OLD BAILEY, COURT TEN. Sherlock has been called to give his evidence and is standing in the witness box. Jim is in the dock opposite him, nonchalantly chewing on his gum. John is sitting in the public gallery upstairs. PROSECUTING BARRISTER: A “consulting criminal.” SHERLOCK: Yes. PROSECUTING BARRISTER: Your words. Can you expand on that answer? SHERLOCK: James Moriarty is for hire. PROSECUTING BARRISTER: A tradesman? SHERLOCK: Yes. PROSECUTING BARRISTER: But not the sort who’d fix your heating. SHERLOCK: No, the sort who’d plant a bomb or stage an assassination, but I’m sure he’d make a pretty decent job of your boiler. (There’s muffled laughter from some people in the court, and the prosecuting barrister tries to hide her smile.) PROSECUTING BARRISTER: Would you describe him as ... SHERLOCK (interrupting): Leading. PROSECUTING BARRISTER: What? SHERLOCK: Can’t do that. You’re leading the witness. (He looks towards the defending barrister.) He’ll object and the judge will uphold. (The judge looks exasperated – apparently this isn’t the first time Sherlock has done this during his evidence.) JUDGE: Mr Holmes. SHERLOCK (to the prosecuting barrister): Ask me how. How would I describe him? What opinion have I formed of him? Do they not teach you this? JUDGE: Mr Holmes, we’re fine without your help. (Kitty comes into the public gallery. John looks round at her as she finds a seat.) PROSECUTING BARRISTER: How would you describe this man – his character? SHERLOCK: First mistake. (He raises his eyes and locks his gaze onto Jim.) James Moriarty isn’t a man at all – he’s a spider; a spider at the centre of a web – a criminal web with a thousand threads and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances. (Jim almost imperceptibly nods his head as if approving of the description. The prosecuting barrister clears her throat awkwardly.) PROSECUTING BARRISTER: And how long ... SHERLOCK (closing his eyes in exasperation): No, no, don’t-don’t do that. That’s really not a good question. JUDGE (angrily): Mr Holmes. SHERLOCK: How long have I known him? Not really your best line of enquiry. We met twice, five minutes in total. I pulled a gun; he tried to blow me up. (Sarcastically) I felt we had a special something. (Jim raises his eyebrows in an “ooh!” expression.) JUDGE: Miss Sorrel, are you seriously claiming this man is an expert, after knowing the accused for just five minutes? SHERLOCK: Two minutes would have made me an expert. Five was ample. JUDGE: Mr Holmes, that’s a matter for the jury. SHERLOCK: Oh, really? (His eyes turn towards the jury box. John raises his hand to his head in an all-too-recognisable “oh, shit, NO!” gesture. Sherlock turns the full force of his gaze onto the twelve people sitting in the jury box and has deduced all of them within a couple of seconds.) SHERLOCK: One librarian; two teachers; two high-pressured jobs, probably the City. (He focuses on the woman at the far left of the front row. She has a notebook resting on the ledge in front of her and is writing in shorthand.) SHERLOCK: The foreman’s a medical secretary, trained abroad judging by her shorthand. JUDGE: Mr Holmes! SHERLOCK (scanning rings on the jury members’ fingers): Seven are married and two are having an affair – with each other, it would seem! Oh, and they’ve just had tea and biscuits. (He turns to the judge.) SHERLOCK: Would you like to know who ate the wafer? JUDGE (angrily): Mr Holmes. You’ve been called here to answer Miss Sorrel’s questions, not to give us a display of your intellectual prowess. (Sherlock takes a breath but can’t help looking up towards John and smiling a little at the acknowledgement of his ‘intellectual prowess.’ John stares at him sternly.) JUDGE: Keep your answers brief and to the point. Anything else will be treated as contempt. (Sherlock raises his eyes in a ‘We’re surrounded by idiots’ type way. Jim smiles slightly as if agreeing.) JUDGE: Do you think you could survive for just a few minutes without showing off? (Sherlock pauses while he gives the question some thought, then opens his mouth and draws in a breath.)
Shortly afterwards, a prison officer marches Sherlock into one of the cells under the courts and shoves him inside, slamming the door shut behind him. A recess has apparently been called in the trial and so a little later two more officers walk Jim to the adjoining cell and lock him inside. As if sensing each other, the two men turn and look at the wall separating them. Jim’s expression slowly becomes murderous.
Some time later Sherlock is being released. While he signs for his personal property, John is standing beside him leaning back against the desk with his arms folded. JOHN: What did I say? I said, “Don’t get clever.” SHERLOCK: I can’t just turn it on and off like a tap. (Taking the bag of items from the custody officer, he turns to John as they begin to walk away.) SHERLOCK: Well? JOHN: Well what? SHERLOCK: You were there for the whole thing, up in the gallery, start to finish. JOHN: Like you said it would be. (Referring to Jim’s defending barrister) He sat on his backside, never even stirred. SHERLOCK: Moriarty’s not mounting any defence.
221B. The boys walk into the living room. JOHN: Bank of England, Tower of London, Pentonville. Three of the most secure places in the country and six weeks ago Moriarty breaks in, no-one knows how or why. (He sits down in his armchair while Sherlock begins to pace.) JOHN: All we know is ... SHERLOCK: ... he ended up in custody. (He stops and turns to John. John takes a breath.) JOHN: Don’t do that. SHERLOCK: Do what? JOHN: The look. SHERLOCK: Look? JOHN: You’re doing the look again. SHERLOCK: Well, I can’t see it, can I? (John points to the mirror above the fireplace as if Sherlock’s an idiot for not realising it’s there. Sherlock turns his head and looks at his reflection.) SHERLOCK: It’s my face. JOHN: Yes, and it’s doing a thing. You’re doing a “we both know what’s really going on here” face. SHERLOCK: Well, we do. JOHN: No. I don’t, which is why I find The Face so annoying. SHERLOCK: If Moriarty wanted the Jewels, he’d have them. If he wanted those prisoners free, they’d be out on the streets. The only reason he’s still in a prison cell right now is because he chose to be there. (He starts to pace again.) SHERLOCK: Somehow this is part of his scheme.
NEXT DAY (presumably, because there can’t be that many more witnesses for the prosecution). OLD BAILEY. JUDGE: Mr Crayhill, can we have your first witness? (The defending barrister rises to his feet.) DEFENDING BARRISTER: Your Honour, we’re not calling any witnesses. (There are cries of surprise around the court, and John – sitting in the public gallery – frowns in confusion.) JUDGE: I don’t follow. You’ve entered a plea of Not Guilty. DEFENDING BARRISTER: Nevertheless, my client is offering no evidence. The defence rests. (He sits down. Jim purses his lips ruefully at the judge, then turns, looks up towards the public gallery and shrugs.)
Not long afterwards, Sherlock – who either chose to stay back at home or has been banned from the court – sits sideways on the sofa with his back against the arm nearest the window. Wearing his blue dressing gown over his clothes, he softly recites the only words that the judge can possibly say in his summing-up speech. His recitation is interspersed with the actual words from the judge, and frequently their lines overlap. SHERLOCK/JUDGE: Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. James Moriarty stands accused of several counts of attempted burglary, crimes which – if he’s found guilty – will elicit a very long custodial sentence; and yet his legal team has chosen to offer no evidence whatsoever to support their plea. I find myself in the unusual position of recommending a verdict wholeheartedly. You must find him guilty. (Sherlock closes his eyes.) SHERLOCK (in a whisper): Guilty. JUDGE: You must find him guilty. (The court adjourns at 10:42. At 10:50 John is sitting on a bench just outside the courtroom when the Clerk of the Court hurries out of a side room.) CLERK: They’re coming back. (John looks at his watch.) JOHN: That’s six minutes. ([Yes, he does say six minutes and the two times above are correct. Either John took into account how long it took the jury to leave the court and go to their allocated room, or the production team needs another slap.]) CLERK: Surprised it took them that long, to be honest. There’s a queue for the loo. (He hurries into the court. John stands up, takes a moment to brace himself and then follows. A few minutes later the Clerk rises to his feet in the courtroom and turns to face the jury.) CLERK: Have you reached a verdict on which you all agree? (One of the jury members lowers his head and shakes it in tiny despairing motions as the foreman gets to her feet and stares unhappily at the Clerk.)
At 221B, Sherlock’s phone begins to ring. His eyes snap open. Outside the court, John is hurrying along the pavement. JOHN (into phone): Not Guilty. They found him Not Guilty. No defence, and Moriarty’s walked free. (Sherlock lowers his phone.) JOHN (into phone): Sherlock. Are you listening? He’s out. You-you know he’ll be coming after you. Sher... (Sherlock switches off the phone and gets up off the sofa. In the kitchen he switches on the kettle and slams down a small tray beside it, putting a jug of milk, a sugar bowl, a teapot and two cups and saucers with teaspoons onto the tray. The kettle comes to the boil and switches off and Sherlock, now wearing a jacket in place of the dressing gown, makes the tea and takes the tray to the table beside John’s chair, then walks over to his own chair and picks up his violin and bow. As he begins to play Bach’s Sonata No. 1 in G minor, downstairs the front door is expertly lockpicked and pushed open. Jim’s easily-recognisable shadow precedes him as he slowly walks along the hall and up the stairs. Partway up, one of the stairs creaks noisily and Jim pauses for a moment, as does Sherlock’s playing. A couple of seconds later Sherlock resumes from a few notes before where he stopped and Jim starts to climb the stairs again. Sherlock, standing with his back to the living room door, keeps playing until Jim pushes open the door, then he stops but doesn’t yet turn around.) SHERLOCK: Most people knock. (He shrugs.) But then you’re not most people, I suppose. (He gestures over his shoulder with his bow towards the table.) SHERLOCK: Kettle’s just boiled. (Jim walks further into the room and bends to pick up an apple from the bowl on the coffee table.) JIM: Johann Sebastian would be appalled. (Tossing the apple and catching it [in an Arthur Shappey-like attempt to be really happy for a brief moment], he looks around the living room as if searching for a seat.) JIM: May I? SHERLOCK (turning to face him): Please. (He gestures with the end of his bow towards John’s chair. Jim immediately walks over to Sherlock’s chair and sits in that one instead. Sherlock looks slightly unnerved. Jim takes out a small penknife and starts to cut into the apple while Sherlock puts down the violin and begins to pour tea into the cups.) JIM: You know when he was on his death bed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one of his pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end ... SHERLOCK: ... and the dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano and finished it. JIM: Couldn’t cope with an unfinished melody. SHERLOCK: Neither can you. That’s why you’ve come. JIM: But be honest: you’re just a tiny bit pleased. SHERLOCK: What, with the verdict? (He picks up one of the teacups, adds a splash of milk and turns and offers the cup to Jim, who sits up straighter and takes it.) JIM: With me ... (softly) ... back on the streets. (He gazes up into Sherlock’s eyes, smiling.) Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain. (He grins. Sherlock turns away and adds milk to his own cup.) JIM: You need me, or you’re nothing. Because we’re just alike, you and I – except you’re boring. (He shakes his head in disappointment.) JIM: You’re on the side of the angels. (He sips his tea as Sherlock picks up his own cup and stirs his drink.) SHERLOCK: Got to the jury, of course. JIM: I got into the Tower of London; you think I can’t worm my way into twelve hotel rooms? SHERLOCK: Cable network. (Flashback to the foreman of the jury in her hotel room sitting on the side of the bed and looking at her TV screen.) JIM (voiceover): Every hotel bedroom has a personalised TV screen ... (Close-up of the TV screen showing the Westhampton Hotel’s Information Service. At the top of the page the message reads “Hello Ms Williams”. The information underneath instantly changes to a photograph of two young children and a baby. A message in red above the photograph reads, “IF YOU WANT YOUR BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN TO STAY BEAUTIFUL THEN FOLLOW MY INSTRUCTIONS”.) JIM (voiceover): ... and every person has their pressure point; someone that they want to protect from harm. (The foreman stares at the TV screen in horror. At 221B, Jim lifts his teacup to his mouth again.) JIM (softly): Easy-peasy. (By now Sherlock has unbuttoned his jacket and sat down in John’s chair. In a perhaps unconscious mimicking of the man seated opposite him, he too has his cup lifted close to his mouth.) SHERLOCK: So how’re you going to do it ... (He pointedly blows gently on his tea.) SHERLOCK: ... burn me? JIM (softly): Oh, that’s the problem – the final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet? (Sherlock has taken a sip of his tea and looks across his cup to the other man.) JIM: What’s the final problem? (He smiles across his own cup.) JIM: I did tell you ... (sing-song but still softly) ... but did you listen? (He takes another sip of tea and then puts the cup down into the saucer. Putting his hand onto his knee, he starts idly drumming his fingers. Sherlock’s eyes lower to watch the movement.) JIM (still drumming his fingers): How hard do you find it, having to say “I don’t know”? (Sherlock puts his cup into its saucer and shrugs.) SHERLOCK (nonchalantly): I dunno. JIM: Oh, that’s clever; that’s very clever; awfully clever. (He chuckles in an upper class tone. Sherlock smiles humourlessly while putting his cup back onto the tray.) JIM: Speaking of clever, have you told your little friends yet? SHERLOCK: Told them what? JIM: Why I broke into all those places and never took anything. SHERLOCK: No. JIM: But you understand. SHERLOCK: Obviously. JIM: Off you go, then. (He has carved a piece off his apple and puts it into his mouth with the flat of his penknife.) SHERLOCK: You want me to tell you what you already know? JIM: No; I want you to prove that you know it. SHERLOCK: You didn’t take anything because you don’t need to. JIM (softly): Good. SHERLOCK: You’ll never need to take anything ever again. JIM: Very good. Because ...? SHERLOCK: Because nothing ... nothing in the Bank of England, the Tower of London or Pentonville Prison could possibly match the value of the key that could get you into all three. JIM: I can open any door anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank account now – they’re all mine. No such thing as secrecy – I own secrecy. Nuclear codes – I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world with locked rooms, the man with the key is king; and honey, you should see me in a crown. (He smiles in delight at Sherlock.) SHERLOCK: You were advertising all the way through the trial. You were showing the world what you can do. JIM: And you were helping. Big client list: rogue governments, intelligence communities ... terrorist cells. They all want me. (He lifts another piece of apple to his mouth with the penknife.) JIM: Suddenly, I’m Mr Sex. SHERLOCK: If you could break any bank, what do you care about the highest bidder? JIM: I don’t. I just like to watch them all competing. “Daddy loves me the best!” Aren’t ordinary people adorable? Well, you know: you’ve got John. I should get myself a live-in one. SHERLOCK: Why are you doing all of this? JIM (still thinking about having a live-in ordinary person): It’d be so funny. SHERLOCK: You don’t want money or power – not really. (Jim digs the point of his penknife into the apple.) SHERLOCK: What is it all for? JIM (sitting forward and speaking softly): I want to solve the problem – our problem; the final problem. (He lowers his head.) JIM: It’s gonna start very soon, Sherlock: the fall. (In a cut-away moment, he raises his head and whistles a slowly descending note while simultaneously lowering his gaze towards the floor.) JIM: But don’t be scared. Falling’s just like flying, except there’s a more permanent destination. (In the cut-away, his gaze reaches the floor and he makes the sound of something thudding to the ground. Raising his head slowly, he glowers across at Sherlock, who bares his teeth slightly and then stands and buttons his jacket.) SHERLOCK: Never liked riddles. (Jim stands as well and straightens his jacket, locking his gaze onto Sherlock’s eyes.) JIM: Learn to. Because I owe you a fall, Sherlock. I ... owe ... you. (He continues to gaze at Sherlock for about six seconds, sealing his promise, then slowly turns and walks away. Sherlock doesn’t move as Jim leaves the room, but after a while he moves towards the apple which Jim left on the arm of his chair with the penknife still stuck in it. He picks it up by the knife handle and looks at it. Jim has dug a large circular piece out of the apple, and on the left of the circle he has carved an “I” shape while on the right of the circle is a “U” shape, forming the letters “I O U”. Sherlock’s mouth twitches into the beginning of a smile.)
The next morning the “Daily Express” front page headline screams “MORIARTY WALKS FREE” with the strapline “Shock verdict at Old Bailey trial”. The opening paragraph reads: “The Judge could only look on dumbfounded as the Jury found ‘Jimbo’ Moriarty ‘Not Guilty’. Gasps were heard around the courtroom as the Jury declared their verdict”. “The Guardian” declares “Shock verdict at trial” and the article begins, “In an unbelievable turn of events Moriarty walked free today after putting up no defence at all for what has been described as the Trial of the Century. Star witness Sherlock Holmes was not present for the verdict as in another twist to the case was thrown out of court by the Judge. Questions have been asked in Parliament and the Prime Minister was quoted as saying ‘This is a disgrace, a sign if ever we needed one that broken Britain is still broken...” [and yes, they do open the quote with single speech marks, then close it with double speech marks]. The “Daily Star” goes with “How was he ever acquitted” [but apparently can’t be bothered to put a question mark after it].
Some time later “The Guardian” declares “Moriarty vanishes” while on one of its inside pages is a cartoon caricature of Sherlock holding a crystal ball with the caption underneath reading, “What Next for the Reichenbach Hero?”
TWO MONTHS LATER. John goes to a NatWest cashpoint machine and inserts his card. Typing in his PIN, he then selects a transaction. After a few seconds he is greeted with the onscreen message:
There is a problem with your card Please wait
(John grimaces and a second later a new message appears:
Thank you for your patience.
A moment later the message adds:
John
John frowns and behind him a black car pulls up to the kerb and stops. John turns and looks at it, then turns back to the ATM, sighing in exasperation. However, he still hasn’t learned his lesson about getting into strange cars and apparently meekly gets in and allows himself to be driven to an elegant white painted building which has a brass plaque outside declaring the venue to be THE DIOGENES CLUB. He goes inside and enters a large room which – back when the building used to be a house – was probably a drawing room. A large marble fireplace surrounds an unlit fire and the walls have heavy wooden panelling and ornate white plaster coving. The room contains five small round tables, each with a single armchair beside it, and four of the chairs are currently occupied by smartly dressed middle aged or elderly gentlemen reading newspapers and taking no notice of each other or of the new arrival. John looks around and then walks over to one of the older men sitting at the far end of the room.) JOHN: Er, excuse me. Um, I’m looking for Mycroft Holmes. (The old man’s face becomes appalled but he doesn’t look up.) JOHN: Would you happen to know if he’s around at all? (Some of the other inhabitants of the room behind John look round at him but don’t speak.) JOHN: Can you not hear me? (The old man looks up at him, huffing indignantly. John holds out a placatory hand to him.) JOHN: Yes, all right. (He turns around to the others in the room.) JOHN: Anyone? (The others turn their faces away from him.) JOHN: Anyone at all know where Mycroft Holmes is? I’ve been asked to meet him here. (The old man lifts his walking stick and pushes the end of it repeatedly onto a button on the nearby wall. A distant bell rings. John looks around in confusion while the gentlemen either ignore him or look at him in annoyance.) JOHN: No takers? Right. (He raises his voice.) Am I invisible? Can you actually see me? (Just then two men wearing dress coats walk into the room. John turns to them.) JOHN: Ah, thanks, gents. (Behind him, the elderly gentleman flaps his hand frantically at the new arrivals as if to say, ‘Get him out of here!’ The dress coated men, wearing white gloves and soft white overshoes to muffle their footsteps, walk briskly over to John.) JOHN: I’ve been asked to meet Mycroft Holm... (He breaks off as the men walk either side of him and firmly seize his arms.) JOHN: What the ...? Hey! (As they almost lift him off his feet, one of them puts his other hand over John’s mouth to silence him. His muffled protests continue while they rapidly bundle him out of the room.) [As a footnote of potential interest, VerityBurns alerted me to the fact that the old gentleman is played by Douglas Wilmer who played the role of Sherlock Holmes in a BBC series in the 1960s. Callie-Ariane transcripts: not only hopefully entertaining and useful but educational as well!]
Shortly afterwards John has been taken to a smaller room and the door has been closed firmly behind him. Mycroft is in the room with him and pours himself a drink from a crystal decanter. MYCROFT: Tradition, John. Our traditions define us. JOHN: So total silence is traditional, is it? You can’t even say, “Pass the sugar.” MYCROFT: Three-quarters of the diplomatic service and half the government front bench all sharing one tea trolley. It’s for the best, believe me. (He smiles round at John but then his face becomes more grim as he walks towards a pair of armchairs in the middle of the room.) MYCROFT: They don’t want a repeat of 1972. But we can talk in here. (John walks to a small table and picks up a copy of “The Sun” which is lying on it. He brandishes it at Mycroft.) JOHN: You read this stuff? MYCROFT: Caught my eye. JOHN (sitting down in one of the armchairs): Mmm-hmm. MYCROFT: Saturday: they’re doing a big exposé. (John reads the announcement at the top of the front page. The headline reads: “SHERLOCK: THE SHOCKING TRUTH” with the strapline “Close Friend Richard Brook Tells All”. The article reveals that it is an Exclusive from Kitty Riley and the text reads: “Super-sleuth Sherlock Holmes has today been exposed as a fraud in a revelation that will shock his new found base of adoring fans. // Out-of-work actor Richard Brook revealed exclusively to THE SUN that he was hired by Holmes in an elaborate deception to fool the British public into believing Holmes had above-average ‘detective skills’. // Brook, who has known Holmes for decades and until recently considered him to be a close friend, said he was at first desperate for the money, but later found he had no” [at which point the text just stops].) JOHN: I’d love to know where she got her information. MYCROFT: Someone called Brook. Recognise the name? (John lowers the paper and shakes his head.) JOHN: School friend, maybe? (Mycroft laughs in a snide way. Your transcriber wants to slap him really quite hard.) MYCROFT: Of Sherlock’s? (He chuckles again.) But that’s not why I asked you here. (He walks to a side table and picks up several folders. Returning to John he gives him one of them. John opens the file and looks at the photograph on the top page.) JOHN: Who’s that? MYCROFT: Don’t know him? JOHN: No. MYCROFT: Never seen his face before? JOHN (looking at the photo again): Umm ... MYCROFT: He’s taken a flat in Baker Street, two doors down from you. JOHN: Hmm! I was thinking of doing a drinks thing for the neighbours. (He smiles sarcastically up at Mycroft who looks back at him straight-faced.) MYCROFT: Not sure you’ll want to. (He nods towards the folder.) Sulejmani. Albanian hit squad. Expertly-trained killer living less than twenty feet from your front door. JOHN: It’s a great location. Jubilee line’s handy. MYCROFT: John ... JOHN: What’s it got to do with me? MYCROFT (walking over and giving him another of the files): Dyachenko, Ludmila. (He sits down opposite John, who lets out a long tired groan as he opens the file and looks at the photograph inside before frowning a little.) JOHN: Um, actually, I think I have seen her. [Of course you have, John you dog ...] MYCROFT: Russian killer. She’s taken the flat opposite. JOHN (now sounding a little nervous): Okay ... I’m sensing a pattern here. MYCROFT (handing him the rest of the files): In fact, four top international assassins relocate to within spitting distance of two hundred and twenty-one B. Anything you care to share with me? (Looking at the photographs of the other assassins, John chuckles, then looks up at Mycroft.) JOHN: I’m moving?! (Mycroft looks back at him unamused, then narrows his eyes.) MYCROFT: It’s not hard to guess the common denominator, is it? JOHN: You think this is Moriarty? MYCROFT: He promised Sherlock he’d come back. JOHN: If this was Moriarty, we’d be dead already. MYCROFT: If not Moriarty, then who? JOHN: Why don’t you talk to Sherlock if you’re so concerned about him? (Mycroft looks away and toys with the glass on the table beside him. John rolls his eyes.) JOHN: Oh God, don’t tell me. MYCROFT: Too much history between us, John. Old scores; resentments. JOHN: Nicked all his Smurfs? Broke his Action Man? (Mycroft glowers at him. John can’t help but laugh, then pulls himself together and puts the files onto the table beside him.) JOHN (in a whisper): Finished. (He stands up and turns to leave the room.) MYCROFT: We both know what’s coming, John. (John stops and turns back, clearly now struggling to control his anger.) MYCROFT: Moriarty is obsessed. He’s sworn to destroy his only rival. JOHN (tightly): So you want me to watch out for your brother because he won’t accept your help. MYCROFT: If it’s not too much trouble. (He directs a smile at John but it quickly fades and his expression becomes more threatening. John holds his gaze, then looks away, nods in a resigned way and turns to go to the door again. Opening it, he looks back at Mycroft once more, who still has the same look on his face, then leaves the room.)
221B. A taxi drops John off opposite the flat. As he crosses the road, he can’t help but be aware of people passing by in the street, wondering if any of them are the assassins keeping an eye on the flat. When John reaches the front door – which is standing wide open – he sees that a brown envelope has been left on the doorstep. There is nothing written on the front but the back has a large old fashioned wax seal on it. He peels open one corner of the envelope and puts his finger in to slide it along the edge and slice the rest of the envelope open. Immediately a lot of brown dust, with some larger chunks of brown something, fall out. As he catches some of the debris and looks at it, a man’s Cockney voice speaks behind him. MAN: ’Scuse, mate. JOHN: Oh. (He steps aside as a heavily tattooed bald-headed man wearing jeans and a black vest carries a stepladder into the hallway. John follows him in, putting the envelope into his pocket as he goes. He trots upstairs and goes into the living room.) JOHN: Sherlock, something weird ... (He stops when he sees that Greg and Sally are in the room with Sherlock.) JOHN: What’s going on? SHERLOCK: Kidnapping. (He goes over to the dining table and sits down and starts to type on the laptop.) LESTRADE: Rufus Bruhl, the ambassador to the U.S. JOHN: He’s in Washington, isn’t he? LESTRADE: Not him – his children, Max and Claudette, age seven and nine. (Sally shows photographs of the two children to John.) LESTRADE: They’re at St Aldate’s. DONOVAN: Posh boarding place down in Surrey. LESTRADE (to Sherlock, who is still typing): The school broke up; all the other boarders went home – just a few kids remained, including those two. DONOVAN: The kids have vanished. LESTRADE: The ambassador’s asked for you personally. (Sherlock is already on his feet and heading out of the door with his coat over his arm.) DONOVAN (sarcastically): The Reichenbach Hero. (Sherlock hesitates momentarily but then continues on. After a second Greg follows him out.) LESTRADE: Isn’t it great to be working with a celebrity(!) (As John gestures for Sally to precede him out of the room, their actions are being watched by a camera high up on the living room wall near the left-hand front window.)
