Sherlock (2010–…): Season 1, Episode 0 - Unaired Pilot - full transcript

Invalided home from the war in Afghanistan, Dr. John Watson becomes roommates with the world's only "consulting detective," Sherlock Holmes. Within a day their friendship is forged and several murders are solved.

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-ELLA: How's your blog going?
-Hmm, fine. Good. Very good.

-Written much?
-Not a word.

John, it's going to take you a while
to adjust to civilian life.

Sure.

And it will help so much to write about
everything that's happening to you.

Nothing happens to me.

As far as we can see,
no marks on the body.

-No identification.
-Same as the others.

Exactly the same.

(SIGHS)

Um, you're not phoning him are you?



Because we can handle this.
We can absolutely handle it.

You've got work to do.

This is Inspector Lestrade.
Please call me as soon as you get this.

I think we're going to need you.

John! John Watson!

-Stamford. Mike Stamford.
-Right.

-We were at Bart's together.
-Yes, sorry. Yes, Mike, hello.

-Yeah, I know, I got fat.
-No...

I heard you were abroad somewhere
getting shot at.

What happened?

I got shot.

-So you still at Bart's, then?
-Teaching now.

Bright young things, like we used to be.

God, I hate them. What about you?



Staying in town
till you get yourself sorted?

Can't afford London on an army pension.

I don't know, get yourself
a flat-share or something?

Who'd want me for a flatmate?

(MIKE CHUCKLING)

What?

Well, you're the second person
to say that to me today.

Who was the first?

How fresh?

Just in. Sixty-seven, natural causes.

Used to work here, donated his body.
I knew him. He was nice.

Fine. We'll start with the riding crop.

So, bad day, was it?

(EXHALES)

I need to know what bruises form
in the next 20 minutes.

A man's alibi depends on it. Text me.

Listen, I was wondering, maybe later...

Are you wearing lipstick?
You weren't wearing lipstick before.

I just refreshed it a bit.

Sorry, you were saying?

I was wondering if you'd like
to have coffee?

Black, two sugars please,
I'll be upstairs.

Okay.

It's a bit different from my day.

You've no idea.

Mike, can I borrow your phone?
No signal on mine.

Well, what's wrong with the landline?

I'd rather text.

Sorry, other coat.

Oh, here. Use mine.

Oh. Thank you.

This is an old mate of mine,
John Watson.

Afghanistan or Iraq?

Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know?

Ah, coffee! Thank you, Molly.

What happened to the lipstick?

It wasn't working for me.

Really? I thought it was
a big improvement.

Mouth's too small now.

Okay.

-How do you feel about the violin?
-Sorry, what?

I play the violin when I'm thinking.

Sometimes I don't talk for days on end.
Would that bother you?

Potential flatmates should know
the worst about each other.

-Oh, you told him me about me?
-Not a word.

-Then who said anything about flatmates?
-I did.

I told Mike this morning that I must be
a difficult man to find a flatmate for.

Now here he is after lunch
with an old friend

clearly home from military service
in Afghanistan.

It wasn't a difficult leap.

How did you know about Afghanistan?

I've got my eye on a nice little place
in central London.

Together we could afford it.
We'll meet there tomorrow evening, 7:00.

Sorry, I've got to dash.

I think I left my riding crop
in the mortuary.

-Is that it?
-Is that what?

We've just met and we're going to go
and look at a flat?

Problem?

We don't know a thing about each other,
I don't know your name,

I don't even know where we're meeting.

I know you're an army doctor

and you've recently been
invalided home from Afghanistan.

I know you've got a brother with
a bit of money who's worried about you,

but you won't go to him for help
because you don't approve of him,

possibly because he's an alcoholic,

more likely because he recently
walked out on his wife.

And I know your therapist thinks
your limp is psychosomatic,

quite correctly, I'm afraid.

That's enough to be going on with,
don't you think?

The name's Sherlock Holmes
and the address is 22 1 B Baker Street.

Afternoon.

Yeah, he's always like that.

Mrs Hudson, our landlady.

-Ah, Mr Holmes.
-Sherlock, please.

Getting a special rate,
owes me a favour.

A few years ago her husband got himself
sentenced to death in Florida.

I was able to help out.

You stopped her husband being executed?

Oh no, I ensured it.

Sherlock!

(LAUGHING)

Come in, come in.

JOHN: Yep.

Well, this could be very nice.
Very nice, indeed.

Yes, I think so. My thoughts exactly.
So I went ahead and moved in.

As soon as we get
all this rubbish cleaned out.

So, this is all your stuff?

Obviously, I can straighten
things up a bit.

That's a real skull?

Friend of mine. Well, I say friend.

What do you think, Dr Watson?

There's another bedroom upstairs,
if you'll be needing two bedrooms.

Well, of course we'll be needing two.

Oh, don't worry,
there's all sorts round here.

Mrs Turner, next door,
has got married ones.

Sherlock, the mess you've made.

Oh, I, um, looked you up
on the Internet last night.

Anything interesting?

Found your website.
"The Science of Deduction."

-What did you think?
-Quite amusing, I suppose.

Amusing?

You said you could identify
a software designer by his tie

and, what was it,
a retired plumber by his left hand.

Yes, and I can read your military career
by your face and your leg,

and your brother's drinking habits
by your mobile phone.

State of the place already!

-How?
-You read the article.

The article was absurd.

But I know about his drinking habits.
I even know that he left his wife.

What about these suicides
then, Sherlock?

Thought that would be
right up your street.

Been a fourth one now.

Yes, actually,
it's very much up my street.

(TYRES SCREECHING)

Can I just ask, what is your street?

SHERLOCK: There's been a fifth.

Where this time?

Brixton, Lauriston Gardens.
Will you come?

-Who's on forensics?
-Anderson.

Anderson won't work with me.

He won't be your assistant.

But I need an assistant.

Will you come?

Not in a police car.
I'll be right behind.

Thank you.

Oh, brilliant!

I thought it was going to be
a dull evening.

Honestly, you can't beat
a really imaginative serial killer

when there's nothing
on the telly, Mrs Hudson.

I may be out late, might need some food.

I'm your landlady, dear,
not your housekeeper.

SHERLOCK: Something cold will do.

John, make yourself at home.
Er, have a cup of tea, don't wait up.

Look at him dashing about.
My husband was just the same.

But you're more the sitting down type,
I can tell.

I'll make you that cuppa,
you rest your leg.

-Damn my leg!
-(GASPS) Oh.

Sorry, I'm so sorry.
It's just sometimes this bloody thing...

I understand, dear, I've got a hip.

A cup of tea would be lovely, thank you.

Just this once, dear.
I'm not your housekeeper.

A couple of biscuits, too,
if you've got 'em.

Not your housekeeper.

You're a doctor.
In fact, you're an army doctor.

Yes.

Any good?

Very good.

Seen a lot of injuries then,
violent deaths?

Well, yes.

-Bit of trouble too, I bet.
-Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime.

Far too much.

-Want to see some more?
-God, yes!

Come on, then.

Sorry, Mrs Hudson, I'll skip the cuppa.
Off out.

What, both of you?

No point sitting at home

when there's finally
some halfway interesting murders.

Look at you all happy. It's not decent.

Who cares about decent?

The game, Mrs Hudson, is on!

Taxi!

-Okay, you've got questions.
-Where are we going?

Crime scene. There's been a murder.
Next?

-Who are you? What do you do?
-What do you think?

-I'd say private detective, but...
-But?

The police don't go
to private detectives.

I'm a consulting detective.

I'm the only one in the world.
I invented the job.

What does that mean?

It means when the police
are out of their depth,

which is always, they consult me.

But the police don't consult...amateurs.

When I met you
for the first time yesterday

and asked, "Afghanistan or Iraq?"
you looked surprised.

-How did you know?
-I didn't know, I saw.

Thank you.

SHERLOCK: Tannedface,
but no tan above the wrists.

You've been abroad, but not sunbathing.

Your haircut and the way
you hold yourself says military.

Your conversation
when you entered the room...

Ah, bit different from my day.

...says trained at Bart's.

So army doctor, obvious.

Your limp's really bad when you walk,

but you don't ask for a chair
when you stand,

like you've forgotten about it.

That means the limp is
at least partly psychosomatic.

That says the original circumstances
of the injury were traumatising.

Wounded in action then.

So, where does an army doctor
get himself a suntan

and wounded in action these days?
Afghanistan or Iraq?

You said I had a therapist.

You've got a psychosomatic limp,
of course you've got a therapist.

Then there's your brother...

-Here, use mine.
-Thank you.

Your phone. It's expensive,
e-mail enabled, mp3 player,

you're looking for a flat-share,
you wouldn't waste money on this.

It's a gift, then.

Scratches, not just one,
but many over time.

It's been in the same pocket
as keys and coins.

The man sitting beside me wouldn't treat
his one luxury item like this,

so the previous owner then.

The next bit's easy.
You know it already.

The engraving.

"Harry Watson," clearly a family member
who's given you his old phone.

Not your father,
this is a young man's gadget.

Could be a cousin, but then you're
a war hero returning home

who can't find a place to live.

Unlikely you've got an extended family,
certainly not one you're close to.

So brother it is.

Now, Clara. Who's Clara?

Three kisses says
it's a romantic attachment,

the expense of the phone says wife,
not girlfriend.

She's given this to him recently,
the model is only six months old,

so it's a marriage in trouble then.
Six months on, he's just given it away?

If she'd left him,
he'd have kept the phone, probably.

People do, sentiment.

But no, he wanted rid of it.
He left her.

He gave the phone to you,
that says he wants you to stay in touch.

He's worried about you.
You're looking for cheap accommodation,

but you won't go
to your brother for help.

That says you've got problems with him.

Maybe you liked his wife.
Maybe you don't like his drinking.

Yeah, how can you possibly know
about the drinking?

Shot in the dark. Good one, though.

Thank you.

Power connection,
tiny scuff marks around the edge of it.

Every night he plugs it into recharge,
but his hands are shaking.

You never see those marks
on a sober man's phone,

you never see a drunk's without them.

There you go, you see, you were right.

I was right? Right about what?

The police don't consult amateurs.

That was amazing!

-Do you think so?
-Of course it was. It was extraordinary.

It was quite extraordinary.

That's not what people usually say.

-What do they usually say?
-Piss off.

Did I get anything wrong?

Harry and me don't get on, never have.

Harry and Clara are getting a divorce,
split up three months ago.

Harry's a drinker.

Spot on then. I didn't expect
to be right about everything.

Harry is short for Harriet.

Harry's your sister?

Now what exactly
am I supposed to be doing here?

-Your sister.
-No, seriously, why am I here?

Oh, there's always something!

-Hello, freak.
-I'm here to see Inspector Lestrade.

-Why?
-I was invited.

-Why?
-I think he wants me to take a look.

-Well, you know what I think, don't you?
-Always, Sally.

Even though you didn't
make it home last night.

Who's this?

Colleague of mine, Dr Watson.

Dr Watson, Sergeant Sally Donovan.
Old friend.

"A colleague?"
How did you get a colleague?

Did he follow you home?

Look, would it be better if I just go...

No.

Yeah, Freak's here. Bringing him in.

Ah, Anderson, here we are again.

It's a crime scene.

I don't want it contaminated.
Are we clear on that?

Quite clear.

Magic tricks might
impress Inspector Lestrade,

they don't work on me.

And is your wife away for long?

Oh, don't pretend you worked that out.
Someone told you that!

SHERLOCK: Your deodorant told me that.

-ANDERSON: My deodorant?
-It's for men.

Well, of course it's for men,
I'm wearing it!

So is Sergeant Donovan.

(SNIFFING)

Oh, I think it just vaporised.
May I go in?

You listen me, okay?
Whatever it is you're trying to imply...

I'm not implying anything,

I'm sure Sally came round for a nice
little chat and happened to stay over.

I assume scrubbed your floors,
going by the state of her knees.

Right, just... Just go in.
Just... Just go!

(SIGHING)

You have two minutes.

I may need longer.

-SHERLOCK: Put this on.
-Who's this?

He's with me.

-Yeah, but who is he?
-I told you, he's with me.

So, where are we?

It's upstairs.

Footprint analysis says that
the only other person in this room

in the last 1 2 hours was a man
of about 5'7",

and it seemed that he and the victim
arrived together by car.

All identification is missing
from the body,

just like the others.

Have no idea who she is
or where she's from.

Well, she's from out of town, clearly.

Planned to spend a single night
in London before returning home.

-So far, so obvious.
-Obvious?

Yes, obvious, back of her right leg.
Dr Watson, what do you think?

-What do I think?
-You're the medical man.

-We have a whole team right outside.
-They won't work with me.

Look, I'm breaking every rule
letting you in here.

Yeah, 'cause you need me.

Yes, I do, God help me.

John?

Oh, just do as he says, help yourself.

(JOHN GRUNTS)

Well?

-(SOFTLY) What am I doing here?
-Helping me make a point.

I'm supposed to be helping you
pay the rent.

-Yeah, this is more fun.
-Fun? There's a woman lying dead.

No, there are two women
and three men lying dead.

Keep talking and there'll be more.

Now, cause of death?

Asphyxiation, probably.

She passed out
and choked on her own vomit.

I can't smell any alcohol on her,
could be a seizure, possibly drugs.

It was poison.

-How do you know?
-Because they were all poisoned.

-By who?
-By themselves.

-Themselves?
-We've identified the drug.

Doesn't matter, it was poison.

Same pattern each time.

Each one of them disappears
from their normal lives,

from the theatre, from their home,
from the office, from the pub,

and turn up a few hours later,
somewhere they've no reason to be, dead.

No marks of violence on the body.
No suggestion of compulsion.

Each of them has taken the same poison,

and as far as we can tell,
taken it voluntarily.

Sherlock, two minutes, I said.
I need anything you've got.

-Okay, take this down.
-Just tell me what you've got.

-I'm not going to write it down.
-Sherlock!

It's all right, I'll do it.

Thank you.

The victim is in her early 30s,
professional person.

Going by her clothes,
I'd guess something in the media,

going by the frankly alarming
shade of pink.

She's travelled from Cardiff today,

intending to stay in London
for one night,

that's obvious from
the size of her suitcase.

-A suitcase?
-A suitcase, yes.

She's been married several years,
but not happily.

She's had a string of lovers,
but none of them knew she was married.

For God's sake,
if you're just making this up...

Her wedding ring, look at it!
It's too tight.

She was thinner when she first wore it,
that says married for a while.

Also there's grime in the gem setting.

But the rest of her jewellery
has recently been cleaned,

that tells you everything you need
to know about the state of her marriage.

The inside of the ring is shinier
than the outside.

That means it's regularly removed.

The only polishing it gets is when
she works it off her finger,

but it can't be easy,
so she must have a reason.

It can't be for work,
her nails are too long.

She doesn't work with her hands,

so what, or rather who
does she remove her ring for?

Clearly not one lover,

she'd never sustain the fiction
of being single over time.

So more likely a string of them. Simple.

Brilliant!

Sorry.

Cardiff?

-Obvious, isn't it?
-It's not obvious to me.

Dear God, what's it like
inside your funny little brains?

It must be so boring.

Her coat is slightly damp.

She's been in heavy rain
in the last few hours,

no rain anywhere in London
until the last few minutes.

Under her coat collar it is damp, too,
she's turned it up against the wind.

There's an umbrella in her left pocket,
but it's dry and unused.

Not just wind, strong wind.
Too strong to use her umbrella.

We know from the suitcase
that she intended to stay a night,

so she must have come a decent distance.

But she can't have travelled
more than two or three hours

because her coat still hasn't dried.

So, where has there been
heavy rain and strong winds

within the radius of that travel time?

Cardiff.

Fantastic!

-Do you know you do that out loud?
-Sorry, I'll shut up.

No, it's... It's fine.

-LESTRADE: There was no suitcase.
-I'm sorry?

You keep saying suitcase.
There wasn't one.

Oh. I was assuming
you'd taken it already.

She had a handbag.
Why do you say she had a case?

Because she did.

Her handbag,
was there a mobile phone in it?

No.

That's odd. That's very odd.

-LESTRADE: Why?
-Never mind. We need to find her case.

How do you know she had a case?

Back of her right leg, tiny splash marks
above the heel and calf,

not present on the left.

She was dragging a wheeled suitcase
behind her with her right hand.

You don't get that splash pattern
any other way.

Smallish case, judging by the spread.

Case that size,
woman this clothes-conscious,

could only be an overnight bag.

So we know she was staying a night.

Maybe she checked into a hotel,
left her case there?

She never made it to a hotel.
Look at her hair.

Colour co-ordinates her lipstick
and her shoes.

A woman like that would never
leave the hotel

with her hair still looking like...

Oh!

Sherlock?

What? What is it? What, what, what?

Serial killers, always hard.

You have to wait for them
to make a mistake.

Well, we can't just wait!

Oh, we're done waiting.

When she was found,
she couldn't have been here long.

Is that right?

No, not long at all, no.
Um, less than an hour.

Less than an hour. An hour.

News blackout, can you do that?

Don't say that you've found her,
nothing for a day.

-Why?
-Look at her, really look!

Houston, we have a mistake!
Back in a moment.

What mistake?

Pink!

-LESTRADE: Anderson!
-I'm here.

So, what was the point in all that?

We're after a psychopath.

So we're bringing in
another psychopath to help?

If that's what it takes. All yours.

Come on, let's get on with it.

-My notes, do you want me to...
-Sorry, you're...

Dr Watson.

Well, you're going
to have to go, Dr Watson.

Don't need your notes.

LESTRADE: Okay, let's get on with it.

SALLY: Okay, look,
we're going to need Jones and Abby...

-He's gone.
-What, Sherlock Holmes?

SALLY: He just took off. He does that.

-Is he coming back?
-SALLY: Didn't look like it.

JOHN: Right.

Right, yes. Um, sorry, where am I?

Brixton.

Right. Do you know where I'd get a cab?
It's just my leg.

Yeah, try the main road.

(SIGHING)

-Hey.
-Hmm?

You're not his friend,
he doesn't have friends, so who are you?

Me, I'm... I'm nobody.
I've just met him.

Right, bit of advice then.
Stay away from that guy.

-Why?
-Well, you know why he's here?

He's not paid or anything, he likes it.
He gets off on it.

The weirder the crime,
the more he gets off.

And you know what?

One day just showing up
isn't going to be enough.

One day we'll be standing round a body

and Sherlock Holmes will be
the one who put it there.

Why would he do that?

Because he's a psychopath
and psychopaths get bored.

-LESTRADE: Donovan!
-Yeah, coming!

Stay away from Sherlock Holmes.

-Thanks.
-No worries.

(MOBILE PHONE BEEPING)

-You late or something?
-No, not particularly, why?

Sorry. You just look a bit wired.

Wired? What do you mean, wired?

What are you doing?

Nicotine patch, helps me think.

Impossible to sustain a smoking habit
in London these days.

Bad news for brain work.

Good news for breathing.

Oh, breathing. Breathing is boring.

Is that three patches?

It's a three patch problem.

Well?

You asked me to come.

Took me an hour to get here,
I assume it's important.

Oh, yeah, can I borrow your phone?

My phone?

Don't want to use mine, always a chance
the number will be recognised.

It's on the website.

Mrs Hudson's got a phone.

Yeah, but she's downstairs.
I tried shouting, but she didn't hear.

-I was the other side of London!
-There was no hurry.

Here, here.

So, what's this about? The case?

-Her case.
-Her case?

Her suitcase, yes,
the murderer took her suitcase.

First big mistake.

It's no use, there's no other way,
we'll have to risk it.

Risk what?

There's a number,
over there on the table.

I want you to send a text.

-Who am I texting?
-Never mind.

On the table, the number, now, please!

Maybe Sergeant Donovan
was right about you.

-What did she say?
-Said you were a psychopath.

Oh! Didn't think she was that smart.

She said one day they're going
to show up at a murder scene

and you'll have provided the body.

These words exactly.

"What happened at Lauriston Gardens?
I must have blacked out.

"22 Northumberland Terrace.
Please come."

Well? Send it.

Have you sent it?

Just a moment.

Take a look at the impossible.
The contents of her case.

-How did you get this?
-By looking.

Where?

We know the killer drove
to Lauriston Gardens,

we know the killer is a man.

No man could be seen with this case
without attracting attention to himself,

so obviously he'd feel compelled
to get rid of it

the moment he knew
it was still in his car.

Wouldn't have taken him more than
five minutes to realise his mistake.

I checked every back street
wide enough for a car

within five minutes of Lauriston Gardens

and looked for anywhere you could
easily dispose of a bulky object

without being observed.

It look me less than an hour
to find the right skip.

Pink.

You got all that because
you realised the case would be pink?

Well, it had to be pink, obviously.

-Why didn't I think of that?
-Because you're stupid.

Oh, no, don't look like that.
Practically everyone is.

Sent?

Sent, yes. What was that about?

The contents of her case, look at them.

-What am I looking for?
-The impossible. One impossible thing.

There's a change of clothes,
a make-up bag, a wash-bag and a novel.

-What's impossible?
-Her mobile phone.

There isn't a mobile phone.

That's what's impossible.

No mobile in her case,
no mobile in her coat pocket.

Well, maybe she doesn't have one.

She has a string of lovers,
of course she has one.

She could have left it at home.

Again, string of lovers,
she never leaves her phone at home.

And so where is it?

You know where it is.
More importantly, you know who has it.

-The murderer?
-The murderer.

Who did I just text?

Maybe she just dropped it
in the back of his car.

Maybe she planted it on purpose
to lead us to him,

but the murderer has her phone.

(PHONE RINGING)