The Resident Patient - Part Two
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Hello everyone, Stamford here. Now John has told me to tell you to go and check out patreon.com forward slash Sherlock and Co.

Is that right? Yep. There, you'll gain access to loads of bonus material. Plus, you'll get adventures in full, so you don't have to wait. And they will be ad-free. How good's that? Now, I know a few of you enjoyed my singing a few adventures back, so I'm going to give you a little treat. I've prepared a song for you. Here we go. Ha, no. Oh, come on.

Previously on Sherlock and Co. Who's he? He's a doctor with his own independent medical practice, I'd say. No way. Way. You got that just from looking at him? Correct. I put together some well-supported research on Parkinson's disease and epilepsy. I put together a study into this and actually in the last year I developed a programme of treatments that would reduce the risk of cataleptic seizures.

A troublesome benefactor. Avery Blessington. So he sponsored your practice? Yeah. There were some conditions to the institute. The clinic, as we call it. Go on. Mr Blessington was to be a resident patient. There is a presence. Attention. I feel like there's eyes on me all the time. Okay. I feel like there's...

Movements? Late at night? I don't know if I should just move him elsewhere, but then I suppose I'd be moving myself out, wouldn't I? Before you do anything, I want to see it. Let's get this thing sorted, eh? Yeah, yeah. I'd rather know if we had a break-in or not, and if we have, I'll be bloody glad you're both staying over, to be honest. Of course, of course. You should probably find Sherlock now. Sherlock! Great. Hello?

Sorry everyone, just trying to work out what exactly is... Whoa, whoa, whoa! Sherlock! Help! Sherlock! You're back for more, are you? This is part two of The Resident Patient. A nice, warm, light-hearted tale of some close friends having a fun sleepover.

Yeah, that's absolutely not the case at all. Enjoy. Bye. Oh, God. Oh, this is absolutely insane. This is insane. What is going on? Okay, right. Open the door, John. Open it. Ah, who's there? What did you see? Jesus, sir. Was that you? What did you see, John? I don't know. I didn't...

I didn't see anything. I mean, I heard stuff. I felt them pounding against the door, but I saw sod all. Somebody doesn't want us here. A ghost. I didn't say ghost. You said entity. Yeah, exactly. Entity means ghost. Not true, no. What else does it mean, then? I don't know.

ghoul? It wasn't a ghost and it wasn't a ghoul. What was it then? I got chased into a room and they nearly smashed the door in, mate. It was an intruder. You checked every lock, every door. The security system was on. You've checked the front door camera, the back door camera, the rooftop camera. How many times do I have to say it? It wasn't an intruder. A ghost can technically be an intruder. Just saying. Yes, alright, Mariana. I'm being serious. Did you feel it? Like its presence? Um...

Yeah. Actually, come to think of it, when I was spinning pottery, the ghost came up behind me and started singing the Righteous Brothers. Sorry, I don't recall this statement earlier. I'm joking. Okay. Very entertaining, thank you. But that's enough ghost talk for now. Do you reckon it was Percy? No, I don't. Was it Avery? That's the patient, right? Avery Blessington? Yeah, he's...

In recent days, he's become a bit tetchy about who's in his house. I can see why. I was outside his rooms checking a lock on a bathroom sash window.

I would have seen him leave his room. It was pitch black. Then I would have heard him. What if he went on his tippy toes? But he wasn't on his tippy toes, was he? Wait, stop, stop, sorry. I said tippy toes. That's really childish. It makes me sound very lame. It just came out. Let me do that again. Watson. I'll do it again, then just remind myself to edit this out. What if he went on his tiptoes? He wasn't. Why not? You mentioned heavy-footed sprinting on the floorboards. Oh, yeah.

Yeah, I did, yeah. Let me hear it. Hmm? On the mic, let's hear it. I'm guessing he's had no such luck, and I'm guessing he hasn't been allowed into Avery's room, yeah? That, that thud, that's like... That's a door closing, right? I mean, maybe, yeah. None of the doors on the top floor. I was there. The floor below? Well, I mean, if the nurse practitioner slammed the door, maybe. But then they chase you down. Yeah, listen to that. It's proper sprinting.

Could be a patient. There's only three in there. They're all old. That was a proper full-on sprint following me there. Also, they were all asleep. Even Avery, the man that's gone half-mad with delusions of an intruder. Are they delusions, though, Watson? You're beginning to echo his fears, are you not? I mean, yeah. Yeah, I guess I am. Maybe it's like the Shining...

Maybe the house. The clinic torments you into paranoid murderous delusions. Ah, thanks, Mariana. Always appreciate your analysis. Hey, speaking of appreciating me, I'm getting non-stop calls from your journalist friend. What journalist friend? The guy that wants the story on your condom corpse. The roadkill. He wasn't roadkill. Yeah, whatever. Please, call the journalist. I don't want to. Well, then please just tell him to stop calling the office. Right-o.

It's time to meet our benefactor. You want to talk to Avery? Yes. What for? To see what he's hiding. Excuse me. Thank you. Sherlock! No time to waste, I'm afraid. Questions need answering. Just slow down a second, mate. He's a delicate old man, OK? He's got a serious condition that is aggravated by stress. He doesn't need you to... Oh, but he does need me, Watson, before he drives himself further into paranoia over this supposed intruder. Sherlock, please, just...

Wait a second. Mr Blessington? Sherlock. Avery Blessington. If you could please answer the door. I don't wish to intrude. I know how much that thought seems to set you off. Sherlock. Listen. What? Can you hear him in there? Yeah. And? What? What is this? Hmm?

Are you a doctor? Are you? No, but he is. Hello. What are you doing here? Show me your face. Look at me. Look at me. Avery, I'm so sorry. Gents, can we please head downstairs? I'm a detective, Mr. Blessington. I'm here about your intruder. Yes, well...

The crime is bloody rife around here. I just wanted to make sure that my doctor's clinic is safe and sound. Mr. Blessington, we are in Mayfair. Yes, and? The only crime that is rife around here involves tax evaders or high-end sex workers. You don't strike me as either. And who are you, young man? I'm here to advise, if you'd let me. Here to advise? I would welcome it. Avery, we can do this another time. You'd welcome it?

Would you now? I would, yes. I don't sense that I'm all that welcome. Which is rather strange, isn't it? Given your anxiety around these break-ins and intrusions that seem to follow you around. I want your advice, all right? You'll come banging at my door. I'm in recovery, for goodness sake. Then let's kick things off. Who are these people that are out to get you, Mr Blessington? I don't know anything about

I'm probably just seen to them as some vulnerable elderly man that they can steal from. Scumbags. Whoever they bloody are. I cannot possibly advise you if you try to deceive me. Deceive? But I have told you. Thank you for the case, Dr Trevelyan, but we'll pass on this one. So no bloody advice after all, then? My advice to you, sir, is to speak the truth. You're a magnate.

I feel like we should get a Magnum, even if they are eight quid. I mean, look at that one, black cab or a red London bus, maybe. It's not touristy. Well, I mean, it is, but it's not for us, you know? It's sort of like ironic, isn't it? Like it's cool and relevant for us because we're Londoners. Like, mate, I love London t-shirt. I mean, that's bloody lame if I'm living in Wiltshire still or in the US, you know? But as a Londoner, hip stuff, mate, hip stuff. It's trendy postmodern kitsch.

I think. I don't really know what most of those words mean. Idiot. An utterly mindless fool. Hey! Go ahead and die. See if I care. Bloody hell, alright mate. What on earth? Not you. Him. What? Me? No. I was going to say. Are you going to buy those or what, mate? No, we are not going to buy them. Sherlock, wait. Oh God. Alright, short arse. Take the magnet out of your pocket. It's not in my pocket. It's just stuck to this bloody bit of metal, for God's sake. Do I need to call the police? Just... Because I will.

Come on. There. There you go. Right, that'll be £8. No, thanks. You know what? I'm wasting my time giving you a toss-up. Sherlock! Sorry. This thing, metal gubbins from the clinic on bloody Haunted Hill, is sticking to everything. What to do, Watson? What to do? What do you mean? Blessington. Avery, Blessington is lying to us. Concealing the truth.

But why? Let's just slow down. OK, fine. Excuse me! Oh, ow. Yeah, this is a busy street, actually. Maybe we don't slow down physically, but we just spell it out, you know? What exactly is going through your mind? Well, not exactly, actually. The Watson listener-friendly version. He is lying.

His sudden nervousness at a break-in in Cavendish Square. Sherlock, he's old and unwell. He's going to be paranoid. His paranoia was triggered because he knows something more than what he is letting on, Watson. And then we have a moment where, by pure chance, he is out of the building and someone enters his room. He's desperate with rage and fear.

But why? Again, he's not very well. He's pretty bloody old. Our Mr Avery Blessington seems so sure of somebody coming to his rooms. But why? All these locks and alarms and... You heard him when I knocked on that door. Yeah, he was unlocking a few things. But no valuables shifted around. Nothing concealed during our discussion. So it's not like he's fearful of some thief taking an item of great value.

The room, from what I could see, looked reasonable. Not particularly lavish in any sense. No safe. No locked cupboards or drawers. So maybe these, these people, maybe they're not coming for something. They're coming for someone. They're coming for Avery.

But he has chosen to not impart that information to his doctor, to us, nor the police. And the question we must ask ourselves is why? Surely the question we must ask ourselves is who? Who the hell is dashing into that house at night trying to get to Avery Blessington? I think I fancy a sleepover, Watson. Oh, no. Oh, yes. Not in the scary clinic. Sherlock, please. Wait. Sherlock! MUSIC

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Visit BetterHelp.com to learn more. That's BetterHelp.com. Can't help thinking of the Blair Witch Project for this piece of narration, but we're back in the creepy clinic, the haunted Georgian mansion. Yay! I, um... Well, we've got a room on the second floor, two single beds. I'm lying on mine, Sherlock is perched at the window like...

Some owl. What the hell was that? I breathed. That was you? Yes, Watson. I breathed in. Then I decided it was best to breathe out a few seconds later. I don't know. That sounded it. Have we checked what's in the wardrobe? Will you calm down? Is that a yes or a no? No, we have not checked what's in the wardrobe. Well, can we, please? Go on, then. No, you do it. Oh, for goodness sake.

Good God! What is it? This jacket is grotesque! Oh, for God's sake! Who would wear this? Put it down, please. It's not yours. Disgusting. If you don't mind, I'd like to return to my surveillance window. Sure, yeah. Shall I change into my pyjamas? I really don't want to be murdered by a ghost in my pyjamas. If that does happen, will you change me out of them? Would you like to be found naked? Or perhaps in this disgusting jacket? Nope, back into my normal clothes, please. Back to your surveillance, you.

Even though no cameras caught anything last night, but what... fine. Here's a little, um, tidbit that you can put into your tidbit analysis.

Machine. Are you saying you have a thought on the case? I am. And you're couching it in playful language to guard against your own intellectual insecurity. I am, thanks. I'd like to hear it, Watson. You have a sharp mind. You're a brilliant man and your thoughts and opinions are never stupid. Oh, thanks, mate. That's all right. I was thinking, maybe it's Percy Trevelyan.

Maybe he wants to kill Avery Blessington. Well, that's just stupid. Seven seconds that lasted. Seven seconds. Fill a brother in. Show me your workings. Yeah. If you don't convince me, you have to wear the jacket. I'm not wearing the jacket. I just... Look, I'm saying, right? Percy, young go-getter, lands on his feet in this place with that fella. And maybe, you know, maybe he's...

He's got greedy now. Maybe he doesn't want to share the profits of this place. Maybe he wants it all for himself. And hey, look, you know, I'm the first to point it out. Avery's condition, his mental well-being, his manic behavior has completely spiraled out of control. I mean, how do we know that Percy is not managing that decline, right? On purpose.

What? What is it? What are you doing? Jacket of shame. Now. No, no. Tell me why. Why is that bollocks? Because it is bollocks. Why, genius? Why would Dr Percy Trevelyan come to us? Maybe to make it look legit? He thinks we won't crack the case? He said he scrolled for a while on Google to find us. Why wouldn't he pick the biggest agencies? Quite the risk. Why?

Why would he attempt an attack on you when he invited you in the house? In fact, he invited you to stay. Exactly. Got me right where he wanted me. Watson... Just... I want you to consider it. Please. I will consider it. There's a reason we're not seeing anything on the cameras out there. There's a reason we don't have signs of any break-ins. You said it yourself. Every entryway that could have possibly been used not only showed no signs of being used, but most had cobwebs on them.

This is an internal threat, coming from inside the house. Avery didn't say anything to you earlier because Percy was right there. He knows he's under attack. So he fitted external locks to the doors and windows. Yeah, because he knows Percy leaves at night, right? Did I just hear... Shh! Is that outside or inside? I don't know. I wasn't looking. Why weren't you looking out the window? Because you were talking. Footsteps. Shh! Shh!

What are you doing? We need to take a look. No, we don't. Sit down. Yes, I assure you. We... Oh my God, Sherlock, close the door. There is a figure climbing the stairs, almost floating. No, no. They're coming this way. A slender, graceful form. Think I can make out a pale white face. Please close the fucking door. They're coming this...

Watson... Sherlock, what is it? They disappeared. I saw. I could almost make out the ghostly face, but then it... it just... Sherlock! The door. They closed the door. It's locked. They locked us in? Help me, Watson. Help me open it. Oh, shit, that's... Damn it. Listen...

Oh no. No, no, no. What? No, no. Come on. What is it? The footsteps are going upstairs. Avery. Avery, wake up. Oh, come on, stupid door. Mr Blessington. Oh, right. Bollocks to this. What are you doing? I'm smashing this door down, mate. Watson. Out of the way. Oh, that didn't even move.

Oh, bloody hell. Out! To the window. Oh, why? We could climb the drainpipe up to Blessington's window and alert him. Bugger. What? It's locked. Smash it. It has bars on the outside. Just smash it. The alarm will go off. Give me the disgusting jacket. Ah, here it is. Oh, God, it's got sequins on it. What are you doing? To cover my hand from the shards of glass. Ah, good shout.

Call Percy. Call the police. What about Avery? I don't know, Watson. I don't know. I've got another facility to take Mrs Marshall on the third floor. Oh, that's good. Still got one on the ground floor, but he's more difficult. Sorry, mate. This must be tough. Yeah, no, it's just... I can't believe this is all happening. Yeah, I know.

Evening, gents. Hi, officer. What can you tell us? Scotland Yard don't want me to tell you. Listen, officer, we are working this case. They don't want me to tell you. They want me to show you. Okay. This way. You okay? Not really. Okay.

Feeling a great deal of dread. Just, you know, we're going to figure this one out. That may well be too late, I fear. Yeah, well, we don't know until we know, do we? Just up here. And you, um, you didn't see anyone? Sorry? You didn't see an intruder, you know, or an attacker, or any signs of a killer? The killer? Yeah.

Dr Watson is still in the room. We just need to cut him down. What do you mean? Just here. What? Look up. Holy... No. No. No, no. Mr Blessington hanged himself. MUSIC

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