Page 346 - SHERLOCK transcripts

345

SERGEANT: What?
JOHN (loudly): Call an ambulance now.
(He points towards the door. Still the men hesitate.)
JOHN (firmly): Do it!
(Both of the sergeants turn and hurry from the room. John has pressed the scarf against the
wound in Bainbridge’s back and now he takes Sherlock’s hand and puts it on top of the scarf,
positioning his fingers where he wants them.)
JOHN: Nurse, press here – hard.
SHERLOCK (wrinkling his nose in distaste): “Nurse”?
JOHN: Yeah, I’m making do. Keep pressure on that wound.
(Sherlock leans closer so that he can press harder. John moves to Bainbridge’s head.)
JOHN: Stephen. Stephen, stay with me.

RECEPTION.
SHERLOCK: Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He’d stood there for hours, plenty
of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly
dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon. Where did it go? Ladies and
gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that
can vanish – but in all of this there is only one element which can be said to be truly
remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?
(The guests fidget and look at each other.)
SHERLOCK: Come on, come on, there is actually an element of Q and A to all of this.
(He clears his throat. Still the guests remain silent.)
SHERLOCK: Scotland Yard.
(Greg lifts his head.)
SHERLOCK: Have you got a theory?
(Greg stares at him blankly.)
SHERLOCK: Yeah, you. You’re a detective – broadly speaking. Got a theory?
LESTRADE: Er, um, if the, uh, if the, if-if-if, if the blade was, er, propelled through the, um ...
(he stops to think for a moment) ... grating in the air vent ... maybe a-a ballista or a – or a – or
a catapult. Erm, somebody tiny could-could crawl in there. (He sucks in a breath.) So, yeah,
we’re loo... we’re looking for a-a-a-a dwarf.
(Sherlock is staring at him blankly.)
SHERLOCK: Brilliant.
LESTRADE: Really?
SHERLOCK (instantly): No.
(Greg sighs and lowers his head.)
SHERLOCK: Next!
TOM (whispering to Molly): He stabbed himself.
SHERLOCK: Hello? Who was that?
(Tom looks round, wide-eyed.)
SHERLOCK: Tom.
(Grimacing, Tom slowly stands up.)
SHERLOCK: Got a theory?
(Tom sways nervously from foot to foot for a moment.)
TOM (slowly, tentatively): Um ... attempted suicide, with a blade made of compacted blood and
bone; broke after piercing his abdomen ... like a meat ... dagger.
(A couple of the guests snigger. Sitting beside Tom, Molly’s face is a picture of disbelief. She
may be reconsidering her marriage options. At the top table, Sherlock’s expression also speaks
volumes.)
SHERLOCK (speaking precisely): A meat dagger.
TOM (awkwardly): Yes.
MOLLY (whispering through gritted teeth): Sit. Down.
SHERLOCK (to Tom, speaking precisely): No.
(Tom sits down.)
SHERLOCK (to the guests): There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the
whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly it was the usual. John Watson – who, while I was
trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life.
(Mary quietly laughs in delight, and John smiles.)
SHERLOCK: There are mysteries worth solving and stories worth telling.
(He looks down at John.)

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)