So I thought this might be fun. The episodes we've seen are all brilliant, and they contain many brilliant scenes. But my stupidly overactive imagination keeps thinking of fun little bits of script that might have happened in-between the bits that we get to see on the screen. So I've written a couple. I'm not saying I'd like to have seen these in there; I think what was scripted, shot and edited in there was just about perfect. It's just that I had fun imagining them, so I'm sharing them here, should anyone be interested.
(There will be more, probably across all six films at some point, assuming that writer's block doesn't smack me around the head again.)
This one fits in just at the beginning of the Speckled Blonde case, after the scene in the morgue.
John looked up to see the tails of Sherlock's coat disappearing through the doors. He glanced at Lestrade.
"I guess we're done here then," he said.
"I'll ask Molly to put her away." He glanced up. "John, just before you dash out after him…"
"Just… some of your cases do come from me, you know."
"Greg, you are not… Please, please tell me you are not jealous of my website!"
"No, no! Of course not.
"Greg, we're very grateful for every case you send our way. We really are. The thing is, and this is a really important thing sometimes, you don't bloody pay us. So forgive me for finding my blog and its popularity fairly important."
"I'd name check you more often in it, but given your a senior serving police officer, it doesn't seem like a good idea."
"That's true. Drinks later?"
"When we've finished. Now excuse me, I have to chase after the big child, stop him from sulking, remind him to at least inform you about what he's thinking and doing, and I'd like to do all of this before he gets in a cab, because he never bloody pays me back for fare!"
John hurried out of the morgue, up the stairs, out the main door, and just spotted Sherlock as he was getting into a taxi. He ran down the stairs, and literally jumped in after him. Sherlock huffed and moved up so he could sit down.
"OK?" he asked Sherlock.
"Of course. Why would I not be?"
"No reason. I'm just asking."
"I'm fine." They sat in silence for a while. "If people want to read the semi-literate ramblings of a fool, rather than a concise and informative essay on tobacco ash, then it's absolutely no concern of mine."
"No. I didn't think it would be. That's exactly what I thought."
"Good. So the girl…" John started.
"How many hits did your last page get?" Sherlock snapped. "I'm just asking. It's conversation; I'm not actually interested."
"Good. I'm glad." John watched Sherlock gaze out of the window for a moment and sighed.
"How many?" Sherlock asked again.
"About eight hundred last time I checked."
"Good. Marvellous. Well done you."
"Mm." He glanced at Sherlock. "Don't worry. I'm sure tobacco will get that amount at some point." Sherlock scowled and he sighed. "Especially when I start prescribing it to my insomniac patients," he muttered.
Sherlock turned to him with a snarl and John tried very, very hard not to grin childishly. He was unsuccessful.
Sherlock looked away again, quickly.
John was almost sure he could see a smile reflected in the window.
"So how many has tobacco ash had?" he asked. "I'm not interested; it's just conversation."
Sherlock huffed and muttered something.
"Sorry?" John said.
"None!" Sherlock shouted. "Not a single one! Not even my alleged best friend could even be bothered to click on the link to at least make it look like he'd read it!"
John sniggered. "Well maybe your alleged best friend was concerned that you'd give him some kind of exam on tobacco ash to prove that he'd absorbed it all."
"It'd be for your own good."
"You see! This is why nobody reads your blog!"
"Without me, you wouldn't have anything to write about. I think you should remember that."
"Yes, that's true." John nodded quietly. "Though arguably, without me, you wouldn't have anything to earn you money. We're here. Now stop being a stupid jealousy box, and pay the cab."