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BASKERVILLE: The ULTIMATE JOHNLOCK FIX-IT

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BASKERVILLE: The ULTIMATE JOHNLOCK FIX-IT 

 

CHARACTERS  

JOHN WATSON                                  The current Sherlock version of John Hamish Watson, our completely objective narrator and guide.

DR. JOHN WATSON                            ACD/Baskerville and Victorian version of Doctor John Watson.

SHERLOCK HOLMES                           ACD/Baskerville and Victorian version of the famous consulting detective.

MRS. HUDSON                                   ACD/Baskerville and Victorian version of the landlady and long-suffering (I'm not your) housekeeper.

JAMES MORTIMER                             Friend and confidant of the late Sir Charles Baskerville.

MAID                                                Employed at 221 Baker Street. 

TOBACCONIST'S SHOPKEEPER

 

SETTING

Interior, the living area of Victorian version of 221B Baker Street, London. A simple wooden dining table with two chairs are at middle stage, and at right, three chairs (a old comfortable wing-back, a settee, and a simple, high-backed seat for guests) with coffee table and rug near a fireplace.

 

TIME

The year is 1901. Time of day, morning.

  

ACT I 

(The stage is dark and the dim white spotlight slowly brightens until it's fully lighting JOHN WATSON, standing stage left.)

 

JOHN WATSON

It all began as these things do with simplicity itself: a walking stick left at the residence of 221b Baker Street by an unknown visitor. The trail it led them on is what Holmes would later describe as the most memorable and life-changing of all his cases. Certainly there were few cases more dangerous in his career. While it admittedly ended with a kind of reckless triumph for them both, along the way Holmes gained more than Watson's respect: he became the greatest and dearest man that Watson had ever known. 

 

In this case, the simple beginning happened while my Victorian counterpart was breakfasting in "our" rooms. Mrs. Hudson, our housekeeper (much like our own gracious landlady), set before Watson a plate full to spilling over with ham and eggs with kippers and Easterheldge pudding and her wonderful fresh-baked bread with marmalade. In any universe, Mrs. Hudson seems to feel she's feeding gentry about to go off on an early morning ride to the hounds, not a simple practitioner who hasn't even begun his rounds. 

 

(Stage lighting comes up revealing 221b livingroom with DR. WATSON entering from stage right across the stage to a MRS. HUDSON, bursting in.) 

 

MRS. HUDSON 

Oh, Dr. Watson! This cane was left last night by a man who came to call while you and Mr. Holmes were at the opera. 

(Hands DR. WATSON cane.) 

I was most discreet. If I recall correctly, opera is the code word you and Mr. Holmes instructed me to use when you two were visiting The Albemarle Club, where you are merely two platonic gentlemen having an evening together.

 

DR. WATSON  

(Clears throat.) 

Yes, Mrs. Hudson.

 

JOHN WATSON

I honestly do not understand her continual preoccupation with our personal lives. Hello, Mrs. Hudson! I AM NOT GAY 

(then whispers) 

for anyone but Sherlock. 

 

MRS. HUDSON

The gentleman did seem set on seeing Mr. Holmes and said he would prefer to wait, but after over two hours and three cups of my herbal soother tea, he departed, leaving the cane behind. 

 

DR. WATSON

Yes, Mrs. Hudson. Your herbal tea soothers do have that effect.

 

MRS. HUDSON

Don't blame the messenger. 

(MRS. HUDSON hands DR. WATSON the cane, and DR. WATSON inspects it as HOLMES might do, noting its inscriptions, shape, length, and wear.) 

 

DR. WATSON

I wonder what Holmes would deduce from this?

 

JOHN WATSON

As it happened, Sherlock, or, I should say, Holmes, was usually very late in rising most mornings unless it was one of those occasions when he was up all night. Not very different from our life together on Baker Street, in fact. This morning was no exception. Holmes stepped out of his room attired in one of his impeccable city suits, complimented by a most fetching plum tie that added a bloom to his usually pale complexion. Reminds me of Sherlock's purple shirt of sex.  

 

(Coughs lightly.)

Not that I notice those things, what with not being gay and all. 

 (Turns to audience and shouts) 

Bisexual!  

 

(Clears his throat and turns back to indicate characters on the stage.) 

Mrs. Hudson, of course, insisted upon breakfast, which Holmes, of course, declined. 

 

DR. WATSON

Have you seen this walking stick? 

(He hands HOLMES the cane, and HOLMES walks over to the table, taking a seat in one of the chairs). 

A man came to call regarding a case last night and left it.

(MRS. HUDSON points toward the fireplace.) 

 

MRS. HUDSON

Right over there. 

(HOLMES picks up the stick and turns it over in his hands.)

 

HOLMES

"To James Mortimer, M.R.C.S., from his friends of the C.C.H." 

 

JOHN WATSON

Watch now and you'll see how he cleverly returns the cane to Dr. Watson to free up his hands to oh-so-casually light a cigarette. Nasty habit, but he does so love his phallic imagery. 

 

(HOLMES lights a cigarette and takes a deep lungful of smoke, slowly blowing it out before turning to address DR. WATSON.)

 

HOLMES

What do you make of it, Watson?

 

JOHN WATSON

Of course Watson takes “a firm hold of it” and eagerly points out to him what he'd silently observed earlier when Mrs. Hudson had given it to him. Watch how this works: he suckers me into this one all. the. time.

 

DR. WATSON

James Mortimer is an elderly but successful country practitioner, and this worn-down thick iron ferrule 

(WATSON taps on the end of the stick) 

indicates that the doctor does a great deal of his visiting on foot. As for the C.C.H., I attribute it to a local hunt club of some sort, of which he's obviously a member. 

 

HOLMES

Really, Watson, you exceed yourself. I find that I have in all accounts underrated your abilities. 

 

JOHN WATSON

Never one to miss an opportunity, Holmes predictably deserts his breakfast and strides about the room dramatically, stopping to gaze out the window at the late morning bustle on the streets. Look at how the natural light enhances his majestic profile. Dr. Watson takes a moment to soak in the tableau, as do I. 

 

DR. WATSON

Holmes, you have complimented me on occasion regarding some of my abilities, but this is a new level of praise altogether. 

 

HOLMES

Although you are not yourself luminous, you are a conductor of light. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it in others. I confess, my dear fellow, that I am very much in your debt.

 

JOHN WATSON

He'd never uttered such touching words to me, I mean Watson, before, and I, um, I mean he, felt a keen sense of pleasure and pride to think Holmes thinks of him as the origin of light. Reminds me of, well...

(HOLMES stands and takes the stick back from DR. WATSON, stalking over to sit at his favoured corner of the settee, where he examines it carefully.)

 

DR. WATSON

Has anything escaped me? 

 

JOHN WATSON

And there's the opening for Holmes to tell him he's an idiot. 

 

HOLMES

I am afraid, my dear Watson, that most of your conclusions are erroneous—although you are not entirely wrong. 

 

JOHN WATSON

And I was right. Imagine.

 

HOLMES

When I said that you stimulated me... 

(He clears his throat, noticeably embarrassed.) 

I meant as a light which shines upon the truth. The man is certainly a country practitioner, and he indeed walks a great deal. He is not elderly, however—in fact, he is hardly out of medical school, just as the initials on the stick indicate: the "H" is for hospital. Charing Cross Hospital to be precise. He's a young fellow, under thirty, amiable, unambitious, absent-minded, and owner of a spaniel.

(DR. WATSON laughs incredulously at HOLMES, as does JOHN Watson, albeit for an entirely different reason.)

DR. WATSON

How could you possibly determine all of that from merely looking at that stick?

 

HOLMES

He's a young man, who most likely interned at the hospital; the cane was given to him as gift upon becoming a doctor. And the rest for the simple reason that a moment ago when I stood at the window, I saw him walking up to our door with a dog beside him. He should be standing outside, just now. 

(A loud knock comes from a door below). 

 

HOLMES

Please let him in, Mrs. Hudson.

 

JOHN WATSON

To punctuate the wait, the implausible man blows disgusting smoke rings at the ceiling. Oh, for the invention of nicotine patches.  

(Moments later the man and his dog appear at the entrance to their living quarters, stage left. As JOHN WATSON speaks, the actors pantomime the scene he describes.) 

JOHN WATSON (Continued)

Watson tries not to be put out that the guest hadn't left the dog tied on the street, but the guest seems rather attached to his companion and pats his head. The gentleman is young, but also very tall and thin, with a long, pointed nose and gray close-set eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses. He is dressed professionally but his frock-coat is faded and his trousers are frayed at the cuffs. He awkwardly shifts his weight from one spindly leg to the other as he fiddles with his dog's leash. His dog, it seems, was just as nervous as his master. 

 

MRS. HUDSON

What a good dog! Why look how sweetly he prances in place.  

(Beat)

Oh, no!  

(She gasps.) 

Not there! He's lifting his...oh...not on my luxurious Brussels and Wilton pile carpet!

 

JOHN WATSON

Well now, that's really taking the piss, isn't it?

(MORTIMER remains oblivious to MRS. HUDSON and his dog, and is more intent on shaking our hands with WATSON and HOLMES.)

MORTIMER

Ah! My stick! What a relief. I wasn't sure if I'd left it here or in the Shipping Office.

(MRS. HUDSON rings for the maid, who enters stage right and shakes her head at the mess but drops to her hands and knees and begins scrubbing).

 

DR. WATSON

A gift?

 

MORTIMER

(Nods at WATSON.) 

Yes, from Charing Cross Hospital, as I'm sure you recognized. More precisely, from two of my friends there. It was a wedding gift. I was a student at the time. 

 

DR. WATSON 

(Turns to HOLMES and nods his head knowingly.) 

 Dear, dear. 

(The MAID stands and gives MORTIMER a pointed look before leaving with her bucket.)

 

MORTIMER

Is there something amiss? 

(MORTIMER blinks through his spectacles, seeming more than a trifle puzzled as he looks back and forth between HOMES and DR. WATSON.) 

 

DR. WATSON

Only that some of our preliminary deductions were incorrect. Your marriage, you said?

 

MORTIMER

Yes, sir. I'm married, happily, but the responsibilities of marriage left me with no hope of continuing my schooling and purchasing a consulting practice. Home and hearth, you know—must put the nose to the grindstone. I didn't finish my residency, but I do help the local attending physicians. 

(MORTIMER pats his coat.) 

I take it I am addressing Sherlock Holmes?

 

HOLMES

No, that is my friend, Dr. John Watson, and this is Mrs. Hudson. I am Sherlock Holmes. 

 

JOHN WATSON

That wouldn't go over well with my Sherlock. This one seems to be fine with it. I wonder what that says about... 

(Mortimer turns to HOLMES, interrupting JOHN WATSON.)

 

MORTIMER

Then I’m so glad to meet you. 

 

DR. WATSON

Do take a seat. 

(All three take seats except for MRS. HUDSON, who remains standing. MORTIMER is in WATSON's wing-back chair, HOLMES on his settee, and WATSON is left to the guest seat.)

 

MORTIMER

It’s a pleasure to meet you both.  

(He looks up and over at MRS. HUDSON standing behind him.) 

Tea? 

 

MRS. HUDSON 

(Brightly.)

Yes, please, that would be lovely.  

(Beat)

Oh, you mean you want me to fetch you tea?

 

JOHN WATSON

I half expected this Mrs. Hudson to explain to our guest that she's the landlady, not the housekeeper, but she doesn’t. Not good. 

 

HOLMES

Would you please?

 

MORTIMER 

I loved that soothing herbal tea you made me last night. If you could be so kind? That would be wonderful.

 

JOHN WATSON

That was wise on Mortimer's part. Who knows what Mrs. Hudson might have done to his tea if he hadn't? 

(Presses his finger to his lips.) 

I still don’t actually know how her late husband died.

 

MRS. HUDSON

I'll only be a few minutes.

 

DR. WATSON

Thank you, Mrs. Hudson.

 

HOLMES

I believe you brought something to show us. A manuscript?

 

MORTIMER

Why yes. It's an old manuscript. 

(MORTIMER withdraws the manuscript from his breast pocket and hands it to HOLMES).

 

HOLMES

Old indeed. 

(HOLMES observes it, turning it over is his hands.) 

I'd put it at 1730.

 

MORTIMER 

The exact date is 1742.

(HOLMES sets the manuscript in his lap and turns his complete attention to his guest.) 

 

HOLMES

Perhaps you could enlighten us as to its importance.

 

MORTIMER

This family document was given into my care by Sir Charles Baskerville, whose sudden and tragic death some three months ago created so much excitement in Devonshire.

 

JOHN WATSON

This is when Mortimer's spaniel suddenly lets a loud and resonant fart. It leaps up and crawls beneath the guest chair, cowering, spooked by its own flatulence. 

 

MORTIMER

I was a personal friend, as well as his medical attendant. It's as if he knew what fate was to befall him and so was led to entrust me with this document.

 

HOLMES

It's a statement of some sort.

 

MORTIMER

It is, regarding a legend which has been handed down through the Baskerville family since before it was even recorded in this form.

 

HOLMES

Am I to understand this legend is in some way related to your friend's untimely demise?

 

MORTIMER

Yes. You may read it at your leisure, but if you would be so kind, may I recount for you the story? It might save time.

 

(HOLMES nods and returns the manuscript to MORTIMER's hands. He opens up the brittle pages with great care.)

 

MORTIMER

“Of the origins of the Hounds of the Baskerville. 

(MORTIMER reads, then raises his head.) 

“Know then that at the time of the great rebellion, the manor of Baskerville was held by one Hugo, of the most wild, profane and godless nature." 

(At the last words, his voice is thick with disdain.)

 

JOHN WATSON

As Mortimer tells the story, it's evident to Watson that he knows the narrative pretty well. As with many people and their local legends, the emotional ties run strong and the history of the legend flows through their veins. Holmes and Watson sit back in their seats, and Holmes rests his eyes as he listens. 

(JOHN WATSON blinks and laughs.) 

Rests his eyes? Really? The prat is ecstatic any time he can get someone else to do a chore for him, even if it's just reading off a page. Anyway. Mortimer begins his tale...

 

MORTIMER

"This Hugo came to love the daughter of a yeoman who owned land near the Baskerville estate. This maiden feared his evil ways and forever sought to avoid him and his advances. And so it came to pass that one day Hugo, with five or six of his wicked companions, prowled down upon the farm and carried off the maiden to the Baskerville Estate where they locked her away in an upper chamber of the manor."  

(MRS. HUDSON enters stage right carrying a small pot of herbal soother for MORTIMER and larger pot of black tea for HOLMES and WATSON. She excuses herself and the three men help themselves, sipping tea as MORTIMER continues. HOLMES lights another cigarette.) 

 

MORTIMER

"It was the well-established habit of Hugo and his friends to carouse away the evening. As the men carried on, loud with food and plentiful drink, the maiden seized her chance and climbed out the window, making her way down the ivy that still grows upon the south wall. Once on the ground, she fled off across the moor. Later, when Hugo came up to visit her with food, drink, and less wholesome intentions, he found she'd escaped. Furious, he rushed down the stairs into the Hall. There he jumped upon the great table, sending ale and food to the floor. He swore to the company he would render his body and soul to the Powers of Evil that very night if he might but overtake the wench. His companions stood aghast as he ordered the hounds set loose upon her."  

 

(MORTIMER stops and peers at the bottom of his empty cup in disappointment.)

 

DR. WATSON

More? Do help yourself. 

 

JOHN WATSON

Do you really think he should?

 

MORTIMER

Yes, please.  

(He pours himself another and continues after clearing his throat.) 

"He gathered his men and ran out of the house, calling for his grooms to saddle their horses. Thirteen men rode out that night behind Hugo and his hounds on the hunt for the m...maiden in the m...moonlight over the m...mooooooor."  

 (MORTIMER slumps down in his seat and takes a deep sip of his tea.) 

Pardon me, gentlemen. It's harrowing to recount such a blood-curdling tale. Where was I? 

 

DR. WATSON

The moonlight over the moor?

 

MORTIMER 

Yes! "They had gone a m-mile and already lost sight of Hugo. 

 (MORTIMER takes a deep breath as though to relax, but instead his voice grows wilder and more slurred.)

 “But the men following chanced upon three terrified night shepherds. 'Why are you so frightened?' they asked them, and one replied: 'I saw a woman running, crazed with fear, with hounds not far behind her. Moments after, Sir Hugo Baskerville passed us upon his black mare, and there ran mute behind him such a hound of hell as God forbid should ever be at my heels.'  So the drunken squires cursed the shepherds and rode off."  

(MORTIMER finishes the second herbal tea soother and sets the empty cup on the coffee table. He closes his eyes for a moment to gather his wits.) 

MORTIMER (Continued)

"Soon their skin turned cold, however, for what should come a galloping clippity-clop across the moor and past them but Hugo's black mare? White froth flew and her reins dragged on the ground; the saddle was empty. 

 (Mortimer's hands shake and he clutches the arms of the chair.) 

"A great fear came over the men, but the bastards”—pardon my language—“still followed over the moor toward where they'd last heard the hounds. They found them cowering together at the edge of the wood. Not yet daunted, the men rode into the clearing. There, in its center, the yellow light of the moon revealed the maid where she lay dead from fear and exhaustion."

 

DR. WATSON

Horrifying!

 

MORTIMER

Yes, but..."that was not the sight which was most horrendous. 

 (His voice rises and cracks beneath the weight of his words as he throws his arms about.)

"That most fearsome vista was the giant black beast, shaped like a hound, its huge maw poised about Hugo Baskerville's throat. The hound rose up, a monster of a dog, larger than any mortal eye had ever rested upon. It held Baskerville a moment in its jaws and then in an instant ripped out his throat with ruthless malice. Only then did it turn its blazing eyes upon the men, jaws d-dripping with Baskerville's blood, and l-lunge at them! The men shrieked with fear and spurred their horses on for dear life, streaming home across the moor."

 

(HOLMES draws on the last of the second cigarette he's been savoring and flicks it into the fireplace.) 

 

MORTIMER

This is very good tea. I must ask Mrs. Hudson where she purchases it.

 

HOLMES 

(Raising his brow.) 

It's rather her own secret blend, l would imagine. She is very tight-lipped about it.

 

JOHN WATSON

Holmes had long ago determined the secret of her blend, but Mrs. Hudson had forbidden him from revealing it. Just like our Mrs. Hudson and her so-called soothers, she liked to keep her sources safe. We still keep this and many other secrets within 221 Baker Street's walls.

 

MORTIMER

(Blinking rapidly.) 

Such is the tale and since that time, many of the family have suffered unhappy deaths, most of which have been sudden, bloody, and mysterious.

 

JOHN WATSON

That is where Mortimer ended his story. And none too soon. The man was about to faint from fright—or to hide under the chair like his spaniel.

 

DR. WATSON

Indeed. 

 

HOLMES

Which does bring us to the reason you felt we needed to hear this this story. 

 

(It is evident that HOLMES is holding onto his impatience but rapidly failing).

 

MORTIMER 

I am here because of the sudden death three weeks ago of my friend Sir Charles Baskerville. The inquest said it was death by natural causes. But, well, I got there before the police came, at the time I was reluctant to reveal certain, o-observations I made for fear of encouraging local superstition...

 

HOLMES

I'm quite fond of observations, myself. 

 

JOHN WATSON

Oh, do tell. 

       

HOLMES (Continued without pause from above)

Pray continue.

 

(MORTIMER stands up and rocks a bit in place.)

 

MORTIMER

The day had been wet. And the footprints revealed Sir Charles to have been walking behind the house. 

 

(MORTIMER steps forward and points to the floor, then turns  dramatically. Or as dramatically as he can manage while staggering with fear and MRS HUDSON’s tea.) 

 

MORTIMER (Continued)

To the gate where he seems to have waited. He continued from that point on, but the footprints changed. He appeared to be walking on tip-toe. 

(MORTIMER attempts to demonstrate on tip-toe, but, alas, the gesture is too much for his addled coordination. He stumbles and pitches forward.) 

 

MORTIMER (Continued)

From that point he moved away from the house. I stopped where he'd fallen and examined the body. 

(As MORTIMER kneels on the floor to illustrate what he'd done, his spaniel flicks its ear attentively, wondering what his master is up to.) 

 

MORTIMER (Continued)

Sir Charles lay face down, arms out, fingernails dug into the ground. When I turned him over, his features were drawn up in such abject terror that I could scare tell his identity. And while there was no physical injury of any kind or disturbance near his body, there were marks on the ground around him at a distance of several yards.

 

DR. WATSON

Footprints?

 

MORTIMER

Footprints.

 

HOLMES

A man's or woman's?

 

MORTIMER

Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!

 

DR. WATSON

You saw this! Are you certain you haven't had one too many of Mrs. Hudson's tea soothers and perhaps confused elements of the story in your mind?

 

MORTIMER

I am most certain. As certain that I know that you are standing here and your name is...ah...John Watson.

 

HOLMES

(Over the end of MORTIMER’s last line.)

And you said nothing to the police?

 

MORTIMER

What was the use? The prints were twenty yards from the body.

(JOHN WATSON makes gestures/mimes saying “several yards” and then “twenty yards” as the dialog continues between the characters.)

 

DR. WATSON

They could be a sheep dog's prints. I suppose there are plenty of them about in Devonshire.

 

(MORTIMER paces rapidly, if erratically, about, his arms hugged tightly about himself.) 

 

MORTIMER

There wasn't a sheep dog! The prints were as large as my hand! And there were incidents before the tragedy. People saw a creature upon the moor which corresponded exactly with the Baskerville legend. It's something out of a nightmare with blazing eyes and slavering jaws!

 

JOHN WATSON

Mortimer became increasingly agitated, his voice rising, his eyes blazing. All the while, Holmes watched impassively from beneath his lowered lids. But I know better. He's half asleep because he's BORED.

 

MORTIMER

Oh gentleman, there's such a rage of terror about the district and nobody will even cross the moor!

 

HOLMES

How, precisely, do you feel that can we assist you in all of this?

 

MORTIMER

I need you to advise me what to do with Sir Henry Baskerville, who arrives at Waterloo Station 

(MORTIMER looks at his time piece.)

in exactly one hour and a quarter.

 

DR. WATSON

He would be the heir?

 

MORTIMER

Yes. Thanks to his mother's citizenship, he considers himself an American and now lives in Texas. 

(MORTIMER shakes his head.) 

I don't wish to frighten him with this, but I know he must be in danger! I'm concerned he may be the next Baskerville to fall victim to—

 

HOLMES 

(Standing with his arms behind his back.) 

First, get your spaniel under control: he's scratching at the door like a Christian. Then take a cab to the station and pick up Sir Henry. Find lodgings for the night here in London, and bring him here in the morning. 

(HOLMES turns and walks to the window, watching the street below. DR. WATSON stands as MORTIMER picks up the manuscript off the chair where he'd left it, and hands it to DR. WATSON). 

 

DR. WATSON

Good evening. Do try to get some rest tonight.

 

MORTIMER

(Hesitating.) 

Goodbye. 

 

(MORTIMER exits stage left. After he is gone, HOLMES turns from the window.) 

 

HOLMES

I like him, Watson. He has a feverish quality that I find appealing.

 

JOHN WATSON

By which he means the drugs, of course. Has there ever been a drug he didn't find appealing?

 

DR. WATSON

And the concern he has for the safety of his friend's heir is admirable. 

 

HOLMES

Then we shall ensure that neither of them become food for a hound. 

 

(Both DR. WATSON and HOLMES turn toward the guest chair near the fireplace. JOHN WATSON raises his arms in exaggerated frustration.)

 

DR. WATSON

He seems to have forgotten his walking stick again.

 

HOLMES and DR. WATSON and JOHN WATSON

(together)

The soothers. 

 

(HOLMES gives DR. WATSON a sly smile.) 

 

HOLMES

I do need to go out.

 

(Stage lights go down as the spot slowly brightens on JOHN WATSON, still at stage left.)

 

JOHN WATSON

(Clearly irritated.) 

Those words: 'I do need to go out.' I know them all too well. Of course our Dr. Watson here knows what's what just as well. Holmes will go off without him, snooping about without his aid. This is what Sherlock Holmes does. What Sherlock Holmes always does. He is eternally convinced that he knows best. He thinks he's indestructible and can get himself out of any tight situation. Alas but Dr. Watson and I know better. 

 

(JOHN WATSON is handed DR. WATSON's coat and hat from offstage, dons them, but continues to speak to the audience as JOHN WATSON.) 

 

JOHN WATSON

While Holmes goes out, Watson decides to make the best of it. Why not surprise him? 

 

(Lights brighten slightly on stage, but the spotlight follows him across the stage as JOHN WATSON narrates.) 

 

JOHN WATSON (Continued)

He knows that Holmes will require an ample supply of tobacco to work through the Baskerville case. Watson takes a cab 

(JOHN WATSON hails cab)

 

JOHN WATSON (Continued) 

to St James's Street to their regular tobacconist's where he procures Holmes' favorite tobacco as well as some cigarettes with a new blend for him to try. He has them wrapped up to be delivered that very afternoon.

 

(Watson stands in front of what was once the kitchen table, but is now a counter. A tobacco shopkeeper stands behind it, showing Watson various tins of tobacco. Watson purchases the tobacco, then exits stage left as the lights fall. After the lights have dimmed completely, they come back up just enough to reveal the living room.)  

 

JOHN WATSON (Continued)

That evening when Holmes returns, he is delighted. 

 

(Spotlight now on DR. WATSON and HOLMES seated together side-by-side on the settee.)  

 

JOHN WATSON (Continued)

As usual, Holmes is tight-lipped about his afternoon's activities, but they spend a leisurely evening together: Holmes, practicing silly smoke rings with the fine new blend and reading the manuscript Mortimer left, and myself reading a new medical journal. When they retire for the evening, Holmes is very pleased with on all accounts. 

 

(Lights go down as HOLMES and DR. WATSON rise and exit stage right hand-in hand.)