Préquel saison 3

Scénaristes : Steven Moffat & Mark Gatiss

Distribution Sherlock Holmes ... Benedict Cumberbatch Dr John Watson ... Martin Freeman DI Lestrade ... Rupert Graves Mycroft Holmes ... Mark Gatiss Anderson ... Jonathan Aris La voleuse blonde ... Laura Dale

 Récapitulatif de l'épisode

 Quelque part dans l’Himalaya, dans un monastère bouddhiste, les moines sont rassemblés, de multiples bougies éclairent l’assemblée. Un moine entre dans la pièce, il est entièrement enveloppé dans un costume religieux, on ne voit pas son visage. Il s’arrête tour à tour devant deux moines et il s’incline devant eux, arrivé devant un troisième, il interrompt son geste et il soulève rapidement la capuche qui le recouvre. Il dévoile alors une jeune femme blonde qui est visiblement furieuse et le traite de « Bastard ! ». Les autres moines contemplent la scène avec stupéfaction, le moine qui a démasqué l’intruse se redresse sans qu’on puisse voir son visage.

Dans un pub londonien, Lestrade et Anderson discutent autour d’une bière. Anderson a bien changé, son apparence est plutôt négligée. Leur sujet de conversation porte sur la mystérieuse arrestation d’une trafiquante de drogue blonde dans un monastère bouddhiste. Lestrade soutient qu’on n’a pas besoin d’être Sherlock Holmes pour découvrir une jeune femme blonde cachée dans un monastère masculin et il rappelle que Sherlock est mort. Anderson est absolument convaincu du contraire. Pour étayer sa théorie, il désigne la ville de New Delhi sur une carte et demande à Lestrade ce qu’il pense de cet autre incident.

Un flashback nous amène dans une salle à New Delhi où se déroule une conférence de presse, des policiers font face à un groupe de journalistes très agités qui les mitraillent avec leurs appareils photo. Au centre du groupe, l’inspecteur Prakesh explique avec une satisfaction évidente comment il a démasqué l’assassin en examinant un flocon de chocolat retrouvé dans la glace que mangeait la victime. Très fier de ses explications, l’inspecteur quitte la salle, referme une porte et s’engage dans un corridor. Il s’exclame alors « My friend, will you not take any of the credit ? ». Il n’obtient pas de réponse de l’homme à qui il s’adresse et qui apparait en contre-jour, révélant la silhouette familière de Sherlock.

Dans le pub, la conversation continue, Lestrade loue la perspicacité de Prakesh alors qu’Anderson continue à y voir la puissance de déduction de Sherlock. Pour appuyer sa théorie, Anderson désigne alors un nouveau point sur la carte, cette fois il pointe la ville de Hambourg et l’incident du « juré mystérieux ».

Cette fois, le flashback nous fait pénétrer dans la salle de délibération d’un tribunal. L’homme qui mène les débats annonce qu’il va falloir procéder au vote pour décider si Herr Trepoff est coupable ou pas du meurtre de sa femme. Les uns après les autres, les jurés se prononcent en faveur de l’innocence de l’accusé. Mais l’un d’entre eux tapote de plus en plus fort et de plus en rapidement sur la table, pour le plus grand agacement de l’homme qui gère la séance et qui finit par l’interpeler. On aperçoit alors le col relevé d’un manteau très familier, puis la une de journaux qui ont pour titre « Trepoff ‘guilty’ sensation ».

Cette nouvelle histoire ne suffit pas à convaincre un Lestrade, de plus en plus désarmé devant l’idée fixe qui anime Anderson. Lestrade annonce à son ancien collègue qu’il doit le laisser pour aller rendre visite à un vieil ami. Il prend une boîte qu’il avait posée dans un coin et il assure Anderson qu’il va voir s’il peut faire réexaminer sa situation. Juste avant que Lestrade sorte, Anderson lui montre une ligne qu’il a tracée sur la carte, après Hambourg, direction Amsterdam, puis Bruxelles. Il affirme à Lestrade qu’IL se rapproche. Toujours dubitatif, Lestrade s’en va.

Nous retrouvons Lestrade qui arrive chez John Watson pour lui remettre la boîte en carton dans laquelle il a rassemblé des objets qui appartenaient à Sherlock. Les deux hommes semblent à la fois heureux et embarrassés de se retrouver. John a traversé des moments difficiles, il semble remonter doucement la pente. Parmi les objets rassemblés dans la boîte se trouve un DVD. 
Lestrade explique à John qu’il s’agit de la version originale de la vidéo qu’il avait obligé Sherlock à enregistrer pour l’anniversaire de son ami. Celui-ci semble à la fois touché et un peu déstabilisé devant ce rappel du passé.

Une fois Lestrade reparti, après quelques hésitations, John finit par s’installer confortablement devant sa télé, un whisky à la main et il commence le visionnage de cette vidéo. 
On y voit Sherlock, dans le cadre familier du 221B Baker Street, qui fait preuve de mauvaise volonté pour enregistrer ce message en suivant les instructions de Lestrade. Sherlock s’étonne que John ait suffisamment d’amis pour organiser une telle soirée. Il finit par demander à Lestrade de lui rappeler le prétexte qu’il a avancé pour ne pas assister au dîner. L’excuse est tout à fait vague.

Finalement, Sherlock finit par obtempérer, il demande un instant de réflexion pour décider de ce qu’il va faire. John très ému par cette vidéo, lui répond alors « You can stop being dead.» Sherlock finit par revenir se placer devant la caméra et il présente des excuses pour son absence et lui souhaite un bon anniversaire, il conclut son message par cette phrase : «Don’t worry. I’m going to be with you again very soon ». A cet instant, on sonne à la porte, John met la vidéo en pause et il quitte la pièce.

Dans le pub, Anderson sourit en regardant la carte et murmure « He’s coming back ».

Dans une rue de Londres, Lestrade remarque un homme qui lit un journal dont le titre de la page des sports est « THE GAME IS BACK ON! ». Après avoir remarqué cette page, Lestrade sourit et entre d’un pas décidé chez un marchand de journaux.

Sherlock dont l’image figée était toujours à l’écran sur le téléviseur de John, s’anime, sourit à la caméra et fait un clin d’œil.

[Merci à Ariane DeVere qui a eu la gentillesse de nous laisser utiliser sa transcription pour notre quartier.]

 

Many Happy Returns

 THE HIMALAYAS

In a monastery in the mountains, a Buddhist monk lights the last of many small white candles. Close by, several monks are kneeling side by side, their heads covered by cowls and their hands raised in front of them. Another monk comes, his head also hidden under a cowl, and hobbles towards them. He works his way along the row, running his hands quickly over each monk’s head, murmuring, “Tashi delek,” and then briefly clasping his hands. When he reaches the last monk in the row he pauses for a couple of seconds, then reaches towards the cowl and flips it up to reveal a blonde woman. She glares up at him.

WOMAN: You bastard!

The other monks, all men, pull their own cowls back and stare in surprise at the monk. He begins to raise his head, his face still in shadow.

 

A PUB IN LONDON

Lestrade and Anderson are sitting at a table in a corner of a pub. Greg is wearing a shirt and jacket, and Anderson has a beard and is wearing a knitted jumper. Greg stares at Anderson in disbelief at what he has just told him.

LESTRADE: A breakaway sect of Buddhist warrior monks infiltrated by a blonde drug smuggler?! That never really happened!

ANDERSON: A-A blonde drug smuggler who was exposed by an abbot with unusual powers of observation and deduction!

LESTRADE: A blonde woman hiding amongst bald monks? That wouldn’t exactly take Sherlock Holmes!

ANDERSON: Well, perhaps it did.

LESTRADE: He’s dead.

Anderson looks at him with a hurt expression on his face.

LESTRADE: I’m sorry. I wish he wasn’t, but he really is dead and gone.

Anderson looks away.

ANDERSON: Well, how d’you explain this?

He pulls a map of the world towards himself and points at a red cross drawn above New Delhi.

ANDERSON: Sighting number two: Incident at New Delhi.

Lestrade looks at him, appalled.

LESTRADE: You haven’t been titling these?

 

A PRESS CONFERENCE IN DELHI

FLASHBACK. Photographers are taking pictures of a police inspector sitting at a table with a couple of his colleagues either side of him. Many microphones are set up on the table in front of him. He smiles smugly at his audience.

INSPECTOR PRAKESH: After that it was simply a matter of tracking down the killer, which I did by working out the depth to which the chocolate Flake had sunk into the victim’s ice-cream cone.

He chuckles contentedly as the photographers and reporters crowd closer to the table.

Shortly afterwards he leaves the room while the photographers continue trying to get one last picture. Closing the door behind him, he looks at someone waiting a little way down the corridor in front of him.

PRAKESH: My friend!

He looks over his shoulder as if to make sure that nobody is looking through the round glass window in the door, and then turns back to the person in front of him.

PRAKESH: Will you not take any of the credit? This was all down to you.

We see who he’s looking at. A very familiar shape with curly hair and wearing a greatcoat is standing facing him. His face is obscured in shadow.

 

BACK IN THE LONDON PUB

LESTRADE: Clever man, Inspector Prakesh.

ANDERSON: Oh, for...! What police inspector could have made that deduction?

LESTRADE: Oh, thank you (!)

ANDERSON: You remember how Sherlock never took the credit when he solved all of your cases?

LESTRADE (indignantly): He didn’t solve all of my cases!

ANDERSON (gazing into the distance thoughtfully): He’s out there. He’s hiding. But he can’t stop himself from getting involved.

ANDERSON: It’s so obviously him, if you know how to spot the signs!

LESTRADE: The Klein Brothers, the Tower House thing, the Kensington Ripper – I solved all those myself!

ANDERSON: Well, you got Tower House wrong.

LESTRADE: No I didn’t!

ANDERSON: Yep, you did.

He folds the map to another location.

ANDERSON: Okay, sighting number three ... (he taps Hamburg on the map) ... the Mysterious Juror.

Greg literally head-desks, thumping his forehead down onto the table.

 

HAMBURG

FLASHBACK. In a jury room, the male foreman rubs his head tiredly before addressing the rest of the jury in German.

FOREMAN: Nun, wie wir alle wissen, wurde diese Jury unter höchst ungewöhnlichen Umständen zusammengerufen. Aber ich muss Sie jetzt auf ein Urteil drängen. Ist Herr Trephoff schuldig oder nicht schuldig am Mord seiner Frau? [As we all know this jury was convened under highly unusual circumstances, but now I must press you for a judgment. Is Herr Trepoff guilty or not guilty of the murder of his wife?]

One by one, the jurors answer in German.

FEMALE JUROR 1: Nicht schuldig. [Not guilty.]

At the end of the table, the fingers of a male juror wearing a shirt and dark coat drum impatiently on the table.

FEMALE JUROR 2: Nicht schuldig.

MALE JUROR 1: Nicht schuldig.

The juror’s fingers continue to drum...

MALE JUROR 2: Nicht schuldig.

... and drum...

FEMALE JUROR 3: Nicht schuldig.

MALE JUROR 3: Nicht schuldig.

MALE JUROR 4: Nicht schuldig.

... and drum...

FEMALE JUROR 4: Nicht schuldig.

MALE JUROR 5: Nicht schuldig.

FEMALE JUROR 5: Nicht schuldig.

... and drum ... and then stop above the table. The foreman sighs wearily and looks at the last juror.

FOREMAN (in an exasperated voice): Nun? [Well?]

We see part of the juror from behind. He has dark curly hair and is wearing a dark greatcoat with the collar popped.

Some time later, a man walks across to a display of newspapers. The “Global News” front page headline reads “Trepoff ‘Guilty’ Sensation!” while a German newspaper beside it reads “TREPOFF SCHULDIG!” [Trepoff guilty!]

 

BACK IN THE LONDON PUB

ANDERSON: It had to be him! There’s no-one else it can be! Do you not see?

LESTRADE: I see that you lost a good job fantasising about a dead man coming back to life, and I know why you want that to happen. (He grimaces.) But it’s never gonna.

Anderson shakes his head.

LESTRADE: Okay ... (he finishes his pint) ... I’m gonna go and see an old friend.

He picks up his coat and looks across to Anderson.

LESTRADE: You take care, okay?

He stands and picks up a box from a nearby stool, then looks down at his former colleague sympathetically.

LESTRADE: I’ll put a word in – see if they won’t review your case.

ANDERSON: Just look at the map, though.

An imaginary dotted line works its way from New Delhi to Hamburg and then on to Amsterdam, and then Brussels.

ANDERSON: He’s getting closer… It’s like he’s coming back.

Greg looks thoughtful for a minute, then nods politely to Anderson and leaves the pub.

 

JOHN WATSON’S HOME

John walks across the living room and puts the white box down on top of a filing cabinet. He turns and smiles at Greg.

JOHN: It’s good to see you, Greg.

LESTRADE: And you.

They shake hands.

JOHN: Have a seat.

LESTRADE (sitting down in an armchair): So, how’ve you been?

JOHN (sitting down on the sofa): Er, yeah, good. Yeah. Much better.

Lestrade nods. John points towards the box.

JOHN: Er, so what’s in the, er...?

LESTRADE: Oh, that, yeah. That’s, er, that’s some stuff from my office – some stuff of Sherlock’s, actually. I probably should have thrown it out, but I didn’t know if...

He looks awkwardly at John.

JOHN: No, fine, yeah.

He smiles at Greg, who stands up and walks over to the box, smiling.

LESTRADE: Yeah, there’s-there’s-there’s something here. Um, wasn’t sure whether I should have kept it in.

He takes off the lid. Inside the box are a pink iPhone together with a box of nicotine patches, a small sheet of paper with some writing on it, a toy train engine, a yellow mask of a face and a DVD in a case. He takes out the DVD.

LESTRADE: You remember the video message he made for your birthday?

John nods.

LESTRADE: Oh, I had to practically threaten him. This is the uncut version. It’s quite funny.

He hands the DVD to John.

JOHN: Oh, right.

He takes it and looks at it.

LESTRADE: Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it.

JOHN: Don’t worry. It’s okay. Probably won’t even watch it.

They smile awkwardly at each other, and then John looks down at the DVD again.

LATER. Lestrade is gone. John is sitting in the armchair pouring himself a glass of whisky. Screwing the lid back on, he stands up and puts the bottle away in a nearby cupboard, then sits down again, picks up the glass and takes a drink. Gazing at the DVD on the table in front of him for a while, he eventually picks it up, looks thoughtfully across to the TV, then gets up and walks across the room to put the disc into the player. It loads and he walks back to get his glass. On the TV screen is the very familiar sight of the sofa in 221B Baker Street, with the smiley face sprayed on the wall behind it. John sits down on the sofa opposite the TV and takes another drink.

SHERLOCK’s VOICE: Was that supposed to happen – the light going down? Yeah, okay.

On the screen, Sherlock paces across the living room in front of the sofa.

SHERLOCK: Oh, er, mmm. So, what do I, what do I, what d’you want me to do at the end?

He stops and looks at Greg who is presumably behind the camera.

SHERLOCK: Shall I, um...? Smile and wink. I do that sometimes. I’ve no idea why. People seem to like it – humanises me.

He turns away.

LESTRADE: Fine. Whatever.

SHERLOCK (turning back around): Why am I doing this, again?

LESTRADE: You’re gonna miss the dinner.

SHERLOCK: Of course I’m gonna miss dinner. There’ll be people.

He starts to turn away, and then turns back.

SHERLOCK: How can John be having a birthday dinner? All his friends hate him.

John smiles very briefly.

SHERLOCK: You only have to look at their faces. I wrote an essay on suppressed hatred in close proximity based entirely on his friends.

John smiles again. Sherlock looks away thoughtfully.

SHERLOCK: On reflection, it probably wasn’t a very good choice of gift.

He pulls himself together and looks into the camera for a moment before looking past it to Greg.

SHERLOCK: What was my excuse again?

LESTRADE: You said you had a thing.

SHERLOCK: Ah, right, yes! That’s right. A thing.

LESTRADE: You might wanna elaborate.

SHERLOCK: No, no, no. Only lies have detail.

John closes his eyes and shakes his head minutely. Sherlock stares intently into the camera for a couple of seconds.

SHERLOCK: Right, I just ... I need a moment to, um, figure out what I’m going to do.

He walks towards the window. John looks down at his glass.

JOHN: I can tell you what you can do. (He lifts his glass.) You can stop being dead. (He drinks.)

SHERLOCK (back in front of the camera and looking straight into it): Okay.

John looks at the screen, startled, but Sherlock has already walked away again.

SHERLOCK: Okay, I’m ready now.

He sits down in his armchair, settles into it, and then looks into the camera.

SHERLOCK: Hallo, John. (He smiles.) I’m sorry I’m not there at the moment. I’m very busy. However, many happy returns.

John looks at the screen, his face hard to read.

SHERLOCK: Oh, and don’t worry. I’m going to be with you again very soon.

John’s doorbell rings. He looks round, and then sits forward, putting his glass on the table and pressing the Pause button on the remote control. The picture freezes on Sherlock looking intently into the camera. John stands up and walks out of the room.

 

IN THE LONDON PUB

ANDERSON: He’s coming back.

He looks up and smiles to himself, then laughs quietly and looks down at the map, chuckling with delight.

 

IN A LONDON STREET

Greg is walking along a road, looking down at his phone intermittently, but then stops and stares at a man with a white beard standing nearby. The man is reading a copy of the Daily Express and the back page of the newspaper is facing towards Greg. It shows three footballers in the middle of a match, and the headline reads, “THE GAME IS BACK ON!” Greg stares at the headline for a few seconds, then smiles cynically and goes into the nearby newsagent shop.

 

IN JOHN’S HOUSE

Back in John’s living room, the Pause button shifts to Play on its own. Sherlock smiles widely into the camera and winks.

Adaptation Realbion pour Sherlock_hypnoweb