Page 426 - SHERLOCK transcripts

425

(The police marksmen run towards the patio, aiming their rifles at Sherlock as he faces them.)
MYCROFT’s VOICE (over speaker): Do not fire on Sherlock Holmes! Do not fire!
(The marksmen take up positions, aiming their laser sights towards Sherlock.)
JOHN: Oh, Christ, Sherlock.
(Keeping his hands raised, Sherlock looks round to him again.)
SHERLOCK: Give my love to Mary.
(John stares at him, his face full of anguish.)
SHERLOCK: Tell her she’s safe now.
(He takes one final look at his best friend and then turns towards the marksmen and the
helicopter and begins to sink slowly to his knees. John holds his own hands high, his eyes full of
despair. Sherlock kneels on the patio, his hands raised and his face anguished. The beams from
the laser sights travel over his face as he stares ahead of himself, knowing that he has done
something from which no-one can save him.
In the helicopter, Mycroft takes off his headset and stares in equal despair towards his brother.)
MYCROFT (softly, anguished): Oh, Sherlock. What have you done?
(He can’t see the adult Sherlock on the patio. Instead, it’s as if his little eleven year old brother
is standing there, his face full of terror as he stares upwards, his hands raised, his curly hair
buffeted by the wind from the helicopter’s rotor blades, and tears pouring down his face. The
young boy lowers his head, weeping.)

[Your transcriber breaks off for a bloody good cry, having torn her heart to pieces typing that
last section.]

DAY TIME. Mycroft stands at the glass wall of a large meeting room. It may be the same room
in which the parliamentary commission was held at the beginning of the episode. He has his
back to the room and is looking outside. A suited man stands nearby to his right.
MYCROFT: As my colleague is fond of remarking, this country sometimes needs a blunt
instrument. Equally, it sometimes needs a dagger – a scalpel wielded with precision and without
remorse.
(He looks to his left.)
MYCROFT: There will always come a time when we need Sherlock Holmes.
(Several men sitting at tables in the room look back at him silently but the man standing near
him speaks.)
SIR EDWIN: If this is some expression of familial sentiment ...
(Mycroft rolls his eyes, sighs and turns to him.)
MYCROFT: Don’t be absurd. I am not given to outbursts of brotherly compassion.
(He looks down for a moment, then turns to Sir Edwin again.)
MYCROFT: You know what happened to the other one.
(Sir Edwin looks away, grimacing slightly. Mycroft turns to look out the window again.)
MYCROFT: In any event, there is no prison in which we could incarcerate Sherlock without
causing a riot on a daily basis. The alternative, however ...
(He looks left towards where Lady Smallwood is sitting at a table.)
MYCROFT: ... would require your approval.
LADY SMALLWOOD: Hardly merciful, Mr Holmes.
MYCROFT: Regrettably, Lady Smallwood, my brother is a murderer.
(He turns away and looks out of the window again.)

AIRFIELD. DAY TIME. A black car drives along the runway towards where an executive jet is
stationary on the tarmac. Standing near the nose of the plane, Sherlock, Mycroft and a security
man watch the car pull up. Mary gets out of the rear door nearest the plane and John from the
other. Smiling, Mary walks towards Sherlock, John following behind.
SHERLOCK (to Mary): You will look after him for me, won’t you?
MARY: Oh ... (she puts her hands on his shoulders and they kiss each other’s cheeks, then hug)
... don’t worry. I’ll keep him in trouble.
(He smiles as she releases him and pulls back.)
SHERLOCK: That’s my girl.
(She turns and walks back to where John has stopped a few paces away, and takes his hand.
John nods to Sherlock in greeting, and Sherlock turns to his brother.)
SHERLOCK: Since this is likely to be the last conversation I’ll have with John Watson ...
(John sighs painfully.)
SHERLOCK: ... would you mind if we took a moment?

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)