The Syndicate

"Do you want to see some more?"


BAKER STREET. John limps along the road and reaches the door marked 221B just as a black cab pulls up at the kerb. John knocks on the door as Sherlock gets out of the cab.
SHERLOCK: Hello.
(He reaches in through the window of the cab and hands some money to the cab driver.)
SHERLOCK: Thank you.
(John turns towards him as he walks over.)
JOHN: Ah, Mr. Holmes.
SHERLOCK: Sherlock, please.
(They shake hands.)
JOHN: Well, this is a prime spot. Must be expensive.
SHERLOCK: Oh, Mrs Hudson, the landlady, she’s giving me a special deal. Owes me a favour. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death in Florida. I was able to help out.
JOHN: Sorry, you stopped her husband being executed?
SHERLOCK: Oh no. I ensured it.
(He smiles at John as the front door is opened by Mrs Hudson, who opens her arms to the younger man.)
MRS HUDSON: Sherlock, hello.
(Sherlock turns and walks into her arms, hugging her briefly, then steps back and presents John to her.)
SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson, Doctor John Watson.
MRS HUDSON: Hello.
JOHN: How do?
MRS HUDSON (gesturing John inside): Come in.
JOHN: Thank you.
SHERLOCK: Shall we?
MRS HUDSON: Yeah.
(The men go inside and Mrs Hudson closes the door. Sherlock trots up the stairs to the first floor, then pauses and waits for John to hobble upstairs. As John reaches the top of the stairs, Sherlock opens the door ahead of him and walks in, revealing the living room of the flat. John follows him in and looks around the room and at all the possessions and boxes scattered around it.)
JOHN: Well, this could be very nice. Very nice indeed.
SHERLOCK: Yes. Yes, I think so. My thoughts precisely.
(He looks around the flat happily.)
SHERLOCK: So I went straight ahead and moved in.
JOHN (simultaneously): Soon as we get all this rubbish cleaned out ... Oh.
(He pauses, embarrassed, as he realizes what Sherlock was saying.)
JOHN: So this is all ...
SHERLOCK: Well, obviously I can, um, straighten things up a bit.
(He walks across the room and makes a half-hearted attempt to tidy up a little, throwing a couple of folders into a box and then taking some apparently unopened envelopes across to the fireplace where he puts them onto the mantelpiece and then stabs a multi tool knife into them. John has noticed something else on the mantelpiece and lifts his cane to point at it.)
JOHN: That’s a skull.
SHERLOCK: Friend of mine. When I say ‘friend’ ...
(Mrs Hudson has followed them into the room. She picks up a cup and saucer as Sherlock takes off his greatcoat and scarf.)
MRS HUDSON: What do you think, then, Doctor Watson? There’s another bedroom upstairs if you’ll be needing two bedrooms.
JOHN: Of course we’ll be needing two.
MRS HUDSON: Oh, don’t worry; there’s all sorts round here. (Confidentially, dropping her voice to a whisper by the end of the sentence) Mrs Turner next door’s got married ones.
(John looks across to Sherlock, expecting him to confirm that he and John are not involved in that way but Sherlock appears oblivious to what’s being insinuated. Mrs Hudson walks across to the kitchen, then turns back and frowns at Sherlock.)
MRS HUDSON: Oh, Sherlock. The mess you’ve made.
(As she goes into the kitchen and starts tidying up, John walks over to one of the two armchairs, plumps up a cushion on the chair and then drops heavily down into it. He looks across to Sherlock who is still tidying up a little.)
JOHN: I looked you up on the internet last night.
SHERLOCK (turning around to him): Anything interesting?
JOHN: Found your website, The Science of Deduction.
SHERLOCK (smiling proudly): What did you think?
(John throws him a “you have got to be kidding me” type of look. Sherlock looks hurt.)
JOHN: You said you could identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb.
SHERLOCK: Yes; and I can read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother’s drinking habits in your mobile phone.
JOHN: How?
(Sherlock smiles and turns away. Mrs Hudson comes out of the kitchen reading the newspaper.)
MRS HUDSON: What about these suicides then, Sherlock? I thought that’d be right up your street. Three exactly the same.
(Sherlock walks over to the window of the living room as a car pulls up outside.)
SHERLOCK: Four.
(He looks down at the car as someone gets out of it. The vehicle is a police car with its lights flashing on the roof.)
SHERLOCK: There’s been a fourth. And there’s something different this time.
MRS HUDSON: A fourth?
(Sherlock turns as D.I. Lestrade [who apparently must have picked the lock on the front door ... like you do ...] trots up the stairs and comes into the living room.)
SHERLOCK: Where?
LESTRADE: Brixton, Lauriston Gardens.
SHERLOCK: What’s new about this one? You wouldn’t have come to get me if there wasn’t something different.
LESTRADE: You know how they never leave notes?
SHERLOCK: Yeah.
LESTRADE: This one did. Will you come?
SHERLOCK: Who’s on forensics?
LESTRADE: It’s Anderson.
SHERLOCK (grimacing): Anderson won’t work with me.
LESTRADE: Well, he won’t be your assistant.
SHERLOCK: I need an assistant.
LESTRADE: Will you come?
SHERLOCK: Not in a police car. I’ll be right behind.
LESTRADE: Thank you.
(Looking round at John and Mrs Hudson for a moment, he turns and hurries off down the stairs. Sherlock waits until he has reached the front door, then leaps into the air and clenches his fists triumphantly before twirling around the room happily.)
SHERLOCK: Brilliant! Yes! Ah, four serial suicides, and now a note! Oh, it’s Christmas!
(Picking up his scarf and coat he starts to put them on as he heads for the kitchen.)
SHERLOCK: Mrs Hudson, I’ll be late. Might need some food.
MRS HUDSON: I’m your landlady, dear, not your housekeeper.
SHERLOCK: Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don’t wait up!
(Grabbing a small leather pouch from the kitchen table, he opens the kitchen door and disappears from view. Mrs Hudson turns back to John.)
MRS HUDSON: Look at him, dashing about! My husband was just the same.
(John grimaces at her repeated implication that he and Sherlock are an item.)
MRS HUDSON: But you’re more the sitting-down type, I can tell.
(John looks uncomfortable.)
MRS HUDSON (turning towards the door): I’ll make you that cuppa. You rest your leg.
JOHN (loudly): Damn my leg!
(His response was instinctive and he is immediately apologetic as Mrs Hudson turns back to him in shock.)
JOHN: Sorry, I’m so sorry. It’s just sometimes this bloody thing ...
(He bashes his leg with his cane.)
MRS HUDSON: I understand, dear; I’ve got a hip.
(She turns towards the door again.)
JOHN: Cup of tea’d be lovely, thank you.
MRS HUDSON: Just this once, dear. I’m not your housekeeper.
JOHN: Couple of biscuits too, if you’ve got ’em.
MRS HUDSON: Not your housekeeper!
(John has picked up the newspaper which Mrs Hudson put down and now he looks at the article reporting Beth Davenport’s apparent suicide. Next to a large photograph of Beth is a smaller one showing the man who just visited the flat and identifying him as D.I. Lestrade. Before he can read on, Sherlock’s voice interrupts him and John looks up and sees him standing at the living room door.)
SHERLOCK: You’re a doctor. In fact you’re an Army doctor.
JOHN: Yes.
(He gets to his feet and turns towards Sherlock as he comes back into the room again.)
SHERLOCK: Any good?
JOHN: Very good.
SHERLOCK: Seen a lot of injuries, then; violent deaths.
JOHN: Mmm, yes.
SHERLOCK: Bit of trouble too, I bet.
JOHN (quietly): Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much.
SHERLOCK: Wanna see some more?
JOHN (fervently): Oh God, yes.

SUSPECTS

Mongoose
thellama73 ~ Night 1 ~ Mycroft Holmes
Matt F ~ Day 8 ~ The Cabby
Hedgeowl ~ Night 7 ~ Irene Adler
A Person
Lizzy
Nutella ~ Night 3 ~ John Watson
Snow Dog ~ Day 11 ~ Moriarty
Bullzeye ~ Day 12
Spacedaisy ~ Night 6 ~ Anderson
Elochin ~ Night 7 ~ Dr. Bob Frankland
MovingPictures ~ Eye For An Eye
Jigsaw ~ Night 7 ~ Sally Donovan
Dharmahelper ~ Day 13 ~ Molly Hooper
Epignosis ~ Day 10 ~ Sherlock Holmes
Vompatti ~ Day 9 ~ Henry Knight

Red = Dead
Gray = In Jail
Blue = In Court

This game is very different from the average game of mafia. There are no mafia or civilians, only 8 teams of two. There is also open BTSC, meaning that anyone can PM anyone about the game. Feel free to make alliances, and trade information. Also, any player can also trade certain powers to other players. For example, if Person A has a role block that is tradeable, he can give that role block to Person B, for Person B to use at his own discretion. This is also a strategy for alliances, and could be used to buy other people's vote. If you would like to make a transaction, PM me with what you would like to trade, and who you would like to give it to. This wheeling and dealing is not only allowed, but encouraged.

DAY AND NIGHT CYCLE


DAY {STANDARD LYNCH}

The day and night cycle is very different from the norm. Day's will be the standard public poll, but instead of the person with the most votes being eliminated, the lynched will be nominated for the next stage.

NIGHT {COURTROOM}

The accused's fate will be decided by an anonymous poll. PM me during this period, on whether the lynched should be eliminated or not. Your vote will be completely secret. Also PM me all night actions during this time.


WINNING


If a team of two makes it to the end, then they automatically win. If two players from two separate teams make it to the end, the winner will be chosen by a secret, predetermined method that will be revealed at the end of the game.


EXTRA INFO AND SUMMARY

1. Open BTSC (Feel free to PM anyone about the game.)
2. No editing or deleting of posts.
3. Role outing is allowed and encouraged. Lying about your role is also allowed and encouraged.
4. No double-targeting (targeting the same individual with a power twice in a row).
5. No disrespectful behavior.
6. Dead players should not post on-topic and should be in dead red. There is a "dead" button when posting for this function.
7. Off-topic posts should be in off-topic green. There is an "OT" button when posting for this function.
8. Posts from non-players should be in non-player blue. There is a "np" button when posting for this function.
9. Day's will be 24 hours, Night's will also be 24 hours.
10. Certain people at a certain point will be required to put a certain image as their avatar or in their signature. If this is a problem, PM me.
11. Crazy shenanigans are guaranteed, but these are not created to be in any certain player's favor, at least intentionally.
12. This is only Phase 1.
13. If you have any questions, think you've found an error, or need help, send a PM to insertnamehere or the mod on duty, *tbd*
14. No copy and pasting or screenshoting my PM's to you. Other then that, feel free to tell all. Or lie.
15. Anyone who uses the letter "k" as a word will be banned. No exceptions.

ROLES
TEAM 221B

Sherlock Holmes
Is able to pick up on certain information before other people... *secrets*

John Watson
Used to be a doctor, and was in the Afghanistan War. Can release a person once in the game. Also has a one-use role block.

TEAM MH

Mrs. Hudson
Sherlock's landlord and occasional housekeeper. Has 3 extra votes that can be used once, and a protect.

Mycroft Holmes
Sherlock's brother, and high-ranking member of the British government. Can save someone from court three times.

TEAM OFFICIALS

Molly Hooper
Mortician with a thing for Sherlock. Can analyze who just was eliminated to find out their role.

Greg Lestrade
DI for the police, works with Sherlock multiple times. Can release someone from custody 3 times.

TEAM IOU

Jim Moriarty
Can publicly reveal another person's role every night. Also has an NK. *secrets*

Kitty Riley
Can seduce another player into voting for who she chooses every day.


TEAM FEMME FATALE

Irene Adler
Dominatrix, and "The Woman". *secrets*

General Shan
Owns a traveling circus that is really a front for a smuggling ring for the Black Lotus gang. Can trap someone in a death trap that kills them unless they complete three puzzles over 3 days. Can do this three times.

TEAM BAD PEOPLE

The Cabby
Twice in the game can offer someone 2 bottles. One kills you, the other does nothing. *secrets*

Dr. Bob Frankland
Can pump someone full of the H.O.U.N.D. gas twice in the game. What this does to a person is extremely unpredictable.


TEAM OTHER POLICE GUYS

Sally Donovan
Believes that Sherlock is a psychopath, who will eventually kill someone. Can frame someone once in the game. *secrets*

Anderson
Sherlock's other mortal enemy. Has two protects, and an silencer.

TEAM I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO CALL THIS TEAM (IDK FOR SHORT)

Henry Knight
Believes that he is going insane. Each night, can find someone's role out.

The Golem
A serial killer hired by Moriarty. Can silence someone every night.

‘Intelligent’, fine; let’s give ‘smart-arse’ a wide berth.


221B. John is standing in front of the mirror in the living room. He is wearing a suit and finishes tying his tie before putting his jacket on. Near the sofa, Sherlock is buttoning up his own jacket. Your transcriber bites her lip. Sherlock leads the way downstairs and goes to the front door, then stops and turns to the side to allow John to pass him and reach out towards the door.
JOHN: Ready?
SHERLOCK: Yes.
(Bracing himself, John opens the door. Police officers are trying to hold back the large crowd of journalists who immediately start photographing the pair and calling out questions as the police clear the way and allow the boys through to the waiting police car. They get into the back and the car pulls away and races off with its sirens wailing.)
(At the Old Bailey, Jim is in a cell wearing a smart light grey suit, white shirt and pale grey tie and silver tie pin with matching grey handkerchief in the breast pocket. A prison guard is checking the handcuffs which shackle him to two nearby officers. Not long afterwards and surrounded by prison officers, he is being escorted along the corridors towards the court. As he walks along, a small smile begins to creep onto his face.)
(The police car is just going around Trafalgar Square.)
JOHN: Remember ...
SHERLOCK (instantly): Yes.
JOHN (insistently): Remember ...
SHERLOCK (even more quickly): Yes.
(John looks away in frustration, then goes for broke and speaks quickly.)
JOHN: Remember what they told you: don’t try to be clever ...
SHERLOCK (talking over him): No.
JOHN: ... and please, just keep it simple and brief.
SHERLOCK: God forbid the star witness at the trial should come across as intelligent.
JOHN: ‘Intelligent’, fine; let’s give ‘smart-arse’ a wide berth.
(There’s a slight pause.)
SHERLOCK: I’ll just be myself.
JOHN (irritated): Are you listening to me?!
(At the Old Bailey Jim is marched up the stairs into the courtroom, two prison officers holding him by the shoulders. Outside, TV reporters are talking into various cameras as they record pieces for the news programmes.)
ITN REPORTER: ... here today standing outside ...
SKY NEWS REPORTER: ... This is the trial of the century ...
BBC NEWS REPORTER: ... the trial of James Moriarty ...
(We see brief clips of their broadcasts as seen on television.)
SKY NEWS REPORTER: ... James Moriarty, earlier today accused of attempt...
ITN REPORTER: ... of attempting to steal the Crown Jewels ...
BBC NEWS REPORTER: ... at the Old Bailey we have Reichenbach Hero Sherlock Holmes ...
(Jim and his prison escort reach the top of the stairs and he is turned sideways and walked into the dock. As a female prison officer comes across to check his restraints, he turns his head and murmurs into her ear.)
JIM: Would you mind slipping your hand into my pocket?
(The officer looks at one of her male colleagues, who nods in agreement. Looking rather uncomfortable, she slides her fingers into Jim’s trouser pocket and pulls out the contents as Jim breathes very close to her face and gazes into her eyes before poking his tongue out. She puts what she has found in his pocket – a piece of chewing gum – onto his tongue and he draws his tongue back in and begins to chew, smiling at her creepily.)
JIM: Thanks.

...many are actually long dead, exploded into supernovas...


CAIRNS: Tom? Is that you?
NARRATOR: ... exploded into supernovas.
(She turns back to the desk. Behind her a long arm reaches out towards her.)
NARRATOR: ... discovered by Urbain Le Verrier in eighteen forty-six.
(A tall figure steps up behind Cairns and clamps one hand over her mouth and nose, pulling her backwards.)
CAIRNS (muffled): Oh my God!
(As she claws at the hand, crying out in muffled panic, her other hand flails out and drags several of the sliders down the mixing desk. The footage begins to jump randomly as Cairns’ attacker continues to suffocate her.)
NARRATOR: ... composed mainly of hydrogen. Their light takes so long to reach us ...
(Sherlock and John race into the theater through another door. As John stops and aims his pistol towards the attacker, Sherlock yells at the top of his voice.)
SHERLOCK: Golem!
NARRATOR ... many are actually long-dead, exploded into supernovas.
(The Golem looks up, grunts in surprise, then snaps Cairns’ neck and drops her to the floor. Her fingers drag along the mixing desk and the footage goes into fast-forward again, plunging the theatre into darkness. The Golem ducks down out of sight.)
JOHN: I can’t see him. I’ll go round. I’ll go!
(As the footage continues spooling and then stopping and playing before spooling again, light comes and goes in the room. Sherlock stares around as John hurries off.)
SHERLOCK (loudly): Who are you working for this time, Dzundza?
(Behind him, the Golem steps out of the fluctuating darkness and clamps one hand around Sherlock’s mouth and nose while gripping his neck with the other. Sherlock grabs at the hand on his face, struggling to pull it free as he is slowly suffocated. John races over and stops in front of them, his pistol held in both hands.)
JOHN: Golem!
(He cocks the gun and points it at the Golem’s face, his hands and voice steady.)
JOHN: Let him go, or I will kill you.
(Sherlock, whimpering in his efforts, continues trying to pull the man’s hand from his face. The Golem swings him around to the left and lashes out with his long right leg during a moment of darkness, kicking the pistol from John’s hands. Dropping Sherlock to the ground, he surges forward and wrestles with John. As Sherlock gets to his feet, the Golem shoves John into him, sending both of the boys tumbling to the floor. Sherlock scrambles up again and takes up a boxing stance in front of him, holding his fists up. He swings a punch at the man but he grabs his hand and swings his other arm down heavily onto Sherlock’s shoulder, dropping him to the floor yet again. The Golem follows him down and clamps both hands onto his face, leaning his weight onto them. Behind him, John throws himself onto his back. The Golem roars, releasing Sherlock as he claws at the hobbit on his back. He stands up with John still clinging to his back and spins around several times before finally managing to shake him off onto the floor. As John groggily tries to get up, the Golem turns, picks up Sherlock and skims him across the floor towards John. As Sherlock slides across the floor he grabs at the pistol and manages to pick it up. The Golem runs for the doors. Sherlock rolls over onto his back and fires twice towards him but the Golem makes it to the doors and disappears through them.)
NARRATOR: ... long dead, exploded into supernovas.
(As the image of a supernova dramatically explodes on the screen behind him, Sherlock angrily slams his hand down on the floor in front of him.)

I felt we had a special something.


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, still 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 – clearly 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 in approval 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 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. Do you think you could survive for just a few minutes without showing off?
(Sherlock pauses as he gives the question some thought, then opens his mouth.)

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.

You’re not bored now, are you?


ROLAND-KERR COLLEGE. Jeff looks down at the bottles briefly then meets Sherlock’s eyes.
JEFF: You ready yet, Mr. ’olmes? Ready to play?
SHERLOCK: Play what? It’s a fifty-fifty chance.
JEFF: You’re not playin’ the numbers, you’re playin’ me. Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a triple-bluff?
SHERLOCK: Still just chance.
JEFF: Four people in a row? It’s not just chance.
SHERLOCK: Luck.
JEFF: It’s genius. I know ’ow people think.
(Sherlock rolls his eyes.)
JEFF: I know ’ow people think I think. I can see it all, like a map inside my ’ead.
(Sherlock looks exasperated.)
JEFF: Everyone’s so stupid – even you.
(Sherlock’s gaze sharpens.)
JEFF: Or maybe God just loves me.
(Sherlock straightens up and leans forward, folding his hands in front of him on the table.)
SHERLOCK: Either way, you’re wasted as a cabbie.

John has arrived at Roland-Kerr College. As the taxi pulls away, John tucks the notebook into his jacket and looks at the two identical buildings in front of him. Clearly the map isn’t precise enough to indicate exactly where the phone is. After a moment, he makes his choice and heads towards the buildings.

In the classroom, Sherlock lifts his folded hands in front of his mouth and gazes at Jeff intently.
SHERLOCK: So, you risked your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?
(Jeff nods down to the bottles.)
JEFF: Time to play.
SHERLOCK (unfolding his fingers and adopting the prayer position in front of his mouth): Oh, I am playing. This is my turn. There’s shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody’s pointed it out to you.
(Flashback to Jeff sitting in the driver’s seat of the cab, which is when Sherlock noticed this.)
SHERLOCK: Traces of where it’s happened before, so obviously you live on your own; there’s no-one to tell you.
(Jeff tries not to fidget under Sherlock’s gaze.)
SHERLOCK: But there’s a photograph of children. The children’s mother has been cut out of the picture. If she’d died, she’d still be there.
(Flashback to the photograph attached to the dashboard of the cab. There is indeed a third person at the left of the photograph but the photo has been cut along that side to remove her.)
SHERLOCK: The photograph’s old but the frame’s new. You think of your children but you don’t get to see them.
(Jeff’s gaze slides away from Sherlock and for the first time there’s a hint of pain in his eyes.)
SHERLOCK: Estranged father. She took the kids, but you still love them and it still hurts.
(He extends his index fingers.)
SHERLOCK: Ah, but there’s more.
(Jeff lifts his gaze back to Sherlock as he points his index fingers towards him.)
SHERLOCK: Your clothes: recently laundered but everything you’re wearing’s at least ... three years old? Keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze murder spree. What’s that about?
(Jeff has got control of himself again and his expression says nothing as he gazes back at Sherlock. The detective’s eyes widen slightly as he makes his most important deduction.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Ahh. Three years ago – is that when they told you?
JEFF (flatly): Told me what?
(Sherlock’s deduction seems to appear beside Jeff’s head:

DYING

SHERLOCK: That you’re a dead man walking.
JEFF: So are you.
SHERLOCK: You don’t have long, though. Am I right?
(Jeff smiles.)
JEFF: Aneurism.
(He lifts his right hand and taps the side of his head.)
JEFF: Right in ’ere.
(Sherlock smiles in satisfaction.)
JEFF: Any breath could be my last.
SHERLOCK (frowning again): And because you’re dying, you’ve just murdered four people.
JEFF: I’ve outlived four people. That’s the most fun you can ’ave on an aneurism.
SHERLOCK (thoughtfully): No. No, there’s something else. You didn’t just kill four people because you’re bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator. Somehow this is about your children.
JEFF (looking away and sighing): Oh.
(He looks at Sherlock again.)
JEFF: You are good, ain’t you?
SHERLOCK: But how?
JEFF: When I die, they won’t get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs.
SHERLOCK: Or serial killing.
JEFF: You’d be surprised.
SHERLOCK: Surprise me.
(Jeff leans forward.)
JEFF: I ’ave a sponsor.
SHERLOCK: You have a what?
JEFF: For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill, the better off they’ll be. You see? It’s nicer than you think.
SHERLOCK (frowning): Who’d sponsor a serial killer?
JEFF (instantly): Who’d be a fan of Sherlock ’olmes?
(They stare at each other for a moment.)
JEFF: You’re not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There’s others out there just like you, except you’re just a man ... and they’re so much more than that.
(The side of Sherlock’s nose twitches in distaste.)
SHERLOCK: What d’you mean, more than a man? An organization? What?
JEFF: There’s a name no-one says, an’ I’m not gonna say it either. Now, enough chatter.
(He nods down to the bottles.)
JEFF: Time to choose.
(Sherlock looks down to the bottles, his eyes moving from one to the other.)

Elsewhere in the college, John is running through the corridors.
JOHN (calling out): Sherlock?
(He runs from door to door, trying them and peering in through windows.)
JOHN: Sherlock!

CLASSROOM.
SHERLOCK: What if I don’t choose either? I could just walk out of here.
(Sighing in a combination of exasperation and disappointment, Jeff lifts up the pistol and points it at Sherlock.)
JEFF: You can take your fifty-fifty chance, or I can shoot you in the head.
(Sherlock smiles calmly.)
JEFF: Funnily enough, no-one’s ever gone for that option.
SHERLOCK: I’ll have the gun, please.
JEFF: Are you sure?
SHERLOCK (still smiling): Definitely. The gun.
JEFF: You don’t wanna phone a friend?
(Sherlock smiles confidently.)
SHERLOCK: The gun.
(Jeff’s mouth tightens, and slowly he squeezes the trigger. A small flame bursts out of the end of the muzzle. Sherlock smiles smugly.)
SHERLOCK: I know a real gun when I see one.
(Calmly Jeff lifts the pistol/cigarette lighter and releases the trigger. The flame goes out.)
JEFF: None of the others did.
SHERLOCK: Clearly. Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case.
(He stands up and walks towards the door. Jeff puts the gun onto the desk and calmly turns in his seat.)
JEFF: Just before you go, did you figure it out ...
(Sherlock stops at the door and half-turns towards him.)
JEFF: ... which one’s the good bottle?
SHERLOCK: Of course. Child’s play.
JEFF: Well, which one, then?
(Sherlock opens the door a little but shows no sign of leaving the room.)
JEFF: Which one would you ’ave picked, just so I know whether I could have beaten you?
(Sherlock closes the door again.)
JEFF (chuckling): Come on. Play the game.
(Slowly Sherlock walks back towards him. When he gets to the table, he reaches out and sweeps up the bottle nearest to Jeff, then walks past him. Jeff looks down at the other bottle with interest but his voice gives nothing away as he speaks.)
JEFF: Oh. Interesting.
(He picks up the other bottle as Sherlock looks down at the bottle in his own hand.)
(Out in the corridors, John is still running along and searching.)
(In the classroom, Jeff has opened his bottle and tips the capsule out into his hand. He holds it up and looks at it closely as Sherlock examines his own bottle.)
JEFF: So what d’you think?
(He looks up at Sherlock.)
JEFF: Shall we?
(In the corridors, John pulls open yet another door and looks inside the room before hurrying onwards.)
JEFF: Really, what do you think?
(He has stood up and is facing Sherlock.)
JEFF: Can you beat me?
(John races up a flight of stairs and continues his search.)
JEFF: Are you clever enough to bet your life?
(John bursts through a door and stares ahead of him as he finally sees who he’s looking for. His eyes fill with horror. Inside the classroom, Sherlock lifts his gaze from the bottle he’s holding ... and the camera zooms over his shoulder and out of the window behind him, soaring across the courtyard outside and in through another window to reveal John standing in an identical classroom in the other building, too far away to be of help. John cries out in horror.)
JOHN: SHERLOCK!
(Unaware that they’re being watched, Jeff continues to hold up his pill as he looks at Sherlock.)
JEFF: I bet you get bored, don’t you? I know you do. A man like you ...
(Sherlock undoes the lid of the bottle.)
JEFF: ... so clever. But what’s the point of being clever if you can’t prove it?
(Sherlock takes out the capsule and holds it between his thumb and finger, raising it to the light to examine it more closely.)
JEFF: Still the addict.
(Slowly Sherlock lowers the pill again, holding it at eye level and gazing at it.)
JEFF: But this ... this is what you’re really addicted to, innit?
(Sherlock holds the pill in his fingers and stares at it.)
JEFF: You’d do anything ... anything at all ...
(Sherlock’s fingers begin to tremble with excitement and anticipation.)
JEFF: ... to stop being bored.
(Slowly Sherlock begins to move the pill closer to his mouth. Jeff matches the movement with his own pill.)
JEFF: You’re not bored now, are you?
(Each of their hands gets closer to their own mouth.)
JEFF: Innit good?
(A gunshot rings out and a bullet impacts Jeff’s chest close to his heart, then goes through his body and smashes into the door behind him. As he falls to the floor, Sherlock drops his pill in surprise. In the opposite building, John has his pistol still raised and aimed out of the window. He lowers the gun to his side. In the other building, Sherlock turns, slides over the desk behind him and hurries to the window, bending down to stare through the bullet hole in the glass. The window of the opposite room is open but there is nobody in sight. As Sherlock straightens up, Jeff breathes heavily and coughs. Sherlock turns back, looking around the room and sees one of the pills lying on the desk as Jeff convulses on the floor and gasps and coughs in pain. Sherlock snatches up the pill, kneels down and brandishes it at Jeff, who has a large pool of blood underneath him and is staring up at him in shock.)
SHERLOCK: Was I right?
(Jeff turns his head away in disbelief.)
SHERLOCK: I was, wasn’t I? Did I get it right?
(Jeff doesn’t reply. Sherlock angrily hurls the pill across the room and stands up.)
SHERLOCK: Okay, tell me this: your sponsor. Who was it? The one who told you about me – my ‘fan’. I want a name.
JEFF (weakly): No.
SHERLOCK: You’re dying, but there’s still time to hurt you. Give me a name.
(Jeff shakes his head. Grimacing angrily, Sherlock lifts his foot and puts it onto Jeff’s shoulder. Jeff gasps in pain.)
SHERLOCK: A name.
(Jeff cries out in pain.)
SHERLOCK: Now.
(Still Jeff can only whine in pain. His face intent and manic, Sherlock leans his weight onto his foot. Jeff whimpers.)
SHERLOCK (furiously): The NAME!
JEFF (agonized): MORIARTY!

Once you’ve ruled out the impossible, whatever remains – however improbable – must be true.

Sherlock is back at the inn. Sitting in an armchair by a roaring open fire, his face is still full of shock and disbelief. Unaware of his distress, other patrons sit at tables nearby having their evening meal. John comes in and sits down in the armchair on the other side of the fire.
JOHN: Well, he is in a pretty bad way. He’s manic, totally convinced there’s some mutant super-dog roaming the moors.
(With his hands in the prayer position in front of his mouth, Sherlock glances nervously at John for a moment, then continues to gaze in the direction of the fire, lost in thought.)
JOHN: And there isn’t, though, is there? ’Cause if people knew how to make a mutant super-dog, we’d know.
(Sherlock clasps his fingers together, closing his eyes and breathing heavily as if trying to fend off a panic attack.)
JOHN: They’d be for sale. I mean, that’s how it works.
(He remembers something and reaches for his notebook.)
JOHN: Er, listen: er, on the moor I saw someone signalling. Er, Morse – I guess it’s Morse.
(Sherlock blinks rapidly and repeatedly.)
JOHN (looking at his notes): Doesn’t seem to make much sense.
(Sherlock pulls in a sharp breath through his nose and then blows the breath out again through his mouth.)
JOHN: Er, U, M, Q, R, A. Does that mean ... anything ...
(He finally realizes how distressed his colleague is looking and pauses for a moment, then decides that he can’t be right. He puts his notebook away again and sits back in his chair.)
JOHN: So, okay, what have we got? We know there’s footprints, ’cause Henry found them; so did the tour guide bloke. We all heard something.
(Sherlock blows out another shaky breath. John looks across to him and frowns momentarily.)
JOHN: Maybe we should just look for whoever’s got a big dog.
SHERLOCK: Henry’s right.
JOHN: What?
SHERLOCK (his voice shaking): I saw it too.
JOHN (shocked): What?
SHERLOCK: I saw it too, John.
JOHN: Just ... just a minute. (He sits forward.) You saw what?
(Sherlock finally meets his gaze but his face is twisted with self-loathing as he forces himself to admit the truth.)
SHERLOCK: A hound, out there in the Hollow. (He talks through gritted teeth.) A gigantic hound.
(John almost laughs as Sherlock looks away, trying unsuccessfully to blink back tears. John sits back in his chair again, not quite able to cope with this strange reaction from his colleague.)
JOHN: Um, look, Sherlock, we have to be rational about this, okay? Now you, of all people, can’t just ...
(Sherlock blows out another breath.)
JOHN: Let’s just stick to what we know, yes? Stick to the facts.
(Sherlock looks round at him.)
SHERLOCK (softly): Once you’ve ruled out the impossible, whatever remains – however improbable – must be true.
JOHN: What does that mean?
(Looking away again, Sherlock reaches down and picks up a drink from a nearby table. Looking down at his trembling hand, he sniggers.)
SHERLOCK: Look at me. I’m afraid, John. Afraid.
(He takes a drink and then holds the glass up again, his hand still shaking.)
JOHN: Sherlock?
SHERLOCK: Always been able to keep myself distant ... (he takes another drink from the glass) ... divorce myself from ... feelings. But look, you see ...
(He holds up the glass and glares at his shaking hand.)
SHERLOCK: ... body’s betraying me. Interesting, yes? Emotions. (He slams the glass down onto the table.) The grit on the lens, the fly in the ointment.
JOHN: Yeah, all right, Spock, just ...
(Realizing that he is starting to raise his voice, he looks around at the other people in the restaurant behind him and then looks back to Sherlock.)
JOHN (more softly): ... take it easy.
(Sherlock is blowing out a few more breaths and still failing to bring himself under control. He glances panic-stricken at John.)
JOHN: You’ve been pretty wired lately, you know you have. I think you’ve just gone out there and got yourself a bit worked up.
SHERLOCK: Worked ... up?
JOHN: It was dark and scary ...
SHERLOCK (laughing sarcastically): Me?! There’s nothing wrong with me.
(He looks away, almost beginning to hyperventilate, then puts his fingertips to his temples, groaning in anguish. John looks at him in concern.)
JOHN: Sherlock ...
(Sherlock begins blowing out breaths again, his fingers trembling against his skin.)
JOHN: Sher...
SHERLOCK (loudly, furiously): THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME!
(He glares round at John.)
SHERLOCK: DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

That’s what people DO!

SHERLOCK (loudly): Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. Oh, that’s what it’s all been for, hasn’t it? All your little puzzles; making me dance – all to distract me from this.
(He gestures with the memory stick, then begins to turn in a slow circle as he waits for a response. When his back is turned to the pool, a door opens halfway down the room. Sherlock looks over his shoulder, still holding the memory stick aloft. And John Watson walks through the door and into the pool area, wrapped snugly in a hooded jacket with his hands tucked into the pockets. He turns and looks at Sherlock as the detective stares back at him in absolute shock.)
JOHN: Evening.
(Sherlock’s raised hand begins to lower slowly but otherwise he doesn’t move, still staring over his shoulder in utter disbelief.)
JOHN: This is a turn-up, isn’t it, Sherlock?
SHERLOCK (softly, shocked): John. What the hell ...?
JOHN: Bet you never saw this coming.
(Finally Sherlock manages to move, and starts to walk slowly towards the man he had believed to be his friend until now. The shock and bewilderment on his face make him look about twelve years old. Then, with a look of despair that matches Sherlock’s, John takes his hands from his pockets and pulls open his jacket to reveal the bomb strapped to his chest. A sniper’s laser immediately begins to dance around over the bomb.)
JOHN: What ... would you like me ... to make him say ... next?
(Sherlock continues to step towards him but now he is looking everywhere but at John as he tries to see who else is in the area.)
JOHN (obviously narrating words spoken into an earpiece): Gottle o’ gear ... gottle o’ gear ... gottle o’ gear.
(His voice almost breaks on the last phrase.)
SHERLOCK: Stop it.
JOHN (narrating): Nice touch, this: the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him. (He tries not to cringe as he listens to the next words.) I can stop John Watson too. (He looks down at the laser point on his chest.) Stop his heart.
SHERLOCK (turning on the spot as he tries to look in all directions): Who are you?
(A door opens at the far end of the pool and a soft male voice with an Irish accent speaks from that direction.)
VOICE: I gave you my number.
(We get a brief glimpse of a man wearing a suit and tie, but he is currently mostly obscured by a column.)
VOICE (plaintively): I thought you might call.
(Sherlock turns towards the new arrival, who now slowly walks out into the open. It’s Jim, Molly’s boyfriend. But this isn’t the fumble-fingered casually-dressed Londoner who did indeed leave his number for Sherlock in the lab at Bart’s; this is a sharply-dressed man with immaculate hair and a murderous look on his face. With his hands in his pockets, he casually begins to stroll alongside the deep end of the pool, heading towards Sherlock and John. All hint of plaintiveness has now gone from his voice.)
JIM: Is that British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket ...
(Sherlock reaches down to his trouser pocket and removes a pistol from it.)
JIM: ... or are you just pleased to see me?
SHERLOCK (raising the pistol and aiming it towards Jim): Both.
(Jim stops and looks back at him, unafraid.)
JIM: Jim Moriarty. Hi!
(Sherlock tilts his head as he looks more closely at the man. Jim acts as if he needs to remind Sherlock who he is.)
JIM: Jim? Jim from the hospital?
(He begins to walk alongside the deep end again. Sherlock brings up his other hand to support the one aiming the gun. Jim bites his lip as if disappointed.)
JIM: Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point.
(He turns to face Sherlock just as the sniper’s laser flickers over John’s upper chest. Sherlock briefly turns his head towards John, a questioning look on his face.)
JIM (starting to walk again): Don’t be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don’t like getting my hands dirty.
(He reaches the corner of the pool and stops.)
JIM: 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 ...
(He looks surprised, as if he has only just realized the connection.)
JIM: ... like you!
SHERLOCK: “Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover’s nasty sister?”
(Starting to walk forward again, Jim grins as he recognizes the TV show and catchphrase that Sherlock is quoting.)
SHERLOCK: “Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?”
JIM (stopping again): Just so.
SHERLOCK: Consulting criminal. (softly) Brilliant.
JIM (smiling proudly): Isn’t it? No-one ever gets to me – and no-one ever will.
SHERLOCK (cocking the pistol): I did.
JIM: You’ve come the closest. Now you’re in my way.
SHERLOCK: Thank you.
JIM: Didn’t mean it as a compliment.
SHERLOCK: Yes you did.
JIM (shrugging): Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting’s over, Sherlock ... (His voice becomes high-pitched and sing-song.) Daddy’s had enough now!
(He again starts to stroll closer.)
JIM (back to his normal tone): I’ve shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play.
(John is starting to feel the strain and closes his eyes briefly. Sherlock’s eyes can’t help but flicker across to him a couple of times as he tries to keep his focus on the man approaching them.)
JIM: So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off.
(He smiles.)
JIM: Although I have loved this – this little game of ours. (He puts on his London accent for a moment.) Playing Jim from I.T. (He switches back to his Irish accent.) Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?
SHERLOCK: People have died.
JIM: That’s what people DO!
(He screams the last word furiously, his personality changing in an instant.)
SHERLOCK (softly): I will stop you.
JIM (calmer again): No, you won’t.

You’re doing a “we both know what’s really going on here” face.


Some time later Sherlock is being released. As he signs for his personal property, John is standing beside him leaning back on 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.)
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 defense.

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 as 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 on the wall as if Sherlock’s an idiot for not realizing 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, as 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 defense rests.
(He sits down. Jim purses his lips ruefully at the judge, then turns and looks up to John, shrugging at him.)

Not long afterwards, Sherlock – who chose to stay back at home – sits up 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.
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 at the Clerk unhappily.)

...we end up havin’ a bit of a ding-dong, don’t we?


MINSK, BELARUS. In a prison visitors’ room, Sherlock – wearing the Coat with a fur collar attached – is sitting at one of the many tables in the room. Sitting on the other side of the table is Barry ‘Bezza’ Berwick, a young Englishman who is wearing an orange jumpsuit and who is obviously a prisoner. With the exception of a uniformed guard who stands some distance away, they are the only people in the room. It’s very cold in the room, as signified by the steam coming from their breath as they speak. Sherlock sounds bored.
SHERLOCK: Just tell me what happened, from the beginning.
BERWICK: We’d been to a bar – a nice place – and, er, I got chattin’ with one of the waitresses, and Karen weren’t ’appy with that, so ... when we get back to the ’otel, we end up havin’ a bit of a ding-dong, don’t we?
(Sherlock sighs out a deliberate and noisy breath.)
BERWICK: She was always gettin’ at me, sayin’ I weren’t a real man.
SHERLOCK: Wasn’t a real man.
BERWICK: What?
SHERLOCK: It’s not “weren’t”; it’s “wasn’t”.
BERWICK: Oh.
SHERLOCK: Go on.
BERWICK: Well, then I dunno how it happened, but suddenly there’s a knife in my hands. And, you know, me old man was a butcher, so I know how to handle knives.
(Sherlock’s gaze lowers to look at Barry’s hands which are resting on the table.)
BERWICK: He learned us how to cut up a beast.
SHERLOCK: “Taught.”
BERWICK (starting to get angry): What?
SHERLOCK: Taught you how to cut up a beast.
BERWICK: Yeah, well, then-then I done it.
SHERLOCK: “Did it.”
BERWICK (losing his temper): Did it! Stabbed her ... (he repeatedly slams his hand down on the table) ... over and over and over, and I looked down and she weren’t ...
(Sighing out a loud breath through his nose, Sherlock turns his head away. Getting control of his temper, Barry immediately corrects himself.)
BERWICK: ... wasn’t movin’ no more.
(Sherlock, who had just turned his head back towards Barry, now turns it away again with an annoyed look.)
BERWICK: ... any more.
(He lets out a shaky breath and lowers his head.)
BERWICK (softly): You’ve gotta help me. I dunno how it happened, but it was an accident. I swear.
(Sherlock gets to his feet and starts to walk away. Barry calls after him frantically.)
BERWICK: You’ve gotta help me, Mr. Holmes!
(Sherlock stops.)
BERWICK: Everyone says you’re the best. Without you, I’ll get hung for this.
(Sherlock looks over his shoulder at the young man.)
SHERLOCK: No, no, no, Mr. Berwick, not at all.
(He looks away thoughtfully for a second.)
SHERLOCK: Hanged, yes.

Lizzy is in jail. She was Mrs. Hudson. Team MH has been eliminated from the game. It is now Day 5. You have 24 hours.