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Oh my god, they're here! They're here! They're bloody here, Mariana! Mariana! What? What is it? Merch! Ah, we have merch! Merch! Oh, look at it!
Sorry this took so long, but the moment is finally here. Head over to sherlockandco.co.uk. Our brand new shop has t-shirts. These are an exclusive initial run, not loads of them available, to be honest. We've got mugs, stickers, pin badges, pop sockets, er... Posters! Posters, and...
Something else. Tote bags! Yes, Sherlock! Tote bags! Right, get over there now. New shop, new website too. You'll find the scripts free of charge for every episode. Enjoy. Hey people, I will make this brief as I know I'm bombarding you with stuff. This is a four-parter. It's a big, big case. If you can't wait, go to Patreon and get stuck into the whole lot.
This episode contains swearing, F word and all. Well, no, not all. No worse than the F word. This episode also contains murder and it refers to animals in distress. So good luck, everybody. See you on the other side. Hello, police. What's your emergency? I found a body on Dartmoor.
Early reports from Dartmoor coming to us now regarding a potential murder inquiry. Some very sad news now regarding the horse trainer, June Straker. This was the home of June Straker. Jan was an exceptional trainer. But the biggest question now is where is Silver Blaze? Where is Silver Blaze?
The empty stable of Silver Blaze. That statement there from Colonel Racing Stables, urging calm, urging respect. But you're saying that the disappearance of Silver Blaze is political? No, no, no, Robert, I'm absolutely not saying that. A little explainer, maybe, but...
for our international listeners. Silver Blaze is a very successful British racehorse. June Straker and Silver Blaze is an example of animal rights activism to the absolute extreme. That is such nonsense, Ian. How is that nonsense? That is nonsense. The horse is missing and a woman is dead. It's gambling money at the art of it and it's the companies that have the blood on their hands. Shame on you! Shame on you! Shame on you! Justice for Silver Blaze!
This is an actual police investigation. Get back. It's a sick, twisted industry. Sick, twisted... We look in a racing yard and see how horses are looked after. Amateur rights activists in England have to stop. No excuse! Animal abuse! Right honourable member for Darwin. Thank you, Mr Speaker.
Our hearts are broken. Straker was found dead on the course. Our community is wounded. Justice for Silver Blaze! But the people of Dartmoor will not give up our search for Silver Blaze. Horse racing stakeholders believe the sport is at a critical juncture. We're going to find first prime minister's backbone, our Silver Blaze. Silver Blaze. Silver Blaze. Silver Blaze. All right, what is it?
What is it, mate? Look, it's taking me all day, but watch. Observe. Wait, let me try again. Wait, I think I've lost it. Ah, there. See? OK, that's what you've been doing with your day, is it? Good, isn't it? Yep. Yeah, it's great, mate. Great. What do you think? Shall I upload it as a two-parter or a three-parter?
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 here in Kingspiland on Dartmoor there are growing concerns that in the lead up to the Grand National other horses and other trainers
Do you know anybody that would like some ants? Sorry, what? Do you happen to know of anybody that would like some ants? I have 327 of them. No, I don't. Would you like to ask the listeners? No, I wouldn't. Why are you trying to flog some ants? I've finished my study. Oh, of course. No discernible levels of empathy for the individuals, but as a hive mind, as a community, they were flocked to a threat and concealed their endangered members, hiding them from harm. Oh, okay.
Great. Good to know. They're still talking about that horse. They are, mate. Yep. Yep, they are. They're also emailing us and calling us. And I get a sizeable number of tweets about it as well, actually. So, yeah, everyone is talking about it, except you. But, you know, hey, ants feel empathy, so I'll be sure to let the Telegraph know. Were you listening? I said they don't, on an individual level... Yes, yes, all right.
Tim Gregory. Know him? I follow his work. Any good? Yes, actually. Well, maybe he will be able to find Silver Blaze, since you can't. Hmm, don't know about can't, but I can tell you I won't. And for the 8,000th time, why not? Noisy. Too noisy. What's too noisy? All this. Shut up.
Both of which are under considerable strain. Thank you. Well, if he doesn't want to do it, John, he doesn't want to do it. You can't force him. I'm not trying to force him. I'm trying to get...
Well, I don't know. It's annoying, you know. There's a murder. There's a missing racehorse. What more does he want? Well, he probably thinks the police have done a good job. They've arrested Fitzroy Simpson, haven't they? Well, they've questioned him a number of times, yes. I thought they'd arrested him. I don't know if that's true. The paper says he's an animal rights fascist. Oh, Jesus Christ, Mum. I'm just telling you what the paper said. Yeah, right, but I don't buy the paper precisely because I don't want to know what the paper said.
Besides, he's a gambler. He's a horse racing enthusiast. But are you sure that's true, John? This is exactly why he doesn't want to do it. Why's that?
Because it's so bloody noisy. Everyone's got an opinion. Everyone does have an opinion. Yeah, just everyone's trying to squeeze their politics and entire bloody belief system into a murder and a runaway horse. Oh, oh, she was murdered by rich overlords. Oh, oh, she was murdered by Greenpeace. Oh, she was murdered by the right, by the left. The horse has been stolen by Saudi Arabia. The horse has been poisoned by the Russians. The horse has been kidnapped by Greta Thunberg. The horse is the fucking masked singer.
Oh, we swear to our mother now, do we? No, no, we don't. Sorry. Didn't teach you that in the army, did they? Well, they taught me a lot worse than that, actually. John, you can't force him to do something he doesn't want to do. Yeah, I know. He's a very sensitive boy and you need to respect that. I do respect that. He's not a boy, he's a man who plays with ants. Anyway, I've got to go. Mariana's here. Oh, yes, I'll let you go. Hi. Hi, Carol. Hello, lovely. Bye, John. Love you. Love you. Bye.
Right. What's the verdict? OK. Devon and Cornwall Police said that if Sherlock were to consider it, they would facilitate a visit. Right. Great. Great. And June's body? That would be allowed. Full viewing? Full viewing. OK. So we're getting there. Your problem is, well, the King's Pylons community. They've had enough. They've totally had enough.
Reporters, media, visitors... Yeah, but... What, we're just going to pin it on this Fitzroy Simpson guy because the neighbourhood don't want any more visitors? It's distressing the horses. Why, it's distressing everybody. In the run-up to the Grand National. Colonel Racing Stables. That's the owners of Silver Blaze. Yep. They just can't have any more disruption, Mr Straker insists. And, you know, he is a widower. So, yeah. I don't know how this will look if we go down there. So...
What, we're just going to accept that a multi-million pound racehorse vanished on Dartmouth? I think you're getting caught up in the media frenzy. This is about a woman who was murdered, not a racehorse. Well, yeah, no, okay, I know that, obviously, but... I mean, what are they going to do? Just sit back and see what happens, crossing their fingers that he's going to turn up for the Grand National? Well, they have another horse in it anyway. Of course, yeah. Bayard. Bayard, right. Um, great. Well, I...
You know, I mean, could we promise them that we're not going to bother the horses? Yeah, maybe we could visit when they're out for exercise or something. I can approach them with that, yes. And what are you going to approach Sherlock with? I have no idea. No idea at all. I kind of don't blame him. I mean, the coverage is so... Yeah, it's crap, I agree. I mean, welcome to the 21st century. The coverage of everything is crap. There might be something about the case...
Just isn't pulling him in. Hmm. What? Well, he's not going to be pulled into the case, that's right, because he would have by now, but what if we could push him towards it? How so? Well, we could start by making the alternative so unappealing that he wants to leave the flat and go to Dartmoor for a few days. Okay. What are you thinking?
A party. We're hosting a party. Yeah mate, big old shindig. But why? Why would we do that? For previous clients and possible new clients. So people are aware of...
Our services, who we are, you know. Give people some FaceTime. FaceTime. Yep. FaceTime. FaceTime. But I don't want to do that. This is what businesses do. It is important outreach. Oh, yeah. That reminds me. Did you say that the journalists could make it?
Er, yeah. They can. Great. Oh, that's great. Journalists. Yeah, yeah. PR, mate. Yeah, I want to get some good articles out there. Elevate our standing a little bit. Right, so if we move these desks, I'm pretty sure we could create a dance floor.
I am afraid, Watson, that I shall have to go. Yeah, all right, hold on, I'm nearly done. To Dartmoor, to King's Pylent. Oh, ah, right, why is that, mate? Should probably investigate this silver blaze thing. Sure, yeah. Get in, yes! So I'll miss the party, I think. Oh, no, oh, bugger, that is a shame. You beauty.
I could come with you if you want, mate. If it's not too much trouble. Uh, yeah. Yeah, no, I think it'll be fine. Travel is all about choosing your own adventure. With your Chase Sapphire Reserve card, sometimes that means a ski trip at a luxury lodge in the Swiss Alps.
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In the distance, King's Pyland, a Dartmoor village in the south of England with an esteemed horse racing history. Over my right shoulder, Colonel Racing Stables, the home of Silver Blaze. And over my left shoulder, Mapleton Stables, their longtime rival. It's like something out of a soap opera as Mapleton Stables have refused to comment on the missing horse and have even resisted cooperation with the investigation.
Here we are, back at Paddington once again. Podcasting at Paddington once more. Poddington. Cos, er, cos podca... podcast and pa... whatever. Yeah, we are currently sniffing out the train to Exeter. Which Exeter station? I hear the train geeks shouting from the back. Exeter St David's, not Exeter Central. Although I believe...
We do pass it. From there, we're going to grab a hire car, because apparently we're loaded, head down the A30, and then on to the Moors we go, and to Kingspiland. Platform 3. Platform 3, roger that. Do you want a coffee or anything? No, thank you, Watson. Snacks? Quite all right, Watson, thank you. Bottle of water, juice, chocolate? That's quite enough. All right, just checking. It's a long journey.
Yeah, for those that don't know, Dartmoor sits in the south-west of the UK. The UK on a map sort of looks like a person, sort of like a scraggy old woman sat down with her legs out. She's got a pointy nose from the various islands and peninsulas of Scotland, then a big belly, that's Wales. London is sort of near the arse, East Anglia and Kent being the bum cheeks.
If I'm being anatomically accurate, then Gravesend, Dartford kind of area would technically be the arsehole. But, you know, no offence to them. Then as you move west, down the legs, Bristol is at the knees, then you come to Devon and Cornwall, right at the south-west tip. Why are you looking at me like that? Just trying to understand how your brain works. Yeah, you and me both, mate. What seat number are we? 60 and 61, just down that way. I'll just put the suitcase here.
I'll carry on with the geographic lowdown, as it were. So Dartmoor sits in the middle of Devon. It is a vast moorland. It's very, very sparsely populated by UK standards. Ah, there we go. It's quite a dramatic landscape. Dense forests, thick, churning rivers. These sharp, piercing rock formations they call tors. T-O-R-S.
They're like these little rock cliffs and hills. The whole area is sat upon bedrock of granite and tin. Caves and abandoned mines and forgotten quarries burrow down through it as often as the tors poke up out of it. Anyway, you can look all this up, but Dartmoor has a certain eeriness to it. It's an upland, catches a lot of moisture, damp.
as thick fogs. Lots of myths and legends. Fairies and pixies and headless horsemen and ghosts and, well, Dartmoor Prison. Used during the Napoleonic Wars. It's got ancient Neolithic carvings, Bronze Age tombs and settlements thousands of years old. Very good scene setting, Watson. Ah, thank you. I mean, not great for the Dartmoor tourist board. Or maybe it is. I don't know. People like creepy stuff, don't they?
Yeah, so, erm, the idea that June was murdered with blunt force to the head would be chilling in any setting. You know, in the home, down a dark inner-city street, but in the middle of the night, out on the moors, by herself. Eerie doesn't even scratch the surface. You researching? Researching. You've sent me a picture of a train. Yes.
Any reason? Just note-taking. Sorry, you're using the WhatsApp chat with me as a note-taking app? Yes. What, so I'm your notepad? Yes. Right, yeah, fair enough. What train is this? Just one that interests me. Oh, yeah? The 1037 to Rice Slip. Oh, wowee, yeah. Of course, that is a good'un. Mm-hm.
Sorry, why do we care about the 1037 to Ryslip? It's a ghost train. Nobody uses it. Nearly always empty. It runs twice a day at Parliament's insistence. Why? Because if the coitre isn't filled, the line is shut down. And that is expensive. Thus, ghost train.
OK, yeah, I will give you that. That's mildly compelling. Trains thronging with passengers for lengthy winding routes through counties and towns are always interesting. Yes, very much like this one. But it's opposite. One with the absence of activity. One that is conspicuous by its inertia. Fascinating. You like trains, don't you? I do indeed. Why do you keep looking at your watch? Checking the speed. How? 87 miles per hour.
How? The telegraph poles are 60 yards apart. It's a fairly straightforward calculation. Course. Yep. You'll need to book us a house on Airbnb. I don't have Airbnb. Yes, you do. What? The app? No, I don't. Oh. Oh, yeah, I do. As close to King's Pylons and Colonel Racing Stables as you can get us. On it. Do you want cute little cottage kind of vibe or more of a practical new build? I really don't care. Yep.
Well, look, the cottage is closest to King's Pylons. Two bedrooms, little garden. Driveway for the car? Yep. Then book it. Will do. Um, card details. Okay, I think we're looking good. Excellent. Right, well, just need to make sure nothing goes down in the meantime. Got my dodgy SD card in the mic. All the others are in the big suitcase. Dodgy SD card?
What's wrong with it? Oh, it just does this thing. Skips ahead, cuts out large chunks of record. Welcome to Exeter, everybody. An ancient Roman city. The Romans have since left. I believe they buggered off around 345. So we just missed them. That's a joke. 345 AD. Not...
Yeah, OK, we're about to go grab a hire car and... Oh, somebody has emerged from their phone. Thoughts? On Exeter or the case? Well, I hope the case. Otherwise the listeners are going to have to put up with my facts about Exeter. It is one of those cases where the art of the reasoner should be used rather for the sifting of details than for the acquiring of fresh evidence.
The tragedy has been so uncommon, so complete, and of such personal importance to so many people that we are suffering from a plethora of surmised conjecture and hypothesis. The difficulty is to detach the framework of facts, of absolute undeniable facts, from the embellishments of theorists and reporters.
Then, having established ourselves upon this sound basis, it is our duty to see what inferences may be drawn and what are the special points upon which the whole mystery turns. Yeah, I mean, I agree. 100%. Everybody is so immersed, you just need to kind of like... What was that? That was like a little zoom out sort of thing, sort of like a...
Get a bird's eye view of the situation. Yes, quite. Here's what we know, Watson. June Straker, notable horse trainer, is found dead in the middle of the moors. A blunt force trauma to the head. And Silver Blaze, a former Grand National winner and expected to be two-time Grand National winner, is missing. Check and check.
The police arrest a man. Fitzroy Simpson. Fitzroy Simpson. A sophisticated gambler and a meticulous bookmaker. Not an animal rights activist. Correct. Ah, did you hear that, Carol?
Why was he arrested? Well, two reasons. One, he called upon Colonel Racing Stables that night and was asking questions of the horses' conditions. The horses being Silver Blaze and Bayer. Indeed. The staff sent him away and threatened to call the police. So, snooping about on the night it all happens, what's the second reason he was arrested? The staff say he was carrying a stick. A stick?
Was he a cocker spaniel? Probably a walking stick or cane. Blunt object? Blunt object indeed. And they don't have anything else on him? Nothing. But character references don't bode well.
Apparently he can be a bit of an... Arsehole! Complete arsehole! Move! I'm merging! I'm-I'm merging! June Straker has been employed by Colonel Racing Stables for nearly 15 years. She's brought them many victories and plenty of prize money. She and her husband even live just under half a mile away from the stables on their farm in Kings Pylund. And, uh, Colonel Racing Stables, what about them? Who's the owner?
Last year they were purchased by an international horse racing conglomerate. Oh, they sound lovely.
Sports Capital Trading, California-based. After their purchase of the stables, staff turnover increased as the new parent company began to cut costs and attempt to streamline the whole endeavour and maximise profits. Yeah, it's called prioritising your shareholders. Or, as I like to call it, being... Big city wankers! Oh, should I have gone left? Yeah, yeah, you should have gone left on Bishop's Way. Then you'd go right on the farm track.
Thank you sir. Thank you very much. Cheers then. For God's sake, Google said right didn't it? It said right. Okay, so back up this road. Glen Farm. No. Baskerville Hall. No. Oh, Bishop's Way. That's the one. That's the one. Ah, look. Sheep being herded. God, they're taking their time though, aren't they? Can't beep though, that'd be rude.
Oh, look at those three limping at the back. Poor sods. Still, you know, better than being in a curry. Or, er, what else do you have with mutton? Mr Straker. Hmm? Widower of June Straker. There, in the field. Owns these farms. And those sheep. As I mentioned, the Strakers live near the stables. But it's not just Colonel Racing Stables in the King's Pylons region.
As seemingly empty as Dartmoor can be, two rival stables are situated mere moments from one another. Mapleton Stables, not even a mile away, operated by Silas Brown, a long-time rival of Colonel Racing Stables and still independently operated. So we've got a corporation with shady self-interests.
A dodgy professional gambler armed with a cane and a rival stable just up the road. Yes. Doesn't quite piece together. It's murky, mate, that's for sure. As murky as... Goblin's piss. Local ale, mate. Cheers. Which one do you have? The low-alcohol one. Pixie juice.
It's not bad actually, very light. What troubles me most, Watson? It's not really piss, obviously. Not this, the case. Ah, go on. The peaty, boggy land on the moors. Perfect for forming footprints. The ground coils and imprints under the faintest pressure. We have June's footprints. We don't have the killer's. No way. Way. Has the Airbnb owner messaged yet? Er, not yet, no.
But it's nice to check out the area. Sit in the local boozer. Hey mate. These are West Country folk. A proud, sturdy people. Toiling the fields. Shaping the forests. Smell that atmosphere. Take a whiff.
Smells like... Shit! What seems to be the problem, Watson? The code. The owner has sent me the code, but it's not bloody working. 2304. What? The code is 2304. Why is the code 2304? That's the owner's birthday.
Why are you smiling? I'm smiling because you're ridiculous. Why am I ridiculous? That's the owner's birthday. It is. How? Taurus symbol on the zodiac wind chimes there. So birthday is between 20th of April and 20th of May. It's not May because the five on this lock has almost never been touched. No wear or erosion. The two and three under very close inspection have brittle fractures on the moulding of the numbers.
deformations of contraction on the side and we know it's 2-3 and not 3-2. Because there's no 32nd of April. Exactly. Right-o, here we are. Lovely little holiday cottage. We're working. Yeah, it's a working holiday. Very nice. Ah, okay. You know, it's a bit live, laugh, love but otherwise, yeah.
Horseshoe ornaments pinned on the walls. Little snug lounge type thing. Not too shabby. I mean, it is shabby, but, you know, shabby chic. Right, come along. It's nine o'clock at night. And already dark. Change into your walking boots. For what? A walk on the moors. We've got a horse to find. Giddy up. Giddy up.
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Hello everybody, Tom Holland here, the co-host of The Rest is History with some very, very exciting news. Now to celebrate this year's Olympic Games, which of course are being held in Paris, we thought that we would dive into the story of another period when incredible spectacles were being staged in the French capital to much bloodier effect than anything we will see in the Olympics. And this is the story of the French Revolution.
Over the span of eight episodes running throughout the duration of the Olympics, we'll be looking at the incredible life of Marie Antoinette, the storming of the Bastille, King Louis XVI's attempted escape from Paris with the rest of the royal family, and many more seismic events. So to hear our series on the French Revolution, simply search for The Rest Is History wherever you get your podcasts.