Deep Dive
Shownotes Transcript
Hi, my name is Doxter... Hey guys, I'm John... Bugger. What on earth are you doing? Shut up, just let me focus, yeah? Yes, focus, of course. Quite the Herculean task, isn't it? Saying one's name. Shh!
Hi. My name is Dr John Watson, and I'm here with my flatmate Sherlock Holmes, who is the subject matter for my podca- What are you doing? Can you put the violin down, please? Just for a minute. Watson, I really must be getting back to my work. Just, please. Your microphone is in the wrong mode. Right. Do you know what? This is stupid. Yeah? I'll do the pre-titles myself. Okay? Get out. Out. Out. Out.
Hi, I'm Dr John Watson. This podcast contains strong language, depictions of violence and some graphic content. Listener discretion is advised. Ah, drug references, forgot drug references. Balls. Slava Ukraine. Hey, doctor. Doc.
Hey, Watson! Are you recording? Yeah, I am. Yeah. You'd better blur my face out, eh? I'm not putting it anywhere, drama queen. Blur my face out, that's funny. Would you get arrested? Back home? Er, dunno. Volunteering in Ukraine isn't advised, put it that way. Roundup on? Right? Yeah, something like that. Pulling up here. Just pulling up here a sec. Here? We can pull up here? God.
When we start, we move into the woodland, okay? Jesus Christ. They're definitely Russian. Yeah, they're not ours. Call it in. Get back in the truck. We'll stop half a mile further east, okay? Hold on. What's that? There's someone here.
The Russian there. Leave him. All right, mate. Watson, we're heading back to the road. Watson, come on. We're heading back to the road. Yeah, yeah, yeah. Two secs. He's not coming with us. He can. He'll make it. It's not too bad a wound, to be honest. That shell is getting close. Move now. We have to take him. We don't have to do anything. Leave him here and move now. Now! He's a kid. He's just...
What was that? What's he got? What did you just do? Oh shit! Run! Run! Run! Get out of here! Somebody help me! Me!
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
of Sherlock Holmes. Okay, I'm going to assume this flashing red light means... Well, it means it's recording and... Excuse me?
Hi, hi there. John Watson. Dr John Watson. It's Mary, isn't it? I think you've got me completing. I'm leaving. Yeah, can we grab this table? Ah, I thought that... Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Take the bloody table.
Excuse me, can I get a pint of... Have a pint, mate. Bottled. Sorry, what? Bottled. Right, yeah, bottle. Bottle of the Pilsner. Please, mate. If you are wondering, that is the sound of being stood up. So, yeah. £5.90, please, mate. Of course it is. Yeah, this is stupid. I am turning this off. It is you. Matt! Hiya.
John, it's me, Stamford. Stamo, how you doing? Stamford? Jesus Christ!
You look great, mate. How are you doing? Yeah, yeah, I'm all right, mate. I'm all right. Come here. Steady. Oh, walking wounded these days. Oh, bloody hell. Are you kidding? What happened? I went to war, didn't I? Oh, yeah, yeah. Afghanistan. Yeah, yeah. And the rest. Oh, yeah, yeah. Lucas said you're in Ukraine. I'm on his couch, actually. But, yeah, I was in Ukraine, yeah. Christ.
But you're staying with Lucas now. Jeez, I don't know what's worse. Yeah, yeah, just staying with him for a bit. Do you want a drink, Stammer? Yeah, I'd love one. Excuse me. Oh, let me just turn this off. It's a microphone. Good bit of kit. Just have to get my head around all the settings and, you know, yeah. What, you going to give us a song? Yeah, no, it's... I was planning on doing a podcast. You and everybody else, eh? For vets.
For vets. War vets. Veterans. Not like actual vets. Oh, sorry. For a minute there, I was picturing you with your hand up a cow's arse or something, doing your podcast. Well, you've seen me do worse. Well, yeah.
That's uni for you, isn't it? Are you going to head back home? Or are you staying in London? Are you going to drain yourself in the great cesspool? Expensive cesspool. I'm going to get a flat share or something for a few months. See if I can get a bargain somewhere. Yeah, I know. No chance. Comfortable rooms, reasonable price. No, no, no. It's just...
You're the second person that said that to me today. Who was the first? Sherlock Holmes! Oh my god, what is he doing? Stamho, why is he on a treadmill covered in blood? Erm, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes. Hiya mate, you okay?
You're bleeding. Do you want to slow down? I can't live with him. He's a criminal. Sorry. Fighting or assisting those in Ukraine amount to offences under UK legislation. Stamo, did you... I'm going to shoot off. Did you message him? Bloody great to see you, John. It's been too long, mate. I'll see you soon, all right? And Sherlock, nice to see you. Bye, lads. Stamo, do you want to maybe examine him or something? See you later. Stamo. Hello. Hello.
So I don't know what Stamford... Stamo... I used to call him Stamo. It's a stupid university thing. Yeah, I don't know what he sent on about me, but... Yeah, I'm John. I'm a doctor. Yes, you said shortly after I had observed it myself. An average doctor and an average military man...
Didn't even complete a medical training upon arrival at Sandhurst and yet you chalked up three tours of Afghanistan. I wouldn't brag too strongly about the doctor credentials. And evidently the military credentials leave a lot to be desired. What did you just say? Feel free to have a listen again when you upload your audio tonight. Not that you have any idea how that mic works.
You don't want to use an omnidirectional mic for interviews, Dr. Watson. Perhaps you should think less about saving money and more about better microphones with varying modes such as cardioid, bidirectional and stereo. Hold this. Hold what? What the hell is that? How did you know all of that? This is scanning an electron microscopic transmission of the ventricle wall of the hypothalamus.
Right here. And of course, intraventricular dentriterminals of the cerebrospinal fluids and I think the endofundibular lobe. Not sure. We'll see. That's what the hell it is. And I know all about you because I observed it, Doctor. Right. And why are you bleeding? Because I stabbed myself in the chest. Okay. Why did you stab yourself in the chest? Experiment. Experiment?
Do me a favour. Stab me in the arm with that knife over there, will you? Absolutely not. What are you experimenting on? I told you. I'm monitoring the hypothalamus. What for? The hypothalamus endorphin response from the vigorous exercises nature's painkiller, Dr Watson. For the first time, I, Sherlock Holmes, am recording the volume and response of these hormones. Great, great. When is it going to be done? It's
Done. Oh, well done you. Indeed. Did she give you a reason? Did she what? Sorry? Why she stood you up? Did she give you a reason? How did you know that? Dr. Watson, I exhibit often erratic behavior, interspersed with lengthy episodes of depression. I'm an insomniac, a megalomaniac, and a coprophiliac.
That's a joke. Ah, right. I'm not really a coprophiliac. I don't know what that is. A sexual attraction to human waste? Did I not teach you that at Sandhurst? No. Ah. Also, according to the DSM, I have ADHD, ASD, SPD, DMDD, ODD and DID. You have PTSD. That one I don't have. For now. I also smoke. I don't have PTSD.
It's much easier we find out now rather than later, after the deposit and first month's rent. Oh. Erm... Oh. Oh. Erm... I have a dog. Well, my mum has the dog, but I'll probably get Archie back now that I'm in the UK. So, yeah, I have a, erm... a dog. I like dogs. Very cooperative. Er, what else about me? Well, er, I... I know everything else. Don't touch that. Hmm.
I also play the violin. Uh-huh. Are we starting a band as well? No, I play the violin. Violins are loud. Not everyone would appreciate a flatmate that plays loud instruments at unsociable hours, particularly someone who's just been blown up. Right. No, that's not a problem. Do you fancy a pint or something? Just to sort of...
Yeah, break the ice. Release some more endorphins. It's the urea nitrate. It's... Your itch. Oh, no, it's from the scarring on my leg. Hold this. What are you... Stitching. You're doing your own stitches? Mm-hmm. Would you like me to do that? Do you have experience? I'm an army doctor. Then be my guest.
When the IED exploded, did it make a dull thudding sound or more of a metallic clang? Er, don't really remember. I think the second one. Rubbish. Yeah, well that's war for you. No. Your Russian adversary's supplies are so depleted they resorted to building a totally useless IED right there on the front lines. An IED with not anywhere near enough urea nitrate to provide a stupidly over-ambitious 20 pound bomb with any kind of lethal capability.
Your IED builder could have done with a little less "I" and a bit more "ED". Nevertheless, as I say, that itch is from the urea nitrate. It's a fertilizer and it's causing the irritation. Have you considered surgery? Alternatively, you can find a cream in boots, although I'd recommend one with 1 to 1.5% cortisone. Tighter stitching, Doctor. Sorry, what... what did... what did Stanford say to you? He said Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson, Dr. Watson, Sherlock Holmes.
Then he directed the rest of the brief conversation to you before saying he'll see me later. No, that... he... Have you googled me or something? No, and I wouldn't find anything if I did. Apart from a local paper in Wiltshire over-dramatising your bomb only to be skim-read by some vaguely interested old school friends who can't quite place you. Just, like, I don't want to get off on the wrong foot, or...
You know, but... It was really... It was a bloody good... Dr Watson, I know when the Foreign Legion entered the Curzon Oblast. I know the casualties it incurred. I know that an unnamed Brit suffered at the hands of a Russian booby trap one kilometre from the Antonovsky Bridge. I know that. I could even harvest that kind of information from our friend Google, as you suggest. I can tell by the way you limp that your bone and cartilage are intact.
I can see that your itch is along the outer side of your calf. So not one piece of shrapnel from a bomb that would have detonated no further than ten yards, given the fuse and delay element, away from your good self, perforated your leg. No exit wounds, no bone damage. No good. I, um... Want to go look at the flat? Sure. Follow me. Slow down. So what was her reason? I'm intrigued. She just didn't turn up. Fascinating.
Very central, isn't it? Blimey, won't be needing the old Zone 3 travel card for this place, eh? It's part of a housing scheme. Stamo said it was part of a housing scheme thing? Yes. How do you manage that? Favours in exchange for services. Ha! Aye, I won't ask. Gosh, she's running late, isn't she?
You know what will happen, though? What's that? We'll spend all this time waiting for one estate agent, then two will show up. Why would two show up? No, it was just a joke. You know, because we're waiting on the street, like for a bus. We're not. No, no, no, no. I mean, it's as if we're waiting for a bus. Mm-hmm. And, yeah, with the weird phenomenon, London buses, you wait around for them and then they all show up like...
You know, like two of them appear. And it's like... yeah. I suggest you edit out this part of your podcast. Ah, yes. Right. It isn't a phenomenon, Doctor. Bus A and Bus B have staggered departure times.
Bus A picks up the bulk of the passengers as it embarks on its route first. Stops are therefore more frequent and prolonged. Bus B follows, making shorter stops and often less stops altogether, as Bus A has picked up most, and in the case of some stops, all of the passengers. Therefore, Bus B takes the route faster than Bus A, causing occasional overlap and synchronised arrival times. Hi, I'm Mariana from Hudson. Oh, thank God for that. Hi, Mariana, I'm John. Sorry I'm late. The tubes today are...
Piccadilly line. Yes, such a nightmare. Okay, are we ready? Very central, isn't it? Open the door. It's a loud street, but I find the sash windows keep a lot of the street noise out. I assure you they don't. Okay, here we go. This is 221A Baker Street.
Small reception room as you come in and on your right there, that's the lounge. Very big, airy Victorian room. Georgian. With arm... high ceilings. And the bedroom is just there, kitchen over here. It's got laundry facilities. It's a washer-dryer combination, I think. Let me just check. Sorry, Mariana. The other bedroom? The bedroom? It's just there. This is a one bedroom? Yes.
Oh, are you two planning to have a lot of guests? The previous tenants had a sofa bed in the lounge? It's no problem, honestly. I'll call Hudson's right now, speak to someone in the office, and we'll find something for you. No, no, it's fine. Dr. Watson, it was a pleasure. All the best with the PTSD. Hi, Sancito, it's Mariana. Yeah. Yeah, I'm a 221A baker. Good to meet you, too. The gentlemen are looking for a two-bed. Mm-hmm, mm-hmm. Oh, perfect. Okie dokie.
Welcome to, um, episode one of "Roommates From Hell." It's, uh... It's 2:00 a.m.
And... Can you hear that? Maniac. This is a bloody joke. Honestly, God. Psychopath update. It's 3.14am. And that is a gun. An actual gun. He was kind enough to fix a silencer to it, at least. The weirdest thing.
in a list of weird things, which I was recording when he said it all. I asked him how he knew about Sandhurst and that I left early. He said he could tell by the sun damage on my right arm from three tours ago. It's around a tattoo I had removed after a bad breakup, which is true. He knew I was going on a date
Because I've got a, like, well, you know, it's nothing really, but like a little rash on my neck. Which is where I sprayed some aftershave earlier. It's barely a blemish, but yeah, I try and avoid this stuff because of that. So I think he might be like a really, really good dermatologist. I've had it, you bastard! He's 5'24".
I just managed to peek around the door and he's still armed. This time with a sword. Oh, hello. Silence. Either he's gone to bed or he's stabbed himself to death. Either option seems too good to be true, to be honest. Ah, lucky me. Time for some shut-eye. Somebody help me! Somebody help me! Silence. Silence.
Oh, what bloody now? He's having bloody guests around here. First thing in... Okay, enough is enough. Do you know what, mate? Please, do not move. Engage him with target. Do not move. Do not... I made you breakfast. Look, Doctor. Look. Doctor, you're not looking. Doctor, you know what this is? Yep. It's Daruni. Yummy. Like in Ukraine. Yes, I know. I've been...
I was thinking about your IED this morning and it got me a little peckish for Daruni. Would you like some borscht? It's a sour beetroot soup, like in Ukraine. You're stressed. Oh, what gave me away? Everything. Was it something I said? Say hello? Who was that this morning? Why was I accosted by Jack Bauer or bloody Jason Bourne in my own flat? Yeah, Barack apologised for that. Maybe you didn't hear. Shut up.
What are you doing? You told me to shut up. Shut up? As in explain? Barack? Barack Obama. This borscht needs some pampushka. Vegetables are in square chunks. There's a hint of dried smelt. Could be Russian. Bollocks. Barack Obama was in the lounge. Oh, indeed.
As was his security detail. You met them. What was Barack Obama doing in the lounge? Thanking me in person. For what? My services. Services that far outmatch those of his aforementioned security detail, let me tell you. When are you leaving? What? When am I... What? You're moving out. Right. Come on. How? Excuse me? How did you know that? Obvious. Is it? Your bags are packed and sealed. And? And?
It's just little details, nothing big. No, come on, I'm all ears. You've removed the bed sheet from the bed. I don't smell urine, so that rules out a trip to the laundrette. Your phone has lit up with two notifications. One right move, one gumtree. You can't afford either, by the way. And your heart rate is 120. Seven.
That's because, of course, despite being a military man, you have a slight conflict phobia and are apprehensive about informing me of your premature departure. Hmm. Heart rate is now 133, even though when I met you yesterday it was 78. However, at that point, of course, you had consumed a pint of beer. Ah, it was a bottle. It wasn't a pint. You had two, but you didn't finish the second one. Yeah, because we went to meet you in your bat cave, or whatever it was. Exactly. Exactly.
An aggregate total of a pint, Dr. Watson. 330 milliliters in the first, 240 in the second. Heart rate is 138. You should see a doctor, doctor. Stop doing that. Then I suggest you practice some of your breathing exercises to slow your heart rate or take your hands off the table so I can no longer feel it through cheap IKEA pine. So I'll ask again.
Was it something I said? It was a good bomb, alright? It was loud and terrifying and so fucking life-changing, I don't know what to do anymore. I'm making a podcast, for Christ's sake. I'm living in Baker Street. It was good. It was good. It wasn't. Jesus. This borscht is very disappointing.
Wouldn't you agree, Doctor? Shut up. Watch. Your laptop is in urgent need of an update. Just watch! He's a kid, he's just... What was that? What's he got? What did you just do? Oh shit! Run, run, run! John! What the... Somebody help me! Somebody help... Very poor indeed. That video confirms my findings, thank you Doctor.
Although, in future I will acknowledge what a bomb can do to the mind. Of course. Especially one this loud. Thanks. Oh, who's that then? Justin Trudeau? The King of Spain? No. Felipe and I are no longer on speaking terms. That, Dr Watson, can only be one thing. Mm-hmm. A job. What? Sherlock Holmes? Hmm. Murder.
Very possibly. Come on in. Dr Watson, offer our visitor some borscht. Hello, officer. Erm...
Sour beetroot soup. It's a case for you. Lestrade wants to know if... A what for me? Sorry? For me. A case. A case? Oh, are you a lawyer? No. Officer, tell me of the situation, apart from the obvious. What's the obvious? You found the body of an American male in an abandoned house in Brixton.
How? Are you a counsellor? Do I seem like a counsellor to you? No. I'm a consulting detective, Watson. Ahem.
No, you're not. Yes, I am. As in, like, a private investigator? He's much better than that. What she said. Great. That's... that's great. So I'm living with a Facebook sleuth, some criminology hobbyist... Watson will be pleased to know your biggest fear that Mary came into the Criterion Bar, saw you, and left is unfounded. So what happened to Mr. Mary? Well, let's see...
You picked the Criterion Bar because you thought it polite to pick a halfway point between the two of you. So you chose the Criterion in Piccadilly, which means somebody lives in North London, the other lives in West London.
Why west? Why north? The Piccadilly line. It doesn't serve east and it doesn't serve south. So you both live off that line. Why not Bakerloo? That also serves Piccadilly Circus. Because you would have mentioned it yesterday. After all, we were at Baker Street. You did, however, mention a Zone 3 travel card which would suggest you were staying in that area temporarily.
I'd venture for west over north. North would leave you with Wood Green and Turnpike Lane, not the kind of neighbourhoods for a doctor with affluent alumni chums like yourself, particularly one with a spare room. You embarked from Northfields, I suspect, and Mary from Turnpike Lane? Your date, if you can call it that, was booked for 4pm.
At 3:20pm yesterday, however, a man suffered a heart attack on a Piccadilly Line train just outside Finsbury Park. Severe delays for the next hour or so and Mary is nowhere to be seen. Why is she nowhere to be seen? Because she helped the poor man and got him to hospital and saved his life! How do we draw that conclusion? Well, if she's booking a date for 4pm, then she's probably done night shifts. Who does night shifts? Doctors, firefighters, security guards, police officers and... Nurses. Yeah, she's...um...
She's a nurse. She's a nurse, you're a doctor, she's a police officer and I'm a consulting detective. Shall we crack on? Hello, officer. Um, sour beetroot soup. I'm done editing the first episode. Um, if you like what you hear, give us five stars and leave a nice review sort of thing. I've uploaded part one of our first, uh...
Adventure, The Illustrious Client. The second part of that will be out next week. I'll upload an episode a week, come rain or shine, and you never know, maybe I'll make a career out of this or something. If you want to know more, give us a follow on Twitter, or no, X, I mean, yeah, X, follow me on X.
Christ. Doc J... At Doc J Watson MD. All one word. That's Doc J Watson MD. And... What are you doing? I'm just editing the thingy. I have to pop out. There's a dead goat in the lounge. Don't touch it. Especially not its kidney. It's a matter of significant anatomical discovery. A real game changer for the goat community at long last. Right. Sherlock, why are we dissecting goats?
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