Page 63 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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JEFF: Or maybe God just loves me.
(Sherlock straightens up and leans forward, clasping his hands in front of him on the table.)
SHERLOCK: Either way, you’re wasted as a cabbie.

John has arrived at Roland-Kerr College. As the taxi pulls away, John tucks the notebook into
his jacket and looks at the two identical buildings in front of him. Clearly the map isn’t precise
enough to indicate exactly where the phone is. After a moment, he makes his choice and heads
towards the buildings.

In the classroom, Sherlock lifts his clasped hands in front of his mouth and gazes at Jeff
intently.
SHERLOCK: So, you risked your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?
(Jeff nods down to the bottles.)
JEFF: Time to play.
SHERLOCK (unfolding his fingers and adopting the prayer position in front of his mouth): Oh, I
am playing. This is my turn. There’s shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody’s pointed it out
to you.
(Flashback to Jeff sitting in the driver’s seat of the cab, which is when Sherlock noticed this.)
SHERLOCK: Traces of where it’s happened before, so obviously you live on your own; there’s
no-one to tell you.
(Jeff tries not to fidget under Sherlock’s gaze.)
SHERLOCK: But there’s a photograph of children. The children’s mother has been cut out of the
picture. If she’d died, she’d still be there.
(Flashback to the photograph attached to the dashboard of the cab. There is indeed a third
person at the left of the photograph but the photo has been cut along that side to remove most
of her image.)
SHERLOCK: The photograph’s old but the frame’s new. You think of your children but you don’t
get to see them.
(Jeff’s gaze slides away from Sherlock and for the first time there’s a hint of pain in his eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Estranged father. She took the kids, but you still love them and it still hurts.
(He extends his index fingers.)
SHERLOCK: Ah, but there’s more.
(Jeff lifts his gaze back to Sherlock as he points his index fingers towards him.)
SHERLOCK: Your clothes: recently laundered but everything you’re wearing’s at least ... three
years old? Keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze
murder spree. What’s that about?
(Jeff has got control of himself again and his expression says nothing as he gazes back at
Sherlock. The detective’s eyes widen slightly as he makes his most important deduction.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Ahh. Three years ago – is that when they told you?
JEFF (flatly): Told me what?
(Sherlock’s deduction seems to appear beside Jeff’s head:

DYING

SHERLOCK: That you’re a dead man walking.
JEFF: So are you.
SHERLOCK: You don’t have long, though. Am I right?
(Jeff smiles.)
JEFF: Aneurism.
(He lifts his right hand and taps the side of his head.)
JEFF: Right in ’ere.
(Sherlock smiles in satisfaction.)
JEFF: Any breath could be my last.
SHERLOCK (frowning again): And because you’re dying, you’ve just murdered four people.
JEFF: I’ve outlived four people. That’s the most fun you can ’ave on an aneurism.
SHERLOCK (thoughtfully): No. No, there’s something else. You didn’t just kill four people
because you’re bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator.
Somehow this is about your children.
JEFF (looking away and sighing): Ohh.
(He looks at Sherlock again.)
JEFF: You are good, ain’t you?

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)