Page 413 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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JOHN (over his shoulder towards Sherlock): Your way.
(He looks at Mary for another second, then half-turns to Sherlock.)
JOHN: Always your way.
(Sherlock lowers his head and looks away. John turns, clearing his throat, then picks up one of
the dining chairs and puts it down facing the two armchairs and the fireplace. He looks at
Mary.)
JOHN: Sit.
MARY: Why?
JOHN (in a tight, angry whisper, leaning towards her while pointing down to the dining chair):
Because that’s where they sit.
(He straightens up, still speaking in the same tight voice but a little louder.)
JOHN: ... the people who come in here with their stories. Th-the clients – that’s all you are now,
Mary. You’re a client. This is where you sit and talk ... (he gestures towards the armchairs) ...
and this is where we sit and listen, then we decide if we want you or not.
(Sniffing, he walks over to his chair and sits down, clearing his throat and adjusting the cushion
behind his back. After a moment, Sherlock walks forward and crosses the room. Pausing briefly
in front of Mary to meet her eyes and give her a tiny nod, he turns and sits down in his own
chair. Mary watches him as he sits, then looks across to John, who has slumped back into his
chair and is not meeting her eyes, then she slowly walks in between them and turns round to sit
down on the dining chair, putting her shoulder bag onto the floor beside her. She adjusts her
coat around her, dusts off the tops of her legs, tugs the lower part of her trousers down a little
on both legs, then turns her head to John as he looks back at her.)

THE PRESENT. In the sitting room of the Holmes’ cottage, Mary looks up from her book when
John speaks.
JOHN: So, are you okay?
MARY (rather sarcastically): Oh! Are we doing conversation today? It really is Christmas(!)
(John reaches into the pocket of his trousers and takes out something. He shows her what he’s
holding. It is a large silver-coloured pen drive with a circular link at one end for attaching it to a
key ring. Written in black felt-tip pen on one side are the initials “A.G.R.A” [it’s actually not
clear whether there’s a dot after the ‘R’ because the bottom right hand part of the letter runs
into it]. The writing is somewhat faded. Mary closes the book and lets out a brief exasperated
sound.)
MARY: Now?
(John nods and tilts the drive round to look at the letters on it.)
MARY: Seriously? Months of silence and we’re gonna do this ... (she nods towards the drive) ...
now?
(John lowers the drive to his side, slowly rolling it round in his fingers.)

221B IN THE PAST. Sitting on the dining chair in front of Sherlock and John, Mary puts what
looks like the same pen drive onto the table at the side of John’s chair, then withdraws her
hand. Sherlock, his face in a grimace as if he is in pain, zooms in on the drive and the letters
written on the side of it, although they appear much darker than they will be in the future.
SHERLOCK: ‘A.G.R.A.’ What’s that?
(Mary looks from him to John and clears her throat.)
MARY: Er ... my initials.
(John grimaces and looks away. Sherlock looks down, then glances towards him.)
MARY: Everything about who I was is on there. (Directly to John) If you love me, don’t read it in
front of me.
JOHN (lifting the hand nearest to the table in a shrug): Why?
MARY (apparently trying to hold back tears): Because you won’t love me when you’ve finished
...
(John holds her gaze.)
MARY: ... and I don’t want to see that happen.
(She looks down. With a loud sigh John snatches the drive from the table, looks briefly across to
Sherlock and then shoves the drive into his left trouser pocket. Sniffing, he pulls himself into a
higher sitting position on his chair. Mary looks across to Sherlock.)
MARY: How much d’you know already?
SHERLOCK (still speaking more quietly than we’re used to): By your skill set, you are – or were
– an intelligence agent. Your accent is currently English but I suspect you are not. You’re on the
run from something; you’ve used your skills to disappear; ...

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)