Wisteria Lodge - Part Three

Charlie Sheen is an icon of decadence.

I lit the fuse and my life turns into everything it wasn't supposed to be.

He's going the distance.

He was the highest paid TV star of all time.

When it started to change, it was quick.

He kept saying, no, no, no, I'm in the hospital now, but next week I'll be ready for the show.

Now, Charlie's sober.

He's going to tell you the truth.

How do I present this with any class?

I think we're past that, Charlie.

We're past that, yeah.

Somebody call action.

Yeah.

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Okay.

Uh, John, I did it.

Uh, do I do I just hit stop or

previously on Sherlock and Co.

So, how do we figure this out?

The guy that had an alibi in place to do something bad, probably kill someone at 1 a.m., ends up dead himself.

Dead.

Yes.

And pretty emphatically dead, too.

Yes, quite.

We suspect the time of death was midnight.

Hmm, which will come as a surprise to Eccles, as he believes he saw Garcia at 1am.

Indeed, they were on their way to London.

What?

To kill someone?

To commit an act that would take place at 1am.

Most likely murder, yes.

Mr.

Eccles' apparent 1am interaction with the killer would provide the perfect alibi.

Garcia is an exile, don't forget that.

The regime that expelled him now flee themselves.

Somebody on his hit list is in London.

You join us at Wisteria Lodge, where things have got incredibly even weirder.

From vanishing residents to men falling out of the sky to police officers disappearing.

And now we are trying to work out exactly where this noise is coming from.

It sounds like

someone is stuck somewhere.

Oh my god.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

Here, here, mate, come on.

There we go.

There we go.

You must be Officer Henderson.

Yeah.

Yeah, I am.

The mystery of Wisteria Lodge deepens.

I really cannot wrap my head around this one.

When we spoke in Garcia's bedroom, you mentioned a military airbase in the area.

I

did.

Wow, you are good.

Well, there isn't one.

Wait, no.

No, there is.

There isn't.

I assure you, Eccles thinks there is.

That's weird.

Garcia made a call late last night.

How late?

Around 11 p.m.

To who?

Conveniently for us?

To the guy that lives right over there.

Yeah, hi.

You are aware this is not a National Trust property.

They want to know why you spoke to Ali Garcia just moments before he died.

We had spoken in the village a few weeks ago.

He wanted to borrow a

a vehicle of mine.

How did he die?

It's complicated.

He seems to have fallen from the sky into a wheat field about two miles that way.

No, no, no, no, no.

What?

Bloody.

Francis, what

vehicle did you lease to him?

He said...

He said he had a colleague that could fly it, and I just...

Could fly it.

I guess that guy Garcia was hunting in the city has a guardian angel.

And that guardian angel is armed with a 7.65 millimeter revolver what bullet casing

here and here

the adventure of uh recording failed oh no no

it's working oh uh okay um

the adventure of wisteria lodge part three await trigger warnings in the episode description strap in time for liftoff.

Anywhere around here is fine, mate.

Are you sure?

Yes, Sherlock is supposed to be coming out of the house.

There are black cars everywhere.

Well, I guess the intelligence services have taken over then.

Where is he?

Okay, we're landed.

I could idle her for some time, but the authorities are gonna want to take a look at her, I'm sure.

Just, I know, but wait, he will be here.

Where is he?

Oh,

is

Wait.

What?

There's a naked man running towards us, and it looks a lot like Sherlock.

Oh, my God, that is Sherlock.

The police are chasing us.

Get ready to lift this thing off the ground right away, Francis.

Go!

Go!

Go!

Goodness!

Why on earth do you have a helicopter?

Why are you naked?

I asked you first.

They fell from a helicopter.

Garcia asked Francis for it.

Well, for the helicopter, tomorrow,

this is Francis.

Hiya!

Hello.

So Garcia was betrayed on his way to London.

Three bullet casings.

One for Ali Garcia and one for each of his associates.

Yeah, so, come on then.

Yes, good work.

Well done.

Yep, but.

But what?

Why are you naked?

And why are you running from the police?

I was working very hard, in fact.

Working so hard your clothes fell off?

No.

What were you doing then?

I really don't like to project my thoughts when I'm not finished processing them.

Will you just explain why you are naked, please?

I was thinking about our suspect, our police officer impersonator.

He's well informed.

Too well informed.

In the same way Garcia knew Eccles was undercover.

This suspect knew we were here.

Or at least somebody other than Surrey Police.

What makes you think that?

Why would you dress as a local officer to evade a local police unit?

This isn't the Met.

They would know he wasn't one of theirs immediately.

So he took the disguise knowing he was avoiding us?

Indeed.

Then I started thinking about the uniform.

I thought he was junior initially for two reasons.

One, he left his radio in the car and two, his uniform was a bad fit and he didn't have the correct shoes.

Which led me to the next knot in this terribly tangled thread.

Where are his old clothes?

When we found Officer Henderson, he was only in his pants and shoes.

Why?

Because his shoes didn't fit our suspect.

But he made it work with the rest.

So what did he do with what he was wearing before?

I don't assume he sprinted across the garden naked to accost Henderson.

Yeah, because sprinting across the garden naked would be weird, as we've just witnessed.

So, he hid the old clothes in the house, and after a lengthy search, with officers and intelligence agents repeatedly demanding I leave, I finally found them.

And here they are in my hands.

Okay, that's good.

But you are naked, Sherlock.

Ah, yes.

Well, I had to get away from the police, but keep the suspects' clothes.

I didn't want them taken into evidence.

Why?

Because I wanted to analyse them for clues.

If you don't tell us why you are fucking naked in the next five seconds, I am going to throw you out of this thing.

I locked myself in a toilet upstairs in Wisteria Lodge and attempted to change clothes in the hope I could exit the building at their insistence, but crucially, with the key items of evidence, the clothing.

Unbeknownst to the police, I would be wearing them.

Unfortunately, they broke the door down as I was halfway through changing, so I jumped out the window and ran into this helicopter here.

Right.

And what's your analysis on the clothes?

A couple of rudimentary observations on the sweatshirt here.

He smokes, he's right-handed, he's bald, and he has a beard.

The trousers here, a little more encouraging.

He walked to Wisteria Lodge.

That's good for us.

Means he's staying somewhere nearby.

Excuse me, helicopter man.

Yes?

Take us eastwards over there to those rapeseed fields.

Well,

rapeseed fields.

Why?

Rapeseed around here flowers in spring.

You see those fields of big yellow blooms down there?

Uh, yeah, yeah, I see them.

Now see this yellow dust on his trousers.

So he walked through there?

Exactly.

From where?

Well, that's what we have to decipher next, dear doctor.

Don't touch me when you're naked.

What are you doing?

Looking in his pockets.

Nothing?

Try the little pocket there.

The weird one that's on top of the big pocket.

I don't get those things, to be honest.

Yes, funny little things.

Originally developed by Levi Strauss.

It was for pocket watches back in the 1870s.

They keep it still today, probably for design more than anything, but it can still come in handy.

Oh,

that is very, very handy.

What?

What is?

It's a piece of paper from his pocket.

Oh, not a pocket watch then.

What does it say?

It has an important clue.

Let me see.

There.

Oh, a jumble of letters.

Lovely, just what we need.

It's a Wi-Fi password.

Is that helpful?

Not particularly.

But this top line is very much so.

It's the router name.

Oh, wow.

Great.

Yeah, so I actually get five gigabytes of roaming data a month, so I'm alright.

Unless I need to download the last five minutes of your waffle.

Broaden your scope, Watson.

Oh, sorry, I'm not Inspector Baines.

Bloody Baines.

Bain in my life, more like.

I don't see anyone walking in those yellow fields, Sherlock.

No, you won't.

Why?

Why?

You won't.

Because he's returned to his accommodation.

Which is right there.

By that bend in the footpath.

High Gable House.

How the hell do you know that?

I broadened my scope.

Just tell me, smartass, our router name.

High Gable Office Wi-Fi, all one word.

But I really am starting to like this case.

Well, can you put some clothes on before you get too excited, please?

I still don't see anyone through the windows.

I don't like his clothes.

Why doesn't he remove the tags at the back?

Maybe he should have just checked his pockets without stripping naked.

Hmm?

I told you I needed to wear the clothes in order to get them out of the building.

Yeah, I'd say that's a pretty empty house.

He's probably legged it, let's be honest.

Maybe he isn't back yet.

It.

Uh, what are you doing?

Looking in the bins.

Lovely.

He's returned and cleaned himself up.

Why?

What's in there?

Some kitchen tissue.

Wet and bloody.

That could have been from last night.

They cleaned down the helicopter.

No signs of...

or smell of a cleaning product.

This was to remove a dried blood, most likely on his knuckles.

He concealed his hands in his pockets when we saw him.

Now we know why.

From beating up Henderson.

Indeed.

I'll call Baines.

Tell him to come to Highgable House.

We could use his intellect.

Are you serious?

Of course.

He's not that good.

I got us a helicopter.

Hmm.

I was under the impression that was Mariana.

Oh, piss off, honestly.

So, hmm, do we have an armed fugitive on our hands now?

We do, right?

Yeah.

Actually, when you when you put it like that, that sounds pretty bad, doesn't it?

Just a thought.

Go on.

Maybe we, um,

step back from this.

This is, I mean, in in terms of what we offer, we have.

We have.

Oh, you know?

Completely, yeah.

We've solved it.

It's now just a chase.

Right, right, exactly.

He does seem good at evading the police and knowing our moods.

Hello, Baines.

It's me.

Wait!

What on earth are you doing, Watson?

Just stop.

Stop.

This really is petulant now.

Oh, my God.

I am not doing any more fighting, you guys.

Figure it out.

Think.

Sherlock, think.

His hands were in his pockets when we saw him, when he was dressed as Officer Henderson.

Yes, because he was hiding them, Watson.

They were covered in the blood of the tied-up officer.

Now, please.

We asked him to contact baines and he didn't why because the radio is in the car wow was it guys goodness of course brilliant watson he has the radio he's listening in

then we shall call baines and give him an instruction that will lure our suspect out

uh yes inspector baines speaking baines we must be quick give an instruction to evacuate wisteria lodge tell your unit the investigation has moved to london But why would we do that, Sherlock?

It doesn't make any sense.

There's a very important reason why you should do so, and should do so right this instant.

Roger that.

Wait,

it's impossible.

Why would he throw away the police radio?

A very foolish move.

But it's not in the bin.

Yes.

Where is it coming from?

Guys!

What, Mariana?

I'm trying to listen for this police radio.

It's coming from this.

From what?

Yes.

A um

very

very very recent grave.

Oh god.

Surely not.

That's a pretty big hold to just hide a police radio.

And the digger has attempted to conceal the burial site in the undergrowth.

I hear it again.

Dig now.

Come on.

With what?

Hands.

Anything.

Digg.

Good God.

Oh, shit.

A body.

A very familiar one at that.

How is this possible?

Who killed him?

That's the guy, right?

The guy from the house.

Yes.

Our suspect.

You see,

police uniform still on him.

Here.

What is going on?

Let me get this radio.

Baines, this is Holmes.

Our suspect

is dead.

Dead?

Mopi.

Can you find an ID on him?

Find out who he is.

On it.

Oh, oh, God.

Uh, here, um, his his pocket.

I see a wallet.

Let's have a look.

Who are you?

His name is Bashir.

He's better known as the Tiger of Damascus.

And if you speak into that radio again, I will bury you with him.

Would that be the 7.65mm revolver you mentioned, Watson?

It.

Um.

Would.

Yep.

Snub-nosed Smith and Wesson.

Seems to be.

Yep.

Can you put your hands up, please, Sherlock?

Apologies.

We're not going to hurt you, please.

I see that.

You were the waitress.

I was so much more than that, and so much less.

I was married to this man for a start.

Who are you?

Victoria.

Why did you kill your husband here?

And why did you throw Garcia out of a helicopter?

Because, sir, the enemy of my enemy is my husband.

Double betrayal.

Garcia deserved it.

And that freaking asshole deserved it too.

And

I have waited for this moment since I was dragged out of my house as a child bride.

A bride

to a mass murderer and torturer.

A bride to the killer of my brothers.

My father.

My uncles.

A bride to a man that raped my friends and starved their children.

I'm so sorry, Victoria.

Oh, I was sorry.

For a time.

Then I got over it.

What about Ali Garcia?

We're working for a client from the NCA.

He...

I mean, they think he could be money laundering or...

I don't know.

Was Garcia evil too?

What do you think?

An ambitious man in the inner circle of the monstrous regime.

Who were they trying to kill?

In London.

Somebody that deserved it?

Somebody that didn't?

I don't care.

I knew he would help me take out Garcia.

He just didn't know he was next.

My husband never trusted any man.

A woman, however.

He eventually did.

A chess master his whole life, then one bad move.

He thought he had the final piece on the board, but he was mistaken.

Victoria, I think we find ourselves somewhat of a stalemate.

How so?

I'm holding a gun to your face.

This is a checkmate.

Yes, but your husband here has loose bullets in his pocket.

And in the air.

And that's a five-shot cylinder snub-nose revolver.

It is.

Well,

you've killed Garcia and two associates.

You've now killed your husband.

One, two, three,

four.

Just one bullet left.

You can take out one of us,

but not all of us.

Yes,

you're right.

But I had always planned to take out one of us.

Victoria.

Holy shit.

Oh my god.

Oh my god.

No, no.

No.

All units too.

To Highgable House.

We have a suicide.

She's gone, Sherlock.

Get an ambulance here immediately.

She's gone.

No.

No, no.

No.

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It's just, I don't know if Mr.

Eccles is going to appreciate that many missed calls.

Why not?

It

comes across urgent.

Yes, well,

this is urgent.

Right.

Why don't you just enjoy the train ride, Sherlock?

Right?

He's not answering.

Yes, I noticed he's probably busy.

With his spider.

With what?

Sorry?

Nothing.

Okay, I know you're deflating.

I'm trying Eccles again.

God's sake.

Uh

right.

Okay, so

head start on the police report.

Uh Baines has sent over some notes already.

Of course he has.

Ali Garcia went missing with his two associates.

So did a cook and a waitress.

Associates found dead in a field.

We then stumble across a clean-up job in the lodge, track that guy, turns out to be the missing cook, and discover him dead.

His wife, the waitress, has killed him.

I'm...

I mean, I'm obviously summarizing here.

Yeah, because it didn't feel this light and breezy, to be honest.

Yeah.

So, the motive was was the grudge from the old regime between Garcia and an unknown Syrian in London.

Little did Garcia know there was Bashir and Victoria who beat Garcia to his hit job, killed him and his team, and then Victoria acted her revenge on Bashir.

Tiger of Damascus.

That's right.

That's what she called him.

Eh, Tiger of Damascus.

Just looking him up here.

No way.

Is he that well known?

Looks like it.

Wow.

Wow, that's some brutal stuff.

Yeah.

Fierce rivalry in the Middle East exported to leafy Surrey.

Yeah.

It's a smaller world than you think,

isn't it?

It sure is.

Operations all lead back to the same owning companies.

I bet crime is no different.

You know, everything's just leading back to one sort of some evil overlord.

Yeah, my vote is with Evil Overlord.

And uh,

here we go.

I've got it, I've got it.

What is this?

Drunk?

Did you see?

Yeah, absolutely.

Don't have a drink and dishonor.

I am.

Yeah, um,

I'm feeling strong enough.

Oh,

wow, um, good for you, John.

Thanks.

Thanks.

It's um

it's nice to hear her voice, obviously,

but

also a relief to be able to finally conquer it emotionally.

I just think all these months holding it back, keeping it locked away in this little cupboard of my mind and

fearing it and being

agitated by it, conflicted by it.

But now I finally feel in a place where I can get my life back together.

And it it starts with things like this.

It seems silly, but

feels

soothing in a way.

Sorry, I was messaging Baines.

What were you saying?

Mariana, for fuck.

Made you a cup, eh?

Thought we could knock this back and then maybe take Archie for a walk around the old block.

Quite good when I walk around the street with him, because it trims his nails down.

In the park, he sticks to the grass and they get a little overgrown, so

yeah, the nails get overgrown, not the grass.

Any word from Eccles?

Uh, nope.

Nope, Mariana said he was still unwell.

Maybe in the next couple of days, he might, I don't know, shed some light.

Mm-hmm.

Unwell.

You gonna tell me what you messaged you yet?

I still don't quite understand it myself.

Right.

Right.

You taught me to whack the telly on.

Oh, it's Pub Quiz Night of the Volunteer, isn't it?

Slowly ring Matt, put our names down.

Okay, I'm just gonna say something.

It's gonna sound stupid, but I'm gonna say it.

Oh, I'm more than prepared.

We.

I mean.

We solved it.

Mate.

You know, this isn't failure.

It's shit.

It's gruesome and cruel, but it's not failure.

She killed four people

that we know of.

She was a revolutionary making the biggest sacrifice, Watson.

Yeah, well, tell that to the blokes that fell out of the sky.

And

it's like...

Maybe she always planned for it to end like that.

You don't know.

I do know, and generally I like it when criminals and murderers don't go through with their plans.

Sherlock, do you remember what you first said to me?

When the Baron...

Well...

You know.

When I said about how horrifying it was, when I was clearly struggling with the

brutality.

Do you know what you said?

The wages of sin.

The wages of sin.

She killed four people.

She was also a victim.

Oi, you were never ever going to stop her from putting that gun to her head, mate.

Never.

Never.

And the suffering she's seen, the pain.

She spent so long in a state of murderous scheming hatred for her husband, she probably didn't even know who she was anymore.

And she had a story to tell,

and she always had the same ending.

Always.

And I know when I was in pain, You brought me plenty of tea

and offered me lots of walks and trips to the pub.

Alright, so drink your bloody tea, get your shoes on, and do some research on popular culture.

Ideally, modern pop music, because I'm fucking crap at that, to be honest.

I thought Megan the Stallion was a Julia Donaldson pub.

I'll skip the tea and let's head straight out for the walk, shall we?

There we go.

Ah, spider web in my face, for God's sake.

What are you doing?

Two secs.

Knock, knock.

Yep.

Here you go, cup of tea.

One One previous owner, he didn't fancy it.

Oh.

Um, thanks.

It's too bright in here.

Yeah, sorry.

I needed a lift.

A lift?

Where are you going?

No, um.

An emotional lift.

Oh, not you too.

What is going on?

The whole team's falling apart.

Sorry.

I.

Yeah, sorry.

No, maybe I'm...

Trying to be too upbeat and not really appreciating everything that we

witnessed with Victoria.

Uh, Uh yeah, no, um, it's sorry, it's something else.

What is it?

I don't want to get you down.

Mariana, what is it?

Um

our client, um

sadly, uh passed away.

Wait

what?

Mm-hmm, yeah.

John Scott Eccles.

I I I had the police call me.

They were asking about his stress levels and everything that was going on, and I asked, and it, um,

yeah, they, um, just said it.

What happened?

Brain aneurysm oh, God,

yeah, fuck

shitting hell, that's horrible.

God,

um, there's a foundation I just found, and um, I was thinking we'd donate to yeah, yes, definitely.

Oh, man, poor John.

You okay, Sherlock?

Hmm.

Did he tell you?

No.

And what did the message say?

Wait, he sent you a message.

Yes.

What did it say?

I think I'm going to head back upstairs.

That's what the message said.

No.

That's what I'm saying now.

Sherlock, uh, what what are you doing?

Sherlock, just wait a second.

I just want to be alone and think.

Sherlock, can you just hold on?

I want to think.

Sherlock, what?

What did the message say?

The message from Eccles, what did it say?

M.

M.

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