
(He turns again and all the visible seats are now empty.)
SHERLOCK: Someone private, perhaps, obsessed with personal security.
(One final TARGET? tag drifts into view as he walks forward. It is pointing at the only person
left in the room. Sherlock turns to face him. It is Major Sholto.)
SHERLOCK: Possibly someone under threat.
(The question mark beside the word in the tag disappears, and then the word itself fades out.
The bullseye superimposed over Sholtos body flashes red for a moment and then also
disappears. As if sensing Sherlocks gaze, Sholto turns and looks at him. Sherlock stares back at
him.)
FLASHBACK. 221B LIVING ROOM.

SHERLOCK: Major James Sholto. Who he?
MARY: I dont think hes coming.
JOHN: Hell be there.
FLASHBACK. EARLIER AT THE RECEPTION.

JOHN: Where are you living these days?
SHOLTO: Oh, way out in the middle of nowhere.
FLASHBACK. ON THE PARK BENCH OUTSIDE THE BARRACKS.

JOHN (to Sherlock): The press and the families gave him hell. He gets more death threats than
you.
At the reception, everyone is back in the room. Sherlock tries to act nonchalantly as he walks
over to a nearby table and picks up one of the name cards on it while pulling a pen on a chain
from his waistcoat.
SHERLOCK: Ooh! A recluse, small household staff.
FLASHBACK TO THE COUNCIL CHAMBER.

SHERLOCK: Job.
GAIL: Gardener.
CHARLOTTE: Cook.
TESSA: Private nurse.
VICKY: Maid.
SHERLOCK (writing on the name card in the reception room): High turnover for additional
security.

ROBYN: I do security work.
SHERLOCK (walking over to Sholtos table and casually dropping the name card down in front of
him before walking away): Probably all signed confidentiality agreements.

SHERLOCK: Do you have a secret youve never told anyone?
ALL THE WOMEN (simultaneously): No.
SHERLOCK (at the reception): There is another question that remains, however a big one, a
huge one: how would you do it? How would you kill someone in public?
(Sholto picks up the name card and looks at the writing on it. It reads:
ITS YOU

366
SHERLOCK: There has to be a way. This has been planned.

ARCHIE (excitedly jumping up from his chair): Mr Holmes! Mr Holmes!
SHERLOCK (stopping and turning to him): Oh, hello again, Archie. (He bends forward to get
more down to Archies level.) Whats your theory? Get this right and theres a headless nun in it
for you.
ARCHIE: The invisible man could do it.
SHERLOCK (very quick fire): The who, the what, the why, the when, the where?
ARCHIE: The invisible man with the invisible knife. The one who tried to kill the Guardsman.
(Sherlock gasps and straightens up, his eyes wide. In his mind hes standing in front of his
information wall at 221B, looking at all the wedding plans stuck up behind the sofa. He zooms in
on a wedding invitation pinned to the wall, announcing the wedding at St Marys Church, Sutton
Mallet on Saturday 18th May at 12 oclock and after.
He moves to look at his list of things to do and focuses on the word Venue. Theres a brief
shot of the outside of the reception room. He looks at the word Venue again and this time
sees an image of the barracks and soldiers parading outside.
He shifts his focus to the word Plan and then sees a close-up of Private Bainbridge standing on
guard outside the barracks, his gaze fixed on the three tourists over the road as they walk away
and reveal the stalker.
Sherlock moves his eyes to look at the word Rehearsal. In flashback, the Duty Sergeant walks
into the shower room and raps on the cubicle door, calling Bainbridges name before he sees
the slumped body and bloodstained water.
Sherlock zooms in on the word Rehearsal and grimaces.)
(In the reception room Major Sholto gets to his feet, picks up his ceremonial sword propped
against a nearby window and turns to walk towards the door. Sherlock turns his head away,
closing his eyes for a moment. Then he opens them again.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Oh, not just planned. Planned and rehearsed.
(He turns and watches as Sholto reaches the door and starts to open it. Sherlock turns back
and heads quickly towards the top table, swiping someones champagne glass from a table as
he goes.)
SHERLOCK: Ladies and gentlemen, there will now be a short interlude.
(He skids to a halt in front of the top table and turns and holds up his glass.)
SHERLOCK: The bride and groom!
(A little uncertainly this time, the guests stand up and raise their glasses.)
GUESTS: The bride and groom.
(Instantly Sherlock turns back and bends down to John.)
SHERLOCK: Major Sholtos going to be murdered. I dont know how or by whom, but its going
to happen.
(He turns and starts making his way through the guests who are now blocking the aisle.)
SHERLOCK: Scuse me, coming through!
(John quickly turns and takes Marys head in one hand and kisses her.)
SHERLOCK (pushing through the crowd): Consulting!
JOHN (to Mary): Stay here.
MARY: Please be careful.
(John gets up and starts making his own way through the guests.)
JOHN: Scuse me. Coming through! Scuse me.
(Mary hesitates for only a few seconds, then jumps up and follows him.)
MARY (to the guests): Sorry, one more. Whoops! So sorry! Thank you!
(The guests murmur and chatter to each other in confusion.)
Upstairs, Major Sholto opens the door to his bedroom and walks in. He lays his sword on the
bed and then undoes the zip around his suitcase. Lifting the lid and laying it back, he picks up a
folded shirt on the top of the contents and puts it down inside the lid. On top of the rest of his
clothing is a large pistol. He picks it up.
Downstairs, on a half-landing partway up the staircase, Sherlock stands with the tips of his
fingers against his temples and his eyes screwed closed. John paces impatiently beside him.
JOHN: How can you not remember which room? You remember everything.
SHERLOCK (irritably): I have to delete something!
(Mary runs around the corner and pelts up the stairs in between them, holding up her skirt with
one hand to stop herself tripping over it.)
MARY: Two oh seven.

367
(The boys chase after her and Sherlock quickly overtakes her. She takes Johns hand and they
hurry after him. Reaching the second floor, Sherlock knocks on the door of Room 207 and tries
the handle.)
SHERLOCK (rattling the door handle): Major Sholto? Major Sholto!
(He slams the flat of his right hand repeatedly against the door.)
SHERLOCK: Major Sholto!
SHOLTO (sitting on a chair beside the bed and speaking loudly enough to be heard through the
door): If someones about to make an attempt on my life, it wont be the first time. Im ready.
(John walks towards the door. Sherlock steps back, shaking out his right hand and flexing the
fingers.)
JOHN: Major, let us in.
MARY: Kick the door down.
SHOLTO: I really wouldnt. I have a gun in my hand and a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes.
SHERLOCK (walking closer to the door again): Youre not safe in there. Whoevers after you, we
know that a locked room doesnt stop him.
SHOLTO: The invisible man with the invisible knife.
SHERLOCK: I dont know how he does it, so I cant stop him, and that means hell do it again.
SHOLTO (sternly): Solve it, then.
SHERLOCK: I Im sorry?
SHOLTO: Youre the famous Mr Holmes. Solve the case. On you go.
(Sherlock straightens up, his eyes rapidly flickering from side to side.)
SHOLTO: Tell me how he did it and Ill open the door.
(John steps forward again.)
JOHN: Please, this is no time for games. Just let us in! Youre in danger!
SHOLTO: So are you, so long as youre here.
(Mary watches Sherlock as he paces back and forth across the landing.)
SHOLTO: Please, leave me. Despite my reputation, I really dont approve of collateral damage.
MARY (to Sherlock): Solve it.
(He stops and looks at her.)
SHERLOCK: Sorry?
MARY: Solve it, and hell open the door, like he said.
SHERLOCK: If I couldnt solve it before, how can I solve it now?
MARY: Because it matters now.
SHERLOCK: What are you talking about? (He looks at John.) Whats she talking about? Get your
wife under control.
JOHN: Shes right.
SHERLOCK: Oh, youve changed!
JOHN: No, she is. (He turns and points at him.) Shut up. You are not a puzzle-solver you
never have been. Youre a drama queen.
(Sherlocks mouth drops open and he stares at him.)
JOHN (louder): Now, there is a man in there about to die. (Sarcastically) The game is on.
(Angrily, pointing at the door.) Solve it!
(Sherlock bares his teeth at him, then his eyes suddenly snap upwards. He can see Private
Bainbridge in full uniform standing at attention against a white background. Bainbridge rotates
as if standing on a turntable, and Sherlocks vision zooms in to the mans white webbing belt.
The image changes to Major Sholto in his dress uniform rotating on the invisible turntable, and
again the view zooms in on his white webbing belt.
Sherlock then recalls the waiter in the kitchen downstairs reaching down to take hold of the
skewer pushed through the middle of the joint of beef.
In the shower room at the barracks, Bainbridge unclips his belt.
The waiter slowly begins to pull the skewer out of the joint.
Bainbridge unwraps his belt from around his waist.
The skewer comes free of the joint, and blood and juice stream out of the hole.
Bainbridge stumbles slightly, looking uncomfortable.
Blood continues to pour from the hole in the beef joint.
The duty sergeant knocks on the door of the shower cubicle, calling Bainbridges name.
Bainbridge is slumped on the floor inside and bloodstained water pours out under the door.)
(Outside Sholtos bedroom Sherlock who had closed his eyes during the memories opens
them again. He steps over to Mary, takes hold of her head in both hands and kisses her
forehead.)

368
SHERLOCK (releasing her, then pointing towards John): Though, in fairness, hes a drama
queen too.
MARY: Yeah, I know.
(John frowns. Sherlock goes over to the door and speaks loudly.)
SHERLOCK: Major Sholto, no-ones coming to kill you. Im afraid youve already been killed
several hours ago.
SHOLTO: What did you say?
SHERLOCK: Dont take off your belt.
SHOLTO: My belt?
SHERLOCK (turning around and talking to the other two): His belt, yes. Bainbridge was stabbed
hours before we even saw him, but it was through his belt.
(Brief flashback of Sholto clipping his belt together when he got dressed for the wedding.)
SHERLOCK: Tight belt, worn high on the waist. Very easy to push a small blade through the
fabric and you wouldnt even feel it.
(John is nodding his understanding.)
JOHN: The-the belt would bind the flesh together when it was tied tight ...
SHERLOCK: Exactly.
JOHN: ... and when you took it off ...
SHERLOCK: Delayed action stabbing. All the time in the world to create an alibi.
(He shakes the door handle.)
SHERLOCK: Major Sholto?
SHOLTO: So I was to be killed by my uniform. How appropriate.
(He stands up and looks at himself in the mirror on the wall.)
MARY: He solved the case, Major. Youre supposed to open the door now. A deal is a deal.
SHOLTO: Im not even supposed to have this any more. They gave me special dispensation to
keep it. I couldnt imagine life out of this uniform. I suppose given the circumstances I dont
have to.
(He carefully tosses the pistol onto the bed and then looks into the mirror again.)
SHOLTO: When so many want you dead, it hardly seems good manners to argue.
(He puts his right hand to the belt fastener and tightens his fingers ready to unclip it.)
JOHN: Whatever youre doing in there, James, stop it, right now. I will kick this door down.
SHOLTO: Mr Holmes, you and I are similar, I think.
(John turns away from the door and Sherlock walks closer.)
SHERLOCK: Yes, I think we are.
SHOLTO: Theres a proper time to die, isnt there?
SHERLOCK: Of course there is.
SHOLTO: And one should embrace it when it comes like a soldier.
SHERLOCK (firmly): Of course one should, but not at Johns wedding. We wouldnt do that,
would we you and me? We would never do that to John Watson.
(Sholto closes his eyes. Outside, Sherlock steps away from the door and John walks closer,
leaning towards the door and listening for any sound from the room. He straightens up and
takes off his jacket.)
JOHN: Im gonna break it down.
MARY: No, wait, wait, you wont have to.
JOHN: Hmm?
(The door opens. Sholto glances briefly at Sherlock, then lowers his eyes before looking at
John.)
SHOLTO: I believe I am in need of medical attention.
JOHN: I believe I am your doctor.
(He follows Sholto as he turns and goes back into the room. Giving Sherlock a quick smile, Mary
follows him. Sherlock closes his eyes for a moment, then follows them.)
EVENING. An orchestral rendition of the waltz On The Beautiful Blue Danube by Johann
Strauss II can be heard. In the foyer of the wedding venue, Sherlock and Janine are waltzing
alone. Sherlock is counting time.
SHERLOCK: One, two, three; der, der, der ... Ahh, pretty good.
JANINE: Ooh!
(They stop dancing.)
SHERLOCK (releasing her): Just ... hold your nerve on your turning.
JANINE (adjusting the top of her strapless bridesmaids dress): Why do we have to rehearse?

369
SHERLOCK (leaning in and speaking confidentially): Because we are about to dance together in
public, and your skills are appalling!
(He smiles at her and she laughs.)
JANINE: Well, youre a good teacher.
SHERLOCK: Mmm.
JANINE: And youre a brilliant dancer.
SHERLOCK (quietly, leaning towards her again): Ill let you in on something, Janine.
JANINE (in a whisper): Go on, then.
SHERLOCK: I love dancing. Ive always loved it.
JANINE: Seriously?
SHERLOCK (quietly): Watch out.
(Looking around to make sure that nobody else can see him, he swings both of his arms to the
left, takes a sharp breath, rises onto his left foot and does a full-circle pirouette.)
JANINE: Ooh! Woah!
SHERLOCK (clearing his throat): Never really comes up in crime work but, um, you know, I live
in hope of the right case.
JANINE (sighing wistfully): I wish you werent ...
(He turns and looks at her.)
JANINE: ... whatever it is you are.
SHERLOCK: I know.
(John has just walked into view and has spotted them. He walks over.)
JOHN: Well, glad to see youve pulled, Sherlock, what with murderers running riot at my
wedding.
(He claps his hand on Sherlocks back.)
SHERLOCK: One murder... one nearly murderer. (To Janine) Loves to exaggerate. You should
try living with him.
(The entrance door opens and Greg comes in.)
LESTRADE: Sherlock? (He points back out the door.) Got him for you.
SHERLOCK (clapping his hands together as the wedding photographer walks in): Ah, the
photographer. Excellent! (To Greg) Thank you.
(He walks over to the photographer and points at the camera hes holding.)
SHERLOCK: Er, may I have a look at your camera?
PHOTOGRAPHER: Er ... (he pulls his camera back nervously but then holds it out to him) ...
whats this about? I was halfway home!
SHERLOCK (taking the camera): You should have driven faster.
(He looks at the screen on the back of the camera and starts flicking through the pictures.)
SHERLOCK: Ah, yes. Yes, very good. There, you see? (He smiles.) Perfect.
LESTRADE: What is? You gonna tell us?
SHERLOCK (handing the camera to Greg): Try looking yourself.
JOHN (walking to Gregs side): Um, look for what?
(Janine also walks over. Sherlock strolls closer to the photographer.)
JOHN (pointing at the camera): Is the murderer in these photographs?
SHERLOCK: Its not whats in the photographs; its whats not in them not in any of them.
JOHN: Sherlock? The showing-off thing: weve discussed it before.
SHERLOCK: There is always a man at a wedding who is not in any photograph but can go
anywhere, and even carry an equipment bag around with him if he likes, and you never even
see his face. (He walks closer to the photographer and looks down towards his hand.) You only
ever see ...
(Brief montage of the wedding pictures, and then the photographer going round the reception
taking photos.)
(Back in the present, Sherlock rapidly slaps one cuff of a pair of handcuffs around the
photographers wrist and the other cuff around the frame of a nearby birdcage luggage trolley
[Arthur Shappey would be so excited].)
SHERLOCK: ... the camera.
PHOTOGRAPHER: What are you doing? What is this?
SHERLOCK (holding up his phone to show the screen to the others): Jonathan Small, todays
substitute wedding photographer known to us as the Mayfly Man. His brother was one of the
raw recruits killed in that incursion. Jonny sought revenge on Sholto, worked his way through
Sholtos staff, found what he needed ...

370
(Cut-away shot of Small arranging a group of five wedding guests one of whom is Sholto for
a formal photograph. He is moving the people around so that they can all be seen by the
camera which is on a tripod in front of them.)
SHERLOCK: ... an invitation to a wedding the one time Sholto would have to be out in public.
So, he made his plan ...
(Cut-away shot of Small, wearing casual clothes and a cap, outside the gates of the barracks.
He moves to stand beside Bainbridge and then holds up a smartphone as if hes about to take a
selfie of himself with the Guardsman.)
SHERLOCK: ... and rehearsed the murder ...
(Cut-away shot of Small with the wedding group, moving to take Sholto by the shoulders to
move him into position.)
SHERLOCK: ... making sure of every last detail.
(Standing behind Sholto, Small holds his shoulder with one hand and puts his other hand down
to the back of his belt. We cant see what hes holding but we hear a sharp noise as the slender
blade punches through the belt and into Sholtos back.
Outside the barracks, still holding his phone up with one hand, Small stands slightly behind
Bainbridge and we hear the sharp noise of the blade stabbing through the Guardsmans belt.
Bainbridge jolts slightly and blinks.
At the photoshoot, Sholto sways slightly and looks a little uncomfortable. Small glares
murderously at him from behind, withdraws his hand and then puts it into his jackets inside
breast pocket, tucking the blade out of sight.
At the barracks, Small walks away from Bainbridge.
At the photoshoot, Small gives Sholto one last glare from behind, then walks forward to his
camera.)
(Back in the reception foyer, Small looks calmly at Sherlock.)
SHERLOCK: Brilliant, ruthless, almost certainly a monomaniac though, in fairness, his
photographs are actually quite good.
(He tosses his phone to Greg.)
SHERLOCK: Everything you needs on that. You probably ought to ... arrest him or something.
(Nearby, Mary comes into view, apparently looking for John. She spots him, smiles and hurries
towards him. Janine, standing beside Sherlock, leans closer and speaks quietly without looking
at him.)
JANINE: Do you always carry handcuffs?
SHERLOCK: Down, girl.
MARY (holding out her hand to John): Come on, quick!
(She reaches his side and John puts his arm around her as she turns and sees Small nearby. He
is looking at Sherlock fixedly.)
SMALL: Its not me you should be arresting, Mr Holmes.
SHERLOCK: Oh, I dont do the arresting. (He nods towards Greg.) I just farm that out.
SMALL: Sholto hes the killer, not me. I should have killed him quicker.
(He grins manically, then his smile fades and he shakes his head.)
SMALL: I shouldnt have tried to be clever.
SHERLOCK (softly): You should have driven faster.
(He takes his hands from behind his back and crooks one arm to Janine. She takes it and they
walk away. John and Mary follow them. Greg looks down at Sherlocks phone, then looks at
Small.)
LESTRADE: Right ...
In the reception room, the tables have been cleared away. Looking into each others eyes, Mary
and John are dancing a slow waltz in the middle of the room to the sound of a single violin while
all the guests stand around the edge of the room and watch them. On a low stage at the end of
the room Sherlock is playing his violin. The tune is the same one we heard at the beginning of
the episode. He sways gently while he plays, his eyes fixed on the newlyweds. As the tune
draws to an end, John shifts one hand to Marys back, holds her by the waist with the other and
starts to dip her backwards. Mary gasps.
MARY: Really?!
(Chuckling, he bends her backwards as she giggles. He kisses her as the tune ends. The guests
break into applause and some of them cheer. Everyone is looking at the happy couple except
Janine who directs her applause towards Sherlock. She whoops at him.)
JANINE: Yeah!

371
(Sherlock looks at her for a moment, then turns to the music stand in front of him. He had
taken off his buttonhole flower and put it on the stand so that it wouldnt get in the way while
he was playing and now he picks it up, shows her what hes holding and then tosses it across
the room towards her. She catches it. John who has pulled Mary upright again and is laughing
happily waves his thanks to Sherlock, then kisses Mary again as Sherlock steps to the nearby
microphone.)
SHERLOCK: Ladies and gentlemen, just, er, one last thing before the evening begins properly.
Apologies for earlier. A crisis arose and was dealt with.
(He draws in a breath.)
SHERLOCK: More importantly, however, today we saw two people make vows. Ive never made
a vow in my life, and after tonight I never will again. So, here in front of you all, my first and
last vow. Mary and John: whatever it takes, whatever happens, from now on I swear I will
always be there, always, for all three of you.
(He hesitates momentarily, then stutters.)
SHERLOCK: Er, Im sorry, I mean, I mean two of you. All two of you. Both of you, in fact. Ive
just miscounted.
(He takes a sharp breath. John and Mary exchange a slightly worried look.)
SHERLOCK: Anyway, its time for dancing. (Over his shoulder to the DJ on the stage) Play the
music again, please, thank you.
(Disco lights begin to flash and Sherlock gestures grandly to the guests as Frankie Valli & The
Four Seasons song December, 1963 (Oh What A Night) starts to play.)
SHERLOCK: Okay, everybody, just dance. Dont be shy!
(He walks down off the stage, still gesturing to the crowd.)
SHERLOCK: Dancing, please!
(The guests start to move onto the floor and begin to dance.)
SHERLOCK: Very good!
(He walks over to Mary and John who look quizzically at him.)
SHERLOCK: Sorry, that was one more deduction than I was really expecting.
MARY: Deduction?
SHERLOCK (looking intensely at her): Increased appetite ...
(Flashback to Mary taking one of the canaps from the waiters tray.)
MARY (in flashback): Starving.
SHERLOCK: ... change of taste perception ...
(Flashback to Mary grimacing at her wine glass.)
MARY (in flashback): Urgh. I chose this wine. Its bloody awful.
SHERLOCK: ... and you were sick this morning. You assumed it was just wedding nerves. You
got angry with me when I mentioned it to you. All the signs are there.
MARY: The signs?
(Sherlock glances across to John, then turns his eyes back to her.)
SHERLOCK: The signs of three.
(His gaze drops to her abdomen.)
MARY: What?!
SHERLOCK: Mary, I think you should do a pregnancy test.
(John sighs and drops his head, almost bending over double. Mary grins delightedly at
Sherlock.)
SHERLOCK: W... th... the statistics for the first trimester are ...
JOHN (straightening up): Shut up.
(Sherlock freezes in the middle of forming his next word. He looks at John as if waiting for
permission to continue.)
JOHN: Just ... shut up.
SHERLOCK: Sorry.
(John turns to Mary.)
JOHN (looking annoyed with himself): How did he notice before me? Im a bloody doctor.
SHERLOCK: Its your day off.
JOHN: Its your day off!
SHERLOCK: Stop-stop panicking.
JOHN: Im not panicking.
MARY: Im pregnant Im panicking.
SHERLOCK: Dont panic. None of you panic.
(The Watsons both look down, their faces full of concern.)
SHERLOCK: Absolutely no reason to panic.

372
JOHN: Oh, and youd know, of course?

SHERLOCK: Yes, I would. Youre already the best parents in the world. Look at all the practice
youve had!
JOHN: What practice?
SHERLOCK: Well, youre hardly gonna need me around now that youve got a real baby on the
way.
(John stares, then Sherlock smiles happily at him. John laughs and reaches out to cup the back
of his neck. Laughing even more, he turns to his wife and puts his other hand on her shoulder
as she begins to smile with delight. Sherlock turns his smile towards Mary, but after a moment
the smile begins to fade a little.)
JOHN (to Mary): You all right?
MARY (a little breathlessly): Yeah.
(John turns back to Sherlock, smiling joyfully. They look at each other for a long moment, then
John breaks the eye contact and they both look a bit awkward. Theres a slightly embarrassed
pause for a couple of seconds.)
SHERLOCK (abruptly): Dance.
JOHN: Mm?
SHERLOCK: Both of you, now, go dance. We cant just stand here. People will wonder what
were talking about.
JOHN: Right.
(Mary reaches out to touch Sherlocks arm, her voice tearful.)
MARY: And what about you?
JOHN: Well, we cant all three dance. There are limits!
SHERLOCK: Yes, there are.
(John clears his throat. Still looking tearful, Mary turns to John.)
MARY: Come on, husband. Lets go.
JOHN (pointing over his shoulder): This isnt a waltz, is it?
(She laughs.)
SHERLOCK: Dont worry, Mary, I have been tutoring him.
JOHN: He did, you know. Baker Street, behind closed curtains.
(Turning to face her, he takes her right hand with his left and puts his other hand on her waist.)
JOHN: Mrs Hudson came in one time. Dont know how those rumours started!
(He sniggers. Giggling, she puts her left hand on his shoulder and they dance off into the crowd.
Looking over Johns shoulder, Mary smiles at Sherlock and mouths what may be a thank you.
He smiles, then nods to her. As his friends dance away, he lowers his eyes, then slowly turns
and looks at everybody dancing all around him, keeping his head lowered as if trying not to
meet anyones eyes. He looks very lost and alone in the middle of the crowd. After a few
moments, however, he seems to have a thought and lifts his head, still looking around but now
with more intent. Eventually he sees Janine dancing some distance away. She is wearing his
buttonhole flower pinned to the top of her dress. She looks across the room and smiles at him.
Returning her smile he starts to walk towards her and she lifts her hand and points to her right
with her thumb up, grinning happily. Sherlock stops when he realises that shes dancing with
the comics and sci-fi geek he had recommended to her earlier. She turns away and continues
to dance with her new friend. Sherlock looks reflective for a few seconds, then turns towards
the stage.
On the music stand is the hand-written music he played for the newlyweds. In the top right-
hand corner is written:
Waltz,
for Mary & John
by
Sherlock Holmes
Sherlock picks up the music and folds it into an envelope, which he puts onto the stand. Written
on the envelope is:
Dr. and Mrs Watson

373
Leaving the stage he walks slowly through the guests. Molly, dancing with Tom and Mrs
Hudson, looks across the room and watches him for a few seconds, then turns back to the
others.)
In the garden outside the reception room, while the revellers dance on, Sherlock puts his coat
on and, with the collar turned up to the max, slowly walks away.
His Last Vow
The scene opens on a pair of thin rimmed spectacles lying on top of a table.
LADY SMALLWOOD (offscreen): Mr Magnussen, please state your full name for the record.
MAGNUSSEN (in a heavy Danish accent): Charles Augustus Magnussen.
(We see Lady Smallwood from Magnussens viewpoint. She is a woman in her early sixties. She
is sitting at another table some distance away, facing him. With his glasses off, his view of the
woman is blurred.)
LADY SMALLWOOD: Mr Magnussen, how would you describe your influence over the Prime
Minister?
MAGNUSSEN: The British Prime Minister?
LADY SMALLWOOD: Any of the British Prime Ministers you have known.
(We now see the layout of the room. Magnussen sits alone at a table in a large room. The wall
to his left is floor-to-ceiling glass. He is facing three more tables which are laid out in a U-
shape. There are eleven people sitting at these tables. Each person has a microphone on a
stand in front of them, and the session is being filmed and projected onto a screen behind Lady
Smallwood. She sits at the centre of the table facing Magnussen. She is clearly the chairperson
of what must be the parliamentary commission to which a rolling news headline referred in The
Empty Hearse at the same time that the TV news announced that Sherlock was alive. There is
a glassed-off viewing gallery at the rear of the room where observers perhaps mostly
journalists are sitting and watching the proceedings with headphones on their ears.
Magnussen answers all his questions in a flat tone, showing no emotion.)
MAGNUSSEN: I never had the slightest influence over any of them. Why would I?
LADY SMALLWOOD (looking through a report on the table in front of her): I notice youve had
... seven meetings at Downing Street this year. (She looks up at him.) Why?
MAGNUSSEN: Because I was invited.
LADY SMALLWOOD: Can you recall the subjects under discussion?
MAGNUSSEN: Not without being more indiscreet than I believe is appropriate.
(A man to the right of Lady Smallwood leans forward to his microphone.)
GARVIE: Do you think it right that a newspaper proprietor, a private individual and, in fact, a
foreign national should have such regular access to our Prime Minister?
(While he has been speaking, Magnussen has picked up his glasses and put them on. As soon
as Garvie comes into focus, information appears in front of Magnussens eyes in a white font:
JOHN GARVIE
MP ROCKWELL SOUTH
ADULTERER (SEE FILE)
REFORMED ALCOHOLIC
PORN PREFERENCE: NORMAL
FINANCES: 41% DEBT (SEE FILE)
STATUS UNIMPORTANT
then, in red underneath:
PRESSURE POINT: >
The last line flashes momentarily.)

MAGNUSSEN: I dont think its wrong that a private individual should accept an invitation.
(The line stops flashing and adds further information:

374
PRESSURE POINT: >

DISABLED DAUGHTER
(SEE FILE)
MAGNUSSEN: However, you have my sincere apologies for being foreign.

GARVIE: Thats not what I meant. That is not in any way ...
LADY SMALLWOOD (talking over him): Mr Magnussen, can you recall an occasion when your
remarks could have influenced government policy or the Prime Ministers thinking in any way?
(While she has been speaking, Magnussen has turned his gaze to her and information
immediately appears in front of his eyes.)
LADY ELIZABETH SMALLWOOD

MARRIED
SOLVENT
FORMER GYMNAST
PORN PREFERENCE: NONE
VICES: NONE
and, in red underneath:
PRESSURE POINT: >SEARCHING
The line flashes for a moment.

Magnussen takes off his glasses and reaches for a small cloth on the table.)
MAGNUSSEN: No.
LADY SMALLWOOD: Are you sure?
(Magnussen pauses while he cleans the lenses on his glasses and then puts them on again. He
looks at Lady Smallwood and the information about her reappears in front of his eyes. The basic
details about her then disappear leaving just the red line which is no longer flashing and now
reads:
PRESSURE POINT: >

HUSBAND
MAGNUSSEN (holding her gaze): I have an excellent memory.
[Transcribers note: on the Region 2 DVD of this episode, when Magnussen looks at Lady
Smallwood and sees the text in front of his eyes, it actually reads Lady Alicia Smallwood, not
Lady Elizabeth Smallwood. This error was not on the version transmitted by the BBC, and
whoever let the wrong version appear on the DVD wants a good slapping. Anyway, onwards ...]
DUSK. Ornate electronic gates open across a wide drive, and a black car bearing the licence
plate 1 CAM drives through and progresses along the drive which curves across the centre of a
small lake. At the end of the drive is a large beautiful and almost futuristic-looking house with
tall windows and curved walls. At the house, a man in a suit opens the door to Magnussen and
he walks into an opulent-looking hall which has walls that are part bare pale grey brick and part
plastered in white. The floor is a pale colour and glass panels line the staircases. Magnussen
walks downstairs, passing a kitchen which is all pale brown tiling and stainless steel. He
progresses to a glass wall with a glass door in it which leads into a room possibly a study
which has a table inside on which are some slender and strange-looking ornaments. He goes in
and walks across to a double set of wooden doors. He pauses for a moment, then opens them.
He walks down a light brown wooden spiral staircase, again lined with glass panels. Further
down, the spiral staircase becomes narrower and is now made of light grey metal. The stairs
lead into a large library. The shelves are full of files and ledgers. He walks through the stacks,
his fingers raised and flicking towards various shelves as if he is trying to remember where he
has put something specific.
At the rear of the library the room becomes familiar to us and we realise that this is the place
where the man we now know to be Magnussen watched the footage of Sherlock rescuing John
from the bonfire at the end of The Empty Hearse. It is dark and creepy in this area and the

375
grotesque dolls, stuffed animals and unpleasant-looking sculptures are still on display.
Magnussen goes to a rotating card index and flicks through it until he finds what he wants, then
he moves on and soon afterwards we see him looking at a file which has a photograph of Lady
Smallwood paperclipped to the inside. He smiles a little. Next to her photograph is a picture of a
man of around her age, and now Magnussen slides under the paperclip a photo of a beautiful
girl who appears to be in her late teens. The girl has ornately coiffed hair and is wearing a
strappy white top and is looking directly into the camera, clearly posing for the photograph.
Not long afterwards, Magnussen is sitting in a chair facing a large wall. A film projector whirrs
beside him and the photograph of the girl is now being projected onto the wall. He is holding
the original photograph in one hand and looking at it. After a moment he raises the photo to his
mouth and runs one corner slowly down his bottom lip.
Some time later Lady Smallwood is sitting at a table in a room which has several other tables
and chairs scattered around. Its possible that this room is in an exclusive club similar to The
Diogenes Club. She is looking at paperwork. A smartly dressed attendant speaks to a man near
the door.
ATTENDANT: Your cars waiting outside, sir. See you tomorrow.
(The man leaves. Magnussen is sitting in an armchair some feet away from the table. Lady
Smallwood puts down her papers and pen and looks across to Magnussen as he stands up and
walks across the room towards her.)
MAGNUSSEN: May I join you?
LADY SMALLWOOD: I dont think its appropriate.
MAGNUSSEN: It isnt.
(He goes over to a wheeled chair nearby and rolls it across to the side of her table.)
LADY SMALLWOOD: Mr Magnussen, outside the enquiry we can have no contact, no
communication at all.
(Magnussen sits down, then reaches out and grasps her hand.)
LADY SMALLWOOD: Please dont do that.
MAGNUSSEN: In 1982 your husband corresponded with Helen Catherine Driscoll.
LADY SMALLWOOD: That was before I knew him.
MAGNUSSEN: The letters were lively, loving some would say explicit and currently in my
possession.
LADY SMALLWOOD: Will you please move your hand?
MAGNUSSEN (narrating part of one of the letters): I long, my darling, to know the touch of
your ... (he pauses briefly, then continues) ... body.
LADY SMALLWOOD: I know what was in the letters.
MAGNUSSEN: She was fifteen.
LADY SMALLWOOD: She looked older.
MAGNUSSEN: Oh, she looked delicious. We have photographs, too the ones she sent him. (He
smacks his lips.) Yum yum.
LADY SMALLWOOD: He was unaware of her age. He met her only once before the letters began.
When he discovered the truth, he stopped immediately. Those are the facts.
MAGNUSSEN: Facts are for history books. I work in news.
LADY SMALLWOOD: Your hand is sweating.
MAGNUSSEN: Always, Im afraid. I have a condition.
LADY SMALLWOOD: Its disgusting.
MAGNUSSEN: Ah, Im used to it. (He strokes his finger across the top of her hand.) The whole
world is wet to my touch.
LADY SMALLWOOD: I will call someone. I will have you removed.
(She tries to withdraw her hand from his but he clamps his fingers around it.)
MAGNUSSEN: What is that?
(He gently lifts her hand, turns it over and then clamps his fingers around it again as he raises
her wrist towards his face and sniffs it.)
MAGNUSSEN: Claire de la Lune? (He looks up at her.) A bit young for you, isnt it?
(She pulls her hand free and flails towards him but he seizes her arm and holds it still.)
MAGNUSSEN: You want to hit me now? Could you, still? Youre an old lady now. Perhaps you
should settle for calling someone.
(She tugs her hand free and this time he releases it. She looks away.)
MAGNUSSEN: Well? Go on.
(She continues to look away.)

376
MAGNUSSEN: No? Because now there are consequences. I have the letters and therefore I have
you.
LADY SMALLWOOD: This is blackmail.
MAGNUSSEN: Of course it isnt blackmail. This is ... ownership.
(She turns to glare at him.)
LADY SMALLWOOD: You do not own me.
(The attendant walks across the room towards them but stops some distance away.
Magnussens eyes turn briefly as if hearing his footsteps but otherwise he takes no notice of
him. Instead, he half-rises, leans towards Lady Smallwood, sticks out his tongue and runs the
tip of it up the side of her face. She cringes. He sits back down.)
MAGNUSSEN: Claire de la Lune.
(He picks up a paper napkin from the tray on her table, sticks his tongue out again and rubs the
napkin over it.)
MAGNUSSEN: It never tastes like it smells, does it?
(Lady Smallwood stares ahead of herself. He puts the napkin down, gives her one last look and
then stands and walks away.)
MAGNUSSEN (to the attendant): Lady Smallwoods bill is on me. See to it.
ATTENDANT: Yes, Mr Magnussen.
(Lady Smallwood lowers her head and lets out a shuddering breath.)
Later, she is being driven home. Sitting in the back of her Rolls Royce, she is holding an open
compact mirror in one hand and has a handkerchief pressed to the side of her face where
Magnussen licked it. She breathes out shakily.
LADY SMALLWOOD (quietly): Oh, God.
(Her chauffeur looks in his rear view mirror at her.)
CHAUFFEUR: You all right, maam?
LADY SMALLWOOD: Fine, yes.
(She lowers the handkerchief and looks at herself in her compact mirror.)
LADY SMALLWOOD (softly, angrily): Magnussen.
(Furiously she snaps the compact closed.)
LADY SMALLWOOD (louder, but to herself): No-one stands up to him. No-one dares. No-one
even tries.
(She picks up her ornate bottle of Claire de la Lune perfume from her handbag and starts
spraying herself with it.)
LADY SMALLWOOD: There isnt a man or woman in England capable of stopping that disgusting
creature ...
(She stops, staring out of the window for a moment.)
CHAUFFEUR: Maam?
LADY SMALLWOOD: Turn the car around. Were going back into town. Turn around.
(The chauffeur does a U-turn and starts driving back the way they just came.)
CHAUFFEUR: Where are we going, maam?
LADY SMALLWOOD: Baker Street.
OPENING CREDITS.
John and Mary are asleep in bed, Marys hand resting on top of Johns on top of the covers.
Johns hand twitches as his dream flashes back to his time in Afghanistan and he hears gunfire
and explosions and sees his comrades fall and grimace in pain around him. He shakes his head
in his sleep and his dream moves to a flashback of Sherlock during their first meeting at Baker
Street.
SHERLOCK (in the dream): Seen a lot of injuries, then? Violent deaths?
JOHN (in the dream): Enough for a lifetime.
(In the Watsons bedroom theres a pounding sound nearby, as if someone is knocking on the
front door.)
SHERLOCK (in the dream): Wanna see some more?
JOHN (in the dream): Oh, God, yes.
(The banging sound comes again and John jolts and sits up in bed. Half asleep, in his minds
eye he can see Sherlock looking intensely at him.)
SHERLOCK: The game is on. (He smiles.)
(John wakes up properly and throws back the covers.

377
Now wearing a dressing gown over his night clothes, he goes to the front door where someone
is still knocking. He opens the door and sees a woman standing there looking back at him. She
has clearly been crying for some time.)
WOMAN (tearfully): I know its early. (She starts to cry.) Really, Im sorry.
(John stares at her a little blankly. Mary comes into view at the end of the hall, putting on her
dressing gown. She peers down the hall.)
MARY: Is that Kate?
JOHN: Y-yeah, its Kate.
(Kate sobs, holding a paper tissue to her nose.)
MARY: Invite her in?
JOHN: Er, sorry, yes. D-dyou wanna come in, Kate?
(He steps aside and Kate walks down the hall towards Mary, still crying.)
MARY (sympathetically): Hey ...
Later, Mary and Kate are sitting on the sofa. Mary is stroking Kates arm while she continues to
cry.
MARY: Its all right.
(John comes over and puts two mugs onto the coffee table.)
JOHN: There you go.
MARY (to John): Its Isaac.
JOHN (to Kate): Ah, your husband.
MARY: Son.
JOHN: Son, yeah.
KATE: Hes gone missing again. Didnt come home last night.
(Mary lets out a sympathetic sigh and looks at John.)
MARY: The usual.
JOHN: Hes the drugs one, yeah?
(He starts to pace back and forth. Kate breaks down in tears again.)
MARY: Er, yeah, nicely put, John.
JOHN: Look, is it Sherlock Holmes you want? Because Ive not seen him in ages.
MARY: About a month.
(John continues pacing, the fingers of his left hand twitching.)
KATE: Whos Sherlock Holmes?
MARY (looking at John): See? That does happen.
KATE: Theres a a place they all go to, him and his ... friends.
(Cut-away close-up of someone cooking-up a drug in a spoon with a lighter held underneath.
Nearby, someone blearily props their head on their hand.)
KATE (voiceover): They all ... do whatever they do ...
(The first person clicks the lighter closed.)
KATE: ... shoot up, whatever you call it.
JOHN: Where is he?
KATE: Its a house. Its a dump. I mean, its practically falling down.
JOHN: No, the address.
(Mary turns and looks at him.)
JOHN: Where, exactly?
Shortly afterwards John is dressed and walking down the path outside the house and heading
towards their car parked at the kerb. Mary, still in her pyjamas and dressing gown, is following
him.
MARY: Seriously?
JOHN (turning back to her): Why not? Shes not going to the police. Someones got to get him.
MARY (stopping at the gate as John continues on): Why you?
JOHN: Im being neighbourly.
MARY: Since when?
JOHN (chuckling briefly): Since now. Since this exact minute.
MARY: Why are you being so ...?
(She twirls her hands expressively.)
JOHN (stopping at the drivers door and turning back to her): What?
MARY: I dunno. Whats the matter with you?
JOHN (loudly): There is nothing the matter with me. (Quickly, less forcefully) Imagine I said
that without shouting.

378
MARY: Im trying.
(She walks briskly towards the passenger side of the car.)
JOHN: No, you cant come. Youre pregnant.
MARY: You cant go. Im pregnant.
(She opens the passenger door and gets in, shutting the door. John looks away for a moment,
then gets into the car.)
Later, they have parked on a piece of concreted waste ground outside the address Kate gave
them. John opens the boot of the car and takes out something, then walks round to the
passenger side. Mary laughs and points at what hes tucking into the top of his jeans.
MARY: What is that?!
JOHN: Its a tyre lever.
MARY: Why?
JOHN (nodding towards the house): Cause there were loads of smackheads in there, and one of
them might need help with a tyre. If theres any trouble, just go. Ill be fine.
(He turns and starts to walk towards the house but Mary gets out of the car.)
MARY: Er, John, John, John, John.
(He stops and turns back to her.)
MARY: It is a tiny bit sexy.
JOHN (nonchalantly): Yeah, I know.
(He walks across to the front door of the house, which has a large sign stuck to the front of it
saying, PRIVATE PROPERTY. KEEP OUT, and bangs loudly on the door.)
JOHN: Hello?
(The door is opened by a young man wearing a jacket with the hood pulled up over his head. He
looks scruffy and dirty.)
BILL: What dyou want?
JOHN: Scuse me.
(He barges his way in and walks down the hall. Bill looks outside for a moment, then turns
towards John.)
BILL: Naah, naah, you cant come in ere!
JOHN (looking into a room as he walks past): Im looking for a friend.
(He continues on, looking into doorways as he goes.)
JOHN: A very specific friend Im not just browsing.
(Reaching the last room, he looks in there and then starts walking back again.)
BILL: Youve gotta go. No-ones allowed ere.
JOHN (stopping several paces away from Bill and clearing his throat): Isaac Whitney. You seen
him?
(Bill takes a flick-knife from his pocket and snaps the blade open, holding it towards John.)
JOHN: Im asking you if youve seen Isaac Whitney, and now youre showing me a knife. Is it a
clue?
(Bill gestures with his knife towards the open door behind him.)
JOHN: Are you doing a mime?
BILL: Go. Or Ill cut you.
JOHN: Ooh, not from there. Let me help.
(He walks towards him, stopping close enough to Bill that he could stab him if he wanted to. Bill
stares back at him wide-eyed.)
JOHN (now in full soldier mode): Now, concentrate. (Slowly, precisely) Isaac Whitney.
BILL: Okay, you asked for it.
(Before Bill can even think about moving, John lashes out with his left hand, seizing Bills right
arm and slamming his right hand down onto the arm. As Bill cries out in pain John wraps his
right hand round the front of Bills neck and slams him against the wall, then uses his right foot
to sweep Bills feet from under him. Bill slumps to the floor and John steps back. Bill chokes and
groans in pain. John bends down and picks up the flick-knife which has fallen to the floor.)
JOHN: Right.
(He squats down beside Bill.)
JOHN: Are you concentrating yet?
BILL: You broke my arm!
JOHN: No, I sprained it.
(He looks all around to make sure theres no-one else nearby.)
BILL: It feels squishy! Is it supposed to feel squishy?
(He holds out his right arm to John.)

379
BILL: Feel that!

(John reaches out and squeezes the arm. Bill groans.)
JOHN: Yeah, its a sprain. Im a doctor I know how to sprain people.
(He releases the arm. Bill groans.)
JOHN: Now where is Isaac Whitney?
BILL: I dont know!
(John gives him a look.)
BILL: Maybe upstairs.
JOHN: There you go. (He pats Bills leg.) Wasnt that easy?
(He stands up and walks towards the stairs.)
BILL (grumpily): No. Its really sore. Youre mental, you are.
JOHN (pocketing the flick-knife as he goes): No. Just used to a better class of criminal.
(He walks up the stairs and into a large room at the top. Several people are lying or sitting on
mattresses around the edge of the room. All of them look very stoned and unaware of whats
going on in the real world. Grimacing, John walks slowly across the room.)
JOHN: Isaac? Isaac Whitney?
(He walks over towards two people lying side by side on mattresses.)
JOHN (quietly): Isaac?
(One of them tiredly raises a hand. The young man gazes blearily up at John as he walks to his
side and kneels down beside him.)
JOHN: Hello, mate.
(He puts a supporting hand behind his back.)
JOHN: Sit up for me? Sit up.
(He helps him to sit, then lifts one of his eyelids. The boys eyes roll uncontrollably and he tries
to focus on John.)
ISAAC: Doctor Watson?
JOHN (lifting his other eyelid): Yep.
ISAAC: Where am I?
JOHN: The arse-end of the universe with the scum of the Earth. Look at me.
ISAAC (blearily): Have you come for me?
JOHN: Dyou think I know a lot of people here?!
(Isaac laughs hazily.)
JOHN: Hey, all right?
(On the mattress to Isaacs right and behind John, another person wearing jogging bottoms
and a jacket with the hood up rolls over, props himself onto one elbow and looks round to
them.)
SHERLOCK (for it is he): Ah, hello, John.
(John raises his head, his eyes widening.)
SHERLOCK: Didnt expect to see you here.
(He pushes his hood back as John turns round to look at him. Sherlock squinches up his eyes
and peers at him.)
SHERLOCK: Did you come for me, too?
(John looks at him for a second, then his eyes begin to narrow.)
Outside shortly afterwards, Isaac stumbles over to the car where Mary is now sitting in the
drivers seat.
MARY: Hallo, Isaac.
ISAAC (blurrily): Mrs Watson, can I can I get in, please?
MARY (pointing her thumb behind her): Yes, of course, get in. Wheres John?
ISAAC (opening the rear car door): Theyre avin a fight.
MARY (urgently): Who is?
(Over at the house, on the first floor landing of the fire escape, Sherlock angrily punches open a
temporary door which had been nailed across a doorway, knocking it off all its nails and sending
it crashing across the fire escape.)
SHERLOCK (angrily): For Gods sakes, John! Im on a case!
JOHN (following him down the fire escape): A month thats all it took. One.
(Halfway down, Sherlock vaults over the side of the fire escape and onto a wall beside it.)
SHERLOCK: Im working.
(He jumps down onto the top of a wheelie bin beside the wall and then down onto another one
laying on its side before stepping to the ground. John follows.)
JOHN: Sherlock Holmes in a drug den! Hows that gonna look?

380
SHERLOCK: Im undercover.
JOHN: No youre not!
SHERLOCK (gesticulating angrily): Well, Im not now!
(Mary has driven the car quickly towards the house, and she pulls up alongside them with a
squeal of brakes.)
MARY (sternly): In. Both of you, quickly.
(John gets into the passenger seat while Sherlock gets into the seat behind him. Bill hurries
over towards the car, cradling his hurt arm. Mary sighs in exasperation at her boys, then turns
to look through the front windscreen at the new arrival standing in front of the car.)
BILL: Please. Can I come? I think Ive got a broken arm.
MARY: No. Go away.
JOHN: No, let him.
MARY: Why?
JOHN (to Bill, leaning out of the open side window and pointing towards the rear of the car):
Yeah, just get in. Its a sprain.
(Bill runs round the side of the car.)
MARY: Anyone else? I mean, were taking everybody home, are we?
(Sighing, Sherlock shifts to the centre of the rear seat to give Bill some room. Bill gets in and
looks round at him.)
BILL: All right, Shezza?
JOHN (incredulously): Shezza?
SHERLOCK (tetchily): I was undercover.
MARY: Seriously Shezza, though?!
(Sherlock sighs again.)
JOHN: Were not going home. Were going to Barts. Im calling Molly.
(In the rear seat, Sherlock is wiping some of the dirt off his face with a handkerchief.)
MARY: Why?
JOHN (holding his phone to his ear and turning to look over his shoulder at his friend before
directing the rest of the sentence to Mary): Because Sherlock Holmes needs to pee in a jar.
(Sherlock lowers his handkerchief and closes his eyes with exasperation. Mary drives them all
away.)
Later, in the lab at Barts, Molly is finishing her tests on Sherlocks urine sample. He is standing
nearby, leaning back against the central bench and looking sulky. On the other side of the lab
Bill is sitting on a side bench while Mary is wrapping a bandage round his arm. Isaac is also
sitting nearby. Molly takes off her gloves with two loud snaps.
JOHN: Well? Is he clean?
(Throwing her gloves down, Molly turns to him.)
MOLLY: Clean?
(She turns and walks over to face Sherlock, then slaps him hard around the face with her right
hand. Mary, Bill and Isaac look over to them in surprise. Molly slaps him again just as hard and
then, for good measure, slaps him again with her left hand. Sherlock blinks and grimaces.)
MOLLY: How dare you throw away the beautiful gifts you were born with?
(She glances briefly towards John and then looks back at Sherlock.)
MOLLY: And how dare you betray the love of your friends? Say youre sorry.
SHERLOCK (holding his face): Sorry your engagements over though Im fairly grateful for the
lack of a ring.
MOLLY: Stop it. (Angrily) Just stop it.
(John storms towards him, his face stern but his voice low.)
JOHN: If you were anywhere near this kind of thing again, you could have called, you could
have talked to me.
SHERLOCK: Please do relax. This is all for a case.
(Mary, still wrapping Bills arm, shakes her head.)
JOHN: A ca... What kind of case would need you doing this?
SHERLOCK: I might as well ask you why youve started cycling to work.
JOHN (shaking his head): No. Were not playing this game.
(He turns and walks away.)
SHERLOCK: Quite recently, Id say. Youre very determined about it.
JOHN: Not interested.
BILL: I am.
(Sherlock turns to look at him. Bill looks down at Mary.)

381
BILL: Ow.
MARY: Oh, sorry. You moved. But it is just a sprain.
BILL: Yeah. Somebody it me.
MARY: Huh?
(Bill turns his head to look at John.)
BILL: Eh, just some guy.
JOHN: Yeah, probably just an addict in need of a fix.
SHERLOCK (pointedly, looking directly at John): Yes. I think, in a way, it was.
(John holds his eyes for a moment, then looks away.)
BILL: Is it his shirt?
SHERLOCK (looking round at him): Im sorry?
BILL: Well, its the creases, innit?
(He looks across to John. Sherlock does likewise and zooms in on the creases in his shirt.)
BILL: The two creases down the front. Its been recently folded but its not new.
(Sherlock smiles slightly.)
BILL: Must have dressed in a hurry this morning ...
(Flashback to John in his bedroom, folding a shirt on top of the bed.)
BILL: ... so all your shirts must be kept like that.
(John stares at him in confusion.)
BILL: But why? Maybe cause you cycle to work every morning, shower when you get there an
then dress in the clothes you brought with you.
(Sherlock looks at him, clearly impressed.)
BILL (still looking at John): You keep your shirts folded ...
(Flashback to John, in his bedroom, putting the folded shirt into a small backpack.)
BILL: ... ready to pack.
SHERLOCK: Not bad.
BILL (still looking at John): An I further deduce ...
(Sherlock raises his eyebrows, and he and John exchange a brief glance.)
BILL: ... youve only started recently, because youve got a bit of chafing.
(John looks down his body.)
SHERLOCK: No hes always walked like that. Remind me whats your name again?
BILL: They call me The Wig.
SHERLOCK: No they dont.
BILL (awkwardly): Well, they-they call me Wiggy.
SHERLOCK: Nope.
BILL (hesitating, then looking down): Bill. Bill Wiggins.
SHERLOCK: Nice observational skills, Billy.
(His phone sounds a text alert. He takes out the phone and looks at the message.)
SHERLOCK: Ah! Finally.
MOLLY: Finally what?
BILL: Good news?
SHERLOCK: Oh, excellent news the best.
(He turns and heads for the door, working on his phone.)
SHERLOCK: Theres every chance that my drug habit might hit the newspapers. The game is
on.
(Raising his phone to his ear as he reaches the door, he turns and looks round the room
briefly.)
SHERLOCK: Excuse me for a second.
(He leaves the room.)
Later, he and John are alone in the back of a taxi. Sherlock is still in his scruffy clothes, so it
appears they have gone directly from Barts.
SHERLOCK: Youve heard of Charles Augustus Magnussen, of course.
JOHN: Yeah. Owns some newspapers ones I dont read.
(Sherlock frowns and looks round the cab and then out of the back window.)
SHERLOCK: Hang on werent there other people?
JOHN: Marys taking the boys home; Im taking you. We did discuss it.
(Sherlock raises his eyes upwards as if trying to remember.)
SHERLOCK: People were talking, none of them me. I must have filtered.
JOHN: I noticed.

382
SHERLOCK: I have to filter out a lot of witless babble. Ive got Mrs Hudson on semi-permanent
mute.
(The journey continues and the taxi eventually pulls up outside 221B Baker Street. As soon as
he sees the closed front door, Sherlock lets out an exasperated sigh.)
SHERLOCK: What is my brother doing here?
(He gets out and heads for the front door. John calls after him.)
JOHN (tetchily): So Ill just pay, then, shall I?
(Sherlock goes up onto the doorstep and glares at the door knocker.)
SHERLOCK: Hes straightened the knocker.
(He turns to John as he gets out of the cab.)
SHERLOCK: He always corrects it. Hes OCD. Doesnt even know hes doing it.
(He deliberately pushes the door knocker to one side, then lets himself in.)
JOHN: Whyd you do that?
SHERLOCK: Do what?
JOHN: Nothing.
(They go inside, John shutting the door behind him, and Sherlock opens and goes through the
inner door, then stops and rolls his eyes at the sight of Mycroft sitting on the stairs.)
MYCROFT: Well, then, Sherlock. Back on the sauce?
JOHN: I phoned him.
MYCROFT: The siren call of old habits. How very like Uncle Rudy though, in many ways, cross-
dressing would have been a wiser path for you.
SHERLOCK (folding his arms and directing his comment to John without looking at him): You
phoned him.
JOHN: Course I bloody phoned him.
MYCROFT: Course he bloody did. Now, save me a little time. Where should we be looking?
SHERLOCK: We?
ANDERSONs VOICE (from upstairs): Mr Holmes?
(In the kitchen, Anderson closes the door to one of the cupboards in the kitchen.)
SHERLOCK (furiously): For Gods sake!
(He storms up the stairs, Mycroft sliding sideways on his step to get out of his way. Mycroft and
John exchange a look and John blows out a breath as Mycroft leans on his umbrella to push
himself to his feet.
Sherlock goes into the kitchen and glares at Anderson who is with a female colleague called
Benji. [Dont ask why she has such an odd name but thats how shes named in the end credits
I can only assume its some kind of in-joke or shout-out to a personal friend, or family pet, of
the writer.])
SHERLOCK (angrily): Anderson.
ANDERSON (raising his gloved hands apologetically): Im sorry, Sherlock. Its for your own
good.
(Looking annoyed, Sherlock drops his keys onto the kitchen table. Benji stares at him.)
BENJI: Oh, thats him, isnt it?
(Sherlock turns and storms towards his armchair, where another member of the search team
is sitting and reading a book. The man scrambles out of the chair, putting the book onto the
table beside it, and hurries away. Sherlock flips up his hood and climbs into the chair.)
BENJI: You said hed be taller.
MYCROFT (coming into the kitchen and looking towards Sherlock): Some members of your little
fan-club. Do be polite. Theyre entirely trustworthy, and even willing to search through the toxic
waste dump that you are pleased to call a flat.
(Sherlock has curled up sideways in his chair and now lays his head on one of the arms, closing
his eyes.)
MYCROFT: Youre a celebrity these days, Sherlock. You cant afford a drug habit.
SHERLOCK (opening his eyes and looking at him irritatedly): I do not have a drug habit.
(Johns attention is focussed on a large space between Sherlocks chair and the kitchen. He
points.)
JOHN: Hey, what happened to my chair?
SHERLOCK: It was blocking my view to the kitchen.
JOHN (turning to Mycroft): Well, its good to be missed(!)
SHERLOCK: Well, you were gone. I saw an opportunity.
JOHN: No, you saw the kitchen.
(Mycroft turns to Anderson.)

383
MYCROFT: What have you found so far? Clearly nothing.

SHERLOCK: Theres nothing to find.
MYCROFT (turning toward the hallway behind the kitchen): Your bedroom door is shut.
(Sherlock sighs.)
MYCROFT (slowly walking along the hallway): You havent been home all night. So, why would a
man who has never knowingly closed the door without the direct orders of his mother bother to
do so on this occasion?
(Sherlock has raised his head and flipped back his hood while Mycroft progressed. Now Mycroft
reaches the door and puts his hand on the door knob. Sherlock hurls himself up into a sitting
position.)
SHERLOCK: Okay, stop! Just stop.
(Mycroft turns the knob but doesnt open the door.)
SHERLOCK: Point made.
JOHN: Jesus, Sherlock.
(Mycroft releases the door knob and comes slowly back along the hall.)
MYCROFT: Have to phone our parents, of course, in Oklahoma.
(Sherlock looks down and closes his eyes.)
MYCROFT: Wont be the first time that your substance abuse has wreaked havoc with their line-
dancing.
(Sighing, Sherlock stands up and walks closer to his brother.)
SHERLOCK: This is not what you think. This is for a case.
MYCROFT: What case could possibly justify this?
SHERLOCK: Magnussen.
(Mycrofts slight smile drops.)
SHERLOCK: Charles Augustus Magnussen.
(Mycroft draws in a breath and turns to Anderson and Benji.)
MYCROFT: That name you think you may have just heard you were mistaken. If you ever
mention hearing that name in this room, in this context, I guarantee you on behalf of the
British security services that materials will be found on your computer hard drives resulting in
your immediate incarceration. Dont reply just look frightened and scuttle.
(Anderson immediately ushers Benji out of the kitchen and follows her onto the landing, closing
the door behind him. Mycroft turns back to where John is standing beside Sherlock.)
MYCROFT: I hope I wont have to threaten you as well.
JOHN: Well, I think wed both find that embarrassing.
(Sherlock snorts laughter, turning his head away.)
MYCROFT (sternly to Sherlock): Magnussen is not your business.
SHERLOCK (turning back and pointing at his brother): Oh, you mean hes yours.
MYCROFT: You may consider him under my protection.
SHERLOCK: I consider you under his thumb.
MYCROFT (quietly, ominously): If you go against Magnussen, then you will find yourself going
against me.
SHERLOCK (nonchalantly): Okay. Ill let you know if I notice.
(He strolls towards the kitchen door.)
SHERLOCK: Er, what was I going to say? Oh, yeah.
(He opens the door.)
SHERLOCK: Bye-bye.
(He points the way out. Mycroft walks round him, then turns to face him.)
MYCROFT: Unwise, brother mine.
(Immediately Sherlock seizes Mycrofts left arm just below the elbow. Twisting his arm up
behind his back, he slams his brother face-first against the wall beside the kitchen door. Mycroft
cries out in pain. Sherlock breathes rapidly, his voice venomous.)
SHERLOCK: Brother mine, dont appal me when Im high.
(John hurries over to Mycrofts side.)
JOHN (softly but very firmly, watching Sherlocks face all the time): Mycroft, dont say another
word. Just go. He could snap you in two, and right now I am slightly worried that he might.
(Mycroft pushes himself free of his brothers grip and holds his left arm in pain. Sherlock turns
and walks away. Mycroft turns towards him.)
JOHN (to Mycroft): Dont speak. Just leave.
(Mycroft lowers his right arm. John looks down towards the floor.)
JOHN: Oh.

384
(He bends down and picks up Mycrofts umbrella which he had dropped. Straightening up again,
he offers it to him, clearing his throat. Mycroft snatches it from his hand and leaves. In the
living room, Sherlock is stretching and rubbing the back of his neck. John turns and walks
towards him.)
JOHN: Er, Magnussen?
SHERLOCK: What time is it?
JOHN: About eight.
(Sherlock sniffs deeply and sighs out a disgusted breath.)
SHERLOCK: Im meeting him in three hours. I need a bath.
(He walks through the kitchen towards the hallway.)
JOHN: Its for a case, you said?
SHERLOCK: Yep.
JOHN: What sort of case?
SHERLOCK: Too big and dangerous for any sane individual to get involved in.
JOHN: You trying to put me off?
SHERLOCK: God, no.
(With his hand on the knob of the bathroom door, he looks back at John.)
SHERLOCK: Trying to recruit you.
(He gives him a small smile and goes into the bathroom.)
SHERLOCK (offscreen): And stay out of my bedroom.
(The bathroom door closes. John immediately starts to walk across the kitchen towards the
bedroom. He has just reached the hallway when the bedroom door opens and a familiar face
peers out.)
JANINE: Oh, John, hi.
(Opening the door wider, she laughs in an embarrassed way, pulling down the bottom of the
shirt shes wearing. Shes not wearing anything on her legs.)
JANINE: How are you?
JOHN (staring at her in disbelief): Janine?
JANINE: Sorry. Not dressed.
(She heads towards the kitchen, John standing aside to let her pass.)
JANINE: Has everybody gone? I heard shouting.
JOHN: Yes, theyre gone.
JANINE (looking at her watch): God, look at the time. Ill be late.
(She goes over to the worktop and picks up a cafetiere.)
JANINE: Sounded like an argument. (She turns to John.) Was it Mike?
JOHN: Mike?
JANINE: Mike, yeah. His brother, Mike. Theyre always fighting.
JOHN: Mycroft.
JANINE: Do people actually call him that?!
JOHN: Yeah.
JANINE: Huh! Oh, could you be a love and put some coffee on?
JOHN: ... Sure, right, yeah.
JANINE (heading back towards the hallway): Thanks.
(She stops and put a hand briefly on Johns shoulder.)
JANINE: Ooh, hows Mary? Hows married life?
JOHN: Shes fine. Were both fine, yeah.
(He turns and walks towards a cupboard. Janine points in another direction.)
JANINE: Oh, its over there now.
(She looks around.)
JANINE: Wheres Sherl?
JOHN (breathing out the name with a bemused look on his face): Sherl!
(Grinning and clearing his throat, he turns back to her.)
JOHN: Hes just having a bath. Im sure hell be out in a minute.
JANINE: Oh, like he ever is!
JOHN: Yeah(!)
(He frowns as if still unable to believe whats happening, then wanders vaguely towards the
cupboard that Janine had indicated. She goes along the hallway and knocks on the bathroom
door, immediately opening it and going inside.)
JANINE: Morning! Room for a little one?!
(Offscreen, Sherlock laughs and she giggles while there is much sound of splashing water. John
turns and looks along the hallway.)

385
SHERLOCK (offscreen, as the bathroom door closes): Morning.

(He can be heard chuckling and Janine lets out a high-pitched Ooh! John turns away as if
wondering what bizarro-world he has fallen into.)
LATER. John is sitting on the edge of the coffee table while Sherlock wearing black trousers
and a white shirt and putting on his jacket walks across the living room. John has a bemused
smile on his face.
SHERLOCK: So its just a guess but youve probably got some questions.
JOHN: Yyyyeah, one or two, pretty much.
SHERLOCK: Naturally.
(He turns and looks towards the kitchen. John follows his gaze as Janine also fully dressed
walks into the bedroom. Smiling, Sherlock sits down.)
JOHN: You have a girlfriend?
SHERLOCK (glancing towards him): Yes, I have.
(John grins. Sherlock looks towards the bedroom again, then turns to John, looking more
serious.)
SHERLOCK: Now, Magnussen. Magnussen is like a shark its the only way I can describe him.
Have you ever been to the shark tank at the London Aquarium, John stood up close to the
glass? Those floating flat faces, those dead eyes ... Thats what he is. Ive dealt with murderers,
psychopaths, terrorists, serial killers. None of them can turn my stomach like Charles Augustus
Magnussen.
JOHN: Yes, you have.
JOHN: You have a girlfriend.
SHERLOCK: What? Yes! Yes, Im going out with Janine. I thought that was fairly obvious.
JOHN: Yes. Well ... yes. (He clears his throat loudly.) But I mean you, you, you ... are in a
relationship?
(Sherlock blinks at him.)
SHERLOCK: Yes, I am.
JOHN: You and Janine?
SHERLOCK: Mmm, yes. Me and Janine.
JOHN: Care to elaborate?
(Sherlock draws in a long breath and looks up thoughtfully, then puffs out his cheeks as he
breathes out again.)
SHERLOCK: Well, were in a good place. Its, um ... (he looks down thoughtfully, then turns to
John) ... very affirming.
(He smiles at him. John points back at him.)
JOHN: You got that from a book.
SHERLOCK: Everyone got that from a book.
(John looks round and smiles as Janine comes into the room.)
JANINE: Okay, you two bad boys, behave yourselves.
(Sherlock smiles happily at her as she sits down on the arm of his chair. He puts his arm round
her as she turns and leans close to his face.)
JANINE: And you, Sherl, youre gonna have to tell me where you were last night.
SHERLOCK: Working.
(John stares at them.)
JANINE: Working. Of course. Im the only one who really knows what youre like, remember?
SHERLOCK (softly): Dont you go letting on.
(He gently runs his finger down the tip of her nose, then lays his hand on her arm. They stare
deeply into each others eyes. John grins, apparently still unable to believe what hes seeing.)
JANINE (softly): I might just, actually.
(She tears her eyes away from Sherlock and looks across to John, as does Sherlock.)
JANINE: I havent told Mary about this. I kind of wanted to surprise her.
JOHN: Yeah, you probably will.
JANINE: But we should have you two over for dinner really soon!
SHERLOCK: Yeah!
JANINE: My place, though not the scuzz-dump!
(She punches Sherlock affectionately on the shoulder and they both laugh.)
JOHN: Great, yeah! Dinner! Yeah.
JANINE (standing up): Oh, Id better dash. It was brilliant to see you!
JOHN (also standing): You too.

386
(He turns and watches while Sherlock escorts Janine to the living room door and opens it for
her.)
SHERLOCK: Have a lovely day. Call me later.
(She turns back to him and fiddles with the edge of his jacket.)
JANINE (teasingly): I might do. I might call you unless I meet someone prettier(!)
(They kiss, while John quickly turns away with his mouth in a startled Ohhh! shape. As the
other two continue to kiss noisily, he stares pointedly towards the window, but then gives an
approving nod. Janine pulls back a little and whispers softly to Sherlock, their noses still
touching.)
JANINE: Solve me a crime, Sherlock Holmes.
(Grinning, she turns and leaves the room. Sherlock smiles as he watches her go ... and then his
smile abruptly drops and he closes the door. He walks back across the room.)
SHERLOCK: You know Magnussen as a newspaper owner, but hes so much more than that.
(John frowns at him.)
SHERLOCK: He uses his power and wealth to gain information. The more he acquires, the
greater his wealth and power.
(He sits down at the dining table and opens his laptop.)
SHERLOCK: Im not exaggerating when I say that he knows the critical pressure point on every
person of note or influence in the whole of the Western world and probably beyond. He is the
Napoleon of blackmail ...
(He pulls up a photograph of Magnussens home, together with a blueprint of the building.)
SHERLOCK: ... and he has created an unassailable architecture of forbidden knowledge. Its
name ...
(He turns the laptop to show the screen to John.)
SHERLOCK: ... is Appledore.
JOHN: Dinner.
SHERLOCK: Sorry, what, dinner?
JOHN: Me and Mary, coming for dinner ... with ... wine and ... sitting.
(Sherlock turns and stares at him for a moment.)
SHERLOCK: Seriously? Ive just told you that the Western world is run from this house ... (he
points at the screen) ... and you want to talk about dinner?
JOHN: Fine, talk about the house.
(Sherlock throws him a look, then turns back to his laptop while John looks towards the door as
if he still cant believe what he just witnessed, but eventually he turns back.)
SHERLOCK: It is the greatest repository of sensitive and dangerous information anywhere in the
world ... (he looks over his shoulder at John) ... the Alexandrian Library of secrets and scandals
and none of it is on a computer. Hes smart computers can be hacked. Its all on hard copy
in vaults ... (he points at the rotating blueprint on the screen) ... underneath that house; and as
long as it is, the personal freedom of anyone youve ever met is a fantasy.
(Theres a knock on the living room door, followed by Mrs Hudsons familiar, Ooh-ooh! The
door opens and she comes in.)
MRS HUDSON (pointing back down the stairs): Oh, that was the doorbell. Couldnt you hear it?
SHERLOCK: Its in the fridge. It kept ringing.
MRS HUDSON: Oh, thats not a fault, Sherlock!
JOHN: Who is it?
(Mrs Hudson draws in an anxious breath.
Shortly afterwards she goes down the stairs to the bottom.)
MRS HUDSON: Mr Holmes said you can go right up.
(She looks nervously at whoever is waiting in the hall. We cant immediately see who they are
but shes clearly frightened by them because she flattens herself against the wall and almost
cringes as three men in dark suits walk up the stairs. Your transcriber remembers the last time
men in dark suits were in her house, and wibbles on her behalf.
As a fourth person walks towards the stairs, we are looking through his eyes. He can see not
only Mrs H but information about her, which reads:
MARTHA LOUISE HUDSON

(ne SISSONS)
LANDLADY
WIDOW (SEE FILE)

387
SEMI-REFORMED ALCOHOLIC
FORMER EXOTIC DANCER
(SEE FILE)
FINANCES: 21% DEBT
(SEE FILE)
STATUS: UNIMPORTANT
and underneath, flashing in red:
PRESSURE POINT: >

MARIJUANA
Upstairs, the three men clearly security men, all wearing earpieces walk into the living
room. Sherlock, now standing by the fireside with John, sighs and unfolds his arms.)
SHERLOCK (mock-wearily): Oh, go ahead.
(He spread his arms and allows one of the goons to frisk him. Another one walks over to John
while the third generally looks round the room.)
SECURITY MAN (to John): Sir?
(John glances over to Sherlock, then looks back to the man.)
JOHN: Can I have a moment?
(Sherlock lowers his arms from his frisking and looks across to the man.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, hes fine.
(The man glances at Sherlock, then kneels down in front of John and starts frisking him.)
JOHN: Er, I ... right. I should probably tell you ...
(The man reaches into Johns jacket pocket and takes out Bills flick-knife.)
JOHN: Okay, I ... (he points to the knife) ... That.
(The man pulls Johns jacket open.)
JOHN: And ...
(The man stands up, holding the tyre lever he has just taken from Johns jeans and looking at
him sternly. Sherlock looks startled. John steps closer to the man and speaks confidentially.)
JOHN: Doesnt mean Im not pleased to see you.
(The man does not look amused.)
SHERLOCK: I can vouch for this man. Hes a doctor. If you know who I am, then you know who
he is ...
(He turns his head towards the door as Magnussen walks in and stops just inside the doorway.)
SHERLOCK: ... dont you, Mr Magnussen?
(Johns security man steps to Johns side and faces his boss while the other one stands at
Sherlocks side and the third waits in the kitchen.)
SHERLOCK (to Magnussen): I understood we were meeting at your office.
(Magnussen looks round the room for a moment.)
MAGNUSSEN: This is my office.
(He walks slowly towards the sofa, then stops and turns to look at John. Information appears in
front of his eyes:
JOHN HAMISH WATSON

AFGHANISTAN VETERAN (SEE FILE)
G.P. (SEE FILE)
FINANCES: 10% DEBT (SEE FILE)
STATUS UNIMPORTANT
then, in flashing red underneath:
PRESSURE POINT: > HARRY WATSON (SISTER) ALCOHOLIC

MARY MORSTAN (WIFE)
MAGNUSSEN: Well, it is now.

(He continues on to the dining table, picks up a newspaper from it and then goes back and sits
down on the sofa.)

388
SHERLOCK: Mr Magnussen, I have been asked to intercede with you by Lady Elizabeth
Smallwood on the matter of her husbands letters.
(Magnussen appears to have been ignoring him, paying more attention to what seems to be the
uncomfortableness of the sofa. Now he looks at the newspaper in his hand.)
SHERLOCK: Some time ago you ... put pressure on her concerning those letters.
(Magnussen looks up at him, leaning back on the sofa.)
SHERLOCK: She would like those letters back.
(Magnussen looks at him silently as he continues speaking, and information appears in front of
his eyes:
SHERLOCK HOLMES
CONSULTING DETECTIVE
[Your transcriber does a spit-take, narrowly missing her computer screen.]
FINANCES: UNKNOWN
BROTHER: MYCROFT HOLMES
M.I.6 (SEE FILE)
OFFICIALLY DECEASED 2011-2013
and underneath in red:
PRESSURE POINT:
IRENE ADLER (SEE FILE)
JIM MORIARTY (SEE FILE)
REDBEARD (SEE FILE)
HOUNDS OF THE BASKERVILLE
OPIUM
JOHN WATSON
The list of pressure points cycles round several times.)

SHERLOCK: Obviously the letters no longer have any practical use to you, so with that in mind
...
(He breaks off, perhaps noticing something about Magnussens expression. Magnussen gives a
quiet snort.)
SHERLOCK (letting out an exasperated huff of air): Something I said?
MAGNUSSEN: No, no. I-I was reading.
(He adjusts his glasses, the red list of pressure points cycling more quickly.)
MAGNUSSEN: Theres rather a lot.
(Sherlock frowns. In front of Magnussens eyes, the white list of information vanishes and the
red list cycles rapidly.)
MAGNUSSEN: Redbeard.
(Sherlock blinks and his mouth opens slightly.)
MAGNUSSEN: Sorry. (He shakes his head.) S-sorry. You were probably talking?
SHERLOCK: I ...
(He pauses for a long moment, then clears his throat.)
SHERLOCK: I was trying to explain that Ive been asked to act on behalf of ...
(Magnussen turns his head to the security man beside John.)
MAGNUSSEN: Bathroom?
SECURITY MAN (nodding to his right): Along from the kitchen, sir.
MAGNUSSEN: Okay.
SHERLOCK (more firmly): Ive been asked to negotiate the return of those letters.
(Magnussen takes off his glasses and looks towards the window.)
SHERLOCK: Im aware you do not make copies of sensitive documents ...
MAGNUSSEN (gesturing around the living room): Is it like the rest of the flat?
(He looks at the security man.)
SECURITY MAN: Sir?
MAGNUSSEN: The bathroom?
SECURITY MAN: Er, yes, sir.
MAGNUSSEN: Maybe not, then.

389
SHERLOCK: Am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?

(Magnussen meets his eyes for a moment, then looks towards the window again.)
MAGNUSSEN: Lady Elizabeth Smallwood. I like her.
(He turns his eyes towards Sherlock and pops his lips a couple of times.)
SHERLOCK: Mr Magnussen, am I acceptable to you as an intermediary?
MAGNUSSEN: Shes English, with a spine.
(He lifts his right foot and puts it against the side of the coffee table, then pushes the table
away from him. Sherlock frowns slightly. Magnussen stands up and, beside Sherlock, the
second security man turns and steps forward to the fireplace, taking the fire guard away from
the front of the unlit fire. Sherlock glances over his shoulder.)
MAGNUSSEN: Best thing about the English ...
(He walks over to Sherlock and John and looks at them one after the other.)
MAGNUSSEN: ... youre so domesticated. All standing around, apologising ...
(He nods to Sherlock and then walks in between him and John towards the fireplace.)
MAGNUSSEN: ... keeping your little heads down.
(He stands in front of the fireplace, facing it. The sound of him unzipping his trousers can be
heard.)
MAGNUSSEN: You can do what you like here. No-ones ever going to stop you.
(He looks down and the sound of him urinating into the fireplace can be heard. John blinks as if
appalled and half-turns his head towards him. Sherlock keeps his head facing forward, his eyes
fixed on the opposite wall.)
MAGNUSSEN (continuing to urinate): A nation of herbivores.
(He half-glances over his shoulder.)
MAGNUSSEN: Ive interests all over the world but, er, everything starts in England.
(He looks down again as the last of his urine splashes on the grate in front of the fire.)
MAGNUSSEN: If it works here ...
(He jiggles up and down as he shakes off and then zips up his trousers.)
MAGNUSSEN: ... Ill try it in a real country.
(Looking at himself in the mirror for a moment, he turns and strolls back in between the boys.
The security guard beside John holds out a packet of wet wipes and Magnussen takes one and
turns to face the others.)
MAGNUSSEN: The United Kingdom, huh? (He starts to wipe his fingers.) Petri dish to the
Western world.
(He looks at Sherlock briefly.)
MAGNUSSEN: Tell Lady Elizabeth I might need those letters, so Im keeping them.
(Finishing wiping his fingers, he drops the wet wipe to the floor.)
MAGNUSSEN: Goodbye.
(He turns as if to leave, then turns back and put his hand into his jackets inside breast pocket.)
MAGNUSSEN: Anyway ...
(He chuckles and pulls out the edge of a packet of documents to show Sherlock.)
MAGNUSSEN: ... theyre funny.
(Smirking, he tucks the packet back into his jacket and leaves the room. The security men
follow him. As the sound of their feet can be heard clattering down the stairs, John takes a step
forward.)
JOHN (furiously): Jesus!
SHERLOCK: Did you notice the one extraordinary thing he did?
JOHN: Wh... There was a moment that kind of stuck in the mind, yeah.
(He gestures towards the fireplace but Sherlock is smiling, having not noticed him.)
SHERLOCK: Exactly when he showed us the letters.
(He walks across the room, still smiling, while John closes his eyes in disbelief.)
JOHN: ... Okay.
SHERLOCK: So hes brought the letters to London so no matter what he says, hes ready to
make a deal. Now, Magnussen only makes a deal once hes established a persons weaknesses
the pressure point, he calls it.
(He picks up his coat from a dining chair and puts it on.)
SHERLOCK: So, clearly he believes Im a drug addict and no serious threat.
(He looks out of the window to where one of the security guards is closing the rear door of a car
parked outside.)
SHERLOCK (turning back and gesturing enthusiastically): And, of course, because hes in town
tonight, the letters will be in his safe in his London office while hes out to dinner with the
Marketing Group of Great Britain from seven til ten.

390
JOHN: How-how do you know his schedule?

SHERLOCK: Because I do. Right Ill see you tonight. Ive got some shopping to do.
(He heads out the door and down the stairs.)
JOHN (calling after him): Whats tonight?
SHERLOCK (calling up the stairs): Ill text instructions.
JOHN (loudly): Yeah, Ill text you if Im available.
SHERLOCK: You are! I checked!
(Looking exasperated, John heads for the door.)
Downstairs, Sherlock goes out of the front door followed by John.

SHERLOCK: Dont bring a gun.
JOHN: Why would I bring a gun?
SHERLOCK: Or a knife, or a tyre lever. Probably best not to do any arm-spraining, but well see
how the night goes.
(He raises his arm to an approaching taxi.)
JOHN: Youre just assuming Im coming along?
SHERLOCK: Time you got out of the house, John. (He runs his eyes over him as the taxi pulls
up.) Youve put on seven pounds since you got married, and the cycling isnt doing it.
(He opens the cab door and gets in.)
JOHN: Its actually four pounds.
SHERLOCK (shutting the door and looking at him through the half-open window): Mary and I
think seven. See you later.
(He sits down on the seat and gives his destination to the driver.)
SHERLOCK: Hatton Garden.
(The cab drives away. John looks at his watch, then walks off.)
EVENING/NIGHT TIME. John walks towards the entrance of a skyscraper building which houses
CAM Global News. In the foyer, a TV screen is broadcasting the companys news channel, which
is currently showing a Breaking News item reading, MP JOHN GARVIE ARRESTED ON CHARGES
OF CORRUPTION. A photograph shows the man who spoke at the parliamentary hearing at the
beginning of the episode. A newsreaders voice can be heard.
NEWSREADER (on the TV): And breaking news now. John Garvie MP has been arrested today on
charges of corruption. This follows an investigation ...
(John walks through the revolving doors and approaches the security barriers which need an
electronic key card to open them. He looks around and then looks at his watch, and Sherlock
walks over and stops behind him.)
SHERLOCK: Magnussens office is on the top floor, just below his private flat ... (he looks
towards lift doors on the next level up) ... but there are fourteen levels of security between us
and him ...
(His minds eye floats quickly along the next level towards the lift and homes in on the security
card reader beside the lift doors.)
SHERLOCK: ... two of which arent even legal in this country. Want to know how were going to
break in?
JOHN: Is that what were doing?
SHERLOCK: Of course its what were doing.
(He turns and walks away.
Later, the boys are each carrying a takeaway cup of coffee and are walking towards an
escalator in the building.)
SHERLOCK: Magnussens private lift. It goes straight to his penthouse and office. Only he uses
it ... (they get onto the escalator) ... and only his key card calls the lift. Anyone else even tries,
security is automatically informed.
(They get to the top and walk towards the lift. Sherlock holds up a key card.)
SHERLOCK (stopping): Standard key card for the building. Nicked it yesterday. Only gets us as
far as the canteen.
(He walks to the lift, stops and looks at it.)
SHERLOCK: Here we go, then.
(The camera shifts back along the corridor and Sherlock and John are still standing where they
just were, several yards away from the lift.)
SHERLOCK: If I was to use this card on that lift now, what happens?

391
(He gestures towards the lift where an imaginary version of himself is touching his card to the
security reader. Alarms immediately begin to sound at least in Sherlocks head and two
imaginary security men run towards imaginary-Sherlock standing at the lift.)
JOHN (obviously not seeing or hearing anything): Er, the alarms would go off and youd be
dragged away by security.
(Over at the lift, imaginary-Sherlock is indeed being seized by the arms by the two men.)
REAL-SHERLOCK: Exactly.
(He looks towards the lift and watches as imaginary-Sherlock is marched away.)
JOHN: Get taken to a small room somewhere and your head kicked in.
(Imaginary-Sherlock looks over his shoulder and throws an indignant look towards his real self
and his friend. Real-Sherlock looks round at John.)
SHERLOCK: Do we really need so much colour?
JOHN: It passes the time.
(Sherlock gives him a look and passes him his coffee cup. John takes it and returns the look.
Ignoring it, Sherlock takes his phone from his coat.)
SHERLOCK: But if I do this ...
(He presses the security card against his phone.)
SHERLOCK: If you press a key card against your mobile phone for long enough, it corrupts the
magnetic strip. The card stops working. Its a common problem never put your key card with
your phone.
(He looks along the corridor to where imaginary-Sherlock is back at the lift and swiping his card
across the reader. The two imaginary security men start to run towards him again ... but then
they go into slow motion and then stop, frozen in mid-run.)
SHERLOCK: What happens if I use the card now?
JOHN: It still doesnt work.
SHERLOCK: But it doesnt read as the wrong card now.
(More imaginary security men run towards imaginary-Sherlock, then they too slow down and
freeze in mid-run.)
SHERLOCK: It registers as corrupted. But if its corrupted, how do they know its not
Magnussen?
JOHN (looking round, possibly to check if real security are anywhere around): Huh.
SHERLOCK: Would they risk dragging him off?
JOHN: Probably not.
SHERLOCK: So what do they do? What do they have to do?
JOHN: Check if its him or not.
(Near the lift, the imaginary security men shrink down and each one disappears into a different
imaginary waste paper bin, all of which have suddenly appeared out of nowhere. The bins then
disappear again.)
SHERLOCK: Theres a camera at eye height to the right of the door.
(Imaginary-Sherlock walks up to the lift doors again, where the security card reader has a
flashing red light above it. He swipes the card past the reader and on a laptop elsewhere in the
building theres a repeated beeping sound and a message comes up on the screen reading:
ALERT LOCKED
CORRUPTED CARD
CONNECT CAMERA
SHERLOCK: A live picture of the card user is relayed directly to Magnussens personal staff in
his office the only people trusted to make a positive ID.
(A cut-away shot shows the laptop on a table in an office. A woman unseen to us except for
her hand walks over to press a key on the keyboard.)
SHERLOCK: ... at this hour, almost certainly his PA.
(In the imaginary office, the security camera activates and transmits live footage of imaginary-
Sherlock smiling into the camera.)
JOHN: S-so hows that help us?
(Sherlock smiles along the corridor, then looks round to John.)
SHERLOCK: Human error. (He raises his hand to the breast pocket of his coat and pats it.) Ive
been shopping.
(He walks along the corridor to the lift, John again looking all around before following him.
Sherlock reaches the lift doors and raises his card towards the reader.)
SHERLOCK: Here we go, then.

392
(He presses the card against the reader. A circle on the reader screen, and the words CAM
GLOBAL NEWS at the bottom of the screen, both turn from blue to red and theres a beep.)
JOHN (quietly, standing to the side out of view of the camera): You realise you dont exactly
look like Magnussen.
SHERLOCK (looking confidently into the security camera while speaking quietly and barely
moving his lips): Which, in this case, is a considerable advantage.
(Up in the office at the top of the building, the laptop beeps its alert and shows its message on
the screen. The woman walks across the room to press a key on the keyboard and Sherlocks
live image smiles into the camera at her. She walks around the desk to get a better look and
now we see that its Janine. She stares at the image in amazement.)
JANINE (quietly, over the intercom to the security reader beside the lift): Sherlock, you
complete loon! What are you doing?!
(Sherlock smiles more widely into the camera. John looks round in surprise.)
JOHN: Hang on was that ...? That ...!
(He instinctively starts to step closer but Sherlock holds up the flat of his hand to him to stop
him and talks into the camera.)
SHERLOCK: Hi, Janine. (Secretively, glancing around) Go on, let me in.
JANINE: I cant! You know I cant. Dont be silly.
SHERLOCK (softly): Dont make me do it out here. Not ... (he pauses and turns his head to
glance at a woman walking past, then once shes gone he turns back to the camera) ... in front
of everyone.
JANINE: Do what in front of everyone?
(Beside him, John smiles and nods politely at another woman as she walks past. Sherlock
lowers his eyes and blows out a big breath, then takes out a small dark red box and clicks it
open before holding it up to the camera to show the large diamond engagement ring inside it.
Janine gasps and straightens up, clapping her hand to her mouth. Downstairs, John stares at
the ring. Janine does likewise upstairs while Sherlock holds the box in front of his face and turns
on his biggest puppy dog eyes over the top of it as he looks into the camera and then smiles.
Lowering her hand, Janine lets out a silent delighted laugh and downstairs the card reader
screen turns from red to blue and the lift doors open. Sherlock grins into the camera, then
clicks the box closed and turns to John, whose mouth is open as he stares at his friend.)
SHERLOCK: You see? As long as theres people, theres always a weak spot.
(He starts to walk into the lift but John stops him.)
JOHN: That was Janine.
SHERLOCK: Yes, of course it was Janine. Shes Magnussens PA. Thats the whole point.
JOHN: Did you just get engaged to break into an office?
SHERLOCK: Yeah. (He steps into the lift.) Stroke of luck, meeting her at your wedding. You can
take some of the credit.
JOHN: Je-Jesus!
(He looks down at the coffee cups hes still holding, then drops them into a waste bin just
outside the lift before getting in.)
[Transcribers note: thanks to Hobbitfoot on fanfiction.net who pointed out that in one of the
earlier long shots while John and Sherlock are still some distance away from the lift, theres a
bin beside the lift. The bin disappears in the shots where theyre close to the lift but it does
make more sense than John simply dropping the cups onto the floor.]
JOHN (leaning close to Sherlock and speaking quietly): Sherlock, she loves you.
SHERLOCK (flatly, staring ahead of himself): Yes. Like I said human error.
(The doors close and the lift begins its ascent. John turns to look at him.)
JOHN: What are you gonna do?
SHERLOCK: Well, not actually marry her, obviously. (He looks round to him.) Theres only so far
you can go.
JOHN: So what will you tell her?
(Sherlock briefly looks at him again before facing the front.)
SHERLOCK: Well, Ill tell her that our entire relationship was a ruse to break into her boss
office. I imagine shell want to stop seeing me at that point ... (he looks at John again) ... but
youre the expert on women.
(The lift stops at floor 32 and the doors open. Sherlock turns on his human smile and walks out,
bobbing up and down in an Ive just come to get engaged to you way as he looks around for
his new fiance. After a moment he stops, looking around more carefully and frowning when
theres no sign of her. The boys walk into her office but she still cant be seen.)
JOHN: So where did she go?

393
SHERLOCK: Its a bit rude. I just proposed to her.

(John walks across the room towards the window and sees Janine lying on the floor.)
JOHN: Sherlock ...
(Sherlock walks over as John bends down to her.)
SHERLOCK: Did she faint? Do they really do that?
(John takes his hand from her head and finds blood on his fingers.)
JOHN: Its a blow to the head. (He bends lower to her.) Shes breathing. Janine?
(She moans quietly. Sherlock looks round the rest of the office and sees something in an
adjoining room.)
SHERLOCK (walking across the office): Another in here.
(John looks over to him but doesnt leave his patient. In the next room Sherlock looks at the
unconscious suited man lying face down on the floor, then does a full-circle turn to look around
the rest of the room.)
SHERLOCK: Security.
JOHN: Does he need help?
(Sherlock walks to the mans side and looks down at him. Behind his left ear, which has an
earpiece in it, is a small tattoo of the number 14.)
SHERLOCK: Ex-con.
(He zooms in on another tattoo on the mans right hand between his thumb and index finger.
The tattoo is five small dots, four of them in a square shape and the fifth in the middle of the
square.)
SHERLOCK: White supremacist, by the tattoo, so who cares? (He points back towards John.)
Stick with Janine.
(John hesitates, apparently unhappy about leaving any unconscious person unchecked, but then
turns back to Janine.)
JOHN: Janine, focus on my voice now. Can you hear me?
(Sherlock looks around the room again and then goes to the nearby glass desk. He bends down,
holding his hand over the top of it while looking at it closely, then works his way round to the
other side, looking carefully at everything. He squats down to the leather chair behind the desk
and puts his hand on the seat, immediately working out the temperature of the leather:
TEMPERATURE: 35C
In the other room, John looks up as if he has just had a thought and then gets up and walks to
where he can see Sherlock next door.)
JOHN (in a stage whisper, while pointing back to Janine): Hey. They must still be here.
SHERLOCK (straightening up and also speaking in a loud whisper): Sos Magnussen. His seats
still warm. He should be at dinner but hes still in the building.
(He looks around and then raises his eyes upwards.)
SHERLOCK (in a loud whisper): Upstairs!
JOHN (taking his phone from his pocket): We should call the police.
SHERLOCK (loud whisper): During our own burglary?! Youre really not a natural at this, are
you?
(John sighs and switches his phone off again.)
SHERLOCK (loud whisper): No, wait, shh!
(Standing at the side of the chair, he closes his eyes, sniffs deeply and holds his hands out to
the sides. As John goes back to Janine, Sherlock sniffs twice more, the final one a deep long
sniff, and a couple of words appear around him:
VERSACE
No 5
SHERLOCK: Perfume not Janines.

(The words disappear. Keeping his eyes closed, Sherlock waves his hand around beside his
head as if to force other suggestions from his mind. Two more brand names appear.)
PRADA
Dior

394
(He waves those away, then opens his eyes and points upwards triumphantly at the correct
name as it appears.)
Claire-de-la-lune
(Sherlock quietly says the name out loud, then turns around, grimacing.)
SHERLOCK: Why do I know it?
(John looks up from where he is still checking Janine.)
JOHN: Mary wears it.
SHERLOCK (turning back and still speaking in a loud whisper): No, not Mary. Somebody else.
(He lifts his head as he hears a noise from upstairs and his gaze becomes intense. John seems
to recognise that look and whispers loudly.)
JOHN: Sherlock!
(But Sherlocks already off, running across the room to the stairwell and hurrying upwards,
pausing for a moment to look up the stairs before quickly continuing on.
Up in what must be Magnussens private penthouse flat, Sherlock walks softly along the
carpeted hall towards where he can hear Magnussen talking quietly and sounding very anxious
and almost tearful.)
MAGNUSSEN (offscreen): What-what-what would your husband think, eh?
(Sherlock walks carefully towards a partially open door at the end of the hall.)
MAGNUSSEN (offscreen): He ... your lovely husband, upright, honourable ...
(Sherlock looks through the gap in the door and sees Magnussen on his knees with his hands
behind his head and cowering.)
MAGNUSSEN: ... so English. What-what would he say to you now?
(Standing in front of him, someone dressed all in black and wearing black gloves pulls back the
pistol and silencer they are pointing at Magnussen and cocks the gun before pointing the
business end at him again. He cowers, whimpering and momentarily lapsing into Danish.)
MAGNUSSEN: Nej, nej! [No, no!]
(Sherlock slowly pushes the door open.)
MAGNUSSEN (tearfully, tremulously): Youre-youre doing this to protect him from the truth ...
but is this protection he would want?
SHERLOCK (slowly walking to stand a few feet behind the person holding the gun, who we now
see is also wearing a black knitted cap on their head, covering their hair): Additionally, if youre
going to commit murder, you might consider changing your perfume ...
(The potential killer raises the gun a little, turning it slightly to the left.)
SHERLOCK: ... Lady Smallwood.
(Magnussen straightens a little, breathing out a long shaky breath.)
MAGNUSSEN (in a slightly stronger voice): Sorry. Who?
(Sherlock focuses on the back of the assassin. Magnussens gaze goes from him to the face of
his potential killer as the person adjusts their grip on the pistol.)
MAGNUSSEN: Thats ... not ... Lady Smallwood, Mr Holmes.
(Sherlock frowns. The person in black turns to face him, aiming the pistol at him, and Sherlock
looks into the face of Mary Elizabeth Watson.
He draws in a breath and rapidly flashes back to several different times when they have been
together [and oddly one moment when he wasnt in the room] and in each of those moments
his many deductions about her many of which were seen during The Empty Hearse swarm
around her. Then hes back in Magnussens flat and the deductions fade, leaving many instances
of only one word repeatedly drifting around her as she aims her gun towards him:
Liar
They too fade and he focuses on her face as she stares back at him. A single large word
appears beside her face:
Liar
MARY (as the word rotates and then fades): Is John with you?
SHERLOCK (shakily): Hes, um ...
MARY (firmly): Is John here?
SHERLOCK: He-hes downstairs.

395
(She nods.)
MAGNUSSEN (softly): So, what do you do now? Kill us both?
(Keeping her pistol aimed in front of her, Mary smiles humourlessly over her shoulder towards
him before turning her gaze back to Sherlock. As Sherlock speaks, Magnussen slowly lowers his
hands and begins to reach down towards the floor on his left.)
SHERLOCK: Mary, whatever hes got on you, let me help.
(He shifts his weight onto one foot, preparing to step towards her.)
MARY (in a somewhat exasperated voice): Oh, Sherlock, if you take one more step I swear I will
kill you.
SHERLOCK (shaking his head with a small smile on his face): No, Mrs Watson.
(She stares at him, her mouth opening a little.)
SHERLOCK (gently): You wont.
(He starts to lifts his foot off the floor. Immediately she pulls the trigger. The bullet impacts his
lower chest, just above the V of his buttoned jacket and slightly to the right of his shirt buttons.
Magnussen straightens up again. Sherlocks eyes unfocus and a slight look of shock appears on
his face as Mary sighs regretfully. He looks down at the bullet hole and after a moment blood
begins to pour from the hole.)
MARY (her voice a little tearful): Im sorry, Sherlock. Truly am.
(Sherlock raises his head and looks at her.)
SHERLOCK: Mary?
(She turns and points her pistol down at Magnussen. His eyes widen ...
... and the scene freeze frames and a loud alarm siren begins to blare repeatedly. The room
darkens around Sherlock and a spotlight shines onto his face as he stares ahead of himself in
shock.
As the alarm continues, he is suddenly running quickly down the flights of a staircase in a
white-walled building. Everything about the view suggests that this place is decaying and
unlived in the paint is peeling from the walls, the concrete of the uncarpeted stairs is
crumbling and the red paint on the bannisters is cracking off. The camera is above the stairs
and there are several storeys below where he currently is. He clings to the bannisters and
braces his other hand on the wall as he continues rapidly downwards.
Back in Magnussens room, Molly wearing her white lab coat walks around behind Sherlock.)
MOLLY (smiling): Its not like it is in the movies. Theres not a great big spurt of blood and you
go flying backwards.
(She walks around in front of him and the scenery around her turns bright white.)
MOLLY (continuing walking, her face more serious now): The impact isnt spread over a wide
area.
(Shes now in a white-walled mortuary room and she walks over to a body lying on a table in
the middle of the room. The body is covered with a white sheet and has an identity tag tied to
one bare toe.)
MOLLY: Its tightly focussed, so theres little or no energy transfer.
(She reaches down and starts to pull back the sheet covering the body. Sherlock is lying under
the sheet, naked and with his eyes closed.)
MOLLY: You stay still ...
(She pulls the sheet back to his waist, revealing the bullet hole in his lower chest.)
MOLLY: ... and the bullet pushes through.
(Theres a brief close-up of the bullet hole. She looks down at Sherlocks face and he can see
her fuzzily even though his eyes are closed.)
MOLLY: Youre almost certainly going to die, so we need to focus.
(She slaps him hard across the face. He hauls in a huge breath, his eyes snapping open as his
head jerks to the side under her blow.
In Magnussens room, both Magnussen and Mary are still frozen. Sherlocks eyelids lift a little.)
MOLLY (offscreen): I said ...
(She is standing in front of him.)
MOLLY: ... focus.
(She slaps him hard. His head snaps round under her blow and before he can turn back hes
standing in a bright white room, still reeling from Mollys slap. He straightens up and looks
around, bewildered, then looks at Molly as she speaks again. They are in the mortuary room
and in front of him is the table with his own dead body lying on it, covered by a sheet as far as
the waist. Rows of mortuary cabinets line one wall. She walks towards the table, leans her
hands onto the edge of it and looks across it to the living version of Sherlock standing on the
other side.)

396
MOLLY: Its all well and clever having a Mind Palace, but youve only three seconds of
consciousness left to use it. So, come on whats going to kill you?
(Sherlock looks down at his dead body for a moment and then raises his head again.)
SHERLOCK: Blood loss.
MOLLY (quietly, intensely): Exactly.
(Sherlock looks at her, frowning a little.)
MOLLY: So, its all about one thing now.
(Sherlock, with his hands braced on the table in front of him, starts to sway. The loud alarm
finally fades out and goes silent.)
MOLLY: Forwards, or backwards?
(He lowers his head and his eyes close ...
... and hes back in Magnussens room staring ahead of himself.)
MOLLY (offscreen): We need to decide which way youre going to fall.
(Behind him, while Mary and Magnussen remain frozen in place, Anderson walks over and stops
behind his back. He is wearing white medical gloves. Molly walks towards Sherlock from halfway
across the room.)
ANDERSON: One hole, or two?
SHERLOCK (frowning and turning to look over his shoulder at him): Sorry?
(Anderson raises his eyebrows in a questioning way.)
MOLLY: Is the bullet still inside you ...
(He turns to face her as she stands in front of him.)
MOLLY: ... or is there an exit wound?
(The perspective changes and she is no longer in front of him, though Anderson is still behind
him.)
MOLLY (voiceover): Itll depend on the gun.
(Sherlock turns his head to the left and now he can see diagrams of many different pistols in
front of his eyes. He zooms in on one which changes from a blue outline to a yellow one and
a tag appears above it reading, Cat-0208.)
SHERLOCK: That one, I think.
(He looks across the diagrams and another pistol identified as Cat-077839 turns yellow. He
moves on to another gun which changes to yellow. We cant see the first part of the
identification tag but its number ends 173634.)
SHERLOCK: Or that one.
(He frowns as if uncertain and continues through the display, another gun flashing yellow and
showing its identification and then rapidly disappearing off screen before he moves on.)
MYCROFT (offscreen): Oh, for Gods sake, Sherlock.
(Sherlock turns his head to the right and sees his brother sitting at his desk in his office at The
Diogenes Club.)
MYCROFT: It doesnt matter about the gun. Dont be stupid.
(Sherlock turns and walks towards him. Mycroft leans forward and folds his hands on the table
in front of him.)
MYCROFT: You always were so stupid.
(Sherlock continues towards the desk, but now hes a young boy about eleven years old and
wearing dark trousers and a shirt with a buttoned dark green cardigan over it. He walks slowly
towards his big brother.)
MYCROFT: Such a disappointment.
YOUNG SHERLOCK (angrily): Im not stupid.
MYCROFT (sternly): Youre a very stupid little boy.
(He stands up and walks around the table.)
MYCROFT: Mummy and Daddy are very cross ...
(He reaches the other side of the table and leans against it.)
MYCROFT: ... because it doesnt matter about the gun.
YOUNG SHERLOCK (frowning up at him): Why not?
MYCROFT: You saw the whole room when you entered it. What was directly behind you when
you were murdered?
YOUNG SHERLOCK (sounding petulant): Ive not been murdered yet.
MYCROFT (leaning down to him): Balance of probability, little brother.
(Young Sherlock looks down, and the loud alarm begins to blare again as he turns his head to
look behind him.

397
In Magnussens room, adult Sherlock also turns around to where a row of panelled mirrors is
behind him on the wall. Mycroft can be seen fuzzily reflected in the mirrors as if he is standing
some distance away. Sherlock walks closer to the mirrors and looks in them.)
MYCROFT (walking closer): If the bullet had passed through you, what would you have heard?
SHERLOCK: The mirror shattering.
MYCROFT: You didnt. Therefore ...?
(Sherlock turns and slowly walks past him.)
SHERLOCK: The bullets still inside me.
(He walks back to his original position.)
ANDERSON (offscreen): So, we need to take him down backwards.
MOLLY (standing in front of Sherlock again): I agree. Sherlock ...
(He turns his attention to her.)
MOLLY: ... you need to fall on your back.
ANDERSON (still behind him but now starting to walk around him to his right): Right now, the
bullet is the cork in the bottle.
MOLLY (walking around Sherlock to his left as the alarm fades away again): The bullet itself is
blocking most of the blood flow.
ANDERSON (coming to a halt in front of him and looking at him): But any pressure or impact on
the entrance wound could dislodge it.
MOLLY (now standing behind Sherlock): Plus, on your back, gravitys working for us.
(The room takes on a blue hue.)
MOLLY (firmly): Fall now.
(Sherlocks eyes half-close and his body begins to slump. In very slow-motion he starts to
topple backwards. The room takes on its normal colour as he slowly falls back. He is falling
towards the right-hand side of the room, and the entire room seems to tilt down towards the
left as he goes. Mary and the kneeling Magnussen, still frozen in place with her pointing her
pistol at him while she looks towards Sherlock, do not move as the room continues to tilt
further to the left, but a plant in a plant pot on the windowsill begins to slide slowly across the
sill towards the left side of the room.
Before he hits the floor Sherlock is suddenly back in the bright white mortuary room, standing
upright, and the alarm is blaring again. He stumbles back against the cabinets in the wall, claps
his hands to his ears and cries out in alarm.)
SHERLOCK: What the hell is that? Whats happening?
(He lowers his hands and looks around in confusion. Beside him, one of the cabinet doors opens
and the tray slides out. His own dead body is lying on the tray with his eyes closed. The real
Sherlock stares down at it in horror.)
MOLLY (now standing on the other side of the tray): Youre going into shock.
(Sherlock straightens up and stares at her wide-eyed.)
MOLLY: Its the next thing thats going to kill you.
SHERLOCK: What do I do?
(Mycroft is now standing where Molly was. Sherlock, still wide-eyed, lifts his head to meet his
gaze.)
MYCROFT: Dont go into shock, obviously.
(He looks around the room as the alarm blares on.)
MYCROFT: Must be something in this ridiculous memory palace of yours that can calm you
down.
(He turns his head back to his brother and his last words echo.)
MYCROFTs VOICE (as an echo): ... calm you down.
(Sherlock stares at him.)
MYCROFT: Find it.
(Sherlock screws his eyes closed, and now hes running in slow motion down the long staircase
again.)
MYCROFT (in the morgue): The East Wind is coming, Sherlock. (He raises his eyebrows at him
as the alarm stops blaring.) Its coming to get you.
(Elsewhere in his Mind Palace, Sherlock continues to stumble down the stairs and his own voice
sounds in his head.)
SHERLOCKs VOICE (quiet but echoing): Its coming to get you.
(Without transition a door opens in front of him and Mary wearing her wedding dress and with
a white veil over her face stands facing him aiming a pistol at him. She fires and Sherlock
screams and falls backwards in slow-motion.

398
Before he hits the floor hes suddenly in a long corridor lined with wooden doors. Mycrofts voice
sounds in his head as he races along the corridor.)
MYCROFTs VOICE: Find it.
(Sherlock runs to a nearby door and pulls it open. White light floods out and then hes in
another similar corridor. Lying on the floor a short distance away is a dog an Irish setter
panting and looking towards him.)
SHERLOCK: Hello, Redbeard. Here, boy. Come on!
(He leans down and pats the top of his legs repeatedly, smiling at his dog. The dog sits up.)
SHERLOCK: Come to me. Its okay. Its all right.
(The dog starts to trot along the corridor towards him; and now Sherlock is his younger self
again, patting his legs and calling to his dog.)
YOUNG SHERLOCK: Come on! Its me! Its me, come on!
(The dog breaks into a run, barking as he continues onwards.
Adult Sherlock is now squatting in the middle of the corridor, smiling with delight and still
patting his legs encouragingly as the dog runs towards him.)
SHERLOCK: Come on!
YOUNG SHERLOCK: Good boy! Clever boy!
(The barking dog reaches the boy, who kneels down smiling happily and starts stroking his head
and ears.
The dog has also reached the adult Sherlock and is licking his face while Sherlock strokes his
head and ears.)
SHERLOCK: Hello, Redbeard. Theyre putting me down too, now. Its no fun, is it?
(He slumps down onto his backside, looking weak and disorientated.)
SHERLOCK (weakly): Redbeard.
(The dog barks, and Sherlock falls backwards to the floor.
In Magnussens flat, Sherlock continues his slow-motion fall backwards, and finally lands on the
carpet staring upwards blankly.)
MOLLY (offscreen): Without the shock, youre going to feel the pain.
(In Redbeards corridor, she is standing some distance away from Sherlock while he convulses
on the floor, his eyes wide and his teeth clenched. Molly looks towards him, her face serious.)
MOLLY: Theres a hole ripped through you. Massive internal bleeding.
(Sherlock continues to convulse, his face contorted in agony and his mouth open. He screams,
although the scream is muted to our ears.)
MOLLY: You have to control the pain.
(And now Sherlock is running down the stairs again. He reaches the bottom and, screaming in
pain, runs through a door into a padded cell. The room is circular and about twenty feet in
diameter. The floor is plain concrete and the walls are heavily padded with a dirty greyish-
brown material. On the opposite side of the cell to the door, a man crouches on the floor,
leaning against the wall with his head lowered. The door closes behind Sherlock and he flattens
himself against the wall beside it, convulsing and crying out in pain. He stares upwards, his
eyes red-rimmed.)
SHERLOCK: Control! Control! Control.
(His voice quietens a little with each repeat. On the other side of the room the man who we
now see is wearing a filthy white straitjacket and who has a large metal collar around his neck
with a heavy chain fastened to it slowly turns his head a little towards Sherlock. His face still
cannot be seen but his breathing is very loud. Sherlock stares at him, his eyes wide and his
teeth bared.)
SHERLOCK (straightening up and leaning up from the wall): You.
(Breathing heavily, he takes a couple of steps forward.)
SHERLOCK: You never felt pain, did you? Why did you never feel pain?
JIM MORIARTY (slowly turning his head more): You always feel it, Sherlock.
(He turns his head some more and looks across at Sherlock, his face murderous. His face is
dirty and it is flushed dark red with rage. Sherlock stares back at him.
The lights around the walls flicker briefly and Jim surges up and charges towards him, his
mouth wide and roaring with fury. Sherlock recoils but just before Jim can crash into him the
chain on his collar, fastened to the wall behind him, reaches its full length and prevents him
from going further. He shouts manically into Sherlocks face.)
JIM: But you dont have to fear it!
(Sherlock doubles over, crying out in agony. Jim stares at him, wide-eyed and insane, as
Sherlock crumples slowly to his knees and then slumps over onto his back. Jim continues to
stare down at him while Sherlock writhes.)

399
JIM: Pain. Heartbreak. Loss.

(Sherlock rolls onto his side, his face screwed tight and tears streaming from his eyes as he
tries to fight the agony in his chest.)
JIM (in an intense whisper): Death. Its all good.
(Sherlock convulses on the floor, moaning.)
JIM (now on his knees beside him): Its all good.
(Sherlock lies on his back staring upwards and still convulsing.)
JOHNs VOICE: Sherlock?
(In Magnussens room, John is on his knees beside Sherlock, gently patting his face.)
JOHN: Sherlock?
(He bends down to put his ear against Sherlocks mouth.)
JOHN: Can you hear me?
(He lifts his head and looks across to Magnussen, who is lying on the floor on his side but now
raises his head. There is no sign of Mary in the room.)
JOHN: What happened?
MAGNUSSEN (weakly): He got shot.
(He flips open Sherlocks coat and sees a lot of blood on his shirt around the bullet wound.)
JOHN: Sherlock! Oh, my ...
(Magnussen picks up his glasses which had fallen to the floor. John straightens up on his knees
and reaches into his jeans pocket. He looks sternly across to Magnussen.)
JOHN: Who shot him?
(Magnussen sits up and puts on his glasses, then looks across at John but doesnt reply. John
has his phone to his ear and an operator speaks.)
OPERATOR (over phone): Emergency. Which service do you require?
(Back in the padded cell, the lighting has turned a blue colour as Sherlock continues to convulse
on the floor, his eyes wide. Beside him, Jim is back on his feet and he begins to sing slowly and
softly.)
JIM: Its raining, its pouring. Sherlock is boring ...
(Sherlock sinks down on the floor, his convulsions beginning to slow. Jim crouches down near
his head.
In the real world and outside the offices, an emergency siren sounds as paramedics wheel
Sherlock on a stretcher towards a nearby ambulance. John is at his side.)
JIM (in the cell, slowly, softly): Im laughing, Im crying ...
(He kneels down beside Sherlock, whose convulsions stop apart from an occasional twitch. His
eyes gaze blankly upwards, then begin to close.)
JIM (slowly, softly): ... Sherlock is dying.
(The ambulance is now racing through the streets. In the back of it a paramedic tears open
Sherlocks shirt. An oxygen mask has been strapped to his face. His eyes are closed.)
JOHN: Sherlock.
(He is sitting or kneeling behind the paramedic, looking at his friend with concern.)
JOHN: Were losing you. Sherlock?
(Sherlocks eyes crack open a little.
On his knees in the padded cell, Jim leans forward as far as his chain will let him and breathes
out heavily into Sherlocks face.)
JIM (softly): Come on, Sherlock.
(He lifts his head a little, spittle dribbling from his mouth.)
JIM (softly): Just die, why cant you?
(He lies down on his side on the floor and puts his face close to Sherlocks head.)
JIM: One little push, and off you pop.
(He turns onto his back and looks up.
In an operating theatre in a hospital, a heart monitor is letting out a single continuous tone and
a flat line rolls across the screen. One of several surgeons surrounding the operating table does
a few more heart compressions on Sherlocks chest and then withdraws his hands. As the
doctors turn away from the table, having clearly been trying to restart his heart for some time
but now having decided that there is no point continuing, an overhead view of the operating
table shows Sherlock, bare to the waist and with a breathing tube down his throat, lying with
his eyes closed as the monitors single tone continues. The lights in the room seem to go out,
leaving a single light shining down on his body.
In the padded cell, Jim is kneeling up and he talks conversationally as the monitors flatline tone
can still be heard.)

400
JIM: Youre gonna love being dead, Sherlock.

(He looks down at Sherlocks still form.)
JIM: No-one ever bothers you.
(In the operating room the overhead camera moves downwards towards Sherlocks still body.)
JIM (a little wide-eyed and manic): Mrs Hudson will cry; and Mummy and Daddy will cry ...
(He is suddenly on his feet again and turns round and round on the spot until his chain stops
him, then he rotates in the opposite direction.)
JIM: ... and The Woman will cry; and John will cry buckets and buckets. Its him that I worry
about the most. That wife!
(He grimaces and blows out a noisy breath.)
JIM: Youre letting him down, Sherlock. John Watson is definitely in danger.
(On the floor of the cell, Sherlocks eyes abruptly open. Jim slowly turns his head towards him
as Sherlock stares upwards. Jims eyes widen as the lights around the room flash repeatedly.
Sherlock convulses once and blinks, then sighs out a painful breath. Grimacing with the effort
he starts to try and get up.
In the operating room, the single tone continues and the monitor still shows a flat line.
Groaning, Sherlock slams his hand onto the floor of the cell and then forces himself onto one
elbow. He raises his other arm and savagely punches the concrete floor with all his strength.
Kneeling nearby, Jim looks down at him with an irritated look on his face.)
JIM (tetchily): Oh, youre not getting better, are you?
(Sherlock hauls himself to his feet, then staggers and slumps back against the wall.)
JIM: Was it something I said, huh?
(He grins at him for a moment, then his smile fades as Sherlock glares back at him, breathing
heavily and covered in sweat. Grunting with the effort, Sherlock pushes himself off the wall,
turns to the door beside him and pushes it open.)
SHERLOCK (frantically): John!
(Wide-eyed and looking panic-stricken, Jim screams out behind him.)
JIM: SHERLOCK!
(He is alone in the room and the door is closed. He slumps down onto his knees against the
wall, taking up the same position he was in when Sherlock first entered the room.
In the operating room, the camera continues to move downwards towards Sherlocks still form.
In his Mind Palace, Sherlock takes hold of the bannister at the bottom of the stairs.
The camera moves downward in the operating room and the flatline continues on the monitor.
Grimacing in agony, Sherlock begins to haul himself up the stairs.
In the operating room the monitor gives a single blip and the index finger of Sherlocks left
hand twitches very slightly.
Sherlock continues his painful ascent up the stairs, leaning heavily on the bannisters or bracing
himself against the wall. He cries out with the effort.
The line on the heart monitor blips and shows its first spike. Simultaneously but offscreen, from
the stairs Sherlock lets out an anguished groan of John! One of the surgeons slowly turns his
head to look towards the monitor, and the lights in the operating theatre seem to come on
again.
His face contorted in agony, Sherlock slumps against the bannisters as he continues upwards
and he seems to hear Johns voice calling his name.
On the operating table, Sherlocks left index finger lifts off the cover on which his hand is lying.
The surgeons eyes widen, and all the staff in the room hurry back to the table.
Sherlock continues his climb, his right hand braced on the bannisters and the left dragging
across the wall. The fingers of his left hand momentarily slide across the wallpaper of his living
room in Baker Street. Now almost crawling, he reaches up and grabs the railings of the
bannister as he drags himself upwards.
One of the surgeons looks across to another as if he cant believe what he is seeing.
His face contorted in concentration and agony, Sherlock grabs at the bannister with a loud cry
as he continues to climb.
The heart monitor shows another spike and another blip can be heard.
The surgeon looks down to Sherlock again.
His determined gaze almost manic, Sherlock forces his hand upwards to clutch at the bannister
and pull himself higher.
The heart monitor spikes and blips.
In his minds eye, Sherlock sees a rapid montage of images: several moments from when
Magnussen showed him the edge of the papers in his jacket pocket in 221Bs living room; then

401
Mary aiming her gun down at Magnussen in his flat before Sherlock knew who the potential
killer was; then the front door to 221B. His inner vision closes in on the door and settles on it.
In the operating room, his eyelids begin to lift as the heart monitors blips become more
regular. The surgeon looks down at him ...
... and Sherlock Holmes opens his eyes.
His gaze becomes more focussed, and his mouth begins to close around the tube in his mouth
in an attempt to form a word. As the scene switches to the next one, a soft whisper can be
heard.
SHERLOCKs VOICE (offscreen, in a whisper): Mary.
[Your transcriber slumps sideways and falls off her chair, exhausted at having just typed the
most intense and complicated seven minutes of footage that she has ever attempted. She lies
on the floor giggling contentedly to herself for a few minutes, then wearily hauls herself back
onto her chair and continues.]
HOSPITAL. DAYTIME. Mary now dressed more normally hurries through the entrance and
across the foyer. She runs up a flight of stairs to where John is waiting for her on the landing.
JOHN: Mary.
(He walks to meet her at the top of the stairs.)
MARY: Hey.
JOHN (his voice full of relief): Hes only bloody woken up! Hes pulled through.
MARY (smiling): Really?! Seriously?
JOHN: Oh, you, Mrs Watson ... (he points at her, trying to look stern) ... youre in big trouble.
(Mary frowns at him, looking confused.)
MARY: Really? Why?
JOHN: His first word when he woke up?
(She shakes her head.)
JOHN: Mary!
(She giggles and he joins in with her laughter. They hug each other tightly.)
MARY: Ahh!
(Over Johns shoulder, her face becomes serious.)
APPLEDORE. Magnussen walks downstairs from the entrance hall, goes past the kitchen, into
the glass-walled study and heads towards the wooden doors. He goes down the spiral staircase
and through the library, his fingers raised and flickering towards the shelves.
HOSPITAL ROOM. A drip hangs on a stand beside Sherlocks bed where he lies with a nasal
cannula on his face. A rotary fan is on the cabinet beside his bed and the shadow of its rotating
blades flickers across his face.
MARY (softly, offscreen): You dont tell him.
(Sherlock opens his eyes with difficulty.)
MARY (gently, sing-song): Sherlock?
(He looks up to where he can see her standing beside his bed. His vision of her is blurry.)
MARY: You dont tell John.
At the rear of the Appledore archive, Magnussen is looking at a folder which has one or two
photographs of Mary paperclipped to the inside.
MAGNUSSEN (softly): Bad girl.
(He smiles down at the file.)
MAGNUSSEN (in an admiring tone): Bad, bad girl.
(His smile widens.)
In Sherlocks hospital room Mary leans down to him, her image still fuzzy.
MARY (in an intense whisper): Look at me and tell me youre not gonna tell him.
(Sherlocks vision becomes even more blurry and his eyes close.)
DAYS LATER (presumably). DAYTIME. The top of Sherlocks bed has been raised a little, and
now he opens his eyes and lifts his head from the pillow with a tired sigh at the sound of
rustling newspapers. He no longer has the nasal cannula. In front of him someone is holding up
the front page of a newspaper to show him. The headline of the Daily Express reads, SHAG-A-
LOT HOLMES and the strapline says, Sherlock is as red blooded as they come, claims fianc

402
[with only one e]. Whoever is holding the paper puts it down to reveal the front page of
another newspaper the Daily Mirror which has a red strapline at the top reading,
EXCLUSIVE SHERLOCK HOLMES KISS AND TELL and a main headline saying, 7 TIMES A
NIGHT IN BAKER STREET. The person holding the paper who we now see is wearing red nail
varnish lowers that paper and shows an inside page of one of the broadsheets. A large
photograph of Janine smiling into the camera while wearing a deerstalker hat has an inset photo
of Sherlock, and the headline reads, He made me wear the hat.
JANINE: Im buying a cottage.
(Sitting on one side of the bed near Sherlocks feet, she slaps the last newspaper down and
smiles at him.)
JANINE: I made a lot of money out of you, mister.
(Sherlock lifts up one of the papers and looks at it.)
JANINE: Nothing hits the spot like revenge for profits.
SHERLOCK (tiredly): You didnt give these stories to Magnussen, did you?
JANINE: God, no one of his rivals. He was spittin!
(Sherlock grunts and smiles a little.)
JANINE (looking angrily at him): Sherlock Holmes, you are a back-stabbing, heartless,
manipulative bastard.
(Sherlock presses the button on a remote on the bed and the top of his bed rises, pushing him
into more of a sitting position.)
SHERLOCK: And you as it turns out are a grasping, opportunistic, publicity-hungry tabloid
whore.
JANINE (cheerfully): So were good, then!
SHERLOCK: Yeah, of course. (He smiles.) Wheres the cottage?
JANINE: Sussex Downs.
SHERLOCK: Hmm, nice.
JANINE: Its gorgeous. Theres beehives, but Im getting rid of those.
(Sherlock, trying to push himself higher on the bed, gasps with pain.)
JANINE: Aw, hurts, does it? Probably wanna restart your morphine. I might have fiddled with
the taps.
SHERLOCK: How much more revenge are you gonna need?
(Grimacing, he reaches across to a machine beside his bed and pushes a button to release a
dose of morphine into the drip in his arm. The read-out shows the machine giving him almost
the maximum dosage.)
JANINE: Just the occasional top-up.
(She looks round the room.)
JANINE: Dream come true for you, this place. They actually attach the drugs to you!
SHERLOCK: Not good for working.
JANINE: You wont be working for a while, Sherl.
(Sherlock sighs softly and his eyes close a little.)
JANINE (softly): You lied to me. You lied and lied.
SHERLOCK: I exploited the fact of our connection.
JANINE: When?!
SHERLOCK: Hmm?
JANINE: Just once would have been nice.
SHERLOCK: Oh. (He looks a little shifty-eyed.) I was waiting until we got married.
JANINE: That was never gonna happen!
(He looks away. She sighs and stands up.)
JANINE: Got to go.
(She walks over and kisses him on the forehead, then gently wipes her lipstick from his skin
with her thumb.)
JANINE: Im not supposed to keep you talking.
(She reaches down to pick up her handbag.)
JANINE (straightening up): And also I have an interview with The One Show and I havent made
it up yet.
(Sherlock looks up to the ceiling with a soft sigh. She walks to the door and then turns back.)
JANINE: Just one thing.
(He looks across to her.)
JANINE: You shouldnt have lied to me. I know what kind of man you are ... but we could have
been friends.
(Smiling at him, she turns and takes hold of the door handle, then looks back at him.)

403
JANINE: Ill give your love to John and Mary.

(She goes out, closing the door behind her. Sherlock looks towards the door thoughtfully, then
looks upwards for a moment. He turns towards the morphine dispenser and, grunting in pain,
pushes the button to lower the dosage. The read-out shows the level dropping back to a lower
level. He releases the button with a tired sigh. He closes his eyes ...
... and opens them in the wooden door-lined corridor of his Mind Palace. Standing up and fully
dressed, including his coat, he stares intensely ahead of himself.)
MARY (offscreen): You dont tell him.
(He looks along the corridor and Mary is standing a few yards away, facing him. She is wearing
the clothes she had on when he first met her in the restaurant and her hair is styled the same
way as it was then.)
MARY: You dont tell John.
(Sherlock starts to walk towards her and the word Liar appears above her right shoulder.)
SHERLOCK (slowly): So ...
(He continues towards her, and many words, all saying Liar swirl around her. She looks at
him, apparently unperturbed, while he circles around her.)
SHERLOCK: ... Mary Watson. Who are you?
(He completes his circle around her and turns to face her again, the words still swirling around.
He looks at her for a moment, then turns and walks away, the words following him down the
corridor.)
SHERLOCK (whispering): Mary Watson.
(He stops, and the words fade out and vanish. He turns to face her ...
... and in Magnussens flat Marys black-gloved hand pulls the trigger on the pistol and the shell
flies out of the top in slow motion.
In his hospital bed, his fingers steepled together on his chest and his eyes closed, Sherlock
lowers his hands as the sound of the gunshot echoes in his ears. He sighs, raises his head and
tiredly opens his eyes.)
EVENING, possibly the same day. John is leading Greg Lestrade up the stairs of the hospital.
JOHN: Dunno how much sense youll get out of him. Hes drugged up, so hes pretty much
babbling.
(As they reach the top of the stairs and walk along the landing, he looks down at the sound of a
beep and realises that Greg is doing something on his phone.)
JOHN: Oh, they wont let you use that in here, you know.
LESTRADE: No, Im not gonna use the phone. I just wanna take a video.
(He and John grin at each other and Greg chuckles.
Shortly afterwards John opens the door to Sherlocks room and they go inside. The bed is
empty. John looks round the room, and his face fills with shock when he realises that the
window blind has been pulled up and the window is open.)
JOHN: Oh, Jesus.
(He and Greg stare at the window, then John sighs and the two men exchange a look.)
A little later Mary, perhaps at home, is on the phone.

MARY (into phone): So where would he go?
JOHN (on the phone to her from the hospital): Oh, Christ knows. Try finding Sherlock in
London.
(Mary lowers her phone and hangs up.)
John and Greg are on their way out of the hospital.

LESTRADE: Hes got three known bolt holes ...
(They walk away from the hospital, Greg holding his phone to his ear.)
LESTRADE: Parliament Hill, Camden Lock and Dagmar Court.
MYCROFT: Five known bolt holes.

(He is sitting at his desk in his office at The Diogenes Club, looking down at a satellite map on
his computer. The page is headed UGLY DUCKLING. A note in the top right corner of the map
reads, TARGET LOCATED. TRACKING ... and a point on the map is highlighted. As the tracker
appears to be somewhere around Warsaw in Poland, Mycroft is apparently multi-tasking. Greg is
standing at the other side of the table.)
MYCROFT: Theres the blind greenhouse in Kew Gardens and the leaning tomb in Hampstead
Cemetery.

404
(He looks up at Greg and dismissively waves him away. [Mystrade fans pout with annoyance.])
Molly is sitting in a canteen wearing her lab coat and holding a cardboard coffee cup. Some
sandwiches part-wrapped in tin foil, together with a tangerine, are on the table beside her. She
looks up at whoever shes speaking to. We cant see this person because we are looking through
their eyes.
MOLLY: Just the spare bedroom. ... (Awkwardly) Well ... my bedroom. We agreed he needs the
space.
(She nods, looking embarrassed, and takes a drink from her cup.)
Theres a brief shot of Big Ben chiming two minutes past nine [dont ask ...].
MRS HUDSON: Behind the clock face of Big Ben.
(Were now in 221. John is sitting on the stairs with a notebook and pen in his hand and Mrs H
stands in the hall nearby.)
JOHN: I think he was probably joking.
MRS HUDSON: No! I dont think so!
ANDERSON: Leinster Gardens. Thats his number one bolt hole. Its top-top secret.
(He is standing with Benji in what looks like a car park or garage area, and he is addressing his
comments to Mary who stands in front of them.)
BENJI (tilting her head towards Anderson but looking at Mary): He only knows about it cause
he stalked him one night.
ANDERSON: Followed!
BENJI: Followed, yeah.
221B. John is in the living room, pacing, and Greg and Mrs Hudson are in the kitchen.
JOHN: He knew who shot him.
(The other two turn to face him as he stops walking and looks at them. He points to his lower
chest.)
JOHN: The bullet wound was here, so he was facing whoever it was.
LESTRADE (walking closer): So why not tell us?
(John turns around towards the window, blowing out a thoughtful breath.)
LESTRADE: Because hes tracking them down himself.
JOHN (turning back to him): Or protecting them.
LESTRADE: Protecting the shooter? Why?
JOHN: Well, protecting someone, then. But why would he care? Hes Sherlock. Who would he
bother protecting?
(He sits down in his armchair, then looks down at it and frowns. Looking thoughtful, he pats the
arms.)
LESTRADE: Call me if you hear anything. Dont hold out on me, John.
(John is still looking puzzled over the reappearance of his chair.)
LESTRADE: Call me, okay?
JOHN (distractedly, glancing round at him): Yeah. Yeah, right.
(Greg looks round to Mrs Hudson.)
LESTRADE: Good night, then.
MRS HUDSON: Oh ...
(She walks over towards the living room door as Greg leaves. John strokes the arms of his chair
with his thumbs, frowning down.)
MRS HUDSON (to Greg): Bye, then.
(She turns back to John and looks at him worriedly.)
MRS HUDSON: John? Need a cuppa.
(She walks into the kitchen and John shifts in his chair so that he can half-turn towards her.)
JOHN: Mrs Hudson ... (he clears his throat) ... wh-why does Sherlock think that Ill be moving
back in here?
MRS HUDSON: Oh, yes, hes put your chair back again, hasnt he?
JOHN: Huh. (He sits back in the chair again, still looking at it thoughtfully.)
MRS HUDSON: Thats nice!
(She has picked up the kettle and now walks closer to him.)
MRS HUDSON: Looks much better.
(Johns gaze falls on the small table to the right of his chair. There are two books on it and in
front of them is an ornate glass bottle, shaped like a crescent moon. He frowns at it.)

405
MRS HUDSON: John, whats wrong? Tell me.

(Johns gaze is now fixed on the bottle.)
MRS HUDSON: John?
(John looks away from the bottle, turning his head towards the window. A phone starts to buzz
repeatedly.)
MRS HUDSON: Thats your phone, isnt it?
(She walks across the room to pick up the phone from the dining table. She looks at the screen
and turns back.)
MRS HUDSON: Its Sherlock, John. Its Sherlock.
(She holds out the phone to him but John is still gazing towards the window. He turns his head
to look at the bottle again.)
MRS HUDSON: John! You have to answer it!
(But John cant tear his eyes away from the bottle, and we now see that it is a bottle of
perfume. The name of the perfume is Claire de la Lune.)
The distinctive crescent moon shape of the perfume bottle dissolves into a view of the real
Moon, half full in the night sky. Mary is walking along a road towards Leinster Gardens. It is an
expensive-looking area, with a long terrace of four-storey white-plastered Edwardian buildings
lining the road. A homeless person is squatting with his back to the wall at the corner of the
road. He has the hood of his jacket pulled over his head, a blanket wrapped around him, and a
white plastic tub is on the ground in front of him.
HOMELESS MAN (hoarsely, as Mary walks past): Spare any change, love?
MARY (not stopping): No.
HOMELESS MAN (hoarsely): Oh, come on, love. Dont be like all the rest.
(She stops, turning back to him, then takes a handful of loose change from her coat pocket,
bends down and drops the coins into the tub. Before she can fully straighten up or withdraw her
hand, he takes hold of her wrist and looks up at her. Its Bill Wiggins.)
BILL (in his normal voice): Rule One of looking for Sherlock olmes ...
(He puts a phone and a headset into her hand.)
BILL: ... e finds you.
(He stands, picking up his tub.)
MARY: Youre working for Sherlock now.
BILL: Keeps me off the streets, dunnit?
MARY: Well ... no.
(She shrugs at him. The phone in her hand starts to ring. As she puts the headset into her ear,
Bill turns and walks away. She answers the phone.)
MARY (walking along the road): Where are you?
SHERLOCK (over phone): Cant you see me?
MARY: Well, what am I looking for?
SHERLOCK (over phone): The lie the lie of Leinster Gardens hidden in plain sight.
(Stepping a few feet into the road so that she can get a better view of the tall houses, she
continues along the road while looking at the house fronts. There is nobody else in the street
and no cars are driving along it.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): Hardly anyone notices. People live here for years and never see it,
but if you are what I think you are, itll take you less than a minute.
(She continues to walk slowly along the road.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): The houses, Mary. Look at the houses.
MARY: How did you know Id come here?
SHERLOCK (over phone): I knew youd talk to the people no-one else would bother with.
MARY (laughing briefly): I thought I was being clever.
SHERLOCK (over phone): Youre always clever, Mary. I was relying on that. I planted the
information for you to find.
(She slows down, looking at a couple of adjoining houses in the middle of the terrace.)
MARY (her voice sounding impressed): Ohh.
(She stops and turns to face the two houses which have caught her attention. Although there is
no light shining from any of the windows, unlike the others on either side, the houses otherwise
look similar to the rest of the terrace.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): Thirty seconds.
MARY: What am I looking at?
SHERLOCK (over phone): No door knobs, no letter box ...

406
(She looks towards the two front doors to confirm this, then raises her eyes to the windows in
which the glass is opaque.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): ... painted windows. Twenty-three and twenty-four Leinster Gardens
...
(He pauses and sighs gently.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): ... the empty houses.
(The camera rises up towards the rooftops of the buildings.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): They were demolished years ago to make way for the London
Underground, a vent for the old steam trains.
(The camera lifts over the top of the houses and reveals that behind their front walls there is
nothing else of the buildings. The houses on either side are complete but these two have only
the front wall remaining, and underneath the houses runs a train line along which a Tube train
now passes by.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): Only the very front section of the house remains. Its just a faade.
(He draws in a breath.) Remind you of anyone, Mary? A faade.
(At that moment a picture is projected onto the front of the two houses. Three storeys high,
stretching from the first floor to the third, it is a photograph of Mary. The picture, obviously
taken on her wedding day, is a head shot only and shows her wearing her headdress with the
white veil surrounding her head as she smiles happily at the camera. Mary turns and looks
behind her, trying to see where the picture is being projected from.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): Sorry. I never could resist a touch of drama.
(She turns back and looks at her image on the houses.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): Do come in. Its a little cramped.
MARY (starting to walk towards the houses): Do you own this place?
SHERLOCK (over phone): Mmm. I won it in a card game with the Clarence House Cannibal.
(One of the two adjacent front doors is slightly ajar and there is light behind it. She walks
towards that door.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): Nearly cost me my kidneys, but fortunately I had a ... (he draws in a
breath) ... straight flush.
(Mary pushes open the door and looks inside. On the wall inside the door is an empty socket for
a large electric plug and beside it is a fuse box.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): Quite a gambler, that woman.
(Mary walks inside. All that remains of the house is a long narrow corridor running along the
front of the house. She looks back behind her for a moment and then focuses on the corridor. It
is lit at her end, and at the other end a bright light shines towards her, obscuring her view of
the far end, but she can just about see a shape sitting on a chair in the shadows under the
light. She stares at the shape and draws in a breath.)
MARY: What do you want, Sherlock?
(We switch to the other end of the corridor, looking towards Mary over the shoulder of the
figure sitting there and facing her. Water trickles from the ceiling beside it. We can also see the
thin clear tube of a medical drip hanging beside the figure.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): Mary Morstan was stillborn in October 1972. Her gravestone is in
Chiswick Cemetery where five years ago you acquired her name and date of birth and
thereafter her identity.
(She starts walking slowly along the corridor.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): Thats why you dont have friends from before that date.
FLASHBACK to Sherlock standing in the living room of 221B looking at his wedding plans on the
wall behind the sofa.
SHERLOCK (turning to where Mary is sitting at the dining table): Need to work on your half of
the church, Mary. Looking a bit thin.
MARY (smiling): Ah, orphans lot. Friends thats all I have.
In the present, Mary continues to walk slowly along the corridor.

SHERLOCK (over phone): Its an old enough technique, known to the kinds of people who can
recognise a skip-code on sight ...
FLASHBACK to Mary on the first floor landing at 221, showing Sherlock the text message she
has received.
MARY: At first I thought it was just a Bible thing, you know, spam, but its not. Its a skip-code.
(Sherlock looks closely at her.)

407
In the present, Mary is still walking towards the seated figure she can now see a little better.
Although the face is still obscured in shadow she can see that the person is sitting in a
wheelchair. The medical drip is on a stand behind the chair and the recognisable shape of the
morphine dispenser can be seen attached to the stand.
SHERLOCK (over phone): ... have extraordinarily retentive memories ...
FLASHBACK to the wedding venue as Sherlock stands partway up the staircase with the tips of
his fingers against his temples and his eyes screwed closed.
JOHN: How can you not remember which room? You remember everything.
SHERLOCK (irritably): I have to delete something!
(Mary runs around the corner and pelts up the stairs in between them, holding up her skirt with
one hand to stop herself tripping over it.)
MARY: Two oh seven.
In the present, Mary has stopped about halfway along the corridor.
MARY: You were very slow.
SHERLOCK (over phone): How good a shot are you?
(She reaches inside her coat, pulls out her pistol and cocks it, holding it down by her side.)
MARY: How badly do you want to find out?
SHERLOCK (over phone): If I die here, my body will be found in a building with your face
projected on the front of it. Even Scotland Yard could get somewhere with that.
(She nods her agreement, still looking towards the shadowed figure at the end of the corridor.
She can see one side of the popped coat collar protruding out of the shadows.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): I want to know how good you are. (Softly, encouragingly) Go on.
Show me. The doctors wife must be a little bit bored by now.
(Shifting her pistol in her grip, Mary looks down and reaches into her shoulder bag and takes
out a fifty pence coin. Balancing it on her thumb and forefinger, she looks up to gauge the
height of the ceiling, then flicks the coin high into the air, raises the gun and fires at it. The
ejected shell pings off the wall in front of her and she turns and lowers her head to avoid the
coin as it falls down to the floor. She turns to look at the shadowed figure.
Behind her a shadow appears on the wall as someone walks through the open front door. The
shadow is instantly recognisable as Sherlocks with its curly hair and popped collar, and now he
lowers his phone from his ear and switches it off while he walks towards her.)
SHERLOCK: May I see?
(Mary peers towards the shadowy figure sitting at the end of the corridor, then lowers her head
and turns to Sherlock, laughing quietly.)
MARY: Its a dummy.
(She takes the headset from her ear.)
MARY: I suppose it was a fairly obvious trick.
(She walks a few paces forward, puts her foot against the coin and sends it sliding across the
floor towards him. Sherlock puts his foot onto it to stop it. He looks at her as she continues her
slow walk towards him, then he bends down and picks up the coin. When he straightens up and
speaks, his voice is tight with pain.)
SHERLOCK: And yet, over a distance of six feet, you failed to make a kill shot.
(He holds the coin up to show the hole shot through it. He looks like hell shaky on his feet,
sweating and breathing heavily as he continues talking.)
SHERLOCK: Enough to hospitalise me; not enough to kill me. That wasnt a miss.
(He smiles slightly.)
SHERLOCK: That was surgery.
(Mary meets his gaze for a moment, then lowers her eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Ill take the case.
MARY (looking at him again): What case?
SHERLOCK: Yours. (A little angrily) Why didnt you come to me in the first place?
MARY: Because John cant ever know that I lied to him. It would break him and I would lose
him forever and, Sherlock, I will never let that happen.
(He turns as if to walk away. She takes a step towards him.)
MARY: Please ...
(He turns back to her.)
MARY: ... understand. There is nothing in this world that I would not do to stop that happening.
SHERLOCK (turning away): Sorry.

408
(He walks to the fuse box and puts his hand onto one of the switches before looking back
towards her.)
SHERLOCK: Not that obvious a trick.
(He flicks the switch and all the lights come on. Behind Mary at the far end of the corridor there
is slight movement. Even though she has not seen it, her face fills with dread as if she has
already realised the truth. Lowering her eyes and letting out a breath, she turns to look along
the corridor to where the figure at the end can now be seen clearly. She gasps. Her husband is
sitting in the wheelchair, looking back at her with no expression in his eyes. His hair is ruffled to
make it look bigger and he is wearing a black jacket with the collar popped. Slowly he stands up
and begins to stroke his hair back down.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Now talk, and sort it out. Do it quickly.
(John takes hold of his coat and pulls it wide, shaking the collar down before settling it back
onto his shoulders. Mary lets out an anguished sigh as he slowly starts to walk towards her and
then stops several feet away. The scene slowly fades to black.)
DAY TIME. A church choir can be heard singing the Christmas carol, Hark, the Herald Angels
Sing. From the quality of the sound, it appears that the music is coming from a radio. Outside
a red-walled cottage, Sherlocks and Mycrofts father comes out of the door wearing grey
trousers, a white checked shirt, a grey cardigan and a bright red bowtie. He goes over to a
nearby pile of small wooden logs and picks up two of them before going back inside. Mycrofts
voice can be heard. It has a rather despairing tone to it.
MYCROFT (offscreen): Oh, dear God, its only two oclock. Its been Christmas Day for at least a
week now.
(We switch to a view through a window of the cottage and can see the kitchen. Mycroft
wearing a shirt and tie and a sleeveless waistcoat is sitting at the side of a large table in the
middle of the kitchen rubbing one hand wearily over his brow. Christmas lights wrapped
around green foliage are strung along the bottom of the window we are looking through and
another set of lights is wrapped over the curtain rail above a window on the opposite side of the
kitchen. The latter lights then progress to where they drape over the top of a picture on the wall
beside the window and then dangle down haphazardly towards the floor. On the kitchen table is
some crockery, including a large plate with red paper serviettes and some cutlery on it, another
plate with mince pies on it, a small iced and decorated Christmas cake, and various other items.
From just offscreen, someone drops some more Christmas crackers onto a pile of them lying in
a wicker basket on the table. Sherlock, wearing his usual dark suit and a very dark grey shirt, is
sitting in an armchair near the table.)
MYCROFT (in the same despairing tone): How can it only be two oclock? Im in agony.
(Sherlock is looking at the front page of The Guardian which bears the headline Lord
Smallwood suicide and the straplines Shamed peer takes own life and 63-year-old dies
following letters scandal. Mrs Holmes voice speaks offscreen.)
MRS HOLMES: Mikey, is this your laptop?
(Standing at the end of the table, she points down to a silver-grey laptop on the table, half-
obscured by a chopping board on top of it which has several whole peeled potatoes and the
peelings on it.)
MYCROFT: On which depends the security of the free world, yes ... (he smiles rather
sarcastically up at her) ... and youve got potatoes on it.
(Sherlock glances over towards them.)
MRS HOLMES (to Mycroft): Well, you shouldnt leave it lying around if its so important.
(She reaches to pick up the basket of crackers but puts it down again when Mycroft speaks
while gesturing around the kitchen.)
MYCROFT: Why are we doing this? We never do this.
(Looking a little exasperated, his mother leans on the table.)
MRS HOLMES: We are here because Sherlock is home from hospital and we are all very happy.
(Mycroft looks up at her with an extremely insincere smile.)
MYCROFT: Am I happy too? I havent checked.
MRS HOLMES (picking up the basket): Behave, Mike.
MYCROFT: Mycroft is the name you gave me, if you could possibly struggle all the way to the
end.
(Bill Wiggins walks over and holds out a glass of punch with pieces of fruit floating in it.)
BILL: Mrs Holmes?
(She looks round and takes the glass from him.)
MRS HOLMES: Oh! Thank you, dear.

409
(She looks up at him.)

MRS HOLMES: Not absolutely sure why youre here.
(She drinks from the glass.)
SHERLOCK: I invited him.
BILL: Im his protg, Mrs olmes. When e dies, I get all his stuff, an is job.
(She looks at him, a little startled.)
SHERLOCK (precisely, still reading the paper): No.
BILL: Oh. Well, I help out a bit.
SHERLOCK: Closer.
(Mycroft and Mrs Holmes look up at Bill.)
BILL: If e does get murdered or something ...
(Mycroft and his mother look appalled.)
SHERLOCK (still looking at his newspaper): Probably stop talking now.
BILL: Okay.
MYCROFT (to Sherlock): Lovely when you bring your friends round(!)
MRS HOLMES (putting her glass down): Stop it, you. Somebodys put a bullet in my boy ... (she
walks towards Sherlock with the basket of crackers but then turns back to look at Mycroft) ...
and if I ever find out who, I shall turn absolutely monstrous.
(She apparently sees something on a nearby work surface.)
MRS HOLMES: Ah. This was for Mary. (She walks away with whatever it is.) Ill be back in a
minute.
(Sherlock, who had folded his hands in front of his mouth, now lowers his left hand and looks at
his watch. A mental image of a stopwatch appears above his hand, starting a countdown from 7
minutes and 37 seconds. He refolds his hands.)
In the sitting room of the cottage, which also has random Christmas decorations around it, Mr
Holmes goes across to the open door of the wood-burning fireplace and puts the two pieces of
wood into the lit fire. Mrs Holmes comes in.
MRS HOLMES: Ah, Mary.
(Carrying a mug, she takes it across to where Mary is sitting in an armchair facing the fire. She
has a blanket over her stomach and legs and is flicking through the pages of a book.)
MRS HOLMES: There you are.
(She hands the mug to Mary, who smiles as she takes it and drinks from it.)
MRS HOLMES: Cup of tea. Now, if Father starts making little humming noises, just give him a
little poke. That usually does it.
(Mary giggles and Mrs Holmes chuckles. Mr Holmes has straightened up from the fire, dusting
off his hands, and has turned to face them while putting his hands in his pockets. He has a pair
of glasses on a chain around his neck. It seems that he has taken up his wifes suggestion of
wearing them on a chain like Larry Grayson. He smiles at Mary as Mrs Holmes turns to look
at him. Mary holds up the book to show the front cover. The book is called The Dynamics of
Combustion and its author is M. L. Holmes.)
MARY (to Mrs Holmes): Did you write this?
MRS HOLMES: Oh, that silly old thing. You mustnt read that. Mathematics must seem terribly
fatuous now!
(She turns to her husband, who is now gazing into space and humming quietly to himself.)
MRS HOLMES (walking towards him): Now, no humming, you!
(She pats his backside affectionately. Mary, taking another drink of her tea, smiles fondly at her
as she leaves the room and closes the door. Mr Holmes smiles at Mary.)
MR HOLMES: Complete flake, my wife, but happens to be a genius.
MARY: She was a mathematician?
MR HOLMES: Gave it all up for children.
(Mary smiles and sips from her mug again.)
MR HOLMES: I could never bear to argue with her. Im something of a moron myself. But shes
... (he glances away briefly, then looks back to Mary and leans closer to her, smiling) ...
unbelievably hot!
MARY (giggling): Oh my God. Youre the sane one, arent you?!
MR HOLMES (raising his eyebrows at her): Arent you?!
(She lowers her eyes, trying to keep her smile steady, and then drinks again. The door to the
sitting room opens and John comes in, glancing briefly at Mary and then looking across to Mr
Holmes, who turns to him.)
JOHN: Oh.

410
(Looking nervous, Mary looks down at her book and flips it open to a random page.)
JOHN: Sorry. I-I just, er ...
(Mary keeps her head down, flicking through the books pages. John glances towards her
again.)
MR HOLMES: Oh. Er-er, do you two need a moment?
(He starts to walk towards the door, looking at John.)
JOHN: If you dont mind.
(Mr Holmes stops and looks towards Mary, who briefly raises her head and gives it a tiny shake
before looking down again.)
MR HOLMES (continuing towards the door): No, of course not. Ill-Ill go and see if I can help
with ... something or another.
(He goes out, closing the door behind him. John watches him go, then runs his hand under his
nose and turns towards Mary. She looks down at her book for a few more moments, then raises
her head and briefly watches as he slowly walks across the room to stand in front of the fire,
facing her. Again she glances briefly towards him before turning her attention back to the book
on her lap.
Outside the closed door, Sherlock has walked over and has taken his coat from the pegs on the
wall nearby. Standing at the door, his father looks at him and points back towards the sitting
room.)
MR HOLMES: Those two. They all right?
SHERLOCK (putting on his coat): Well, you know theyve had their ups and downs.
(He glances towards the door, then goes through another nearby door.)
After a moment of dark screen, we are back in the narrow corridor in the house in Leinster
Gardens. No time seems to have passed since we were last there, and Mary and John are still
standing facing each other several feet apart. Now Sherlock turns away behind Mary.
SHERLOCK (quietly): Baker Street. Now.
(He walks away but Mary continues to stare at her husband, her face anguished. After a
moment John walks forward, his eyes fixed on her and his teeth slightly bared. He keeps going
and walks past her. She draws in a sharp breath, apparently fighting off tears.)
Later, John opens the door of the living room at 221B and walks in, sighing quietly. Mary follows
him more slowly up the stairs, with Sherlock behind her. John takes off his jacket and drops it
onto the dining table. Mrs Hudson is in the kitchen but now hurries towards him worriedly.
MRS HUDSON: John.
(Mary walks through the door, Sherlock slowly following up the stairs with his head lowered and
bracing himself on the bannister.)
MRS HUDSON: Mary!
(Mary gives her a small smile and walks towards the fireplace while John stands by the dining
table with his hands on his hips. Sherlock hobbles to the doorway and stops there, bracing
himself with one hand on the edge of the open door.)
MRS HUDSON (looking shocked): Oh, Sherlock! Oh, good gracious, you look terrible.
SHERLOCK: Get me some morphine from your kitchen. Ive run out.
MRS HUDSON: I dont have any morphine!
SHERLOCK (angrily): Then what exactly is the point of you?
(She presses her lips together for a moment, then looks round at everyone.)
MRS HUDSON: What is going on?
JOHN: Bloody good question.
SHERLOCK (looking at John): The Watsons are about to have a domestic, and fairly quickly, I
hope, because weve got work to do.
JOHN: Oh, I have a better question.
(He paces towards Mary, looking angrily into her face.)
JOHN: Is everyone Ive ever met a psychopath?
(At the door, Sherlocks eyes lift upwards as if hes thinking.)
SHERLOCK (after a moment): Yes.
(Mary gives a tiny nod of agreement, pursing her lips.)
SHERLOCK: Good that weve settled that. Anyway, we ...
JOHN (turning towards him furiously): SHUT UP!
(Mrs Hudson jumps at the loudness of his cry and puts one hand to her mouth.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh!

411
JOHN (to Sherlock at a more normal volume): And stay shut up, because this is not funny. (He
gives him an angry humourless smile.) Not this time.
SHERLOCK: I didnt say it was funny.
(John turns his head to look at Mary.)
JOHN: You.
(He turns to face her. When he speaks, his voice and his face are full of barely-controlled anger
and he frequently breathes heavily throughout his next words.)
JOHN: What have I ever done ... hmm? ... my whole life ... to deserve you?
SHERLOCK (now leaning against the right-hand door post): Everything.
JOHN (in the same tone as he turns to face him): Sherlock, Ive told you ... (he walks towards
him) ... shut up.
SHERLOCK (quietly): Oh, I mean it, seriously. Everything everything youve ever done is what
you did.
JOHN (very softly and dangerously): Sherlock, one more word and you will not need morphine.
SHERLOCK (still softly): You were a doctor who went to war.
(Johns eyes are fixed on him and he is breathing rapidly and deeply.)
SHERLOCK (a little louder but still quieter than were used to hearing him speak): Youre a man
who couldnt stay in the suburbs for more than a month without storming a crack den and
beating up a junkie. Your best friend is a sociopath who solves crimes as an alternative to
getting high.
SHERLOCK: Thats me, by the way. (He raises his left hand and waves at him.) Hello.
(He points towards Mrs Hudson.)
SHERLOCK: Even the landlady used to run a drug cartel.
MRS HUDSON: It was my husbands cartel. I was just typing.
SHERLOCK (looking at her): And exotic dancing.
MRS HUDSON: Sherlock Holmes, if youve been YouTube-ing ...
SHERLOCK (louder, talking over her): John, you are addicted to a certain lifestyle. Youre
abnormally attracted to dangerous situations and people ... (his voice becomes quieter again)
... so is it truly such a surprise that the woman youve fallen in love with conforms to that
pattern?
(John grimaces briefly and then, with his eyes still fixed on Sherlock, he points towards his wife
at the other side of the room.)
JOHN (his voice full of suppressed tears): But she wasnt supposed to be like that.
(Mrs Hudson looks across to Mary in shock. Mary lowers her head.)
JOHN (to Sherlock, pointing again across the room, his voice a little stronger): Why is she like
that?
(Sherlock looks away towards the sofa wall for several seconds and then turns to look directly
into Johns eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Because you chose her.
(John stares back at him, his face unreadable. Sherlock holds his gaze. Finally John turns away,
speaking conversationally.)
JOHN: Why is everything ... (he walks towards the dining table, holding up a questioning hand
and shrugging) ... always ... (his voice raises to a loud shout) ... MY FAULT?!
(He furiously kicks the small table beside Sherlocks chair across the floor. Mrs Hudson jumps
and flails. Even Sherlock jumps a little, but Mary remains still.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh, the neighbours!
(She hurries away. John turns to face Mary again, breathing heavily.)
SHERLOCK (still in a quiet voice): John, listen. Be calm and answer me. (Slowly, precisely)
What is she?
JOHN (his gaze fixed on Mary, though he blinks repeatedly): My lying wife?
SHERLOCK: No. What is she?
JOHN (still looking at Mary): And the woman whos carrying my child who has lied to me since
the day I met her?
(She gazes back at him.)
SHERLOCK: No. Not in this flat; not in this room. Right here, right now, what is she?
(John has a small fixed humourless smile on his face as his eyes remain locked on his wife. His
head is low on his neck and he looks murderous. After a long moment he sniffs deeply and
harshly.)
JOHN: Okay.
(He turns briefly towards Sherlock and then back to Mary.)

412
JOHN (over his shoulder towards Sherlock): Your way.

(He looks at Mary for another second, then half-turns to Sherlock.)
JOHN: Always your way.
(Sherlock lowers his head and looks away. John turns, clearing his throat, then picks up one of
the dining chairs and puts it down facing the two armchairs and the fireplace. He looks at
Mary.)
JOHN: Sit.
MARY: Why?
JOHN (in a tight, angry whisper, leaning towards her while pointing down to the dining chair):
Because thats where they sit.
(He straightens up, still speaking in the same tight voice but a little louder.)
JOHN: ... the people who come in here with their stories. Th-the clients thats all you are now,
Mary. Youre a client. This is where you sit and talk ... (he gestures towards the armchairs) ...
and this is where we sit and listen, then we decide if we want you or not.
(Sniffing, he walks over to his chair and sits down, clearing his throat and adjusting the cushion
behind his back. After a moment, Sherlock walks forward and crosses the room. Pausing briefly
in front of Mary to meet her eyes and give her a tiny nod, he turns and sits down in his own
chair. Mary watches him as he sits, then looks across to John, who has slumped back into his
chair and is not meeting her eyes, then she slowly walks in between them and turns round to sit
down on the dining chair, putting her shoulder bag onto the floor beside her. She adjusts her
coat around her, dusts off the tops of her legs, tugs the lower part of her trousers down a little
on both legs, then turns her head to John as he looks back at her.)
THE PRESENT. In the sitting room of the Holmes cottage, Mary looks up from her book when
John speaks.
JOHN: So, are you okay?
MARY (rather sarcastically): Oh! Are we doing conversation today? It really is Christmas(!)
(John reaches into the pocket of his trousers and takes out something. He shows her what hes
holding. It is a large silver-coloured pen drive with a circular link at one end for attaching it to a
key ring. Written in black felt-tip pen on one side are the initials A.G.R.A [its actually not
clear whether theres a dot after the R because the bottom right hand part of the letter runs
into it]. The writing is somewhat faded. Mary closes the book and lets out a brief exasperated
sound.)
MARY: Now?
(John nods and tilts the drive round to look at the letters on it.)
MARY: Seriously? Months of silence and were gonna do this ... (she nods towards the drive) ...
now?
(John lowers the drive to his side, slowly rolling it round in his fingers.)
221B IN THE PAST. Sitting on the dining chair in front of Sherlock and John, Mary puts what
looks like the same pen drive onto the table at the side of Johns chair, then withdraws her
hand. Sherlock, his face in a grimace as if he is in pain, zooms in on the drive and the letters
written on the side of it, although they appear much darker than they will be in the future.
SHERLOCK: A.G.R.A. Whats that?
(Mary looks from him to John and clears her throat.)
MARY: Er ... my initials.
(John grimaces and looks away. Sherlock looks down, then glances towards him.)
MARY: Everything about who I was is on there. (Directly to John) If you love me, dont read it in
front of me.
JOHN (lifting the hand nearest to the table in a shrug): Why?
MARY (apparently trying to hold back tears): Because you wont love me when youve finished
...
(John holds her gaze.)
MARY: ... and I dont want to see that happen.
(She looks down. With a loud sigh John snatches the drive from the table, looks briefly across to
Sherlock and then shoves the drive into his left trouser pocket. Sniffing, he pulls himself into a
higher sitting position on his chair. Mary looks across to Sherlock.)
MARY: How much dyou know already?
SHERLOCK (still speaking more quietly than were used to): By your skill set, you are or were
an intelligence agent. Your accent is currently English but I suspect you are not. Youre on the
run from something; youve used your skills to disappear; ...

413
(John shakes his head as if he cant believe what hes hearing.)

SHERLOCK: ... Magnussen knows your secret, which is why you were going to kill him; and I
assume you befriended Janine ... (he grimaces, shifting uncomfortably on his chair) ... in order
to get close to him.
MARY: Oh you can talk!
(He smiles at her.)
JOHN: Ohhh. Look at you two.
(Not raising his hands from the arms of his chair, he points his index fingers at each of them.)
JOHN: You should have got married.
(Mary turns to look at him, and Sherlock blinks a couple of times.)
MARY: The stuff Magnussen has on me, I would go to prison for the rest of my life.
JOHN: So you were just gonna kill him.
MARY: People like Magnussen should be killed. Thats why there are people like me.
JOHN (lifting his left hand and gently punching the arm of the chair): Perfect(!) So thats what
you were? An assassin?
(He looks towards Sherlock.)
JOHN: How could I not see that?
(He turns back towards Mary.)
MARY: You did see that.
(Johns humourless and slightly murderous smile is back on his face.)
MARY (pausing for a moment): ... and you married me.
(She pauses again, then tilts her head towards Sherlock.)
MARY: Because hes right.
(Sherlock looks down a little, unusually not looking pleased about being correct.)
MARY (softly, to John): Its what you like.
(John looks back at her stony-faced. She holds his gaze for a moment, then lowers her eyes.)
SHERLOCK: So ... Mary ...
(He grimaces again.)
SHERLOCK: ... any documents that Magnussen has concerning yourself, you want ... (he
grimaces yet again, his voice tight as if with physical pain) ... extracted and returned.
MARY: Why would you help me?
SHERLOCK: Because ... you saved my life.
JOHN: Sor-sorry, what?
SHERLOCK (looking at Mary): When I happened on you and Magnussen ...
(He takes a couple of noisy, strained breaths, bracing his hands on the arms of his chair.)
SHERLOCK: ... you had a problem.
(The camera pulls back across the floor of the living room towards the door.)
SHERLOCK (offscreen): More specifically, you had a witness.
(Near the door, Sherlocks familiar shadow drifts across the floor ...
... but its not actually in 221B. In the past, Sherlock looks carefully through the gap in the door
to Magnussons penthouse living room and sees Magnussen kneeling on the floor with his head
lowered and his hands raised while the black-clad assassin points a pistol at him.)
MAGNUSSEN (voiceover): What do you do now?
(The scene fast-forwards to Mary standing facing Sherlock, pointing her pistol at him while,
behind her, Magnussen is reaching to his left where his phone is lying on the floor.)
MAGNUSSEN (voiceover): Kill both of us?
[Transcribers note: In the original version of this scene, Magnussen said, Kill us both?]
(Mary pulls the trigger and in slow-motion the bullet flies out of the end of the gun.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): The solution, of course, was simple. Kill us both and leave.
(In this version of events, Mary wasnt aiming at Sherlocks chest and the bullet goes straight
into the centre of his forehead. His eyes close and his mouth flies open and he starts to fall
backwards. Before he even reaches the floor, Mary rapidly turns towards Magnussen, who is still
straightening up at the sound of the shot. She shoots him in the head. In slow-motion, both he
and Sherlock fall to the floor.)
SHERLOCK (in 221B in the present): However, sentiment got the better of you.
(In the past, in Magnussons flat the preceding scene goes into reverse and Magnussen lifts off
the floor and back onto his knees, the bullet goes back into the gun and Mary reverse-turns
towards Sherlock, who is still on his feet.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): One precisely-calculated shot to incapacitate me ...
(Mary fires at him and Sherlock this time shot in the chest starts to fall backwards.)

414
SHERLOCK (voiceover): ... in the hope that it would bide you more time to negotiate my
silence.
[Transcribers note: Sherlock does say bide, though I suspect that Benedict ought to have said
buy. However, note an alternative theory here]
(Before Sherlock hits the floor, Mary is already turning towards Magnussen.)
SHERLOCK (in 221B in the present): Of course, you couldnt shoot Magnussen. (He looks
towards John.) On the night that both of us broke into the building, your own husband would
become a suspect, so ...
(In the past, Mary viciously lashes the end of her pistol across Magnussons face. His glasses fly
off his face and in ultra-slow motion he starts to fall.)
SHERLOCK (offscreen for the first part of the sentence, now taking a painful breath every few
words): ... you calculated ... that Magnussen ... would use the fact of your involvement rather
than sharing the information with the police ... as is his M.O.
(In the past, Mary walks in slow motion towards the open door of Magnussons flat.)
SHERLOCK (in 221B): ... and then you left the way you came.
(Marys gaze is lowered but now she raises it to him. John is looking towards him with a grim
expression on his face, then turns his eyes towards his wife.)
SHERLOCK (to Mary): Have I missed anything?
JOHN: How did she save your life?
SHERLOCK: She phoned the ambulance.
JOHN: I phoned the ambulance.
SHERLOCK: She phoned first.
(In the past, Mary viciously lashes the end of her pistol across Magnussons face and then
immediately bends to pick up his phone from the floor. Even as she straightens up we hear
three beeps as she types on it, not even looking at it. The number comes up on our screen in
red:
999 EMERGENCY
OPERATOR (over phone): Emergency. Which service do you require?
Approaching sirens can be heard.
SHERLOCK (in 221B in the present, looking at John): You didnt find me for another five
minutes. Left to you, I would have died. The average arrival time for a London ambulance is ...
(He lifts his left hand and looks at his watch as the clatter of feet can be heard on the stairs.
Two paramedics run into the room.)
PARAMEDIC: Did somebody call an ambulance?
(John stands up, looking at them in confusion.)
SHERLOCK: ... eight minutes.
(Breathing heavily and with his left hand still raised in front of him, he looks towards the
paramedics.)
SHERLOCK: Did you bring any morphine? I asked on the phone.
PARAMEDIC (looking puzzled): We were told there was a shooting.
SHERLOCK: There was, last week ...
(He is now holding his left wrist with his right hand, his fingers on his pulse point. He takes a
sharp breath.)
SHERLOCK: ... but I believe Im bleeding internally and my pulse is very erratic.
(He puts his hands on the arms of the chair and starts to push himself upwards.)
SHERLOCK: You may need to re-start my heart on the way.
(His voice jolts on the word heart and his knees buckle. John and Mary hurry forward and each
of them takes hold of an upper arm to support him. The paramedics run towards them.)
JOHN: Come on, Sherlock. Come on, Sherlock.
(Sherlock groans and grabs at him, clinging to his shoulder. Mary steps back out of the way of
the paramedics.)
SHERLOCK: John?
(The paramedics put their bags down on the floor near him and take hold of him, supporting his
weight, but he ignores them and stares intensely at his friend.)
SHERLOCK: John Magnussen is all that matters now. You can trust Mary. She saved my life.
JOHN (quietly): She shot you.
(Sherlock pulls a face, half-nodding his agreement.)

415
SHERLOCK: Er, mixed messages, I grant you.

(He grimaces, crying out in pain, and starts to fall. John and the paramedics start to lower him
to the floor.)
JOHN: Sherlock? Sherlock. (To the paramedics) All right, take him.
(Sherlock cries out again. John releases him, watching the paramedics.)
JOHN: Got him?
(They lay Sherlock down as he groans and whimpers. John straightens and looks down in
concern as one of the paramedics gets out an oxygen mask. While they continue working, John
looks across to Mary, breathing heavily and with his teeth slightly bared.)
THE PRESENT in the Holmes sitting room.

MARY: So, have you read it?
(John looks down at the pen drive, repeatedly turning it around in his fingers, the key ring
attachment rattling noisily, then he clasps his fist around it and looks at her while gesturing to
the floor in front of him.)
JOHN: W-would you come here a moment?
MARY (shaking her head): No. Tell me. Have you?
JOHN (in an exasperated voice): Just ...
(He pauses and seems to rein in his temper.)
JOHN (more calmly): ... come here.
(She grimaces unhappily, then unwraps the blanket from around her stomach and legs and
starts to stand up, holding one hand to her abdomen. She is now very visibly pregnant. John
steps towards her to help her up.)
MARY: No, Im fine.
(Wincing, she gets to her feet as John steps back again. She walks across the room and John
turns to one side so that he is side-on to the fireplace. Mary stops in front of him and lowers her
eyes. When John speaks, his voice is little more than a whisper and his throat is tight.)
JOHN: Ive thought long and hard about what I want to say to you.
(He draws in a long breath through his nose as she raises her eyes to him.)
JOHN: These are prepared words, Mary.
(He lowers his head for a moment, grimacing slightly and pulling in another slightly shaky
breath before glancing up at her.)
JOHN: Ive chosen these words with care.
MARY (a little nervously): Okay.
(John clears his throat, and he can be heard rolling the pen drive round in his fingers again.
Finally he looks up to meet her eyes.)
JOHN (still speaking quietly): The problems of your past are your business. The problems of
your future ... are my privilege.
(Marys face starts to crumple a little and tears begin to form in her eyes.)
JOHN: Its all I have to say. Its all I need to know.
(He looks down at the pen drive while Mary gazes at him tearfully. After a few moments he
glances up at her again, then turns to the fireplace and drops the pen drive onto the burning
logs. Mary quietly starts to cry as she looks at the drive on top of the fire. John clears his throat
again as he turns back to her.)
JOHN (quietly): No, I didnt read it.
(She looks at him, the first tears starting to roll down her face.)
MARY (tearfully): You dont even know my name.
JOHN: Is Mary Watson good enough for you?
MARY (sobbing out the word): Yes! (She wipes her fingers under her nose.) Oh my God, yes.
JOHN: Then its good enough for me, too.
(He gives her a small smile.)
MARY: Oh!
(They step together and hug each other tightly. She cries. He speaks softly in her ear, his
throat still tight.)
JOHN: All this does not mean that Im not still basically pissed off with you.
MARY (tearfully): I know, I know.
JOHN: I am very pissed off, and it will come out now and then.
MARY: I know, I know, I know.
(She sniffs. They pull back far enough to be able to look into each others eyes.)
JOHN (softly): You can mow the sodding lawn from now on.
MARY: I do mow the lawn.

416
JOHN: No, I do it loads.

MARY: You really dont.
JOHN: I choose the babys name.
MARY: Not a chance.
JOHN: Okay.
(They tightly hug again.)
Outside the cottage, Mycroft and Sherlock are idly wandering along the path in the front garden
towards the gate. Each of them is holding a lit cigarette.
MYCROFT: Im glad youve given up on the Magnussen business.
SHERLOCK: Are you?
MYCROFT (stopping): Im still curious, though. Hes hardly your usual kind of puzzle. Why do
you ... hate him?
SHERLOCK (turning back to face him): Because he attacks people who are different and preys
on their secrets. Why dont you?
MYCROFT: He never causes too much damage to anyone important. Hes far too intelligent for
that. Hes a business-man, thats all, and occasionally useful to us. A necessary evil not a
dragon for you to slay.
(He takes a drag on his cigarette while Sherlock smiles and walks back to his side.)
SHERLOCK: A dragon slayer. Is that what you think of me?
(He turns as he pulls on his own cigarette. They stand side by side with their backs to the
cottage.)
MYCROFT (smiling): No. (He looks at his brother.) Its what you think of yourself.
(The cottage door opens behind them and Mrs Holmes comes out onto the step.)
MRS HOLMES (crossly): Are you two smoking?
(The boys rapidly spin round to face her, frantically holding their cigarettes behind their backs
as they look guiltily at her.)
MYCROFT: No!
SHERLOCK (almost simultaneously): It was Mycroft.
(She gives them a suspicious look, then goes back inside and shuts the door. Sherlock looking
every inch the naughty schoolboy who thinks he has got away with being bad and is feeling
very smug about it blows out a long plume of smoke in the direction of the door. Mycroft
wanders a few paces towards the door, then slowly turns back again as he speaks.)
MYCROFT: I have, by the way, a job offer I should like you to decline.
SHERLOCK: I decline your kind offer.
MYCROFT: I shall pass on your regrets.
SHERLOCK: What was it?
MYCROFT: MI6 they want to place you back into Eastern Europe. An undercover assignment
that would prove fatal to you in, I think, about six months.
(Sherlock, who had started to raise his cigarette to his lips, lowers it again and looks a little
surprised.)
SHERLOCK: Then why dont you want me to take it?
MYCROFT (turning to look at him): Its tempting ... but on balance you have more utility closer
to home.
SHERLOCK: Utility(!) How do I have utility?
(He takes a drag on his cigarette. Mycroft shrugs slightly.)
MYCROFT: Here be dragons.
(He takes a pull on his own cigarette, then holds it up to look at, frowning. He coughs.)
MYCROFT: This isnt agreeing with me. Im going in.
(He drops the cigarette onto the path and treads it out, then turns and walks towards the door.)
SHERLOCK: You need low tar. You still smoke like a beginner.
(Mycroft slows down and stops before he reaches the door. He pauses for a moment before
speaking.)
MYCROFT (without turning round): Also, your loss would break my heart.
(Sherlock had just started to take a drag on his cigarette and now he chokes and coughs before
turning to look at his brother, who still hasnt turned around.)
SHERLOCK: What the hell am I supposed to say to that?!
MYCROFT (turning round and holding out his arms a little): Merry Christmas?
SHERLOCK: You hate Christmas.
MYCROFT (pretending to look puzzled): Yes. (He smiles a little.) Perhaps there was something
in the punch.

417
SHERLOCK: Clearly. Go and have some more.

(Mycroft turns and goes up the steps, opening the door. Sherlock turns away.)
In the sitting room, John and Mary are still locked in a tight hug, swaying a little from side to
side.
MARY: So you realise that, er, Sherlock got us out here to see his mum and dad for a reason?
JOHN (smiling): His lovely mum and dad. A fine example of married life. I get that.
(Over his shoulder, Mary holds the fingers of one hand to her forehead, frowning and looking a
little unwell.)
JOHN (unaware of this): That is the thing with Sherlock its always the unexpected.
(Mary starts to slump in his grasp.)
JOHN: Oi. (He frowns round to the side of her head.) Oi.
(She slumps more, moaning softly as her arms drop from around him. He takes her weight and
moves her back so he can see her face. Her eyes are closed.)
JOHN: Mary? Jesus Christ. Mary?
(He hauls her back towards a nearby armchair.)
JOHN: Sit down.
(He lowers her into the armchair. She is now unconscious. He takes hold of her face.)
JOHN: Mary, can you hear me?
(The door opens and Sherlock briskly walks in a couple of paces.)
SHERLOCK: Dont drink Marys tea.
(He turns and leaves again, grabbing his scarf from the peg as he goes. John stares towards the
door, then looks towards his wife again.)
SHERLOCK (loudly): Oh, or the punch.
(In another sitting room next door, a glass is lying overturned on a table and Mr Holmes is lying
on his back on the sofa with his eyes closed. Sherlock holds his hand over his fathers nose to
check that hes breathing normally, then continues onwards. John follows him into the room
while Sherlock heads into the kitchen, where Mrs Holmes is asleep in the armchair in which
Sherlock had previously sat, and Mycroft is slumped on a dining chair with his head on the
kitchen table and his eyes closed. The kitchen clock above the door shows that about seven
minutes have passed since the earlier scene in the kitchen, so clearly Sherlocks countdown was
absolutely accurate.)
JOHN: Sherlock?
(Sherlock holds the back of his hand to his mothers nose to check her breathing, then walks
past Bill, who is standing nearby, and goes over to the kitchen table.)
JOHN (coming in): Did you just drug my pregnant wife?
SHERLOCK (checking Mycrofts breathing): Dont worry. Wiggins is an excellent chemist.
BILL: I calculated your wifes dose meself. Wont affect the little one. Ill keep an eye on er.
SHERLOCK (putting on his scarf): Hell monitor their recovery. Its more or less his day job.
JOHN (staring at him): What the hell have you done?
(Sherlock looks down reflectively and takes a moment to reply.)
SHERLOCK: ... A deal with the devil.
FLASHBACK. A blurry figure walks in through a door, closes it and then walks forward. At the far
end of the room Sherlock is sitting at a small table which has a red tablecloth. He is wearing a
hospital gown and has his morphine drip on a stand beside him. On the table in front of him is a
plate with a part-finished meal on it. Some penne pasta and what looks like a cherry tomato
remain. There is also a glass of water on the table. Sherlock chews and swallows his latest
mouthful of food, not looking up as the other person walks closer. We now see that it is
Magnussen.
MAGNUSSEN: Shouldnt you be in hospital?
SHERLOCK (still not looking up): I am in hospital. This is the canteen.
(We get a better view of where they are, and its definitely not the hospital canteen. Sherlock
has apparently busted out of hospital again, not bothering or unable to get his clothes for the
escape, and the two men are in a small restaurant or taverna. There are no other customers
and the only member of staff is at the far end by the door. Magnussen looks round the not-
canteen.)
MAGNUSSEN: Is it?
SHERLOCK: In my opinion, yes.
(He gestures with his fork to the chair on the other side of the table.)
SHERLOCK: Have a seat.

418
MAGNUSSEN: Thank you.

(Sherlock lays down his fork on the plate and watches as he sits down opposite him.)
SHERLOCK: Ive been thinking about you.
MAGNUSSEN: Ive been thinking about you.
SHERLOCK: Really?
(Looking a little weak, he reaches across to the morphine control and pushes the button three
times.)
SHERLOCK (turning back to face Magnussen): I want to see Appledore, where you keep all the
secrets, all the files, everything youve got on everyone. I want you to invite me.
(They lock eyes.)
MAGNUSSEN: What makes you think Id be so careless?
SHERLOCK (softly, intensely): Oh, I think youre a lot more careless than you let on.
MAGNUSSEN (softly, leaning forward): Am I?
(Sherlock has his elbows on the table with his hands clasped in front of him. He too leans
forward, and smiles as he looks into Magnussons eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Its the dead-eye stare that gives it away.
(Magnussen looks back at him unblinking.)
SHERLOCK (unclasping his hands and slowly lifting them towards the other man): Except its
not dead-eyed, is it?
(He continues to reach towards Magnussons face, moving slowly so that the man knows what
hes doing. Sherlock winces and sucks in a sharp pained breath as he extends his arms and
slowly takes hold of Magnussons glasses and takes them off. Magnussons eyes flicker towards
the glasses when they leave his face but then he returns his gaze to Sherlock.)
SHERLOCK: Youre reading.
(Smiling slightly, he draws the glasses towards himself and looks down at them.)
SHERLOCK: Portable Appledore. (He briefly snorts, then looks across to Magnussen.) How does
it work?
(Magnussen looks down at the glasses.)
SHERLOCK: Built-in flash drive? (He lifts the glasses towards his own face.) 4G wireless?
(He puts them on and raises his head as he looks through the lenses. After a moment he
frowns, turning his head a little and then lowering it before he slowly takes off the glasses
again, blinking as if confused. He looks down at them, turning them in his hands.)
SHERLOCK: Theyre just ordinary spectacles.
MAGNUSSEN: Yes they are.
(Sherlock grimaces slightly, still looking down at the glasses. Magnussen looks at him. His vision
is slightly blurred without his glasses on, but text appears in front of his eyes in red:
PRESSURE POINT: > MORPHINE (ADD TO FILE)
He lowers his head and smiles, then reaches across with one hand and flicks through the pasta
on the plate with his fingers, unearthing a black olive. Sherlock continues to stare down at the
glasses.)
MAGNUSSEN: You underestimate me, Mr Holmes.
(Sherlock sinks back in his seat, still looking at the glasses as if in disbelief. Magnussen picks up
the olive and puts it in his mouth, then licks his thumb and forefinger before reaching across to
the glass of water and dabbling the licked digits in it. With his other hand he reaches across the
table and takes his glasses from Sherlock, then shakes the water off his wet fingers onto the
plate and puts his glasses back on. Sherlock slowly lowers his own hands to the table, looking
down as if still in shock.)
SHERLOCK (quietly): Impress me, then. Show me Appledore.
MAGNUSSEN (chewing on the olive): Everythings available for a price.
(Sherlock lifts his eyes to his.)
MAGNUSSEN: Are you making me an offer?
SHERLOCK: A Christmas present.
MAGNUSSEN: And what are you giving me for Christmas, Mr Holmes?
SHERLOCK: My brother.
(He smiles, and the scene fades to black.)
[Your transcriber pouts, annoyed that we didnt see Sherlock get up and leave the restaurant,
because we all know how those hospital gowns gape at the back.]

419
THE PRESENT. In the Holmes kitchen, Sherlock is still looking down reflectively. John turns
away from him.
JOHN (softly): Oh, Jesus.
(He walks away, while Sherlock looks down at his unconscious brother. John goes into the next
door sitting room and looks down at Sherlocks father on the sofa, then stops and grimaces with
his fists clenched.)
JOHN: Sherlock ...
(In the kitchen, Sherlock is putting on his gloves.)
JOHN (from the sitting room): ... please tell me you havent just gone out of your mind.
(Sherlock bends down and takes the silver-grey laptop from the table, pulling it from under
where Mycroft has one hand resting on it.)
SHERLOCK: Id rather keep you guessing.
(John turns towards the second sitting room where Mary is, but just then the sound of an
approaching helicopter can be heard. In the kitchen, Sherlock looks upwards.)
SHERLOCK: Ah. (He smiles.) Theres our lift.
(John walks across the room and looks through a window.)
Very shortly afterwards, as the helicopter flies low past the front of the cottage, John walks
down the path with Sherlock behind him holding the laptop under his left arm and a coat in his
right hand. John goes through the gate as the helicopter lands in the field in front of the
cottage.
SHERLOCK (walking to his side): Coming?
JOHN: Where?
SHERLOCK: Dyou want your wife to be safe?
JOHN: Yeah, of course I do.
(They both turn and look at the helicopter.)
SHERLOCK: Good, because this is going to be incredibly dangerous. (Quick fire, speaking on
one single breath for the next two sentences) One false move and well have betrayed the
security of the United Kingdom and be in prison for high treason. Magnussen is quite simply the
most dangerous man weve ever encountered, and the odds are comprehensively stacked
against us.
JOHN (indignantly): But its Christmas.
(Sherlock smiles.)
SHERLOCK: I feel the same.
(He turns and sees Johns expression. His smile fades.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, you mean its actually Christmas. Did you bring your gun as I suggested?
JOHN: Why would I bring my gun to your parents house for Christmas dinner?!
SHERLOCK (holding out the coat in his right hand): Is it in your coat?
JOHN (tetchily, taking it from him): Yes.
SHERLOCK: Off we go, then.
(They start to walk towards the helicopter.)
SHERLOCK: Appledore.
APPLEDORE. In a large sitting room where one entire long wall is made of glass and looks out to
the grounds, Magnussen lowers his whiskey glass at the sound of an approaching helicopter.
The helicopter which has the CAM logo on its side flies down towards the house while
Sherlock and John look down from inside the vehicle. They land on the grass not far from the
house while Magnussen continues to sit on a long curved white leather sofa, not looking round
to watch their arrival. Security men walks towards the helicopter while another stands on the
patio outside the house. The boys get out and are escorted towards the house and the
helicopter takes off and flies away. Shortly afterwards a security man leads the boys through an
inside area which is lined with large green exotic plants, while another man follows behind.
Magnussen is sitting on the sofa one level above them. He takes a drink from his glass as his
men escort Sherlock and John out of an elevator and into the room. Sherlock stops a couple of
paces in front of the sofa while John stands a little way behind and to one side of him.
Magnussen nods to his men and they turn and leave.
MAGNUSSEN (lifting his glass): I would offer you a drink but its very rare and expensive.
(He drinks. Sherlock turns and sits down on the sofa a couple of feet to Magnussens right. He
sighs with a contented sound and slaps his hands down on the white leather either side of him,

420
putting the laptop down between himself and the other man, then crosses his legs and clasps
his hands in his lap. He looks across to the other side of the room.)
SHERLOCK (calmly): Oh. It was you.
(Projected onto a glass wall opposite them, footage is playing of Sherlocks rescue of John from
the bonfire. The footage repeats on a continuous loop.)
MAGNUSSEN: Yes, of course.
(John glances over his shoulder and turns back, then does a double-take.)
MAGNUSSEN: Very hard to find a pressure point on you, Mr Holmes.
SHERLOCK: Mm.
(John turns and walks towards the wall.)
MAGNUSSEN: The drugs thing I never believed for a moment.
(John continues walking closer to the wall, staring at the footage with his mouth open.)
MAGNUSSEN: Anyway, you wouldnt care if it was exposed, would you?
(Sherlock tilts his head, quirks his mouth and shrugs.)
MAGNUSSEN (looking at the screen): But look how you care about John Watson.
(In slow motion on the footage, Sherlock drags John out from under the bonfire again.)
MAGNUSSEN: Your damsel in distress.
(John turns around.)
JOHN: You ... (he walks closer to Magnussen, his voice tight and furious) ... put me in a fire ...
for leverage?
MAGNUSSEN: Oh, Id never let you burn, Doctor Watson. (He sits up and puts his glass onto the
clear glass table in front of him, then looks up at John again.) I had people standing by.
(Sherlock looks up thoughtfully at Magnussen as he stands.)
MAGNUSSEN: Im not a murderer ... unlike your wife.
(John stares up at him grimly. He holds his gaze for a while, then glances across to Sherlock.
Magnussen walks over towards the wall.)
MAGNUSSEN: Let me explain how leverage works, Doctor Watson.
(Reaching the wall, he puts one finger on it at the side of the projected footage. Theres a beep
and as Magnussen slides his finger across the glass, the footage slides with it and disappears off
to the side.)
MAGNUSSEN (turning back to the others): For those who understand these things, Mycroft
Holmes is the most powerful man in the country. Well ... apart from me.
(John tilts his head at him questioningly. The side of Sherlocks mouth lifts in a small smile.)
MAGNUSSEN: Mycrofts pressure point is his junkie detective brother, Sherlock.
(He walks back across the room to the sofa.)
MAGNUSSEN: And Sherlocks pressure point is his best friend, John Watson. John Watsons
pressure point is his wife. I own John Watsons wife ... (he looks round to Sherlock) ... I own
Mycroft. (He sits down.) Hes what Im getting for Christmas.
(Even though the laptop is almost within his reach, he holds out his hand towards Sherlock.
Without looking round, Sherlock shoves it across the sofa towards him.)
SHERLOCK: Its an exchange, not a gift.
(He stands up, while Magnussen raises his eyebrows at him. Sherlock walks a few paces
forward, then turns round again. Magnussen picks up the laptop.)
MAGNUSSEN: Forgive me, but ... (he holds the laptop to his chest and runs his fingers over the
back) ... I already seem to have it.
SHERLOCK: Its password protected.
(Magnussen continues to run his fingers over the machine.)
SHERLOCK: In return for the password, you will give me any material in your possession
pertaining to the woman I know as Mary Watson.
MAGNUSSEN: Oh, shes bad, that one. So many dead people. You should see what Ive seen.
JOHN: I dont need to see it.
MAGNUSSEN: You might enjoy it, though.
(John swallows but holds his gaze.)
MAGNUSSEN: I enjoy it.
(John nods as if not surprised.)
SHERLOCK (nonchalantly): Then why dont you show us?
MAGNUSSEN: Show you Appledore?
(He puts the laptop onto the sofa beside him, then looks back at Sherlock.)
MAGNUSSEN: The secret vaults? Is that what you want?
SHERLOCK (intensely): I want everything youve got on Mary.

421
(Magnussen lets out a short breathy laugh, shaking his head a little, then he lowers his eyes,
scratches the back of his head and chuckles for a few seconds. Johns mouth twists and he
shoots a brief glance towards Sherlock. Eventually Magnussen stops sniggering and looks down
to the laptop, patting it and grimacing a little.)
MAGNUSSEN: You know, I honestly expected something good.
SHERLOCK: Oh, I think youll find the contents of that laptop ...
MAGNUSSEN: ... include a GPS locator. By now, your brother will have noticed the theft, and
security services will be converging on this house. Having arrived ... (he looks down at the
laptop) ... theyll find top secret information in my hands ... (he reaches forward and picks up
his glass from the table) ... and have every justification to search my vaults. They will discover
further information of this kind and Ill be imprisoned. You will be exonerated, and restored to
your smelly little apartment to solve crimes with Mr and Mrs Psychopath.
(He looks at John, who holds his gaze, though his cheeks move as if he is gritting his teeth a
little. Only once Magnussen starts talking again does John cast a quick glance at Sherlock.)
MAGNUSSEN (lifting his glass closer to his mouth): Mycroft has been looking for this
opportunity for a long time. Hell be a very, very proud big brother.
(He drinks, emptying the glass.)
SHERLOCK: The fact that you know its going to happen isnt going to stop it.
(Offscreen, Magnussen puts his glass down on the table.)
MAGNUSSEN: Then why am I smiling?
(He looks up at Sherlock and smiles a little. Sherlock looks at him thoughtfully.)
MAGNUSSEN: Ask me.
JOHN (taking one step towards him): Why are you smiling?
MAGNUSSEN (looking down a little): Because Sherlock Holmes has made one enormous mistake
which will destroy the lives of everyone he loves ...
(His eyes are back on Sherlock again.)
MAGNUSSEN: ... and everything he holds dear.
(He stands up slowly.)
MAGNUSSEN: Let me show you the Appledore vaults.
(He leads the others across the room and through the open glass doors of the study we have
seen before. He walks across to the wooden doors at the side of the room and then turns back
to the others, putting a hand on the doors.)
MAGNUSSEN: The entrance to my vaults. This is where I keep you all.
(He turns and takes hold of the door handles, then pulls the doors open. We are looking from
inside the doors towards Magnussen and the other two as they look inside. Magnussen steps
slowly through the doors, looking all around at what we cant yet see, while Sherlock and John
look uncertainly at what they can see. After a moment Magnussen slowly begins to turn around
and the perspective shifts to a view from behind the boys. Inside the doors is nothing more
than a small windowless room, painted white and brightly lit. It is no more than a few feet deep
and the ceiling is about eight feet high. There are no shelves, no library stacks, no filing
cabinets, no grotesque dolls, stuffed animals or sculptures. The only thing in the room is a
metal and leather low-backed executive chair. As Magnussen slowly continues to turn around,
Sherlocks eyes quickly skim around the whiteness, then his eyes go back to Magnussen.)
JOHN: Okay so where are the vaults, then?
MAGNUSSEN (looking at him): Vaults? What vaults? There are no vaults beneath this building.
(He sits down on the chair, then gestures around the room.)
MAGNUSSEN: Theyre all in here.
(John frowns and blinks. Sherlocks eyes are wide as if he is beginning to realise the truth.
Magnussen leans forward and slowly raises the fingers of his right hand to touch his temple.)
MAGNUSSEN: The Appledore vaults are my Mind Palace. You know about Mind Palaces, dont
you, Sherlock?
(Sherlock swallows and then opens his mouth slightly.)
MAGNUSSEN: How to store information so you never forget it by picturing it. I just sit here, I
close my eyes ... (he does so, slowly lowering his head) ... and down I go to my vaults.
(Inside his head, he opens his eyes and then walks down the wooden spiral staircase.)
MAGNUSSEN (sitting with his eyes closed in the white room): I can go anywhere inside my
vaults ...
(In his head, he walks through the library stacks, his fingers flickering towards the shelves.)
MAGNUSSEN: ... my memories.

422
(In his head, he reaches the dark, creepy end of the Mind Palace. In the white room, he turns
his head from side to side a little with his eyes still closed. In his Mind Palace he walks past the
creepy displayed objects. In the white room he lifts his right hand and reaches forward.)
MAGNUSSEN: Ill look at the files on Mrs Watson.
(In his Mind Palace, he reaches towards a filing cabinet with his right hand. He can hear himself
pull one of the drawers open. Outside the white room, Sherlock closes his eyes and shakes his
head a little, his lips pulled back from his teeth. John stares at Magnussen as he raises both
hands and flickers his fingers in front of him as if he is working his way through the files inside
the imaginary drawer. Magnussen can hear the files moving under his fingers. John clears his
throat and looks down with a humourless smile as he seems to start to understand how
Magnussens mind works. Still flicking through the files in the drawer, Magnussen hums idly to
himself while, in his Mind Palace, he works his way along the files.)
MAGNUSSEN: Mmm, ah. (In the white room he lifts his right hand as if lifting a folder out of the
drawer.) This is one of my favourites. (He sits back in the chair while, in his head, he looks at
the file with a picture of Mary paper-clipped to the inside.) Oh, its so exciting.
(Lowering his head in the white room with his eyes still closed, he moves his hands as if he is
turning the pages inside the file. Sherlock lowers his head with a shocked look on his face while
Magnussen chuckles quietly. In his Mind Palace Magnussen is looking at a sheet of paper to
which is stuck a photograph of Mary looking grimly into the camera, and another photograph
which is too blurry to see clearly.)
MAGNUSSEN: All those wet jobs for the CIA. Ooh!
(In the white room, he points to an imaginary page in the file.)
MAGNUSSEN: Shes gone a bit ... freelance now. Bad girl.
(He turns the imaginary page and sniggers. Inside his Mind Palace he sniggers again, letting out
an amused, Ohh! In the white room he holds up a finger, then chuckles even more, then turns
another imaginary page, still smiling.)
MAGNUSSEN: Ah, she is so wicked.
(In his Mind Palace he turns back to the front page of the file. In the white room he lifts his
right hand as if putting the closed file back into the cabinet.)
MAGNUSSEN: I can really see why you like her.
(With both hands, he pushes the imaginary drawer closed again. In his Mind Palace he does
likewise with the real drawer. In the white room he lifts both hands and turns them over, then
opens his eyes and looks at Sherlock.)
MAGNUSSEN: You see?
(John clears his throat.)
JOHN: So there are no documents. You dont actually have anything here.
MAGNUSSEN: Oh, sometimes I send out for something ... (he lifts his left hand and looks down
at his watch) ... if I really need it ...
(Sherlock looks away a little, closing his eyes briefly.)
MAGNUSSEN: ... but mostly I just remember it all.
JOHN (shaking his head): I dont understand.
MAGNUSSEN: You should have that on a T-shirt.
JOHN: You just remember it all?
MAGNUSSEN (looking at Sherlock): Its all about knowledge. Everything is. Knowing is owning.
JOHN: But if you just know it, then you dont have proof.
MAGNUSSEN: Proof? What would I need proof for? Im in news, you moron. I dont have to
prove it I just have to print it.
(Sherlocks gaze is lowered and his expression suggests that he is fully aware of how badly he
has miscalculated.)
MAGNUSSEN (standing up and buttoning his jacket): Speaking of news, youll both be heavily
featured tomorrow trying to sell state secrets to me.
(He tuts disapprovingly, then looks at his watch again.)
MAGNUSSEN: Lets go outside. Theyll be here shortly.
(He walks out of the room and heads towards the glass doors.)
MAGNUSSEN: Cant wait to see you arrested.
(John watches him go, then steps closer to his friend.)
JOHN (quietly): Sherlock, do we have a plan?
(Sherlock is fixed in place, still looking down towards the floor of the white room, his gaze
unfocused.)
JOHN (sternly): Sherlock.

423
(When Sherlock still doesnt move, John turns and walks away. Sherlock shuts his eyes,
screwing them closed with a look of despair.
Magnussen walks across the sitting room to a glass door which leads out onto a patio. He goes
outside and looks around. The sky is darkening, so apparently it is early evening. John follows
him out onto the patio.)
MAGNUSSEN: Theyre taking their time, arent they?
(John stops beside him, not looking at him.)
JOHN: I still dont understand.
MAGNUSSEN (looking up into the sky): And theres the back of the T-shirt.
(Sherlock has finally left the study and is walking slowly towards the patio door.)
JOHN (turning his head to look at Magnussen): You just know things. How does that work?
(Magnussen turns to face him as Sherlock walks out onto the patio and stops just outside the
door.)
MAGNUSSEN (to John): I just love your little soldier face. Id like to punch it.
(John stares back at him, his eyes wide.)
MAGNUSSEN: Bring it over here a minute.
(John glances over to Sherlock.)
MAGNUSSEN: Come on.
(Very reluctantly and not meeting his eyes, Sherlock gives John a short nod, his face full of pain
at having to do this.)
MAGNUSSEN (to John): For Mary. Bring me your face.
(John looks back to Magnussen, who nods slightly. Clearing his throat, John slowly takes two
steps closer to him. Magnussen turns a little to face him, then leans down to him.)
MAGNUSSEN: Lean forward a bit and stick your face out.
(John clears his throat again, adjusting his footing.)
MAGNUSSEN (smirking at him): Please?
(He leans closer, chuckling. John locks his gaze on him while he does as instructed.)
MAGNUSSEN: Now, can I flick it?
(John snorts in disbelief, lowering his head and shaking it before raising it again.)
MAGNUSSEN: Can I flick your face?
(Pursing his lips and looking at him again, John leans forward. Magnussen lifts his right hand
with the back towards John, bends his middle finger under his thumb, holds his hand close to
Johns left cheek and then releases the middle finger to flick sharply against his cheek. John
blinks instinctively and tilts his head at the man, still holding his gaze. Magnussen flicks his
cheek again, then chuckles.)
MAGNUSSEN: I just love doing this.
(He looks across to Sherlock, whose eyes are lowered, the pain still in his face.)
MAGNUSSEN: I could do it all day.
(He chuckles again, then turns back to John.)
MAGNUSSEN: It works like this, John. I know who Mary hurt and killed.
(He flicks his cheek again. Sherlock has now lifted his gaze and is looking at him, his expression
grim.)
MAGNUSSEN (to John): I know where to find people who hate her.
(He flicks him again, then again. The soldier stares back at him, tolerating it only because he
has no choice.)
MAGNUSSEN: I know where they live; I know their phone numbers.
(He flicks him twice more.)
MAGNUSSEN: All in my Mind Palace all of it.
(Sherlocks gaze towards him becomes more intense.)
MAGNUSSEN (to John): I could phone them right now and tear your whole life down and I will
...
(Sherlocks lips are slightly lifted from his teeth.)
MAGNUSSEN (to John): ... unless you let me flick your face.
(He flicks him three times. Sherlock continues to glare at him with his teeth bared.)
MAGNUSSEN (to John): This is what I do to people. This is what I do to whole countries ...
(He flicks him again, then straightens up.)
MAGNUSSEN: ... just because I know.
(He bends back down to John.)
MAGNUSSEN: Can I do your eye now?
(John turns his head a little, looking away.)
MAGNUSSEN: See if you can keep it open, hmm?

424
(Almost before John turns back to him, he flicks Johns left eyebrow. Johns eyes instinctively
flinch closed. Magnussen sniggers and flicks his eyebrow again.)
MAGNUSSEN: Come on. For Mary. Keep it open.
(He bends his finger under his thumb again.)
JOHN: Sherlock?
SHERLOCK (quietly, his voice apologetic): Let him. Im sorry.
(Magnussen looks round to him for a moment.)
SHERLOCK: Just ... let him.
(John grimaces slightly.)
MAGNUSSEN (turning back to him): Come on. Eye open.
(With a bemused look on his face, he flicks Johns eyebrow again, and again Johns eyes flinch
closed for a moment before he glares back at the man as he sniggers and flicks him again. He
laughs as John breathes harshly.)
MAGNUSSEN (cheerfully): Its difficult, isnt it? (He straightens up.) Janine managed it once.
(He looks towards Sherlock.) She makes the funniest noises.
(The sound of an approaching helicopter can be heard. It soars over the roof and at the same
time, armed police marksmen run towards the patio. The helicopter drops down to hover some
yards away, its spotlight aimed towards the men on the patio. As they are buffeted by the wind
from the rotors, Mycrofts voice blares out over a speaker on the helicopter.)
MYCROFTs VOICE (over speaker): Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.
(He is sitting in the helicopter wearing a headset and microphone.)
MYCROFTs VOICE (over speaker): Stand away from that man.
(Sherlock looks away. Magnussen looks over towards him.)
MAGNUSSEN: Here we go, Mr Holmes!
SHERLOCK (loudly over the noise of the hovering helicopter, stepping forward and walking to
Johns side): To clarify: Appledores vaults only exist in your mind, nowhere else, just there.
MAGNUSSEN (looking towards the helicopter): Theyre not real. They never have been.
(Sherlock nods, looking down.)
MYCROFTs VOICE (over speaker): Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Step away.
(Magnussen walks forward a couple of steps, waving his hands calmly at the helicopter.)
MAGNUSSEN (loudly): Its fine! Theyre harmless!
(The armed police continue moving into position, aiming their rifles towards the patio.)
POLICE OFFICER (over radio): Target is not armed. I repeat, target is not armed.
JOHN (looking round to his friend): Sherlock, what do we do?
(He turns to look at the helicopter again.)
MAGNUSSEN (over his shoulder): Nothing! (He looks round at them.) Theres nothing to be
done! Oh, Im not a villain. I have no evil plan. Im a businessman, acquiring assets. You
happen to be one of them!
(While John continues to stare towards the helicopter, Sherlock turns his head and looks at his
friend, and his gaze is penetrating and intense.)
MAGNUSSEN: Sorry. No chance for you to be a hero this time, Mr Holmes.
(Sherlock looks away from John, lowering his gaze but still with a determined look on it.
Magnussen turns away from him.)
MYCROFTs VOICE (over speaker): Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, stand away from that
man. Do it now.
SHERLOCK (loudly, lifting his head): Oh, do your research.
(He steps closer to John, reaches round behind him and into Johns coat pocket, then steps
away again and walks forward towards Magnussen.)
SHERLOCK: Im not a hero ...
(Magnussen turns to look at him.)
SHERLOCK: ... Im a high-functioning sociopath.
(He widens his eyes and glares at the man.)
SHERLOCK: Merry Christmas!
(He raises Johns pistol, aims it at Magnussens head and fires. As John recoils and even before
Magnussen hits the ground, Sherlock drops the gun to the patio and turns towards the
helicopter, raising his hands.)
POLICE OFFICER (over radio): Man down, man down.
SHERLOCK (loudly): Get away from me, John! (He turns to look at him.) Stay well back!
JOHN (desperately): Christ, Sherlock!
(He raises his own hands.)
MYCROFT (frantically, into his microphone): Stand fire!

425
(The police marksmen run towards the patio, aiming their rifles at Sherlock as he faces them.)
MYCROFTs VOICE (over speaker): Do not fire on Sherlock Holmes! Do not fire!
(The marksmen take up positions, aiming their laser sights towards Sherlock.)
JOHN: Oh, Christ, Sherlock.
(Keeping his hands raised, Sherlock looks round to him again.)
SHERLOCK: Give my love to Mary.
(John stares at him, his face full of anguish.)
SHERLOCK: Tell her shes safe now.
(He takes one final look at his best friend and then turns towards the marksmen and the
helicopter and begins to sink slowly to his knees. John holds his own hands high, his eyes full of
despair. Sherlock kneels on the patio, his hands raised and his face anguished. The beams from
the laser sights travel over his face as he stares ahead of himself, knowing that he has done
something from which no-one can save him.
In the helicopter, Mycroft takes off his headset and stares in equal despair towards his brother.)
MYCROFT (softly, anguished): Oh, Sherlock. What have you done?
(He cant see the adult Sherlock on the patio. Instead, its as if his little eleven year old brother
is standing there, his face full of terror as he stares upwards, his hands raised, his curly hair
buffeted by the wind from the helicopters rotor blades, and tears pouring down his face. The
young boy lowers his head, weeping.)
[Your transcriber breaks off for a bloody good cry, having torn her heart to pieces typing that
last section.]
DAY TIME. Mycroft stands at the glass wall of a large meeting room. It may be the same room
in which the parliamentary commission was held at the beginning of the episode. He has his
back to the room and is looking outside. A suited man stands nearby to his right.
MYCROFT: As my colleague is fond of remarking, this country sometimes needs a blunt
instrument. Equally, it sometimes needs a dagger a scalpel wielded with precision and without
remorse.
(He looks to his left.)
MYCROFT: There will always come a time when we need Sherlock Holmes.
(Several men sitting at tables in the room look back at him silently but the man standing near
him speaks.)
SIR EDWIN: If this is some expression of familial sentiment ...
(Mycroft rolls his eyes, sighs and turns to him.)
MYCROFT: Dont be absurd. I am not given to outbursts of brotherly compassion.
(He looks down for a moment, then turns to Sir Edwin again.)
MYCROFT: You know what happened to the other one.
(Sir Edwin looks away, grimacing slightly. Mycroft turns to look out the window again.)
MYCROFT: In any event, there is no prison in which we could incarcerate Sherlock without
causing a riot on a daily basis. The alternative, however ...
(He looks left towards where Lady Smallwood is sitting at a table.)
MYCROFT: ... would require your approval.
LADY SMALLWOOD: Hardly merciful, Mr Holmes.
MYCROFT: Regrettably, Lady Smallwood, my brother is a murderer.
(He turns away and looks out of the window again.)
AIRFIELD. DAY TIME. A black car drives along the runway towards where an executive jet is
stationary on the tarmac. Standing near the nose of the plane, Sherlock, Mycroft and a security
man watch the car pull up. Mary gets out of the rear door nearest the plane and John from the
other. Smiling, Mary walks towards Sherlock, John following behind.
SHERLOCK (to Mary): You will look after him for me, wont you?
MARY: Oh ... (she puts her hands on his shoulders and they kiss each others cheeks, then hug)
... dont worry. Ill keep him in trouble.
(He smiles as she releases him and pulls back.)
SHERLOCK: Thats my girl.
(She turns and walks back to where John has stopped a few paces away, and takes his hand.
John nods to Sherlock in greeting, and Sherlock turns to his brother.)
SHERLOCK: Since this is likely to be the last conversation Ill have with John Watson ...
(John sighs painfully.)
SHERLOCK: ... would you mind if we took a moment?

426
(Mycroft looks a little startled, but then glances over to the security man and jerks his head
towards the side of the plane. The security man, Mycroft and Mary walk along the side of the jet
towards the wing and Sherlock turns to John, who smiles at him and nods.)
JOHN: So, here we are.
(Looking vaguely around the airfield and clearing his throat, he steps closer.)
SHERLOCK: William Sherlock Scott Holmes.
JOHN: Sorry?
SHERLOCK: Thats the whole of it if youre looking for baby names.
(John chuckles.)
JOHN: No, weve had a scan. Were pretty sure its a girl.
SHERLOCK (softly): Oh. (He smiles.) Okay.
(They both look awkwardly anywhere except at each other for several seconds.)
JOHN (vaguely, turning and looking across the airfield): Yeah. (He finally turns towards
Sherlock again.) Actually, I cant think of a single thing to say.
SHERLOCK (looking down): No, neither can I.
(He lifts his head as John steps closer and speaks quietly.)
JOHN: The game is over.
SHERLOCK (firmly, meeting his eyes): The game is never over, John ... (his tone becomes
quieter) ... but there may be some new players now. Its okay. The East Wind takes us all in the
end.
JOHN: Whats that?
SHERLOCK: Its a story my brother told me when we were kids. The East Wind this terrifying
force that lays waste to all in its path.
(He sniffs, looking into the distance.)
SHERLOCK: It seeks out the unworthy ... (he meets Johns eyes) ... and plucks them from the
Earth. That was generally me.
JOHN: Nice(!)
SHERLOCK: He was a rubbish big brother.
(They both smile, then John looks down, clearing his throat.)
JOHN: So what about you, then? (He lifts his head.) Where are you actually going now?
SHERLOCK (sounding bored): Oh, some undercover work in Eastern Europe.
JOHN: For how long?
SHERLOCK (looking slightly above Johns head so as not to meet his eyes): Six months, my
brother estimates. Hes never wrong.
JOHN: And then what?
(Sherlock meets his gaze for a moment, then looks down thoughtfully before raising his head
and gazing off into the distance. He shrugs.)
SHERLOCK: Who knows?
(John nods and then turns away to look across the airfield again, breathing in deeply. Sherlock
looks directly at him until he turns back, then looks down again.)
SHERLOCK: John, theres something ... I should say; I-Ive meant to say always and then never
have. Since its unlikely well ever meet again, I might as well say it now.
(He hesitates for a long time, then draws in a deep breath and raises his eyes to Johns.)
SHERLOCK: Sherlock is actually a girls name.
(John turns away, giggling almost silently. Sherlock smiles at him. John turns back, still
smiling.)
JOHN: Its not.
SHERLOCK (shrugging): It was worth a try.
JOHN: Were not naming our daughter after you.
SHERLOCK: I think it could work.
(John chuckles, then meets his eyes. Sherlock holds his gaze for a second, then lowers his eyes.
After a moment he takes off his right glove and holds out his hand.)
SHERLOCK: To the very best of times, John.
(John hesitates for a long while, then he finally takes Sherlocks hand and shakes it. They stand
there for a couple of seconds, then Sherlock gives Johns hand one more small pump before
releasing it and turning away, putting his glove back on as he walks away. John watches him
walk along the side of the plane to the steps and get on board.)
Shortly afterward the plane taxies along the runway. Sherlock sits inside looking out of one of
the right-hand windows. Mary and John stand by the car, holding hands and watching from the

427
left-hand side of the plane as it lifts into the sky. Sherlock continues to gaze out of the window,
and the plane flies off into the distance.
The scene fades to black and the familiar drum beat of the beginning of the shows theme tune
begins ...
... but before the actual music can start, the screen goes to static. After a moment it resolves
into a football match on the SPORTS 1 channel. The score shows SFC 0 0 INTER. [Click here
for further information about this match.] Mens voices can be heard shouting encouragingly as
the commentary plays over the footage.
COMMENTATOR: Smith brings it inside. This looks good.
(The screen fritzes briefly, then the perspective pulls back a little and we see that this is a
television on the wall inside a pub.)
COMMENTATOR (on the TV): Cassandra comes in for a shot ...
(On the TV, a player volleys the ball towards the goal but it flies over the top. In the pub, the
customers groan.)
COMMENTATOR (on the TV): Oh, he missed it!
(One of the customers is Greg Lestrade, who is standing at the bar. He grimaces. The TV can be
heard fritzing again and one of the male customers calls out, presumably to the landlord.)
CUSTOMER: Oi! Whats up with the telly? Theres something wrong with the telly, mate!
(The TV can be heard fritzing even more.)
ANOTHER CUSTOMER: Give it a whack, then!
(Greg looks up at the screen, which has gone to static, but it slowly begins to clear and a shape
can just about be seen through all the distortion. It seems to be a head and shoulders shot of
someone facing to the right with their head turned away from the camera. Greg stares up at the
TV and, although we can no longer see the screen, presumably the picture is becoming clearer.
Gregs face fills with shock.)
CUSTOMER: Whos that?
(Over the TV a voice begins to speak. It is speaking through a device which distorts the voice.)
VOICE (pitched high): Did you miss me?
(It shifts to a very deep tone.)
VOICE: Did you miss me?
In 221B, Mrs Hudson is vacuuming the living room. She has the TV switched on and the voice
comes over the speaker.
VOICE (pitched high): Did you miss me? Did you miss me?
(She looks at the screen which we cant see and jumps in shock, then starts to scream.)
At Barts, Molly stares in horror from the lab into a room next door which has a TV playing on a
table.
VOICE (pitched deep): Did you miss me?
In the conference room we saw earlier, Lady Smallwood stares up from her seat, apparently
looking at the TV screen.
LADY SMALLWOOD: How is this possible?
SIR EDWIN (standing beside her, also looking at the screen): We dont know, but its on every
screen in the country every screen simultaneously.
LADY SMALLWOOD: Has the Prime Minister been told? (She looks round and up to Sir Edwin.)
And Mycroft?
MYCROFT (sitting in the back seat of a stationary car and talking into a phone): But thats not
possible.
(He opens the door and gets out.)
MYCROFT (into phone): That is simply not possible.
(He looks across to where John and Mary, holding hands and clearly still at the airfield, look
towards him. He frowns at them.)
JOHN (releasing Marys hand and walking towards him): Whats happened?
In the executive jet, Sherlock is still looking out of the window.

MANs VOICE (offscreen): Sir?
(Sherlock looks round. The man holds out a phone towards him.)

428
MAN: Its your brother.

(Sherlock takes the phone and holds it to his ear.)
SHERLOCK: Mycroft?
MYCROFTs VOICE (over phone): Hello, little brother. How is the exile going?
SHERLOCK: Ive only been gone four minutes.
MYCROFT (now sitting in the back of his car again, and smiling pleasantly): Well, I certainly
hope youve learned your lesson. As it turns out, youre needed.
SHERLOCK: Oh, for Gods sake. Make up your mind. Who needs me this time?
(In Mycrofts car, the distorted voice can be heard.)
(Mycroft looks to the front of the car where a small TV screen is set into the dashboard. On the
screen is a still photograph of Jim Moriarty facing the camera and smiling. To the left of his
mouth is the message:
MISS ME?
The jaw of Jims photograph has been animated so that it moves up and down a little as the
voice repeats over and over.)
In Piccadilly Circus in London, the huge screens above the street are each filled with the same
part-animated image of Jims smiling face with the message beside it, and the voice plays over
speakers.
(And a view from a high vantage point shows the city of London while the voice plays on.)
In the back of the car, as the voice plays on, Mycroft speaks a single word into his phone in
response to Sherlocks question.
MYCROFT (with a somewhat exasperated sigh in his voice): England.
(Outside the car, Mary looks at John.)
MARY: But hes dead. I mean, you told me he was dead, Moriarty.
JOHN: Absolutely. He blew his own brains out.
MARY: So how can he be back?
JOHN (turning and looking to his right): Well, if he is ... hed better wrap up warm.
(Mary turns to follow his gaze.)
JOHN: Theres an East Wind coming.
(He and Mary watch as Sherlocks plane comes in to land.)
The familiar drum beat starts up again and this time the theme tune follows and the closing
credits roll to the end.
And then ...
As the Hartswood, BBC and Masterpiece logos fade, Jim Moriarty, now no longer animated but
live and standing facing the right, looks towards the camera straight-faced and speaks in his
normal voice.
JIM: Miss me?
The Abominable Bride
Text on screen:
So far on SHERLOCK
2010
Sherlock unzips the body bag in A Study in Pink.

429
SHERLOCK (at the door to the Barts lab): The names Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221B
Baker Street.
(He click-winks at John.)
SHERLOCK: Afternoon!
(He leaves the lab.)
MIKE STAMFORD (to John): Yeah. Hes always like that.
Brief shot of Sherlock in his security mans uniform at the Hickman Gallery in The Great
Game.
Sherlock flogs the dead body in ASIP.

MOLLY: Bad day, was it?
In the warehouse in ASIP.

MYCROFT: Since yesterday youve moved in with him ...
(Theres a brief shot of the door to 221B closing.)
MYCROFT: ... and now youre solving crimes together.
In the hallway of 221B in ASIP, Sherlock kisses Mrs Hudsons cheek.

SHERLOCK: Who cares about decent? The game, Mrs Hudson, is on!
Brief shot of the Houses of Parliament exploding in The Empty Hearse [which is out of context
when so far this is meant to be a summary of the Season 1 episodes].
221Bs living room in TGG.

SHERLOCK: Dont make people into heroes, John. Heroes dont exist and if they did, I wouldnt
be one of them.
At the pool in TGG, John opens his jacket to reveal the bomb strapped to him.
JIM (to Sherlock): Ill burn the heart out of you.
2012
In Irene Adlers living room in A Scandal in Belgravia, a naked Irene clamps her teeth onto
Sherlocks fake vicars dog-collar just as John comes in with a bowl of water and a linen napkin.
JOHN: Right, this should do it.
(He stares in shock at the sight that greets him.)
In the sitting room in Buckingham Palace in ASIB, John glances at a besheeted Sherlock.
JOHN: Are you wearing any pants?
SHERLOCK: No.
JOHN: Okay.
(They both crack up laughing.)
In Irenes bedroom, she flogs a drugged Sherlock, then strokes her riding crop over his face.
IRENE: This is how I want you to remember me: the woman who beat you.
In Dewers Hollow in The Hounds of Baskerville, Sherlock looks at Henry Knight.

SHERLOCK: But there never was any monster.
(The hound howls and everyone turns their flashlights to the sight at the top of the Hollow.)
JOHN: Sherlock?
On Barts rooftop in The Reichenbach Fall, Sherlock walks across the roof towards Jim.
JIM: Here we are at last.
(He shoots himself in the mouth. Sherlock cries out in shock and leaps back.)
Later, Sherlock is talking over the phone from the rooftop to John on the ground.)
JOHN (crying out): SHERLOCK!
(Sherlock spreads his arms and starts to topple forward.
John runs towards the place where Sherlock landed.)

430
2014
In the underground car park in The Empty Hearse.
SHERLOCK (offscreen): Those things will kill you.
(Greg Lestrade takes the lighter away from his unlit cigarette.)
LESTRADE: Ooh, you bastard!
In the kebab shop

SHERLOCK (to John): The thrill of the chase, the blood pumping through your veins ...
(Brief flashback to John outside Angelos restaurant in ASIP, jumping over the bonnet of the
car.)
JOHN (to the driver): Sorry.
(He chases off after Sherlock.)
SHERLOCK: ... just the two of us against the rest of the world.
(John grabs Sherlocks jacket and head-butts him.)
In the streets near Baker Street in TRF [again, shown in the wrong season flashback],
Sherlock, handcuffed to John, jumps over the iron fence. John grabs his coat through the fence
and pulls him back.
JOHN: Wait! Were going to need to co-ordinate.
(Brief shot of Sherlocks grave.)
At the bottom of the stairs in 221B in TEH.

JOHN: I asked you for one more miracle. I asked you to stop being dead.
SHERLOCK: I heard you.
Outside Sholtos room in The Sign of Three.

JOHN: Shut up. You are not a puzzle solver; you never have been. Youre a drama queen. Now
there is a man in there about to die ...
(Brief shot of Sherlock putting on the deerstalker at the end of TEH.)
JOHN (sarcastically quoting Sherlock): ... The game is on. Solve it!
At Appledore in His Last Vow, Magnussen opens the doors to his vaults.
SHERLOCK (voiceover): He is the Napoleon of blackmail.
(Brief shot of Magnussen walking through his Mind Palace library.
Shortly afterwards, Mycrofts helicopter has arrived and is hovering near the patio.)
MAGNUSSEN: No chance for you to be a hero this time, Mr Holmes.
(Armed police move into position.)
SHERLOCK: Im a high-functioning sociopath.
(He shoots Magnussen in the head, then kneels on the patio with his hands raised, his face full
of despair.)
MYCROFT (speaking to Lady Smallwood and her colleagues): There is no prison in which we
could incarcerate Sherlock without causing a riot on a daily basis. The alternative, however,
would require your approval.
On the tarmac at the airfield, Sherlock offers his hand to John.

SHERLOCK: To the very best of times, John.
(His plane takes off while John and Mary watch from the ground.)
JIMs VOICE (distorted): Did you miss me? Did you miss me?
LADY SMALLWOOD: How is this possible?
MYCROFT (over the phone to Sherlock in the plane): Hows the exile going?
SHERLOCK: Ive only been gone four minutes.
MYCROFT: Well, I certainly hope youve learned your lesson.
SHERLOCK: Who needs me this time?
(On every TV screen in the country, Jim looks over his shoulder to the camera.)
JIM: Miss me?
MYCROFT (over the phone to Sherlock): England.
(Sherlocks plane touches down on the tarmac.)

431
Alternatively
The date 2014 appears on the screen, then the numbers begin rapidly to scroll backwards.
When they reach the late 1800s they begin to fade from the screen, reaching round about
1884 before disappearing. [Its likely that the last visible year should be 1881 for canonical
reasons.]
Close-up of a blue eye opening and then widening. Then, in an obvious flashback, Captain John
Watson, wearing Victorian military uniform, is standing in a battlefield and flinching as a shell
explodes close behind him.
WATSON (voiceover): The second Afghan War brought honours and promotion to many.
(In the flashback/dream, Watson is squatting down to a fallen colleague. In real life, Watson
rolls over in bed, trying to get back to sleep.)
WATSON (voiceover): ... but for me it meant nothing but misfortune and disaster.
(In the flashback/dream, still tending to his colleague, Watson cowers as another shell explodes
and he is showered with earth. Some distance away, an enemy soldier squints along his rifle
and pulls the trigger. The bullet impacts Watsons left shoulder and he falls to the ground. In his
bed, Watson thrashes into a new position, groaning quietly. In the flashback/dream, one of
Watsons colleagues drags him to safety.)
SOLDIER: You all right, Captain?
(Watson wakes up again, his face covered with sweat. Before his open eyes he can still see
explosions going off on the battlefield.)
The scene changes to a London street in the 1880s. The road is busy with horse-drawn
carriages, and there are many people walking along the pavement.
WATSON (voiceover): I returned to England with my health irretrievably ruined and my future
bleak.
(Watson limps along the road leaning on a cane.)
WATSON (voiceover): Under such circumstances, I naturally gravitated to London, that great
cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the Empire are drained.
(As his narration was happening, a voice could be heard calling out, Watson! Now the man
calls out again.)
STAMFORD: Watson!
(Watson turns to see a man smiling as he approaches him.)
STAMFORD: Stamford. Remember?
(Watson looks blankly at him.)
STAMFORD: We were at Barts together.
WATSON: Yes, of course. (He shakes hands with the other man.) Stamford.
STAMFORD: Good Lord! Where have you been? Youre as thin as a rake!
Later, they are standing at a table in the crowded bar of the Criterion.
WATSON: I made it home. Many werent so lucky.
STAMFORD: So what now?
WATSON: Hmm? I need a place to live. Somewhere decent, and an affordable price. Its not
easy.
(He drinks from his glass of beer. Stamford chuckles.)
STAMFORD: You know, youre the second person to say that to me today.
WATSON: Hmm? Who was the first?
In an underground mortuary, a man is repeatedly and violently flogging a corpse with a heavy
walking stick. Currently we can only see the back of his head. Watson and Stamford walk into
the corridor leading to the mortuary and Watson looks through the window of the room with
surprise.
WATSON: Good Lord!
STAMFORD: Its an experiment, apparently. Beating corpses to establish how long after death
bruising is still possible.
(Watson watches the man a little uncomfortably as he continues to flog the corpse. Eventually
he turns and limps away.)
WATSON: Is there a medical point to that?
STAMFORD (following him): Not sure.
WATSON: Neither am I. So, wheres this friend of yours, then?
(Stamford stops at the door to the room. Watson stops and turns back to look at him, then
realisation begins to dawn.

432
Inside the room, the man is still thrashing the corpse with his back to Stamford and Watson as
they walk in.)
STAMFORD (loudly): Excuse me!
(The man flogs the corpse even faster.)
WATSON (loudly): I do hope were not interrupting.
(Giving the corpse one last violent lash, the man blows out a breath and turns, and we see that
this is Sherlock Holmes. He quickly looks down the length of Watsons body.)
HOLMES: Youve been in Afghanistan, I perceive. (He turns away, reaching into his waistcoat
for his pocket watch.)
STAMFORD: Doctor Watson, Mr Sherlock ...
(Looking down at his watch and without turning round, Holmes tosses his walking stick towards
Watson, who instinctively reaches out and catches it.)
HOLMES (turning back again): Excellent reflexes. (He smiles falsely at Watson while putting his
watch back into his pocket.) Youll do.
WATSON: Im sorry?
HOLMES: I have my eye on a suite of rooms near Regents Park. Between us we could afford
them.
WATSON: Rooms? (He glances briefly at Stamford.) Who said anything about rooms?
HOLMES (quick fire): I did. I mentioned to Stamford this morning I was in need of a fellow
lodger. Now he appears after lunch in the company of a man of military aspect with a tan and
recent injury, both suggestive of the campaign in Afghanistan and an enforced departure from
it. (He finally takes a quick breath.) The conclusion seemed inescapable.
(He flicks a quick glance at Watson and then lowers his eyes with a small self-satisfied smile.)
HOLMES (pulling in a longer breath): Well finalise the details tomorrow evening.
(He walks towards the other two, forcing them to step aside as he walks in between them,
taking his walking stick from Watson as he passes.)
HOLMES: Now if youll excuse me, I have a hanging in Wandsworth and Id hate them to start
without me.
(He takes his coat from a nearby stand and starts to put it on.)
WATSON: A hanging?
HOLMES: I take a professional interest. I also play the violin and smoke a pipe. I presume thats
not a problem?
WATSON: Er, no, well ...
HOLMES (taking his hat from the stand and smiling at Watson): And youre clearly acclimatised
to never getting to the end of a sentence. Well get along splendidly. Tomorrow evening, seven
oclock, then.
(He starts to turn away, then turns back.)
HOLMES: Oh, and the name is Sherlock Holmes and the address is two hundred and twenty-one
B Baker Street.
(He puts on his hat, then turns and walks away.)
STAMFORD (to Watson): Yes. Hes always been like that.
NEW OPENING (VICTORIAN) TITLES (with a Victorian twist to the theme tune).
Close-up on an issue of The Strand Magazine. Nearby, a news vendor is calling out to the
passing pedestrians. He is holding newspapers and another copy of The Strand with a small red
sleeve around it on which are the words SHERLOCK HOLMES and an in-profile white silhouette
of the detective. Offscreen, carollers can be heard singing Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.
NEWS VENDOR: Papers! Papers!
(A hansom cab approaches along the street.)
NEWS VENDOR: Papers! Papers!
(The cab slows down as Watson leans out of the window a little and gestures to attract the
attention of the vendor.)
WATSON: Here.
(The cab stops.)
WATSON: Hows The Blue Carbuncle doing?
NEWS VENDOR: Very popular, Doctor Watson. Is there gonna be a proper murder next time?
WATSON: Ill have a word with the criminal classes.
NEWS VENDOR: If you wouldnt mind.
(He points towards the figure sitting next to Watson.)
NEWS VENDOR: Is that im? Is e in there?

433
(Holmes, mostly obscured from the vendors view, apparently kicks Watson, who grunts.)
WATSON: No. No, no, not at all. (He tips a finger to his hat.) Ah, good day to you.
CABBIE (to his horse, shaking the reins at it): Walk on.
(The cab sets off again. The news vendor calls after it.)
NEWS VENDOR: Merry Christmas, Mr Holmes!
CLOSE-UP OF THE BAKER STREET. W. sign on the wall of a building. As the camera pans down
to show the street, the cab pulls up outside the front door of 221B. Next door is a canopy over a
shop showing that this is SPEEDWELLS Restaurant and Tea Rooms. The door to 221B opens
and Mrs Hudson comes out as Holmes and Watson get out of the cab, Holmes holding a pipe.
MRS HUDSON: Mr Holmes, I do wish youd let me know when youre planning to come home.
(The houseboy, Billy [who bears a striking resemblance to Archie from The Sign of Three]
hurries out of the house towards Watson, who is unloading bags from the cab.)
HOLMES: I hardly knew myself, Mrs Hudson. Thats the trouble with dismembered country
squires theyre notoriously difficult to schedule.
(He clamps the pipe between his teeth and turns back to pay the cabbie.)
BILLY (to Watson, looking at a bag which he is holding): Whats in there?
WATSON: Never mind.
HOLMES (to the cabbie): Thank you.
(Billy takes some of the other bags and starts to take them inside.)
BILLY (over his shoulder): Did you catch a murderer, Mr Holmes?
HOLMES: Caught the murderer; still looking for the legs. Think well call it a draw.
(He goes inside. Mrs Hudson, on the doorstep, turns to Watson.)
MRS HUDSON: And I notice youve published another of your stories, Doctor Watson.
WATSON: Yes. Did you enjoy it?
MRS HUDSON (after only a seconds thought): No.
(She turns and goes inside. Watson follows her.)
WATSON: Oh?
MRS HUDSON: I never enjoy them.
WATSON (pushing the door closed behind him): Why not?
(In the hallway Holmes has taken off his coat and hat and hangs them on a hook near the front
door, then walks further into the hall.)
MRS HUDSON: Well, I never say anything, do I? According to you, I just show people up the
stairs and serve you breakfasts.
WATSON (hanging up his own coat and hat): Well, within the narrative, that is broadly
speaking your function.
MRS HUDSON: My what?!
HOLMES: Dont feel singled out, Mrs Hudson. Im hardly in the dog one.
WATSON (indignantly): The dog one?!
MRS HUDSON: Im your landlady, not a plot device.
WATSON (to Holmes, who is heading up the stairs): Do you mean The Hound of the
Baskervilles?!
MRS HUDSON (upset): And you make the room so drab and dingy.
WATSON (tetchily): Oh, blame it on the illustrator. Hes out of control. Ive had to grow this
moustache just so peoplell recognise me.
(He follows his colleague up the stairs.)
WATSON (voiceover): Over the many years it has been my privilege to record the exploits of
my remarkable friend, Mr Sherlock Holmes, it has sometimes been difficult to choose which of
his many cases to set before my readers.
(While he has been narrating, Holmes has gone up the stairs into the first floor sitting room.
Glancing briefly towards the fire, he walks across the room to the right-hand window and pulls
back the closed curtains, revealing a stags head hung on the wall between the two windows.
The mounted head has a full set of antlers, upon which an ear trumpet hangs.)
WATSON (voiceover): Some are still too sensitive to recount ...
(As Holmes walks across the room to the left-hand window, a knife can be seen stabbed into
some letters on the mantelpiece.)
WATSON (voiceover): ... whilst others are too recent in the minds of the public.
(On the wall opposite the fireplace is a framed copy of the painting All is Vanity by Charles
Allen Gilbert, painted in 1892. [Click here to see the picture])

434
WATSON (voiceover): But in all our many adventures together, no case pushed my friend to
such mental and physical extremes as that of The Abominable Bride.
(During his narration, Watson has brought one of the bags upstairs, taken it to the room behind
the sitting room and put it on the table. Letting the bag go, he flexes the fingers of his left
hand, then turns towards the sitting room where Holmes is pushing open the curtains of the left
window. As more light floods into the room, a figure is revealed standing in front of the fire.
Dressed in black mourning clothes and with a black veil over the face, the figure, apparently a
woman, stands facing the fire with her hands clasped behind her back.)
WATSON (walking into the room): Good Lord!
(The figure turns around to face the room.)
HOLMES (loudly, walking past the figure to the door): Mrs Hudson, there is a woman in my
sitting room! Is it intentional?
MRS HUDSON (from downstairs): Shes a client! Said you were out; insisted on waiting.
(Holmes grimaces. Watson picks up a chair near the table and turns to put it down in front of
the woman.)
WATSON: Would you, er, care to sit down?
(The woman doesnt move or respond to him.)
HOLMES (calling down the stairs): Didnt you ask her what she wanted?
MRS HUDSON (from downstairs): You ask her!
HOLMES: Well, why didnt you ask her?
MRS HUDSON (tetchily): How could I, what with me not talking and everything?
(Holmes rolls his eyes and sighs. He turns and walks back into the sitting room.)
HOLMES: Oh, for Gods sake. (Quietly, to Watson) Give her some lines. Shes perfectly capable
of starving us.
(He walks towards the woman and smiles at her.)
HOLMES: Good afternoon. Im Sherlock Holmes. This is my friend and colleague, Doctor
Watson. You may speak freely in front of him, as he rarely understands a word.
WATSON: Holmes.
HOLMES (to the woman): However, before you do, allow me to make some trifling
observations.
(He walks closer to her and circles around her while she continues to stand there impassively.)
HOLMES: You have an impish sense of humour which currently youre deploying to ease a
degree of personal anguish.
(He moves towards Watson and circles around him, still addressing the silent woman.)
HOLMES: You have recently married a man of a seemingly kindly disposition who has now
abandoned you for an unsavoury companion of dubious morals. You have come to this agency
as a last resort in the hope that reconciliation may still be possible.
WATSON: Good Lord, Holmes!
HOLMES: All of this is, of course, perfectly evident from your perfume.
WATSON: Her perfume?
HOLMES: Yes, her perfume, which brings insight to me and disaster to you.
WATSON: How so?
HOLMES (stepping towards the woman): Because I recognised it and you did not.
(He undoes the womans veil and pulls it clear of her face. As he walks away from her, Watson
instantly recognises her.)
WATSON: Mary!
MRS WATSON (smiling): John.
WATSON: Why, in Gods name, are you pretending to be a client?
MRS WATSON: Because I could think of no other way to see my husband, Husband.
Not long afterwards, Holmes has taken off his jacket and put on a camel coloured dressing
gown over his clothes. Holding his violin and standing facing the right-hand window, he is
playing a tune which we recognise as his wedding waltz. Mary still stands near the fireplace and
Watson is pacing nearby but now turns back to his wife and speaks angrily to her.
WATSON: It was an affair of international intrigue.
MRS WATSON: It was a murdered country squire.
WATSON: Nevertheless, matters were pressing.
MRS WATSON: I dont mind you going, my darling. I mind you leaving me behind!
WATSON: But what could you do?!
MRS WATSON: Oh, what do you do except wander round, taking notes, looking surprised ...
(Holmes stops playing and angrily lowers his violin.)

435
HOLMES: Enough!
(The others fall silent and look at him. He doesnt turn round.)
HOLMES (softly): The stage is set, and the curtain rises. We are ready to begin.
MRS WATSON: Begin what?
HOLMES: Sometimes, to solve a case, one must first solve another.
WATSON: Oh, you have a case, then, a new one?
HOLMES (softly): An old one. Very old. I shall have to go deep.
WATSON: Deep? Into what?
HOLMES (softly): Myself.
(He gazes out of the window for a moment longer, then turns and calls over his shoulder.)
HOLMES: Lestrade! Do stop loitering by the door and come in.
(The door to the sitting room opens and Inspector Lestrade comes in, breathing heavily and
looking anxious. He glances towards the table in between the windows before looking towards
the people near the fireplace.)
LESTRADE: How did you know it was me?
HOLMES (going across to his chair and sitting down): The regulation tread is unmistakeable;
lighter than Jones, heavier than Gregson.
LESTRADE (stuttering): I-I-I just came up. Mrs Hudson didnt seem to be talking.
(Rolling his eyes, Holmes reaches towards a Turkish slipper on the table beside his chair and
takes out some tobacco to fill his pipe.)
HOLMES: I fear shes branched into literary criticism by means of satire. It is a distressing trend
in the modern landlady. What brings you here in your off-duty hours?
(Lestrade glances to his right, then looks back at Holmes.)
LESTRADE: Howd you know Im off-duty?
HOLMES: Well, since your arrival youve addressed over forty percent of your remarks to my
decanter.
(He points to the table between the windows, on which is a silver tray holding various bottles
and glasses, including a whisky decanter.)
HOLMES: Watson, give the inspector what he so clearly wants.
(Watson walks across the room while Lestrade takes off his hat. Watson picks up the decanter
and pours a drink.)
WATSON: So, Lestrade, what can we do for you?
LESTRADE: Oh, Im not here on business. I just thought Id ... drop by.
WATSON: A social call? (He walks over and hands Lestrade the glass.)
LESTRADE: Yeah, of course, just to wish you the compliments of the season.
(Holmes takes his pipe from his mouth and looks pointedly at the inspector. Lestrade looks at
him a little nervously and then raises his glass, looking across to Mary.)
LESTRADE: Merry Christmas?
HOLMES: Merry Christmas.
WATSON: Merry Christmas.
MRS WATSON: Merry Christmas.
HOLMES: Thank God thats over. Now, Inspector, what strange happening compels you to my
door but embarrasses you to relate?
(Lestrade has taken a long drink from his glass and now closes his eyes before shaking his head
and opening his eyes again.)
LESTRADE: Who said anything happened?
HOLMES: You did, by every means short of actual speech.
(Lestrade drinks deeply and then sighs with relief.)
WATSON (raising a finger): Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah, Holmes? You have misdiagnosed.
HOLMES (smiling): Then correct me, Doctor.
WATSON: He didnt want a drink ... (he takes the glass from Lestrade and turns it upside down
to show that it is empty) ... he needed one. Hes not embarrassed; hes afraid.
(Lestrade looks down, putting his gloved hand to his mouth and looking anxious. Holmes
smirks.)
HOLMES: My Boswell is learning. They do grow up so fast.
(He looks up at Mary, who smiles at him.)
HOLMES: Watson, restore the courage of Scotland Yard.
(Watson takes the glass back over to the table.)
HOLMES: Inspector, do sit down.
(He gestures to the dining chair with his pipe and picks up a match.)

436
LESTRADE (picking up the chair and moving it near to Watsons armchair so that he can sit
facing Holmes): Im-Im not afraid, exactly.
HOLMES: Fear is wisdom in the face of danger. It is nothing to be ashamed of.
(Watson brings over the refilled glass and gives it to Lestrade.)
HOLMES: From the beginning, then.
(He strikes the match, and the image of the igniting match head morphs into the barrel of a
pistol. Standing on the balcony outside an upper storey window of a building elsewhere in
London, a woman is holding a long-barrelled pistol in each hand. She is wearing a wedding
dress and matching head dress with the veil flipped back on her head, and her face is painted
deathly white, except for her lips which are vividly red against the paleness of her face. The
lipstick runs slightly over the edges of her lips. She fires into the street below and one of the
bullets smashes through the window of a nearby bakers shop. She fires again and people in the
street below cry out in panic and duck or run. As a man runs along the street, the woman turns
and aims her pistols at him.)
BRIDE: You!
(The man named Giles according to the end credits turns and stares up at her, holding up
his hands pleadingly.)
GILES: No! Please!
(She turns away from him and stares wide-eyed at the pandemonium below her. Another man
is running for cover. She glares at him but then fires further down the street to her right. He
stops at the bakers shop and struggles to open the door but it appears to be locked. Breathing
heavily, the woman cries towards him.)
BRIDE: You?!
(The man turns and starts to run down the street as the woman fires in his direction.
In 221Bs sitting room, Holmes raises his hand.)
HOLMES: A moment.
(In the street, as another gunshot rings out, the scene freezes and, a little way down the road,
its as if the sitting room has appeared in the street but with only the wall with the fireplace
there. The other three walls have vanished and Holmes and the others are sitting in their chairs
and looking out at the scene. Watson has now sat down in his armchair, and Mary is sitting on
the arm of his chair. Holmes points at the frozen scene.)
HOLMES: When was this?
LESTRADE: Yesterday morning.
HOLMES: The brides face. How was it described?
(Lestrade opens his notebook and looks at his notes.)
LESTRADE: White as death ...
(Brief shot of the bride firing into the street.)
LESTRADE: ... mouth like a crimson wound.
(Holmes stands up and walks across the room to look at his imagined version of the street
scene.)
HOLMES: Poetry or truth?
LESTRADE: Many would say theyre the same thing.
HOLMES (briefly closing his eyes in exasperation): Yes, idiots. Poetry or truth?
LESTRADE: I saw her face myself. Afterwards.
(Holmes turns to look at him.)
HOLMES: After what?
(On the balcony, the bride aims her pistols at another man.)
BRIDE: You! (She pauses for a moment.) Or me?
(Lowering the left-hand pistol, she raises the barrel of the other pistol in her right hand and
opens her mouth wide. Aiming the gun up into her mouth, she fires and blood spatters over the
white net curtains behind her. As the watching people cry out in alarm, she falls backwards and
disappears from view.
In the sitting room, Holmes sighs with exasperation.)
HOLMES: Really, Lestrade. (He walks back across the room to sit in his chair.) A woman blows
her own brains out in public and you need help identifying the guilty party. I fear Scotland Yard
has reached a new low.
LESTRADE: Thats not why Im here.
HOLMES: I surmise.
WATSON (now holding an open notebook on his lap): What was her name, the bride?

437
(Brief shot of the woman lying on the carpet in the room where she shot herself, the pistol still
in her hand.)
LESTRADE: Emelia Ricoletti. Yesterday was her wedding anniversary. The police, of course,
were called, and her body taken to the morgue. (He drinks from his glass.)
HOLMES: Standard procedure. Why are you telling us what may be presumed?
LESTRADE: Because of what happened next.
(In Limehouse, a pretty Chinese woman smiles at an English man who is sitting in a carriage. A
Chinese man stands beside her. Nearby, another Chinese man stands outside what can be
presumed to be an opium den.)
LESTRADE (voiceover): Limehouse, just a few hours later.
(An English man in a smart dress suit comes out of the den and starts to walk down the street.
The scene freezes with the man facing towards where the sitting room of 221B seems to have
appeared in the street. Lestrade looks towards the man.)
LESTRADE: Thomas Ricoletti, Emelia Ricolettis husband.
HOLMES: Presumably on his way to the morgue to identify her remains.
(Lestrade takes another drink, then nods.)
LESTRADE: As it turned out, he was saved the trip.
(In the street, a hansom cab approaches and a horse whinnies. Ricoletti turns around to look.
The door of the cab opens and a woman starts to get out. At this moment all we can see is her
boot and her white wedding dress covering her leg.)
BRIDE (singing): Do not forget me ...
(Ricoletti stares in horror as the Bride is revealed, her face covered and obscured by the head
dress veil. She is holding a shotgun which she now aims at him as she continues to sing.)
BRIDE (singing the next line of her song): Do not forget me ...
(Ricoletti raises his hands in terrified submission. The Bride slowly walks towards him.)
BRIDE: Remember the maid ...
RICOLETTI: Who are you?
BRIDE: The maid of the mill.
RICOLETTI (talking over her): Why are you doing this? Just tell me who you are!
BRIDE: You recognise our song, my dear? I sang it at our wedding.
(Ricoletti stares in horror as the Bride lifts her veil with one hand. Her lipstick is even more
smeared than before, and there are powder burns around the middle of her lips.)
RICOLETTI: Emelia?! (He stutters.) Youre dead. You cant be here. You died.
BRIDE (smiling at him): Am I not beautiful, Thomas? As beautiful as the day you married me?
(Behind her, a young police constable runs toward the scene but stops a few paces away.)
PC RANCE (nervously): What the hells all this about?
(The Bride turns her head towards him. The back of her head is covered with blood.)
BRIDE: What does it look like, my handsome friend?
(She turns her head towards her husband again.)
BRIDE: Its a shotgun wedding.
(Cocking the shotgun twice in rapid succession, she fires at him twice. She smiles as he stares
sightlessly at her for a moment, his own blood spattered over his face, then drops to the
ground. His head seems to lands on the carpet of the sitting room in 221B. Holmes looks
impassively at the mans body.)
HOLMES: Til death us do part. Twice, in this case.
(He smiles at Lestrade. In the street, the Bride has pulled her veil back over her face and now
turns in the direction of the hansom cab. The back of her head can be seen more clearly and it
looks as if the rear of her skull has been blown off. PC Rance gasps as she walks past the cab
and continues on into the fog and disappears from view. Rance blows his police whistle and
then runs off after her.)
WATSON: Extraordinary.
MRS WATSON: Impossible!
HOLMES (standing): Superb! Suicide as street theatre; murder by corpse. Lestrade, youre
spoiling us. Watson, your hat and coat.
(He walks towards the door.)
WATSON (also standing): Where are we going?
HOLMES (standing just outside the sitting room): To the morgue. Theres not a moment to lose
...
(He takes off his dressing gown and puts on his jacket.)
HOLMES: ... which one can so rarely say of a morgue.
MRS WATSON: And am I just to sit here?

438
WATSON: Not at all, my dear. (He leans down and chucks her under the chin.) Well be hungry
later!
(He turns to Holmes.)
WATSON: Holmes, just one thing? (He looks down at his own clothes.) Tweeds, in a morgue?
HOLMES: Needs must when the devil drives, Watson.
(They both hurry down the stairs. Lestrade looks at Mary as he starts to follow them.)
LESTRADE: Maam.
MRS WATSON (standing up): Im part of a campaign, you know.
LESTRADE (turning back to her): Oh yeah? Campaign?
MRS WATSON: Votes for Women.
LESTRADE: And are you are you for or against?
MRS WATSON (sternly pointing to the stairs): Get out.
(Looking bewildered, Lestrade turns and leaves. Mary sits down in Watsons chair, props her
head on her hand and stares into the fire, sighing in exasperation. Mrs Hudson comes to the
open door and knocks on it.)
(She looks around the room.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh. Have they gone off again, have they? I dunno what a life those gentlemen
lead.
MRS WATSON (bitterly): Yes. Those gentlemen.
MRS HUDSON: Oh, never you mind. Ooh, almost forgot.
(She walks over and hands Mary an envelope.)
MRS HUDSON: That came for you.
MRS WATSON: Oh!
(She takes it and opens it. Mrs Hudson stands nearby, trying to read the card which Mary takes
from the envelope. On one side is simply:
On the other side it says:
Immediately
Mary smiles with delight.)

MRS WATSON: Mrs Hudson, tell my husband Ill be home late. I have some urgent business.
MRS HUDSON: Is everything all right?
MRS WATSON: Oh, you know, just a ... (she waves her hand vaguely and clears her throat) ...
friend in need.
(She stands up and walks toward the door.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh dear. What friend?
(Mary turns and smiles at her excitedly.)
MRS WATSON: England.
(She turns and goes down the stairs. Mrs Hudson looks round, bewildered.)
MRS HUDSON: Well, thats not very specific!
On the streets, the men are in a hansom cab, Holmes and Watson sitting side by side facing
forward and Lestrade sitting facing Holmes. Holmes looks at the inspector.
HOLMES: Whos on mortuary duty?
LESTRADE: You know who.
HOLMES (exasperated): Always him.
Shortly afterwards, Holmes opens the door to the underground mortuary room and leads in the
other two. They walk across to the nearest table on which is a body covered with a sheet.
HOLMES: Please tell me which idiot did this!
(The body has been chained down in several places along its length. Nearby, a man turns and
walks towards Holmes.)
ANDERSON: Its for everyones safety.
(Watson pulls back the cover from the corpses head, revealing the face of Emelia Ricoletti.)
WATSON: This woman is dead. Half her head is missing! Shes not a threat to anyone!
ANDERSON: Tell that to her husband. (He points across the room.) Hes under a sheet over
there.

439
HOLMES: Whatever happened in Limehouse last night, I think we can safely assume it wasnt
the work of a dead woman.
ANDERSON: Stranger things have happened.
HOLMES: Such as?
ANDERSON (hesitantly): Well ... strange things.
WATSON: Youre speaking like a child.
HOLMES (looking down at the body): This is clearly a mans work. Where is he?
(Anderson hesitates, but before he can answer the door opens. Holmes turns to look at the new
arrival. Its a man wearing a suit, with brown hair and a moustache. He looks familiar to us, and
now speaks with a voice that most of us immediately recognise, though its slightly deeper than
were used to.)
THE NEW ARRIVAL: Holmes.
HOLMES: Hooper.
(Hooper walks closer, looking sternly at Anderson.)
HOOPER: You back to work.
(Anderson nods nervously and turns away. Hooper walks to one side of the table and looks
across it at Holmes.)
HOOPER: So, come to astonish us with your magic tricks, I suppose.
HOLMES: Is there anything to which you would like to draw my attention?
HOOPER: Nothing at all, Mr Holmes. You may leave any time you like.
LESTRADE: Doctor Hooper, I asked Mr Holmes to come here. Co-operate. Thats an order.
(Hooper takes a long breath, then looks down at the body.)
HOOPER: There are two features of interest, as you are always saying in Doctor Watsons
stories.
HOLMES: I never say that.
WATSON: You do, actually, quite a lot.
(He nods. Holmes narrows his eyes.)
HOOPER: First of all, this is definitely Emelia Ricoletti. She has been categorically identified.
Beyond a doubt it is her.
WATSON: Then who was that in Limehouse last night?
HOOPER: That was also Emelia Ricoletti.
WATSON: It cant have been. She was dead. She was here.
(Holmes takes out a small magnifying glass and bends down to look more closely at the Brides
face.)
HOOPER: She was positively identified by her own husband seconds before he died. He had no
reason to lie. He could hardly be mistaken.
LESTRADE: The cabbie knew her too. Theres no question its her.
WATSON: But she cant have been in two places at the same time, can she?
HOLMES (straightening up): No, Watson. One place is strictly the limit for the recently
deceased.
(Watson clicks his fingers and points to his friend.)
WATSON: Holmes, could it have been twins?
HOLMES: No.
WATSON: Why not?
HOLMES: Because its never twins.
LESTRADE: Emelia was not a twin, nor did she have any sisters. She had one older brother who
died four years ago.
(Watson isnt yet prepared to let go of the idea and shakes his head, humming.)
WATSON: Maybe it was a secret twin.
(Holmes looks at him as if staggered by his idiocy.)
HOLMES: A what?
WATSON (precisely): A secret twin?
(Holmes continues to look at him as if he cant believe what hes hearing.)
WATSON: Hmm? You know? A twin that nobody knows about? This whole thing could have been
planned.
HOLMES: Since the moment of conception? How breathtakingly prescient of her! It is never
twins, Watson.
WATSON: Then whats your theory?
HOLMES (turning to look at Lestrade): More to the point, whats your problem?
(Lestrade lifts his eyes from the corpse and looks at him.)
LESTRADE: I-I dont understand. What ...

440
HOLMES: Why were you so frightened? Nothing so far has justified your assault on my
decanter, and why have you allowed a dead woman to be placed under arrest?
HOOPER: Ah. That would be the other feature of interest.
(Hooper lifts the right hand of the corpse, showing her index finger. Holmes and Watson bend
down for a closer look.)
WATSON: Ah. A smear of blood on her finger. That could have happened any number of ways.
HOOPER: Indeed.
(Lowering the hand, Hooper looks sternly at Holmes.)
HOOPER: Theres one other thing. It wasnt there earlier.
(Holmes straightens up. Lestrade points to a nearby wall.)
LESTRADE: And neither was that.
(He walks towards the wall and picks up a lantern to illuminate it more clearly. Watson walks
around the table and he and Holmes go over to the wall. In the light from the lantern, a single
word can be seen painted on the wall, apparently in blood:
YOU
Theres a brief flashback to the Bride standing on the balcony, pointing her pistols into the
street and crying out, You! or You? three times to various men.)
WATSON: Holmes!
HOLMES (softly, staring at the word on the wall): Gun in the mouth; a bullet through the brain;
back of the head blown clean off. How could he survive?
(Confused, Watson looks around the mortuary and then turns back to Holmes.)
WATSON: She, you mean.
HOLMES (his eyes still fixed on the wall): Im sorry?
WATSON: Not he, she.
HOLMES (absently): Yes, yes, of course.
(He stares at the wall for another moment, apparently lost in thought, then jumps and comes
back to himself.)
HOLMES (more normally, turning to the others): Well, thank you all for a fascinating case. (He
looks at Lestrade.) Ill send you a telegram when Ive solved it. Watson?
(He walks away and leaves the room. Watson, however, turns back to Hooper and points down
at the body.)
WATSON: Er, the gunshot wound was obviously the cause of death, but there are clear
indicators of consumption. Might be worth a post mortem. We need all the information we can
get.
(He turns and starts to walk away.)
HOOPER: Oh, isnt he observant now that Daddys gone?
(Watson stops. Hooper quietly smirks. After a moment, Watson turns back and walks closer to
the table again.)
WATSON (quietly): I am observant in some ways, just as Holmes is quite blind in others.
HOOPER (sarcastically): Really?
WATSON (quietly): Yes. Really. (He looks at Hooper pointedly.) Amazing what one has to do to
get ahead in a mans world.
(Hooper stares at him. Watson doffs his hat to him her, then puts it back on his head. He
glances across to Anderson, then turns and walks away. Hooper swallows a little nervously and
watches him go.)
ANDERSON: Whats he saying that for?
HOOPER (sternly): Get back to work.
HANSOM CAB. Watson looks across to his friend.

WATSON: Well, Holmes? Surely you must have some theory.
HOLMES: Not yet. These are deep waters, Watson. Deep waters. (He looks out of the window.)
And I shall have to go deeper still.
Headlines from various newspaper reports drift across the screen:
STATEMENT FROM CAB DRIVER

IT WAS MRS RICOLETTI

441
GHASTLY
MURDER
IN THE WEST END!
DREADFUL END OF PEER.
ALARMING DISCOVERY IN ISLINGTON

BODY OF SEA CAPTIN FOUND IN CHAPEL
[Oh goodie. The production teams spelling still hasnt improved. And dont tell me they did it
deliberately, because I wont believe you!]
MANCHESTER SHIP CANAL AT EASTHAM

GHOST IDENTIFIED?
Statement from cab driver claims:
It was Mrs Ricoletti.
WHO WILL BE NEXT?

In the notorious Bride
Murders.
SCOTLAND YARD BAFFLED

MYSTERIOUS DEATH OF VISCOUNT HUMMERSKNOT
The mysterious death of Viscount Hummersknot on Wednesday last
has led to questions in the House. Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard
refused to say whether the peers death was anything to do with the
(The rest of the text disappears offscreen.)
WATSON (voiceover): It was not for several months that we were to pick up the threads of this
strange case again; and then under very unexpected circumstances.
(In 221B, Holmes wearing a dark blue dressing gown over his clothes is pacing back and
forth beside the table of the room behind the sitting room, reading a book. Lestrade is sitting on
a chair at the other side of the table.)
LESTRADE: Five of them now, all the same, every one of em.
HOLMES (not looking up from his book): Hush, please. This is a matter of supreme importance.
LESTRADE: What is?
HOLMES: The obliquity of the ecliptic. I have to understand it.
LESTRADE: What is it?
HOLMES: I dont know. Im still trying to understand it.
LESTRADE: I thought you understood everything.
HOLMES: Of course not. That would be an appalling waste of brain space. I specialise.
LESTRADE: Then whats so important about this?
HOLMES (loudly, looking angrily at Lestrade): Whats so important about five boring murders?
LESTRADE: Theyre not boring! Five men dead! Murdered in their own homes; rice on the floor,
like at a wedding; and the word YOU written in blood on the wall!
(He points angrily towards the opposite wall. Holmes continues to pace and read his book.)
LESTRADE: Uh, its-its her! Its-its the Bride. Somehow shes risen again!
HOLMES (nonchalantly): Solved it.
LESTRADE (angrily): You cant have solved it!
HOLMES (stopping and turning to look at him): Of course Ive solved it. Its perfectly simple.
The Incident of the Mysterious Mrs Ricoletti, the Killer from Beyond the Grave, has been widely
reported in the popular press. Now people are disguising their own dull little murders as the
work of a ghost to confuse the impossibly imbecilic Scotland Yard. There you are: solved.
(He closes his book and puts it on the table.)
HOLMES: Pay Mrs Hudson a visit on your way out. She likes to feel involved.
LESTRADE: You sure?
HOLMES: Certainly. Go away. (He turns and calls into the sitting room.) Watson! Im ready. Get
your hat and boots. We have an important appointment.
(Lestrade stands and picks up his hat, then looks into the sitting room.)
LESTRADE: Didnt Doctor Watson move out a few months ago?
HOLMES: He did, didnt he? (He looks thoughtful.) Who have I been talking to all this time?

442
LESTRADE: Well, speaking on behalf of the impossibly imbecilic Scotland Yard, that chair is
definitely empty.
(Holmes looks towards Watsons armchair.)
HOLMES: It is, isnt it? Works surprisingly well, though. I actually thought he was improving.
(He looks through some paperwork on the table and then walks off in the direction of his
bedroom. Lestrade turns and leaves the room.)
Another empty chair is facing Doctor Watson. This chair is at a dining table and there is cutlery,
a teacup and saucer and a tea plate in front of the chair. Sitting at the other end of the table in
the dining room of his house while reading a newspaper, Watson looks across at the chair, then
sighs and looks down at his newspaper again. After a moment he lifts his head and looks
towards the door, then picks up a small bell from the table and rings it for a couple of seconds.
He also has cutlery and a teacup and saucer in front of him, and nearby is a glass bowl of
marmalade with a spoon in it. Another glass bowl with a glass lid stands beside it. He puts down
the bell and looks expectantly towards the door. After a while he puts down the newspaper and
takes out his pocket watch from his waistcoat to look at the time. Sighing and shaking his head,
he puts the watch away and rings the bell again. The door opens and a maid comes in.
WATSON: Ah. Where have you been?
JANE: Sorry, sir. Im rather behind my time this morning.
WATSON: Are you incapable of boiling an egg? (He sighs.) The fires are rarely lit; there is dust
everywhere; and you almost destroyed my boots scraping the mud off them. If it wasnt my
wifes business to deal with the staff, I would talk to you myself. Where is my wife?
JANE: Begging your pardon, sir, but the mistress has gone out.
WATSON: Out? At this hour of the morning?
JANE: Yes, sir. Did you not know that, sir?
WATSON: Where did she go? (He looks down at his newspaper.) Shes always out these days.
JANE (laughing softly): Not unlike yourself.
(Watson raises his head to look at her.)
JANE: ... sir.
WATSON: Im sorry?
JANE: Just observing, sir.
WATSON: Well, thats quite enough. Nobody asked you to be observant.
JANE: Sorry, sir. I just meant youre hardly ever home together any more, sir.
WATSON: You are dangerously close to impertinence. (He leans forward.) I shall have a word
with my wife to have a word with you.
(He sits back again and looks down at his paper.)
JANE: Very good, sir. And when will you be seeing her?
(Watsons head snaps up. He leans forward again.)
WATSON: Now listen ...
JANE: Ooh, I nearly forgot, sir.
(She reaches into the pocket of her apron and takes out a telegram which she hands to him.)
JANE: Er, a telegram came for you.
WATSON: You forgot?!
JANE: No, I nearly forgot.
WATSON (snatching the telegram from her): What have you been doing all morning?
JANE: Reading your new one in The Strand, sir.
WATSON: Did you enjoy it?
JANE: Why do you never mention me, sir?
WATSON: Go away.
(She turns and leaves, and Watson opens the telegram. On the outside it reads:
DR. JOHN WATSON
and the message reads:
COME AT ONCE
IF CONVENIENT.
IF INCONVENIENT,
COME ALL THE SAME.
HOLMES

443
Watson instantly drops the telegram onto the table, stands up and hurries away.)
A spinning globe can briefly be seen on the screen, then the scene resolves into a hansom cab
carrying Holmes and Watson.
WATSON: The what of the what?
HOLMES: The obliquity of the ecliptic.
WATSON: Come at once, you said. I assumed it was important.
HOLMES: It is. Its the inclination of the Earths equator to the path of the sun on the celestial
plane.
(Watson scoffs.)
WATSON: Have you been swotting up?
HOLMES: Why would I do that?
WATSON: To sound clever.
HOLMES: I am clever.
WATSON: Oh, I see.
HOLMES: You see what?
WATSON: I deduce were on our way to see someone cleverer than you.
HOLMES (after a slight pause): Shut up.
A little later, the pair of them approach a building which we instantly recognise, and the sign at
the side of its entrance confirms that this is THE DIOGENES CLUB. Inside, a glass sign hangs
above the reception desk stating, ABSOLUTE SILENCE. Holmes and Watson walk in and
approach the desk, and Holmes smiles at the elderly uniformed gentleman standing behind it,
who raises an acknowledging finger to him. Holmes puts his gloves into his coat pocket, then
uses sign language to communicate with the receptionist, signing:
Good morning, Wilder.

Is my brother in?
(Wilder nods and signs back:)
Naturally sir.
Its breakfast time.
(Holmes signs:)
The Strangers Room?
(Wilder nods, implying:)
Yes, sir.
(Holmes gestures towards Watson, then signs:)
This gentleman is my guest.
(Wilder looks at Watson and signs:)
Ah Yes!
Dr Watson, of course.
Enjoyed The Blue Carbuncle, sir.
(Holmes looks towards Watson and rolls his eyes, then elbows him and nods. Looking a little
nervous, Watson signs to Wilder:)
Thank you. I...am...glad

...you...liked it.
You are very...ugly.
(Holmes does a double-take in his direction, and Wilder frowns and signs:)

444
I beg your pardon?
(Watson signs:)
Ugly. What you said about

The Blue Fishmonger.
Very ugly...
I am glad you liked
my potato.
(Wilder looks a little bewildered and throws a nervous glance at Holmes, who smiles ruefully at
Watson and signs to him:)
Yes. Needs work, Watson.

Too much time spent on
dancing lessons.
[The full translation of the (mostly accurate) British Sign Language can be seen here.]
WATSON (aloud): Sorry, what?
(Rolling his eyes, Holmes turns and walks away. Watson looks awkwardly at Wilder.)
WATSON: Oh.
(He turns his head and watches Holmes for a moment, then turns back to look at Wilder. Giving
him an embarrassed thumbs-up with his left hand, he follows Holmes who opens the door to a
room in which, with his back to the door, an extremely corpulent man sits wedged into a chair.
On either side of the chair are several tables loaded with all sorts of food, including puddings,
cakes, pork pies and a huge roasted ham. The man is rubbing his fingers together as he chews
on his latest mouthful. As the camera circles around him, he is revealed to be Mycroft Holmes.)
MYCROFT HOLMES: To anyone who wishes to study mankind, this is the spot.
(Watson closes the door while Holmes walks round to face his brother.)
HOLMES: Handy, really, as your ever-expanding backside is permanently glued to it. Good
morning, brother mine.
MYCROFT HOLMES (still chewing his last mouthful): Sherlock. Doctor Watson.
(Watson, now standing at Holmes side, is staring in horror at all the food surrounding Mycroft,
but then notices that he is holding out his very pudgy hand to him. He takes Mycrofts hand and
shakes it.)
WATSON: You look ... well, sir.
MYCROFT HOLMES: Really? I rather thought I looked enormous.
(He picks up a glass of port and drinks from it.)
WATSON: Well, now you mention it, this level of consumption is incredibly injurious to your
health. Your heart ...
HOLMES: No need to worry on that score, Watson.
WATSON: No?
HOLMES: Theres only a large cavity where that organ should reside.
MYCROFT HOLMES: Its a family trait.
HOLMES: Oh, I wasnt being critical.
WATSON: If you continue like this, sir, I give you five years at the most.
(Holmes raises his eyebrows and looks round at him.)
MYCROFT HOLMES: Five? We thought three, did we not, Sherlock?
HOLMES: Im still inclined to four.
MYCROFT HOLMES: As ever, you see but you do not observe. Note the discolouration in the
whites of my eyes, the visible rings of fat around the corneas ...
HOLMES: Yes, youre right. Im changing my bet to three years, four months and eleven days.
WATSON: A bet?!
HOLMES: I understand your disapproval, Watson, but if hes feeling competitive it is perfectly
within his power to die early.
MYCROFT HOLMES: Thats a risk youll have to take.
WATSON: Youre gambling with your own life?
MYCROFT HOLMES: Why not? Its so much more exciting than gambling with others.
HOLMES (nodding to an item on one of the nearby tables): Three years flat if you eat that plum
pudding.

445
MYCROFT HOLMES: Done!

(Licking his lips, he reaches over to the table, picks up the large stodgy pudding on a plate,
opens his mouth wide and lifts the pudding towards it. The camera follows the pudding into his
mouth.)
A little later Holmes and Watson are sitting side by side on chairs facing Mycroft. There is a
small table beside Watson on which is a coffee pot, a cream or milk jug and a bowl of sugar,
together with a cup and saucer with white coffee in it. Holmes is holding another cup and saucer
and has just taken a drink from his black coffee.
MYCROFT HOLMES: I expected to see you a few days ago about the Manor House case. I
thought you might be a little out of your depth there.
HOLMES (putting down his cup and saucer on a table beside him): No. I solved it.
MYCROFT HOLMES: It was Adams, of course.
HOLMES: Yes, it was Adams.
MYCROFT HOLMES (to Watson): Murderous jealousy. Hed written a paper for the Royal
Astronomical Society on the obliquity of the ecliptic, and then read another that seemed to
surpass it.
HOLMES: I know. I read it.
MYCROFT HOLMES: Did you understand it?
HOLMES (looking sideways to Watson): Yes, of course I understood it. It was perfectly simple.
MYCROFT HOLMES: No did you understand the murderous jealousy? It is no easy thing for a
great mind to contemplate a still greater one.
(Holmes sighs but then smiles slightly at his brother.)
HOLMES: Did you summon me here just to humiliate me?
MYCROFT HOLMES: Yes.
(Holmes stands up, his face angry. Mycroft chuckles a little.)
MYCROFT HOLMES: Of course not, but it is by far the greater pleasure.
HOLMES: Then would you mind explaining exactly why you did summon ...
MYCROFT HOLMES (talking over him): Our way of life is under threat from an invisible enemy,
one that hovers at our elbow on a daily basis. These enemies are everywhere, undetected and
unstoppable.
(Watson leans forward.)
WATSON: Socialists?
MYCROFT HOLMES: Not socialists, Doctor, no.
WATSON: Anarchists?
MYCROFT HOLMES: No.
WATSON: The French? The suffragists?
MYCROFT HOLMES: Is there any large body of people youre not concerned about?
HOLMES: Doctor Watson is endlessly vigilant. (He looks at his brother.) Elaborate.
MYCROFT HOLMES: No. Investigate. This is a conjecture of mine and I need you to confirm it.
Im sending you a case.
(Watson frowns thoughtfully and now has another idea.)
WATSON: The Scots.
HOLMES: Scots?!
MYCROFT HOLMES: Are you aware of recent theories concerning what is known as paranoia?
WATSON: Ooh, sounds Serbian.
(Holmes rolls his eyes.)
MYCROFT HOLMES (to Holmes): A woman will call on you Lady Carmichael. I want you to take
her case.
WATSON: But these enemies: how are we to defeat them if you wont tell us about them?
MYCROFT HOLMES: We dont defeat them. We must certainly lose to them.
WATSON: Why?
MYCROFT HOLMES: Because they are right, and we are wrong.
HOLMES: Lady Carmichaels case what is it?
MYCROFT HOLMES: Oh, rest assured, it has features of interest.
HOLMES: I never really say that.
WATSON: You really do.
HOLMES (to Mycroft): And youve solved it already, I assume?
MYCROFT HOLMES: Only in my head. I need you for the, er ... (he grimaces) ... legwork.
WATSON: Why not just tell us your solution?

446
MYCROFT HOLMES: Where would be the sport in that? Will you do it, Sherlock? I can promise
you a superior distraction.
HOLMES: On one condition. Have another plum pudding.
MYCROFT HOLMES: Theres one on the way.
HOLMES (buttoning his dress coat and starting to walk away): Two years, eleven months and
four days.
(Mycroft chuckles.)
MYCROFT HOLMES: Its getting exciting now!
(Watson realises that Holmes is leaving and stands up to follow him.)
MYCROFT HOLMES: Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.
(He waggles his fingers at Watson as he leaves. From another door, Wilder wheels in a trolley
with a silver cover over a large plate.)
MYCROFT HOLMES: Thank you, Wilder.
WILDER: Also, Mr Melas to see you, Mr Holmes.
MYCROFT HOLMES: Ah. Give me five minutes. I have a wager to win.
(He leans forward as Wilder lifts the silver cover. There are three large plum puddings on the
plate. Mycroft looks up at Wilder.)
MYCROFT HOLMES: Better make that fifteen.
(He reaches out with an ecstatic expression on his face.)
MYCROFT HOLMES: Tick tock.
(He sinks his fingers into one of the puddings and theres a loud squelch as he lifts it from the
plate and takes it in both hands.)
There is a brief shot of the outside of 221B, with Speedwells next door, and then we are in the
flats sitting room. Holmes and Watson are sitting in their armchairs, and an elegantly-dressed
woman sits on a dining chair opposite them.
LADY CARMICHAEL: Mr Holmes, I have come here for advice.
HOLMES: That is easily got.
LADY CARMICHAEL: And help.
HOLMES: Not always so easy.
LADY CARMICHAEL: Something has happened, Mr Holmes something ... unusual and ...
terrifying.
HOLMES: Then you are in luck.
(She scoffs.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: Luck?
HOLMES (smiling at her): Those are my specialisms.
(He smiles across at Watson.)
HOLMES: This is really very promising.
WATSON: Holmes ...
(Holmes drops the smile and turns back to Lady Carmichael.)
HOLMES: Please do tell us what has so distressed you.
LADY CARMICHAEL: I I thought long and hard as to what to do, but then, er, it occurred to
me that my husband was an acquaintance of your brother and that, perhaps through him ...
(She trails off. Holmes tilts his head at her enquiringly.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: The fact is, Im not sure this comes within your purview, Mr Holmes.
HOLMES: No?
LADY CARMICHAEL: Lord help me, I think it may be a matter for a priest.
(Holmes glances across at Watson, who returns his gaze.)
FLASHBACK. In the huge dining room of their stately home, Sir Eustace Carmichael and his wife
are eating breakfast with their two school-aged children, a girl and a boy.
SIR EUSTACE: And what does your morning threaten, my dear? (He takes a drink from his
teacup.) A vigorous round of embroidering? An exhausting appointment at the milliners?
(His wife cuts herself a bite of food and lifts it to her mouth.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: I hope you are teasing, Eustace.
(He chuckles. A footman brings in a silver plate on which are letters and a letter opener. Sir
Eustace slits open the first envelope and looks inside. He freezes, staring at the contents in
horror.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: What is it?
(Sir Eustace doesnt respond, his gaze still locked on what he can see inside the envelope.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: Eustace?

447
(When he still doesnt react to her, she puts down her knife and fork and looks across the table
to the children.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: Daniel, Sophie, go out and play.
SOPHIE: But Mama ...
LADY CARMICHAEL: Do as I tell you. Quickly, now.
(The children leave the table and go out of the room. Lady Carmichael gets up and walks over
to her husband, gently pulling the envelope from his hands. She tips the contents into her hand
and then looks at the five orange pips lying on her palm. She laughs.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: Eustace! What does this mean?
(She chuckles, then notices Eustaces appalled expression as he gazes up at her.)
SIR EUSTACE (in a voice full of dread): Death.
LADY CARMICHAEL: What?
SIR EUSTACE: It means death.
(His eyes are full of tears, but then he pulls himself together and tries to laugh.)
SIR EUSTACE: Er, nothing. Its, er, its nothing. I was mistaken.
(He lays the letter opener on the tray. Putting down the envelope and the pips, Lady Carmichael
reaches down and takes her husbands face in her hands.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: My dear, youve gone quite pale.
(Eustace surges to his feet and glares down at her.)
SIR EUSTACE: Its nothing.
(He turns and leaves the room. She follows him.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: Eustace ...
221B SITTING ROOM.

HOLMES: Did you keep the envelope?
LADY CARMICHAEL: My husband destroyed it ...
(Watson frowns at her.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: ... but it was blank. No name or address of any kind.
HOLMES: Tell me: has Sir Eustace spent time in America?
LADY CARMICHAEL: No.
HOLMES: Not even before your marriage?
LADY CARMICHAEL: Well, not to my knowledge.
HOLMES: Hmm. Pray continue with your fascinating narrative. (He steeples his hands in front of
his mouth.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: Well, that incident took place last Monday morning. It was two days later,
on the Wednesday, that my husband first saw her.
WATSON: Who?
FLASHBACK. NIGHT TIME. Lady Carmichael wakes up and looks across the bed, realising that
her husband is not lying beside her. Lifting her head she sees him standing at the window in his
night shirt, staring out into the grounds.
(Still staring out of the window, Sir Eustace whimpers. Lady Carmichael approaches and takes
hold of his arms and he gasps, spinning around to look at her with a face full of panic. Sobbing,
he grabs at her.)
SIR EUSTACE: Shes come for me, Louisa. Oh, God help me, my sins have found me out.
LADY CARMICHAEL: Whos come for you?
(He sobs.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: Eustace, youre frightening me.
(He tightens his grip and shoves her to the window.)
SIR EUSTACE: Look! Look!
(She looks out into the misty grounds but theres nobody in sight. Eustace sobs.)
SIR EUSTACE: Dont you see her?
LADY CARMICHAEL: No, no. I see no-one.
(Out in the grounds, the mist roils over the large hedge maze but wherever it clears, there is
still no sign of anybody. Eustace looks again, then turns to his wife, smiling hopefully.)
SIR EUSTACE: Gone.
(He breaks down in tears and crumples to his knees, sobbing. She bends down and cradles
him.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: You keep so many secrets from me. Is this another? Who have you seen?
(He raises his head to look at her.)

448
SIR EUSTACE: It was her. It was the Bride.
In 221B, Watsons eyes widen and he looks across to Holmes, who glances back at him before
looking at Lady Carmichael.
HOLMES: And you saw nothing?
LADY CARMICHAEL: Nothing.
HOLMES: Did your husband describe ...
LADY CARMICHAEL: Nothing until this morning.
FLASHBACK. NIGHT TIME. Once again Lady Carmichael wakes up and looks across to find the
bed empty beside her. She sits up and looks around.
Outside, Sir Eustace has a dressing gown over his night shirt and is walking across the front of
the house towards the maze in his slippers. Shortly afterwards, Lady Carmichael, also wearing
slippers and a dressing gown over her night dress, runs out to try and find him.
LADY CARMICHAEL (calling out): Eustace!
(She runs towards the maze but stops when she sees something lying on the ground. Looking
down, she realises that it is one of Eustaces slippers which must have slipped from his foot
unnoticed. She walks forward a little and calls out again.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: Eustace?!
(She hurries on into the maze.)
(She continues on, turning several corners within the maze.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: Eustace!
(She trips over something on the ground.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: Ah!
(She falls to her hands and knees.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: Blast!
(She kneels up, looking down at her grazed hands ... and the Bride walks across the junction
behind her. Unaware of this, Lady Carmichael cries out again, her voice desperate.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: Eustace! Where are you? Its me!
(She turns her head to look behind her as a female voice begins to sing.)
BRIDE (offscreen): Do not forget me, Do not forget me ...
(Lady Carmichael rises to her feet.)
BRIDE (offscreen): Remember the maid, The maid of the mill.
(Lady Carmichael walks back to the junction and turns right, and sees her husband standing
there with his back to her. Facing him, just in front of a dead end, the Bride stands with her veil
covering her face and her hands folded in front of her. Lady Carmichael walks slowly forward to
stand just behind her husband. He is staring at the Bride in horror, his face deathly pale.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: Who are you? I demand you speak! Who are you?
(The Bride tilts her head to the right but doesnt say anything. Lady Carmichael reaches out and
seizes her husbands right arm to turn him to face her.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: Eustace! Speak to me!
(She takes hold of both his arms and shakes him gently. He gazes at her blankly.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: In the name of God!
(She shakes him again and slaps his cheek. He rouses slightly.)
SIR EUSTACE: Shes ... shes Emelia Ricoletti.
(He half-laughs, half-cries. They both turn and look at the Bride who, apparently without
moving her feet, is slowly drifting forward towards them.)
SIR EUSTACE (despairingly): No. Not you. No!
(The Bride stops a few paces away from him.)
SIR EUSTACE (terrified): Please!
BRIDE: This night, Eustace Carmichael, you ... will ... die.
(She reaches up with both hands and starts to lift her veil. Before her face can be revealed,
however, Eustaces eyes roll up into his head and he faints. Lady Carmichael cries out and
catches him, lowering him to the ground and gasping. When she looks up a few seconds later,
the Bride has gone. The camera rises up into the air to show the whole maze. There is no sign
of the Bride.)
The straight lines of parts of the maze resolve into a close-up of Holmes ludicrously long fingers
steepled in front of his mouth while he sits in his armchair in 221B. Despite being very behind

449
schedule in the writing of this transcript, your transcriber re-runs those few seconds several
many many times for science and absolutely no other reason.
WATSON (offscreen): Holmes?
HOLMES: Hush, Watson.
[Yeah, hush, Watson. Your own Boswell is busy drooling.]
WATSON (out of the side of his mouth): But Emelia Ricoletti, the Bride!
LADY CARMICHAEL: You know the name.
HOLMES: You must forgive Watson. He has an enthusiasm for stating the obvious which borders
on mania.
(He turns a pointed look towards Watson, who throws a dark look back at him.)
HOLMES (to Lady Carmichael): May I ask: how is your husband this morning?
LADY CARMICHAEL: He refuses to speak about the matter. Obviously I have urged him to leave
the house.
HOLMES: No, no! He must stay exactly where he is.
LADY CARMICHAEL: Well, you dont think hes in danger?
HOLMES: Oh no, somebody definitely wants to kill him, but thats good for us. You cant set a
trap without bait.
(He smiles at her. She gasps.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: My husband is not bait, Mr Holmes.
HOLMES: No. But he could be if we play our cards right.
(Watson raises his eyebrows.)
HOLMES: Now, listen: you must go home immediately. Doctor Watson and I will follow on the
next train. Theres not a moment to lose. Sir Eustace is to die tonight.
WATSON: Holmes!
HOLMES: ... and we should ... probably avoid that.
WATSON: Definitely.
HOLMES: Definitely avoid that.
(Lady Carmichael looks rather confused, but nods.)
THE DIOGENES CLUB. Mycroft Holmes is in The Strangers Room.

MYCROFT HOLMES: Little brother has taken the case, of course. I now rely on you to keep an
eye on things, but he must never suspect you of working for me. Are you clear on that,
Watson?
(Behind him, Mary Watson walks into view and smiles at his back.)
MRS WATSON: You can rely on me, Mr Holmes.
TRAIN CARRIAGE. Holmes and Watson are sitting opposite each other in the window seats of a
single compartment. Holmes has his eyes closed, while Watson is looking out of the window.
After a while he turns to his companion.
WATSON: You dont suppose ...
HOLMES: I dont, and neither should you.
WATSON: You dont know what I was going to say.
HOLMES (his eyes still closed): You were about to suggest there may be some supernatural
agency involved in this matter, and I was about to laugh in your face.
WATSON: But the Bride! Holmes, Emelia Ricoletti, again. A dead woman, walking the Earth!
(Holmes sighs heavily and opens his eyes.)
HOLMES: You amaze me, Watson.
WATSON: I do?
HOLMES: Since when have you had any kind of imagination?
WATSON: Perhaps since I convinced the reading public that an unprincipled drug addict is some
kind of gentleman hero.
HOLMES: Yes, now you come to mention it, that was quite impressive. (He looks down
thoughtfully for a moment, then raises his eyes again.) You may, however, rest assured there
are no ghosts in this world.
(Watson nods slightly and looks out of the window. Holmes lowers his eyes.)
HOLMES (quietly): ... save those we make for ourselves.
(He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the headrest.)
WATSON (looking round to him): Sorry, what did you say?
(Holmes keeps his eyes closed.)
WATSON: Ghosts we make for ourselves? What do you mean?
(Holmes doesnt respond. Watson sighs.)

450
At the stately home of the Carmichaels, Sir Eustace is standing near the fireplace of a large
drawing room. Watson stands facing him while Holmes is pacing around the room.
SIR EUSTACE: Somnambulism.
WATSON: I beg your pardon?
SIR EUSTACE: I sleepwalk, thats all. Its a common enough condition. I thought you were a
doctor. The whole thing was a bad dream.
WATSON: Including the contents of the envelope you received?
(Sir Eustace tries to laugh.)
SIR EUSTACE: Well, thats a grotesque joke.
WATSON: Well, thats not the impression you gave your wife, sir.
SIR EUSTACE: Shes an hysteric, prone to fancies.
HOLMES: No.
SIR EUSTACE: Im sorry? What did you say?
HOLMES (finally stopping his pacing): I said no, shes not an hysteric. Shes a highly intelligent
woman of rare perception.
SIR EUSTACE: My wife sees terror in an orange pip.
HOLMES (walking closer): Your wife can see worlds where no-one else can see anything of
value whatsoever.
SIR EUSTACE (sarcastically): Can she really? And how do you deduce that, Mr Holmes?
HOLMES: She married you.
(Watson smiles.)
HOLMES: I assume she was capable of finding a reason.
(Sir Eustace angrily surges towards him. Watson instantly steps closer to Holmes, ready to
protect him if necessary, but Sir Eustace stops as Holmes speaks again.)
HOLMES: Ill do my best to save your life tonight, but first it would help if you would explain
your connection to the Ricoletti case.
SIR EUSTACE (hesitating slightly before speaking): Ricoletti?
HOLMES: Yes. In detail, please.
SIR EUSTACE (again pausing momentarily): Ive never heard of her.
HOLMES: Interesting. I didnt mention she was a woman. Well show ourselves out.
(Sir Eustace swallows nervously.)
HOLMES: I hope to see you again in the morning.
(He and Watson start to leave the room.)
SIR EUSTACE: You will not!
HOLMES: Then sadly I shall be solving your murder. Good day.
(He and Watson walk into the entrance hall. Holmes takes a notebook from his trouser pocket
and writes a note onto one of the pages.)
WATSON: Well, you tried.
(A footman walks across the hall towards them. Holmes addresses him.)
HOLMES: Will you see that Lady Carmichael receives this?
(He hands him the note.)
HOLMES: Thank you. Good afternoon.
FOOTMAN: Yes, sir.
(Holmes and Watson walk on.)
WATSON: What was that?
HOLMES: Lady Carmichael will sleep alone tonight, on the pretence of a violent headache. All
the doors and windows of the house will be locked.
(They reach the place where their coats and hats have been hung up, and take them down.)
WATSON: Ah, you think the spectre ...
(Holmes throws him a disapproving look.)
WATSON: ... er, the Bride will attempt to lure Sir Eustace outside again?
(He puts on his scarf and then his coat.)
HOLMES (putting on his coat): Certainly. Why else the portentous threat? This night you will
die.
WATSON: Well, he wont follow her, surely?
HOLMES: Its difficult to say quite what hell do. Guilt is eating away at his soul.
(He pulls his gloves from the pocket of his coat and puts them on.)
WATSON: Guilt? About what?
HOLMES: Something in his past. The orange pips were a reminder.
WATSON (putting on his gloves): Not a joke.

451
HOLMES: Not at all. Orange pips are a traditional warning of avenging death, originating in
America. Sir Eustace knows this only too well, just as he knows why he is to be punished.
(Taking their hats from the pegs, they start to walk out onto the entrance porch.)
WATSON (putting on his hat): Something to do with Emelia Ricoletti.
HOLMES: I presume. We all have a past, Watson.
WATSON: Hmm.
(They stop in the porch.)
HOLMES: Ghosts they are the shadows that define our every sunny day. Sir Eustace knows
hes a marked man.
(Watson glances back behind them into the house.)
HOLMES: Theres something more than murder he fears. He believes he is to be dragged to Hell
by the risen corpse of the late Mrs Ricoletti.
(Watson looks around thoughtfully for a moment, then turns back to Holmes.)
WATSON: Thats a lot of nonsense, isnt it?
HOLMES: God, yes. Did you bring your revolver?
WATSON: What good would that be against a ghost?
HOLMES: Exactly. Did you bring it?
WATSON: Yeah, of course.
HOLMES: Then come, Watson, come.
(He puts on his deerstalker.)
HOLMES: The game is afoot!
(They head off.)
NIGHT TIME. In a greenhouse in the grounds of the Carmichael house, Watson grunts and
stands up from some lower position.
[Transcriber's note: At this point, one of my betas made some positively filthy suggestions
about what Watson had been doing in that lower position. Im so proud of her. ;-) ]
HOLMES: Get down, Watson, for heavens sake!
WATSON (quickly sitting down): Sorry. Cramp.
(Grimacing, he rubs his leg.)
WATSON: Is the, er, lamp still burning?
HOLMES (looking across to one of the few windows of the house which are still lit): Yes.
(Almost immediately, the lamp in that room goes out.)
HOLMES: There goes Sir Eustace.
(He looks across to another lighted window, which goes dark a moment later.)
HOLMES: And Lady Carmichael. The house sleeps.
(Watson shakes his head, apparently bored, then draws in a deep breath.)
WATSON: Mmm, good God, this is the longest night of my life.
HOLMES: Have patience, Watson.
(Watson takes out his pocket watch and looks at it.)
WATSON: Only midnight.
(He puts the watch away.)
WATSON: You know, its rare for us to sit together like this.
HOLMES: I should hope so. Its murder on the knees.
(He smiles. Watson returns the smile.)
WATSON: Hmm. Two old friends, just talking, chewing the fat ...
(He looks at Holmes.)
WATSON: ... man to man.
(Holmes looks somewhat startled, then looks towards the house whilst fidgeting slightly.)
WATSON: Shes a remarkable woman.
HOLMES: Who?
WATSON: Lady Carmichael.
HOLMES: The fair sex is your department, Watson. Ill take your word for it.
WATSON: No, you liked her. A woman of rare perception.
HOLMES: And admirably high arches. I noticed them as soon as she stepped into the room.
WATSON: Huh. Shes far too good for him.
HOLMES: You think so?
WATSON: No, you think so. I could tell.
HOLMES: On the contrary, I have no view on the matter.
WATSON: Yes you have.
HOLMES (after a momentary pause): Marriage is not a subject upon which I dwell.

452
WATSON: Well, why not?

HOLMES: Whats the matter with you this evening?
WATSON (pointing): That watch that youre wearing: theres a photograph inside it. I glimpsed
it once ...
(Cut-away shot of the photograph inside the lid of the pocket watch. We all recognise it.)
WATSON: I believe it is of Irene Adler.
HOLMES (a little angrily): You didnt glimpse it. You waited til I had fallen asleep and looked at
it.
WATSON: Yes, I did.
HOLMES: You seriously thought I wouldnt notice?
WATSON: Irene Adler.
HOLMES: Formidable opponent; a remarkable adventure.
WATSON: A very nice photograph.
HOLMES: Why are you talking like this?
WATSON: Why are you so determined to be alone?
HOLMES: Are you quite well, Watson?
WATSON: Is it such a curious question?
HOLMES: From a Viennese alienist, no; from a retired Army surgeon, most certainly.
WATSON: Holmes, against absolutely no opposition whatsoever, I am your closest friend.
HOLMES: I concede it.
WATSON: I am currently attempting to have a perfectly normal conversation with you.
HOLMES (precisely): Please dont.
WATSON (equally precisely): Why do you need to be alone?
HOLMES: If you are referring to romantic entanglement, Watson which I rather fear you are
as I have often explained before, all emotion is abhorrent to me. It is the grit in a sensitive
instrument ...
(Watson joins in with what he says next.)
HOLMES and WATSON (almost simultaneously): ... the crack in the lens.
WATSON: Yes.
HOLMES: Well, there you are, you see? Ive said it all before.
WATSON: No, I wrote all that. Youre quoting yourself from The Strand Magazine.
HOLMES: Well, exactly.
WATSON: No, those are my words, not yours! That is the version of you that I present to the
public: the brain without a heart; the calculating machine. I write all of that, Holmes, and the
readers lap it up, but I do not believe it.
HOLMES: Well, Ive a good mind to write to your editor.
WATSON: You are a living, breathing man. Youve lived a life; you have a past.
HOLMES: A what?!
WATSON: Well, you must have had ...
HOLMES: Had what?
(Watson pauses a little awkwardly, then points at his friend.)
WATSON: You know.
HOLMES: No.
(Watson swallows.)
WATSON: Experiences.
HOLMES (angrily): Pass me your revolver. I have a sudden need to use it.
WATSON: Damn it, Holmes, you are flesh and blood. You have feelings. You have ... you must
have ... impulses.
(Holmes closes his eyes in exasperation.)
HOLMES (through his teeth): Dear Lord. I have never been so impatient to be attacked by a
murderous ghost.
WATSON: As your friend as someone who ... worries about you what made you like this?
(Holmes has opened his eyes and looks at his friend almost sympathetically.)
HOLMES: Oh, Watson. Nothing made me.
(From somewhere to his left, scrabbling claws can be heard together with a sound of a dog
whimpering anxiously, or as if it is in pain. Holmes turns his head in the direction of the sound.)
HOLMES: I made me.
(The scrabbling and whimpering continues. Holmes frowns in confusion.)
HOLMES: Redbeard?
WATSON: Good God!

453
(Holmes turns his head to look at him. Watson is staring towards the house. Holmes follows his
gaze. Through a dark archway at the house, the illuminated veiled figure of the Bride floats
slightly above the ground.)
WATSON: What are we to do?
(The Bride raises her right hand as if encouraging her watchers to approach.)
HOLMES (nonchalantly): Why dont we have a chat?
(He jumps up. Watson frowns, but then follows and they run across the garden towards the
house.)
HOLMES (calling out as he runs along the front of the house): Mrs Ricoletti, I believe.
(He and Watson stop outside the front porch, a few yards away from the ghostly image. The
Bride lowers her hand. Still floating above the ground in front of a nearby doorway, her other
hand has its fingers splayed threateningly.)
HOLMES: Pleasant night for the time of year, is it not?
(Watson seizes Holmes arm as if to hold him back.)
WATSON: It cannot be true, Holmes. It cannot!
(The Bride floats backwards towards the door, holding out her hands towards the men as if in
invitation.)
HOLMES: No, it cant.
(The Bride begins to fade from view. At the same moment, a man screams inside the house.
Holmes and Watson turn their heads towards the sound. Somewhere, a large pane of glass can
be heard smashing. Holmes and then Watson turn back towards the other doorway but the
Bride has vanished. Holmes runs to the front door and tries to open it.)
WATSON: Is it locked?
HOLMES (coming back out of the porch): As per instructions.
WATSON: That was a window breaking, wasnt it?
HOLMES: Theres only one broken window we need concern ourselves with.
(They run to the nearest window beside the front door and Holmes jabs his elbow through the
glass, then breaks out the rest of the glass with his gloved hand. He and then Watson climb
inside, and Holmes strikes a match to light a lantern.)
HOLMES: Stay in here, Watson.
WATSON: What? No!
HOLMES: All the doors and windows to the house are locked. This is their only way out. I need
you here.
(Picking up the lantern, he hurries away.)
WATSON: But the sound was so close, it had to be from this side of the house.
HOLMES: Stay here!
(He runs into the house. Watson looks anxiously at the window behind him. Holmes runs for the
stairs just as a woman cries out in horror upstairs. As she continues to shriek, he reaches the
landing and looks around, shining the light from his lantern around the nearby carpet. Two
maids run up another set of stairs towards him, and Holmes heads off along the landing.
Turning a corner, he finds Lady Carmichael standing there in her night dress. On the carpet in
front of her is a pool of blood. Holmes looks up at Lady Carmichael as her maids hurry towards
her. She stares savagely at him.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: You promised to keep him safe. You promised!
(The maids take hold of her arms.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: You ...
(Holmes stares wide-eyed at her as she begins to sob. He turns away.)
LADY CARMICHAEL: You promised!
(Holmes makes his way along the landing, following a trail of fresh drops of blood.
Downstairs, in the entrance hall on the other side of a narrow corridor leading to Watsons
position, the floor creaks. He takes out his revolver, holds it up with the barrel pointing towards
the ceiling, and cocks it. In the hall, the floor creaks again. Lowering his gun to his side, Watson
slowly walks forward across the broken glass on the floor and enters the corridor. He stops.)
WATSON: Youre human, I know that. You must be.
(Its dark in the corridor. He puts his revolver onto a table beside him, on which is a candle and
a box of matches. He picks up the latter.)
WATSON: Little use, us standing here in the dark.
(He strikes a match and picks up the candle to light it.)
WATSON: After all, this is the nineteenth century.
(On the floors above, Holmes runs up another flight of stairs and into the eaves of the house.
He shines his lantern to the left and then to the right, and immediately sees a man lying on the

454
floor on his side. There is something sticking out of the mans chest. Holmes walks forward and
bends down to the man, his face full of dread. He gently rolls him onto his back and reveals Sir
Eustace. A large ornately-handled dagger is in his chest, and Eustaces eyes are fixed and
horrified. Behind him, a woman screams as she catches sight of the body.
Downstairs, a breeze blows out the candle which Watson is holding. His eyes widen and he
breathes heavily. He looks down to strike another match and he re-lights the candle, blows out
the match and then picks up his revolver again and turns towards the hall. As he peers into the
darkness, he is unaware that behind him stands the Bride. She slowly drifts towards him.)
BRIDE (whispering harshly in the same rhythm as the song): Do not forget me.
(Watsons eyes widen. The Bride comes to a halt just a pace or two behind him.)
BRIDE (in the same harsh whisper): Do not forget me.
(His face full of terror, Watson turns around. Instantly the Bride lifts both her arms high and
displays her bloodstained fingers, the nails long and pointed as if they are claws, and she lets
out a savage half-hiss half-scream. Dropping the candle, Watson turns and runs into the hall,
turning around to run backwards as he looks for the Bride, just as Holmes races down the
stairs. They bump into each other.)
HOLMES: Watson!
WATSON (pointing to the corridor): Shes there! Shes down there!
HOLMES: Dont tell me you abandoned your post.
WATSON: What? Holmes, shes there! (He points with his revolver.) I saw her!
(Aiming his lantern ahead of him, Holmes runs into the corridor. Watson chases after him.
Holmes arrives at the broken window and angrily turns back to Watson.)
HOLMES: Empty, thanks to you! Our bird is flown.
WATSON: No! No, Holmes, it wasnt what you think. I saw her the ghost.
HOLMES (furiously): THERE ARE NO GHOSTS!
(He glares at Watson for a moment, then calms down.)
WATSON: What happened? Where is Sir Eustace?
HOLMES: Dead.
Some time later, a police photographer removes the cap from the lens of his camera and takes
a photograph of Sir Eustaces body, still lying where it was found, with the dagger still stuck in
his chest. Holmes, Watson and Lestrade are standing at the top of the nearby stairs.
LESTRADE: You really mustnt blame yourself, you know.
(Holmes pulls in a long breath through his nose.)
HOLMES: No, youre quite right.
WATSON: Im glad youre seeing sense.
HOLMES: Watson is equally culpable. Between us, weve managed to botch this whole case. I
gave an undertaking to protect that man; now hes lying there with a dagger in his breast.
WATSON (walking towards the body and squatting down to it): In fact, you gave an undertaking
to investigate his murder.
HOLMES (angrily): In the confident expectation I would not have to.
LESTRADE: Anything you can tell us, Doctor?
WATSON: Well, hes been stabbed with considerable force.
LESTRADE: Its a man, then.
WATSON: Possibly.
LESTRADE: A very keen blade, so it could conceivably have been a woman.
WATSON (angrily standing up and walking back to the other two): In theory, yes, but we know
who it was. I saw her.
HOLMES: Watson.
WATSON (loudly): I saw the ghost with my own eyes.
HOLMES (angrily): You saw nothing. You saw what you were supposed to see.
WATSON: You said yourself: I have no imagination.
HOLMES: Then use your brain, such as it is, to eliminate the impossible which in this case is
the ghost and observe what remains which in this case is a solution so blindingly obvious,
even Lestrade could work it out.
LESTRADE: Thank you(!)
HOLMES (angrily, to Watson): Forget spectres from the otherworld. (More calmly) There is only
one suspect with motive and opportunity. They might as well have left a note.
LESTRADE: They did leave a note.
HOLMES (to Watson): And then theres the matter of the other broken window.
LESTRADE: What other broken window?

455
HOLMES: Precisely. There isnt one. The only broken window in this establishment is the one
that Watson and I entered through, yet prior to that we distinctly heard the sound of What did
you just say?
LESTRADE: Sorry?
HOLMES: About a note. What did you just say?
LESTRADE: I said the murderer did leave a note.
HOLMES: No they didnt.
LESTRADE: Theres a message tied to the dagger. You must have seen it!
HOLMES (walking towards the body): Theres no message.
LESTRADE: Yes!
HOLMES: There was no message when I found the body.
(He stops and looks down at Sir Eustaces corpse. Looped around the hilt of the dagger is a
piece of string, to which is attached a luggage label. He squats down, picks up the label and
looks at the underside. His eyes widen and he lowers the label back down onto Sir Eustaces
chest. Staring into the distance in disbelief, he slowly stands up.)
WATSON: Holmes?
(He walks closer as Holmes slowly backs away, then turns and walks slowly towards the stairs.)
WATSON: What is it?
(Not answering, Holmes heads down the stairs. Watson walks over to the body, squats down
and lifts the luggage label and looks at the underside. Written in large letters is:
MISS ME?
Watson raises his head and frowns. On the stairs, Holmes seems to float down them as he
stares ahead of himself in shock and bewilderment.)
[And Im sorry, but as a fan of The Surprising Adventures of Sir Digby Chicken Caesar from
Mitchell and Webb, that particular footage had me cracking up laughing and loudly singing The
Devils Galop, which completely ruined the mood for me. Apparently nobody involved with
Sherlock has ever seen that series or they would never have filmed the moment in that way.]
THE STRANGERS ROOM OF THE DIOGENES CLUB.

MYCROFT HOLMES: Do you?
(Holmes has been facing away from his brother but now turns to look at him.)
HOLMES: Do I what?
(Mycroft holds up the bloodstained luggage label with its MISS ME? message.)
HOLMES (breathing out a long h at the beginning of the first word): How did you get that? (He
points to the label.) I left it at the crime scene.
MYCROFT HOLMES (putting down the label on the table beside him and then folding his hands
over his huge stomach): Crime scene? Where do you pick up these extraordinary expressions?
Do you miss him?
HOLMES: Moriarty is dead.
MYCROFT HOLMES: And yet.
(Holmes has turned away from Mycroft again.)
HOLMES: His body was never recovered.
MYCROFT HOLMES: To be expected when one pushes a maths professor over a waterfall. Pure
reason toppled by sheer melodrama: your life in a nutshell.
HOLMES (turning to face him): Where do you pick up these extraordinary expressions?
(He turns again and stops at the sight of a painting on the side wall. It is Turners Falls of the
Reichenbach. [Click here for image.] For a moment its as if he can see the water pouring over
the top of the falls and plummeting into the drop. He blows out a breath and then sniffs harshly
before turning to his brother.)
HOLMES: Have you put on weight?
MYCROFT HOLMES: You saw me only yesterday. Does that seem possible?
HOLMES (slowly walking past his chair while looking at him): No.
MYCROFT HOLMES (holding out his hands): Yet here I am, increased. What does that tell the
foremost criminal investigator in England?
HOLMES (a little indignantly): In England?
MYCROFT HOLMES: Youre in deep, Sherlock, deeper than you ever intended to be. Have you
made a list?
HOLMES: Of what?

456
MYCROFT HOLMES: Everything. We will need a list.

(Taking a breath, Holmes takes a piece of paper from his pocket and holds it up.)
MYCROFT HOLMES: Good boy.
(Holmes walks towards his brother, who reaches for the paper, but Holmes lifts it away, screws
it up and puts it back into his pocket.)
HOLMES: No. I havent finished yet.
MYCROFT HOLMES: Moriarty may beg to differ.
(Holmes sighs sharply.)
HOLMES: Hes trying to distract me, to derail me.
(He places his hands palms together under his chin.)
MYCROFT HOLMES: Yes. Hes the crack in the lens, the fly in the ointment ... the virus in the
data.
(Lowering his hands, Holmes turns round and looks sharply at him.)
HOLMES: I have to finish this.
MYCROFT HOLMES: If Moriarty has risen from the Reichenbach cauldron, he will seek you out.
HOLMES: Ill be waiting.
(He walks away and leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Mycrofts face becomes sad.)
MYCROFT HOLMES (softly): Yes. (He looks across to the painting.) Im very much afraid you
will.
221B SITTING ROOM. Holmes, wearing a blue dressing gown over his clothes, is sitting cross-
legged in the middle of the floor facing the fireplace. The backs of his hands rest on his knees
and he is touching the index finger of each hand to the thumb as if in a yoga pose for
meditation. His eyes are closed. Newspapers lie on the floor all around him. In the corner
behind his chair smoke is rising from what I presume is an incense burner.
In the same place but inside his Mind Palace, he opens his eyes and torn-out cuttings from
newspaper articles start to float past him in mid-air. He reaches out and grabs random cuttings
as they pass, looking at the text on them. Some of them read:
THE DEATH OF EUSTACE CARMICHAEL
STATEMENT FROM CAB DRIVER

IT WAS MRS RICOLETTI
ALARMING DISCOVERY IN ISLINGTON
ANOTHER BRIDE OUTRAGE
VISCOUNT HUMMERSKNOT DEAD

SORDID END TO BRILLIANT CAREER
RENOWNED PEER VICTIM OF VITRIOL ATTACK
SCOTLAND YARD BAFFLED
CAUSE OF DEATH
The mysterious death of Viscount Hummersknot on
Wednesday last has led to questions in the House.
Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard refused to say
whether the peers death was anything to do with
the now notorious Bride murders.
WHO WILL BE NEXT?

A strange discovery awaited Miss Eliza Bar-
ton on Monday last. Entering the Union Chapel, Is-
lington where she is employed as char, Miss Barton
found the corpse of Captain Leo Masterson, late of
Her Majestys Navy, shot to death. Captain Master-
son had succumbed to his wounds following a shot-
gun blast to the head. Mysteriously, the body was
covered in a quantity of rice, though a wedding
had lately taken place [words obscured by Holmes thumb] wedding had
[unclear] the [obscured] blood upon the floor
was the [obscured]

457
[Transcribers note: thanks to Swissmarg for squinting her way through the above reports. Also
click here for a transcript of another of the articles.]
The door to the (real) sitting room opens and Mrs Hudson and Inspector Lestrade peer in.
Holmes is sitting in the middle of the floor with his eyes closed and his hands resting on his
knees as described above. They speak barely above a whisper throughout the following
conversation.
MRS HUDSON: Two days hes been like that.
LESTRADE: Has he eaten?
MRS HUDSON (shaking her head): Oh, not a morsel.
LESTRADE: Press are having a ruddy field day. Theres still reporters outside.
MRS HUDSON: Theyve been there all the time. I cant get rid of them. Ive been rushed off my
feet making tea.
LESTRADE: Why dyou make em tea?
(She looks round at him.)
MRS HUDSON: I dont know. I just sort of do.
(They look back towards the unmoving Holmes.)
LESTRADE: He said theres only one suspect and then he just walks away, and now he wont
explain.
MRS HUDSON: Which is strange, because he likes that bit.
LESTRADE: Said it was so simple, I could solve it.
MRS HUDSON: Im sure he was exaggerating.
(Lestrade looks at her, then wrinkles his nose and looks towards Holmes again.)
LESTRADE: Whats he doing, do you think?
MRS HUDSON: He says hes waiting.
LESTRADE: For what?
MRS HUDSON: The devil.
(He stares at her.)
MRS HUDSON: I wouldnt be surprised. We get all sorts here.
LESTRADE: Well, wire me if theres any change.
MRS HUDSON: Yeah.
(He turns and goes down the stairs. Mrs Hudson watches her lodger for a moment longer, tuts
sadly and then closes the door.
In the sitting room, Holmes lifts up a newspaper from the floor and moves it to reveal a small
open case containing a syringe. He reaches down and gently caresses the syringe with one
finger, then picks it up. He looks down at it for a while, then lifts his eyes as if he has made his
decision.)
Some time passes and night is falling. Holmes still sits in the same place on the floor with his
eyes closed. A shadow falls across him and the floor creaks. Holmes frowns slightly and turns
his head a little in the direction of the sound, his eyes still closed. The floor creaks again and
quiet footsteps can be heard. After a moment, a familiar voice speaks.
MORIARTY (softly): Everything I have to say has already crossed your mind.
HOLMES (quietly, not moving): And possibly my answer has crossed yours.
MORIARTY: Like a bullet.
(Holmes opens his eyes, then carefully gets to his feet, putting his right hand into his pocket.
He turns to face Professor Moriarty, who is standing in front of the right-hand window.)
MORIARTY: Its a dangerous habit, to finger loaded firearms in the pocket of ones dressing
gown. Or are you just pleased to see me?
(He smiles, then rolls his jaw and tilts his head to the right, crunching the bones in his neck.)
HOLMES: Youll forgive me for taking precautions.
MORIARTY: Id be offended if you didnt.
(He pats the pockets of his jacket, then reaches into the breast pocket and takes out a small
pistol.)
MORIARTY: Obviously Ive returned the courtesy.
(He looks down at the gun and cocks it, then spins it round with his finger through the trigger
guard for a few seconds. Eventually he stops, holds it properly and wanders vaguely around the
room.)
MORIARTY: I like your rooms. They smell so ...
(He gestures with his free hand as if searching for the most appropriate description, then says
the next word in a deeper voice than usual.)

458
MORIARTY: ... manly.

(He wanders closer and stops very close to Holmes.)
HOLMES: Im sure youve acquainted yourself with them before now.
MORIARTY: Well, you are always away on your little adventures for The Strand. Tell me: does
the illustrator travel with you? Do you have to pose ...
(Lifting the pistol, he touches the end of the barrel to his chin while he steeples the fingers of
the other hand against it.)
MORIARTY: ... during your deductions?
(He lowers his hands and wanders towards the fireplace.)
HOLMES (turning to keep him in sight): Im aware of all six occasions you have visited these
apartments during my absence.
MORIARTY: I know you are.
(He runs his fingers along the top of the mantelpiece. Its very dusty.)
MORIARTY (looking down at his dusty fingertips): By the way, you have a surprisingly
comfortable bed.
(He looks round to Holmes and smiles.)
MORIARTY (looking back at his fingertips): Did you know that dust is largely composed of
human skin?
HOLMES: Yes.
(Moriarty opens his mouth, sticks his fingertips onto his tongue and licks them. Holmes, his
hand still in his pocket, looks slightly appalled.)
MORIARTY: Doesnt taste the same, though. You want your skin fresh ... (he waves the licked
hand in the air as if trying to describe the flavour of his favourite recipe) ... just a little crispy.
(Holmes sighs.)
HOLMES (gesturing to Watsons chair): Wont you sit down?
MORIARTY: Thats all people really are, you know: dust waiting to be distributed. And it gets
everywhere ... (he sticks out his tongue and waggles it as if trying to shake off the dust he just
licked) ... in every breath you take, dancing in every sunbeam, all used-up people.
HOLMES (cocking one eyebrow): Fascinating, Im sure.
(He gestures to Watsons chair again.)
HOLMES: Wont you sit ...
MORIARTY (talking over him and now staring down into the muzzle of his gun): People, people,
people. Cant keep anything shiny.
(He blows into the end three times, then lifts the gun and peers into it.)
MORIARTY: Dyou mind if I fire this, just to clean it out?
(He turns the gun and points it at Holmes. Instantly Holmes snatches out his own gun and
points it at his enemy. They stand there for several seconds, the ends of their pistols almost
touching. Eventually and almost simultaneously although Holmes makes the first move they
lift their guns to point the muzzles upwards. Moriarty slowly swings his pistol around to lower it
to his side, while Holmes drops his own gun onto the nearby table.)
MORIARTY: Exactly. Lets stop playing. We dont need toys to kill each other. Wheres the
intimacy in that?
(Holmes walks closer to him.)
HOLMES: Sit down.
MORIARTY: Why? What do you want?
HOLMES (still walking closer): You chose to come here.
MORIARTY: Not true. You know thats not true.
(Holmes has stopped a pace away from him. They stare into each others eyes.)
MORIARTY: What do you want, Sherlock?
HOLMES: The truth.
(Moriarty nods.)
MORIARTY: That.
(He starts to walk past him but turns to put his face close to Holmes.)
MORIARTY: Truths boring.
(He walks slowly across the room. Holmes turns to watch him.)
MORIARTY: You didnt expect me to turn up at the scene of the crime, did you? Poor old Sir
Eustace. He got what was coming to him.
HOLMES: But you couldnt have killed him.
MORIARTY (turning back to face him): Oh, so what? Does it matter? Stop it. Stop this. You
dont care about Sir Eustace, or the Bride or any of it. Theres only one thing in this whole
business that you find interesting.

459
HOLMES (in an intense whisper): I know what youre doing.

(The room starts to rock as if an earthquake is taking place. The decanters and glasses rattle.
Holmes shakes his head and closes his eyes. The disturbance stops.)
MORIARTY (holding up his pistol near his chin, the muzzle pointed upwards): The Bride put a
gun in her mouth and shot the back of her head off, and then she came back. (He shrugs and
moves the gun further away from his face.) Impossible.
(Holmes eyes are open again.)
MORIARTY: But she did it, and you need to know how. How ...?
(The room begins to rock again.)
MORIARTY: ... dont you? Its tearing your world apart not knowing.
(The room continues to shake.)
HOLMES (intensely): Youre trying to stop me ...
(He pulls in a deep breath through his nose, closes his eyes and shakes his head before opening
his eyes again.)
HOLMES: ... to distract me, derail me.
(The room settles.)
MORIARTY: Because doesnt this remind you of another case?
(Holmes closes his eyes.)
MORIARTY: Hasnt this all happened before? Theres nothing new under the sun.
(Holmes grimaces, his eyes still closed.)
MORIARTY: What was it? What was it? What was that case? Huh? Dyou remember?
(Holmes raises his hands and runs them over his face.)
MORIARTY (whispering): Its on the tip of my tongue.
(He points to his mouth. The room starts to shake again.)
MORIARTY (whispering as he points towards Holmes): Its on the tip of my tongue.
HOLMES (whispering as he lowers his hands): Its on the tip of my tongue.
(He opens his eyes as the room continues to shake, then settles.)
MORIARTY (whispering): Its on the tip ...
(He raises the pistol, opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, and rests the muzzle against
his tongue. Slowly, holding that position, he sinks down to sit on the low table in front of the
sofa.)
MORIARTY (whispering, his speech blurred): ... of my tongue.
(The room shakes again. Holmes takes another sharp breath through his nose and the room
settles.)
HOLMES (in a normal voice): For the sake of Mrs Hudsons wallpaper, I must remind you that
one false move with your finger and you will be dead.
(He whispers the last word. Moriarty, the end of his gun still resting on his stuck-out tongue,
speaks incoherently.)
MORIARTY: Ed ith the noo thethy.
HOLMES (closing and then opening his eyes): Im sorry?
(Moriarty removes the gun and pulls his tongue back into his mouth, holding the gun next to
him pointing upwards.)
MORIARTY: Dead ...
(He pauses for a long moment.)
MORIARTY (in a whisper): ... is the new sexy.
(Holmes stares at him in shock. Again the room starts to shake and this time the tremors are
much stronger. In a quick movement, Moriarty raises the gun again and opens his mouth, aims
the pistol into it and pulls the trigger, firing the gun. He falls backwards and blood flies into the
air.
The room settles and Moriarty stands up, shaking himself down. He has some blood spatter on
his face.)
MORIARTY: Well, Ill tell you what: that rather blows the cobwebs away.
(Holmes stares at him wide-eyed.)
HOLMES (softly but intensely): How can you be alive?
MORIARTY: How do I look, huh?
(Slowly he turns around to reveal where the back of his head has been blown out.)
MORIARTY: Huh?
(Still Holmes stares in disbelief. Moriarty turns a full circle to face him again.)
MORIARTY (sounding a little anxious): You can be honest. Is it noticeable?
(He moves his head around as if giving Holmes a good look at him.)
HOLMES (softly, intensely): You blew your own brains out. How could you survive?

460
MORIARTY (gesturing to his hair): Well, maybe I could back-comb.

HOLMES: I saw you die. (He narrows his eyes.) Why arent you dead?
MORIARTY (stepping closer): Because its not the fall that kills you, Sherlock. (In a whisper) Of
all people, you should know that. Its not the fall. Its never the fall.
(Glassware around the room begins to tinkle and smash. Moriarty spreads his arms wide on
either side and stares manically at Holmes.)
MORIARTY (intensely): Its the landing.
(The tremors start again, even stronger than before. On a cabinet in the corner, a small model
of an elephant is shaken off the side and falls to the floor. The tremors throw Holmes stumbling
back towards the fireplace.
Holmes falls backwards into his chair ...
... and as Sherlock sits in one of the seats with his eyes closed, his executive jet plane is
landing at the airfield. Nearby, John and a heavily-pregnant Mary stand in front of the car and
watch as the plane rolls to a halt.)
Inside the cabin, the male flight attendant [going by the name of Diamond according to the end
credits] walks along the aisle, bends down and puts a hand on Sherlocks shoulder and gently
shakes it.
DIAMOND: Weve landed, sir. Weve landed.
SHERLOCK (slowly opening his eyes): No, no, no, not now, not now.
(He stares wide-eyed and shocked. Outside, Mycroft, John and Mary are approaching the steps).
SHERLOCK (to himself, still confused and bewildered): No, no, no, not now, not now.
(Diamond steps back and the planes captain [who sadly isnt Martin Crieff] walks along the
aisle. She smiles down at Sherlock.)
CAPTAIN: I trust you had a pleasant flight, sir.
(Sherlock stares up at her. She is the spitting image of Lady Carmichael, although obviously
wearing a modern airline captains uniform. She smiles and nods to him before turning away as
the others come on board.)
MYCROFT: Well, a somewhat shorter exile than wed imagined, brother mine, although
adequate given your levels of OCD.
(Breathing heavily, Sherlock stares up at him glassy-eyed.)
SHERLOCK: I have to go back!
MYCROFT: What?
SHERLOCK: I was ... I was nearly there! I nearly had it!
MYCROFT: What on earth are you talking about?
JOHN: Go back where? You didnt get very far.
SHERLOCK: Ricoletti and his abominable wife! Dont you understand?
MARY: No, of course we dont. Youre not making any sense, Sherlock.
SHERLOCK: It was a case, a famous one from a hundred years ago, lodged in my hard drive.
She seemed to be dead but then she came back.
JOHN: What, like Moriarty?
SHERLOCK: Shot herself in the head, exactly like Moriarty.
MARY (sitting down in the seat facing him): But youve only just been told. Weve only just
found out. Hes on every TV screen in the country.
SHERLOCK (unclipping his seat belt): Yes? So? Its been five minutes since Mycroft called. (He
looks up at his brother.) What progress have you made? What have you been doing?
JOHN (laughing briefly): More to the point, what have you been doing?
SHERLOCK: Ive been in my Mind Palace, of course ...
JOHN: Of course(!)
SHERLOCK: ... running an experiment: how would I have solved the crime if Id been there in
1895?
MYCROFT: Oh, Sherlock.
(Looking angry and disappointed, he turns away. Mary takes Sherlocks phone from the shelf
beside his seat and starts to look at it.)
SHERLOCK: I had all the details perfect.
(Mycroft sinks into a rear-facing seat on the other side of the aisle. He puts both hands on the
handle of his umbrella and lowers his chin to rest it on them.)
SHERLOCK (flailing his hands): I was there, all of it, everything! I was immersed.
MYCROFT (lifting his head slightly, gazing at nothing): Of course you were.

461
MARY (looking down at Sherlocks phone): Youve been reading Johns blog the story of how
you met.
(She lifts her eyes and smiles at him.)
SHERLOCK (nodding): Helps me if I see myself through his eyes sometimes. Im so much
cleverer.
MYCROFT (looking across to him): You really think anyones believing you?
JOHN: No, he can do this. Ive seen it the Mind Palace. Its like a whole world in his head.
SHERLOCK (frustrated): Yes, and I need to get back there.
MYCROFT: The Mind Palace is a memory technique. I know what it can do; and I know what it
most certainly cannot.
SHERLOCK: Maybe there are one or two things that I know that you dont.
(He looks across to Mycroft, who returns his gaze.)
MYCROFT (pointedly): Oh, there are. (He pauses for a moment.) Did you make a list?
(Sherlock has looked away again and is chewing on a thumbnail. He turns to look at his brother
again.)
SHERLOCK: Youve put on weight. That waistcoats clearly newer than the jacket ...
MYCROFT (angrily): Stop this. Just stop it. Did you make a list?
SHERLOCK: Of what?
MYCROFT: Everything, Sherlock. Everything youve taken.
(Sherlock rolls his eyes and turns his head away.)
JOHN: No, its not that. He goes into a sort of trance. Ive seen him do it.
(Sherlock takes a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket, holds it out and drops it onto the
floor. Mycroft lifts his eyes to John, who bends down and picks it up. Mycroft looks away as John
unfolds the piece of paper and looks at whats written there, and his face fills with shock. He
stares at Sherlock.)
MYCROFT (his face turned away): We have an agreement, my brother and I, ever since that
day.
(Sherlock bites his lip. In a cut-away flashback, a much younger Sherlock is lying on a mattress
on a floor. Nearby, candles are burning in bottles. Sherlock is writhing and grimacing under the
influence of the drugs hes taken. Mycroft, apparently in his early/mid-twenties, is sitting on the
mattress near his brothers feet and now reaches down to a piece of paper lying next to
Sherlocks legs.)
MYCROFT (voiceover): Wherever I find him ...
(In the present, Sherlock closes his eyes.
In the past, Mycroft picks up the piece of paper and unfolds it to read it while his young brother
continues to writhe in agony.)
MYCROFT (voiceover): ... whatever back alley or doss house ...
(In the present, Mycroft sinks back in his seat.)
MYCROFT: ... there will always be a list.
(John has sat down in the seat facing Mycroft, and raises the piece of paper.)
JOHN: He couldnt have taken all of that in the last five minutes.
(Mycroft huffs out a breath and looks across to Sherlock.)
MYCROFT: He was high before he got on the plane.
(Mary has put Sherlocks phone back on the shelf and has now got out her own phone.)
MARY (typing rapidly on the phone): He didnt seem high.
MYCROFT (his eyes fixed on Sherlock): Nobody deceives like an addict.
SHERLOCK: Im not an addict. Im a user. I alleviate boredom and occasionally heighten my
thought processes.
JOHN: For Gods sake! This could kill you! You could die!
SHERLOCK: Controlled usage is not usually fatal, and abstinence is not immortality.
(Mycroft has noticed that Mary is typing on the phone.)
MYCROFT: What are you doing?
MARY: Emelia Ricoletti Im looking her up.
MYCROFT: Ah, I suppose we should.
(Sherlock rolls his eyes in exasperation.)
MYCROFT: I have access to the top level of the MI5 archive ...
MARY: Yep, thats where Im looking.
(She smiles without looking up. Mycroft looks slightly awkward.)
MYCROFT: What do you think of MI5s security?
MARY (raising her eyebrows and looking across to him partway through her next sentence): I
think it would be a good idea.

462
(She smiles at him, then looks back down to the phone.)

MARY: Emelia Ricoletti. Unsolved ...
(Sherlock has bowed his head and now lowers it into his hands. Mary nods towards him.)
MARY: ... like he says.
SHERLOCK (raising his head with his eyes closed): Could you all just shut up for five minutes?
(He opens his eyes.) I have to go back. I was nearly there before you stepped on and starting
yapping away.
JOHN: Yapping? (Sarcastically) Sorry did we interrupt your session?
MYCROFT (leaning forward): Sherlock, listen to me.
SHERLOCK (closing his eyes): No. It only encourages you.
MYCROFT: Im not angry with you ...
SHERLOCK: Oh, thats a relief. I was really worried. (He opens his eyes.) No, hold on. (He looks
at Mycroft.) I really wasnt.
(They lock eyes for a moment.)
MYCROFT (softly): I was there for you before. Ill be there for you again.
(They continue to look at each other.)
MYCROFT (softly): Ill always be there for you. (He looks down.) This was my fault.
SHERLOCK (shaking his head slightly): It was nothing to do with you.
MYCROFT (gazing downwards reflectively): A week in a prison cell. I should have realised.
SHERLOCK: Realised what?
MYCROFT: That in your case, solitary confinement is locking you up with your worst enemy.
(Sherlock sighs and rolls his head back.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, for Gods sake.
(He buries his head in one hand.)
JOHN (offscreen): Morphine or cocaine?
(Sherlock raises his head and turns to frown at John.)
SHERLOCK: What did you say?
JOHN: I didnt say anything.
SHERLOCK: No, you did. You said ...
(As he says the next sentence, its Sherlocks lips moving but we hear Johns voice.)
SHERLOCK/JOHN: Which is it today morphine or cocaine?
(Sherlock stares at John, who looks confused. Mary sits up in her chair, looking alert, and
Mycroft frowns across to his brother.)
SHERLOCK/WATSON: Holmes?
(And in the sitting room of Victorian 221B, Holmes is lying on his side on the floor.)
WATSON (offscreen): Morphine or cocaine? Which is it today?
(Holmes fingers twitch as the sitting room door slams.)
WATSON (offscreen): Answer me, damn it!
(Holmes jolts awake. His head is resting on a cushion, and the syringe and its case are lying
near his hand.)
HOLMES: Moriarty was here.
(At the door, Watson is taking off his gloves.)
WATSON: Moriartys dead.
(Holmes waves his hand vaguely and rolls a little more onto his back.)
HOLMES: I was on a jet.
WATSON: A what?
HOLMES (raising his head): You were there, and Mycroft.
(He props himself up onto his elbow, while Watson walks across towards the fireplace.)
WATSON: You havent left these rooms, Holmes. You ... havent ... moved. Now, tell me,
morphine or cocaine?
HOLMES (running his hand over his hair): Cocaine.
(He drags himself onto his knees.)
HOLMES: A seven percent solution.
(Picking up the syringe, he puts it into the case, then stands up and offers the case to Watson.)
HOLMES: Would you care to try it?
WATSON (tightly): No, but I would quite like to find every ounce of the stuff in your possession
and pour it out of the window.
HOLMES (smirking): I should be inclined to stop you.
WATSON: Then you would be reminded ... quite forcibly ... which of us is a soldier and which of
us a drug addict.
HOLMES: Youre not a soldier. You are a doctor.

463
WATSON (stepping closer to him): No, an Army doctor, which means I could break every bone
in your body, while naming them.
HOLMES: My dear Watson, you are allowing emotion to cloud your judgement.
WATSON (pointing to the syringe): Never on a case. (He breathes in harshly.) You promised
me. Never on a case.
HOLMES: No, I just said that in one of your stories. (He smiles.)
WATSON: Listen. (He points at Holmes, breathing rapidly.) Im happy to play the fool for you. I
will run along behind you like some halfwit, making you look clever, if thats what you need, but
dear God above ... (his voice rises angrily) ... you will hold yourself to a higher standard.
HOLMES: Why?
WATSON: Because people need you to.
HOLMES: What people? Why? Because of your idiot stories?
WATSON: Yes, because of my idiot stories.
BILLY (offscreen): Mr Holmes!
(The sitting room door opens and the houseboy runs in.)
BILLY: Mr Holmes! Telegram, Mr Holmes!
(He hands the telegram to Holmes and runs out again. Holmes opens the telegram and reads it.
He looks shocked and raises his eyes to Watson, who reacts as if hes not interested in the
contents but feels obliged to ask the question.)
WATSON: What is it? Whats wrong?
HOLMES: Its Mary.
(He walks to the open door of the sitting room.)
WATSON: Mary? What about her?
HOLMES: Its entirely possible shes in danger.
(He takes off his dressing gown.)
WATSON: Danger?
HOLMES: Theres not a moment to lose.
(He hangs up the dressing gown.)
WATSON: Is this the cocaine talking?
(Holmes takes down his dress coat and puts it on.)
WATSON: What danger could Mary be in? Im sure shes just visiting with friends.
HOLMES (sternly): Come on!
(He hurries down the stairs, Watson following. Near the bottom, Holmes has to grab onto the
bannister rail to support himself as he stumbles. Grimacing, he continues into the hall,
buttoning his coat.)
WATSON: What is happening?
(Holmes takes his outer coat from the peg and starts to put it on.)
WATSON: Are you even in a fit state?
HOLMES: For Mary, of course. Never doubt that, Watson. Never that.
(He breathes heavily and doubles over, groaning.)
WATSON: Holmes!
(He helps him to straighten up.)
HOLMES (shaking him off): Im fine!
(Still breathing heavily, he reaches out and picks up his top hat.)
WATSON (snatching it away from him): Not that one.
(He tosses it along the hallway and picks up the deerstalker.)
WATSON: This one.
HOLMES: Why?
WATSON: Youre Sherlock Holmes. Wear the damn hat.
(He shoves it at Holmes, who glowers at him but puts it on. They hurry out into the street,
which is busy with pedestrians, and Watson calls out loudly as Holmes runs to the kerb and
looks up and down the road urgently.)
WATSON: Cab? Cab!
Later, the cab is racing through the countryside, the horse going at a fast canter. The sun is
very low in the sky; it is almost night time.
WATSON: So, tell me. Where is she?
(Holmes buries his head in one hand.)
WATSON: You must tell me. Whats going on?
HOLMES (raising his head angrily but not looking at him): Oh, good old Watson! How would we
fill the time if you didnt ask questions?

464
JOHN (the modern-day John, in modern-day clothes, sitting where Watson had been a moment
before): Sherlock, tell me where my bloody wife is, you pompous prick, or Ill punch your lights
out!
(Startled, Holmes looks round but its Victorian Watson who is sitting there and looking sternly
at him.)
WATSON: Holmes! Where is she?
HOLMES: A desanctified church. She thinks shes found the solution, and for no better reason
than that, shes put herself in the path of considerable danger.
(He looks away.)
HOLMES: What an excellent choice of wife.
(The carriage continues on towards the church, set in the middle of nowhere. On arrival the two
men run through the cloisters, where Mary is waiting hidden behind a pillar. She steps out as
they reach her. Watson jumps when he sees her.)
WATSON: What the devil?!
MRS WATSON (pointing further into the building): Ive found them.
(They pause as distant chanting can be heard. Mary leads the others towards the sound. They
descend some steps, where two small metal braziers on tripods are burning.)
WATSON (whispering): What is all this, Mary?
(She turns back and whispers to him.)
MRS WATSON: This is the heart of it all, John, the heart of the conspiracy.
(They continue on into the vaults. The chanting, which sounds like Latin, gets louder, the voices
sounding female. There are more burning braziers along the route. Mary turns and beckons the
men to continue following her. They reach a pair of arched stone windows. Mary and Holmes go
to one window and Watson to the other and they watch as, in another corridor across a gap,
many figures process past. All of them are wearing dark blue robes and have pointed conical
hats, reminiscent of the Ku Klux Klan, over their heads obscuring their faces.)
WATSON (quietly): Great God, what is this place? (He turns to look at Mary.) And what the devil
are you doing here?
MRS WATSON: Ive been making enquiries. Mr Holmes asked me.
WATSON: Holmes, how could you?!
MRS WATSON: No, not him. The clever one.
(Holmes seems surprisingly unmoved by that statement.)
MRS WATSON: It seemed obvious to me that this business could not be managed alone. My
theory is that Mrs Ricoletti had help help from her friends.
HOLMES: Bravo, Mary. (He looks at her, finally catching up with what she just said.) The clever
one?
MRS WATSON: Oh.
WATSON (watching the procession): I thought I was losing you.
(Holmes frowns and glances across to him.)
WATSON: I thought perhaps we were neglecting each other.
HOLMES: Well, youre the one who moved out.
WATSON (closing his eyes): I was talking to Mary.
(He turns to look at his wife.)
WATSON: Youre working for Mycroft?
MRS WATSON: He likes to keep an eye on his mad sibling.
HOLMES: And he had a spy to hand. (Glancing towards Watson) Has it never occurred to you
that your wife is excessively skilled for a nurse?
MRS WATSON: Of course it hasnt. (She smirks.) Because he knows what a nurse is capable of.
(Watson smiles briefly.)
MRS WATSON (to Holmes): When did it occur to you?
HOLMES: Only now, Im afraid.
MRS WATSON (turning to look at him): Must be difficult being the slow little brother. (She
smiles.)
HOLMES: Time I sped up. Enough chatter. Lets concentrate.
(They turn to watch the procession.)
MRS WATSON: Yes, all right. Whats all this about? What do they want to accomplish?
HOLMES: Why dont we go and find out?
(He turns and hurries away, the Watsons following. They run through the vaults, passing large
fires burning around various columns which support the roof, and eventually reach a small
chapel where the robed figures have gathered, still chanting. Holmes enters through the

465
doorway behind them and sees a suspended gong to one side. Picking up its mallet, he strikes
the gong loudly. The figures stop chanting and turn to face him.)
HOLMES (hanging up the mallet): Sorry. I could never resist a gong. (He turns to the
gathering.) Or a touch of the dramatic.
MRS WATSON: Never have guessed(!)
HOLMES (walking forward): Though it seems you share my enthusiasm in that regard.
(He walks through the middle of the crowd. The figures stand silently in even rows either side of
him.)
HOLMES: Excellent.
(Mary throws a nervous glance at her husband, who is staring around the chapel in awe.)
HOLMES: Superlative theatre. I applaud the spectacle.
(He smiles, turns back and walks slowly towards the doorway.)
HOLMES: Emelia Ricoletti shot herself, then apparently returned from the grave and killed her
husband. So, how was it done? Lets take the events in order.
(Flashback to Emelia standing on the balcony, firing into the street below while people run away
and duck for cover.)
HOLMES (voiceover): Mrs Ricoletti gets everyones attention in very efficient fashion.
BRIDE (in flashback): You!
(She continues to fire.)
BRIDE: You?! (Softly) Or me?
(Lowering the left-hand pistol, she turns the gun in her right hand towards herself and opens
her mouth wide.)
HOLMES (voiceover): She places one of the revolvers in her mouth while actually firing the
other into the ground.
(Emelia fires the lowered left-hand pistol.)
HOLMES (voiceover): An accomplice sprays the curtains with blood ...
(Inside the room, a figure out of focus so we cant see him or her clearly sprays blood onto
the net curtains behind Emelias head.)
HOLMES (voiceover): ... and thus her apparent suicide is witnessed by the frightened crowd
below.
(Emelia falls backwards and crashes to the carpet inside the room. Lying on her back next to
her is another woman, her eyes closed. She is dressed in an identical wedding dress to Emelias
and her face has been given the same make-up. Emelia stands up.)
HOLMES (voiceover): A substitute corpse bearing a strong resemblance to Mrs Ricoletti takes
her place and is later transported to the morgue. A grubby little suicide of little interest to
Scotland Yard.
(As Emelia walks away, several people pick up the body and carry it a few feet to the right,
placing it in the position where Emelia landed.)
HOLMES (voiceover): Meanwhile the real Mrs Ricoletti slips away.
(Emelia, now wearing everyday clothes though she has not fixed her lurid and smeared
lipstick pulls the net veil on her hat over her face and leaves the house, walking off down the
street.)
HOLMES (voiceover for the first sentence): Now comes the really clever part. Mrs Ricoletti
persuaded a cab driver someone who knew her to intercept her husband outside his
favourite opium den. The perfect stage for a perfect drama.
(In flashback, Emelia back in the wedding dress with the veil over her face points the
shotgun at her husband.)
RICOLETTI: Who are you? What do you want?
(Emelia lifts her veil with one hand and smiles at her husband. He stares in disbelief.)
RICOLETTI: Emelia?!
(She fires, then lowers the veil and turns away.)
MAN (offscreen): Help!
HOLMES (voiceover): A perfect positive identification.
(PC Rance turns and stares at the Bride.)
MAN (offscreen): Murder! Murder!
HOLMES (voiceover): The late Mrs Ricoletti has returned from the grave ...
(The bloodstained back of her head can be clearly seen by the police officer.)
HOLMES (voiceover): ... and with a little skilled make-up and you have nothing less than the
wrath of a vengeful ghost.
(Emelia walks away into the fog and disappears from view. Further down the street, she stops
on top of a manhole cover and stomps the heel of her boot against it twice. In the drain

466
underneath, an accomplice pushes the manhole cover up and across onto the road, where
Emelia has taken a step back and is waiting. Shortly afterwards, PC Rance runs towards where
he last saw her and stops ... on top of the now-closed cover.)
HOLMES (voiceover): There was only one thing left to do.
(Emelia, still in the wedding dress, is lying on a bed while someone offscreen points a pistol at
her mouth.)
EMELIA: Swiftly now. No tears.
(She settles her head on the pillow and opens her mouth. As the scene fades out, the gun is
fired.)
HOLMES (pacing along the chapel): All that remained was to substitute the real Mrs Ricoletti for
the corpse in the morgue.
(Brief flashback to Emelias covered body, chained to the table in the morgue.)
HOLMES (voiceover): This time, should anyone attempt to identify her ...
(The sheet is pulled back from Emelias face.)
HOLMES (in the crypt): ... it would be positively, absolutely her.
MRS WATSON: But why would she do that die to prove a point?
HOLMES: Every great cause has martyrs; every war has suicide missions and make no
mistake, this is war. One half of the human race at war with the other.
(He walks back along the crypt, looking at the robed figures on either side.)
HOLMES: The invisible army hovering at our elbow, attending to our homes, raising our
children, ignored, patronised, disregarded, not allowed so much as a vote.
(Almost as one, the robed figures reach up and begin to remove their conical hats. As they pull
them off their heads, each one is revealed to be a woman.)
HOLMES: ... but an army nonetheless, ready to rise up in the best of causes, to put right an
injustice as old as humanity itself. So, you see, Watson, Mycroft was right. This is a war we
must lose.
(He turns away from Watson but turns back again as he speaks.)
WATSON: She was dying.
HOLMES: Who was?
WATSON: Emelia Ricoletti. There were clear signs of consumption. I doubt she was long for this
world.
HOLMES: So she decided to make her death count. She was already familiar with the secret
societies of America and was able to draw on their methods of fear and intimidation to publicly
very publicly confront Sir Eustace Carmichael with the sins of his past.
FEMALE VOICE (offscreen): He knew her out in the States.
(The voice is familiar to us. We heard it earlier in the episode, although back then it was
deeper. Holmes turns towards the sound.)
FEMALE VOICE (offscreen): Promised her everything ...
(The owner of the voice comes into view. It is, as we expected, Hooper, now with no moustache
and with her hair in a more normal style for a woman. She is dressed in the same blue robe as
the other women and is carrying her hood.)
HOOPER: ... marriage, position and then he had his way with her and threw her over, left her
abandoned and penniless.
HOLMES: Hooper!
(Flashforward to Molly Hooper slapping Sherlocks face in the lab at Barts after she had tested
him for drug abuse in His Last Vow. She slaps him again, and again.
Flashback to Doctor Hooper in her male guise standing at the side of the morgue table on
which Emelia lies.)
HOOPER (softly, in the crypt): Holmes.
WATSON: For the record, Holmes, she didnt have me fooled.
(Holmes turns and stares at him. Watson smiles in a rather satisfied way. Then his gaze shifts
and he stares in surprise as one of the women leans into view and waves cheekily at him. It is
his maid.
Flashback to his dining room where she last addressed him:
JANE: Why do you never mention me, sir?
(In the crypt, Jane finishes her wave and steps back. Watson looks a little awkward as Holmes
smirks. Another woman steps forward. Again she is very recognisable to us, and her Irish
accent confirms it.)
JANINE: Emelia thought that shed found happiness with Ricoletti, but he was a brute too.
(Holmes has turned to look at her as she spoke and his eyes have widened.

467
Fast flashforward through brief clips of Sherlocks time with Janine at the wedding, and in 221B
later, ending with them kissing and then Sherlocks smile dropping once she has walked away.)
[Transcribers note: in the cast list for this episode, she is credited as Janine Donlevy. People
with sharp eyes noticed that in His Last Vow her newspaper interviews about her relationship
with Sherlock named her as Janine Hawkins. It may be that this Victorian version is or was
married.]
JANINE (in the crypt): Emelia Ricoletti was our friend. You have no idea how that bastard
treated her.
(Holmes is still staring at her as if confused.)
WATSON: But ... the Bride, Holmes. We saw her.
HOLMES (turning to him): Yes, Watson, we did. But the sound of breaking glass? Not a window.
(Watson frowns enquiringly.)
HOLMES: Just an old theatrical trick.
(Flashback to Holmes and Watson outside the Carmichael house. Watson seizes Holmes arm.)
WATSON: It cannot be true, Holmes! It cannot!
HOLMES: No, it cant.
HOLMES (voiceover): Its called Peppers Ghost.
[Click here for further information, and diagrams similar to the one which is shown on the
screen during Holmes explanation.]
(As the flashback continues and Holmes and Watson turn at the sound of a mans scream from
inside the house, we see a closer view of the Bride floating backwards, and this time we can see
that theres a large pane of glass between the Bride and the men.)
HOLMES (voiceover): A simple reflection, in glass, of a living breathing person.
(The Bride is actually several feet away, out of sight from the men, and as she now runs off,
two women dressed in black hurry forward ready to carry away the pane of glass, propped up
on a stand.)
HOLMES (voiceover): Their only mistake was breaking the glass when they removed it.
(The women go to either side of the pane and take hold of its sides. As they lift it, it shatters
and they flinch away from the flying shards.)
HOLMES (slowly pacing along the crypt): Look around you. This room is full of Brides. Once she
had risen, anyone could be her.
(The various headlines about murders by the Bride float across the screen.)
HOLMES: The avenging ghost a legend to strike terror into the heart of any man with
malicious intent; a spectre to stalk those unpunished brutes whose reckoning is long overdue.
(Flashback to the Carmichael maze. Lady Carmichael and Sir Eustace stare in horror as the
Bride floats closer to them. Sir Eustaces eyes roll up into his head and he faints.)
HOLMES (voiceover): A league of furies awakened.
(Elsewhere in the maze after she has made her escape, the Bride lifts her veil to reveal Janine,
her face white and her lips red and smeared. She smiles with satisfaction.)
HOLMES (voiceover): The women I ... we have lied to, betrayed ...
(Inside the Carmichael house, Watson turns wide-eyed to see the Bride standing behind him.)
HOLMES (voiceover): ... the women we have ignored ...
(The Bride raises her hands like claws and hiss-shrieks, and Watson turns and runs.)
HOLMES (voiceover): ... and disparaged.
(Watson runs into the hall. Behind him, Hooper, dressed in the Brides outfit, climbs out of the
broken window.)
HOLMES (in the crypt): Once the idea exists, it cannot be killed.
(His gaze sharpens a little.)
HOLMES: This is the work of a single-minded person, someone who knew first-hand about Sir
Eustaces mental cruelty. A dark secret, kept from all but her closest friends ...
(Behind him, someone wearing the Brides wedding dress and with the veil over their face walks
into view.)
HOLMES: ... including Emelia Ricoletti ...
(The Bride slowly walks closer to him, footsteps sounding on the floor.)
HOLMES: ... the woman her husband wronged all those years before. If one disregards the
ghost, there is only one suspect.
(He turns towards the person he has heard approaching, unsurprised by the sight of the veiled
figure.)
HOLMES: Isnt that right, Lady Carmichael?
(The Bride stops close to him.)

468
HOLMES: One small detail doesnt quite make sense to me, however. Why engage me to
prevent a murder you intended to commit?
(The Bride doesnt respond.)
HOLMES: Hmm?
(The Bride huffs out a laugh but its not coming from any womans mouth.)
MORIARTYs VOICE (from underneath the veil, in a deliberately poor impersonation of Holmes):
It doesnt quite make sense; this doesnt quite make sense. (In his own voice) Of course it
doesnt make sense.
(Holmes blinks a couple of times.)
MORIARTYs VOICE: Its not real.
(He snores as if bored.)
MORIARTYs VOICE: Oh, Sherlock.
(He takes hold of the veil and flips it back onto his head, holding it there so as to reveal his
face. There is dried blood in the middle of his upper and lower lips from where he shot himself
in the mouth. Holmes gasps.)
MORIARTY: Peekaboo.
(He rolls his jaw as if it hurts. Holmes stares in shock.)
HOLMES: No. No, not you. It cant be you.
MORIARTY: I mean, come on, be serious. Costumes, the gong. Speaking as a criminal
mastermind, we dont really have gongs, or special outfits.
(Holmes, looking faint, closes his eyes. Behind his closed eyes, its as if a faint image of Watson
is shining a penlight into his eyes. The voice which speaks in his head, however, sounds a little
more like modern John than Victorian Watson.)
JOHN/WATSON: What the hell is going on?
(Holmes opens his eyes again and peers at Moriarty in continuing disbelief.)
MORIARTY: Is this silly enough for you yet? Gothic enough? Mad enough, even for you? It
doesnt make sense, Sherlock, because its not real. (In a whisper) None of it.
(Behind his eyes, Holmes can again see Watson looking closely at him, and again he hears the
voice.)
JOHN/WATSON: Whats he talking about?
MORIARTY (in a whisper): This is all in your mind.
(Holmes clamps his eyes shut again.)
JOHNs VOICE: Sherlock.
(The penlight shines into Holmes closed eyes.)
WATSONs VOICE: Holmes!
MORIARTY (in a whisper): Youre dreaming.
(Holmes, his eyes wide again, opens his mouth and gasps out a long breath.)
MARY: Is he dreaming?
(Sherlocks vision clears. Mary is sitting a short distance away and peering at him, and John is
leaning over him and shining a penlight into his right eye. Mycroft is sitting at Sherlocks
bedside. Theyre no longer in the plane and Sherlock is lying fully clothed on a bed, presumably
in a hospital.)
MYCROFT (somewhat sarcastically): And there he is. Thought wed lost you for a moment. May
I just check: is this what you mean by controlled usage?
(In the background, a woman in a white hospital uniform walks past.)
SHERLOCK (a little blearily): Mrs Emelia Ricoletti. I need to know where she was buried.
MYCROFT: What, a hundred and twenty years ago?!
SHERLOCK (struggling to sit up, while John tries to push him back down): Yes.
MYCROFT: That would take weeks to find, if those records even exist. Even with my resources
...
MARY (looking down at her phone): Got it.
Some time later, John and Mary get out of a police car and follow Sherlock, who has just taken
a spade from the boot of another police car. Sherlock is now wearing his Coat and scarf and he
leads them into a cemetery. Mycroft and Greg Lestrade follow them and there are several
uniformed police officers in attendance.
JOHN: I dont get it. How is this relevant?
SHERLOCK: I need to know I was right, then Ill be sure.
MARY: You mean how Moriarty did it?
SHERLOCK: Yes.
JOHN: But none of that really happened. It was in your head.

469
SHERLOCK: My investigation was the fantasy. The crime happened exactly as I explained.
MARY: The stone was erected by a group of her friends.
MYCROFT: I dont know what you think youll find here.
SHERLOCK: I need to try!
(They walk past the rear of the gravestone theyre looking for. On the front is carved:
EMELIA RICOLETTI
BELOVED SISTER
FAITHFUL BEYOND DEATH
DIED DECEMBER 18 1894
AGED 26
Shortly afterwards, Sherlock is standing beside Emelias grave holding the spade. The others
are standing on the path at the foot of the grave and some of the police officers are nearby, one
of them also holding a spade.
SHERLOCK: Mrs Ricoletti was buried here, but what happened to the other one, the corpse they
substituted for her after the so-called suicide?
JOHN: Theyd move it. Of course they would.
SHERLOCK: But where?
JOHN: Well, not here!
SHERLOCK: But that ... thats exactly what they must have done. The conspirators had
someone on the inside. They found a body, just like Molly Hooper found a body for me when I
...
(John throws him a dark look and Mary raises her eyes to the heavens. Sherlock stops
abruptly.)
SHERLOCK (looking down): Yeah, well, we dont need to go into all that again, do we?
(He shifts his grip on the spade, ready to start digging.)
JOHN: Youre not seriously gonna do this?
SHERLOCK: Its why we came here! I need to know.
(He bends forward to the grave.)
JOHN (turning away): Spoken like an addict.
SHERLOCK (straightening up to look at him): This is important to me!
JOHN (turning back): No this is you needing a fix.
SHERLOCK: John ...
JOHN: Moriartys back. We have a case! We have a real-life problem right now.
SHERLOCK: Getting to that! Its next on the list! Just let me do this.
(Again he bends to the grave.)
JOHN (loudly): No, everyone always lets you do whatever you want. Thats how you got in this
state.
SHERLOCK (straightening up again): John, please ...
JOHN (angrily): Im not playing this time, Sherlock, not any more.
(He steps back, flexing his left hand, then speaks more calmly.)
JOHN: When youre ready to go to work, give me a call.
(He takes Marys arm.)
JOHN: Im taking Mary home.
MARY (instantly): Youre what?
JOHN: Marys taking me home.
MARY: Better.
(They walk away. Mycroft walks over to where they were standing.)
MYCROFT: Hes right, you know.
SHERLOCK (loudly): So what if hes right? Hes always right. Its boring.
(He pauses, looking down, for a moment.)
SHERLOCK (more quietly): Will you help me?
(He looks across to Greg and then to Mycroft. The two of them exchange a look[, Mystradians
go crazy with delight] and then Mycroft shrugs and gestures down to the grave.)
MYCROFT: Cherchez la femme.
(Sherlock raises the spade and plunges it into the earth.)
HOURS LATER. Its night time and portable lights have been set up to illuminate the area.
Sherlock, down to just shirt and trousers, is almost neck deep in the grave as he shovels out
the latest spadeful of earth. Next to him Greg, also in shirtsleeves, is also digging. Both of them

470
are wearing thick gloves. Mycroft stands next to the grave, shining a flashlight down into the
hole. Sherlock and Greg shovel out a few more loads and then, when Sherlock plunges the
spade down again, its met with a hollow thump. He slowly straightens up, realising that they
have reached the coffin.
Some time later Greg groans in pain as he and Sherlock, now out of the grave, bend down to
lower the coffin to the ground at its foot. Greg uses a crowbar to lever up one end of the coffin
lid and then hands it to Sherlock to lever up the other end. They then lift off the lid and set it
down beside the coffin, inside which illuminated by Mycrofts torch is a very rotted almost
skeletal corpse with worms wriggling in the eye sockets of the skull. Surrounding the corpse are
the rotted remains of a wedding dress. Greg stays back and Sherlock, leaning over the coffin,
puts the back of his hand to his nose and mouth, presumably appalled by the smell.
SHERLOCK: Urgh!
(Mycroft directs the light from his torch into the coffin. Kneeling down beside the coffin and
breathing heavily, Sherlock starts to rummage around and under the corpse, searching for a
second body. There clearly isnt one.)
MYCROFT: Oh dear. The cupboard is bare.
(Sherlock rises up on his knees and stares into the grave.)
SHERLOCK: They must have buried it underneath. They must have buried it underneath the
coffin.
(Standing up and leaping over the coffin, he jumps down into the grave and starts grabbing
handfuls of earth, tossing them over the side of the hole. The other two walk to the edge of the
grave and look down at him, then straighten up and exchange another look. Greg sighs and
they look down into the grave again as Sherlock pants heavily while he continues throwing out
handfuls of earth.)
LESTRADE: Bad luck, Sherlock.
(Sherlock continues frantically scrabbling in the grave.)
LESTRADE: Maybe they got rid of the body in another way.
MYCROFT: More than likely. At any rate, it was a very long time ago. We do have slightly more
pressing matters to hand, little brother. Moriarty, back from the dead?
(Sherlock is still frenetically pawing handfuls of earth together, but stops when a harsh female
voice begins to whisper.)
VOICE (rhythmically, as if reciting lyrics to a song): Do not forget me.
(He raises his head and turns. Up above, both Greg and Mycroft turn and look towards the
coffin, clearly hearing the voice as well.)
VOICE (harshly whispering): Do not forget me.
(Mycroft shines his torchlight into the coffin. Gregs jaw drops and Mycroft stares in disbelief as
the corpses skeletal right hand begins to lift from where it was resting on the bodys chest. The
arm slowly straightens out. As Sherlock frowns at the sound of creaking bones, the coffin seems
to shake and the corpses head begins to lift up. A womans furious scream can be heard, and
Sherlocks eyes widen as the skeleton plunges into the grave on top of him. It flattens him to
the floor ...
... and Holmes starts violently and wakes up to find himself lying on his side on a narrow rocky
ledge. Water is pouring over him as if it is raining heavily.)
HOLMES (sounding exasperated as he props himself up onto one elbow): Oh, I see. Still not
awake, am I?
(He shifts position and turns to look along the ledge. Behind him, beyond the end of the ledge a
few feet away, a massive waterfall plunges over the side of the mountain. A few yards in the
other direction, Professor Moriarty stands looking at him. In the distance, a full moon lights up
the night sky. Holmes grimaces and pulls down the visor of his deerstalker hat, trying to keep
the water out of his eyes.)
MORIARTY: Too deep, Sherlock. Way too deep.
(Holmes stumbles to his feet.)
MORIARTY: Congratulations. Youll be the first man in history to be buried in his own Mind
Palace.
(Holmes has been looking towards the waterfall but now turns to face him.)
HOLMES (gesturing behind him): The settings a shade melodramatic, dont you think?
MORIARTY: For you and me? (He looks up at the spray splashing over him.) Not at all.
HOLMES: What are you?
MORIARTY: You know what I am. Im Moriarty. (In a slightly sarcastic voice) The Napoleon of
crime.

471
HOLMES (firmly): Moriartys dead.

MORIARTY: Not in your mind. (He shakes his head.) Ill never be dead there. You once called
your brain a hard drive. (He starts to walk forward.) Well, say hello to the virus. This is how we
end, you and I. Always here, always together.
(Holmes starts to walk slowly towards his nemesis, who has now stopped.)
HOLMES: You have a magnificent brain, Moriarty. I admire it.
(Moriarty smiles a little.)
HOLMES: I concede it may be even be the equal of my own.
(Moriartys smile widens.)
MORIARTY: Im touched. Im honoured.
HOLMES: But when it comes to the matter of unarmed combat on the edge of a precipice ...
(Moriartys smile has dropped.)
HOLMES: ... youre going in the water ...
HOLMES: ... short-arse.
(Moriarty hisses and lashes out, jabbing his fingers into Holmes throat, who chokes and
stumbles back, his deerstalker falling off as he clutches at his throat. Moriarty surges forward
and grabs Holmes ears, shoving him against the rock wall. Holmes roughly pushes him away,
then as Moriarty straightens up, Holmes punches him in the face. As he breathes heavily,
Moriarty turns back to face him.)
MORIARTY (loudly): Oh, you think youre so big and strong, Sherlock! Not with me!
(He punches Holmes in the face. The impact spins Holmes around and sends him falling to the
ground. Getting up again, Holmes turns back and swings another punch but Moriarty blocks it
and seizes his arm and shoves him hard, sending him falling to the ground on his front, his
head almost over the drop at the end of the ledge. Breathing heavily, Holmes struggles to turn
over onto his back. As he finally makes it, Moriarty walks forward to stand over him.)
MORIARTY (yelling): I am your WEAKNESS!
(Crying out with rage, he kicks Holmes in the head, flattening him to the rock floor.)
MORIARTY (yelling): I keep you DOWN!
(He kicks Holmes in the side, making him grunt with pain. Moriarty drops to his knees and leans
forward, yelling into his enemys face.)
MORIARTY: Every time you STUMBLE, every time you FAIL, when youre WEAK ...
(Holmes is grimacing under the verbal onslaught. Moriarty punches him in the chest as he
stands up.)
MORIARTY: I ... AM ... (he bends and punches his chest again) ... THERE!
(He drops to his knees as Holmes tries to sit up. He seizes Holmes coat while the detective
flails uselessly at him.)
MORIARTY: No. Dont try to fight it. LIE BACK AND LOSE!
(He straightens up, hauling Holmes to his feet. They struggle for a moment but Moriarty has the
upper hand and shoves Holmes sideways, clinging to his arm with one hand and grasping the
side of his head with the other and bending him over the side of the ledge.)
MORIARTY (harshly, loudly): Shall we go over together? It has to be together, doesnt it? At the
end, its always just you ... (he screams the next words manically into Holmes face) ... AND
ME!
(Behind them, a very familiar male voice clears its throat. Moriarty looks round and a few feet
away Watson, smiling slightly, lifts his revolver with the muzzle pointed skywards and cocks it
before pointing it forward.)
WATSON: Professor, if you wouldnt mind stepping away from my friend. I do believe he finds
your attention a shade annoying.
(Holmes, a slight smile on his face, lifts his hands away from Moriarty, who releases him with a
frustrated look.)
MORIARTY: Thats not fair. Theres two of you!
WATSON: Theres always two of us. Dont you read The Strand?
(He tosses Holmes deerstalker towards his friend, who catches it and sniffs nonchalantly as he
puts it on. Watson gestures with his revolver.)
WATSON: On your knees, Professor.
(Looking both bewildered and exasperated, Moriarty drops to his knees at the side of the ledge,
facing the drop.)
WATSON: Hands behind your head.
(Looking up briefly at Holmes, Moriarty does as instructed.)
HOLMES: Thank you, John.

472
WATSON: Since when do you call me John?

HOLMES: Youd be surprised. (He smiles.)
WATSON: No I wouldnt. (He smiles back briefly, then looks down towards Moriarty.) Time you
woke up, Sherlock.
(He raises his gaze to Holmes again, who had been looking away but now turns to look at him.)
WATSON: Im a storyteller. I know when Im in one.
HOLMES: Of course. Of course you do, John. (He smiles again.)
WATSON: So whats he like? The other me, in the other place?
HOLMES: Smarter than he looks.
WATSON: Pretty damned smart, then.
HOLMES (smiling): Pretty damned smart.
(As they smile at each other, Moriarty makes a disgusted noise.)
MORIARTY: Urgh. Why dont you two just elope, for Gods sake?
WATSON: Impertinent!
HOLMES: Offensive.
WATSON: Actually ... (he lowers his revolver) ... would you mind?
HOLMES: Not at all.
(Watson walks forward to stand behind Moriarty, then lifts his right foot and firmly kicks him in
the back, sending him forward over the edge. Moriarty screams as he falls. Watson steps
forward and he and Holmes look down into the abyss below them. As Moriartys scream ends,
Watson straightens up and looks at his friend.)
WATSON: It was my turn.
HOLMES: Quite so.
WATSON: So, how do you plan to wake up?
HOLMES (looking around the area for a moment): Ohhh, I should think like this.
(He steps onto the rim of the ledge.)
WATSON: Are you sure?
(Holmes turns to look at him.)
HOLMES: Between you and me, John, I always survive a fall.
WATSON: But how?
HOLMES (facing forward again): Elementary, my dear Watson.
(Taking off his deerstalker, he tosses it into the abyss and then, bending his knees slightly, he
leaps forward, spreading his arms wide, and plunges into the void. Falling horizontally and
facing downwards with his arms still outspread, he starts to smile. He flies ever downwards, his
smile widening and becoming a happy grin as he falls.)
Sitting in the plane parked on the airfields tarmac, Sherlock jerks awake and opens his eyes.
They are a little glassy and the pupils are rather dilated. Someones hand is leaning on the
headrest beside his head. He looks around in confusion for a moment, then his eyes settle on
something specific. He smiles.
SHERLOCK: Miss me?
(Its John who is leaning over him and to whom he addressed the question. Mary is in front of
Sherlocks seat, bending forward and looking worriedly at him. Mycroft is in the middle of the
aisle a few paces behind her.)
JOHN: Sherlock? You all right?
SHERLOCK: Yes, of course I am. Why wouldnt I be?
MARY: Cause you probably just ODd. You should be in hospital.
SHERLOCK: No time. (He starts to get up.) I have to go to Baker Street now. Moriartys back.
(He stumbles as he steps into the aisle and slowly shakes his head, trying to get his balance.)
MYCROFT: I almost hope he is, if itll save you from this.
(He holds up the piece of paper containing Sherlocks list. Looking exasperated, Sherlock
snatches it from his hand and tears it in half and then half again.)
SHERLOCK: No need for that now. (He drops the pieces to the floor.) Got the real thing. I have
work to do.
(He begins to step forward but stops when Mycroft speaks.)
MYCROFT (softly): Sherlock.
(Sherlock raises his eyes to his brothers.)
MYCROFT (softly): Promise me?
(Sherlock looks around the cabin for a moment, then looks back to Mycroft.)
SHERLOCK: What are you still doing here? Shouldnt you be off getting me a pardon or
something, like a proper big brother?

473
(He moves forward, shoving Mycroft out of the way with his shoulder, and heads for the door.
Mycroft closes his eyes with resignation. Mary and John walk past him towards the door.)
MYCROFT: Doctor Watson?
(John stops and turns back to him.)
MYCROFT: Look after him ...
(He gives him a small but genuine smile.)
MYCROFT: ... please?
(John nods, then turns and leaves the plane. Mycroft turns, goes down on one knee and takes a
notebook from his breast pocket. Opening it to a bookmarked page, he picks up the torn pieces
of paper and puts them into the notebook where, written at the top of the left-hand page with a
rectangular box drawn around it, is the word
REDBEARD
Underneath on the left-hand side is:
611174
Vernet?
To the right of those is a diagonal matrix and underneath, double underlined, the words
Scarlet Roll M
(The rest of the last word is off the edge of the screen [but note fandom theory here])
Below that is some mathematical notation, apparently Maxwells equations of electromagnetism.
[A screenshot of the page, together with other fandom theories about the significance of the
various notes, can be seen here and here. The latter in particular suggests that the number
below Redbeard might actually be 6/1/74 which is the English way of abbreviating 6 January
1974 and could be meant to denote Sherlocks birth date ... though why Mycroft would need to
write down his brothers birthday is open to conjecture.]
Mycroft closes the notebook.)
Outside, Sherlock is putting on his coat as he walks across the tarmac towards the car parked
nearby.
JOHN: Sherlock, hang on. Explain. Moriartys alive, then?
SHERLOCK (stopping near the car and taking his gloves from his pocket): I never said he was
alive. I said he was back.
MARY: So hes dead.
SHERLOCK: Of course hes dead. He blew his own brains out. No-one survives that. I just went
to the trouble of an overdose to prove it.
(He throws a quick guilty look at John before looking down.)
SHERLOCK: Moriarty is dead, no question. But more importantly ...
(He raises his head and looks to one side.)
SHERLOCK: ... I know exactly what hes going to do next.
(Smiling at his friends, he turns and continues on towards the car, leaving John to look in
confusion at Mary.)
Shortly afterwards, the car pulls away and drives off along the tarmac. As the scene fades out,
the familiar Pursuit music starts ... and almost immediately grinds to a halt.
The screen remains dark for a moment and then ...
WATSON (offscreen): Flying machines; these, er, telephone contraptions ...

(The screen fades up to reveal Holmes and Watson sitting in their armchairs in the sitting room
of 221B. Each of them is smoking a pipe.)
WATSON: What sort of lunatic fantasy is that?

474
HOLMES: It was simply my conjecture of what a future world might look like, and how you and
I might fit inside it.
(Watson nods.)
HOLMES: From a drop of water, a logician should be able to infer the possibility of an Atlantic or
a Niagara.
WATSON: Or a Reichenbach.
HOLMES: Have you written up your account of the case?
WATSON: Yes.
HOLMES: Hmm. Modified to put it down as one of my rare failures, of course?
WATSON: Of course.
(Holmes looks thoughtful for a moment.)
HOLMES: The Adventure of ... the Invisible Army.
(Watson looks upwards, considering it.)
HOLMES: The League of Furies? (He leans forward, smiling.) The Monstrous Regiment.
WATSON: I rather thought ... The Abominable Bride.
HOLMES (sitting back): A trifle lurid.
WATSON: Itll sell. Its got proper murders in it, too.
HOLMES (pointing his pipe at him): Youre the expert.
WATSON: As for your own tale, are you sure its still just a seven percent solution that you
take? I think you may have increased the dosage.
HOLMES: Perhaps I was being a little fanciful ...
(He looks down thoughtfully.)
HOLMES: ... but perhaps such things could come to pass.
(He stands up.)
HOLMES: In any case, I know I would be very much at home in such a world.
(Watson chuckles as Holmes walks across the room towards the right-hand window.)
WATSON: Dont think I would be.
HOLMES: I beg to differ.
(He looks out of the window.)
HOLMES: But then Ive always known I was a man out of his time.
(He puts his pipe in his mouth and continues to look out of the window. The Pursuit theme
starts again, this time with a Victorian twist to it, as the camera slowly pulls back. Down in the
street below, customers are going into SPEEDYS Sandwich Bar & Cafe while more people all
dressed in modern-day clothing walk past, and the road is busy with cars. A black cab passes
a number 11 bus destination Baker Street as they drive past 221B ...
... where it is always 1895.)
The Six Thatchers
FLASHBACKS to previous scenes to remind everyone whats happened so far. Then a notice
appears onscreen:
THE CABINET OFFICE

70 Whitehall, London SW1A 2AS
This is to certify that all materials pertaining to:
CASE: BT198255D./SH
Have been classified as:
D NOTICE 100 YEARS
By order of
[signature] E Smallwood TOP SECRET
MYCROFT (offscreen): What youre about to see is classified beyond top secret.

475
(A video screen is showing four perspectives of the scene on the patio at Appledore shortly
before Sherlock shot Charles Magnussen. In a room which may be in the same building where
Lady Smallwoods parliamentary commission was held in His Last Vow, Mycroft is standing
with his back to a table behind which sit Lady Elizabeth Smallwood herself and Sir Edwin, last
seen with her towards the end of the same episode. Near them sits a woman in her early
seventies with a notebook and pen on her lap. Sherlock is sitting on a chair near his brother,
facing the table. The video screen is behind the other three people. Now Mycroft turns to face
them.)
MYCROFT: Is that quite clear? (He looks towards the elderly lady.) Dont minute any of this.
(The woman, who was just about to put on her glasses, lowers them again and folds her hands
in her lap.)
MYCROFT: Once beyond these walls, you must never speak of it. A D-notice has been slapped
on the entire incident. Only those within this room code names Antarctica, Langdale, Porlock
and Love will ever know the whole truth.
(Sherlock has his head down and a rapid quiet clicking can be heard.)
MYCROFT: As far as everyone else is concerned, going to the Prime Minister and way beyond,
Charles Augustus ... Are you tweeting?!
(He glares down at Sherlock, who looks up guiltily and covers his phone even as the sound of a
tweet being sent can be heard.)
SHERLOCK: No.
MYCROFT: Well, thats what it looks like.
SHERLOCK: Of course Im not tweeting. Why would I be tweeting?
MYCROFT: Give me that.
(He quickly walks across to his brother and reaches for the phone.)
SHERLOCK: What? No. Get off. What are you doing?
(He tries to hang on to the phone with both hands while Mycroft struggles to get hold of it.)
SHERLOCK: Get off. What ...?
MYCROFT (sternly): Give it here.
(He finally pulls the phone from Sherlocks hands and looks at the screen.)
MYCROFT: Back on terra firma.
SHERLOCK: Dont read them out.
MYCROFT: Free as a bird.
SHERLOCK: God, youre such a spoilsport.
MYCROFT (angrily): Will you take this matter seriously, Sherlock?
SHERLOCK: I am taking it seriously. What makes you think Im not taking it seriously?
MYCROFT (looking at the phone): Hashtag OhWhatABeautifulMorning.
SHERLOCK (indignantly): Look, not so long ago I was on a mission that meant certain death
my death and now Im back, in a nice warm office with my big brother and ... Are those
ginger nuts?
(He looks excitedly at a plate on the table and springs to his feet to walk over there.)
MYCROFT (sighing): Oh, God.
SHERLOCK: Love ginger nuts.
(He grabs a handful of the biscuits from the plate.)
LADY SMALLWOOD: Our doctor said you were clean.
SHERLOCK: I am, utterly. (He turns and looks at Mycroft as he walks back towards his chair.)
No need for stimulants now, remember? I have work to do.
(He crunches into one of the biscuits.)
SIR EDWIN: Youre high as a kite!
SHERLOCK (turning to him): Natural high, I assure you. Totally natural. Im just ... (he sings
dramatically while holding his hands out) ... glad to be aliiiiiive!
(He chuckles and lowers his hands, still chomping on his mouthful of biscuit.)
SHERLOCK: What shall we do next? (He points at the elderly woman.) Whats your name?
VIVIAN (nervously): Vi-Vivian.
SHERLOCK: What would you do, Vivian?
VIVIAN: Pardon?
SHERLOCK: Well, its a lovely day. Go for a stroll?
(Lady Smallwood frowns at him and shakes her head in disbelief. Sir Edwin puts his hand over
his face.)
SHERLOCK: Make a paper aeroplane? Have an ice lolly? (He takes another bite of a biscuit.)
VIVIAN: Ice lolly, I suppose.
SHERLOCK (gesturing dramatically): Ice lolly it is! Whats your favourite?

476
VIVIAN (looking a little nervously towards her superiors): Well, really, I shouldnt ...
SHERLOCK (encouragingly): Go on.
VIVIAN: Do they still do Mivvis?
[Transcribers note: They do, Vivian. See here.]
LADY SMALLWOOD (firmly): Mr Holmes.
MYCROFT and SHERLOCK (simultaneously): Yes?
(Mycroft looks across to Sherlock, then lowers his head in exasperation.)
LADY SMALLWOOD: We do need to get on.
MYCROFT (raising his head): Yes, of course.
(He uses the remote control he is holding to restart the video footage. There are two screens
facing the table which those behind it can watch, and the sound of the helicopter hovering in
front of the Appledore patio can be heard. Sherlock swipes his phone from Mycroft and gestures
dramatically with it at his brother before he sits down on the chair again while tucking the
phone into the inside pocket of his jacket.)
SHERLOCK (offscreen, on the video screen): Do your research.
(The footage shows a distant shot of Sherlock walking towards Magnussen.)
SHERLOCK (on the screen): Im not a hero. Im a high functioning sociopath.
(The footage moves to the headcam of an operative nearer to the patio. As someone runs
across the camera, very briefly blocking out the view, Sherlock can be seen with his hand still
lowered, and a gunshot rings out. Magnussen falls backwards and Sherlock can be seen
dropping Johns pistol and instantly raising his hands. Behind him, John stares at Magnussen
and, for a moment, starts to move towards him.
The footage jumps back a second or two.)
SHERLOCK (offscreen, on the video screen): ... sociopath.
(Footage from the telescopic sight of a rifle shows two red dots on Magnussens face as he
stands upright on the patio. A gunshot rings out and Magnussen falls out of view.)
SHERLOCK (offscreen, on the video screen): ... sociopath.
(The footage again shows Magnussen being shot without Sherlock raising his own gun. In the
parliamentary room, the footage continues to repeat.)
SHERLOCK: I see. Who is supposed to have shot him, then?
SIR EDWIN: Some over-eager squaddie with an itchy trigger finger, thats who.
SHERLOCK: Thats not what happened at all. (He takes another bite of biscuit.)
MYCROFT: It is now.
LADY SMALLWOOD: Remarkable. How did you do it?
SIR EDWIN: We have some very talented people working here. If James Moriarty can hack
every TV screen in the land, rest assured we have the tech to, er ... doctor a bit of security
footage.
(He points towards the screen. As he continues talking, Sherlock tosses a piece of biscuit
towards his open mouth. It misses and falls down the side of his lap. He scrabbles to recover
it.)
SIR EDWIN: That is now the official version; the version anyone we want to will see.
LADY SMALLWOOD: No need to go to the trouble of getting some sort of official pardon. Youre
off the hook, Mr Holmes. Youre home and dry.
(Mycroft folds his arms and looks sternly down at his brother.)
SHERLOCK: Okay, cheers.
(Putting the last bit of biscuit in his mouth and holding it between his lips, he jumps up and
starts to button his jacket, then reaches for his greatcoat.)
LADY SMALLWOOD: Obviously theres unfinished business. Moriarty.
SHERLOCK (muffled through the biscuit): I told you. Moriartys dead.
(He takes the biscuit from his lips as he finishes the sentence.)
LADY SMALLWOOD: You say he filmed that video message before he died.
SHERLOCK (pausing for a moment with one arm in his coat, and still chewing): Yes.
LADY SMALLWOOD: You also say you know what hes going to do next. What does that mean?
SIR EDWIN: Perhaps thats all there is to it. (He points towards Sherlock.) Perhaps he was just
trying to frighten you.
SHERLOCK: No, no. He would never be that disappointing. (He gazes into the distance.) Hes
planned something; something long-term; something that would take effect if he never made it
off that rooftop alive. Posthumous revenge. No better than that. Posthumous game.
LADY SMALLWOOD: We brought you back to deal with this. What are you going to do?
SHERLOCK: Wait.
LADY SMALLWOOD: Wait?!

477
SHERLOCK: Of course wait. Im the target. Targets wait. Look whatevers coming, whatever
hes lined up, Ill know when it begins.
(He walks towards the door, putting his other arm into his coat.)
SHERLOCK: I always know when the game is on. Dyou know why?
LADY SMALLWOOD (a little exasperated): Why?
SHERLOCK (turning back to face her): Because I love it.
OPENING CREDITS.
Blue-lit water can be seen and heard rippling throughout the following scene.
SHERLOCK (voiceover): There was once a merchant in the famous market at Baghdad. One day
he saw a stranger looking at him in surprise ...
(Sherlock can now be seen walking through a glass tunnel under the water. A shark swims
towards the camera.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): ... and he knew that the stranger was Death. Pale and trembling, the
merchant fled the marketplace and made his way many, many miles to the city of Samarra, for
there he was sure Death could not find him.
(While he continues speaking, the footage continues to show sharks in presumably the
London Aquarium and Sherlock watching them.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): But when at last he came to Samarra, the merchant saw, waiting for
him, the grim figure of Death. Very well, said the merchant. I give in. I am yours.
(Sherlock slowly strokes his hand down the glass wall of one of the tanks.)
SHERLOCK (voiceover): But tell me: why did you look surprised when you saw me this
morning in Baghdad? Because, said Death, I had an appointment with you tonight in
Samarra.
(A shark swims up the screen, transitioning the scene to ...
221B BAKER STREET. In the living room, Sherlock stabs his multi-tool knife down into a large
pile of letters on the mantelpiece.
SHERLOCK: If this gets any better, Im gonna get two knives.
(He turns to where John is sitting at the dining table typing a new blog entry entitled
221Back! It reads:
And were back! Sorry I havent updated the blog for such a long time but things
really have been very busy. Youll have seen on the news about how Sherlock
recovered the Mona Lisa. He described it as an utterly dreary case and was
much more interested in the case of a missing horseshoe and how it was
connected to a bright blue deckchair on Brighton beach.
Ill try to write everything up when I get chance but its not been missing portraits
and horseshoes that have taken up my time.
Im going to be a Dad.
I mean, I thought Id spent the last few years being a Dad to Sherlock, but it
really doesnt compare. The baby runs all of our lives. (Maybe not THAT different
to Sherlock then!) If Im not changing nappies, Im buying nappies. Ive fought in
Afghanistan and my best friend once faked his own death but none of that
[text obscured by Johns fingers]. Its a terrifying and amazing and the biggest adventure Ive been
The entry ends there.)

[Thanks to Glenien for the transcript of the blog entry.
(Though quite why John is changing nappies when the baby hasnt been born yet is open to
some question ...)]
JOHN: It pays to advertise.

(Sherlock sits down in his chair, looking at his phone. Mary, standing near the window and
rubbing her very pregnant tummy with one hand while pressing her lower back with the other,
looks at him.)
MARY: So, what about Moriarty, then?
SHERLOCK: Ooh, I have a plan.
(Grimacing, Mary rubs her bump again.)
SHERLOCK: Im going to monitor the underworld every quiver of the web will tell me when
the spider makes his move.

478
(As he was speaking, he has also tweeted #221Bringit!)

JOHN: Basically your plan is just to sit there solving crimes like you always do.
SHERLOCK (smiling across to him): Awesome, isnt it?!
(He jumps up, steps across to the mantelpiece and rips the top letter off the pile.)
A montage of client scenes begins.
FEMALE CLIENT: He drowned, Mr Holmes.

(While the client sits on a dining chair, Johns later blog entry drifts across the screen reading:
Dusty Death
I wont name the client out of respect
but she came to us because of her late
husband. His body was recovered from
the sea near Falmouth...
Sherlock is pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, looking at his phone. John sits in his
chair with Mary perched on the arm.)
FEMALE CLIENT: Thats what we thought but when they opened up his lungs ...
MARY: Yes?
FEMALE CLIENT: Sand.
SHERLOCK (looking at her for a moment): Superficial.
(His phone whistles a tweet alert and he goes back to looking at it.)
On another occasion Sherlock sits in his chair holding a pair of Mars binoculars to his eyes while
he peers at a small plastic bag containing a dark pink item held in pieces of ice.
[More details about the Mars binoculars here.]
Johns blog entry drifts across the screen:
Mr Hatherley came straight round to Baker

Street in a terrible state. He was white as a
sheet and bleeding from an awful wound in
his hand. Exactly how he came by this wound
was at first confusing...
Still holding the binoculars in place over his eyes, Sherlock calls out.
SHERLOCK: Come back! Its the wrong thumb!
(He lowers the binoculars and looks up but theres nobody in the room, and now the downstairs
front door slams shut.)
On another occasion photographs are scattered over the dining room table and the Mars
binoculars lie on top of some of them. Johns blog entry reads:
The Duplicate Man

How could Dennis Parkinson be in two places at
the same time? And murdered in one of them?
JOHN (standing at the table looking at the evidence): Sherlock ...

SHERLOCK (rapidly typing on his phone): Its never twins.
On another occasion Sherlock sits in his chair with his laptop open on his knees. Hes busy on
his phone at the same time. Mary is sitting in Johns chair holding a mug and rubbing her
tummy while John stands at the fireplace.
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Hopkins, arrest Wilson. Dimmock, look in the lymph nodes.
HOPKINS (offscreen, from the laptop speaker): Wilson?!
DIMMOCK (offscreen, from the laptop speaker): Lymph nodes?!
MARY: Sherlock ...
(Sherlock is Skypeing with Detective Inspectors Dimmock and Hopkins, who are separately
looking into their mobile phones camera as they talk with him. The windows showing them are
side by side on Sherlocks laptop screen. Dimmock is walking along a road while Hopkins is
indoors, possibly in her office.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire, looking at Dimmock): Yes. You may have nothing but a limbless torso
but therell still be traces of ink left in the lymph nodes under the armpits. If your mystery
corpse had tattoos, the signsll be there.

479
(Johns later blog entry appears under Dimmocks Skype window and reads:
The Circus Torso

A limbless body found
decomposing inside a trunk in left
luggage office in Waterloo station
couldnt be identified...
A second blog entry under Hopkins Skype window reads:
The Canary Trainer

Andrew Wilson was an unusual
man with an unusual hobby.
He seemed to have no connection
with the man whose life was so
abruptly ended one freezing night
in November...
DIMMOCK: Bloody hell! Is that a guess?

SHERLOCK: I never guess.
(He closes Dimmocks screen.)
MARY: Sherlock ...
HOPKINS: So hes the killer? The canary trainer?
SHERLOCK: Course hes the killer.
HOPKINS: Didnt see that coming.
SHERLOCK: Hm, naturally.
(He closes her screen.)
JOHN: Sherlock, you cant go on spinning plates like this.
(Sherlocks eyes widen and lift from his phone as his mouth falls open.)
SHERLOCK: Thats it! The place was spinning.
On another occasion Sherlock walks across the room checking his phone while he talks to a man
sitting on a dining room chair.
SHERLOCK: The heart medication you are taking is known to cause bouts of amnesia.
(Johns blog entry reads:
The Cardiac Arrest

Joel Fentiman was found strangled in the
bedsit he shared with his brother. They had
always got on well and there was no sign that
this situation had changed...
Mr FENTIMAN: Yes, um ... I think so. Why?

SHERLOCK (sitting down in his chair, still looking at his phone): Because the fingerprints on
your brothers neck are your own.
Later, another blog entry drifts across the screen:
... we could never have known there

was a potential assassin lurking close by.
An assassin who turned out to be...
John giggles as he leads Sherlock up the stairs at Baker Street towards the living room.
JOHN: A jellyfish?!
SHERLOCK: I know.
JOHN: You cant arrest a jellyfish!
SHERLOCK (looking at his phone as he climbs the stairs): Well, you could try.
JOHN: We did try.
(His phone sounds an alert. Sighing, he takes it from his pocket as he reaches the landing. He
looks at the screen.)
JOHN: Oh God.
SHERLOCK (looking up from his own phone): Mary?
JOHN: Fifty-nine missed calls.
SHERLOCK: Were in a lot of trouble.
(He turns and rapidly heads back down the stairs.)

480
Not long afterwards, Mary is in the back seat of a car groaning and clutching her abdomen. Her
dress is pulled high up her legs.
MARY: Ow! Oh my God. Oh my God!
(She presses both her hands against the roof. In the drivers seat, John looks worriedly into the
rear-view mirror.)
JOHN: Relax. Its got two syllables ...
MARY: Im a nurse, darling. I think I know what to do.
JOHN: Come on then, come on.
MARY: Re...
(John purses his lips, mimicking breathing.)
JOHN: ...lax. (He blows out the breath.)
MARY (writhing on the seat): No, just drive! Please, God, just drive! God, drive!
(She screams. Sherlock, sitting beside her and frantically typing on his phone, glances across to
her momentarily.)
JOHN (sternly): Sherlock. Mary!
SHERLOCK: Thats it, Mary. Re... (He purses his lips and sucks in a breath.)
MARY (savagely, now kneeling on the seat): Dont you start.
SHERLOCK (reluctantly): ...lax.
(Moments later his face is squashed hard against the side window as she slams her hand
against the side of his head.)
MARY: John? (She braces her other hand against Sherlocks head.) John, I think you have to
pull over.
(She shifts back into a sitting position.)
JOHN: Mary, Mary ...
MARY: Pull Over!
(Sherlock looks down towards Marys legs and his mouth falls open and his eyes widen in
horror.)
SHERLOCK: Oh my God.
(Mary screams and then sobs. John glances over his shoulder and starts to pull the car to the
kerb as Mary continues to scream.)
At John and Marys home, a flashbulb pops. Mary and John are sitting on the sofa, Mary cradling
their new daughter. Helium balloons are floating on strings behind the sofa and there are gift
bags and flowers on the coffee table in front of the family, and a large white teddy bear beside
the sofa. A glass of champagne is also on the table. John has his arm around his wife while
Mary is holding her daughters hand and the new parents are smiling as they pose for the
photograph. Standing at the other side of the table, Molly Hooper is drinking from a glass of
champagne and Mrs Hudson is taking another photograph with her camera.
MRS HUDSON: Has that come out?
(She looks at the screen on her camera and makes an exasperated noise.)
MRS HUDSON: They never come out when I take them!
MOLLY (putting down her glass): Lets have a look.
(She takes the camera.)
MRS HUDSON: Aww. Shes so beautiful.
(Molly fiddles with the camera and then hands it back.)
MOLLY: Have another go.
(Sherlock is standing a short distance away, engrossed with his phone.)
MRS HUDSON (looking at the new parents): What about a name?
JOHN: Catherine.
MARY: Uh, yeah, weve gone off that.
JOHN: Have we?
MARY: Yeah.
JOHN: Oh.
SHERLOCK (not looking up from his phone): Well, you know what I think.
JOHN and MARY (simultaneously): Its not a girls name.
(Sherlock smiles, his eyes still fixed on his phone.)
JOHN: Molly, Mrs H. We would love you to be godparents.
MOLLY (laughing in surprised delight): Oh!
JOHN: If you ...
MOLLY: Really?

481
MRS HUDSON: So lovely!

(As the two women continue to make appreciative noises, John stands up while Molly goes to
the sofa to sit down next to Mary. John walks over towards Sherlock, who is texting:
Fresh paint to
disguise another smell.
He sends the message.)

JOHN: And, uh ...
(He holds his arms wide and stares upwards, perhaps asking himself, Why am I doing this?!)
JOHN: ... you, too, Sherlock?
SHERLOCK (still typing on his phone): You too what?
JOHN: Godfather? Wed like you to be godfather.
(Sherlock is now texting:
Odd socks?
Arrest the brother in law.
He sends that text and starts another one while talking.)

SHERLOCK: God is a ludicrous fiction dreamt up by inadequates who abnegate all responsibility
to an invisible magic friend.
(His latest message reads:
If dog cant swim,

neighbour is the killer.
John looks away briefly, then steps closer.)

JOHN: Yeah, but therell be cake. Will you do it?
(Sherlock glances at him briefly.)
SHERLOCK: Ill get back to you.
(John nods resignedly and heads for the stairs.)
Some weeks later, an elderly vicar stands at the font in a church. Mary and John stand near
him, Mary cradling the baby, and Greg, Mrs Hudson, Sherlock and Molly are at the other side of
the font. An older couple stand behind them. Could this be the famous Stella and Ted, ready to
give love and many big squishy cuddles to the new baby?! Sherlock is still busy on his phone.
VICAR: Father, we ask you to send your blessings on this water ... (he leans forward and draws
the sign of the cross in the water) ... and sanctify it for our use this day, in Christs name.
(Shaking the water off his hand, he turns to the parents.)
VICAR: Now, what name have you given your daughter?
(Mary and John smile at each other, then Mary turns to the vicar.)
MARY: Rosamund Mary.
SHERLOCK: Rosamund? (Frowning, he looks up briefly.)
MOLLY (quietly): Means rose of the world. Rosie for short.
(Rosamund wails briefly. Sherlock throws a disapproving look in Mollys direction and then goes
back to his phone.)
MOLLY: Didnt you get Johns text?
SHERLOCK: No. I delete his texts. I delete any text that begins, Hi.
(Molly raises her eyes skywards.)
MOLLY: No idea why people think youre incapable of human emotion.
(Mrs Hudson clears her throat pointedly.)
MOLLY (quietly): Sorry. (She nods her head down to Sherlocks hands and still speaks quietly.)
Phone.
(Sherlock lowers the phone and puts his hands behind his back. The vicar is now holding
Rosamund, who is grizzling.)
VICAR: And now, godparents ...
(Behind his back, Sherlock is continuing to type.)
VICAR ... are you ready to help the parents of this child in their duties as Christian parents?
MOLLY and MRS HUDSON (simultaneously): We are.
(Molly looks across to Sherlock and elbows him. Behind his back, a male SIRI voice speaks from
his phone.)

482
SIRI: Sorry, I didnt catch that.

(Stella and Ted make disapproving noises. John closes his eyes and Mary narrows her eyes at
Sherlock.)
SIRI (beeping): Please repeat the question.
A FEW MONTHS LATER. 221B BAKER STREET. LIVING ROOM. Standing in front of the fireplace
wearing his camel coloured dressing gown, Sherlock sighs in exasperation.
SHERLOCK: As ever, Watson, you see but do not observe.
(He turns towards Johns chair.)
SHERLOCK: To you, the world remains an impenetrable mystery whereas, to me, it is an open
book. Hard logic versus romantic whimsy. That is your choice. You fail to connect actions to
their consequences. Now, for the last time ... (he bends down and picks up a jingling babys
rattle) ... if you want to keep the rattle ...
(We now see that young Rosie is sitting in a plastic babys chair perched on the seat.)
SHERLOCK: ... do not throw the rattle, hm?
(He presents the rattle to her. She gurgles, takes it, and promptly throws it in Sherlocks face.
Across the room, Mary is lying on the sofa fast asleep with one foot up on Johns lap as he sits
at the other end with his hand on her leg, also asleep. Rosie rears her head back and then
sneezes.)
[Transcribers note: some of my beta team queried why I said this scene takes place a few
months later. To fend off further enquiries, I simply say that the fact that Rosie is now old
enough to sit up and throw things suggested to me that shes more than a few weeks old.]
BUS. John sits on a sideways-facing seat with his eyes closed. He wakes when his phone chirps
an alert, and gets it out of his pocket to look at the message:
Baker Street? Tomorrow five PM?

Lestrade says he has a belter.
He smiles briefly, then looks thoughtful before he looks at the next message:
Mary says its fine.
He chuckles and puts the phone away. A couple of people walk along the gangway heading for
the rear of the bus and John notices a pretty woman with long red hair sitting a few feet to his
right on a forward-facing seat. She meets his gaze and smiles at him. John briefly returns her
smile and looks away but then glances back and sees that shes still smiling at him. A little self-
consciously he runs his right hand over his hair and she lowers her eyes and looks at a piece of
paper in her hand, still with a smile on her face. Someone rings the bell to alert the bus to halt
at the next stop and John stands and picks up his briefcase, casting one more glance at the
smiling woman. The bus pulls up at the bus stop and several passengers, including John, get
off. He walks along the side of the bus and then turns to look in the side window, seeing his
face clearly reflected in the glass. He has a large plastic daisy-like flower tucked behind his left
ear.
He flashes back to earlier that day where he was leaning over Rosie unfastening her nappy as
she lay on a changing mat on top of a bureau in her bedroom.
JOHN (softly): All right. Good girl. Good girl. Good girl.
(He waves the plastic flower in front of her while she gurgles contentedly.)
JOHN: Id better finish this, hadnt I?
(He tucks the flowers stem behind his left ear.
In the present, John takes the flower from his ear, smiling ruefully to himself as the bus pulls
away.)
BAKER STREET LIVING ROOM. John walks in to see Sherlock sitting in his chair, wearing his
camel dressing gown and with his hands steepled just under his mouth. Greg is standing just
inside the door.
LESTRADE: Hey.
JOHN: Afternoon. He says youve got a good one, Greg.
LESTRADE: Oh yeah.
FLASHBACK. A LARGE PRIVATE HOUSE. NIGHT TIME.

483
LESTRADE (voiceover): It was David Welsboroughs fiftieth birthday.

(Over the sight of silver helium balloons and the sound of singing, cheering and applause, the
image shifts to a white plaster bust of Margaret Thatcher before it shifts again to the birthday
boy in the doorway of a downstairs room, kissing his wife. A party is going on in the room
nearby.)
DAVID: God, fifty! Where did it go?! I know for a fact I was only twenty-one this time last week!
EMMA: Yeah, well thats impossible, cause thats before you met me and ...
DAVID: Well, no ...
THE WELSBOROUGHS (simultaneously): ... there never was such a time!
(They kiss again.)
EMMA: Shes looking at me disapprovingly again.
(She looks across to a nearby table. David follows her gaze to the white plaster bust of
Thatcher.)
DAVID: No, shes just jealous.
EMMA: Yeah, well, I think we both are.
(The camera shows that theres also a figurine of Thatcher on the table, this one smaller and
painted. A phone in Davids trouser pocket buzzes.)
DAVID: Ooh.
EMMA: No, no, David. Come on, you promised.
DAVID (taking his phone from his pocket): Oh, no ...
(He looks at his phone. Nearby is another small table on which are several framed photos of
their son at various ages.)
DAVID: Oh, its a Skype call.
EMMA: Oh, then, thats ... must be Charlie. At least hes phoning, I suppose.
(David takes the call and a live image of their son, probably in his early twenties, appears on
the screen. Theres a snow-covered mountain range behind him.)
DAVID: Oh, look! Hello!
CHARLIE: Hey, Dad!
(Emma smiles and waves into the phones camera.)
CHARLIE: Happy birthday! Sorry to miss your party but, uh ... (he tilts his head towards the
background) ... travel broadens the mind, right?
(He turns the phone a little to give a better view of the mountains, then the image starts to fritz
and a spinning loading icon appears as the image freezes.)
DAVID (shaking the phone): No, pictures frozen.
(The image shuts down altogether.)
CHARLIE (slightly garbled): Yeah, signals rubbish, but I can still hear you.
(David puts the phone to his ear.)
DAVID: Why-why is it rubbish? Where are you?
EMMA: How is he? Is he eating? Ask him if hes eating.
DAVID: No, shh.
MANs VOICE (offscreen): David! Emma!
(A couple come over to greet them.)
DAVID (into phone): No, no, hang on a sec. Ill-Ill find somewhere quieter.
(He walks away as the couple kiss Emmas cheek.)
DAVID: So, Charlie, where are you? ... Are you there?
CHARLIE (over phone): Sorry, Im here. Im just a bit ... (He trails off.)
DAVID: You all right?
CHARLIE (over phone): Its nothing. Probably just the altitude.
DAVID: Altitude?
CHARLIE (over phone): Im in Tibet! Didnt you see the mountains?
DAVID: Look, never mind mountains. Your mother wants to know if youre eating properly. (He
laughs.)
CHARLIE (over phone): Listen, Dad, could you do me a favour?
DAVID: What?
CHARLIE (over phone): Could you just check something on my car?
DAVID (walking out of the open front door): Your car?!
CHARLIE (over phone): Its to settle a bet. The guys here dont believe Ive got a Power Ranger
stuck to the bonnet. Could you take a photo and send it?
(David walks to a nearby car on the drive and takes a photograph of the blue Power Ranger
attached to the grille.)
DAVID: Er, yes, I can do that.

484
(He straightens up, presses Send on the phone and raises it to his ear again.)
DAVID: All done. You got it? ... Charlie?
(Theres no reply. He lowers the phone, sighing.)
Back at Baker Street, Sherlock is still sitting with his eyes closed and his hands steepled under
his mouth.
LESTRADE: A week later ...
JOHN (now sat in his chair): Yeah?
LESTRADE: ... something really weird happens.
(Sherlock smiles.)
LESTRADE: Drunk driver hes totally smashed, the cops are chasing him ...
(We see the car speeding along the road with a police car following, its lights flashing and siren
wailing.)
LESTRADE: ... and he turns into the drive of the Welsborough house to try and get away.
Unfortunately ...
(The drunk driver heads at speed for Charlies car and smashes straight into the back of it.
Charlies car is pushed a few yards forward until both cars stop. The police car pulls up a little
way away. Steam hisses from the engine of the drunks car, and petrol starts spilling from the
rear of Charlies car. Moments later the front car explodes in a massive fireball [much further
away from the house than it was before, which is somewhat puzzling, especially because its not
plot-relevant. Your transcriber tuts sadly at the crew which made that fubar].
At Baker Street, Sherlocks eyes are closed as he envisions the scene.)
LESTRADE (voiceover): The drunk guy survived; they managed to pull him out, but when they
put the fire out and examined the parked car ...
(Theres a burned skeleton in the drivers seat. It seems to be covered with the remnants of
some kind of material.
John leans forward in his chair.)
JOHN: Whose body?
LESTRADE (now sitting on one of the dining room chairs facing the boys chairs): Charlie
Welsborough, the son.
JOHN: What?
LESTRADE: The son who was in Tibet. DNA all checks out. The night of the party, the cars
empty, then a week later the dead boys found at the wheel.
(With his eyes still closed, Sherlock chuckles delightedly.)
LESTRADE: Yeah, I thought itd tickle you.
JOHN: Have you got a lab report?
(Greg had already been reaching for his briefcase at his side and now puts it on his lap and
takes out some folders.)
LESTRADE: Yeah, Charlie Welsboroughs the son of a Cabinet minister ...
(John lets out a silent, Oh, and nods understandingly.)
LESTRADE: ... so Im under a lot of pressure to get results.
(Sherlocks eyes snap open.)
SHERLOCK: Who cares about that? Tell me about the seats.
JOHN: The seats?
SHERLOCK: Yes. The car seats.
(John takes the sheet of paper which Greg is offering him. Sherlock sits up and holds out his
hand and Greg gives him a folder. Sherlock opens it and looks at the contents.)
SHERLOCK: Made of vinyl ... two different types of vinyl present.
(He looks up thoughtfully.)
SHERLOCK: Was it his own car?
LESTRADE: Yeah. Not flash he was a student.
SHERLOCK (sitting back again): Well, thats suggestive.
LESTRADE: Why?
SHERLOCK: Vinyls cheaper than leather.
LESTRADE (looking confused): Er, yeah, right.
JOHN: Theres something else.
SHERLOCK: Yes?
JOHN (looking at the document Greg gave him): According to this, Charlie Welsborough had
already been dead for a week.
(Theres a brief flashback of the car exploding and the skeleton with the melted material on it.
Sherlock stares at John with a delighted smile forming on his face.)

485
SHERLOCK (softly): What?

JOHN: The body in the car dead for a week.
SHERLOCK: Oh, this is a good one. (He looks at Greg.) Is it my birthday? You want help?
LESTRADE (drawing in a breath): Yes, please.
SHERLOCK: One condition.
LESTRADE: Okay.
SHERLOCK: Take all the credit.
(John raises his head.)
SHERLOCK: It gets boring if I just solve them all.
LESTRADE: Yeah, you say that, but then John blogs about it and you get all the credit anyway.
(John laughs, then gives the medical report back to Greg while looking at Sherlock.)
JOHN: Yeah, hes got a point.
LESTRADE: Which makes me look like some kind of prima donna who insists on getting credit
for something he didnt do.
JOHN: Oh, I think youve hit a sore spot, Sherlock.
(Sherlock looks startled, and shakes his head at John as if he doesnt understand.)
LESTRADE: ... like Im some kind of credit junkie.
JOHN: Definitely a sore spot.
LESTRADE (waving towards Sherlock): So you take all the glory, thanks ...
SHERLOCK (still looking bewildered): Okay.
LESTRADE: ... thanks all the same. (He looks frustrated.) Look, just solve the bloody thing, will
you? Its driving me nuts.
SHERLOCK: Anything you say, Giles.
(John and Greg both give him a look. He smiles at Greg.)
SHERLOCK: Just kidding.
(As Greg starts packing away his paperwork, Sherlock turns and mouths to John.)
SHERLOCK (silently): What is it?
JOHN (mouthing the word): Greg.
SHERLOCK (silently): What?
JOHN (saying the word more pointedly with as little sound as he can manage): Greg.
SHERLOCK (silently): Oh.
(Greg looks up from his briefcase as Sherlock lowers his head a little, looking towards the floor.
Greg looks suspiciously across to John.)
JOHN: Its obvious, though, isnt it, what happened?
SHERLOCK: John, you amaze me. You know what happened?
JOHN: Not a clue. Its just you normally say that at this point.
SHERLOCK (smiling): Mm. Well, then ...
(He stands up and heads for the door, taking off his dressing gown as he goes. The buttons on
his white shirt scream in anguish as the shirt stretches across his chest. The fandom once again
urges them to give up the fight.)
SHERLOCK: ... lets help you solve your little problem, Greg.
(John and Greg have also stood up and Greg now looks in startled surprise at John.)
LESTRADE: You hear that?
JOHN: I know!
(They both smile, and Greg grins towards Sherlocks back as he disappears onto the landing.)
LESTRADE (leading John out of the living room): So hows it going then, fatherhood?
JOHN: Oh, good, great! Yeah, amazing.
LESTRADE: Getting any sleep?
JOHN: Christ, no.
(Sherlock is on the landing putting on his jacket. Greg stops at the top of the stairs and turns
back.)
LESTRADE: Youre at the beck and call of a screaming, demanding baby, woken up at all hours
to obey his every whim. (He looks pointedly at Sherlock.) Must feel very different.
(John lowers his head to try and hide his smile and follows Greg down the stairs.)
SHERLOCK: Im sorry, what?
(He follows the other two.)
JOHN: Yes, well, you know how it is. All you do is clean up their mess, pat them on the head.
SHERLOCK: Are you two having a little joke?
[Your transcriber falls off her chair in delight at the return of the mighty k-click on the final
word. Many people have given different and various reasons why they didnt like Season 3. Me,

486
I think its because Sherlock didnt over-emphasise the k at the end of a word for the entire
season.]
JOHN: Never a word of thanks. Cant even tell peoples faces apart.
SHERLOCK: This is a joke, isnt it?
LESTRADE: Then its all, Ooh, arent you clever? Youre so, so clever!
(Sherlock stops on the bottom step while John follows Greg to the front door and takes his
jacket from the coat hooks.)
SHERLOCK: Is it about me?
LESTRADE (as an aside to John): I think he needs winding.
[Transcribers note: in this context, winding means that he needs burping, like a fretful baby
who has wind or colic.]
JOHN: You know, I think that really might be it.
SHERLOCK: No, dont get it.
[Transcribers note, as suggested by SwissMarg: When Sherlock says this line, hes reflected in
the hall mirror and so obviously his image is reversed, which has caused much online confusion
as to why his parting briefly appeared to be on the wrong side of his head.]
WELSBOROUGH HOUSE. The boys are walking along the drive towards the house.
LESTRADE: Charlies family are pretty cut up about it, as youd expect, so go easy on them,
yeah?
SHERLOCK: You know me.
(Johns phone has started ringing notice of a Skype call and he answers it.)
MARY (over phone): Hey, hello!
LESTRADE (unhappily, in response to Sherlocks last comment): Yeah.
JOHN (into phone): Got em, dont worry. Pampers; the cream you cant get from Boots.
MARY (holding Rosie at home): Yeah, never mind about that. Where are you now? At the dead
boys house?
JOHN: Yeah.
MARY: And what does he think? Any theories?
JOHN: Uh, well, I texted you the details.
(We see that Marys phone is propped against a mug so that she can look into the camera.)
MARY: Yeah, two different types of vinyl.
(Sherlock looks round and snatches Johns phone from him.)
JOHN: Hey!
SHERLOCK (looking into the camera of the phone): How do you know about that?
MARY: Oh, youd be amazed at what a receptionist picks up. (She leans closer to the phone and
whispers loudly and dramatically.) They know everything!
SHERLOCK: Solved it, then?
MARY (smiling): Im working on it.
SHERLOCK: Oh, Mary, motherhoods slowing you down.
MARY: Pig!
SHERLOCK: Keep trying.
(He hands the phone back to John as they approach the front door.)
MARY: So, what about it, then?
(Sherlock glances upwards as they step into the porch.)
MARY: What, an empty car that suddenly has a week-old corpse in it? And what are you gonna
call this one?
JOHN: Ooh, the ... uh, The Ghost Driver.
SHERLOCK (stopping in the hall): Dont give it a title.
JOHN: People like the titles.
SHERLOCK: I hate the titles.
JOHN: Give the people what they want.
SHERLOCK: No, never do that. People are stupid.
MARY: Uh, some people.
(Sherlock leans over to look into the camera.)
SHERLOCK: All people are stupid. ... Most people.
(He straightens up again. As Greg speaks, John smiles and then winks into the camera and then
shuts the phone off.)
LESTRADE: Bizarre enough, though, isnt it, to be him? (He looks at Sherlock.) I mean, its right
up your strasse.

487
(Sherlock throws him a look and then heads towards a nearby closed door. A man opens it and
leads the boys into the same room which the Welsboroughs were in when they took Charlies
phone call. Charlies parents are sitting on a sofa and they stand as Sherlock walks towards
them.)
SHERLOCK: Mr and Mrs Welsborough. (He takes Emmas hand to shake it.) I really am most
terribly sorry to hear about your daughter.
JOHN (instantly): Son.
SHERLOCK (instantly): Son.
LESTRADE: Mr and Mrs Welsborough, this is Mr Sherlock Holmes.
DAVID: Thank you very much for coming. Weve heard a great deal about you. If anyone can
throw any light into this darkness, surely it will be you.
SHERLOCK: Well, I believe that I ...
(He glances to his right and trails off when something catches his attention.)
SHERLOCK (slowly): ... can.
(David is talking but his voice almost fades out while Sherlock concentrates on what he has
spotted across the room.)
DAVID: But Charlie was our whole world, Mr Holmes. I ...
(His voice disappears entirely. Sherlock is now totally focussed on a small round table in front
of the window. The window is shuttered and the light in the room is blue and wavy, as if deep
water is rippling all around. At the back of the table is a framed large white card on a stand;
the card is an invitation to David to attend a reception at 10 Downing Street, sent by Margaret
Thatcher when she was Prime Minister. In front of it to the left is a framed official photograph
of Thatcher and to the right is a framed photo of her and David. In front of the solo Thatcher
photo is a small commemorative plate with a painting of her, and in front of the other picture is
the small painted figurine that we saw earlier. Sherlock focuses in on the space between the
plate and the figurine and sees that the leather cover of the table is scuffed. He homes in
briefly on the official photo and then on the plate, then the perspective changes and its as if he
is alone in the sitting room but now the shutters on the windows are open as they were when
he entered the room and daylight is streaming in.
Standing beside him, John speaks distantly.)
JOHN: Sherlock?
(The Welsboroughs look towards the window, then turn back to Sherlock.)
DAVID: Mr Holmes?
(Sherlock gasps in a small breath and turns to them.)
SHERLOCK: Sorry. You were saying?
DAVID: Well, Charlie was our whole world, Mr Holmes. I ... I dont think well ever get over this.
(Nodding, Sherlock turns his head toward the table again.)
SHERLOCK: No, shouldnt think so.
(The Welsboroughs look at him, startled at his indifferent tone. He continues to stare at the
table, frowning, then pulls in another breath and looks at the couple.)
SHERLOCK: So sorry. Will you excuse me a moment? I just ...
(He turns and walks closer to the table. David looks at John and Greg.)
JOHN: Ill just, um ...
(Clearing his throat, he follows Sherlock, who stops in front of the table and looks down at it.
The Welsboroughs sit down and John walks to Sherlocks side.)
JOHN: Now whats wrong?
SHERLOCK: Not sure. I just ... By the pricking of my thumbs.
[An explanation of the full quote is here.]
JOHN (scoffing sarcastically): Seriously? You?!
SHERLOCK: Intuitions are not to be ignored, John. They represent data processed too fast for
the conscious mind to comprehend.
(He turns to the Welsboroughs while pointing to the table.)
SHERLOCK: What is this?
DAVID: Oh, its a sort of shrine, I suppose, really.
(He stands up and walks over to the boys.)
DAVID: Bit of a fan of Mrs T. Big hero of mine when I was getting started.
SHERLOCK (smiling politely at him while he takes his magnifier from his pocket and clicks it
open): Right, yes.
(He bends down to look more closely at the table, then frowns and straightens up again.)
SHERLOCK: Who?
DAVID: What?

488
SHERLOCK: Who-who is this? (He gestures to the table.)

DAVID: Are you serious?
JOHN (sternly): Sherlock.
DAVID: Its ... its Margaret Thatcher, the first female prime minister of this country.
SHERLOCK: Right.
(He has bent down to look at the table again but now straightens up.)
SHERLOCK: Prime minister?
DAVID (starting to sound a little tetchy): Mm. Leader of the government.
SHERLOCK: Right.
(He squats down again, then lifts his head.)
SHERLOCK (hopefully): Female?
JOHN: For Gods sake. You know perfectly well who she is.
(David walks away and John steps closer.)
JOHN: Why are you playing for time?
SHERLOCK: Its the gap. (He focuses on the space between the items on the table.) Look at the
gap. Its wrong. Everything else is perfectly ordered, managed ...
(David sits down next to Emma and looks across to Greg, who shrugs.)
SHERLOCK: This whole things verging on OCD.
(He turns to look at the Welsboroughs, pointing back to the table.)
SHERLOCK: My respects. This figurine is routinely repositioned after the cleaners been in. (He
points to the official picture.) This pictures straightened every day, yet this ugly gap remains.
(He points to the vacant spot in the middle of the table.) Somethings missing from here, but
only recently. (He squats down again to focus on the scratched leather.)
DAVID: Yes, a ...
SHERLOCK: ... plaster bust.
DAVID (a split second afterwards): ... plaster bust.
EMMA (exasperated): Oh, for Gods sake. It got broken. What the hell has this got to do with
Charlie?
SHERLOCK (straightening up and speaking loudly as he clicks his magnifier closed): Rug!
EMMA: What?
SHERLOCK: Well, how could it get broken? The only place for it to fall is the floor, and there is a
big thick rug.
EMMA: Does it matter?
JOHN: Mrs Welsborough, my apologies. It is worth letting him do this.
EMMA: Is your friend quite mad?
JOHN: No, hes an arsehole, but its an easy mistake.
DAVID: Look, no, we had a break-in. Some little bastard smashed it to bits. We found the
remains out there in the porch.
SHERLOCK: The porch where we came in?
DAVID: How anybody could hate her so much, theyd go to the trouble of smashing her likeness
...
[Bloody hell, David, where have you been hiding all these decades?]
SHERLOCK: Im no expert but, er, possibly her face?
(John closes his eyes briefly.)
SHERLOCK: Why didnt he smash all the others? Perfect opportunity, and look at that one. (He
points to the official photo.) Shes smiling in that one.
EMMA: Oh, Inspector, this is clearly a waste of time. I mean, if theres nothing more ..
SHERLOCK: I know what happened to your son.
(The parents stare at him hopefully.)
EMMA: You do?
SHERLOCK: Its quite simple. Superficial, to be blunt. But first, tell me: the night of the break-
in. This room was in darkness?
DAVID: Well, yes.
SHERLOCK: And the porch where it was smashed: I noticed the motion sensor was damaged,
so I assume its permanently lit.
(Brief flashback to Sherlock looking upwards as he and others approached the front door, and
seeing the cracked motion sensor and the porch light on in broad daylight.)
LESTRADE: Howd you notice that?
SHERLOCK: I lack the arrogance to ignore details. Im not the police.
JOHN: So youre saying he smashed it where he could see it.
SHERLOCK: Exactly.

489
JOHN: Why?
SHERLOCK: Dunno. Wouldnt be fun if I knew.
EMMA (tearfully): Mr Holmes, please.
(Sherlock straightens up and turns towards them. He takes a breath.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): It was your fiftieth birthday, Mr Welsborough; of course you were
disappointed that your son hadnt made it back from his gap year. After all, he was in Tibet.
DAVID: Yes.
SHERLOCK: No.
DAVID: No?
(Flashback to the car parked outside the house. People can be heard singing Happy Birthday To
You inside the house.)
SHERLOCK: The first part of your conversation was, in fact, pre-recorded video. Easily
arranged.
(In flashback, Charlie is sitting in the driving seat of the car holding his phone. As the buffering
circle spins, he lifts the phone to his ear. Inside the house, David looks at his ringing phone.)
DAVID (in flashback): Its a Skype call.
SHERLOCK: The trick was meant to be a surprise.
DAVID: Trick?
(In flashback, Charlie speaks into his phone.)
CHARLIE: Could you take a photo and send it? (He grins.)
SHERLOCK: There were two types of vinyl in the burnt-out remains of the car: one the actual
passenger seat; the other a good copy. Well, good enough.
(In flashback, Charlie takes a loose seat cover from the passenger seat and puts it over his face
and body. David walks towards the car, getting the camera ready to take the photo. In the near
darkness, Charlie can see whats happening through dark gauzy material inserted into the face
area of the cover.)
SHERLOCK: Effectively a costume.
(Having got the cover in place, Charlie tucks his hands inside and is now obscured from view
from the outside.
In the present, David and Emma stare in disbelief.)
DAVID: Youre joking.
SHERLOCK: No, Im not. What he wanted was for you to get close enough to the car so he could
spring the surprise.
(In flashback, David takes the photo of the Power Ranger attached to the cars grille. As he lifts
his phone to his ear, Charlie rips off the seat cover, grinning at him. David stares at him in
delight.)
DAVID (excitedly): Oh my God!
CHARLIE: Surprise!
(The not-real flashback goes into reverse.)
SHERLOCK: Thats when it happened.
(Hidden inside the seat cover, Charlie frowns as if in pain.)
SHERLOCK: I cant be certain, of course, but I think Charlie must have suffered some sort of a
seizure. You said hed felt unwell?
(In flashback, David speaks into his phone.)
DAVID: You all right?
CHARLIE (over phone): Its nothing. Probably just the altitude.
(Inside the seat cover, Charlies eyes go blank.)
SHERLOCK: He died there and then. No-one had any cause to go near his car, so there he
remained in the drivers seat hidden until ...
(Flashback to the drunk drivers car smashing into Charlies car, which then explodes.)
SHERLOCK: When the two cars were examined, the fake seat had melted in the fire, revealing
Charlie, whod been sitting there quite dead for a week.
(Emma breaks down in tears.)
EMMA: Oh, God!
(Staring at Sherlock in shock, David reaches across to comfort her.)
LESTRADE: Poor kid.
SHERLOCK: Really, Im so sorry. Mr Welsborough, Mrs Welsborough.
(He walks rapidly out of the room and is soon examining the concrete on the porch with his
magnifier.)
SHERLOCK: This is where it was smashed.

490
(John and Greg are just joining him.)

LESTRADE: That was amazing.
SHERLOCK: What?
LESTRADE: The car, the kid.
SHERLOCK: Ancient history. Why are you still talking about it?
JOHN: Whats so important about a broken bust of Margaret Thatcher?
SHERLOCK (straightening up): Cant stand it. Never can. Theres a loose thread in the world.
JOHN: Yeah, doesnt mean you have to pull on it.
SHERLOCK: What kind of a life would that be? Besides, I have the strangest feeling.
(He has a brief flash of James Moriarty looking into the camera over his right shoulder.)
JIM: Miss me?
(Sherlock shakes the thought away and stands up, pointing to the black cab parked nearby as
he walks towards it.)
SHERLOCK: Thats mine. You two take a ... bus.
JOHN (laughing in disbelief): Why?
SHERLOCK: I need to concentrate, and I dont want to hit you.
(He gets in and tells the cabbie his destination.)
SHERLOCK: The Mall, please.
THE DIOGENES CLUB. MYCROFTS UNDERGROUND OFFICE. Sherlock has taken off his coat and
is pacing in front of the desk while Mycroft sits behind it.
MYCROFT: I met her once.
SHERLOCK: Thatcher?
MYCROFT: Rather arrogant, I thought.
SHERLOCK: You thought that?!
(Mycroft chuckles.)
MYCROFT: I know!
(His smile drops and he holds up Sherlocks phone.)
MYCROFT: Why am I looking at this?
SHERLOCK (stopping his pacing): Thats her. John and Marys baby.
MYCROFT: Oh, I see. (He looks at the picture.) Yes. (He smiles in a fake way.) Looks very ...
(he pauses as he struggles for an appropriate term) ... fully functioning.
(Sherlock frowns at him.)
SHERLOCK: Is that really the best you can do?
MYCROFT: Sorry. Ive never been very good with them.
SHERLOCK: Babies?
MYCROFT (smiling smugly): Humans.
(Sherlock steps forward and takes the phone from his brother and puts it in the inside pocket of
his jacket.)
SHERLOCK: Moriarty. Did he have any connection with Thatcher? Any interest in her?
MYCROFT: Why on earth would he?
SHERLOCK (tetchily): I dont know. You tell me.
(Mycroft sniffs, then leans forward and opens a folder on his desk.)
MYCROFT: In the last year of his life, James Moriarty was involved with four political
assassinations, over seventy assorted robberies and terrorist attacks, including a chemical
weapons factory in North Korea, and had latterly shown some interest in tracking down the
Black Pearl of the Borgias which is still missing, by the way, in case you feel like applying
yourself to something practical.
SHERLOCK: Its a pearl. Get another one.
(Mycroft rolls his eyes.)
SHERLOCK (thoughtfully, looking off to one side): Theres something important about this.
(For a few moments, the reflection and sound of dark blue rippling water seems to surround
him.)
SHERLOCK: Im sure. Maybe its Moriarty. Maybe its not. But somethings coming.
(The water disappears. Mycroft frowns and leans forward, folding his hands on the desk.)
MYCROFT: Are you having a premonition, brother mine?
(Sherlock blinks and looks towards Mycroft.)
SHERLOCK: The world is woven from billions of lives, every strand crossing every other. What
we call premonition is just movement of the web. If you could attenuate to every strand of
quivering data, the future would be entirely calculable, as inevitable as mathematics.
(Mycroft smiles briefly.)

491
MYCROFT: Appointment in Samarra.

SHERLOCK: Im sorry?
MYCROFT: The merchant who cant outrun Death. You always hated that story as a child. Less
keen on predestination back then.
(Sherlock narrows his eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Im not sure I like it now.
(He picks up his coat from the chair in front of the desk and starts to put it on.)
MYCROFT: You wrote your own version, as I remember. Appointment in Sumatra. The merchant
goes to a different city and is perfectly fine.
SHERLOCK: Goodnight, Mycroft. (He turns towards the door.)
MYCROFT (looking thoughtful at the memory): Then he becomes a pirate, for some reason.
SHERLOCK: Keep me informed.
MYCROFT: Of what?
SHERLOCK (walking out the door): Absolutely no idea.
Somewhere unknown, white plaster smashes. The camera pans across the dark room where
this has happened and reveals another plaster bust of Thatcher, broken into pieces.
Elsewhere, a man lies with his eyes closed, his eyelids trembling slightly as he dreams or
remembers something. His eyes snap open, tears running from them, and a voice sounds inside
his head, speaking with a foreign accent.
VOICE: Ammo!
(The voice sounds again, louder this time.)
VOICE: Ammo!
(The man writhes on his bed in a small room while remembered screams echo in his head. The
lights of a passing car swing across the window above the bed and the man cringes, his
breathing ragged.)
Elsewhere, another white plaster bust of Thatcher smashes to the ground.
BAKER STREET. On the first floor landing, DI Hopkins is standing outside the closed door of the
living room tapping a finger against a folder she is holding. She turns as Greg trots up the stairs
holding a brown paper bag.
LESTRADE: Oh, hi, Stella.
HOPKINS: Greg.
LESTRADE: You, uh ... you, um ... (He makes incoherent noises and points to the closed door.)
HOPKINS: Uh, yeah. Hes just got a client, so ...
LESTRADE: R-right, right, right.
(They look around awkwardly for a moment.)
LESTRADE: Uh, so see a lot of each other, do you?
HOPKINS (shrugging): Its nothing. I mean, its nothing serious.
LESTRADE: No, no.
HOPKINS: I just pop round every now and again for a chat.
LESTRADE: Yeah, course.
HOPKINS: I mean, he loves a really tricky case.
LESTRADE (laughing): Yeah, he does! (He pauses for a moment, his laugh fading.) So, what
you here for?
HOPKINS: Well, uh, Interpol think the Borgia Pearl trail leads back to London, so ...
LESTRADE: The Borgia Pearl. Are they ... they still after that, are they?
HOPKINS: Yeah. So how did, uh, you two first meet?
LESTRADE: Oh, it was a-a case about, um, ten years ago nobody could figure out. There was an
old lady found dead in a sauna.
HOPKINS: Oh yeah? Howd she die?
LESTRADE: Hypothermia.
HOPKINS (frowning): What?
LESTRADE: I know! But then I met Sherlock. (His voice gets louder.) It was so simple, the way
...
(Sherlock hurls the door open and glares at them.)
SHERLOCK: Will you two please keep it down?
(He slams the door shut.)
LESTRADE: Sorry.

492
HOPKINS: Sorry.
(Inside the living room, Sherlock walks over to his chair, passing a man sitting on the client
chair wearing grey trousers and a pale short-sleeved shirt.)
SHERLOCK: Now, you havent always been in life insurance, have you? You started out in
manual labour.
(He sits down in his chair and raises his hands when the man opens his mouth in surprise.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, dont bother being astonished. Your right hands almost an entire size bigger
than your left.
(A close-up of the mans hands clasped on his lap is overlaid with the words Glove Size: and
superimposed above his hands are the numbers 10 over the right hand and 9 over the
other.)
SHERLOCK: Hard manual work does that.
KINGSLEY: I was a carpenter, uh, like me dad.
SHERLOCK: And youre trying to give up smoking, unsuccessfully, and you once had a Japanese
girlfriend that meant a lot to you but now you feel indifferent about.
KINGSLEY (smiling nervously): How the hell ...?
(He looks down into the pocket on his shirt and the several small cylindrical items in it. He
smiles across to Sherlock.)
KINGSLEY: Ah. E-cigarettes.
SHERLOCK: Not just that ten individual e-cigarettes. Now, if you just wanted to smoke
indoors, you would have invested in one of those irritating electronic pipe things, but youre
convinced you can give up, so you dont want to buy a pipe because that means youre not
serious about quitting, so instead you buy individual cigarettes, always sure that each will be
your last. Anything to add, John?
(He glances briefly towards Johns chair, then does a startled double-take.)
SHERLOCK: John?
(Floating at seated head height in Johns chair is a red balloon with a face drawn on it. The
eyebrows are tilted enquiringly and the face has an impressed smile. The balloon is held in
place by a piece of string wrapped around a book propped up on the seat. A moment later the
real John pops his head round the kitchen door.)
JOHN: Er, yeah, yeah, listening.
SHERLOCK (staring wide-eyed at the balloon): What is that?
JOHN (coming into the living room): That is ... me. Well, its a me-substitute.
(Sherlock frowns, then glances briefly towards Kingsley.)
SHERLOCK: Dont be so hard on yourself.
(He chuckles, looking a little shy and awkward and flicking brief glances at John as he
continues.)
SHERLOCK: You know I value your little contributions.
JOHN: Yeah? Its been there since nine this morning.
SHERLOCK: Has it? Where were you?
JOHN: Helping Mrs H with her Sudoku.
KINGSLEY: What about my girlfriend?
SHERLOCK: What?
KINGSLEY: You said I had an ex.
SHERLOCK: Youve got a Japanese tattoo in the crook of your elbow in the name Akako.
(Theres a close-up of the tattoo, which is very faded, and we hear the buzzing sound of a
tattoo gun.)
SHERLOCK: Its obvious youve tried to have it removed.
KINGSLEY (looking down at the tattoo): But surely that means I wanna forget her, not that Im
indifferent.
SHERLOCK: If shed really hurt your feelings, you would have had the word obliterated, but the
first attempt wasnt successful and you havent tried again, so it seems you can live with the
slightly blurred memory of Akako, hence the indifference.
(Kingsley laughs for a couple of seconds, then holds his hands up.)
KINGSLEY: Sorry. I-I thought youd done something clever.
(Sherlocks head turns towards him.)
KINGSLEY: No, no. Ah, but now youve explained it, its dead simple, innit?
(The side of Johns mouth twitches up into a smile. Sherlock pulls in a long breath, straightening
up in his seat as he turns more towards Kingsley, then he breathes out deeply through his
nose.)

493
SHERLOCK: Ive withheld this information from you until now, Mr Kingsley, but I think its time
you knew the truth.
KINGSLEY: What dyou mean?
SHERLOCK: Have you ever wondered if your wife was a little bit out of your league?
KINGSLEY: Well ...
SHERLOCK: You thought she was having an affair. Im afraid its far worse than that. Your wife
is a spy.
KINGSLEY: What?!
SHERLOCK: Thats right. Her real name is Greta Bengtsdotter. (He goes into quick fire mode.)
Swedish by birth and probably the most dangerous spy in the world. Shes been operating deep
undercover for the past four years now as your wife for one reason only: to get near the
American embassy which is across the road from your flat. Tomorrow the US president will be
at the embassy as part of an official state visit. As the president greets members of staff, Greta
Bengtsdotter, disguised as a twenty-two stone cleaner, will inject the president in the back of
the neck with a dangerous new drug hidden inside a secret compartment inside her padded
armpit. This drug will then render the president entirely susceptible to the will of their new
master, none other than James Moriarty.
KINGSLEY: What?!
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Moriarty will then use the president as a pawn to destabilise the United
Nations General Assembly which is due to vote on a nuclear non-proliferation treaty, tipping the
balance in favour of a first strike policy against Russia. This chain of events will then prove
unstoppable, thus precipitating ... (he finally slows down and says the next words slowly and
precisely) ... World War Three.
(John chuckles almost silently.)
JOHN: Are you serious?
SHERLOCK: No, of course not. (He stands up and walks towards the door.) His wife left him
because his breath stinks and he likes to wear her lingerie.
KINGSLEY: I dont!
(John quirks a look at him.)
KINGSLEY: Just the bras.
SHERLOCK (opening the door): Get out.
(Kingsley stands up and leaves the room, walking between the waiting inspectors. Sherlock
pushes the door shut again.)
JOHN: So. Whats this all about, then?
SHERLOCK: Having fun.
JOHN: Fun?
SHERLOCK: While I can.
JOHN: Mm-hm.
(Theres a knock on the door and Hopkins opens it and comes in.)
HOPKINS: Uh, Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Borgia Pearl, boring, go.
(He turns her around and pushes her towards the landing.)
HOPKINS: Uh, but, uh ...
SHERLOCK: Go!
(He pushes the door shut. Immediately Greg opens it and comes in. Sherlock looks
exasperated.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, this had better be good.
LESTRADE: Oh, I think youll like it.
(From the paper bag he produces a clear plastic bag and holds it up. Inside are shattered pieces
of white plaster, and some of the larger pieces show that this was a Thatcher bust. Sherlock
takes hold of the bottom of the bag and looks at it closely.)
JOHN: That is the bust, isnt it? The one that was broken.
LESTRADE: No, it isnt. Its another one; different owner, different part of town. You were right!
This is a ... this is a thing. Somethings going on.
(Sherlock looks at the bag and for a moment its as if half of his face is replaced by a Thatcher
bust, which then shatters. Sherlocks gaze becomes intense.)
LESTRADE: Whats wrong? I thought youd be pleased.
SHERLOCK: I am pleased.
LESTRADE: You dont look pleased.
SHERLOCK (still looking down at the bag): This is my game face.
(He raises his eyes, a slight smile forming.)

494
SHERLOCK: And the game is on.

(He turns away.
Shortly afterwards he is sitting at the kitchen table examining pieces of the broken plaster
under his microscope. John and Greg stand nearby.)
LESTRADE: Another two have been smashed since the Welsborough one: one belonging to Mr
Mohandes Hassan ...
JOHN: Identical busts?
LESTRADE: Yeah; and this one to a Doctor Barnicot in Holborn. Three in total. (He looks at his
watch.) God knows whod wanna do something like this.
JOHN: Yeah, well some people have that complex, dont they an ide fixe. (Walking closer to
the table he looks pointedly at Sherlock.) They obsess over one thing and they cant let it go.
SHERLOCK (still looking into the microscope): No, no good. There were other images of
Margaret ... (he pauses, then raises his head) ... Margaret?
JOHN (exasperated): You know who she is.
SHERLOCK (continuing his sentence): ... Thatcher present at the first break-in. Why would a
monomaniac fixate on just one?
(He picks up another piece of plaster with tweezers and finds it instantly interesting.)
SHERLOCK: Ooh.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: Blood. (He puts the plaster under the scope and looks at it through the lenses.)
Quite a bit of it, too.
(He looks up to Lestrade.)
SHERLOCK: Was there any injury at the crime scene?
LESTRADE: Nah. (He looks at his watch again.)
SHERLOCK (turning his head away): Then our suspect must have cut themselves breaking the
bust.
(He uses the tweezers to put the blood-stained piece of plaster into a small plastic bag.)
SHERLOCK: Come on.
LESTRADE: Holborn?
SHERLOCK: Lambeth.
LESTRADE: Lambeth? Why?
SHERLOCK: To see Toby.
JOHN: Ah, right. Who?
SHERLOCK: Youll see.
JOHN: Right. (To Greg) You coming?
SHERLOCK: No. Hes got a lunch date with a brunette forensic officer that he doesnt want to be
late for. (He gets up and starts putting on his jacket.)
LESTRADE: Who told you?
SHERLOCK: The right sleeve of your jacket ... (A close-up shows that there are long human
hairs on the sleeve) ... plus the formaldehyde mixed with your cologne ...
(He pulls a disgusted face, while John leans over to put his face nearer to Gregs jacket, either
looking at the sleeve or sniffing at it, or both.)
SHERLOCK: ... and your complete inability to stop looking at your watch. Have a good time.
LESTRADE: I will.
(He heads for the kitchen door onto the landing. Sherlock picks up his phone and types,
Busy?)
SHERLOCK: Trust me, though, shes not right for you.
LESTRADE (stopping and turning back): What?
SHERLOCK (loudly): Shes not the one.
LESTRADE: Well, thank you, Mystic Meg(!)
(He leaves. John steps closer to Sherlock.)
JOHN: Howd you work all that out?
SHERLOCK (quietly, still typing): Shes got three children in Rio that he doesnt know about.
JOHN: Are you just making this up?
SHERLOCK: Possibly.
(He turns and goes out of the kitchen door, John following.)
JOHN: Whos Toby?
As Sherlock speaks, we see images of a young overweight man with glasses sitting at a desk on
which are several computer screens. As he types, complicated data code streams across the
screen in front of him.

495
SHERLOCK (offscreen): Theres a kid I know, hacker, brilliant hacker, one of the worlds best.
He got himself into serious trouble with the Americans a couple of years ago. He hacked into
the Pentagons security system, and I managed to get him off the charge. Therefore he owes
me a favour.
(Sherlocks gloved hand reaches for the knocker on a black-painted door and he knocks twice
and then steps back onto the pavement.)
JOHN: So, how does that help us?
SHERLOCK: What?
JOHN: Toby the hacker.
SHERLOCK: Tobys not the hacker.
JOHN: What?
(The young man opens the door and Sherlock smiles at him.)
SHERLOCK: All right, Craig?
CRAIG (smiling): All right, Sherlock?
SHERLOCK (smiling at something near Craigs feet): Craigs got a dog!
(A large bloodhound, with a lead attached to his collar, wanders out onto the pavement.)
JOHN: So I see.
SHERLOCK (laughing with delight as the dog comes to him): Good boy!
(As Craig grins at them, Mary comes to his side from inside the house, carrying Rosie in her
arms.)
MARY: Hiya!
(John stares at her in surprise.)
JOHN: Mary, what are you ...?
(He holds up his hands as she comes out of the house.)
JOHN: No, we-we agreed we would never bring Rosie out on a case.
MARY: No, exactly, so ... (she hands the baby to John) ... dont wait up. (She looks across to
Sherlock.) Hey, Sherlock.
SHERLOCK: Hey.
JOHN: But ... Mary, what are you doing here?
SHERLOCK: Shes better at this than you.
JOHN: Better?
SHERLOCK: So I texted her.
JOHN: Hang on. Marys better than me?
SHERLOCK: Well, she is a retired super-agent with a terrifying skill set. Of course shes better.
JOHN: Yeah, okay.
SHERLOCK: Nothing personal.
JOHN: What, so Im supposed to just go home now, am I?
MARY: Oh, what do you think, Sherlock? Shall we take him with us?
SHERLOCK: John or the dog?
JOHN: Ha-ha, thats funny.
MARY (to Sherlock): John.
SHERLOCK (mock-thoughtfully): Well ...
MARY: Hes handy and loyal.
JOHN: Thats hilarious.
SHERLOCK: Mm.
JOHN (not seriously): Is it too early for a divorce?
MARY: Aww! (Smiling, she points to herself.)
SHERLOCK: Barnicots house, then. Anyone up for a trudge?
(He turns and walks away with Toby, who barks enthusiastically.)
SHERLOCK: Keep up. Hes fast.
Some time later, Toby has sat himself down on the pavement near a phone box. Mary stands
behind him holding his lead and with her feet either side of his backside. John now has Rosie
strapped in front of him in a baby carrier and Sherlock stands next to him with his hands stuffed
into the top pockets of his coat. From Marys pursed lips, Johns frown as he looks down at the
dog and Sherlocks distant gaze, it seems that theyve been there for some time. John finally
looks up at Sherlock.
JOHN: Hes not moving.
SHERLOCK: Hes thinking.
(Mary idly strokes the top of Tobys head with her fingers, and Toby whines. John looks down at
him again for a moment before lifting his head.)

496
JOHN: Hes really not moving.

SHERLOCK: Slow but sure, John; not dissimilar to yourself.
(John frowns and looks down at Toby again.)
JOHN: You just like this dog, dont you?
SHERLOCK: Well, I like you.
MARY (tiredly): Hes still not moving.
(Sherlock looks down at the dog for a few seconds.)
SHERLOCK: Fascinating.
(Mary lets out an exasperated sigh and clears her throat.)
But finally the game is afoot a-paw, and to the familiar Pursuit music we get a Tobys-eye
view while he lollops along the road, identifying scents in his own Sherlockian way as he
visualises the different smells as HAEMOGLOBIN, and CAFFEINE, and various chemical
symbols. Overlaying the screen, a map shows the route hes taking as he chases along many
different roads. Some time later the team is walking along another road as Toby leads them, his
nose down and identifying H: GROUP A -VE. On they go, Toby now smelling the chemical
elements of WHISKEY as they run past a church.
SHERLOCK: Well? What do you make of it?
MARY: They were looking for something.
SHERLOCK: Yes, but it wasnt a burglar. They came specifically for that Thatcher bust. Why?
(Reaching the Southwark area of London, they head into Borough Market and walk past the
stalls until Toby finally slows down and stops. Theres a large pool of blood on the ground and
someone has thrown sawdust over it to soak up some of it. Nearby a door opens and a butcher
walks out with a pigs carcass over his shoulder. Toby looks round as another butcher carries
another carcass into the area the other man just left. As a third butcher with yet another
carcass walks across the pool of blood, a street sweeper begins to brush the soaked sawdust
into a heap ready to clean it up. Toby whines mournfully. Sherlock looks at the bloody
sawdust.)
SHERLOCK: Clever.
MARY: Well, if you were wounded and you knew you were leaving a trail, where would you go?
JOHN: Like hiding a tree in a forest.
SHERLOCK: Or blood in a butchers.
(He goes round to the front of the dog and bends down to stroke his head.)
SHERLOCK: Never mind, Toby. Better luck next time, hm?
(He looks around the market.)
SHERLOCK: This is it, though. This is the one. (He stands up.) I can feel it.
JOHN: Not Moriarty?
SHERLOCK: It has to be him. Its too bizarre; its too baroque. (He continues to look around the
area, his face alight with excitement.) Its designed to beguile me, tease me, lure me in. At last
a noose for me to put my neck into.
(He walks away. John and Mary exchange a concerned look.)
Elsewhere, someone smashes a hammer into another white plaster bust of Thatcher and then
brings the hammer down again to break the bits into smaller pieces before rummaging through
the fragments. A second identical bust stands beside the shattered one, and the intruder lifts it
and then slams it down onto the table to break it.
MARY AND JOHNS BEDROOM. The Watsons are lying side by side in bed with their eyes closed.
Initially they are reflected in a mirror on the wall and its only when the view switches to the
real image that we perhaps notice that they are lying on opposite sides to the sides they
occupied when weve seen them in bed before. They speak quietly and tiredly.
MARY: You should have seen the state of the front room. It was like The Exorcist.
JOHN: Hm! Was Rosies head spinning round?
MARY: No. Just the projectile vomiting.
JOHN: Nice(!)
(He shifts slightly in the bed.)
MARY: Hm! No, youd think wed have noticed when she was born.
JOHN: Hm? Noticed what?
MARY: The little 666 on her forehead.
(John hums thoughtfully.)
JOHN: Thats The Omen.

497
(Mary opens her eyes and looks across to him.)

MARY: So?
JOHN: Well, you said it was like The Exorcist. Theyre two different things. She cant be the
Devil and the Antichrist.
(Mary sighs and closes her eyes. From the next bedroom, Rosie starts to cry. John opens his
eyes and lifts his head slightly and they both look in the direction of the sound.)
MARY: Yeah, cant she?
(John groans and drops his head back onto the pillow. Mary throws back her side of the duvet
and gets up.)
MARY: Coming, darling.
(John pushes the top of the duvet down a little and presses the backs of his hands over his eyes
for a moment. Mary heads for the other bedroom.)
MARY: Mummys coming.
(On his bedside table, Johns phone buzzes an incoming message. He rolls over and picks up
the phone.)
MARY (in a soothing voice offscreen, over the sound of Rosie wailing): Oh, what are you doing?!
What are you doing?! Come here!
(As she continues chatting to her daughter, John looks at his phone. His eyebrows raise at what
he sees, then he frowns.)
CRAIGS HOUSE. Craig is sitting at his computer typing while Sherlock stands behind him.
CRAIG: Have you heard of that thing, in Germany?
SHERLOCK: Youre going to have to be more specific, Craig.
CRAIG: Ostalgie. People who miss the old days under the Communists. People are weird,
arent they?
SHERLOCK: Mm. (He narrows his eyes momentarily.)
CRAIG: According to this, theres quite a market for Cold War memorabilia Thatcher, Reagan,
Stalin. (He smiles.) Times a great leveller, innit? Thatchers like I dunno Napoleon now.
SHERLOCK (quick fire as he steps closer and leans down to Craig): Yes, fascinating, irrelevant.
Where exactly did they come from?
CRAIG: Ive got into the records of the suppliers Gelder & Co. Seems theyre from Georgia.
SHERLOCK: Where exactly?
CRAIG: Uh, Tbilisi. Batch of six.
(Sherlock straightens up, looking thoughtful.)
CRAIG: One to Welsborough; one to Hassan; one to Doctor Barnicot. Two to Miss Orrie Harker
...
(Sherlocks phone rings and he reaches into his coat to get it.)
CRAIG: ... one to a Mr Jack Sandeford of Reading.
(Sherlock answers his phone and starts speaking immediately.)
SHERLOCK: Lestrade, another one?
LESTRADE (over phone, sounding tired): Yeah.
SHERLOCK: Harker or Sandeford?
(Outdoors somewhere, Greg looks skywards as if wondering which magic pixie whispered those
names into Sherlocks ears. Behind him is a crime scene tape and two forensics technicians in
white body coversuits, along with a couple of police officers in neon yellow coats.)
LESTRADE: Harker. And its murder this time.
SHERLOCK: Hm, that perks things up a bit.
(He turns to leave. Not long afterwards he is in the back of a taxi and types BLACK PEARL
MYSTERY into his phone and getting various snippets of information:
Legendary gem stolen from ...

Interpol launches investigation following the legendary Black Pearl ...
... Borgias from a secure vault in Georgia.
INVESTIGATION ...
He types INTERPOL and more information comes up:
WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?

Black Pearl
Sources at Interpol have admitted they have no new suspects in the case of the missing Black Pearl of the ...
... IN GEORGIA
INTERPOL INVESTIGATION
NO NEW SUSPECT IN THE BLACK PEARL CASE

498
ORRIE HARKERS BACK GARDEN. Greg and Sherlock walk across the garden to where Miss
Harkers body is lying face down on the grass. The forensic investigators are taking
photographs.
LESTRADE: Defensive wounds on her face and hands. Throat cut sharp blade.
SHERLOCK: The same thing inside the house? The bust?
LESTRADE: Two of them this time.
SHERLOCK: Interesting. That batch of statues was made in Tbilisi several years ago limited
edition of six.
LESTRADE: And now someones wandering about destroying em all. Makes no sense. Whats
the point?
SHERLOCK: No, theyre not destroying them. Thats not whats happening.
LESTRADE: Yes it is.
SHERLOCK: Well, it is whats happening, but its not the point. Ive been slow; far too slow.
LESTRADE: Well, Im still being slow over here, so if you wouldnt mind ...
SHERLOCK: Slow but lucky; very lucky. And since they smashed both busts, our luck might just
hold. Jack Sandeford of Reading is where Im going next. Congratulations, by the way.
LESTRADE: Im sorry?
SHERLOCK: Well, youre about to solve a big one.
(He turns and walks away.)
LESTRADE: Yeah, until John publishes his blog.
SHERLOCK (over his shoulder): Yeah. Til then, basically.
SANDEFORD HOME. EARLY EVENING. Inside one of the rooms in an expensive looking house, a
small table holds a photo of a man holding up a trophy and smiling happily at the camera. In
front of the photograph is a different trophy with a carving of a man with a golf club over his
shoulder in full back swing and an over-large bag of golf clubs beside him. Next to the trophy is
a white plaster bust of Thatcher.
A man wearing a dressing gown and with a towel over one arm walks past the table and goes to
the other side of the room which has a floor-to-ceiling window looking through into an indoor
swimming pool lit in dark blue light. A little girl is in the pool, swimming. The man goes through
the open door into the pool room and calls out to the girl.
SANDEFORD: Thats enough now, love.
(He walks over to where theres a small jacuzzi set into the corner of the main pool. On either
side of the jacuzzi, two silver towers, about four feet high and a couple of feet wide, are
fountaining clear sheets of water into the main pool. Sandeford leans down and passes his hand
over a photoelectric sensor and the water stops.)
SANDEFORD: Daddy has things to do, Im afraid.
(The girl has swum to the ladder at the side of the pool and starts to climb it. He walks over to
meet her.)
SANDEFORD: And you need to get to bed! Come on!
(She gets out of the water and he wraps the towel around her. They walk out of the pool room
and Sandeford closes the door, swiping his hand over another sensor on the wall. The lights in
that room go out, leaving the lights on in the pool room. They walk away and, in the pool room,
Sherlock walks into view and stands at the window watching them leave. After a moment, he
walks out of view again.
A clock on the screen shows the time as 19:00. Time passes your transcriber cant be
bothered to record each time change and then, some time after 22:00 someone comes into
the room adjoining the pool room, carrying a large bag. The person walks across to the
Thatcher bust, picks it up and starts to stuff it into the bag but then the lights come on.
Sherlock who has taken off his coat walks across the room behind the intruder, who has the
hood of his jacket pulled up over his head and is wearing a balaclava helmet over his face.)
SHERLOCK: Wouldnt it be much simpler to take out your grievances at the polling station?
(The intruder whips out a pistol and spins around towards Sherlock, who instantly slaps the gun
out of his hand. The man swings the bag up and towards Sherlocks head but he grabs it and
throws it out of reach before punching the man in the face. Your transcriber notices for the first
time that Sherlock is wearing the Purple Shirt of Sex and frets for its safety.
The man returns the punch and they fight on for some time, trading blows and kicks. The man
hurls a bar stool at Sherlock but he shimmies out of the way and then surges in and grapples
with the man, who headbutts him and then grabs the back of his head and slams his forehead
down onto a breadboard on the bar. Sherlock springs back up and punches the man again, then

499
grabs his balaclava and pulls it off. The man stumbles back and we recognise that this is the
man who was having nightmares in his small bedroom earlier in the episode.)
SHERLOCK: You were on the run; nowhere to hide your precious cargo.
(He kicks the mans knee. The man kicks back at him but Sherlock backs out of reach. They
circle each other. Sherlock has blood running from his nose.)
SHERLOCK: You find yourself in a workshop. Plaster busts of The Iron Lady drying. Its clever,
very clever. But now youve met me, and youre not so clever, are you?
THE INTRUDER: Who are you?
SHERLOCK: My name is Sherlock Holmes.
(The man looks at him murderously.)
THE INTRUDER: Goodbye, Sherlock Holmes.
(Roaring in rage, he throws himself at Sherlock and their impetus sends them crashing through
the glass window and straight into the pool. They struggle, fighting underwater for a while. The
intruder screams out in fury and they surface, the man with his hands around Sherlocks throat
before they plunge underwater again. Your transcriber wishes she had the time, enthusiasm
and energy to transcribe the fight split second by split second but hopes youll forgive her not
going into that much detail. They continue to struggle and eventually the man drags Sherlock
across to the jacuzzi, hauls him half over the top and shoves his head down into the water,
holding him down. One of their hands flails across a nearby sensor and water begins to bubble
through the pool. Sherlock finally manages to get his head up and out of the water and he flails
towards the sensor, eventually slamming his hand down onto it. The towers either side of the
jacuzzi begin to pour out sheets of water. Sherlock jerks backwards, pushing the man away,
and turns to face him, backhanding him and then moving around him to wrap one arm around
his neck. As the man repeatedly cries out while he struggles to get free, Sherlock puts his other
hand over the mans head and pulls it back while bundling him towards one of the fountains and
then shoving his face under the flow. The man gags and chokes as the water pours into his
mouth.
After a while Sherlock shoves him aside and makes for the side of the pool. The man cries out
in rage and chases after him, climbing out and following him, but Sherlock scrambles into the
adjoining kitchen and grabs the plaster bust from the bag on the floor. As the man runs towards
him, Sherlock swings the bust round and slams it across his face, sending him crashing to the
floor. He lands close to his own pistol lying nearby but for the moment he doesnt notice it.)
SHERLOCK: Youre out of time. Tell me about your boss, Moriarty.
THE INTRUDER (looking up at him): Who?
SHERLOCK (holding up the bust threateningly): I know its him. It must be him.
THE INTRUDER: You think you understand. You understand nothing.
SHERLOCK: Well, before the police come in and spoil things, why dont we just enjoy the
moment?
(He holds up the bust.)
SHERLOCK: Let me present Interpols number one case. Too tough for them; too boring for me.
(He raises the bust high above his head. The man rolls over onto his side and covers his head
with his arm. Sherlock hurls the bust down onto the floor and it smashes to pieces.)
SHERLOCK: The Black Pearl of the Borgias.
(Looking smug, he lowers his gaze to the shattered plaster. But theres no pearl lying in the
fragments. Instead, Sherlocks eyes fill with shock and disbelief as he looks down at a large
silver memory stick. Written on the side of it in dark ink are the letters
A.G.R.A
SHERLOCK (slowly sinking to his knees, his eyes locked on the memory stick): Its not possible.
How could she ...?
(He reaches out to pick it up.
In flashback, we see John rolling the memory stick in his fingers in front of the fireplace at the
Holmes cottage.
In flashback, Mary puts the stick onto the table beside Johns chair in 221Bs living room.
MARY: Everything about who I was is on there.
JOHN (at the Holmes cottage): The problems of your past are your business. The problems of your future are my
privilege.
He turns and drops the memory stick onto the burning fire.
In the present, while Sherlock continues to stare in confusion, the intruder has finally seen his
pistol nearby and now reaches for it and picks it up.)

500
(The man turns towards Sherlock.)

SHERLOCK: She ... she destroyed it.
THE INTRUDER: She.
(He gets up onto his knees, his face anguished and his eyes full of tears, and raises the gun to
point it at Sherlock.)
THE INTRUDER: You know her.
(Sherlock frowns and slowly raises his head to look at him.)
THE INTRUDER: You do, dont you? You know the bitch. She betrayed me; betrayed us all.
(Approaching police sirens can be heard.)
SHERLOCK: Mary. This is about Mary.
THE INTRUDER: Is that what shes calling herself now, eh?
(The police cars have stopped, and now Gregs voice can be heard over a loudhailer.)
LESTRADE (offscreen, over loudhailer): Armed police! Youre surrounded!
(The intruder glances in the direction of the sound but then looks back to Sherlock.)
THE INTRUDER: Give it to me.
(He slowly gets to his feet. Sherlock does likewise.)
THE INTRUDER (screaming at him): Give it to me!
LESTRADE (offscreen, over loudhailer): Come out slowly. I wanna see your hands above your
head.
(The man turns his head and yells out.)
THE INTRUDER: Nobody shoots me! Anyone shoots, I kill this man!
LESTRADE (offscreen, over loudhailer): Lay down your weapon. Do it now!
THE INTRUDER (loudly, starting to back away in the direction of the door): Im leaving this
place. If no-one follows me, no-one dies.
LESTRADE (offscreen, over loudhailer): Lay down your weapon!
THE INTRUDER: Youre policemen. Im a professional.
(He looks at Sherlock and speaks more quietly.)
THE INTRUDER: Tell her shes a dead woman. Shes a dead woman walking.
SHERLOCK (holding his gaze): Shes my friend, and shes under my protection. Who are you?
THE INTRUDER (his voice shaking with rage): Im the man ... whos gonna kill your friend.
Whos Sherlock Holmes?
SHERLOCK: Not a policeman.
(The man shifts his aim and fires at the sensor beside the door to the pool room. It explodes
and all the lights go out except a couple of uplighters at the far end of the pool. A high-pitched
alarm begins to sound and a white alarm light strobes in the pool room. The man turns and
runs for the door. Sherlock watches him go for a moment, then looks down at the memory stick
in his hand.)
TBILISI, GEORGIA. SIX YEARS AGO (as shown onscreen). The camera pans down over a huge
room with an enormously high ceiling. Ornate lights hang from the ceiling. Two large pedestals
either side of the middle of the room have large bronze lions on them. The room is a mess with
items scattered about haphazardly. There are several people sitting at the foot of each of the
pedestals, wrapped in blankets. Other people are sitting on the floor underneath the massive
windows. One of the windows has a Georgian flag on a flagpole propped up against the window
frame. A few armed men in military uniform are prowling around the room watching the others.
In between the pedestals is a large table and a man and woman sit in chairs at one end. They
too have blankets wrapped around them. A chess set is on the table. The woman looks up at an
approaching soldier.
AMBASSADOR: What do you think? Mate in two?
(The soldier aims his rifle at the couple.)
SOLDIER (in Georgian): I will shoot you.
(The ambassador cringes away from the gun and her husband speaks quietly to her.)
HUSBAND: Dont antagonise them, darling.
(The soldier walks away.)
AMBASSADOR: Oh, what else is there to do? Chess palls after three months.
(She makes a move on the chess board. The soldiers talk amongst themselves nearby.)
AMBASSADOR: Everything palls.
HUSBAND: Theyll send someone soon.
AMBASSADOR: They? Who are they? Seems to me weve put an awful lot of faith in they.
Well, Ive got something they would dearly love if only we could get out of here.
(She looks at her husband smugly.)

501
AMBASSADOR: Ive got Ammo.

HUSBAND: Ammo?
(At that moment glass shatters above them. The Georgian soldiers shout out and everyone
dives for cover as two black-clad operatives with balaclavas over their faces rappel down into
the room on ropes, firing as they go. At the same time two more operatives kick their way
through a door which had been held closed with an axe through the handles and begin to pick
off the soldiers with accurate single shots from their rifles. With all the soldiers apparently
terminated, the operatives move through the room checking in all directions.
The screen splits into four, each section containing one of the operatives. Above each of their
heads appears a letter. Left to right, the letters read:
G.A.R.A.
The two operatives on the left change places, their letters following them. Now the order of
letters reads:
A.G.R.A.
The ambassador kneels up from where she had taken cover under the table. The operative
labelled R. holds out a hand towards her and speaks in a very recognisable female voice.)
MARY: Madam Ambassador.
(She takes the womans hand and pulls her to her feet.)
AMBASSADOR: What took you so long?
MARY: Cant get the staff.
(She firmly pushes the ambassador towards the door. One of the other operatives yells at the
other hostages.)
OPERATIVE: Everyone out! Now!
(The hostages begin to get to their feet and head for the door. Shortly afterwards, the AGRA
team are leading the hostages through the building. They reach a junction and the team checks
in all directions. One of them shouts, To your left! and the hostages turn that way. The team
moves on but Georgian soldiers suddenly come into view in front of them and the one in the
lead fires upwards, blowing out all the lights in the already-dark corridor. The hostages scream
and duck, and AGRA turn and realise that there are armed civilians behind them. AGRA pause,
weighing their options as they calculate how many people they are up against, and then
another Georgian soldier steps into view with his hand on the neck of a female hostage and his
pistol pointed at her head. As he grins and chuckles, revealing a set of gold teeth, one of the
AGRA team, wearing a silver A.G.R.A memory stick round his neck on a chain, pulls up his
balaclava to reveal his face. Its the intruder we saw in the previous scene.)
THAT MAN: What now? What do we do?
(Mary pulls up her own balaclava and takes one more look at the armed men surrounding
them.)
MARY: We die.
(She pulls the pin from a device and hurls the object to the floor in front of her and turns her
face away as a massive white light explodes in front of them. The hostages scream as gunfire
begins.)
The light of the explosion fades away and were in the living room in Baker Street. Sherlock is
standing in front of his chair holding the memory stick by one end and repeatedly tapping it
against the fingers of his other hand while he frowns in concentration. He has a dark bruise
under his left eye. The door opens and Greg comes in. Sherlock turns to look at him.
SHERLOCK: Well?
(Greg shakes his head.)
LESTRADE: He cant have got far. Well have him in a bit.
SHERLOCK: I very much doubt it.
(He takes out his phone and starts to type on it.)
LESTRADE: Why?
SHERLOCK (turning and heading for the door while still typing): Because I think he used to
work with Mary.
In his crummy little room, the intruder is sitting on the floor holding an open bottle in one hand,
and to the right of him on the floor is an open laptop. He has googled Sherlock Holmes and is

502
looking at the various images that have come up. He clicks on some of them and then finds one
of John, Mary and Sherlock outside the church on the Watsons wedding day. He zooms in on
Sherlock, then pans across to Marys smiling face. Putting down the bottle, he picks up the
laptop and puts it into his lap, staring at the photo and breathing heavily. He closes his eyes,
grimaces, and now hes in flashback.
Wearing his black camo gear but without the balaclava, he runs across the floor of a pottery
workshop and braces himself momentarily against one of the racks in the middle of the floor.
Soldiers shout in Russian somewhere nearby, one of them yelling, I tell you, bitch, I will
shoot! A man, maybe a potter, maybe a guard, is sitting at a side bench and the operative
runs across towards him. The man gets up and the operative fights with him. A gunshot
explodes some nearby pottery on one of the central racks, and the operative takes down his
opponent as a soldier comes in and starts firing. By now the operative has a pistol but he has
no chance to use it because there are now at least two soldiers firing at him and pottery and
coloured glaze powder are exploding into the air all around him. Using the cover of the flying
dust, the operative turns and runs to the far end of the workshop and sees six identical white
plaster busts of Margaret Thatcher on the table. Pulling his memory sticks chain over his head,
he stuffs the chain and stick into the open base of one of the busts. As the soldiers make their
way cautiously forward, he stands the bust up [thus ensuring that the memory stick will fall out
when someone picks up the bust, what the hell?]. He turns to run but the gold-toothed man is
behind him and smashes him to the floor.
Some time later the operative is tied to a chair. The gold-toothed soldier shoves his head up to
reveal his bleeding mouth and then punches him hard in the stomach twice. As the operative
slumps and wheezes, the man walks around behind him.
GOLD TEETH MAN: Ammo. Ammo. Ammo.
(The operative looks around at the bare walls. He seems to be in a small warehouse or maybe a
storage lock-up. Theres another man standing at a table behind him but hes not aware of him
yet. A doorway some feet away in front of him leads to another room and theres some
movement in there. The gold-toothed man wraps his arm around the operatives neck from
behind and starts to strangle him.)
GOLD TEETH MAN: Ammo. Ammo. Ammo-o-o-o-o.
(The operatives vision goes black and he slumps in his chair almost unconscious as the man
releases him. The other man walks across and pulls his head up to look at his face.)
GUARD (in heavily-accented English): He passed out again. (He releases the operatives head
and steps back.) Its no fun when they pass out. Well come back later.
(He starts to walk away and his colleague follows but then turns back.)
GOLD TEETH MAN (also in heavily-accented English): What would he do if he knew, huh? About
the English woman?
GUARD: What would you do to a traitor?
GOLD TEETH MAN: Maybe well tell him one day. If he lives that long.
(They chuckle. Blood dribbles from the operatives mouth. A few moments later he lifts his
head. The torturers have gone into the next room and in a shadow on the wall the operative
can see that someone has been hung from the ceiling by their wrists and is being repeatedly
punched or flogged. The victim has long straggly hair. The operatives head goes down briefly
but then he raises it and looks up to the ceiling. Its as if his chair is falling backwards but
instead of landing on hard concrete, he falls back onto the carpet in his bedsit. Staring blankly
upwards, he raises his bottle to his lips and drinks. The perspective changes and hes still lying
on his back on the floor, although his face isnt as badly beaten as it was in the past.)
[Transcribers note: one of my beta team flailed over the fact that the unseen person being
flogged was tall and thin and had long floppy hair. When she pointed it out to me I joined in
with the flailing, remembering someone else of that description who got himself beaten in a
foreign country. Additionally, during later footage of the same embassy firefight we see
glimpses of both of the other team members, and each of them has short hair.
All right, so the above event happened six years ago but still ... *wibbles*]
NIGHT TIME. Rain is pouring down and theres lightning and thunder. Somebody wearing a
raincoat with the hood pulled up over their head walks along a path towards a church, lighting
the way with a flashlight. The person makes their way to a small wooden door with NO ENTRY
stencilled on it in red. Graffiti just under the message reads GwJ. Near the bottom of the door,
someone has spray-painted a white circle with an i inside it. The person pushes open the door
and goes inside, closing the door again. Walking into a small vault, they find that it has been set
up as a home-from-home: theres a tatty sofa and a couple of hard plastic chairs, and a couple

503
of desks, one of which has an open laptop and anglepoise lamp on it. A few other lights are
dotted around the room but its still quite dark in there. The person pushes back the hood of
their coat and we realise that its Mary.
SHERLOCK (barely visible at the end of the vault): I am an idiot. I know nothing.
MARY (cheerily, putting her torch into her coat pocket): Well, Ive been telling you that for
ages! That was quite a text you sent me. (She smiles at him and looks around the vault.)
Whats going on, Sherlock?
SHERLOCK: I was so convinced it was Moriarty, I couldnt see what was right under my nose.
(Marys smile fades and she looks at him worriedly.)
SHERLOCK: I expected a pearl.
(He looks down to the memory stick hes holding. Mary stares in shock and then walks quickly
towards him.)
MARY: Oh my God. Thats a ...
SHERLOCK: Yes, its an AGRA memory stick like you gave John, except this one belongs to
someone else. Who?
MARY (her eyes still locked on the stick): I dont know. We-we all had one, but the others w...
(She gestures at the device.) Well, havent you even looked at it yet?
SHERLOCK: I glanced at it, but Id prefer to hear it from you.
MARY: Why?
SHERLOCK: Because Ill know the truth when I hear it.
MARY (almost silently as she turns away in exasperation): Oh, Sherlock.
(She walks a few paces away from him and then turns back to face him.)
MARY: There were four of us. Agents.
SHERLOCK: Not just agents.
MARY: Polite term. Alex; Gabriel; me; and Ajay.
(She points to the device.)
MARY: There was absolute trust between us. The memory sticks guaranteed it. We all had one,
each containing aliases, our background, everything. We could never be betrayed because we
had everything we needed to destroy the other.
SHERLOCK: Who employed you?
MARY: Anyone who paid well. I mean, we were at the top of our game for years, and then it all
ended. There was a coup in Georgia. The British embassy in Tbilisi was taken over; lots of
hostages. We got the call to go in, get them out. There was a change of plan, a last-minute
adjustment.
SHERLOCK: Who from?
MARY: I dont know. Just another voice on the phone, and a code word, Ammo.
SHERLOCK: Ammo?
MARY: Like ammunition. We went in, but then something went wrong. Something went really
wrong.
(Flashback. In the corridors of the British embassy, Mary pulls the pin from a device and hurls
the object to the floor. A bright white light explodes in front of her and her colleague. Previously
we may have thought it was a grenade but its now clear that its a flash grenade. As the
hostages scream and cower, the Georgian forces open fire. One of the AGRA team drops a
smoke bomb as they return fire. Chaos reigns as the firefight continues and one of the other
two AGRA men spins and falls, apparently shot. Mary starts to move forward. A Georgian soldier
grabs the fourth AGRA man round the neck and drags him away.)
MARY (in the present): That was six years ago. Feels like forever. I was the only one that made
it out.
SHERLOCK: No.
MARY: What?
(Sherlock walks across to the table and picks up the laptop, putting the memory stick into the
drive.)
SHERLOCK: I met someone tonight: the same someone whos looking for the sixth Thatcher.
(He puts the laptop down on the other table, types on it and steps away as various photographs
come up on the screen. Two of them seem to be surveillance photos, while the third is a photo
ID badge of a journalist called Eshan Mohindra. All three pictures are of the man with whom
Sherlock fought earlier. As Mary walks towards the laptop, a new photo comes up of the man. It
and the previous two surveillance photos are marked AGRA - 3203 - 42673.)
MARY: Oh my God. Thats Ajay. Thats him. What, hes alive?
SHERLOCK: Yeah, very much so. (He touches his hand to the bruise under his eye.)

504
MARY (staring at the image in surprised delight): I dont believe it! This is amazing! I thought I
was the only one. I thought I was the only one who got out.
(She turns to Sherlock.)
MARY: Where is he? I need to see him now!
SHERLOCK (holding out a hand to slow her down): Before you gave it to John, did you keep
your memory stick safe?
MARY: Yeah, of course. It was our insurance. Above all, they mustnt fall into enemy hands.
SHERLOCK: So Ajay survived as well, and now hes looking for the memory stick he managed to
hide with all of AGRAs old aliases on it. But why?
MARY: I dont know!
SHERLOCK: Tbilisi was six years ago. Wheres he been?
(She looks down, thinking, then shakes her head, making a helpless sound. Sherlock pauses for
a moment, then pulls in a breath.)
SHERLOCK: Mary, Im sorry to tell you this, but he wants you dead.
(Mary laughs in disbelief.)
MARY (glancing at Ajays image on the laptop): Sorry, no, no, cause we-we were family.
SHERLOCK (softly): Families fall out. The memory stick is the easiest way to track you down.
Youre the only other survivor. It must be you that he wants, and hes already killed looking for
the Thatcher bust.
MARY (looking at the laptop screen): Well, hes just trying to find me. He survived. Thats all
that matters!
SHERLOCK: I heard it from his own mouth. Tell her shes a dead woman walking.
(Mary frowns.)
MARY: Why would he want to kill me?
SHERLOCK: He said you betrayed him.
MARY: Oh, no, no, thats insane.
(She looks at the computer again, bewildered.)
SHERLOCK: Well, its what he believes.
(Mary lets out a long breath and sinks onto a chair.)
MARY: I suppose I was always afraid this might happen; that something in my past would come
back to haunt me one day.
(Sherlock puts his hand to his bruised ribs and turns away from her.)
SHERLOCK: Yes, well hes a very tangible ghost.
MARY: God, I just wanted a bit of peace, and I really thought I had it.
SHERLOCK (turning back and leaning down to her): No. Mary, you do. I made a vow,
remember?
(She stares up at him.)
SHERLOCK: To look after the three of you.
(She smiles slightly.)
MARY: Sherlock the dragon slayer.
SHERLOCK (firmly): Stay close to me and I will keep you safe from him. I promise you.
(She looks thoughtful for a moment, then stands up.)
MARY: Theres something I think you should read.
(He looks at the piece of paper shes holding out with her gloved hand.)
SHERLOCK: What is it?
MARY: I hoped I wouldnt have to do this.
(She puts the paper into his bare hand and watches him as he unfolds it, holding it in both
hands. Immediately his vision starts to go fuzzy.)
SHERLOCK: What are you ...?
(He lifts the paper to his nose and sniffs deeply. [Oh, way to go, genius!] He gasps and starts to
wobble.)
SHERLOCK (in a whisper): Mary.
(Mary supports him as he totters and falls onto the chair behind him.)
MARY (softly): There you go.
SHERLOCK: Oh, no.
MARY: Its all right. Its for the best, believe me.
SHERLOCK (weakly): No.
(While he struggles to stay conscious, Mary goes to the laptop and removes the memory stick.
Pulling her hood up over her head, she hurries to the doorway, her voice faint and echoing.)
MARY: You just look after them til I get back. Im sorry.
(Sherlock sighs out a breath, his eyes starting to close.)

505
MARY (her voice distant and echoing): Im so sorry.

(She turns and looks back at him briefly before disappearing from view. Sherlocks vision whites
out.
Inside his head, the distant sound of a young child singing can be heard. A child (who we
assume at this point is male, though we might find ourselves corrected later) only fuzzily
visible and with his back to us is wearing red trousers rolled up to the knees, a yellow jumper
or jacket, a black pirates hat on his head and yellow plimsolls or shoes, and hes carrying a
yellow plastic sword as he skips away through the shallows on a beach. Nearby a wet Irish
setter, with a purple bandana tied around his neck, watches the boy. Then someone wearing a
pair of red wellington boots can be seen running along the pebble beach. The perspective
changes and, while the childs voice continues to sing, we see the pirate boy trotting away from
us alongside a stream followed by a taller boy wearing red wellingtons, blue jeans and a
checked shirt. The memory whites out.
[Transcribers note: a later episode confirms the lyrics of the song, which are:
I that am lost / Oh, who will find me / Deep down below / The old beech tree?]
Sherlock regains consciousness in the vault. Grimacing and groaning, he looks across to the
laptop and sees that the memory stick has gone. Wide-eyed, he turns the laptop for a clearer
view, then grimaces again, gasps and hauls himself to his feet. He stumbles outside and looks
around. The rain has stopped, although a flash of lightning briefly lights the sky. Shaking his
head to try and clear it, he groans and hurries away.)
MYCROFTS DIOGENES OFFICE. Mycroft, sitting with his feet up on the desk, frowns.
MYCROFT: Agra? A city on the banks of the river Yamuna in the northern state of Uttar Pradesh,
India. It is three hundred and seventy-eight kilometres west of the state capital, Lucknow ...
SHERLOCK (sitting in the chair on the other side of the desk): What are you, Wikipedia?
MYCROFT (smiling): Yes.
[He is, you know. He was quoting the Wikipedia entry verbatim.]
SHERLOCK: AGRA is an acronym.
MYCROFT: Oh, good. I love an acronym. All the best secret societies have them.
SHERLOCK: Team of agents, the best. But you know all that.
MYCROFT: Of course I do. Go on.
SHERLOCK: One of them, Ajay, is looking for Mary, also one of the team.
MYCROFT: Indeed? Well, thats news to me.
SHERLOCK (a little disbelievingly): Is it?
(Mycroft lowers his head and smiles at him in a sort of believe it if you like way.)
SHERLOCK: Hes already killed looking for that memory stick. AGRA always worked for the
highest bidder. I thought that might include you.
MYCROFT (frowning): Me?
SHERLOCK: Well, I mean the British government or whatever government youre currently
propping up.
MYCROFT: AGRA were very reliable; then came the Tbilisi incident. They were sent in to free
the hostages but it all went horribly wrong. And that was that. We stopped using freelancers.
SHERLOCK: Your initiative?
MYCROFT: My initiative. Freelancers are too woolly; too messy. I dont like loose ends not on
my watch.
(Sherlock leans forward and pulls a notepad across the desk towards himself.)
SHERLOCK: There was something else; a detail, a code word.
(He writes AMMO on the notepad, then turns it round to face his brother. The overlaid text on
the screen flips to show the letters in reverse: OMMA. Mycroft frowns at the notepad.)
MYCROFT: AMMO?
SHERLOCK: Its all Ive got.
MYCROFT: Little enough.
SHERLOCK: Could you do some digging, as a favour?
MYCROFT (smiling): You dont have many favours left.
SHERLOCK (flatly): Then Im calling them all in.
MYCROFT: And if you can find whos after her and neutralise them, what then? You think you
can go on saving her forever?
SHERLOCK (nonchalantly): Of course.
MYCROFT: Is that sentiment talking?
SHERLOCK: No. Its me.
MYCROFT: Difficult to tell the difference these days.

506
SHERLOCK: Told you: I made a promise, a vow.

MYCROFT (taking his feet off the desk): All right. Ill see what I can do. (He leans forward and
clasps his fingers together.) But remember this, brother mine: agents like Mary tend not to
reach retirement age. They get retired in a pretty permanent sort of way.
SHERLOCK (slowly, determinedly): Not on my watch.
MARY (voiceover): My darling.

(John sits in a chair at home reading a handwritten letter.)
MARY (voiceover): I need to tell you this because you mustnt hate me for going away.
(The scene wipes to the cabin of an aeroplane. Mary, wearing white slacks, a light striped
jacket, a colourful scarf around her head and large round Prada sunglasses, is sitting in an aisle
seat chewing a piece of gum. She turns to the man sitting next to her at the window seat and
talks to him in a broad New York accent.)
MARY: Pardon me. I can hear a squeaking. Can you hear a squeaking?
(The man has looked up from the book hes reading. He glances around the cabin briefly.)
PASSENGER (English accent): No.
(He lowers his head to his book.)
MARY: Only I watched a documentary on the Discovery Channel.
(Sighing, the man lifts his head to her.)
MARY: Why Planes Fail. Did you see it?
PASSENGER: Cant say I did.
MARY: Oh, truly terrifying. Swore I would never fly again, yet here I am!
(She chuckles nervously. A female flight attendant walks over to her.)
FLIGHT ATTENDANT: Everything okay, madam?
MARY: No! No, no, its not, but then whats the use in complaining? I hear a squeaking.
Probably the wingll come off, is all.
(The attendant laughs politely.)
FLIGHT ATTENDANT: Everythings fine, I promise you. Just relax.
MARY (sarcastically): Oh, okay, relax. (She slaps her fellow passengers arm as the attendant
walks away towards the rear of the plane.) She said relax. (She sniggers.)
PASSENGER (politely): Did you have a nice time? In London?
MARY: It was okay, I guess, but did somebody hide the sun? (She takes off her sunglasses.)
Did you lose it in the war?
(Laughing, she slaps his arm again. He smiles politely and returns to his book. Mary, chomping
on her gum, turns and looks along the aisle behind her.
Back at Johns, he continues to read her letter. An overlay of her writing drifts across the
screen.)
MARY (voiceover): I gave myself permission to have an ordinary life. Im not running. I promise
you that. I just need to do this in my own way.
[Annoyingly, the handwriting on the letter actually reads, Im not running away.]
(On the plane, Mary clings to one arm of her chair and hunches forward.)
MARY (in her New York accent): Oh God. Im s... I-I dont feel so good. Oh my God.
(As she lifts her hand and raises it to her mouth, the man beside her turns round from where he
was looking out of the window and reaches up to push the Call button. At the front of the
section, two flight attendants look round at the sound of the bing and the one who spoke to
Mary before comes down the aisle. Mary is breathing heavily and gulping as if she is going to be
sick. She glances up as the attendant arrives.)
FLIGHT ATTENDANT (squatting down next to her): Everything okay, madam?
MARY: I think Im dying. I dont feel so good.
(She gasps in a few breaths.)
FLIGHT ATTENDANT (comfortingly): Youre all right.
MARY: Oh ... (she reaches out and cups the womans cheek) ... youre sweet. (She strokes her
cheek.) You have a very kind face. God will smile on you. (She grizzles, then raises her other
hand towards her mouth.
At home, John looks away from the letter thoughtfully as Marys voiceover continues.)
MARY (voiceover): ... but I dont want you and Sherlock hanging off my gun arm. Im sorry, my
love.
(At an airport terminal, a flight attendant pushes Mary out of the Arrivals area in a wheelchair.
Her dark glasses are back on her face. The camera pans up and we see that Mary is actually the
flight attendant, now in the airlines uniform. Smiling smugly, she continues across the

507
concourse and its now clear that the woman in the wheelchair wearing Marys clothes is the
flight attendant, her eyes closed behind the glasses.)
MARY (voiceover): I know youll try to find me, but there is no point.
(In a cut-away shot, three dice tumble across the screen.)
MARY (voiceover): Every move is random and not even Sherlock Holmes can anticipate the roll
of a dice.
(Three numbers appear on the screen over an alphabetical list of place names in an atlas. The
numbers are 6, 2 and 3 and the camera zooms in on the atlas to where it reads Norddal,
Norway M47+623 46 [presumably the last number is the page number of the atlas]. A map of
Norway appears on screen and starts to zoom in.
Mary, dressed for cold weather and wearing a woolly hat, is on a fishing boat at a quayside. The
boat has a Norwegian flag on the side of the wheelhouse. She picks up a large canvas bag,
swings it over her shoulder and steps out of the boat and walks away.)
[Transcribers note: a million thanks to the anonymous commenter who pointed out that the
boat from which Mary disembarks is named Flekkete Bnd which deliciously translates to
Speckled Band. Additionally I am assured that the name of the boat behind it, which I cant
read clearly, translates from Norwegian to Lions Mane. Sometimes I could hug Mofftiss so
hard that their eyes would pop out of their heads.]
MARY (voiceover): I need to move the target far, far away from you and Rosie, and then Ill
come back, my darling. I swear I will.
(Later she has made her way to a more isolated area of shoreline. A coastal watchtower stands
nearby and she goes to the stone wall below it. Looking around to check that theres nobody in
the vicinity, she pulls out a loose stone from the wall and reaches into the gap to pull out a
brown envelope. Taking out the passport inside it, she opens it. The photo is of Mary but with
long brown hair, and the name is Gabrielle Ashdown, born in the USA on 16 April 1975.
Some time later, as an overlaid map drifts across eastern Europe, Mary comes out of a stone
cottage dressed in black leathers and wearing a long dark wig that matches the passport photo.
She gets onto a motorcycle, pushes the starter button, puts on a black helmet and drives off,
riding past what looks like an abandoned factory or warehouse with RACHWALD KIELBASKI
painted on the side. Graffitied across the wall is the word SOLIDARNO [the name of the
famous Polish trade union, known as Solidarity in English].
Later again, while the overlaid map confusingly pans across Liechtenstein [has Gatiss been
listening to episodes of Cabin Pressure?], an SUV drives across a far more arid region, possibly
northern Italy. Mary is at the wheel.
The dice roll again and the arrival time of an aeroplane can be seen as 02:30 while the map
pans across south eastern Europe. We next see Mary walking along a stone pier which has the
Cyrillic word (English translation Bugrino) painted on the wall. Her hair is covered
with a black floppy beret.
The dice roll again and a camel walks across a desert region while the map pans across Tehran.
Its not clear whether the person riding the camel is actually Mary, though we can assume that
it is. Again the dice roll and someone who we again assume is Mary is now on foot, wearing a
white head scarf and with a bag over her shoulder, walking across the sand towards a nearby
building. The map is now panning across Algeria.
Later, as the map shows Morocco, Mary walks into a covered souk or marketplace wearing dark
slacks, a striped shirt and a long white scarf over her dark hair. She has a bag over one
shoulder. She moves briskly through the stalls, checking behind herself for any sign of being
followed. Making her way into a narrow alleyway she reaches a doorway above which is a sign
saying in Arabic and English, Hotel CECIL. She goes inside.
She reaches a latticed door and puts her head close to it as if listening for sounds inside.
Drawing and cocking a large pistol, she pushes the door open and moves toward the sound of
an accented male voice. The room ahead of her is in an Oriental style with orange terracotta
walls, stained glass windows covered in latticework, and pointed archways. There is a bed in
front of her to her right, and the voice is coming from deeper in the room to the left.)
MALE VOICE (offscreen): Not like this, my friend. You havent got a chance, not a chance.
(Holding the gun pointed upwards beside her head with both hands, Mary moves silently
forward.)
MALE VOICE (offscreen): Ive got you where I want you. Give in! Give in! I will destroy you.
Youre completely at my mercy.
(Mary grimaces.)
SHERLOCKs VOICE (offscreen): Mr Baker. Well, that completes the set.
(Her grimace fades and she looks startled.)

508
MALE VOICE (offscreen, laughing): No it does not.

(Lowering her gun, Mary steps into the room.)
SHERLOCKs VOICE (offscreen): Well, who else am I missing?
(A young man, maybe in his early teens, is sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of a low
table. Its his voice we heard offscreen. There are game cards on the table.)
KARIM: Master Bun. Its not a set without him. How many more times, Mr Sherlock?
(As Mary moves further into the room she sees Sherlock, wearing a dark blue shirt, sitting
cross-legged on the floor on the other side of the table, holding some cards in his hands. The
two of them are clearly playing the Happy Families card game.)
SHERLOCK (humming out an exasperated breath): Maybe its because Im not familiar with the
concept. (Nonchalantly, looking at her for a moment) Oh, hi, Mary.
KARIM (giving her only a brief glance before turning back to Sherlock): What concept?
SHERLOCK: Happy families.
(He looks up at Mary.)
SHERLOCK: Nice trip?
MARY: How the f...
SHERLOCK (interrupting): Please, Mary. There is a child present.
(Mary sighs.)
MARY: How did you get in here?!
SHERLOCK: Karim let me in.
(Smiling, Karim waves to her.)
KARIM: Hello.
(She nods to him and pulls her headscarf down onto her shoulders to reveal her long dark bob.)
SHERLOCK: Karim, would you be so kind as to fetch us some tea?
KARIM: Sure.
(Karim stands up and looks at Mary.)
KARIM: Nice to meet you, missus.
(He leaves the room while Mary stares blankly into the distance for a moment before turning
her head and directing an insincere smile down to Sherlock.)
MARY (moving to stand at the other side of the table): No, I-I-I mean how did you find me?
SHERLOCK (frowning as if he doesnt know why shes surprised): Im Sherlock Holmes.
MARY: No, really, though, how? Every movement I made was entirely random; every new
personality just on the roll of a dice!
SHERLOCK: Mary, no human action is ever truly random. (Quick fire) An advanced grasp of the
mathematics of probability mapped onto a thorough apprehension of human psychology and the
known dispositions of any given individual can reduce the number of variables considerably.
(Mary stares at him, bamboozled by his technobabble.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): I myself know of at least fifty-eight techniques to refine this seemingly
infinite array of randomly generated possibilities down to the smallest number of feasible
variables.
(She nods.)
SHERLOCK: But theyre really difficult, so instead I just ... stuck a tracer on the inside of the
memory stick.
(He snorts laughter as her mouth drops a little, then she laughs as well.)
MARY: Oh, you bastard!
(She looks down on his giggling face.)
MARY: You bastard!
SHERLOCK: I know, but your face!
MARY: The mathematics of probability?!
SHERLOCK: You believed that.
MARY (throwing up her hands): Feasible variables!
SHERLOCK: Yes. I started to run out about then.
(Still grinning, Mary clenches her hands either side of her head in frustration.)
MARY: In the memory stick!
JOHN (walking into the room): Yeah, that was my idea.
(She turns to look at him. He looks back at her straight-faced and her smile slowly drops.)
Night falls outside, and the call to prayer can be heard. In the hotel, Mary has taken off her
dark wig to reveal her blonde hair tied back. John is sitting on the corner of the low table while
she stands in front of him.

509
JOHN: AGRA.
MARY: Yes.
JOHN: Mm-hm. You said it was your initials.
(Mary bites her lip.)
MARY: In a way, that was true.
JOHN: In a way?
(He shakes his head and looks away.)
JOHN: So many lies.
MARY: Im so sorry.
JOHN: I dont just mean you.
MARY: What?
JOHN: Alex, Gabriel, Ajay ... Youre R.
(She nods. He looks up at her, a small tight smile on his face.)
JOHN: Rosamund.
MARY (after a slight pause): Rosamund Mary.
(He nods.)
MARY: I always liked Mary.
JOHN (smiling): Yeah, me too.
(His smile drops and he looks away.)
JOHN: I used to.
(He stands up and walks away a few paces.)
MARY: I ju... I didnt know what else to do.
JOHN (turning back to her): You could have stayed. You could have talked to me. (His voice
becomes more angry.) Thats what couples are supposed to do: work things through.
(She shrugs in agreement.)
MARY: Yes. (She nods.) Yes, of course.
JOHN (walking closer to her): Mary, I may not be a very good man, but I think Im a bit better
than you give me credit for, most of the time.
MARY: All the time. Youre always a good man, John. Ive never doubted that. You never judge;
you never complain. I dont deserve you. I ...
(She trails off. John looks at her questioningly.)
MARY: All I ever wanted to do was keep you and Rosie safe, thats all.
(He reaches out and puts his hand on top of her clasped hands. Nearby, Sherlock has been
sitting on a chair at the other end of the room throughout their conversation, his hands clasped
in his lap and his head lowered. He has his jacket on over his shirt. Now he looks up briefly
towards the couple before lowering his head again.)
SHERLOCK: I will keep you safe.
(John takes his hand away again.)
SHERLOCK (standing): But it has to be in London. Its my city; I know the turf.
(Mary glances towards him briefly then returns her gaze to John, who looks away.)
SHERLOCK: Come home and everything will be all right, I promise you.
(The red dot of a laser appears on the wall behind the Watsons and then shifts onto the side of
Johns head. Mary is unsighted and cant see it but Sherlock yells out urgently.)
SHERLOCK: Get down!
(Instantly Mary grabs John and pulls him downwards. Sherlock leans down, grabs the low table
and flips it up onto one side to provide a barrier against the shooter. John goes to his hands and
knees while Mary runs for the far side of the room, rummaging in her shoulder bag as she goes.
Several shots are fired through the closed latticed door and then the man we now know as Ajay
kicks the door open and marches in, his rifle raised in front of him. Mary fires three shots from
her pistol and Ajay takes cover around the corner of the doorway to the room. Mary drops to a
crouch beside a bureau at the end of the room, Sherlock half kneels between the other side of
the bureau and another taller cabinet near the entrance, and John half sits up behind the
upturned table.)
AJAY: Hello again.
MARY: Ajay?
AJAY: Oh, you remember me. Im touched.
MARY: Look, I thought you were dead, believe me, I did.
AJAY: Ive been looking forward to this for longer than you can imagine.
MARY: I swear to you, I thought you were dead. I thought I was the only one who got out.
(Ajay moves out of the corner, still obscured from Marys and Sherlocks view, and fires a single
shot into the upturned table behind which John is crouching with his arms against it to keep it

510
upright. Not looking round, Sherlock stretches out a hand towards Mary and without hesitation
she gives him her pistol.)
SHERLOCK: How did you find us?
AJAY: By following you, Sherlock Holmes. I mean, youre clever you found her but I found
you, so perhaps not so clever. And now here we are, at last.
(Sherlock looks around and raises his eyes to the light hanging from the ceiling. He stands up,
fires at the light and shatters it, then swings the pistol round to aim at Ajays position. Ajay
drops down to a crouch. He chuckles.)
AJAY: Touch.
JOHN: Listen: whatever you think you know, we can talk about this. We can work it out.
AJAY: She thought I was dead. I might as well have been.
MARY: It was always just the four of us, always, remember?
AJAY: Oh yeah.
MARY: So why dyou want to kill me?
AJAY: Dyou know how long they kept me prisoner; what they did to me? They tortured Alex to
death. (He breathes out a brief sigh.) I can still hear the sound of his back breaking.
(Brief flashback to the shadow of the long-haired man being flogged.)
AJAY: But you, you where were you?
MARY: That day at the embassy, I escaped.
AJAY (on an angry breath): Oh, yeah.
MARY: But I lost sight of you too, so you explain: where were you?
AJAY: Oh, I got out ... for a while.
(Brief flashback to him ducking down while pottery and coloured glaze powder explodes around
him.)
AJAY: Long enough to hide my memory stick.
(Brief flashback of him shoving the stick into the plaster bust.)
AJAY: I didnt want that to fall into their hands.
(Brief flashback of the gold-toothed man knocking him out in the pottery workshop.)
AJAY: I was loyal, you see; loyal to my friends. But they took me, tortured me. Not for
information.
(New flashback of the gold-toothed man firmly cradling Ajays head with one hand while holding
up a pair of surgical scissors with the other. Ajay cries out.)
AJAY: Not for anything except fun.
(In flashback, the gold-toothed man grins manically into Ajays face while he groans.
In the present John, now on his hands and knees behind the table, drops his head down and
then sinks down to press his head against the backs of his hands.)
AJAY: Oh, they thought Id give in, die, but I didnt. I lived, and eventually they forgot about me
just rotting in a cell somewhere. Six years they kept me there, until one day I saw my chance.
Oh, and I-I made them pay. You know, all the time I was there, I just kept picking up things
little whispers, laughter, gossip: how the clever agents had been betrayed.
(John looks across the room in front of him and sees an open bag lying on the floor a short
distance away. Theres a pistol in it.)
AJAY: Brought down by you.
MARY: Me?
(A train whistles as it goes past the window, its light briefly illuminating the room. Ajay rises
from his hiding place and at the same moment Mary breaks from cover and heads across the
room, grabbing the pistol which Sherlock is already holding out to her. Simultaneously John
rises to a low crouch and scrambles across to the bag to grab the other gun. As Ajay comes
around the corner Mary is already there to meet him and they stop inches away from each
other aiming their guns at the others head. John drops to his knees behind a stool and braces
his arms on top of it, aiming his pistol at Ajay with both hands. Everyone stops moving and Ajay
lets out a voiceless gasp at the sight of the woman he despises.)
MARY (calmly): You know Ill kill you too. You know I will, Ajay.
AJAY (breathing heavily): What, you think I care if I die?
(He lowers one hand from his gun and takes half a step forward. Standing nearby, Sherlock
shifts position slightly, his eyes locked on him.)
AJAY: Ive dreamed of killing you every night for six years ...
(He leans slightly forward so that the end of Marys gun is touching his forehead.)
AJAY (savagely): ... of squeezing the life out of your treacherous, lying throat.
MARY: I swear to you, Ajay.

511
(John briefly rises up a little on his knees, his gun still aimed up at Ajay, then drops back down
again, his teeth bared.)
SHERLOCK (calmly, quietly): What did you hear, Ajay? When you were a prisoner, what exactly
did you hear?
(John glances across to him as he speaks then looks back towards Ajay and blows out a quiet
breath.)
AJAY: What did I hear?
(He opens his mouth to form a word but hesitates for a moment before he manages to say it.)
AJAY: Ammo. Every day as they tore into me. Ammo. Ammo. (His voice starts to tremble.)
Ammo. (He takes in a shaky breath.) Ammo.
(His gun hand begins to tremble. Mary grimaces slightly, perhaps realising that he is in danger
of losing control.)
AJAY (savagely): We were betrayed!
SHERLOCK: And they said it was her?
AJAY (to Mary): You betrayed us!
SHERLOCK (firmly): They said her name?
AJAY: Yeah, they said it was the English woman.
(A Moroccan policeman comes into the room and fires two shots into Ajays back. Mary screams
as he drops.)
MARY: No! No!
(Dropping her gun, she bends down to him and John hurries to join her. As the policeman
stands in the doorway with his gun still raised, Karim walks in carrying a tray containing four
silver cups with mint leaves sticking out of them. He stops as John bends down and puts his
fingers to Ajays neck, and Karim drops the tray which crashes to the floor.)
Theres a brief shot of the Houses of Parliament in London, then were in Mycrofts Diogenes
office. Mycroft stands in the corner of the room behind his desk with one elbow on the top of a
filing cabinet. He is holding his phone to his ear with the other hand.
SHERLOCK (over phone): The English woman. Thats all he heard. Naturally he assumed it was
Mary.
MYCROFT: Couldnt this wait until youre back?
SHERLOCK (still in the same room in Morocco, although it seems that Ajays body has been
removed): No, its not over. Ajay said that theyd been betrayed. The hostage takers knew
AGRA were coming. There was only a voice on the phone, remember, and a code word.
MYCROFT: Ammo, yes, you said.
SHERLOCK: Hows your Latin, brother dear?
MYCROFT (frowning): My Latin?
SHERLOCK: Amo, amas, amat.
MYCROFT (still frowning as he translates the Latin words): I love, you love, he loves. What ...?
(He stops. Apparently hes got it.)
SHERLOCK: Not ammo as in ammunition but amo, meaning ...?
(Mycroft raises an eyebrow then starts to straighten up, his face stern.)
MYCROFT: Youd better be right, Sherlock.
(He hangs up. Sherlock does likewise, and the Holmes brothers start to move away.)
PARLIAMENTARY BUILDING. Lady Smallwood walks along a corridor with Vivian the secretary
following her holding a folder. They reach a glass door which has a security panel on a stand.
Lady Smallwood holds her security pass against it and it beeps and shows a red message
reading ACCESS DENIED. She touches the pass to the panel again but it beeps and shows the
same message. Looking exasperated, she tries again with the same result. Behind her, Sir
Edwin and a uniformed security guard approach.
LADY SMALLWOOD: Bloody thing.
(She turns and sees the new arrivals. She looks at the security guard as he walks to stand
between her and the closed door, then turns to Sir Edwin.)
LADY SMALLWOOD: Whats going on?
SIR EDWIN: Im very sorry, Lady Smallwood. Your security protocols have been temporarily
rescinded.
LADY SMALLWOOD: What?!
(The security guard takes one of her arms and puts his other hand against her back and starts
to walk her back along the corridor. Vivian follows them.)

512
On an aeroplane, Sherlock sits in an aisle seat with his eyes closed. The Watsons are in the row
in front of him. Despite there being three seats, they are not sitting side by side: Mary is in the
aisle seat with her head propped up on one hand and her eyes closed, and John is in the
window seat looking towards the window. His own voice sounds in his head.
JOHNs VOICE: So many lies. I dont just mean you.
(An image of the woman who smiled at him on the bus appears on the planes window. He turns
away and looks at his sleeping wife.)
FLASHBACK. On the bus, John glances again towards the red-haired woman and smiles to
himself. She also smiles towards him, then looks away, licks her lips and then bites her lower
lip. John gets off the bus and looks into the side window, seeing his reflection and the flower
tucked behind his ear.
JOHN (quietly, to himself): Oh, sh...
(He takes the flower from his ear and raises his eyes to the heavens as the bus pulls away. He
turns, and the woman is standing beside him, smiling. [In the end credits, her name is given as
Elizabeth but because she never tells John her name onscreen, Ill voice her as Woman.])
WOMAN (Scottish accent): Hello.
JOHN: Ah. Hello.
WOMAN: I like your daisy!
JOHN: Thank you, yeah. Its not really me, though, I dont think.
WOMAN: No?
JOHN: No.
WOMAN (fiddling with her hair): Shame.
JOHN: No, its too floral for me. Im more of a knackered-with-weary-old-eyes kind of guy.
WOMAN: Well, I think theyre nice. (She pauses, looking a little awkward, but then presses on.)
Nice eyes.
JOHN (laughing): Thank you!
(He briefly rubs his left hand across his nose and turns away for a moment, shaking his head as
if in disbelief that this pretty woman is flirting with him.)
WOMAN: Look, look ... I dont normally do this but, um ...
(She starts to rummage in her handbag.)
JOHN: But youre gonna.
WOMAN (sounding nervous): Yeah!
(She scribbles onto the piece of paper shed been holding on the bus. John smiles and steps
closer, looking down at the paper.)
JOHN: Whats this?
WOMAN: This is me. (She hands him the paper and backs away, smiling nervously and rubbing
the back of her head while keeping her eyes fixed on the paper Johns holding.)
JOHN: Thank you. Cheers.
WOMAN (turning away quickly): Yeah, okay, bye! (She hurries off.)
JOHN: Bye.
(He stares after her, frowning in mild disbelief, then looks down at the paper and smiles. He
turns and walks in the opposite direction but then stops, looking at the paper again and still
smiling. He puts down his briefcase and takes his phone from his pocket. Activating it, he sees
his screensaver picture of him sitting on the sofa at home with his arm around his wife who is
cradling their newborn daughter. He and Mary are smiling at someone off-camera. He looks up,
grimacing, and takes a couple of steps to a nearby rubbish bin. He pushes his hand into the gap
and almost drops the piece of paper into the bin but then hesitates. He looks up and smiles,
then starts to grimace again.
Later, sitting at the kitchen table in his family home, he unfolds the piece of paper and looks at
it. The woman has written:
07700 900 552
E xx
John looks at it for a long time, then lifts his head and lets out a silent laugh. He looks down at
it again, then picks up his phone, opens up a New Contact and types E before adding the
phone number and saving it. Your transcriber reaches for the brain bleach. John immediately
sends a text message reading simply, Hey. He puts the phone down on the table and gets up

513
and walks away. A few moments later the phone chimes and a message appears. It too simply
reads, Hey.)
Still in flashback and with no indication yet whether this is the same day or is days or even
weeks later, the Watsons are lying side by side in bed with their eyes closed.
MARY: No, youd think wed have noticed when she was born.
JOHN: Hm? Noticed what?
MARY: The little 666 on her forehead.
(John hums thoughtfully.)
JOHN: Thats The Omen.
(Mary opens her eyes and looks across to him.)
MARY: So?
JOHN: Well, you said it was like The Exorcist. Theyre two different things. She cant be the
Devil and the Antichrist.
(Mary sighs and closes her eyes. From the next bedroom, Rosie starts to cry. John opens his
eyes and lifts his head slightly and they both look in the direction of the sound.)
MARY: Yeah, cant she?
(John groans and drops his head back onto the pillow. Mary throws back her side of the duvet
and gets up.)
MARY: Coming, darling.
(John pushes the top of the duvet down a little and presses the backs of his hands over his eyes
for a moment. Mary heads for the other bedroom.)
MARY: Im coming.
[Perhaps interestingly, the last time we saw this scene, she said, Mummys coming.]
(On his bedside table, Johns phone buzzes an incoming message. He rolls over and picks up
the phone.)
MARY (in a soothing voice offscreen, over the sound of Rosie wailing): Oh, what are you doing?!
What are you doing?!
(As she continues chatting to her daughter, John looks at his phone. His eyebrows raise at what
he sees, then he frowns. The message reads:
Its been too long.
John looks across the room towards Rosies bedroom as Mary continues to try and soothe the
crying baby.)
MARY (offscreen, soothingly): Come on. Its okay.
(John looks back to his phone and types:
I know. Sorry.
After a few moments, the reply comes back:
Miss you.
John looks across to his bedside table for a moment, presumably looking at his clock, then goes
back to the phone and types:
Youre up late.
Theres no reply for a few seconds and John again looks across towards Rosies room as she
continues to wail. Then a new message comes in:
Or early.
Glancing again towards the other bedroom, John types:
Night owl?
The reply comes back almost immediately:
Vampire

514
John quirks a grin.)

MARY (offscreen): Oh, youre not gonna stop crying, are you? I know: shall we go see Daddy?
(Quickly typing and sending
:)
John rolls over and puts the phone face down on the bedside table. The clock on the table
shows that its five oclock.)
MARY (offscreen): Lets go and see Daddy! Daddys here. (She walks into the bedroom carrying
the baby and kissing her head.) Its okay, Rosie.
(John throws back the duvet on his side.)
JOHN: Ill take her.
MARY: Yeah.
JOHN (getting out of bed): Yeah, I may as well get up now.
(He puts one knee on the bed and reaches out for his grizzling daughter.)
MARY (holding Rosie up): Hey, baby, its Daddy! (She noisily kisses her cheek a few times.) Its
your daddy!
(Kneeling on the bed, she hands her daughter to John.)
JOHN: Come here, Rose.
MARY: Yeah!
JOHN: Come here, darling. Its all right.
(He kisses the babys cheek. Mary gets back into bed.)
MARY: Ah, thank you.
(The camera focuses in on the phone lying on Johns bedside table. Offscreen, Rosie continues
to fret. After a few seconds, John reaches down and picks up the phone before walking away
with it.)
DAY TIME. Sitting on the top deck of a bus, John types a new message into his phone:
This isnt a good idea.

Im not free.
Things wont end well.
It was nice to get to know
you a little.
Partway into typing the message he stands up and walks to the top of the stairs, still typing
one-handed. Someone rings the bell to alert the driver to stop at the next stop and John walks
down the stairs, the message still unsent. Downstairs, when the bus stops and the doors open,
he gets off, stops a couple of paces away and adds:
Im sorry.
Sighing, he sends the message. Grimacing a little, he looks around. The mystery woman is
sitting on the bus stop bench smiling at him. John smiles and her own smile widens. John
grimaces a bit, baring his teeth, and looks down at his phone and the sent message, then
briefly raises his eyebrows and looks across to the woman again.
[Transcribers note: For the sake of completeness, I should add that an advertising hoarding on
the bus stop shows something which is almost definitely a flag for something in one or both of
the future episodes. If youre avoiding potential spoilers, skip to the next paragraph.
On the hoarding is a photo of a man in his fifties (in real life, the actor is Toby Jones) with a
grimace on his face. Beside his head are the words HES BACK and at the bottom of the
poster, partially obscured by Johns body, are the words
A ROWBANE...
(in big letters) BUSINESS...
SERIES ...
ITS MURDER IN THE... (The word murder is in red letters.)
COMING...
In the present, John stares blankly out of the plane window, lost in thought.

515
DIOGENES CLUB (presumably). In a room similar to but much smaller than Mycrofts office
and looking very like the type of room in which Jim Moriarty was interrogated Lady Smallwood
sits at a small table facing Mycroft seated on the other side. A mirror is behind her, reflecting
both of them. Mycrofts hands are clasped in front of him on the table and he is rapidly tapping
one finger against the other hand.
LADY SMALLWOOD: This is absolutely ridiculous and you know it. How many more times?
MYCROFT: Six years ago you held the brief for foreign operations, code name Love.
LADY SMALLWOOD: And youre basing all this on a code name? On a whispered voice on the
telephone? Come on, Mycroft.
MYCROFT: You were the conduit for AGRA. Every assignment, every detail, they got from you.
LADY SMALLWOOD: It was my job.
MYCROFT (unfolding his hands and sitting back): Then there was the Tbilisi incident. AGRA went
in.
LADY SMALLWOOD: Yes.
MYCROFT: And they were betrayed.
LADY SMALLWOOD (firmly): Not by me.
(Mycroft just looks at her. She takes in a breath and sighs it out.)
LADY SMALLWOOD: Mycroft, weve known each other a long time. I promise you, I havent the
foggiest idea what all this is about. You wound up AGRA and all the other freelancers. (Slowly,
emphatically) I havent done any of the things youre accusing me of. Not one. (Even more
emphatically) Not. One.
(Mycroft looks down at the table for a moment, then turns his head to look to his left. On the
other side of a one-way mirror stands Sherlock, watching thoughtfully. Mycroft lowers his gaze
and sits forward again, adjusting his jacket.)
THE WATSONS HOME. John is standing in the living room and now turns to face Mary who is
sitting on the sofa.
JOHN: Dyou think shell like bedtime stories? Id like to do those.
MARY (smiling): Yeah?!
JOHN: Yeah, I just make a series of gurgling noises at the moment although she does seem
to enjoy em.
(He sits down at the other end of the sofa and picks up a glass of red wine.)
MARY: Well, Ill have to give that a go!
(He smiles round to her and takes a drink.)
MARY (looking reflective): Got a lot to catch up on.
DAY TIME. Sherlock is walking slowly across Vauxhall Bridge. He stops and turns to face the
river, his gaze distant and his eyes rapidly flickering back and forth as various memories come
to him:
AJAY: You think you understand. You understand nothing.
(Two Thatcher busts appear before Sherlocks minds eye overlaid with flying plaster dust before
they are visually shattered.)
(In the Welsborough house, Sherlock looks across to the Thatcher shrine table. Simultaneously
a shattered bust lifts off the floor and reassembles itself before flying up out of sight.)
MYCROFT: Code names Antarctica, Langdale, Porlock and Love ...
(A hammer smashes down onto the first of Orrie Harkers Thatcher busts.)
(Mary stands holding Rosie, looking into her phones camera as she talks to Sherlock over
Skype.)
MARY: Youd be amazed what a receptionist picks up.
(She lowers her voice to a dramatic whisper.)
MARY: They know everything.
(More plaster shatters, and Ajays memory stick lies amongst the fragments.)
AJAY: They said it was the English woman.
(More plaster shatters.)
MYCROFT: Dont minute any of this.
MARY: They know everything.
(Sherlock turns his head to the right, staring across the river. He breaks into a run, heading for
the distinctive SIS Building, also known as the headquarters of MI6.)
THE WATSONS HOME. Mary and John are still sitting on the sofa, Mary with her feet curled up
under her.

516
MARY: You dont make it easy, do you?

MARY (shifting round and putting her feet on the floor): Well, being ... (she clears her throat) ...
being so perfect.
(She puts her right elbow on her knee and rests her forehead on the heel of her hand. John
looks at her for a moment, then takes a breath and leans forward.)
JOHN: Mary ... I-I need to tell you ...
(Marys phone buzzes and chirps a text alert.)
MARY: Hang on.
(Even as she picks up her phone, Johns phone also chirps an alert. Marys message reads:
The curtain rises.

The last act.
Its not over. SH
Johns message reads:
London Aquarium.
Come immediately. SH
MARY: Can you tell me later?

JOHN: Yeah.
MARY: Great.
JOHN: Yeah.
(They both stand up and head towards the front door but then Mary stops and turns around.)
MARY: Well, no, we cant just go.
JOHN: Rosie.
MARY: Yeah.
JOHN (getting his phone back out of his jeans pocket): Uh, you go.
MARY: No!
JOHN: Ill, um, come as soon as Ive found someone. Mrs Hudson.
MARY: Corfu til Saturday.
[Oh hell. Mrs Hudson has left Baker Street. England will fall.]
MARY: Molly.
JOHN: Uh, yeah, Ill try. (He starts typing.)
MARY: Well, we should both stay and wait for her.
JOHN: You know thats not gonna happen. If theres more to this case, youre the one who
needs to see it.
MARY: Yeah, okay. You win.
(She heads for the door while John continues texting.)
NIGHT TIME. COUNTY HALL, SOUTH BANK. Inside the Sea Life London Aquarium housed inside
County Hall, Sherlock makes his way along the blue-lit corridors and through the glass tunnels
under the water.
TANNOY ANNOUNCEMENT: Ladies and gentlemen, the Aquarium will be closing in five minutes.
Please make your way to the exit. Thank you.
(He continues onwards until he reaches an enclosed area with benches where people can sit and
look at the various tanks all around. A woman is sitting on one of the benches with her back to
him.)
SHERLOCK: Your office said Id find you here.
VIVIAN: This was always my favourite spot for agents to meet. (She continues looking forward
into a tank of sharks and other smaller fish.) Were like them: ghostly, living in the shadows.
(She turns to look at him. Behind him, fluorescent jellyfish swim in another tank.)
SHERLOCK: Predatory.
VIVIAN: Well, it depends which side youre on. (She turns away to look into the shark tank
again.) Also, we have to keep moving or we die.
SHERLOCK: Nice location for the final act. Couldnt have chosen it better myself. But then I
never could resist a touch of the dramatic.
VIVIAN: I just come here to look at the fish.
(She stands up and takes a few steps closer to the tank.)
VIVIAN: I knew this would happen one day.

517
(She turns to face him, her handbag hanging from her elbow.)
VIVIAN: Its like that old story.
SHERLOCK: I really am a very busy man. Would you mind cutting to the chase?
VIVIAN: Youre very sure of yourself, arent you?
SHERLOCK (precisely): With good reason.
VIVIAN: There was once a merchant in a famous market in Baghdad.
(Sherlock closes his eyes and lowers his head a little.)
SHERLOCK: I really have never liked this story.
VIVIAN: Im just like the merchant in the story. I thought I could outrun the inevitable. Ive
always been looking over my shoulder; always expecting to see the grim figure of ...
MARY: ... Death.
(She comes into the room and stops at Sherlocks side a couple of feet away from him.)
SHERLOCK (not looking round): Hello, Mary.
MARY: Hey.
SHERLOCK: John?
MARY: On his way.
SHERLOCK: Let me introduce Amo.
MARY (staring at Vivian): You were Amo? (Sherlock looks round to her.) You were the person
on the phone that time?
SHERLOCK: Using AGRA as her private assassination unit.
MARY (to Vivian): Why did you betray us?
VIVIAN: Why does anyone do anything?
SHERLOCK: Oh, let me guess. Selling secrets?
VIVIAN: Well, it would be churlish to refuse. Worked very well for a few years. I bought a nice
cottage in Cornwall on the back of it. But the ambassador in Tbilisi found out. I thought Id had
it. (She looks towards Mary before returning her gaze to Sherlock.) Then she was taken hostage
in that coup. (She laughs.) I couldnt believe my luck! That bought me a little time.
SHERLOCK: But then you found out your boss had sent AGRA in.
VIVIAN: Very handy. They were always such reliable killers.
SHERLOCK: What you didnt know, Mary, was that this one also tipped off the hostage-takers.
(Mary turns and stares at him.)
VIVIAN (sitting back down and resting her handbag on her lap): Lady Smallwood gave the
order, but I sent another one to the terrorists with a nice little clue about her code name should
anyone have an enquiring mind. Seemed to do the trick.
MARY: And you thought your troubles were over.
VIVIAN: I was tired; tired of the mess of it all. (She sighs.) I just wanted some peace, some
clarity. The hostages were killed, AGRA too ... (she looks across to Mary) ... or so I thought. My
secret was safe. But apparently not. Just a little peace. Thats all you wanted too, wasnt it? A
family, home. Really, I understand.
(Mary glances across to Sherlock but his gaze is fixed on Vivian, who lifts her handbag as if in
preparation to stand, and rests one hand on the open top of it.)
VIVIAN: So just let me get out of here, right? Let me just walk away. Ill vanish. Ill go forever.
What dyou say?
MARY (furiously): After what you did?!
(She starts towards the older woman.)
SHERLOCK (beginning to follow her): Mary, no!
(In a fluid movement Vivian stands, pulling a pistol from her handbag and aiming it at Mary,
who stops and backs away.)
MARY: Okay.
(She moves back to stand the other side of Sherlock.)
John is in the back of a cab with a phone to his ear.

JOHN (into phone): London Aquarium. ... Yes, now.
(He hangs up.)
In the Aquarium, Vivian looks down at her pistol which shes no longer pointing at anyone.
VIVIAN: I was never a field agent. I always thought Id be rather good.
(Mary scoffs.)
SHERLOCK: Well, you handled the operation in Tbilisi very well.
VIVIAN: Thanks.
SHERLOCK: ... for a secretary.

518
VIVIAN: What?
SHERLOCK: Cant have been easy all those years, sitting in the back keeping your mouth shut
when you knew you were cleverer than most of the people in the room.
VIVIAN: I didnt do this out of jealousy!
SHERLOCK: No? Same old drudge, day in, day out, never getting out there where all the
excitement was. Just back to your little flat on Wigmore Street.
(Vivian gapes.)
SHERLOCK: Theyve taken up the pavement outside the Post Office there. The local clay on your
shoes is very distinctive.
(Close-up of Vivians dusty shoes.)
SHERLOCK: Yes, your little flat.
VIVIAN: How do you know?
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Well, on your salary it would have to be modest and you spent all the
money on that cottage, didnt you, and what are you, widowed or divorced? (He focuses in on a
plain gold band on the index finger of her left hand.) Wedding rings at least thirty years old and
youve moved it to another finger. That means youre sentimentally attached to it but youre not
still married. I favour widowed, given the number of cats you share your life with.
MARY (nervously, watching Vivian closely): Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK: Two Burmese and a tortoiseshell, judging by the cat hairs on your cardigan.
(Close-up of those hairs.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): A divorcees more likely to look for a new partner; a widow to fill the
void left by her dead husband.
MARY: Sherlock, dont.
SHERLOCK (quick fire, his voice rising as he gets fully into his stride): Pets do that, or so Im
told, and theres clearly no-one new in your life, otherwise you wouldnt be spending your
Friday nights in an aquarium. That probably accounts for the drink problem, too: the slight
tremor in your hand ... (theres a close-up of her slightly shaking gun hand, then a close-up of
her mouth) ... the red wine stain ghosting your top lip. So yes. I say jealousy was your motive
after all to prove how good you are ...
(Vivians gaze turns to look towards the entrance as Mycroft walks in.)
SHERLOCK: ... to make up for the inadequacies of your little life.
(Vivian is still looking to where Greg now comes in followed by three uniformed police officers.)
MYCROFT: Well, Mrs Norbury. I must admit this is unexpected.
SHERLOCK (his voice dripping with sarcasm): Vivian Norbury, who outsmarted them all. All
except Sherlock Holmes.
(He takes a step forward, holding out his left hand. Mary and the police officers behind her also
step forward.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Theres no way out.
VIVIAN: So it would seem. (She smiles a little.) Youve seen right through me, Mr Holmes.
SHERLOCK: Its what I do.
(She tilts her head to one side.)
VIVIAN: Maybe I can still surprise you.
(Swiftly she brings up the gun and aims it at Sherlock.)
LESTRADE: Come on. (He points at her.) Be sensible.
(Sherlock holds his hands out to the side. Vivian shakes her head.)
VIVIAN: No, I dont think so.
(She fires. In super-slow motion the bullet heads towards Sherlock who stands there unmoving.
Mary, who had no doubt anticipated that this was going to happen, hurls herself sideways in
front of him and the bullet impacts her lower chest. Blood sprays outward and immediately
there is a large bloodstain on her shirt. Crying out, she falls to the floor against a nearby
bench.)
VIVIAN (spitefully): Surprise.
(Mary rolls over to slump against the back of the bench, gasping in pain. As two of the police
officers hurry over to Vivian to disarm her, Sherlock stares at Mary in shock, then drops to his
knees to press his gloved hand against the wound. She looks up at him, her eyes wide, and
whimpers.)
SHERLOCK: Everythings fine. Its gonna be okay.
(He looks round to Mycroft.)
SHERLOCK: Get an ambulance.
(Mycroft turns and hurries away just as John runs in.)
SHERLOCK (to Mary): Its all right, its all right.

519
JOHN: Mary!
(He races to drop down by her side.)
MARY: John!
(She breathes heavily. Sherlock stands up and steps back and John jams his right hand against
the wound, applying pressure to it, and holds the back of her head with his other hand.)
JOHN: Mary? Mary?
(She looks up at him.)
JOHN: Stay with me. Stay with me.
MARY: Oh, come on.
JOHN: No, dont worry. Dont worry.
MARY: Oh, come on, Doctor, you can do better than that.
(Her voice breaks on the last word. Sherlock stares down at her, his face full of shock.)
JOHN: Come on, Mary.
(She sobs.)
JOHN: Mary, come on.
MARY: God, John, I think this is it.
JOHN: No-no-no-no, its not.
(He looks down to the wound, lifting his hand briefly from it before pressing onto it again.)
MARY: You made me so happy.
(He looks at her and forces a smile.)
MARY: You gave me everything I could ever, ever ...
JOHN: Shh-shh.
MARY: ... want.
JOHN: Mary, Mary ... (he gently shushes her, and runs his free hand over her forehead.)
MARY (tearfully): Look after Rosie.
(He shushes her again.)
MARY: Promise me.
JOHN (in a whisper): I promise.
MARY (sobbing): No.
JOHN (louder): Yes, I promise.
MARY (sobbing): Promise me.
JOHN: I promise. I promise.
(She strokes her hand down the side of his face as he continues trying to shush her. She looks
up at Sherlock.)
MARY (tearfully): Hey, Sherlock.
SHERLOCK (still looking down at her in shock): Yes?
MARY: I ... so like you.
(Mycroft comes back in with his phone in his hand and stands a short distance away.)
MARY (to Sherlock): Did I ever say?
(Sherlock smiles slightly, his eyes filling with tears.)
SHERLOCK: Yes. Yes, y-you did.
(He presses his lips together, apparently trying to hold back his tears.)
MARY: Im sorry ... for shooting you that time. Im really sorry.
SHERLOCK (softly, trying to force another smile): Its-its all right.
MARY: I think were even now, okay?
SHERLOCK (softly, nodding): Okay.
(She yelps with pain.)
JOHN: Mary. Mary.
MARY (her head turning away from Sherlock): I think were even; definitely ev... even.
(She looks at John, then gasps against the pain as he continues trying to shush her.)
MARY (sobbing): You ...
(She stares into her husbands eyes.)
MARY (sobbing): You were my whole world.
(Grimacing with his teeth bared, John rears his head back, his eyes screwed shut in anguish,
before lowering it down, his breath shuddering against his tears.)
MARY (now forcing out the words against the pain): Being Mary Watson ...
(John raises his head to meet her gaze.)
MARY: ... was the only life worth living.
JOHN (softly): Mary.
MARY: Thank you.
(Her head drops and she dies. John draws in a breath.)

520
JOHN (in a whisper): Mary.

(He reaches to touch her chin with his bloodstained fingers, then drops his hand. Sherlock, Greg
and Mycroft watch silently. For a long several seconds nobody moves, then John lifts his hand
again to put his fingers against the pulse point on Marys neck. With his other hand he cradles
her head and rests his chin on top of it, staring vacantly into the distance, then he moves his
head to the side of her head. Lifting up again, he looks at her open blank eyes and his bloody
fingerprints against the side of her neck. Sherlock stares down at them as if he cannot believe
what has happened. Johns head drops, and an animalistic howl comes from his clenched teeth.
He draws in a breath and howls again, and then again. Sherlock reaches out a hand to touch
him but before he can make contact Johns head comes up, his teeth clenched and his face full
of murderous rage. He glares up at Sherlock, breathing heavily.)
JOHN (savagely): Dont you dare.
(He takes several harsh breaths.)
JOHN (savagely, softly): You made a vow. You swore it.
(His eyes wide with shock, Sherlock starts to step back. Nearby, Greg raises his head from the
appalling scene and looks across to Mycroft, who returns his gaze. With tears pouring down his
face, John turns back to Mary, strokes her hair back and puts his mouth close to her ear.)
JOHN (in a tiny whisper): Mary.
(He sits cradling his dead wife. As Greg passes his hand over his face and Mycroft watches his
brother, Sherlock slowly begins to back away.)
The camera pulls up to another tank above the room, and a shark swims across the screen,
wiping the scene to a dark corridor along which two police officers are escorting Vivian Norbury.
From the look on her face, she has finally realised the seriousness of what she has done, and
what the future holds for her.
In a crematorium, a coffin is surrounded by blue flames.
And once again John Watson has no choice but to walk across a graveyard.
Later, we see a close-up of Johns eyes, full of pain. He paces across his living room, repeatedly
clenching and unclenching his left hand, the one in which he used to have a tremor. Various
baby items are scattered around the room. On the kitchen table his mobile phone buzzes
repeatedly but he doesnt move towards it, now stopped in the living room and gazing in
anguish into the distance. As the phone continues to buzz relentlessly, he starts to move again,
although it might be that hes simply rocking from side to side on the spot.
The voice of his occasional therapist Ella overlays the scene.
ELLA (offscreen, echoing): Youve been having dreams. A recurring dream?
(The scene switches to her (new) office and Ella looks across to the chair facing her, which is
currently offscreen.)
ELLA: Dyou want to talk about it?
(She waits for a while, while a clock ticks noisily in the background. Apart from that sound, the
silence drags on.)
ELLA: This is a two-way relationship, you know.
(She smiles encouragingly. After a few more seconds of silence during which she fiddles idly
with her pen, she draws in a breath and breathes out again.)
ELLA: The whole world has come crashing down around you. Everythings hopeless,
irretrievable. I know thats what you must feel, but I can only help you if you completely open
yourself up to me.
(As she was talking, the camera has been pulling back towards the opposite chair and now we
see whos sitting there.)
SHERLOCK: Thats not really my style.
(He meets her gaze for a moment, then lowers his eyes and turns his head away, looking
uncomfortable.)
SHERLOCK: I need to know what to do.
ELLA: Do?
SHERLOCK (softly, his gaze distant): About John.
MYCROFTS HOME. Mycroft walks into his kitchen, leans his umbrella against a wall and puts
down his briefcase. Straightening up and stretching his back with a loud crunching sound, he
rubs the back of his neck as he walks across to the fridge and sighs as he opens the door. He

521
looks inside and although we cant see directly into it, it appears that theres nothing much if
anything in there. Sighing again, he closes the door. Attached near the top of the door with a
fridge magnet is a takeaway menu for a restaurant called Reigate Square. Other takeaway
menus are attached lower down, including one for a Thai restaurant with an elephant on the
cover. He pulls the top menu from underneath its magnet, revealing a large square Post-It note
on which has been written 13th, double underlined. Looking at the note for a long moment,
Mycroft then reaches into his waistcoat to take out a pocket watch on a chain. Looking at it, he
then puts it away and turns to a nearby telephone. He picks it up, dials what appears to be a
speed-dial number and puts the phone to his ear.
MYCROFT: Put me through to Sherrinford, please. ... Yes, Ill wait.
BAKER STREET. DAY TIME.

MRS HUDSON (offscreen, tearfully): Nothing will ever be the same again, will it?
(The scene switches to the living room of 221B. Mrs Hudson is sitting in Johns chair holding a
paper tissue to her mouth. A large book is on the table beside the chair with string wrapped
round it. Attached to the end of the string is Johns me-substitute balloon. A lot of the air has
leaked out and the balloon now hangs down limply. Sherlock is sitting in his chair.)
SHERLOCK: Im afraid it wont.
MRS HUDSON: Well have to rally round, I expect. Do our bit. (She breaks down in tears again.)
Look after little Rosie.
(Sherlock stands up.)
SHERLOCK: Just going to, um ... (he looks around as if uncertain what to do, then points to a
small pile of letters next to his open laptop on the dining table) ... look through these things.
There might be a case.
MRS HUDSON: A case?
(Sherlock sits down at the table and looks at the laptop.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh. Youre not up to it, are you?
(Sherlocks head drops a little.)
SHERLOCK: Work is the best antidote to sorrow, Mrs Hudson.
MRS HUDSON: Yes, yes, I expect youre right. (She starts to get out of the chair.) Ill make
some tea, shall I?
SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson?
MRS HUDSON (staying seated): Yes, Sherlock?
(He blinks several times and half-glances in her direction but then continues to look at the
laptop.)
SHERLOCK: If you ever think Im becoming a bit ... (he pauses and swallows) ... full of myself,
cocky or ... (he pulls in a breath) ... over-confident ...
MRS HUDSON: Yes?
SHERLOCK (turning on his seat to face her): ... would you just say the word Norbury to me,
would you?
MRS HUDSON: Norbury.
SHERLOCK: Just that. (He pauses for a moment, lowering his gaze, then looks at her
pleadingly.) Id be very grateful.
(Turning back towards where his hand is resting on the correspondence on the dining table, he
lifts the top item and pulls out a padded envelope from underneath it.)
SHERLOCK: Whats this?
MRS HUDSON: Oh, I brought that up. It was mixed up with my things.
(Sherlock opens the envelope and pulls out a DVD. It is a plain white disc but written on it are
the words
MISS ME?
He stares down at it and Mrs Hudson gets out of her chair with a look of shock on her face.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh God. Is that ...
SHERLOCK: Must be.
MRS HUDSON: Oh!
(She sits down on the arm of Sherlocks armchair while he loads the disc.)
SHERLOCK (intensely): I knew it wouldnt end like this. I knew Moriarty made plans.
(For a moment the loading circle spins and then the disc begins to play. But its not James
Moriarty who appears on the screen. Its Mary. She smiles into the camera and rolls her eyes a
little as she speaks.)

522
MARY: Thought that would get your attention.

(Sherlock sinks back in his chair. Mrs Hudson reaches out and puts her hand over his.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh!
MARY: So, this is in case ... (she smiles awkwardly at the camera) ... in case the day comes. If
you are watching this, Im ... probably dead. I hope I can have an ordinary life, but who knows?
Nothings certain; nothings written. My old life it was full of consequences. (She smiles
briefly.) The danger was the fun part, but you cant outrun that forever. (She gestures towards
the camera.) You need to remember that, so ... Im giving you a case, Sherlock.
(Sherlock slowly leans forward.)
MARY: Might be the hardest case of your career. When Im ... gone if Im gone I need you
to do something for me.
(Sherlock swallows. Maybe hes already worked out what the case is.)
WATSON HOME. Apparently Sherlock has knocked on the door and then stepped back out of the
porch. The door opens and Molly comes out, holding Rosie in her arms. She closes the door and
comes out to the porch. Sherlock smiles down at his goddaughter.
MOLLY (softly): Hi.
(He nods to her. She returns the nod.)
SHERLOCK (quietly): I just ... wondered how things were going and ... and if there was
anything I could do.
(Looking awkward, Molly reaches into the pocket of her trousers and then holds out an
envelope.)
MOLLY: Its, uh, its from John.
SHERLOCK (taking it and looking down at it): Right.
MOLLY: You dont need to read it now.
(She pauses for a moment as he looks at her.)
MOLLY: Im sorry, Sherlock. He says ... Jo-John said if you were to come round asking after
him, offering to help ...
SHERLOCK: Yes?
MOLLY (reluctantly): He ... said hed r... that hed rather have anyone but you. (Softly) Anyone.
(Sherlock blinks and presses his lips together. Molly, with tears in her eyes, looks down at Rosie
and then turns and goes back indoors, closing the door behind her. Sherlock stands there for a
few seconds, then turns and walks away, tucking the envelope into his coat pocket.)
MARY (voiceover): Im giving you a case, Sherlock.

(Sherlock sits in the back of a black cab, his head lowered. Its possible that hes looking at
whatever was inside the envelope.)
MARY (voiceover): When Im gone if Im ... (she breathes out a shaky breath) ... gone I
need you to do something for me.
[That sentence does sound different this second time.]
(On the DVD recording, the camera focuses in on Marys mouth.)
MARY: Save John Watson.
(The focus switches to her eyes.)
MARY: Save him, Sherlock.
(The focus switches to her mouth again.)
MARY: Save him.
Sherlock is walking along the south bank of the Thames near MI6 headquarters.
SHERLOCK (voiceover): When does the path we walk on lock around our feet? When does the
road become a river with only one destination? Death waits for us all in Samarra. But can
Samarra be avoided?
(As he moves on, the background changes from the riverside scene to dark blue water, with a
bright white light shining down into the depths.)
The end credits roll, and then Mary briefly reappears on the DVD, looking intently into the
camera.
MARY: Go to Hell, Sherlock.
(The DVD shuts down.)

523
The Lying Detective
Blurry, out of focus and aimed directly towards the camera, a pistol has fired and smoke drifts
from the muzzle. The camera drops slowly downwards, eventually revealing the face of John
Watson lying on his back and staring blankly upwards. The angle changes and we now see
Johns face upright, then the angle changes yet again and he is actually lying on his back on his
bed at home, staring blankly upwards. A womans voice speaks with a soft German accent.
WOMAN (offscreen): Tell me about your morning. Start from the beginning.
(The scene shifts again. John is reflected in a window. Outside the window is a wicker fence,
and inside the room very out of focus is a bunch of what look like pale white roses in a
vase.)
JOHN: I woke up.
(He smiles tightly. We now see that he is in what appears to be the back room of a house. He is
sitting in a chair a few feet away from a woman facing him as she sits in a low armchair. Dark
blue floor-length curtains are tied back either side of French windows at the rear of the room,
looking out into the back garden, and similar curtains hang either side of a smaller window
beside him. On a table under the smaller window stands the vase of flowers. There is a jagged
red rug on the floor between John and the woman. Its clear as the conversation continues that
this woman is a therapist and is not Ella.)
THERAPIST: How did you sleep?
JOHN: I didnt. I dont.
THERAPIST: You just said you woke up.
JOHN: I stopped lying down.
(In flashback John sits up in bed and shifts back to lean against the headboard. The duvet on
the other side of the bed is rucked up and a hand is poking out from under it, resting on the
pillow. Blonde curly hair is also visible.)
THERAPIST (voiceover): Alone?
(In flashback John looks across to the mostly-hidden person lying beside him.)
JOHN (in the therapists room): Of course alone.
(We get our first proper sight of the therapist. She has ash blonde shoulder-length hair and is
wearing glasses. She has a notebook on her lap.)
THERAPIST: I meant Rosie, your daughter.
JOHN: Uh, shes with friends.
THERAPIST: Why?
JOHN: Cant always cope ... and, uh, last night wasnt ... good.
(In flashback, John stands in the hallway of his house leaning against the wall. The hall is in
darkness. He holds his left shoulder with his right hand and drinks from a glass, ice cubes
rattling.)
THERAPIST: Thats understandable.
JOHN: Is it? Why? Why is it understandable? Why does everything have to be understandable?
(He smiles and then laughs bitterly.)
JOHN: Why cant, um, some things be unacceptable and-and we just say that?
(He gestures briefly at the end of the sentence, then lowers his hand onto the other one and
taps his index finger against it.)
THERAPIST: I only mean its okay.
JOHN: Im letting my daughter down. How the hell is that okay?
THERAPIST (softly): You just lost your wife.
JOHN: And Rosie just lost her mother.
(He pulls in a harsh breath, then clears his throat.
In flashback, John sits at his kitchen table with a steaming mug beside him. He lifts his hands,
clasps them together and props his chin on them. In the background, someone is moving
around in the living room. Whoever it is is very out of focus but their shape suggests that its a
woman.)
THERAPIST (voiceover): You are holding yourself to an unreasonable standard.
(In flashback, the person walks to Johns side and puts an arm around his shoulder. We still
cant see who it is.)
JOHN (at the therapists, voiceover): No, Im failing to.
THERAPIST: So there is no-one you talk to, confide in?
JOHN: No-one.

524
(In flashback, John has now put on a jacket and walks towards the front door, holding a set of
keys in one hand and a briefcase in the other. He turns back towards the other person, whom
we cant see except their arm.)
JOHN: Oh, Im picking up Rosie this afternoon, after Ive seen my therapist. Got a new one;
seeing her today.
MARY (offscreen): Are you gonna tell her about me?
JOHN (shaking his head): No.
MARY (offscreen): Why not?
JOHN: Cause I cant.
MARY (offscreen): Why not?
JOHN: Because I cant ... you know I cant. She thinks youre dead.
MARY (offscreen): John, youve got to remember. Its important.
(The angle reverses and Mary is standing at the kitchen table with her hand on the back of one
of the chairs. She is wearing the same clothes she wore in the Aquarium but there is no blood
or bullet hole on her shirt.)
MARY: I am dead.
(John nods.)
MARY: Please, for your own sake and for Rosies. This isnt real. Im dead.
(He looks away.)
MARY: John. Look at me.
JOHN: Hm. (He turns his head to her.)
MARY: Im not here.
(He nods.)
MARY: You know that, dont you?
(John stares blankly into the corner of the room for several seconds, rubbing his ear with one
finger.)
JOHN (his voice breaking slightly): Okay, Ill see you later.
(He looks into the kitchen again. We can see that there is nobody there. He turns and walks
away.)
THERAPIST (voiceover): Is there anything youre not telling me?
(In her consultation room, John bites his lip and then presses his lips together. After a moment
he looks up and over the therapists left shoulder. Mary is standing by the wall behind her,
looking off into the distance. John huffs out a small laugh.)
JOHN: No.
(He clears his throat awkwardly. Mary is now looking towards him and tears run down one
cheek.)
THERAPIST: What are you looking at?
(She turns in her chair and looks towards where John was looking.)
JOHN: Nothing.
THERAPIST (facing him again): You keep glancing to my left.
JOHN: Oh, I suppose I was just ... looking away. (He laughs nervously.)
THERAPIST: There is a difference between looking away and looking to. I tend to notice these
things.
JOHN (smiling tightly): Im sure.
(She breathes out a small laugh.)
THERAPIST: Now I am reminding you of your friend, I think.
JOHN (still smiling humourlessly): Its not necessarily a good thing.
THERAPIST: Do you talk to Sherlock Holmes?
JOHN: I havent seen him. No-ones seen him. Hes locked himself away in his flat. God knows
what hes up to.
THERAPIST: Do you blame him?
(John twiddles his thumbs compulsively.)
JOHN: I dont blame ... I dont think about him. (He shakes his head.)
THERAPIST: Has he attempted to make contact with you?
JOHN: No.
THERAPIST: How can you be sure? He might have tried.
JOHN: No, if Sherlock Holmes wants to get in touch, thats not something you can fail to notice.
(He sighs out a breath through his nose. Just then the sound of a car accelerating hard can be
heard outside. John turns his head towards the front room and a red car comes into view
through the window, does a dramatic U-turn with a squeal of tyres and stops outside the house.
Theres the sound of shattering glass and a black plastic rubbish bin flies through the air and

525
crashes to the ground. John and the therapist get up from their seats and walk towards the
front door as the sound of an approaching police cars siren can be heard. John opens the front
door and walks outside just as a helicopter can be heard overhead. John looks at the expensive-
looking red car and then squints upwards towards the helicopter, while the police siren
continues to wail. Camera footage from the chopper shows the red car parked at an awkward
angle outside the house and rubbish bins lying on their sides near it. Smoke is still rising from
the cars tortured tyres. Police cars are just pulling up from both ends of the road. Back on the
ground, we see the badge on the front of the car showing that its an Aston Martin. The drivers
door opens and the sound of Beethovens Symphony No. 9 (Ode to Joy) can be heard from the
cars stereo. The driver gets out but the person is out of focus and we cant see who it is. John
squints up at the helicopter again.)
THERAPIST (standing in the doorway behind John): Well, now ...
(John lowers his head to look at the driver and his face fills with surprise.)
THERAPIST: ... wont you introduce me?
(John stares at the driver as if he cant believe what he is seeing.)
OPENING CREDITS.
LONDON. DUSK. A man in his fifties, wearing a white suit, stands on the balcony of a riverside
building in the Southwark area, looking at the view. The balcony is many storeys above ground.
We might recognise him from the advertisement on the bus shelter where John last saw his
mystery redhead.
Shortly afterwards, the man has come off the balcony into a room which has floor-to-ceiling
glass windows on three sides. He shakes hands with a white-haired man and then walks over to
one of the windows to look outside. There are several other people in the room chatting with
each other around a large white oval table in the middle of the room.
In a cut-away shot, news footage is shown of the man, wearing a black tuxedo and coming
down a grand staircase smiling and waving as cameras flash and reporters shout questions. The
footage is captioned News 24/7 on the bottom left of the screen and on the right the man is
identified as Culverton Smith and underneath his name, Entrepreneur / Philanthropist. He
continues downstairs into the throng of reporters who continue to take photos and hold
microphones towards him. He raises his hands to them, smiling as he continues onwards.
SMITH (northern English accent): No, thank you, thank you.
(In the glass walled room, Smith smiles to himself. Nearby a woman in her mid-thirties, with
mid-blonde shoulder-length hair and wearing a large pair of glasses, walks across the room
leaning heavily on a cane. She greets one of the men.)
FAITH (northern English accent): Hello.
(The man shes talking to turns one of the chairs to make it easier for her to sit down. Behind
Smith, a woman approaches him.)
CORNELIA: Mr Smith?
(He turns his head slightly towards her.)
CORNELIA: Whenever youre ready.
(Smith turns and looks towards the table where everyone is now sitting down, still talking to
each other.
Theres another brief cut-away to the news footage. Smith has now stopped to talk to the
reporters.)
SMITH: Uh, the charity fun...
(In the riverside room, Smith turns to Cornelia.)
SMITH: Now, please.
(Raising her hand to a headset in her ear, she walks away across the room.)
CORNELIA (into her microphone): Bring them through.
(At the end of a corridor outside the room, the door opens and a woman in a white nurses
uniform, cap and gloves and with a white mask over her nose and mouth walks through
carrying a clipboard. She is followed by several other nurses, mostly female but at least one
male, similarly attired. Each of them is wheeling a drug stand beside them. Inside the glass
room we see clearly for the first time that there are six people seated around the table, three
on each side. Faith sits between two men on the left-hand side, and two men and a woman sit
on the other side. Smith stands at the end of the table looking at them.)
SMITH: Its difficult having such good friends.
(He walks along the right-hand side of the table, putting a hand briefly on the shoulder of the
two men as he passes.)

526
SMITH: Friends are people you want to share with. Friends and ...
(Reaching the other end of the table, he points towards Faith.)
SMITH: ... family.
(Outside the room, the nurses and their stands progress along the corridor.)
SMITH (reaching Faith and putting both hands on her shoulders): Whats the very worst thing
you can do to your very best friends?
(He rubs her shoulders and then strokes her neck with one hand. She laughs a little nervously.
The man sitting to her right speaks.)
IVAN: Something on your mind?
SMITH: Yes, Ivan. Oh, yes.
(He pats Faiths shoulder and she tilts her head back and smiles at him.)
IVAN: Whatever you tell us stays in this room. I think I speak for everyone.
(The others chorus their agreement with comments of Of course, and Yeah. Smith walks
back to the head of the table and leans his arms on the back of the chair there.)
FAITH: Well? What is the worst thing you could do?
(Smith draws in a long breath through his nose.)
SMITH: Tell them your darkest secret. (He narrows his eyes.) Because if you tell them and they
decide theyd rather not know, you cant take it back. You cant unsay it. (He smiles briefly.)
Once youve opened your heart, you cant close it again.
(His friends look at him silently. After a moment he laughs raucously. The others laugh too as
he flaps a hand at them.)
SMITH: Im kidding!
(He continues to laugh for a moment, then his smile drops.)
SMITH: Of course you can.
(He nods to Cornelia standing near the door. The door is already open and now the nurses
process into the room.)
SMITH: Well, everyone, please, roll up your right sleeves. Roll up your right sleeves. Come on.
(The seated people look anxious as the nurses wheel their drug stands into the room and each
one goes to one of Smiths guests.)
SMITH: Oh, i-its, uh, its a bit of insurance.
FAITH: I dont understand. (She points to the drug stand nearest to her.) What is that?
IVAN (chuckling): TD12. One of ours.
FAITH: One of yours?
IVAN: We make it, my company TD12. Sells mainly to dentists and hospitals for minor
surgical procedures. Interferes with ...
(He gestures towards his head. In a brief blurry cut-away, Faith stumbles into another room,
leaning heavily on her cane, and slumps against the door.)
IVAN: ... the memory.
SMITH (pointing towards Ivan): The memory, yes!
(In the blurry cut-away, Faith hobbles deeper into the room.)
SMITH: I-I-I want to thank you, Ivan, for allowing me to use it.
IVAN: Well, I didnt exactly know who you were going to be using it on.
(Smith chuckles.)
FAITH: You mean you didnt ask?
SMITH (looking round the table): Is everyone ready?
FAITH (anxiously): No.
SMITH (to everyone): Please, roll up your sleeves. Come on roll up!
(In the blurry cut-away, Faith drops her cane to the floor and leans heavily on a desk, then
straightens up and looks down to run her finger over her right arm just below the elbow.
In the glass room, the nurses are beginning to attach drips to the right arms of other seated
guests, although Faiths nurse hasnt started yet.)
THE OTHER FEMALE GUEST: This is obscene.
SMITH: All Im doing, Faith, dear ... (he walks behind her and turns her chair slightly so that
she can look at him) ... is getting something off my chest ... (he bends and takes her right
wrist) ... without getting it on yours.
(He starts to unbutton the sleeve of her blouse.)
SMITH: What youre about to hear me say may horrify you, but you will forget it.
(Around the table, the nurses continue their preparations.)
SMITH (rolling up Faiths sleeve and looking around the table): If you think about it, civilisation
has always depended on a measure of elective ignorance.

527
(Very brief cut-away clip of Smith, wearing a blue suit, laughing raucously. It looks as if hes in
a TV studio.
In the glass room Smith chuckles slightly and passes Faiths arm to her nurse.
In the blurry cut-away, Faith has sat down at the desk and reaches down to a small round
sticking plaster on her right arm just below the elbow.
In the glass room the nurse finishes attaching a drip to Faiths right arm. Smith is now seated in
the chair at the head of the table.)
SMITH: These drip feeds will keep the drug in your bloodstreams at exactly the right levels.
(Cornelia opens the door and the nurses start to leave the room.)
SMITH: Nothing that is happening to you now will stay with you for more than a few minutes.
(More quietly) Im afraid that some of the memories youve had up to this point might also be
...
(In the blurry cut-away, Faith struggles to pick up and control a fountain pen.)
SMITH: ... corrupted.
(He smiles, revealing his stained and jagged teeth. The people around the table are starting to
look drowsy.)
SMITH: Im going to share something with you now; something personal and of importance to
me.
(He stands up.)
SMITH: I have a need to confess, but you I think might have a need to forget. (He
chuckles.) By the end of this, youll be free to go. And dont worry by the time youre back in
the outside world, you will not remember any of what youve heard.
FAITH: Ignorance is bliss.
SMITH: Well, whats wrong with bliss?!
(In the cut-away, Faith has got a notepad on the desk in front of her. She runs her hand over
her face.)
SMITH (walking slowly around the table): Some of you know each other and some of you dont.
(In the cut-away Faith breathes shakily, looking down at the notepad.)
SMITH: Please, be aware that one of you is a high-ranking police officer.
(In the cut-away Faith forces her hand onto the notepad and scribbles, Police officer.)
SMITH: One of you is a member of the judiciary.
(In the cut-away Faith writes Judge? then, staring into the distance, angrily slams her pen
hand down three times on the desk.)
SMITH: One of you sits on the board of a prominent broadcaster.
(In the cut-away a drop of blood falls onto the notepad. Faith looks at where the drop has fallen
just under where she has written BROADCASTER. She turns her hand over and looks at where
she inadvertently cut herself at the base of her little finger, presumably against the nib of the
fountain pen.)
SMITH: Two of you work for me and one of you, of course, is my lovely daughter, Faith.
(He reaches out and puts his hand on the back of her head, rubbing it quite hard.
In the cut-away, Faith has written ME next to the bloodstain. Her hand drags across the
paper, smearing the blood through the word.)
SMITH: You are the people I need to hear me. I have made millions, for myself, for the people
round this table, for millions of people Ive never even met.
(Brief cut-away of the news footage and Smith talking to reporters.)
SMITH (walking around the table): There are charities that I support who wouldnt exist without
me.
(Brief cut-away of him wearing a tracksuit and breaking the tape at the end of a fun run, raising
his arms in triumph. Someone dressed in a large bird costume is also finishing the race just
behind him.
Brief cut-away of Smith cutting a ribbon at the opening of The Culverton Smith Wing at a
hospital on Thursday 20th July 2014 as shown on a plaque on the wall nearby. Medical staff
stand behind him applauding.)
[Transcribers note: that date wasnt on a Thursday in real life.]
SMITH: If life is a balance sheet and I think it is well, I believe Im in credit!
(He chuckles, then his smile fades.)
SMITH: But I have a situation that needs to be ... managed ...
(He turns and walks away from the table.)
SMITH: I have a problem ... and there is only one way that I can solve it.
FAITH (a little drowsily): And whats that?
(Smith turns back, walks to the table and leans his hands on it.)

528
SMITH: Im terribly sorry.

(He pauses for a long moment, then draws his lips back from his teeth.)
SMITH: I need to kill someone.
(In the cut-away Faith writes NEED TO KILL. Gritting her teeth in concentration she adds
SOMEONE.)
FAITH (in the glass room, leaning forward a little): Who?
(Smith chuckles.
In the cut-away, Faith writes Who? She puts her pen down and tears the sheet of paper from
the notepad. At the open door of what we presume is her office, Ivan comes to the doorway
holding his jacket in one hand and undoing the top button of his shirt. He stops, wobbling
slightly.)
IVAN (vaguely): Were we in a meeting? Was there a meeting?
(Faith stares down at the sheet of paper. Ivan looks around, confused, then wanders away.
Putting one hand to her head, Faith puts down the piece of paper and in flashback remembers
her father in the glass room.)
(In her office, Faith looks up at the sound of someone at the doorway.)
SMITH: Faith.
(He walks in, tutting as she picks up the paper again.)
SMITH: My dear, dear child.
FAITH (tearfully): I cant remember. Cant remember who youre gonna kill.
SMITH: Dear, in five minutes you wont even remember why you were crying.
(Reaching her side, he puts his arm around her and pulls her to his chest.)
SMITH: The others are all fine.
FAITH: I know.
SMITH: You know, theyve gone down the pub. (He strokes her hair.) Its all on me.
(He chuckles. She sobs and he reaches out to turn the piece of paper so that he can read whats
written on it.)
SMITH: Oh, Faith. Dont you think I should take that? Its only going to upset you.
(He kisses the top of her head, then looks grimly towards the door.)
Without segue, a pair of hands is holding the piece of paper which had been folded in half, as
shown by the sharp crease in it, but is now open.
FAITH (offscreen): Three years ago ...
(The camera angle changes and we are in the living room of 221B Baker Street. It is night time
but the curtains are open. Despite lamps being on all around the room, it looks dark and
gloomy in there. Faith, wearing an ankle-length long-sleeved dark red dress, is standing facing
the right-hand window. Sherlock is slumped in his chair with a dark blue dressing gown over his
clothes and he is holding and looking at the sheet of paper. The room is an even worse mess
than usual, with papers and files scattered everywhere. There is a pile of books on the table
beside Johns chair, although the me-balloon is no longer there.)
FAITH: ... my father told me he wanted to kill someone. One word, Mr Holmes ...
(Sherlock folds the paper over and looks at the back of it, then straightens his fingers and
notices that they are trembling slightly. He looks like hell. He hasnt shaved for a couple of days
and his hair is unwashed and flatter to his head than usual.)
FAITH: ... and it changed my world forever.
(Sherlock looks up at her as she clenches her hands over the top of her cane in front of her, still
facing the window.)
FAITH: Just one word.
SHERLOCK: What word?
(Lowering the paper, he picks up his mobile phone.)
FAITH (turning to face him as he works on the phone): A name.
SHERLOCK: What name?
(Faith walks across the room to where the clients chair is facing the fireplace. The fire is lit.)
FAITH (sitting down): I cant remember.
(Sherlock looks up at her.)
FAITH: I cant remember who my father wanted to kill ... (she looks down at her hands on top
of her cane) ... and I dont know if he ever did it.
(Sherlock looks back to the phone and sighs.)
SHERLOCK: Well, youve changed. You no longer top up your tan and your roots are showing.

529
(He holds up the phone to look more closely at a photograph of Faith and her father smiling into
the camera. He lowers the phone and looks at her.)
SHERLOCK: Letting yourself go?
FAITH: Do you ever look in the mirror and want to see someone else?
SHERLOCK: No. Do you own an American car?
FAITH: Im sorry?
SHERLOCK (closing his eyes and waving a hand vaguely): No, not American; left-hand drive,
thats what I mean.
FAITH: No. Why-why do you ask?
(Sherlock blinks and looks across to her.)
SHERLOCK: Not sure, actually. (He shrugs.) Probably just noticed something.
(Above and to the left of her head from his perspective, imaginary chalk writing appears in large
letters reading SOMETHING and a chalk line draws down to form an arrow pointing to the
bottom right of her skirt again from Sherlocks perspective. He blinks a couple of times and
focuses in to where theres a straight dark line of dirt on the skirt, then he grimaces and
gestures angrily in front of him. The imaginary chalk disperses and disappears.
[Transcribers note: dmellieon on Tumblr suggested that the way that the chalk disperses
looks more like salt or sugar or could even be cocaine or powdered meth crystals. While Im
thrilled with that deduction, Ill continue to refer to it as chalk simply to save repeating lots of
possible alternatives.]
Sherlock looks down at his hand held out in front of him and sees that its trembling. He
clenches it into a fist with a sharp snap, then stretches the fingers out again. They continue to
tremble.)
FAITH: Are you okay?
SHERLOCK (still holding out his shaking hand): Oh, of course you dont own a car. You dont
need one, do you, living in isolation, no human contact, no visitors.
(While he speaks he unfolds the piece of paper again and looks at it vaguely.)
FAITH (nervously, reaching up to fiddle with her necklace with one hand): Okay, how do you
know that?
SHERLOCK (brandishing the paper): Its all here, isnt it? Look.
(He stands up and wanders across the room toward her, showing her the paper.)
SHERLOCK: Cost-cuttings clearly a priority for you. Look at the size of your kitchen: teeny-tiny.
(He walks past her towards the right-hand window then turns back to her.) Must be a bit
annoying when youre such a keen cook.
FAITH: I dont understand.
SHERLOCK: Hang on a minute ... (he turns to the window) ... I was looking out of the window.
Why was I doing that?
(He steps closer to the window and looks out of it through the rain pouring down it.)
FAITH: I dont know!
SHERLOCK: Me either. Must have had a reason. (He shakes his head and turns around.) Itll
come back to me.
(He walks back across the room, folding the paper in half and sniffing it as he goes.)
SHERLOCK: Presumably you downsized when you ... when you left your job ... (he raises the
paper to his mouth and bites into the edge of it) ... and maybe when you ended your
relationship.
(He slumps heavily down into his chair. On the table beside him, a spoon and a used syringe
with the last dregs of brownish fluid in it rattle noisily on the saucer on which theyre lying.)
FAITH: You cant know that.
SHERLOCK: Course I can. There wasnt anything physical going on, was there? (He holds up
the paper and starts to run his fingers along the fold.) Quite some time, in fact.
(He sharply finishes running his fingers along the fold and then waves the paper at her.)
SHERLOCK: There, see? Its obvious.
FAITH (upset): You cant tell things like that from a piece of paper.
SHERLOCK: Think I just did, didnt I? (He nods.) Im sure that was me. (He sniffs.)
FAITH: How?
SHERLOCK: Dunno. (He gestures vaguely.) Just sort of ... happens, really. (He leans forward
and lowers his head.) Its ... like a reflex. I cant stop it.
(Raising his head he looks across to Faith, then does a double-take and homes in on the wet
patch on the top of her dress right shoulder. Looking away briefly, he returns his gaze to her
and three chalk words appear above her, one over each shoulder and one over the top of her
hair. Each word reads DAMP. Hauling himself to his feet, he waves his hand at her twice and

530
the two words over her shoulders dissipate while she flinches away from him, then he sweeps
his hand over the top of her head and the last word also dissipates and the chalk dust floats
away. She looks up at him nervously as he reaches out and touches his fingers to her right
shoulder.)
SHERLOCK: Coat.
(He turns and walks towards the fireplace.)
FAITH: I dont have a coat.
SHERLOCK (walking round the other side of Johns chair and heading in the direction of the
kitchen): Yeah, thats what I just noticed. I wonder why?
(One of the closed doors of the kitchen slides open and Bill Wiggins looks through the gap.)
WIGGINS: Who you talkin to?
SHERLOCK: Piss off.
(He pushes the door closed and turns away.)
FAITH: So what do you think?
SHERLOCK: Of what?
FAITH: My case.
SHERLOCK: Oh, its way too weird for me. Go to the police; theyre really excellent at dealing
with this complicated sort of stuff. Tell them I sent you; that ought to get a reaction.
(He picks up a large handbag from Johns chair.)
SHERLOCK: Night-night.
(He tosses the handbag towards her. In slow motion the bag flies across the room and Faith
raises her hands to catch it but before it reaches her it goes into ultra-slow motion. Sherlock
frowns and heads towards it at normal speed, looking closely at it as it drifts very slowly across
the room. He reaches down and puts his hand underneath it and a chalk letter g appears.
Sherlock lifts his hand and touches the underside of the bag and a variety of chalk numbers
scroll up beside the g, peaking at 1619 [grams] before rolling back to 0g when he takes his
hand away again. Giving the almost-frozen Faith a look, he turns and walks back across the
room, wiping out the chalk as he walks across in front of it and he is back in his previous
position when the bag goes into normal speed and Faith catches it. She stands up and walks
towards him as he slides open the kitchen doors and starts to walk through them.)
FAITH: Please.
(He turns back.)
FAITH: I have no-one else to turn to.
SHERLOCK: Yes, but Im very busy at the moment. I have to drink a cup of tea.
(He half closes the doors, goes to the kitchen table and picks up a teacup with two syringes in
it. Liquid can be heard bubbling nearby. Sitting at the left of the table in front of a complicated
contraption of pipes clamped together, a gas tank and what looks like a plastic drugs drip bag
clipped to one pipe with a large clothes peg, Bill looks at him.)
WIGGINS: Is cup of tea code?
(A clear plastic tent has been hung from the ceiling around the sink. Sherlock reaches through
the opening to empty the syringes from the teacup onto the draining board.)
SHERLOCK: Its a cup of tea.
WIGGINS: Because you might prefer some ... (he makes air-quotes with the fingers of his right
hand) ... coffee.
(Walking back across the kitchen, Sherlock throws him a dark look. Faith is still standing in the
living room.)
FAITH: Youre my last hope.
SHERLOCK (turning to her and taking hold of the handles on both of the sliding doors): Really?
Thats bad luck, isnt it? Goodnight. Go away.
(He slides the doors closed. She shuts her eyes in despair. Sherlock turns back to the work
surface nearby.)
WIGGINS: Whats bad luck?
SHERLOCK (exasperated, leaning his hands on the work surface and lowering his head): Stop
talking. It makes me aware of your existence.
WIGGINS: I always ave bad luck. Its congenital.
SHERLOCK (raising his head): Handbag.
WIGGINS: Thats not rude. Congenital: it just means ...
(Sherlock turns to the doors and slides them open.)
SHERLOCK: Handbag!
(Faith has gone.
Downstairs, Faith is just opening the front door. Outside torrential rain is pouring down.)

531
SHERLOCK (offscreen): Stop. Wait!

(She turns to see Sherlock half-hurrying and half-falling down the stairs, his right hand braced
against the wall. He stops at the bottom of the stairs.)
SHERLOCK (urgently): Your life is not your own. Keep your hands off it, do you hear me?
(She stares at him, looking confused. He points at her.)
SHERLOCK: Off it. (Sternly, emphatically) Off it.
FAITH: Sorry? (She limps back towards him.) What? What are you talking about?
SHERLOCK (pointing down towards her feet): Your skirt.
FAITH: My skirt?
SHERLOCK (urgently): Look at the hem of it! Thats what I noticed. Im ... (he puts his hand to
his face briefly) ... still catching up with my brain. Its terribly fast.
(He points to the bottom of her dress and takes a step closer to her, still bracing himself on the
wall with the fingertips of his other hand.)
SHERLOCK: Those markings. Do you see them?
(She looks down.)
SHERLOCK: You only get marks like that by trapping the hem of your skirt in a car door but
theyre on the left-hand side, so you werent driving; you were in the passenger seat.
FAITH: I came in a taxi.
SHERLOCK (shaking his head against his befuddled mind): There is no taxi waiting in the street
outside. Thats what I checked when I went to the window. And youve got all the way to the
door and not made any move to phone for one, and look at you. You didnt even bring a coat
in this rain? Now, well, that might mean nothing, except for the angle of the scars on your left
forearm; you know, under that sleeve that you keep pulling down.
(Looking down, Faith reaches across and pulls her left sleeve down.)
FAITH (looking up again): Y-you never saw them.
SHERLOCK: No, I didnt, so thank you for confirming my hypothesis. Dont really need to check
that the angles consistent with self-harm, do I?
(He reaches towards her. She flinches back.)
FAITH: No.
SHERLOCK: Then you can keep your scars. I want to see your handbag.
FAITH: Why?
SHERLOCK: Its too heavy. You said I was your last hope and now youre going out into the
night with no plan on how youre getting home ... and a gun.
(She lowers her head. He focuses in on her walking cane, which is black with a white band
across the top of the handle and some curly patterning up its length. He nods and sniffs sharply
and has a brief flashback of John walking away from the house in Lauriston Gardens in A Study
in Pink, leaning heavily on his cane. Sherlock shakes the memory away, his face unhappy.)
SHERLOCK: Chips.
FAITH: Chips?
(Sherlock takes a coat presumably one of Mrs Hudsons from the coat hooks on the wall and
sighs as he hands it to her. She takes it.)
SHERLOCK: Youre suicidal. Youre allowed chips, trust me. Its about the only perk.
(He takes off his dressing gown and hangs it on a hook before taking hold of his greatcoat. Faith
turns and walks out of the door. Sherlock closes his eyes and grimaces, bracing both hands
against the wall.)
MRS HUDSON (offscreen): Sherlock?
(She comes up the hall from the direction of her flat as he straightens up, takes his coat from
the hook and starts to put it on.)
MRS HUDSON (looking at him worriedly): Are you going out?
SHERLOCK: I think I remember the way. (He points to the front door.) Its through there, isnt
it?
MRS HUDSON (sadly): Oh, youre in no state. Look at you.
SHERLOCK: Yeah, well, Ive got a friend with me, so ...
(He turns and heads for the open door.)
MRS HUDSON: What friend?
SHERLOCK: Bye!
(He closes the door behind him and looks up into the pouring rain.)
MRS HUDSON (worriedly): Oh!
(Standing on the doorstep, Sherlock wraps his coat around him, then turns left and walks under
the awning of Speedys where Faith is waiting.)
SHERLOCK: Come on.

532
(They head off into the rain.)
TV FOOTAGE. Smith, wearing a suit and tie, looks directly into the camera.
SMITH: Im Culverton Smith, and in this election year Ill be voting ...
At what appears to be a formal reception of some kind, Mycroft wearing a suit and bow tie
and holding his phone in one hand walks out of a room and sighs silently at the person
waiting for him.
MYCROFT: For Gods sake. I was talking to the prime minister.
MAN (a little nervously): I am sorry, Mr Holmes. Its your brother.
(Mycroft raises his eyebrows at him.)
MAN: Hes left his flat.
MYCROFT (facetiously): Was it on fire?
TV FOOTAGE. Smith, wearing a denim jacket with a handkerchief in the breast pocket and an
open-necked pink shirt, looks on excitedly as an offscreen waiter ignites the contents of a wide
flat metal dish beside his table in a restaurant. He grins quirkily into the camera, then laughs
silently.
SMITH (voiceover): Even when Im on the road, I still like quality food.
Someone squirts tomato ketchup onto a cardboard carton of chips. Sherlock and Faith are
standing under the awning of a fish and chips stand while the rain pours down. Not long
afterwards they are sitting on the bench of a covered bus stop outside a church. Sherlock is
holding the piece of paper that Faith gave him. The rain is easing up.
SHERLOCK: You see the fold in the middle? For the first few months you kept this hidden,
folded inside a book.
(He looks at it closely. Beside him, Faith is eating from the carton of chips on her lap.)
SHERLOCK: Must have been a tightly packed shelf, going by the severity of the crease.
(Brief flashback to the folded piece of paper being put inside the pages of a book.)
SHERLOCK: So obviously you were keeping it hidden from someone living in the same house at
a level of intimacy where privacy could not be assumed.
(As he speaks theres a flashback of a hand putting the closed book back in its place on a shelf
amongst many other books.)
SHERLOCK: Conclusion: relationship.
(Brief flashback to the shadows of two people standing in front of the bookshelf, leaning
towards each other, about to kiss.)
SHERLOCK: Not any more, though.
(He points to the top of the opened piece of paper.)
SHERLOCK: Theres a pinprick at the top of the paper.
(Brief flashback to someone pinning the paper to a noticeboard with a drawing pin.)
SHERLOCK: For the past few months its been on open display on a wall. Conclusion:
relationship is over.
(Brief flashback to the shadows of the two people drawing away from each other.)
SHERLOCK: The papers been exposed to steam and a variety of cooking smells ...
(Brief close-up of the piece of paper pinned to the noticeboard. Just in front of it, the contents
of a saucepan on the cooker are boiling and steam issues from under the lid.)
SHERLOCK: ... so it must have been on display in the kitchen. (He lifts the paper to his nose
and sniffs it.) Lots of different spices. Youre suicidal, alone and strapped for cash, yet youre
still cooking to impress. Youre keen, then. The kitchen is the most public room in any house,
but since any visitor could be expected to ask about a note like this, I have to assume you dont
have any. Youve isolated yourself.
FAITH: Amazing.
SHERLOCK: I know.
FAITH: I meant the chips.
(Sherlock chuckles and looks at her, then looks away, his smile fading.)
SHERLOCK (quietly): Hm.
(He raises his eyes skywards at the sound of an approaching helicopter. He stands and walks
forwards as the helicopter comes into view, its on-board camera looking down at him. He smiles
upwards.)
SHERLOCK: Lets go for a walk.

533
In a surveillance room, presumably in MI5s headquarters, a wall is full of screens showing

CCTV footage of various areas of the city as well as the live footage from the helicopter. Two
screens to the left of the others have street maps of the area east of Hyde Park, one in slightly
tighter focus than the other, and a red dot is flashing and bleeping on one of the maps.
A mobile phone shows a close-up of its active screen indicating an incoming call. The caller is
identified as Mycroft. John is sitting on the end of his bed and Mary stands at the door leading
to Rosies bedroom, looking down at the phone.
MARY: You should answer it.
JOHN: Its Mycroft.
(Mary smiles.)
MARY: Might be about Sherlock.
JOHN (as his phone continues to buzz): Of course its about Sherlock. Everythings about
Sherlock.
FAITH (voiceover): How did you know my kitchen was tiny?

(She and Sherlock are walking along a street. The rain has stopped.)
SHERLOCK (showing her the paper): Look at the fading pattern on the paper. Its not much but
its enough to know your kitchen window faces east. Now, kitchen noticeboards ...
(He walks a few paces into the road, looking up towards the Christmas lights strung across the
street, and draws a rectangle in the air. It instantly turns into a noticeboard. He walks towards
it.)
SHERLOCK: By instinct we place them at eye level where theres natural light.
(As he speaks he takes a drawing pin from the board and pins the piece of paper to the board.
Smoothing the paper down he turns to Faith who walks into the road to join him.)
SHERLOCK: Now look: the suns only struck the bottom two thirds ... (he draws his hand
horizontally across the paper one third of the way down it) ... but the line is straight, so that
means we know the paper is facing the window.
(He turns and walks a few paces away from the floating imaginary board. Pointing upwards at
about forty-five degrees, he draws another rectangle and a window appears in the air. He turns
and walks back to the noticeboard, which now has sunlight streaming onto it.)
SHERLOCK: But because the top section is unaffected ... (he gestures to the piece of paper) ...
we know the sunlight can only be entering the room at a steep angle.
(He walks towards the window again, from which the sunlight is coming. Behind him, just in
case wed forgotten, there is no magical noticeboard floating in mid-air. Either that, or the
special effects budget was running low.)
SHERLOCK: If the sunlight was able to penetrate the room when the sun was lower in the sky
...
(He walks away from the non-existent window towards the non-existent noticeboard. Yep, I
reckon the budget was starting to run out.)
SHERLOCK: ... then the paper would be equally faded top to bottom.
(The noticeboard is back with sunlight streaming onto it. [Oh good, they found a few more
quid.])
SHERLOCK: But no. It only makes it when the sun is at its zenith, so Im betting that you live in
a narrow street on the ground floor.
(He looks towards the window which is back floating above the street. Through the glass he can
see the terraced houses facing Faiths flat and its clear that her window is indeed on the ground
floor. Theres either a narrow street between the flat and the houses opposite, or the kitchen is
at the back and the houses have short gardens. The sun is a few degrees above the roof of the
house opposite.)
SHERLOCK (pointing towards the noticeboard, where the sunlight is now only shining on the
bottom couple of inches of the board): Now, if steeply angled sunlight manages to hit eye level
on the wall opposite the window, then what do we know about the room?
(He walks to the window, takes one side of it and pulls it towards the noticeboard. The sunlight
moves up the noticeboard as the window approaches it. Once the window is about ten feet from
the board and the sunlight is hitting the bottom two thirds of the piece of paper, Sherlock stops
and lets the window go.)
SHERLOCK: The rooms small.
(Faith smiles at him. Overhead, the helicopter has found them and shines its spotlight down
onto them. Faith looks up.)
FAITH: Oh.

534
(Sherlock also looks up at the chopper.)

FAITH: Big Brother is watching you!
SHERLOCK: Literally.
At MI5, or wherever it is, Mycroft walks into the surveillance room, a grim look on his face. Lady
Smallwood is standing behind the computer desks.
LADY SMALLWOOD: We can keep tabs. You didnt have to come in.
MYCROFT: I was talking to the prime minister.
LADY SMALLWOOD: Oh, I see.
(Mycroft looks at the screens, and particularly at a camera watching Sherlock walking along a
road.)
MYCROFT: Whats he doing? Whys he just wandering about like a fool?
LADY SMALLWOOD: She died, Mycroft. Hes probably still in shock.
MYCROFT: Everybody dies. Its the one thing human beings can be relied upon to do. How can it
still come as a surprise to people?
LADY SMALLWOOD (turning to him): You sound cross. Am I going to be taken away by security
again?
MYCROFT: I have, I think, apologised extensively.
LADY SMALLWOOD: You havent made it up to me.
MYCROFT: And how am I supposed to do that?
FAITH (offscreen): Sex.

(Walking with her along Regent Street towards Piccadilly Circus, Sherlock looks round to her.
They are now each carrying a can of energy drink.)
SHERLOCK: Im sorry?
FAITH: Sex. How did you know I wasnt ... getting any?
SHERLOCK: Its all about the blood.
(Close-up of the bloodstain on the paper, which Sherlock now gestures to.)
SHERLOCK: This one comes from the very first night. You can see the pen marks over it. I think
you discovered that pain stimulated your memory, so you tried it again later. Im no expert, but
I assume that since your lover failed to notice an increasing number of scars over a period of
months, that the relationship was no longer intimate.
FAITH: How do you know he didnt notice?
SHERLOCK (shrugging): Oh, well, because he would have done something about it.
FAITH: Would he?
SHERLOCK: Wouldnt he? Isnt that what you people do?
FAITH: Well, thats interesting.
SHERLOCK: What is?
FAITH: The way you think.
SHERLOCK: Superbly?
FAITH: Sweetly.
SHERLOCK: Im not sweet; Im just high.
(By now theyve reached Piccadilly Circus. He stops and turns around.)
SHERLOCK: This way.
FAITH: What? We just came that way.
SHERLOCK: I know. Its a plan.
(He wanders back the way they just came.)
FAITH (following him): What plan?
In the MI5 surveillance room, several agents start to laugh. Mycroft, with his phone raised to
his ear, looks at the wall screens.
MYCROFT: What is it? What-what now?
AGENT (sitting at one of the desks): Sorry. Um, traced his route on the map.
(Mycroft and Lady S stare at the street map on the agents computer screen. It shows in red the
route that Sherlock has taken from the Marylebone area in a south-easterly direction down to
Piccadilly Circus. On several occasions Sherlock has disappeared from the surveillance and so
the red lines are broken and only appear on certain roads and sections of road. The left-hand
side of the map is obscured by either Mycrofts or Lady Ss shoulder but the rest of the red lines
spell out

535
K
O
F F
[Obviously the U, C and O are made up of straight lines, not curves.] The tracking signal is
currently flashing and beeping at the top right-hand corner of the K, so Sherlock is apparently
retracing his steps.
Out on the street, Sherlock looks up to a nearby surveillance camera, smiles and raises his can
of energy drink to it in salute before taking a swig from it. Mycroft, with his phone raised to his
ear again, sighs.)
MYCROFT: Is he with someone?
AGENT: Not sure. We keep losing visual. Mostly were tracking his phone.
TV FOOTAGE. As the audience sitting behind him applauds and cheers, Smith sits at a table with
three large red buttons on it. A man and woman sit either side of him behind the other two
buttons. They too applaud as Smith slams his hand down onto his button. He points towards the
camera in front of him.
SMITH: Dont call us; well call...
JOHN (quietly tetchy, into his phone): Im trying to sleep. Can you stop ringing my damn
phone?
MYCROFT (over phone from the surveillance room): Sherlock has left his flat for the first time in
a week, so Im having him tracked.
JOHN (sitting fully clothed on the end of his bed): Nice. Its very touching how you can hijack
the machinery of the state to look after your own family. Can I go to sleep now?
MYCROFT (sternly): Sherlock gone rogue is a legitimate security concern. The fact that Im his
brother changes absolutely nothing. It didnt the last time and I assure you it wont with ...
(He stops himself and pauses for a long moment. At the other end of the phone, John frowns.)
MYCROFT (eventually): ... with Sherlock.
JOHN: Sorry, what?
MYCROFT: Please phone me if he gets in contact. Thank you.
(After a moment, John lowers his phone and terminates the call.
In the surveillance room, Lady Smallwood turns to Mycroft.)
LADY SMALLWOOD: Do you still speak to Sherrinford?
MYCROFT: I get regular updates.
LADY SMALLWOOD: And?
MYCROFT (putting his phone into his trouser pocket): Sherrinford is secure.
(He walks away.)
Sherlock and Faith are walking across the southern Golden Jubilee Bridge beside Hungerford
Bridge. He is holding her cane and she has her right arm linked through his left.)
FAITH: Are we gonna walk all night?
SHERLOCK: Possibly. Its a long word.
FAITH: What is?
SHERLOCK: Bollocks.
(She laughs. He smiles round at her.)
Fast and brief clips show Sherlocks journey continuing, including the Houses of Parliament and
Trafalgar Square. One overhead shot shows Sherlock walking on a roundabout just south of
Trafalgar Square which has a statue nearby of King Charles I mounted on a horse. Faith stands
a few yards away, watching him. The clips move on to another area of Trafalgar Square, then
The Mall, then onto the Millennium Bridge looking towards Southwark Bridge and the Shard.
[Your transcriber sends fervent thanks to Mirith Griffin, an American who knows far more about
locations in London than your transcriber who works a few hundred yards from Trafalgar
Square!] The sun is starting to rise. Over the latter part of the footage, the voice of Evan Davis,
the main presenter of the week-night BBC show Newsnight can be heard and as he continues
speaking we switch to the studio.
EVAN DAVIS: Culverton Smith. All this charity work: whats in it for you?

536
SMITH (looking into the camera instead of at Evan): We must be careful not to burn our
bridges.
DAWN. Sherlock and Faith are sitting on a bench on the South Bank not far from Hungerford
Bridge. Facing the river, they each hold a filled half baguette wrapped in a paper serviette.
Many pigeons are pecking at the ground a few feet away.
SHERLOCK: Dyou know why Im going to take your case? Because of the one impossible thing
youve said.
FAITH: What impossible thing?
SHERLOCK: You said your life turned on one word.
FAITH: Yes: the name of the person my father wanted to kill.
SHERLOCK: Thats the impossible thing. Just that, right there.
FAITH: Whats impossible?
SHERLOCK: Names arent one word. Theyre always at least two. Sherlock Holmes; Faith Smith;
Santa Claus; Winston Churchill; Napoleon Bonaparte. Actually, just Napoleon would do.
FAITH: Or Elvis?
SHERLOCK: Well, I think we can rule both of them out as targets.
FAITH: Okay, I got it wrong, then. It wasnt only one word; it cant have been.
SHERLOCK: And you remember quite distinctly that your whole life turned on one word, so that
happened, I dont doubt it, but how can that word be a name a name you instantly recognised
that tore your world apart?
FAITH: Okay, well, how?
SHERLOCK: No idea. Yet. (He draws in a breath.) But I dont work for free.
(He holds out his hand towards her, the palm upwards. She looks down at it for a moment, then
looks up at him.)
FAITH: Dyou take cash?
SHERLOCK: Not cash, no.
(He looks round at her pointedly. After a moment she reaches down to her handbag sitting on
the bench beside her, unzips the top, takes out a pistol and puts it into his hand. He stands up,
stumbles forward unsteadily to the riverside railing, pulls his arm back and hurls the pistol as
hard as he can towards the river. It splashes into the water and disappears from view. Sherlock
half-turns towards Faith.)
SHERLOCK: Taking your own life. Interesting expression. Taking it from who? Oh, once its
over, its not you wholl miss it.
(Resting one hand on the railing, he looks westwards along the towards the London Aquarium.
In a brief cut-away, a pistol fires towards the camera, then theres a brief shot of the exterior of
the Aquarium as the gunshot echoes and then smoke rises from the end of the pistol. Sherlock
now has both hands on the railing as he continues to gaze along the river.)
SHERLOCK: Your own death is something that happens to everybody else.
(Faith has looked in the direction hes looking but now turns to face him again. He lowers his
head, his back to her.)
SHERLOCK: Your life is not your own. (His voice becomes strained.) Keep your hands off it.
(As he looks down, its as if he and the railing are suspended in mid-air with no ground or river
below them. His feet are not touching anything. He lifts his right hand and looks at how badly
its shaking. He has a very brief flash of the word SOMEONE handwritten in white over a dark
blue background. The writing is almost identical to that on the note that Faith wrote to herself.
The last two letters of the word KILL are in the top left-hand corner of his vision. At the
riverside, Sherlock closes his eyes and blows out a breath.)
FAITH: Youre not what I expected. Youre ...
(Again the white, blue-backgrounded SOMEONE flashes before Sherlocks eyes. Groaning, he
slumps on top of the railing. He stares down into the blank void beneath his feet. The tip of his
right shoe is now wedged into the bottom rail of the railing and he struggles to get his left foot
onto the rail as well.)
SHERLOCK (breathlessly, anxiously): What ... what am I?
FAITH: Nicer.
(The words in front of Sherlocks minds eye now read, in Faiths handwriting, NEED TO KILL
SOMEONE. Sherlock screws up his eyes, shaking the vision away and still clinging desperately
to the railings.)
SHERLOCK: Than who?
FAITH (shaking her head): Anyone.

537
(Sherlock closes his eyes and lets out a loud anguished scream. Theres a brief cut-away of a
syringe filled with dark fluid. Sherlock slumps down onto the concrete in front of the railing,
groaning. As he doubles over, a voice sounds in his head. Its the voice of the child we heard
singing in the previous episode.)
CHILDs VOICE (singing): I that am lost
Oh, who will find me ...
(Inside Sherlocks head, the pirate child and the Irish setter trot through the shallows at a
beach, then the youngster with the red wellingtons seems to be running towards them.)
CHILDs VOICE (singing): Deep down be...
(Sherlocks head snaps up and he breathes heavily as he looks towards the bench.)
SHERLOCK: Sorry, I ...
(He trails off. Faith is no longer sitting there.)
SHERLOCK (looking each way along the walkway): Faith? Faith?
(Frowning, he leans his head back against the railings for a moment, then hauls himself to his
feet. Straightening his coat, he walks away.)
Later, Sherlock is walking along the streets, perhaps making his way home. His own words echo
in his head.
SHERLOCKs VOICE (echoing): You said your life turned on one word. A name cant be one
word.
(He walks past some houses which have basement flats. He walks to the street-level railings of
one of those houses and looks over them, flashing back to the last time he stood at the door of
a basement flat, when he visited Johns home and was met at the front door by Molly holding
Rosie in her arms.)
MOLLYs VOICE (echoing): ... if you were to come round asking after him, that hed rather have
anyone but you.
(In flashback, Molly stands outside the porch looking at him. She pauses for a moment.)
MOLLY: Anyone.
(In the present, Sherlock turns away.)
FAITHs VOICE (echoing): Youre not what I expected.
SHERLOCKs VOICE (echoing): What ... what am I?
FAITHs VOICE (echoing): Nicer.
SHERLOCKs VOICE: Than who?
(In flashback, Faith sits on the bench looking at him.)
FAITH (her voice echoing): Anyone.
MARYs VOICE (echoing): Dont think anyone else is going to save him, because there isnt
anyone.
(On the DVD recording which she sent to Sherlock, she shakes her head.)
FAITHs VOICE (echoing): Anyone.
MOLLYs VOICE (echoing): Anyone.
FAITHs VOICE (echoing): Anyone.
MOLLYs VOICE (echoing): Anyone.
MARYs VOICE (echoing as she shakes her head on the DVD): Anyone.
(Sherlock spins around and stares intensely down the road.)
SMITH (in close-up): I have a situation ...
(His eyes wide, Sherlock starts to walk down the road.)
SMITH (offscreen) ... that needs to be managed.
(Further along the narrow street, its as if the oval table from Smiths glass-walled room has
appeared in the middle of the road. Smiths six guests are sitting either side of it with the drip
stands beside them and Smith sits at the far end. The street scenery around the table is fuzzy
and out of focus. As Sherlock slowly walks towards the table, Smith smiles and stands up and
walks towards him.)
SMITH (his voice echoing): Theres only one way that I can solve it.
FAITH: And whats that?
(Smith has now passed the table and continues to walk towards Sherlock.)
(Sherlock stops.)
FAITH (offscreen): Who?
SHERLOCK: Who?
(Smith chuckles silently.)
SMITH: Anyone!

538
(He laughs.)
SHERLOCK: Of course!
(Smith continues to laugh, putting the back of one hand up to his mouth.)
SHERLOCK: He doesnt want to kill one person; he wants to kill anyone. (He stares at Smith, his
eyes wide.) Hes a serial killer!
SMITH (his hand lowered again): Anyone.
SHERLOCK: He could be.
SMITH: Anyone.
SHERLOCK: Why not? Why shouldnt he be?
(He starts to smile, then his smile drops and he looks confused. Smith and the table instantly
disappear and a man walks past in front of Sherlock, looking at him disapprovingly. Offscreen a
mans voice angrily yells, Move! and, from an overhead shot, we see that Sherlock is standing
in the middle of a very narrow stretch of road. Cars have come to a halt in front of him, behind
him, and from a side turning to his right, some of them honking their horns. The driver of the
car in front of him has his door open and calls out to him in irritation.)
DRIVER: Hey, you! Whats the matter with you?
SMITHs VOICE (echoing): Anyone!
(As Smiths voice continues to echoingly repeat the word, Sherlocks vision homes in on the
driver, who has got out of his car and is leaning an arm on the open door while looking at him
in half-irritation, half-concern.)
DRIVER: Do you know where you are? Are you drunk?
(Sherlock blinks.)
WIGGINS: Shezza.
(The driver has been replaced by Bill, who is looking at him sternly.)
WIGGINS (now standing in front of the fireplace in 221Bs living room): What were you doing in
the middle of a bloody street?
SHERLOCK (still in the middle of the bloody street): You should be at Baker Street.
(His head twitches and he stumbles slightly.)
WIGGINS (in the living room): I am. So are you.
(In the street, the scenery around Sherlock goes very out of focus as he lowers his head a little
and blinks rapidly. Behind him, a large backdrop ripples down to cover the view. The backdrop
is the far wallpaper of the living room with a two-dimensional image of the sofa at the bottom.
The backdrop thumps down into place and straightens out while Sherlock raises his head and
stares around in front of him.)
WIGGINS (in the real living room): They found your address; they brought you here.
(Confused, Sherlock turns and looks around the room.)
WIGGINS: Youve ad too much ...
(Sherlock turns back to him, wide-eyed and bewildered.)
WIGGINS: ... an thats me sayin this.
(Flailing in panic, Sherlock stumbles backwards and up onto the now solid sofa. His back ought
to crash into the wall but instead he lands flat on his back on the rug some distance in front of
the sofa.
In a brief cut-away, Smith is on TV looking bored as the audience applauds behind him. He
gestures towards the camera.)
SMITH: Kill.
(He smacks his hand down onto the big red button on the table in front of him.
In 221 Sherlock struggles to turn over onto his side. Then, without transition hes back on his
feet, possibly standing on the sofa, and he turns and stares around the room wide-eyed.
Brief cut-away of Smith in his tracksuit during a fun run, holding up his index fingers and
thumbs to the crowd as he forms the letter W with them. [Presumably in this context he
intends it to mean winner rather than certain other options.]
WIGGINS VOICE (distantly, offscreen): Sherlock.
Sherlock rolls onto his back again on the rug.
In a cut-away of a TV show, Smith stands inside the door of a shop, looking out through the
glass. A female assistant stands at a cash register deeper in the shop. Smith reaches up to a
sign on the door and turns it around so that from outside it reads Sorry Were CLOSED. In the
bottom left-hand corner of the screen are the words BUSYNESS KILLER except the Y is
actually a pair of scissors. The word KILLER is in red. Presumably this is the name of a TV show
in which he is appearing/starring.

539
In 221B Sherlock elevates off the rug without using his hands or feet. Bill stares in shock. By
the door to the landing, Sherlock begins walking up the wall. Floating impossibly sideways, he
clumsily steps over a lot of magazines piled up against the wall, then puts his feet together and
turns towards Bill.
Back out in the narrow street, Smith smiles ecstatically.)
SMITH (in a whisper): Anyone.
MOLLYs VOICE (offscreen, echoing): Anyone.
SHERLOCK (now standing upright on the floor in front of the sofa): Theyre always poor ...
(And hes horizontally walking up the wall again.)
SHERLOCK (back in front of the sofa): ... and lonely, and strange.
(Brief cut-away of Smith in a tuxedo, laughing and pointing in a TV studio or theatre while the
audience laughs and applauds.)
SHERLOCK (intensely, in front of the sofa): But those are only the ones we catch.
(Brief cut-away of Smith in a brown jacket and white shirt, holding his hands up in mock-
surrender and laughing while the offscreen audience also laugh.)
WIGGINS (in 221B): Who do we catch?
SHERLOCK: Serial killers.
(Brief cut-away of Smith, still in the previous TV studio, laughing and pointing to something in
front of him while the offscreen audience also laugh and whoop.
Sherlock is back on the wall, standing horizontally above the frosted glass window. He spins on
the spot, his coat flaring out around him.)
SHERLOCK (back on the floor in front of the sofa): What if you were rich and ...
(He squeezes his eyes shut.
Very brief cut-away of Smith in his tuxedo in a studio or theatre, smiling and clapping his hands
together.)
SHERLOCK: ... powerful and necessary.
(Cut-away of Smith standing outdoors, probably at Buckingham Palace, holding up and proudly
pointing to his new OBE [more details of the Order of the British Empire here].
Again horizontal on the wall, Sherlock steps unsteadily downward, putting one foot on the arm
of the chair beside the sofa.)
SMITH (offscreen, echoing): Anyone.
(In the narrow street Smith puts the back of one hand to his mouth as he giggles.
Horizontally, Sherlock reaches across to put his hands on the wall behind the sofa.)
SHERLOCK (upright in front of the sofa, and gasping): What if ...
(Bill stares disbelievingly. Sherlock is now horizontally halfway up the wall behind the sofa, his
arms spread wide to steady himself as he carefully steps sideways/upwards along the part of
the wall which juts out a little into the room.)
SHERLOCK (intensely, upright in front of the sofa): ... you had the compulsion to kill, and
money? What then?
(Brief cut-away presumably imaginary of Smith standing in front of the sofa in 221Bs living
room. Wearing a blue shirt and tie, he folds his arms and smiles.
Sherlock, standing on the right arm of the sofa (as you look at it) and tilted towards the sofa at
an impossible angle, topples forward and crashes down onto the sofa. Bill watches him go with
a look of shock. Sherlocks eyes close as his body settles onto the cushions.
The camera pans down and an overhead shot of a road rises into the bottom half of the screen.
Painted on the road in white paint are the words THREE WEEKS LATER. A few moments later a
red car speeds over the words, and a police car follows, its siren wailing.
We switch to a view from the red car as Ode to Joy blares out of its speakers. Then from an
outside perspective the car rapidly overtakes another one and heads towards a roundabout,
entering the roundabout without slowing. The car skids around the roundabout, almost
sideways at one point, while up above a helicopter follows the chase. The car speeds off down
another road and we get a brief view from inside the car and the drivers left hand gripping the
steering wheel while the helicopter can be seen through the windscreen soaring overhead. The
car heads for another roundabout, now pursued by two police cars. The red car turns left and is
followed by the first police car but the second one goes straight on, presumably taking a short
cut to intercept the chase further on. The red car skids around a right turn into a residential
road. As the second police car approaches from in front, the driver throws the car into a
spectacular U-turn and crashes into several black plastic rubbish bins outside the houses. One
of the bins flies into the air and then crashes to the ground. As the vehicles come to a halt and

540
the helicopter hovers overhead, John opens the front door of his therapists house, walks out
and looks at the car and then squints up at the chopper.
THERAPIST (standing in the doorway behind him): Well, now ...
(John lowers his gaze to the car and licks his lips.)
THERAPIST: ... wont you introduce me?
(The driver opens the door and the music gets louder. Initially the person is out of focus and we
cant see who it is but then the angle changes and its Mrs Hudson, sighing with relief. She
closes the door and turns to John, smiling and sighing out another breath as she walks towards
him. John opens his mouth but before he can speak a male police officer storms over from the
car that had been behind the Aston at the end of the chase.)
POLICE OFFICER: Right, you there. Stop right where you are.
MRS HUDSON: Huh? What? (She stops momentarily, looking at the officer, then turns and
continues towards the front door, holding out a hand towards John.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh, John ...
JOHN (taking a step towards her): Mrs Hudson ...
POLICE OFFICER: Do you have any idea what speed you were going at?
(She stops and walks towards him.)
MRS HUDSON: Well, of course not. I was on the phone.
(She looks down.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh ... (she holds out a mobile phone to him) ... its for you, by the way.
POLICE OFFICER (automatically taking it): For me?
MRS HUDSON (turning and heading for the house): Its the government.
POLICE OFFICER: The what?!
(He raises the phone to his ear.)
JOHN (offscreen): Whats going on? Whats wrong?
POLICE OFFICER (into phone): Hello?
MYCROFTs VOICE (over phone): My name is Mycroft Holmes and I am speaking to you from
the Cabinet Office.
(Simultaneously John continues talking to Mrs H offscreen.)
JOHN: Look at the state of you! Mrs H, what have you been doing?!
(Apparently the police officer recognises Mycrofts name, because he takes off his cap even
though Mycroft obviously cant see it.
Outside the front door Mrs H is pointing vaguely up to the helicopter.)
JOHN: Whats happened?
MRS HUDSON (lowering her hand): Its Sherlock! (Breaking down in tears, she pulls John into a
hug.) Youve no idea what Ive been through!
FLASHBACK. As the Le nozze di Figaro overture plays in the background, Mrs Hudson creeps
slowly and nervously up the stairs towards the first floor, clinging anxiously to the bannisters.
From the flat come various and random angry cries from Sherlock and the crashing noises of
objects being flung around. A moment later Bill pelts down the stairs towards her.
SHERLOCK (offscreen, from the flat): Wait!
(Mrs H whimpers and cringes against the bannisters as Bill races past her.)
WIGGINS: Im out of ere.
(He reaches the half-landing and points back up the stairs.)
WIGGINS: es lost it.
SHERLOCK (angrily, from inside the flat): Where is it?!
WIGGINS (pausing momentarily to yell in Mrs Hs ear): es totally gone!
(She cringes and backs a step down while Bill heads off down the stairs, and upstairs Sherlock
lets out a triumphant cry.
In the flat Sherlock charges from the kitchen into the living room, wielding a long-muzzled
pistol in his right hand. Wearing a dark blue dressing gown over his black shirt and trousers, he
still has a few days of beard growth and his hair is greasy. He looks manic as he runs across
the living room.)
SHERLOCK (shouting loudly and dramatically throughout the rest of the scene): Once more
unto the breach, dear friends ...
(He spins round in the middle of the room, pumping the pistol towards the ceiling.)
SHERLOCK: ... once more!
(All around the room there are countless photographs of Culverton Smith. Theyre stuck on the
walls, theyre scattered over every surface, and Sherlock has apparently taken lessons from
Phillip Anderson on how to display evidence and has strung pieces of string across the room to

541
which he has attached even more photos of Smith with clothes pegs. On the stairs, Mrs Hudson
continues her slow nervous climb. We see through the open kitchen door, which has a large
knife stuck in it. A book flies across the kitchen, flung from the direction of the living room.)
SHERLOCK: Or close the wall up ...
(He leaps onto the sofa.)
SHERLOCK: ... with our English dead!
(Lots more photographs of Smith are randomly stuck on the wall behind the sofa. Sherlock
turns around and heads back across the room.)
SHERLOCK: ... set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide.
(He turns and dramatically kicks the living room door closed.)
SHERLOCK (storming across towards the fireplace): Hold hard the breath and bend up every
spirit ...
(He snatches down a photo of Smith which was taped to the mirror.)
SHERLOCK: ... to his full height!
(Screwing up the photo, he looks down at it for a moment, then raises his head and brandishes
both hands either side of his head.)
SHERLOCK (now yelling at the top of his voice, his face full of rage): On, on, you noblest
English ...
(He hurls the photo across the room.)
SHERLOCK: ... whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
(Outside, Mrs Hudson nervously reaches the landing and looks towards the kitchen door. In the
living room Sherlock points the pistol towards the wall behind the sofa, taking the gun in both
hands.)
SHERLOCK: And you, good yeoman, whose limbs were made in England, show us here the
mettle of your pasture!
(Mrs H walks slowly towards the closed living room door. Inside, Sherlock heads into the
kitchen.)
SHERLOCK: ... which I doubt not, for there is none of you so mean and base ...
(He gestures dramatically with both hands, his gaze manic.)
SHERLOCK: ... that hath not noble lustre in your eyes!
(Cautiously Mrs H opens the door and peers around it. Pinned to the back of the door is a
printout of a newspaper or magazine article headed CULVERTON HIT-LIST with a large photo of
Smith underneath. A piece of string has also been attached to the door and it leads towards the
sofa wall with more pictures pegged to it. The string brushes against the top of Mrs Hudsons
forehead and she ducks under it and cranes her head around the edge of the door in the
direction of the kitchen, where Sherlock is still ranting and alternately pacing or twirling on the
spot.)
SHERLOCK: I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, straining upon the start!
(Stepping into the living room he aims the pistol towards the sofa wall and fires, narrowly
missing Mrs Hudson who ducks back and pulls the door closed. Sherlock fires four more times in
quick succession, blowing holes in various photos of Smith.
The music ends. Sherlock glares towards the wall.)
SHERLOCK (intensely): The games afoot.
[The speech that he was quoting comes from William Shakespeares Henry V, Act 3, Scene 1.]
(Sherlock breathes heavily as Mrs Hudson slowly pushes the door open again and peers round
it.)
SHERLOCK (calmly): Oh, hello.
(He sniffs and blinks hard.)
SHERLOCK: Can I have a cup of tea?
(He turns and walks back into the kitchen.)
In the present, John is walking along the hall in his therapists house. Mrs Hudson closes the
front door and follows him.
JOHN: Did you call the police?
MRS HUDSON (crossly): Of course I didnt call the police. Im not a civilian!
FLASHBACK. In the chaos that is 221Bs living room, Sherlock is back in the room. He tears at
some of the photographs near the door, then turns towards the windows, putting both hands to
his head in frustration. He still has the pistol in one hand.
MRS HUDSON: These pictures ...

542
(Shes in the kitchen. She has pushed back the plastic tent from around the sink and is pouring
tea from a teapot into a cup and saucer on the work surface.)
MRS HUDSON: ... theyre that man on the telly, arent they?
(Sherlock is frenetically turning back and forth but lowers his hands and turns to look at her.)
SHERLOCK: What pictures?
MRS HUDSON (nervously): Theyre everywhere.
(She puts down the teapot and picks up the cup and saucer. Sherlock dramatically gestures
around the room with both hands.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, these pictures! (He gestures towards the fireplace with the pistol.) Oh, you can
see them too. (For a second, he points the gun directly at her.) Thats good.
(He turns away, focusing in on a few of the many photographs. Screwing his eyes closed for a
moment, he spins around, still zooming in on individual pictures and then onto a white padded
envelope stabbed into the mantelpiece at one corner. The address label is typed and in large
red letters underneath is printed Private and Personal. An out of focus sticker on the top of the
envelope suggests that it was sent by Special Delivery. Pulling in a shaky breath and putting
one clenched hand to his cheek, he turns away and continues looking at the photographs
around the room.)
THERAPIST (offscreen): Culverton Smith.

In the present, Johns therapist has her laptop open on the side table in the back room. Pushing
her glasses up her nose, she bends down to the computer and runs her finger over the pad.
THERAPIST: This, I think, is relevant from this morning.
(She has done a search for the man in question and the results page is on the screen. At the
right of the screen are photographs of Smith, and underneath are links to a couple of books he
has written. One is called How to Make a Killing and the other Business Killer. On the left of
the screen, the top item on the results list headed Latest News is headlined, in speech
marks, Hes a serial killer! and underneath it says, Net detective blasts Culverton Smith on
Twitter and then Defamatory remake goes viral on Twitter. [Oh, joy. The production team still
havent learned how to proofread.] The article underneath is headed Culverton Smith | UK
News and underneath it reads, Culverton Smith wins year long legal battle with media outlet
News24, gaining an undisclosed sum for defamation of character over the infamous crooked
tooth... There are several other articles under that one but your transcriber hasnt got the
energy to copy them out. Buy the DVD to see them!)
THERAPIST: Hes publicly accused Mr Smith of being a serial killer.
(She clicks on the top article and it jumps to a report on Spectator Online which shows side-by-
side photos of Sherlock, wearing his deerstalker and looking towards the camera, and a smiling
Smith. The two photos are divided by a jagged white line that looks like lightning striking. The
main headline again reads, in quotes, Hes a serial killer! and the straplines read:
Net detective blasts Culverton Smith on Twitter

Defamatory remark goes viral on social networking site
[Oh, they get it right that time!]
Media tycoon yet to comment
Under the photographs the left-hand side of the caption cant be seen but it ends Culverton
Smith blasted by Sherlock Holmes.)
JOHN (leaning down to the laptop beside the therapist): Christ! Sherlock on Twitter. He really
has lost it.
MRS HUDSON (crossly): Dont you dare make jokes. Dont you dare. I was terrified!
Back in the flashback at 221B, Sherlock has his back to the kitchen and gestures dramatically
either side of his head, the pistol still in one hand.
SHERLOCK (frantically, through gritted teeth): Cup of tea!
(He spins around and rolls his eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, for goodness sakes.
(In the kitchen Mrs Hudson is clutching the cup and saucer in both shaking hands as she stares
at Sherlock in terror and slowly backs away.)
SHERLOCK (walking briskly towards her): Whats the matter with you?
(She whimpers. He storms closer to her, staring manically down at the tea and again gesturing
with both hands.)
SHERLOCK (loudly, sarcastically): Are you having an earthquake?!

543
(Time slows down and in ultra-slow motion the cup and saucer start to fall from Mrs Hudsons
hand.)
In the present, Mrs Hudson looks at John pleadingly.

MRS HUDSON: You need to see him, John. You need to help him!
JOHN (shaking his head): Nope.
MRS HUDSON (frantically): He needs you!
JOHN (angrily): Somebody else. (He turns away from her.) Not me. Not now.
(As he turns, he sees Mary standing just outside the door of the room. Leaning casually against
the wall, she is looking at him with a sort of Really, John? look on her face.)
MRS HUDSON (storming over to him): Now you just listen to me for once in your stupid life. I
know Marys dead and I know your heart is broken, but if Sherlock Holmes dies too, who will
you have then?
(He opens his mouth but she keeps talking, pointing an angry finger at him.)
MRS HUDSON: Because I tell you something, John Watson. You will not have me.
(She storms out of the door, passing invisi-Mary, and heads for the front door. John turns to
watch her go and Mary tilts her head towards Mrs H, urging him to follow. After a moment he
does what hes told and stomps off into the hall. Mary smiles and watches him go.
Outside, Mrs Hudson has folded her arms on top of the Astons roof and has lowered her head
onto them and is crying. The police cars and helicopter have gone. John comes out of the
house, closes the door and slowly walks towards her while she sobs noisily. He stops behind her
for a long moment, blows out a long breath and steps closer.)
JOHN: Have you spoken to Mycroft, Molly, uh, anyone?
MRS HUDSON (tearfully): They dont matter. You do. (She straightens up and turns to face
him.) Would you just see him? Please, John. Or just take a look at him as a doctor? I know
youd change your mind if you did.
(John tries to shake his head but then pauses for a second.)
JOHN: Yeah, look, okay, maybe, if I get a chance.
MRS HUDSON (hopefully): Dyou promise? (She beams at him.)
JOHN: Ill try, if Im in the area.
MRS HUDSON (turning puppy dog eyes on him): Promise me?
JOHN: I promise.
MRS HUDSON: Thank you!
(She instantly turns and walks to the rear of the car. John frowns. She opens the boot of the car
and lifts it up. Inside the boot Sherlock looks up at her anxiously. John walks to the rear of the
car and looks into the boot with no expression on his face.)
MRS HUDSON (turning to him): Well? On you go.
(In the boot Sherlock squints against the daylight. His wrists are handcuffed together in front of
him.)
MRS HUDSON (to John): Examine him!
(John throws her a quick glance and then looks into the boot again where Sherlock, his legs
bent up in front of him, lifts his head and peers out.)
In flashback in 221Bs kitchen, the teacup and saucer are dropping in ultra-slow motion from
Mrs Hudsons hands. Instinctively and also in ultra-slow motion Sherlock reaches forward to
drop his pistol onto the kitchen table and then his hand continues its downward motion as he
bends his knees and gets his hand under the falling saucer. He catches it and the tea splashes
noisily in the cup as its fall is halted. Before he can start to straighten up again, Mrs Hudson
reaches across to the table and picks up the gun by its muzzle with her right hand, pulling it
towards her and reaching for the other end with her left. Sherlock starts to come up again,
some of the tea splashing out of the cup and falling towards the floor. As his knees straighten
and his hand shakes, rattling the cup in the saucer, Mrs H turns and points the gun at him,
cocking it. He jumps at the sight and stares at it, his hand still trembling.
MRS HUDSON: Right, then, mister. Now I need your handcuffs. I happen to know theres a pair
in the salad drawer. (She shrugs.) Ive borrowed them before.
(He looks at her in startled indignation.)
MRS HUDSON (crossly): Oh, get over yourself. Youre not my first smackhead, Sherlock
Holmes.

544
In the present, John opens the front door of the therapists house and stands aside while
Sherlock, rubbing one of his wrists from where the handcuffs have been removed, stumbles
inside.
SHERLOCK: The womans out of control. I asked for a cup of tea!
(He stops partway down the hall and picks up a glass vase of flowers from a shelf, takes out the
flowers and heads further down the hall. John turns to Mrs H as she walks in.)
JOHN: How did you get him in the boot?
MRS HUDSON: The boys from the caf.
SHERLOCK (angrily, turning back): They dropped me. Twice.
(He turns around again and heads for the kitchen, drinking some of the water from the vase.)
MRS HUDSON: And dyou know why they dropped you, dear?
(Sherlock dumps the flowers onto the breakfast bar.)
MRS HUDSON: Because they know you.
(Sherlock takes another drink from the vase, grimaces and then gestures towards the therapist
standing in the consultation room with a phone to her ear.)
SHERLOCK: Whos this one? (He points at her while looking at John.) Is this a new person? Im
against new people.
THERAPIST (into phone): Excuse me for a moment.
(She lowers the phone. Sherlock, now holding the vase in both hands, takes another long drink
from it.)
JOHN: Shes my therapist.
SHERLOCK: Awesome! (He walks towards her.) Dyou do block bookings?
(In the hall, John points out of the open front door to the Aston.)
JOHN: Whose car is that?
MRS HUDSON: Thats my car.
JOHN: How can that be your car?!
MRS HUDSON (high-pitched with exasperation): Oh, for Gods sake! Im the widow of a drug
dealer, I own property in central London ...
(In the consultation room, Sherlock stands with his back to the chair in which John was sitting
earlier, looks round at it and drops heavily onto it, grimacing.)
MRS HUDSON: ... and for the last bloody time, John, Im not your housekeeper.
(She walks back to the front door to close it. The therapist holds out the phone to John.)
THERAPIST: Im so sorry. I answered your phone. You were busy. I think youll want to take it.
(John takes it and holds it to his ear as he walks back into the hall.)
JOHN (into phone): Uh, yes, hello?
(Elsewhere, Culverton Smith is sitting at a table while a make-up artist brushes flesh-coloured
powder onto his forehead.)
SMITH (into his mobile phone): Is this Doctor John Watson?
JOHN: Yeah. Whos this?
SMITH (dismissing the make-up artist with a smack on her hand): Culverton Smith. Youve
probably heard of me.
JOHN (looking towards the open laptop which still shows the article he was looking at earlier):
Uh, well, yes.
(Sherlock holds up the vase, which is now almost empty.)
SHERLOCK: Get me a fresh glass of water, please. This ones filthy.
SMITH: I mean, Im aware of this mornings developments.
(Sighing, Sherlock leans forward and holds out the vase to the approaching therapist, who takes
it.)
JOHN (into phone): Yes. Im sure he was being ... hilarious. Sorry, did you say all still meeting?
[No, he didnt. Was this a bad edit?]
SMITH (over phone): You, me and Mr Holmes. Ive sent a car; should be outside. Mr Holmes
gave me an address.
JOHN: Well, he couldnt have given you this one. Its ...
(The doorbell rings. John turns and walks to the front door and opens it.)
MAN STANDING OUTSIDE: When youre ready.
(Frowning, John looks to the kerb where a black stretch limousine is parked in front of the Aston
Martin. He looks at the man again and gives him a tiny nod. The man turns away and John
closes the door, grimacing. He lifts the phone to his ear and heads down the hall.)
JOHN: When did Sherlock give you this address?
SMITH: Two weeks ago.
JOHN (tightly): Two weeks?

545
SMITH: Yes. Two weeks.

(John lowers the phone and switches it off. Smith takes his phone from his ear and looks at it as
it beeps three times. John, now in the kitchen, looks at Mrs Hudson who is cleaning up at the
sink.)
JOHN: How did you know where to find me?
MRS HUDSON: Oh, Sherlock told me. Hes not so difficult when youve got a gun on him.
(John turns, hesitates for a moment, then walks into the consulting room. Sherlock is slumped
back in the chair with his eyes closed, and the therapist is just putting a glass of water onto the
nearby table.)
JOHN (loudly): How did you know?
(Sherlock jerks awake.)
JOHN (loudly): How? On Monday I decided to get a new therapist. Tuesday afternoon, I chose
her.
(He points to the therapist who is just sitting down in her chair. Sherlock leans one elbow on
the arm of his chair and supports his head with his fingers.)
JOHN: Wednesday morning I booked todays session. Now, today is Friday. So two weeks ago
two weeks before you were abducted at gunpoint and brought here against your will ...
(Sherlock frowns and rolls his jaw, looking as if hes finding it hard to keep up.)
JOHN (angrily): ... over a week before I even thought of coming here, you knew exactly where
youd need to be picked up for lunch?
SHERLOCK (looking towards the ceiling): Really? I correctly anticipated the responses of people
I know well to scenarios I devised? Cant everyone do that?
MRS HUDSON: How?
SHERLOCK (pointing in the direction of her car): Except the boot. The boot was mean.
JOHN (to Mrs H): Never mind how. Hes dying to tell us that. (He turns to Sherlock.) I want to
know why.
SHERLOCK: Because Mrs Hudsons right. Im burning up.
(John straightens up, putting his hands on his hips.)
SHERLOCK: Im at the bottom of a pit and Im still falling and ... (he shakes his head and
clenches his eyes closed) ... Im never climbing out.
(Mrs Hudson turns away sadly and goes back to the kitchen.)
SHERLOCK (standing up): I need you to know, John I need you to see that up here ... (he
gestures to his temples with both hands) ... Ive still got it, so when I tell you that this ... (he
walks to the side table to point to the open laptop) ... is the most dangerous, the most
despicable human being that I have ever encountered; when I tell you that this-this monster
must be ended, please remember where youre standing, because ... youre standing exactly
where I said you would be two weeks ago.
(Grimacing in pain, he slumps into a chair beside the table.)
SHERLOCK (more quietly): Im a mess; Im in hell; but I am not wrong, not about him.
(He points to Smiths photo on the laptop.)
JOHN: So what has all this got to do with me?
(Folding his arms, he smiles humourlessly at Sherlock.)
SHERLOCK (savagely, still looking at the photo): That creature, that rotting thing, is a living
breathing coagulation of human evil, and if the only thing I ever do in this world is drive him out
of it, then my life will not have been wasted.
(He takes a breath, staring up at John who tilts his head to one side.)
SHERLOCK: Look at me. Cant do it, not now. Not alone.
(He looks away and swallows, his eyes slightly tearful. John sighs slightly, then unfolds his arms
and holds out his right hand towards Sherlock, pulling in a sharp breath through his nose.
Sherlock stands up, also sighing a little, and takes his hand. Instantly John clasps Sherlocks
arm with his other hand and turns it over. Sherlock rolls his eyes as John pushes up the sleeves
of his dressing gown and shirt to reveal all the dark marks on the underside of his arm where
hes been injecting himself.)
JOHN (releasing his arm): Yeah, well, theyre real enough, I suppose.
SHERLOCK (turning away): Why would I be faking?
JOHN (loudly): Because youre a liar.
(Sherlock turns back to him.)
JOHN: You lie all the time. Its like your mission.
SHERLOCK (holding out his hands either side): I have been many things, John, but when have I
ever been a malingerer?
JOHN (yelling): You pretended to be dead for two years!

546
SHERLOCK (after a momentary hesitation): ... Apart from that?

JOHN (more quietly): Listen, before I do anything, I need to know what state youre in.
SHERLOCK: Well, youre a doctor. Examine me. (He sits down on the chair again.)
JOHN: No, I need a second opinion.
SHERLOCK (exasperated): Oh, John, calm down. When have you ever managed two opinions?
Youd fall over.
JOHN: I need the one person who unlike me learned to see through your bullshit long ago.
SHERLOCK: Whos that, then? Im sure I would have noticed.
JOHN: The last person youd think of.
(Sherlock looks up at him silently.)
JOHN: I want you to be examined by Molly Hooper.
(Sherlock looks down, biting his lip.)
JOHN: Dyou hear me? I said Molly Hooper.
SHERLOCK (cringing a little): Youre really not gonna like this.
JOHN: Like what?
(The doorbell rings. John looks towards the sound, then heaves in a frustrated breath and
scowls down at Sherlock.
A few moments later he opens the door to Molly who is standing outside wearing her white lab
coat over her clothes. He looks at her in exasperation.)
MOLLY: Um, hel-hello. Is, uh ... Im sorry, Sh-Sherlock asked me to come.
(An ambulance is parked in the driveway of the house opposite. A paramedic is opening the rear
doors.)
JOHN: What, two weeks ago?
MOLLY: Yeah. About two weeks.
(John nods in resignation. Sherlock stumbles out into the hall.)
SHERLOCK: If youd like to know how I predict the future ...
JOHN (angrily interrupting as he turns to him): I dont care how.
SHERLOCK (holding up his hands as he continues forward): Okay. Fully equipped ambulance;
Molly can examine me on the way. Itll save time. (He stops on the doorstep.) Ready to go,
Molly?
MOLLY: Oh, well ...
SHERLOCK: Just tell me when to cough.
(He smiles falsely at her and walks out the door.)
SHERLOCK: Hope you remembered my coat.
MOLLY: Wh...
(Hes gone. She looks at John.)
MOLLY: I... Sorry. I didnt know that you were gonna be here.
(Glancing briefly towards the nearby limousine, Sherlock walks round the front of the Aston and
almost falls off the kerb before heading for the ambulance.)
MOLLY (to John): Absolutely no idea whats going on.
JOHN: Sherlocks using again.
(Her slight smile fades. Behind her, Sherlock climbs into the back of the ambulance.)
MOLLY: Oh God. But, um, a-are you sure?
(Mrs Hudson has come along the hall and stops just behind John.)
JOHN: No. Its Sherlock. Of course Im not sure. (He glares towards the ambulance then speaks
more quietly to Molly.) Just check him out.
(Nodding, she turns and heads across the road.)
MRS HUDSON (quietly to John, standing at his side): Is Molly the right person to be doing
medicals? Shes more used to dead people. Its bound to lower your standards.
JOHN (looking across the road): I dont know. I dont know anything any more.
(She gently laughs sympathetically.)
JOHN: Mrs Hudson. As ever, you are amazing.
MRS HUDSON (chuckling): No! (She leans closer to him.) Youre going to have to buck up a bit,
John.
(He turns to look at her.)
MRS HUDSON: You know that, dont you? The game is on!
JOHN (looking away): Ill do my best.
(She puts an arm around him.)
MRS HUDSON: Anything you need, any time, just ask. Anything at all!
(He smiles at her.)
JOHN: Thank you.

547
(Patting his arm, she steps back. He pulls in a breath, then steps out of the door. He has only
taken a few paces when he slows down, half-turns towards her and points towards her Aston
before walking back to her.)
JOHN: Sometimes, can I borrow your car?
(She thinks about it for a split second then shakes her head.)
MRS HUDSON: No.
(She turns away.)
JOHN: Okay.
(He turns and walks forward again, then stops and looks towards the limo, flexing his left hand.
He starts to walk along the road, passing the open door of the ambulance which briefly obscures
our view of him and when he comes into view again, Mary is walking beside him.)
MARY: He knew youd get a new therapist after I died because youd need to change
everything. Thats just what youre like.
(John steps off the pavement, passing a bush on the other side of the road which again
momentarily obscures our view of him, and when he reappears Mary has gone. He walks to the
left rear door of the limo which a man is holding open for him. John nods to him.)
JOHN: Thanks.
(He gets into the back seat. Mary is already sitting on the other side, one leg curled under her.
The man closes the door.)
MARY: You keep your weekends for Rosie, so you needed to see someone during working hours.
(Cut-away of John typing into a search engine surfsearching.co.uk Psychiatrist my
location.)
MARY: Because youre an idiot, you dont want anyone at the surgery knowing youre in
therapy, so that restricts you to lunchtime sessions with someone reasonably close.
(John looks round at her.
Cut-away of the homepage of Dr. Marcus Chambers, Phd, Consultant Psychiatrist. Johns face
comes into focus reflected in the screen as Mary continues speaking. He folds his hands in front
of him and rubs his thumb against the other hand while he looks at the screen.)
MARY (offscreen): You found four men and one woman, and you are done with the world being
explained to you by a man.
(In the limo, she laughs briefly.)
MARY: Who isnt?!
(John looks at her.)
MARY: So all he needed to do was find the first available lunchtime appointment with a female
therapist within cycling distance of your surgery.
(While she speaks, John turns his head away and rubs his nose briefly.)
MARY: My God, he knows you.
(The ambulance drives past the limo.)
JOHN: No he doesnt.
MARY (smiling): Im in your head, John. Youre disagreeing with yourself.
DRIVER: You ready, sir?
(John is alone on the back seat. He turns and looks at the blank space, speaking a little
angrily.)
JOHN: Yes, I am.
(He turns to look into the rear-view mirror where the driver is watching him in the mirror
through sunglasses. The man turns his head away.)
MARY (back sitting beside him): He is the cleverest man in the world, but hes not a monster.
JOHN (looking at her): Yeah, he is.
MARY: Yeah, okay, all right, he is. (She mock-shudders.) Urgh!
(She chuckles.)
MARY (softly): But hes our monster.
(John turns away again.)
In a TV studio, Smith smiles into the camera.

SMITH (in a loud whisper): Im a killer.
(Outside the building, a large billboard is being carried away by a couple of people. The image
shows someone presumably a man but the picture only shows him from the neck down
wearing a suit and tie and holding up a large sharp knife covered with blood. To the right of the
person, text reads:
ROWBANK MEDIA

548
A ROWBANK
ORIGINAL SERIES
ROUGE
[in bright red]
SERIES PREMIERE
8TH MARCH
EXCLUSIVE TO
PLAY TV
Along the bottom of the poster it reads:
ON MARCH 8, THE SECRET WILL BE UNLEASHED
As the billboard is carried away, behind it the limousine turns into the forecourt.
Inside the studio Smith, wearing a grey suit and white shirt, has turned his head to the left to
smile into another camera.)
SMITH: You know Im a killer.
(Outside, the limo drives past two people in alien make-up and clothes. They watch the car go
past. Each of them has a cigarette in their hands and the woman is also holding her phone.
Inside, Smith straightens up and turns to the camera in front of him.)
SMITH: But did you know Im a s...
(To his right, the bulb in a large light on a stand explodes. Just starting to hold up a bowl and
spoon, Smith flinches.)
DIRECTOR (offscreen): Cut there. What was that? Was that a light?
(Smith is standing behind a breakfast bar. To his left on the table is a tall jug of orange juice, a
glass of orange juice and an orange sliced into two. Beside them are two boxes of breakfast
cereal. The cereal is called GNASH and a blue triangle in the top left corner of the boxes
announces that this is New! A large picture behind Smith shows an overhead shot of a bowl of
cereal with a spoon in it. Smith puts his own spoon into the bowl and puts the bowl onto the
table, pointing to the exploded light.)
SMITH: Oh, was that me? Er, was I too good, huh?
(The camera crew laugh. His assistant Cornelia walks to his side and speaks into his ear.)
CORNELIA: Hes here.
(Outside, the limo comes to a halt in a car park and a man walks over and opens the rear right-
hand door. John has already slid across to that side and he gets out. The ambulance is parked
nearby with its back doors open and he walks over to where Molly is sitting on the back step
slightly hunched over and with her hands clasped in her lap. Sherlock is lying on the stretcher
inside but now stands up.)
JOHN (to Molly): Well? How is he?
SHERLOCK: Basically fine.
(He takes off his dressing gown and reaches down to pick up his coat which is lying on the
stretcher.)
MOLLY: Ive seen healthier people on the slab.
SHERLOCK: Yeah but, to be fair, you work with murder victims. They tend to be quite young.
(He puts on his coat.)
MOLLY: Not funny.
SHERLOCK: Little bit funny.
MOLLY (her voice getting tearful as she speaks): If you keep taking what youre taking at the
rate youre taking it, youve got weeks.
(Sherlock comes to the doorway and holds onto the poles either side.)
SHERLOCK: Exactly, weeks. Lets not get ahead of ourselves.
(He steps down to the ground, then totters on the spot.)
MOLLY (standing up): For Christs sake, Sherlock, its not a game!
SHERLOCK (turning to her): Im worried about you, Molly. You seem very stressed.
MOLLY: Im stressed; youre dying.
SHERLOCK: Yeah, well, Im ahead, then. Stress can ruin every day of your life.
(She turns away from him, closing her eyes against her tears.)

549
SHERLOCK: Dying can only ruin one.

JOHN (stepping closer to him with his hands behind his back): So this is real? Youve really lost
it. Youre actually out of control.
SHERLOCK: When have I ever been that?
JOHN: Since the day I met you.
SHERLOCK: Oh, clever boy. Ive missed you fumbling round the place.
JOHN (to Molly): I thought this was some kind of ...
SHERLOCK: What?
JOHN (turning to him): ... trick.
SHERLOCK: Course its not a trick. Its a plan.
SMITH (offscreen): Mr Holmes!
(John looks past Sherlocks shoulder to where the voice came from. Smith is coming out of the
doors of a building marked VILLAGE STUDIOS. Cornelia is behind him and a man walks
alongside filming him as more people come out of the doors behind them.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire, not turning round): Thirty feet and closing: the most significant
undetected serial killer in British criminal history.
(Smiling, Smith walks towards them followed by his entourage.)
SHERLOCK (to John): Help me bring him down.
JOHN: What ... what plan?
SHERLOCK: Im not telling you.
JOHN: Why not?
SHERLOCK: Because you wont like it.
SMITH: Mr Holmes!
(Sherlock turns to face him. Smith stops a few feet away. A cameraman and another man hurry
around behind our boys so that they can film Smith from the front.)
SMITH: I dont do handshakes. (He starts to walk towards Sherlock again.) Itll have to be a
hug.
SHERLOCK: I know.
(Reporters holding notebooks gather around them. Chuckling, Smith reaches out and hugs him.
Sherlock leans down into the mans embrace. Resting his head on Sherlocks shoulder, Smith
pats his back.)
SMITH: Oh, Sherlock.
(Over his shoulder, Sherlock frowns.)
SMITH: Oh, Sherlock! (Releasing him, he steps back.) What can I say? Thanks to you ... (he
turns to his entourage) ... were, uh, were everywhere!
MALE REPORTER: Mr Holmes, how did Culverton talk you into this?
SMITH: Well, he-hes a detective. (He fakes a startled look.) Maybe I just confessed!
(The reporters and Smith laugh. He looks at Sherlock and beckons him towards the building.)
SMITH: Come on.
(Starting to follow him, Sherlock turns and throws a significant, perhaps pleading, look to John,
who follows him. Molly watches them go, looking worried.)
SMITH (walking along): Now, its a ... its a new kind of breakfast cereal.
MALE REPORTER: Mr Holmes, can you put on the hat?
JOHN: Yeah, he doesnt really wear the hat.
SMITH: Kids will be getting two of their five-a-day before theyve even left home!
[Details of the five-a-day campaign here.]
(He leads the crowd into the building and stops to take a notebook from a woman and sign his
name in it. Cornelia walks alongside John.)
CORNELIA: Sherlocks been amazing for us.
(Handing the notebook back to the woman as she smiles, Smith continues onwards with the
others.)
SMITH (to the reporters): Breakfast has got to be cool.
CORNELIA (to John): Were beyond viral.
SMITH: And you know what makes it cool when youre a kid?
JOHN (to Cornelia): What, sorry? Beyond what?
SMITH: Dangerous.
Not long afterwards, Smith is behind the breakfast bar, smiling to one of the cameras.
DIRECTOR (offscreen): Set; and action!
SMITH: Im a killer.

550
(Sherlock stands several feet away with his hands in his pockets, watching him. John has turned
to one side with his back to Sherlock, watching the filming on one of the nearby TV screens.)
SMITH: You know Im a killer.
(He smiles into the camera, then turns to the one on his right and looks into that.)
SMITH: But did you know ...
(He turns back to the front camera, picks up the bowl and holds it up.)
SMITH: ... Im a cereal killer?!
(To his right, behind the repaired light on its stand, is a large poster advertising the new
breakfast cereal. On it, Smith is smiling into the camera and the words Im a CEREAL KILLER!
are to the left of his head.
Sherlock chuckles slightly, his gaze intense. Smith takes a large mouthful of cereal and chews
on it.)
SMITH (making an appreciative noise): Mm!
(He straightens up and gestures towards the director.)
DIRECTOR (offscreen): And cut there. Thank you.
(Smith puts down the bowl, claps his hands together a couple of times and gestures to a young
woman who hurries over to him. She is wearing a headset and carrying a black plastic bin with
a white bin liner inside. Smith leans down to the bin and spits the cereal into it. Spitting, he
straightens and looks at the woman.)
SMITH: We should bag that up, sell it. (He spits a last bit of cereal into the bin.) Make money
for that on eBay.
(She chuckles nervously. He looks up at her again and nods towards the bin.)
SMITH (quietly): I could make more if you like. Any time you like.
(Her smile becomes rather fixed and she turns and walks away. He straightens up and grimly
watches her go.
John has turned to Sherlock.)
JOHN: Has it occurred to you anywhere in your drug-addled brain that youve just been
played?
SHERLOCK: Oh, yes.
JOHN: For an ad campaign.
SHERLOCK: Brilliant, isnt it?
JOHN: Brilliant?
(Sherlock stares towards Smith.)
SHERLOCK: Safest place to hide.
(At the table, Smith is picking a bit of cereal from his teeth while a wardrobe mistress adjusts
his shirt and a make-up artist strokes a brush through her tin of powder.)
SHERLOCK: Plain sight.
CORNELIA (walking towards him): Mr Holmes? Culverton wants to know if youre okay going
straight to the hospital.
JOHN: Hospital?
CORNELIA: Culvertons doing a visit. The kids would love to meet you both. I think he sort of
promised.
SHERLOCK: Oh, okay.
(He walks away. John looks at him, startled. Cornelia gestures to John.)
CORNELIA: If youd just like to come this way.
(They walk away. Smith watches them go, his face serious.)
Shortly afterwards, John gets into the right-hand side of the limousine. Sherlock is already
sitting on the other side, typing on a phone.
JOHN (closing the door and settling down on the seat): So ... what are we doing here? Whats
the point?
SHERLOCK (still typing, not looking up): I needed a hug.
(Smith comes to Johns side of the car and knocks on the window. John presses the button to
lower it. Smith bends down and looks in.)
SMITH: What do you think, Mr Holmes? Cereal killer.
SHERLOCK (still typing): Its funny cause its true!
SMITH: See you at the hospital.
(He straightens up and starts to walk away.)
SHERLOCK (turning and calling to him): Oh, you can have this back now.

551
(Smith stops. The sound of a message being sent from the phone can be heard, and Sherlock
lowers it to his lap and tries to look nonchalant while John frowns round at him. Smith turns and
walks back to the window.)
SMITH: Have what back?
SHERLOCK (reaching across John and holding out the phone with a tight smile): Thanks for the
hug.
(Frowning, Smith takes the phone.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, I sent and deleted a text. You might get a reply but I doubt it.
(He settles back into his seat. Smiling, Smith tucks his phone into his inside jacket pocket.)
SMITH: Its password protected.
SHERLOCK (scornfully): Please!
(Smith chuckles.)
SMITH: Were going to have endless fun, Mr Holmes, arent we?
SHERLOCK: Oh no. No, not endless.
(Smiling, Smith walks away. Sherlock looks at him grimly for a moment, then turns away. John
glances towards him as Sherlock sighs silently, hugging himself.)
JOHN: Need another hit, do you?
SHERLOCK: I can wait until the hospital.
(John turns his head away, shaking it slightly, and closes the window. Sherlock lays his head
back and closes his eyes.)
SAINT CAEDWALLAS HOSPITAL. [St. Caedwalla is the patron saint of serial killers; or, more
specifically, of repentant serial killers.] John stands in a corridor with a blue-uniformed female
nurse. Near them is the plaque beside which Smith stood when he opened The Culverton Smith
Wing. To the right of the plaque is a large photo of Smith just about to cut the ribbon, and to
the right of that is another photograph, or possibly a painting, of him smiling. The nurse looks
at John.
NURSE CORNISH: You involved much?
JOHN: Sorry?
NURSE CORNISH: Um, with Mr Holmes Sherlock and all his cases?
JOHN: Uh, yeah. Im John Watson.
NURSE CORNISH (looking as if that means nothing to her): Okay.
JOHN: Doctor Watson.
NURSE CORNISH: I love his blog, dont you?
JOHN: His blog?
NURSE CORNISH: Oh, dont you read it?
JOHN: You mean my blog.
(Sherlock comes out of the nearby toilets.)
SHERLOCK: Say what you like about addiction; the day is full of highlights.
NURSE CORNISH (smiling at him): Oh, Mr Holmes. You feeling better?
SHERLOCK: Psychedelic!
NURSE CORNISH: I was just saying I love your blog.
SHERLOCK: Great. I ...
JOHN (interrupting): Its my blog.
SHERLOCK: It is. He writes the blog.
NURSE CORNISH (to John): Its yours?
JOHN: Yes.
NURSE CORNISH: You write Sherlocks blog?
JOHN: Yes.
(Sherlock briefly closes his eyes and then widens them, blowing out a long breath.)
NURSE CORNISH: Its ... gone downhill a little bit, hasnt it?
(John smiles tightly at her.)
NURSE CORNISH (turning round): Oh, its this way, then.
(Sherlock blows out another breath and he and John follow her.)
Smith is standing in the middle of a play area in a childrens ward. Child patients and their
nurses and other support staff are sitting and standing around him. He turns and everyone
applauds as Nurse Cornish leads Sherlock and John into the room. Another nurse smiles at
them as they walk past.
NURSE: Oh, my God; I love your blog!
(Sherlock points both index fingers at her and smiles.)

552
SHERLOCK: Youre welcome!

(He puts a friendly hand on her shoulder as he walks past. John looks at them straight-faced.)
SMITH (offscreen): Right, here he comes, the internet tec!
(Sherlock continues into the room, mock-gaping at the sight.)
SMITH: You all know Sherlock Holmes!
(The children cheer and applaud harder.)
SHERLOCK: Hello!
(Smith walks closer to him as the applause dies down.)
SMITH: Oh, and Doctor Watson, of course.
(The audience clap again, far less enthusiastically this time. John presses his lips together.)
SMITH: Mr Holmes. I was wondering well ... (he turns to the kids) ... we all were, werent we?
maybe you could tell us about some of your cases.
SHERLOCK (instantly): No.
JOHN: Yes.
SHERLOCK: Yes! Absolutely, yes.
(He goes into lecture mode as he walks forward into the circle of children.)
SHERLOCK: The main feature of interest in the field of criminal investigation is not the
sensational aspects of the crime itself, but rather the iron chain of reasoning, from cause to
effect, that reveals step by step the solution. Thats the only truly remarkable aspect of the
entire affair. Now, I will share with you the facts and evidence as they were available to me,
and in this very room you will all attempt to solve the case of Blessington the Poisoner.
(He has wandered back towards John while talking, who now speaks quietly.)
JOHN: I think you slightly gave away the ending.
SHERLOCK (to the audience): There were five main suspects ...
JOHN: One of them called Blessington.
SHERLOCK (briefly throwing him a look): ... but its more about how he did it.
JOHN: Poison?
SHERLOCK: Okay.
(The kids laugh.)
SHERLOCK: Drearcliff House. Remember that one, John?
(He blows out a breath.)
SHERLOCK: One murder, ten suspects. (He excitedly holds up his hands and splays his fingers.)
JOHN: Ten, yeah.
SHERLOCK: All of them guilty.
JOHN: Sherlock ...
(Mary is sitting at one side of the room, smiling fondly at him. She giggles silently. Meanwhile
Sherlock is starting to lose concentration.)
SHERLOCK: Uh, wh-wh-wh-what did you call that one, John? Um, something to do with murder
at the zoo.
JOHN: Yeah, I called it Murder at the Zoo.
(The audience smile.)
SHERLOCK: Or-or was it The Case of the Killer Orang-Utan?
(The audience fall silent. John looks at him straight-faced.)
MARY: He should be wearing the hat. The kidsd love the hat.
SHERLOCK (turning in a circle to look at his audience): So, any more questions?
SEVERAL OF THE KIDS (simultaneously): No.
ONE OF THE KIDS: I dont think so.
SHERLOCK: No?
(Smith has sat down near a couple of the children and now raises a hand.)
SMITH: Mr Holmes?
SHERLOCK: Good, then Ill ... (He trails off and turns to Smith.)
SMITH: How do you catch a serial killer?
(The little girl to one side of him had previously been holding a Barbie-type doll but at some
time after he sat with her, he has taken it from her and is holding it in one hand on his lap.
Sherlock looks at him silently for a long moment before speaking.)
SHERLOCK: Same way you catch any other killer.
SMITH: No, but m-most killers kill someone they know.
(Sherlock blinks several times.)
SMITH: Youre looking for a murderer in a tiny social grouping.
NURSE CORNISH: Um, Mr Smith. Um, Im-Im just, er, wondering. Maybe this isnt a suitable
subject for the children.

553
SMITH (quietly, not turning to her): Nurse Cornish. How long have you been with us now?
NURSE CORNISH: Seven years.
(He turns to look at her straight-faced.)
SMITH: Seven years.
(She smiles nervously.)
SMITH: Okay.
(After a moment he turns back towards Sherlock and the audience. His tone is serious when he
speaks, and the adults in the room are now starting to look a little uncomfortable.)
SMITH: Serial killers choose their victims at random. Surely that must make it more difficult?
SHERLOCK (staring at him wide-eyed): Some of them advertise.
SMITH: Do they really?
SHERLOCK (his voice quiet and intense): Serial killing is an expression of power, ego, a
signature in human destruction.
(Smith presses his lips together, fiddling with the doll on his lap with both hands as Sherlock
continues. Both men have locked eyes on each other.)
SHERLOCK: Ultimately, for full satisfaction, it requires ... (he speaks the next two words
pedantically) ... plain sight. Additionally, serial killers are easily profiled. They tend to be social
outcasts, educationally sub-normal.
(Nurse Cornish looks around the room anxiously.)
SMITH: No-no-no-no-no-no. Youre just talking about the ones you know, the ones youve
caught.
(Sherlock frowns slightly.)
SMITH: But hello, dummy, you only catch the dumb ones. Now, imagine if the Queen wanted to
kill some people. What would happen then?
(Sherlocks gaze lowers downwards towards Smiths hands.)
SMITH: All that power, all that money. (He squeezes the head of the doll with one thumb,
crushing its face.) Sweet little government dancing attendance.
(Nurse Cornish looks round again, now very uncomfortable.)
SMITH: A whole country just to keep her warm and ...
(He pulls the dolls head off its body.)
SMITH: ... and fat.
(He smiles up at Sherlock, whose eyes are still fixed on the doll. Smith pushes the head back
onto its body.)
SMITH: Hm.
(He looks round at the kids, smiling.)
SMITH: We all love the Queen, dont we? And I bet shed love you lot!
(John steps forward a few paces.)
JOHN: Uh, it-its all right, everyone. I can personally assure you that Sherlock Holmes is not
about to arrest the Queen. (He grins at the kids.)
SMITH: Well, of course not! Not Her Majesty!
(Sherlock is staring intensely at him. Smith turns back to face him.)
SMITH: Money, power, fame.
(Standing near him, the expression on Johns face suggests that hes beginning to realise why
Sherlock is obsessed with this man.)
SMITH: Some things make you untouchable.
(Johns gaze lowers and he blinks several times. It seems he now also knows that Sherlock is
right in his obsession.)
SMITH (louder): God save the Queen! (He looks round at the kids.) She could open a
slaughterhouse and wed all probably pay the entrance fee!
JOHN: No-ones untouchable.
SMITH: No-one?
(Sherlocks eyes turn towards John and he smiles slightly. Perhaps hes reading Johns
expression and knows that hes finally on his side. Smith looks round at the children.)
SMITH: Look at you all! So gloomy! Cant you take a joke?
(Chuckling, he stands up.)
SMITH: The Queen! If the Queen was a serial killer, Id be the first person shed tell! (He pulls a
funny face.) We have that kind of friendship!
(He chuckles and claps his hands together.)
SMITH: A big round of applause for Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson!
(He chuckles again and applauds while the audience clap rather unenthusiastically.)
SMITH: Come on! Wonderful!

554
(He turns to smile at Sherlock, who gazes back at him intensely.)

SMITH: Thank you so much for coming. Thank you.
(Sherlocks eyes lift to meet Johns. John returns the look. Its clear that hes now fully on
board.)
Not long afterwards, Smith leads Sherlock and John along a bright white-painted corridor.
SHERLOCK: Where are we going now?
SMITH: I want to show you my favourite room.
(They walk past a door. Sherlock glances towards it, then does a double-take.)
SHERLOCK: No, lets go in here.
(The door has a window in it and he pulls the door open and goes inside. A sign on the wall
inside shows that this is Suite W34, Directors Boardroom B-2. Theres a white rectangular table
in the middle with three chairs on each side and one at each end, and there are drug stands
beside each of the side chairs. Sherlock walks around the table, gesturing towards it.)
SHERLOCK: So youve had another one of your little meetings.
(He smiles humourlessly at Smith.)
SMITH: Oh, its just a monthly top-up. Confession is good for the soul ... providing you can
delete it.
(John looks closely at a bag hanging from one of the stands.)
JOHN: Whats TD12?
SHERLOCK: Its a memory inhibitor.
SMITH: Bliss.
JOHN: Bliss?
SMITH: Opt-in ignorance. Makes the world go round.
SHERLOCK (folding his arms): Anyone ever opt to remember?
SMITH: Some people take the drip out, yeah. Some people have the same ... urges. Huh ... (he
claps his hands together) ... come on. Wasting time.
SHERLOCK: Indeed. (He looks at his watch.) You have I estimate twenty minutes left.
(Smiling, he walks towards the door which Smith is about to push open. Smith turns back
towards him.)
SMITH: Sorry?
SHERLOCK: I sent a text from your phone, remember? It was read almost immediately.
Factoring in a degree of shock, an emotional decision and a journey time based on the
associated address, Id say that your life as you know it has twenty minutes left to run.
(He checks his watch again.)
SHERLOCK: Well, no, seventeen and a half, to be precise but I rounded up for dramatic effect,
so please do show us your favourite room. (He walks closer to Smith, glaring at him intensely.)
Itll give you a chance to say ... goodbye.
(Smith chuckles unpleasantly.)
SMITH: Come along.
(He turns around. Sherlock pulls a brief humourless smile behind him, then heads for the door
which Smith is holding open for him. They walk away, Smith letting the door go behind him.
John walks towards it.)
MARYs VOICE (offscreen): The game is on.
(John stops and the door closes in front of him. He raises his head skywards. As he starts to
turn around, we are looking over Marys shoulder from behind her.)
MARY: Do you still miss me?
(He turns to look back into the room. Theres nobody there. John turns again, looking
thoughtful, then starts to move.)
Shortly afterwards, the three men are in an elevator. John has his head lowered and is pinching
the bridge of his nose. Sherlock looks uncomfortable and twitchy.
SMITH: Speaking of serial killers, you know whos my favourite?
(Theres the sound of a bing as the lift stops.)
SHERLOCK: Other than yourself?
(Smith chuckles. The doors open and he leads the others out.)
SMITH: H. H. Holmes.
(He leads them along a blue-painted corridor. The ceiling is very high above them and pipework
runs along it.)
SMITH: Relative of yours?
SHERLOCK: Not as far as I know.

555
SMITH: You should check. What an idiot.

(He pushes through a set of double doors and looks around the room as he walks in.)
SMITH: Everyone out.
(Sherlock and John stop just inside the doors. Deeper in the room, a body is lying on a silver
chrome examination table, covered by a sheet up to its neck. A male mortician stands at the
other side of the table holding a clipboard and pen. He is wearing green scrubs with a blue
disposable plastic apron over the top. A woman, similarly dressed, is nearby with her hands on
a wheeled trolley with medical equipment on it. Tall silver-coloured cabinet doors are set into
the walls. The man looks up at Smith.)
SAHEED: Mr Smith, were actually in the middle of something.
SMITH (stopping and looking at him): Saheed, isnt it?
(Near the doors, Sherlock puts his hands in his coat pocket and leans against the side of a
cupboard, watching with interest.)
SAHEED: Saheed, yes.
SMITH: How long have you been working here now?
SAHEED: Four years.
SMITH (softly): Four years. Well, thats a long time, isnt it?
(He draws his lips back from his teeth in what can be described as anything but a smile.)
SMITH (intensely, his smile dropping): Four years.
(Saheed swallows nervously, then looks round at the woman and two other men in the room.)
SAHEED: Okay, everyone.
(Clicking his pen shut, he pulls the sheet over the face of the person on the examination table.
At the door, Sherlock turns his head away and shakes it slightly. John looks towards the other
people, frowning.)
SAHEED: Five minutes?
SMITH: Come back in ten.
(Looking at him nervously for a moment, Saheed turns away and his colleagues start towards
the door. John steps aside to get out of their way. Saheed follows his co-workers.)
SMITH: Saheed.
(Saheed stops and turns to look at him.)
SMITH: This time, knock.
(Saheed turns and leaves the room. Your transcriber unintentionally imagines just what Saheed
might have interrupted Smith doing in there in the past and sends out an urgent order for
industrial-strength brain bleach. Once the staff have left, Sherlock and John walk closer to the
examination table and Smith wanders round to the other side of the table.)
JOHN: How can you do that? I mean, how-how are you even allowed in here?
SMITH: Oh, I-I can go anywhere I like.
(He takes a ring of many keys from his trouser pocket, holds them up and shakes them noisily.)
SMITH (smiling): Anywhere at all.
JOHN (staring at him, appalled): They gave you keys?
SMITH: They presented em to me. There was a ceremony. You can watch that on YouTube.
(Sherlock has walked over to one of the nearby cabinets and pulls open the door.)
SMITH: Home Secretary was there.
SHERLOCK (looking into the cabinet and the slide-out shelves in there): So, your favourite
room: the mortuary.
SMITH: What dyou think?
(The top shelf inside the cabinet is empty. Sherlock bends down to look at the next shelf, on
which lies a sheet-covered body.)
SHERLOCK: Tough crowd.
(He closes the door and turns around.)
SMITH: Oh, I dont know.
(He pulls back the sheet on the table to reveal the head and shoulders of the corpse. There is a
Y-shaped cut, sewn up, in the chest.)
SMITH: No, Ive always found em quite pliable.
(As he says the last word, he reaches out to the body which we can now see is an elderly
woman and pulls her jaw down with his fingers.)
JOHN: Dont do that.
SMITH (staring at the woman intensely): Shes fine. Shes dead.
(He smirks, still holding her jaw down and staring at her misty eyes and stained, misshapen
teeth. He finally releases her jaw.)
SMITH: H. H. Holmes loved the dead. He mass-produced em.

556
SHERLOCK (probably for Johns benefit): Serial killer, active during the Chicago Fair.
(He walks off and starts wandering around the mortuary.)
SMITH (raising his head to look at John): Dyou know what he did? He built a hotel, a special
hotel, just to kill people. You know, with a hanging room, gas chamber, specially adapted
furnace. You know, like Sweeney Todd ...
(He reaches out to the dead womans jaw and moves her mouth up and down with his fingers
while he speaks through clenched teeth as if manipulating a ventriloquists dummy.)
SMITH: ... without the pies!
(He chuckles, releasing her and turning away.)
SMITH: Stupid. So stupid.
(Instantly John grabs the sheet and pulls it over the womans face.)
JOHN: Why stupid?
SMITH: Well, all that effort. You dont build a beach if you want to hide a pebble; you just find a
beach!
(Sherlock has stopped at the far end of the room and is leaning back against a sink.)
SMITH: And if you wanna hide a murder, or wanna hide lots and lots of murders, just find a ...
(He pauses for a moment then meets Johns eyes.)
SMITH: ... hospital.
(John lowers his head in disbelief for a moment, then raises it again and takes a step closer.)
JOHN: Can we be clear? Are you confessing?
SMITH: To what?
JOHN: The way youre talking ... (He stops.)
SMITH (softly): Oh, sorry. (He pauses for a moment.) Yes. (He chuckles briefly.) You mean, am
I a serial killer, or am I just trying to mess with your funny little head? Well, its true.
(He walks around the head of the table while John looks at him grimly.)
SMITH: I do like to mess with people ...
(John glances towards Sherlock at the far end of the room, who blinks rapidly, trembling
slightly.)
SMITH: ... and yes, I am a bit creepy, but thats just my U.S.P.
[Unique selling proposition.]
SMITH: I use it to sell breakfast cereal. But am I what he says I am? (He points at Sherlock.) Is
that what youre asking?
(He walks past John and continues along the side of the table. John turns to watch him.)
JOHN: Yes.
SMITH: Hm. Well, let me ask you this. (He stops and turns to look at John.) Are you really a
doctor?
JOHN: Yeah, of course I am.
SMITH: Well, no, a medical doctor, you know. Not just feet, or media studies or something.
JOHN: Im a doctor.
(Smith snorts quietly.)
SMITH: Are you serious? No, really, are you?
(He turns to walk away, then turns back and takes a couple of steps towards John, looking
angrily at him.)
SMITH: Are you ... are you actually serious?
(He walks away again.)
SMITH: Ive played along with this joke. Its not funny any more. No ... look at him.
(He gestures towards Sherlock who really does look like hes badly in need of a hit. Hes
blinking frequently in between widening his eyes in an attempt to keep them open, and blowing
out silent but heavy breaths.)
SMITH: Go ahead, look at him, Doctor Watson! Hm? Oh, no, Ill lay it out for you.
(He walks towards John, holding up two fingers on his right hand.)
SMITH (angrily): There are two possible explanations for whats going on ere. (He gestures
towards himself.) Either Im a serial killer ... (he turns and walks towards Sherlock, pointing at
him) ... or Sherlock Holmes is off his tits on drugs, hm? Delusional paranoia about a-a public
personality? Thats not so special. Its not even new!
(He walks close to Sherlock, pointing at him.)
SMITH (in a stage whisper): I think you need to, er, tell your faithful little friend how youre
wasting his time because youre too high to know whats real any more.
(He turns and walks away, stopping a few paces away with his back to Sherlock. John frowns,
apparently wondering what to believe.)
SHERLOCK (quietly): I apologise.

557
(Smith turns and looks at him.)

SHERLOCK (looking downwards in front of himself): I-I-Ive miscalculated.
(He lifts his head, his eyes widening.)
SHERLOCK (louder): I forgot to factor in the traffic!
(Stepping forward, he looks at his watch and then at Smith.)
SHERLOCK: Nineteen and a half minutes.
(Clearing his throat he continues onwards a couple of steps, then stops and turns his left side
towards the doors, dramatically cupping his left hand to his ear as theres a clunking sound
some distance away.)
SHERLOCK (to Smith): Ah, the footsteps youre about to hear will be very familiar to you, not
least because therell be three impacts rather than two. The third, of course, will be the end of a
walking cane.
(At the other end of the corridor, the ping of an arriving lift can be heard. The lift doors open
and we see a womans feet, wearing black shoes and tights, and the bottom of said walking
cane. The woman starts to step forward out of the lift.)
SHERLOCK: Your daughter Faiths walking cane.
SMITH: And why would she be here?
SHERLOCK: You invited her. (He smiles tightly at him.) You sent her a text or-or-or
technically I sent her a text but shes not to know.
(He turns to look at the doors. Further along the corridor, we see the womans legs as she
walks along. In the mortuary, Sherlock turns back and looks upwards.)
SHERLOCK: Ah, lets see if I can recall.
(He narrates the message he sent, the words appearing beside his head as he talks.)
SHERLOCK: Faith... I can stand it no longer, Ive confessed... to my crimes. Please forgive
me!
(The text whooshes away as if sent.)
SMITH: Why would that have any effect? (He smiles.) You dont know her.
SHERLOCK: Oh, but I do. (He smiles.) I spent a whole evening with her. (He grins.) We had
chips.
(He looks down reflectively.)
SHERLOCK: I think she liked me.
SMITH: You dont know Faith. You simply do not. (He smiles.)
SHERLOCK: I know you care about her deeply. I know you invited her to one of your special
board meetings. (He steps closer to Smith.) You care what she thinks.
(He smiles smugly at him, then laughs as he speaks, pointing at him.)
SHERLOCK: You maintain an impressive faade.
(Smith continues to smile confidently. Sherlocks smile drops and he looks at him seriously.)
SHERLOCK: I think its about to break.
(Cut-away to a new scene. Greg Lestrade frowns into the camera.)
LESTRADE: Did you know?
(Back in the mortuary, Johns view of Smith has been blocked by Sherlock, so he is slowly
moving across the room to get clear sight of him.)
SHERLOCK (to Smith): She came to Baker Street.
SMITH: No she didnt.
(In the cut-away scene, John seems to be in the same room where we just saw Greg. He
shakes his head.)
JOHN: Of course I didnt.
SHERLOCK (in the mortuary): She came to see me because she was scared of her daddy.
SMITH: Never happened. Is this another one of your drug-fuelled fantasies?
(He looks across to John and pulls a face while noisily sucking in a fake-nervous breath.
In the cut-away scene its now clear that Greg and John are in a police interview room. Theres
a large mirror on the wall behind where Greg is sitting at a small table, and in the reflection we
can see John sitting opposite him. A male police officer is standing beside the closed door
behind John.)
LESTRADE: You didnt see him take the scalpel?
(As the camera angle switches to John, out of focus in the background several lights can be
seen on a recording device. One of the lights is flashing, indicating that the device is recording
their conversation. This therefore isnt a private talk; its an official police interview.)
JOHN: Nobody saw him.
LESTRADE: So you didnt know what was about to happen.
JOHN: Of course I didnt know.

558
SHERLOCK (in the mortuary): Well, lets see, shall we?

(He raises his voice and calls over his shoulder towards the doors, keeping his eyes fixed on
Smith.)
SHERLOCK: Faith, stop loitering at the door and come in! This is your fathers favourite room.
(The doors open and we see from behind Faith as she walks in.)
SHERLOCK: Come and meet his best friends.
(He turns to face her.)
FAITH (still seen from behind as she walks forward): Dad?
(Although she still has the northern English accent, her voice sounds slightly different. In tight
close-up, Sherlock frowns.)
FAITH: Whats happening? What was that text?
(Smiling, she walks deeper into the room, the doors closing behind her.)
FAITH: Are you having one of your jokes?
(She chuckles, then stops walking forward and looks enquiringly at Sherlock.)
FAITH: Who are you?
(Its not Faith. At least, its not the Faith who spent the evening with Sherlock. She looks very
similar in height and size; she has the same style and length of hair, although its a very slightly
different shade of mid-blonde, and shes wearing similar glasses.
John frowns at her question. Sherlock lowers his chin, flashing back to a close-up rear view of
the hair of the woman who stood at his window three weeks ago, before focusing in on the
hairline and then the mouth of the woman in front of him. He lowers his gaze to her hand
leaning on her walking cane and the gold patterning on the stick which seems very similar,
maybe even identical, to those on the stick which the Faith he met then holds in flashback as
she sits on the client chair in 221B. In the mortuary, Sherlock raises his gaze to this Faiths
face, then flashes back to the face of the woman he met before. He screws his eyes shut and
sees mortuary-room Faith sitting on the client chair at 221B. The camera rolls round behind her
and slows down as it slowly pans past her, and various details appear around her:
Hair: Mid-Blonde
Height: 55
Dress Size: 10
Skin: Fair
Posture: Favours Right
As the camera continues around behind her, she transforms into previous-Faith, her hair a
slightly darker mid-blonde but all the details around her remain the same. The camera speeds
up and rolls round to face her, then she transforms back into mortuary-room Faith sitting on the
chair again.
In the mortuary, Sherlock frowns at her.)
SHERLOCK: Who the hell are you?
(Smith walks across the room to the woman.)
SMITH (to her): Sherlock Holmes! Surely you recognise him.
FAITH: Oh my God!
SMITH: Mm!
(She gasps and looks at her father, smiling.)
FAITH: Sherlock Holmes! (She looks at Sherlock.) I love your blog.
SHERLOCK: Youre not her. Youre not the woman who came to Baker Street.
FAITH: Um, well, no. Never been there.
(Cut-away to the police interview room.)
LESTRADE: Well, there must have been some build-up. He didnt just suddenly do it.
JOHN (leaning forward): Look, I didnt know he had the bloody scalpel.
SHERLOCK (in the mortuary): Sorry, Im not sure I completely understand.
FAITH: U-understand what?
SMITH (walking to stand between the two of them and gesturing at both): Well, I thought you
two were-were old friends!
FAITH (giggling a little): No! Weve never met.
SMITH (backing towards Faith and raising a hand to his mouth as he chuckles): Oh, dear! Oh!
FAITH (to Sherlock): Have we?
(Smith continues to laugh. John steps towards his colleague.)
JOHN: Sherlock?

559
(Faith lets out a nervous laugh and Smith is still chuckling. Sherlock stares down towards the
floor.)
SHERLOCK: So who came to my flat?
(He raises his eyes to Faith.)
FAITH: Well, it wasnt me.
(Smiths laughter becomes louder.)
SMITH: Oh, no!
(He doubles over laughing. Faith lets out a quiet confused laugh.)
SHERLOCK (staring at her): You ... look ... different.
FAITH: I wasnt there.
(Smith cackles with delight. Sherlock screws his eyes shut.)
SHERLOCKs VOICE (in a whisper in his head): Who came to my flat?
(He flashes back to sitting in his chair holding up his phone showing a photo of Faith and Smith.
Its mortuary-Faith in the photo as it was three weeks ago and as he lowers the phone and
looks at the woman sitting on the chair opposite him, shes the one he met back then, looking
so similar that he only noticed slight differences and didnt realise she wasnt the same woman.)
FAITH (in the present, offscreen): Im sorry, Mr Holmes, but ...
(Sherlock opens his eyes and shakes his head.)
FAITH (close-up and fuzzily out of focus): ... I dont think Ive ever been anywhere near your
flat.
(Sherlocks lower lip trembles and his eyes are wide with shock. Smith continues to laugh
uproariously.)
SMITH: Oh, dear!
(He puts the back of one hand to his mouth.)
SMITH (laughing): Oh, no!
(Sherlock stares downwards. In flashback, Bill looks at him through the gap between the
kitchen doors.)
WIGGINS: Who you talkin to?
(In the mortuary, Sherlocks eyes start to widen.
In flashback, Mrs Hudson looks at him in the hall of 221.)
MRS HUDSON: What friend?
(In flashback, past-Faith sits on the bench near the river and looks into the camera.)
PAST-FAITH: Anyone.
(In the present, Sherlock raises both hands and covers his nose and mouth, shocked and
breathing out a horrified breath as he slowly backs away. Smith continues to cackle delightedly.
SMITH: Oh no!
(Sherlock blows out a couple more sharp breaths and takes his hands away from his face. He
briefly flashes back to the empty riverside bench.)
SHERLOCKs VOICE (offscreen from the direction of the railings): Faith?
(In the present, Sherlock shakes his head and raises his hands again, pressing the sides of his
thumbs to his eyes as he screws them shut.)
SHERLOCK (muffled): God.
(Suddenly everything whites out around him and his body spins in the void as he takes his
hands from his eyes and flails wildly, groaning and then opening his eyes wide in horror. As
Smiths manic cackling continues, Sherlocks head jolts and the room starts to come into focus
again. Sherlock buries his head in his hands and can see a flashback of him holding his phone
with the photograph of Smith and Faith. He lowers the phone and the client chair comes into
focus, but its empty. In the mortuary, Sherlock opens his eyes and drags his hands down his
face, rubbing one across his mouth. Still Smith laughs as Sherlocks hand trembles. He clenches
both hands into fists, pressing them against his mouth and screwing up his eyes again before
lowering his hands a little, shaking his head in denial. He flails his hands in front of him as
Smith continues to cackle. Putting one hand to his head, Sherlock turns away from him,
bumping into a tray on a stand. The tray rattles noisily and he flinches away, focusing briefly on
the row of six scalpels lying on it. Nearby John looks at him in concern as he continues to spin.)
JOHN: Sherlock.
(Sherlock stops and faces Smith, who points at him, still laughing.)
JOHN: Sherlock? Are you all right? Sherlock, are you okay?
(Wide-eyed, Sherlock points a shaking hand at Smith.)
SHERLOCK: Watch him. Hes got a knife.
SMITH (laughing incredulously): Ive got a what?!
SHERLOCK (loudly): Youve got a scalpel! You picked it up from that table.

560
(He points to the tray which is now several feet away from him. Theres a gap in the row of
scalpels and only five remain.)
SHERLOCK: I saw you take it.
SMITH: I certainly did not!
(Even though Smith is talking and not laughing, his laughter can still be heard echoing
distantly.)
SHERLOCK (manically): Look behind his back!
SMITH (smiling): What? (He brings both hands up and waves them in the air.)
SHERLOCK (near-hysterical): I saw you take it! I saw you!
(As he speaks he points his right arm at Smith, brandishing the scalpel hes holding. Smiths
smile turns to a look of alarm as he keeps his hands in the air and backs away.)
SMITH (loudly, shocked): Whoa, whoa, whoa!
(Faith raises a horrified hand to her mouth.)
JOHN (holding out a stern hand to Sherlock): Whoa-whoa-whoa. Whoa, Sherlock, dyou wanna
put that down?
FAITH: Oh my God.
(Sherlock stares wide-eyed at the scalpel in his shaking hand. Smith and Faith continue to make
noises of concern while John shakes his head anxiously, his eyes fixed on Sherlocks hand. The
sound of Smiths laughter continues to echo. Sherlock lowers his head and shakes it, screwing
his eyes shut, then stumbles back and raises his head, glaring savagely at Smith and pointing
his left hand at him.)
SHERLOCK (in a low hiss): Stop laughing at me.
SMITH (his hands still raised): Im not laughing!
JOHN: Hes not laughing, Sherlock.
SHERLOCK (furiously, at the top of his voice): STOP LAUGHING AT ME!
(He surges forward towards Smith with his right arm held forward and the scalpel aimed at the
other man.)
JOHN: Sherlock!
(Faith lets out a brief scream.)
Before Sherlock reaches Smith, without segue we jump to the police interview room and Greg
reaches across to switch off the recording device, then leans back in his chair with a tired sigh
and tilts his head back.
LESTRADE: Ohh, Christ!
(He lifts his head again.)
LESTRADE: I keep wondering if we should have seen it coming.
JOHN: Not long ago, he shot Charles Magnussen in the face. We did see it coming.
[Oh, way to go, Watson. Why the hell should a police detective inspector, even if he is
Sherlocks handler, ever have been told about that 100-year D-notice top secret only-four-
people-know-about-this incident?]
JOHN: We always saw it coming. But it was fun.
(Someone knocks on the door. Greg turns his head.)
LESTRADE: Come in.
(The door opens and a female police officer comes in.)
POLICE OFFICER: Sir. You probably want to see this.
(She puts an open laptop onto the desk. Greg and John lean over to look at the screen which is
showing a news bulletin.)
FEMALE NEWSREADER (initially offscreen): Harold Chorley reporting earlier today. Mr Smith
stated he had no interest in bringing charges.
(The footage cuts away to Smith, in the mortuary, talking to a reporter. A band at the bottom of
the screen shows his name.)
SMITH: Im a fan of Sherlock Holmes. Im a big fan.
(John frowns briefly.)
SMITH (offscreen while we see Greg and John watching the screen): I dont really know what
happened today. To be honest, I dont think Id be standing here now if it wasnt for Doctor
Watson.
And were back in the mortuary at the end of the previous scene.
SHERLOCK (furiously, at the top of his voice): STOP LAUGHING AT ME!
(He surges forward towards Smith with his right arm held forward and the scalpel aimed at the
other man.)

561
JOHN: Sherlock!
(Faith lets out a brief scream. John seizes Sherlocks lower arm with his left hand and turns his
left shoulder into Sherlocks body, then slams his hand down onto Sherlocks hand and knocks
the scalpel out of it. As it clatters noisily to the floor he turns and seizes Sherlocks coat with
both hands and bundles him backwards across the room and slams him hard into one of the
cabinet doors. Sherlock grunts in pain.)
JOHN (loudly, angrily): Stop it!
(He pulls Sherlock forward a little and then slams him back against the cabinet again.)
JOHN (even louder, emphasising each word): Stop It Now!
(Smith, his hands still raised, and Faith stare at them in shock.)
FEMALE REPORTER (offscreen): Is it true hes being treated in your hospital?

(Were back in the interview room and John and Greg are still watching the news footage on the
laptop.)
SMITH: Its not actually my hospital ... Well, it is a little bit my hospital ... (he smiles at the
reporter) ... Uh, but I can promise you this: hes going to get the best of care. I might even
move him to my favourite room.
(He smiles smarmily. In the interview room, John frowns.)
NEWSREADER (offscreen): Culverton Smith earlier today.
(On the footage, Smith raises a cheery thumb to the camera.)
NEWSREADER (offscreen): In Nottingham ...
(The police officer stops the footage and takes the laptop away, leaving the room. John sits
back in his chair, looking down at his right hand and flexing it.)
LESTRADE (standing up and moving away): Hes right, you know. You probably saved his life.
Back in the mortuary, John glares furiously into Sherlocks face.

JOHN (yelling): What are you doing?!
(He slaps Sherlock hard across the face with his right hand.)
JOHN: Wake up!
In the interview room.

JOHN (still looking down at his right hand and repeatedly flexing it): I really hit him, Greg.
(As he looks up at Greg we see a close up of Johns hand. The knuckles are raw and bloody.)
JOHN: Hit him hard.
In the mortuary, John punches Sherlock right-handed with all his strength. Crying out, Sherlock
falls to the floor. Gasping, he props himself up on his right arm, his nose bleeding.
JOHN (yelling furiously): Is this ... (he bends down and punches him in the face again) ... a
game?
(Behind them, and unseen by Faith who is watching the other men, Smiths expression becomes
intense as he looks at them.)
JOHN: A bloody game?
(Again Sherlock tries to rise up and again John punches him down. Faith turns her head towards
the doors as if seeing something. His face twisted with rage, John kicks Sherlocks body hard,
then again. Sherlock groans and John kicks him again. Two male medical staff come in, see
whats happening and run across the room. John is kicking at Sherlock again and the men run
to either side of him, seize his arms and drag him backwards. He struggles against them and
Smith walks forward, holding up his hands as he walks over towards where Sherlock is lying.)
SMITH (to John): Please. Please, please, please, no violence.
(The men release John and he takes a couple of steps forward, looking down grimly at
Sherlock.)
SMITH: Thank you, Doctor Watson.
(On the floor, Sherlock is bracing himself on his right arm and left hand and looking distantly at
the floor. He is trembling and bloodstained saliva is dripping from his mouth. Theres blood on
his mouth and nose and a bleeding cut on the inside of his left eyebrow.)
SMITH: But I dont think hes a danger any more.
(He bends down to look at Sherlock. John, his shirt half out of his trousers, looks down at them
and breathes heavily. Smith looks up to him.)
SMITH: Leave him be.
SHERLOCK (shakily): No, its-its okay. Let him do what he wants. (He raises his head a little.)
Hes entitled. (He lifts his head higher and makes eye contact with John.) I killed his wife.

562
(John steps forward a little, breathing sharply through his nose. He stares down at Sherlock.)
JOHN (his voice tight against repressed tears): Yes, you did.
(He holds Sherlocks gaze, breathing shakily through his nose. Sherlock continues to look up at
him for a moment and then slowly, oh so slowly, his eyes gradually lower away from Johns
face. At this point your weeping transcriber refuses to even attempt to describe the next ten
seconds as Benedict, while barely moving a muscle in his face, gives an absolute masterclass of
a mans life slowly but irrevocably falling apart. John stares at him for a little longer and then
slowly turns around, wiping his left hand under his nose, and walks away. Sherlock moves his
right arm forward a little and slowly sinks his head down onto it.)
HOSPITAL ROOM. A close-up of a drip attached to a drug stand then pans down to show the
monitor beside it. A steady beeping can be heard, presumably indicating a heartbeat. Sherlocks
face is reflected in the screen and the camera moves across to show him lying in bed, his eyes
closed. The top of the bed is raised to a angle of 45 degrees. We can only see his face from his
right side, so we cant see the extent of his injuries on the other side. John stands at the foot of
the bed, his back to the camera. It looks as if hes bracing his hands on the bed frame in front
of him and now he leans forward a little, hunching his shoulders.
Outside the room, Nurse Cornish approaches and nods and smiles to the uniformed male police
officer who is clearly guarding the room. He is not wearing a jacket and his cap is on a chair at
the other side of the door. She opens the door and walks in, smiling when she sees John.
NURSE CORNISH: Oh, hi.
(She closes the door. John, his eyes fixed on Sherlock, turns his head only briefly and opens his
mouth a little but then closes it again.)
NURSE CORNISH (walking to the side of the bed): Just in to say hello?
JOHN: No. Im just in to say goodbye.
NURSE CORNISH: Im sure hell pull through.
(John briefly smiles tightly, still watching Sherlock.)
NURSE CORNISH: And yeah, hes made a terrible mess of himself, but hes awfully strong, so
must look on the bright side.
(She walks around him to the other side of the bed. John is a couple of paces back from the end
of the bed and were looking at him from his left side. Theres something wrong about the way
hes standing; hes slightly hunched over. He nods.)
JOHN (almost silently): Hm.
(We see all of Sherlocks face. The cut on his eyebrow has been stitched, and his left eye is
bruised and swollen.
After a moment John looks down and below the screen brings his hands together and then
separates them again.)
JOHN: Well ...
(Clearing his throat, he walks towards a chair near the left side of the bed and we see that his
earlier movement had been him transferring his old walking cane on which he had been
leaning with his right hand, thus explaining his earlier hunched stance into his left. Stopping
at the chair, he holds up the cane to show to the nurse.)
JOHN: Parting gift.
(He braces it against the back of the chair.)
NURSE CORNISH: Oh, thats nice. A walking stick.
JOHN: Yeah, it was mine from ... a long time ago.
(She smiles awkwardly. He turns to walk away and just then the phone on the bedside table
rings. The nurse turns to it, clears her throat and picks it up and holds it to her ear as John
opens the door.)
NURSE CORNISH: Hello? Ward seventy-three.
(Listening for a moment, she calls out softly.)
NURSE CORNISH: Oh, uh, Doctor Watson?
(John has gone out of the door and is about to close it but now pushes it open again and looks
in.)
JOHN: Hm?
NURSE CORNISH: Its for you.
(John frowns, then makes an exasperated sound. Walking back into the room he takes the
phone which the nurse is holding across the bed to him. He puts the phone to his ear.)
JOHN: Hello, Mycroft.
MYCROFT (over phone): Theres a car downstairs.

563
Not long afterwards, a black car drives under Admiralty Arch and heads into The Mall. John is
sitting in the back seat.
MARY (sitting beside him, now wearing the same top she had on when she and her boys went
off to play with the reluctant bloodhound Toby): You know, he should definitely have worn the
hat.
JOHN (quietly): Still thinking about Sherlock?
MARY: No! You are.
JOHN (quietly): Got your disapproving face on.
MARY: Well, seeing as Im inside your head, I think we can call that self-loathing.
(He looks across to the seat beside him. Theres nobody there. He looks away.)
In Sherlocks hospital room, Nurse Cornish finishes whatever shes doing with the equipment
beside the bed and walks to the door. We see the entire room for the first time. The wall behind
the top of the bed is wood panelling. The side walls have white wallpaper covered with large
white circles with pale blue circles around them. The wall opposite the bed has mostly the same
wallpaper except opposite the bed itself where there is a large wood panel about fifteen feet
wide attached a couple of inches in front of the wall. It curves over into the room at the top.
Above most of the room, wood panelling is suspended just below the ceiling and lights above it
shine around the edges, while similar lights shine around the edges of the panel opposite the
bed, giving the room a gentle light. There are also small halogen lights set into the underside of
the ceiling, and a light near the bed shines on the drip stand. A lamp covered with a lampshade
stands on top of a narrow cupboard in the far corner of the room. In between the two windows
at that end of the room is a small wooden table and a chair.
The nurse flicks a switch near the door and the lights above the ceiling panel go out, dimming
the overall lighting even more. She goes out the door and closes it behind her. Sherlocks closed
eyes flicker a little.
The wooden panel opposite the bed begins to swing open from the left-hand side as viewed
from the bed. After a moment Culverton Smith steps through the gap and into the room. He
turns and pushes the panel closed again with a hand covered with a medical glove. He turns
and walks over to the chair near the table, picking it up and carrying it nearer to the bed.
Putting it down, he sits in it and folds his gloved hands in front of him, looking towards the bed
and gently tapping the fingers of one hand against the tips of the other.
BAKER STREET. The black car pulls up at the kerb near 221B and John gets out and walks
towards the front door. Inside, he climbs the stairs. As he approaches the first floor landing, two
sets of legs can be seen, one walking across the landing into the living room and another set
crossing the room just inside. Mycrofts voice can be heard.
MYCROFT: Where is she?
(Mycroft is sitting in Sherlocks chair, his obligatory umbrella leaning against the right arm of
the chair.)
MYCROFT: Wheres Mrs Hudson?
(The man just entering the room ducks under the string attached to the back of the door, which
another man is just taking down. The first man answers Mycroft.)
AGENT: Shell be up in a moment.
JOHN (coming in and ducking under the string): Uh, uh, what are you doing?
(Mary is standing in front of the fireplace, still in her Toby-day shirt.)
MYCROFT: Have you noticed the kitchen? (He stands up as John looks around the living room
before turning towards the kitchen.) Its practically a meth lab. Im trying to establish exactly
what drove Sherlock off the rails.
(In the kitchen, someone is twirling a small brush covered in black powder over a knife lying on
top of photographs and press articles about Smith.)
MYCROFT: Any ideas?
JOHN (looking into the kitchen and referring to the various people in the flat): Are these
spooks?
(Another person pulls a book from the small table in the corner of the room behind Johns chair.
As he does so, a piece of paper underneath the book falls unnoticed to the floor. Its Faiths
handwritten note.)
JOHN (looking round the living room): Uh, are you using spooks now to look after your family?
(He turns his head to the kitchen again and sees one of the spooks putting items from the table
into a large plastic evidence bag.)
JOHN: Hang on are they tidying?

564
MYCROFT: Sherlock is a security concern. The fact that Im his brother changes nothing.
(Someone in the living room takes a flash photograph, and continues to do so while other
agents mill around looking at items and the photographs as the scene continues.)
JOHN (turning and walking further into the living room): Yeah, you said that before.
(Mary, now standing just behind Mycrofts left shoulder as he stands in front of Johns chair,
speaks sternly.)
MARY: Ask him.
MYCROFT (standing near the fireplace, with no sign of Mary near him): Why fixate on Culverton
Smith? Hes had his obsessions before, of course, but this goes a bit further than setting a
mantrap for Father Christmas.
MARY (now standing by Mycrofts right shoulder): Do it. (She nods her head towards Mycroft.)
Ask him.
MYCROFT: Spending all night talking to a woman who wasnt even there.
(Mary narrows her eyes at Mycroft.)
MARY: Oh, shut up, you.
JOHN (folding his arms in front of him): Mycroft, last time when we were on the phone ...
(Mycroft, with no sign of Mary near him, screws up his eyes in distaste.)
MYCROFT: No-no-no-no, stop. (He raises a disparaging hand and turns and walks a few steps
towards Sherlocks chair.) I detest conversation in the past tense.
JOHN (stepping closer to him): You said the fact that you were his brother made no difference.
MYCROFT: It doesnt.
JOHN: You said it didnt the last time and it wouldnt with Sherlock, so who was it the last time?
Who were you talking about?
(Mary, now sitting in Sherlocks chair with her hands clasped between her knees, smiles up at
her husband proudly.)
MARY: Attaboy.
MYCROFT: Nobody. I ... misspoke.
MARY (sternly to John): Hes lying.
JOHN (to Mycroft): Youre lying.
MYCROFT: I assure you Im not.
MARY: He really is lying.
(John looks at Mycroft for a moment, then smiles slightly.)
JOHN: Sherlocks not your only brother. Theres another one, isnt there?
MYCROFT (holding his gaze and speaking firmly): No.
JOHN (chuckling): Jesus! A secret brother! What, is he locked up in a tower or something?
(Mycroft raises his head and looks down his nose at John, but then turns his head as Mrs
Hudson arrives in the room.)
MRS HUDSON: Mycroft Holmes!
(He sighs silently and lowers his head.)
MRS HUDSON: What are all these dreadful people doing in my house?
MYCROFT (raising a conciliatory hand to her): Mrs Hudson, I apologise for the interruption. As
you know, my brother has embarked on a programme of self-destruction remarkable even by
his standards, and I am endeavouring to find out what triggered it.
MRS HUDSON: And thats what youre all looking for?
MYCROFT: Quite so.
MRS HUDSON: Whats on his mind?
MYCROFT: So to speak.
MRS HUDSON: And youve had all this time?
MYCROFT: Time being something of which we dont have an infinite supply ... (he includes John
in his gaze) ... so if we could be about our business?
(He smiles falsely. Mrs Hudson starts to giggle.)
MRS HUDSON: You are ...
(She continues laughing. Mycroft throws a frown at John.)
MRS HUDSON: ... youre-youre so funny, you are!
(She covers her mouth with her hand, still laughing. Mycroft pulls a confused face.)
MYCROFT: Mrs Hudson?
MRS HUDSON (gesturing either towards John or out towards the hospital, its not clear): He
thinks youre clever. Poor old Sherlock; always going on about you.
(She turns to John and puts both hands on his arm.)
MRS HUDSON: I mean, he knows youre an idiot, but thats okay cause youre a lovely doctor
...

565
(She turns to Mycroft while Johns eyes flicker as he tries to process that remark.)
MRS HUDSON: ... but he has no idea what an idiot you are!
MYCROFT (frowning): Is this merely stream-of-consciousness abuse, or are you attempting to
make a point?
MRS HUDSON (brightly): You want to know whats bothering Sherlock? Easiest thing in the
world; anyone can do it.
MYCROFT: I know his thought processes better than any other human being, so please try to
understand ...
MRS HUDSON (starting to giggle again): Hes not about thinking, not Sherlock.
MYCROFT: Of course he is.
MRS HUDSON: No, no. Hes more ... emotional, isnt he?
(She turns to face the wall behind the sofa.)
MRS HUDSON: Unsolved case: shoot the wall.
(She points the fingers of her right hand and mimics firing a gun at it.)
MRS HUDSON: Pew! Pew!
(She turns towards the kitchen.)
MRS HUDSON: Unmade breakfast: karate the fridge!
(She mimics doing a karate chop with her left hand, then turns to the mantelpiece.)
MRS HUDSON: Unanswered question ...
MRS HUDSON: Well, what does he do with anything he cant answer, John, every time?
(John has looked towards the fireplace as she spoke, and now looks back at her.)
JOHN: He stabs it.
(He unfolds his arms and walks towards the fireplace while she makes a triumphant gesture and
turns to Mycroft.)
MRS HUDSON: Anything he cant find the answer for: ... (she points two fingers towards the
mantelpiece) ... bang! ...
(While she was speaking, John has focused in on the knife stabbed into the white padded
envelope we saw there earlier. Mary is sprawled sideways in Sherlocks chair, one leg up on the
left arm and with her right hand over the handle of Mycrofts umbrella while she tilts her head
back and watches John. In a close-up of the mantelpiece we see not only the padded envelope
but an unpadded one propped up at the back. Upside down and very stained, the typed address
reads S. Holmes / 156 Montaguest / London. [Its typed exactly like that but must surely mean
Montague Street and was typed that way as an Easter Egg for those who know their Conan
Doyle canon in which Holmes moved from Montague Street into the flat in Baker Street.
Perhaps the envelope implies that Sherlock has a very old unsolved case.] John pulls the knife
from the padded envelope and turns around and reaches in for the contents while Mrs Hudson
continues.)
MRS HUDSON: ... its up there. I keep telling him: if he was any good as a detective, I wouldnt
need a new mantel.
(John pulls out the white DVD with its handwritten MISS ME? message on it. His eyes widen and
he looks up, startled, at Mycroft and then looks across to Mrs H.)
The DVD has been loaded in the television in the corner of the room near the kitchen. All the
spooks have stopped their work and stand watching the screen. Mycroft stands in the middle of
the room with his hand raised to the side of his face, looking intrigued as he watches the TV.
Mrs Hudson is sitting on the edge of Johns chair and John himself stands between the two of
them, a look of devastation on his face as Marys voice comes from the speakers.
MARYs VOICE (offscreen): If youre watching this, Im ... probably dead.
(John straightens up and backs away from the TV, holding out one hand.)
JOHN: Okay, no. S-stop that now, please.
(He turns away, biting his lip, and slowly walks across the room. Mrs Hudson pauses the
playback and gets to her feet, her voice stern as she turns to the other people.)
MRS HUDSON: Everybody out, now. All of you.
(Nobody moves. John stops, gulps and swallows, tears forming in his eyes as he gazes towards
the window in anguish.)
MRS HUDSON (sternly): This is my house ... (she gestures towards Johns back) ... this is my
friend ... (she points back towards the TV) ... and thats his departed wife. Anyone who stays
here a minute longer is admitting to me personally they do not have a single spark of human
decency.

566
(John has turned around as she spoke. After a brief hesitation, and with nobody looking towards
Mycroft for confirmation or permission, everybody else turns and quietly starts to leave the
room. Mycroft remains where he is, his arms folded in front of him as he faces the TV. Mrs H
looks at him, then walks across to stand close to him. She leans even closer.)
MRS HUDSON (savagely, in a low voice): Get out of my house, you reptile.
(He stares at her, startled. Not breaking eye contact, she gestures towards the door with the
remote control. After a moment, looking as if he cant believe that hes doing what hes told, he
unfolds his arms and turns towards Sherlocks chair to collect his umbrella.)
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): Youve been ages waking up. I watched you. Its quite lovely in its way.
(Sherlock swallows and looks towards him.)
SMITH (quietly): Take it easy. Its okay. Dont want to rush this. Youre Sherlock Holmes.
MARY (offscreen): Im 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 Im ... gone if Im 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: Dont think anyone else is going to save him, because there isnt anyone. Its up to you.
Save him. But I do think youre gonna need a little bit of help with that, because youre not
exactly good with people, so heres a few things you need to know about the man we both love
and more importantly what youre going to need to do to save him.
(John stares at the screen wide-eyed.)
HOSPITAL ROOM.
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. Cant you guess?
(Sherlocks 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? Its like you
walked into my den and laid down in front of me.
(Sherlock lowers his eyes.)
SMITH: Why?
SHERLOCK (meeting his gaze briefly, then lowering his eyes again): You know why Im here.
SMITH: Id 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 hasnt 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!

567
(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 it. 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 Sherlocks 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.)
SHERLOCK: Yes.
SMITH: Youre 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: Im ... 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 dont actually want to die.
SHERLOCK: No.
(Smith smiles.)
SMITH: Good. (Still smiling, he continues rolling up his sleeves.) Say that for me. Say it.
SHERLOCK (frowning slightly): I dont want to die.
SMITH (looking at his left sleeve as he rolls it up): And again.
SHERLOCK (a little louder and more firmly): I dont 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 dont want to die. I dont ...
(He pauses as Smith steps closer to bed and leans over him.)
SHERLOCK (tearfully): ... dont want to die.
(Smith leans closer until his face is only a few inches above Sherlocks.)
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 dont think hes safe.
LESTRADEs VOICE (over phone): No, hes fine. Ive got a man on the door. What-what do you
thinks happened?
(In the drivers seat, John has his phone to his left ear and is driving one-handed.)
JOHN (into phone): I dont 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 221Bs living room in the day time. The camera focuses in on Johns empty
chair.)
MARY (offscreen): But heres the thing: he never refuses it. So, heres what you are going to
do.

568
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 doesnt open.)
POLICE OFFICER (into phone): I think the doors 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, its always doing that.
MARY (on the DVD): You cant save John because he wont let you. He wont 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.) Its-Its not about hatred or-or revenge. Im not a dark person. Its
... 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. Smiths 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 its just living people lying down? (He shakes his head.)
Thats 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? Im 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 Smiths 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 Sherlocks nose with his left hand.)
MARY (on the DVD): Go right into Hell, and make it look like you mean it.
(Brief shot of Sherlocks 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 dont realise how much work goes into it. You have to be careful.
(Sherlocks eyes are wide and he grabs at Smiths lower right arm and flails weakly with his
other hand, trying to dislodge him.)
SMITH: ... but if-if youre rich or famous and loved, its amazing what people are prepared to
ignore.
(His voice shakes with effort as he resists Sherlocks struggles.)
SMITH: Theres always someone desperate, about to go missing ...

569
(The camera angle changes to show Johns cane leaning against the chair near the door.)
SMITH: ... and no-one wants to suspect murder if its 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 harms 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 Sherlocks room. The police officer isnt there but his cap still lies on the
chair beside the door. John lowers the door handle and pushes forward but the door doesnt
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.
(Sherlocks 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 Smiths 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: Hes in distress! I-Im helping him!
(John hurls him into the confused police officers hands.)
JOHN: Restrain him, now. Do it.
(The officer takes hold of Smiths 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?
SHERLOCK: Saline.
JOHN (frowning round to him): Saline?
SHERLOCK: Yeah, saline.
(He props himself up onto one elbow, still breathing hard.)
JOHN: What dyou mean, saline?
(He goes over to look at the drip bag. Sherlock groans and breathes out shakily. Smith looks
worriedly towards Johns back.)
SHERLOCK: Well obviously I got Nurse Cornish to switch the bags. Shes a big fan, you know?
Loves my blog.
(John frowns down at him.)
JOHN: Youre okay?
SHERLOCK (having now caught his breath): No-no, of course Im not okay. Malnourished,
double kidney failure, and frankly Ive been off my tits for weeks. (He squints up at John.) What
kind of a doctor are you?

570
(Groaning, he settles down on the pillows.)

SHERLOCK: I got my confession, though, didnt I?
(He looks across to Smith, who pulls himself free of the police officer.)
SMITH: Huh! I dont 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 dont 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. Sherlocks 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.
SHERLOCK: Yeah.
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?
SHERLOCK: Three.
JOHN: Im that predictable?
SHERLOCK (smiling): No.
(Holding his gaze, John sighs through his nose, then looks down. Sherlock turns to look at
Smith.)
SHERLOCK: Im 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): Its 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: Well carry on tomorrow. (He reaches for his jacket on the back of his chair.)
SMITH: Well, w-w-we could carry on now. Im-Im not tired. Theres loads more.
LESTRADE (putting on his jacket): Tomorrow.
SMITH: You know, I am gonna be so famous now.
LESTRADE (grimly): Youre 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.

571
(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 couldnt
remember what they were.
(In 221Bs 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 beard growth, his hair looks
cleaner than it has been recently, though its 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 hadnt really anticipated that Id hallucinated meeting his
daughter.
(Sitting opposite him and also holding a mug, John nods.)
MARY (offscreen): Basically he trashed himself on drugs so that youd help him ...
(Johns eyes have lifted to where Mary turns around from where shes 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 Sherlocks chair.)
MARY: ... so that youd 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 couldnt have acquired elsewhere.
(He raises his eyes to Johns. His left eye is still very bloodshot, though not as badly as it was in
the hospital, and the skin below his eye is still swollen.)
JOHN: But she wasnt ever here?
SHERLOCK: Interesting, isnt 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 didnt know.
MARY: Well, it sounds about right to me. (She looks up thoughtfully.) Possibly Im biased. (She
smiles down at John.)
SHERLOCK: Perhaps the drugs opened certain doors in my mind. (He looks away again, thinking
about it.) Im 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 were 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: Mollyll 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 youre 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, its 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): Youll be okay for twenty minutes?
(Mary narrows her eyes and glares at him.)
SHERLOCK: Yes. Yes! Sorry, I-I wasnt 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. Im 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.)

572
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, its entrapment so it might get thrown out as evidence. Not that
that matters; apparently he cant stop confessing. (He chuckles.)
JOHN: Thats good.
SHERLOCK: Yeah.
(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, Im not okay. Im never gonna be okay.
(Standing behind Sherlock, Marys 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 well 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 didnt kill Mary.
(Sherlocks 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, Im tomorrow, six til ten. Ill 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 Sherlocks 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 Johns back, looks down in surprise. Sherlock, raising his mug to his lips,
glances across at the phone.)
MARY: That noise: thats 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: Thats the text alert of Irene Adler. Shes the scary mad one, right?
JOHN (to Sherlock): That noise.
SHERLOCK (raising his mug to his mouth again): What noise?
(Mary walks around to Sherlocks side and looks down at him.)
MARY: But shes dead. (She sucks in a long gasp and looks at John.) Ooh, I bet she isnt dead!
(John slowly walks 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 doesnt 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) Hes
never knowingly under-clichd, is he?
(John stops in front of his chair, looking thoughtful. Sherlock looks up at him.)
SHERLOCK: John?
JOHN: Im gonna make a deduction.
SHERLOCK: Oh, okay. Thats good.

573
JOHN: And if my deduction is right, youre 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. Thats ... 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, were 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: Dyou 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 Gods sakes. I dont 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): Shes out there ... (he points towards the stairs) ... she likes you, and shes
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 doesnt know what Johns talking about.)
JOHN: Yes, shes a lunatic, shes a criminal, shes 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 shes ... you know ... (He stops, unable to find the words.)
SHERLOCK: What?
JOHN: Just text her back.
SHERLOCK: Why?
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): Thats 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 doesnt even mean anything.
JOHN (leaning closer to him): Just text her. Phone her. Do something while theres still a
chance, because that chance doesnt last forever. Trust me, Sherlock: its 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 harms way Id ... Id rescue you or something.
But I didnt not til she told me to. (He briefly glances towards Mary as he says she.) And

574
thats how this works. Thats what youre 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 whats 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. Id 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: Thats all it was; it was a smile.
(Sherlocks eyes turn back to John.)
JOHN (to Mary): We texted constantly. You wanna know when? Every time you left the room,
thats when. When you were feeding our daughter; when you were stopping her from crying
thats when.
(Mary lowers her eyes and gives a small smile. John swallows, his eyes starting to fill with
tears.)
JOHN: Thats 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 dyou know something? I still do. Im not the man you thought I was; Im not that
guy. I never could be. But thats the point. (He sniffs, then looks at her as his eyes fill with
more tears. He bites his lip and speaks tearfully.) Thats 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): Its okay.
(He tentatively raises his arms, perhaps hesitating momentarily for fear of being rejected again,
then slowly puts his left hand onto Johns 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 Johns
shoulder.)
JOHN (tearfully): Its not okay.
SHERLOCK (softly): No.
(He lowers his cheek onto the top of Johns 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 Mollys going to meet us at this cake place.
JOHN (offscreen): Well, its your birthday. Cake is obligatory.
(In the living room, Sherlock is putting on his coat.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, well. Suppose a sugar highs some sort of substitute.
JOHN: Behave.

575
(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: ... its 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, The Woman. Bad idea; try not to, but, you know,
sometimes.
(He pulls in a breath.)
SHERLOCK: Its 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?
SHERLOCK: No.
(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.)
JOHN: Cake?
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. Its the same cabinet
he put Irenes phone into at the end of Scandal.)
JOHN: What? What is it?
(Sherlock pulls open a drawer and starts rummaging in it.)
JOHN: Whats wrong?
(Sherlock straightens up and turns, simultaneously putting on his deerstalker. John laughs.)
JOHN: Seriously?!
SHERLOCK: Im 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): Isnt 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 theres
nobody there.)
[Transcribers note, inserted here so as not to interrupt later scenes: a persons name will be
given during a later conversation. Its 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 its 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, Ill correct the transcript.]
John is again sitting in the chair in the back room of his therapists 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?
JOHN: Yeah.
THERAPIST: And Rosie?
JOHN: Oh, beautiful, perfect, unprecedented in the history of children. (He smiles.) Thats not
my bias; thats scientific fact. (He nods.)
THERAPIST: Good.
(He smiles again.)
THERAPIST: And Sherlock Holmes?
JOHN: Back to normal.
SHERLOCK (offscreen, angrily): Get out!

576
(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: Shes 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 theyre 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): Im 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 Johns chair. Frowning, he goes down onto one knee to pick it
up. His eyes widen when he realises that its Faiths note.)
THERAPIST (in her consulting room): What about his brother?

JOHN: Mycroft? Hes fine.
MYCROFT: So, youre off now?

(In his Diogenes office, both he and Lady Smallwood are putting on their coats. Your
transcribers eyebrows raise for a moment but then she realises that this is Mycroft bloody
Holmes and theres no chance that theyve been up to what she momentarily thought they
might have been.)
MYCROFT: I wont 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.
[Prime Minister.]
LADY SMALLWOOD (holding out a business card to him): Here.
MYCROFT (taking it): Whats 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 dont know. Maybe youd 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 therapists 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.)

577
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:
Monitor
Baker Street.
Blind Greenhouse.
Leaning Tomb.
Clock Face
Elizabeth
Tower?
[The last entry, which reads in full Clock Face Elizabeth Tower? harks back to Mrs Hudsons
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:
CALL
SHERRINFORD
2 pm
THERAPIST (offscreen): I didnt 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. Im sure
theres ...
(He stops, looking at her for a long moment.)
JOHN: How did you know about that? I didnt tell you that.
THERAPIST: You must have done.
JOHN: I really didnt.
THERAPIST: Well, maybe Sherlock told me.
JOHN (shifting forward in his seat): No, youve met Sherlock exactly once. In this room. He was
off his head.
THERAPIST: Oh, no, no. I-I-I met him before that.
JOHN: When?
THERAPIST (smiling): We spent a night together.
(John blinks.)
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 221Bs 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 Faiths northern English accented voice):
Youre not what I expected, Mr Holmes. (She over-emphasises the accent.) Youre ... 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 Faiths 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 221Bs kitchen, Sherlock still holding Faiths 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.

578
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 221Bs 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 didnt 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
MISS
ME?
Sherlocks 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. Shes 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: Whats that?
THERAPIST: Whats what?
JOHN: The flower in your hair: its 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, its 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 doesnt 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 hes 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 dont go anywhere. Im sure the therapist who actually lives here
wouldnt want blood on the carpet.
(She pauses briefly as if thinking.)
THERAPIST: Oh, hang on, its fine. Shes in a sack in the airing cupboard.
JOHN: Who are you?
THERAPIST (lowering the gun to her side): Isnt it obvious? (She steps forward a few paces,
smiling.) Havent you guessed? (Her smile drops.) Im Eurus.
JOHN (shaking his head): Eurus?
THERAPIST/EURUS: Silly name, isnt it? Greek. Means the East Wind.
(John stares at her.)
EURUS: My parents loved silly names, like Eurus ... or Mycroft ... or Sherlock.
(Johns mouth drops open a little.)

579
EURUS: Oh, look at him. Didnt it ever occur to you not even once that Sherlocks secret
brother might just be Sherlocks secret sister?
(John blinks, frowning.)
EURUS: Huh. Hes making a funny face.
(She raises her gun and points it at him.)
EURUS: I think Ill 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.)
The Final Problem
In tight close-up, an eye opens revealing its blue iris. We then see the face of the person. Its a
young girl with brown curly hair, who looks no older than ten years old and possibly younger. As
she looks up we see that shes on an aeroplane. The plane is shaking, the lights are flickering
on and off and above her the emergency oxygen masks have dropped down and are swaying
back and forth. The girl turns to the window and pushes up the blind and worriedly looks out.
Its dark outside. She pulls the blind down and turns to the woman sitting beside her with her
eyes closed.
GIRL: Mummy?
(The woman doesnt wake. Frowning, the girl stands up and looks along the plane. All the
passengers have their eyes closed, and above them all the oxygen masks have dropped down.
The plane jolts again. The girl turns to her mother and worriedly shakes her.)
GIRL: Mummy! Wake up! Wake up! Mummy!
(When her mother still doesnt respond the girl unclips her seatbelt, stands up and squeezes
past her mums knees to get to the aisle. Crockery rattles and she looks to the rear of the
plane. A flight attendant is lying in the aisle, crockery and a coffee pot on the floor in front of
her. The girl turns and looks to the front of the plane and gasps at what she sees. The door of
the flight deck is open and the pilot can be seen slumped over the controls, his right arm
dangling at his side. The co-pilot is lying on the floor behind his seat. The girl anxiously calls
towards the flight deck.)
GIRL: Wake up!
(A mobile phone can be heard ringing some distance away. The girl starts to walk towards the
flight deck, stopping to shake the arm of the person sitting in the aisle seat in front of her row.
When she gets no response she continues forwards, her feet crushing sweets that have rolled
into the aisle. Her look of distress increases when she sees another flight attendant lying on the
floor at the front of the aisle. The ringing phone is closer and she sees it on a small shelf in front
of a couple of passengers in the front seats. She reaches over and picks up the phone. She
pushes the screen and holds the phone to her ear.)
GIRL (anxiously, tearfully): Help me, please. Im on a plane and everyones asleep. Help me!
(A very familiar male voice speaks over the phone.)
VOICE: Hello. My names Jim Moriarty. Welcome ... to the final problem.
OPENING CREDITS.
Flickering black and white film footage can be seen. It seems to be a bit of film noir made in the
1940s or 1950s and is set in the office of a private investigator. The investigator, Leonard,
stands with his back to his desk and in front of him is a typical femme fatale, Velma, holding a
cigarette. Both characters speak with American accents.
LEONARD: You know I could arrest you?
VELMA: What for?
LEONARD: Wearing a dress like that.
VELMA: Would you like me to take it off?
LEONARD: Then Id really have to press charges.
VELMA: Press away.

580
(We now see that Mycroft is in a small room with a film projector behind him. Sitting in an
armchair with his left elbow on the arm and his fingers propping his head up, he smiles and
mouths Leonards lines every time he speaks.)
VELMA (offscreen): Isnt that how they got started?
LEONARD (offscreen, with Mycroft mouthing along): Who?
VELMA (offscreen): Adam and Eve.
LEONARD (offscreen, with Mycroft mouthing along): Oh, them.
VELMA (offscreen): And that turned out okay.
LEONARD (offscreen): You think so?
(Mycroft was too busy smiling to mouth that line. Now he turns his head and picks up a glass as
he mouths the next line.)
LEONARD (offscreen, with Mycroft mouthing along): I thought it was supposed to be the
beginning of all human misery.
(Mycroft drinks from his glass. The film footage can be seen again.)
VELMA: Now, what was all that about arresting me?
(She flicks the ash from her cigarette onto the floor beside her. Mycroft smiles.)
LEONARD (offscreen): Well, maybe not arresting you.
VELMA (offscreen): No?
LEONARD (on the footage): I could just keep you under close watch.
(For a split second the footage glitches, showing a yellowed image of a family of two adults and
two children sitting on what looks like a beach, then the footage returns to the film.)
VELMA: Very close?
(Mycroft frowns.)
LEONARD (offscreen): Uh-huh.
(The footage glitches again, for a little longer this time and the yellowed image returns but then
zooms in towards one of the children, a young overweight boy, about eleven years old. Clearly
this is old cine footage. The screen briefly returns to Velma in the movie, then flicks over to a
close-up of the fat boy smiling at the camera, then returns to the movie. Mycroft sits up and
turns round to look at the film projector.)
VELMA (offscreen): Shame. I was looking forward to putting myself into the hands of the
authorities.
LEONARD: You were?
VELMA: Fingerprinting ...
(Turning back, Mycroft reaches over and stubs out a lit cigarette in an ashtray.)
VELMA (offscreen): ... being searched ...
(Mycroft turns to the screen.)
VELMA: ... thoroughly.
(Again the footage glitches and the boy smiles quirkily into the camera. Now the footage jumps
more quickly back and forth between the professional movie and the home movie. In the latter,
a beach ball bounces across to a younger boy, about four years old, who has a mop of brown
curly hair. The camera pulls up and the mother stands up and waves. Mycroft is obviously
puzzled but cant help smiling at the sight. The father kneels down to the older son who is
holding a plate piled high with sandwiches and an apple, and is taking a bite from a sandwich.
Whatever the father says to him on the silent footage, the boy pulls the plate protectively closer
to him. The footage cuts to the parents sitting in their deckchairs as the father beckons to the
younger boy who trots towards them; then it cuts to the younger boy piling on top of the older
one who is half-reclined on the sand with a book in his hands. The older boy grins.
Again Mycroft cant help but smile. The footage cuts to a far shot of the parents and their two
boys waving into the camera, then briefly the screen goes white and jagged writing appears
reading
IM BACK
before the family continues to wave at the camera. The footage seems to briefly return to the
black and white movie and a tight close-up of the top half of Velmas face, except that those
arent the eyes of the actress; theyre Eurus eyes. Again the family waves to the camera, then
the white screen and the IM BACK message reappear before the footage dissolves. Mycroft
stares at the screen in shock while, behind him, the last of the film tape spools off the end of
the reel. Mycroft stands and stares at the now blank white screen in front of him. After a
moment he walks to a nearby door and takes hold of the handle and tries to open the door. It

581
wont budge. He takes hold of the handle with both hands and struggles to open the door but to
no avail. A female voice whispers echoingly in the room behind him.)
VOICE: Mycroft.
(He turns and walks back a few paces, looking up to the ceiling when he hears footsteps
running across the room upstairs. The film continues to rattle loudly on the projector. Theres a
sound behind him and Mycroft turns to look as the door noisily creaks open. He slowly walks
through the doorway and stops on the other side, and behind him the door rapidly and loudly
slams shut. He turns to look at it, then turns back at the sound of electric fizzing noises. The
lights in the hall in front of him flicker and then go out with a loud pop. He walks slowly forward
to where his umbrella is in a stand at the side of the hall. Taking it from the stand he holds it in
both hands and sharply pulls it apart, revealing a sword blade attached to the handle. Dropping
the fabric to the floor, he switches on a torch on his mobile phone and walks slowly forwards,
breathing harshly. As he turns to look into an open door, shining the light into the room, a small
figure runs across the hall further along. It appears to be a young girl wearing a dress and long
white socks and with her dark hair tied in two long ponytails either side of her head. She
disappears into the darkness. A clock starts to chime. Frowning, Mycroft turns towards the other
end of the hall and when he turns around again the girl is back, standing facing him in the
shadows beside the stairs. He walks slowly towards her and an adult female voice whispers in
the darkness.)
VOICE: Mycroft.
(Mycroft gets closer to the child and shines his torch on her. Its not a child at all its a
mannequin with a blank white face, wearing the same dress and socks and a dark wig with
ponytails. He turns and calls out along the hall.)
MYCROFT: Why dont you come out and show yourself? I dont have time for this.
(A childs voice comes from the darkness.)
CHILDs VOICE: We have time, brother dear. All the time in the world.
(Behind him, the real little girl bursts out of the darkness and runs up the stairs. The
mannequin can still be seen behind Mycroft. He turns and chases up the stairs after the girl.
Slowing down on the half-landing, he turns and walks up the next flight. The upper floor is
slightly better lit and he tucks his phone into his trouser pocket as the childs voice is heard
again.)
CHILDs VOICE (sing-song): Mycroft!
(Mycroft walks slowly along the hall.)
MYCROFT: Who are you?
VOICE (now sounding more adult, but still sing-song): You know who!
(He shakes his head.)
MYCROFT: Impossible.
VOICE (more child-like and sounding petulant): Nothings impossible.
(The lights start to flicker on and off.)
CHILDs VOICE: You of all people know that.
(On the left-hand wall of the hallway hang a row of paintings. Mycroft has passed a painting of
a large country house and now reaches a portrait of a historical male figure. As he looks at it,
illuminated by a light above the picture frame, blood starts to pour from the eyes and from one
side of the mouth. He walks further along the hallway to the next portrait, this one of a
historical woman, which also has blood coming from the eyes and mouth and running down the
picture. He continues on and looks at the next picture, another historical man who bears a
strong resemblance to Mycroft himself. This too has blood running from the eyes and one side
of the mouth.)
CHILDs VOICE (sing-song): Coming to get you!
(Behind him, the helmet from a suit of armour is tossed across the hall and crashes noisily to
the floor. Mycroft turns around.)
CHILDs VOICE (sing-song): Theres an East Wind coming, Mycroft! Coming to get you!
MYCROFT (backing away, his eyes wide): You cant have got out! You cant!
(From a side turning further along the hallway near a standing suit of armour, a clown in full
costume and make-up leans out into view. Slowly leaning over sideways to an almost ninety-
degree angle, he then straightens up and steps into the hallway. As Mycroft stares in disbelief,
the clown reaches across to the suit of armour and pulls its sword from the sheath and holds it
up beside himself, pointing the tip towards Mycroft and raising his other hand forward. Trying
and failing to look determined, Mycroft raises his own sword in front of him, pointing the tip
towards the ceiling, then lowers it and whips the blade in front of him a few times. Pointing it
towards the clown, he starts to move forwards slowly while the clown makes bring it on

582
gestures with his hand and sword. Mycroft takes another step forward, then takes a
handkerchief from his trouser pocket and clamps it around the base of his blade, twists it off the
handle and aims the small gun attached to the end of the handle at the clown. He pulls the
trigger but the gun just clicks.)
CHILDs VOICE (sing-song): No use, Mycroft.
(Mycroft pulls the trigger again but the gun only clicks again.)
CHILDs VOICE: Theres no defence ... (the voice becomes more of a whisper) ... and nowhere
to hide.
(The clown roars and charges forward. Mycroft cringes back and then turns and pelts down a
nearby flight of stairs. Running into the hall downstairs, he hurries to the two nearby doors and
tries each one but theyre locked. The clown stops on the upstairs landing and watches him over
the bannisters. Mycroft turns and looks as a shadowy figure walks past the nearby upper
windows. Upstairs someone pushes through heavy curtains over one of the entrances to the
landing. Its Sherlock, complete with greatcoat and deerstalker. He stops on the landing and
looks across to the clown.)
MYCROFT: Sherlock? Help me!
(Sherlock raises his right thumb and forefinger to his mouth and lets out a piercing whistle. All
the lights come on. The clown looks down at Mycroft, who stares in shock as a short man walks
out of another hall on the ground floor, wearing a dress and a dark wig with long ponytails.)
SHERLOCK: Experiment complete. Conclusion: I have a sister.
MYCROFT (raising his head to him and speaking angrily): This was you? All of this was you?
SHERLOCK: Conclusion two: my sister Eurus, apparently has been incarcerated from an
early age in a secure institution controlled by my brother.
(Mycroft raises his hands and presses the palms against his eyes. Unseen by him, Sherlock
waves cheerfully at him.)
SHERLOCK: Hey, bro!
MYCROFT (tiredly): Why would you do this ... (he lowers his hands and speaks through gritted
teeth) ... this pantomime? Why?
SHERLOCK: Conclusion three: you are terrified of her!
MYCROFT (sternly): You have no idea what youre dealing with. (Angrily) None at all.
JOHN (coming out of a corridor on the ground floor): New information: shes out.
MYCROFT: Thats not possible.
SHERLOCK: Its more than possible. She was Johns therapist.
JOHN: Shot me during a session.
SHERLOCK: Only with a tranquilliser.
JOHN: Mm. We still had ten minutes to go.
SHERLOCK: Well, well see about a refund.
(John smiles. Sherlock starts coming down the stairs and addresses his actors.)
SHERLOCK: Right, you two. Wiggins has got your money by the gate.
(The man in the childs clothes gives him a double thumbs-up and turns and scampers away.)
SHERLOCK: Dont spend it all in one crack den.
(The clown on the landing reaches up and squeezes his big red nose which makes a squeaking
sound, and then walks away. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Sherlock walks across to
Mycroft, smiling.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, I hope we didnt spoil your enjoyment of the movie.
(He heads for one of the nearby doors.)
MYCROFT: Youre just leaving?
SHERLOCK: Well, were not staying here. Eurus is coming and, uh, someones disabled all your
security.
(He turns and opens the previously locked door and walks away, calling out over his shoulder.)
SHERLOCK: Sleep well!
(John follows Sherlock but turns when Mycroft speaks.)
MYCROFT: Doctor Watson. Why would he do that to me? That was insane!
JOHN: Uh, yes. Well, someone convinced him that you wouldnt tell the truth unless you were
actually wetting yourself.
MYCROFT: Someone?
(John looks away thoughtfully, licking his lips before turning back to him.)
JOHN: Probably me.
MYCROFT: So thats it, is it? Youre just going?
JOHN (innocently): Well, dont worry. Theres a place for people like you the desperate, the
terrified, the ones with nowhere else to run.

583
MYCROFT (grimly): What place?

(John frowns momentarily and then looks at him as if hes an idiot.)
JOHN: Two two one B Baker Street.
(Mycroft closes his eyes in resignation and sighs silently.)
JOHN (turning and walking towards the door): See you in the morning. If theres a queue, join
it!
MYCROFT (angrily): For Gods sake! This is not one of your idiot cases.
(As he speaks, John lifts a finger as if hes forgotten something, then turns and walks back into
the hall, pointing upstairs.)
JOHN: You might wanna close that window. (He looks at Mycroft.) There is an East Wind
coming.
(Quirking a small smile at him, he turns and walks away again. Mycroft turns around and
nervously looks upstairs.)
221B BAKER STREET. DAY TIME. The client chair sits in the middle of the room facing the
fireplace. A man stands beside it but so far we can only see his legs. Sherlock sits in his
armchair with his fingers steepled against his chin, staring downwards. Opposite him, John sits
and watches him, twirling a pen in the fingers of his left hand. We now see that its Mycroft who
is standing beside the client chair, his arms folded and a stubborn look on his face. John glances
over to him for a moment before looking away again. Mrs Hudson is standing in the doorway
with her arms folded, looking at Mycroft and smiling slightly as he lowers his head and bites his
lip.
MRS HUDSON: You have to sit in the chair.
(He turns and looks at her.)
MRS HUDSON: They wont talk to you unless you sit in the chair. Its the rules.
MYCROFT (tetchily): Im not a client.
SHERLOCK (not looking round to him): Then get out.
(Mycroft turns to look at the boys. John looks up towards him, tapping the tip of his pen against
the arm of his chair. Unfolding his arms and holding them out in surrender, Mycroft walks
around and sits in the chair. As Sherlock lowers his hands, Mycroft gestures towards Mrs H.
while looking at his brother.)
MYCROFT: Shes not going to stay there, is she?
(Sherlock looks towards his landlady, then tilts his head to her.)
MRS HUDSON (looking at Mycroft): Would you like a cup of tea?
MYCROFT: Thank you.
MRS HUDSON (pointing towards the kitchen): The kettles over there.
(She turns and heads down the stairs. John and Sherlock smile.)
MYCROFT (to Sherlock): So what happens now? Are you going to make deductions?
SHERLOCK: Youre going to tell the truth, Mycroft, pure and simple.
MYCROFT: Who was it said, Truth is rarely pure, and never simple?
SHERLOCK (shifting slightly to face his brother): I dont know and I dont care. So there were
three of us. I know that now. You, me, and ... Eurus.
(Mycroft nods.)
SHERLOCK: A sister I cant remember. Interesting name, Eurus. Its Greek, isnt it?
JOHN (looking at his notebook, clearly reading notes he has already made): Mm. Yeah, uh,
literally the god of the East Wind.
MYCROFT: Yes.
SHERLOCK (gazing towards the floor): The East Wind is coming, Sherlock. (He looks at his
brother.) You used that to scare me.
MYCROFT: No.
SHERLOCK: You turned my sister into a ghost story.
MYCROFT: Of course I didnt. I monitored you.
JOHN: You what?
MYCROFT (looking at him): Memories can resurface; wounds can re-open. The roads we walk
have demons beneath ... (he turns his gaze to Sherlock) ... and yours have been waiting for a
very long time. I never bullied you. I used at discrete intervals potential trigger words to
update myself as to your mental condition. I was looking after you.
SHERLOCK (softly, intensely): Why cant I remember her?
(Mycroft pauses for a moment, glancing in Johns direction but not looking at him.)
MYCROFT: This is a private matter.
SHERLOCK: John stays.

584
(John had been about to get up but now looks across to Sherlock, surprised. Mycroft leans
forward in his chair.)
MYCROFT (in a harsh whisper): This is family.
SHERLOCK (loudly, firmly): Thats why he stays.
(The brothers lock eyes for a long moment. John smiles and lowers his head. Eventually Mycroft
sits back. John clears his throat.)
JOHN: So there were three Holmes kids.
(He pulls the lid off his pen and re-opens his notebook.)
JOHN: What was the age gap?
MYCROFT: Seven years between myself and Sherlock; one year between Sherlock and Eurus.
(John nods and points his pen in Sherlocks direction.)
JOHN: Middle child. Explains a lot.
(Sherlock throws him a look. John raises his eyebrows at him and then turns his attention back
to his notebook.)
JOHN (to Mycroft): So did she have it too?
MYCROFT: Have what?
JOHN: The deduction thing.
MYCROFT (sarcastically): The deduction thing?
JOHN (after a moment): ... Yes.
MYCROFT (looking reflectively towards the fireplace): More than you can know.
(He pauses while the boys look at him.)
JOHN: Enlighten me.
MYCROFT (gesturing between himself and his brother while looking at John): You realise Im the
smart one?
SHERLOCK: As you never cease to announce.
MYCROFT: ... but Eurus, she was incandescent even then. Our abilities were professionally
assessed more than once. I was remarkable, but Eurus was described as an era-defining
genius, beyond Newton.
SHERLOCK (softly, intensely): Then why dont I remember her?
MYCROFT: You do remember her, in a way. Every choice you ever made; every path youve
ever taken the man you are today ... is your memory of Eurus.
(Sherlock slowly turns his head away. Mycroft looks down as if something has caught his
attention.
Without transition his feet are now on a pebble beach. He stands, outdoors somewhere, and
straightens up as a dog barks nearby.)
MYCROFT: She was different from the beginning.
(Some distance away a young girl, maybe six years old, wearing a blue and white dress and a
knitted oatmeal-coloured cardigan and with her hair tied into bunches either side of her head,
stands watching an Irish setter trotting through the shallows of the river.)
MYCROFT: She knew things she should never have known ...
(Nearby, an overweight boy stands on one of a row of stepping stones across a stream.
Wearing yellow boots, jeans and an olive-coloured jumper, he tosses a pebble into the water,
perhaps attempting and failing to skim it. He looks across towards adult Mycroft, who turns
away from him. Beyond him, little Eurus has her back to him and is watching as seven year old
Sherlock, wearing red trousers, wellington boots and a dark yellow patterned jumper and with a
pirate hat on his head, slashes at the water with his plastic sword. Adult Mycroft bends down
and picks up a large pebble from the waters edge.)
MYCROFT (in 211B): ... as if she was somehow aware of truths beyond the normal scope.
(He opens his hand in front of him. His fingers are wet and a large pebble lies in his palm.
In his mind, young Eurus turns around on the beach and looks directly at him. Mycroft looks
startled.)
EURUS: You look funny grown up.
(In 221B, Mycroft straightens up in his chair a little, staring towards the fireplace.)
JOHN: Whats wrong?
MYCROFT: Sorry.
(He looks down at his open hand, which is dry and empty. In his head he hears the sound of a
pebble splashing into the water. In the flat he closes his hand.)
MYCROFT: The memories are disturbing.
SHERLOCK: What do you mean? Examples.

585
MYCROFT: They found her with a knife once. She seemed to be cutting herself. Mother and
Father were terrified. They thought it was a suicide attempt. But when I asked Eurus what she
was doing, she said ...
(Its as if little Eurus is standing facing Mycroft in front of the fire.)
EURUS: I wanted to see how my muscles worked.
JOHN (looking towards Mycroft): Jesus!
MYCROFT: So I asked her if she felt pain, and she said ...
EURUS: Which ones pain?
SHERLOCK (to Mycroft): What happened?
(Mycroft puts his hands on his knees and stands up. Suddenly hes outdoors again, standing a
short distance away from a large, very old country house in the middle of nowhere.)
MYCROFT: Musgrave.
(Sherlock and John stand either side of him a few paces behind him.)
MYCROFT: The ancestral home, where there was always honey for tea.
(The picture cuts to young Sherlock, wearing his yellow jumper and his pirate hat, sitting cross-
legged on the grass in front of one of many gravestones not far from the country house. He is
reading a book on his lap.)
MYCROFT: ... and Sherlock played among the funny gravestones.
JOHN (in 221B, while Sherlock looks reflective): Funny how?
(In the graveyard, a womans voice calls out.)
WOMANs VOICE (offscreen): Come on, you lot!
(The dog races past the adult men standing watching as young Sherlock scrambles up and runs
towards the house.)
MYCROFT (offscreen): They werent real. The dates were all wrong.
(Behind the adults, the camera pans past one of the gravestones. Carved into the stone are the
words:
NEMO
HOLMES
1617 - 1822
Aged 32 Years
MYCROFT (offscreen): An architectural joke which fascinated Sherlock.

(Still in the graveyard, Mycroft and John look towards the house but Sherlock lowers his gaze
and looks to the side as a childs voice starts to sing in his head.)
CHILDs VOICE: ... who will find me / Deep down below the old beech tree?
(The image shifts to the kitchen of the house. A table has plates of food, coloured glasses and
cups and saucers in front of the three children, as well as a butter dish and other items in the
middle. Sitting on one side of the table beside her oldest brother, young Eurus sings the song
while looking across to young Sherlock who is still wearing his pirate hat. He looks back at her
unhappily.
In 221B, Sherlock stares into the distance and softly recites the next line while Eurus voice
echoes in his head.)
SHERLOCK (whispering): Help succour me now ...
(Mycroft softly joins in while the girls voice continues to sing along.)
SHERLOCK and MYCROFT (simultaneously): ... the East winds blow.
SHERLOCK: Sixteen by six ...
(In flashback, young Eurus sings the same line across the table to young Sherlock, although she
adds the word brother at the end of the line, a taunting look on her face as he looks back at
her.)
MYCROFT (in 221B, his face haunted): ... and under we go.
MYCROFT: Youre starting to remember.
SHERLOCK: Fragments.
(In the flashback, young Sherlock gets down from the table and runs off. Eurus watches him
go.)
YOUNG SHERLOCK: Redbeard!
(Young Mycroft looks round as his brother, holding his plastic sword, runs outside and chases
across the graveyard.)

586
(He clambers up some steep steps towards the meadow beyond the graveyard where the adult
John, Sherlock and Mycroft are standing.)
JOHN: Redbeard?
ADULT SHERLOCK: He was my dog.
(Young Sherlock runs across the meadow. We see his pirate hat in close detail for the first time:
its a very deep blue, almost the same colour as the Coat he will wear in the future, and it has
dark red bands sewn down it.)
MYCROFT (turning to watch the youngster): Eurus took Redbeard and locked him up
somewhere no-one could find him.
YOUNG SHERLOCK (calling out): Redbeard!
MYCROFT: ... and she refused to say where he was.
(Young Sherlock has run into woodland and heads for a wooden bridge across a stream, still
calling Redbeards name.)
MYCROFT: Shed only repeat that song; her little ritual.
(Young Sherlock leans over the bridge, still calling out.)
MYCROFT: We begged and begged her to tell us where he was.
(In 221Bs living room, Sherlock looks away as if he is remembering.
In the woods, young Sherlock trudges back the way he came, still calling out.)
MYCROFT: ... but she said ...
YOUNG EURUS VOICE (offscreen, in an intense whisper): The song is the answer.
MYCROFT: But the song made no sense.
(In flashback, young Eurus sits at the kitchen table and sings sarcastically across it to
Sherlock.)
EURUS: ... brother, and under we go.
SHERLOCK (in 221B, turning to Mycroft): What happened to Redbeard?
MYCROFT: We never found him. But she started calling him Drowned Redbeard, so we made
our assumptions. (To John) Sherlock was traumatised. Natural, I suppose he was, in the early
days, an emotional child; but after that he was different, so changed. Never spoke of it again.
In time, he seemed to forget that Eurus had ever even existed.
JOHN: How could he forget? She was living in the same house.
MYCROFT (shaking his head sadly): No. They took her away.
(Sherlock looks round to him.)
JOHN: Why? You dont lock up a child because a dog goes missing.
MYCROFT: Quite so. It was what happened immediately afterwards.
(Flashback to young Eurus sitting cross-legged on the floor of presumably her bedroom with
several crayon drawings in front of her. On her far left is a drawing of five people. She has
written family above the people and underneath, above each head, are the names daddy,
mummy, mycroft, sherlock and me. Across the person labelled sherlock she has
scrawled a large red cross almost obliterating the figure beneath. Beside that are two separate
drawings of her middle brother wearing a yellow and blue striped jumper. The lower one has an
arrow pointing to the figure, identifying him as SHERLOCK and a burst of blood seems to be
coming from his throat and pouring out beside him. The drawing above that one shows a noose
around Sherlocks neck with the rope leading upwards to where it is attached to a wall. The
drawing at the top of her collection shows her father on the left beside a beach ball and a sand
castle, and water laps at the bottom of the picture. Beside her dad is her mother, then a chubby
Mycroft and then herself. A few paces to the right of her is Sherlock. She has drawn grey clouds
all around him and has drawn a large red cross across his neck and a larger red cross across his
body. There are two more drawings of Sherlock under this picture, one with another large red
X across his neck while his mouth turns downwards unhappily, and the second with black
crosses where his eyes should be and angry red crayon scrawls all around him. Yet another
drawing, below an uncorrupted drawing of Mycroft with a very round body which itself is
below a partially obscured drawing of the family home shows Sherlock lying flat on what looks
like a stone table or a slab.
The camera pans across more distressing drawings of Sherlock, and one of a gravestone with
RIP SHERLOCK [as in R.I.P. Rest In Peace] written across it. In front of her, Eurus has
another drawing of the house with Sherlock looking unhappily out of one window. As she draws
a large cross over the entire window with a blue crayon, her parents voices can be heard from
a nearby room.)
MR HOLMES (offscreen): She knows where he is!
MRS HOLMES (offscreen): We cant make her tell us. We cant make her do anything.

587
(Eurus puts down her crayon and looks up. Then she looks down again to the matchbox she is
now holding. It has a dark shadowy house on the cover and its brand name is Maison de la
Peur (House of Fear). She shakes the box, then strikes a match on the side, holding it up to
look at the flame. She gazes down at it, the flame reflecting in her eye.
Outside, adult Mycroft stands looking at the house. The entire upper storey is ablaze and parts
of the roof have already fallen in. As more of the roof collapses, large flakes of ash float down
around him. He stares towards the house with a look of devastation on his face, and closes his
eyes.
In 221B Mycrofts eyes are closed and its as if the ash is still falling around him. He eventually
opens his eyes and the ash gradually dissipates.)
MYCROFT: After that, our sister had to be taken away.
SHERLOCK: Where?
MYCROFT: Oh, some suitable place or so everyone thought. Not suitable enough, however.
She died there.
JOHN: How?
MYCROFT: She started another fire, one which she did not survive.
SHERLOCK (firmly): This is a lie.
(John looks towards Mycroft, who hesitates only for a moment.)
MYCROFT: Yes. It is also a kindness. This is the story I told our parents to spare them further
pain, and to account for the absence of an identifiable body.
SHERLOCK: And no doubt to prevent their further interference.
MYCROFT: Well, that too, of course. The depth of Eurus psychosis and the extent of her
abilities couldnt hope to be contained in any ordinary institution. Uncle Rudy took care of
things.
SHERLOCK (softly, intensely): Where is she, Mycroft? Wheres our sister?
MYCROFT: Theres a place called Sherrinford; an island. Its a secure and very secretive
installation whose sole purpose is to contain what we call the uncontainables.
(On the wall behind him appears an image of an Alcatraz-like castle on top of a cliff. Guards
armed with rifles patrol across the roof. The perspective changes to show that the prison is at
the top of steep granite cliffs on a small island. As Mycroft continues to speak, a schematic
overlays a side view of the island showing that much of the facility is underground.)
MYCROFT: The demons beneath the road this is where we trap them. Sherrinford is more than
a prison or an asylum; it is a fortress built to keep the rest of the world safe from what is inside
it.
(An overhead view of the facility wipes out the schematic and pulls back to show the entire tiny
island.)
MYCROFT: Heaven may be a fantasy for the credulous and the afraid, but I can give you a map
reference for Hell.
(Sherlock looks at him sharply. Mycroft draws in a breath.)
MYCROFT: Thats where our sister has been since early childhood. She hasnt left not for a
single day.
(Sherlock looks across to John, who returns his gaze.)
MYCROFT: Whoever you both met, it cant have been her.
(Theres a loud crash of breaking glass from the direction of the kitchen, followed by the thump
of something falling to the floor. John turns in his chair to look, then all three of them stand up
and look towards the kitchen. Beyond all the equipment on the table and a clothes airer with
various bits of paperwork clipped to it, the top part of the window has been smashed in. From
the floor behind the table, an adult womans voice can be heard softly singing. Its slightly tinny
and so presumably coming from a small speaker.)
VOICE: I that am lost / Oh, who will find me / Deep down below / The old beech tree?
(As Mycrofts face fills with horror, a small drone rises up from the floor and hovers sideways
across the room.)
VOICE: Help succour me now / The East Winds blowing / Sixteen by six, brother / And under
we go.
(The drone begins to fly forward across the kitchen table, the wind from its four rotors blowing
papers and other stuff off the table. As it heads towards the living room, Mycroft speaks
urgently.)
MYCROFT: Keep back! Keep as still as you can!
JOHN (backing towards the dining table): What is it?
VOICE: My soul seeks / The shade of my willows bloom ...
SHERLOCK: Its a drone.

588
JOHN: Yeah, I can see that.

(He glances towards Mycroft as the drone continues into the room, the singing voice still coming
from it, though the words cant be heard over the concerned conversation. Theres a large
silver-green grenade-shaped object on top of the drone.)
JOHN: Whats it carrying?
SHERLOCK (standing near the fireplace, seen from a camera on the drone): Whats that silver
thing on top of it, Mycroft?
MYCROFT (standing near the living room door): Its a DX-707.
(The drone hovers in mid-air between the three men.)
MYCROFT: Ive authorised the purchase of quite a number of these.
(The drone begins to lower towards the floor.)
MYCROFT: Colloquially it is known as the patience grenade.
(The drone lands on the floor and its rotors shut down.)
JOHN: Patience?
(The grenade buzzes and the top pops up a little, showing a bright red light emanating from
inside the device. It repeatedly beeps quietly.)
MYCROFT: The motion sensor has activated. If any of us move, the grenade will detonate.
(From now on, everyone speaks quietly, Sherlock in particular barely moving his lips.)
SHERLOCK: How powerful?
MYCROFT: It will certainly destroy this flat and kill anyone in it. Assuming walls of reasonable
strength, your neighbours should be safe, but as its landed on the floor, I am moved to wonder
if the caf below is open.
SHERLOCK: Its Sunday morning, so its closed.
JOHN: What about Mrs Hudson?
(The camera sinks down through the floor to the ground floor kitchen. In the middle of the
room, Mrs Hudson has an apron over her clothes. She is rocking around the room to the sound
of Iron Maidens The Number of the Beast blaring from the earbuds shes wearing while she
vacuums the lino.
Back upstairs the sound of the vacuum cleaner can faintly be heard.)
SHERLOCK: Going by her usual routine, I estimate she has another two minutes left.
JOHN: She keeps the vacuum cleaner at the back of the flat.
MYCROFT: So?
JOHN: So, safer there when shes putting it away?
(Mycroft turns his head towards him. Its a miracle that the bomb doesnt promptly go off.)
JOHN: Look, we have to move eventually. We should do it when shes safest.
SHERLOCK: When the vacuum stops, we give her eight seconds to get to the back of the flat.
Shes fast when shes cleaning. Then we move.
(He looks at Mycroft.)
SHERLOCK: Whats the trigger response time?
(Mycroft looks at him blankly.)
SHERLOCK: Once were mobile, how long before detonation?
MYCROFT: We have a maximum of three seconds to vacate the blast radius.
(John closes his eyes and sags slightly.)
SHERLOCK: John and I will take the windows; you take the stairs. Help get Mrs Hudson out too.
MYCROFT: Me?
SHERLOCK: Youre closer.
MYCROFT: Youre faster.
SHERLOCK: Speed differential wont be as critical as the distance.
MYCROFT (unhappily): Yes, agreed.
JOHN (referring to the humming sound of the vacuum cleaner downstairs): Shes further away.
Shes moving to the back.
SHERLOCK: I estimate we have a minute left. Is a phone call possible?
MYCROFT: Phone call?
SHERLOCK: John has a daughter. (He glances towards him without moving his head.) He may
wish to say goodbye.
MYCROFT: Im sorry, Doctor Watson. Any movement will set off the grenade.
(John bares his teeth, sighing silently.)
MYCROFT: I hope you understand.
JOHN: Oscar Wilde.
MYCROFT: What?

589
JOHN: He said, The truth is rarely pure, and never simple. Its from The Importance of Being
Earnest. We did it in school.
(Sherlock quirks a lopsided grin.)
MYCROFT (nodding very slightly): So did we. Now I recall. I was Lady Bracknell.
(John smiles a little.)
SHERLOCK: Yeah. You were great.
MYCROFT: You really think so?
SHERLOCK: Yes, I really do.
MYCROFT: Well, thats good to know. Ive always wondered.
(The vacuum cleaner shuts down. Sherlock gives it a few seconds, then glances to John and
then to Mycroft.)
SHERLOCK: Good luck, boys.
(He pauses for another moment, then starts to count more loudly.)
SHERLOCK: Three, two, one, go!
(The three men turn and in slow motion they race for their exit points, Mycroft heading out of
the door, John running for the right-hand window and Sherlock leaping up onto the back of his
chair on his way to the left-hand window. Behind them the device explodes and flames sweep
across the room in all directions, enveloping everything in their path. John and Sherlock hurl
themselves through the glass and plummet towards the road below and a massive fireball roars
out of the windows behind them. Black smoke rises towards the camera high above the road
and blanks it out.)
The smoke slowly starts to clear and turns more grey in colour as the camera descends through
clouds towards a small fishing boat out on the ocean. A radio broadcast can be heard.
RADIO: And now the shipping forecast, issued by the Met Office on behalf of the Maritime
Coastguard Agency at 05:05. Thames, Dover ...
(As the broadcast continues a young man, Ben, wearing a yellow oilskin coat and matching hat,
opens the door to the wheelhouse and stumbles inside wiping his mouth and breathing heavily.
An older man, Vince, looks round to him.)
VINCE: Go on, son, get it up. (He smiles cheerfully at him.) Better out than in.
BEN: Is it always like this?
(The camera pans around the small wheelhouse, showing that its very foggy outside.)
VINCE: Nah.
BEN: Thank God.
VINCE: Usually its much worse!
BEN (plaintively): Might go and work in a bank!
(Still breathing heavily, he looks up at the sound of rotors.)
BEN: Is that an elicopter?
VINCE: Nah, not in this weather.
(The radio broadcast is still continuing.)
RADIO: ... Lundy, Fastnet, Irish Sea, Shannon, Malin, Sherrinford. Sherrinford. Sherrinford.
BEN: You hear that?
(Vince glances round to him.)
RADIO: Sherrinford.
BEN: I never eard that one before.
(The radio continues its normal shipping forecast.)
BEN: Sherrinford?
VINCE (turning to him): Forget you ever eard it.
BEN: What?
VINCE: Sometimes when were out in these waters, we get that message. Just forget about it.
BEN: Yeah, but weve never ...
(Vince raises a warning finger to him.)
VINCE: Just ...
(He raises a hand and mimes zipping his lips shut, then points warningly at the young man. He
starts to turn back to the wheel when theres a loud thump on the roof of the wheelhouse,
followed by a couple of less loud thumps. The men look up, then Vince goes to the door and
heads outside, stepping a few paces away from the wheelhouse and then turning to look up.
Ben comes out beside him. Sherlock is standing on the roof holding onto the ships antennae
with one hand, his coat whipping dramatically around him.)
VINCE: Who the ell are you?
SHERLOCK: My names Sherlock Holmes.

590
BEN: The detective!

SHERLOCK: The pirate.
(John steps into view at the other side of the antennae and points a pistol at the men below.
Ben raises his hands, his mouth wide in fear, and Sherlock dramatically leaps off the roof
towards them.)
SHERRINFORD ISLAND. A distant shot of the island shows a large storm front close by it. Rain
is pouring from the clouds and lightning flashes inside them. The rain hasnt yet reached the
island. Above the island the camera rotates over the top of the castle-like structure and shows
several guards, all dressed warmly against the weather and with blue beanie hats on their
heads, patrolling the rooftops and carrying rifles.
We cut inside to what must be the Control Room of the facility. On the lower level and on the
stairs to either side more rifle-carrying guards, without the coats or hats and all wearing white
shirts, stand in various places around the area. Yellow-jumpsuited auxiliary staff walk around,
going about their daily business. Above the area is a small glass-walled room with many
computer screens.
We switch to a view inside the glass room. Across the area outside, a natural-looking opening in
the rock looks out towards the ocean. Inside the glass room, a technician speaks into a radio.
TECHNICIAN: Golf Whiskey X-ray, this is a restricted area, repeat, restricted area. You are off
course.
(As he speaks, he reaches across to a rotary fan on the desk beside him and switches it off.
Perhaps he has had a gut feeling about whats soon going to hit it.)
TECHNICIAN (into radio): Are you receiving?
(Theres no immediate reply and he activates his radio again.)
TECHNICIAN: Golf Whiskey X-ray, you are off course. Are you receiving?
(The radio from the other end activates.)
JOHNs VOICE: Yeah, receiving you. This is a distress call, repeat, distress call. Were in trouble
here.
(A radar image on the screen in front of the technician shows a bright red dot close to the
centre of the screen.)
TECHNICIAN: Golf Whiskey X-ray, what is your situation?
(Theres no response.)
TECHNICIAN: Golf Whiskey X-ray? Where are you now?
JOHNs VOICE (over radio): Were headed for the rocks. Were going to hit.
(The technician sits back in his chair, then types rapidly on a keypad on his desk. A message
comes up on his screen reading
SYSTEM LOCKDOWN
RED 5 PROCESS INITIATED
A stream of numbers and letters scrolls underneath. The technician moves his headset
microphone closer to his mouth.)
TECHNICIAN: Governor to the Control Room.
(Red warning lights start to flash around the facility, a siren begins to blare and an automated
voice starts making announcements from loudspeakers.)
AUTOMATED VOICE: Lockdown in progress. Lockdown in progress.
(All around the complex the external guards the ones with the coats and hats run along the
corridors and head outside.)
AUTOMATED VOICE: Please proceed to designated Red stations. Please proceed to designated
Red stations.
(Two of the guards run round a headland and see Vince and Ben sitting on the sand back to
back. Rope is lashed around them, tying them together, and their wrists are bound. Vince looks
towards the approaching men and rolls his eyes, sinking his head back. On a metal bridge
above them, more guards run into position and aim their rifles down at the seamen. As more
men run onto the sand and aim their rifles at the two of them, Ben raises his bound hands in
front of him.)
BEN: No, hold it! Wait, wait, wait, wait!
(One of the guards on the bridge calls out to those below him.)
GUARD: Oi! In the sand!
(One of the guards on the beach looks up at him as he gestures beyond the bound sailors.)
GUARD: In the sand!

591
(The guards turn to look and we see what the men on the bridge can see. A small inflatable
boat has been dragged up and left nearer the water. In between the boat and the men, drawn
in the sand in large letters are the words
TELL MY
SISTER
IM HERE
Inside the facility the governor of the place hurries out of a lift and into the Control Room, a
phone raised to his ear. Around him the auxiliary staff are rushing around the room while the
siren continues to blare.)
GOVERNOR (into phone): I need to speak to Mycroft.
(In London, Sir Edwin, now sporting a full beard, is in the back seat of a car.)
SIR EDWIN (into his phone): Hes in hospital. There was an explosion.
GOVERNOR (into phone): Put me through to the hospital.
SIR EDWIN: Hes not conscious. Hes severely injured. No-one is even confident hes going to
pull through.
GOVERNOR (into phone as he trots upstairs to the glass room): Wheres his brother? Wheres
Sherlock Holmes?
SIR EDWIN: Missing.
GOVERNOR: No, hes not. Hes here.
(He terminates the call and tucks his phone into the inside breast pocket of his jacket as he
walks over to the technician, who points at live footage from the beach on one of the screens.)
TECHNICIAN: Sir, we found two more from the boat.
(The governor looks at the screen. John, who is being filmed by a body camera attached to the
jacket of one of the guards, is standing with his hands raised while guards aim their rifles at
him. Beside him, also with his hands raised, is an elderly man wearing oilskin overalls. He has a
large white bushy beard and matching eyebrows and a woolly hat. The camera-wearing guard
moves closer and the man speaks in an indignant south-west England accent.)
FISHERMAN: He stole our boat! Him an another fella, with guns!
GOVERNOR: Whered you find them?
GUARD (northern Irish accent, offscreen): North side of the island, sir.
(The governor peers at the shaky footage, then smiles.)
GOVERNOR: Holding cell, now.
IRISH GUARD: Right, sir.
(John and the fisherman are ushered away as the automated announcement pitches in again.)
AUTOMATED VOICE: Lockdown in progress.
Not long afterwards, the alarms have stopped. John and the fisherman sit side by side at a table
in a small room. The governor walks to the mesh door in front of them and stops. Someone
offscreen deactivates the lock and the door opens. The governor walks inside. One of the
beanie-hatted guards is standing inside the room beside the door, holding his rifle pointed down
to the floor in front of him. The fisherman immediately starts talking.
FISHERMAN: This is a mistake. Im the victim ere. (He stands up and jerks a finger down to
John.) This man stole my boat. es a pirate.
JOHN: Yeah, I really am.
GOVERNOR: Please, sit down.
FISHERMAN (angrily): I-I dont even know who e is! (He sits.)
GOVERNOR: Hes Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers. (He looks
down at him.) What are you doing here?
JOHN: Its a hospital. Any work?
GOVERNOR: Its not a hospital.
(Still looking at the people opposite him, he holds out a pass towards the guard.)
GOVERNOR: I want eyes on Eurus Holmes. Go straight to the Special Unit, deploy Green and
Yellow Shift on my authority.
GUARD (northern Irish accent): Sir.
(Turning around, the guard raises the pass to a camera above the door. The door buzzes and
unlocks and the guard goes out and walks away. The governor sits down on a chair opposite the
other two men.)
GOVERNOR: Im sparing your blushes because were supposed to be on the same side; and
frankly, this is embarrassing.

592
JOHN (nonchalantly): Ooh, doing a cavity search?

GOVERNOR: The true art of disguise, according to your famous friend, is not being looked at.
(He turns to the fisherman.)
GOVERNOR: But I am looking at you, arent I, Mr Holmes?
(The fisherman looks across the table to him.)
FISHERMAN (in his south-west accent): Yes, you are.
(The governor smiles.)
JOHN: But that is sort of the point ... (he looks across to the man beside him) ... isnt it?
(The fisherman stands up while John turns to the governor.)
JOHN: See, you should have been looking at the guy you just gave your pass to.
(Beside him, the fisherman pulls off his hat with one hand, pulling off the white hair at the
same time. With his other hand he pulls off his false nose and moustache, leaving just the white
beard in place. Sighing with relief, he lowers his hands to reveal the face of Mycroft. The
governors smile drops as Mycroft grins down at him through his grubby false teeth and raises
his eyebrows at him.
Elsewhere in the facility, the guard trots down some stairs and swipes the governors card
through a reader. The nearby doors open and he gets into the lift which they have revealed.
Turning to face the front we see that this is indeed Sherlock, his hair hidden under the beanie
hat. The doors close.
Back in the holding cell, Mycroft has now removed all traces of his disguise and the outer
clothing he was wearing, revealing that he kept on his blue trousers, a white shirt and blue
waistcoat. He stands in front of a large mirror on the side wall, smoothing down his hair.)
MYCROFT: Thats the trouble with uniforms and name badges. People stop looking at faces.
Youd be better off with clown outfits. (He turns around.) At least theyd be satirically relevant.
JOHN: Oh, youll find the real Landers on the north shore, tied up with two others.
GOVERNOR: Two others?
JOHN: Mm. Well, it was trial and error. (He gestures to his own waist as he speaks.) We had to
find the right waistband.
GOVERNOR: This is insane! This is unnecessary!
JOHN: No; your security is compromised and we dont know who to trust.
GOVERNOR: And that justifies dressing up?
MYCROFT (loudly, angrily): Yes it does!
(He turns to face the governor.)
MYCROFT (angrily): It justifies dressing up or any damned thing I say it does. Now, listen to
me: for your own physical safety do not speak, do not indulge in any non-verbal signals
suggestive of internal thought. If the safety of my sister is compromised; if the security of my
sister is compromised; if the incarceration of my sister is compromised in short, if I find any
indication my sister has left this island at any time, I swear to you, you will not.
(He glares at the man, who is standing with his hands behind his back and not moving as
instructed. Mycroft tilts his head towards John.)
MYCROFT (more calmly): Say thank you to Doctor Watson.
GOVERNOR: Why?
MYCROFT: He talked me out of Lady Bracknell. This could have been very different.
(He turns away and puts his right hand to his ear.)
MYCROFT: Are you in?
(In the lift, Sherlock puts his own right hand to his ear.)
SHERLOCK: Just arriving at the Secure Unit. Explain.
AUTOMATED VOICE: Door opening.
(Sherlock turns to the doors opening behind him and walks along a long corridor, slouching and
rocking his body from side to side as he disguises his normal stride.)
MYCROFT (over earpiece): A prison within a prison. Eurus must be allowed the strict minimum
of human interaction.
SHERLOCK (quietly): Why?
MYCROFT: Since youre determined to meet her, youre about to find out.
(Sherlock reaches the far end of the corridor and stops between two white-shirted guards. The
sound of music being played on a violin is coming tinnily from a short distance away. The tune
is that of the song that Eurus used to sing to him. Whether he recognises this or not is unclear
but he maintains his false character.)
SHERLOCK (northern Irish accent): Eyes on Eurus Holmes. (He unslings his rifle from his
shoulder and hands it to one of the guards.) Governors orders.

593
Back in the holding cell Mycroft has now put on his suit jacket and has walked closer to the
governor.
MYCROFT: Answer yes or no. Has there ever been against my express instructions any
attempt at a psychiatric evaluation of Eurus Holmes?
GOVERNOR: Yes.
MYCROFT: I presume the tapes are in my office?
(He walks towards the open door.)
GOVERNOR: Your office?
MYCROFT (leaving the cell, with John following): Cast your mind back. It used to be yours.
At the Special Unit Sherlock steps onto a marked area on the floor a few feet in front of a door.
The white lighting above his head begins to oscillate back and forth, so presumably he is being
scanned. The violin music continues faintly from where a man is sitting at a nearby set of
computer screens but it no longer sounds like Eurus song. Another white-shirted guard stands
beside the door.
GUARD: You avent been down ere before, ave you? Silence of the Lambs, basically.
SHERLOCK (still in the Irish accent): You what?
GUARD: Keep your distance; stay at least three feet away from the glass an all that.
(The lights above Sherlocks head turn green and then back to white. He looks across to the
man at the screens. He has headphones in his ears. Sherlock jerks his head toward him.)
SHERLOCK: Why the headphones?
GUARD: She doesnt stop playin, sometimes for weeks.
(Over the seated mans shoulder we see several camera angles of Eurus. She has long, slightly
curly dark hair and is wearing loose white slacks and a loose long-sleeved white top, and she is
standing in the middle of a large room which has a white illuminated floor. She is facing a bed
and is playing a violin.)
SHERLOCK (in reference to the music): Beautiful.
GUARD: Kills you in the end.
SHERLOCK: Aye. Still beautiful, though.
(The door in front of him has slid open to reveal a small lift inside. He walks in.)
AUTOMATED VOICE: Door closing.
(The door closes behind him and Sherlock instantly straightens up from his slouch. He takes off
his jacket and drops it to the floor.
[Transcribers note: Im told by several people that the accent which Sherlock used is Scottish,
not northern Irish. Even after listening to a video explaining the tendencies of Irish accents, I
still hear Irish, so Im leaving it here but bear in mind I could well be wrong.]
Downstairs a little later, the lift door slides open. Sherlock has now removed the rest of the
guards clothing and the hat and is in his normal suit with his hair fluffed into its usual style.
Several feet in front of the lift is a wide wall made up of three floor-to-ceiling glass panels. On
each of the panels, about three feet from the floor, a notice has been stencilled onto the glass
reading in white letters MAINTAIN DISTANCE OF THREE FEET. On the other side of the glass is
a large semi-circular room lined with bare grey panels. Soft white lighting comes from the tops
of the panels and a large circular panel of lights in the middle of the ceiling sends green light
down into the room. Running down the middle of the room, about eight feet wide, is a
rectangular strip of white flooring and the rest of the floor is grey, matching the walls. There is
a bed at the far end of the room and to the left near the end is a seat and table fastened to the
wall. There is no other furniture. In the middle of the room Eurus stands with her back to the
door, playing a Bach-like piece on her violin.
Sherlock steps forward and the lift door closes behind him. The overhead lighting turns from
green to white. Eurus stops playing and stands there unmoving. After a couple of seconds she
starts to play again, this time the familiar tune of her song. Sherlock stands silently, blinking
frequently, and briefly flashes back to his young self running through the shallows of the river
while Redbeard trots about in the water nearby. In the cell he presses his lips together
uncomfortably but doesnt move while Eurus continues to play.)
We cut to a large screen on a wall which shows four different angles of Eurus in her cell. This is
clearly a recording of a previous time because she is sitting on the floor cross-legged facing the
glass, her head slightly lowered.
EURUS: Why am I here?
MANs VOICE (on the recording, very faint and offscreen): Why do you think youre here?
EURUS: No-one ever tells me.

594
(We now see that Mycroft is sitting in a chair behind a desk in what must be the governors
office. John stands to the left of the chair and the governor is standing at the other side of the
desk. Behind the chair is a glass wall leading to a small balcony which looks out over part of the
island. All three men have turned to watch the footage on the screen attached to a wall at the
side of the room.)
Down in the cell in the present, Eurus continues to play. Sherlock takes one step forward and
immediately Eurus starts to play a frenetic and rapid string of notes. Sherlock lifts his foot from
the floor and moves it back and Eurus resumes her previous tune.
In the governors office, the men watch the earlier recording.

EURUS: Am I being punished?
MAN (offscreen, faintly): Youve been bad.
EURUS (almost sing-song): Theres no such thing as bad.
MAN (offscreen): What about good?
EURUS: Good and bad are fairytales. We have evolved to attach an emotional significance to
what is nothing more than the survival strategy of the pack animal. We are conditioned to
invest divinity in utility. Good isnt really good, evil isnt really wrong, and bottoms arent really
pretty. You are a prisoner of your own meat.
MAN (offscreen): Why arent you?
EURUS (raising her head and looking directly into the camera as she speaks the words slowly
and clearly): Im too clever.
In the cell, still with her back to the glass, Eurus finishes her tune and lowers her bow but
doesnt turn around. When she speaks, her voice comes through speakers.
EURUS: Did you bring it?
SHERLOCK: Im sorry?
EURUS: My hairband. Did you bring it like I asked?
SHERLOCK (hesitantly): Im not one of the ... I-I dont work here.
EURUS: My special hairband.
SHERLOCK (more firmly): Im not one of your doctors.
EURUS (sounding exasperated): The one I made you steal, from Mummy.
(She turns to face him.)
EURUS: It was the last thing I said to you, remember, the day they took me away.
SHERLOCK (shaking his head slightly): No.
EURUS: No?
SHERLOCK: No, weve spoken since then. You came round to my flat a few weeks back; you
pretended to be a woman called Faith Smith. We had chips.
EURUS: Does this mean you didnt bring my hairband?
SHERLOCK: How did you manage to get out of this place? How did you do that?
EURUS: Easy. Look at me.
SHERLOCK: I am looking at you.
EURUS: You cant see it, can you? You try and try but you just cant see; you cant look.
SHERLOCK: See what?
(She holds out the violin towards him.)
EURUS: What do you think?
SHERLOCK: Beautiful.
EURUS: Youre not looking at it.
(He swallows and closes his eyes briefly.)
SHERLOCK: I meant your playing.
EURUS: Oh, the music. (She lowers the violin and turns it round to look at the front.) I never
know if its beautiful or not; only if its right.
SHERLOCK: Often theyre the same thing.
EURUS (looking up at him): If theyre not always the same thing, whats the point in beauty?
(She turns the instrument to face Sherlock.)
EURUS: Look at the violin.
SHERLOCK: I need to know how you escaped.
EURUS (firmly): Look at the violin.
(Sherlock focuses in on it.)
SHERLOCK: Its a Stradivarius.
EURUS: Its a gift.

595
SHERLOCK: Who from?

EURUS: Me.
(She walks to her right, where a hatch is set into the wall and floor at the edge of the glass.
She puts the violin and bow into it and the opening revolves round to Sherlocks side of the
glass. Eurus walks back into the middle of the room while Sherlock goes over to pick up the
violin and bow. He walks back to the middle of the floor, looking down at the Strad.)
SHERLOCK: Why?
EURUS (half turned away from him): You play, dont you?
SHERLOCK: How did you know?
(She turns her head towards him.)
EURUS: How did I know? I taught you, dont you remember? How can you not remember that?
SHERLOCK: Eurus, I dont remember you at all.
EURUS (smiling slightly): Interesting. Mycroft told me youd rewritten your memories; he didnt
tell me youd written me out completely.
SHERLOCK: What do you mean, rewritten?
(She looks at him intensely.)
EURUS: You still dont know about Redbeard, do you?
(Sherlock looks at her grimly.)
EURUS: Oh. This is going to be such a good day.
In the governors office, Mycroft has slumped back in the chair and is no longer looking at the
screen as the recording playback continues. John, on the other hand, has walked closer to the
screen and is watching intensely.
EURUS (on the screen, still staring into the camera): She smiles at you when you come home.
(She nods sharply.) Like a reflex.
GOVERNOR: Everyone we sent in there; it-its hard to describe.
(John turns as the governor continues.)
GOVERNOR: Its ... its like she ...
MYCROFT: ... recruited them.
EURUS (on the screen): Smiling is advertising. (She nods on the last word.)
GOVERNOR: Enslaved them.
MYCROFT: Shes been capable of that since she was five.
EURUS (offscreen): Smiling is happiness.
(John turns to the screen again.)
MYCROFT: Shes an adult now. I warned you; I ordered you.
(The governor sighs and smiles a little.)
GOVERNOR: Shes clinically unique. We had to try.
(John looks at him for a moment then turns back to the screen.)
MYCROFT: At what cost?
EURUS (on the screen): Happiness is a pop song. Sadness is a poem.
MYCROFT (looking towards the screen, speaking more softly): What cost?
(He turns back to the governor.)
MYCROFT: Tell me the worst thing that has happened.
GOVERNOR (as Eurus voice continues to be heard quietly in the background): She kept
suggesting to Doctor Taylor that he should kill his family.
MYCROFT: And?
GOVERNOR: He said it was like an earworm; couldnt get her out of his head.
MYCROFT: And?
GOVERNOR: He left.
MYCROFT: And?
GOVERNOR: Killed himself.
MYCROFT (after a brief pause): And?
GOVERNOR: ... his family.
(John had been watching the governor but now turns to the screen again.)
EURUS (offscreen): Are you going to cry?
(Mycroft turns his head to the screen, where Eurus has turned her head a little but still has her
eyes fixed on the camera. She straightens her head again.)
EURUS: Its okay if you cry.
MAN (offscreen): I dont need to cry.
EURUS: I can help you cry.

596
In the cell.
EURUS: Play for me.
SHERLOCK: I need to know how you got out of here.
EURUS (exasperated): You know already. Look at me. Look and play.
(Keeping his eyes on hers, he lifts the violin and starts to play Bachs Sonata No. 1 in G minor,
the same tune he played in Reichenbach when Moriarty came to his flat after his trial fell
apart. Sherlock has only played about a seconds worth of the music when Eurus interrupts.)
EURUS (sternly): No, not Bach; you clearly dont understand it. Play you.
SHERLOCK: Me?
EURUS: You.
(Hesitating for a long moment, Sherlock then lifts the bow and begins to play Irenes lament. He
has only played two notes before Eurus speaks again.)
EURUS: Oh! Have you had sex?
SHERLOCK (continuing to play the tune): Why do you ask?
EURUS: The music. Ive had sex.
SHERLOCK: How?
EURUS: One of the nurses got careless. I liked it. Messy, though. People are so breakable.
SHERLOCK (still playing): I take it he didnt consent.
EURUS: He?
SHERLOCK: She?
EURUS: Afraid I didnt notice in the heat of the moment and afterwards ... well, you couldnt
really tell. Is that vibrato or is your hand shaking?
(Sherlock finishes the long note hes playing, then stops and lowers the violin and bow. Eurus
lifts one side of her mouth in a smile.)
In the governors office Mycroft has stood up and is leaning on the desk with both hands. John,
his arms folded, has turned to look at the governor who has sat down at the other side. The
footage of Eurus continues to play on the wallscreen.
MYCROFT (angrily to the governor): I warned you explicitly: no-one was to talk to her alone.
GOVERNOR: You spoke to her.
MYCROFT (sternly): I know what Im doing!
GOVERNOR: You even brought her a visitor on Christmas Day.
(John frowns.)
MYCROFT (quieter): I took a calculated risk.
GOVERNOR: You gave her a Christmas present. Remember her Christmas present?
MYCROFT (firmly): I am aware of the dangers Eurus poses, and equipped to deal with them.
JOHN: What dangers?
MYCROFT (straightening up): Eurus doesnt just talk to people. She ... reprograms them.
(John turns back to look at the screen.)
MYCROFT: Anyone who spends time with her is automatically compromised.
EURUS (offscreen from the wallscreen): Im only trying to help you. We can help each other.
(The angle switches to her on the screen.)
EURUS: Helping someone ... (she nods) ... is the best way you can help yourself.
MAN (offscreen): I dont trust you.
In the cell.
SHERLOCK: So clearly you remember me.
EURUS (starting to walk slowly forward): I remember everything; every single thing. You just
need a big enough hard drive.
JOHNs VOICE (in Sherlocks earpiece): Sherlock.
SHERLOCK (quietly): Not now.
JOHNs VOICE: Vatican Cameos.
SHERLOCK: In a minute.
(He takes out the earpiece. In the governors office, John takes his finger away from his own
earpiece and closes his eyes. In the cell, Sherlock puts the earpiece into his trouser pocket.)
EURUS: Lets continue.
(She stops a few steps back from the glass wall. The camera focuses in on the warning
stencilled on the glass.)
EURUS: Did they tell you to keep three feet from the glass?
SHERLOCK: Yes.
EURUS: Be naughty. Step closer.

597
SHERLOCK: Why?
EURUS: Do it. Step closer.
SHERLOCK: Tell me what you remember.
EURUS: You, me, and Mycroft. (She sighs a little.) Mycroft was quite clever. He could
understand things if you went a bit slow but you ... you were my favourite.
(Sherlock takes one small step forward then brings his feet together again.)
SHERLOCK: Why was I your favourite?
(Eurus also takes one step forward.)
EURUS: Cause I could make you laugh. I loved it when you laughed. Once I made you laugh all
night. I thought you were going to burst.
(Sherlock smiles very slightly.)
EURUS: I was so happy.
(Sherlock takes another step forward.)
EURUS: Then Mummy and Daddy had to stop me, of course.
SHERLOCK: Why?
EURUS (also taking another step forward): Well, turns out I got it wrong. Apparently, you were
screaming.
SHERLOCK: Why was I screaming?
(Inside his head he hears a distant whimpering. His gaze lowers.)
SHERLOCK (in a whisper): Redbeard.
(Eurus head lifts slightly. Sherlock raises his eyes again.)
SHERLOCK: I remember Redbeard.
EURUS (softly, stepping forward): Do you, now?
SHERLOCK (also stepping forward): Tell me what I dont know.
(She stares up at him, her gaze intense.)
EURUS: Touch the glass.
(Sherlock frowns at her.)
In the governors office, Mycroft is angrily pacing back and forth behind the table, his hands in
his pockets.
MYCROFT: I put my trust in you, my implicit trust.
(John has apparently temporarily had enough and goes out of the glass door onto the balcony.)
MYCROFT: As governor of this institute ...
(His voice is cut off as John closes the door and walks to the edge of the balcony and looks over
to the sea crashing against the rocks below. He raises his head and his eyes widen and he looks
around as if he is starting to realise something. The camera cuts away to a long shot of the
island, where the storm front is getting closer, lightning still flashing in the clouds. John blows
out a breath and turns around, going back into the room where Mycroft is still pacing.)
GOVERNOR: Its obvious when it all started. Well, she was never the same after that Christmas.
Its as if you woke her up.
MYCROFT: That is entirely beside the point! You had your orders and failed to act on them.
JOHN (walking closer to him): Listen to the tape.
MYCROFT: Sorry?
JOHN: Do it now. Listen.
MYCROFT: My sisters methods of ...
JOHN (firmly): Just listen.
EURUS (offscreen): You have no idea how I could help.
(Looking exasperated, Mycroft walks to the desk and picks up a remote control.)
EURUS (offscreen): Bring me your wife. I want to meet her.
(Mycroft turns to the screen and increases the volume.)
MAN (offscreen): I dont need your help.
In the cell, Sherlock and Eurus are now only one step away from the glass wall between them.
SHERLOCK: Redbeard was my dog. I know what happened to Redbeard.
EURUS (in a condescending tone): Oh, Sherlock, you know nothing. Touch the glass, and Ill tell
you the truth.
(She starts to lift her left arm.)
EURUS: Ill touch it too, if youre scared.
On the screen in the governors office, Eurus stares into the camera.
EURUS: I can fix her for you, and then Ill give you her straight back, good as new.

598
(The footage fritzes momentarily.)

EURUS: I promise.
MAN (offscreen): Thats all? What youre proposing is not ... its not right.
(Now that the volume has been turned up, the mans voice is clearer. John turns to look at the
governor.)
JOHN: Everyone who went in there got affected enslaved, you said.
GOVERNOR (shifting uncomfortably in his chair, looking towards the screen): Yes.
JOHN: One after the other.
GOVERNOR: Yes.
MYCROFT (frowning): Doctor Watson, I think weve ...
JOHN (interrupting): Shut up.
EURUS (offscreen from the wallscreen): Do you trust your wife?
JOHN (turning to the governor): One question. (He points to the screen.) Thats your voice, isnt
it?
(The governor had turned to look at him but now his eyes go to the screen again.)
EURUS (looking into the camera): Do you really? Do you trust her?
GOVERNORs VOICE (from the screen): Youve got to stop saying these things.
JOHN: If Eurus has enslaved you, then who exactly is in charge of this prison?
(Mycroft stares towards the screen in shock.)
GOVERNORs VOICE (from the screen): Its completely inappropriate.
(The governor quickly stands up and reaches into his inside breast pocket.)
GOVERNOR (upset): Im sorry.
(He holds up a remote device in his hand.)
JOHN: No.
GOVERNOR (upset): Very, very sorry.
JOHN: No.
(The governor presses a button on the remote. Immediately the siren starts to sound and
armed guards run into the room, aiming their guns at Mycroft and John, who raise their hands.
The governor looks more composed as he buttons his jacket.)
In the cell, Sherlock looks towards Eurus raised left hand, the fingers curled slightly.
EURUS (softly): You think its a trick. You look so ... unsure. Youre not used to being unsure,
are you?
SHERLOCK: Its more common than youd think.
EURUS (softly): Look at you.
(Sherlock slowly raises his right hand to match hers.)
EURUS (softly): The man who sees through everything ... is exactly the man who doesnt notice
...
(Straightening their fingers, the two of them slowly move their hands towards each other. At
the moment when their hands should touch the glass, Eurus reaches forward a little further and
their fingertips touch, then she links her fingers into Sherlocks. She gasps in mock-surprise.)
EURUS (softly): ... when theres nothing to see through.
(Sherlock breathes shakily and raises his eyes to hers. She smiles.)
EURUS: Do you see how it was done? I know you like explanations.
(Sherlock blinks rapidly and looks towards their linked hands, then he focuses down to the
warnings which he (and we) had always assumed were on the glass and sees that the signs are
attached and projecting sideways from the uprights that should be holding the glass. At the top
of each upright is a smaller sign, similarly attached and projecting sideways, reading ELEPHANT
GLASS and underneath that in smaller letters, SHOCK PROOF. The open end of the sign is
shaped into an elephant. Your transcriber shakes an affectionate fist at Arwel wyn Jones, the
shows Production Designer, who has an obsession with putting elephants in the room.)
SHERLOCK (breathlessly): Signs. You suspended the signs.
EURUS: And my voice? Throat mic. Puts me through the speakers.
(Theres a click and now her voice is clear. Presumably someone outside has been listening and
has turned off the microphone for her.)
EURUS: Dont you think its clever? Simple but clever?
SHERLOCK (shakily): Transparent.
EURUS: Well, you do keep asking me how I got out of here.
(She unfolds her fingers and slowly pulls her hand away.)
EURUS (softly): Like this.

599
(She stands and looks at him for a moment, then quickly sucks in a harsh breath and brings up
both arms to slam her wrists against either side of his head. He falls backwards to the floor and
she hurls herself on top of him, shrieking savagely into his face as she presses her right arm
down onto his throat. As he struggles under her she screams out loudly.)
EURUS: Get in here, all of you! Stop me killing him!
(The lift door opens and two guards, who presumably have been waiting in there since after
Sherlocks arrival, run towards her. She is holding Sherlocks arms down with her left hand and
right foot. She raises her head to the guards and speaks calmly while Sherlock chokes under
her.)
EURUS: No, no. Stop me in a minute.
(Lowering her head to her brother, she pulls in a breath and then screams into his face as she
continues to strangle him.)
Outside the governors office, two yellow jumpsuited auxiliaries are marching John away,
holding his arms. John kicks out at the ankle of the man to his right and as he cries out in pain
and lets go of his arm, John turns to the other man and headbutts him. While Mycroft starts to
struggle against his own captors, John races for the nearby stairs up to the glass Control Room.
A male American-accented voice calls loudly from the speaker system. It sounds more than a
little familiar.
VOICE: Red alert! Red alert! Big bad bouncy red alert!
GOVERNOR (calling up the stairs): Doctor Watson!
VOICE (over the speakers): Klingons attacking lower decks! Also, cowboys in black hats, and
Darth Vader!
(While John continues rapidly up the stairs, Mycroft stops struggling and stares up at the
nearest speaker as it becomes obvious who the voice belongs to. Its the voice of James
Moriarty.)
JIMs VOICE (over the speakers, still in the American accent): Dont be alarmed! Im here now!
Im here now!
(John slows down on the landing outside the glass room and points warningly to someone
offscreen in front of him.)
JIMs VOICE (over the speakers): Did you miss me? Did you miss me?
(In the glass room, while the technician slowly backs away from John, the screens are showing
a heavy flow of water pouring down them but then they clear to each reveal Jim staring into the
camera.)
JIM: Miss me? Miss me? Miss me? Miss me? Miss me? Miss me?
(As John stops and stares at the screens in disbelief, behind him lift doors open and two guards
quietly hurry out. While Jim continues to repeat his refrain, one of them turns his rifle sideways
and strikes John firmly in the back of the head with the butt. Johns eyes glaze and he falls,
Jims repeated Miss me? chant echoing as he goes.)
The instrumental opening to Queens song I Want To Break Free plays as a helicopter flies
towards the island and swoops up over the cliffs and the top of the building to the other side. In
his office, the governor stands near his desk and watches out of the window while the chopper
heads out over the sea and then turns back towards the island again.
Not long afterwards, as the lyrics to the song begin, the helicopter has landed on the beach. Jim
Moriarty, suited and booted, wearing sunglasses and with his hair slicked back, climbs out of
the back door with white earbuds in his ears. He stands on the side runners for a moment,
looking towards the cliffs, then steps down onto the sand and takes a couple of steps forward
before whirling his arms and rolling his hips and then spreading his arms wide either side of him
with his head thrown back. Either on the soundtrack or in his own imagination, a large crowd
roars its approval and applauds. He lowers one arm and raises the other to the skies, looking
upwards while two black-suited goons wearing earpieces walk to stand either side of him. Jim
lowers his arm and jumps round to face the helicopter before raising his arm and head
skywards again. Again the invisible crowd roars and whistles approvingly. He changes arms,
pointing the other one upwards, then lowers it and turns around again, standing there for a
moment before raising his hands and pulling the earbuds from his ears. The music stops and
the helicopters rotors can be heard whirling behind him. Several yards in front of him stand the
governor and three armed beanie-hatted guards. Jim tucks his earphones into his inside jacket
pocket and then strolls forwards, his goons following. He stops a few feet away from the
governor; his bodyguards halt one pace in front of him with their shoulders slightly overlapping
his.

600
GOVERNOR: Mr Moriarty.
JIM: Big G.
(He holds up his right hand with the index and little finger raised. As he lowers his hand again,
the governor frowns.)
JIM: Big G. Means governor. Street speak. Im a bit down with the kids, you know? Im
relatable that way. Dyou like my boys?
(He points towards the man standing to his left and steps behind him.)
JIM: This ones got more stamina, but hes less caring in the afterglow.
(He pulls his sunglasses a little way down his nose with one hand and looks over the top of
them at the back of the mans head. The man doesnt react.)
GOVERNOR: This way, please.
(He turns and walks away.
Shortly afterwards, the doors to a lift open. The governor steps out from one side of the cabin.
The bodyguard who Jim just talked about is standing at the other side and the other bodyguard
is in the centre but now steps aside to allow Jim who had been standing behind him to exit
the lift. Jim slowly strolls out followed by his boys and the governor leads them all away.
Theyre on the same walkway where John was taken down. The governor reaches the staircase
at the side of the glass Control Room and turns towards it but Jim slows down and stops facing
a narrower corridor which leads straight on. A white-shirted guard holding a rifle stands at the
side of the entrance. Jim gestures around the place.)
JIM: Smell all that insane criminality.
(He starts to walk towards the corridor but the guard holds out a hand in front of him and
presses it against his chest. Stopping again, Jim doesnt react to the guard but leans into the
hand, bending his head further into the corridor and breathing in.)
JIM: Do you have cannibals here?
GOVERNOR: Yes.
JIM: How many?
GOVERNOR: Three.
JIM (nodding): Thats good. People leave their bodies to science; I think cannibals would be so
much more grateful.
(He raises his head a little and whistles in a beckoning sort of way. In the distance, a few voices
yell or scream in response. Jim smiles.)
JIM (quietly, in satisfaction): Ah.
(Chuckling quietly he turns to follow the governor down the stairs, throwing a brief look to the
guard as he lowers his hand. They walk downstairs towards the office. Mycroft is waiting inside
at the far side of the room looking out of the window with his hands behind his back. Jim strolls
into the room through the door which the governor has held open for him. The governor then
walks away and Jims goons stop outside. Jim takes off his sunshades and tilts his head to one
side.
Mycroft turns around to face him and at the bottom of the screen the words Christmas Day
appear. Mycrofts hair appears darker and a little thicker than usual and this is explained
moments later when, as the camera angle switches to look at Jim, at the bottom of the screen
new words appear reading Five years ago. A large part of the fandom boos and throws
popcorn at the screen in disappointment that Jim isnt alive in the present and so we havent
just had the biggest surprise of the entire series. Jim looks at Mycroft, who breathes out a long
breath through his nose.
At the side of the room, a nativity scene has been set up on a table.)
JIM (offscreen): Ahh.
(He reaches out and picks up the baby Jesus lying in a manger.)
JIM (offscreen): Isnt that sweet?
(Mycroft has sat down in the chair behind the desk and tilts his head to the chair on the other
side.)
MYCROFT: Wont you sit down?
JIM (looking down at the figure he is holding): I wrote my own version of the nativity when I
was a child. (He looks up to Mycroft.) The Hungry Donkey. It was a bit gory but, if youre
gonna put a baby in a manger, youre asking for trouble.
(Without looking, he holds out his hand and drops the figure back onto the table.)
MYCROFT: You know what this place is, of course?
JIM (quietly): Of course. (He fiddles with some of the animals on the table as he speaks.) So
am I under arrest again?

601
MYCROFT: You remain a person of interest, but until you commit a verifiable crime you are I
regret at liberty.
(Jim has moved the donkey, a cow and two sheep on the table so that they now closely
surround the baby in the manger.)
JIM: Then why am I here?
MYCROFT: Youre a Christmas present.
JIM: Ah. (He walks across the room to Mycrofts side of the table and holds out his arms as he
walks past him.) Howd you want me?
MYCROFT (turning in his chair as Jim walks behind him): There is, in this facility, a prisoner
whose intellectual abilities are of occasional use to the British government.
JIM (stopping and looking out of the window): What, for, like, really difficult sums, long division,
that sort of thing?
MYCROFT: She predicted the exact dates of the last three terrorist attacks on the British
mainland after an hour on Twitter. That sort of thing. In return, however, she requires treats.
Last year it was a violin.
JIM: This year?
MYCROFT: Five minutes unsupervised conversation ... with you.
(Jim blinks and turns his head a little.)
JIM: Me?! (Smiling, he turns towards Mycroft and blinks mock-bashfully before lifting one hand
to his chest, pretending to look amazed.) With me?!
MYCROFT: She has noted your interest in the activities of my little brother.
JIM (walking slowly towards the other side of the table): So ... whats she got to do ... with
Sherlock Holmes?
(He puts his hands on the table opposite Mycroft.)
JIM: Whatever youre about to tell me ...
(He slowly sits down. Mycroft looks rather tired and defeated.)
JIM (looking at him with fascinated excitement): ... I already know its gonna be ...
(He opens his mouth wide and props his left elbow on the table, resting his head on his hand.)
JIM: ... awesome!
Later, the lift door to Eurus cell slides open. Eurus is kneeling in the middle of the floor facing
the glass. The lights above her head are green. She lifts her head and slowly stands up as Jim
walks forward and after a couple of paces the lights turn white. They walk towards each other.
In the governors office, Mycroft watches the footage grimly. The other two stop a couple of
paces either side of the glass and Jim holds his hands out to either side, shrugging.
JIM: Im your Christmas present.
(He strolls forward again, Eurus also approaching the glass from her side. They stop again, Jim
looking down at her appraisingly.)
JIM (in a whisper): So whats mine?
(Eurus eyes turn towards the camera on the wall outside the cell. She focuses in on the red
light showing that the camera is active. In the governors office, Mycroft watches as the footage
is replaced by an image of a heavy flow of water pouring down the screens. In the cell, Eurus
looks at Jim.)
EURUS (softly): Redbeard.
(Jim frowns a little. Staring intently at him, Eurus steps even closer to the glass. Now smiling,
Jim does likewise. With their noses almost touching the glass opposite each other, they start to
sway slowly from side to side and they match each others head movements, practically making
love through the glass.)
Johns eyes open and he blinks several times, then grimaces and makes a pained noise. Lifting
his head from the bed hes lying on, he puts his hand to the back of his head. Nearby, Mycroft is
leaning back against a grey-panelled wall, the top button of his shirt undone above his slightly
loosened tie. Sherlock is pacing but now turns to face John.
SHERLOCK: How are you?
(He starts to pace again as John takes his hand from his head.)
JOHN: Bit of a lump.
SHERLOCK: True dat, but you have your uses.
(We see the entire room. Theyre in an identical cell to the one which Eurus was in. Presumably
its not the same one because this time theres really glass in the front wall. The large light in
the ceiling is white, not green. On the left of the room, about halfway back, the governor is

602
sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. Mycroft is at the right-hand side. As Sherlock
continues to pace back and forth in front of the glass, John sits up on the side of the bed.)
JOHN: Did you see your sister?
SHERLOCK: Yes.
JOHN (putting his hand to the back of his head again): How was that?
(Sherlock pulls in a long breath before replying.)
SHERLOCK: Familys always difficult.
MYCROFT (exasperated): Is this an occasion for banter?
SHERLOCK (gesturing towards his brother): Mm, case in point.
(The sound of a phone ringing out can be heard. John stands up.)
JOHN: Are we phoning someone?
SHERLOCK: Apparently.
(John looks across the room to the governor.)
JOHN: Whats he doing here?
SHERLOCK: As he is told. (He stops and turns to John.) Eurus is in control.
(The phone connects and a young girls distressed voice can be heard over the speakers.)
GIRL (anxiously, tearfully): Help me. Please, Im on a plane and everyones asleep.
(We cut to the first scene we saw in the episode. The young girl is standing in the middle of the
aeroplanes aisle not far from the flight deck door, holding the phone to her ear.)
GIRL: Help me!
(The lights in the cell go red and Jims voice can be heard over the speakers.)
JIMs VOICE: Hello. My names Jim Moriarty.
(Mycroft sighs heavily.)
JIMs VOICE: Welcome ... to the final problem.
(Still holding the back of his head, John looks across to Sherlock. The lights turn white again.)
SHERLOCK: Its okay. Hes dead.
JOHN: He doesnt sound dead.
(The lights turn red.)
JIMs VOICE: This is a recorded announcement.
(On the plane, the tearful girl can also hear his voice.)
JIMs VOICE: Please say hullo to some very old friends of mine.
GIRL: Hello? I can hear you talking. Please help me! Im on a plane and its going to crash!
(The lights in the cell turn white.)
MYCROFT (irritatedly): What is this? We cant do this!
SHERLOCK (glancing towards him): Do shut up, dear.
GIRL (over speakers): Is someone there?
MYCROFT: Is this supposed to be a game?
SHERLOCK (looking at him again): Be quiet.
GIRL (over speakers): Please help me!
SHERLOCK (lifting his head): Oh, hello. Um, try-try to stay calm. Just te-tell me what your
name is.
GIRL: Im not supposed to tell my name to strangers.
SHERLOCK: Of course not. Very good. But, um, Ill tell you mine. My name is ...
(Theres a click and then static from the speakers.)
SHERLOCK: Hello?
(On a large TV screen, the image of pouring water briefly appears and then resolves to live
footage of Eurus smiling into the camera.)
EURUS: Oh dear. We seem to have lost the connection.
(Everyone turns towards the sound. The screen is on a stand in front of the lift on the other side
of the glass. Mycroft walks towards the glass.)
MYCROFT: How have you done this? How is any of this possible?
EURUS (no longer smiling): You put me in here, Mycroft. You brought me my treats.
JOHN (walking closer to Mycroft): What treats?
(Mycroft turns his head towards him and presses his lips together a little. Sherlock frowns, then
looks round at his brother, who turns and returns his gaze.
Sitting in the chair behind the desk in the governors office, Eurus raises a remote control and
aims it towards the screens at the side of the room. She clicks a button and the lights in the cell
turn red. Jims face, in close-up, appears on the cell screen. The entire image is coloured red.)
JIM (in his phoney American accent): Clever Eurus! You go, girl!
(As the lights turn white again John turns to Sherlock.)
JOHN: How can that be Moriarty?

603
(Before Sherlock can reply, Eurus image appears on the screen again.)
EURUS: Oh, he recorded lots of little messages for me before he died.
(Still sitting on the floor, the governor sinks his head back against the wall behind him.)
EURUS: Loved it. Did you know his brother was a station master? I think he was always jealous.
SHERLOCK: The girl where is she? Can I talk to her again?
EURUS: Poor little thing. Alone in the sky in a great big plane with nowhere to land. But where
in the world is she? Its a clever little puzzle. If you want to apply yourself to it, I can reconnect
you; but first ...
(She sits back in her chair and swings it around to face the side. Behind her, out on the balcony
beyond the windows, a woman is sitting on a chair facing the room. Large solid handcuffs are
attached either side of the seat and the womans wrists are manacled at the other end of the
cuffs. Wide dark grey gaffer tape is wrapped around her mouth and possibly her nose. She
struggles against her restraints.)
GOVERNOR (his eyes wide): Thats my wife.
(He scrambles to his feet and walks closer to the glass.)
GOVERNOR: Thats my wife! (He stares at the screen as Eurus turns her head to look into the
camera.) Oh, God, thats my wife!
EURUS: Im going to shoot the governors wife.
(Mycroft turns away, putting his hand up to his mouth.)
GOVERNOR: Please, no. (He gestures vaguely towards Sherlock as if begging him, though he
keeps his eyes on the screen.) Please. Help her!
EURUS (now looking to the side of the room): ... in about a minute. (She turns to the camera
again while the woman struggles behind her.) Bang. Dead!
SHERLOCK: Please dont do that.
EURUS: Well, you can stop me.
SHERLOCK: How?
EURUS: Theres a gun in the hatch. Take it.
(Sherlock walks over to the hatch at the side of the glass. It slides open as he approaches and
he bends down and picks up the pistol from inside.)
EURUS: You want to save the governors wife? Choose either Doctor Watson or Mycroft to kill
the governor.
(John turns away, a bitter smile on his face, while Mycroft lifts his head from where it had been
resting on his hand. The governor half-cries, half-gasps.)
GOVERNOR: Oh ... oh God!
(John turns back towards the screen, his face grim. Mycroft stares at Sherlock wide-eyed.
Sherlock looks at the governor and takes a step towards him from behind.)
EURUS: You cant do it, Sherlock. If you do it, it wont count. Ill kill her anyway. It has to be
your brother or your friend.
(The governor turns round to look at Mycroft.)
GOVERNOR: You have to do this.
(Still wide-eyed, Mycroft shakes his head. The governor turns to Sherlock.)
GOVERNOR: Eurus will kill her.
(Sherlock looks down for a long moment, then releases the grip and tosses the gun a little into
the air before catching it by the muzzle.)
SHERLOCK: Doesnt appear we have a choice.
(He starts to walk across the cell.)
EURUS (smiling): Right, then.
(Sherlock walks towards his brother, holding out the guns grip towards him.)
EURUS: Countdown starting.
(Sherlock stops a few steps in front of Mycroft and gestures with the gun, urging him to take it.)
MYCROFT: How long?
EURUS: No, no, no. The countdown is for me.
(The governor stares at Mycroft. The brothers eyes are fixed on each other as Sherlock
continues to hold the gun out. Nearby, John has his head lowered and his eyes screwed shut. As
Eurus continues he unscrews his eyes and shakes his head.)
EURUS: Withholding the precise deadline will apply the emotional pressure more evenly. Where
possible, please give me an explicit verbal indication of your anxiety levels.
(Sherlock turns his head towards the glass but doesnt look directly at the screen.)
EURUS: I cant always read them from your behaviour.
(In front of him, Mycroft shakes his head.)
MYCROFT (breathily): I cant do this.

604

MYCROFT (in the same tone): Cant. Its murder.
GOVERNOR (anxiously): This is not murder. This is saving my wife.
(Mycroft looks across to him nervously, running his tongue along the inside of his lips.)
EURUS: Im particularly focussed on internal conflicts, where strategising around a largely
intuitive moral code appears to create a counter-intuitive result.
(Mycroft stares down at the grip of the gun which Sherlock is still holding towards him.)
MYCROFT: I will not kill. I will not have blood on my hands.
EURUS: Yes, very good. (She turns away from the camera and looks across the office.) Thank
you.
GOVERNOR (to Mycroft): Killing my wife is what youre doing.
(Mycroft looks at Sherlock and then down to the gun one more time, then backs away, shaking
his head.)
MYCROFT (his voice trembling): No.
(Sherlock holds his gaze for a moment more, then lowers his eyes and turns away.)
SHERLOCK: Okay, fine.
(He turns around and offers the gun to John.)
SHERLOCK (firmly): John.
(John is looking towards the governor or the screen beyond him, but then opens his mouth a
little, takes in a breath and turns his head to Sherlock. The governor stares at him, his eyes full
of tears, and takes a step towards him.)
GOVERNOR: Doctor Watson. Are you married?
JOHN (still holding Sherlocks gaze): I was.
GOVERNOR: What happened?
JOHN: She died.
(Sherlock lowers his eyes and presses his lips together. The governor walks towards John.)
GOVERNOR (tearfully): What would you give to get her back? I mean, if you could, if it was
possible?
(Both John and Sherlock look at him.)
GOVERNOR: What would you do to save her?
(He gestures towards the screen.)
GOVERNOR: Eurus will kill me. Please save my wife.
(Eurus reaches to the desk and picks up the remote control.)
EURUS: There will, Im afraid, be regular prompts to create an atmosphere of urgency.
(While she speaks, the lights in the cell turn red and a close-up of Jims red-lit face replaces
hers on the screen. Manipulating his mouth over-exaggeratedly, he whispers loudly.)
JIM: Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick ...
(The lights turn white and Eurus is back on the screen. After a couple of seconds the red lights
are back and so is Jim.)
JIM: Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tock, tick-tock ...
(White lights and Eurus return. Sherlock and the governor look towards John, the latters
expression desperate and pleading. John takes his hands from where hes been holding them
behind his back and he shuffles on the spot, moving as if to put his hands into his jeans
pockets. Not meeting his gaze, Sherlock lifts the gun higher towards him. Lowering his hands
for a moment, John then reaches out and takes the pistol in his right hand. Mycroft turns away,
covering his face with one hand. Sherlock steps to one side, his eyes fixed on John, who looks
at the governor standing in front of him.)
JOHN (flexing the fingers on his left hand): Whats your name?
GOVERNOR: David.
JOHN: And youre sure about this, David?
GOVERNOR (tense and trembling): Course Im bloody sure.
EURUS: Nearly there.
(John hesitates for a moment.)
JOHN: Right. Dyou want to ... pray, or anything?
GOVERNOR: With Eurus Holmes in the world, who the hell would I pray to?
(On the balcony behind Eurus, the mans wife continues to struggle against her bonds.)
JOHN: You are a good man, and you are doing a good thing.
GOVERNOR (softly): So are you.
JOHN: Ill spend the rest of my life telling myself that.
(David smiles anxiously, closing his eyes and pulling in a deep breath. John turns his head to
look at Sherlock, who meets his gaze and lowers his chin slightly in affirmation that there is no

605
other choice. John turns back and raises the pistol in front of him to point it at David. Sherlock
steps back a little, putting his hands behind his back and Mycroft again turns away with his
hand over his face. David cant help but jump and gasp, shutting his eyes for a moment. John
looks at him, his face set, and his finger settles more firmly against the trigger. Mycroft has
turned back a little and watches with his hand clamped against his mouth.)
GOVERNOR (in a tearful anguished whisper): Please!
(Johns gun hand lowers a little, then his face becomes more determined and he raises the gun
to its former position. Crying, David raises one hand to stop him and then turns around,
presenting his back to John. He backs towards him a little. John bends his arm and lifts the
pistol upwards, clearly unhappy about shooting anyone in the back. He looks across to Sherlock
who looks back at him silently, leaving him to make the choice. John turns back to David,
hesitates for a moment and then steps forward and puts his left hand on his shoulder. David
jumps, gasping. John pats his shoulder twice and David understands the message and gets
down onto his knees, still facing away from him. As Mycroft turns away and covers his face
again, John makes a decisive move and steps forward and presses the muzzle against the back
of Davids head. Again David jumps and then sobs quietly.)
GOVERNOR (breathily, tearfully): Oh, God!
(John lifts the gun away, steps forward and leans down to put his hand on Davids shoulder and
his head close to his left ear.)
JOHN (quietly): I know that youre scared, but you should also be very proud.
GOVERNOR (staring ahead of himself, crying): Just do it.
(John pats his shoulder and straightens up, stepping back and aiming the pistol down at him
again.)
GOVERNOR: Be quick!
(John adjusts his footing and lifts his left hand to hold the gun with both hands. The lights turn
red and Jim appears on the screen.)
JIM (whispering, and tilting his head from side to side on the last three words): Tick-tick-tick-
tick-tick-tick.
(The white lighting returns. John breathes out sharply through his nose.)
EURUS: This is very good, Doctor Watson.
(David has his eyes squeezed shut and is crying quietly. Behind him, Johns hands start to
tremble on the gun.)
EURUS: I should have fitted you with a cardiograph.
JOHN (quietly, tensely): Goodbye, David.
(David whimpers and the lights turn red. Jim whispers harshly on the screen.)
JIM: Tock-tock-tock-tock-tock-tock-tock tick-tick-tick.
(The white lights return and David whines quietly. John screws his eyes shut for a moment, and
his finger wavers as he tries to apply pressure to the trigger.)
GOVERNOR (desperately): Please!
(Johns finger begins to tighten on the trigger. David closes his eyes again.)
JOHN: I cant. (He lowers the gun and turns to Sherlock.) Im sorry. I cant do it.
(Weeping in anguish, David falls forward onto his hands. Sherlock steps towards John.)
SHERLOCK: I know. Its all right.
(David scrambles to his feet and runs to John, snatching the pistol from his hand and raising it
in front of himself with both shaking hands as he stumbles backwards, crying.)
JOHN: Stop! No, no, stop.
(John and the Holmes brothers back away towards the wall, Sherlock and John holding out
placatory hands towards David.)
GOVERNOR (tearfully): Im sorry.
SHERLOCK: Its all right.
GOVERNOR: Im so sorry.
(He turns the pistol and pushes the tip of the muzzle under his chin.)
GOVERNOR (sobbing): Remember me.
SHERLOCK: No!
JOHN: No!
(All three of them rush towards him but he pulls the trigger. They slow down and stop, John
sighing out an anguished breath. As the bullets shell clinks noisily to the floor, in the corner of
the room rivulets of blood trickle down the glass wall. Mycroft turns away choking, bracing one
hand against the wall and coughing against the other hand as he tries not to vomit. Sherlock
looks briefly towards him and then turns to John.)

606
(John has his head down and is clenching and unclenching both hands but he raises his head to
look at Sherlock.)
EURUS: Interesting.
(Sherlock turns and walks towards the glass. Davids body is slumped in the left corner near the
hatch, the pistol lying near his right hand.)
SHERLOCK: All right, there you go. You got what you wanted ... (he breathes sharply for a
moment) ... and hes dead.
EURUS: Dead or alive ... (she spins on her chair to face the screen) ... he really wasnt very
interesting, but you three ... (she leans closer to the camera) ... you three were wonderful.
Thank you. (She leans even closer.) You see, what you did, Doctor Watson ...
(John raises his head to look at her.)
EURUS: ... specifically because of your moral code ...
(He steps forward a couple of paces.)
EURUS: ... because you dont want blood on your hands, two people are dead instead of one.
JOHN: Two people?
EURUS: Yes. Sorry, hang on.
(She rotates the chair so that shes facing the window. The woman on the balcony is obscured
from the mens view. Eurus lifts a pistol high so that they can see the muzzle above the back of
the chair, then lowers it and theres a gunshot. John raises both hands to his head and backs
away in frustration.)
JOHN: Oh!
(Mycroft gasps and also turns away, sighing.
From a close-up view on the balcony, theres now a small round hole in the window. The focus
moves to Eurus inside the room, looking towards the hole. After a moment she rotates the chair
round to face the side of the room. From the cell, Davids wife can be seen slumped in the chair
on the balcony, her head thrown back.)
EURUS: What advantage did your moral code grant you?
(Sherlock looks dispassionate as he watches the screen. Behind him, John has both hands
clasped behind his head and is breathing heavily. As Eurus starts to speak again, Sherlock
briefly presses his lips together.)
EURUS: Is it not, in the end, selfish to keep ones hands clean at the expense of anothers life?
(John lowers his hands and takes a few paces towards the screen, shouting angrily towards it.)
JOHN: You didnt have to kill her!
(Eurus chuckles and turns more towards the camera.)
EURUS: The condition of her survival was that you or Mycroft had to kill her husband.
(John sighs heavily, lowering his head.)
EURUS: This is an experiment. There will be rigour. Sherlock, pick up the gun. Its your turn
next.
(Sherlock turns to look at the pistol on the floor, lying near Davids hand and a large pool of
blood.)
EURUS: When I tell you to use it and I will remember what happened this time.
SHERLOCK (still looking down at the pistol): What if I dont want a gun?
EURUS: Oh, the gun is intended as a mercy.
SHERLOCK: For whom?
EURUS: You.
SHERLOCK (raising his head): How so?
EURUS: If someone else had to die, would you really want to do it with your bare hands? It
would waste valuable time.
(Sherlock turns to face and look at John. Mycroft stares at him, still wide-eyed. John gazes
beyond Sherlock towards the screen.)
JOHN: Probably just take it.
(He looks down. Sherlock steps across the cell, bends down and picks up the gun. He takes out
the clip and checks it, then slots it back into the grip and looks up to the screen.)
SHERLOCK: Theres only one bullet left.
EURUS: You will only need one. But you will need it.
(On the left wall, the second panel away from the glass slides to one side, revealing a narrow
passageway.)
EURUS: Please, go through. Theres a few tasks for you, and a girl on a plane is getting very,
very scared.
(Sherlock turns and walks towards the opening, then stops in the entrance and turns back to
face his brother.)

607
SHERLOCK: Treats?
MYCROFT: Yes. You know, a violin.
SHERLOCK: In exchange for ...?
MYCROFT: Shes very clever.
SHERLOCK (precisely): Im beginning to think youre not.
(The lights turn red as Mycroft lowers his eyes, and Jims voice sounds cheerfully over the
speakers.)
JIMs VOICE: Come on now! Aaaaaall aboard! (High-pitched) Choo-choo! Choo-choo!
(Sherlock turns and walks into the corridor, John following him. On the screen, Jim pulls the
imaginary cord of a steam train as he continues to make choo-choo noises. Looking unhappily
down to Davids body, Mycroft follows the other two.
Sherlock walks along a narrow grey-walled corridor and turns into a room which is much smaller
than the cell. Although also grey in colour, the walls have been messily daubed with red paint
so that it looks like theyre heavily covered with blood. He looks around as he walks deeper into
the room, John and Mycroft following him.)
SHERLOCK: Someones been redecorating.
JOHN: Is that allowed?
SHERLOCK: Shes literally taken over the asylum. We have more to worry about than her choice
of colour scheme.
(The room is about twenty feet wide. At the far end is a large window, made up of three panes
of glass, looking out over the sea. A small glass table is a few feet from the window and there is
an envelope on it. Mycroft runs his fingers over the paint on part of the wall.)
MYCROFT: Barely dry. Recent.
SHERLOCK: Its for our benefit.
(Behind them, the door through which they just came has slid shut. That door is at the left of
the back of the room and there is another one at the right-hand side. On the wall between the
doors, a large screen now activates and Eurus appears on it.)
EURUS: As a motivator to your continued co-operation, Im now reconnecting you.
(She lifts the remote control and clicks it. Jims voice comes over the speaker and his red-hued
image appears on the screen.)
JIM (in his phoney American accent): Fasten your seatbelts! Its gonna be a bumpy night.
[See here for details of the movie from which Jim is quoting.]
(Theres a brief screech of static and then the little girls voice can be heard.)
GIRLs VOICE: Are-are you still there?
SHERLOCK: Yes, hello?
(She doesnt respond immediately.)
SHERLOCK: Hello. Were still here. Can you hear us?
(The girl is sitting on the floor in the aisle of the plane. The plane jolts constantly, either
suffering turbulence or fighting against the automatic pilot. She continues to sound scared and
tearful whenever she speaks.)
GIRL: Yes.
(She has found a carton of juice somewhere and occasionally sips from the straw during the
conversation.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): Everythings gonna be all right. I just need you to tell me where you
are. Outside, is it day or night?
(She sits up taller and looks towards the windows.)
GIRL: Night.
MYCROFT (tetchily, folding his arms): That certainly narrows it down to half the planet.
SHERLOCK (glaring towards him while he speaks to the girl): What kind of a plane are you on?
GIRL: Um, I dont know.
JOHN: Is it big or small?
GIRL: Big.
JOHN: Lots of people on it?
(She looks along the aisle. Since we last saw her she has moved to the rear end of the front
section of the plane. In front of her, the majority of the seats contain unconscious adults.)
GIRL: Lots and lots, but theyre all asleep. I cant wake them up.
SHERLOCK: Where did you take off from?
GIRL: Even the drivers asleep.
SHERLOCK: No, I understand; but where did you come from? Where did the plane take off?
GIRL: My nans.
SHERLOCK: And where are you going?

608
GIRL: Home.
SHERLOCK: No, I mean what airport are you ...
(Theres a click as he speaks, and Eurus image reappears on the screen at the end of the
room.)
EURUS (sing-song): Enough for now. (She leans close to the camera, her eyes wide.) Time to
play a new game.
(Sherlock turns away in frustration.)
EURUS (sitting back in her chair): Look on the table in front of you.
(Sherlock and John are standing either side of the glass table. Mycroft stands a few feet away
with his arms still folded.)
EURUS (more sternly): Open the envelope! If you want to speak to the girl again, earn yourself
some phone time!
(Putting the pistol on the table, Sherlock picks up the envelope.)
MYCROFT: This is inhuman; this is insane!
JOHN (firmly, looking at him): Mycroft, we know.
(Mycroft lowers his eyes, looking exasperated. Sherlock has opened the envelope and taken out
the contents.)
EURUS: Six months ago, a man called Evans was murdered; unsolved except by me.
(Sherlock starts laying three glossy photographs side by side on the table. As Eurus continues
to speak, a bright light comes on at the end of a beam above Sherlocks head. He looks up and
sees a hunting rifle resting in a rack which has been attached to the side of the beam.)
EURUS: He was shot from a distance of three hundred metres with this rifle.
(Sherlock stretches up and takes down the gun.)
EURUS: Now, if the police had any brains theyd realise there are three suspects, all brothers.
Nathan Garrideb, Alex Garrideb and Howard Garrideb.
(Sherlock has been looking towards the screen while she spoke but now looks down at the
photos spread out on the table. Each one is of a different man. The first, wearing grey trousers,
a blue shirt, a brown corduroy jacket and glasses, is in an outdoor car park and the word
NATHAN has been written on the picture; the second man, wearing a dark blue suit, is
standing talking on his phone, perhaps in an office environment, and the photo is labelled
ALEX; and the third man, wearing a white T-shirt and black jumper with a dark jacket and
trousers, is walking near rocky cliffs and his picture is labelled HOWARD. Above the three
photos the envelope, laid face-up, has the word EVANS written on it.)
EURUS: All these photos are up-to-date, but which one pulled the trigger, Sherlock? Which one?
JOHN (looking towards the screen): Whats this? W-were supposed to solve this based on
what?
SHERLOCK (looking at the photos): This. This is all we get.
EURUS: Please, make use of your friends, Sherlock. I want to see you interact with people that
youre close to. Also, you may have to choose which one to keep.
(John frowns and glances towards Mycroft. Sherlock turns and holds out the rifle in both hands,
looking at his brother. We see that its not a modern rifle and much of it is made of dark wood.
A telescopic sight is attached to the top.)
SHERLOCK: What do you make of it?
MYCROFT: Am I being asked to prove my usefulness?
SHERLOCK: Yes, I should think you are.
MYCROFT: I will not be manipulated like this.
SHERLOCK: Fine. John?
(He turns to him, offering him the rifle. Mycroft bites his lip and turns his head away.)
SHERLOCK (more firmly): John?
(John has been looking at Mycroft but now turns and takes the rifle.)
JOHN: Yeah, I think Ive seen one of these. Its a buffalo gun. (He raises the rifle and aims it
towards the floor at the other end of the room, looking into the telescopic sight.) Id say
nineteen forties, old-fashioned sight, no crosshairs.
(Sherlock takes back the rifle and looks down at the photos.)
SHERLOCK: Glasses, glasses. (He points to the first photograph.) Nathan wears glasses. Evans
was shot from three hundred metres.
(Brief cut-away to Nathans hands as evidenced by the corduroy jacket raising the rifle in
front of him and moving his finger towards the trigger.
In the small room Sherlock raises the rifle and aims it towards the opposite wall as if hes about
to fire it.)
SHERLOCK: Kickback from a gun with this calibre ...

609
(Cut-away to Nathan holding the rifle to the firing position and pulling the trigger. As it fires,
the gun jolts backwards towards his face and the sight smashes into the right lens of his glasses
and shatters it.)
SHERLOCK (lowering the gun): ... would be massive.
(He bends down and puts his finger onto the photo of Nathan, tapping it a couple of times.)
SHERLOCK: No cuts, no scarring. Not Nathan, then. (He turns the photo over.) Whos next?
(He moves his fingers across to the next picture.)
MYCROFT (sarcastically): Well done, Doctor Watson. How useful you are.
(John looks up at him.)
MYCROFT: Do you have a suspicion were being made to compete?
JOHN (stepping towards him): No, were not competing. Theres a plane in the air thats gonna
crash, so what were doing is actually trying to save a little girl. Today we have to be soldiers,
Mycroft, soldiers ...
(Sherlock, who had been looking at the remaining photographs, lifts his head to watch John.
Johns voice, while still fairly low, becomes more firm.)
JOHN: ... and that means to hell with what happens to us.
(Sherlock lowers his head again while John walks away towards the other end of the table.
Mycroft raises his eyebrows briefly.)
MYCROFT (sounding genuine): Your priorities do you credit.
JOHN (angrily, turning back to face him): No, my priorities just got a woman killed.
EURUS (from the screen): Now, as I understand it, Sherlock, you try to repress your emotions
to refine your reasoning. Id like to see how that works, so, if you dont mind, Im going to apply
some context to your deductions.
(Theres a noise from behind the boys and they turn to look. Outside the window three men
drop into view, each suspended from a rope attached to a harness. The ropes tighten and the
men are left dangling in mid-air, each behind one of the three panes of glass. Their hands are
bound in front of them with rope and white scarves are tied around their mouths. Each man has
a large card hung around his neck with string. The cards flutter in the wind as the men struggle
against their bonds.)
MYCROFT: Oh, dear God.
EURUS: Two of the Garridebs work here as orderlies, so getting the third along really wasnt too
difficult.
(Our boys walk towards the window, staring out of it.)
EURUS: Once you bring in your verdict, let me know and justice will be done.
(We now see that the signs around the struggling mens necks have their names on them.)
SHERLOCK: Justice?
JOHN: What will you do with them?
EURUS: Early release.
(Sherlocks eyes lower towards the water below the men. He turns away from the window.)
SHERLOCK: Youll drop them into the sea.
EURUS: Sink, or swim.
JOHN (angrily, turning to look at the screen): Theyre tied up!
EURUS: Exactly! Now there is context.
(Sherlock lays the rifle on the table and bends to the photos, resting his hands on the glass at
either side.)
EURUS: Please, continue with your deductions. Im now focussing on the difference to your
mental capacity a specified consequence can make.
[Shes a Holmes, all right, because she loudly clicks the k on the last word. Your transcriber,
who usually giggles and squees at a k-click, grimaces this time.]
MYCROFT (angrily): Why should we bother?
(John glances back to the men outside the window.)
MYCROFT: What if were disinclined to play your games, little sister?
(Eurus chuckles, not very humorously.)
EURUS: I have if you remember provided you with some motivation.
(Theres a click on the speaker.)
GIRLs VOICE (frightened): Were going through the clouds, like cotton wool.
(Mycroft clasps his hands behind his head, lowering it in frustration. Sherlock, who had been
bent over the table looking closely at the photographs, straightens up and closes his eyes as he
speaks.)
SHERLOCK: Oh. Thats nice. Try to tell me more about the plane.
GIRL: Why wont my mummy wake up?

610
(The speaker clicks again. The image of water has been pouring down the screen at the end of
the room but now Eurus reappears. Sherlock lowers his head and moves his fingers across the
photographs on the table.)
SHERLOCK (softly, intensely): So its got to be one of the other two.
(He turns and looks at the men outside the window.)
SHERLOCK (louder): Now, Howard.
(He walks closer and stares at the man on the left who has that name card around his neck.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Howards a lifelong drunk. Pallor of his skin, terminal gin blossoms on
his red nose ... (he zooms in on the mans face and then lowers his gaze to his hands) ... and
terror notwithstanding a bad case of the DTs.
[Delirium tremens.]
(Cut-away of Howard raising the rifle in front of him and cocking it with his thumb. As he moves
his finger towards the trigger, his hand is shaking. The camera closes in on his face which
twitches as he tries to squint into the telescopic sight. He fires the rifle and the bullet flies in
slow motion towards a man in a white T-shirt presumably Evans but misses and goes past
his head by quite a distance.)
SHERLOCK: Theres no way he could have taken that shot from three hundred metres away.
(He walks across the window to face the man dangling between the other two.)
SHERLOCK: So that leaves us with Alex.
(He squints at him.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): Indentations on the temples suggest he habitually wears glasses. Frown
lines suggest a lifetime of peering.
MYCROFT: Hes shortsighted, or he was. His recent laser surgery has done the trick.
SHERLOCK (briefly glancing round to him): Laser surgery?
MYCROFT: Look at his clothes. Hes made an effort.
(Sherlock looks at Alexs suit.)
JOHN (softly): Thats very good.
SHERLOCK (softly, intensely): Excellent. Suddenly he sees himself in quite a different light now
that hes dumped the specs. Even has a spray tan. But hes clearly not used to his new personal
grooming ritual.
(He zooms in on the mans dirty fingernails.)
SHERLOCK (quick fire): That can be told by the state of his fingernails and the fact that theres
hair growing in his ears. (He has focussed on the left side of the mans head and the tufts of
hair coming from his ear.) So its a superficial job, then.
(His tone becomes firmer.)
SHERLOCK: But he got his eyes fixed. His hands were steady. He pulled the trigger.
(He turns to the screen, pointing back towards Alex.)
SHERLOCK: He killed Evans.
EURUS: Are you ready to condemn the prisoner?
MYCROFT: Sherlock, we cant do this.
SHERLOCK (lowering his hand and turning back towards the window): The plane, remember?
EURUS (more firmly): Sherlock? Are you ready?
(Sherlock turns his head a little. John turns to look at him. Sherlock bites his lip for a moment,
then speaks softly.)
SHERLOCK: Alex.
EURUS: Say it. Condemn him.
(Looking grim, John turns to look at the man outside the window.)
EURUS: Condemn him in the knowledge of what will happen to the man you name.
(Sherlock turns to face the window, looking into Alexs face. He pauses for a long moment.)
SHERLOCK (quietly but determinedly): I condemn Alex Garrideb.
(Instantly the ropes holding the other two men release and they plunge downwards out of sight.
The men inside the room look shocked.)
JIMs VOICE (softly, from the speakers): Mind the gap.
EURUS: Congratulations.
(Sherlock closes his eyes briefly, and all three of them turn towards the screen.)
EURUS: You got the right one.
(As Sherlock walks slowly towards the screen, Eurus tilts her head towards the door to the right
of the screen, which starts to slide open.)
EURUS: Now, go through the door.
JOHN (walking towards the screen, his voice quiet but angry): You dropped the other two. Why?
EURUS (looking curiously towards the camera): Interesting.

611
JOHN (furiously, loudly): WHY?

EURUS: Does it really make a difference, killing the innocent instead of the guilty? (She looks
down thoughtfully.) Lets see.
(She stabs a finger down onto the remote control lying on the desk. John turns to look out of
the window just as Alexs rope releases and he plunges downwards. Jims voice can be heard
and his red-lit face appears on the screen briefly.)
JIM: The train has left the station!
EURUS (thoughtfully): No. That felt pretty much the same.
(Sherlock had been walking towards the open doorway but has turned back and walks to stand
behind John who is staring towards the window, his teeth bared, breathing heavily.)
SHERLOCK (softly): John.
(John turns to him, breathing harshly through his nose.)
SHERLOCK: Dont let her distract you.
JOHN (tightly): Distract me?
SHERLOCK (firmly): Soldiers today.
(John looks at him for a couple of seconds, then straightens to his full height. Captain Watson is
back in the room. Sherlock glances across to his brother who still looks disturbed by the whole
business, then Sherlock turns and leads the others to the door. Mycroft walks slowly, sighing
and rubbing one hand tiredly over his forehead.)
Further along a narrow corridor another door slides open and Sherlock walks through the
doorway, holding the pistol in both hands lowered towards the floor while the other two follow
him. Theyre in a small room with black walls and floor and no window and the room is only
dimly lit. Unlike the previous one, theres no red paint on the walls. A wall screen is currently
showing only pouring water. In the middle of the room resting on two trestles is a light brown
wooden coffin with brass handles and no lid. Light shines down onto it. Sherlock walks across
and looks down into the coffin, then raises his head to look for the light source. Theres a
narrow open chimney in the middle of the ceiling from which daylight is coming. As the camera
pans around and shows that the lid of the coffin is propped up against the far wall, its underside
facing the room, the speakers click and Eurus voice is heard.
EURUS: One more minute on the phone.
(The speakers squeal momentarily and then the little girls voice comes from them.)
GIRL: Frightened. Im really frightened.
(Sherlock closes his eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Its okay, dont worry.
(On the plane the girl is making her way towards the rear of the section, stepping over the
prone flight attendant lying in the aisle.)
SHERLOCK (over phone): I dont have very long with you, so I just need you to tell me what
you can see outside the plane.
(She turns and looks out of the nearest window. Its still quite dark outside but the view of the
ocean suggests that the plane is flying quite low.)
GIRL: Just the sea. I can see the sea.
SHERLOCK: Are there ships on it?
GIRL: No ships. I can see lights in the distance.
SHERLOCK: Is it a city?
GIRL: I think so.
(Sherlock turns and looks at John who is standing beside him at the side of the coffin. Mycroft,
standing at the other side, speaks quietly.)
MYCROFT: Shes about to fly over a city in a pilotless plane. Well have to talk her through it.
JOHN (quietly): Through what?
GIRL (over speakers): Hello? Are you still there?
SHERLOCK: Still here. Just give us a minute.
MYCROFT (quietly): Getting the plane away from any mainland, any populated areas. It has to
crash in the sea.
(John looks at him as if he cant believe what hes saying.)
JOHN (quietly): What about the girl?
MYCROFT (firmly, but barely above a whisper): Well, obviously, Doctor Watson, shes the one
whos going to crash it.
JOHN: No. W-we could help her land it.
MYCROFT: And if we fail, and she crashes into a city? How many will die then?
JOHN: How are we gonna get her to do that?

612
MYCROFT (looking down towards the coffin for a moment): Im afraid were going to have to
give her hope.
SHERLOCK (loudly so that the girl can hear): Is there really no-one there that can help you?
Have you really, really checked?
GIRL: Everyones asleep. Will you help me?
SHERLOCK: Were going to do everything that we can.
GIRL: Im scared. Im really scared.
SHERLOCK: Its all right. I ...
(He stops when theres a click on the speakers. In the governors office, Eurus can see the
room on the screen in front of her and is presumably now visible on the screen in that room.)
EURUS (over speakers): Now, back to the matter in hand.
(In the office, she leans closer to the camera.)
EURUS: Coffin. Problem: someone is about to die. It will be as I understand it a tragedy.
(Sherlock walks around to the head of the coffin, rubbing the thumb of his gun hand over his
brow as he turns to look at it.)
EURUS (looking away from the camera with a fake sad expression): So many days not lived, so
many words unsaid.
(She looks back to the camera with a more genuine sarcastic look on her face.)
EURUS: Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.
SHERLOCK (exasperated): Yes, yes, yes, and this I presume will be their coffin.
EURUS: Whose coffin, Sherlock? Please, start your deductions. I will apply some context in a
moment.
(Sherlock has been pacing around but now he turns towards the head of the coffin again and
blows out a noisy breath.)
SHERLOCK: Well, allowing for the entirely pointless courtesy of headroom, Id say this coffin is
intended for someone of about five foot four. Makes it more likely to be a woman.
JOHN: Not a child?
SHERLOCK: A childs coffin would be more expensive. This is in the lower price range, although
still best available in that bracket.
JOHN (softly): A lonely night on Google(!)
SHERLOCK: This is a practical and informed choice. Balance of probability suggests that this is
for an unmarried woman distant from her close relatives. That much is suggested by the
economy of choice.
(While hes speaking, Mycroft has looked across the room, frowned in the direction of the coffin
lid propped up against the wall and now walks across to pick it up and turn it to look at the top
side.)
SHERLOCK (still concentrating on the coffin itself): Acquainted with the process of death but
unsentimental about the necessity of disposal. Also, the lining of the coffin ...
MYCROFT (interrupting): Yes, very good, Sherlock, or we could just look at the name on the lid.
(He turns it towards the others. They walk closer to look at it. When he sees what it says,
Sherlock sighs and closes his eyes. His face appears reflected in the brass plate which is
attached to the lid.)
MYCROFT: Only it isnt a name.
(Sherlock turns away. The brass plate comes into focus and it reads
I LOVE YOU
JOHN: So, its for somebody who loves somebody.

MYCROFT: Its for somebody who loves Sherlock. (Looking towards his brother) This is all about
you. Everything here.
(Sherlock walks slowly back to the coffin and puts his hands on top of it at the head end.)
MYCROFT: So who loves you? Im assuming its not a long list.
(Sherlock gazes intensely into the coffin. John walks over to his side while Mycroft leans the lid
against the wall.)
JOHN: Irene Adler.
SHERLOCK: Dont be ridiculous. Look at the coffin. Unmarried, practical about death, alone.
(Johns eyes widen a little.)
JOHN: Molly.
SHERLOCK: Molly Hooper.
(On the screen, Eurus leans forward.)
EURUS: Shes perfectly safe, for the moment.

613
(The screen switches to four images from camera footage of the interior of a home. In the top
right-hand corner a countdown clock appears, currently fixed at 03:00.)
EURUS (offscreen): Her flat is rigged to explode in approximately three minutes ...
(Sherlock stares at the screen and walks towards it. Mycroft rolls his head back in frustration.)
EURUS: ... unless I hear the release code from her lips. Im calling her on your phone, Sherlock.
Make her say it.
JOHN: Say what?
(Sherlock presses his lips together and closes his eyes, lowering his head. Apparently he
already knows.)
EURUS: Obvious, surely?
JOHN (shaking his head): No.
SHERLOCK: Yes.
(He turns to look at the coffin lid, now leaning against the wall with the top facing them. The
other two turn to follow his gaze and they all focus in on the words on the brass plaque.)
EURUS (as Sherlock turns around again): Oh, one important restriction: youre not allowed to
mention in any way at all that her life is in danger.
(Sherlock has pressed his lips together again.)
EURUS: You may not at any point suggest that there is any form of crisis. If you do, I will
end this session and her life. Are we clear?
(Sherlock nods and the multiple tones of a speed dial ringing out can be heard. At the same
time the clock on the screen begins its countdown. Jims voice comes from the speakers.)
JIMs VOICE (in a loud whisper): Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tick.
(The phone connects and starts ringing out. In Mollys kitchen, she is standing with her elbows
on the front of the sink and her head in her hands. Her phone begins to ring on the worktop
behind her and she straightens up to turn and look at it. A close-up of the Caller I.D. on the
phone shows that it reads Sherlock.
In the coffin room, Sherlock shifts his footing and frowns at the screen. In her flat Molly walks
slowly across to the work surface. Its clear that she has been crying. Glancing towards the
phone lying nearby, she picks up an orange from the chopping board in front of her and starts
to cut a slice from it. There is a large tea cup beside the board. Sherlock frowns as the phone
continues to ring.)
SHERLOCK: Whats she doing?
MYCROFT: Shes making tea.
(Sherlock looks round to him. The countdown reaches 02:39.)
SHERLOCK: Yes, but why isnt she answering her phone?
JOHN (as Molly turns and opens a nearby cupboard door): You never answer your phone.
SHERLOCK (looking at the screen again): Yes, but its me calling.
(Taking a jar from the cupboard and closing the door again, Molly looks across to her ringing
phone as she starts to take off the lid. The countdown clock reaches 02:27 as her phone goes to
voicemail.)
MOLLYs VOICE (over speakers): Hi, this is Molly, at the dead centre of town.
(The boys all sigh in frustration and Sherlock turns away from the screen. Molly sounds like
shes trying to laugh but it comes across more like a tearful gasp.)
MOLLYs VOICE: Leave a message.
(The buzzing from a phone suggests that Eurus has terminated the call. Sherlock runs his hand
over his mouth.)
EURUS (over speakers): Okay, okay. Just one more time.
(The speed dial can be heard dialling out. Sherlock draws in a long breath through his nose as
Mollys phone starts to ring again. The countdown is at 02:12. John shuffles on the spot, staring
intensely at the screen.)
JOHN (quietly, tightly): Come on, Molly, pick up. Just bloody pick up.
(Now squeezing the juice from the slice of orange into the tea cup, Molly looks across to her
phone. After a moment, looking exasperated, she dumps the orange down onto the chopping
board, picks up a tea towel and wipes her fingers on it and then, sniffing, walks over to the
phone. Seeing that the caller is again identified as Sherlock, her hand hesitates momentarily as
she reaches for the phone but then she picks it up. She holds it in front of her, looking at the
screen.
In the coffin room, Sherlock is holding the pistol in both hands and has lowered his forehead
onto the top of it. He lifts his head when Molly finally answers.)
MOLLY (over speakers): Hello, Sherlock. Is this urgent, cause Im not having a good day.
SHERLOCK (rapidly): Molly, I just want you to do something very easy for me, and not ask why.

614
MOLLY (sighing in exasperation): Oh, God. Is this one of your stupid games?
SHERLOCK: No, its not a game. I ... need you to help me.
MOLLY: Look, Im not at the lab.
SHERLOCK: Its not about that.
MOLLY (back at the other end of the worktop and fiddling with the stuff on the counter): Well,
quickly, then.
(Sherlock blinks rapidly and bites his lips.)
MOLLY (exasperated): Sherlock? What is it? What do you want?
(In her office, Eurus aims the remote control towards the side screens and presses it. The lights
in the coffin room turn red and Jims face appears on the screen, moving his mouth over-
exaggeratedly as he whispers harshly.)
JIM: Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tick.
SHERLOCK (as the lights turn white again and presumably the footage of the flat reappears on
the screen): Molly, please, without asking why, just say these words.
MOLLY (smiling a little, apparently intrigued): What words?
SHERLOCK (clearly): I love you.
(Mollys smile drops and she takes the phone from her ear. Sniffing, she looks down at the
screen and moves her thumb towards it ready to terminate the call.)
MOLLY: Leave me alone.
SHERLOCK (loudly, gesturing frantically towards the screen): Molly, no, please, no, dont hang
up! Do not hang up!
EURUS: Calmly, Sherlock, or I will finish her right now.
(The countdown clock ticks down to 01:08. Molly has raised the phone to her ear again.)
MOLLY: Why are you doing this to me? Why are you making fun of me?
SHERLOCK (quieter): Please, I swear, you just have to listen to me.
EURUS: Softer, Sherlock!
(Sherlock glances towards the speaker, then looks at the screen again. He raises his tone to
sound a little more friendly.)
SHERLOCK: Molly, this is for a case. Its ... its a sort of experiment.
MOLLY: Im not an experiment, Sherlock.
(Sherlocks eyes widen in panic.)
SHERLOCK: No, I know youre not an experiment. Youre my friend. Were friends. But ...
please. Just ... say those words for me.
MOLLY (her face full of pain): Please dont do this. Just ... just ... dont do it.
SHERLOCK (forcing a smile into his voice): Its very important. I cant say why, but I promise
you it is.
MOLLY: I cant say that. I cant ... I cant say that to you.
SHERLOCK (still smiling to make his voice sound friendly): Of course you can. Why cant you?
MOLLY: You know why.
SHERLOCK (his smile dropping in his puzzlement): No, I dont know why.
(Molly sighs heavily, sniffs and wipes a hand across her nose.)
MOLLY: Of course you do.
(The lights in the coffin room turn red and the red-hued image of Jim appears on the screen.
Sherlock screws up his eyes and lowers his head.)
JIM: Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tick-tick-tick ...
(Eurus presses the remote in her office and the lights turn white again. Sherlock raises his head
and closes his eyes again for a brief moment.)
SHERLOCK: Please, just say it. (He blinks rapidly.)
MOLLY (with a sigh in her voice): I cant. Not to you.
SHERLOCK: Why?
MOLLY (her voice breaking): Because ... (she looks down) ... because its true.
(Her voice becomes an almost silent whisper.)
MOLLY: Because ... its ... (she takes a breath and starts to cry) ... true, Sherlock.
(Behind him, John lowers his head and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Mycrofts
head also drops. Sherlock stares at the screen wide-eyed.)
MOLLY (weeping, her voice dropping to a whisper by the end): Its always been true.
(Sherlocks face straightens and he looks at the screen emotionlessly.)
SHERLOCK: Well, if its true, just say it anyway.
(Molly laughs in disbelief and heaves a heavy sigh.)
MOLLY: You bastard.
SHERLOCK (firmly): Say it anyway.

615
(He stares intensely at the screen but his face turns to shock when she speaks.)
MOLLY: You say it. Go on. You say it first.
(He almost turns to look at John for an explanation, but turns back to the screen, frowning,
blinking and squinting in confusion.)
SHERLOCK: What?
MOLLY (flatly): Say it. (More softly) Say it like you mean it.
(Startled, he looks up towards the nearby camera. Eurus leans forward in the office.)
EURUS: Final thirty seconds.
(The countdown on the screen drops from 00:31 and continues downwards. Mycroft, his head
raised again, opens his mouth but cant find the words. He shakes his head and half steps
forward, breathing out loudly. Sherlock faces the screen, his eyes closed. He takes a breath,
summoning the strength to say the words.)
SHERLOCK (slowly, hesitantly): I-I ...
(Molly has her eyes closed against her tears. She brings up her free hand to the side of her face
where shes holding the phone. Opening her eyes for a moment, she shuts them again and
moves her free hand around to cup the one which is holding the phone to her ear. Sherlock has
his head lowered but then raises it.)
SHERLOCK: I love you.
(He opens his eyes and looks towards the screen. Molly sighs softly and smiles a little, bringing
the thumb of her top hand round to press it against her mouth. Sherlock stares at the screen.)
SHERLOCK (more softly): I love you.
(Molly closes her eyes again for a moment and then brings the phone round to look at its
screen. Sherlock looks at the wallscreen anxiously, perhaps worried that shes going to hang
up.)
SHERLOCK: Molly?
(The countdown reaches 00.13. Molly brings her hand round towards the screen. It looks as if
she is about to hang up as she lifts the phone closer to her mouth. Sherlock steps closer to the
screen, his expression frantic.)
SHERLOCK: Molly, please.
(Gazing into the distance and holding the phone in both hands, Molly rubs a finger across her
mouth. John stares towards the screen in dread. He is trembling slightly. Mycroft takes another
step towards the screen, his eyes wide and his mouth open as he breathes heavily. Molly takes
her finger from her mouth and takes in a breath. With her mouth almost touching the phone,
she speaks softly.)
MOLLY: I love you.
(Sherlock gasps and rears back from the screen as the countdown clock beeps several times to
signify that it has stopped. Both John and Mycroft heave out noisy sighs of relief. Sherlock also
sighs and buries his head in both hands, bending forward. In her kitchen, Molly closes her eyes.
In the coffin room the countdown has stopped at 00:02. One of the cameras in the kitchen
shows Molly putting the phone down and raising both hands to her mouth.
Sherlock lifts his head and straightens up, sighing out loudly and looking exhausted. Mycroft
walks towards him.)
MYCROFT: Sherlock, however hard that was ...
SHERLOCK (tiredly, looking towards the camera on the wall): Eurus, I won. I won.
(She doesnt say anything.)
SHERLOCK (more strongly): Come on, play fair. The girl on the plane: I need to talk to her.
(In her office, Eurus looks a little emotional for the first time, though whether shes genuinely
feeling any emotion is anyones guess at this moment.)
SHERLOCK: I won. I saved Molly Hooper.
(Eurus makes a disparaging sound and reappears on the screen in front of him.)
EURUS: Saved her? From what? Oh, do be sensible. There were no explosives in her little
house. Why would I be so clumsy? You didnt win. You lost.
(Sherlock frowns a little.)
EURUS: Look what you did to her. Look what you did to yourself.
(Sherlock turns away.)
EURUS: All those complicated little emotions. I lost count. Emotional context, Sherlock. It
destroys you every time.
(He walks past the coffin, noisily dropping the pistol down beside it and continuing on towards
the lid propped up against the wall. Eurus sits back in her chair.)
EURUS: Now, please, pull yourself together. I need you at peak efficiency. The next one isnt
going to be so easy.

616
(One of the doors slides open. Mycroft turns to look at it.)

EURUS: In your own time.
(The screen turns to the pouring water. Sherlock picks up the lid and turns and walks towards
the coffin while Mycroft and John head for the open door. Sherlock puts the lid into place on top
of the coffin while the others turn to watch him. He rests his hand on the top and slowly draws
his hand across towards him, his eyes lowered as he breathes out what is almost a quiet sob.)
JOHN: Sherlock?
(Pulling his hand across the top of the lid, Sherlock turns towards the coffin, lifting his other
hand to unbutton his jacket.)
SHERLOCK: No. No.
(His face starts to twist with rage and he pulls back his right arm and smashes it with all his
strength down onto the lid, shattering it. He draws back his hand and then slams both fists
down onto the lid again and again, then seizes the side of the coffin and lifts the whole thing
before smashing it down repeatedly on top of the trestles, disintegrating the box into pieces
while he cries out over and over again in rage, grief and frustration. Eventually he lets out a
long anguished scream which echoes upwards into the chimney and up into the air above the
prison. The rain has arrived and pours downwards, while lightning flashes and thunder
rumbles.)
Later, John walks across the room, avoiding all the splintered wood lying around, and bends
down to pick up the pistol from the floor. Straightening up, he clears his throat softly and walks
across to where Sherlock is sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. His legs are bent
up in front of him and his wrists rest on the tops of his knees. His head is lowered and he is
staring at the floor in front of him, breathing heavily with a distressed look on his face. Mycroft
is standing and watching them from just outside the open door and the nearby screen is still
showing pouring water. John stops a few paces in front of his friend.
JOHN (quietly but firmly): Look, I know this is difficult and I know youre being tortured, but
you have got to keep it together.
SHERLOCK (not lifting his head): This isnt torture; this is vivisection. Were experiencing
science from the perspective of lab rats.
(He breathes out loudly and raises his head to rest it against the wall behind him and gazes
upwards. Mycroft watches nearby, looking concerned. Sherlock glances in his direction without
turning his head, then swallows and looks up at John.)
SHERLOCK: Soldiers?
JOHN (nodding): Soldiers.
(He bends down and holds out his right hand to Sherlock, who takes it with his own right hand.
John pulls him to his feet. Sherlock buttons his jacket and John blows out a breath as they walk
side-by-side to the doorway, John holding out the pistol and Sherlock taking it as they go. Just
as they reach the doorway the lights turn red and Jims voice comes over the speakers.)
JIM: Tick-tock, tickets please!
(This time theres no corridor and the doorway leads directly into another grey-walled room.
The lights in both rooms turn white again. Sherlocks eyes flick around the new room. Again
theres no window and each of the four walls has a screen against it although these are on
stands currently showing pouring water. There is nothing else in the room. The floor is mostly
grey apart from a large white panel in the centre.)
SHERLOCK: Hey, sis, dont mean to complain but this ones empty. What happened? Did you
run out of ideas?
(The screens flicker on and show Eurus still sitting in the governors office.)
EURUS: Its not empty, Sherlock. Youve still got the gun, havent you? I told you youd need it,
because only two can play the next game. Just two of you go on from here; your choice. (She
smiles brightly into the camera.) Its make-your-mind-up time. Whose help do you need the
most John or Mycroft?
(Mycroft frowns round at John, who sighs and turns away.)
EURUS: Its an elimination round. You choose one and kill the other. You have to choose family
or friend. Mycroft or John Watson?
(Sherlock turns round to face the others. The lights turn red and Jim appears on the screens,
tilting his head from one side to the other as he whispers loudly through his teeth.)
JIM: Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick.
(He stops and closes his mouth.)
MYCROFT: Eurus, enough!
(The lights turn white and shes back.)

617
EURUS (mildly): Not yet, I think. (She smiles.) But nearly. Remember, theres a plane in the
sky, and its not going to land.
(Mycroft rubs his hands over his face and then lowers them and steps forward towards
Sherlock.)
MYCROFT: Well?
SHERLOCK: Well, what?
MYCROFT: Were not actually going to discuss this, are we?
(He turns his head towards John.)
MYCROFT: Im sorry, Doctor Watson. Youre a fine man in many respects.
(He turns back to Sherlock.)
MYCROFT: Make your goodbyes and shoot him.
(He looks at his brother for a couple of seconds, then points towards John and raises his voice.)
MYCROFT: Shoot him!
JOHN (walking closer to him): What?
(Mycroft glances at him for a brief moment and then turns back to his brother.)
MYCROFT: Shoot Doctor Watson. Theres no question who has to continue from here. Its us;
you and me. Whatever lies ahead requires brainpower, Sherlock, not sentiment. Dont prolong
his agony; shoot him.
JOHN: Do I get a say in this?
MYCROFT (turning to him): Today, we are soldiers. Soldiers die for their country.
(Sherlock watches him closely as he continues.)
MYCROFT: I regret, Doctor Watson, that privilege is now yours.
(John glares towards him, his jaw clenched.)
JOHN: Shit.
(He turns his head to Sherlock.)
JOHN: Hes right.
(Sherlock turns to him as John turns his body round to face him.)
JOHN: He is, in fact, right.
MYCROFT (looking at John but speaking to Sherlock): Make it swift. No need to prolong his
agony. Get it over with ... (he turns his head to his brother) ... and we can get to work.
(John shifts on the spot and straightens up, bracing himself. Sherlock lowers his head and half-
turns away. Mycroft scoffs at the sight, then starts to chuckle sarcastically.)
MYCROFT: God! (He puts his hands in his trouser pockets, grinning.) I should have expected
this. (His smile drops.) Pathetic. You always were the slow one ...
(Sherlock tilts one eyebrow, not meeting his brothers eyes.)
MYCROFT: ... the idiot. Thats why Ive always despised you. You shame us all. You shame the
family name. Now, for once in your life, do the right thing. (He tilts his head towards John.) Put
this stupid little man out of all our misery.
(John bites his lips, not looking towards Sherlock.)
MYCROFT: Shoot him.
SHERLOCK (quietly, his head still turned away): Stop it.
MYCROFT: Look at him. What is he?
(John, still facing Sherlock, sighs heavily, his gaze sad and distant.)
MYCROFT: Nothing more than a distraction; a little scrap of ordinariness for you to impress, to
dazzle with your cleverness. Youll find another.
SHERLOCK (not looking at him, his voice low): Please, for Gods sake, just stop it.
MYCROFT: Why?
SHERLOCK (slowly turning towards him): Because, on balance, even your Lady Bracknell was
more convincing.
(Mycroft blinks and lifts his head, looking a little disappointed. Sherlock turns his head towards
John but doesnt look at him.)
SHERLOCK (his voice still low): Ignore everything he just said. Hes being kind. Hes trying to
make it easy for me to kill him.
(He looks towards John but John has already turned his head to Mycroft. Offscreen, Mycroft has
apparently reached up to smooth his hair a little but now lowers his hand and smiles ruefully at
his brother.)
SHERLOCK: Which is why this is going to be so much harder.
(He turns to face Mycroft and raises the gun, pointing it at him. On the screen behind him,
Eurus shows a trace of emotion for the first time, her eyes widening and her mouth open a
little. Mycroft smiles at him.)
MYCROFT: You said you liked my Lady Bracknell.

618
JOHN (in a whisper): Sherlock. Dont.

MYCROFT (turning to look at him): Its not your decision, Doctor Watson.
(John looks at him. Mycroft turns back to his brother.)
MYCROFT: Not in the face, though, please. Ive promised my brain to the Royal Society.
(Behind Sherlock, Eurus leans closer to the camera, looking concerned. Sherlock closes his eyes
for a moment, then opens them again.)
SHERLOCK: Where would you suggest?
MYCROFT: Well ... (he starts doing up the top button of his shirt) ... I suppose there is a heart
somewhere inside me. (He looks down and straightens his tie.) I dont imagine its much of a
target but ...
(Sherlocks face is anguished but he smiles a little, and Eurus briefly raises her eyes away from
the camera for the first time.)
MYCROFT (lowering his hands and looking directly at Sherlock): ... why dont we try for that?
(John walks to his side and holds out a hand towards Sherlock.)
JOHN (almost in a whisper): I wont allow this.
(He turns his head to Mycroft, who looks at him seriously.)
MYCROFT: This is my fault.
(He turns his eyes to Sherlock.)
MYCROFT: Moriarty.
SHERLOCK: Moriarty?
MYCROFT: Her Christmas treat: five minutes conversation with Jim Moriarty five years ago.
SHERLOCK: What did they discuss?
MYCROFT: Five minutes conversation ...
(Sherlock lowers the pistol a little and his expression suggests he already knows what his
brother is going to say. Mycroft pauses, then shrugs.)
MYCROFT: ... unsupervised.
(Johns mouth opens and he stumbles back a step. Mycroft looks down ruefully. As John
continues to back away, Sherlock sighs softly and raises the pistol again. Mycroft straightens up
and looks at him.)
MYCROFT: Goodbye, brother mine. No flowers ... (he puts his hands behind his back) ... by
request.
(Sherlock shifts his finger more firmly onto the trigger of the gun and takes aim. On the screen
behind him, Eurus speaks breathlessly, her eyes wide.)
EURUS: Jim Moriarty thought youd make this choice. He was so excited.
(The lights in the room turn red and Jim appears on the screen, speaking more softly than
previously.)
JIM: And here we are, at the end of the line. Holmes killing Holmes.
(Mycroft shifts uncomfortably on the spot while Sherlock looks at him with a determined gaze.
His eyes narrow slightly.)
JIM: This is where I get off.
(He smiles. The lights go white and Eurus is back on the screen. Sherlocks gaze is fixed on his
brother, his expression grim.)
SHERLOCK (tightly, through almost clenched teeth): Five minutes. It took her just five minutes
to do all of this to us.
(He turns his eyes towards John, who looks at him more closely. Sherlock returns his gaze to
his brother, then raises his eyebrows and shrugs, pressing his lips together for a moment before
lowering the gun and turning away.)
SHERLOCK (quietly): Well, not on my watch.
(Mycroft looks startled. John turns to face Sherlock, licking his lips.)
EURUS: What are you doing?
SHERLOCK (turning to face the others again): A moment ago, a brave man asked to be
remembered.
(Mycroft starts to look alarmed.)
SHERLOCK: Im remembering the governor.
(Holding the pistol in both hands, he lifts the muzzle and presses the end under his chin.)
SHERLOCK (calmly): Ten ...
(Eurus frowns.)
EURUS: No, no, Sherlock.
(John looks briefly to Mycroft then back to Sherlock.)
SHERLOCK: Nine ...
(Both of the others stare at Sherlock in horror.)

619
SHERLOCK: Eight ...

EURUS: You cant!
SHERLOCK: Seven ...
EURUS (urgently): You dont know about Redbeard yet.
(Sherlock has lowered his left hand, continuing to hold the muzzle under his chin with the
other.)
SHERLOCK: Six ...
EURUS (anxiously): Sherlock!
SHERLOCK: Five ...
EURUS (loudly, panicked): Sherlock, stop that at once!
(As she yells at him, a small dart whizzes out of a round hole in the wall and impacts the back
of Sherlocks head. He jolts and reaches his left hand round to it.)
SHERLOCK: Four ...
(Another dart shoots out into the back of Johns neck. He reaches round for it. Sherlock pulls
the dart from his own neck.)
SHERLOCK (more quietly): Three ...
(He looks at it, still holding the gun under his chin.)
SHERLOCK (weakly): Two ...
(And he slowly falls backwards, the pistol falling from his hand. His eyes slowly close as he falls,
and when he lands its as if he has fallen into thick black oil, which rises up around him and
envelops him until he disappears from view.)
Very brief flashbacks of young Sherlock running across the meadow, then a close-up of the
gravestone of Nemo Holmes and its impossible dates, then a fuzzy out-of-focus shot of
something round and dark blue, then of young Sherlock sitting in the graveyard reading a book,
then of Redbeard barking and running through the water at the beach, and young Sherlock
running towards him while his little sister stands nearby and watches. Fade to black.
GIRLs VOICE (offscreen): Hello?
(Lights come on and an overhead shot shows that Sherlock is in a very small rectangular room
with black walls and floor. Most of the room is taken up by a rectangular wooden table, about
six feet long and maybe three feet wide. There are chairs either side and a lit lantern is on the
floor. Sherlock is sprawled face down on top of the table. Some time since he was rendered
unconscious, someone has dressed him in his greatcoat. He starts to wake up.)
GIRLs VOICE (offscreen): Hello? Are you still there?
(Groaning, Sherlock pushes himself up onto his arms, putting one hand to the side of his head.
It seems that the girls voice is coming from an earpiece rather than from speakers in the
room.)
SHERLOCK (weakly): Yes. Yeah; no, Im-Im still here. Im here.
(On the plane, the girl is sitting on the floor outside the open door of one of the toilets.)
GIRL (into phone, still sounding upset and tearful): You went away. You said youd help me and
you went away.
SHERLOCK (turning onto one elbow, his other hand still at his ear): Yes, I know. Well, Im sorry
about that. We-we-we must have got cut off. Um ...
(He looks around the room, then screws up his eyes and shakes his head hard, probably trying
to clear his mind of the effects of the sedative. He starts to sit up.)
SHERLOCK: How-how-how long was I away?
GIRL: Hours. Hours and hours. Why dont grown-ups tell the truth?
SHERLOCK (his hand now lowered from his ear): No, I-I am telling the truth. You can trust me.
GIRL: Where did you go?
(Sherlock looks up. There is a large metal grille in the ceiling and the night sky can be seen
above it. Although the sky is mostly cloudy, part of it is clear and shows a full moon.)
SHERLOCK (sliding his legs around to the side of the table): Im not completely sure.
(He sits on the edge of the table and looks around at the walls, then slowly stands.)
SHERLOCK: Um, now, I tell you what. You-youve got to be really, really brave for me.
(He leans down and picks up the lantern from the floor. He keeps talking as he walks across to
one of the walls, holding up the lantern.)
SHERLOCK: Can you go to the front of the plane? Can you do that?
GIRL: The front?
SHERLOCK: Yes.

620
(The light from the lantern shows that many pictures have been stuck to the walls. All of the
nearby ones are large photographs of young Sherlock. Some of them have had part of the
photo ripped off.)
SHERLOCK: Thats right; the front.
GIRL: You mean where the driver is?
SHERLOCK (continuing to walk around the room, shining the lantern on the many photos): Yes,
thats it.
GIRL: Okay. (She starts to get up from the floor.) Im going.
(She starts to walk down the aisle, pausing and looking down at the unconscious flight
attendant lying in her way. Sherlock continues looking at the photos. Some of them are of
Sherlock at older ages than his young pirate self and a few pictures are of other members of the
Holmes family.)
SHERLOCK: Are you there yet?
(Its not the girl who replies but John, who jerks awake somewhere dark. The wall behind him is
bare rock.)
JOHN: Yeah, Im here.
(He stands up abruptly when he realises that hes sitting in water up to his waist.)
SHERLOCK: John!
JOHN (his voice coming from Sherlocks earpiece): Yeah.
SHERLOCK: Where are you?
JOHN: I dont know. Ive just woken up. Where are you?
SHERLOCK: Im in another cell. I just spoke to the girl on the plane again. Weve been out for
hours.
JOHN: What, shes still up there?
SHERLOCK: Yes. (His voice comes over Johns earpiece.) The plane will keep flying until it runs
out of fuel.
(John looks around and raises his head to look upwards.)
SHERLOCK: Is Mycroft with you?
JOHN: I have no idea. I can hardly see anything. (He calls out.) Mycroft? Mycroft?
(Sherlock runs his hand over his face, looking worried when theres no reply.)
SHERLOCK: Are you okay?
JOHN: Yeah.
SHERLOCK: All right. Well, just keep exploring. Tell me anything you can about where you are.
(As Sherlock continues walking around the room and looking at the photos, John turns and
squints through the darkness behind him.)
JOHN: The walls are ... (he puts a hand on the wall and feels it) ... rough. Theyre rock, I guess.
SHERLOCK: What are you standing on?
JOHN (looking down): Uh, stone, I think. But listen: theres about two feet of water.
(He tries to lift one of his feet, but then feels resistance as the camera closes in towards his foot
under the water and shows whats causing the resistance.)
JOHN: Chains. (He shakes his head.) Yeah, my feet are chained up. I can feel something.
(He bends down and moves his hand blindly through the water until his fingers touch something
floating there. Clasping his hand around what hes found, he straightens up and runs the fingers
of his other hand over his discovery.)
JOHN: Bones, Sherlock.
(Sherlock sees something under the table and turns to look at it.)
JOHN: There are bones in here.
(Sherlock kneels down, puts the lantern onto the floor and reaches towards the round ceramic
bowl under the table.)
SHERLOCK: What kind of bones?
JOHN: Uh, I dunno. S-small.
(Sherlock lifts up the bowl and holds it in both hands as he looks at it in shock. Painted on the
side of the bowl is the word Redbeard. Clearly this is a dogs water bowl.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Redbeard.
(He closes his eyes.)
GIRLs VOICE (in his earpiece): Whos Redbeard?
(Sherlock jolts, sinking his face into one hand as he replies to her.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, hello. Are you at the front of the plane now?
GIRL (in the flight deck, shaking the arm of the unconscious pilot): Yeah. I still cant wake the
driver up.

621
(In front of the pilot the control column is jerking around under its automatic controls, and an
automated voice repeatedly calls out warnings.)
SHERLOCK (wiping the corner of one eye): Thats all right. What can you see now?
GIRL (looking through the front windshield): I can see a river. (She steps over the co-pilot lying
on the floor to get closer to the front.) And theres-theres-theres a big wheel.
SHERLOCK: All right. Well, you and I are going to have to drive this plane together. (He slowly
stands, looking up towards the sky.) Just you and me.
GIRL (nervously): We are?
SHERLOCK (smiling so as to sound confident): Yeah, theres nothing to it. We just need to get
in touch with some people on the ground.
(He bends down to pick up the lantern.)
SHERLOCK: Now, um, can you see anything that looks like a radio?
(The girl, now sitting in the co-pilots seat, looks around at all the dials and switches above her
head. Alarms continue to beep and the automated warnings continue to sound.)
GIRL: No.
SHERLOCK: Thats all right. Well, we ... keep looking. Weve got plenty of time.
(In the flight deck more alarms sound and the automated voice calls out more warnings. The
plane jolts violently and the girl screams.)
SHERLOCK: Whats wrong?
GIRL: The whole planes shaking.
(Sherlock grimaces but keeps his voice soothing. He is walking around the room as he talks.)
SHERLOCK: Its just turbulence. Its nothing to worry about.
GIRL: My ears hurt.
SHERLOCK: Does the river look like its getting closer?
GIRL: A-a little bit.
SHERLOCK: All right, then. That means youre nearly home.
(He puts his hand to his head.)
JOHN (over earpiece): Sherlock?
(High above Johns head, clouds in the night sky drift past and the full moon comes into view.
Its light now shows Johns location more clearly. He stares upwards.)
JOHN: Im in a well. Thats where I am; Im in the bottom of a well.
(Sherlock turns, frowning.)
SHERLOCK: Why would there be a well in Sherrinford?
(He raises the lantern and looks more closely at the array of photographs on the wall in front of
him.)
SHERLOCK: Why is there a draught?
(He zooms in on where two panels of the wall have a small gap between them and a photo of a
teenage Sherlock stuck across the gap is fluttering slightly. Frowning, he lowers his gaze to the
bottom of the wall. Theres a small gap between the wall and the floor.)
SHERLOCK: Walls dont contract after youve painted them.
(He lifts his eyes.)
SHERLOCK (softly, intensely): Not real ones.
(Offscreen, he has put the lantern onto the floor. Now he raises both hands and slams them
hard against the wall. The entire wall falls outwards and drops to the ground outside. In front of
him is a very familiar burnt-out house. He stares at it wide-eyed.)
SHERLOCK: Im home. Musgrave Hall.
EURUS (over his earpiece): Me and Jim Moriarty, we got on like a house on fire ...
(Sherlock bends and picks up the lantern and walks out of the room. Behind him the other
three walls fall out and crash to the ground.)
EURUS: ... which reminded me of home.
SHERLOCK (walking towards the house): Yeah, its just an old building. I dont care. The plane;
tell me about the plane NOW!
EURUS (over earpiece): Sweet Jim. He was never very interested in being alive, especially if he
could make more trouble being dead.
SHERLOCK: Yeah, still not interested. The plane!
EURUS: You knew hed take his revenge. His revenge apparently is me.
SHERLOCK (reaching the front door, opening it and going inside): Eurus, let me speak to the
little girl on the plane and Ill play any game you like.
EURUS (slowly, precisely): First find Redbeard.

622
(Beside the stairs in the hallway a screen is standing on top of a bureau or low cupboard which
is covered with a sheet. The image of water is pouring down the screen but now is replaced by
Eurus face looking into the camera. The area behind her is dark.)
EURUS: Im letting the water in now. You dont want me to drown another one of your pets, do
you? At long last, Sherlock Holmes, its time to solve the Musgrave ritual.
(Sherlock stumbles back from the screen.)
EURUS: Your very first case! And the final problem. (Her voice drops to a whisper.) Oh. Bye-
bye.
(In the well, water is pouring down from the top.)
JOHN: Sherlock?
(Eurus voice sings from his earpiece.)
EURUS VOICE: I that am lost / Oh, who will find me / Deep down below ...
JOHN: Sherlock!
EURUS VOICE: The old beech tree?
(Perhaps hearing Johns voice from nearby as well as over his earpiece, Sherlock walks across
the hall and opens the door to a room.)
EURUS VOICE: Help succour me now ...
(Going into the room, he stares at what he sees.)
SHERLOCK: John.
EURUS VOICE: The East winds blow ...
(Putting the lantern on the floor he hurries across the room and stares in shock at the screen on
the wall. It shows that a camera is set partway up the well and is looking downwards as the
water pours down onto his friend.)
SHERLOCK: John. (Shouting) John? Can you hear me? John!
EURUS VOICE: Sixteen by six, brother, and under we go ...
(In the flight deck of the plane, the girl screams again as the plane continues to shake
violently.)
GIRL: Help me! Help me, please!
JOHN (from the screen): Sherlock!
(Sherlock had his hand to his earpiece as the girl spoke but now he lowers it, staring intensely
at the screen.)
EURUS VOICE: Be not afraid ...
(Her song continues as the boys talk.)
SHERLOCK: John.
JOHN (loudly over the sound of the water pouring down): Yeah, its flooding. The well is
flooding.
(We see that the image on the screen is being sent to it from a projector behind Sherlock, set
up on a stand amidst all the fallen stonework.)
SHERLOCK (gesturing towards the screen even though he knows that John probably cant see
him): Try as long as possible not to drown.
JOHN (putting his finger to his earpiece, finding it hard to hear over the sound of the water and
Eurus singing): What?
SHERLOCK (still gesturing pointlessly): Im going to find you. I am finding you!
JOHN (loudly): Well, hurry up, please, because I dont have long!
(The girl on the plane screams again as it begins to bank hard to the right.)
GIRL: Its leaning over, the whole plane!
(Sherlock glances behind him to the door, then turns towards the screen again and claps his
hand over his mouth, desperately trying to work out who to try and save first. In the well, John
turns and tries to get handholds on the rocks lining it in an attempt to hold himself above the
rising water. He lifts his left leg as high as it will go to try to climb up the wall a little but the
chain tugs at his foot or his fingers slide off the slippery stones and he falls backwards and
into the water with a loud cry.
In the plane the girl stares in terror out of the windscreen.
Sherlock turns and runs out into the hall as his sister continues to sing.)
SHERLOCK: Eurus, you said the answers in the song ...
(He turns to the screen in the hall. Offscreen, she stops singing.)
SHERLOCK: ... but I went through the song line by line all those years ago ...
(Brief cut-away of young pirate Sherlock searching in the meadow.)
SHERLOCK: ... and I found nothing. I couldnt find anything. And there-there was a beech tree
in the grounds and I dug.
(Brief cut-away to young Sherlock in the meadow, carrying a spade.)

623
SHERLOCK: I dug and dug and dug and dug. Sixteen feet by six; sixteen yards; sixteen metres
and I found nothing. No-one.
JOHN (over earpiece): Sherlock?
EURUS (on the screen): It was a clever little puzzle, wasnt it? So why couldnt you work it out,
Sherlock?
(Sherlock raises both hands to cover his mouth.)
JOHN (over earpiece): Sherlock? Theres something you need to know.
(Sherlock lowers his hands, breathing heavily.)
EURUS: Emotional context. And he-e-e-e-re it comes.
JOHN: Sherlock? (Hes standing up in the water staring in anguish at something we cant yet
see.) The bones I found.
SHERLOCK (turning and walking back into the nearby room to look at the other screen): Yes?
Theyre dogs bones. Thats Redbeard.
JOHN: Mycrofts been lying to you; to both of us.
JOHN: Theyre not dogs bones.
EURUS: Remember Daddys allergy? What was he allergic to?
(Sherlock stares towards the screen, which is presumably now showing her rather than John.)
EURUS: What would he never let you have all those times you begged? Well, hed never let you
have a dog.
(Inside Sherlocks mind, a dog barks. He screws his eyes shut and sees his younger self running
through the shallows on the beach.)
YOUNG SHERLOCKs VOICE (offscreen): Come on, Redbeard!
(Nearby, young Eurus runs around, smiling. In one hand she has a plastic toy aeroplane and
she holds it up and flies it through the air as she goes.)
ADULT EURUS (offscreen): What a funny little memory, Sherlock.
(Little Eurus runs offscreen, revealing the Irish setter sitting on the pebbles with a purple
bandana tied around its neck. Some distance away, young Sherlock, wearing his yellow jumper,
raises his plastic sword and swoops it downwards, smiling towards his dog.)
ADULT EURUS (offscreen): You were upset ...
(Young Eurus runs around behind the dog.)
ADULT EURUS (offscreen): ... so you told yourself a better story.
(Still clutching her toy, young Eurus continues trotting around in a circle.)
ADULT EURUS (offscreen, emphasising each word): ... but we never had a dog.
(Eurus runs across in front of Redbeard, briefly obscuring him from our view. As she trots away,
the Irish setter has gone. In its place a young boy is kneeling on the beach. The same age as
young Sherlock, he has red hair and he is wearing a thick checked shirt and has the purple
bandana tied around his neck. He is wearing a black plastic eyepatch over one eye. He stands
up, wielding his own plastic sword. Young Sherlock turns to look at him. As young Mycroft
continues trying to skim pebbles on the stepping stones some distance away, the red-headed
boy runs towards Sherlock, who turns and trots away across the beach with the other boy
following him. Little Eurus turns to watch them, and the red-headed boy stops and turns back to
her. They look at each other for a long moment. There is no friendliness in their expressions.
In the well, John lifts what hes holding in both hands. Its a small human skull.
In the house, Sherlock stares downwards towards the floor in front of him.)
SHERLOCK (in a whisper): Victor.
EURUS (softly, on the screen): Now its coming.
SHERLOCK (softly, his voice shaking): Victor Trevor.
(He frowns a little as the memories keep coming. On the beach the two boys trot away
together. Young Eurus turns her head away, a sad look on her face.)
SHERLOCK: We played pirates. I was Yellowbeard and he was ...
(Eurus looks into the screen, her mouth slightly open and an expectant look on her face.
Sherlock raises his tear-filled eyes to her.)
SHERLOCK: ... he was Redbeard.
EURUS: You were inseparable. But I wanted to play too.
(Sherlock looks away as he begins to realise what started his sisters behaviour. Eventually he
sighs and lowers his head, closing his eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Oh. Oh God.
(He cries softly.)
SHERLOCK: What ... (he pulls in several breaths before he can continue) ... what did you do?

624
EURUS (singing softly, and more slowly than usual): I that am lost / Oh, who will find me /
Deep down below / The old beech tree?
(During the last line of her song, we cut away to young Victor, sopping wet and almost up to his
waist in water, standing at the bottom of the well. His toy sword is floating beside him. He
stares upwards and calls out desperately.)
VICTOR: Please let me out! Please, someone help me! Please.
(The camera pulls upwards, leaving him lost and abandoned at the bottom of the well.
In the house, adult Sherlock gazes downwards, lost in grief.
Young Sherlock walks across the meadow, disconsolate at the loss of his friend.
Adult Sherlock hears his younger self.)
YOUNG SHERLOCK (calling out worriedly offscreen): Come on, Redbeard!
(Lights seem to flicker across adult Sherlocks face.
Young Sherlock continues searching in the meadow, his face anguished.
Adult Sherlock stands in the hall, surrounded by darkness and lost in memories.
Young Sherlock now seems to be in the same position, surrounded by darkness, his face sad.
Adult Sherlock gazes tearfully across the hall.
Young Sherlock, tears pouring down his face, softly speaks the name of his best friend, but its
his adult voice that we hear.)
SHERLOCKs VOICE (in a whisper): Victor.
(Flashback to a long view of the gently rippling water in the swimming pool where Sherlock and
Jim had their stand-off at the end of the The Great Game.)
EURUS (softly, offscreen): Deep waters, Sherlock, all your life.
(Sherlocks distraught face is briefly overlaid with dark blue rippling water.)
EURUS (softly, offscreen): In all your dreams.
(Flashback to Victorian Holmes lying on the rocky ledge while the Reichenbach Falls thunder
downwards behind him.)
EURUS (softly, offscreen): Deep waters.
(In the hall, Sherlock stares ahead of himself, his face covered with tears.)
SHERLOCK (devastated): You killed him.
(Dark rippling water overlays his face and for a moment a merged image of adult and young
Sherlock stares sadly across the hall with tears on his face.
Adult Sherlock lifts his head, looking towards the screen.)
SHERLOCK: You killed my best friend.
EURUS (quietly but with a hint of anger in her voice): I never had a best friend. I had no-one.
(Sherlock raises his head towards the ceiling.
In the well, John struggles to keep his footing, the water now up to the top of his chest as more
pours down.
Sherlock gazes upwards, his face anguished. He closes his eyes.
Flashback to little Eurus running around on the beach, flying her toy aeroplane beside her. Adult
Sherlock stands nearby watching her. Smiling, she runs around him with her plane. She looks
up at him.)
YOUNG EURUS (offscreen): Play with me, Sherlock! Play with me!
(She continues to run around him.)
ADULT EURUS (on the screen, bitterly): No-one.
(In the hall, adult Sherlock lowers his head, his eyes still closed.
Young Sherlock runs across the graveyard towards the house. The camera pans across the
gravestone of Nemo Holmes and its impossible dates.)
EURUS (offscreen, in a whisper): No-one.
(The camera focuses in on the gravestone and writing overlays the top line.
NEMO
n. [nee-moh]
Latin - no one, nobody
In the hall, Sherlock bites his lip and raises his head, looking towards the screen with
determination.)
SHERLOCK (more strongly): Okay. Okay, lets play.
(He turns and picks up the lantern from the floor and runs outside, hurrying around the side of
the house, through an open gate and into the graveyard at the back of the house. As he runs
around, bending down and shining his light closely onto various gravestones, the little girls
voice comes over his earpiece.)
GIRL (offscreen): Hello? Are you there?

625
SHERLOCK: Need your help. Im trying to solve a puzzle.

GIRL (offscreen): But what about the plane?
SHERLOCK: Well, the puzzle will save the plane.
(He runs to another gravestone and looks at the inscription. The bottom two lines read 1818 /
Aged 24 and 26 Years.)
SHERLOCK: The wrong dates. She used the wrong dates on the gravestones as the key to the
cipher ... (he runs to shine the lantern on Nemo Holmes gravestone) ... and the cipher was the
song.
JOHN (shouting above the noise of the rising water): Is this strictly relevant?
SHERLOCK: Yes, it is. Ill be with you in a minute.
(He puts the lantern on the ground and focuses in on another, very old and worn, gravestone
which gives dates of 134 - 1719. The numbers 134 and 1719 appear in the air in front of
his eyes. He looks across to other gravestones, mentally pulling the numbers from each of
them, including those from Nemo Holmes grave, and putting them beside the first set until he
has a long string of numbers in front of him. Rubbing his hands over his nose and mouth, he
lowers them and breathes in sharply.)
GIRL (from the planes flight deck): The lights are getting closer.
SHERLOCK (gesturing dismissively to one side): Hush, now. Working.
(The words of Eurus song appear in front of his eyes. Two verses side by side read
I that am lost, oh who will find me?

Deep down below the old beech tree
Help succour me now the east winds blow
Sixteen by six, brother, and under we go!
Without your love, hell be gone before

Save pity for strangers, show love the door.
My soul seek the shade of my willows bloom
Inside, brother mine -
Let Death make a room.
Two further verses are underneath but in much smaller print. According to this person on Tumblr,
who may have a better quality recording than me, they read
Be not afraid to walk in the shade

Save one, save all, come try!
My steps - five by seven
Life is closer to Heaven
Look down, with dark gaze, from on high.
Before he was gone - right back over my (h)ill

Who now will find him?
Why, nobody will
Doom shall I bring to him, I that am queen
Lost forever, nine by nineteen.
SHERLOCK: Lets number the words of the song.

(The row of numbers whooshes away and individual numbers appear above each word in the
four verses. Sherlock screws his eyes shut. The words and their accompanying numbers start to
roll round in his mind.)
SHERLOCK: Then rearrange the numbered words to match the sequence on the gravestones.
(The words and numbers spin around in front of him, some of them stopping briefly in front of
his eyes before spinning on. The sequences which stop read
1 3 4
I am lost
17 19
Help me
28

626
brother
Sherlocks head snaps up and he opens his eyes with a gasp. He looks at the verses and the
numbered words in front of him and the majority of the letters and their accompanying
numbers shatter and the fragments fall away to the ground. He breathes heavily, looking at the
remaining words floating in the air, then reaches out and starts swiping each word out of the air
in the correct order, saying each word as he removes it. [Transcribers note: for this to work,
we have to assume that the second large verse is actually the fourth verse of the song.])
SHERLOCK: I ... am ... lost ... Help ... me ... brother ... Save ... My ... Life ... Before ... my ...
Doom.
(He continues swiping the words away.)
SHERLOCK: I ... am ... Lost ... Without ... your ... love ... Save ... My ... soul ... seek ... my ...
room.
(He stops dead on the last word, staring up as the last three phrases float in front of him, the
most prominent being the final three words, Seek my room. He looks past them towards the
house.)
SHERLOCK (in a whisper, wide-eyed): Oh God.
(Grabbing the lantern he races back towards the house.
In the well, John stares upwards as the water continues to rise.
In the plane, the girl cries out panic-stricken.)
GIRL: Were going to crash! Im going to die!
(She screams.
John grunts with effort, his arms under the water and apparently tugging at the chains around
his feet.
Sherlock races through the gateway beside the house, runs round the side to the front and then
bursts through the front door, then runs up the stairs.)
SHERLOCK: I think its time you told me your real name.
GIRL (on the plane): Im not allowed to tell my name to strangers.
(Sherlock reaches a closed door on the landing and stops in front of it.)
SHERLOCK (quietly): But Im not a stranger, am I?
(He opens the door and, from the other side, we see him open the door to the flight deck of the
plane and step inside. He stares intensely at what he sees.)
SHERLOCK: Im your brother.
(The girl turns around in the co-pilots seat and looks at him. But Sherlock isnt on the flight
deck and there is no little girl. Hes in a burnt-out bedroom in his family home and he lowers
the lantern to the floor and holds out his other hand towards the figure in front of him.)
SHERLOCK (reassuringly): Im here, Eurus.
(Still wearing the clothes she wore in Sherrinford, Eurus is sitting on the floor with her knees
drawn up in front of her and her hands wrapped around them. Her eyes are closed.
The footage of the girl on the plane goes into fast reverse back through all the scenes weve
seen of her until shes back in her seat, looking uneasily out of the window. The footage rapidly
reverses even further and slows down to the very first moment where, in reverse of what we
first saw, we see a close-up of her eye closing.
Flashback of young Eurus running around the beach with her toy aeroplane.
In her bedroom, adult Eurus keeps her eyes closed and speaks with a child-like voice.)
EURUS: Youre playing with me, Sherlock. Were playing the game.
SHERLOCK: The game, yes. I get it now. (He steps closer to her.) The song was never a set of
directions.
EURUS (her eyes still closed and her voice child-like and frightened): Im in the plane, and Im
going to crash.
(Sherlock crouches down in front of her.)
EURUS (child-like): And youre going to save me.
SHERLOCK: Look how brilliant you are. Your mind has created the perfect metaphor. Youre
high above us, all alone in the sky, and you understand everything except how to land. (He
shifts round and sits down in front of her, breathless and anxious.) Now, Im just an idiot, but
Im on the ground. (He reaches out and puts his fingers onto her hands.) I can bring you home.
EURUS (her eyes still closed, plaintively): No.
(Her voice reverts to its adult tone.)
EURUS: No, no. (She shivers.) Its too late now.
SHERLOCK (shifting closer to her and lowering his hand): No its not. Its not too late.
(She cries, her eyes screwed tight and her face twisted with fear.)

627
EURUS: Every time I close my eyes, Im on the plane. Im lost, lost in the sky and ... no-one
can hear me.
(She pulls her knees closer to herself, crying silently. Sherlock reaches out and gently puts his
hand onto hers again.)
SHERLOCK (in a whisper): Open your eyes. Im here.
(She opens her eyes and slowly raises her head.)
SHERLOCK (in a whisper): Youre not lost any more.
(He shifts even closer and reaches out to embrace her. She shuffles forward and wraps her
arms around him and they hug each other tightly while she cries.)
SHERLOCK (softly, stroking her hair): Now, you ... you just ... you just went the wrong way last
time, thats all. (His voice becomes tearful.) This time, get it right. (Still softly but more clearly)
Tell me how to save my friend.
(In the well, John groans with the effort of trying to keep his head above the water.
In the bedroom Sherlock pulls back a little.)
SHERLOCK: Eurus ...
(He cradles his sisters head with one hand and gazes pleadingly into her eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Help me save John Watson.
(She stares at him, trembling and tearful as he gently strokes her hair.
In the well, John grimaces and then groans, tilting his chin up out of the water as he strains
with the effort of trying to pull the chains free. Then a light shines down onto him from the top
of the well and a rope is thrown down to him. Gasping with relief, he takes hold of it.)
[Your transcriber butts in here sorry for the interruption to frown sternly at the many people
online who bitched about what possible use the rope could be and asked snidely whether John
was about to rip off his feet and climb up the rope. Even on first viewing it seemed obvious to
me that (1) someone was then going to climb down the rope with a bloody great set of bolt
cutters and (2) John grabbed the rope because he now had some support to pull himself up just
a little i.e. to the full extent of the chains and keep above the water until his rescuer
arrived. Anyway, moving on ...]
Later, Eurus is being led away from the house by two police officers. She still looks tearful.
Police cars and vans are parked all around and a helicopters rotors can be heard nearby. Some
distance away, Sherlock watches her. John is beside him, wrapped in a grey blanket. Greg
walks over to them.
LESTRADE: I just spoke to your brother.
SHERLOCK (as he and John turn to him): How is he?
LESTRADE: Hes a bit shaken up, thats all. She didnt hurt him; she just locked him in her old
cell.
JOHN: What goes around comes around.
LESTRADE: Yeah. Give me a moment, boys.
(He starts to walk past them but turns back when Sherlock speaks quietly.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, um. Mycroft make sure hes looked after. Hes not as strong as he thinks he
is.
LESTRADE (nodding): Yeah, Ill take care of it.
(He turns to walk away again, while Mystrade fans squee so loudly that nearby dogs cower and
cover their ears with their paws.)
SHERLOCK: Thanks, Greg.
(John, who has been huddling into his blanket, lifts his head and Greg turns back again and
looks at him in surprise before walking away.
Eurus has been loaded into a reinforced cell inside one of the police vans. She sits on a side
bench as a police officer closes the door.)
LESTRADE (to a nearby male police officer): The helicopter ready?
POLICE OFFICER: Mm-hm.
LESTRADE: Lets move her, then.
(The officer nods in the direction of Sherlock.)
POLICE OFFICER: Is that him, sir? Sherlock Holmes?
(Greg looks back to where Sherlock has turned to face John, who looks round at him.)
LESTRADE: Fan, are you?
POLICE OFFICER: Well, hes a great man, sir.
LESTRADE: No, hes better than that. (He looks towards Sherlock for a moment.) Hes a good
one.
[Your transcriber bursts into tears.]

628
(The two officers look towards our boys for a little longer, then turn and walk away.)
JOHN (quietly to Sherlock): You okay?
SHERLOCK (quietly, thoughtfully): I said Id bring her home. I cant, can I?
JOHN: Well, you gave her what she was looking for: context.
SHERLOCK (looking round at him): Is that good?
JOHN: Its not good, its not bad. Its ...
(He looks away and screws up his face, searching for the right words, then turns back to his
friend.)
JOHN: It is what it is.
MRS HOLMES (offscreen, sounding shocked): Alive?! For all these years?
(She and her husband are in Mycrofts Diogenes office. Mycroft sits behind his desk and his
father is sitting on a chair on the other side while Mrs Holmes stands at the other end of the
desk staring in shock at her oldest son. Her younger son is standing at the far end of the room
leaning against the closed office door with his arms folded and his head lowered.)
MRS HOLMES (to Mycroft): How is that even possible?!
MYCROFT: What Uncle Rudy began ... (he hesitates slightly, his eyes lowered) ... I thought it
best to continue.
MRS HOLMES (angrily): Im not asking how you did it, idiot boy, Im asking how could you?
MYCROFT: I was trying to be kind.
(He raises his eyes to hers at the end of his sentence.)
MRS HOLMES: Kind?! (She gasps in a pained breath.) Kind? (She becomes tearful as she
continues.) You told us that our daughter was dead.
MYCROFT: Better that than tell you what she had become.
(She stares at him wide-eyed.)
MYCROFT: Im sorry.
(His father stands up and leans his hands on the table.)
MR HOLMES: Whatever she became, whatever she is now, Mycroft ...
(Cut-away of a helicopter flying towards Sherrinford Island.)
MR HOLMES (offscreen): ... she remains our daughter.
MYCROFT: And my sister.
MRS HOLMES: Then you should have done better.
SHERLOCK (quietly): He did his best.
MRS HUDSON: Then hes very limited.
(Mycroft looks towards his brother, unable to meet his parents eyes.)
MR HOLMES: Where is she?
(Cut-away of the helicopter coming in to land on the beach of the island.)
MYCROFT: Back in Sherrinford; secure, this time. (He looks at his father.) People have died.
(Sherlock gets out of the helicopter, carrying a holdall, and walks away across the beach.)
MYCROFT (offscreen): Without doubt she will kill again if she has the opportunity. Theres no
possibility shell ever be able to leave.
(Mr Holmes has straightened up a little but now leans down again and speaks firmly.)
MR HOLMES: When can we see her?
(Mycroft looks at him.
At Sherrinford, Sherlock comes out of the lift on the upper level of the Control Room and trots
down the stairs.)
MYCROFT (offscreen): Theres no point.
MRS HOLMES (upset): How dare you say that?
MYCROFT (closing his eyes and speaking more firmly): She wont talk. She wont communicate
with anyone in any way.
(At Sherrinford, Sherlock swipes a card through a card reader and the door in front of him
opens. He walks through.)
MYCROFT: She has passed beyond our view.
(Still leaning against Mycrofts office door, Sherlock gazes down at the floor in front of him.)
MYCROFT (looking at his mother): There are no words that can reach her now.
(She turns to look at her other son.
At Sherrinford, Sherlock walks out of another lift.)
MRS HOLMES (offscreen): Sherlock.
(In Mycrofts office, Sherlock raises his head.
At Sherrinford, he walks along the long corridor towards the Secure Unit.
In the office, Mrs Holmes shrugs questioningly at Sherlock.)

629
MRS HOLMES: Well?

(At Sherrinford, Sherlock stops at the end of the corridor and the lights on the scanner above
his head begin to oscillate back and forth.)
MRS HOLMES (offscreen): You were always the grown-up.
(Mycroft raises his head a little and looks towards his brother.)
MRS HOLMES (offscreen): What do we do now?
(Sherlock turns his head away slightly, looking thoughtful.
At Sherrinford, the lift door at the front of Eurus cell slides open and Sherlock, having
presumably left his coat upstairs, walks out. He walks a few paces forward, looking at his sister
inside the glass-walled cell. Her face is turned away from him and she doesnt react to the
sound of his footsteps. He bends down and puts the holdall on the floor. Behind him the lift door
closes and the green lights in the room turn white. Sitting on the seat at the side of the room,
she still doesnt react. Sherlock unzips the bag and then stands up holding his violin and bow.
He plucks at the strings and Eurus blinks. Once hes sure the violin is tuned properly, he lifts his
bow and plays a simple tune. He stops at the end of the first phrase and lifts his bow a little,
looking towards Eurus. She doesnt respond or move in any way.
In the burnt-out living room of 221B Baker Street, Sherlock in shirt and trousers walks
across the floor, stepping over the ruined books and debris. The sound of him playing the same
tune in Eurus cell can be heard offscreen as he starts it again and this time continues the tune.
In 221B he picks up a random item from the floor, then walks across to where the skull which is
usually on the wall between the windows is lying on the burnt rug. John turns around from
where hes standing near the fireplace and holds up what hes just found the earphones which
usually adorn the skulls head. Sherlock lifts the skull so that John can put the earphones back
onto it and then loop the cable over the top. Sherlock turns away with it and looks for
somewhere to put it.
In the cell Sherlock continues playing. After a while, Eurus stands up and turns to face him.
Sherlock stops playing, and the two of them look at each other for a long while.
In 221B Sherlock, still holding the skull and headphones, lifts his overturned chair with the
other hand and sets it upright. As he gazes upwards, the violin starts up again offscreen.
A helicopter heads towards Sherrinford Island again and, in the cell, Sherlock plays on. Eurus
stands silently, watching him with a trace of interest on her face.
In 221B Sherlock picks up one of the dining chairs and sets it on its feet. John is over near the
right-hand window.
Sherlock gets out of the helicopter again on the beach at Sherrinford with his holdall in one
hand. We start to realise that he is making repeated visits to play to his sister.
In the cell, while he continues to play, Eurus picks up her own violin and bow and walks towards
the glass wall. Sherlock stops in mid-phrase. She puts the violin to her chin. Sherlock watches
her, and she begins to play the same piece from the beginning. The sound from her violin is
richer either shes a better player or she has her Strad back. Or possibly its a bit of both
because she plays the first phrase with more flair than her brother, running the notes together
differently at one point. Sherlock blinks rapidly as she ends the phrase and stops, lowering her
bow. He lifts his own bow and plays the phrase again, still using his own interpretation of the
notes.
While the music continues offscreen, John is standing in his own living room sorting through his
mail. He stops when he gets to a white padded envelope sent by Special Delivery.
Shortly afterwards he walks aimlessly around the room while he speaks into his phone.)
JOHN: Uh, yeah, I-I think youd better get round here.
(In his other hand he is holding what he found in the envelope. Inside a clear plastic wallet is a
white DVD. Handwritten on the disc are the words MISS YOU.
In the cell, Eurus closes her eyes and begins to play the tune again but this time Sherlock joins
in with a counterpart. They stand either side of the glass, harmonising with each other.
At Johns home, the disc slides into the DVD player. Sherlock has now arrived and stands near
the sofa, still wearing his coat, while John sits down. They look at each other for a moment,
then Sherlock turns away to look towards the TV while John lifts the remote control and starts
the playback. Marys face smiles at them from the screen. Sherlock blinks and John stares at
the TV in surprise, his mouth falling open a little.)
MARY: P.S.
(As the music from the violin duet continues, Sherlock again walks along the corridor towards
the Special Unit.)
MARY (voiceover initially, then on the screen): I know you two; and if Im gone, I know what
you could become.

630
(Sherlock turns to look down at John. John smiles briefly at the screen, his eyes full of tears,
and Sherlock turns back to the TV as Mary continues.)
MARY (voiceover): ... because I know who you really are.
(Flashback to our very first sight of Sherlock all those years ago, his face upside down on the
screen as he unzips a body bag and looks inside.)
MARY (voiceover): A junkie who solves crimes to get high ...
(In the flashback Sherlock looks down at the body and wrinkles his nose a little as he sniffs.
Flashback to our very first sight of John, jolting up in bed in his lonely bedsit after his latest
nightmare.)
MARY (voiceover): ... and the doctor who never came home from the war.
(Sherlock walks to the door of the Secure Unit and swipes his card through the reader.
In the cell, the siblings duet becomes more complicated and intricate.)
MARY (on the TV screen): Well, you listen to me: who you really are, it doesnt matter.
(In the dark burnt ruin of 221B, a workman is sweeping up while another one stuffs rubbish into
a black plastic bag. Standing in front of the fireplace, John looks around the room and tiredly
rubs the back of his neck as if despairing of ever getting the place back to normal. Oblivious to
whats going on around him, Sherlock is sitting in his chair texting.)
MARY (voiceover): Its all about the legend, the stories, the adventures.
(At Sherrinford, Sherlock comes out of the lift and walks across the green-lit room towards
where his sister is sitting on the seat with her back to the room.
The Holmes siblings face each other through the glass, playing together beautifully.
In 221B, Mrs Hudson comes through the door and looks across the room. While the workmen
tidy up and John stands at the fireplace, Sherlock types onto his phone You know where to find
me. and adds underneath SH.)
MARY (voiceover): There is a last refuge for the desperate, the unloved, the persecuted.
(Again Sherlock walks along the corridor towards the Secure Unit.
In the cell, Eurus and Sherlock play on.)
MARY (voiceover): There is a final court of appeal for everyone.
(In 221B, most of the burnt debris has been removed and workmen are now redecorating. Our
boys have decided to restore the flat exactly as it was, and the wallpaper on the fireplace wall is
the same as it was before. Sherlock, wearing his camel dressing gown, is standing facing the
fireplace. At the sofa wall, John sprays a circle of yellow paint onto the wallpaper and then adds
two dots inside near the top of the circle. He turns round and we see that the wallpaper on that
wall is also the same as it was before and John has now added the smiley face to it. He looks
across expectantly towards Sherlock and then walks out of the way. Sherlock, now facing into
the room, raises his long-muzzled pistol, spins the chamber and then flicks it into place, then
aims towards the spray-painted face and fires twice. He smiles, then lifts the muzzle and blows
across the top.
The siblings tune resolves into the familiar Pursuit music, now played offscreen by an
ensemble of stringed instruments.
Sherlock, now wearing his blue dressing gown, stabs his knife down into an open letter on the
mantelpiece as John stands beside him holding the piece of paper in position. They turn as Mrs
Hudson comes into the room and looks at them in exasperation. The room is now fully restored
to its former glory and all the familiar items have either been repaired or replaced with identical
copies.
Sherlock and Eurus play on. Without stopping, he raises his eyes to hers and she looks back at
him. For the first time, there is emotion in her eyes as she gazes at her brother. She smiles just
a little and they continue their duet.
In 221B a montage of scenes rolls out. Even though there is no segue between them, they
clearly take place over a period of time. Sherlock, in his camel dressing gown, walks around
behind the client chair. Sitting in the chair is an old-fashioned ventriloquists dummy dressed in
a black and red jacket with a white shirt and black bowtie. Its operator seems to be crouched
behind the chair, as evidenced by a black-sleeved arm poking round from the back of the chair
and disappearing into the dummys back. John walks through the living room door wearing his
jacket and carrying his briefcase. He frowns briefly at the scene as he goes across the room.
Sitting down in his chair he looks up at a blackboard set up on an easel in front of the fireplace
and frowns at the dancing men figures chalked it [see here for the translation].)
MARY (voiceover): When life gets too strange, too impossible ...
(At the other side of the blackboard, sitting in his chair wearing his suit jacket, Sherlock frowns
across the room and gets up to walk over and stand at the feet of a man lying on his back in
the middle of the floor in front of the door. The man is dressed in Viking costume. His eyes are

631
closed. John, wearing a brown cardigan, is on his knees beside the man, patting his face with
one hand and peeling one eyelid open with his other thumb. [For anyone who missed the end
credits, the man is played by musician Paul Weller.])
MARY (voiceover): ... too frightening, there is always one last hope.
(Mrs Hudson comes to the living room door holding a can of air freshener. Pulling a face, she
sprays the can into the air and then turns to spray another blast towards Johns chair.)
MARY (voiceover): When all else fails ...
(Sitting in his chair and looking down in disgust at something grubby and possibly vomit-soaked
in his hands, John still in his brown cardigan raises his head as Sherlock picks up Rosie and
straightens up. She now has a full head of hair and is dressed in a pink top with denim short-
legged dungarees over the top. Her mouth is grubby, so presumably she has just thrown up
into whatever John is holding.)
MARY (voiceover): ... there are two men sitting arguing in a scruffy flat ...
(Tucking his goddaughter closely into his body with one hand while she makes a valiant attempt
to stick her finger up her nose, Sherlock smiles and points across the room with the other.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, theres Daddy!
(The music resolves into a fuller, slower and even more orchestral version of Pursuit.
Sherlock waves across the room and then walks forward to hand Rosie down to John, who is
kneeling on the floor and wearing a pale grey shirt. John smiles in delight as he takes hold of
his daughter and kisses her cheek.)
MARY (voiceover): ... like theyve always been there ...
(Nearby, Greg stands looking towards Sherlock with one hand raised to his head and a harassed
look on his face. He gestures beckoningly towards him as he turns to the door.)
MARY (voiceover): ... and they always will.
(In the doorway as Greg leaves, Molly comes in smiling happily and walks across the room.)
MARY (voiceover): The best and wisest men I have ever known.
(In the cell, Sherlock smiles at his sister as he continues to duet with her. Their parents and big
brother are sitting on chairs to one side of Sherlock. With her eyes lowered while she listens to
her children play, their mother reaches across to take Mycrofts hand. He looks down at their
hands and then turns to look at her.)
MARY (voiceover): My Baker Street boys.
(She smiles from the TV screen.)
MARY: Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson.
(And in slow motion Sherlock and John our Baker Street boys run side-by-side out of the
entrance of a large stone building, identified by plaques either side of the porch as Rathbone
Place, and race off towards their next adventure.)

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All episode transcripts in full

A Study in Pink (pilot episode) 1 The Empty Hearse 281

A Study in Pink (pilot episode)

Later he is at his psychotherapists office and is sitting in a chair opposite her.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

LESTRADE: Youve got work to do.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

(He smiles falsely at her and walks away.)

lestrade@strade.org.uk : Please call me

Please call me.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

MOLLY (smiling awkwardly at him): It wasnt working for me.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

JOHN: Ah, Mr Holmes.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

SHERLOCK: Piss off!

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

SHERLOCK: Look at her, really look! Houston, we have a mistake.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

LESTRADE (calling from the entrance to the house): Donovan!

Text from +44 7544680989

BAKER STREET. COME AT ONCE,

Text from +44 7544680989

IF INCONVENIENT COME ANY

Text from +44 7544680989

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

SHERLOCK: Oh! Didnt think she was that smart!

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

Sherlock stares intently at the phone while it continues to ring.)

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

JOHN: Oh. Right. Dyou have a boyfriend?

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

SHERLOCK: The London cab.

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SHERLOCK: Sherlock Holmes.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

CABBIE: Anything at all.

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SHERLOCK: But I dont.

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SHERLOCK: What if I dont take either?

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SHERLOCK: You have just killed a man.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

What? He does! You look at the footage. He really does!

A Study in Pink (broadcast version)

Later he is at his psychotherapists office and he sits in a chair opposite her.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)

Donovan looks at the same message on her own phone.)

REPORTER 1: Says, Wrong again.

You know where

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere.livejournal.com)