Page 24 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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CABBIE: I’ve played five times. I’m alive. It’s not chance, Mr ’olmes, it’s chess. It’s a game of
chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this ... this is the move.
(With his right hand he slides the right-hand pill across the table towards Sherlock, then pulls
his hand back and leaves the pill where it is.)
CABBIE: Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? You can choose either one.
(Sherlock looks at him for a long moment.)
SHERLOCK: That’s what you did, to all of them. You gave them a choice.
CABBIE: You’ve gotta admit: as serial killers go, I’m verging on nice! Anyway, time’s up.
Choose.
SHERLOCK: And then?
CABBIE: And then, together, we take our medicine.
(He smiles and licks his lips expectantly.)
CABBIE: Let’s play.
SHERLOCK (leaning forward a little): Play what? It’s a fifty-fifty chance.
CABBIE: You’re not playin’ the numbers, you’re playin’ me. Did I just give you the good pill or
the bad pill?
(Sherlock blinks slowly, his mind clearly still befuddled.)
CABBIE: Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a triple-bluff?
SHERLOCK (shaking his head in an attempt to clear it): It’s still chance.
CABBIE: Five people in a row? It’s not chance.
SHERLOCK: It’s luck.
CABBIE: It’s genius. I know ’ow people think. I know ’ow people think I think. I can see it all,
like a map in my ’ead.
(Sherlock turns his head away, looking exasperated.)
CABBIE: Everyone’s so stupid – even you.
(Sherlock’s gaze sharpens a little as he looks back at the man. He can’t hold his gaze for long,
however, and he looks away again.)
CABBIE: Course, maybe God just loves me.
(Sherlock props his head up on his hand and looks at the man again.)
SHERLOCK: Either way, you’re wasted as a cabbie.
(Rubbing his fingers across his chin, he drops his hand but is now strong enough to keep his
head up. He looks at the cabbie.)
SHERLOCK: How did you choose which ones?
CABBIE: Anyone who didn’t know where they were going, ’cause they were drunk or lost or new
in town.
(He chuckles.)
CABBIE: Anyone I could walk through the wrong door.
(Sherlock frowns thoughtfully.)
SHERLOCK: You risked your life five times just to kill strangers.
(He pauses as he finally realises the truth.)
SHERLOCK: You’re dying, aren’t you?
(The cabbie’s eyes flicker but he manages to hold Sherlock’s gaze.)
CABBIE: So are you.
SHERLOCK: You don’t have long, though. Am I right?
(The cabbie smiles.)
CABBIE: Aneurism.
(He lifts his right hand and taps the side of his head.)
CABBIE: Right in ’ere.
(Sherlock smiles in satisfaction.)
CABBIE: Any breath could be my last. It’s your only ’ope, Mr ’olmes. Bet on the aneurism.
SHERLOCK: I’m not a betting man.
CABBIE: D’you think I’m bitter?
SHERLOCK (sarcastically): Well, you have just murdered five people.
CABBIE (leaning forward): I’ve outlived five people. That’s the most fun you can ’ave with an
aneurism.
(Outside in the street, a vehicle can be heard coming to a halt with a screech of brakes. The
flashing lights of a police car come through the window. Sherlock’s gaze flickers briefly to the
window but then he turns his attention back to the cabbie.)
SHERLOCK: What if I don’t take either?
CABBIE: Then I choose for you, and I force it down your throat. Right now there’s nothing you
could do to stop me.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)