The Hounds of Baskerville 5 page

With the pistol still in his hand, Henry is walking briskly across the moors towards the woods surrounding Dewer’s Hollow. Some distance behind him, Sherlock and John race across the terrain in the Land Rover. Unaware of this, Henry continues onwards, stopping momentarily to stare tearfully at the woods ahead of him, but then he continues onwards. Not long afterwards Sherlock pulls up presumably where the woods begin and he and John get out and continue on foot. Henry reaches the lip of the Hollow and begins to make his way down into the misty valley. Reaching the bottom he slows down and stumbles slowly forward, wandering around vaguely for a moment before coming to a halt.
HENRY (softly): I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Dad.
(Squatting down, he brings up the pistol and opens his mouth as he aims the muzzle towards it.)
SHERLOCK: No, Henry, no! No!
(He and John scramble down the slope, shining their torches towards him. Henry stands up and stumbles backwards, waving the pistol vaguely in their direction. His voice is high-pitched and hysterical.)
HENRY: Get back. Get – get away from me!
JOHN: Easy, Henry. Easy. Just relax.
HENRY: I know what I am. I know what I tried to do!
JOHN: Just put the gun down. It’s okay.
HENRY (his voice hoarse with anguish): No, no, I know what I am!
SHERLOCK (as reassuring as he’ll ever sound): Yes, I’m sure you do, Henry. It’s all been explained to you, hasn’t it – explained very carefully.
HENRY: What?
SHERLOCK: Someone needed to keep you quiet; needed to keep you as a child to reassert the dream that you’d both clung on to, because you had started to remember.
(He begins to step closer to the young man.)
SHERLOCK: Remember now, Henry. You’ve got to remember what happened here when you were a little boy.
(Henry’s gun hand begins to droop momentarily but then he raises it again, his face full of his struggle to understand.)
HENRY: I thought it had got my dad – the hound. I thought ...
(He loses control and begins to scream in anguish.)
HENRY: Oh Je... oh Jesus, I don’t – I don’t know any more!
(Sobbing, he bends forward and aims the muzzle into his mouth again.)
JOHN (lurching forward towards him): No, Henry! Henry, for God’s sake!
SHERLOCK (urgently): Henry, remember. “Liberty In.” Two words; two words a frightened little boy saw here twenty years ago.
(Henry begins to calm a little but still remains hunched over with the gun’s muzzle against his mouth.)
SHERLOCK: You’d started to piece things together, remember what really happened here that night. It wasn’t an animal, was it, Henry?
(Henry starts to straighten up, blinking.)
SHERLOCK: Not a monster.
(Henry turns to look at him.)
SHERLOCK: A man.
(Henry’s eyes widen as the memories begin to come. In brief flashes he starts to relive the truth. As he has always remembered, his father is scrabbling at the ground trying to get away from his attacker, but now for the first time Henry can see that what is pulling him backwards across the earth is not a creature but a man wearing a dark leather old-fashioned gas mask. The glass of the two large eye pieces is tinted a dark red and in the limited light available the eye pieces seem to be glowing. Young Henry watches from partway up the slope, cringing and terrified as the attacker pummels at his father, half strangling him and then punching wildly at his face. Mr Knight manages to pull himself from under his assailant and starts to crawl away but the other man, growling fiercely, tugs him backwards and Henry’s father loses his balance and falls forward. His head strikes a rock and he collapses to the ground unmoving. Breathing heavily through the gas mask, the other man pokes at him, realises that he isn’t going to move again and gets to his feet. He looks down at the man he has just killed and young Henry sees the sweatshirt he is wearing, with its picture of a snarling wolf-like creature, the letters “H.O.U.N.D.” underneath and “Liberty, In” below them. Young Henry’s mind begins to mix everything up and, some hours later when he meets the old lady walking her dog, his new horror is complete and he screams in utter terror.
In the present he gapes at Sherlock as the truth reasserts itself in his mind.)
SHERLOCK: You couldn’t cope. You were just a child, so you rationalised it into something very different. But then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped; driven out of your mind so that no-one would believe a word that you said.
(Quietly John steps forward, holding out his hand encouragingly towards Henry as Greg Lestrade arrives and calls out while he trots down the slope towards them.)
LESTRADE: Sherlock!
JOHN (gently to Henry): Okay, it’s okay, mate.
(He carefully takes the pistol from Henry’s fingers. Henry speaks tearfully to Sherlock.)
HENRY: But we saw it: the hound, last night. We s... we, we, we did, we saw ...
SHERLOCK: Yeah, but there was a dog, Henry, leaving footprints, scaring witnesses, but it was nothing more than an ordinary dog. We both saw it – saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to see it. Fear and stimulus; that’s how it works.
(Henry stares at him in confusion. Sherlock returns his look sympathetically.)
SHERLOCK: But there never was any monster.
(The hound has different ideas, however, and now its anguished howl rings out in the woods above them. Everyone’s head snaps up and John and Greg aim their flashlights upwards to the top of the Hollow where a low shape can be seen slowly stalking along the rim and snarling.)
JOHN: Sherlock ...
(Sherlock stares up in disbelief as Henry turns to him, horrified.)
HENRY: No. (He begins to wail in panic.) No, no, no, no!
(He backs away as Sherlock tries simultaneously to hold out a calming hand towards him while keeping his own torch shining up towards the creature above them.)
SHERLOCK: Henry, Henry ...
JOHN: Sherlock ...
(The creature continues to slink along the rim of the Hollow as Henry begins to scream in abject terror. He crumples to his knees, continually screaming, “No!”)
JOHN: Henry!
(The hound turns towards the Hollow and looks down at everyone, snarling viciously. Its eyes glow in the torchlight as Henry continues to wail.)
LESTRADE (staring up at the rim): Shit!
(John turns and shines his torch into his face.)
JOHN: Greg, are you seeing this?
(Greg glances at him momentarily and his expression answers the question. Sherlock takes a quick look around to the inspector to see his face before turning back to stare up at the hound.)
JOHN: Right: he is not drugged, Sherlock, so what’s that? What is it?!
(As Henry continues to wail behind them, Sherlock screws his eyes shut for a brief moment, trying to handle the overload in his mind. He stares upwards again.)
SHERLOCK: All right! It’s still here ... (he pants heavily for a moment before pulling himself together) ... but it’s just a dog. Henry! It’s nothing more than an ordinary dog!
(The hound doesn’t think so and it raises its head and lets out a long terrifying howl.)
LESTRADE (stumbling backwards): Oh my God.
(And now the hound turns and leaps a short way down the slope, its eyes flashing red in the torchlight.)
LESTRADE: Oh, Christ!
(John stares at it as it stops again, its red glowing eyes now clearly visible as it opens its mouth and reveals a mouthful of long pointed teeth that you would never see on any dog. Its snarl is completely terrifying. Henry has fallen silent, gazing up at it as if he knows that it is going to kill him shortly. Sherlock is still trying to believe what his own eyes are telling him ... and now there’s movement behind them. Sherlock looks over his shoulder and sees a tall human figure through the mist. The new arrival is wearing a breathing mask with a clear visor over his face. Sherlock turns and rushes towards him, grabbing at the mask and ripping it upwards to fully reveal the man’s face ... and Jim Moriarty grins manically back at him.)
SHERLOCK (staring at him in appalled horror): No!
(Behind him the hound growls ominously again. Jim’s expression becomes intense and murderous but then his head begins to distort and flail about, morphing between Jim’s face and someone else’s so quickly that it’s impossible to keep up with the changes. Sherlock grimaces, groaning at the insanity going on in front of him while Jim’s face keeps reasserting itself.)
SHERLOCK (frantically): It’s not you! You’re not here!
(Grabbing at the figure, he spins him around and then headbutts him in the face. The figure crumples slightly and raises his hand to his face as he straightens up ... and now the man in front of Sherlock is Bob Frankland. Sherlock clings onto his jacket, his breathing panicked and frantic ... but then he turns his head to one side and looks at the mist surrounding them. Frankland still has his hand clamped over his mouth and nose, and suddenly it all begins to make sense to Sherlock.)
SHERLOCK: The fog.
JOHN (still aiming his torch up at the hound): What?
SHERLOCK: It’s the fog! The drug: it’s in the fog! Aerosol dispersal – that’s what it said in those records. Project HOUND – it’s the fog! A chemical minefield!
(Greg instantly throws his arm across his face, trying to stop himself from breathing too much of the mist. The hound stalks closer to the group, snarling.)
FRANKLAND: For God’s sake, kill it! Kill it!
(The hound’s movements become more jittery as if it’s winding itself up to attack. Greg aims his pistol and fires three times at it. His bullets fly past it and it flinches momentarily but then rises up and leaps towards them. John’s aim is truer and his bullets strike the hound accurately and throw it backwards. It squeals in pain and crashes to the ground, unmoving. John and Greg watch it anxiously for any signs of movement, and Sherlock runs over to Henry and pushes him towards the hound.)
SHERLOCK: Look at it, Henry.
HENRY (digging his heels in): No, no, no!
SHERLOCK (shoving him forward determinedly): Come on, look at it!
(He bullies the young man forward until they can both clearly see it lying on the ground. In Sherlock’s torchlight it is clearly nothing more than a huge dog. Henry stares at it for a moment and then turns back to where Frankland is still holding his injured face while Greg has his hands over his mouth as he tries to draw breath and come to terms with what he just experienced. Henry looks at Frankland.)
HENRY: It’s just ... You bastard.
(Hurling himself at the older man, he screams with rage.)
HENRY: You bastard!
(Bundling him to the ground, he screams into his face while John and Greg run over and try to pull him off.)
HENRY: Twenty years! Twenty years of my life making no sense! Why didn’t you just kill me?!
(Finally the others manage to pull him up.)
SHERLOCK: Because dead men get listened to. He needed to do more than kill you. He had to discredit every word you ever said about your father, and he had the means right at his feet – a chemical minefield; pressure pads in the ground dosing you up every time that you came back here.
(He holds his arms out wide and spins slowly in a circle, gesturing around the Hollow.)
SHERLOCK: Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once.
(He laughs with delight.)
SHERLOCK: Oh, this case, Henry! Thank you. It’s been brilliant.
JOHN: Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK (turning to him): What?
(John glares at him pointedly.)
JOHN: Timing.
SHERLOCK: Not good?
HENRY: No, no, it’s – it’s okay. It’s fine, because this means ...
(He starts to step towards Frankland. John moves with him, ready to intervene if he should try to attack him again.)
HENRY: ... this means that my dad was right.
(Frankland gets up onto his knees as Henry still tries to move towards him. John and Greg both put a gentle hand onto his shoulders to keep him back.)
HENRY (tearfully): He found something out, didn’t he, and that’s why you’d killed him – because he was right, and he’d found you right in the middle of an experiment.
(Frankland gets to his feet but before he can say anything there’s a savage snarl from behind the group. Everybody spins towards the dog – and bizarrely, when the camera angle changes it looks as if John and Greg were just having a cuddle before they were interrupted. The dog whines in pain but gets up off the ground. John aims and fires towards it twice and it goes down again. Frankland takes the opportunity of the distraction to turn and run off in the opposite direction. Like the single-minded idiot that he is, Sherlock runs right across John’s line of fire, forcing him to lower his pistol, and chases off after the scientist. John turns and follows him up the slope.)
SHERLOCK: Frankland!
(Frankland runs through the woods with Sherlock and John in hot pursuit, Greg and Henry a little behind the other two.)
SHERLOCK: Frankland!
LESTRADE (to Henry): Come on, keep up!
(They run on.)
SHERLOCK: It’s no use, Frankland!
(Reaching the barbed wire fence surrounding the minefield, Frankland doesn’t hesitate and jumps over. His feet tangle in the wire and he falls to the ground on the other side. He jumps up and runs on a few yards but then stops abruptly when his foot thumps down onto a mine, which makes a distinctive clink indicating that he has activated its pressure pad. He stares down at his foot, shining his torch onto the mine underneath and realising that unless he remains completely still and doesn’t lift any pressure off it, the mine will blow. As the others hurry towards the barbed wire, he raises his head, sighs in resignation and deliberately lifts his foot. The others skid to a halt and duck down as a massive explosion rips into the air. As the blast dies down, Henry sinks back against a nearby tree while Sherlock gazes reflectively across the minefield.)

DAY TIME. CROSS KEYS INN. John is sitting at one of the outdoor tables [and, for reasons that I’m sure we’d all like an explanation for, appears to be wearing Sherlock’s Purple Shirt of Sex ™]. Billy brings out a plate containing whatever is the vegetarian equivalent of a full English breakfast and puts it on the table in front of him.
JOHN: Mmm. Thanks, Billy.
(As Billy walks away, Sherlock brings over two mugs and puts one down on the table.)
SHERLOCK: So they didn’t have it put down, then – the dog.
JOHN (tucking into his breakfast while Sherlock stands next to him and drinks his coffee): Obviously. Suppose they just couldn’t bring themselves to do it.
SHERLOCK: I see.
JOHN (smiling): No you don’t.
SHERLOCK: No, I don’t. Sentiment?
JOHN: Sentiment!
SHERLOCK (rolling his eyes): Oh.
(He sits down on the bench next to John.)
JOHN: Listen: what happened to me in the lab?
(Sherlock looks at him for a moment, then turns around and reaches for a box of sauce sachets, looking worried about how he’s ever going to explain all this.)
SHERLOCK: D’you want some sauce with that?
JOHN: I mean, I hadn’t been to the Hollow, so how come I heard those things in there? Fear and stimulus, you said.
SHERLOCK (rummaging through the box of sachets): You must have been dosed with it elsewhere, when you went to the lab, maybe. You saw those pipes – pretty ancient, leaky as a sieve; and they were carrying the gas, so ... Um, ketchup, was it, or brown ...?
JOHN: Hang on: you thought it was in the sugar.
(Sherlock stares at him while trying to maintain a neutral expression.)
JOHN: You were convinced it was in the sugar.
(Sherlock looks away again.)
SHERLOCK: Better get going, actually. (He looks at his watch.) There’s a train that leaves in half an hour, so if you want ...
(John turns his head away as he begins to realise the horrible truth.)
JOHN: Oh God. It was you. You locked me in that bloody lab.
SHERLOCK: I had to. It was an experiment.
JOHN (furiously): An experiment?!
SHERLOCK (looking at people sitting nearby): Shhh.
JOHN (quieter, but still furious): I was terrified, Sherlock. I was scared to death.
SHERLOCK: I thought that the drug was in the sugar, so I put the sugar in your coffee, then I arranged everything with Major Barrymore.
(John sighs in exasperation.)
SHERLOCK: It was all totally scientific, laboratory conditions – well, literally.
(Flashback to Sherlock alone in a room from where he can monitor the lab. Lazily sitting in a chair with his feet up on the table, he watches the screen in front of him which shows John racing across the darkened lab towards the cages as the ‘hound’ growls. A little later Sherlock wiggles his feet comfortably on the desk while John breathes panic-stricken into his phone. John can’t be seen on the screen because he’s hidden inside the cage.)
JOHN (whispering over phone): It’s in here with me.
SHERLOCK (into his phone): All right. Keep talking. I’ll find you.
(There’s a momentary silence.)
SHERLOCK (into phone): Keep talking!
JOHN (over phone): I can’t, it’ll hear me.
SHERLOCK: Tell me what you’re seeing!
(He switches on a small recorder and holds it up to a nearby microphone. Savage growling is played into the lab.)
JOHN (over phone): I don’t know, but I can hear it now.
(Back in the present, Sherlock continues his ‘explanation.’)
SHERLOCK: Well, I knew what effect it had had on a superior mind, so I needed to try it on an average one.
(John looks up from his plate.)
SHERLOCK: You know what I mean.
(John gets back to eating.)
JOHN: But it wasn’t in the sugar.
SHERLOCK: No, well, I wasn’t to know you’d already been exposed to the gas.
JOHN: So you got it wrong.
SHERLOCK: No.
JOHN: Mmm. You were wrong. It wasn’t in the sugar. You got it wrong.
SHERLOCK: A bit. It won’t happen again.
(Sighing, John continues eating, then looks round.)
JOHN: Any long-term effects?
SHERLOCK: None at all. You’ll be fine once you’ve excreted it. We all will.
JOHN: Think I might have taken care of that already.
(Sherlock snorts laughter, then looks across to a nearby table where Gary is pouring coffee for two other customers. He smiles apologetically across to Sherlock, who puts his mug on the table and stands up.)
JOHN: Where’re you going?
SHERLOCK: Won’t be a minute. Gotta see a man about a dog.
(Smiling down at John, he turns and walks away.)

Later, Mycroft has left the cell again. A man in a suit has opened the cell door and has walked inside.
MYCROFT (voiceover): All right. Let him go.
(Jim turns and casually strolls out of the cell. Behind him, the man turns and looks around the room. On almost every plain concrete panel of the walls, Jim has somehow carved a single word into the cement. In different sizes and at different angles, the word repeats all around the cell – and the word is SHERLOCK.
And with the dust which was loosened by the carving, Jim has scratched Sherlock’s name backwards on the mirror so that whoever is watching him from the other side of the mirror will see the name the right way round.
The man in the suit turns and walks away, closing the cell door behind him.)

Date: 2015-12-24; view: 511