The Veiled Lodger - Part Two

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Previously on Sherlock and Co.

Just met Mark Merrill.

Oh, yeah, from 208?

Yeah, yeah, he's insane.

Is he?

Totally deranged, Marianne.

Do you know him?

I know Mark, yeah.

Him and his wife are so great.

His lodger, though, oof, that the old lady?

She's super mean.

His lodger.

His lodger.

His lodger.

The scene of the snow flurry last night, coupled with the haunting cries of murder.

I feel it may have stirred up a somewhat emotive response.

Hey, I don't blame you, to be honest.

It's a real, um,

it's blood-curdling sometimes, innit?

I know I said all that stuff,

but I really do feel for her.

She hasn't had it easy in her life.

This is Eugenia, the lodger.

She's a bit guarded.

Mm-hmm.

Go on.

She's kind of shy.

Indeed.

And she wears a veil over these massive scars on her face.

She's got an eye missing and doesn't really have a nose.

Cheekbones all caved in, half her mouth left.

Whole face completely hollowed out from something nasty.

And she remains veiled at all times.

Yeah, I've seen her face by accident when I thought she was out, but yeah, veiled.

Always.

Yeah, Mariana said the same when she's seen her about.

Yeah, she goes to Regent's Park every day with her zoo membership.

Walks around bang on 10am back at 2.

Daily visits to London Zoo in Regent.

Oh, yeah.

Like clockwork.

I think our next case will have to be local.

Mm-hmm.

Yep.

Very, very local.

What are you getting at?

Ready?

For what?

You gonna chat to Mobo the lion about his dad?

We're going to discover who murdered Eugenia's husband.

It was a lion, Sherlock.

Could be.

Wait, wait, where the hell are you going?

You know

that the game is afoot.

Gentle folks, how are thee?

Would thou lend one's ear?

Stop.

That's terrible.

Don't know why I'm talking like that.

If this is an outtake, then yep, if somehow this isn't, welcome to the Veiled Lodger part two.

The final part, of course.

what was I gonna say

oh yeah this episode is

it has a

I don't know a complexity to it I suppose so have a read of the episode description if you want trigger warnings and I'll see you at the end

Shout out to Nicholas in Australia who binged the whole show in five days.

Wow, Nicholas, superb work.

Shout out to Alessia Schmid in Switzerland.

Shout out to Theo and Starr in Kent.

To Caitlin from Ireland.

Hey, how about this then?

A lion is in a cage.

Mr.

Ronda opens it to feed him.

Something happens.

Something happens.

I suggest you return to your shout-outs.

Something happens, right?

And the lion goes for him.

For the back of him?

Yeah, because he's turned his back, hasn't he?

He's legging it.

Why?

Because it's a bloody lion.

And that is why Eugenia is shouting coward when she gets put in the ambulance.

So her husband is lying dead on the floor and she's shouting coward as she's being put into an ambulance, is she?

Dad's ass, she doesn't know he's dead.

Yes, she does, according to Edmund's notes.

Alright, well, you know, maybe she's just had her face torn out, maybe she doesn't know what she's saying or what's going on.

And that is exactly why we're paying her a little visit.

A fascinating little tale, Watson.

You said it yourself.

I hope we are on the same page a bit.

We're not even on the same book, mate.

We'll see about that.

She won't be back from Regent's Park for another half an hour, mate.

Remember, she's like clockwork.

Well, then, we can get a head start in her bedroom, can't we?

Oh!

Hiya, lads.

Hello.

Again.

We were wondering if we could look through Eugenia Ronda's belongings.

Oh, God.

I don't know if I can just send you up there.

It's it's her room.

Mr.

Merrillow, your lodger, as you said yourself, is deathly ill.

She wastes away.

A sharp decline, you declared to us.

How will it look?

How will it reflect on the family that was housing her when this poor, fragile woman breathes her last breath in this very house?

What damage would it do to you to walk in on her lifeless body?

What damage would it do to your wife?

Your children?

What will you tell them?

That you just wanted to leave her alone?

Let her manage her own affairs, observe her gradual expiry with distant apathy.

Alright, alright!

She's bloody hell.

Um, right.

Come with me.

She'll be back in 20 minutes or so.

Excellent.

So we've got 20 minutes.

No, you do not have 20.

You have five minutes maximum.

But she's not back until...

I'm not taking any risks.

There's tribunals for stuff like this.

Is there?

I should think so.

Button's your house.

Five minutes.

She's not in.

I'm just being polite.

To nobody.

Sherlock.

Mrs.

Ronda.

Eugenia, love.

I think the coast is clear, Mr.

Merrillow.

Yeah, it's all right, Mark.

We're pretty confident she's still in Regents Park.

Yeah, um.

Okay.

Here we go.

Goodness.

Okay,

this is cramped and uh

rather stuck.

Can we open this window?

Wait, we can't go...

We can't go changing stuff.

Why did you let her live like this, Mark?

I didn't know!

I just...

God, I didn't know.

I just thought.

Good lord, above!

It's alright.

I didn't mean it like that.

You know, she's been keeping to herself.

You didn't know.

Don't worry, we'll figure it out.

Well, I mean, he'll figure it out.

What do you think, mate?

She's uh

I mean, she's kind of made this into a bit of a den, hasn't she?

I mean

you can see where she's closed herself in with the furniture as she sleeps.

Yes,

from keeping beasts in cages, the woman seems

by some retribution of fate to have become herself a beast in a cage.

Oh, Jesus.

Hey, this.

What?

These are some...

some biscuits my kids made at school for harvest festival we gave them to her these are from September yes

other foods here

pastries Tupperwares of uneaten meals hey there they bloody are she took these the Tupperwares.

She didn't take them, no.

We were trying to give her meals and that, to eat something, you know, when we noticed how thin she was getting.

Oh, bloody hell.

Poor Eugenia.

This is just...

I feel awful.

It's okay, it's all right.

It's not all right.

This is exactly what I mean.

Bean?

What do you mean?

I'm up.

I've got a lodger to help with the bills on this place.

I'm up first thing.

We're getting the kids out to school.

We're working, forking out fortunes for after-school clubs and child minders and i come home fucking exhausted can hardly give my kids a moment and all this time eugenia she

she needed us and she's rotting away in my own bloody house

i'll take a look at her when she comes back all right give her a check up yeah

make sure she

She eats something, alright?

I'm gonna run at the shop and get some bits.

Mark, hold on, mate.

I can't.

This is not right.

Mark!

I've got to help.

Mark!

Right, okay, mate.

Look, I'm not sure if this is any of our business, you know?

I mean, sorry, I know you got stuck into it and everything.

Please

close her drawer.

Sherlock, let me see her first, and we can ask her rather than invade her room.

It's interesting, is it not, Watson?

I think it's sad.

To be honest, I think it's

sad.

I just don't think it's that interesting.

Sorry.

Her husband died.

Yet the picture she keeps in her bedside drawer is that of

Leonardo Boras.

Maybe she has other pictures with her.

I wonder if they are as worn and as handled as this one.

Yep, fair question.

But

Bloke is absolutely ripped, to be fair.

Let's not go through her browsing history, mate.

Come on, let's wait downstairs.

Sergeant Edmonds spoke of the circus employees.

Leonardo Boras was one of them.

Are we on the same page yet, Watson?

Well, we may be on the same chapter.

Push, but can we please put the metaphorical book down and just whoops?

Everything must be left in place, Watson.

Yes, I know.

I was just opening the door to get you out, and this fell down.

What is it?

Uh, the thingy, the walking stick that Mark said she doesn't use.

Let me see.

There, happy.

I said, let me see.

Yeah, look with your eyes, not with your hands.

Watson.

Oh, I'm putting it back, and we are leaving.

But how?

Bollocks.

What is it?

Cut myself on the bloody stick.

God's sake, can we go, please?

Why is the handle of a walking stick sharp?

Dunno, it hasn't got a grip on it, maybe.

You're straining.

Is it heavy?

Yeah, very.

A heavy, sharp walking stick.

Yeah.

Hey.

Look, Watson.

Put it down.

Look at the shape of it.

Right, yeah.

Maybe it's not a walking stick, then.

It certainly is not.

What do you think it is?

This is some makeshift tool.

How so?

Look at it.

The crude wrapping.

The sloppy adhesive on the shaft.

What are all these spikes?

Yes.

On the handle, we have four steel nails protruding out of the top of the stick.

Then another nail.

Not on the head of it, but two inches down the shaft.

So heavy, too.

There's a lot of weight weight built into that spiky handle.

Heavy enough to smash in a skull, Watson.

What?

Let's recall the events.

Mr.

Ronda opens the cage.

We only think that.

But what do we know?

Uh, he.

So from behind, he was attacked?

Yes.

And the lion clawed at the back of his head.

What do we know?

He was attacked.

Yes.

From behind.

And, Watson?

By the claw of a lion?

lion?

Or

perhaps something very similar.

Deliberately similar in its structure came crashing onto the back of his head.

No.

Observe.

These four nails.

They replicate the dense keratin of a lion's claw, extending out that reach from the base of this weighted head to emulate the planter ball of the animal's paw.

Then we have this.

The fifth nail.

Two inches down to imitate the dew claw, similar to the human thumb.

It grows higher on the leg rather than on the foot, like the others.

Common in most mammals.

This is an ingenious device.

Can I just

check something?

Yes, Watson.

Are you suggesting that a lion was framed for the murder of Mr.

Ronda?

And now, Watson, in this fascinating tale, we are finally on the same page.

Hello, everyone.

Yeah, so

I don't usually do this,

but

we're about to hear from someone who

an individual, Eugenia, actually, who has severe facial trauma.

Essentially,

no nose or nasal cavity, very damaged larynx.

Her jaw and muscle tissue around there is

disfigured to say the very

least.

So, if you are having trouble understanding her, transcripts are available at sherlock and co.co.uk forward slash transcript.

Okay, right.

Back to the adventure.

There's someone coming up the stairs.

Could be Mark.

Could be

his wife.

Maybe just stay perfectly still.

You should be careful.

Hiding in an elderly woman's room.

And why is that, Eugenia?

My heart is awake.

The slightest startle could put me in the ground.

God be willing.

God be willing.

So you do wish to die, Sherlock?

Perhaps not to wish.

No.

But I will it.

I will it to wash over me like the soft morning sun

soaring the morning frost.

Do you believe in the afterlife, Eugenia?

I hope for my sake

that it is a fabrication.

Why?

Because your husband would be there waiting for you.

Impressive,

Mr.

Holmes.

How do you know my name?

You are the detective.

I am.

An old lady will always

take to gossip and eavesdropping.

But you're not an old lady, are you, Eugenia?

You merely adopt the persona.

Why would that be?

How could a woman, willing death like sunrise, be so committed to self-preservation?

Eugenia, could I examine you for a moment?

You cannot!

Why do animals, even the most violent, the most dominant, why do they allow us to possess them, to allow us mastery over them?

Can you think why, Eugenia?

Seems quite the sacrifice.

It is a withdrawal from the ferocious reality of their existence, to remove themselves from the battle of nature, to shelter in the monotony of humanity.

And to do so, they disguise their true selves and conceal their traits that may be seen as undesirable.

Am I a house gut to you, Mr.

Holmes?

Like this, you are.

This role you have played,

that of the elderly reserved woman.

It allows you to withdraw, does it not?

Eugenia, please, I'm a doctor.

Yeah, can I just take a quick look?

You cannot look!

No one can look at me!

Please.

I want to be left alone.

To die?

To join Mr.

Ronda, who you've put in the ground.

You

found our club.

Yes.

Fashioned into a lion's paw.

Rather clever.

Well, I am a rather clever person.

You clearly have moments, yes.

Just moments?

Yes.

Opting to waste away in a box room in Baker Street certainly isn't one.

You're wrong about me.

How so?

When judgment comes,

the only life I will be guilty of taking

is my own

through starvation.

Sahara King stalked in a cage.

Why should I be spared the pain?

Sahara King mauled your face, Jania.

He nearly killed you.

He was protecting his master, my husband,

master of many things.

Let me tell you:

the brutality of that lion

is nothing on that demon,

that

bastard.

Why did you kill your husband?

I am a poor circus girl, gentlemen,

brought up on the sword dust, undoing the springs

through the hoop

before I was ten

before

I even had time to become a

woman.

Mr.

Ronda

loved me

if such lust as his can be called love.

In an

evil moment, I became

his wife.

From that

day

I was in hell and he, the devil,

who tormented me

there was there was no one in the show who could not know of this treatment

he deserted me for others

he tied me down and lashed me with his riding whip when I complained

so much else is lost in the fog of terror

and

trauma

they

all pitied me

and they all

loathed him.

But

what could they do?

They feared him, one and all,

for he was

terrible at

all times, and

murderous when he was drunk.

Again and again he was had for assault and

cruelty to the beasts.

But we had

plenty money and the fines were nothing to him

You didn't kill him.

What?

You are as soft

as my club, Mr.

Holmes.

What do you mean?

He he was abusing her.

She she she snapped.

You snapped, right, Eugenia?

The split across the skull of Mr.

Ronda was eight inches.

It would have taken a force of

certainly not of a circus girl jumping through hoops.

But a strong man.

The bodybuilder.

The picture in the drawer.

Leonardo.

Leonardo.

I cannot understand

him,

but

I cannot unlove him either.

He

pitied

me, yes,

but he helped

me

till

at last our intimacy turned to love.

Deep, deep, passionate

love.

Such love as I had dreamed of, but never hoped to feel.

My husband suspected it, but

I think that he was a coward, as well as a bully, and that Leonardo was

the one man that he was afraid of.

He took revenge in his own

way by torturing me more than ever.

My husband was not fit to live.

We planned that he should

die.

I have

I don't have the strength for the emotions I

just just come sit down, take some quick breaths.

I have to get it out.

Hold on, we can just take some time.

I have to.

Speak, Eugenia.

We made a club.

In the

ombled leaden head, he fastened

five long steel nails, pointing outwards with just such a spread as the lion's bore.

This was to give my husband his his

death blow

and yet to leave

the evidence that it was the lion which we would lose who had done the deed.

It was a pitch dark night when my husband and I went down

as was our custom to feed Zahara King.

We carried with us the raw meats in a pail.

Leonardo was waiting at the corner of the big

ban, which we should have to pass

before we reached the cage.

He was supposed to.

He

planned the attack to take place there,

but Leonardo was too slow

and we were past him before he could strike.

He followed us on tiptoe

and I

yes,

I

heard the crash and the club smashed

my husband's skull.

Fear and

tension just

it was exercised for me in this one sound the air

shifting beside me as it moved through the sky and on to his head

that

sound

my heart leapt with joy at it

We had to allow to to allow reason for the lion to reach my husband in the first place.

So I

sprang forward and I undid the cats which

held the door of the cage.

And then the terrible thing happened.

You may have heard how quick these creatures are to scent blood

and how it excites them.

Some strange

instincts had told the creature in one instant that a human being had been slain.

Or having studied

studied a son,

I now know that the Hara King

acted in response to his master's destruction

as I slipped the bars it bounded out and was on me

in an instant

Leonardo

could

have saved me

if he had rushed forward and struck the beast with the club

he might have cowed it

but he lost his nerve.

I heard him shout in terror, but then I saw him turn and run.

At the same instant, the teeth of the lion

met

in my face.

Its hot,

filthy breath had already

poisoned me and I was hardly conscious of pain.

With the palms of my hands, I tried to push the great

steaming blood-stained jaws away from me,

and I screamed for help.

That

was my

last

memory, Mr.

Holmes,

for many a weary month.

when

I came to myself

and saw

myself

in the mirror,

I cursed that

lion, not because he had torn away my beauty,

but because

he had not torn away

my life.

I had but one desire,

Mr.

Holmes.

It was

that I should cover myself so that my poor face should be seen by none,

and that I should dwell where none whom I had ever known should find

me.

That was all that was left to me to do.

And that is what I have

done.

A poor wounded beast that has crawled into its hole to die.

That

is the end

of Eugenia Rhonda.

What are you doing?

I'm holding your hand.

Would you like me to find him

to deliver some morsel of justice?

No, no.

But Leonardo killed somebody, Eugenia.

Justice

has been delivered.

But I had my part in this.

He was a strong man.

Not a strong mind.

He didn't construct the Lion Paw Club

he didn't devise the plan

I did

he was

muscle in essence and muscle in application

I loved him

but I used him too

and I paid the price for it

and you've you've never heard anything of him?

Like I said,

justice

was deliberate.

How so?

I saw

his name in an article very recently.

I make

promises to myself not to research,

to look up, but I yearn for him.

Not in vengeance.

I don't think

there is still love.

There

quite love.

He drowned this summer in the channel.

He was easily swayed this

time

into the grips of some human trafficking gangs.

He perished with a number of desperate migrants that seeked his help.

I'm sorry.

Why did you keep this?

The club.

I think

it brought me solace, knowing one day I could share this.

I don't think anyone would have

believed me without my five-clawed club.

Die as the woman mauled by a lion

or die as the woman that killed

an evil man

stupid, really.

No, I

I think it makes sense.

Could you

leave me now, please?

I'd really like to just um I know you would.

And I'd prefer you didn't.

Thank you.

An honor to hear your story, Eugenia.

An honor to share it with you.

I wish for you to hear something from me.

Do you?

This man here doesn't have the scars on the surface,

but his soul is veiled and will be so for the foreseeable.

Yeah, I am

Dr.

Watson may look put together, but he is broken inside

and it may be some time until he heals.

The weight of loss split him into fractures, you understand.

Your life is not your own, Eugenia.

Keep your hands off it.

I'm back, Eugenia.

We're gonna have a family dinner tonight, love.

All right.

What use

is my life

to anyone?

How can you tell?

The example of patient suffering is in itself the most precious of all lessons to an impatient world.

You don't have to reveal your face.

Eugenia.

I wonder if you would bear it.

Eugenia?

I just thought you could.

Oh.

Hello, Mark.

Hi.

Is everything okay?

Sherlock and Co, Marina speaking.

Mm-hmm.

Yeah.

Trains are running again, from the looks of it.

Mm-hmm.

Okay, great.

Sure.

Just visit us anytime and we can discuss.

Okay, bye-bye.

Oh, oh, uh, hey, guys.

Have I...

have I received a parcel today?

Uh

to know?

Hmm.

Not sure.

Great.

Thanks.

I'll go check myself.

Yeah.

Should probably get back to work now the roads are clear and all that.

Hmm.

Any uh potential clients that have tickled your fancy?

A few emails, yes.

Cool.

Well, yeah, pick your favourite one and we'll head out.

Yes, good idea.

Hey, did Mark come by?

Neighbor Mark?

Yeah.

May have done.

He posted this.

What is it?

A

pa-pa-pa-pa

biscuit.

Oh.

Looks homemade.

What?

Just one.

Yeah.

The others must have been eaten up.

Yummy.

Find me a new case, Watson.

Does this make sense to you?

Yeah.

Yeah, it does, actually.

Are you gonna tell me?

No.

John.

John!

The adventure of the biscuit that I never got to actually eat.

My least favorite adventure.

Joking,

obviously.

I hope you all enjoyed that adventure.

Sadly, yes, I missed out on that biscuit at the end, but I do have a substantial amount of leftover chocolate.

I've got...

There's.

What?

These are all the horrible ones.

Strawberry.

Mint crit.

Oh,

Sherlock.

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She bundled her flight with a hotel to save more.

Of course, she still climbed all 674 steps to the top of the Eiffel Tower.

You were made to take the easy route.

We were made to easily package your trip.

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