Page 473 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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WATSON: Since when do you call me John?
HOLMES: You’d be surprised. (He smiles.)
WATSON: No I wouldn’t. (He smiles back briefly, then looks down towards Moriarty.) Time you
woke up, Sherlock.
(He raises his gaze to Holmes again, who had been looking away but now turns to look at him.)
WATSON: I’m a storyteller. I know when I’m in one.
HOLMES: Of course. Of course you do, John. (He smiles again.)
WATSON: So what’s he like? The other me, in the other place?
HOLMES: Smarter than he looks.
WATSON: Pretty damned smart, then.
HOLMES (smiling): Pretty damned smart.
(As they smile at each other, Moriarty makes a disgusted noise.)
MORIARTY: Urgh. Why don’t you two just elope, for God’s sake?
WATSON: Impertinent!
HOLMES: Offensive.
WATSON: Actually ... (he lowers his revolver) ... would you mind?
HOLMES: Not at all.
(Watson walks forward to stand behind Moriarty, then lifts his right foot and firmly kicks him in
the back, sending him forward over the edge. Moriarty screams as he falls. Watson steps
forward and he and Holmes look down into the abyss below them. As Moriarty’s scream ends,
Watson straightens up and looks at his friend.)
WATSON: It was my turn.
HOLMES: Quite so.
WATSON: So, how do you plan to wake up?
HOLMES (looking around the area for a moment): Ohhh, I should think like this.
(He steps onto the rim of the ledge.)
WATSON: Are you sure?
(Holmes turns to look at him.)
HOLMES: Between you and me, John, I always survive a fall.
WATSON: But how?
HOLMES (facing forward again): Elementary, my dear Watson.
(Taking off his deerstalker, he tosses it into the abyss and then, bending his knees slightly, he
leaps forward, spreading his arms wide, and plunges into the void. Falling horizontally and
facing downwards with his arms still outspread, he starts to smile. He flies ever downwards, his
smile widening and becoming a happy grin as he falls.)

Sitting in the plane parked on the airfield’s tarmac, Sherlock jerks awake and opens his eyes.
They are a little glassy and the pupils are rather dilated. Someone’s hand is leaning on the
headrest beside his head. He looks around in confusion for a moment, then his eyes settle on
something specific. He smiles.
SHERLOCK: Miss me?
(It’s John who is leaning over him and to whom he addressed the question. Mary is in front of
Sherlock’s seat, bending forward and looking worriedly at him. Mycroft is in the middle of the
aisle a few paces behind her.)
JOHN: Sherlock? You all right?
SHERLOCK: Yes, of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?
MARY: ’Cause you probably just OD’d. You should be in hospital.
SHERLOCK: No time. (He starts to get up.) I have to go to Baker Street now. Moriarty’s back.
(He stumbles as he steps into the aisle and slowly shakes his head, trying to get his balance.)
MYCROFT: I almost hope he is, if it’ll save you from this.
(He holds up the piece of paper containing Sherlock’s ‘list.’ Looking exasperated, Sherlock
snatches it from his hand and tears it in half and then half again.)
SHERLOCK: No need for that now. (He drops the pieces to the floor.) Got the real thing. I have
work to do.
(He begins to step forward but stops when Mycroft speaks.)
MYCROFT (softly): Sherlock.
(Sherlock raises his eyes to his brother’s.)
MYCROFT (softly): Promise me?
(Sherlock looks around the cabin for a moment, then looks back to Mycroft.)
SHERLOCK: What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be off getting me a pardon or
something, like a proper big brother?

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)