Page 87 - SHERLOCK transcripts

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(With the everyday noise of the street all around him, John can’t hear what he’s saying. He
bends down and puts his ear to the letterbox which he’s still holding open.)
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK (louder): Somebody’s been in here before me!
JOHN: What are you saying?
(Sherlock has taken his pocket magnifier from his coat and looks down to where a foot has
rucked up the rug, leaving an impression of the intruder’s shoe.)
SHERLOCK (not as loudly): Size eight feet.
(He pushes through the beaded curtain between the kitchen and the bedroom/living room, bent
forward while he examines the rug.)
SHERLOCK (now talking more to himself than to John): Small, but ... athletic.
(He straightens up, looking thoughtful. Outside, John lets go of the letterbox and straightens
up, sighing in exasperation.)
JOHN: I’m wasting my breath.
(He walks a couple of paces away from the door, glaring around in annoyance, then turns back
and rings the doorbell again. Inside, Sherlock has picked up a framed photograph of two young
Chinese children – a boy and a girl. A fresh handprint is on the glass where someone has
pressed their fingers against the image of the girl. Sherlock is holding his magnifier over the
fingerprints as he gently runs his gloved fingers along them to gauge the size.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Small, strong hands.
(Closing the magnifier, he puts down the photograph.)
SHERLOCK: Our acrobat.
(He frowns, looking round.)
SHERLOCK: But why didn’t he close the window when he left ...?
(He stops as he realises the truth and rolls his eyes at himself.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, stupid. Stupid. Obvious. He’s still here.
(He looks around the room and sees an ornately decorated free-standing folding screen
shielding the bed. Putting his magnifier into his pocket, he walks carefully towards it and then
grabs the edge of the screen and pulls it back. Two stuffed toys stare back at him in startled
terror from the bedside table. Before he has a chance to apologise to them, someone quickly
wraps a long white silk scarf around his neck from behind and bundles him to the floor on his
back, strangling him. Sherlock grabs at the scarf, trying to relieve the pressure on his throat but
the assailant – dressed all in black – continues to throttle him. Downstairs, John bends to the
letterbox and flips it open again.)
JOHN: Any time you want to include me.
SHERLOCK (faintly, as he struggles against his attacker): John! John!
(Downstairs, John has straightened up again and shakes his head in frustration.)
JOHN (pacing in irritation): “No, I’m Sherlock Holmes and I always work alone because no-one
else can compete with ...”
(He storms back to the letterbox, flips it open and angrily shouts through it.)
JOHN: “... my MASSIVE INTELLECT!”
(He drops the letterbox again. Upstairs, Sherlock is starting to lose consciousness. As his
struggles become weaker and his hands fall clear of the scarf, the attacker releases his grip.
Downstairs, John angrily rings on the doorbell again. Upstairs, while Sherlock lies still on the
floor, his eyes half closed, the assailant shoves something into Sherlock’s coat pocket, then gets
up and runs off. Sherlock chokes and coughs, tugging the scarf from around his neck and rolling
onto his front before getting up onto his hands and knees. As the attacker disappears through
the beaded curtain into the kitchen, Sherlock groans and pulls his own scarf loose, gasping as
he gets his breath back. Downstairs, John looks at his watch in irritation and shakes his head,
apparently considering just leaving. Upstairs, breathing a little better, Sherlock sits up on his
heels, rummages in his coat pocket and pulls out a black origami paper flower. He looks at it for
a moment, then stumbles to his feet, wobbling for a moment before pulling himself together
and heading for the stairs.
A few moments later he opens the front door downstairs. John makes an exasperated sound
and glares at him. When Sherlock speaks, his voice is croaky.)
SHERLOCK: The, uh, milk’s gone off and the washing’s starting to smell. Somebody left here in
a hurry three days ago.
JOHN: Somebody?
SHERLOCK (nodding, his voice still rough): Soo Lin Yao. We have to find her.
(He looks down and bends to pick something off the floor.)
JOHN: But how, exactly?

Transcripts by Ariane DeVere (arianedevere@livejournal.com)