INT: A side room of Carlton House, right at the end of 2x05. Late evening. 1891. 

FAWX

Doctor Watson! Listen, there’s no time to waste, another murder’s just been committed—I need you to tell me everything from the beginning.

Off the words “from the beginning,” we wind back in time. The sound of a clock moving backwards ten years, into: 

INT: 221B Baker Street. 1881. 1 PM. The beginning.

It’s a quiet afternoon. HOLMES and WATSON (late-20s/early 30s) sit on opposite sides of the room, working separately. A fire is going. WATSON sits on the couch, flipping through the pages of a magazine. HOLMES is at a chemistry set of some kind that bubbles away. The world passes by outside. 

After a moment, a page turns, and WATSON scoffs. Loudly, skeptical. HOLMES clocks this but doesn’t mention it. WATSON adjusts the paper. 

Another moment. And then: 

Another scoff from WATSON, this one with a bit of a snort. Derisive but amused, clearly rolling his eyes. HOLMES is curious. 

HOLMES

Yes?

WATSON

Pardon?

HOLMES

Everything alright?

WATSON realizes he was being a little too loud. 

WATSON

Oh. Yes. Sorry. All fine, thanks. 

HOLMES

(skeptical)

Mhmm. 

But he goes back to his work. Another long, quiet moment of peace. WATSON turns the page, and scoffs again. 

WATSON

(to himself)

Oh come on. 

HOLMES turns away from his work decisively. 

HOLMES

Alright, what is it? 

WATSON

Oh, it’s nothing, I’m done, I promise. Apologies. Are you working on some -

HOLMES

Dr. Watson, while I appreciate that you’re likely attempting to avoid being a bother by maintaining an aggressive politeness - given we’ve only been living together for two weeks now - I assure you,  you are doing the opposite. I am a naturally curious person and it’s unlikely I’ll be able to return to my work until you tell me what it is that’s making you scoff.

WATSON

(somehow while scoffing)

I didn’t scoff.

HOLMES

A visit to our friends at the Oxford English Dictionary would beg to differ. Also, no one makes noises of such obvious perturbation unless they desperately want to share - an opinion, a thought, a… thing. So. You want to share, I want to listen, we’re in agreement, yes? Good. Now: share.

WATSON considers, but can’t hold back. Sets the magazine down, leans forward.

WATSON

So it’s this article, right? “The Book of Life.” First off, terrible title, right off the bat. Next, this “writer”--if you can even call him that–describes being able to meet a man and instantaneously know everything about him–where he’s been, what he wants, how he feels–just from his shoes, or his nails, or his–his used breakfast spoon, I imagine. 

HOLMES

Seems like a potentially useful skill. 

WATSON

You’d be right, only he doesn’t tell us how. Instead it’s just a deluge of  pompous observations and grand statements–Ok, for example: “from a drop of water one can infer the possibility of an ocean.”. So. It’s all that, and then, and then  he doesn’t even bother telling us any of the How or the Why! 

HOLMES

Perhaps he thinks the steps in between drop and ocean should be evident once a correlation is made. 

WATSON

Fair, but he’s asking his audience to take quite a walk. You know that, I know that, he obviously knows that - and wants us to know he knows that. He just doesn’t want to tell—

HOLMES

You think it’s arrogant. 

WATSON

Not the word I’d use. 

HOLMES

What’s the word you’d use? 

WATSON

Bad storytelling. 

HOLMES is thrown for a moment. 

HOLMES

Who says he’s trying to tell a story? Also that’s two words. 

WATSON

Everyone’s trying to tell a story. “I want a job,” “I’m going out to the store,” “I’m the coolest git on the planet cuz I can do close-up magic.”

HOLMES

I’m sensing a distinct emphasis on the third. 

WATSON

And by the way, this is all assuming this bloke can even do any of what he’s claiming here. Which is a big maybe. You ask me, it’s far more likely he doesn’t tell us the How or the Why  because he can’t actually do any of it. 

HOLMES

You think?

WATSON

Absolutely. See, men like this… the ones that claim to know all the secrets of the universe, the ones who promise you any mystery can be solved if you just believe hard enough or know the right bloke or, or look at the right–smudge of dirt! They don’t exist. They’re crooks. And if I ever met this man and he attempted to look me in the eye and tell me he truly believes his every divine observation to be gospel, I’d be happy to call him a, a–supercilious hack to his face. 

HOLMES

Well, I’d certainly be happy to arrange that. 

WATSON

Oh, really? You know him? 

HOLMES

I dare say I do. I am him. 

A beat.

WATSON

You…

HOLMES

…me.

WATSON

Fuck off, you didn’t write this.

HOLMES

I assure you, I did.

WATSON

You didn’t.

HOLMES

I did, though. 

WATSON

Prove it. 

HOLMES

My name’s on the byline. 

WATSON flips up the paper to check. Puts it down again. Fuck. 

WATSON

Huh. 

HOLMES

It’s quite alright. The vast majority of people only remember the names of people they respect. Or very silly names. I understand now that I’ve missed the mark on the first count but I rather thought I had you on the second. 

HOLMES is honestly pretty delighted by this turn but WATSON is too embarrassed to notice.

WATSON

Right. Well. I’m gonna go pack my things and promptly catapult myself into the sun. D’you want my teapot, I’ll leave it to you in the will. 

HOLMES

Shame, catapult rentals are all booked for the season, and besides, this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to me all month. 

WATSON

…I just insulted you. 

HOLMES

I could insult you in return, would that make you feel better?

WATSON

Not [really]–?

HOLMES doesn’t wait for the response to finish:

HOLMES

Who do you think is a good detective, the best?

WATSON

…I don’t know, Dupin?

HOLMES

No.

WATSON

Lecoq. 

HOLMES blows a raspberry/makes a fart noise/boos/something similar. 

HOLMES

Now you’re just being rude. Here, let me prove you wrong. 

WATSON is frankly a bit bewildered by all of this.

WATSON

I’m not sure I’m worth all this effort. 

HOLMES

Remains to be seen. And while, yes, you did forget my name, criticize my writing, and you were wrong on almost every other point possible—you remembered what I wrote. Even though you hated it–that bit at the beginning, that was almost word for word, you didn’t look down at the paper once. Funny thing, brains, they let things go quite easily as a rule, but they tend to remember the details that elicit an emotional response–the ones that matter. Which means, some small part of you told you this was something you wanted to remember. You were interested. 

WATSON

Honestly, I just thought it was shit, mate. 

HOLMES

But interesting shit. Rather a better starting point than indifference. 

A knock on the door–HOLMES jumps to his feet and starts making his way out. 

Besides, belief is an easy thing to fix. I’m very persuasive and very good. 

WATSON

At what? 

Another knock.

HOLMES

Would you like to find out? 

A beat. WATSON considers it. Hesitates. HOLMES clocks the hesitation. Takes two steps toward him. 

Here, you’re a betting man.

WATSON

I–

HOLMES

I’ll explain later. If I can’t prove you’re wrong about me in 24 hours I’ll… do the dishes for a week. 

A beat. Another set of knocks on the door. They size each other up. Fuck it, WATSON’s intrigued. 

WATSON

A month. 

HOLMES

Two months. 

WATSON

Three.

HOLMES

Six. 

WATSON

Nine. 

HOLMES

Five! Years 

WATSON laughs, suddenly and unexpectedly. 

WATSON

You think we’ll still be here in five years? 

HOLMES

Well, it wouldn’t be a bet if I knew the answer, would it? But a detective can hope. 

Now they’re both smiling.

WATSON

I’ve got nowhere else to be. 

CREDITS

INT: 221B Baker Street. Morning. 1891 The morning of the park opening from episode 1. 

We hear a waterfall. Non-diegetic. Loud initially, a roar, almost difficult to hear the dialogue over at first, and then slowly fading into the reality: WATSON reads HOLMES’s last letter aloud. 

WATSON

“My dear Watson. I write these few lines through the courtesy of Mr. Moriarty. I am pleased to think that I shall be able to free society from any further effects of his presence, though I fear that it is at a cost which will give pain to my friends, and especially, my dear Watson, to you.”

The Falls have faded out, and we are fully in WATSON’s office. He skims over the rest of the letter audibly before reaching:

“Pray give my greetings to Mrs. Watson, and believe me to be, my dear fellow–”

He trails off. Doesn’t finish. Wrestling with something. 

After a moment, the clock begins to chime 2 PM. Off this, realizing the time: 

Ah shit. 

He runs out, we whoosh to–

EXT: Two Two Fun Park, Pound of the Baskervilles. Mid-morning. 

WATSON reads from A Study in Scarlet to an assembly of reporters and select guests:

WATSON

“I left Holmes seated in front of the smouldering fire, and long into the watches of the night I heard the low, melancholy wailings of his violin, and knew that he was still pondering over the strange problem which he had set himself to unravel.” Um, that’s the end of the chapter. 

Polite but enthusiastic applause. LUCIUS takes the stage. 

LUCIUS

Beautiful, just beautiful stuff, Doctor Watson, Gorgeous. Exactly how I would have put it myself. And now the Doctor will be accepting questions from the audience– and in order to stay on time and on theme, we will be cutting all of his answers off at two minutes and twenty-one seconds. Every second of which is represented by the presence of the two hundred and twenty-one adoptable dogs on stage with him–to celebrate the opening of the Pound of the Baskervilles adoption center at Two Two Fun B Baker Street–press opening later this afternoon!

Maybe we start to hear that there are a LOT of fucking dogs onstage. Not actively barking always, but there. 

WATSON

That is not how that math works and yes, I think it’s…rather difficult to miss them, thanks. Right, so…questions? 

TIMES REPORTER

Doctor Watson. Tuppence Montgomery, The Times. Which dog is your favorite? 

WATSON

Which dog? Of these two hundred and twenty-one? 

TIMES REPORTER

Yes. If you had to pick just one.

WATSON

Um… I guess…that one. With the…ears? 

A mutter goes through the crowd of reporters. This was a controversial choice. 

STANDARD REPORTER

Doctor Watson! Devlin Montgomery, The Standard. Could you elaborate? 

WATSON

The floppy ears? 

FITZY raises his hand. 

FITZY

Doctor Watson. The Evening Sun. You wrote about Sherlock Holmes for 10 years. 

WATSON

Yes, at…quite length, I’ve been told. 

He chuckles good naturedly, the audience joining him. 

FITZY

Over such a long period of time, writing about a quote “frustratingly detail-oriented man,” how did you choose what details to highlight? 

WATSON

I… good memory, I suppose? When I was in the—

FITZY

So would you say there’s a responsibility you feel, as a writer of nonfiction—to be exact, to tell the truth? 

WATSON

Well…yes. It’s what he wanted–precision, I mean, and I’m…well, I’m a storyteller, sometimes to a fault, but I tried to balance that with his need for procedure and–method. Truth be told, he never did like any extraneous details, or my artistic flair, limited as it is—

The crowd reacts like this is him being humble, but he keeps going.

But, to get back to your question, I always thought–if I observe something, and can’t give it context, then I wouldn’t really feel qualified to include it. But that was always his job, putting things together that didn’t fit. And I —he wanted facts, deserved facts, so I…gave the facts that I could, that I understood. Now whether or not he -

FITZY

Then is there anything you wish you’d included, that you didn’t? 

For a moment, WATSON considers this question. Once more, wrestling with something. 

WATSON

I–

Before he can respond: 

LUCIUS

And…–2:21. That’s time. If you’d like to ask another question please pick a pup with a number on it and wait for that number to be called. Next question. 

TIMES REPORTER

(holding a pup)

Hi. Yeah, me from the Times again. If you were a biscuit, which biscuit would ya be, and what do you think that says about you as a lover? 

the clock winds back again, whooshing us back to: 

SCENE INT: 221B Baker Street. Afternoon. 1881. A few days after the cold open–the end of the case that will become A Study in Scarlet. They’re sitting in Baker Street together, friendly, relaxed, almost giddy. Music, again, the same theme as before. 

WATSON

That really was quite remarkable, Holmes–truly remarkable! 

HOLMES

It’s nothing, really. I suspect even you could have put the pieces together. 

WATSON

You’re being humble. Believe me, I really couldn’t have. 

HOLMES

No, I’m not, and yes, you could. 

WATSON

Connect a murder on Brixton Road to a cab driver and a love–well, square, I suppose—

HOLMES

More of a quadrangle, if we’re being technical—

WATSON

–that happened across the world two decades ago? No, you’re kind, but I highly, highly doubt I could. 

HOLMES

When you’re diagnosing someone of an ailment, what do you start with? 

WATSON

The–well, the symptoms, I suppose.  

HOLMES

And what are symptoms if not evidence of a larger condition? A collection of disparate, unimportant pieces that, together, point you toward a malady. You and I are not quite so dissimilar. Anyone can start with the beginning of a story and see how it will end. But to see the end and know where it started? That takes skill, and a skill it would seem we both possess. 

WATSON

But I…I could never do what you do. How have I–how do people not know you, everywhere you go? 

HOLMES

Well, that's a rather simple one to solve. 

HOLMES tosses the day’s paper onto the table. WATSON takes it up, curious and then baffled. 

Today’s edition of the Standard. 

WATSON

But this is…this is ridiculous, Holmes. 

HOLMES

I know. 

WATSON

Absurd! 

HOLMES

Same thing, but yes. 

WATSON

Lestrade? But he didn’t solve the case–you did! That’s not fair. 

HOLMES

Yes, I’m afraid that’s usually how it goes. Skill and credit always pale next to Recognition, I wouldn’t take it personally. My clients remember who helped them, and they know who to recommend. I won’t be back on the streets, penniless and unknown, any time soon–oh, that reminds me. Here.

HOLMES takes out a fork from his pocket and casually tosses it on the table. 

WATSON

Is that…a fork? 

HOLMES

What? Oh, yes. Pocketed it from the restaurant earlier. 

WATSON

But–why? 

HOLMES

Deduce, doctor. 

WATSON

Oh. Right. Um…is it some sort of cosmic scale balancing you do? You solve a crime, commit one? 

HOLMES

Karma? You really think I’m susceptible to that? Again. 

WATSON

An—experiment? In case someone gets murdered creatively in a mid-priced dining establishment?  

HOLMES

So many witnesses, wouldn’t need the fork. 

WATSON

Then I—I’m afraid I’m quite lost, Holmes. 

HOLMES

Excellent attempt at a solid two guesses - 

WATSON

Alright - 

HOLMES

But. I figured. When you’re washing our dishes for the next five years, you deserve to have one piece of cutlery to remind you why. 

A beat. After a moment, WATSON laughs. Disbelievingly at first, and then genuine, and clearly much needed. It’s friendly and infectious and HOLMES gets caught in the moment, too, delighted. 

HOLMES

Oh. Oh, fascinating. If I had known you were so amused by petty theft I would have invited you along earlier. How do you feel about missing dogs, I turn away roughly four a day. 

WATSON

Ruff-ly, indeed. 

HOLMES

I’m afraid I don’t - oh, Watson, no…. 

They both laugh, together, almost in unison. Yeah, five years of this seems doable, fantastic even. After a moment, WATSON follows an impulse, almost embarrassed to ask.

WATSON

Say, would you mind if I…could I…? 

HOLMES

…yes? 

WATSON

Could I write about this? What you did this week? It’s just–I think people should know. 

HOLMES

My methods? 

WATSON

You. They should know you. 

Beat. HOLMES didn’t expect this. 

HOLMES

Oh. Well. I’ve got nowhere else to be.

We stay in this fragile moment for a few seconds, and then we whoosh forward, into: 

INT. 22Fun, The Tunnel of Brotherly Love Ride. 1891. Midday. 

We hear water rushing, initially a giant wave, a roar, like a waterfall–intense. 

After a moment, that fades to the light, more lame rushing of a theme park log flume–we’re in the Tunnel of Brotherly Love mentioned in episode 1 at 22Fun, a short, quickly-made Holmes-and-Watson-themed dark ride. We hear an instrumental that suggests there is some sort of jingle playing. WATSON sits with WEATHERBY as they move through the ride, giving very little reaction. 

DARK RIDE WATSON

Gee Robinson, Holmes! Look Out For That Clue!

DARK RIDE HOLMES

(on a loop)

The Game’s afoot! The Game’s afoot! The Game’s… 

WEATHERBY

And then up here we go into the final section of the Tunnel of Brotherly Love, my personal favorite: Reichenbach. As you can see, we’re simulating that final train ride between our two detectives, climbing up the rock path to the falls–with a fully immersive soundscape, of course. And here is where we’ll stop and play a recording of you reading Holmes’s last letter. Which I can’t wait to hear by the way. Today, At the Press Opening. Since you’ll be sharing it. Yes? 

WATSON

Yeah. Yeah, I am. Just…just read through it before I came, actually. 

WEATHERBY

Ahhh! I can’t wait! So -anyway, back to the ride - that’s when we’ll get really into your headspace. The shock, the grief, the helplessness–really bring that inward feeling, out. And what better way to simulate that emotional discovery of your best friend suddenly and tragically dying than with a fluméd drop off a literal cliff? 

WATSON

The–sorry, a what? 

WEATHERBY

Well since we boarded the ride at the top of stairs, there’s only one way to go, really. This is why we had you sign the disclosure that if you don’t put your seatbelt on, anything that happens on the ride is your own fault. 

WATSON

No one said–ahh! 

WEATHERBY

Hold on for simulated grief! Weee! 

And off the Falls they go, on a full log flume drop to the water below. A park employee gives a “woo!” as they get splashed. WATSON and WEATHERBY sit at the bottom, drenched. 

WEATHERBY

So? Would you say that was accurate to your emotional experience at the Falls that day? 

WATSON

…That’s basically it, yeah. 

We whoosh into: 

INT. Two Two Fun. A rehearsal for the Hard Rocks Cafe dinner theatre revue is in progress. Maybe an hour later. WATSON is half-listening. 

ACTOR SHERLOCK (RAKE)

Well at least we solved the mystery of who ate my Wat-Scone.

ACTOR WATSON (DENNIS)

Gee Robinson, Holmes, it had my name on it!

A moment of silence. WATSON has not realized that was the end of the scene, or maybe he wasn’t paying attention, or both. Belatedly claps, like, twice. 

WATSON

Oh. Oh that was—Yes, thank you, all. 

WEATHERBY

Oh that is just fantastic to hear, Doctor-we’re so glad you were able to take a few minutes to workshop with the actors. 

WATSON

Yeah, of course–wait, workshop? 

WEATHERBY

Well, we had you down for a one-on-one with a reporter from the Sun, the boring one, but he canceled. So here we are, yay! Now, we just showed you three versions of the scene–

WATSON

Oh, I’m aware. 

WEATHERBY

And now we’d like you to tell us which was the most… accurate. 

WATSON attempts to answer as diplomatically as possible for someone who actively hasn’t been paying attention. 

WATSON

Oh. Well. They all seemed very good to me. Very exciting. Lots of puns. Clear…clarity. 

WEATHERBY

Thank you, I inferred as much, but which one was right? 

WATSON thinks this is a dumb question but is too polite to say it. 

WATSON

Um…all of ‘em.

WEATHERBY

Well, it can’t be all of them, Doctor Watson, that’s… that’s not how choices work. 

WATSON

Then none of ‘em. 

WEATHERBY makes a shocked noise. DENNIS raises his hand. 

DENNIS

Um, Doctor Watson. Dennis. Actor–playing…you. I think what she means is…we just want to do this right, you know? Tell a story he’d be proud of. 

WATSON

Right, and you think…this is that? 

DENNIS

I think we’re just wondering what he would have felt about it. That’s all.

WATSON

About the…? Oh. I don’t. I mean, I dunno know how he felt about… anything really. 

You can feel from the reaction from the group that this is a bizarre thing for him to have said. 

DENNIS

But you–I mean, you wrote all about him all those years, I just figured -

WATSON

Yeah, I wrote about what he did, what he said–I didn’t write about what he felt. 

DENNIS

But–

WATSON

I mean, actually, sure - I can guess what he’d probably think about a few things. He’d probably think that you’re wearing a hat I’d never wear, he’d probably think that Desmond’s accent is more than a little off and shaking hands with caricature–and he’d probably think that that bloke over there–sorry, what is that even supposed to be?

FARNSWORTH

This is Davey. He’s my puppet.

WATSON waits for perhaps an elaboration on that point? None comes. 

WATSON

Ok I’m gonna be honest, I don’t know what to do with that so….you know what, I’m the wrong person to ask here about what he felt, clearly, so if you want to move on–

DENNIS

But you knew some things, right? Like, you must have known how he felt about y[ou]—

WATSON speaks before he realizes:

WATSON

Fuck off, Dennis. 

A long, awkward beat. What just happened? WATSON has no idea what possessed him to say that and is pretty surprised at himself. 

Uh. I…am so sorry. That is not what I meant to say. 

Tension diffused a bit, let’s try again:

What I meant to say…was…fuck off—sorry I did it again, didn’t I? 

He’s not sure what the fuck is happening but this doesn’t seem to be a train he’s able to get off.

Let me try that one more time. Fuck off. Nope. Fuck off. Fuck off. I think I’m getting closer. Fuck off fuck off fuck all the way off! Wow, ha, it just keeps happening, doesn’t it. Fuck off. But don’t worry I’m gonna get it–

WEATHERBY

I…think we’re just about wrapped–?

WATSON

Are we? Perfect. Evening, all. 

He gets up and goes to leave with some speed, throws the door open. Pops his head back in. To DENNIS: 

Oh. Did that answer your question? 

DENNIS

No? 

WATSON

Great! 

The sound of the door SLAMMING transitions us into: 

INT: 221B Baker Street. Mid afternoon. 1890. One year ago. WATSON is in his 30s now. He and HOLMES have been working together for 9 years. The vibe is different, off. HOLMES is working at his desk, quietly. WATSON waits for HOLMES to acknowledge him standing there, expectantly. After a moment: 

WATSON

Hello? Holmes? 

A moment. No acknowledgement. 

“Hello, Watson. How are you today?” 

“Great, thanks. Did you notice me come in, by any chance?” 

“Why yes, I did. You slammed the door rather emphatically, it was hard to miss–should I have the hinges assessed? I could probably make an experiment of it. In fact, I’d love nothing more than to talk you to death about slammed doors and not even notice the scones you’ve generously brought home for us both.”

HOLMES

(under his breath)

Silly. What kind of case would that help with? Death by passive aggression?  

WATSON

I dunno, seems like it was pretty effective in The Case of the Very Rude Detective. 

HOLMES

What flavor scones? 

WATSON

Look up from the book, maybe you’ll find out. 

HOLMES looks up. 

Thank you. Cheddar. 

He tosses him the bag. 

HOLMES

Cheddar means we’re celebrating something, what are we celebrating? My birthday’s in January, I haven’t missed it again.  

WATSON

No, you’re well in the clear on that. I just, uh… new story today. In the paper.  

HOLMES goes back to his work, suddenly dismissive. 

HOLMES

Ah, yes, the business of the beryl coronet, I believe. Is it selling? 

WATSON

I haven’t checked. But I thought we should celebrate nonetheless. Did you read it? 

HOLMES

No, don’t believe I have. Do you mind if I return to work now? 

WATSON

Do I m-…? Yeah….yes, ’course. 

He does. WATSON, despite the casual tone thus far, is annoyed, can’t let it go. 

Can I ask why? Given that you always read them and…and I told you it was coming out today…and that it’s about you…

HOLMES

It’s been nine years, Watson, I think I rather get the idea. 

A kinda “um, what the fuck?” silence from WATSON.  

Besides, it’s not like it really has anything to do with me, does it.

WATSON

Uh. Well, I mean. It…sort of does. 

HOLMES

Rather where it begins and ends, isn’t it. “Sort of.” I was there. Now I’m here. The bits in between, not much of a resemblance. I don’t recall boasting that I was, quote, “exceptionally strong in the fingers,” but you know–my mind isn’t what it used to be–

WATSON

So you did read it. 

HOLMES

It’s a bit ironic, the artifice of fact with the content of a penny dreadful. Between being called a magician and my apparent imperviousness to cold or wind—

WATSON

I knew it.

HOLMES

–and your insistence on adding a romance to a matter of quite straightforward casework–

WATSON

I knew you read it!

HOLMES

(perhaps not as mature as this sounded in his head)

Of course I read it, I always read it! 

He throws the pen down, officially gives up on the work. 

WATSON

To be clear, you’re suggesting that I write an account of the case and leave out the motive?  Without the “romance,” the story falls apart, I know you know that. 

HOLMES

A story, who cares about a story?

WATSON

Rather a lot of people, as it turns out!

HOLMES

Yes, and if you will remember, if you even care, I am not trying to entertain, I am trying to educate–

WATSON

Then I greatly look forward to reading this best selling textbook you’ve threatened to write for what, a decade–

HOLMES

Not much point now, you’ve rather beaten me to the punch by selling this iteration where you’re a sycophant who can barely chew properly and I’m a superhuman that pops out catchy slogans every three paragraphs. Like–oh, what was the last one that keeps getting attributed to me–oh, yes, “When you’ve eliminated the impossible–

WATSON

Oh Christ–!

HOLMES

“Whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” Very charming, a bit wordy for the embroidery clubs but you can just about fit it on a postcard in a pinch. Not exactly what I said–

WATSON

We’re doing this now, are we.

HOLMES

In fact, not even what I said. If you recall, dear author, it was you, actually, when we were trying to decide on a restaurant to dine at after the case. When I said that I didn’t want to eat at the Crown and Whistle because they got your order wrong last time—

WATSON

(“I’m not being rude but you’re wrong” voice)

It was the Ship and Turtle.

HOLMES

(“I’m not being rude but you’re wrong” voice but less successful)

–no, it was the Crown and–

WATSON

-it was the Ship and Turtle because you said–

HOLMES

-no, it was the Turtle then the Crown and Whistle–

WATSON

(hands figuratively up in surrender, this isn’t worth the fight)

Yep, no, yes, you’re right. 

HOLMES

–and then you rolled your eyes and you said “Well, Holmes, once we’ve eliminated every restaurant you’ll never eat at again, I’m sure whatever is left, however horrible it’s bound to be, will be a great place to / not starve to death tonight.” 

WATSON

(overlapping the last bit in unison)

–“not starve to death tonight,” yes, no, the context was—a bit different, and adding it was–well, it was passive aggressive, but, but! I actually think it was a pretty neat metaphor for your methods, and actually quite accurate and—you know, concise! I thought it would make you laugh! Which it clearly hasn’t so–you know, note taken, me. 

HOLMES

No, by all means, you’ve taken exaggeration to a new extreme, it’s more than “neat”, it deserves adulation. I don’t even need to be there anymore, you’ll figure out what I’ve done anyway. 

WATSON

Oh for—is this still about the Fletchley case? That was a year ago, I thought we were past it–they’re past it, Holmes! You’ve referred 7 clients to them, I think the thing is resolved

In unison, talking over each other: 

HOLMES

“The Thing,” not very precise language–

WATSON

(overlapping)

Oh, do not do that thing–

HOLMES

(overlapping)

Is this a different thing?

WATSON

(overlapping)

don’t get bloody granular and, and—finicky—

HOLMES

(overlapping)

–because to think, for a wordsmith such as yourself–

WATSON

(overlapping)

to criticize me for not doing something you have never asked of me, it’s not fair and you know it!

The frustration in his tone pulls HOLMES up short. 

WATSON

You remember, I know you remember, that I offered to write a statement correcting the matter, just like I offer to let you read everything I write before it goes to press.  

HOLMES

I don’t see the point, it’s not like you’re writing them for me.

This unexpectedly knocks the air out of WATSON. Beat. Oh. Huh. After a moment, he decides not to think about how that made him feel, pushes on. 

WATSON

Yeah. Right. I think, maybe…maybe we just stop for a bit, yeah? I won’t write anything you don’t want, I won’t write anything at all. I won’t even–God, I won’t even talk about it, alright? 

HOLMES

Right. Yes. 

WATSON

Yes. Right. So, next case, just you and me. Like the first one, yeah? No credit, no…no story, just–

HOLMES

I don’t think that’s best. 

WATSON collects his patience, tries again. 

WATSON

Alright, fine, so I will write it, but we can, I dunno, write it together or–

HOLMES

I think you shouldn’t. Come along, I mean. 

Beat. 

WATSON

…at all?

HOLMES

Yes. It will give me focus, not being observed. Not having to explain or instruct or–just do. Like I did before. Remove all outside variables. The way I used to. 

WATSON

I…

HOLMES

I’ll call you. When I’m ready again. 

WATSON

Right. When you’re ready. 

A moment with WATSON. What do you even say to that? He thinks about leaving, thinks about saying something, doesn’t know what to say. Says it anyway. 

Is it something else? Something I’ve - Besides the bad writing? 

No response. Something has gone horribly wrong, perhaps has been going wrong for a while, and WATSON isn’t sure how. 

Look. I’m not…you. Right? You do these amazing things, and I’m just…I can’t, so you have to tell me things, alright? You give me these pieces and you tell me I’m putting them together wrong but—could you please, just once, once, just tell me how to do it right? I want to do it right, Holmes, but you have to tell me. So would you—

HOLMES

Why didn’t you write about the fork? 

WATSON is, if possible, even more confused. 

WATSON

The…the fork? Holmes, you’d just solved a murder, I guess I just thought it wasn’t that important. 

He assumes the unsaid “to you” is a given. It’s not. 

HOLMES

Hm. Quite so. I appreciate that, the–the clarification. 

HOLMES gets to his feet, quickly moving to the door. 

WATSON

No, Holmes, wait, what–

HOLMES

I’ve actually got to get going–you know, places to be. I’ll call you. 

The door closes. WATSON is alone with only the knowledge that he’s made a mistake. 

The sound of the Falls rises again, taking us back to the present: 

INT. Green Room 22Fun. Afternoon, about half an hour before the park opening. WATSON reads HOLMES’s last note, again. Trying to find something new. 

WATSON

“--Pray give my greetings to Mrs. Watson, and believe me to be, my dear fellow–”

A knock on the door. The sound of the Falls fades into the background. We’re with WATSON, in the green room, waiting for his turn to go out and give his speech. 

WATSON

Come in. 

DENNIS pops his head in, tentatively. 

DENNIS

Doctor Watson? I’m sorry, I know this is a bad time–

WATSON

Tell them I’ll be down in a–

DENNIS

No, sorry, you’ve got a few minutes still before the speech. 

WATSON

Right. You’re the—actor me, yes? 

DENNIS

The one you told to fuck off in front of all the other actor-servers and Ms. Weatherby, yeah. Dennis. Again, real honor.

WATSON

Right. Look. I should probably–definitely–apologize to you. 

DENNIS

Oh, Pff, nah you don’t –

WATSON

I do, though. You didn’t deserve that. 

DENNIS

It’s ok.

Beat. He means it.  

You left your jacket–that’s why I—

WATSON

Oh. Right, thanks. 

DENNIS hands him the jacket. 

DENNIS

You’re welcome. It’s still a little damp from the uhh… “Tunnel of Brotherly Love.”  

WATSON

Yeah, coulda used a warning that it was a log flume, but. 

DENNIS

We keep telling them, yeah…. 

DENNIS goes to leave, stops at the door. Turns around. 

Um. I’m sorry. 

WATSON

Dennis, really, you don’t have to apologize again, I get it–

DENNIS

No, not that. I mean. Just…Your friend died. I’m sorry. 

WATSON realizes this is the first time someone has said it, actually. 

WATSON

Oh. Yes. 

DENNIS

It’s just–like. So. My mum died last year, right? And it was horrible, obviously, but…my brother and I, when we were packing up her stuff, we realized we never got any of her recipes. And she never wrote them down because she didn’t want my aunt to get them because she was the favorite and–sorry, no, that doesn’t matter, sorry–but…we never asked her for them, because we thought we had all this time, and now… we just don’t know. And anyway I just think. Everyone really liked Mr. Holmes, you know? And–he’s gone, and it’s like, all the things we could have known about him that we didn’t know before are gone, too. And people keep asking you, because you knew him more than we did, obviously. But. I mean. There are things that you’re never gonna know, either. So I’m sorry, that we keep asking. 

WATSON has to take a moment before he can respond. Genuinely: 

WATSON

Thank you. 

Trying to be nice in return: 

You’ll… make a fine actor one day.

DENNIS

Oh, no, Doc, I really won’t. I didn’t even really want to do this, I just– family business went under and I applied to be a waiter here–the promotion system doesn’t make much sense, cuz now I gotta memorize all these lines on top of a menu that just will not lock and I don’t even have a stage name figured out, which is a whole–…it doesn’t matter. I’m sorry, that’s all. Um, do you need anything? 

WATSON

Right now, Dennis, I honestly just want to go home and never talk about anything ever again. 

DENNIS

Oh. Do you just wanna do that, then? 

Beat. 

Here: you can take my apron and hat, I’ll take your jacket. I’ve got this meeting up here anyway, so just pretend to be me and leave–go down the stairway from the falls and out the back, no one will care. No one notices us in food service anyway. 

WHOOSH: 

EXT. 22Fun. A few minutes later. The Rocks Path down from the Hard Rocks Cafe to the park

Watson walks down the rocks path with some difficulty. The sound of the artificial Falls is quite loud. 

WATSON

God, they really make you work for it on this rocky path. And it is not scenic. 

LUCIUS

(at a distance)

– a full list of the people who made this all possible: First, our Deerstalker Contributors…

WATSON

He didn’t even wear a deerstalker. One bloody joke and suddenly it’s a signature–oof!

Suddenly, a FIGURE rounds the corner on the path and runs straight into him. They fall to the ground. 

Jesus, you in a hurry? Watch your step, mate; No guardrails! 

The FIGURE doesn’t say anything. WATSON goes to help them up.

Here. I’m a doctor and that was quite a fall, I should take a look at–

He comes up short. We don’t know why. 

Before there can be any response, there is the sound of a SPLASH from below–an object falling from great height and hitting the water at the base of the falls below them. A wave of water follows. Distracted: 

What was [that]–

The figure takes the chance to make a break for it, and distracted, WATSON can’t catch them. 

Hey–wait, come back! 

From below, a loud scream rings out as the first people start to discover the body. The falls roar. 

INT. Carlton House. Simultaneous to the events of episode 5, before Lucius’s murder. 

The party we were at in Part 5. LUCIUS stands schmoozing with other guests. WATSON walks up to him with purpose and grabs him by the arm–he came here with a mission. 

WATSON

Mr. Peppermint, I need to talk to you. 

LUCIUS

John! How kind of you to make it! Encouraging to see you can tell time again, after your late appearance at the park opening. 

LUCIUS laughs charmingly to the group of people he’s been schmoozing with.  

WATSON

Now, please. Thank you. 

WATSON pulls him away to the edge of the room, still in public but quieter. 

You need to shut it down. The park. You need to stop this. And before you say anything, you can drop that stupid accent. 

LUCIUS

(in his natural voice)

Well, I’m afraid I can’t do that, mate.   

WATSON

Oh you can’t? Cuz last I checked a man is dead. And it’s just… not worth it, so– 

LUCIUS

I know. It’s a huge bummer, but he’s not coming back any time soon, is he? 

WATSON

Look. I don't want to do this–I like to think I’ve been very understanding, some may say too understanding–but if I have to, I’ll–I will take legal action. 

LUCIUS

Well. I mean. You can try. But if you recall, you sold your stories to the Strand, who in turn sold them to us–at quite the profit on their end. On top of that, we have the family’s blessing. 

WATSON

No, that’s–he doesn’t talk to his family–and that’s not, they’re n–he didn’t want this. 

LUCIUS

Yes, well, if he wanted anything else, he never said so, did he? Not in a legal capacity, at least, and last I checked there’s no flatmate inheritance system in the English courts. Afraid you wouldn’t have much to go on. 

WATSON

I’ll…take it public, then. 

LUCIUS sighs, like he’s explaining this to a child. 

LUCIUS

John. You have to understand. When you put these kinds of stories out, they’re not yours anymore. You spent years giving Mr. Holmes to the world, and the world wants more. I don’t think they’re going to let anyone take him away from them now. Even you. 

WATSON seriously considers hitting him. It’s not subtle. 

Oh, please hit me. It's the greatest favor you could do me right now. Reporters everywhere, you know how they love a story. We all do.  

Beat. 

Now, I am sorry for your loss, chap. But we’ll be taking it from here. 

The sound of a waterfall starts to fade in. WATSON turns and leaves. The waterfall rises more, like rushing blood in his ears. We follow him across the room and he bumps into someone–they hit his bad shoulder. 

WATSON

Jesus! Ah. Just–watch where you’re going, won’t you–

MAN

Oh, so sorry, are you [alright]–?

The MAN sees who he bumped into and stops mid-sentence. The sound of the Falls has started to rise higher and higher—WATSON, feeling himself start to spiral, panicking, flees.  

We’re in Watson’s POV. The Falls are almost too loud at this point, overwhelming, and still rising. 

LUCIUS

(in the distance)

Hear ye, hear ye! Is this thing on? Well, if not, I’ll employ the ole diaphragm like I did back in my children’s choir days.  

But even that line is lost as WATSON leaves, lost in the sound of the water. Just the Falls remain. We get some sense of time passing until: 

A door SLAMMING open and closed. The sound of the falls cuts out as it closes. 

INT. Carlton House. After Lucius’s murder. Around 8 PM. 

We’re back in the world. WATSON sits on the floor of a side room of Carlton House. He’s been there for awhile. 

Hampton FAWX has burst into the room.

FAWX

Doctor Watson! Listen, there’s no time to waste, another murder’s just been committed—I need you to tell me everything from the beginning. I’m not actually a waiter-slash-actor named Flexton Jones, my name is—

WATSON

Hampton Fawx, yeah, I recognized you earlier.

FAWX

No, it’s Hampton F–oh. But—I’m wearing a moustache. 

WATSON

Yeah. Looks good.

FAWX

Wait, really? 

WATSON

Yeah, you look sort of–stately, I guess. Didn’t know you could grow one. 

FAWX

I…can’t, wait, how did you know who I am? 

WATSON

You live across the street from me. 

FAWX

Oh. 

WATSON

Your best friend went out with my landlady. 

FAWX

Right, w–

WATSON

You broke into my flat two years ago.  

FAWX

Ha! What? No I did– 

He sees the face he’s getting from WATSON, changes course:

Well, you should…really lock your windows, but that’s beside the point! Someone tried to murder you, we need to know why! 

WATSON

(unenthusiastic)

Eh. 

FAWX

….eh? That’s all you’ve got? “Eh?” People are dying, at a quite alarming rate, and you’re at the center. I mean—what would he think about this? 

WATSON

Uh, probably would have solved it by now, to be honest, so. I dunno, “What’s for dinner?”

FAWX

I—what is wrong with you?!  

WATSON

God, let’s think, my best friend died and everyone decided the thing to do was open a merriment park, so–you're the new detective, extrapolate from there. When you kick off I’m sure your loved ones’ll really enjoy the Fox & Stallion Memorial Petting Zoo, so if you could just leave me alone– 

FAWX

Look, I know you’re upset, or–something, but that doesn’t matter because people are dead. 

FAWX finishes the thought in the next line but through WATSON we hear it in HOLMES’s voice. 

HOLMES

What matters is what happened. So Doctor, explain it from the beginning. 

Beat.

WATSON

What did you…

FAWX

I said, explain it from the beginning. If we go through it together, there must be something you missed in the moment that can help us. There always is. 

WATSON is still caught up in something FAWX can’t get a read on. It’s weird.

What, why are you looking at me like that? 

WATSON shakes out of it. 

WATSON

Sorry. Just. God, for a moment, I–you reminded me of him. 

FAWX

(reflexive)

NO. Oh, god, no! No. No. No, take it back! No. 

WATSON starts laughing, catching himself off guard. 

What? No, Stop that, stop, stop laughing, there’s been a murder! 

WATSON

God, if you would believe, you’re actually getting closer. The whole–fidgety and indignant–

FAWX

I–!

WATSON

Honestly, whole troupe of actors at that bloody park, you’re the one nailing it. 

FAWX

No, no, he wasn’t–no, in your stories, you–he was–

WATSON

Oh my god, my bloody stories–remind me, did you ever pop across the street to actually introduce yourself? Or did you just glare at us from your window every day? Then fuck off. 

FAWX

You’re…quite a bit ruder than you read on the page. 

WATSON

Yeah. Well. It’s been a long week. 

WATSON almost immediately deflates. He’s not used to feeling like this.  

A moment. Then, tentatively:

FAWX

What was he like, then? 

WATSON

Doesn’t matter. 

FAWX

You just said I was wrong. So correct me. 

Beat. For the first time, WATSON finds he actually wants to answer the question.

WATSON

I–He was just this bloody…guy, you know? Just this weird guy I met. And I thought, “Wow. That is a weird guy.” Y’know, “what’s going on there?” Thought to myself, I could spend a week or two figuring him out. So I gave it a month. And then another. And another. And the time just…flew. And I–I just wanted people to know about him, know that this…this weird person that I–that he was real. And God, I’m not even really a writer, you know? I’m just some guy, too–and I’m not even that weird! I mean, at university I was voted Most Likely to Win an Award for Organizing an Awards Ceremony, which sort of tells you what I’m working with here. 

FAWX

Not so bad, I was voted Most Likely to Die Alone in a Puzzle Shop I Inherited. 

WATSON

See! You get i–wait, do you…have a puzzle shop? 

FAWX

No. And I didn’t go to university. Students at one of the universities just started saying it…

WATSON

Oh. Sure. So…I dunno. It’s not…easy. I mean, how would you describe your detective?

FAWX

Oh, I suppose I wouldn't know where to start.  

Beat.

I mean, I suppose she’s also this…weird…person. She’s…well, she’s probably the meanest person I’ve ever met. But. No, I don’t think that’s true. She’s…mean when it doesn’t matter, but kind when it does. And. Well. She was the first person who ever really saw me, the way I wanted to be seen. 

WATSON

Like a hero?

FAWX

Like a…partner? Like…someone it wouldn’t be a bother to spend time with. I…you probably wouldn’t understand.

WATSON

Did you know, he stole a piece of silverware from every restaurant we ever went to? 

FAWX is thrown by this interruption but goes with it.

Every single one. It was sort of this…inside joke, after our first case. I’d been in Afghanistan, and then I was really lonely and depressed, couldn’t even comprehend the idea of laughing again, and then he just—stole this fork, and I laughed. You know…for the first time in a really long time, and it felt…And then he just…kept doing it. Just to keep me laughing, I think. He could also be the meanest person I’d ever met, but mostly he was.... 

FAWX

I almost didn’t come to London. I got scared. I’d been putting it off for years, and we were sitting on the roof of her father’s store, and I told her, and she almost shoved me clear off the side into the street. Then she shoved me onto the next train. 

WATSON

Awhile back he got me this blue scarf for my birthday–he said he’d noticed that mine was about to wear a hole in it, so he’d bought me a new one–but, thing is, my mum’d knitted me that scarf, before I came to London, so there’s no way he could have bought it. And I never asked, but then last month I was clearing out his room, and I found the knitting needles. 

A beat. 

And I never put any of that in the stories. Because it didn’t seem…right, to share those things, you know? I mean, would you put all that in the papers about your detective? 

FAWX

I…hadn’t really thought…

WATSON

No, you never do, until you have to, and then. And then people are looking at you, and looking at him, and people are expecting things of him–things for him to be, to do, and people are angry and people are lovely and people are absolute fucking vultures and it’s terrifying. So–I don’t know, you try to give him–armor. You show them some things, hide other things. So that maybe everyone can see how special he is, but we could still–

Whatever he’s about to say, he abruptly stops himself.

But, you know, I got it wrong. Because I tried to do all of it at once–I wanted them to see who he really was, but I also wanted people to stay the fuck away from him. I wanted him to stop bloody doing all of the things that drove me insane, but I also wanted him to be happy with me. And…I dunno, you put those all into one person and they…there’s no way they could still be the actual person anymore. And after all that, the actual guy, the guy this all started over, thinks you never really knew him. And to be honest if it were up to me, if I was writing the story again, I’d just write about the bloody fork, and the scarf, and…him. And I’d never show it to any of them  because let’s be honest, it was only ever for him and he didn’t even care.   

Beat. 

I wrote it. 

FAWX

Wrote what? 

WATSON

Holmes’s letter. I wrote it. He didn’t leave me anything. 

FAWX

…wait, is that–that’s why you left the park that day? 

WATSON

Let’s be clear, I left the park because it’s a bloody atrocity, mate 

FAWX

Fair. 

WATSON

The Sign of Four? It’s just a piece of wood with a number 4 on it. Not even sure if it’s painted. It’s just lazy - besides there are so many other options. Sign of the Pour–bar. Right there.  

FAWX

Line at the Store–gift shop. 

WATSON

Dine at the Door–food stall. 

FAWX

Oh! Twine on the Oar-boat supply. 

WATSON

Brine on the Boar–meat shop. 

A satisfied pause. Good puns all around, gents. 

FAWX

It makes sense now, actually. The handwriting didn’t match, and it wasn’t finished, so we thought Dennis had copied it– 

WATSON

Nah. Just couldn’t finish it. Got to the end, where he would say, you know, “Sincerely, Holmes,” but then I think, “sincerely”? Maybe, but maybe “warmly” is better–but he wasn’t warm. Or dearly, or best, or–and “Holmes” or “Sherlock,” or “your friend,” or–and he never–he just left me to figure it out, and I keep seeing him, all over the place, at the park, even tonight, and he looks at me like he has no idea what to say. Like–

FAWX

Wait. Shut up. 

WATSON

Excuse me?

FAWX

Sorry. I recognize you’re going through an emotional–moment, and I’m very happy for the catharsis of it all. But…you’ve just said something very important and I need you to repeat everything for me. 

WATSON

What, all of it? 

FAWX

Yes. Tell me every single thing that has happened to you in the last three days. From the beginning. 

Beat. 

WATSON

Yes. Yes, alright. 

He tells him. 

We whoosh into: FOOTSTEPS. FAWX moves with purpose, slamming the door open into: 

INT. 224B with MADGE, STALLION, and FITZY. Maybe 20 minutes later. Late-ish evening. 

FAWX

Well, well, well, detectives! Reporters. Ambrosius! To quote the recently deceased, I am chuffed as a bucket of snails to report that I just had the most fascinating conversation with John Watson!

MADGE

Really? Did he see anything that could help us solve the murders? 

FAWX

All in good time. To demonstrate a point I’m about to make, could everyone in the room please empty their pockets for me? 

STALLION

Hampton, if you need money - 

FAWX

Pockets! Quickly, please, there’s been a murder. 

MADGE

Right. Could we know why? 

FAWX

Drama! That’s why. 

MADGE

Fair enough. 

MADGE and STALLION turn out their pockets.

FAWX

Madge–oh thank you, bustle too. We’ve got gum wrappers, more gum wrappers, and–a half-used lozenge, that’s sticky… lovely, I’ll just–save that for later. Thank you. James–oh, cigarettes, really? I thought you quit. 

STALLION

(warning)

Not today, Hampton. 

FAWX

And–Fitzy? 

FITZY

I’d rather not. Impartial third party and all. 

FAWX

Fair enough, and great journalistic ethicism and such, doesn’t matter, forget I said anything. Because the funniest thing happened to John Watson the other day—he barely mentioned it, almost seemed embarrassed to admit it when I pressed him on it–

A few minutes ago, side room of Carlton House: 

WATSON

Doesn’t matter. I’m imagining things, it’s stupid.

Back in present: 

FAWX

–but to use a familiar method, embarrassment at a fact does not make it false. And what happened to John–

WATSON

(flashback)

– I keep seeing him, all over–

FAWX

–is that he saw a ghost. A ghost he thought he saw a few times, actually–some of them completely understandable–

DARK RIDE HOLMES

The Games Afoot! The Games A Foot!

ACTOR SHERLOCK

Now we know who ate my Wat-Scone. 

FAWX

–but some of them less easily explained–

The sound of WATSON and the FIGURE colliding. 

WATSON

That was actually quite a fall. You know what, I’m a doctor, you might have a–

FAWX

And all of this is explainable, psychologically, of course–there is a certain repetition of theme in the surroundings. All of these things are understandable! Except for one. 

WATSON

– and I keep seeing him, all over, at the park, even tonight, and he looks at me like he has no idea what to say–

FAWX

“Even tonight,” is what he said. Even outside of the park, he saw this ghost.  

MAN

Oh, I’m so sorry, are you [alright]–?

FAWX

The ghost of a friend. A friend that left him behind. A friend that stayed close enough to make sure he wasn’t the next target of a murderer, but who canceled their one chance to actually talk to him this week—

WEATHERBY

–we had you down for a one-on-one with a reporter from the Sun, the boring one, but he canceled. 

STALLION

Hampton, what are you saying?

FAWX

Not saying anything yet, James, just making a gamble. 

MADGE

A gamble, what are you–

FAWX

Empty. Your pockets. Fitzy. 

Beat. A standoff. 

Finally, he does. A clunk of a metal object hitting the ground.

STALLION

…um, what exactly are we–? 

FAWX

It’s a fork, James. 

MADGE

I’m confused, why does he–

FAWX

Because he stole it. He always does, you see. And only one person on earth knows–well, before today. 

MADGE

I don’t understand, Hampton, what are you saying? 

FAWX

I’m saying, Madge, that we may not have solved a murder just yet, but I do believe we’ve just solved our first resurrection. Because that, my friends, is Sherlock bloody Holmes of 221B Baker Street. 

Beat. All eyes turn to FITZY. 

After a long moment:

FITZY HOLMES

Well, shit. 

END OF EPISODE 6