Page 452 - SHERLOCK transcripts

451

HOLMES: Not at all. Orange pips are a traditional warning of avenging death, originating in
America. Sir Eustace knows this only too well, just as he knows why he is to be punished.
(Taking their hats from the pegs, they start to walk out onto the entrance porch.)
WATSON (putting on his hat): Something to do with Emelia Ricoletti.
HOLMES: I presume. We all have a past, Watson.
WATSON: Hmm.
(They stop in the porch.)
HOLMES: Ghosts – they are the shadows that define our every sunny day. Sir Eustace knows
he’s a marked man.
(Watson glances back behind them into the house.)
HOLMES: There’s something more than murder he fears. He believes he is to be dragged to Hell
by the risen corpse of the late Mrs Ricoletti.
(Watson looks around thoughtfully for a moment, then turns back to Holmes.)
WATSON: That’s a lot of nonsense, isn’t it?
HOLMES: God, yes. Did you bring your revolver?
WATSON: What good would that be against a ghost?
HOLMES: Exactly. Did you bring it?
WATSON: Yeah, of course.
HOLMES: Then come, Watson, come.
(He puts on his deerstalker.)
HOLMES: The game is afoot!
(They head off.)

NIGHT TIME. In a greenhouse in the grounds of the Carmichael house, Watson grunts and
stands up from some lower position.
[Transcriber's note: At this point, one of my betas made some positively filthy suggestions
about what Watson had been doing in that lower position. I’m so proud of her. ;-) ]
HOLMES: Get down, Watson, for heaven’s sake!
WATSON (quickly sitting down): Sorry. Cramp.
(Grimacing, he rubs his leg.)
WATSON: Is the, er, lamp still burning?
HOLMES (looking across to one of the few windows of the house which are still lit): Yes.
(Almost immediately, the lamp in that room goes out.)
HOLMES: There goes Sir Eustace.
(He looks across to another lighted window, which goes dark a moment later.)
HOLMES: And Lady Carmichael. The house sleeps.
(Watson shakes his head, apparently bored, then draws in a deep breath.)
WATSON: Mmm, good God, this is the longest night of my life.
HOLMES: Have patience, Watson.
(Watson takes out his pocket watch and looks at it.)
WATSON: Only midnight.
(He puts the watch away.)
WATSON: You know, it’s rare for us to sit together like this.
HOLMES: I should hope so. It’s murder on the knees.
(He smiles. Watson returns the smile.)
WATSON: Hmm. Two old friends, just talking, chewing the fat ...
(He looks at Holmes.)
WATSON: ... man to man.
(Holmes looks somewhat startled, then looks towards the house whilst fidgeting slightly.)
WATSON: She’s a remarkable woman.
HOLMES: Who?
WATSON: Lady Carmichael.
HOLMES: The fair sex is your department, Watson. I’ll take your word for it.
WATSON: No, you liked her. A “woman of rare perception.”
HOLMES: And admirably high arches. I noticed them as soon as she stepped into the room.
WATSON: Huh. She’s far too good for him.
HOLMES: You think so?
WATSON: No, you think so. I could tell.
HOLMES: On the contrary, I have no view on the matter.
WATSON: Yes you have.
HOLMES (after a momentary pause): Marriage is not a subject upon which I dwell.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)