Page 113 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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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 childen’s poem) ... it wouldn’t 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.)
MRS HUDSON: Ooh-ooh!
(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, it’s 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.) Isn’t 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, I’m sure something’ll turn up, Sherlock. A nice murder – that’ll cheer you
up.
(She chuckles slightly as she carries her bags towards the living room door.)
SHERLOCK (wistfully): Can’t come too soon.
MRS HUDSON (stopping when she spots the damaged wall): Hey. What’ve you done to my
bloody wall?!
(Sherlock quirks a smile and turns around to admire his handiwork.)
MRS HUDSON (angrily): I’m 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 Sawyer’s 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 should’ve gone with the lilo.
JOHN (still rubbing his neck): No, no, no, it’s fine. I-I slept fine. It’s very kind of you.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)