Page 182 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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(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 don’t 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 they’re 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 Sherlock’s 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 isn’t 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 Irene’s house. He is holding another pistol with an over-
compensatory silencer attached and is aiming the gun at the back of Mrs Hudson’s 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: Don’t snivel, Mrs Hudson. It’ll 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 don’t 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: I’ve been asking this one. She doesn’t seem to know anything.
(Sherlock’s gaze rises a little and he sees that the right shoulder of Mrs H’s cardigan has been
ripped at the seam, exposing her skin underneath.)
NEILSON: But you know what I’m asking for, don’t you, Mr Holmes?
(Sherlock looks a little higher and sees a cut on her right cheek. His eyes flick across to
Neilson’s 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 isn’t deducing him. In very
rapid succession he is picking out target points on his body:

Carotid Artery

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)