Page 215 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK (his voice shaking): I saw it too.
JOHN (shocked): What?
SHERLOCK: I saw it too, John.
JOHN: Just ... just a minute. (He sits forward.) You saw what?
(Sherlock finally meets his gaze but his face is twisted with self-loathing as he forces himself to
admit the truth.)
SHERLOCK: A hound, out there in the Hollow. (He talks through gritted teeth.) A gigantic
hound.
(John almost laughs as Sherlock looks away, trying unsuccessfully to blink back tears. John sits
back in his chair again, not quite able to cope with this strange reaction from his friend.)
JOHN: Um, look, Sherlock, we have to be rational about this, okay? Now you, of all people,
can’t just ...
(Sherlock blows out another breath.)
JOHN: Let’s just stick to what we know, yes? Stick to the facts.
(Sherlock looks round at him.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Once you’ve ruled out the impossible, whatever remains – however
improbable – must be true.
JOHN: What does that mean?
(Looking away again, Sherlock reaches down and picks up a drink from a nearby table. Looking
down at his trembling hand, he sniggers.)
SHERLOCK: Look at me. I’m afraid, John. Afraid.
(He takes a drink and then holds up the glass again, his hand still shaking.)
JOHN: Sherlock?
SHERLOCK: Always been able to keep myself distant ... (he takes another drink from the glass)
... divorce myself from ... feelings. But look, you see ...
(He holds up the glass and glares at his shaking hand.)
SHERLOCK: ... body’s betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions. (He slams the glass down onto
the table.) The grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment.
JOHN: Yeah, all right, Spock, just ...
(Realising that he is starting to raise his voice, he looks around at the other people in the
restaurant behind him and then looks back to Sherlock.)
JOHN (more softly): ... take it easy.
(Sherlock is blowing out a few more breaths and still failing to bring himself under control. He
glances panic-stricken at John.)
JOHN: You’ve been pretty wired lately, you know you have. I think you’ve just gone out there
and got yourself a bit worked up.
SHERLOCK: Worked ... up?
JOHN: It was dark and scary ...
SHERLOCK (laughing sarcastically): Me?! There’s nothing wrong with me.
(He looks away, almost beginning to hyperventilate, then puts his fingertips to his temples,
groaning in anguish. John looks at him in concern.)
JOHN: Sherlock ...
(Sherlock begins blowing out breaths again, his fingers trembling against his skin.)
JOHN: Sher...
SHERLOCK (loudly, furiously): THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!
(He glares round at John.)
SHERLOCK: DO YOU UNDERSTAND?
(He looks round at the other patrons, all of whom are now staring at him. He looks away again,
then looks at John.)
SHERLOCK: You want me to prove it, yes?
(He pulls in a deep breath, trying to get himself under control.)
SHERLOCK: We’re looking for a dog, yes, a great big dog, that’s your brilliant theory. Cherchez
le chien. Good, excellent, yes, where shall we start?
(The patrons have gone back to their eating. Sherlock looks over his shoulder and points
towards a man and woman sitting opposite each other at a table in the corner of the restaurant.
His voice becomes savage and relentless as he goes into deduction mode.)
SHERLOCK: How about them? The sentimental widow and her son, the unemployed fisherman.
The answer’s yes.
JOHN: Yes?
SHERLOCK: She’s got a West Highland terrier called Whisky. Not exactly what we’re looking for.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)