Charles Augustus Milverton - Part Three

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Previously on Sherlock and Co.

Milverton's bedroom.

Indeed.

God, it's about twice the size of our flat.

Welcome, listeners, to the...

the den of the monster that is Charles Augustus Milverton, proprietor of various media outlets, backer of just about every shit political influence he can think of, and self-appointed corrupter of the British justice system as and when he pleases.

Secure read prompt action null false status active null access gateway security pass key log 4721 4721 4721 two seconds put it in put it in seven two one

what happened

it opened oh get in yes

what

was that um did you leave the door open no sure yes

Milverton.

He's coming upstairs.

Shitting, shitty shit.

Come on.

Come on.

What about the safe?

I'm looking.

Oh, no, no, no.

I'm done.

We are climbing up the window.

Watson, we don't have the drive.

Just give me a moment.

Again, I'm not the one you need to worry about.

Bugger it.

In here?

No, not in here.

Out there.

We're climbing out the window.

No.

We need to remain in the property.

We cannot let this work go to waste.

What are you doing?

Putting the portrait back.

We must hide in the wardrobe.

I just cannot, cannot shake it.

A stunning,

stunning performance.

Thank you.

As always.

Who is that?

But

I

don't recall an encore.

Perhaps

I could get a private one.

Who knows?

Who is that woman, Sherlock?

This is part three

of

Charles Augustus Milverton.

It contains

a

yeah, it's kind of dark.

I'm sorry.

He came straight back.

Yeah, I see that.

I see that because of a tiny crack in this door of a bloody wardrobe that I find myself in.

You know, usually

I have to secure my deads the best seat in the house, but

you already had that, didn't you?

You could look at it that way, sure.

I met that director of yours, Ormstein.

Sure.

Formidable fellow, isn't he?

To put it lightly.

Yes, well, he's certainly got you all

whipped into shape.

Not all he seems, of course.

An autistic men never are.

Is he hiding secrets from us?

He's hiding many,

many secrets from many, many people,

but not me.

What do you have on him?

Is that why you're here?

It's not for my devilish good looks, no?

Of course.

Why settle for devilish looks

when you could have the devil himself.

Look at you.

You wouldn't think those lungs could fit inside such a petite frame.

I could just

eat you.

You like that artwork, do you?

Hmm?

Quite something, isn't she?

She's metamorphosing into a centipede.

From the soaring heavens, she comes down, and upon impact with the earth and with humanity, she is cursed to live as a centipede, to be trodden on, mashed into the dirt, suffocating in the soil.

All that remains

are her her angelic female features,

the breasts,

the vagina.

Kafka-esque in more ways than you'd think.

Is that so?

Oh, absolutely.

He was a bohemian, of course.

Czech.

Anyway.

He was

tortured by sexual desire, they they say.

Obsessed with brothels, obsessed.

A habitual necessity to frequent them daily.

Sometimes twice or three times in a day.

I have to say I know the feeling.

You see, I say that.

He had lusts that would irritate him.

Itches that had to be scratched.

I'm somewhat murkier than that, I suppose.

For me, it's

it's power,

control,

supremacy.

Who has the control?

Oh, that would be me,

my love.

Most look up to the stage, mister Milverton.

Well, not from where I sit.

I look down

and seeing you tonight, down there on that stage,

it did something to me.

Not in the way art should, I'm afraid.

It

makes gears wind and click into place in here

and in here.

From that point, I can only see conquest.

Not a desire for form or beauty, but

for victory.

That

doesn't scare you?

No.

Hmm.

What do you

want?

My own conquest.

Which is

it's that director, isn't it?

There's a storm crackling behind your eyes whenever I mention him.

How fascinating?

Here.

Come.

Sherlock, they're heading to the safe.

I returned it to how it was.

He shouldn't suspect anything.

Now,

as you will know,

from your younger days,

get your harmful material offline.

Did you know this house is worth 18 million pounds?

Next door is probably not much different.

You can add up every single property on this street and double it, and you still would not have enough money

for this.

You name them, they're on here.

In some way, shape, or form.

Images, videos, correspondence, an entire underworld, all in this little

drive.

Girl in the portrait,

I call her Pandora.

This lives under her portrait because below the soil she crawls through is hell.

And in this drive is hell itself.

And at a moment's notice I can set a frothing, festering demon free from its depths.

And you come here,

wishing for the demon that would slay

maim

torture

your esteemed director,

do you not?

What's the price?

Your

body.

Something

tells me you may be

holding your purse strings a little too tight.

Is there a boyfriend?

Perhaps

a screaming silence, I feel

a shame.

Perhaps you need time

of tonight of whatever we do tonight.

I'll just have to burn you into my memory.

Now,

perhaps we could start

by removing that stunning dress.

Please

give me the drive.

That's me twisting the knife to one o'clock, Charles.

You wanna try three?

Huh?

You wanna try three?

I cannot have.

I'm gonna take the drive.

I'm gonna call you in the ambulance, and we're gonna go our separate ways.

Oh, we'll see about that.

There will come a time

when I

when I will hold the knife.

Oh, what time is that?

Six o'clock.

Oh, I'll take that, sweetie.

Thank you.

You can't.

Heal.

You can't do this.

Hold tight.

Literally, hold that tight on your stomach.

Say ambulance.

What?

What?

What?

999, please fire our ambulance.

Ambulance.

Okay, sir.

Appledore in Hampstead.

I have been stabbed.

Bye, Charles.

You'll never survive me, Adler.

You'll never survive me.

What do we do?

She has the drive.

Sherlock, there is a man over there, dying.

What do we do?

Sure, mate, I have to go.

I have to.

How much easier this moment would be if the knife had struck his heart, Watson.

What are you talking about?

Death is irreversible.

It doesn't beg to be saved.

But this.

Whatever.

Look, I'm a doctor.

Alright, so this.

This is a non-negotiable.

Sorry.

Charles.

Please help me.

Doctor Latson, please.

Please help me.

You must.

You must.

Yeah, let me see that.

My standard.

You couldn't save her.

Good, you.

You tried, but you couldn't.

Just sit still.

You got her to the hospital, and it was.

It was only later that she

died.

So if you could do that.

What are you talking about just for me?

Morstan, Dr.

Watson, I'm

talking about Mary Morstan.

You.

You.

once again are faced with the

deep wound

and I I believe you can save me doctor

I believe you you you can

doctor

Kate Shushny you gave her the

chance to survive, but it was

it was the rest that sapped her vital her.

Shut up.

Sherlock, can you hold this on in a second?

Yes?

Holding.

Tighter.

That's not tighter.

He said tighter.

Holding tighter, you fool.

Calm down.

Right?

Yes, calm.

Calm.

Door.

Downstairs.

Paramedics, right.

Bleeding is slowed.

This pair of tights.

We'll keep it that way as long as it holds tight.

Tell your paramedic the wound is venous, okay?

But you do have bow.

Charles, look at me.

You have bowel perforation.

Tell them that, otherwise, they'll perform an inspection and it'll fucking hurt.

The pillarcase here, right?

Looking, Charles, that cannot be pushed on, right?

That sits loose.

These remain tight.

Happy?

Thank you.

Thank you.

Okay, good.

Come on, let's go.

Through the back window.

This way.

The roof allows

for us to make for the back garden.

Please.

Paramedic should

act with a

little more urgency.

Finally, it

no.

Look, she

she took it.

She

she has

wounded me.

And it's

this this is all this is all all fixable.

Do you understand?

The the drive

still has passwords and it's

no

please no no please no please just

I've only two seconds.

I can literally in and out.

I just need to.

No, you stay on the roof.

I'll grab it.

Watson.

There's no one here.

Just stay there.

Got it.

Got it.

Got it.

Thank God for that.

Right.

Okay, go.

Wait.

What?

Charles.

What is it, Watson?

You were right.

It did sound like a gunshot.

He's dead.

Watson, we must go.

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Okay, okay, go, go, go, go, go, go.

Come around this way.

Once we reach the guttering, we can jump over the side.

And it'll be the side pathway.

Yep, yep.

Oh!

Ah!

Bloody knees!

Are you all right?

Yeah, no, not really.

Can you run?

Yeah, well, I have to, don't I?

Yes, you do.

We both do.

Go, go, go!

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What do you think he's saying?

It would seem

James.

James?

Do we know a James?

We do not.

But the question is: does it matter?

Does

what?

Is it relevant to us?

Sorry.

Is the murderer relevant to us, the detective agency?

Hmm, I'm gonna say yes.

Who was the woman?

I don't know.

Exactly.

If Milverton was with a woman who proceeded to then stab him and flee, would it not make sense for the following altercation to be related to this twisted romantic arrangement?

Sorry, you you think, what, that that was her husband or boyfriend or whatever?

Very possibly.

Sorry, this is a bit too cold and calculated, isn't it?

Oh, that I agree with.

Then

is this a hit?

There are very few scenarios I'm ruling out, Watson.

What I can, however, point us in the direction of, but where are you going?

Stupid moustaches drive me crazy.

I quite like it.

Now?

Yes, well, it is itching like hell, and now it just makes me think of Purvy Weirdos.

It does have that initial impact, yes.

But, like I say, it's grown on me.

Not me, the Purvy Weirdo, him, Bloody Milverton.

What exactly happened to your hat?

I thought that looked great, and you ditched it after a day.

A particularly bad day.

Oh.

So you're blaming the deer stalker then?

Well, if we are taking out our failings on inanimate objects, I think the pipe holds more responsibility for your

misstep.

Oh, speaking of ditching stuff,

how's Agatha?

We've separated.

We rushed into things, you see.

Ha!

Chasing waterfall.

Just stick to the rhythm of late you used to.

Why is there a knock at the door?

Because someone wants to come in.

But

wouldn't they ring the buzzer?

This person?

No.

Why?

Because they can be very persuasive and they'll use their status to intimidate just about anyone to let them through.

Even poor Mariana.

Sorry, what?

Open the door.

To

who?

You'll find out when you open the door.

Gentlemen?

Ah.

Hello, Mom.

Only officers call me, mom.

Okay, Gwen is fine.

Hi, Gwen.

Thanks for swinging by.

Um, do you want a cupper?

Do you want to glug on a brew for a few?

No.

Okay, I have a case.

Good for you.

I would like some assistance with it.

Generally, or are you seeking the services of Sherlock and Co.?

I would like some assistance.

That's not how you ask.

Have you been smoking in here?

No, not for ages.

Has he?

I don't think so.

Please, could you.

collaborate on the case with us.

Let's hear it.

You are no doubt aware of the murder of Charles Augustus Milverton.

Yes.

And no.

In equal measure.

I am aware of it, from the viewpoint of a consumer of media, of course.

I have taken on the information like much of the public have.

Nothing more than that.

Right.

Yes, well.

Milverton was was assassinated, if that's not too big a term to use.

Close range, revolver.

And a stab wound.

But yes.

No.

Yes.

So the media informs me.

Yes.

Mm-hmm.

You have no camera footage from the property.

Bloody Milverton holdings are handing those over.

Tuck-tut, disgraceful.

Uh, again, so I read.

We have a ring doorbell in the area that picked up a young woman arriving.

She's concealed.

We have reason to believe she entered the property and killed Milverton after a possible altercation.

Just a hip hit job.

We have monitored it closely ever since Watson here had an altercation with the man himself.

Our alibi has been validated by thousands of individuals, though, of course.

Our alibi.

That's it.

Yes.

You did a live stream on your Discord, didn't you?

Yes, yeah, I did.

I did that.

Yeah, yeah.

Hmm.

Yeah, that's

nasty.

Lone gunman with a target.

Well, lone gun woman.

Gun girl.

Sorry, yeah, it's um it's awful.

This is where things get a little muddy, though, I'm afraid.

Oh, witnesses recall two male figures exiting the property out the back window: one with a cane and one wearing a deer stalker.

Really, how fascinating.

I don't think we will be able to facilitate the case, though, will we, Watson?

Oh, this time of year,

exactly.

This time of year is ever so busy.

Sherlock,

I'm offering you a case.

You can have full access to the scene.

Yes, but.

Ah, look, yet another email from a potential client.

You see, it's...

It's non-stop.

Non-stop indeed.

Could this perhaps take precedent over your other cases?

Just for the time being?

Ooh, not sure.

Not uh, not sure.

What's that email, mate?

Is it a murder?

Or or a robbery?

A gentleman, it would seem, has.

Let me see.

His wife is missing.

Oh, dear.

No.

Dead.

Oh, no, don't say dead.

You see, Gwen, this is the level of crime.

She's possessed by the man's deceased dog.

Tricky case.

Very.

Yep.

She's urinating in the lounge.

Tragic.

And obviously complex in a multitude off the floor.

Right, stop reading.

So, yeah.

Yeah, wish we could help.

Yes, it's such a shame that we can't.

Okay,

that's

understandable.

Can I get you that cupper?

A cuppa for a copper?

No.

I've got meetings all afternoon, so.

Okie dokie.

Lovely to see you, Gwen.

All right.

What's going on?

Nothing.

Lovely to see you, Gwen.

Something wrong, Commissioner?

I've known you for nearly twenty years, and not once have you said that it was lovely to see me.

Well, I.

Perhaps I am

maturing.

Growing?

yes, those things, right?

You best be off.

You have meetings to boost your self-importance at the taxpayer's expense.

That's more like it.

Bye, Gwen.

See you later, gents.

Bye now.

You want to go see the dog wife?

Yep.

Oh, God.

Oh, they've got to be having us on.

Goodness me.

Ever so convincing if they are, I must say.

What about the dog bowl?

He offered her a plate and she shook her head.

Oh man.

I feel we needed that, Watson.

Yeah.

Yeah, I agree with you there.

Difficult couple of days.

Yeah, yeah.

And then you see a woman possessed by a dog and

it improves somewhat.

Exactly.

Oh, exactly.

I can ask Mariana, you know, see if we've got any other crackers like that.

I mean, surely she gets absolutely loads of them, right?

We must have some.

Sherlock?

You okay?

Stop.

Stop

talking.

Why?

No.

The bus.

The um.

Just tell me, what is it?

Stop the bloody bus.

Sherlock.

Stop the

blue bus.

Sherlock.

What on earth?

What the hell are you doing?

You can't just sprint off a bus through the West End, mate.

You nearly got hit then, God.

I knew.

I knew that I knew.

You...

The name.

The face.

The woman.

Wait, the Milverton woman.

You knew her.

No.

But we've seen her.

You and I.

We...

have?

Red-headed League.

We came here.

To the opera.

Ah, yeah, might have deleted that memory, mate.

You won't survive me, Adler.

Oh, yeah, the poster there.

Irene Adler.

So

why

was some opera singer at Milverton?

What's the

what's the drama?

A scandal, Watson.

A scandal

in Bohemia.

Oh, thanks for listening and thanks to our Patreon members for confirming to the police regarding my whereabouts during that murder.

It's very helpful.

To the police.

It's helpful to them.

I mean, not me.

For their investigation.

Now, if the police do listen to this show, you have in fact broken the law, but it is much appreciated.

And if you were thinking about joining the Patreon and you're worried that you'll get arrested, then stop talking, John.

Bye-bye.