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For just £6 a month, binge ad-free adventures in full and have access to so much more over at patreon.com forward slash Sherlock and Co. First off, this never happens, but if you were planning on listening to this self-contained, you will need some detail from the Charles Augustus Milverton case. I will put that in the episode description rather than saying it here, because, hey,
you could also go and listen to Charles Augustus Milverton first and then you're all set, aren't you? Right. Yes, now, I have to be careful what I can and can't say because, yeah, police and all that. So, yeah, welcome to A Scandal in Bohemia. This adventure is a whopping, well, semi-whopping five parts, all available at Patreon.
Yeah, it has swearing, it has sexual references, it's... yeah, it's something. It's something. Strap in, everybody. Enjoy. Hopefully that is vague enough for British law enforcement and enticing enough for our audience. Let's see. Good luck, everyone. You'll never survive me, Angela! I live forever, not this year! No!
What do you want, Sherlock? Sherlock? Hmm? What do you want? Want, Watson. Yes, want. What do you want? What do I want? There is a mighty weight in the tiny question, Dr. Watson. Drops of Jupiter. What? It's a song by Train, Drops of... Yeah. No, I like that. A drop of Jupiter. So small, but so...
Massive. Okay. What do you want? I want other me. That me that could have been. That me that deviated from this form I now am. Here's out there, Watson. In an office. Or working in a shop. Perhaps on the stage or in a lab. The other me. So? I want... I want peace.
I want to curtail the unceasing tick of notions and the tock of scrutiny that grinds at a constant rhythm through every vessel, pore and gland in my body that presses my bones and gnaws into my marrow. I want rescue and relief from the descending troop of incessant computation that encircle and close in on that last quiet place inside me, Watson. A sheltered nook within that harbors this valiant dissident of tranquility.
Of peace. Of rest. And I want a tea, I think. Yes. Tea. Not coffee? No. I think not, Watson. Okay. Tea. Fine. But... Mm-hmm? Then there is that impending storm of doubt, John. I feel the dankness of its approach. That sultry, heavy herald of a tempest.
So, coffee, then? Yep. Right.
My name is Dr John Watson, once of the British Army Northumberland Fusilier Regiment, now a true crime podcaster based in central London. I don't have much experience in criminology, so this is mostly a record of how I met possibly the most brilliant and bizarre person I have ever and will ever know. Join me as I document the adventures of Sherlock Holmes.
Just a question. Why are you dressed as a Sainsbury's employee? Approval needed. Can I see some ID, please, boss? Oh, you know how old I am. If you don't present some identification, can I ask that you put those beers to one side? Sherlock, can you please just... One moment. Oh, God's sake. Approval needed. Is there... Excuse me, hi. Hi, can you...
Or just look away, I suppose. That's fine. Hello? Can you help? My colleague will be right over. Approval. Okay, dude. Yeah, he doesn't work here. He doesn't... He's useless. Absolutely useless. Can I help? Just stop. Everything all right, my guy? Don't. Can you tell a real employee to authorise me, please? ID. Fine. Fine. Ah...
There. Is this you in the picture? Ha, ha, ha. Ha. Funny. Cool. Let me just authorise that. This feels illegal. Where did you get that? Did you take that from an actual Sainsbury's employee? Have a great day, boss. Oh, God. Hey, it's the Merrillows. Hello. Oh, hi, Johnny Boy. Yeah, good, mate. Good. Oh, I know you. Hiya, Eugenia. Hello, John. Hello.
You're looking well. Oh, not nearly as well as you. How's life? It's perfect. Oh yeah? Mark doesn't look so sure. She keeps stealing all the bloody biscuits. That's why. We've got to run, mate. Yeah, of course. Of course. Well, see you soon, you lot. Hey, John. It's Gregson again. Just want to have that chat when you get a chance. Know you're busy. All right. Cheers, pal.
Hey Arch, Archduke, Archduke Franz Ferdinand. No, that's not a nice name for you, is it Archie boy? Hey, I think I might have to get some breakfast on my chum chummer. And yes, there will be bacon. There will be bacon. I don't know if Daniel Day-Lewis actually shouts there will be blood, but that little fluffy mate was an impression of Daniel Day-Lewis. Did you replenish the coffee? Jesus Christ! Everything all right, Watson? How did you get back here before me? Get back here?
I don't follow. I've been in my room all morning. Oh, do me a favour. Anything for my dear Watson. What's the favour? Stop messing around, okay? How did you get back here before me? I don't know what you're talking about. I know that was you in Sainsbury's. Perhaps I have a doppelganger. Another me.
Another life I deviated from. Perhaps you have brain damage. That is rather cruel. The disguises. Right, come on, what's the point to all this? Do you need help with the shopping? Is that the problem? Have I read the situation incorrectly? I apologise. Must be the autism. Must be the...
You are... Stop. Stop it. Just... What are you doing? You can't shout at me. I'm neurodiverse. I will summon the mob of the awoken. It's the woke mob. What's the difference? Please, I am asking nicely now. Include me in the...
Whatever it is, why are you incessantly changing disguises over and over and over again? Can I have further examples to that accusation? The estate agent, right? You showed a couple around this flat on Tuesday. Did I? Yes. Daniel and Lizzie. Weren't they delightful? Ah, see? It was you. Bugger. You idiot. You are the stupidest genius I have ever met. Stupid? I think you'll find they made me an offer. But the flat is not for sale. Not with that attitude, it isn't.
I'm just... You're an estate agent, then you're checking my ticket on the tube, then you're trying to get me to sign up to a charity, then you're pouring me a pint, and then you're offering me a new life insurance policy. It was income protection insurance. You weren't paying attention. Ah, please, explain. Let me into the tent. What tent? It's an expression. To be inside the tent pissing out rather than outside the tent pissing in. That's hideous. Yeah, well...
What would you prefer? I would like you to be in the figurative tent and to urinate outwards. Thank you. So, explain. I have a hunch. What is the hunch? That disguises will be required for our upcoming case. What do you mean by upcoming? Has a client paid a retainer? No. Then...
What? What do you mean? The woman. Oh, not this. No. You wish to piss, do you not, Watson? Sherlock. Hey. Watson, come into the tent. Open your trousers and we shall urinate together. Um... It's an expression. Sure. Sherlock's doing it again. I don't want to know. No, not...
He's doing disguises. Sherlock? I'm neurodiverse. Stand back or I'll de-platform you. Prepare to be cancelled. I wish I bloody was de-platformed. Would have to share it with you. God's sake. Why are you doing these disguises? He thinks it's for a client. What client? You told me to hold off on the Atkinson brothers. The woman.
I'm going to speak with her. Sherlock, listen to me, okay? You cannot have your cake and eat it too. I'm not hungry. Actually, what kind of cake is it? Expression.
You either come forward as a witness to the murder, right? And work with the police on that. We know Lestrade wants cooperation, don't we, John? Yep. Or if it is what you think, it's too dangerous, okay? It's too risky to come out and put the company in this case. So we leave it to the police. We move on. We get other cases. Yeah, Dutch royalty, remember? It's still an option, right, Mary? Yep.
Still an option. I do not make my decisions based on fear or any other emotion for that matter. I am not saying you're scared. I have a precise and balanced mind.
I am the most perfect reasoning and observing machine the world has ever seen. I do not allow such intrusions into my own delicate and finely adjusted temperament, and if I was to introduce a distracting factor, it might throw doubt upon all my mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument or a crack in a high-powered lens would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as mine.
Graham got stuck behind the toilet yesterday and you nearly had a panic attack. That's different. Is it? Felt pretty emotional to me. That's my personal life. This is work. The woman has not paid us a penny. The woman would put us in an extremely awkward position with the Met, OK? I mean, I already have to speak to Tom about punching a man who was later murdered. You know, I have zero interest in tiptoeing around this woman because you think she's something special. She is not special. What?
Well, there we have it. But her treasure is Watson. You know that. I know that. Sherlock, we don't know anything about her. Her name is Irene Adler. She's an opera singer, currently featuring in the Royal Opera House's Bohemia, a performance that the Telegraph referred to as beguiling beyond comprehension. Yeah, well, I've seen it. With you.
And I didn't comprehend a bloody thing, so I think they're right about that. It is a reimagined homage to Puccini's masterpiece La Boheme. I don't care if it's a reimagined homage to England 5, Germany 1. I am not going again. Why? Because... Sherlock, this is just... John Scott Eccles. Yeah, Eccles. If he knew how mad this whole thing sent you, he'd be rolling in his grave, to be honest. Rolling? He was cremated. It's an expression! BELL RINGS
Oh, shit. The kitchen... Oh, my God. Oh, my God. The kitchen is on fire. What? John, in there. John, I just have to... Wet a towel. John, get out of the kitchen. I can't get to the sink. John. Go wet a towel in the bathroom. Out of the flat. Now. Graham. Graham, come on, you fool. Oh, I got you. John. All right, all right. Just... I'm just grabbing something. No time for variables. Just a second. What?
Okay, coming. Let's go. So the assessment is done. You can re-enter the property. Structurally, the kitchen is all sand. But it's not a very nice place to be right now, as you can imagine. So, have a chat with your landlord. Oh, no, no. Yeah, that's done. Sorted. Oh, fab. Insurance is all good? Mm-hmm. All good. Great stuff. So...
The fire came from the orb. Yeah, that's me. Completely my fault, really. Sorry. Looks like it ignited this here. I just see ashes. So, yeah, so if you look closely on some of the pieces of it, what's left of it? Salubritus et Industria. Is that Latin? Yes. Health and Industry. What the hell? Is this some kind of message? So it would seem.
Who would speak to us through such flame? What does the flicker of its blaze reveal? Fire reveals many things, many things. Salubritus et industria. Do you think this is about... Case? It's the, um... It's the motto of Swindon Town Football Club. Your tea towel? Yep. Oh, the smell isn't as bad as I thought.
Oh wow. What, is it bad? Oh, it's not great. Oh man. A kitchen. A distraction is needed, I feel. Mariana, time for a case. Come look downstairs. I was just reviewing a few of them. Come, Watson. Yeah, yeah, I just got to put something back. We can do the Dutch. Oh God almighty, please.
Stop doing that. I owe you many favours, John. It's time I started reimbursing them. Yeah, thank you. Dutch royal family. Mariana will arrange. Great stuff. Cool. Looking forward to it. You may get a little excited when you shop at Burlington. Hello, Price! Do you see that? They have my fund. It's like a whole new... I can make!
I'm saving so much!
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Hello, everyone. Currently in a black cab on our way to the Savoy. Looking pretty sharp, aren't we, gang? We try. Can't smell smoke in my hair anymore, so that's good. And, yeah, this is... Well, definitely for me, anyway, this is a first. Working for royalty, if we get the case. If they want us, of course, no pressure, everyone. You have worked for royalty before. I...
Have I? Our first case. Oh, yeah. Yeah, but I mean, I didn't get to meet them. They just threatened me down the phone in a creepy voice. So, the plan here, I think...
Is. We're meeting with a British envoy to the family who will tell us about their situation. Their problem, I guess. Then, once we have ideas and we brainstorm, I will make a kind of presentation. And that will be sent to the family. Oh. So, we're not actually meeting them today? No. Just the special envoy. What? I got all dressed up for a special envoy. You're still going to the Savoy. Yeah, but...
I was excited then. And he's covering our drinks, if that makes you feel better. Well, yeah. Yeah, it does, actually. A bit of Dutch courage, eh? Sure. OK, here we are. Woo, swanky stuff. Mmm, yes, very nice. Lighting is particularly pleasing. John, mate, really need that chat. Everything OK? Yeah, yeah, just...
Gregson wants a chat. I just keep forgetting to call him back. Maybe I'll run and do that now. No, no, wait. I think I see him. Yeah, yeah. Lead on, madam. David? Ah, Mariana. Hi, this is Sherlock and John. Hi. Hello, mate. Fantastic. Great to meet you. Let's, um, tell you what, let's grab a table. Excuse me, could we... The relationship was a complex one.
as I'm sure many are. But with the families involved, it became heated. A lot of status, a lot of social standing at risk of toppling. And that put further strain on this young couple. So, eventually, after the next big break-up, things start to trickle out. What sort of things? Well, I've been briefed in detail, but I'm only permitted to share key information that can aid our... well...
Your cause. Absolutely. Something has been stolen. By the boyfriend? Not quite. By a disgruntled family member? We don't think so. It could be the work of some activists or perhaps a harmful media organization. Foreign adversary, something like that. What did they take? The princess had her phone taken, albeit rather briefly.
And she was messaged an intimate video she had made with her... with the boyfriend. We've spoken to the sender. He says it's the only file. He has the metadata, I believe it's called. It's a play for leverage. There's no question about that. Blackmail. It could be something that gets a little more heated when Dutch elections take place. So...
You see the problem? Well, goodness, I can't quite believe this. Can you, Watson? I think it's safe to say we very much look forward to investigating this case. Would you like the metadata they sent? Yeah, that won't be necessary. No? Yeah, we're familiar with this recent spike in this particular area of crime. Sherlock, can I have a word?
You wish to begin the investigation immediately? I understand. I suggest we track the missing hard data. You knew this case was tied to her and that fucking drive. Please don't swear, Watson. This is a high-class establishment. God's sake. Let's embark for the Royal Opera House. I have the tickets here. Of course you do. We may be a tad on the early side, but I think surveying the location will have its benefits. Sherlock, no. Come. No. I will have to hear good reason why, Watson. Because...
We are witnesses to a murder. The murder of a man who I punched in the face. Hence why I've got a senior Met Inspector leaving me voice notes. Who? Gregson. He's not senior. Just... Please, Sherlock. Mate. Come on, okay? This is a shit sandwich.
On one side, we've got the police. The other side, we've got an unknown gunman. We are just stuck in the middle. The woman is the resolution to your predicament. It is a surname gargled out of a dying man's mouth. It could be dozens of other women, Sherlock. Do you not think it wise that during this exceptional and extraordinary event where the most treasured and incriminating personal data, a trove of insidious blackmail has been seized, that we, men of good faith and good intentions, take it back...
Secure it? No. I thought that would be enough for you to say yes. Oh, it was very nice, yeah, but the last person who owned that drive got shot in the face. So I, funnily enough, I don't actually want it. And with access to it, we could discover the identity of that cold-blooded killer, Watson. There's a reason all these stories aren't splashed all over the news right now, Sherlock, and that's because that drive is probably encrypted or a fake. Then we must meet Adler to find out.
Oh, man. If I'm right, and this poor opera singer has nothing to do with this apart from a surname, will you drop it? I shall. Then let's go to the opera. MUSIC PLAYS
Not a word. Did not get a single word of that. I thought it was beautiful. Yeah, because you understood it. But what happened at the end? Why did they go behind that door? It's symbolic of sex. Of what? Of sex. Of making love. Yeah, I know what sex is. You got that from them going through a door. Could we save the discussion and critique for after the performance? I'm just asking questions. I mean, if I had answers to these questions, maybe I'd enjoy it more. Did you ever think of that? Shh.
Oh wow. Okay. Okay, this. This is good. Quite something. Okay.
So you get it, right? He killed her. What? Rudolf. Rodolfo. No. Rodolfo did not kill her. It is about the slow death of love. It is a story about the energy and power of those early moments. That big bang of love whose energy eventually begins to simmer and settle to a background hum before cooling and dying slowly, unnoticed in the dark.
And only when it goes is it mourned for. So who killed her? John, come on! She just... she's poor and can't afford to feed herself. Oh. Ah, they're here. Who? Langdale. Oh, Langdale. Yay! Sorry, who is Langdale? Sherlock, you've dragged me to the opera. How dare you? Oh, three gables. You were... I wasn't... I was in the wrong headspace. Hi, I'm John. Langdale Pike. Great to meet you. And you...
Oh, and Mariana, look at you! Look at you, for goodness sake! I should have worn SPF 50. Stop it! And my lovely detective, I hope you're not investigating a fashion crime because a rumour has it that someone has been frolicking around in some hideous deer stalker and I'd hate to see you behind bars. I was...
What was I doing again? It was part of a brand building exercise. Was it indeed? Do you have a plan for me? To meet her? The Adler girl? Yes. I may have a cobbled something together, yes. Tell me. We must get to her before she departs for the night. She's rather boring, Sherlock. What do you mean? Ever since you tickled my fancy on this little Jersey Shore pre-Madonna, Wiggins and I have been perusing her movements.
A couple of peeping Thomases, he and I, craning over the garden fences of London. And what have you discovered? That she does nothing of note. Ever. OK, now you've heard it from Langdale. Do you want to believe it or not? We saw her with Milverton. He spoke of her stage presence. He referred to her as Adler. By all means, track her yourself and watch her play Wordle in her local Starbucks before hanging up her laundry and watching daytime television. I'm sure you'll be capped.
So no shady meet-ups, no other break-ins? Oh, if only! Don't look at me like that, Watson. I know what I'm doing. How do I get to her dressing room? Wait, you want to go to her dressing room? We must speak with her. No one will notice you down there, but to be safe, two passes. Here.
If spoken to, you're from the Royal Opera House Board of Trustees. Your visit backstage is in advance of a committee meeting taking place on Monday. But don't worry, no one will stop you. We're with the Royal Opera House Board of Trustees and our visit backstage is in advance of the committee meeting taking place on Monday.
Right, oh, okay. You're going to take a look at the soundproofing, yeah? Absolutely. Oh, top priority. You know we've got a vocal warm-up room that bleeds audio into the wings. You do know that, don't you? It's unacceptable, isn't it? Yeah, it's a disgrace. Yeah, mate makes me sick. I think the committee would function best if we heard from the talent too. The talent? Here she is. One moment. Hello there, Irene. Oh, clothes. Goodness, it's...
Rare I get fooled like that. You've got the Mazetta costume? Half of it, yeah. I'm Daisy Norton, first cover Mazetta. Ah, right. Rather striking resemblance. And singing voice. But Irene's got a little more razzle-dazzle. Right. And what room is she in?
Where would I find her? We're from the Board of Trustees. The one with Irene Adler, Musetta, on it? Of course. Yes, of course. And that's... Just down there. Thank you. Thank you very much. Rudolfo Mimi... Marcello Musetta. Right. Yep. Time to meet Miss Irene Adler. Hello. Hello.
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