Page 5 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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SHERLOCK: Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Mouth’s too small now.
(He picks up the mug and takes a sip.)
MOLLY (unhappily): Okay.
(She turns and heads back towards the door.)
SHERLOCK (putting the mug down and starting to type again): How d’you feel about the violin?
(John has been watching Molly but realises that Sherlock is talking to him.)
JOHN: I’m sorry, what?
SHERLOCK (still typing): I play the violin when I’m thinking. Sometimes I don’t talk for days on
end. (He half glances round towards John.) Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should
know the worst about each other.
(John looks round at Mike.)
JOHN: Oh, you told him about me?
MIKE (smiling smugly): Not a word.
JOHN (turning to Sherlock again): Then who said anything about flatmates?
SHERLOCK (standing up and putting on his greatcoat): I did. I told Mike this morning that I
must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is after lunch with an old friend
clearly home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn’t a difficult leap.
JOHN: How did you know about Afghanistan?
(Sherlock ignores the question and leans forward to shut down the computer.)
SHERLOCK: Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we could afford it.
We’ll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o’clock.
(He heads towards the door.)
SHERLOCK: Sorry – I’ve gotta dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary.
(John throws a disbelieving grin at Mike and then turns towards the departing Sherlock.)
JOHN: Is that it?
(Sherlock stops near the door.)
SHERLOCK: Is that what?
JOHN: We’ve just met and we’re gonna go and look at a flat?
SHERLOCK: Problem?
(John throws another look at Mike but he says nothing. John turns back to the younger man.)
JOHN: We don’t know a thing about each other; I don’t know your name; I don’t even know
where we’re meeting.
(Sherlock lowers his gaze momentarily, then quirks a brief grin as he raises his eyes again.)
SHERLOCK: I know you’re an Army doctor and you’ve recently been invalided home from
Afghanistan. I know you’ve got a brother with a bit of money who’s worried about you but you
won’t go to him for help because you don’t approve of him – possibly because he’s an alcoholic;
more likely because he recently walked out on his wife.
(John stares at him in surprise. Behind him, Mike lowers his head with a smug smile on his
face.)
SHERLOCK: And I know your therapist thinks your limp’s psychosomatic – quite correctly, I’m
afraid.
(He smiles very briefly.)
SHERLOCK: That’s enough to be going on with, don’t you think?
(He turns and walks towards the door again, but then comes back and leans around the wall
which blocks the door from view.)
SHERLOCK: The name’s Sherlock Holmes and the address is two two one B Baker Street.
(He click-winks at John.)
SHERLOCK: Afternoon.
(He turns and leaves the room. As the door slams shut behind him, John turns and looks at
Mike in disbelief. Mike smiles and nods to him.)
MIKE: Yeah. He’s always like that.
(He turns and walks away. John looks back towards the door, still looking confused.)

THE NEXT DAY. BAKER STREET, LONDON W1. John limps along the road and reaches the door
marked 221B. Next door is a café restaurant which has a sign above the window reading “Mrs
Hudson’s Snax ‘n’ Sarnies” which is not only appalling spelling but commits the ultimate sin of
being written in Comic Sans font. As John stands and looks at the sign a black cab pulls up at
the kerb and Sherlock gets out and walks over to him.
SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson, our landlady.
(He smiles as John turns to him.)
JOHN: Ah, Mr Holmes.

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)