EXT. FOREST — JUST BEFORE SUSNET
The forest stretches up the mountain to the house sitting on the edge of the tall cliff. The sunset, viewed from the house, is magnificent.
The wind rustles the leaves in the trees as the sun cooks the dead frog laying with its back to the hard stone in a forest clearing.
A stick prods the frog once. Then again.
WATSON, twelve, a girl in ill-fitting jeans and t-shirt, proposes a possible perpetrator of this heinous crime.
Perhaps it was the butler?
SHERLOCK, also twelve, looks rather like a boy even though, underneath her Sherlock Holmes hat and cape, she wears a much-too-frilly pink and white dress and a necklace with an ornate pendant.
Perhaps it’s her haircut. Perhaps it’s her face.
She disagrees in her most officious voice.
I find that… unlikely.
Watson positively flummoxed, stares at Sherlock.
Yet he had motive! And he would certainly have been able!
Why yes, my dear Watson, if not for one simple fact.
This is the butler! Don’t you see? It is, my dear Watson, elementary!
He never said–
I say it.
Tennis shoes poke out from under her skirt as she lifts it to step over a muddy patch.
Getting your dress all muddy…
Next time can’t you bring something less… Fluffy?
She trips and falls, butt on the ground. She grabs her necklace to check it’s safe.
Or maybe not a dress? That’ll be a challenge. They’re like all Mom buys me.
Sherlock rolls her eyes and glares, but there’s no heat to it.
With help from Watson, she stands, and they make their way out of the woods.
(back to Sherlock voice)
I believe that, however nice it may be to express my femininity in such obvious fashion, it may be wiser, in future jaunts in the woods, to utilize clothing of a more practical–
Sherlock! Your dad’s car!
She points through the trees. Sherlock looks.
We’re ladies! Mom says ladies must never say words like “shit.”
Oh shut up.
How can we get back in without him seeing, well…
She indicates Sherlock and all she’s wearing.
We can still get to the back door before he gets to the front. He’s got to open the gate and garage and – and then he’ll most likely stop at the bathroom, so–
Watson doesn’t give Sherlock time to finish.
She grabs her, and they run towards the large house on the cliff.
INT. SHERLOCK’S HOUSE — MOMENTS LATER
The two slip into the family room through the back door, the security system beeping at them.
Why couldn’t we have stairs on both sides of the house?
Watson tugs Sherlock behind a couch.
Moments later, Sherlock’s father walks through the room.
He doesn’t stop. He just walks right on by. A door opens somewhere, then closes.
Sherlock and Watson slowly and carefully extract themselves from their hiding spot, and tip-toe across the house.
INT. SHERLOCK’S BEDROOM — MOMENTS LATER
Quietly, they shut the door.
They collapse to the floor, laughing loudly in relief.
The father yells up from below, voice filtered through two doorways.
So you two are up there!
(top of her lungs)
Are you yelling from the bathroom?
Watson looks at Sherlock. They laugh again.
You two are as thick as thieves!
Thump, thump – feet start to climb the steps.
Watson looks at Sherlock, panicked.
I’m, uh… I’m going to the bathroom!
Sherlock scrambles for clothing strewn across the floor; Watson helps, tossing a couple of socks to her.
Watson shoves Sherlock into the bathroom and shuts the door.
INT. OUTSIDE SHERLOCK’S ROOM — DAY
Sherlock’s father turns the knob and walks in.
Watson sits on the floor, reading a book of Sherlock Holmes stories.
Watson purses her lips.
Sherlock is in the bathroom.
They stare each other down.
The bathroom door shuts.
Sherlock leans against it wearing boy’s clothes, decidedly unhappy.
EXT. SHERLOCK’S DRIVEWAY — NIGHT
The car door shuts.
Sherlock is slow getting out of her side.
Her father grabs her arm and pulls her out firmly, the car door THUMPS shut.
INT. SHERLOCK’S FAMILY ROOM — CONTINUOUS
A door opens. Two sets of footsteps enter; one stomping, the other stumbling.
The door slams shut.
The footsteps come nearer…
Sherlock’s father tosses her onto the giant armchair.
He paces. He may be about to hyperventilate.
She looks anywhere but him.
You were doing it again.
I’m doing it now.
You said you’d stop.
I was trying! I’m a girl and the only way I can not cross-dress is if I dress like one!
You’re not a–
He catches his breath.
He sits on one of the arms of the armchair, and snakes an arm around Sherlock.
John! Look, it’s not… It’s not the cross-dressing. It’s that – you’re not a girl.
I mean, look at you! You’re growing facial hair! Chest hair starting to come in, I bet? Your feet – and even though you’re just thirteen, you’re already getting tall.
He moves in to hug her, suffocatingly close.
No one’s going to – you never get a job, and there’s crazies out there who’ll–
You have to fight it.
Sherlock turns to look at her father. He’s so close their noses almost touch.
I don’t know how to fight it.
You just have to choose to.
Look, these feelings, they’re like… Moriarty, right? Moriarty was Sherlock Holmes’s enemy, wasn’t he?
Sherlock kills Moriarty, right?
Sherlock looks away, but nods shakily.
You have to fight it. You have to stop – you have to stop Moriarty.
John. Tell me you’ll fight.
He clasps her hands.
Her eyes snap back to his.
Sherlock. You must stop Moriarty, at all costs.
INT. WATSON’S BEDROOM — DAY
The bedroom is overly feminine, pink and white are everywhere.
Want to try on–
Watson looks at her, concerned.
I’m fine. I’m just – my emotions are–
I feel like I’m Sherlock and Moriarty’s coming for me.
Well, as long as you don’t pull a Sherlock taking him out…
Meet in forest for sunset?
INT. SHERLOCK’S BEDROOM — DAY
Sherlock opens the door to find her father searching through her closet.
What are you–
Her father doesn’t answer. He places some articles of girls’ clothing into a large trash bag.
The point is to remove temptation.
He points at the bed.
Sherlock is transfixed as her father goes around her room.
He’s not just taking clothes. He’s taking anything from pictures on the wall to stuffed animals and finally, to–
Sherlock tries to stop him as he lifts the necklace from round her neck, but he firmly pushes her back into place.
That was Mom’s!
Her father takes a deep breath.
But – slowly; as if unable to bear it himself – he lets it coil itself into the bag.
Sherlock stares at the bag as her father slowly extricates himself from the room.
EXT. SHERLOCK’S BALCONY — JUST BEFORE SUNSET
Sherlock stands on her balcony, overlooking the land far below her.
She glances to the forest, then back at the valley beneath the cliff, beneath her balcony.
EXT. SHERLOCK’S DRIVEWAY — CONTINUOUS
The father’s car snakes up the long driveway, taking its time in the sunset’s light.
EXT. FOREST — CONTINUOUS
Watson reaches the clearing.
Sherlock’s not there.
She looks around.
EXT. SHERLOCK’S BALCONY — CONTINUOUS
Sherlock folds a piece of paper.
She scribbles “To Watson” upon it, and pockets it.
She walks to the railing.
Slowly, she pokes her head over. She quickly looks away. Then, slowly again, peeks back over.
She closes her eyes.
EXT. FOREST — CONTINUOUS
Watson exits the forest, looking around. She looks up towards the house.
She can see, just silhouetted against the sunset, Sherlock, sitting on her balcony’s railing.
Then, eyes wide, she runs.
INT. FATHER’S CAR — CONTINUOUS
Sherlock’s father has a perfect view of the cliff.
Suddenly, his eyes widen.
The car jolts to a stop.
Then, he slams on the gas.
EXT. FOOT OF CLIFF — SUNSET
The father runs up, but it’s far too late.
On the ground sits Watson, cradling Sherlock’s disfigured body. The note lies, discarded, next to her.
She looks up.
She blinks again.
Then, she drops Sherlock and charges at the father and tackles him to the ground.
She pounds on him, yelling.
YOU KILLED HER! You – you – you told her she had to fight who she was, that she was Moriarty–
Do you know what happened to Sherlock Holmes when he fought Moriarty?
He tries to push her off; he tries to get to Sherlock, but–
He – But there were more stories!
He was supposed to die. The author wrote him back.
She grabs a pen, and hands him the paper.
Go on! Write her back!
If it’s so simple, just do it! Write her back into the story. Make her not die. Make her alive.
She collapses onto the ground, away from the father.
It’s all wrong. She should have lived. She wasn’t Moriarty. You were. You were the one behind this… You are the one who should be dead!
She wasn’t Moriarty. She was her.
She was Sherlock.
FADE TO BLACK.