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Previously on Sherlock and Co. They're still talking about that horse. Yeah, everyone is talking about it, except you. Well, if he doesn't want to do it, John, he doesn't want to do it. You can't force him. 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? I am afraid, Watson, that I shall have to go. Should probably investigate this Silver Blaze thing. So Dartmoor sits in the middle of Devon.
It is a vast moorland. It's very, very sparsely populated by UK standards. It has thick fogs, lots of myths and legends, fairies and pixies and headless horsemen and ghosts and, well... The idea that June was murdered with blunt force to the head would be chilling in any setting. But in the middle of the night, out on the moors, by herself,
Erie doesn't even scratch the surface. 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. Right, come along. It's nine o'clock at night. And already dark. Change into your walking boots. Ah.
A what? A walk on the moors. We've got a horse to find. Giddy up. Yee-haw! Et cetera. Welcome back to The Adventure of Silverblaze. Part two, in particular, contains fairly comprehensive discussions on human remains and gory bits. From the off, actually. There's also swearing.
If you want to read this episode, complete with sweary bits, head over to sherlockandco.co.uk and get a transcript. Hope it helps. Bye now. God, these bloody walking boots. The bit at the back's all folded over and I can't get it to... Ow, ow, ow! I can't get it to go back. This is why they were on sale. I knew it. Ah! Oh! Oh, finally! Okay.
Ah, okay, that's better. It fits. It fits. Cinderella will go to the ball. Who will what? Cinderella. Prince with the foot fetish. Getting local women's feet out, popping shoes on them. No? No idea. Old fairy tale, or folk tale, as it would be known in these parts. She loses a shoe, Prince finds it, and he tries to put it on all these women to see if it fits, because if it fits, then it'll be Cinderella. Because, you know, she was all... Well, I don't know, the magic spell made her look glamorous. I see.
You weren't listening, were you? Unfortunately I was. Not many other senses to work with. True. It's very, very dark out here. Thick, unbroken darkness. As far as the eye can see. Or not see, in this instance. Those lights in the distance, Watson. That's Colonel Racing Stables. And there... Mapleton. Indeed. Mapleton Stables.
Triangulate the positions and you'll roughly, give or take a few yards, get the position of June Straker's body. Or where it was found, at least. But why did she leave her house in the middle of the night? This is... this is Dartmoor. It's not a pleasant evening stroll. Did she have reason to suspect Silver Blaze had been stolen? Did she follow the thief into the night? Well, were there horse footprints? Hoofprints? Many.
It's a common route for riders to exercise the horses. Their prints are not uncommon. Dune's were. Right, right. Ah, Jesus Christ! Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock, it's Inspector Gregory. I'm sorry it's late. Inspector, good to finally speak to you. I've cleared it with the family. We can assist in a viewing tomorrow morning. First thing. Thank you, Inspector. See you then. See ya. A viewing?
What are we viewing? The corpse of June Straker. The latest search on Dartmoor for the missing racehorse Silver Blaze has been unsuccessful. The search covered over 25 square miles of the Devonshire moorland. Fitzroy Simpson remains in custody for questioning regarding the death of June Straker. Sophie Burnett has more.
Inspector Gregory will be along soon. He's running a little late. Thank you. Thank you. Cheers. Cheers. Well, there's June Straker. I mean, in that bag is June Straker. Sorry, what are you doing? Opening the body bag. No, you're not. I think you'll find I am. Sherlock, wait for Inspector Gregory. Why? Because I don't know. It's the polite thing to do, all right? It's not a dinner, Watson. It's the examination of a corpse. Stop it. Sherlock...
You're doing this on purpose... Can you grow up, please? Can you actually grow up? Sake, you are a child. A giant crime-solving child.
Holmes? Hello, Inspector Gregory. This is my companion. Ah, podcast extraordinaire. Hey, stop it. The rest is solving crimes, eh? Yeah, yeah. So, Sherlock thought he'd unzip the bag. I told him not to unzip the bag, but, you know, he unzipped the bag. Oh, no, no, no, go for it. Let me give you a hand with it. So... So? So...
Yeah, this is June Straker, 57 years old, 5 foot 5, 53 kilos, very well-known horse trainer, obviously. Important member of the community down here. Trains Silver Blaze are missing Silver Blaze, of course. Trains Bayard, both exceptional horses, Blaze obviously being the faster of the two.
June is married to Philip Straker. They lived in Moorland Farmhouse, which is very near to the stables. Colonel Racing Stables. Now, we believe that June was alerted to the behaviour of Fitzroy Simpson by her staff. Well, was she alerted or not? They can't recall. Why can't they recall?
They had rather a lot to drink. Not helpful. So June may have slipped out in the night to go and check on the horses. Her husband Philip says he spoke to her at 1am. She was up and getting dressed, anxious about the horses after Fitzroy's unwanted visit. So she heads out.
He's in his 70s, so he wasn't exactly jumping out of bed after her. Next thing he knows, he's up at 7am. She's not there. He heads to the stables and Silverblazer's door is open. Horse is gone. And the body? Found by young stable staff while horses were on exercise. She was discovered at the bottom of a bowl formation in the hills along a trail they use daily to exercise the horses. Some blood...
Not tons and no signs of struggle. The iron filings in the report? Don't know. A hacksaw was found in some hay at the stables. She probably got it off Fitzroy Simpson, who looks like he sawed off the stable door bolt. Was her phone light on? Her... The torch on her phone. Was it on when you found her? Oh, it was, yeah.
Right. Why do you ask that? Helps decipher a few things. I'm all ears. Well, that she was most likely murdered there and not taken out onto the moors, either against her will or unknowingly. She ventured out and wanted to see where she was going. Right, yeah. We also knew that the light on her phone would present her whereabouts to Fitzroy Simpson to make the attack. And your sights are still set on him just because of that visit? For a couple of reasons. One...
Jesus. Right. I see the S. What do you mean? Where the instrument struck her. It's left an indentation. S. Oh, God, yeah.
How much blood at the scene? Not a great deal. Did she have any nasal bleeding? Some. Osteoporosis at all? No. Brittle bones in the family? She died from a TBI, Doctor. It's a cranioscerebral trauma. Non-penetrating. The force of the cane onto her skull physically shifts the brain. Yeah, I know that. What are you thinking? Can we see this cane? The weapon, the...
Fitzroy Simpson's walking stick, please. Yeah. Two secs. Talk to me, John. Her skull is in six pieces, from what I can feel. Six pieces, Sherlock. I mean, never mind non-penetrative. Her eye sockets have caved in. Half her teeth are smashed out of her mouth. Her jawbone is broken in a number of places and hanging on by a thread. You don't believe a walking stick did this? I thought Hammer would have struggled to do this. I don't know what that means. I think her neck is broken, too.
How big is Fitzroy Simpson? Medium build. Yeah, this is bullshit. Absolute bullshit. I think so too. One strike to the head, is that what they're saying? Correct. Yeah, no way. No, no way. I've seen .50 caliber bullets do less damage. Her skull is completely shattered. This doesn't make any sense. But how? In the middle of Dartmoor, nothing around. How does this assault take place?
What's the deal with the husband? You think a man in his 70s did this? Ah, yeah, good point. Knobstick? What do you call me? Yeah, yeah, this is it here. Coppice Knobstick. You can see that he has had an embossed iron emblem here at the tip. And there you'll see F.S. Fitzroy Simpson. You align the S there with what we see on June Straker and you have a match.
Rather hard to tell with the damage inflicted. The strike comes from the right-hand side, hitting her right temple. To get that imprint, Fitzroy Simpson was most likely behind her. He swings around full force and the weighty iron point lands squarely. Bam. Right there. June falls to the ground and he heads off with Silver Blaze. To where? Hmm. That's the question.
Yes, and it's the question he'd be asking himself as a man with no knowledge of the area, no experience with horses, no local acquaintances. All the while, wandering around in the dark in one of the most secluded areas of the country at 1.30 in the morning, escorting the most famous horse in the world, identifiable by an unmistakable white head and black body. Sherlock, look.
People are looking for answers. And we've got one right here. You've got more questions than answers. That's not true. I've got one right now. That soil is peat. In the report, it says her footprints were visible the next day, along with the horses. Where are his, Fitzroy's? The most effective killers can cover their tracks, Dr Watson. And besides, even she knew she was being followed because she was armed. She was? She was. With this.
What sort of damage did she expect to inflict with that? That's a cataract knife used for corneal incisions. It's easy to conceal. It's very sharp and plenty of women take measures like this. It's not unusual. Well, what is it then?
Was she armed because she knew she was being followed, or was this just her standard precautionary measure? What are you getting at? He's asking, is this tiny cataract knife a means of self-defence that she always carries, or was it taken for this specific occasion? Well, the husband mentioned that she'd armed herself with it because she was apprehensive about what was going on with Fitzroy Simpson at the stables. So, yeah...
It doesn't make sense, does it? No, it does not. Do you think the police are in on it? No. Why not? They just have a potential easy answer in their grasp and the pressure on them is overwhelming.
What's he even talking about? Are we saying that June Straker's husband just sat in bed, watched his wife arm herself with a tiny little knife to go and confront someone that she was scared of at 1am on the moors and he went, yeah, alright love, good luck, night night. Why not get a kitchen knife? Why get that cataract knife? I've seen toothpicks more lethal than that thing. And if your husband is a little on the elderly side, then contact the stable staff. What is going on? I don't...
you
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What are you doing? Hmm? You've moved the chair. Yes, I didn't like where it was situated. Rule number 17, mate. On the fridge. Sorry, rules? Yeah, there's rules from the Airbnb host. There's 17 rules to stay in a house. It's 29, actually. Good lord. Rule number 17, can't move the furniture. Why not? Because they're the stupid rules she gave us when she let out the stupid house. Oh.
If you think they're stupid, then why do you abide by them? Because otherwise I get a bad review. I want to get five stars. Is stealing on there? On the list of rules? Yes. Oh. What do you mean, oh? Why do you care about a review if you never use Airbnb? I don't know. You just want people to like you. No. Then what's the reason? You know... Alright, fine. Yeah, I want people to like me. Is that a crime? It's handy that I'm the way that I am because some people in this company put very little effort into their likability traits.
Is this because I don't put exclamation marks in my emails? Well, it's a number of things. I just don't understand why you need to put, hello, hope all is well, then three exclamation marks. Well, I don't do three. You do. Yeah, all right. Look, I deal with the clients, mate. Imagine if I was out of the picture. You'd be the guy. I mean, you definitely don't want that. Anyway, bedtime, right? I've done the washing up.
He says, pausing for a thank you. Thank you. Yep. Right, I'm now going to go to bed, which will involve me scrolling on my phone to the point of existential crisis and then passing out. OK? Okie dokie. Don't go catching waterfalls. Just get to the rivers and the lakes... Yeah, I'm nearly done, mate. If you were out of the picture... If...
If you were out of the picture, it would fall to me. What are you talking about? No, what are you talking about? I was saying that with me gone, because you were complaining about my niceties... No, I know that. You'd be the guy. It would fall to you, wouldn't it? Yes, it would. If you were out of the picture. Yeah. Like if you were mortally wounded. Well, I don't know about mortally. Yes, neither do I.
You're being weird, mate. Actually, for the first time, things are feeling very un-weird, Watson. I mean, you are glaring at me in the bathroom, fantasising over me being mortally wounded. It's still a bit weird. Yes.
Yes. Rule number eight, by the way, no illegal substances. I don't have any. It feels a little like you do. I assure you, I don't. Great. Well, I'm going to go and have a drug-free sleep. Yes, you must. You shall. Okey-dokey. Night-night. Don't let the bedbugs bite. And if they do, they're breaking rule number 22, no violent or destructive behaviour. Morning all. Very, very early morning.
Currently trudging, I'd say, through the vast moorland of the ethereally beautiful Dartmoor. No sign of any pixies, headless horsemen. Or indeed horses, for that matter. Listen to that. Yeah, well, don't get your hopes up. It's not him. We are about equidistant between the two rival stables, Colonel Racing Stables and Mapleton Stables. So, you know, that's why you can hear the whinny, the distant whinny of horses on Dartmoor.
We've seen the body of June, of course, it didn't add up. So now we're, just this moment actually, cautiously making our way into a sort of bowl in the landscape where June was found. Everything indicates the body wasn't moved. So not only where she was found, but also in fact where she was killed. Yeah, right, well, and now here we stand amidst
the rolling lush green hills that you'd half expect Tinky Winky or La La to emerge from God that would be terrifying actually, forget I said that here OK mate, we are enveloped in the early morning mist so I don't think we're going to arouse too much suspicion from the police who are stationed up on the B road that runs by Colonel Racing Stables so yeah, some little flags where footprints were
A marking where the body was, covered by a very small piece of tarp suspended above the ground. Come this way, Watson. Er, where's that, mate? Hello, Master Detective. We're leaving the crime scene. Why are we doing that? This is a trail for the horses. Yeah, I can see. It's all worn down. Yes. Comes from the Colonel Racing Stables down onto the moor itself. June followed it into the bowl. Then she was killed.
So why are we walking along the horse trail? Because you see all these horse hoof prints here. Yeah? One of them could be silver blazes. But there's loads of them. That's because they walk all the horses every day. They stopped with this trail when June was murdered, of course. Yeah, but the trail will just go around and back to the stables. The trail will, yes. But will every single horse follow it? Especially one that's gone missing. Yeah, good point.
Well, we're still trudging, folks. Traipsing. Ambling. Oh, you don't hear that one very often, do you? Anyway, let's pass the time with some shout-outs, shall we? Let's hear it for Ramt. And let's hear it for Castile. I also want to chuck some shout-outs at my Jehovah's Witness friends. To Savannah from Kansas in particular. Thank you for your email.
Happy 60th to Welsh Paul in New Zealand. Have a good knees up, my friend. To Josra. Lisa from Italy would like some London recommendations. Oh, I'd say this new thing called Frameless at Marble Arch. It's like a... Well, look it up, because it's funky stuff. It's like this big sort of digital art thing. So, yeah. Yeah.
Thanks for being a huge fan.
Hi to Patricia in Sao Paulo, Brazil. Big hello. And how's it going to Barrington Powell in Devon? And an enormous g'day to Simon and Leonardo Shaw in Sydney, Australia. And yeah, I think that's all of them. We are still walking. Don't know what we're going to find. Maybe signs of the culprit.
Or culprits. Of course, yeah. Will it be animal rights activists? Who knows? Maybe we'll find one of their little high-vis jackets they used to sit on the A34 at Russia. I'm just stereotyping Just Stop Oil. They may not be animal rights activists, they might just not like oil. And that's the entirety of their political position. You've left the trail. Yes, I have. And I need to confess something. What? I broke one of the Airbnb rules.
Did you steal a horseshoe off the wall? Silver Blaze is a size five. This close to the Grand National he was wearing one of these. Size five, race plate horseshoe. His exact measurements. Fortunately our deranged Airbnb host collects so many I was able to find his measurements. See the hoof width to the buttress of heel. That is a pad size. Point A to point B. Point C is this thickness here, measurable for comfort.
Race plate shoes will be narrow like this. Now you see, Watson, if I place the shoe onto the hoof print... Oh my god. Cinderella will go to the ball. Ah, very good. Smooth. Thanks. I've been holding onto it for some time. The prints lead away from the trail, but they're very faint. Ah, yeah, but at least that's them. You know, that's his hoofs. Hoof. Hooves. Too faint, in fact.
And they cross a river. Ah, bollocks. But we know what direction he went in, right? Follow me. What are you doing? Here we go. Ah, very nimble. Thank you. Your turn. Yeah, you're only good at catching. Why is that? Because I'm going to chuck the mic over. Fire away. Good luck, listeners. You're going over a river. Ta-ra. Got it. Hello there. Hello there.
Did it. With fewer steps than you, I might add. No, you didn't. Yes, I did. You went that one, that one, that one, that one. I just went boink, boink, boink and over. Did gymnastics until I was 12, mate. Efficient. Parkour, baby. Mike, please. There you go. Thanking you. Cinderella will go to the ball.
God, that's brilliant, mate. Absolutely brilliant. Thank you. Really, really good stuff from you. Stop it now. Well, you stop being so bloody clever and I will stop with the compliments. Look, Watson. We've determined that Silver Blaze was heading this way across the moors. Uh-huh. Look there. Mapleton Stables.
Oh dear. Oh dear indeed. Cattle grid here and half a mile that way means Silver Blaze would have been held to this area if indeed he continued heading north-west, most likely guided into Mapleton Stables. They kidnapped him. Let's not jump to conclusions. His prints head across the river through the shallows where somebody would have guided him, up here and into Mapleton Stables. Come this way. I mean, think about it. Why else would June be all the way out here in the middle of nowhere? But
But it's not the middle of nowhere, is it? Is it? It's much, much closer to Mapleton Stables. Where it just so happens the horse's tracks lead to. I mean, Jesus. On your knees. Am I swearing an oath or something? I want to go on your shoulders. Ah, right. OK. Well, you know, let's change your nappy first and get you a little snack. Oh, no, wait. You're not a toddler and I'm not your dad. Watson, I need to peer over this wall. I cannot do it without your assistance. Peering?
Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes. Why are we peering? We're looking for a famous racehorse called Silver Blaze. He has a white head and black body. Yes, yes. Thank you. This... I'm not comfortable with this. I'm not asking you to be comfortable. I'm asking you to help me solve the case. Then we will go to the front door and speak to them. And why would they let us in if they've kidnapped Silver Blaze? Fine on the shoulders.
Ah, bloody... Jesus. Stay still. I am being still. You're swaying back and forth. I'm... counteracting your swaying. Dad, did you just kick me? No. You did. You kicked me like I'm a horse. I did not. Settle down. Easy now. Don't. Don't rub my hair. There, there. Piss off. Do your peering and then you can get down. Okay, right.
I can see the horses. Any sign of Silver Blaze? Not that I can quite make out. There are lots of them. I'd say a dozen, with a stable each. All doors are closed, so we're earlier than the morning exercise. Lovely. What are you doing? Two seconds. Sherlock! I won't be long. Get back! Shit! Oh, he's gone over the wall. He's gone over the... Shit! Right, I'm... I'm going over the wall. Here we go.
And then a little shimmy down the other side. Ah, Jesus Christ. Just currently sprinting across the stable yard to Sherlock who is by the stables. Oh, here we go. Christ, where's he gone? For God's sake. Sherlock! Oh, hello there. What's your name? Golden Goose. Well, hello, Golden Goose. I'm just going to close your stable door. There's lots of horse thieving going on around these here.
There we go. Right, so each horse has a little individual, like, stable house thing. But there's an opening between them, I guess, so they can see each other. I don't know. So I'm just going to climb to the next one with September Moon. Hello, September Moon. Trying everything in my power not to stand behind them. You get kicked by a horse and you know about it, believe me.
Could get you right in the ribs, or worse, right in the... What? Spollocks. Come in here. What are you doing? Climb over. Come see. Why is it? It's not Silver Blaze, mate. No. Similar though, aren't you, big fella? Can I borrow your phone? I'd like to take a closer look. It's rather dark. Sure. There. Thank you. It's a good name. What is? Big fella. Is that his name? I'd bet on that. Well, this fella doesn't seem to have one.
No name on the stall. Oh, fair enough. Can we go? Very curious creature. So similar to our missing friend, but wrong colouring. No white head. All black. OK. Easy, boy. Easy. Hey, Robert Redford, it's time to go. Don't you worry now. Don't you worry. Sorry, do you know this horse? Oh, shit. OK, go. Now, back to the game. Come on, Sherlock. Stay to your left.
The wall is shorter there. Jesus. Oh, fuck. Careful, mate. The wall's crumbling a little bit. Right behind you. Go. Go, go. Give me your hand. I can't see them anywhere. Just give me your...
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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.