The whited-out scene fades back in again and John is standing in the Tube carriage with his eyes closed and his head raised. He grips the handrail and lowers his head, blowing out a long breath. Nearby it sounds as if Sherlock is crying. His head is lowered and the back of his hand is across his mouth while his body shakes with what seem to be sobs. John screws his eyes even more tightly closed. Sherlock lowers his hand and turns his head away, then turns back, hooting with laughter. John opens his eyes and looks across to him as Sherlock giggles in high-pitched hilarity. Staring at him, John steps forward and looks down at the countdown clock on the mother bomb. It is repeatedly flicking back and forth between 1:28 and 1:29. John turns away as if he can’t believe it. Flashback to Sherlock frantically staring down at the bomb while John turns away. Sherlock’s gaze immediately falls on a small switch on the side of the bomb. He grins, then squeezes his fingers down the side of the device to flick the switch. In the present, John turns back to look at the clock again and then stares upwards in disbelief. JOHN: You ... (Sherlock stands up, tears of mirth streaming down his cheeks.) SHERLOCK (laughing hysterically): Oh, your face! JOHN: ... utter ... SHERLOCK: Your face! JOHN: You ... (Sherlock grins.) SHERLOCK: I totally had you. JOHN: You cock! I knew it! I knew it! You f... SHERLOCK (simultaneously): Oh, those things you said – such sweet things! I-I never knew you cared(!) JOHN (glaring at him): I will kill you if you ever breathe a word of this ... SHERLOCK (grinning while holding up two fingers in a Boy Scout’s salute): Scout’s honour. JOHN: ... to anyone. You KNEW! SHERLOCK: Ahh. (He squats down to the bomb.) JOHN (furiously): You knew how to turn it off! SHERLOCK: There’s an Off switch. JOHN: What? SHERLOCK: There’s always an Off switch. (John bends down to look at the switch.) SHERLOCK (standing up again): Terrorists can get into all sorts of problems unless there’s an Off switch. JOHN (tightly): So why did you let me go through all that? SHERLOCK: I didn’t lie altogether. I’ve absolutely no idea how to turn any of these silly little lights off. (He chuckles and wipes the tears off his cheeks.) SHERLOCK: Oh! (Through the open door of the driver’s cab, a voice over a walkie-talkie radio can be heard, and flashlight beams are approaching along the tunnel. John stares, then points towards them.) JOHN: And you did call the police. SHERLOCK: ’Course I called the police. (Three armed officers are approaching, flashlights shining from their raised rifles.) JOHN: I’m definitely gonna kill you. SHERLOCK: Oh, please(!) Killing me – that’s so two years ago. (Quirking a smile at John, he turns and heads towards the driver’s cab. Despite himself, John lets out a silent laugh. Sherlock chuckles as he continues on, and John lets out an exasperated sigh.)
HOTEL. A uniformed female member of staff wheels a trolley along the corridor, presumably on her way to deliver a meal to one of the rooms. She passes Room 305 and the camera stops and focuses on the door. Your transcriber – exhausted and almost delirious by now – raises her eyebrows and hopes very much that this is the room in which Sherlock and John are celebrating their reunion. Sadly, it’s Lord Moran who opens the door and looks cautiously up and down the corridor before picking up his briefcase and leaving the room. When he gets to the lift he presses the Down button repeatedly, clearly not understanding that, like traffic lights, pushing the button more than once will never make things happen more quickly. It doesn’t matter anyway, because almost immediately a gun is cocked behind his head and the muzzle held to the back of his neck. The gun is being held by the uniformed woman we just saw. As Moran raises his hands, two men run towards him from opposite directions, also aiming pistols at him.
BAKER STREET. DAY TIME. Outside the door to 221, reporters and photographers are milling around in the road. Over a phone can be heard the song “Do you hear the people sing?” from ‘Les Miserables.’ Mycroft’s voice comes over the phone, his tone desperate. MYCROFT’s VOICE: Sherlock, please. I beg of you. You can take over at the interval. (Sherlock is in his bedroom, walking over to the wardrobe mirror and one-handedly buttoning his jacket over the Purple Shirt of Sex™.) SHERLOCK (into phone): Oh, I’m sorry, brother dear, but you made a promise. There’s nothing I can do to help. MYCROFT (over phone): But you don’t understand the pain of it – the horror! (Grinning, Sherlock ends the call and turns to John who is approaching along the corridor.) JOHN: Come on. You’ll have to go down. They want the story. (Rolling his eyes, Sherlock walks past him.) SHERLOCK: In a minute. (They walk into the living room where Mary is sitting on the sofa holding a glass of champagne. Mrs Hudson sits in the nearby chair and Greg is sitting in John’s chair, also holding a champagne glass. Sherlock pops the cork on a new bottle and walks across the room with the bottle and a glass, kneeling down beside the coffee table to pour.) MRS HUDSON: Oh, I’m really pleased, Mary. Have you set a date? MARY: Er, well we thought May. MRS HUDSON: Oh! Spring wedding! MARY: Yeah. Well, once we’ve actually got engaged. JOHN: Yeah. MARY (looking pointedly at Sherlock): We were interrupted last time. JOHN: Yeah. (Sherlock smiles at her.) LESTRADE: Well, I can’t wait. (He raises his glass in a toast. John, who has just put his jacket on, smiles round at him. Putting down the glass he just poured, Sherlock stands up and walks towards the far window.) MARY: You will be there, Sherlock? SHERLOCK: Weddings – not really my thing. (He looks across and winks at her. She smiles. The door opens.) MOLLY: Hello, everyone. JOHN: Hey, Molly. MOLLY (holding hands with the man accompanying her): This is Tom. (John stares at her boyfriend, almost does a double-take and then looks across the room to where Sherlock is looking out of the window.) MOLLY: Tom, this is everyone. TOM: Hi. (John continues to look at him in surprise. The man could practically cosplay Sherlock at any respectable fandom convention. He is tall and slender, has dark curly hair – a little shorter than Sherlock’s – and has large pale blue eyes and prominent cheekbones. He is wearing a dark coat with the collar turned up and the scarf around his neck is tied the same way that Sherlock ties his.) LESTRADE: Hi. TOM: It’s really nice to meet you all. (He looks at John.) Hi. (John looks him up and down, grinning, then finally pulls himself together.) JOHN: Wow. Yeah, hi. I’m John. (He shakes his hand.) Good to meet you. (He looks across to Sherlock, who turns round from the window.) SHERLOCK: Ready? JOHN: Ready. (Tom turns to meet Sherlock, who smiles down at Greg as he walks past him, then catches sight of Tom for the first time. He stops dead and his eyes widen. Tom looks at him equally wide-eyed as Sherlock gives him the once-over from his feet upwards.) LESTRADE (walking across the room behind them): Champagne? MOLLY: Yes. (Sherlock’s jaw drops open a little and he turns his eyes towards John, who grins back at him expectantly. Finally Sherlock holds out his hand to Tom, and they shake hands. Glancing down at Molly, Sherlock walks in between the couple and out of the door. Tom turns to watch him go. Greg hands Molly a glass of champagne.) MOLLY: Thanks. (John starts to follow Sherlock, but stops briefly to take another look at Tom, who is taking a glass from Greg.) TOM: Thank you. (Still apparently not quite able to take in the similarity, John heads out of the room and closes the door behind him. Mrs Hudson gestures Tom towards the sofa.) MRS HUDSON: Sit down, love. TOM: Oh, thanks. (As he walks over there, Greg turns to Molly.) LESTRADE: So, um, is it serious, you two? MOLLY (smiling): Yeah! I’ve moved on! (A little doubtfully, Greg looks across to Tom who is already being chatted to by Mary and Mrs H. Outside on the landing, John walks over to Sherlock, who is looping his scarf around his neck. John points back towards the door.) JOHN (quietly): Did you, er ...? SHERLOCK (quietly): I’m not saying a word. JOHN: No, best not. (Sherlock looks down at how he has just tied his scarf, then throws up his hands with an exasperated expression and sighs. John looks at the door again, then turns back to Sherlock.) JOHN: I’m still waiting. SHERLOCK: Hmm? JOHN: Why did they try and kill me? If they knew you were on to them, why go after me – put me in the bonfire? SHERLOCK (picking up his coat): I don’t know. I don’t like not knowing. (He trots down the stairs, John following.) SHERLOCK: Unlike the nicely embellished fictions on your blog, John, real life is rarely so neat. (He stops at the bottom of the stairs to put on his coat. John stops a couple of steps from the bottom.) SHERLOCK: I don’t know who was behind all this, but I will find out, I promise you. JOHN: Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this. SHERLOCK (not looking round): Hmm? JOHN: Being back. Being a hero again. SHERLOCK: Oh, don’t be stupid. JOHN: You’d have to be an idiot not to see it. You love it. SHERLOCK (turning to face him): Love what? JOHN: Being Sherlock Holmes. SHERLOCK: I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean. (He turns and walks down the hall, putting on his gloves.) JOHN: Sherlock, you are gonna tell me how you did it? How you jumped off that building and survived? SHERLOCK (stopping but not turning round): You know my methods, John. I am known to be indestructible. JOHN: No, but seriously. When you were dead, I went to your grave. SHERLOCK: I should hope so. JOHN: I made a little speech. I actually spoke to you. SHERLOCK (turning to look at him): I know. I was there. JOHN: I asked you for one more miracle. I asked you to stop being dead. SHERLOCK (softly): I heard you. (They look at each other for a moment, then Sherlock draws in a sharp breath and turns round.) SHERLOCK: Anyway, time to go and be Sherlock Holmes. (He smiles and starts towards the door, then hesitates for a moment and grimaces slightly before reaching to the coat rack. Taking his deerstalker from its peg, he puts it onto his head and tugs it into position, then opens the front door and goes out to meet the reporters as they gather round him, taking photos and shouting questions. John closes the door and steps to his side.)
Somewhere in a creepy-looking storage room, or laboratory, or warehouse, many rows of shelves are filled with files and folders. Displayed around the room are grotesque dolls, stuffed animals and unpleasant-looking sculptures. At the end of the room, a man wearing thin-rimmed glasses is watching film or CCTV footage displayed on the wall. It shows several angles of John being rescued from the bonfire. Some of it is on a loop, and Mary’s anguished cry of “John!” repeats several times while Sherlock drags John out from underneath the bonfire. The man watches intently as the footage repeats over and over again, and his gaze finally settles on a freeze-frame of Sherlock leaning down to the fire just before he pulls John free. The man looks fixedly at Sherlock’s image ... and his pupils rapidly contract.
The Sign of Three
EIGHTEEN MONTHS AGO. A newspaper article is headed, “BANK GANG LEAVE COPS CLUELESS”. The accompanying photograph shows two men outside a court holding their hands up in front of their faces so they cannot be recognised in the pictures. At the entrance to the court itself Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade and Detective Sergeant Sally Donovan walk briskly out through the door. LESTRADE: They just walked out of there! DONOVAN: Yeah, I know. I was sort of sitting next to you. LESTRADE: The whole Waters family! They just walked right out of there! DONOVAN: Again, I was in the room. LESTRADE (angrily): How do they always manage that? DONOVAN: They’re good. LESTRADE: They’re greedy, and they’ll do it again, and next time we’re gonna catch ’em in the act. DONOVAN: How? [Transcriber’s note: some of the newspaper articles name Greg as ‘DCI Lestrade’ but in the end credits of the programme he is named as ‘DI Lestrade.’ I am far more inclined to believe the end credits.]
TWELVE MONTHS AGO. A newspaper article is headed, “WHO STOLE OUR TWO MILL?” and shows police officers standing in a cordoned-off area outside a building, with a police car parked behind the cordon. In real life, Greg gets into the driver’s seat of his car parked just outside the cordon and angrily slams the door closed. Sally is sitting in the passenger seat. DONOVAN: No good? LESTRADE: They always know we’re coming. (Furiously) How do they always know? DONOVAN: They’re good. They work at it. LESTRADE: They’re never gonna stop. DONOVAN: Well, neither are we.
SIX MONTHS AGO. A new headline reads, “POLICE ARE NO CLOSER TO WATERS GANG CONVICTION” and the photograph again shows the court. Greg storms out of the building with Sally behind him. He lets out an angry incoherent noise as he walks away.
THREE MONTHS AGO. This time the headline reads, “Waters gang walk free – again!” and there is another photo of two men near the court, covering their faces against the photographers. On the steps outside the court, two uniformed police officers stand and watch while Greg repeatedly kicks the living daylights out of the back tyre of his car, grunting with fury. Sally stands beside the driver’s door and helplessly watches him. Finally she has had enough. DONOVAN (loudly): Greg! (Greg gestures dramatically at her.) LESTRADE (loudly): In the act! The only way we’re gonna do this! In. The. Act! (He kicks the tyre once more and then storms forward and angrily tugs the driver’s door open, inadvertently shoving Sally out of the way.)
YESTERDAY. A man wearing a gruesome clown’s mask and holding a sawn-off shotgun looks around a bank vault and then turns to where a second man, wearing a different but equally horrid-looking mask, straightens up from typing on a laptop. A third masked man is inside a nearby open strong room and is slowly carrying three heavy gold ingots toward the door. The laptop screen shows, “ALARMS OFFLINE”. The second man goes into the strong room where hundreds of gold ingots are stacked up on a couple of pallets. He lifts three ingots on top of each other, then hauls them up in his hands and makes his way out. On a different laptop the screen shows the same information as the one in the vault but this one now displays a second message reading, “*** HACKING DETECTED***”. In a car outside the bank, Sally sits in the passenger seat with the laptop on her lap. The rooftop lights of nearby police cars are flashing and police officers are walking around. Greg sits beside her. LESTRADE: You still blocking it? DONOVAN: Yeah. Very efficiently hacked. They must be bloody pleased with themselves. LESTRADE: They must be! (He smiles at her.) (Inside the strong room the third clown is looking down at the two pallets, which are now empty. The second clown walks over to him and puts his hand on his shoulder. Outside, armed police begin to run into the bank. Greg and Sally are out of the car and Greg gestures to her as they follow the others.) LESTRADE: Right then? DONOVAN: Oh, no! No, you’ve gotta make the arrest. This one’s yours, boss. LESTRADE: You’ve never called me ‘boss’ before. DONOVAN: Ah, well, look what happens when you’re good! (They both grin as they walk on.) LESTRADE: You know how most days aren’t good days? This is a good day. DONOVAN: Not for the Waters family. (Greg’s phone beeps a text alert. He looks down towards his pocket and grimaces, but then ignores it.) DONOVAN: Okay: ten men on the roof; all exits covered; the bank’s closed, so there are no hostages to worry about ... (Greg’s phone beeps again. Again he grimaces and Sally looks round at him.) LESTRADE: Sorry, no, go on, go on. DONOVAN: Um, we’ve got the tunnel entrance covered; and Davies, Willard and Christie are heading up our Response on Mafeking Road. (Greg’s phone beeps twice more. He takes it from his pocket and stops to look at it.) LESTRADE: Sorry, I’d better get this. DONOVAN (continuing onwards with the other officers): It’s him, isn’t it? (Greg’s face fills with shock as he reads the string of messages he has received:
HELP. BAKER ST. NOW. HELP ME. PLEASE.
He looks up at Sally.) LESTRADE: I-I, I have to go. DONOVAN (turning back in surprise): What?! LESTRADE: You make the arrest. DONOVAN: No way! LESTRADE: Sorry. You’ll be fine. I’m-I’m-I’m cool with this. DONOVAN: Jones’ll get all the credit if you leave now! You know he will! (Greg hesitates, clearly reluctant to give up his chance for success.) LESTRADE: Yeah, but d... It doesn’t matter. I have to go. (He turns and hurries away. Sally watches him for a moment, grimacing, then continues on with the other officers. Outside, Greg is running for his car, making a phone call as he goes.) LESTRADE (into phone): Back-up. I need maximum back-up. Baker Street, now! (He gets into his car and speeds off.)
221B BAKER STREET. Greg races up the stairs and into the living room. LESTRADE (breathlessly): What’s going on? (Sherlock is sitting at the dining table looking at his laptop. The fingers of both his hands are pressed into his temples.) SHERLOCK: This is hard. LESTRADE: What? SHERLOCK: Really hard. Hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. (Lowering his hands, he picks up a book and holds it up to show Greg. The book is called “How to write an unforgettable best man speech”.) SHERLOCK: Have you any funny stories about John? (Greg stares at him in disbelief. Outside, police cars are sirening their way into Baker Street and screeching to a halt.) LESTRADE: What?! (Putting the book down, Sherlock looks up at him.) SHERLOCK: I need anecdotes. (He seems to notice Greg’s expression.) SHERLOCK: Didn’t go to any trouble, did you? (Greg stares at him, still breathing heavily. Outside, an ambulance is sirening its way up the road, and a helicopter can be heard approaching. Sherlock’s eyes shift sideways when he becomes aware of the noise outside, and the curtains in the open window behind him billow inwards as the helicopter hovers lower. Sherlock looks round as the billowing curtains knock some sheet music off its stand. Greg closes his eyes in exasperation.)
OPENING CREDITS.
At 221B Baker Street, violin playing can be heard, playing a gentle waltz. Mrs Hudson comes out of 221A carrying a tray of tea things. She stops, smiling with delight at the sound of the music, then goes up the stairs. The living room door is closed and she stops outside for a moment, then opens the door. Inside, Sherlock isn’t playing his violin as she believed. Instead, wearing a camel coloured dressing gown over his shirt and trousers, he is waltzing around the room on his own, holding an imaginary partner while he dances in time to the music. He glances over his shoulder when his landlady walks in. SHERLOCK: Shut up, Mrs Hudson. MRS HUDSON: I haven’t said a word. SHERLOCK (sighing as he continues to waltz): You’re formulating a question. It’s physically painful watching you thinking. (He stops dancing.) MRS HUDSON: I thought it was you playing. SHERLOCK (gesturing to a music player on the dining table): It was me playing. (He picks up a remote control, switches off the music player and bends down to make a notation on the sheet music lying on the table.) SHERLOCK: I am composing. MRS HUDSON (putting her tray onto the table beside John’s chair): You were dancing. SHERLOCK: I was road-testing. MRS HUDSON: You what? SHERLOCK (throwing down his pen and turning to her): Why are you here? MRS HUDSON: I’m bringing you your morning tea. (She pours some milk into the teacup.) You’re not usually awake. SHERLOCK (sitting down in his chair): You bring me tea in the morning? MRS HUDSON (pouring the tea): Well, where d’you think it came from?! SHERLOCK: I don’t know. I just thought it sort of happened. MRS HUDSON: Your mother has a lot to answer for. (She takes the cup and saucer over to him.) SHERLOCK: Mm, I know. I have a list. Mycroft has a file. (Giggling, Mrs H sits down in John’s chair.) MRS HUDSON (excitedly): So – it’s the big day, then! SHERLOCK (taking a sip of tea): What big day? MRS HUDSON: The wedding! John and Mary getting married! SHERLOCK: Two people who currently live together are about to attend church, have a party, go on a short holiday and then carry on living together. What’s big about that? MRS HUDSON: It changes people, marriage. SHERLOCK: Mmm, no it doesn’t. MRS HUDSON: Well, you wouldn’t understand ’cause you always live alone. (Sherlock is lifting his teacup to his mouth but stops momentarily.) SHERLOCK: Your husband was executed for double murder. You’re hardly an advert for companionship. (He drinks.) MRS HUDSON: Marriage changes you as a person, in ways that you can’t imagine. SHERLOCK: As does lethal injection. (He smiles pointedly at her.) MRS HUDSON: My best friend, Margaret – she was my chief bridesmaid. (Putting his cup and saucer down on the table beside him, Sherlock rolls his eyes.) MRS HUDSON: We were going to be best friends forever, we always said that; but I hardly saw her after that. SHERLOCK (standing up): Aren’t there usually biscuits? MRS HUDSON: I’ve run out. SHERLOCK: Have the shops? (He pointedly walks towards the door.) MRS HUDSON: She cried the whole day, saying, “Ooh, it’s the end of an era.” SHERLOCK (gesturing towards the stairs): I’m sure the shop on the corner is open. MRS HUDSON: She was probably right, really. (Sherlock closes his eyes and grimaces.) MRS HUDSON: I remember she left early. I mean, who leaves a wedding early? (She shakes her head.) So sad. SHERLOCK: Mmm. Anyway, you’ve got things to do. MRS HUDSON: No, not really. I’ve got plenty of time to ... SHERLOCK (sternly): Biscuits. (She gets out of her chair, tutting.) MRS HUDSON (walking towards the door): I really am going to have a word with your mother. SHERLOCK: You can if you like. She understands very little. (He closes the door on her, then turns around sighing. He turns his head and looks towards John’s chair for a few long moments, then walks through the kitchen and down the hallway.) SHERLOCK (taking off his dressing gown): Right, then. (He walks through his bedroom to his wardrobe, where a morning suit is hanging from the open door. He looks at it.) SHERLOCK: Into battle.
A man is doing up the buttons on the jacket of his military dress uniform. Although it would seem easier to use two hands to do this, he is only using his right hand. A suitcase is on the nearby bed and laid out beside it is a white webbing belt, a pair of white gloves, a military cap and a ceremonial sword. The man reaches down and picks up the belt and swings it around the left-hand side of his waist and then clamps it to his side with his left arm and now we see why he is only using his right hand. His left hand has been badly burned in the past and is very scarred. It is clear that he is unable to use this hand. Reaching behind himself he tugs the belt around his waist, pulls it tight and does it up. He bends down to the cap, picks it up and puts it on, and we now see that the left side of his face is also severely scarred. He stares ahead of himself as he straightens his jacket.
Church bells peal and the doors to a church open. John and Mary, newly married, walk out followed by Sherlock and the chief bridesmaid, whose name is Janine, then two more bridesmaids and the vicar. A photographer is waiting outside. PHOTOGRAPHER: Congratulations! Okay, hold it there – I wanna get this shot of the newlyweds. (John and Mary stop and the bridesmaids stand behind them. Sherlock steps to Mary’s side.) PHOTOGRAPHER: Er, just the bride and groom, please. (Sherlock doesn’t move. John looks round at him.) JOHN: Sherlock? SHERLOCK: Oh, sorry. (He walks out of shot.) PHOTOGRAPHER: Okay – three, two, one, cheese! (The bridesmaids throw handfuls of confetti into the air and the photographer starts taking pictures. The rest of the congregation come out and the photo-taking continues, including one of John, Sherlock and Greg standing side by side, with a young pageboy – about eight years old – standing in front of them wearing either John’s or Sherlock’s top hat. Later, the photographer takes a picture of Sherlock and Janine. Nearby, Molly stands with her fiancé Tom. She is gazing at Sherlock and if she really believes that she has “moved on,” her expression suggests that she’s not fooling anyone but herself. After the photographer has finished with them, Janine looks round at Sherlock.) JANINE: The famous Mr Holmes! I’m very pleased to meet you. But no sex, okay? SHERLOCK (startled): Um, sorry? JANINE (laughing): You don’t have to look so scared. I’m only messing. Bridesmaid, best man ... It’s a bit traditional. (She gently punches his arm. He looks down with distaste.) SHERLOCK: Is it? JANINE (a little awkwardly): But not obligatory(!) SHERLOCK: If that’s the sort of thing you’re looking for ... (he jerks his head towards one of the wedding guests) ... the man over there in blue is your best bet. Recently divorced doctor with a ginger cat ... (there’s a close-up of a ginger cat hair stuck on the man’s suit, and the sound of a miaow) ... a barn conversion ... (close-up of sawdust on the man’s footwear) ... and a history of erectile dysfunction. (The close-up pulls out a little to reveal that the man is wearing cowboy boots. There’s the sound of a bullet ricocheting off something with a high-pitched ping, like in a Western movie. Sherlock blinks.) SHERLOCK: Reviewing that information, possibly not your best bet. JANINE: Yeah, maybe not. SHERLOCK (looking puzzled): Sorry – there was one more deduction there than I was expecting. JANINE: Mr Holmes ... (she takes his arm) ... you’re going to be incredibly useful. (Again Sherlock looks down at her hand. He frowns.)
Later, John and Mary, with Sherlock at John’s side, are standing outside the venue for the reception, greeting the guests. MARY (shaking a man’s hand): Hello. Lovely to meet you. (She then kisses a woman. The woman moves on to kiss John, and another man moves in to kiss Mary.) MARY: How are you? MAN: You look beautiful, Mary. MARY: Thank you! MAN: Congratulations. (More guests move past the three of them, then a man wearing a lurid purple tie comes forward. Mary looks at him with delight.) MARY: David! (She reaches out her arms ready to hug him. He leans away, laughing nervously, and just clasps her arms briefly.) DAVID: Mary. Congratulations. You look, um, very nice. (He quickly moves away from her. Mary looks puzzled. He shakes John’s hand.) DAVID: John, congratulations. You’re a lucky man. JOHN: Thank you. MARY: Um, er, David, this is Sherlock. (Sherlock smiles at him, tight-lipped.) DAVID: Um, yeah. We’ve, um, we’ve met. (He looks down nervously.)
FLASHBACK. David, sitting at the dining table in 221B, looks around the room and then turns to where Sherlock is sitting opposite him holding a pen. DAVID: So, what exactly are my duties as an usher? (He picks up the Sudokube [Click for image] from the desk and idly plays with it. Sherlock frowns disapprovingly, then puts down his pen and folds his hands.) SHERLOCK: Let’s talk about Mary, first. DAVID: Sorry, what? SHERLOCK: Oh, I think you know what. You went out with her for two years. DAVID: A-ages ago. We’re j... we’re just good friends now. SHERLOCK: Is that a fact? (He looks down at his notes in front of him.) SHERLOCK: Whenever she tweets, you respond within five minutes regardless of time or current location, suggesting you have her on text alert. In all your Facebook photographs of the happy couple, Mary takes centre frame whereas John is always partly or entirely excluded. DAVID (laughing uncomfortably): You can’t assume from that I’ve still got some kind of interest in Mary. SHERLOCK: You volunteered to be a shoulder to cry on on no less than three separate occasions. Do you have anything to say in your defence? (David opens his mouth but is unable to speak.) SHERLOCK (looking down and making a note): I think from now on we’ll downgrade you to ‘casual acquaintance.’ No more than three planned social encounters a year, and always in John’s presence. (He puts the pen down and folds his hands again, looking intensely at David.) SHERLOCK: I have your contact details. I will be monitoring. DAVID (a little wide-eyed): They’re right about you. You’re a bloody psychopath. SHERLOCK: High-functioning sociopath ... with your number. (He grins manically, showing a lot of teeth, then drops the smile and steeples his hands in front of his chin, looking sternly at David. David looks down, then lets out a nervous breath and gets up and walks away. Sherlock picks up the Sudokube and puts it back into its proper position on the table.)
