Sherlock Series 1

The Great Game


Andrew Scott  Haydn Gwynne  Rupert Graves  Una Stubbs  Zoe Telford

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Watson: What the hell are you doing?
Sherlock: Bored!
Watson: What?
Sherlock firing at the wall: Bored! Bored! Not much got in to the criminal classes. Good job I’m not one of them.
Watson: So you take it out on the wall.
Sherlock: Ah, the wall had it coming.

Watson: Is that a head?
Sherlock: Just tea for me, thanks.
Watson: No, there’s a head in the fridge.
Sherlock: Yes.
Watson: A bloody head!
Sherlock: Well where else was I supposed to put it? You don’t mind do you? Got it from Bart’s morgue. I’m measuring the coagulation of saliva after death.

Sherlock: I see you’ve written up the taxi driver case.
Watson: Uh, yes.
Sherlock: “A Study in Pink.” Nice.
Watson: Well, you know. A pink lady, pink case, pink phone. There was a lot of pink. Did you like it?
Sherlock: Um… no.
Watson: Why not? I thought you’d be flattered.
Sherlock: Flattered? “Sherlock sees through everyone and everything in seconds. What’s incredible though is how spectacularly ignorant he is about some things.”
Watson: Now hang on minute, I didn’t mean that in a—
Sherlock: Oh! You meant “spectacularly ignorant” in a nice way. Look, it doesn’t matter to me who’s Prime Minister or who’s sleeping with who.
Watson: Whether the Earth goes around the sun.
Sherlock: Oh god, that again. It’s not important!
Watson: Not important? It’s primary school stuff. How can you not know that?
Sherlock: Well If I ever did I deleted it.
Watson: Deleted it?
Sherlock: Listen. This is my hard drive and it only makes sense to put things in there that are useful. Really useful. Ordinary people fill their heads with all kinds of rubbish. And that makes it hard to get at the stuff that matters. Do you see?
Watson: But it’s the solar system!
Sherlock: Oh! How? What does that matter? So we go ’round the sun. If we went ’round the moon or round and round the garden like a teddy bear it wouldn’t make any difference. All that matters to me is the work. Without that my brain rots. Put that in your blog. Or better still, stop inflicting your opinions on the world.

Sherlock: Look at that, Mrs. Hudson. Quiet. Calm. Peaceful. Isn’t it hateful.
Mrs. Hudson (Una Stubbs): Oh, I’m sure something will turn up Sherlock. A nice murder. That’ll cheer you up.
Sherlock: Can’t come too soon.
Mrs. Hudson noticing the wall: Hey! What have you done to my bloody wall? {Sherlock admires his handiwork}. I’m putting this on your rent, young man.

Sarah (Zoe Telford): Maybe next time I’ll let you kip at the end of my bed, you know?
Watson: What about the time after that?

Watson: Sherlock!
Sherlock: John.
Watson: I saw it on the telly. Are you okay?
Sherlock: Me? What? Oh. Yeah. Fine. Gas leak. Apparently.

Sherlock: I can’t.
Mycroft: Can’t?
Sherlock: The stuff I’ve got on is just too big. I can’t spare the time.
Mycroft: Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance.
Sherlock: How’s the diet?
Mycroft: Fine. Perhaps you can get through to him, John.
Watson: What?
Mycroft: I’m afraid my brother can be very intransigent.
Sherlock: If you’re so keen why don’t you investigate it?
Mycroft: No no no. I can’t possibly be away from the office for any length of time. Not with the Korean elections so— {they stop} Well, you don’t need to know about that, do you. Besides, a case like this, it requires… legwork.

Sherlock: How’s Sarah, John? How was the lilo?
Mycroft: Sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa.
Sherlock: Oh yes, of course.
Watson: How— Oh never mind.

Mycroft: Sherlock’s business seems to be booming since you and he became pals. What’s he like to live with? Hellish, I would imagine.
Watson: I’m never bored.
Mycroft: Good. That’s good, isn’t it.

Mycroft: Andrew West. Known as Westie to his friends. Civil servant. Found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in.
Watson: Jumped in front of a train?
Mycroft: It seems the logical assumption.
Watson: But…
Mycroft: But?
Watson: Well you wouldn’t be here if it was just an accident.
Mycroft: The MOD is working on a new missile defense system. The Bruce-Partington Program, it’s called. The plans for it were on a memory stick.
Watson: That wasn’t very clever.
Mycroft: It’s not the only copy. But it is secret. And missing.
Watson: Top secret?
Mycroft: Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can’t possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands. You’ve got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don’t make me order you.
Sherlock: I’d like to see you try.
Mycroft: Think it over. Goodbye, John. See you very soon.

Watson: Why’d you lie? You’ve got nothing on. Not a single case. That’s why the wall took a pounding. Why did you tell your brother you were busy?
Sherlock: Why shouldn’t I?
Watson: Oh. I see. Sibling rivalry. Now we’re getting somewhere.

Sherlock: Lestrade. I’ve been summoned. Are you coming?
Watson: If you want me to.
Sherlock: Of course. I’d be lost without my blogger.

Lestrade (Rupert Graves): That explosion.
Sherlock: Gas leak, yes?
Lestrade: No.
Sherlock: No?
Lestrade: No. Made to look like one.
Watson: What?
Lestrade: Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box. A very strong box. And inside of it is this.
Sherlock: You haven’t opened it?
Lestrade: It’s addressed to you, isn’t it. We’ve x-rayed it. It’s not booby-trapped.
Sherlock: How reassuring.

Watson: That’s the phone— the pink phone.
Lestrade: What from A Study in Pink?
Sherlock: Well obviously it’ s not the same phone. But it’s supposed to look like— “A Study in Pink”? You read his blog?
Lestrade: Of course I read his blog. We all do. Do you really not know that the Earth goes around the sun?

Five Pips

Lestrade: What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agents photo and the bloody Greenwich pips.
Sherlock: It’s a warning.
Watson: A warning?
Sherlock: Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips. They’re warning us it’s going to happen again.

Watson: Shoes. He’s a bomber, remember.

Sherlock: The curtain rises.
Watson: What?
Sherlock: Nothing.
Watson: No, what did you mean?
Sherlock: I’ve been expecting this for some time.

Sherlock: Pass me my phone.
Watson: Where is it?
Sherlock: Jacket.

Sherlock: Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: why is my brother determined to bore me when someone else is being so delightfully interesting.

Molly: Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes.
Jim from IT: Ah!
Molly: And uh… Sorry?
Watson: John Watson, hi.
Jim from IT: Hi. So you’re Sherlock Holmes. Molly’s told me all about you. Are you on one of your cases?
Molly: Jim works in IT upstairs. That’s how we met. Office romance.
Sherlock: Gay.
Molly: Sorry, what?
Sherlock: Nothing. Um, hey.
Jim from IT upending a pan: Sorry! Sorry! Well I better be off. I’ll see you at The Fox. About six-ish?
Molly: Yeah.
Jim from IT: Bye. It was nice to meet you.
Watson: You too.

Molly: What do you mean gay? We’re together.
Sherlock: And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You’ve put on three pounds since I last saw you.
Molly: Two and a half.
Sherlock: Mm. Three.
Watson: Sherlock—
Molly: He’s not gay! Why’d you have to spoil— ? He’s not.
Sherlock: With that level of personal grooming?
Watson: Because he puts a bit of product in his hair? I put product in my hair.
Sherlock: You wash your hair. There’s a difference. No, no. Tinted eyelashes. Clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines, those tired, clubber’s eyes. Then there’s his underwear.
Molly: His underwear?
Sherlock: Visible above the waistline. Very visible. Very particular brand. That plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here and I’d say you better break it off now and save yourself the pain. {She runs off}.
Watson: Charming. Well done.
Sherlock: Just saving her time. Isn’t that kinder?
Watson: Kinder? No. No, Sherlock. That wasn’t kind.

Sherlock: So. The kid who owned these trainers came from Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind.
Watson: So what happened to him?
Sherlock: Something bad. He loved those shoes, remember? He’d never leave them filthy. wouldn’t leave them go unless he had to. So child with big feet gets— Oh.
Watson: What?
Sherlock almost to himself: Carl Powers.
Watson: Sorry, who?
Sherlock: Carl Powers, John.
Watson: What is it?
Sherlock: It’s where I began.

Sherlock: The boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water but by the time they got him out it was too late. There was something wrong, something I couldn’t get out of my head.
Watson: What?
Sherlock: His shoes.
Watson: What about them?
Sherlock: They weren’t there. I made a fuss. I tried to get the police interested but nobody seemed to think it was important. He’d left all the rest of his clothes in his locker. But there was no sign of his shoes. Until now.

Sherlock: How quaint.
Watson: What is?
Sherlock: You are. “For Queen and Country”.
Watson: You can’t just ignore it!
Sherlock: I’m not ignoring it. I’m putting my best man onto it right now.
Watson: Right. Good. Who’s that?

Mycroft: John. How nice. I was hoping it wouldn’t be long. How can I help you?

Watson: He was found at Battersea, yes? So he got off the train.
Mycroft: No.
Watson: What?
Mycroft: He had an oyster card. But it hadn’t been used.
Watson: He must have bought a ticket.
Mycroft: There was no ticket on the body.
Watson: Then how—
Mycroft: Then how did he end up with a bashed-in brain on the tracks of Battersea. That is the question. The one I was rather hoping Sherlock would provide an answer to. How’s he getting on?
Watson: He’s fine. And it is going very well. You know, he’s completely focused on it.

Sherlock: Elegant.
Watson: Elegant?
Lestrade: What was the point? Why would anyone do this?
Sherlock: Oh. I can’t be the only person in the world that gets bored.

Four Pips

Sherlock: You’ve stolen another voice I presume.
Bomber: This is about you and me.
Sherlock: Who are you? What’s that noise?
Bomber: The sound of life, Sherlock. But don’t worry. I can soon fix that. You solved my last puzzle in nine hours. This time you have eight.

Watson: Why did you lie to her?
Sherlock: People don’t like telling you things. They love to contradict you. Past tense, did you notice? I referred to her husband in the past tense, she joined in. Bit premature—they’ve only just found the car.
Watson: You think she murdered her husband?
Sherlock: Definitely not. That’s not a mistake a murderer would make.
Watson: I see. No I don’t. What do I see?

Bomber: The clue’s in the name: Janus Cars.
Sherlock: Why would you be giving me a clue?
Bomber: Why does anyone do anything? Because I’m bored. We were meant for each other, Sherlock.
Sherlock: Then talk to me in your own voice.
Bomber: Patience.

Sherlock: Feeling better?
Watson: You realize we’ve only stopped for breath since this thing started. Has it occurred to you—
Sherlock: Probably.
Watson: No, has it occurred to you that the bomber’s playing a game with you. The envelope. Breaking into the other flat. The dead kid’s shoes. It’s all meant for you.
Sherlock: Yes, I know.
Watson: Is it him then? Moriarty?
Sherlock: Perhaps.

Three Pips

Sherlock: That could be anybody.
Watson: Well it could be, yeah. Lucky for you I’ve been more than a little unemployed.
Sherlock: How do you mean?
Watson: Lucky for you Mrs. Hudson and I watch far too much telly.

Bomber: This one is a bit defective. Sorry. She’s blind. This is a funny one. I’ll give you twelve hours.
Sherlock: Why are you doing this?
Bomber: I like to watch you dance.

Lestrade: There’s something else that we haven’t thought of.
Sherlock: Is there?
Lestrade: Yes. Why is he doing this, the bomber? If this woman’s death was suspicious why point it out?
Sherlock: Good Samaritan.
Lestrade: Who press-gangs suicide bombers?
Sherlock: Bad Samaritan.
Lestrade: I’m serious, Sherlock. Listen, I’m cutting you slack here, I’m trusting you, but out there some poor bastard’s covered in Semtex and just waiting for you to solve the puzzle. So just tell me, what are we dealing with?
Sherlock: Something new.

Mrs. Hudson: It’s a real shame. I liked her. She taught you how to do your colors.
Lestrade: Colors?
Mrs. Hudson: You know, what goes best with what. I should never wear cerise, apparently. Drains me.

Blind Woman: Help me!
Sherlock: Tell us where you are. Address.
Blind Woman: He was so— his voice. He sounded so soft…
Sherlock: Hello?
Lestrade: Sherlock? What’s happened?

Sherlock: Well obviously I lost that round. Although technically I did solve the case. He killed the old lady because she started to describe him. Just once he put himself in the firing line.
Watson: What d’you mean?
Sherlock: Well usually he must stay above it all. He organizes these things but no one ever has direct contact.
Watson: Mm. What, like the Connie Prince murder, he arranged that? So people come to him, wanting their crimes fixed up like booking a holiday?
Sherlock: Novel.

Watson: There are lives at stake, Sherlock! Actual human lives. Just so I know, do you care about that at all?
Sherlock: Will caring about them help save them?
Watson: Nope.
Sherlock: Then I’ll continue not to make that mistake.
Watson: You find that easy do you?
Sherlock: Yes. Very. Is that news to you?
Watson: No. No.
Sherlock: I’ve disappointed you.
Watson: That’s a good— good deduction. Yeah.
Sherlock: Don’t make people into heroes John. Heroes don’t exist and if they did I wouldn’t be one of them.

Two Pips

Lestrade: You reckon this is connected then, the bomber?
Sherlock: Must be. Odd though. He hasn’t been in touch.
Lestrade: Then we must assume that some poor bugger’s primed to explode, yeah?
Sherlock: Yes.
Lestrade: Any ideas?
Sherlock: Seven. So far.

Sherlock: He’s been in the river a long while. The water’s destroyed most the data. But I’ll tell you one thing: that lost Vermeer painting’s a fake.

Lestrade: So this is a hit?
Sherlock: Definitely. The Golem squeezes the life out of his victims with his bare hands.
Lestrade: But what has this got to do with that painting. I don’t see wh—
Sherlock: You do see, you just don’t observe.
Watson: Alright, alright. Girls. Calm down.

Sherlock: Tonight they unveil the rediscovered masterpiece. Now why would anyone want to pay the Golem to suffocate a perfectly ordinary attendant? Inference: the dead man knew something about it. Something that would stop the owner getting paid thirty million pounds. The picture’s a fake.
Watson: Fantastic.
Sherlock: Meretricious.
Lestrade: And a happy new year.

Lestrade: I better get my feelers out for this Golem character.
Sherlock: Pointless. You’ll never find him. But I know a man who can.
Lestrade: Who?
Sherlock: Me.

Watson: What are you doing?
Sherlock: Investing. Now we go to the gallery. Have you got any cash?

Ms. Wenceslas (Haydn Gwynne): It’s not a fake.
Sherlock: It is a fake. I don’t know why, but there’s something wrong with it. There has to be.
Ms. Wenceslas: What the hell are you on about? You know, I could have you sacked on the spot.
Sherlock: Not a problem.
Ms. Wenceslas: No?
Sherlock: No. I don’t work here, you see. I just popped in to give you a bit of friendly advice.

Ms. Wenceslas: Who are you?
Sherlock: Sherlock Holmes.
Ms. Wenceslas: Am I supposed to be impressed?
Sherlock: You should be. Have a nice day.

He didn’t steal those things, Mr. Watson. I knew Westie. He was a good man. He was my good man.

Watson: Any time you want to explain?
Sherlock: Homeless network.
Watson: Homeless network?
Sherlock: My eyes and ears all over the city.
Watson: That’s clever. So you scratch their backs and…
Sherlock: Yes. And then disinfect myself.

Sherlock: The painting is a fake! It’s a fake! That’s why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed. Oh come on, proving it’s just a detail. The painting is a fake. I’ve solved it, I’ve figured it out. It’s a fake—that’s the answer, that’s why they were killed. {silence}. Okay, I’ll prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?
Bomber: Ten…
Lestrade: It’s a kid! Oh god, it’s a kid.
Watson: What did he say?
Sherlock: Ten. It’s a countdown. He’s giving me time.

Sherlock: You know, it’s interesting. Bohemian stationery, an assassin named after a Prague legend. And you, Ms. Wenceslas. This whole case has a distinctly Czech feeling about it. Is that where this leads?

Ms. Wenceslas: It was just an idea. A spark which he blew into a flame.
Sherlock: Who?
Ms. Wenceslas: I don’t know. It’s true! It took a long time but eventually I was put in touch with people. His people. Well, there was never any real contact. Just messages. Whispers.
Sherlock: And did those whispers have a name?
Ms. Wenceslas: Moriarty.

Sherlock: The point.
Watson: Yes!
Sherlock: Knew you’d get there eventually. West wasn’t killed here. That’s why there was so little blood.
Watson: How long have you been following me?
Sherlock: Since the start. You don’t think I’d give up on a case like this just to spite my brother, do you? Come on Watson. Little bit of burglary to do.

Sherlock: The missile plans haven’t left the country otherwise Mycroft’s people would have heard about it. Despite what people think we do still have a Secret Service.
Watson: Yeah, I know. I’ve met them.
Sherlock: Which means whoever stole the memory stick can’t sell it or doesn’t know what to do with it. My money’s on the latter.

Sherlock: Distraction over. The game continues.
Watson: Well maybe that’s over too. We’ve heard nothing from the bomber.
Sherlock: Five pips, remember John? It’s a countdown. We’ve only had four.

Sherlock: No! No no! Of course he’s not the boy’s father! Look at the turn-ups on his jeans.
Watson: Knew it was dangerous.
Sherlock: Hm?
Watson: Getting you into crap telly.

Watson: You give Mycroft the memory stick yet?
Sherlock: Yep. He was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood. Again.
Watson: You know I’m still waiting.
Sherlock: Hm?
Watson: For you to admit that a little knowledge of the solar system and you’d have cleared up the fake painting a lot quicker.
Sherlock: Didn’t do you any good, did it?
Watson: No, but I’m not the world’s only consulting detective.
Sherlock: True.

Sherlock: Brought you a little “getting to know you” present. Oh, that’s what it’s all been for isn’t it? All your little puzzles, making me dance. All to distract me from this.
Watson walking out: Evening. This is a turn up, isn’t it, Sherlock?
Sherlock: John. What the hell?
Watson: Bet you never saw this coming. What would you like me to make him say next? Gottle o’ geer. Gottle o’ Geer. Gottle o’ g—
Sherlock: Stop it.
Watson: Nice touch this, the pool. Where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop John Watson too. Stop his heart.
Sherlock: Who are you?
Jim Moriarty (Andrew Scott) appearing across the pool: I gave you my number. I thought you might call. Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket? Or are you just pleased to see me?
Sherlock: Both.
Moriarty: Jim Moriarty. Hi. {no reaction}. Jim? Jim from the hospital? Huh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then I suppose that was rather the point. Don’t be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don’t like getting my hands dirty. I’ve given you a glimpse, Sherlock—just a teensy glimpse—of what I’ve got going on out there in the big bad world. I’m a specialist, you see. Like you.
Sherlock: “Dear Jim, Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover’s nasty sister.” “Dear Jim, Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America.”
Moriarty: Just so.
Sherlock: Consulting criminal. Brilliant.
Moriarty: Isn’t it? No one ever gets to me. And no one ever will.
Sherlock: I did.
Moriarty: You’ve come the closest. Now you’re in my way.
Sherlock: Thank you.
Moriarty: Didn’t mean it as a compliment.
Sherlock: Yes you did.
Moriarty: Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting’s over, Sherlock. {sing song} Daddy’s had enough now! I’ve shown you what I can do. I’ve cut loose all those people, all those little problems. Even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off. Although. I have loved this. This little game of ours. Playing Jim from IT. Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?
Sherlock: People have died.
Moriarty: That’s what people DO!
Sherlock: I will stop you.
Moriarty: No you won’t.
Holmes to Watson: You all right?
Moriarty: You can talk, Johnny Boy. Go ahead.
Holmes offering the memory stick: Take it.
Moriarty: Hm? Oh, that. The missile plans. {kisses the memory stick}. Boring! I could have got them anywhere. {he tosses it in the pool}.
Watson grabbing Moriarty: Sherlock run!
Moriarty: Oh! Good. Very good.
Watson: Just like that. Pull that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, and we both go up.
Moriarty: He’s sweet, I can see why you like having him around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets. They’re so touching and loyal. But oops! You’ve rather shown your hand there, Dr. Watson. Gotcha!

Moriarty unruffling his suit: Westwood. Do you know what happens if you don’t leave me alone, Sherlock? To you.
Sherlock: Oh let me guess, I get killed.
Moriarty: Kill you? Eh, no. Don’t be obvious. I mean I’m going to kill you anyway someday. I don’t want to rush it though. I’m saving it up for something special. No no no no. If you don’t stop prying I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you.
Sherlock: I have been reliably informed that I don’t have one.
Moriarty: But we both know that’s not quite true. Well. I’d better be off. So nice to have had a proper chat.
Sherlock: What if I was to shoot you now? Right now.
Moriarty: Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face. Because I’d be surprised, Sherlock. Really I would. And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock: Catch you… later.
Moriarty: No you won’t!

Holmes frantically ripping the jacket off of Watson: Alright? Are you all right?!
Watson: Yeah, I’m fine. Sherlock— Sherlock! Are you okay?
Sherlock: Me? Yeah. Fine. Fine. That, ah— thing that you did. That you, um, you offered to do. That was, um… good.
Watson: I’m glad no one saw that.
Sherlock: Hm?
Watson: You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk.
Sherlock: People do little else.
They both notice the red laser sights have returned, as has:
Moriarty: Sorry boys! I’m soooo changeable! It is a weakness with me. But to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can’t be allowed to continue. You just can’t. I would try to convince you. Everything I have to say has already crossed your mind.
Sherlock: Probably my answer has crossed yours. {He aims the gun at Moriarty and then down to the bomb-laden jacket}…