Page 445 - SHERLOCK transcripts

444

I beg your pardon?

(Watson signs:)

Ugly. What you said about
‘The Blue Fishmonger’.
Very ugly...
I am glad you liked
my potato.

(Wilder looks a little bewildered and throws a nervous glance at Holmes, who smiles ruefully at
Watson and signs to him:)

Yes. Needs work, Watson.
Too much time spent on
dancing lessons.

[The full translation of the (mostly accurate) British Sign Language can be seen here.]
WATSON (aloud): Sorry, what?
(Rolling his eyes, Holmes turns and walks away. Watson looks awkwardly at Wilder.)
WATSON: Oh.
(He turns his head and watches Holmes for a moment, then turns back to look at Wilder. Giving
him an embarrassed thumbs-up with his left hand, he follows Holmes who opens the door to a
room in which, with his back to the door, an extremely corpulent man sits wedged into a chair.
On either side of the chair are several tables loaded with all sorts of food, including puddings,
cakes, pork pies and a huge roasted ham. The man is rubbing his fingers together as he chews
on his latest mouthful. As the camera circles around him, he is revealed to be Mycroft Holmes.)
MYCROFT HOLMES: To anyone who wishes to study mankind, this is the spot.
(Watson closes the door while Holmes walks round to face his brother.)
HOLMES: Handy, really, as your ever-expanding backside is permanently glued to it. Good
morning, brother mine.
MYCROFT HOLMES (still chewing his last mouthful): Sherlock. Doctor Watson.
(Watson, now standing at Holmes’ side, is staring in horror at all the food surrounding Mycroft,
but then notices that he is holding out his very pudgy hand to him. He takes Mycroft’s hand and
shakes it.)
WATSON: You look ... well, sir.
MYCROFT HOLMES: Really? I rather thought I looked enormous.
(He picks up a glass of port and drinks from it.)
WATSON: Well, now you mention it, this level of consumption is incredibly injurious to your
health. Your heart ...
HOLMES: No need to worry on that score, Watson.
WATSON: No?
HOLMES: There’s only a large cavity where that organ should reside.
MYCROFT HOLMES: It’s a family trait.
HOLMES: Oh, I wasn’t being critical.
WATSON: If you continue like this, sir, I give you five years at the most.
(Holmes raises his eyebrows and looks round at him.)
MYCROFT HOLMES: Five? We thought three, did we not, Sherlock?
HOLMES: I’m still inclined to four.
MYCROFT HOLMES: As ever, you see but you do not observe. Note the discolouration in the
whites of my eyes, the visible rings of fat around the corneas ...
HOLMES: Yes, you’re right. I’m changing my bet to three years, four months and eleven days.
WATSON: A bet?!
HOLMES: I understand your disapproval, Watson, but if he’s feeling competitive it is perfectly
within his power to die early.
MYCROFT HOLMES: That’s a risk you’ll have to take.
WATSON: You’re gambling with your own life?
MYCROFT HOLMES: Why not? It’s so much more exciting than gambling with others’.
HOLMES (nodding to an item on one of the nearby tables): Three years flat if you eat that plum
pudding.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)