Page 310 - SHERLOCK transcripts

309

What a shame
Mr Holmes.
John is quite a Guy!

She holds the phone over Sherlock’s shoulder to show him.
MARY: What does it mean?
(Smiling, Zoe’s dad takes his flaming brand to the fire and tosses it onto the petrol-soaked
wood. Sherlock’s head whips round as the bonfire begins to blaze and all the onlookers cheer.)
SHERLOCK: Oh my God.
(He accelerates around the square towards the only gap in the fence surrounding the park. The
onlookers continue to celebrate the ignition of the fire. John’s voice finally comes to him and he
yells as loudly as he can.)
JOHN: Help!
(Zoe screams, and now others can hear John’s voice and react with horror. Her father runs to
hold her back and to comfort her.
Sherlock races the bike into the park and hurls himself off.)
SHERLOCK (to Mary): Jump off!
(She quickly steps off as he drops the bike onto its side. The fire is really taking hold now, and
John wails as the heat increases. Throwing off his helmet, Sherlock runs towards the fire,
shoving people out of his way.)
SHERLOCK: Move! Move! Move! Move! Move!
(He reaches the front of the crowd and races on towards the bonfire.)
SHERLOCK: John!
MARY (running behind him): John! Get out, John!
(Sherlock crouches down, peering through the flames and trying to see where John is while
throwing some of the wood aside. He and Mary continue to cry John’s name and he hears
them.)
JOHN: Help!
(Now Sherlock has a location and he plunges his arms into the inferno, throwing pieces of the
bonfire aside and creating a path into it. At last he is able to reach in and he grabs John’s arms
and hauls him out, pulling him across the ground to safety before rolling him over onto his
back. John lies there, looking extremely dazed as Sherlock looms over him.)
SHERLOCK: John? John!
(He gently pats John’s face.)
MARY (covering her mouth and crying): John.
SHERLOCK (softly): Hey, John.
(John gazes up at them blankly and their faces fade out for a moment. He blinks as if trying to
force his vision to work.)

221B. DAY TIME. Wearing a suit but without the usual dressing gown over it, Sherlock sits in his
armchair with his eyes closed, sighing quietly and occasionally drumming his fingers on the
arms of the chair. A grey-haired couple are sitting on the sofa and the woman appears to have
been talking for some time.
WOMAN: ... which wasn’t the way I’d put it at all. Silly woman. Anyway, it was then that I first
noticed it was missing. I said, “Have you checked down the back of the sofa?”
(Sherlock screws his face up, then tilts his head forward a little, almost nodding off to sleep
until his head jerks back up again. He steeples his fingers in front of his face as the woman
looks round at her husband.)
WOMAN: He’s always losing things down the back of the sofa, aren’t you, dear?
MAN: ’Fraid so.
(Sherlock glares towards the kitchen.)
WOMAN: Keys, small change, sweeties. Especially his glasses.
MAN: Glasses.
WOMAN: Blooming things. I said, “Why don’t you get a chain – wear ’em round your neck?” And
he says, “What – like Larry Grayson?”
MAN (almost simultaneously): Larry Grayson.
(Sherlock rises quickly to his feet, buttoning his jacket as he walks towards the couple.)
SHERLOCK: So did you find it eventually, your lottery ticket?

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)