Deep Dive
Shownotes Transcript
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. Previously on Sherlock and Co. Milverton's bedroom. Indeed. God, it's about twice the size of our flat. Welcome, listeners, to the den of the monster that is Charles Augustus Milverton.
Proprietor of various media outlets, backer of just about every shit political influencer you can think of, and self-appointed corrupter of the British justice system as and when he pleases. Secure read prompt action null false status active null access gateway security passkey log 4721 4721 4721 Two seconds put it in put it in 4721 What happens?
It opened. Oh, get in! Yes! What was that? Erm... Did you leave the door open? No. Sure? Yes. I can't see why not. Milverton, he's coming upstairs. Shitting shitty shit!
Come on. What about the safe? I'm looking. No, no, no, no. I'm done. We are climbing out the window. Watson, we don't have the drive. Just give me a moment. Again? I'm not the one you need to worry about. Bugger it. In here? No, not in here. Out there. We're climbing out the window. No. We need to remain in the property. We cannot let this work go to waste. What are you doing? Putting the portrait back. We must hide in the wardrobe. Ah.
Shush. He's here. I just cannot, cannot shake it. A stunning, stunning performance. Thank you. As always. Who is that? But I don't recall an encore. Perhaps I could get a private one who knows. Who is that woman? Sherlock. Sherlock.
This is part three of Charles Augustus Milverton. It contains... I, um... Yeah, it's kind of dark. I'm sorry. He came straight back. Yeah, I see that. I see that because of a tiny crack in this door of a bloody wardrobe that I find myself in. You know, usually I have to secure my dead to the best seat in the house, but you already had that, didn't you?
Hmph. You could look at it that way. Sure. I met that director of yours. Ormstein. Sure. Formidable fellow, isn't he? To put it lightly. Yes, well, he's certainly got you all whipped into shape. Not all he seems, of course. Artistic men never are. Is he hiding secrets from us? He's hiding many...
Many secrets from many, many people. But not me. What do you have on him? Is that why you're here? It's not for my devilish good look, no? Of course. Why settle for devilish looks when you could have the devil himself? Look at you. You wouldn't think those lungs could fit inside such a petite frame. I could just...
eat you. You like that artwork, do you? Quite something, isn't she? She's metamorphosing into a centipede. From the soaring heavens she comes down and upon impact with the earth and with humanity she is to live as a centipede. To be trodden on, mashed into the dirt, suffocating in the soil. All that remains are her angelic
Female features. The breasts, the vagina. Kafkaesque in more ways than you'd think. Hm. Is that so? Oh, absolutely. He was a bohemian, of course. Czech, anyway. He was tortured by sexual desire, they say. Obsessed with brothels. Obsessed. A habitual necessity to frequent them daily.
Sometimes twice or three times in a day. I have to say I know the feeling. You see, I say that. He had lusts that would irritate him. Itches that had to be scratched. I'm somewhat murkier than that, I suppose. For me it's power, control, supremacy.
Who has the control? Oh, that would be me, my love. Most look up to the stage, Mr. Milverton. Well, not from where I sit. I look down, and seeing you tonight, down there on that stage, it did something to me. Not in the way art should, I'm afraid. It makes gears wind and click into place in here.
And in here. From that point, I can only see conquest. Not a desire for form or beauty, but for victory. Doesn't scare you? No. What do you want? My own conquest. Which is? It's that director, isn't it? There's a storm crackling behind your eyes whenever I mention him. How fascinating.
Come. Sherlock, they're heading to the safe. I returned it to how it was. He shouldn't suspect anything. Now. From your younger days, get your harmful material offline. Did you know this house is worth 18 million pounds? Next door is probably not much different. You can add up every single property on this street and double it, and you still would not have enough money... Enough money for what? For this.
You name them, they're on here in some way, shape or form. Images, videos, correspondence, an entire underworld all in this little girl in the portrait. I call her Pandora. This lives under her portrait because below the soil she crawls through is hell. And in this dry is hell itself.
And at a moment's notice I can set a frothing, festering demon free from its depths. And you come here wishing for the demon that would slay, maim, torture your esteemed director. Do you not? What's the price? Your body. Something tells me you may be
Holding your purse strings a little too. Is there a boyfriend? Perhaps. A screaming silence, I feel. A shame. Perhaps you need time. No photos. Tonight. Of whatever we do tonight. Acceptable terms. In that case, I'll just have to burn you into my memory. Now, perhaps we could start by removing that stunning...
Please. Give me the drive. Jesus, no. That's me twisting the knife to one o'clock, Charles. You want to try three? Huh? You want to try three? I'm going to take the drive.
I'm going to call you an ambulance. And we're going to go our separate ways. You'll never survive me. Oh, we'll see about that. There will come a time when I...
I will hold the knife. What time is that? Six o'clock? I'll take that, sweetie. Thank you. You can't. You can't do this. Hold tight. Literally hold that tight on your stomach. Say ambulance. What? What? What? 999, please fire our ambulance. Ambulance? Okay, sir. Please.
Appledore in hamster... I have been stabbed. Bye, Charles. You'll never survive me, Adela. You'll never survive me. What do we do? She has the drive. Sherlock, there is a man over there, dying. What do we do?
Sherlock, mate, I have to go out there. I have to. How much easier this moment would be if the knife had struck his heart, Watson. What are you talking about? Death is irreversible. It doesn't beg to be saved. But this... Whatever. Look, I'm a doctor. All right? So this... This is a non-negotiable. Sorry.
Charles! Please help me! Doctor Wilson, please! Please help me! You must... Let me see that! That's a fight! My standard! You couldn't save her!
Good, you... You tried, but you couldn't. Just sit still. You got her to the hospital and it was... It was only later that she... She died. So if you could do that... What are you talking about? Just hold that on there, please, Charles. Mostyn, Dr Watson, I'm...
Talking about Mary Morstan. You... Once again I face with the... Deep wound. And I believe you can save me, Doctor. I believe you... You can. Doctor. I'm anxious now. You gave her...
The chance to survive. It was the rest that sapped her vitality. Shut up! Sherlock, can you hold this on him a second? Yes. Holding. Tighter. That's not tighter. He said tighter. Hold it tighter, you fool! Calm down. Right? Yes, calm down.
Door! Downstairs! Paramedics. Right. Bleeding is slowed. This pair of tights. We'll keep it that way as long as it holds tight. Tell your paramedic the wound is venous, OK? But you do have... Charles, look at me. You have bowel perforation. Tell them that.
otherwise they'll perform an inspection and it'll fucking hurt. The pillowcase here, right, looking Charles, that cannot be pushed on, right, that sits loose. These remain tight. Happy? Thank you. Thank you. Okay, good. Come on, let's go. Through the back window. This way. The roof allows for us to make for the back garden. Okay.
Please. Please. Bloody hurry up and come in. Paramedics should act with a little more urgency. Finally. Finally.
Look, she... She took it. She... She has wounded me. And it's... This is all... This is all... All fixable. Do you understand? The drive still has passwords. And it... No. Please. No. No. Please. No. Two seconds. Literally in and out. I just need to...
No, you stay on the roof. I'll grab it. Watson! There's no one here. Just stay there. Got it. Got it. Got it. Thank God for that. Right. Okay, go. Wait. What? Charles? What is it, Watson? You were right. It did sound like a gunshot. He's dead.
Watson, we must go. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Okay, okay. Go, go, go, go, go, go. Come down this way. Once we reach the guttering, we can jump over the side and it'll be the side pathway. Yep, yep. Are you all right? Yeah, no, not really. Can you run? Yeah, well, I have to, don't I? Yes, you do. We both do. Go, go, go. Go, go, go.
I'm David McCloskey, former CIA analyst turned spy novelist. And I'm Gordon Carrera, national security journalist. And together we're the hosts of The Rest is Classified, where we bring you brilliant stories from the world of spies. This week we're talking about one of the most significant stories of the 21st century, Edward Snowden and how he orchestrated the
biggest leak of classified secrets in modern American and British history. Snowden revealed that the American government was mass collecting data on its own citizens, and it was really the first time that Americans and so many others around the world understood the extent of the U.S. government's mass surveillance. That's right. It's a story I covered at the time, and it also really gets to wider questions about what
Privacy means how technology has changed our lives and what the government and companies can do with data we might have thought was private. And we'll take you through the whole story from Snowden's early career in the CIA and the NSA to his life in exile in Russia. So to hear more, search for The Rest is Classified wherever you get your podcasts. Please, no, no, please, no, please, no! What do you think he's saying?
It would seem... James. James? Do we know a James? We do not. But the question is, does it matter? Does what? Is it relevant to us? Sorry, is the murderer relevant to us, the detective agency? I'm going to say yes. Who was the woman? I don't know. Exactly. If Milverton was with a woman who proceeded to then stab him and flee...
Would it not make sense for the following autocation to be related to this twisted romantic arrangement? Sorry, you think what? That was her husband or boyfriend or whatever? Very possibly. Sorry, this is a bit too cold and calculated, isn't it? Oh, that I agree with. Then is this a hit? There are very few scenarios I'm ruling out, Watson. What I can, however, point us in the direction of... Where are you going?
Stupid moustache is driving me crazy. I quite like it now. Yes, well, it is itching like hell and now it just makes me think of pervy weirdos. It does have that initial impact, yes. But, like I say, it's grown on me. Not me, the pervy weirdo. Him, bloody Milverton. What exactly happened to your hat?
I thought that looked great, and you've ditched it after a day. A particularly bad day. Oh, so you're blaming the deerstalker then. If we are taking out our failings on inanimate objects, I think the pipe holds more responsibility for your misstep. Oh, speaking of ditching stuff, how's Agatha? We've separated. We rushed into things, you see. Oh, no.
Am I seeing a knock at the door? Because someone wants to come in. But wouldn't they ring the buzzer? This person? No. Why? Because they can be very persuasive and they'll use their status to intimidate just about anyone to let them through.
Even poor Mariana. Sorry, what? Open the door. To who? You'll find out when you open the door. Gentlemen? Ah, hello, ma'am. Only officers call me ma'am.
OK. Gwen is fine. Hi, Gwen. Thanks for swinging by. Do you want a cuppa? Do you want a glug on a brew for a few? No. OK. I have a case. Good for you. I would like some assistance with it. Generally. Or are you seeking the services of Sherlock and Co.? I would like some assistance. That's not how you ask. Have you been smoking in here? No. Not for ages. Has he? I don't think so. Please, could you...
Collaborate on the case with us. Let's hear it. You are no doubt aware of the murder of Charles Augustus Milverton? Yes. And no. In equal measure, I am aware of it from the viewpoint of a consumer of media, of course. I have taken on the information like much of the public have. Nothing more than that. Right. Yes, well...
Milverton was assassinated, if that's not too big a term to use. Close range. Revolver. And a stab wound. But, yes. No. Yes. So the media informs me. Yes. Mm-hmm. You have no camera footage from the property. Bloody Milverton Holdings not handing those over. Tut-tut. Disgraceful. Again. So I read. We have a ring doorbell in the area that picked up a young woman arriving. She's concealed.
We have reason to believe she entered the property and killed Milverton after a possible altercation. Just a hit job. We have monitored it closely, ever since Watson here had an altercation with the man himself. Our alibi has been validated by thousands of individuals, though, of course. Our alibi. That's it? Yes. You did a live stream. On your Discord. Didn't you? Yes. Yeah, I did. I did that. Yeah. Yeah. Hmm. Yeah, that's...
Nasty. Lone gunman with a target... Well, lone gunwoman. Gun girl. Sorry, yeah, it's awful. This is where things get a little muddy, though, I'm afraid. Oh? Witnesses recall two male figures exiting the property out the back window. One with a cane and one wearing a deerstalker. Really? How fascinating.
I don't think we will be able to facilitate the case though, will we, Watson? This time of year, I mean... Exactly. This time of year is ever so busy. Sherlock, I'm offering you a case. You can have full access to the scene. Yes, but... Ah, look...
Look, yet another email. Oh, from a potential client. You see, it's... It's non-stop. Non-stop indeed. Could this perhaps take precedent over your other cases, just for the time being? Ooh.
Ooh, not sure. Not, er, not sure. What's that email, mate? Is it a murder? Or a robbery? A gentleman, it would seem, has... Let me see. His wife is... Missing. Ooh, dear. No. Er... Dead. Oh, no, don't say dead. You see, Gwen, this is the level of crime. She's possessed by the man's deceased dog. Tricky case.
Very... yep. She's urinating in the lounge. Tragic. And obviously complex in a multitude of... Eating off the floor. Right, stop reading. So, yeah. Yeah, wish we could help. Yes, it's such a shame that we can't. Okay. That's understandable.
Can I get you that cuppa? A cuppa for a copper? No. I've got meetings all afternoon, so... Okie dokie. Lovely to see you, Gwen. All right. What's going on? Nothing. Lovely to see you, Gwen. Something wrong, Commissioner? I've known you for nearly 20 years, and not once have you said that it was lovely to see me. Well, I... Perhaps I am... Maturing?
Growing? Yes, those things. Right. You best be off. Mm-hmm. You have meetings. To boost your self-importance at the taxpayer's expense. That's more like it. Bye, Gwent. See you later, gents. Bye now. Want to go see the dog wife? Yep. Oh, God. Oh, they've got to be having us on. Goodness me. Ever so convincing if they are, I must say. What about the dog bullshit?
He offered her a plate and she shook her head. Oh, man. I feel we needed that, Watson. Yeah. Yeah, I agree with you there. Difficult couple of days. Yeah, yeah. And then you see a woman possessed by a dog and... It improves somewhat. Exactly. Oh, exactly. Yeah.
I could ask Mariana, you know, see if we've got any other crackers like that. I mean, surely she gets absolutely loads of them, right? We must have some. Sherlock, you okay? Stop. Stop talking? Why? No. The bus. The, um... Just tell me, what is it? Stop the bloody bus. Sherlock. Stop the bloody bus. Sherlock! What on earth? What the hell are you doing? You can't just sprint off a bus through the West End, mate.
You nearly got hit then. God. I knew. I knew that I knew. You... The name. The face. The woman. The Milverton woman. You knew her. No. But we've seen her. You and I. We have? Red-headed league. We came here. To the opera. Ah, yeah. Might have deleted that memory, mate. You won't survive me, Adler. Oh, yeah. The poster there.
Irene Adler. So why... why was some opera singer at Milverton? What's the... what's the drama? A scandal, Watson. A scandal in Bohemia. Oh, thanks for listening. And thanks to our Patreon members for confirming to the police regarding my whereabouts during that murder. It's very helpful.
to the police. It's helpful to them. I mean, not me. For their investigation. Now, if the police do listen to this show, you have in fact broken the law, but it is much appreciated. And if you were thinking about joining the Patreon and you're worried that you'll get arrested, then stop talking, John. Bye-bye. ... ...
I'm David McCloskey, former CIA analyst turned spy novelist. And I'm Gordon Carrera, national security journalist. And together we're the hosts of The Rest is Classified, where we bring you brilliant stories from the world of spies. This week, we're talking about one of the most significant stories of the 21st century, Edward Snowden and how he orchestrated the
biggest leak of classified secrets in modern American and British history. Snowden revealed that the American government was mass collecting data on its own citizens and it was really the first time that Americans and so many others around the world understood the extent of the US government's mass surveillance. That's right, it's a story I covered at the time and it
It also really gets to wider questions about what privacy means, how technology has changed our lives, and what the government and companies can do with data we might have thought was private. And we'll take you through the whole story from Snowden's early career in the CIA and the NSA to his life in exile in Russia. So to hear more, search for The Rest is Classified wherever you get your podcasts.