The Resident Patient - Part Three

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Previously on Sherlock and Co.

He's a delicate old man.

Okay, he's got a serious condition that is aggravated by stress.

He doesn't need you to.

Oh, but he does need me, Watson.

Before he drives himself further into paranoia over the supposed intruder.

I'm in recovery, for goodness sake.

Then let's kick things off.

Who are these people that are out to get you, Mr.

Blessington?

I

get behind me.

I don't know anything about that.

So, so, so, no bloody advice after all, then.

My advice to you, sir, is to speak the truth.

Surely the question we must ask ourselves is who?

Who the hell is dashing into that house at night trying to get to Avery Blessington?

I think I fancy a sleepover, Watson.

Oh, no.

Oh, yes.

Not in the scary clinic, Sherlock.

Please wait, Sherlock.

There is a figure climbing the stairs.

Almost floating.

Nope, nope.

I could almost make out the ghostly face, but then it

just.

Sherlock!

The door!

They closed the door!

It's locked!

They locked us in.

Hi, Officer.

What can you tell us?

Scotland Yard don't want me to tell you.

Listen, officer, we are working this case.

They don't want me to tell you.

They want me to show you.

Just here.

What?

Look up.

Holy.

No.

Oh, no, no.

Mr.

Blessington hanged himself.

Firstly, thanks for listening, everybody.

Yeah,

I'll catch up with you at the end.

But for now, here is the third and final part of the resident patient.

Right, you hold his legs for me, Mike.

Okay, call him.

Sure.

Can I just get support in case he swings out that way?

If we just...

Yep, that's it.

That's it.

You good?

Bring him to me.

Okay, I'm cutting.

If this is tricky, we can lift lift further and unbuckle.

Alright?

I.

I don't understand.

At first, he hid the truth.

And now we cannot even draw it out of him.

Sherlock, I think we need to discuss the

whatever it is about this clinic that is causing...

caused, I mean, this man, severe emotional and mental torment, alright?

So, ghosts.

Whatever, mate, ghosts.

His doctor.

Bloody manipulation.

I don't know.

This man has taken his own life.

He has been driven to it by this institute, the clinic.

I don't believe that, I'm afraid.

I wish you were afraid, to be honest.

But instead, you're just doing these, I don't know, methodical little drip, drip, drip, finding all the tangible evidence.

Like, that's the only thing that counts as an answer to all of this.

Look at him, Sherlock.

Look at him.

You don't know what's going on inside there

until it's too late.

I fear

you may be right.

Right, okay, that's good.

That's good.

We can.

It's not about the outside.

Mm-hmm.

I spent too much time investigating the locks, the security, the alarms, points of entry.

It came from inside, Watson.

I never took the time to look inside.

Right, no, that's not what I meant.

Sherlock, Sherlock.

Currently still in Avery Blessington's room following his suicide.

Don't say it.

His apparent suicide.

Um

yeah, it's pretty grim.

Avery is currently out in the hallway in a body bag and Sherlock is essentially surveying just about everything he possibly can

in the room to decipher.

What are you doing?

What the hell are you doing?

I'm licking his bedsheets.

Are you a cat?

Oh, of course.

Wow.

Can we please not lick dry bodily fluids off old men's bedsheets?

I didn't think I needed to ask that.

Bitter?

Very, very bitter.

Oh, what?

Because you won't listen to my theory.

I'm not bitter, mate.

Alright?

Well, maybe I'm a bit bitter.

I didn't mean you.

I mean the taste of that residue.

Very bitter.

So, medication.

Pass me that pot of levitaracitam.

Uh, word.

Oh, here.

They.

Oh.

Huh.

What?

It's empty.

Yes.

And I think he ingested the whole lot.

He choked it up here on his sheet.

But it's got a splatter.

Like there was a pressure on his mouth.

He clutched the bedrails here, too.

Look.

Oh, yeah.

And for a man whose bed was made for him every day by staff, the mattress protector has been torn free from the mattress.

Hi, gents.

I was just wondering.

Go away.

Percy, if you could just give us some time.

No, look now.

Is it possible that crime scene?

Bye now.

Sorry,

you're not even police.

I don't think this is okay.

I need to be able to concentrate, and I can't.

Wait.

What?

The bolts.

The bolts?

On the door?

The locks, you mean?

Yes.

What about them?

Yeah, you're right.

It has to be suicide, doesn't it?

Because how did someone get in if the bolts were locked?

They had entered his room before.

When he was out.

When he was having his

hydrotherapy.

Yes, that's right.

That's when Blessington first noticed it.

Wait.

Wait.

Magnets.

Magnets?

They came up the stairs and opened his door with magnets.

It's not even remotely possible.

Come.

What?

Feel the bolt.

The bar itself that slides across.

Feel it?

Yes.

This.

The barrel moves along the back plate here and locks into position.

See?

Yeah, I see that, mate.

I have seen a lock before.

Now feel the back plate.

Yeah, it.

Oh.

What do you feel?

It's.

Is that...

Is that plastic?

Plastic mechanism.

Plastic backplate.

Metal barrel.

A magnet

on the other side of the door would pull the barrel from one side to the other.

Correct.

If the back plate was metal, it wouldn't work.

Correct.

But then the Yale lock.

How?

How would that...

You...

You mentioned magnets yesterday.

Yeah, just a crappy one.

Why?

Why did you want one?

Because it...

I don't know.

Something must have ignited the thought, Watson.

I, well...

I was, um...

Well, first I thought of doing Sherlock and Co.

fridge magnets, because it...

Oh, the thing the mic what about it it got something stuck to it when I was in the lobby then again with the tourist fridge magnet wanker.

What did

tell me

I have it here somewhere

Nothing just just like a metal

I don't know just a bit of metal I was sat in the lobby downstairs and it was stuck to the mic

Yeah, here see let me see it

Wow strong

strong magnet neodymium It's a rare earth magnet and if you've placed another even just a small small one, the other side of that Yale lock, you could easily pry apart its mechanism.

The belt.

What did they do with the belt?

What belt?

The belt that was round his neck, that he was dangling on the end of.

Oh, it uh it's in a bag over here.

Let me see.

Just so you know, if you're saying this is a crime scene, that is tech.

Okay.

Well now.

What is it?

Percy?

Percy, in here now.

Yes?

Everything okay?

From what I saw, Avery Blessington was rather slim.

How big would you say he was?

How big?

His weight.

How much did he weigh?

Um, probably

eleven stone.

Yeah, 150 pounds or so.

Not much.

Then why does he have a triple XL belt in his room?

Designed for men with a minimum of 45-inch waists?

I

uh

I don't know.

Oh wow, that magnet really stuck.

Oh, come on, you found the

magnet

sorry, I'm gonna have to call you back.

Bit of an emergency.

Thanks.

You're suggesting it was a nurse.

Possibly.

Or a patient.

Do you have any late-night cleaning staff?

We do, yes.

What are their hours?

Eight until ten pm?

No.

This would have taken place after midnight.

The cleaners could have lingered around, maybe, made their move later.

Just because I'm getting to the end of my tether with this whole thing, to be honest.

I'm a bloody doctor, not a detective, and the police feel it's a suicide.

They're wrong.

It's a belt.

He took someone else's belt.

They are wrong, and I am right.

Well, quite frankly, they're the law enforcement professionals, and I'm a doctor specializing in neurology.

I can tell you, categorically, that Avery was suffering from severe paranoia and delusions.

I have no surprise at all that what happened happened.

I just have a great deal of personal pain.

Staff members, who are they?

Oh,

look, only two members of staff were on the night shift last night.

Names?

There would have been Milo.

What does he do?

He's an assistant practitioner.

But in a night shift like that, he'd be down in the office, ready to help out with any issues should they crop up.

What's his character?

His character, for goodness sake, he's a healthcare worker, dealing with the elderly and vulnerable throughout the night.

What do you think his character is?

Percy, what?

Can we take it down a notch?

We're not doing this for a laugh.

We're trying to help.

Guys,

with all due respect, I wanted help with a potential security issue, not a suicide.

The second night shift worker?

Rajesh, clinical technician.

He'd do half the night shift, would be a bit more hands-on than Milo, and would mostly involve prep for the morning, drugs, and reports as such.

But ultimately, he's there for critical care.

Patients that have very recently had a seizure or an episode.

And have either of these two men mentioned entering Avery Blessington's room?

No.

What about the Lithuanian girl?

The Lithuanian girl.

Yeah, she does night shifts.

Why was she on shift the night before, but not on shift last night?

On shift the night before.

I don't follow.

When I got chased into that room,

she had the night shift.

Does she do one night on, one night off, or something?

Sorry.

The Lithuanian night shift girl.

I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about.

Watson.

No, I'm not.

I'm serious.

You know, there was a girl.

I spoke to her.

I remarked on her accent, because I've been to that part of the world.

She said she was from Lithuania.

Then she just carried on about her work.

What time was this?

Well, you'd left.

It was after midnight.

I'm sorry, this this is nonsense.

We don't have a Lithuanian woman on our staff, Dr.

Watson.

So what do you mean?

We just don't.

Look, I think everybody needs to just go home, have some rest, and recharge.

Where did she go?

What?

You said she went back to work.

Where?

She t she went down that corridor outside this office.

And remained on the ground floor.

Uh, yeah, there's no stairs down there, right?

Correct.

Just room one.

And who is in room one?

Ah, right.

Okay,

this makes sense.

No, she's not Lithuanian.

She's Russian.

Alina.

Alina Antonov.

She's here with her father, although I did ask her to bloody leave at 10 p.m., so she's obviously lingered around because he'd only just been admitted.

Ah, yeah, that

clears that up then.

Sorry, I don't get how that clears things up.

That's the woman you were talking about.

Yeah, but Percy, she said she was Lithuanian.

Well,

you know, it

not the easiest time to be a Russian, is it?

Yeah, fair enough.

You said her father had been admitted that day.

Yeah.

So, two days ago?

Yeah.

Well, kind of, yes.

Technically admitted two days ago, yeah.

Why technically?

Well, she came with her father on Monday.

Um,

he's not in the best state.

He had a freezing moment right in front of me, actually, in the office.

She saw it, her dad, like that.

Oof.

Yeah, tough.

Well, no, she wasn't.

She was in the toilet, actually, at that point.

I'm going to need you to be extremely clear with me, Dr.

Trevelyan.

Do you understand?

Look.

Do you understand?

Yes, fine, yes.

Tell me exactly what happened with Mr.

Antonov and his daughter on Monday.

Monday, as in the day that your Mr.

Blessington complained of an intrusion into his room.

Oh, yeah.

Right.

So,

yes, Mr.

Antonov came in with Alina, his daughter.

She did most of the talking.

It was a fairly typical case.

Symptoms spiraling.

Failed by mainstream healthcare.

Found the typical course of prescribed drugs very problematic and wanted our treatment, essentially.

They came in,

told me all that sort of thing, and wanted to be admitted.

Not for a long time, just a week, maybe ten days maximum, just to get things under control.

She popped to the loo

and I asked Mr.

Antonov a few more questions, but

his English was a lot

rougher.

He kind of mumbled out a few things and, like I say,

succumbed to

an episode of catalepsis.

How long was she gone?

Well, actually,

now that I think of it,

quite a while.

Yeah.

Then why were they not admitted on Monday?

Why two days later?

Well, so Mr.

Antonov was resting in my office by the time she was back.

I went to call a pharmacist who would be able to supplement Mr.

Antonov's current drug plan.

And that's when Avery went absolutely

just

fuming about his room.

Someone being in his room.

He just got back back from the hydrotherapy.

Correct.

So I calmed him down, got him back into his room, and settled, sort of, anyway.

And then returned to my office, and they were gone.

They were gone?

Yeah.

Came back day before yesterday.

Then you bumped into her that night.

You up now.

What?

Now?

Where are we going?

To room one, immediately.

Sherlock, listen.

Open the door, or I'll break it down.

Just hold on, okay?

Cersei, all we're asking is to take a look inside the room.

Look, look, look, he's he's you don't understand.

Patients are hypersensitive to stress.

Not, not!

For goodness sake!

Ah, would you look at that, Dr.

Trevelyan?

We don't need you and your keys after all.

What?

Why not?

The door isn't locked.

And the door isn't locked because your patient is no more a patient than his daughter is a Lithuanian nurse.

I.

Only answer me if you want to be immediately proved wrong.

And do we have a Russian cataleptic and his daughter?

Niet.

But

he.

No, no, I saw him.

He.

He had a seizure right in front of me.

Let's be honest.

He could have faked it.

I am one of the leading professionals in my field, Dr.

Watson.

Let me give it a go.

Watch.

Look, could you please

stop doing that?

Look, please, look, freezing is a very serious matter.

Will you just stop it?

Alright, alright, fine, fine.

Maybe he faked it.

Took way too long on the ball, way too long.

Hiya, mate.

Hi ya.

How's the research going?

Yeah, no, narrow down.

Suspects, collating possible.

um

perps, and um

yeah, just help me with this.

Okay, wow, what is that?

That is two things.

Uh-huh.

Firstly, it is a folder containing every single use of magnetic lock breaking in London from 1968, when rare earth magnets were used for such a thing, until now.

Okay, and what's the second thing?

Ah, yes.

Secondly, it's an obnoxious gesture from the Met to see if I actually have the tenacity to prove my point.

Because they printed out every single case.

Indeed.

Okay.

Three, two,

one,

go.

Go what?

Let's read.

I'll take this half, you take that half.

Oh, all right.

Um, it's I

feel like we may be up all night, mate.

Yes, possibly.

You can make a tea, if you'd like.

Yeah, I um, I probably will.

Oh,

God help me.

1994, a high street bank in Wimbledon.

Culprit?

This guy?

Ooh, lovely.

A mugshot.

No.

Next.

2000?

Ooh, January 1st, 2000.

Probably thought some sort of millennium bug would wipe out basic locking mechanisms.

Uh, no, not gonna be that guy either.

What makes you so sure?

Because, according to this, he ended up underneath a London bus.

Ah.

What?

Hold on.

What is it?

I.

This is weird.

Not who I expected to find.

Why?

I haven't found our suspect, the Russian girl or the Russian guy.

Who have you found?

I've found.

our victim.

Look.

Avery Blessington.

Well, apparently, that is not his name.

According to when he was arrested in 2009, Greg Sutton.

The Worthington Bank Gang.

I yeah, that's exactly.

How did you know that?

Wait.

The other members, where are they?

Uh

here.

These two were arrested for this sale.

Oh, wow.

Michael Biddle.

Matches our picture of Mr.

Antonov.

The large-waisted Mr.

Antonov, indeed.

And this very young girl pictured here

is Louisa Hayward.

That's her.

That's that's the Lithuanian or the Russian, whatever she is.

She is an ex-convict from Buckinghamshire who has spent the last 15 years in prison being extremely pissed off.

Why?

Because from the looks of this,

upon their arrest, Greg Sutton here, aka Avery Blessington, cooperated with the police and informed them of every case they worked as a gang.

He snitched.

Indeed.

He knew they were coming after him.

Yes.

The stress of it exacerbated a severe underlying condition of catalepsy.

Upon noting their work nearby nearby in Cavendish Square where he has property, he constructed defences at the clinic so thorough and complex they only had one way of getting to him.

Get admitted as a patient.

Exactly.

The night she chased you, I was on the floor above, so scuppered her plans.

The following night, she locks us in our room.

The not-so-ailing Mr.

Antonov, aka Michael Biddle, calls reception from his ground-floor accommodation.

Louisa continues up to the top floor and, having tampered with the locks during their initial visit on the Monday, she applies her magnet on the door.

She enters the room, constructs a noose from a belt that belongs to her accomplice, ties it to the beam across the ceiling.

She empties his medication into his mouth, fills it with water, and forces him to swallow.

She then drags him out of bed and puts his head through the belt.

He dangles there until passing out, and eventually eventually,

expiring by asphyxiation.

And she leaves, and they leave the clinic.

Because the work is done.

But where did they go?

Hi, morning.

Morning.

Okay, good chat.

We gotta go.

Oh, why?

Watson, we really must be going.

Yeah, but we don't actually know where we're going.

Yes, but I was planning to analyse the Cavendish Square break-in from two months ago.

Hey, hey, first things first.

Tell that journalist to stop calling

You won't.

You'll want some juicy gossip.

Then give him some made-up juicy crap for all I care.

That's all he'll print anyway.

Just a load of lies and scandal.

Hey, hi, Mr.

Journalist.

Yeah, Mark, whatever.

I need you to do something for me.

What on earth are you doing?

To print a story that Mr.

Avery Blessington is alive.

He is alive and recovering at a private clinic on Baker Street, 221 Baker Street.

Oh, that's good.

That's really, really good.

That's bad.

That's really, really bad.

Just, I want you to be recording on your phone, right?

And I'm telling you, they will come to the door, they will make up some absolute nonsense.

Wait, did you take down the Sherlock and cosign outside?

I did.

It now says Dr.

John Watson.

Oh, yes, that's perfect.

Oh, God.

They will make up some stuff about being delivery people, or

I don't know, technicians or pharmacists or anything.

No, wait, wait.

Ask them if they are.

Oh, what could they be?

What could they be?

Um.

Yes, ask them if they're technicians for his ventilator.

And no matter what they do, just convince them that you're convinced that they're ventilator technicians.

Convince them that they've convinced me.

Exactly.

Okay.

Um, uh-uh-and when are they going to arrive?

Literally Literally, any moment from now.

The article is live.

Okay, that's fine.

Fine.

Oh, and record it on your phone for the podcast.

Uh, yes.

Uh, hi.

Hi.

Is this uh Dr.

Watson's clinic?

Mm-hmm.

It is, yes.

Um, oh, are you the technicians for his ventilator?

Yes, yes, we won't be long.

We know what the fault is, and we have a replacement if it's a persistent issue.

Oh my god, that's great.

Dr.

Watson will be be relieved.

If we could just pop through.

Oh, of course, of course.

He's on the second floor.

So, up those steps.

Um, um, uh, give the door a knock, and

Nurse Holmes will let you in.

Oh, perfect.

Thank you.

No, no, thank you.

Who is it?

Uh, technicians for Mr.

Blessington's ventilator.

Oh, thank goodness.

Thank you so much for coming at such short notice.

It's no problem.

So, where is he?

Oh, he's just through here.

Is Avery your um only client?

He is right now, yes.

And we're dedicating all the time we have to his well-being.

This is Dr.

Watson here.

Hello there.

Hi.

You're right.

We're here to look at the ventilator.

Ah, wonderful.

Yes, it's the strangest thing.

We have Mr.

Blessington hooked up to one that's been working fine, but now he's

struggling.

These breathing noises he's making, it's a sort of

No, it's not that, is it?

It's more sort of.

What the fuck?

Get off it!

That's the sound.

Get off him!

Alright, Louise.

That's enough.

That's it now.

That intravascular pressure can be a real pain in the neck, eh, Michael Biddle.

I'll put you down, Michael, if you could just slip those cuffs on there.

Don't worry, nothing kinky.

Nothing you haven't seen before.

Just another cell.

For yet another stint.

No!

You bastard!

You

bastard!

Oh, but this time it's for murder, so it may be a rather lengthy one.

LaRon!

Put it down!

Actually, yes.

You will be getting murder.

Michael here could always assist the police.

Tell them of Louise's little excursion into Avery Blessington's room.

But then again, the murder weapon was your belt.

Yes, it is already rather sticky, this one, isn't it?

Enough!

Enough!

Please!

No!

Louisa, run!

Go!

Go!

Get off me!

Sorry, you two are going together.

Oh, yes, indeed.

An unlikely couple, but it takes all sorts, I suppose.

Opposites attract, I've heard, Watson.

Please, please, just...

Oh, just let us go, please.

Right!

Nobody move.

We're all gonna cooperate.

Let me see hands, please.

Show me hands.

There is a hayward.

Shut up.

What is it?

Have you noted something about our culprits?

Do you think they could be responsible for the Marleybone heist?

Because I was thinking the exact same thing.

With basic disguises, they could-I- No, sorry.

Mariana booked the roast dinner for four,

and it's 4:15.

Watson!

Thus concludes the resident patient.

Didn't we all have fun?

Not really, to be honest.

Intense, almost throughout, and genuinely gave me pretty severe anxiety around the prospect of going mad in a haunted clinic, but hey, that didn't happen.

So,

don't hesitate to get in touch with your favourite doctor.

Hey, hey, what are you doing?

Trying out my new magnet.

Sherlock, you've locked me in.

Sherlock, this is not funny.

After everything I've been through in this bloody adventure.

Sherlock!