Sherlock (2010–…): Season 3, Episode 2 - The Sign of Three - full transcript

They just walked out of there!

Yeah, I know,
I was sort of sitting next to you.

The whole Waters family.
They just walked right out of there!

Again, I was in the room.
How do they always manage that?!

They're good.

They're greedy
and they'll do it again,

and next time we're going to
catch them in the act.

How?

No good?

They always know we're coming.
How do they always know?!

They're good, they work at it.



They're never going to stop.
Well, neither are we.

Argh!

Argh!

Argh! AARGH!

Oh! Greg... In the act!

It's the only way we're going to
do this, in the act!

They're still blocking it?

Yeah. Very efficiently hacked.

They must be bloody pleased
with theMs.elves.

They must be.

Right then?

Ah, no! No, you've got to make
the arrest. This one's yours, boss.

You've never called me boss before.

Oh, well, look what happens
when you're good.



You know how most days
aren't good days?

This is a good day. Not
for the Waters family.

OK, ten men on the roof,
all exits covered.

The bank's closed, so we've
no hostages to worry about.

Sorry, no, go on. Go on.

Um, we've got the tunnel
entrance covered...

and Davies, Willow and Christie

are heading up armed
response on Mafeking Road.

Sorry, I'd better get this.
It's him, isn't it?

I, I, I have to go. What?!

You make the arrest. No way!

Sorry, you'll be fine.
I'm cool with this.

Jones will get all the credit
if you leave now, you know he will.

Yeah, well, yeah, it doesn't matter,
I have to go.

Back up! I need maximum back up!

Baker Street now!

What's going on?!

This is hard. What?

Really hard.
Hardest thing I've ever had to do.

Do you know any funny stories
about John?

What?!

I need anecdotes.
Didn't go to any trouble, did you?

Shut up, Mrs. Hudson.
I haven't said a word.

You're formulating a question,

it's physically painful
watching you think.

I thought it was you playing.

It was me playing.

I am composing.

You were dancing.

I was road-testing.

You what?

Why are you here?

I'm bringing you your morning tea.
You're not usually awake.

You bring me tea in the morning?

Well, where do you think
it came from?

I don't know.
I just thought it sort of happened.

Your mother has a lot to answer for.

Hmm, I know. I have a list.

Mycroft has a file.

So, it's the big day then.

What big day?

The wedding! John and Mary
getting married.

Two people who currently live
together are about to attend church,

have a party, go on a short holiday,
then carry on living together.

What's big about that?
It changes people, marriage.

Hmm, no it doesn't.

Well, you wouldn't understand,
cos you always live alone.

Your husband was executed
for double murder.

You're hardly an advert
for companionship.

Marriage changes you as a person
in ways that you can't imagine.

As does lethal injection.

My best friend, Margaret,
she was my chief bridesmaid,

we were going to be best friends
forever, we always said that,

but I hardly saw her after that.

Aren't there usually biscuits?
I've run out. Have the shops?

She cried the whole day, saying,
"Ooh, it's the end of an era."

I'm sure the shop
on the corner is open.

She was probably right, really.
I remember she left early.

I mean, who leaves a wedding early?
So sad.

Hmm. Anyway, you've got
things to do.

No, not really. I've got plenty of
time to get ready... Biscuits!

Oh! I really am going to
have a word with your mother.

You can if you like,
she understands very little.

Right then.

Into battle.

Congratulations!

OK, hold it there, I want to get
this shot of the newlyweds.

Er, just the bride and groom,
please.

Sherlock...
Oh, sorry.

OK, three, two, one, cheese.

The famous Mr.. Holmes.
I'm very pleased to meet you.

But no sex, OK? Sorry?!

You don't have to look so scared,
I'm only messing.

Bridesmaid, best man,
it's a bit traditional.

Is it? But not obligatory.

If that's the sort of
thing you're looking for,

the man over there in
blue is your best bet.

Recently divorced doctor
with a ginger cat...

A barn conversion and a history
of erectile dysfunction.

Reviewing that information,
possibly not your best bet.

Yeah, maybe not.

Sorry, there was one more deduction
there than I was expecting.

Mr.. Holmes, you're going
to be incredibly useful.

Hello. Lovely to meet you.

How are you?
Beautiful, Mary.

Thank you.
Congratulations.

David!

Ah, ah, Mary. Congratulations,
you look, um, very nice.

Thanks. John, congratulations.
You're a lucky man. Thank you.

Um, David, this is Sherlock. Hmm.

Um, yeah, we've um... We've met.

So, what exactly are my duties
as an usher?

Let's talk about Mary first.

Sorry, what?

Well, I think you know what.
You went out with her for two years.

Er, ages ago. We're...
We're just good friends now.

Is that a fact?

Whenever she tweets, you
respond within five

minutes, regardless of
time or current location,

suggesting you have her on text alert.
In your

Facebook photographs
of the happy couple,

Mary takes centre frame, whereas John
is always partly or entirely excluded.

Well, you can't assume from that I've still
got some kind of interest in Mary...

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?

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.

I have your contact details.
I will be monitoring.

They're right about you.
You're a bloody psychopath.

High functioning sociopath,
with your number.

Um...

Hello. Darling. Thank you.

You look fabulous. Thank you.

Thanks for coming, thank you.

Er, yes, well done in the service,
Archie.

He's really come out of his shell.
I don't know how you did it. Um...

Basically it's a cute smile
to the bride's side,

cute smile to the groom's side
and then the rings. No.

And you have to wear the outfit. No.

You really do have to wear
the outfit. What for?

Grown-ups like that sort of thing.
Why?

I don't know, I'll ask one.

You're a detective.

Yep. Have you solved any murders?

Sure, loads. Can I see?

Yeah, all right.

What's all the stuff in his eye?

Maggots. Cool!

Hmm.

He said you had some
pictures for him, as a treat?

Er, yes, if he's good.

Beheadings. Lovely little village.

Hmm? What did you say?

Hold it.

Nice.

I'm starving. Thanks.

I had to lose so much weight to
get into this dress.

Hmm, he's nice.

Traces of two leading brands of deodorant,
both advertised for their strength,

suggestive of a chronic body odour
problem, manifesting under stress.

OK, done there.
What about his friend?

Long-term relationship,
compulsive cheat. Seriously?

Waterproof cover on his smart-phone.

Yet his complexion
doesn't indicate outdoor work.

It suggests he's in the habit of taking
his phone into the shower with him,

which means he often
receives texts and emails

he'd rather went unseen.
Can I keep you?

Do you like solving crimes?
Do you have a vacancy?

So, Harry? Er, no. No show.

Darling, I'm so sorry.

Yeah, it was a bit of a punt
asking her, I suppose.

Still, free bar,
wouldn't have been a good mix.

Oh. God, wow!

Is that...? He came.

So that's him, Major Sholto.
Uh-huh.

If they're such good friends,
why does he barely even mention him?

He mentions him all the time to me,
never shuts up about him.

About HIM? Mm-hmm.

Urgh! I chose this wine,
it's bloody awful!

Yes, but it's definitely him
that he talks about? Mm-hmm.

I'm very, very, glad to see you, sir.

I know you don't really
do this sort of thing.

Well, I do for old friends,
Watson.

John.

It's good to see you. You too.

Civilian life suiting you, then?

Er, er, yes. Well, I think so, sir.
No more need for the trick cyclist?

No, I go now and then.
Sort of a top-up.

Therapy can be very helpful.

Where are you living these days?

Oh, way out in the middle of
nowhere. You wouldn't know it.

You look well... I've never even
heard him say his name.

Well, he's almost a recluse,
you know, since... Yes.

I didn't think he'd show up at all.

John says he's the most unsociable
man he's ever met.

He is? He's the most unsociable?
Hmm.

Ah, that's why he's bouncing around
him like a puppy.

Oh, Sherlock!

Neither of us were the first,
you know. Stop smiling.

It's my wedding day!

Urgh!

Yes? What, Sherlock?

Why are you out of breath? Filing.

Either I've caught you in a compromising
position or you've been working out again.

I favour the latter.
What do you want?

I need your answer, Mycroft,
as a matter of urgency.

Answer? Even at the eleventh hour,
it's not too late, you know.

Oh, Lord!

Cars can be ordered,
private jets commandeered.

Today. It's today, isn't it?

No, Sherlock, I will not be
coming to the night-do,

as you so poetically put it.

What a shame.
Mary and John will be extremely d...

Delighted not to have me
hanging around.

Oh, I don't know.

There should always be
a spectre at the feast.

So, this is it, then? The big day.

I suppose I'll be seeing
a lot more of you from now on.

What do you mean?
Just like old times.

No, I don't understand. 'Well,
it's the end of an era, isn't it?'

John and Mary, domestic bliss.

No, no, no. I prefer to think of it
as the beginning of a new chapter.

What? Nothing.
I know that silence. What?

Well, I'd better let you
get back to it.

You have a big speech or something,
don't you?

What? Cakes, karaoke, mingling.

Mycroft! This is what people do,
Sherlock. They get married.

I warned you, don't get involved.

Involved? I'm not involved. No...

John asked me to be his best man, how could
I say no? Absolutely. I'm not involved.

I believe you. Really, I do.

Have a lovely day and do give
the happy couple my best.

I will.

Oh, by the way, Sherlock,
do you remember Redbeard?

I'm not a child anymore, Mycroft.

No, of course you're not.

Enjoy not getting involved, Sherlock.

Pray silence for the best man.

Ladies and gentlemen,
family and friends,

and... um, others.

Er...

A-also...

Greg... Molly.
I've just had a thought.

Is that a brain?

What if John asks Sherlock
to be his best man?

Well, he will, won't he?
He's bound to. Exactly.

So? So, he'll have to make a speech,
in front of people.

There'll be actual people there,
actually listening.

Well, what's the worst
that could happen?

Helen-Louise probably
wondered the same.

Helen-Louise?

Oh, hello dear.

I was just thinking,
if John does ask Sherlock...

What, the speech, dear?
No, it'll be fine.

It's not just the speech,
though, is it?

Oh, brilliant!

Mr..s Hudson? Hello, darling.
Are you all right?

I was coming to see Sherlock
and I thought you were...

No... Possibly dying.

Oh, sorry.

What's wrong?

The telegraMs...!

Sorry, what?

Oh, sorry.

TelegraMs...!

Right, um... First
things first, telegraMs...

Well, they're not actually telegraMs.., we
just call them telegraMs... I don't know why.

Wedding tradition.

Because we don't have enough of that
already, apparently.

"To Mr.. and Mr..s Watson,

"so sorry I am unable to be with
you on your special day.

"Good luck and best wishes,
Mike Stanford." Aah. Aw.

"To John and Mary, all good
wishes for your special day,"

"with love and many big..."

"Big squishy cuddles
from Stella and Ted."

"Mary, lots of love..."

Yeah?

"Poppet. Oodles of love
and heaps of good wishes from Cam."

"Wish your family
could have seen this."

"Special day..."
"Very special day..."

"Love..." "Love..." "Love..."
"Love..." "Love..."

Bit of a theme, you get the general
gist. People are basically fond.

John Watson.

My friend, John Watson.

John...

When John first broached the subject
of being best man, I was confused.

Sherlock? What was that
noise downstairs?

Oh, it was Mr..s Hudson laughing.

Hmm, it sounded like
she was torturing an owl.

Yeah, well, it was laughter.

Could have been both.

Busy?

Oh, just occupying myself.
Sometimes it's so hard not smoking.

Mind if I interrupt?

Be my guest.

Tea? Er... So, er,
the big question.

Mm-hmm?

The best man.

The best man?

What do you think?
Billy Kincaid.

Sorry, what? Billy Kincaid, the Camden
Garrotter, best man I ever knew.

Vast contributions to charity,
never disclosed.

Personally managed to save
three hospitals from closure

and ran the best and safest
children's homes in north England.

Yes, every now and again there'd
be some garrotings, but

stacking up the lives saved
against the garrotings,

on balance I'd say he...
For my wedding.

For me, I need a best man.

Oh, right. Maybe not a Garrotter.

Gavin? Who?

Gavin Lestrade?
He's a man and good at it.

It's Greg.
And he's not my best friend.

Oh, Mike Stanford, I see.

Well, he's nice. Um, though I'm not
sure how well he'd cope with all...

No, Mike's great,
but HE'S not my best friend.

Look, Sherlock, this is the biggest
and most important day of my life...

Well... No, it is. It is.

And I want to be up there
with the two people

that I love and care about
most in the world. Yes.

So Mary Morstan... Yes.

And...

you.

I confess at first I didn't realise
he was asking me.

When finally I understood,
I expressed to him

that I was both flattered
and surprised.

I explained to him that
I'd never expected this

request and I was a little
daunted in the face of it.

Sherlock...

I nonetheless promised
I would do my very

best to accomplish a
task which was, for me,

as demanding and difficult
as any I had ever contemplated.

Additionally, I thanked him for the trust
he placed in me and indicated that I was,

in some ways, very close to
being moved by it.

No, it's getting a bit scary now.

It later transpired that I'd said
none of this out loud.

So, in fact...

You, you mean... Yes.

I'm your... best...
Man... friend?

Yeah, of course you are.

Of course... You're my best friend.

How was that?

Surprisingly OK.

So you'll have to make a speech,
of course.

Done that. Done that.

Done that bit, done that bit.

Done that bit. Hmm.

I'm afraid, John,
I can't congratulate you.

All emotions,
and in particular love,

stand opposed to the pure, cold
reason I hold above all things.

A wedding is,
in my considered opinion,

nothing short of a celebration of all
that is false and specious and irrational

and sentimental in this ailing
and morally compromised world.

Today we honour the deathwatch beetle
that is the doom of our society,

and in time, one feels certain,
our entire species.

But anyway, let's talk about John.
Please.

If I burden myself with a little
helpmate during my adventures,

this is not out of
sentiment or caprice, it

is that he has many fine
qualities of his own

that he has overlooked
in his obsession with me.

Indeed, any reputation I have for mental
acuity and sharpness comes, in truth,

from the extraordinary contrast
John so selflessly provides.

It is a fact, I believe,
that brides tend to favour

exceptionally plain bridesmaids
for their big day.

There is a certain analogy there,
I feel. And contrast is, after all,

God's own plan to enhance
the beauty of his creation.

Or it would be if God were not
a ludicrous fantasy

designed to provide a career
opportunity for the family idiot.

The point I'm trying to make
is that I am

the most unpleasant, rude,

ignorant and all-round
obnoxious arsehole

that anyone could possibly have
the misfortune to meet.

I am dismissive of the virtuous,

unaware of the beautiful

and uncomprehending
in the face of the happy.

So if I didn't understand
I was being asked to be best man,

it is because I never expected
to be anybody's best friend.

And certainly not the best friend

of the bravest and kindest
and wisest human being

I have ever had the good fortune
of knowing.

John, I am a ridiculous man.

Redeemed only by the warmth
and constancy of your friendship.

But, as I am apparently
your best friend,

I cannot congratulate you
on your choice of companion.

Actually, now I can.

Mary, when I say
you deserve this man,

it is the highest compliment
of which I am capable.

John, you have endured war
and injury and tragic loss -

so sorry again about that last one -
so know this, today you sit between

the woman you have made your wife
and the man you have saved.

In short, the two people who love
you most in all this world.

And I know I speak for Mary as well
when I say,

we will never let you down and we
have a lifetime ahead to prove that.

(If I try and hug him, stop me.)
Certainly not.

Ah, yes. Now onto
some funny stories about John.

What's wrong? What happened?
Why are you all doing that? John?

Oh, Sherlock!

Did I do it wrong?
No, you didn't. Come here.

I haven't finished yet.
Yeah, I know, I know.

So onto some funny stories now...
Can you wait till I sit down?

So, onto some funny stories
about John.

If you could all just cheer up
a bit, that would be better.

On we go.

So for funny stories, one has to
look no further than John's blog.

The record of our time together.

Of course, he does
tend to romanticise things a bit,

but then, you know, he's a romantic.

We've tackled some strange cases.

The Hollow Client...

The Poison Giant...

Get down, John!

We've had some frustrating cases...

What is that?

A French decathlete found
completely out of his mind,

surrounded by 1,812 matchboxes,

all empty except this one.

And what's in that one?

Inexplicable.

Touching cases...

She's going to ring the doorbell.

Oh, no. She's changed her mind.

Oh, she's going to do it.
No, she's leaving.

She's leaving.
Oh, she's coming back.

She's a client, she's boring. I've
seen those symptoMs.. before. Hmm?

Oscillation on the pavement
always means there's a love affair.

And of course I have to mention
the elephant in the room...

But we want something

very particular for this
special day, don't we?

The Bloody Guardsman...

Need to work on your half of the
church, Mary, looking a bit thin.

Oh, orphan's lot. Friends,
that's all I have, lots of friends.

Schedule the organ music to
begin at precisely 11:48...

But the rehearsal's not for
another two weeks, just calm down.

Calm? I am calm. I'm extremely calm.

Let's get back to the reception,
come on.

John's cousin, top table?

Hmm, hates you.
Can't even bear to think about you.

Seriously? Second class post,
cheap card.

Bought at a petrol station. Look at
the stamp, three attempts at licking,

she's obviously unconsciously
retaining saliva.

Ah, let's stick her by the bogs.
Oh, yes.

Who else hates me?

Oh, great, thanks.

"Priceless painting nicked."
Looks interesting.

Table four... Done.

"My husband is three people."

Table five...
Major James Sholto - who he?

John's old commanding officer. I don't
think he's coming. He'll be there.

Well, he needs to RSVP, then.
He'll be there. Oh.

"My husband is three people."
It's interesting.

It says he has three distinct
patterns of moles on his skin.

Identical triplets, one in half a million
births. Solved it without leaving the flat.

Now, serviettes...
Swan or Sydney Opera House?

Where did you learn that? Many
skills are required in the field

of criminal investigation...
Fibbing, Sherlock.

I once broke an alibi
by demonstrating

the exact severity of a fold...
I'm not John, I can

tell when you're fibbing.
OK, I learnt it on YouTube.

Opera House, please.
Oh, hang on, I'm buzzing.

Hello?

Oh, hi, Beth.

Yeah, yeah, I don't see why not.

Actually, if that's Beth,
it's probably for me too, hang on.

He knows we don't have
a friend called Beth,

he's going to figure
out that it's code.

He's YouTubing serviettes. He's thorough.
He's terrified. Of course he's not.

When you're scared of
something you start

wishing it sooner, just
to get it all going.

But why would he be scared
that we're getting married?

It's not going to change anything,
we'll still do stuff.

You need to prove it to him.
I told you to find him a new case.

I'm trying. But you need to run him, OK?
Show him it's still the good old days.

That just sort of happened.

Sherlock, um, mate...

I have...

I've smelled 18 different perfumes,

I've sampled nine different slices
of cake, which all tasted identical.

I like the bridesmaids in purple...
Lilac. Lilac.

Um, there are no more decisions
left to make.

I don't even understand the decisions
that we have made.

I'm faking opinions,
and it's exhausting.

So, please, before she comes back...
pick something.

Anything. Pick one. Pick what?

A case. Your inbox is bursting.

Just... get me out of here.

You want to go out on a case? Now?

Please. Sherlock, for me.

Don't you worry about a thing,
I'll get you out of this.

Oh.

"Dear Mr.. Holmes,
my name is Bainbridge."

"I'm a Private in Her Majesty's
Household Guard."

"I'm writing to you
about a personal matter..."

"One I don't care to
bring before my superiors,"

"it would sound so trivial."

"But I think someone's stalking me."

"I'm used to tourists, it's part
of the job,"

"but this is different."

"Someone's watching me."

"He's taking pictures of me
every day."

"I don't want to mention it to the Major,
but it's really preying on my mind."

Uniform fetishist?
All the nice girls like a soldier.

It's "sailor". And Bainbridge
thinks his stalker is a bloke.

Let's go and investigate. Please.

Elite guard. 40 enlisted
men and officers.

Why this particular Grenadier?
Curious.

Now you're talking. OK.
Bye!

Er, we're just going to...
I need, um, Sherlock to help me

choose some er... Ties.
Socks.

Why don't we go with socks? Yeah.

I mean, you've got to get
the right ones.

Exactly, to go with my...
Tie. Outfit.

That'll take a while, right?
Is my coat in there? Yes.

I'm just going to take him
out for a bit. Run him.

I know. You said
you'd find him a case. Hmm.

Coming, Sherlock? Coming!

Taxi!

Company halt!

Right turn!

We're here to see
Private Stephen Bainbridge.

He's on duty right now, sir.

But I'll certainly
let him know when he's free.

And when will that be?

Another hour.

Do you think they give them classes?

Classes?

How to resist the temptation
to scratch their behinds.

Afferent neurons in
the peripheral nervous system.

Bum-itch.

Oh.

So why don't you see him any more?

Who? Your previous commander, Sholto.

Previous commander?

I meant ex.

"Previous" suggests that
I currently have a commander.

Which you don't. Which I don't.
Of course you don't.

He was decorated, wasn't he?
A war hero?

Not to everyone.

He led a team of crows into battle.

Crows?

New recruits. It's standard
procedure - break the new boys in.

But it went wrong.

They all died,
he was the only survivor.

The press and families gave
him hell, he gets more

death threats than you. Oh,
I wouldn't count on that.

And why have you suddenly taken
an interest in another human being?

I'm "chatting".

I won't be trying THAT again.

Changing the subject completely...

you know it won't alter anything,
right, me and Mary getting married?

We'll still be doing all this.

Oh, good. If you were worried.

I wasn't worried.

Hmm.

The thing about Mary,

she has completely
turned my life around.

Changed everything.

But, for the record,

over the last few years there are
two people who have done that,

and the other one is...

a complete dickhead.

Can I ask what this
is in connection with?

Private Bainbridge contacted us
about a personal matter, sir.

Nothing's personal
when it concerns my troops.

What do you really want?

I'm here on a legitimate enquiry.

Are you press? Digging for some
bloody Royal story or something?

No, sir, I'm Captain John Watson,

Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.

Retired.

You could be a used-car
salesman now, for all I know.

Bainbridge?

Gentleman here to see you.

Bainbridge!

I know you, don't I?

Hmm?

I've seen you in the papers.

You hang around with that detective,

the one with the silly hat.

What the hell does Bainbridge
want with a detective?

I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say.

You're not at liberty to say?
He's a soldier in my regiment.

I'll be damned if he's going to get up to
cloak-and-dagger nonsense like this. Sir!

Sir! What's going on?
It's Bainbridge, sir.

He's dead.

My God!

Ah! No, let me take a look,
sir, I'm a doctor.

What?

Sergeant, arrest this man!

What? No, no! I'm a doctor!

Oh, you're a doctor
now too? Sergeant.

Let me examine him, please!

Sir, caught this one
snooping around.

Is that what this is all about?

Distracting me, so that
this man could get in here

and kill Bainbridge? Don't be...

Kill him with what?
Where's the weapon? What?

Where's the weapon?
Go on, search me - no weapon.

Bainbridge was on parade,
he came off duty five minutes ago.

When's this supposed
to have happened?

You obviously stabbed him before
he got into the shower. No. No?!

He's soaking wet and there's
shampoo in his hair.

He got into the shower,
then someone stabbed him.

The cubicle was locked from the
inside, sir. I had to break it open.

You must have climbed over the top. But
then I'd be soaking wet too, wouldn't I?

Major, please! I'm John Watson,
Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers,

three years in Afghanistan,
a veteran of Kandahar, Helmand

and Bart's bloody Hospital!

Let me examine this body!

Thank you.

Suicide?

No. The weapon again, no knife.

Now, there is a wound
to the abdomen.

Incredibly fine.

Man stabbed to death,
no murder weapon.

Door locked from the inside.

Only one way in or out
of here. Sherlock...

Hmm? He's still breathing.

Oh, my God!

What do we do?
Give me your scarf. What?

Quickly, now! Call an ambulance!

What? Call an ambulance, now!

Do it!

Nurse, press here, hard.

Nurse? Yeah, I'm making do.

Keep pressure on that wound.

Stephen? Stephen, stay with me.

Private Bainbridge had
just come off guard duty.

He'd stood there for hours,
plenty of people watching,

nothing apparently wrong.

He came off duty and
within minutes was nearly dead

from a wound in his stomach,

but there was no weapon.

Where did it go?

Ladies and gentlemen,
I invite you to consider this -

a murderer who can
walk through walls,

a weapon that can vanish.
But in all of this,

there is only one element which can
be said to be truly remarkable.

Would anyone like to make a guess?

Come on, come on,

there is actually an element
of Q&A to all of this.

Scotland Yard,
have you got a theory?

Yeah, you, you're a detective,
broadly speaking. Got a theory?

Er, um, if the, er...
If the... If the...

If the blade was
propelled through the, erm...

grating in the air vent,

maybe a ballista
or a catapult, um...

Somebody tiny could crawl in there.

So, yeah, we're looking
for a dwarf.

Brilliant.

Really? No.

Next?

(He stabbed hiMs..elf.)

Hello, who was that?

Tom?

Got a theory?

Attempted suicide, with a blade
made of compacted blood and bone.

Broke after piercing his abdomen,

like a meat... dagger.

A meat dagger?

Yes.
(Sit down.)

No.

There was one feature,
and only one feature, of interest

in the whole of this baffling case,

and quite frankly it was
the usual - John Watson.

Who, while I was trying to solve
a murder, instead saved a life.

There are mysteries worth solving

and stories worth telling.

The best and bravest man I know

and, on top of that,
he actually knows how to do stuff.

Except wedding planning and
serviettes, he's rubbish at those.

Hmm. The case itself remains

the most ingenious and brilliantly
planned murder, or attempted murder,

I've ever had
the pleasure to encounter.

The most perfect locked-room
mystery of which I am aware.

However, I'm not just here
to praise John,

I'm also here to embarrass him,
so let's move on to...

No, wait... How was it done?

How was what done? The stabbing?

I'm afraid I don't know.

I didn't solve that one.

It can happen sometimes,
it's very, very disappointing.

Embarrassment leads me on
to the stag night.

Of course there's
hours of material here,

but I've cut it down
to the really good bits.

Murder scenes?

Locations of murders?

Hmm, pub crawl, themed.

Yeah, but why can't you just
do Underground stations?

It lacks the personal touch. We're
going to go for a drink in every...

In every street where you've
found a corpse. Delightful!

Where do I come in?

Don't want to get ill.
That would ruin it, spoil the mood.

You're a graduate chemist,
can't you just work it out?

I lack the practical experience.

Meaning you think I like a drink?

Occasionally.
That I'm a drunk. No... No.

You look... well.

I am.

How's...

Tom?

Not a sociopath.

Still? Good.

And we're having quite a lot of sex.

OK. I want you to calculate
John's ideal intake, and mine,

to remain in the sweet spot
for the whole evening.

Light-headed - good.

Urinating in wardrobes - bad.

Hmm.

Two, erm... beers, please.

Pints?

443.7 millilitres.

Ah.

What, are we on a schedule?

You'll thank me.

Cheers. Cheers.

Over there. What?

Toilets - any second now
you're going to need...

Hang on, tell me after.
I need the loo. Hmm, on schedule.

Eh? Nothing. Go!

How long? Sorry?

Your visit.

Estimate approximate
volume discharge...

Stop talking now.

Oh, quick, one more. He mustn't see.

Here you go. Cheers.

I know ash! Don't tell me I don't!

All right, enough!
That's... Stand up.

Ash. I know ash.

I have an international reputation.

Do you have
an international reputation?

No, I don't have
an international reputation. No.

And I can't even remember what for.

It's crime... something or other.

Oh, what are you doing back?

I thought you were
going to be up late.

Ah, Hudders. What time is it?

You've only been out two hours.

Am I a vegetable?

You or the... thing...? Pffrrrt!

Funny!

Thank you.

Come on. No, you're not
a vegetable. It's your go.

Erm... am I human?

Sometimes.

Can't have sometimes.

It has to be, um...

Yes, you're human.
Yes, I know, OK. And am I a man?

Yep. Tall?

Not as tall as people think.

Hmm. Nice?

Ish.

Clever?

I would say so.

You would.

Hmm, am I important?

To some people.

Do people like me?

Erm, no they don't.

You tend to rub them up
the wrong way.

OK.

Am I the current King of England?

You know we don't have a King.

Don't we? No.

Your go.

I don't mind. Am I a woman?

What?

Yes.

Am I... pretty?

This?

Beauty is a construct based
entirely on childhood impressions,

influences and role models.

Yeah, but am I a pretty lady?

I don't know who you are, I don't
know who you're supposed to be.

You picked the name!

But I picked it at random
from the papers.

You're not really getting the hang
of this game, are you, Sherlock?

So I am human, I'm not as tall
as people think I am. I'm...

I'm nice-ish, clever,

important to some people.

But I tend to rub them up
the wrong way.

Got it.

Go on, then. I'm you, aren't I?

Client!

Hello.

Hello. Come on.

Which one of you is Sherlock Holmes?

I don't... a lot.

I mean, I don't date all that much.

And he seemed nice, you know?

We seemed to automatically connect.

We had one night,

dinner, such interesting
conversation.

It was lovely.

To be honest,

I'd love to have gone further,

but I thought, no, this is special,

let's take it slowly.

Exchanged numbers,

he said he'd get in touch
and then...

Maybe he wasn't quite
as keen as I was,

but I just thought

at least he'd call
to say that we were finished.

I went round there,

to his flat, no trace of him.

Mr.. Holmes, I honestly think

I had dinner with a ghost.

Mr.. Holmes?

With a ghost, Mr.. Holmes!

Boring, boring, boring.
No... fascinating.

John. John! Wake up.

I apologise about my...
You know... Him.

Rude. Rude!

I checked with the landlord

and the man who lived there died.

Heart attack.

And there we are
having dinner one week on.

And I found this thing online,

a sort of chatroom thing,

for girls who think they're dating
men from the spirit world.

Don't worry, I'll find him
in ten minutes.

What's your dog's name?

Yeah, I'm there if you want it...
John, wake up.

Went to... Yeah.

The game is... something.

On?

Yeah, that, that.

OK.

Oh, it's nice.

Nice place.

See anything? Hmm?

Any clues, Mr.. Holmes?

Oh, errrm...

I'm just going to whip this out.

You all right?
Hmm? Yeah, he's clueing. What?

He's... Hmm? He's clueing for looks.

Mr.. Holmes?

Mr.. Holmes! I'm calling
the police. Oh, no...

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

No, look, this is
a famous detective,

it's Sherlock Holmes and
his partner, John Hamish Watson.

What do you think you're doing?

Don't compromise the
integrity of the...

Crime scene.

Yeah, that.

Wakey-wakey!

Oh, my God.

Greg... Is that Greg?

Get up. I'm going to
put you two in a taxi.

I managed to square things
with the desk sergeant.

Ha! What a couple of lightweights -

you couldn't even make it
to closing time!

- Can you whisper?
- Not really!

Come on.

Well, thanks for a...

You know... an evening.

It was awful.

Yeah. I was going to pretend, but...

it was, truly.

That woman, Tessa... What?

Dated a ghost, most interesting
case for months.

What a wasted opportunity!

OK.

How are you feeling?

Hmm.

It's just like old times,
having you back here.

I thought I'd make your
favourite, one last time.

Oh. Don't sound so final about it,

I will be visiting, you know.
Ooh, I've heard that one before!

No, it's different now,
though, isn't it?

It's different to when
we thought we'd lost him.

Well, marriage
changes everything, John.

Does it? Yeah. You might not
think it, but it does.

It's a different phase in your life.

You meet knew people,
cos you're a couple,

and then you just let
your old friends slip away.

It won't be like that.
Well, if you've found the right one,

the person that you click with,
it's the best thing in the world.

Well, I have. I know I have.
Oh, I'm sure.

She's lovely.

Yeah, I think so. What about you?

Me?

Did you think you'd found the right
one when you married Mr.. Hudson?

No. It was just
a whirlwind thing for us.

I knew it wouldn't work, but I just
got sort of swept along. Right.

And then we moved to Florida.

We had a fantastic time,

but of course I didn't know
what he was up to. (The drugs.)

Drugs?! He was running, erm...

Oh, what do you call it?

Erm... A... cartel.

And got in with a really bad crowd.

Right. And then I found out
about all the other women.

I didn't have a clue.

So, when he was actually arrested
for blowing someone's head off,

it was quite a relief, to be honest.

Oh.

It was purely physical
between me and Frank.

We couldn't keep
our hands off each other.

I know, there was one night...

Oh, is that Sherlock?

Is it?

That's Sherlock.

Urgh...

There are going to be others.

Others? VictiMs.., women.

Most ghosts tend to
haunt a single house.

This ghost, however,
is willing to commute. Look.

Hmm... Not you. Not you.

Not you. Not you. Not you. Not you.

Not you. Not you.

Not you.

Not you. Not you.

Hmm... Not you.

Not you. Not you. Not you.
Not you. Not you. Not you.

Not you. Not you.
Not you. Not you. Not you.

Not you, you, you, or you, or you.

Or not you, not you, not you,
not you, not you, not you.

Not you.

Hi.

Gail.

Charlotte.

Robyn.

Vicky.

How did you meet?

Came up to me in a pub.
Same gym as me.

We just got chatting on the bus.

Online.

Name? Told you.

His name. Oscar.

Mike. Terry.

Erm... Love Monkey.

Your place?

His place.

Address?

Nothing happened.

It was just... very romantic.

Four women in four nights.
He must have something special.

He was very charming. He listened.

He was sweet.

He had a lovely... You OK?

You've let your food go cold.
Mr..s Hudson will play hell.

Not now, John.

Sorry about that.

He had a lovely manner.

Different names,
different addresses.

Describe him.

Short blonde hair.

Dark hair. Long.

Ginger. I like gingers.

Couldn't tell.

He had a mask on.

He's stealing
the identity of corpses,

getting their names
from the obituary columns.

All single men.

He's using the dead man's flat

under the assumption
it will be empty for a while.

Free love nest.

I feel sick.

It's gruesome.

That's awful. Clever... Bastard!

Hello, Tessa.

Meanwhile, back to business.

No-one wants to use
a dead man's home.

At least not until
it's been cleared.

So, he disguises hiMs..elf.

Steals the man's home,
steals his identity.

But only for one night.
Then he's gone.

He's not a ghost, John.
He's a Mayfly.

He lives for a day.

So, what was it
he was looking for?

Job?

Gardener. Cook.

Private nurse. I do security work.

Maid.

Obvious. You all work
for the same person.

No, no, not the same employer. Damn!

Come on, we can do this.

Ideal night out?

Clay-pigeon shooting.

Line dancing.

Pictures.

Wine in front of the telly.

Dungeon.

Make-up? Clarins.

No7.

Maybelline. Nothing special.

Whatever's cheap.

Perfume?

Chanel. Chanel. Chanel.

Chanel. Estee Lauder.

Ideal man?

George Clooney.

Oh...! Home-loving.

He'd have to like cuddling.

Caring. Ten things.

One - someone who isn't
competitive with other men.

Two - someone who isn't constantly

trying to define hiMs..elf
by his masculinity...

There's a unifying
factor, there has to be.

None of you reported
anything stolen.

Security guard, gardener, cook,
maid, private nurse.

He's romancing his way
up a pecking order.

Somebody's pecking order.
Come on, think. Unless...

Do you have a secret
you've never told anyone?

No.

Gotcha! What do you mean?

Everyone has secrets and
they all replied too quickly.

Got to go. See you. No... Wait!
Bye-bye. Wait!

Sorry, sexy, some secrets
have to stay secret.

Enjoy the wedding.

Why? WHY would he date all of those
women and not return their calls?

You're missing
the obvious, mate. Am I?

He's a man.

But why would he
change his identity?

Maybe he's married.

Oh... Married.

Obvious, really.

Our Mayfly Man
was trying to escape

the suffocating
chains of domesticity

and instead of endless nights in
watching the telly

or going to barbecues with the awful,
dreadful, boring people he couldn't stand,

he used his wits, cleverness and powers
of disguise to play the field. He was...

On second thoughts,

I probably should have told you
about the elephant in the room.

However, it does help
to further illustrate

how invaluable John is to me.

I can read a crime scene the way
he can understand a human being.

I used to think that's what made me
special - quite frankly I still do.

But a word to the wise,

should any of you require
the services of either of us,

I will solve your murder,

but it takes John Watson
to save your life.

Trust me on that, I should know,

he's saved mine so many times
and in so many ways.

This blog is the story of two men

and their, frankly,
ridiculous adventures

of murder, mystery and mayhem.

But from now on,
there's a new story.

A bigger adventure.

Ladies and gentlemen,

pray, charge your glasses
and be upstanding.

Today begin the adventures

of Mary Elizabeth Watson

and John Hamish Watson.

The two reasons why
every single one of us is...

What did you say?

You said... "John
Hamish Watson."

You said that. You said "Hamish."

This is a famous detective,
it's Sherlock Holmes

and his partner, John Hamish Watson.

How did you know?

How did YOU know his middle name?

He never tells anyone, he hates it.

John "H" Watson?

Yep.

Henry? Shut up.

Humphrey?

Shut up.

Higgins?

'Go away!'

It took him years to confide in me.

Oh... That's my
birth certificate.

Yep.

And the woman - she knew.

Hamish.

John Hamish Watson,

just if you were
looking for baby names.

God knows where she is.

Out of my head, I am busy!

There's only one time
that name's been made public.

Does it have to be on the invitation?

It's your name.

It's traditional... It's funny...

'Enjoy the wedding...'

Enjoy the wedding.

The wedding.
You knew about the wedding.

More importantly, you'd seen
a wedding invitation.

Now barely 100 people
had seen that invitation.

The Mayfly Man only saw five women.

For one person
to be in both groups...

could be a coincidence.

Oh, Sherlock!

What do we say about coincidences?

The universe is rarely so lazy.

So, the balance of probability is?
Someone went to great lengths

to find out something about this wedding.
What great

lengths? They lied.
Assumed false identities.

Which suggests? Criminal intent.

Also suggests?

Intelligence, planning.

Clearly. But more importantly?

The Mayfly Man.

The Mayfly Man is... Here today!

Ooh, sorry. I...

Another glass, sir?

Thank you, yes, thank you. Yes.

Something's going to happen,
right here.

Now, where were we?

Could be any second.

You have control of the room.

Ah, yes.

Raising glasses and standing up.
Very good. Thank you.

Don't lose it.

And down again.

Ladies and gentlemen,

people tell you not
to milk a good speech.

Get off early, leave 'em laughing.

Wise advice I'll certainly
try to bear in mind.

But for now... part two!

Part two is more action-based.

I'm going to walk around,
shake things up a bit.

Who'd go to a wedding?
That's the question.

Who would bother
to go to any lengths

to get theMs..elves to a wedding?

Well, everyone.

Weddings are great, love a wedding.
What's he doing?

Something's wrong.

And John's great too.

Haven't said that enough,
barely scratched the surface.

I could go on all night

about the depth and complexity
of his jumpers,

and he can cook.

Does... erm... a thing.
A thing with peas...

Once. Might not be peas,
might not be him.

But he's got a great singing voice,
or somebody does.

Too many, too many,
too many, too many!

Sorry, too many jokes about John.

Now... Criminal intent.

Where was I? Ah, yes.

Extraordinary lengths.

Speech. Speech.

Let's talk about...

All of which is suggestive of...

Murder! Sorry, did I say murder?

I meant to say marriage.

But, you know,
they're quite similar procedures,

when you think about it.

The participants tend
to know each other

and it's over
when one of them's dead.

In fairness, murder is a lot quicker
though. Janine, what about this one?

Acceptably hot? More
importantly, his

girlfriend's wearing new
uncomfortable underwear

and hasn't bothered to
pick this thread off his

jacket, or point out the
grease smudge on his neck.

He's going home alone.
Also he's a comics and sci-fi geek,

they're always tremendously
grateful, really put the hours in.

Jeff, the gents.

Loos now, please.

Greg. The loos, please. Why?

Oh, I don't know,
maybe it's your TURN.

Yeah, actually,
now you mention it.

Sherlock, any chance of a...
An end date for this speech?

Got to cut the cake.

Oh, ladies and gentlemen,

can't stand it when I finally
get the chance to speak for once.

Vatican cameos.

What did he say?
What does that mean?

Battle stations,
someone's going to die.

What?!

Narrow it down. Narrow it down.

Narrow it down!

Argh! No, no!

Not you!

You. It's always you.

John Watson, you keep me right.

What do I do?

You've already done it.

Don't solve the murder.

Save the life.

Sorry, off piste a bit.

Back now. Phew!

Let's play a game.
Let's play murder.

Sherlock!

Imagine someone's going to
get murdered at a wedding.

Who exactly would you pick?

I think you're a popular choice
at the moment, dear.

If someone could move Mr..s Hudson's
glass just slightly out of reach,

that would be lovely.

More importantly, who could you
only kill at a wedding?

Most people you can kill
any old place.

As a mental exercise,

I've often planned the murder
of friends and colleagues.

Now, John, I'd poison.

Sloppy eater, dead easy. I've given
him chemicals and compounds,

that way he's never even noticed.

He missed a whole Wednesday once,
didn't have a clue.

Lestrade's so easy to kill it's a miracle
no-one's succumbed to the temptation.

I've got keys to my
brother's house, I could

break in and asphyxiate
him, if the whim arose.

He's pissed, isn't he? Ow!

So, once again,

who could you only kill here?

Clearly it's a rare opportunity,

so it's someone
who doesn't get out much.

Someone for whom
a planned social encounter

known about months in advance
is an exception.

Has to be a unique opportunity.

And since killing someone
in public is difficult,

killing them in private
isn't an option.

Someone who lives in an inaccessible
or unknown location, then.

Someone private perhaps,

obsessed with personal security.

Possibly someone under threat.

Major James Sholto, who he?
I don't think he's coming.

He'll be there.

Where are you living these days?

Oh, way out in
the middle of nowhere.

The press and families
gave him hell.

He gets more death threats than you.

A recluse?

Small household staff.

Job? Gardener. Cook.
Private nurse. Maid.

High turnover
for additional security.

I do security work. Probably all
signed confidentiality agreements.

Do you have a secret
you've never told anyone?

No.

There is another question that
remains. Rather a big one,

a huge one - how would you do it?
How do you kill someone in public?

There has to be a way.
This has been planned.

Mr.. Holmes! Hello, Archie,
what's your theory?

Get this right and there's
a headless nun in it for you.

The invisible man could do it.
The who, what, why, when, where?

The invisible man with the invisible knife.
The one who tried to kill the Guardsman.

Bainbridge?

Bainbridge!

(Oh, not just planned -
planned and rehearsed.)

Ladies and gentlemen,
there will now be a short interlude.

The bride and groom...

The bride and groom.

Major Sholto's going to
be murdered, I don't

know how or by whom, but
it's going to happen.

Excuse me, coming through.
Consulting.

Stay here. Please be careful.
Excuse me. Coming through.

Excuse me.

I'm sorry, one more.
Oops. I'm so sorry.

Thank you.

How can you not remember which room?
You remember everything.

I have to delete something! 207.

Major Sholto? Major Sholto!

Major Sholto! If someone's about
to make an attempt on my life,

it won't be the first time.
I'm ready.

Major, let us in.
Kick the door down.

I really wouldn't.

I have a gun in my hand and
a lifetime of unfortunate reflexes.

You're not safe in there.
Whoever's after

you, we know a locked
room doesn't stop him.

The invisible man
with the invisible knife.

I don't know how he does it.
I can't stop him and

that means he'll do it again!
Solve it, then!

I'm sorry?

You're the famous Mr.. Holmes,
solve the case, on you go.

Tell me how he did it
and I'll open the door.

Please, this is no time for games,

just let us in, you're in danger!

So are you,
so long as you're here.

Please, leave me.

Despite my reputation, I really
don't approve of collateral damage.

Solve it. Sorry? Solve it and
he'll open the door, like he said.

I couldn't solve it before, how can I
solve it now? Because it matters now.

What are you talking about? Get your
wife under control! She's right.

Oh, you've changed!
No, she is. Shut up!

You are not a puzzle-solver,
you never have been.

You're a drama queen!

Now, there's a man in there about
to die, the game is on - solve it!

Bainbridge?

Bainbridge!

Though in fairness,
he's a drama queen too. I know.

Major Sholto, no-one's
coming to kill you.

I'm afraid you've already
been killed several hours ago.

What did you say?

Don't take off your belt.

My belt?

His belt, yes.

Bainbridge was stabbed
hours before we even saw him,

but it was through his belt.

Tight belt, worn high on the waist.

Very easy to push a small blade
through the fabric

and you wouldn't even feel it.

The belt would bind the flesh
together when it was tied tight.

Exactly. But when you took it off...
Delayed-action stabbing.

All the time in the world
to create an alibi. Major Sholto?

So...

I was to be killed by my uniform.

How appropriate.

He solved the case, Major,

you're supposed to open
the door now. A deal is a deal.

I'm not even supposed to
have this any more,

they gave me special
dispensation to keep it.

I couldn't imagine life
out of this uniform.

I suppose, given the circuMs..tances,
I don't have to.

When so many want you dead,

it hardly seeMs..
Good manners to argue.

Whatever you're doing in there,
James, stop it, right now!

I will kick this door down!

Mr.. Holmes, you and
I are similar, I think.

Yes, I think we are. There's
a proper time to die, isn't there?

Of course there is.

And one should embrace it
when it comes.

Like a soldier.

Of course one should,
but not at John's wedding!

We wouldn't do that,
would we, you and me?

We would never do that
to John Watson.

I'm going to break it down.

Wait, wait, wait, you won't have to.

I believe I am in need
of medical attention.

I believe I'm your doctor.

Pretty good.

Just hold your nerve
on your turning.

Why do we have to rehearse?

Because we are about to
dance together in public

and your skills are appalling.

Wow, you're a good teacher. Hmm.

And you're a brilliant dancer.

Can I let you in
on something, Janine?

Go on, then.

I love dancing,
I've always loved it.

Seriously?

Watch out.

Oh!

Never really comes up
in crime work, but, you know,

I live in hope of the right case.
Oh, I wish you weren't...

whatever it is you are.

I know. Well, glad to see
you've pulled, Sherlock,

what with murderers
running riot at my wedding.

One murderer... One nearly murderer.

Loves to exaggerate -
you should try living with him.

Sherlock.

Got him for you.

Ah, the photographer,
excellent. Thank you.

May I have a look at your camera?

Erm, what's this about?
I was halfway home.

You should have driven faster.

Ah, yes. Yes!

Very good.

Now you see... Perfect.

What is? Are you going to tell us?

Try looking yourself.

Look for what?
Is the murderer in these photographs?

It's not what's
in the photographs,

it's what's not in them.
Not in any of them.

Sherlock?

The showing-off thing,
we've discussed it before...

There is always a man at a wedding
who is not in any photograph,

who can go anywhere.

And even carry an equipment bag
around with him if he likes.

And you never even see his face.

You only ever see...

The camera.

What are you doing? What is this?

Jonathan Small, today's
substitute wedding photographer,

known to us as the Mayfly Man.

His brother was one of the raw
recruits killed in that incursion.

Johnny sought revenge on Sholto,

worked his way through
Sholto's staff,

found what he needed.

An invitation to a wedding.

The one time Sholto would
have to be out in public.

So he made his plan
and rehearsed the murder,

making sure of every last detail.

Brilliant, ruthless,

and almost certainly a monomaniac.

Though, in fairness, his photographs
are actually quite good.

Everything you need is on that.

You probably ought to
arrest him or something.

Do you always carry handcuffs?

Down, girl. Come on, quick.

It's not me you should
be arresting, Mr.. Holmes.

Oh, I don't do the arresting,
I just farm that out.

Sholto, he's the killer, not me.

I should have killed him quicker.

I shouldn't have tried to be clever.

You should have driven faster.

Right.

Ladies and gentlemen,
just one last thing

before the evening begins properly.

Apologies for earlier,
a crisis arose and was dealt with.

More importantly, however,

today we saw two people make vows.

I've never made a vow in my life

and after tonight
I never will again.

So, here in front of you all,

my first and last vow.

Mary and John,
whatever it takes,

whatever happens, from now on,

I swear I will always be there.

Always.

For all three of you.

Erm... Sorry, I mean...
I mean two of you.

All two of you. Both of you,
in fact. I just miscounted.

Anyway, it's time for dancing.

Play the music again,
please. Thank you.

OK, everybody, just dance,
don't be shy.

Dancing, please. Very good.

Sorry, that was one more deduction
than I was really expecting.

Deduction? Increased appetite...

I'm starving.
Change of taste perception.

Oh, I chose this wine,
but it's bloody awful!

You were sick this morning.

You assumed it was
just wedding nerves.

You got angry with me
when I mentioned it to you.

All the signs are there. The signs?

The signs of three.

What?

Mary, I think you should
do a pregnancy test.

Well, the statistics for
the first trimester are...

Shut up!

Just shut up.

Sorry.

How did he notice before me?

I'm a bloody doctor. It's your
day off. It's YOUR day off!

Stop. Stop panicking.

I'm not panicking. I'm pregnant,
I'm panicking! Don't panic.

None of you panic.

Absolutely no reason to panic.

Oh, and you'd know, of course!
Yes, I would.

You're already the best
parents in the world,

look at all the practice
you've had. What practice?

Well, you're hardly going to need me around
now that you've got a real baby on the way.

Are you all right? Yeah!

Dance. Hmm?
Both of you now, go, dance.

We can't just stand here, people will
wonder what we're talking about. Right.

Well, what about you?

Yeah, we can't all three dance, there
are limits. Yes, there are. Ahem.

Come on, husband, let's go.

This isn't a waltz, is it? No.

Don't worry,
I have been tutoring him.

He did, you know. Baker
Street, behind closed

curtains. Mr..s Hudson
came in one time.

I don't know how those
rumours started!

* Spinnin' my head around
and taking my body under

* Oh, what a night!

* Oh, what a night!

* Oh, I

* I got a funny feelin'
when she walked

* In the room * Hey, I

* As I recall it ended much too soon

* Oh, what a night

* Why'd it take so long
to see the light?

* Seemed so wrong
but now it seeMs.. so right

* What a lady, what a night

* Oh, I felt a rush like
a rolling ball of thunder

* Spinnin' my head around
and taking my body under

* Oh, what a night!

* Oh, what a night!

* Oh, what a night... *