Audio books, ad-free early access adventures, mail bag episodes, case file episodes, AMAs, behind the scenes, micro adventures authored by Watson himself, a Discord channel with nearly 2,000 chat-a-little members, merchandise discounts, exclusive events and… yes, done. Yeah, it's the most important bit, mate. Oh, Patreon.com forward slash Sherlock and Co. Thanks. Previously on Sherlock and Co. Sherlock will visit again. I know he will. He's just… this is all a lot. As you can see by my creepy, puffy eyes. Yeah, he's… he's regulating in his own way. Okay. Bye, John. Sleep well. I mean, you've been asleep for a week, but… yeah. You know what I mean. We miss you. A lot. Geez, that hair smells fantastic. Dammit. Camden house. Wait, you mean the house across the street? 242 Baker Street? Indeed. Otherwise known as Camden house. It's empty. So what? The empty house I feel as a visitor. So it would appear, Marianna, that somebody inadvertently disturbed the dust and webs that clung to that light shade. Somebody taller than six foot six? Somebody. That could be… Six foot seven. Six foot seven. Moran. He wishes to eliminate me, but his attention has been taken elsewhere. Do you know where? We begin in the dark tunnel where we found John. All I hear is, uh, rushing water. Traffic noise dulled some time ago. Because we are under hide path, we'll cross this basin and there'll be a culvert for the westboard. That will take us into the park itself and… here. And we will see where… ah. A footprint. Where Mr Moran went. But we know that already, don't we? Where did he go? Home, Marianna. He went home. Number one hide park. The apartment block where the police first caught him. His home. Let me see now. Oh, took the binoculars with you. Good call. It wasn't a trip home. No. It was a job. A job? What do you mean? Top floor. Fourth window from the left. Uh-huh. Okay. Um… okay, what? Oh, oh. Shit. Is that… is that what I think it is? All over the window. Blood. Lots and lots of blood. No sign of entry. Nothing on cameras at reception. Off front door. Still struggling to get an idea on the body as well. Weird. Really bloody weird. Certainly bloody. Not sure I agree with the weird observation. No. There's a dead man in there Sherlock. He's lost… Letters and liters of blood. He's been in there for days and there's no indication of how this even happened. I'm just observing. That is weird. There's blood on the door handle here. Yeah, but from the inside. You think you let the killer in? It's possible. While he was dying. What? The blood is on the interior handle Gregson, meaning the killer had already struck and the victim here attempted to leave. Let me see. Something else on the handle, right? Yes. Matches what is on his right hand. Which is what? A foam. Got anything for us at all, eh? Any indication of the first strike. Because there's blood everywhere Sherlock. Like everywhere. We need to determine the origin of the… what are you doing? Let us look at this wound here. Jugular. That's your valve for all this blood. We reckon he got it sliced. Yes, well, we don't. Don't we? No. And we would appreciate it if we could examine the body that we discovered. We shouldn't even be here. But we get a lot of good grates. We are the ones with good grates. All right, that's enough. That's enough. Okay? Okay. Let us see now. No, don't touch it. Oh, for fuck. Ah. Oh my. That's… See? Struggling to ID him. Yes, that is rather bad, isn't it? Did he, like, get a shotgun to the face or something? This is what you would call being beaten to a pulp. See? All his teeth are here on the floor. This is a nose bone here too. Nasal cavity is completely exposed. Sockets all fractured. Skull is… Don't… don't do that. Very fluid. But it doesn't quite explain the blood. Juggler, mate. Told you, didn't it? Really? Look at his face. Well… he doesn't really have a face. Exactly. Gregson is right. Juggler. See? But he's also wrong. Not a knife. If we turn him back over… What is it? Such curious little things, aren't they? What are… is that a blood clot? What is that? Certainly not. It's… a projectile. A bullet. Identical to the one taken from John's spine. Let me see. Oh wow. You think it's from Moran? Moran is operating a very bespoke rifle with improvised rounds, like these. Take this to your team downstairs, Gregson. You're coming, yeah? Because I've got to send, you know, the professionals in. Rude. We are professionals. Gregson, bullet downstairs. Now please. All right. You've got ten more minutes. Tops. Anyone want a tea? Out. First, Moran can shoot John in pitch darkness right in the middle of the chest. Then he can shoot a man with a tiny bullet directly into an archery that would have him bleed out in no time. And the piece de resistance? No signs of entry. Nothing. Gregson said nothing was on the cameras at the front desk or front door. Then… how? Not quite how, but where. What are you looking for? A window. There's two right there. They're intact. Uh, yeah. So? The bullet. Look. These came off it. Oh, tiny shards of glass. Indeed. Windows look intact to me. That's the bathroom. Yes. Blood seems to be under the door frame here too. Our clue may be in here. Maybe in here. Sherlock! Don't move! What are you doing? Get off the ground! Leave now! Sherlock, what are you holding? It is a trip fire. I have to keep it at this tension. The bathroom door was… The… Shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. Okay. Okay. What can I do? Get out! No! Mariana, leave this whole building right now! I'm not leaving you. I can't hold this. I can't. Tell me what to do. There is nothing to do. It is a metal string attached to a bloody bomb. You always tell me what to do and now I would really, really, really like to be told what to do. Leave! No! We have no time. Mariana, this… It is attached to an explosive device. I don't know what to do. The moment my strength gives out, which is bloody close, it's over. Oh, it's over. I don't know what to do. Take Trayum from my pocket. Look after him. Please, please. Please, please. No. Tell John I'm sorry. Tell him I love him. And if he too doesn't make it, I will tell him myself. Please, please. Please, please. No. And you, Mariana, you live on. You're a great detective and you can still… What on earth are you doing? You're right. I am a great detective. Don't touch that. So I will detect my way out of this stupid mess from this stupid evil giant guy who I hate. Mariana, it… Where is the tension pulling me? Think. I'm holding a wire that is an explosive trigger. Of course, I'm thinking it. The tension goes that way, I think. That way? Yes, you're sure? Yes, the device is most likely in that direction. Follow the wire. Oh, it's going into the toilet. Uh, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Let me try something. Please, please. Just get to safety. Put this thing… Ha! Clue number one. What? He turned the water off. Check the system. Uh, okay, okay, okay. It's a sealed unit. There'll be a point on the unit. I know how they work. Thank you. Okay, I did it. Oh my god, oh my god. The bomb, the bomb is in the cistern of the toilet. Oh my god, oh my god. Water! What? Find the… The water? The water! We, we, we turned the water back on and we fled the device. Yes! What are you doing? Find the stopcock. It'll be under the sink. No, it won't. Back in a bit. Mariana, for God's sake! I swear to God, if you blow your shelf up, I'll tell John. Hurry up! Multi-storey residential block. Stopp-ups have to be in a sealed service unit for each floor. It must be housed in a shared area. Cannot be locked. Cannot be accessible only by tools. I need to door people. The service door. Uh, where are you? Where are you? Where are you? Ah! Electric? No? Uh, gas line? No? Water! Water! Ah! Okay. Coming Sherlock! Coming! Don't explode! I can hear it. It's filling up. Yes! Go look! Shit! It's coming right back out into the toilet bowl. No! The tamper seal is up. It's in flush mode. What are you doing? Do not touch it! We blow up together or not at all! Mariana, please. Do I look like I'm going to abandon you? Do I? Come on! Make your observation. I have made it. And? You deduce what? We blow up together or not at all. Thank you. I'm going to push the tamper seal down, okay? When the seal closes the water will feel and hopefully kill this bomb. But if the temper is connected- I'm actually fully aware of the process required. If you could please just- Okay, okay, okay. Pushing it down! Pushing it down. We're alive! Ah, that's a good start. And it's feeling fast. Once the device is flooded, in theory the water will render the firing circuit useless. The charge itself may remain intact, but once the casing fills with water- The charge has nowhere to go? Correct. How are we doing? Nearly at the top. It won't destroy the explosive, but it will drown the battery. Ruin the primer compound, seize the trigger and spoil the detonator. You're sure? Well, no. But as long as one of those things happens, we're safe, aren't we? It's done. It's- it's full. Fully submerged. Yeah. Yeah. Just in time! What? My arms giving out. Let go. Ariadne! Let go. Do it! Ah! Oh my god! Oh, I'm crying! I'm crying! Oh, bye-bye! Oh my god! Stand up. Sherlock? Aye, of course. Is everything- Oh my god! Thank you. Uh-huh. You're trembling. So are you. You're also, um, crashing Graham. Oh, whoops. Sorry. Sorry, Graham. Sorry. Together or not at all? Together or not at all. Oh, that was bloody close. I tripped up the stairs. Very, very, very nearly spilt my tea. But a very disaster. Just about. Cracking. What? So, he's not Moran. Yet he does find himself in what was once Moran's abode. And now he finds himself dead and covered in blood. So, hold on. Run this by me. There was a bomb in the bog. For goodness sake. Don't goodness sake me. There's reports that need to be filled out for this kind of thing. Look, I went into the bathroom. Use the losing reception. It's a fucking crime scene. I wasn't going to the toilet, you oaf. I was going to look in the mirror. Oh, that's better, is it? Yes. Why? Because on the bullet I handed to you, I found tiny shards of glass. So, so. What are you doing? Looking. At what? You want to know who killed this man. The answer is right here. The murderer was the man in the mirror. I thought he just did this vague performance stuff to show off to John. But it's clearly just how you talk. Yes, it is. But if you want to know how a man got shot up close, right in the jugular, in a sealed apartment by himself, then you look right. Here. The phone. He was shaving. Good, Mariana. The mirror. It's cracked. It's been shot at? No. It's been shot through. Wait here. Yes, wait right there. Uh, this way. Why did the blood reach the door? The victim went to the door. He opened it. Correct. Shot in the neck. Low impact, high precision. He makes his way immediately to the exit after being shot in the neck. That's crazy. Exactly. Likely a criminal then. Because he didn't call 999. Correct. And our shooter, Moran, was able to move from his firing spot behind the mirror. The mirror attached to the wall, Sherlock. I'm aware of how stupid I sound. Hence this little field trip. Okay, okay, just saying. Unfortunately, Gregson was slightly right. Yes, the victim let the killer in, but after the first strike. And not intentionally. The man with the hole in his neck opens the door. Moran charges it and finishes the job. Well, and plants a bomb for us, of course. What floor? This one. What? Uh, then why are we in... What are you doing? Moran can't access a building he no longer lives in. He also can't really be seen swanning around downstairs as the most wanted man in London. So what does he do? He enters the underground parking structure, nicks a lift key card from one of his old cars, still parked there, into the lift he goes, climbs out through this panel on his old floor. An elevator ceiling panel. No, no, no, no, sorry, sorry, sorry. This is not mission impossible. The police need to use this elevator right now. Oh, it's not impossible. Certainly not for a man of six foot seven. Not too difficult for me either. John would struggle. And me. Yes, but I can explain. Go back to Gregson and back to the mirror. Aye. He's where? Come on. Okay. Coming to the mirror right now. Wow. This has done nothing for the whole exhausted look I'm rocking right now. Oof. Hello. Oh! Oh, what the bloody hell is going on? How ingenious. Are you in the mirror? Our killer sat in this cubby off the lift walls, scraped a line of sight through the insulation and plaster and having been the former resident knew exactly where to place his bespoke miniature rifle and where to fire his bespoke and miniature bullet. Just as our victim was gazing at his own reflection, a bullet shot through and punctured him right in the neck. Why the knurk? So he would still try and escape. And why would Moran want that? So he could enter. Exactly. Enter, finish off our victim and rig it to explode upon our investigation. And by illustrating that kill order he revealed. Sorry, can you just leave the other side of the mirror and come tell me in person? Ah, yes. Apologies. Our victim is this man. Ronald Adair. Ronald Adair, 44, Australian national, born in Maynooth, New South Wales. Faster. Came to the UK when he was 24. He found work in- Faster, Gregson! The FinTech industries that support global financial trades with applications. Right, that's enough. Bye-bye. This is what we do. Sherlock, sit down. We give you this background. You're all watching far too many crime dramas and not nearly enough policing is being done in this bloody place. Fine, fine. Adair worked with Moran. He seemed to be close for many years. Adair was one of the more Sun and Williams lot. Like Killian Evans. Not quite. Adair was more on the inside. Like I say, tech, finance, all this kind of thing. Not someone to get his hands dirty. Until he reached for the crown. So it would seem. Yes. Hence the kill. Sorry, what? The vacuum of power. The depressurization of this dark structure. It allows those with ambitions to make their moves. Moran remains loyal to his master still. The spider. The spider indeed. Consolidating power once more. Adair thought he could take it. He even accessed the company property at one Hyde Park. Such was the conviction of his play for the top. You're right about Moran. Hiding, yes. But not quiet. Not at all. He got John. He got Adair. Who knows who's next? Well, people that can think know who's next, Gregson. Sorry, what is that supposed to mean? I'm next, you fool. Clearly think a lot of yourself, don't you? Isn't it obvious that I'm the next target? I could be next. You don't know. Why would he go for you? Cos I'm an integral inspector at one of the most powerful place forces on the planet. Why are you smiling? I'm not smiling. Yeah, you are. It's not funny. Moran acted on Adair because he had to. The level of threat was urgent. Now he can return to his final target. Sherlock Holmes. He didn't need to enter the Ronald Adair property, did he? No, he did not. The hawk struck from his nest and he wishes to do the same with me. The empty house? The empty house indeed. Sorry, what's the empty house? Opposite our flat? It's a... well, we think Moran may have been in there trying to get us shot. We were supposed to be next, but he skipped us. Why would he do that? Because we were never there in the flat. We were with John in hospital. Now Adair is ticked off the list. He will return to Camden House to shoot through the glass across the street right into my flesh. You're under arrest. Sorry, what? No, no, no, Tom, Tom. You're under arrest. I'm serious. For what? For what? Come off it. For about 30 things. And that's just in the last hour. Tom. Come on. Wait, wait, wait, Tom. Gregson. What are you doing? I don't have the time, the patience or the energy to talk him into witness protection. Gregson. He's going behind bars, where he's safe. You can't do this. For 24 hours I can. Yeah. Tom. So by which time we can build a case to go after Moran. Please, Gregson. I know it doesn't seem like it may, but I am rather fond of you and I want you to stick around. Not just for professional reasons. Tom, Tom, come on. Will you stand still for God's sake? It's about the oath comment because I withdraw it. I withdraw it entirely. Gregson. Gregson.
