JOHN (calmly): No.
SHERLOCK (intensely): Get me some.
JOHN (more loudly): No. (He points sternly at him.) Cold turkey, we agreed, no matter what.
(Irritated, Sherlock leans the harpoon against the table.)
JOHN: Anyway, you’ve paid everyone off, remember? No-one within a two mile radius’ll sell you any.
SHERLOCK: Stupid idea. Whose idea was that?
(John looks round at him and clears his throat pointedly. Sherlock looks towards the door.)
SHERLOCK (shouting): Mrs Hudson!
(He starts hurling paperwork off the table as he searches desperately for what he needs.)
JOHN: Look, Sherlock, you’re doing really well. Don’t give up now.
SHERLOCK (frantically as he continues his search): Tell me where they are. Please. Tell me.
(As John remains silent, Sherlock straightens up and then turns his most appealing puppy-dog eyes on him, hesitating before he speaks and almost forming the word a couple of times before actually speaking it.)
SHERLOCK: Please.
JOHN: Can’t help, sorry.
SHERLOCK: I’ll let you know next week’s lottery numbers.
(John chuckles.)
SHERLOCK (exasperated): Oh, it was worth a try.
(He looks around the room, then gets inspired and hurls himself to the floor in front of the fireplace. Unearthing a slipper from the pile of papers in front of the unlit fire, he holds it up and scrabbles about inside as Mrs Hudson arrives at the door and comes in.)
MRS HUDSON: Ooh-ooh!
SHERLOCK (rummaging about in the fireplace as he speaks almost sing-song): My secret supply: what have you done with my secret supply?
MRS HUDSON: Eh?
SHERLOCK: Cigarettes! What have you done with them? Where are they?
MRS HUDSON: You know you never let me touch your things!
(She looks around at the mess.)
MRS HUDSON: Ooh, chance would be a fine thing.
SHERLOCK (standing up and facing her): I thought you weren’t my housekeeper.
MRS HUDSON: I’m not.
(Making a frustrated noise, Sherlock stomps back over to the harpoon and picks it up again. Behind him, Mrs Hudson looks down at John who does the universal mime for offering someone a drink. She looks at Sherlock again.)
MRS HUDSON: How about a nice cuppa, and perhaps you could put away your harpoon.
SHERLOCK: I need something stronger than tea. Seven per cent stronger.
(He glares out of the window, then turns back towards Mrs Hudson and aims the harpoon at her. She flinches.)
SHERLOCK: You’ve been to see Mr. Chatterjee again.
MRS HUDSON: Pardon?
SHERLOCK (pointing with the harpoon’s tip): Sandwich shop. That’s a new dress, but there’s flour on the sleeve. You wouldn’t dress like that for baking.
JOHN: Sherlock ...
SHERLOCK: Thumbnail: tiny traces of foil. Been at the scratch cards again. We all know where that leads, don’t we?
The Hounds of Baskerville - PART 1
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