Wisteria Lodge - Part One

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£6 a month at patreon.com forward slash Sherlock Co.

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Yeah,

they're quite something in there.

Newsletters, live events, early bird merch access, case file episodes and just loads, loads more.

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That's weird.

Is that recording?

Laptop says yes, Mike says no.

Who do I trust more?

I'm probably

gonna back laptop on this one.

Sorry, Mike.

Hi, all, if this is working.

Welcome to the Adventure of Wisteria Lodge.

This is a three-parter, and you're gonna get some gory stuff, well, gory references type thing right from the off.

Um, all the other warnings and stuff is available in the episode description, as well as links to the Patreon, the transcripts, and my social media account.

Oh, no, uh,

oh, sorry, I thought that cut out.

Um, yeah, head into the uh description description box.

God, it's grotesque.

Look, look, the kestrels have got pieces of it in their mouths.

There's blood everywhere.

It's basically raining blood, they die.

They're buzzards, Martin.

No, no, no, no, kestrels, Linda.

Look, look at the colouring.

Colouring doesn't matter.

It's wingspan.

Colouring does matter.

They're kestrels and rare value.

Oh, watch out!

They're dropping blood again!

My god, they're dropping whole clumps of it.

They're fighting over the key.

What on earth have they found?

Definitely something.

Something big.

You know what?

It'll be a badger, and I'm recording.

Just in case.

Oh, Martin, for goodness sake.

Uh, uh, harbing a badger is illegal, right?

But we have to call the council if it is one.

Come off it.

No, no, no.

Honestly, honestly, we have to call the council, and this is our evidence that we didn't harm.

I don't think the council are going to accuse us of walking into the middle of a field and killing a badger, Martin.

Uh, excuse me, the council accused us of vandalizing a telegraph pole because I put a bloody bird box on it, Linda.

I know what they're like.

Oh my god, exactly.

And it's on our land as well.

They should be paying us for that telegraph pole.

We should release it back to them, shouldn't we?

Martin?

What, Linda?

It's not a badger.

What is it then?

A bloody fox or something.

Oh, my God.

Are you still recording?

I am.

I am, yes.

Call the police.

I got.

Please, please.

Yes, hi.

We found a...

What looks...

Looks like a body of a person.

What condition is it in?

It's...

It's...

smashed to pieces.

Almost.

It's almost unrecognizable.

But for the clothes, and

I think I see a shoe there

Did you hear that?

Um yeah in in a field outside Esha in Surrey

We'll hold the line.

Yeah

What

happened

to this man

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.

And I

wanna fall from the stars

straight into your arms and I

excuse me?

Yes.

Did you write that song?

No, Nick Cocknell did.

Then why are you singing it?

Do you want do you want copyright material on your podcast?

Ah, yeah.

Yeah, you're right.

I'll uh I'll note down to cut that.

Um, should this client tick our boxes?

Hmm.

It's a meeting, not sure if it's a client.

What time is their appointment?

In 15 minutes.

I'll message Sherlock.

He he might be interested.

You know, this guy is a scientist, uh.

Uh-uh.

Professor.

Professor.

Right.

Uh, messaging the big guy.

Get down here.

Potential client inbound.

Bring my laptop and my notepad and ah biscuit.

Send, right, that edit reminder.

To cut

simply red before

uploading and getting

sued.

Oh, early worm.

Early bird.

What?

It's early bird, not early worm.

Oh.

But wait, wait, wait.

The early bird eats the worm.

Yeah, early bird catches the worm.

The bird is early.

Yes, but the worm is there already.

Just i ignore the worm.

Forget about the worm.

It's the early bird.

Yeah, worm sounds like he arrived earlier.

Can we answer the door without arguing about worms in front of an actual professor?

Fine.

Hi, uh,

James?

Sorry.

Are you our professor?

I have you down for an 11 o'clock.

No, apologies.

I haven't made an appointment.

Oh, you haven't?

Is there time?

Something rather peculiar has taken place, and I'd very much like to discuss it.

You have been disturbed since the early hours, sir, and have rushed to come visit us.

I have, yes.

Well noted.

But it's nearly eleven.

What kept you?

What?

The time.

It's nearly eleven.

It can't be.

I assure you, it is.

No, it was.

I was.

I awoke.

Look, see?

10.50.

Right.

I could have sworn it was the afternoon.

If the mystery was finding out the time, we're glad to be of service.

But I suspect it's more than that.

I

was in the country, right near Isha, Mr.

Holmes, and it...

Oh, good lord, what is going on?

Let him in.

Yeah, it...

We...

We have another appointment.

Pretty sharpish.

Then we best get to the matter at once.

Okay, um, um, please come through.

Welcome to Sherlock and Co.

Here's your laptop and notepad.

Thank you, mute.

And biscuit.

Yeah, cheers.

It was a shooting trip to Surrey.

Shooting?

Like, for game?

Absolutely.

Grouse, pheasant, partridge, quail, woodcocks, snipe,

teal, mallards, pigeons, all sorts, really.

Yes, sounds it.

I have been invited by a prospective investor, a friend from working in the city.

I'm going to pause you there, Mr.

Eccles, and thank you for your time.

But as my colleagues mentioned, we have another client now.

Oh, but...

Cheerio to you, good sir.

I realize I don't have an appointment, but you have done nothing but stare at your phone.

Uh, occasional glancing, rather than staring, I'd say.

But this is urgent.

You noted it yourself that I came as quickly as I could.

Yes, I did note it.

Noted that you shave daily, you didn't today.

Your hair is stuck up around the crown from a deep sleep.

You've missed a button on your shirt.

You have a headache from a lack of caffeine, and you didn't brush your teeth.

Not to mention you've missed your Fajr and Sunrise Prayer.

You've got another one coming up.

Feel free to use upstairs.

Mecca is that way.

No, hold on now.

Just...

This is a lot to take in.

Why won't you listen to me?

Because we have an appointment.

And I believe you do as well, Mr.

Eccles.

An appointment that you have neglected to inform us of.

What?

D.I.

Tom Gregson.

the man responsible for my glances towards my device.

I have a few messages from him.

He was expecting you at Scotland Yard nearly an hour ago.

I was told you were private.

I am.

Then why are you conversing with the police?

Why are you not?

Bye-bye now, Mr.

Eccles.

Wait!

I

have been in contact with CPSPOC in regards to, um,

in regards to CPSPOC Crown Prosecution Service Proceeds of Crime Unit.

They investigate those suspicious of money laundering, of dealing with criminal funds,

of concealing, disguising, or transferring criminal assets and property.

But that's another concealment, isn't it, Mr.

Eccles?

You're not merely in contact with them.

You work for their task force, do you not?

How?

If you want to go undercover as a rich man, you best start dressing and conversing like one.

You're not even wearing a watch, for goodness sake.

The most prominent symbol of a braggart's wealth, Mr.

Eccles.

Who are you investigating?

I.

I didn't want to lie to you.

Mm-hmm.

I just.

It's a dangerous business, is all.

Should I go enter the?

Yes.

Ask them to come back another time.

I urge you not to pry too deeply into our work, Mr.

Holmes.

I just want you to hear this singular case.

What if I wish to pry?

No.

It's not what I'm here for.

But it's what I wish to know.

Then I shall leave and take my mystery with me.

Why do you shoo me away, Mr.

Eccles?

Because

that is a web, sir, that I do not wish you to fly into.

Why not?

Because of he that nestles in its center.

Sharp, watchful eyes,

long, probing legs.

And deep fangs, Mr.

Holmes, with a venom.

A venom that would kill us all.

He's gone.

Who's gone?

The guy, our appointment.

John Scott Eckens.

Hmm?

You have your wish.

Tell me of your pressing matter.

I will discern the rest.

Thank you.

All of you, thank you.

And please assure Gregson that I will speak with full disclosure once I have surmised my shooting trip.

At least, just in this brief moment, to you good people.

The task force has been running for about four years.

Created by the CPS and National Crime Agency, and of course, Scotland Yard,

we investigate what I suppose you would call dark money.

Due to my background, and as an Arabic speaker, I was charged with looking at funds and operators coming out of Damascus.

From the new regime or the old?

Yes.

Well, a pertinent question.

As you know, it's a rather complicated mess out there.

Lots of powerful people looking to get their funds out.

Others looking to piggyback on the funds being poured in to get a piece of the action.

Back a militia there and a government program here.

Support this leader and that leader.

It's gambling, really.

Coming in behind certain forces in the hope you can cash in later down the line.

Sometimes with literal cash,

sometimes just with power.

So, what does Syria have to do with you guys?

And Scotland Yard?

Yes.

Well, to sum up, the Crime Agency and us are tracking individuals tied to the dark money.

And it...

Look, I know Britain may not always feel like much at times on the world stage, but there is a reason.

It is a global financial powerhouse, and it's not something the country can celebrate all that proudly.

I'm not taken aback by this information, Mr.

Eccles.

There's money in this city that seeks a wider influence.

Money that feels around in the dark for chaos.

Your spider.

Yes, but

on this occasion, it wasn't he who I was tracking, just a Spider Ling,

Garcia.

Ali Garcia.

Doesn't sound Syrian.

Central American background.

His family were chased out of Bolivia in 1971 following a coup.

They settled in the Middle East and clung to the rocketing oil prices.

The rest is...

well, politics.

You went undercover?

That's correct.

I befriended Ali Garcia a couple of years ago.

Our government plays both sides, you see.

They indulge these individuals for monitoring purposes.

We got close.

I built plenty of trust with our friend.

Credit in the bank, as it were.

As in a genuine friend, or you befriended him as part of an investigation?

These things are always so hard to tell.

Even when you're right there in the clutches of it.

Shades of grey, if you know what I mean.

Ali was a rising star in Syria from a young age.

He was encroaching on the inner circle of the Assad regime.

But seemed a decade ago, he got a little too close to its nucleus for someone's liking.

An attempt was made on his life.

He escaped into exile.

Some choose Turkey, others choose Egypt, not Ali Garcia.

He chose Isha in Surrey.

Wow.

Amazing.

Hmm.

A teeny bit bit boring as far as my special interests are concerned, but not immensely boring, at least.

Not yet, anyway, Mr.

Eccles.

Yes, right.

Well, now we turn to your field, Mr.

Holmes.

A few weeks back, I finally get an invite to his house in Isha.

Wisteria Lodge.

Quite the property, incredible grounds.

The regime collapse was all over the news at this point, and I couldn't help feeling that Mr.

Garcia was ready to make some moves, reinvest in his homeland now Assad was gone.

And he relied very much on me when it came to signaling to various parties that his money was to be moved.

We booked in a weekend for the new year.

It got shifted around a bit, then finally, all systems go.

Anyway, I ventured down to Isha yesterday morning.

He wanted to do a bird shoot.

Not um harem in Islam, as long as it's breeding season.

So, yeah, we had a decent little shoot on the Friday, scored myself a couple of pheasants, and we were able to talk a little business, the technical challenges with his money.

Even had a little presentation of how we could get funds to the forces he wanted, and so on.

But the rest of the evening was,

I suppose, rather stale in that area.

It became casual.

He spent a lot of time on his phone.

We lounged around.

There wasn't the

urgency I expected, considering I was called down there for my services.

And you are certain he has no comprehension that you are an undercover agent for a government task force?

Absolutely certain, yes.

Ali Garcia doesn't suffer imposters.

Indeed.

Continue.

He arranged for me to stay in the mansion and dine with his friend.

How many friends?

Just two other gentlemen.

I'd met them before.

Their advisors, old friends.

We'd all got on very well.

I don't want you to picture them as some heavies, as it were, trying to expose me.

We were friends.

It's um

we share this faith, the love of Damascus.

It wasn't a forced social occasion on his part or theirs.

Perhaps that's why it became so casual.

Anyway, yes, he gave me a room.

I go up.

So there was just a bird shoot, and everyone went to bed.

We had dinner and then bed, yes.

How was the dinner?

Apart from casual chatting, anything remotely serious?

It was fine.

I detected a slight

frustration from Ali.

The food was pretty poor.

His cook let him down a little, I'd say, with the pheasant in particular.

But the waitress he had was very charming, effervescent, told a couple of Syrian jokes.

Pause.

We now have six individuals in this house.

I.

Yes, that's right.

Would have appreciated that information immediately, but fine.

Ali Garcia, two close friends of his, two staff, and yourself.

Correct.

Casual but underwhelming dinner, then off to bed.

Yes.

And

that's when the peculiarities began.

Why?

You shoot pheasant in the morning.

That's when there's plenty of them.

Early birds.

Indeed.

So they had a shoot planned for the next day, first thing.

Plus, we were near a military airbase, I believe, a a few miles away, and that scares the birds once they all get flying around in the afternoon.

You can really hear those choppers whoosh past.

Anyway, I go to bed.

I don't set an alarm, as I was told the staff go around and wake you with a nice coffee and such.

Well, who knows if it was nice with that cook.

And Ali himself even woke me by mistake at 1 a.m.

as he forgot I was there and was looking for his iPad or something.

Forgot I was there for crying out loud.

Morning comes, and there I was in this grand old bedchamber.

I look at the little digital alarm clock next to my bed.

It's nearly 9 a.m.

They told us we'd be woken at 5.45 a.m.

I uh

I hopped out of bed, quickly chucked on some clothes, just to check in really, with everyone, see what's happened.

And I...

I couldn't find a single soul.

Maybe they went on the shoot?

The vehicles were all on the drive from the shoot the day before.

The gun cabinets were full.

The requisite attire was still in the cloakrooms.

And not only that...

I had been shown where the shoot was going to take place, and it was visible from the upstairs window.

There was no shooting taking place in that field.

Did nobody message you?

Absolutely not.

The second I noted things were wrong, the phone went straight off.

Why?

He's concerned it's been tampered with.

Correct.

And you had no messages?

Well, at a very, very brief glance, I saw nothing on there, no.

What about the staff?

The cook and the waitress?

Not a single soul, Mr.

Holmes.

I had pretty much exhausted my search downstairs, and so I thought it best to head back up and check the bedrooms.

Garcia had shown me his room the night before during his little tour, so I knew where it was.

Got to the top of the stairs, went down the hallway, knock-knock sort of thing, and no answer.

I go inside.

Nobody there.

The bed hadn't even been slept in.

Maybe it was, and he had some kind of chambermaid.

I.

Perhaps.

Were the curtains open or closed?

Closed.

If the room was refreshed by staff that morning, the curtains would have been open.

Hmm.

Good point.

I knocked on every bedroom door, looking for the two associates, and it was the same situation.

I quickly left, stopped at a payphone, and called the police.

Local police?

In Surrey?

No.

Why not?

Because I could spend hours explaining to a Surrey PC that I was working undercover dealing with high financial crimes, of which he's not going to believe me.

Or Or I could just call Scotland Yard.

I did so.

I informed them of the situation.

I told them I'd come to them.

And they contacted the Surrey Constabulary to secure the property.

I believe that is the case, yes.

Yet you came here first.

That's correct.

Why?

Because

I know you like a predicament.

But we solve crimes, Mr.

Eccles?

No.

The police do.

You solve problems.

John is right, though.

We're a busy agency and our focus should be on crime.

Yes.

But there isn't one, you see.

Just a problem that needs solving.

We appreciate this enormously, Mr.

Eccles.

Do we?

Yes, we do.

Wonderful.

Here, here is my card.

Please.

Keep me updated on everything you find.

Yes, and I will ask that Gregson does the same with what he finds.

What he finds with what?

With you and your spider.

Good day, Mr.

Eccles.

We'll be in touch.

Mariana.

Walking at Dr.

Isher as we speak.

Excellent.

Watson?

On hold with Sarre Constabulary already, mate.

Wonderful.

But no shooting any birds, okay?

Not the kind of game I'm interested in, Mariana.

The game is afoot.

Ha ha!

I said it first.

Hello, Sherry, please.

Yes, hello there, officer.

My name is John Watson.

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Rules and restrictions apply.

Welcome to Isha in Surrey, everyone.

Isha, spelled Esha, pronounced Isha.

Don't know why.

Bit silly, really, but that's not what we're here to investigate.

Isha is not far out of London at all.

It's just near Kingston, which is kind of a

to know really, like

a southwest gateway into the big sprawling capital.

I've been banging on about Isha, but we're actually just outside it, closer to a place called Oxhot,

and actually not far from Chessington World of Adventures, if anyone cares.

Yeah.

But Chessington will have to wait, of course, as we have an adventure of our own.

I'm here with crime-solving stalwarts Miss Mariana Mechazura and Mr.

Sherlock Holmes.

You may have heard of them.

We are currently heading to Wisteria Lodge which we can see in the distance.

I thought we had arrived but turns out it was just

the gatehouse to a much larger property that seems to be at the end of the world's longest driveway.

Well you did tell the cab driver to stop.

First off I didn't say stop.

I said anywhere around here is fine mate.

Yes well it is

obviously not fine.

And secondly, how was I to know that the house was going to be 20 minutes from the gate?

The poor bloody postman that delivers to this place, honestly.

It's only 20 minutes because we are walking it because you said to the cab driver.

I know what I said to him, alright?

I was trying to be polite.

Hey, what do you think they do with their bins?

You don't think they wheel them down this thing every Tuesday night?

Surely not.

They should get a little golf cart, take the bins in that.

Okay, sure, but can we get back to the case, please?

What did Surrey Police say?

They are there in the house.

Maybe they can come and give us a lift.

They said they were going to speak to Scotland Yard once

all the confidential stuff was sorted between Eccles and

whatever.

I don't know, but Surrey Police are aware of the situation.

Okay,

and what else?

Well, nothing else.

I don't have other updates, so, you know, we might be told to bugger off.

We might be told to come right in.

As Mr.

Eccles pointed out, what crime exactly has taken place?

There's people missing.

Not reported missing by any friends or family, but by a house guest who they could easily have been spooked by.

So.

So, the Surrey Constabulary have plenty more to be getting on with, I would hope.

So, along with Ali Garcia, there were two friends of his.

Yep.

And, um, two staff: staff.

The waiter and the cook.

Correct.

And then there was Mr.

Eccles.

Oh, three out of three, Mariana.

Well done.

Well, six out of six, technically.

Eccles wakes up.

Everyone is gone.

Yeah, everybody.

And vehicles left behind.

Weird.

Yeah, it's the Mary Celeste.

The what?

Mary Celeste.

It was

a ship from like 1800s, I think.

Someone sees it floating in the ocean and tries to

flash it to communicate and signal to it

or whatever.

There's no response.

They eventually go on board, nobody there.

Nobody?

Nobody on the ship.

Yep.

Yep.

Well, fully stocked with food and booze.

It was clean, no signs of any damage.

But the last diary entry was like a week before.

Nothing suspicious, just whoosh, gone.

Boy, that's creepy.

Yeah, yeah, well, now we're gonna have a very similar experience, but in this giant evil mansion.

Yes, it is rather imposing, isn't it?

Yup.

Shall we?

Oh, why the hell not?

Because the last people went missing and haven't been heard from since.

Yeah, that's a good reason.

But not good enough.

Chop, chop.

Here's all the vehicles.

That's a lot of Land Rovers.

Yeah, green as well.

They like to play armies, these blokes, but shooting idiotic thursdays easier.

Uh, what exactly is idiotic about a pheasant?

Mariana, we just saw like three of them try to kill themselves under our taxi.

Maybe they were looking for a ride.

Well, he didn't have his light on, which proves they're idiots.

Sherlock Holmes.

Yes.

Hello.

Inspector Baines, Surrey Constabulary.

Good to meet you.

Bloody brilliant to meet you, sir.

I'm an avid follower of your work.

You are?

I am.

Absolutely.

Love it.

Oh, you listen to the show?

I mean, kind of.

On in the background.

It's a bit overproduced for me.

But I do go through your reports and notes very often.

Oh, I write those.

No way.

Yes.

Mariana here does the reports and I will go through each point with her.

That's amazing.

Well, please do come in, you two.

Three, I mean.

Hiya, Josh.

John.

John, of course.

Come on in.

Welcome to Wisteria Lodge.

Wow.

It's beautiful.

Breathtaking, isn't it?

A bit tacky and a bit trump tower here and there, but.

stunning.

Tell me, Baines, what are your observations on this problem of ours?

Well, where do we start?

We have a number of missing gentlemen, all of Syrian statehood, kind of internationalists.

All got connections across Europe and Asia.

Very much the upper crust of Damascus, I'd say.

But to narrow down on the problematic area, the person that concerns me the most is the homeowner,

Garcia.

Does he now?

Let me show you why, Mr.

Holmes.

Come through this way to the kitchen.

He's a bit smug, isn't he?

Who?

Means?

Yeah, it's like alright, mate.

People are missing.

There's no need to be so suave about it.

What was that?

I said it's um beautiful home.

Very suave decor.

Oh, very much so.

Right, just here.

What are we looking at exactly?

It's your standard smart display.

There's a few of them dotted round the house.

We We can see Garcia's engagements on the calendar.

Yes, exactly.

And you see today...

Shooting with S.

Eccles.

If I scroll...

Oh, doesn't let me...

Wait.

iCalendar, what were my appointments yesterday?

You hosted Mr.

J.S.

Eccles at your home.

The appointment lasts two days.

How is this suspicious?

This is just his calendar.

Watch this.

iCalendar, what other appointments do I have this month?

You have a flight on the 23rd from London Heathrow to Cairo International at 1435.

You have a meal booked at Nobu Mayfair on the 29th at 200 hours.

You have a sweet.

I hope I don't taint your lofty opinion of me, Inspector Baines, but I fail to see why this calendar incriminates Ali Garcia.

There is no flight from Heathrow to Cairo on the 23rd at 2.35.

And not only does Nobu Mayfair not have a booking under his name, the building is being renovated from now until the middle of next month.

Other events scheduled in the calendar are all these vague, ambiguous meetings and dates and appointments.

The only one with real substance is that of hosting Mr.

Eccles,

a man who.

He is working with the Crown Prosecution Service.

Exactly.

I must congratulate you, Inspector, on handling so distinctive and instructive a case.

Your powers, if I may say so without offense, seem superior to your opportunities.

Goodness me.

That's massive.

Thank you so much.

Get a bit lost here, guys.

His word, Mr.

Eccles, that is, is ironclad.

He's an agent of law enforcement.

Gossier wanted the authorities to know that he was with Mr.

Eccles.

With a man that would not lie.

A man that would report back the truth.

But why?

This is the room Eccles stayed in.

You can see the field he mentioned to you guys out the window.

That's where their shoot today would have taken place.

Military airbase has been quiet.

What has?

The airbase.

His clock is wrong.

Where?

His bedside clock.

It's over two hours fast.

Look.

Excellent.

We have the person for our alibi, Mr.

Baines.

And now we have the window of time.

Of course.

Genius.

Is it?

Garcia didn't enter this room at 1am.

He just wanted Eccles to think he entered his room at 1am.

Oh, yeah, I see.

I see.

Yeah, that's a nifty trick.

So, something terrible must have happened last night.

At 1 a.m.

Indeed.

I would like to try your bed again.

You tried my bed already.

Yes, but I need to feel the formations it makes against my sleeping placements.

No, you don't.

Yes, I do.

Hello, everyone.

We are still just outside of Isha.

We are now in a self-accommodating uh accommodation.

Um

little cabin on on like a campsite type thing.

It was this Aura BB, and I think we liked the look of this one more, didn't we?

No, we didn't.

We hated this one.

Yeah, so it's just a one-room cabin, but it's it's a family room.

So, three beds.

Well, four, actually, if you include the floor.

What the hell is wrong with you?

Why would anyone include the floor?

I'm just being optimistic about our lodgings.

It's better than being in a manor house where five people disappeared, isn't it?

We weren't allowed, anyway.

Yeah, so we are in our cabin in need of a good rest ahead of tomorrow's work.

Yes, very good.

Sorry?

Just a message.

An amusing message on my phone.

Hey, so yeah, uh, lots to investigate tomorrow.

We're actually researching Ali Garcia, right?

Now, I've got a future.

Sherlock.

Mm-hmm.

Is there something you'd like to share with the group?

I'm just messaging Baines.

Right.

Truly a brilliant mind, that one.

In what way?

His observations are just.

they're so refined.

You got any examples?

Because he thought I was called Josh, mate.

He's a high-level thinker, Watson.

He most likely grades and sorts concepts by their perceived value.

Concept?

It's not a concept, it's it's a fucking name.

John.

It's like the most basic name in the world.

To be fair, this high-level thinker right here called me Mrs.

Hudson for a year.

Baines knows what to look for.

He knows the significance and the unobvious.

He can sift through the noise and find that

core.

That white-hot core on which to build a system of hypothesis.

Exceptional.

Right, well, good for Baines.

Anyway, we are planning on retracing the steps of...

What does he mean the show is overproduced?

Like, it's it's a microphone, mate.

I take a microphone around and it catches the sound of things we come across.

What is highly produced about that?

Huh?

High-level thinker?

I think he possibly has a point.

I'll just pick a stupid bed.

I want this one.

Great.

Excuse me.

No, no, no, no.

Not great.

That's mine.

Have my one.

But you're sat in it.

So?

Are you in your boxers?

Yeah.

Yeah, no, thanks.

Oh, thanks very much.

Well, aren't you two lovely today?

Don't mind me.

Just gonna return to my overproduced podcast.

I I think Baines has really illuminated a key factor in this case.

For God's sake.

Ali Garcia chose Mr.

Eccles to be his alibi.

Yet all five men in the building are now missing.

Let's think of Garcia's background.

Money?

Uh, politics?

Yes.

He exists in a world of fierce political rivalries.

Then an abrupt turn of events, all those thousands of miles away in Damascus,

he's an exile from a regime that has now fallen, which in turn creates more exiles.

Exactly.

And I suppose that

justice is being delivered to those that used to run things, right?

So

Garcia is begrudged.

He was nearly killed out there, and the people that did it have lost all their power.

All of it, John?

Or was there enough to get them to safety?

To conceal themselves in the nooks of a European capital.

So, what is the connection between Wisteria Lodge and the Missing Men

and a war-torn country?

And that, Mariana, is where the fun lies.

Night Knight.

I have some thinking to do.

Yeah, coming.

Who is it?

I haven't actually done the bit where I opened the door yet, Mariana.

It'll be Baines.

Oh, you're reading his mind as well now, are you?

Hi.

Hey, Inspector Raines.

Baines.

Is Sherlock there?

Yes.

What is it?

We have something.

Here are dog walkers.

Linda and Martin Fern discovered in this morning.

Him?

Who's him?

Well,

he's a VIP, as far as this case is concerned.

Have we found Garcia's victim?

We have not, Mr.

Holmes.

Oh.

Oh, my God.

Oh, no.

No.

We haven't found Garcia's victim.

We found Garcia.

He's...

obliterated.

I know.

This.

This is grotesque.

How is this possible?

We could only identify him by his ID and some dental records that we obtained from a Harley Street practitioner.

I.

can't believe my eyes.

I do too.

Step away.

Sorry.

Sorry.

What are you thinking, Sherlock?

I'm thinking

this case just became more complicated.

There's another body.

God in heaven.

Oh my god, they're everywhere.

It's as if

they've fallen out of the sky

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