Page 150 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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(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, that’s what it’s all
been for, hasn’t 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.
(Sherlock’s raised hand begins to lower slowly but otherwise he doesn’t move, still staring over
his shoulder in utter disbelief.)
JOHN: This is a turn-up, isn’t 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 Sherlock’s, 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 sniper’s 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. It’s Jim,
Molly’s boyfriend. But this isn’t the fumble-fingered casually-dressed Londoner who did indeed
leave his number for Sherlock in the lab at Bart’s; this is a sharply-dressed man with
immaculate hair and a murderous look on his face. With his hands in his pockets, he casually

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)