Daily 15: Rewriting the Season Finale of Sherlock

Scene continues.  Sherlock and Moriarty on rooftop.  Sherlock is standing on the edge.  The wind blows powerfully across the rooftop towards Sherlock.  Civilians traverse back and forth on the sidewalks below.

Sherlock laughs.

Moriarty: What?  What is it?  What did I miss?

Sherlock steps off ledge.

Sherlock: You’re “not going to do it”?  So the killers can be called off then.  There’s a recall code or a word or a number.  I don’t have to die if I’ve got you.

Moriarty: Oh.  You think you can make me stop the order?  You think you can make me do that?

Sherlock: Yes.  So do you.

Moriarty: Sherlock, your big brother and all the king’s horses couldn’t make me do a thing I didn’t want to.

Sherlock: Yes, but I’m not my brother, remember?  I am you.  Prepared to do anything.  Prepared to burn.  Prepared to do what ordinary people won’t do.

Enter below: Watson

Sherlock: You want me to shake hands with you in hell, I shall not disappoint you.

Moriarty: No.  You talk big.  No.  You’re ordinary.  You’re ordinary.  You’re on the side of the angels.

Sherlock: Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don’t think for one second that I am one of them.

Moriarty: No.  You’re not.  I see.  You’re not ordinary, no.  You’re me.  (laughs)  You’re me.  Thank you, Sherlock Holmes.

Moriarty extends his hand.  Sherlock takes it.

Moriarty: Thank you.  Bless you.   As long as I’m alive, you can save your friends.  You’ve got a way out.  Well, good luck . . . .

Several explosives detonate on the far side of the rooftop.  Immense smoke rises from the explosion site and is carried across the rooftop by the wind, engulfing Sherlock and Moriarty.

Below: Civilians and Watson look to the rooftop.  A large billow of smoke cascades over the edge of the roof.  Another large explosion occurs on the roof.  From the smoke falls a burned body towards the ground.

Watson: Oh God!

Watson rushes towards the site where the body lands.  Watson is knocked to the ground by a passing bicyclist and emerges dazed.  Civilians gather around the body on the ground.  Watson pushes through the crowd towards the body.

Watson: Oh no!  Oh my God!  Sherlock!  It’s him!  No!  Oh no!

Watson checks the body’s pulse.

Watson: Oh, God!

Watson sits crying.

Enter: Paramedics.  Paramedics remove the body from the scene.

End Secne.

Scene: The bedroom of a rural château in the daytime.   Sherlock is lying in a single bed. 

Sherlock awakes confused.  He looks around the room and observes a video camera above the door to the room pointed at him.  He rises and walks towards the door.  He opens the door and peers out, seeing an unoccupied hallway.  A cough is heard coming from down the hall.  Sherlock slowly walks towards the direction of the cough.  He enters  a kitchen

Enter: Roberson.

Roberson: Oh, Mr. Holmes, you’re up.  Good.  I assume you’re feeling a bit groggy.  There’s some coffee ready, if you’d like some.  And there’s plenty of breakfast items in the refrigerator if you care to make yourself . . .”

Sherlock: What am I doing in Ireland?

Roberson: Ah, yes.  I suppose here is where I am to inquire about how you could possibly already know you’re in Ireland.  Well, I’m sure it’s actually quite obvious.

Roberson dials a number on his cell phone and puts it to his ear.

Roberson (into phone): Scott?  He’s up.  Yes, bring the car and case around, please.  Thank you.

Roberson puts the phone away.

Sherlock: Answer the question.

Roberson: Well, don’t you first want to know who I am?

Sherlock: That’s hardly important at the moment.  What’s far more important is why I just woke up  in Ireland when last I checked I was on a rooftop in London!  Once we get that out of the way, I’d be happy to entertain your introduction!

Roberson: Well, we had to get you out of England.

Sherlock: Why?

Roberson: Well, because you’re dead.

Sherlock: I’m dead?

Roberson:  Yes, quite dead.  Blown up and tossed ten stories.  Nasty scene, really.  And we couldn’t risk keeping you in London.  It’s far too congested right now.

Sherlock: Dead.

Roberson: And you do have so many fanatics still looking for you like you were bloody Elvis Presley!  Not wanting to believe that the great Sherlock Holmes has met his demise.  We had to get you away from all that so you could clear your head for a bit.

Sherlock: So, I am dead!  Lovely!  Well, in that case I suppose I’m doing pretty well for myself right now, standing upright with my full wits about me, and talking to a divorced recovering heroin addict with glaucoma in his left eye who drinks at least 10 cups of coffee every day!  What is this place?  Who are you?  Where’s Moriarty?  John.  My friends!

Roberson: They’re fine.  Not one was harmed because the defusing event occurred.

Sherlock: My death.

Enter: Scott, carrying a briefcase.

Roberson: Ah, here we are.

Scott hands briefcase to Sherlock.

Roberson: That should be everything you need.  Now, to sum up: You’re dead.  Your friends are fine.  There’s coffee on for you.

Sherlock: Everything I need for what?

Roberson: Oh, that’s really none of my concern.   Not right now, at least.  (To Scott)  Are we all set?  Then let’s go.

Roberson and Scott leave the room and walk towards a parked car.  Sherlock follows.

Sherlock: Moriarty!

Roberson: Oh, that’s really none of your concern.  Oh, and because nobody ever told me, coffee is harder to kick than heroin.  Good day, Mr. Holmes.

Roberson and Scott enter the car.  The car starts.

Sherlock: The Fog!

Roberson looks back.  The car drives away.  Sherlock returns to the kitchen and opens the briefcase.  Inside he finds a wrapped stack of British pounds, a pair of shoes, a set of clothes, and a copy of the Times with the headline “Sherlock Holmes Falls to Death After Rooftop Explosion.”

End scene.

(Image Source: http://cultfix.co.uk/sherlock-the-fall-how-did-he-do-it-15975.htm)

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Daily 15: Better Than Sex Cake

Enter: Linda, Jacob, Carlos, Berenice, and Lola.

Carlos: I’m sorry I didn’t get to your red velvet cupcakes.

Linda: Oh, don’t worry about it.

Carlos: Believe me, I wanted to.  I was kind of hoping that the birthday cake would be something boring like just chocolate so I could be like “No thanks, I’m grabbing a cupcake!”

Linda: Yeah, but then you saw it.

Lola: Oh my God, that really was amazing!

Berenice: Yeah, but so rich!  I’m really full right now.

Linda: Have any of you ever tried Better Than Sex Cake?

Lola: Oh yes!

Carlos: No.  What is it?

Linda: OK, it’s chocolate cake mix, and you bake it with chocolate pudding so it’s extra moist.  Then you pull it out and you poke little holes in the cake.  Then you take a Heath Bar and crush it into little pieces and fill the holes with them.

Berenice: (laughs) Linda, the way you’re describing it with you hand motions, if I was just watching you and not listening I’d totally think you’d be describing some sex act!

Jacob: I know!  You’re going like this when you’re “poking holes” in the cake!

Linda: (laughs) Oh my, I’m sorry, but I just really get excited when I talk about this cake!

Berenice: Clearly!

Linda: OK, so then you cover the whole top of the cake in caramel sauce.  Yeah.  Then you cover all of that with whipped cream after it all cools.  Then you take more Heath Bar, crush it into even small pieces and sprinkle it all over the top.

Berenice: Wow.

Carlos: So, is it?

Linda: Is it . . . better than sex?  No.  It’s not quite that good.

Jacob: I suppose it wouldn’t be as appealing if it was called “Almost As Good As Sex” Cake.

Carlos: Or “Not As Good As Sex, But Still Pretty Good” Cake.

Linda: When I serve it to my kids, I call it Abstinence Cake.

Berenice: Do they even know what that means?

Linda: (laughs) I’m not sure!

Carlos: Here’s an idea.  You make a really, really terrible cake, like just God-awful disgusting cake, serve it to your kids and call that Better Than Sex Cake.

Linda: (laughs) Oh, OK!

Jacob: Yeah, bake it with tuna or olives or something!

Carlos: And then when they’re like, “Aw, this is terrible!”, you can say, “You think that’s bad?  Well sex is even worse!”

Linda: Yeah, that should do the trick!

The Daily 15

The challenge: Take 15 minutes every day, preferably at the same time, and do something creative without consequence.
Write something you hadn’t written before.
Draw something you hadn’t drawn before.
Sing something that’s never been sung.
Don’t do it with the hopes of creating a project out of it. Just do it for the moment. Do it because it pleases you, not in the hopes that it will please others.
Fill those minutes with whatever you want. Use every last second. Do it without worry of what happened before or will happen after. Once those 15 minutes are up, stop. Put it away. Tomorrow, come back and do something different.
These are 15 minutes carved out just for you. It’s your adult play time. Go play.

Of course, I’m talking to myself. This idea comes from a book about living a creative life. This is Step 1. I’ve got to find out what I really want to do with my 15 minutes. I fear that I’m going to be tempted to turn what I make into a project, thus making it more work than fun. I’ll try a few different things and give them each a week and see what works. I’ll probably start with creative writing. It’ll probably be crap starting out, but that’s not supposed to matter. Can I fight through that need to only make good stuff?
This is change. This is what I need.