The Reigate Squire - Part One
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Four years. That's how long it took Democrats to ruin our economy and plunge our southern border into anarchy. Who helped them hurt us? Ruben Gallego. Washington could have cut taxes for Arizona families, but Ruben blocked the bill. And his fellow Democrats gave a bigger break to the millionaire class in California and New York. They played favorites and cost us billions. And Ruben wasn't done yet.

We'll be right back.

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Right, my bad. Mariana said to get more and I didn't. And the shop sold out of basically everything. So, you know, thank you for your orders. And guess what? We just restocked. We now have freshly socked... Socks?

We don't sell fresh socks. We now have freshly stocked stickers, badges, mugs and T-shirts in all sizes from small through to 3XL. There's no fresh socks. No socks. Go to sherlockandco.co.uk.

If English is not your first language and you struggle with my deranged waffle, or if you have auditory processing difficulties or hearing difficulties, go and read this episode as you listen by grabbing a transcript of it at sherlockandco.co.uk. Oh, and remember, the Patreon is only £6 a month and it's bloody great. I mean, that's not even a hard sell. That's just me being very, very, very pleased with myself personally.

Ah, look at us, eh? Off on another adventure. Hope you're all set. Got your things? Wallet? Keys? Phone? OK, great. This is the Reigate Squire. It contains a bloke that swears basically all the time. So I just decided to bleep him because it was ridiculous, really. Aside from that, we should be OK. OK, enjoy.

Ooy! Archie! Archie! Here! Here! Beautiful boy! Who's a beautiful boy? Who is a beautiful, weird, smelly boy? That's right, that's you! Ooy! What's that? Oh, this? Yes. Oh, this old thing?

Yes, John, what is it? This, my friend, is some fan mail. Ooh, handwritten. Handwritten. Written with hands. Oh, from who? From Pepper in Canada. Oh, that's amazing.

Huh? Wow, better handwriting than you. Oh, sorry, I didn't actually go to the prestigious school of handwriting in Madrid like you seem to have done. Show me. Show you what? Your handwriting. I want to see. Right, look. Sorry, Pepper in Canada. I'm just going to write on the other side of your lovely letter. Okay, all right, you ready? Mariana is a handwriting...

Nerd. Oh, wow. Yeah, no, that's absolutely terrible. We all know what you want to do here. Oh, yeah? And what's that? Show off your handwriting. On a podcast. Oh, fine. Yeah, don't do it then. No, I want to do it. Great. John is jealous loser. Ta-da! Yep, that's... That's annoyingly nice. I know. Hello there. What is this? Some kind of code.

A cipher? It's ineligible, but it has patterns, similarities in its form. What could it mean? It's Jones' handwriting. Oh, come on now. 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. MUSIC PLAYS

Get your podcast, get your podcast, two for a pound. Hey, welcome. Welcome everybody to the hustle and of course bustle of Borough Market. Get a load of that, have a listen. Anyway, our master detective friend is not well. Overworked and underslept, I think, so we're relaxing by eating a disgraceful amount of street food.

Can't actually find the patient, but he's round here somewhere. Now, listen, people, I have a crazy amount of shout-outs. Too many shout-outs. I'm flattered. It's great. But it would be ridiculous. If I did them all, well, it would just be half an hour of shout-outs. That would be your episode. So a tiny selection here.

Right, Noah and Martha in Addis Ababa. Happy birthday to Ev from Liverpool. Happy birthday to Callum in the US. And happy birthday, Mila. What else have we got? God, there's loads. Hermie. Shout out for Hermie. Akshita from India, but in China. Happy 65th birthday for Gary Roberts. Shout out to Olatumi, Narin and Lily. To Napo and Stupidity.

Stevie in Wellington. And finally, happy anniversary to Jim and Emily. And let's hear it for Lavi and James who met each other because of this podcast. Crazy that, isn't it? I'm a bloody matchmaker. Matchmaker crime solver. Oh, and shout out to noodles. Ow! Ow, you've stuck my toe. Taste this. Oh, what have we got? Just taste it. What is it? I

I want you to tell me. You bought something not knowing what it was? I want to know what's in it. Well, not poison, I hope. Podcaster poison. There, here we go. Mmm. Mmm. Oh. Oh, that is sensational, that. Cheese. Sweet potatoes.

What else? It's an arepa. Ah, that would make sense. It had the Venezuelan flag on the deli... thing. Couldn't quite read the chalkboard writing in time when all of a sudden there was enormous pressure to order. Oh, that is so good. See, it's all right taking some time off, isn't it?

Rest in savouring life. You've taken me to a loud marketplace full of people shouting and strong smelling foods. Yeah, okay, so that did cross my mind, but I thought you might be in a more sensory seeking kind of mood. I am a little, I suppose. See, I know you like the back of my hand, which has some chilli oil running down it. Hold on, hold on.

Oh, good lord. What? Licking your hand. Really. I'm cleaning myself. You're not a cat. Are you not going to have any of this? Once you've finished salivating over it, I shall. Yeah, alright, there you go. Probably shouldn't go too crazy. I've got plenty more to eat while we're here. You may wish to say hello to your friend over there before you sink into a food coma, mind. Sorry? There. There.

Tall man. Brown, mid-length pompadour-style hair. Gatsby-broke shoes. Light blue Oxford shirt. Carcichinos. Stop saying words. I can't... What? Who? Him? Yes. You can't even see his face. His back is to us. Yes, but you'll know him. I'll know him, will I? Give me another bite of that.

Oh, bloody hell. I am moving to Venezuela. He's army. Looks a bit swanky for the army, mate. Ex-army. Haircut and bank balance has changed. Posture has certainly not. Army's a lot of people, Sherlock. Yes, well, he's late 30s. He's infantry. He's certainly served a tour somewhere hot with that sun damage on his neck. He has a well-worn orange bracelet there, rather discreet. And on the other hand, branding. The one holding the beer.

Wait for him to lift it. C. V. V, yes. Branding the skin. Very full-on. Very intense. The kind of thing a group of soldiers in the grips of comradeship would dream up. V meaning five. Northumberland Fusiliers. The fifth. Orange for William of Orange. It's not as political as it sounds. The Northumberland Fusiliers were raised by him. Raised as in founded. See how he holds his right arm.

Outward, not relaxed by his side, as if in a shoulder brace. Probably out of it by now, but a habit has formed, reinforced by occasional dull pain. See how he uses the table to lean, to take the weight off it. I think I know who that could be, actually. Well, I would hope so. You were his medic. Well, better go... Yeah, better go say hi. He's gone. He's gone.

Half a billion. He's walking in there like... His face. Hey, Colin. Hello. Colin, it's Watson. John Watson from... Hell, man! Watson! Blimey, you've been working out. Look at you. Look at you. You did an all right job, didn't I? Jesus. Am I on camera or something? F***!

F*** me, man! Well, you should be on camera. I mean, you look incredible. Hey, come on now. I mean, what's this haircut? Steady. Yeah, well, I bet half your pension went on maintaining that. I can't believe this. Oh, sorry, mate. This is my colleague, Sherlock Holmes. Hello there. Hi.

Colin Hayter. That's Captain Colin Hayter. One man fighting force, eh? Well, once upon a time, yeah. These are some of the guys from the office. Hiya. Hi. Yeah, you alright? This guy. This is Dr John Watson. Right. Last time he saw me... Well, you tell him. Oh, no, come on. Tell him. Come on. Er... Alright. OK, last time I saw Hayts here was in Kunduz. Yep.

Kunduz, North Afghanistan, helping Afghani forces against the Taliban there. Anyway, well, last time I literally laid eyes on him, he was on the ground with his arm hanging off. He had a lot of shrapnel in his abdomen and a very nasty piece in the side of his neck. So...

Let me buy you a pint. Oh, no, no, no, it's all right. Sherlock, you want a pint? Oh, we're going to eat. He's a bit unwell, so... Yeah, but look, hey, we'll grab one later with you if you're still around. I'll be at the office, but... So we can buy, yeah? Yeah. Ooh, business card, eh? Colin Hayter, Senior Executive, Slate Insurance. Ooh.

You're reluctant. Hmm? If you don't want to go and see him, don't go. No, no, no, I do, I do. You don't? I... Yeah, look, we have to. You know, go and at least do a brief little catch-up and then...

Yeah, head on back to the flat and you can go back to bed. I mean, you look knackered. Is it envy? Oh, don't be ridiculous. Am I wrong? Totally. Totally wrong. Just picked up on it, I suppose. No way, mate. So what? He's married, handsome and wildly successful. You noticed the ring then? Oh yeah, yeah. And the clothing. And the watch. And the hair. And the business card. And the bloody tan.

You can see why I picked up on the envy. Just let's get this over with, yeah? Yeah, we're a f***ing results business, man. And it's about f***ing going out there and being the f***ing best that we can f***ing be. F***ing sell, sell, sell. And what do we do when we want to rest? When we want to maybe pat ourselves on the f***ing back and put our f***ing feet up?

Dunno. Is it sell? It's f***ing sell, mate. Selling is life. Selling is the f***ing universe. Selling what, exactly? Dreams. Lifestyles. Is... Is that like... Insurance. Right. Well, you've always been a...

Yeah, a go-getter. Mindset, mate. Mindset. And let me tell you, let me f***ing tell you something right now, because this is the real shit right now. Yeah? Transferable skills. Transferable skills? The army. You're looking at some of the most desirable skills in the market.

Drive, dedication, organisation, discipline, belief, thick skin. You map that onto a different industry, code that into a new f***ing interface, you're f***ing good to go, mate. Yep, yeah, totally agree. Well, we, Sherlock and I run, well, I mean, we're not as successful as you. Oi, oi, oi, oi. Who said anything about success? You've got to focus on the here and f***ing now.

You spend too much time thinking about dinner, you'll forget about lunch. I don't get that one. God, I'm light-headed. Yeah, we should... You need to head back. Guess what time I wake up? Erm... Three. Me too. He means in the morning. Oh. You know, if you're into podcasts, I've got a great list of ones I can share. Like super hyper performance shit. Sure, yeah. I mean, we're probably not classed as podcast...

Aficionados. By any stretch of the imagination. We're more crime. That's some heavy stuff. Tell you what, you wouldn't f***ing believe some of the s*** we get wired into here, John. Serious brain f***ing s***, you know? Really? It's insurance, mate. This s*** is like... No, yeah, yeah, I bet. We've got frauds and scams. Actually, you know what?

We've got this f***ing crazy spree right now. They were talking about it in a meeting the other day, mate.

What is it? Sherlock. I'd like to know. No, because we've got to go and do that thing. What thing? The thing. The place. You said we were just going back to the flat. Oh, yeah, yeah, you're right, mate. Thank you. Thanks for that. So it starts when one of our brokers gets a call. We do a lot of bespoke insurance packages, right? F***ing museums, galleries, f***ing auction houses, collectors, all that stuff.

We get a call, don't we, from Acton's big art dealership, owned by Peter Acton. He gets robbed. Blimey. Oh, that is in the f***ing half of it. Seconds f***ing later, there's another one. Another call? Yep, another robbery.

Cunninghams gets robbed, Lodges gets robbed, and Kirwan's gets robbed. All in the same night? This is all over a weekend, from Friday to Sunday night. A little curious, is it not? Just you waiting to what happened last night. What happened last night? Alarm goes off at Cunninghams. Police swarm to the scene.

William Kirwan, one of the big time art dealers, one of the ones that got robbed the night before, is found crushed by the f***ing security door. Crushed? Crushed. In a coma. Hasn't woken up yet. I was there right after they called the police. I'm their insurance guy, right? I'm like, zoom straight into the action. Yeah, look at that.

Jesus. Probably shouldn't have taken it, crime scene and all, but... Who's that there in the coat? Well, the crush guy is f***ing, what's it, William Kirwan. That's police. That's Alec Cunningham in the coat, my client. Police Inspector Forrester, I think she said she was. What was taken in these burglaries? Well, that's the mind f***ing.

Not the ones you twig, right? The artworks are vaulted, mate. They're not on display. Just racks of these things, hidden from view, itemised and stored away. It's the most random, crazy selection these guys took. Here, look. This is from the Acton's robbery. First one reported. The Gollum. Nightly Breeze. Annie Morrison. The Spire. These are the artworks, right? Some f***ing modern shit, some fine art, some old... Crescent Sapphire. Olympus.

The Reigate Squire. F***ing ransacked, fellas. Really? They took a courier van, right? Same company all these places use. Drive right in the trades entrance of these storage units and take, take, take, boom. Wow. But that's the pro shit.

They thought before f***ing Kirwin got smashed by this security door that it was amateurs. Random pieces taken, values all over the place. But now look, bosh, art dealer gets caught in the act, now hanging on for his shitty life in a coma. Right, well, we better go and do that thing. What thing? The thing, at that place.

Good to meet you Colin. You too mate. Oh, okay. Well, we are... we're off. Erm... Colin, mate, I'll give you a bell, we'll go for that pint. Great stuff. Keep a f***ing lookout, yeah? Opportunities are everywhere, John. Yeah, yeah, yep. You're supposed to be resting. Mm-hmm. You are though. Oh, I know that. Then don't say it. Okay? Don't even think it. Don't say what? I know what you are about to say. Not about to say anything.

Good. Fine. Lovely. Splendid. What are you doing? Sending a message. Oh, from you. The game is afoot. I told you I wouldn't say it! MUSIC

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There she is. You look tired. I'm not tired. I'm excited. If you feel even remotely sick or overwhelmed... Then I won't have a problem. We're in a hospital. Yes. And you're in luck, actually. The inspector is a fan. Of the show? Of Sherlock. She's in with the...

Well, he's not a victim. The intruder? William Kerwan? Yeah, the comatose multi-millionaire art dealer slash part-time burglar. Let's go through. This way. This could be me. All of this. Not really. Yes, really. Your referral to Netley for an army surgeon cut your medical degree rather short. They registered me as a doctor, didn't they?

Can you picture it? Me, running about the ward, seeing to the emergency, saving lives, caring for bereft loved ones. Mrs Hudson, I meant to say in the group chat, Watson is having a professional life crisis. Oh, OK. I am not. We bumped into a former army chum of his. Very successful.

Frightfully handsome. Oh? Hey, he is successful and handsome because I dragged him out of a war zone and put him back together. He's feeling rather envious. Let me see a picture of this guy. Look him up. Colin Hater. A hunk. A dish. A stud. A certified beefcake. Oh, don't say beefcake. Beefcake.

I don't say yum. Yeah, he's gorgeous. I mean, look at those abs. Where's your abs on his LinkedIn profile? He sells insurance, for God's sake. Dreams and lifestyles. That's what he sells. I know you're doing this to wind me up. Okay. This is William Kerwin's room. Inspector Forrester. I have Sherlock and Johnny. Great. Yeah, let's bring them all in.

Hi, Inspector Forrester. I'm Dr John Watson. Good to meet you. And you're Sherlock Holmes? Good to see you again, Inspector. You remember? Absolutely. You were a TDC back then, I believe. Morpatwisa Martra case. That's right, yeah. I'm afraid this one, not so exciting. Not so? Yeah, could you maybe talk us through it? Get us up to scratch. Yeah, so this is William Kirwan, owner of Kirwan Collection Ltd.,

A private corporation used as a trading vehicle for his art collection. Very valuable, very sought after, I suppose the phrase would be. He initially was speaking to us about his own place being robbed, along with other dealers, Mr Acton, then the Cunninghams, a few others. It was a total spree over one weekend. Naturally, nobody really felt safe.

How did the burglaries take place? Er, a high-end courier service for such goods. They all used the same company. The operative was bribed or beaten, who knows. That gave him the opportunity to use the courier van and clearance for delivery into the vaults. He went in, took what he wanted, put them in his van and moved on to the next place. He? He. Right there. William Kirwan, the...

He was robbed as well. And that is exactly what he wants us all to think. You believe he staged a robbery at his own collection as a ruse? I do, yeah. Include himself in the spree and no one's the wiser. I see you.

Very smart. So, how did we get to this point? He is breathing through a tube. We got a call from Cunningham's. A father and son collector. The son, Alec, does most of the work these days. It was the middle of the night and the door to their flagship gallery had been forced. And William Kirwan here was out cold, drenched in his own blood. The security door? Bloody thing nearly cut him in half. Brutal. Yeah, well, he'll think twice about robbery, won't he? If he ever wakes up.

Sherlock, let go of his hand. Oh, Sherlock? Sorry, we've been told... Yeah, sorry, Sherlock, we can't touch him. Sherlock! Absolutely, completely understand. Sherlock! Only, he is gripping something. I'm so sorry, Inspector. His fists are clenched shut, Sherlock. There we go. A note. Handwritten, but torn.

It would seem we only have the upper right fragment of what would have probably been A6. Purple lined paper, letter-headed and branded, I suspect. What does it say? I am your son at 1215 H. I am your son at 1215 H. Yes. Take a look. I am...

Your son at 1215 H. Wait, it's U apostrophe R E. It's U R, no? It doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense because we only possess a fraction of its message. The rest has been ripped away.

Hmm. Yes. Oh, God, what are you doing? Oh, God. Why, why, Sherlock, why did you lick the note? Jet stream. Jet stream. Inspector Forrester, the Cunninghams, when did they call you? Probably 12.20, 12.25 in the morning. So 12.15, we suspect, is when this man broke into Cunninghams. Yeah, that's exactly when he did. That's when the security door was triggered. Who's H? So the letter is relevant...

To the intrusion. Sherlock? Yes, I'm fine. Just lots of thinking going on. Let's, um, tell you what. I'll grab something from the vending machine. Queue up. Thank you, Watson. Get snacks. We must head to Cunningham's gallery as soon as we can. I don't think I've had a chomp since...

2014? Okay, that's great content, John. Thanks. Can I interest you in a monster munch? Oh, what flavour? Pickled onion. Oi, I can't. Why not? Because we're about to meet some art collector at his gallery and I can't smell like pickled onion. That's a good point. I'll have them. Just at home. And when we get there, he is going to bed. I'm fine, Mrs Hudson.

I've had a Coke. Ah, yes, yes, I forgot. The doctor prescribed you Diet Coke. I don't control him. And I didn't hear you complaining when I got you a Kit Kat. Right, this is Alec. Alec and his father, both Cunninghams, of course, own this marvellous collection you see around you. Hi. Hi there. So this is Sherlock Holmes. He's not actually a member of the Force, but is very useful in cases like this, as he does possess certain...

Deductive, I suppose you'd call them? Indeed. Deductive skills. Great, good to see you all. You too. There's great art in here, mate. Really, you know, amazing colours. Just like your eyes pop on every single one. It's...

I suppose that's been my touch, really, as I've taken over. I love big, bold, blaring art. It should really, I don't know, grab you, ensnare you, you know? Well, yeah. I'm no expert, but you've nailed it, mate. Looks fantastic. Beautiful.

Look, I always think these places are going to be old and dark. Yeah, and stuffy. Right? But no, no, this is like walking into a dream or something. Oh, thank you. Do feel free to have a look around. Sherlock had a few questions about the door. The door? Yes, the door was forced. Yes, it was a break-in. By William.

William Kirwan? Yes, that's who we found. How's he doing? The same. Right. Were you close? No. I mean, well, everyone is close in this game, but he... his head had gone a bit. If that's a fair thing to say, he had this, I don't know, envy. Couldn't cope with others maybe doing better than him. Yeah, that...

It can happen. Can I see it? Hm? The door. Yes, it's just over here. Forced indeed. All good? Good. Not quite the word I'd use. And we believe William would have taken a couple of steps. Then, yes. The security door was triggered. That slammed down onto him. Of course. Yes.

Did you find any instruments on William? Instruments? To force the door open. Nothing like that, no. Just what you found in the hospital. What? Mr Cunningham, I read the report you gave to the police and I greatly appreciate the details. I do, however, require... It's a silly, bureaucratic thing. You to just...

On this piece of paper, just write that you authorise Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson to investigate the case in conjunction with the police. Bit wordy. Yes, apologies. Just Dr Watson and Mr Holmes have my authorisation. Date it, two, please. Okay, what's the date? Twelve, twelfth. It's the twelfth. Okay, that do the trick?

Many thanks. Mr. Cunningham, where did the initial robbery happen? The break-in? Well, there was no break-in. He came in a courier vehicle. My guys recognized the company and buzzed them in the trades entrance.

Of the collection. This is just the front. The rest is downstairs and in our storage. Big sort of warehouse, racks and racks of artwork, protected from natural light and such. Course, right. Could we get a look at that later? Yes, of course. Did you visit him?

In the hospital? We did indeed, yes. Mr Holmes actually managed to find, in Kerwin's possession, something quite interesting. Sherlock? Whoa, Sherlock, are you okay? Excuse me, I... Sherlock, sorry, he's not been very well recently, a bit... Whoa, jeez! I may have... Whoa, whoa, Sherlock! Oh my God, Sherlock! Sherlock, hey, hey! Shall I call an ambulance? Hey, Sherlock, just... Shall I call an ambulance? Sherlock!

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