Sherlock Holmes Page #17

43B.

51 CONTINUED:
(4) 51

PALM READER:

(wincing)

I see madness. A man driven out

of his mind by a malign force.

Watson looks at Holmes.

PALM READER:

I see a letter... the letter M...

another M... Mary? You will be

married... I see... I see...

(horrified)

Patterned table clothes, china

figurines, lace doilies...

Watson snatches his hand away.

WATSON:

You think you are clever don't

you?

Holmes feigns innocence.

PALM READER:

She turns to fat...

WATSON:

Enough.

The Palm Reader looks at Holmes.

HOLMES:

(to Watson)

Do you have any changes?

Watson shakes his head as he pays the woman.

WATSON:

This is a new low -- even for you.

(CONTINUED)

44.

51 CONTINUED:
(5) 51

HOLMES:

It's the most honest prediction

old Flora has made in years. And

you know it yourself, Watson.

That is precisely the reason you

can't find a suitable ring.

You're terrified of a life without

the thrill of the macabre, as well

you should be.

Holmes swallows the last of his cod and casts the

wrapping aside, pleased with himself.

WATSON:

Do you still have my cut from the

fight?

Holmes digs into a pocket, produces a wad of coins.

HOLMES:

Why, do you --

Watson snatches the money, storms into Madison and Haig.

Holmes is confused until he spots a sign in the window:

"Large selection of engagement rings for every wallet."

Holmes starts to look a bit nervous. As he follows

Watson, he is intercepted by the Palm Reader who grabs

his arm.

PALM READER:

I seen something in his hand.

Darkness and great pain. Mortal

peril. Warn your friend, he's not

safe.

Even Holmes is taken aback by this.

52 52

EXT. LONDON EAST END - MINUTES LATER

Holmes and Watson move down the street, the pawnshop

behind them. Now Watson is smiling, and Holmes is not.

Watson is beaming at: an ENGAGEMENT RING in a box.

WATSON:

Not bad, eh?

Holmes turns away, looks down at the TICKET he got from

the pawnshop:
an ADDRESS.

HOLMES:

Reordon's lodgings should be right

around this bend. Here we are...

(CONTINUED)

44A.

52 CONTINUED:
52

He slows, looks up at a dark, dingy LODGING HOUSE. Some

windows are boarded up.

HOLMES:

Looks promising. And possibly

dangerous. Oh, well, give my

regards to Mary.

(CONTINUED)

45.

52 CONTINUED:
(2) 52

Holmes heads for lodging house. Watson checks his watch.

53 OMITTED 53

54 INT. LODGING HOUSE 54

Holmes winds his way up a twisting flight of creaky

stairs, finds a door with scratches on the keyhole.

Holmes takes out his knife and goes to work on the lock.

It is fiddly. It takes him a while. He kneels to get a

better angle with the knife.

CRACK! Watson's boot flashes past him as he KICKS the

door off its hinges. Off Holmes' pleased reaction, he

gestures them inside.

WATSON:

I can spare ten minutes.

55 55

INT. REORDON'S ROOMS - DAY

The squalid doorway opens into a series of dark rooms.

Watson lights a lamp which reveals details of an interior

that stops them both in their tracks:

From floor to ceiling, every available inch is covered in

writing, biblical Latin and Hebrew. Scrawled-on paper

and pages are tacked to walls and carved into the

plaster, crucifixes punctuate the yards of text and

collage, strange pagan charms hang from the ceiling.

HOLMES:

He clearly felt something was

coming to get him.

WATSON:

Something did.

They move further inside where there is a hallway and a

basic bedroom. Holmes inspects it, moves through a door.

(CONTINUED)

46.

55 CONTINUED:
55

HOLMES (O.S.)

Watson, come take a look at this --

Watson puts down what he was looking at, goes towards...

56 INT. REORDON'S LAB 56

Instantly, Watson covers his nose with a handkerchief.

WATSON:

(reeling)

Bloody hell...

The room is stacked with an alarming amount of scientific

and biological paraphernalia. Some of it gives off a

distinctly electrical hum. Ungodly fragments of limbs

and matter float in jars.

HOLMES:

(inhaling deeply,

loving it)

Ammonium sulfate.

In the center of the room, something ROTTING. An

experiment generating a massive stench, a seething cloud

of flies. Holmes and Watson step closer to see:

DEAD FROGS. Eyes opened impossibly wide, their bodies

frozen in strange contortions, as if mid-death-rattle.

Holmes moves around the room, sniffing like a morbid

perfumer. Watson does his best not to gag.

HOLMES:

(mumbles)

Phosphorous... Formaldehyde...

Hemlock...

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