Page 432 - SHERLOCK transcripts

431

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The date “2014” appears on the screen, then the numbers begin rapidly to scroll backwards.
When they reach the late 1800s they begin to fade from the screen, reaching round about
“1884” before disappearing. [It’s likely that the last visible year should be 1881 for canonical
reasons.]
Close-up of a blue eye opening and then widening. Then, in an obvious flashback, Captain John
Watson, wearing Victorian military uniform, is standing in a battlefield and flinching as a shell
explodes close behind him.
WATSON (voiceover): The second Afghan War brought honours and promotion to many.
(In the flashback/dream, Watson is squatting down to a fallen colleague. In real life, Watson
rolls over in bed, trying to get back to sleep.)
WATSON (voiceover): ... but for me it meant nothing but misfortune and disaster.
(In the flashback/dream, still tending to his colleague, Watson cowers as another shell explodes
and he is showered with earth. Some distance away, an enemy soldier squints along his rifle
and pulls the trigger. The bullet impacts Watson’s left shoulder and he falls to the ground. In his
bed, Watson thrashes into a new position, groaning quietly. In the flashback/dream, one of
Watson’s colleagues drags him to safety.)
SOLDIER: You all right, Captain?
(Watson wakes up again, his face covered with sweat. Before his open eyes he can still see
explosions going off on the battlefield.)

The scene changes to a London street in the 1880s. The road is busy with horse-drawn
carriages, and there are many people walking along the pavement.
WATSON (voiceover): I returned to England with my health irretrievably ruined and my future
bleak.
(Watson limps along the road leaning on a cane.)
WATSON (voiceover): Under such circumstances, I naturally gravitated to London, that great
cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the Empire are drained.
(As his narration was happening, a voice could be heard calling out, “Watson!” Now the man
calls out again.)
STAMFORD: Watson!
(Watson turns to see a man smiling as he approaches him.)
STAMFORD: Stamford. Remember?
(Watson looks blankly at him.)
STAMFORD: We were at Bart’s together.
WATSON: Yes, of course. (He shakes hands with the other man.) Stamford.
STAMFORD: Good Lord! Where have you been? You’re as thin as a rake!

Later, they are standing at a table in the crowded bar of the Criterion.
WATSON: I made it home. Many weren’t so lucky.
STAMFORD: So what now?
WATSON: Hmm? I need a place to live. Somewhere decent, and an affordable price. It’s not
easy.
(He drinks from his glass of beer. Stamford chuckles.)
STAMFORD: You know, you’re the second person to say that to me today.
WATSON: Hmm? Who was the first?

In an underground mortuary, a man is repeatedly and violently flogging a corpse with a heavy
walking stick. Currently we can only see the back of his head. Watson and Stamford walk into
the corridor leading to the mortuary and Watson looks through the window of the room with
surprise.
WATSON: Good Lord!
STAMFORD: It’s an experiment, apparently. Beating corpses to establish how long after death
bruising is still possible.
(Watson watches the man a little uncomfortably as he continues to flog the corpse. Eventually
he turns and limps away.)
WATSON: Is there a medical point to that?
STAMFORD (following him): Not sure.
WATSON: Neither am I. So, where’s this friend of yours, then?
(Stamford stops at the door to the room. Watson stops and turns back to look at him, then
realisation begins to dawn.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)