Criminal Minds · Season 1, Episode 15
“Unfinished Business” · Season 1, Episode 15
In this episode: Dean Winchester (940), Damon Salvatore (715), Sam Winchester (665), Olivia Benson (637), Stephen Fry (608), Narrator (554), Clark Kent (523), Nate (486)
What are you doing?
Having a wash.
You’re shaving it off.
Well, you hate it.
Sherlock hates it.
Apparently everyone hates it.
Ooh. Are you going to see him again?
No, I’m going to work.
Oh, and after work are you going to see him again?
No.
God, I had six months of bristly kisses for me and his nibs turns up...
I don’t shave for Sherlock Holmes.
You should put that on a t-shirt.
London. It’s like a great cesspool into which all kinds of criminals, agents and drifters are irresistibly drained. Sometimes it’s not a question of who, it’s a question of who knows.
All very interesting, Sherlock, but the terror alert has been raised to critical.
Boring. Your move.
We have solid information. An attack IS coming.
[Scornfully] Solid information. A secret terrorist organisation is planning an attack. That’s what secret terrorist organisations do, isn't it? It’s their version of golf.
I have given the Prime Minister my personal assurance that you’re on the case.
I am on the case. We're both on the case right now.
[A buzzer sounds. Mycroft and Sherlock are revealed to be playing Operation – not chess]
Oh, bugger!
Whoopsy! Can’t handle a Broken Heart. How very telling.
Don’t be smart.
That takes me back. “Don’t be smart, Sherlock! I’m the smart one!”
I am the smart one.
Oh, I used to think I was an idiot.
Both of us thought you were an idiot, Sherlock. We had nothing else to go on, until we met other children.
Oh, yes. That was a mistake.
Ghastly. What were they thinking of?
Probably something about "trying to make friends".
Oh, yes. "Friends". Of course, you go in for that sort of thing now.
And you don’t? Ever?
If you seem slow to me, Sherlock, can you imagine what real people are like? I’m living in a world of goldfish.
Yes, but I’ve been away for two years.
So?
Oh, I don’t know...I thought you perhaps might have found yourself a...goldfish.
David, this is Sherlock.
Yeah, we’ve, um...we’ve met.
[Flashback to Sherlock’s living room, where he is apparently interviewing David]
So, what exactly are my duties as an usher?
Let’s talk about Mary first.
Sorry, what?
Oh, I think you know what. You went out with her for two years.
Er...ages ago, we’re just good friends now.
Is that a fact? Whenever she tweets, you respond within five minutes regardless of time or current location, suggesting you have her on text alert. In all your Facebook photos of the happy couple, Mary takes centre frame whereas John is always partly or entirely excluded.
[Laughing nervously] You can’t assume from that that I’ve still got...some kind of interest in Mary...
You volunteered to be a shoulder to cry on on no less than three separate occasions. Do you have anything to say in your defence? [David looks stunned] I think from now on we’ll downgrade you to ‘casual acquaintance with no more than three planned social encounters a year, and always in John’s presence’. I have your contact details. I will be monitoring.
...They’re right about you. You’re a bloody psychopath.
High-functioning sociopath. With your number. [He grins evilly]
[Greeting the guests, a small boy runs up to Sherlock and gives him a big hug around the waist]
Erm...yes, well done in the service, Archie.
He’s really come out of his shell. I don’t know how you did it.
[Sherlock looks away. Flashback to Sherlock’s living room, where he is trying to persuade Archie to be a pageboy]
Basically, it’s cute smile to the bride’s side, cute smile to the groom’s side, and then the rings.
No.
And you have to wear the outfit.
No.
You really do have to wear the outfit.
What for?
Grownups like that sort of thing.
Why?
[Exasperated] I don’t know, I’ll ask one.
[Questioningly] You’re a detective?
Yep.
Have you solved any murders?
Sure, loads.
Can I see?
[Beat] Yeah, alright.
[They look through pictures on Sherlock’s laptop]
What’s all the stuff in his eye?
Maggots.
Cool!
[Sherlock raises an eyebrow at this. Back to the wedding]
He said you had some pictures for him? As a treat.
Er...yes...if he’s...good...
Beheadings!
[Quickly] Lovely little village...
Hm? What did you say?
[Sherlock is recounting the events preceding John's stag night]
Murder scenes? Locations of... murders?
Pub crawl, themed.
Yeah, but why can't you just do underground stations?
Lacks the personal touch. We're going to go for a drink in every...
...street where you've found a corpse. Delightful! Where do I come in?
Don't want to get ill. That would ruin it, spoil the mood.
But you're a graduate chemist, can't you just work it out?
I lack the practical experience.
Meaning that you think I like a drink?
Occasionally.
You think I'm a drunk?
No, no...[awkward pause] You look... well.
I am.
How's... [struggling to remember the name] Tom?
Not a sociopath.
Still? Good.
And we're having quite a lot of sex.
Okaaay. I want you to calculate John's ideal intake, and mine, to remain in the sweet spot for the whole evening. Light-headedness, good.
Urinating in wardrobes, bad.
[The boys have been out on John’s stag night, and are now lying at the bottom of the stairs to 221B Baker Street, very drunk]
[Slurring] I have an international reputation. Do you have an international reputation?
No, I... don’t have an international reputation.
No. And I can’t even remember what for. ‘S... crime. Something like that.
Oh! What are you doing back? I thought you were going out late?
Ah, Hudders. What time is it?
You've only been out two hours.
[Playing a drunk game of Yes or No; John is ‘Madonna’, while Sherlock’s nametag reads ‘Sherlock Holmes’]
Am I... a woman?
[Sniggering] Yes.
Am I... pretty? This? [Pointing to his nametag]
Beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences and role models.
Yeah, but am I a pretty lady?
So, I am human, I’m not as tall as people think I am, I’m... I’m nice-ish, clever, important to some people, but I tend to rub them up the wrong way. [He laughs] Got it.
Go on, then.
I’m you, aren’t I?
[The boys wake up in a prison cell]
Wakey, wakey!
[Dazed] Oh, my God. Greg? Is that Greg?
Get up. I’m going to put you two in a taxi. I’ve managed to square things with the desk sergeant. [Laughs] What a couple of lightweights! You couldn’t even make it to closing time!
Can you whisper?
[Shouting] NOT REALLY! [Sherlock wakes with a start] Come on!
[He turns and leaves. After staggering about, Sherlock manages to follow]
[Interrogating victims of the Mayfly Man in his imaginary courtroom]
[to the nurse] What did you say? You said John Hamish Watson. You said that. You said Hamish. How did you know? How did you know his middle name? He never tells anyone, he hates it.
[Flash to Baker Street. Sherlock is trying to guess John’s middle name]
John... H... Watson?
Yep.
[Over breakfast]
Henry?
Shut up.
[Reading]
Humphrey?
Shut up.
[Through the bathroom door, while John is in the shower]
Higgins?
Go away!
[Back to the courtroom]
It took him years to confide in me...
[John comes in to find Sherlock reading something]
...That’s my birth certificate.
Yep.
[Back to the courtroom]
And the Woman, she knew.
[There is a momentary flashback to A Scandal In Belgravia]
God knows where she is.
[Suddenly, Irene Adler is stood before Sherlock, naked. She traces a fingernail down his jawline]
[Exasperated] Out of my head. I’m busy!
Ladies and gentlemen. One last thing before the evening begins properly. Apologies for earlier; crisis arose and was dealt with. More importantly, however, today, we saw two people make vows. I’ve never made a vow in my life and after tonight, I never will again, so, here in front of you all – my first, and last, vow. Mary and John – whatever it takes, whatever happens, from now on, I swear I will always be there. Always.
[Whispering] We should call the police!
[Whispering back] During our own burglary? You're really not a natural at this, are you?
Sherlock Holmes, you are a back-stabbing, heartless, manipulative bastard.
And you, as it turns out, are a grasping, opportunistic, publicity-hungry tabloid whore.
So, we're good, then?
Yeah, of course.
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