Shownotes Transcript
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Freshly made ravioli or hand-pulled ramen noodles? When you dine with Chase Sapphire Reserve, either will be amazing because it's the choice between a front row seat at the chef's table while getting a live demo of how to make ravioli or dining family style as you hear the story behind your ramen broth. This weekend, it's ravioli.
Okay, so this was a big decision whether I should even upload this, but...
Well, it's been such a nightmare that I just want to put this stupid adventure out there. And yeah, look, it's full of technical issues, basically. Had a bit of a nightmare with my mic. And yeah, now we're all stuck with this adventure. So apologies for the technical faults in this one.
It's a four-parter. None of it is enjoyable. The whole thing is terrible. So let's just suffer through it together and I'll be back next time with something better. Sorry, guys. Remove the grill. Take a cup of swab and wipe back and forth gently. Ah, wow. Look at all that grime coming off you. Give my listeners a good old clean, clearing away the debris of adventures gone by.
Take the soft bristled toothbrush, a teeny bit of cleaning alcohol, a teeny, teeny, and brush. Hey, there we go. How does that feel guys? Feel free to give me five stars for cleaning you free of charge. Okay, that's done. Fixed grill back on and pop shield. Ta-da! Look at you. What do you reckon? Ready for another adventure?
Come on then. 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. And there you have it. Dr Al Bamawe is not responsible for the death of Lord Harmsen. It was not a mishap during surgery or even a miscalculation by the anaesthetist here, Dr Joy Applebaum, as was speculated by not only the Met but by all leading pathologists in this country.
Somebody knew. Somebody knew that Lord Harmson was coming into surgery today. They knew that his prep had taken place the day before. They knew that he had begun his fasting, a practice to avoid vomiting while under anaesthetic. And they knew his final blood test would be the morning he was scheduled to go under the knife in this very operating theatre. How was my brother murdered? How?
Shhh, it's okay. It's okay, Miss Merano. Well, for me to arrive at that conclusion, it was my dear companion Dr. Watson here that remarked that he had a real bee in his bonnet about this whole ordeal. A whimsical idiom relating to one feeling slightly frustrated about something, but it was that expression that allowed my mind to shift focus to the events before the surgery, not during.
At 9:48 a.m., Lord Harmsen took a phone call outside in the hospital garden, where he complained of what upon his return? A bee. He was stung by a bee. Stung by a bee, indeed. But this bee did not contain melatin, histamine, phosphopasse A2, and anything else you would find in the venom of a common bee. In fact, this bee did not contain a single chemical on the account of being a fabrication.
Lord Harmsen was not stung, but he was indeed punctured. Not by a barbed stinger from one of our buzzing anthrophilic friends, but by a needle. A needle containing a potent anticoagulant. So potent it would stop Lord Harmsen's blood from clotting during surgery.
It would become so thin that even this elite surgical team assembled right before us couldn't stem the flow. Well, then who did it? Mr Holmes? We simply must ask ourselves who planted the idea in Lord Harmson's head that he was stung by a bee? Who was in the hospital garden that very morning to do so? And who was sleeping with his wife? Dr Sir Michael Wynne Stanley. Bleed!
You must listen to me. He didn't love her. He doesn't deserve her. I love you, Hazel. I love you ever so. Officers, take Dr. Sir Michael away. Show him to his cell. He could do with a lie down. He's been a busy little bee. Come on, let's go!
Oh, please. You're too kind. Praise must go to my companions and the whimsical idiom. What did you call me? Dr. Watson. Porcheska. I am calling in sick for the catwalk tonight. Would it make you happy if we had dinner? Happy?
I'd be positively buzzing. Oh, Dr Watson. That was so good, mate. Thank you, Watson. Incredible. The listeners? The listeners are going to explode. Oh, completely, completely. This is our best adventure, yeah. It was like a novel. This is going to be an eight or a ten parter, honestly. Oh, yeah. I think it has to be. Excellent. What's going on with that? What?
That there on your mic, the red circle thing. Ah, it keeps popping up and flashing, but I think it's just a... I don't know, I think it's just a light or something. Is it okay? Yeah. Yeah, but I need to get the mic looked at generally, because it's been really dodgy. Did it definitely record? Yeah, I think so. The whole adventure? Yeah, gotcha. I mean, the mic's in a bad way, yes, but it's not completely... Fucked! Oh my god! Oh my god! What? It wasn't recording. I'm gonna be sick. Oh, what?!
Stupid, stupid mic. Everything okay? No. Why not? The adventure didn't record. We only have the end. But that was the best adventure yet. Yeah, I know that. Ah, how very intriguing. What an interesting and singular case. I must investigate it further and take my dear companion, Dr. John Watson, along on one of our signature award-winning adventures. We must hurry to the Metropolitan Police. Yes.
I wouldn't say that. I'd say Scotland Yard. I said... Didn't I say? I said stick to the script. Unless you feel there's something unnatural in there, then just ad-lib.
I really don't want to do this. Yeah, neither do I. Then why are we trying to recreate this adventure if neither of us want to? Because it was the best one. I really must get back to hanging upside down. Why do you have to hang upside down? I thought Dracula had broke into the flat earlier. It's not necessary, Sherlock. It aids hypersensitivity. It enhances vestibular response. It decreases pressure on nerve roots in the spine. Oxygen-rich blood runs directly to the brain and... He's dead.
Dead, I tell you. What are we to do? Hold on, Mary. He's struggling with it again. What are we to do? I'm sorry, what is that? Why would I talk like that? Because you're worried, right? And you're coming to me for advice about where we go from here. I wouldn't go to you for that. I'd go to you.
I'd go to him. Then you could come in and address me. Oh, no, no, no, no. Come on, I was pivotal in that adventure. Hmm, not sure about that. What do you want about me? Be in the bonnet? Hardly pivotal. Yeah, that's not cracking the case, John. Oh, sorry. You mean the whole case that literally came together after I said that exact phrase? Huh?
Interesting. Two of the very, very few upsides of your inane waffle, Watson, is you can often open new pathways of thought in my mind purely due to the sheer volume of words coming out of your mouth. Oh, thanks. And the other upside? You can host a podcast. Great. Eh, anyone can host a podcast. Yeah, don't I know it. Look at the charts, mate. OK, can we try this again? I have to go. We're not doing it again. Oh, what? OK, OK, OK. Look, there's loads of time. Right, let's...
Let's have a break. Yeah, you know, cut there, guys. That's a wrap. Back on set tonight. Oh, I can't do tonight. She's right. There's already something on the calendar for tonight. Oh, yeah. Right. I can't do that either. I'm out. OK. What's tonight? Movie night. Ah, right. Yeah. What am I missing? Well, I believe it's gangster night. Ah, right.
It's a shame. Where are you going? I'm meeting a friend from the Hudson's days. Oh, cool. Yep. So I'm going to... Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. Have a good one. Enjoy. Bye. OK, from the top. I thought we were back on set this evening. Shush. Action. Watson, stop working out so vigorously. Lord Harmson is dead.
dead, I tell you. Sounds like another adventure for Dr John Watson and Sherlock Holmes. MUSIC
Freshly made ravioli or hand-pulled ramen noodles. When you dine with Chase Sapphire Reserve, either will be amazing because it's the choice between a front row seat at the chef's table while getting a live demo of how to make ravioli or dining family style as you hear the story behind your ramen broth. This weekend, it's ravioli. Next weekend, ramen.
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Don't do it, Tony. Put your hands up, you son of a bitch! He's not an officer. Why is he telling him to put his hands up? Shush. But he doesn't have the authority. He has the gun, that's the authority. And it's a callback to when Hank told him to put his hands up at the start of the film, and Tony served time. It's a what? Shush! Tony, you're my guy, right? You're my familiar. Can we discuss this over in the pizzeria like old times? Huh?
Like old times, huh? Exactly, Tony. Exactly. Well, times change, Hank. Nasty way to go. Not terrible. No? Bullet to the head. Yeah, but bullet to the head and then he fell down that cliff and into the lake. Yes, but he's been shot in the head. So? So, he's totally unaware of the cliff and the lake and the... What on earth is that? A shark, I think. A shark in a lake in New Jersey. It's...
It's just... It's creative license, that's all. What does that mean? That they can lie to their viewers? No, they're not... They're not lying. It's just... It's a sort of filmic language. I beg your pardon? It's filmic language that we... Right, we sat down to be entertained. Apparently. And in order to do that, sometimes...
The creators of these sorts of things have to move us into a different sort of universe type thing. It's New Jersey. No, I know it's New Jersey. I'm not saying it's another planet. I'm saying there is an alternate media reality that we have where stereotype and exaggeration and thrilling things are commonplace. Have you ever been to New Jersey? Sherlock... Right, no, it doesn't matter. Forget it. Tony DiCarlo. Ah, my dear sweet Uncle Gio.
Oh dear, shoot him! Tony, shoot him! Sorry, why should Tony shoot him? Well, Tony's found out that the guy who got shot in the head was his brother that went missing ten years ago in Queens because his uncle kidnapped him and the sister to placate the great-uncle who runs the mob ring on behalf of the grandad. The grandad who is actually an informant? Well, no, he's a double agent. The Attorney General thinks he's informing, but he's actually counter-informing as an informant. Oh, bang! Dead.
Can Tony just shoot everyone and we can all go to bed? Doorknock. Very observant. Is that sarcasm there? Exceptionally observant. Well done. Thank you. Hey, the door is opening. I'm not joking, look. Stop it. It's okay, Arch. I think. Shh. Who's there?
Maybe I left it on the latch. Mariana! For the sake of Spielberg tea. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry, sorry, sorry. Oh, it's too funny. I'm sorry. I will remind you that we are a crime agency. We're not children. Actually, the crime agency is 221A and this is 221B and this...
This is Imani Warren. Hello, Imani. Hi. This is John Watson and that is Sherlock Holmes. Mmm, the colleagues. Yeah, yeah, the colleagues. So, what are we watching? Old Blood 2. And what is Old Blood 2? I don't know.
Move up. Yeah. Imani, you go sit on that couch. He'll move. Well, he might not, but just push his legs out of the way. Are you talking about the dog or Sherlock? Both. Popcorn? Uh-huh. Sweet or salted? Both. Mmm, yum. Gimme. Ah, is gimme Spanish for... Please may I have a little bit of your popcorn, John? Look!
Yeah, you red circle on the thing again? Get it fixed. Yeah, I'm going to. Why is it called Old Blood? He doesn't look old. Because it's referring to the old country. Is that right, John? That's right, big guy. Now, can we all shush and watch Tony kill some people, please? Hey, what's going on down there? Who's that? Nobody.
What do you mean, nobody? It's just... He's just a bloke. Just a bloke? It's just... a bloke guarding a compound. He's not a key character and the fact that he's guarding a compound, holding his gun incorrectly and has no attachment to any of the other characters means he's going to have a really cool death and you keep talking... Ouch! Ah, I missed it. Right, can we rewind? You're disrupting the flow of the drama. Me? Yeah. Oh God, I pressed the wrong button. Can we put the lights on, please? Wow!
Wait, wait, wait. It's Wives of Cheshire. Good God. Put the gangster film back on. Oh, my God. Abby hates it. I mean, did you see when she scratched her Bentley with a kitchen knife? I know. Oh, thank God.
I cannot believe you watch that stuff. It's not like I watch it. Watch it? I just see it on my feed and stuff. It helps me switch off. What, women screaming at each other? I guess. Why do women like that kind of stuff? It's cruel, it's vicious, it's destructive. Kill him, Tony! Shoot him in the eye! Yes!
So, what do you do, Imani? Hello. Movie night. Yeah, it's also nice to be polite. I work at Hudson's. Ah, yeah, of course, of course. How's that going?
It's probably great since this one buggered off. Ow! You deserve it. Yeah, it's OK. We have a lot of big commercial new builds now, so that's kind of interesting. Not just trying to sell the... Oh! Ouch! He just got shot in the balls. Oh, that is nasty. Oh, no, look at that. The bullet's come out his bum. Through his bum. No, out his bum. Into his balls and out his bum. It has not come through his rectum, Watson. You're a doctor, come on. It would...
would perforate an arse cheek as an exit wound at best. That threw his bum hole, I reckon. Right in the balls of my asshole. See? Told you. Filmic language, mate. Filmic language. Yes. Watson seems to believe that these movies can get away with portraying, saying and doing just about whatever they want as it's not reality. Yeah, that is kind of true. So it would seem...
There is a bit of overlap though. How so? Nah, just had some stuff happen. Shoot him then! Yeah, shoot him Tony. What are you doing mate?
What kind of stuff? Oh, just... It's hard to explain, so I won't bother. But yeah, just shady shit at one of the... You know Howe Street House Development, Mary? Yeah, by the British Museum? Yeah, so we'll sometimes have meetings there with the project manager, site manager. And yeah, just hard to explain. Hey, hey, who paused it? I did. Why? Tony is about to shoot the barrel of oil that will blow up the whole compound. That...
Spoiler! Imani, it's hard to explain because you're distracted and slightly embarrassed. I decided to eliminate one of those factors. Please, explain. Uh...
Why are you embarrassed? I'm not. It's one of those things that makes you sound like a conspiracy weirdo, which I'm absolutely not, okay? I do not want to be part of this story, honest. It's just something that's been happening. Let's hear it. Okay. So...
Howe Street House is a new tower block building, like new builds. Luxury flats, central London location, blah blah. And anyway, the other day I'm waiting out the front of the property which is all boarded up like as in under construction. Just for an underground parking thing and lobby renovations and then everything else is on the scaffolding up through the building. Which is basically a showroom apartment and then empty concrete rooms.
So I'm stood out there, out the front of the building, as this is before I had keys for the locks and stuff. And I notice on the hoarding that the builders put up, there's this QR code and thingy's running late, the site manager. So I just scan it on my phone, right? It takes me to this basic one page site. It's a map, like a map of Italy, right?
Like a region or something in Italy, and it's got this red circle over this one town. What town? Oh, I googled it, so let me look it up. My history, erm... When was this? Two weeks ago. Hold on. Bellagio. Bellagio? Like the casino? Yeah, like the casino, but this is a town. Anyway...
There's nothing else to it but there's a picture of this guy above the map right? Goatee, black hair, white guy, kind of bags under his eyes, looks maybe 45, 50? But yeah, just one page sight. This map with the red circle and this guy
I think nothing of it. Next day, I'm at our offices and on Sky News there is the same picture of that guy in... in, er... in Sherbourne. Frank Calla. Right. Sorry, rewind. Who is Frank Calla? Italian male found dead in Sherbourne two weeks ago. OK. But Frank Calla was from Rome, not Bellagio. Where is Bellagio? Let me Google it. Um...
Oh wow, yeah, like right in the north, near Milan. Google Frank Calat Bellagio. Okay. Anything of note? Um, couple of profiles of people, um, yeah, nothing. Imani, find your browsing history on that date and open the site that was linked to the QR code. Okay, so it's this book. Last time I checked, I... yeah, look, gone. Site doesn't exist.
Let me see who owned this site. See? I've got you all into it now. Yeah, you've stolen Tony's thunder. I know. Il Chiacchiorosso. The Red Circle. Any contact details? A number. That's almost definitely fake. The number you have called is not recognised. Please check the number and dial again. Yeah, sounds fake. Have you told Hudson's about it? No. Why not?
Well, I just assumed, I don't know, that there were these QR code stickers everywhere. Is the QR code still there? Wasn't there, literally hours later. It was gone. Did you see any more on that street? Nope. And you are certain, Imani, you are certain that it was the same man? Certain. What are you thinking? Il giocco è incosso.
And what does that mean? The game is afoot. Ah, very cool. Very nice. Oh, for fuck's sake. The mic is doing the flashing thing again. Ah, why? Why is this happening now? This is supposed to be a proper food crime podcast.
Hi, this is Mariana Mechazurra. Sorry I can't answer right now. Please leave a message and I'll get back to you. Mariana, it's me. I've left you a load of voice notes too. Sorry, but there's another one. Literally just scanned it. Yeah, call me. Please, just call me. Yes.
To binge this adventure in full and without ads, go to patreon.com forward slash Sherlock and Co. MUSIC
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