Page 350 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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(Mrs H looks at her watch.)
MRS HUDSON: You’ve only been out two hours.
(The boys sit up, trying to stand but too tightly wedged together. Sherlock falls off the step and
thumps on his backside onto the next step down.)

Later, they are upstairs, sitting in their armchairs in the living room, and are playing the Rizla
Game. Rizlas are thin white pieces of paper, with glue along one of the long sides, which are
used to roll up loose tobacco to form a cigarette. I won’t bother providing a link to explain the
game itself because you’ll see how it works here. Sherlock has a Rizla paper stuck to his
forehead. Written on it in John’s handwriting are the words “SHERLOCK HOLMES”. He looks
blurrily across to John, who has a Rizla stuck to his own forehead which reads, in somewhat
wobbly writing by Sherlock, “MADONNA”. John peers at him, apparently trying to keep his eyes
open.
JOHN: Am I a vegetable?
(Sherlock, holding a glass of whiskey in one hand, points at him.)
SHERLOCK: You, or the thing?
(They both snigger.)
JOHN: Funny!
(Sherlock looks down.)
SHERLOCK (bashfully): Thank you.
JOHN: Come on.
(Sherlock raises his head again.)
SHERLOCK (slurred): No, you’re not a vegetable.
JOHN: It’s your go.
(He picks up his own glass and drinks.)
SHERLOCK: Errr ... am I human?
JOHN: Sometimes.
SHERLOCK: Can’t have ‘sometimes.’ Has to be, um ...
(He struggles to pull himself up a little in his chair.)
JOHN: Yes, you’re human. (He puts down his glass and slumps back in his seat.)
SHERLOCK (still finishing his previous sentence): ... ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ ... Okay.
(He leans woozily forward, bracing his upper arms on his legs.)
SHERLOCK: And am I a man?
JOHN: Yep.
SHERLOCK: Tall?
(John holds his hands wide.)
JOHN: Not as tall as people think.
SHERLOCK: Hmm. Nice?
JOHN: Ish.
SHERLOCK: Clever?
JOHN: I’d say so.
SHERLOCK: You would?
(John chuckles.)
SHERLOCK: Mmm, am I important?
JOHN: To s-some people.
SHERLOCK: Do “people” ... (he makes vague air-quotes around the word) ... like me?
JOHN (reaching for his glass but not picking it up): Er, no, they don’t. You tend to rub ’em up
the wrong way.
SHERLOCK: Okay.
(John sniggers. Sherlock slumps back in his chair and then leans forward again.)
SHERLOCK: Am I the current King of England?
JOHN: Are you ...? (He cackles with laughter.) You know we don’t have a king?
SHERLOCK: Don’t we?
JOHN: No. (He chuckles again briefly.)
SHERLOCK (sitting back): Your go.
(He drinks from his glass. Unfolding his legs, John shifts forward until he is sitting right on the
edge of his seat. He instantly starts to slide off and reaches out to brace himself with one hand
on Sherlock’s right knee. He pushes himself back a little, then he and Sherlock look down at his
hand. John pulls it away and holds both his hands out, shrugging.)
JOHN: I don’t mind.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)