Page 226 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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(John’s eyes widen in utter bewilderment as Sherlock bends down to him and puts a hand onto
his shoulder.)
SHERLOCK: John ...
JOHN: Jesus Christ ...
(He grabs the bars and pulls himself to his feet, hurrying out of the cage and stuffing his phone
away as he turns back to his friend.)
JOHN (still breathless and panic-stricken): It was the hound, Sherlock. It was here. I swear it,
Sherlock. It must ...
(He looks around the lab which – now fully illuminated – shows that there’s nowhere that a
large monster can be hiding.)
JOHN: It must ...
(His voice becomes high-pitched.)
JOHN: Did ... did ... did you see it? You must have!
(Sherlock holds out a placatory hand towards him.)
SHERLOCK: It’s all right. It’s okay now.
JOHN (high-pitched, frantic and hysterical): NO IT’S NOT! IT’S NOT OKAY! I saw it. I was
wrong!
(Sherlock shrugs while John breathes heavily.)
SHERLOCK: Well, let’s not jump to conclusions.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: What did you see?
JOHN: I told you: I saw the hound.
SHERLOCK: Huge; red eyes?
JOHN: Yes.
SHERLOCK: Glowing?
JOHN: Yeah.
SHERLOCK: No.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK: I made up the bit about glowing. You saw what you expected to see because I told
you. You have been drugged. We have all been drugged.
JOHN: Drugged?
SHERLOCK: Can you walk?
JOHN (his voice shaky): ’Course I can walk.
SHERLOCK: Come on, then. It’s time to lay this ghost.
(He turns and heads for the door. Still trying to catch his breath, John looks around the lab
again, then stumbles after Sherlock.)

In a small room full of cages, Doctor Stapleton is examing a fluffy white rabbit on a metal table.
She looks up when Sherlock comes through the door, followed by John.
STAPLETON: Oh. Back again? What’s on your mind this time?
SHERLOCK: Murder, Doctor Stapleton. Refined, cold-blooded murder.
(He reaches back and turns off the light switch by the door. The limited lighting coming from
the window at the end of the room is just enough to show that the rabbit is brightly glowing
green. Sherlock turns the lights back on again.)
SHERLOCK: Will you tell little Kirsty what happened to Bluebell or shall I?
(He smiles unpleasantly at her. She sighs.)
STAPLETON: Okay. What do you want?
SHERLOCK: Can I borrow your microscope?

LATER. In a larger lab, Sherlock has taken off his coat and is sitting at a bench and gazing into
a microscope. Unhappy with what he’s seeing, he turns away from the ’scope and crushes
something which looks crystalline into smaller pieces with a little hammer. Time passes and he
varies between sitting with his back to the microscope, his hands folded in the prayer position in
front of him as he thinks, or gazing into the ’scope, or scribbling chemical formulae onto the
desk with different coloured marker pens. Nearby, John sits on a stool with his head propped on
his hand, gazing blankly into space. Doctor Stapleton is standing near him.
STAPLETON: Are you sure you’re okay?
(John looks up at her, blinking.)
STAPLETON: You look very peaky.
JOHN: No, I’m all right.
STAPLETON: It was the GFP gene from a jellyfish, in case you’re interested.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)