Page 172 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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IRENE: Now tell that sweet little posh thing the pictures are safe with me. They’re not for
blackmail, just for insurance.
(She puts the phone into the pocket of Sherlock’s coat which she’s 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. It’s been a pleasure. Don’t 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.
(Sherlock’s 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: He’ll sleep for a few hours. Make sure he doesn’t 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): What’s this? What have you given him?
Sherlock!
IRENE: He’ll be fine. I’ve 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 driver’s seat of Phil’s 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. Don’t get up. I’ll 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 car’s 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, he’s staring at the sky. Now, you said he could be watching birds but
he wasn’t, 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 can’t 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
Irene’s bedroom and falls backwards to the floor. Then he’s 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 hiker’s already dead. What he doesn’t see is what
killed him because it’s already being washed downstream.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)