Page 149 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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(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 won’t 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 hadn’t 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 Westie’s
body off the roof and onto the trackside.)
JOHN: And points.
SHERLOCK: Exactly.
(And the Tube guard walks along the track and finds Westie’s 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: D’you still have it, then? The memory stick?
(Joe nods.)
SHERLOCK: Fetch it for me – if you wouldn’t 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 that’s over, too. We’ve heard nothing from the bomber.
SHERLOCK: Five pips, remember, John? It’s a countdown. We’ve only had four.

NIGHT TIME. 221B. Both Sherlock and John are in their coats because the windows still haven’t
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 he’s not the boy’s 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, I’m still waiting.
SHERLOCK: Hmm?
JOHN: For you to admit that a little knowledge of the solar system and you’d have cleared up
the fake painting a lot quicker.
SHERLOCK: Didn’t do you any good, did it?
JOHN: No, but I’m not the world’s only consulting detective.
SHERLOCK (smiling): True.
(John has closed the lid of his laptop and now stands up.)
JOHN: I won’t be in for tea. I’m going to Sarah’s. There’s 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: I’ll 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.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)