Page 400 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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JIM: Pain. Heartbreak. Loss.
(Sherlock rolls onto his side, his face screwed tight and tears streaming from his eyes as he
tries to fight the agony in his chest.)
JIM (in an intense whisper): Death. It’s all good.
(Sherlock convulses on the floor, moaning.)
JIM (now on his knees beside him): It’s all good.
(Sherlock lies on his back staring upwards and still convulsing.)
JOHN’s VOICE: Sherlock?
(In Magnussen’s room, John is on his knees beside Sherlock, gently patting his face.)
JOHN: Sherlock?
(He bends down to put his ear against Sherlock’s mouth.)
JOHN: Can you hear me?
(He lifts his head and looks across to Magnussen, who is lying on the floor on his side but now
raises his head. There is no sign of Mary in the room.)
JOHN: What happened?
MAGNUSSEN (weakly): He got shot.
JOHN (softly): Jesus.
(He flips open Sherlock’s coat and sees a lot of blood on his shirt around the bullet wound.)
JOHN: Sherlock! Oh, my ...
(Magnussen picks up his glasses which had fallen to the floor. John straightens up on his knees
and reaches into his jeans pocket. He looks sternly across to Magnussen.)
JOHN: Who shot him?
(Magnussen sits up and puts on his glasses, then looks across at John but doesn’t reply. John
has his phone to his ear and an operator speaks.)
OPERATOR (over phone): Emergency. Which service do you require?
(Back in the padded cell, the lighting has turned a blue colour as Sherlock continues to convulse
on the floor, his eyes wide. Beside him, Jim is back on his feet and he begins to sing slowly and
softly.)
JIM: ♪ It’s raining, it’s pouring. Sherlock is boring ... ♪
(Sherlock sinks down on the floor, his convulsions beginning to slow. Jim crouches down near
his head.
In the real world and outside the offices, an emergency siren sounds as paramedics wheel
Sherlock on a stretcher towards a nearby ambulance. John is at his side.)
JIM (in the cell, slowly, softly): ♪ I’m laughing, I’m crying ... ♪
(He kneels down beside Sherlock, whose convulsions stop apart from an occasional twitch. His
eyes gaze blankly upwards, then begin to close.)
JIM (slowly, softly): ♪ ... Sherlock is dying. ♪
(The ambulance is now racing through the streets. In the back of it a paramedic tears open
Sherlock’s shirt. An oxygen mask has been strapped to his face. His eyes are closed.)
JOHN: Sherlock.
(He is sitting or kneeling behind the paramedic, looking at his friend with concern.)
JOHN: We’re losing you. Sherlock?
(Sherlock’s eyes crack open a little.
On his knees in the padded cell, Jim leans forward as far as his chain will let him and breathes
out heavily into Sherlock’s face.)
JIM (softly): Come on, Sherlock.
(He lifts his head a little, spittle dribbling from his mouth.)
JIM (softly): Just die, why can’t you?
(He lies down on his side on the floor and puts his face close to Sherlock’s head.)
JIM: One little push, and off you pop.
(He turns onto his back and looks up.
In an operating theatre in a hospital, a heart monitor is letting out a single continuous tone and
a flat line rolls across the screen. One of several surgeons surrounding the operating table does
a few more heart compressions on Sherlock’s chest and then withdraws his hands. As the
doctors turn away from the table, having clearly been trying to restart his heart for some time
but now having decided that there is no point continuing, an overhead view of the operating
table shows Sherlock, bare to the waist and with a breathing tube down his throat, lying with
his eyes closed as the monitor’s single tone continues. The lights in the room seem to go out,
leaving a single light shining down on his body.
In the padded cell, Jim is kneeling up and he talks conversationally as the monitor’s flatline tone
can still be heard.)

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)