Page 251 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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JOHN: No.
MYCROFT: Never seen his face before?
JOHN (looking at the photo again): Umm ...
MYCROFT: He’s taken a flat in Baker Street, two doors down from you.
JOHN: Hmm! I was thinking of doing a drinks thing for the neighbours.
(He smiles sarcastically up at Mycroft who looks back at him straight-faced.)
MYCROFT: Not sure you’ll want to. (He nods towards the folder.) Sulejmani. Albanian hit squad.
Expertly-trained killer living less than twenty feet from your front door.
JOHN: It’s a great location. Jubilee line’s handy.
MYCROFT: John ...
JOHN: What’s it got to do with me?
MYCROFT (walking over and giving him another of the files): Dyachenko, Ludmila.
(He sits down opposite John, who lets out a long tired groan as he opens the file and looks at
the photograph inside before frowning a little.)
JOHN: Um, actually, I think I have seen her.
[Of course you have, John you dog ...]
MYCROFT: Russian killer. She’s taken the flat opposite.
JOHN (now sounding a little nervous): Okay ... I’m sensing a pattern here.
MYCROFT (handing him the rest of the files): In fact, four top international assassins relocate to
within spitting distance of two hundred and twenty-one B. Anything you care to share with me?
(Looking at the photographs of the other assassins, John chuckles, then looks up at Mycroft.)
JOHN: I’m moving?!
(Mycroft looks back at him unamused, then narrows his eyes.)
MYCROFT: It’s not hard to guess the common denominator, is it?
JOHN: You think this is Moriarty?
MYCROFT: He promised Sherlock he’d come back.
JOHN: If this was Moriarty, we’d be dead already.
MYCROFT: If not Moriarty, then who?
JOHN: Why don’t you talk to Sherlock if you’re so concerned about him?
(Mycroft looks away and toys with the glass on the table beside him. John rolls his eyes.)
JOHN: Oh God, don’t tell me.
MYCROFT: Too much history between us, John. Old scores; resentments.
JOHN: Nicked all his Smurfs? Broke his Action Man?
(Mycroft glowers at him. John can’t help but laugh, then pulls himself together and puts the files
onto the table beside him.)
JOHN (in a whisper): Finished.
(He stands up and turns to leave the room.)
MYCROFT: We both know what’s coming, John.
(John stops and turns back, clearly now struggling to control his anger.)
MYCROFT: Moriarty is obsessed. He’s sworn to destroy his only rival.
JOHN (tightly): So you want me to watch out for your brother because he won’t accept your
help.
MYCROFT: If it’s not too much trouble.
(He directs a smile at John but it quickly fades and his expression becomes more threatening.
John holds his gaze, then looks away, nods in a resigned way and turns to go to the door again.
Opening it, he looks back at Mycroft once more, who still has the same look on his face, then
leaves the room.)

221B. A taxi drops John off opposite the flat. As he crosses the road, he can’t help but be aware
of people passing by in the street, wondering if any of them are the assassins keeping an eye
on the flat. When John reaches the front door – which is standing wide open – he sees that a
brown envelope has been left on the doorstep. There is nothing written on the front but the
back has a large old fashioned wax seal on it. He peels open one corner of the envelope and
puts his finger in to slide it along the edge and slice the rest of the envelope open. Immediately
a lot of brown dust, with some larger chunks of brown something, fall out. As he catches some
of the debris and looks at it, a man’s Cockney voice speaks behind him.
MAN: ’Scuse, mate.
JOHN: Oh.
(He steps aside as a heavily tattooed bald-headed man wearing jeans and a black vest carries a
stepladder into the hallway. John follows him in, putting the envelope into his pocket as he
goes. He trots upstairs and goes into the living room.)

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)