Page 201 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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SHERLOCK (quick fire): You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You
had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle
fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you’ve now changed your mind. You are,
however, extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr Knight, and do
please smoke. I’d be delighted.
(Henry stares at him, then glances across to John who averts his gaze and sighs. Hesitantly,
Henry walks back to the chair and sits down, fishing in his jacket pocket.)
HENRY: How on earth did you notice all that?!
JOHN: It’s not important ...
(But Sherlock’s already off.)
SHERLOCK (looking at two small round white pieces of paper stuck to Henry’s coat): Punched-
out holes where your ticket’s been checked ...
JOHN: Not now, Sherlock.
SHERLOCK: Oh please. I’ve been cooped up in here for ages.
JOHN: You’re just showing off.
SHERLOCK: Of course. I am a show-off. That’s what we do.
(He turns his attention back to Henry and the napkin that he’s still holding.)
SHERLOCK: The train napkin that you used to mop up the spilled coffee: the strength of the
stain shows that you didn’t take milk. There are traces of ketchup on it and round your lips and
on your sleeve. Cooked breakfast – or the nearest thing those trains can manage. Probably a
sandwich.
(Henry half-sobs, over-awed.)
HENRY: How did you know it was disappointing?
SHERLOCK: Is there any other type of breakfast on a train? The girl – female handwriting’s
quite distinctive. Wrote her phone number down on the napkin. I can tell from the angle she
wrote at that she was sat across from you on the other side of the aisle. Later – after she got
off, I imagine – you used the napkin to mop up your spilled coffee, accidentally smudging the
numbers. You’ve been over the last four digits yourself with another pen, so you wanted to
keep the number. Just now, though, you used the napkin to blow your nose. Maybe you’re not
that into her after all. Then there’s the nicotine stains on your fingers ... your shaking fingers. I
know the signs.
(His gaze becomes intense.)
SHERLOCK: No chance to smoke one on the train; no time to roll one before you got a cab
here.
(He glances at his watch.)
SHERLOCK: It’s just after nine fifteen. You’re desperate. The first train from Exeter to London
leaves at five forty-six a.m. You got the first one possible, so something important must have
happened last night. Am I wrong?
(Henry stares at him in amazement, then draws in a shaky breath.)
HENRY: No.
(Sherlock smiles smugly. John takes a drink from his mug to hide his “oh bugger it” look.)
HENRY (awestruck): You’re right. You’re completely, exactly right. Bloody hell, I heard you were
quick.
SHERLOCK: It’s my job.
(He leans forward in his seat and glares at Henry intensely.)
SHERLOCK: Now shut up and smoke.
(John frowns towards him. As Henry takes out a roll-up and lights it, John consults the notes
he’s taken so far.)
JOHN: Um, Henry, your parents both died and you were, what, seven years old?
(Henry is concentrating on taking his first drag on his cigarette. As he exhales his first lungful,
Sherlock stands up and steps closer to him.)
HENRY: I know. That ... my ...
(He stops as Sherlock leans into the smoke drifting up from the cigarette and from Henry’s
mouth and breathes in deeply and noisily through his nose. Having sucked up most of the
smoke, he sits down again and breathes out, whining quietly in pleasure.)
JOHN (trying hard to ignore him): That must be a ... quite a trauma. Have you ever thought
that maybe you invented this story, this ...
(Henry has exhaled another lungful of smoke and Sherlock dives in to noisily hoover up the
smoke again. John pauses patiently until he sits down again.)
JOHN: ... to account for it?
(Henry drags his eyes away from Sherlock.)

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)