The Missing Three-Quarter - Part Two

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Okay.

Uh, John, I did it.

Uh, do I do I just hit stop or

Previously on Sherlock and Co.

Godfrey is a special challenge.

Not just on these native shores, not just in England, but now on the world stage.

The Brazilian was spotted at a training session here just yesterday.

Footage here of him leaving in his car, and that is the last moment he was seen.

So?

What?

Fancy it?

No.

Why not?

Because it offers very little in the the form of intrigue.

How?

It's a missing elite level footballer.

Did you not listen to my tale?

The country manor, surrounded in Mystique?

The Duchess?

Count von Unsoom Grafenstein?

John, there you are.

Oh, Gary.

Um,

Gary Lineker.

What's the situation?

Sorry, I didn't know you were so involved with the tech, to be honest.

It's really impressive that you're so hands-on with your company.

I meant with Godfrey.

What's the situation with Godfrey?

You know, crime is a

she's a complicated old

gal.

I'm just I'm in between meetings is all Mariana.

Right, okay.

Is that at the Duchess Manor House or here?

No, so I'm it's for the um the Godfrey situation.

I knew it.

Goalhanger told you to do it and you gamed.

A few years ago, Godfrey meets this doctor, Armstrong.

Leslie Armstrong.

He's a specialist for elite athletes.

Armstrong is in his head, right?

And I see Godfrey.

And

well, I tell you, John, mate, he's.

I swear I saw holes in his arms.

Like

from injection.

Exactly.

He's hardly looking at me in the eye.

Anyway, he goes into the shower, and I just think, well, if the club aren't gonna do it, I'm doing it.

What did you do?

I took it.

The container of his tailor-made medication.

I took it to get it tested.

So, what were they?

Chris, what were the drugs?

I don't know.

Because he found out.

Who?

Dr.

Armstrong?

Yeah, he sent me this.

Oh, Christopher, naughty, naughty.

Take what is mine again.

I'll come for your blood.

Greetings, weary listener.

Intrigue has pulled you into part two of the missing three-quarter.

Major trigger warning here, there's yet more solo investigation from me, so get used to this voice and maybe check the episode description if you're concerned that other things may crop up.

Bye-bye.

Looking sharp.

Look at that drill over there, Bliney.

Yeah, I can't really chat long, is the only thing.

God, of course, yeah, absolutely.

Sporting director for a top-top club.

You must be a busy man.

Certainly feeling it right now, yeah.

I just wanted to, um, I'm working on the case of Godfrey.

Yeah, and his disappearance.

Is that in conjunction with the police?

Well, it's sort of parallel, I'd say.

Right.

So, I've chatted with Clara, his wife, also spoken with Chris Staunton about James Associates.

Yeah, and I'm just trying to get a wider picture of two things, really.

Firstly, his kind of

his last few weeks.

And secondly, his relationship with his private medical specialist, Dr.

Leslie Armstrong.

Listen, I'm gutted for him, I'm gutted for his family, and I'm obviously rooting for his return, but

he fucking dropped off.

There's no question about it.

Yeah.

Football players,

the modern player, right, can sometimes think that

we have a responsibility to keep them fit.

Maybe that's why he swanned off with this doctor, for additional help.

Maybe he felt like

we were letting him down.

I don't know.

But the fact of the matter is...

The football player has a contractual obligation to keep themselves fit, right?

I mean, he's had the whole summer, no tournaments, nothing like that.

He came, he came for half the tour, down to our good nature as a club, right?

Could have said no to that request, could have...

could have told him to pack his fucking bags and get to Singapore, but we didn't, did we?

We've played four games.

Four games.

And he's knackered.

Well, he scored against United last week, though.

Everyone's scoring against United, mate.

And did you see his reaction?

I don't remember it, no.

Just...

Just dead behind the eyes.

Not with the lads, not in the moment, just...

just hobbling about like a zombie, even when he scored.

And it's,

as I say, I don't want this to come across, you know, fucking nasty, right?

But

I'm way more in the business side of football than I am the technical side.

You've got to respect the investment that's been made into you as a player.

And look, hand on heart, I wish him all the best in the world.

Like, if I could click my fingers, you know,

this didn't exactly come out of thin air.

Right.

Right.

Only Clara.

She said that there might be some.

Possibly emotional distress.

Look, I'm just giving you our picture of it.

From where we're looking at it.

Right, yeah, yeah.

And Dr.

Armstrong.

Blokes are clear.

Oh.

Okay.

If you're asking me, would I be surprised if he's got anything to do with this?

No, I would not.

Right, well, yeah, okay, that's helpful.

He's based in Cambridge, involved in the university there.

And you'd know it after spending five minutes with him.

Runs a clinic called the Blood Archive.

If you want to smash down his door with a few officers and see what you find, I wouldn't blame you.

Okay, yeah,

we can definitely consider that.

Well, thanks for everything, Gavin.

And like I say, I'm a fan of your work.

Team looks great.

Did the police get anywhere with that address we gave him there?

The address?

Yeah, from the note the CCA found.

CCA?

Oh, club comms administrator.

Basically a post and deliveries guy, but you know, this place.

Right.

Um.

No, I don't recall a note as such.

This one.

Here.

You've got a picture.

Mm-hmm.

Well, I haven't seen it, so that would be really helpful.

Yeah, well, you have now.

Stand by us, for God's sakes.

111, Edgeley Road, Chelsea.

That was from Godfrey.

It's his writing, yeah.

It was attached to his bloods that go to Cambridge for that wanker.

Did Armstrong see it?

Oh, yeah, we can't go taking things off the packages.

So this got sent out.

The CCA guy took the picture because.

Well, look, we do a little bit of spying on the players ourselves, especially when they're pissing it up the wall like God is.

And yeah, didn't add up at the time.

Doesn't really add up now, does it?

Heads up.

Oh, Christ alive.

Oh, god damn it.

You're right, mate.

I did say heads up.

Sorry.

Yeah, no, no, no, no worries.

It's no problem.

I'm not crying.

It's just the ball hit my nose and it's made my eyes water.

Sure, mate.

Yeah.

Oh, man, I just need a minute.

My companion tracked you.

What makes you think I can't find who wants my blood?

I detect as well as you do.

Long before a fever breaks or a rash blooms, the blood already knows Mr.

Holmes.

A skilled hematologist can read the subtlest shifts, a slight leukocytosis, a change in the ratio of neutrophils to lymphocytes, the whisper of a protein in the serum that wasn't there the day before.

I see those patterns in people before they feel the first ache.

In the same way, I see the infection of your investigation.

Hello.

So is anybody there?

Your companion thought he was undetected,

but I watched the first antibodies form in his mind.

Slow and clumsy, perpetually road medical setup, outmatched by the very pathogen he chased.

Oh, hello.

Um,

I'm Dr.

John Watson.

Uh, I'm here to see Lucas Gorofredo Victor de Souza Ribeiro, uh, otherwise known as Godfrey.

I'm afraid we can't help you there.

Okay,

can I ask why not?

Because it's unlikely that we have the individual you mentioned here as a patient.

It's unlikely, it is, yes.

Is there anything else I can help you with?

Well, yeah.

Actually, you can help me understand why an extortionate private medical centre is involved in the disappearance of a young man.

You're more than welcome to drop us an email, but this is not something I can help you with, I'm afraid.

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, because I'm not throwing tons of cash at you like your patients, I bet.

No, I can't help you because the individual you mentioned is not a patient of ours.

Yeah, yeah, likely story.

And why exactly should I believe that?

You think I was born yesterday?

Because this is a private maternity hospital.

Excuse me, sorry.

Oh, sorry.

Let me get the door.

Congratulations.

Thank you.

She was born yesterday.

Uh, yeah.

Do you know which station is best to get to Cambridge?

Oh no.

Right.

Hey there.

Hi.

So I'm just planning your trip for this Duchess case.

Of course, yeah, can't wait.

But I need your passport number, because Sherlock says it may take you to Germany or something.

So I'm booking flights for the Tuesday.

Right.

Um

yeah, I can

get that, no problem.

Oh, okay.

Are you upstairs?

No.

Um

are you on your way back?

Well, I am.

Yes, but just

it's a it's a bit of a long way around.

I'm...

Yeah, I'll eventually be in Baker Street, but just gotta get the microphone cover?

The wind sock thing, yeah, yep, yep.

You still can't find one?

No, no, they're flying off the shelves.

You know, I mean, everyone has a podcast these days, you know what it's like.

Cambridge.

What?

You will be calling.

Are you did I just hear Cambridge?

John, are you going to Cambridge?

No, no, you didn't.

I think you must be getting tired.

Your English is getting a bit sloppy.

John, Cambridge.

Ali asked Mary.

John, John.

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I feel like,

well, I feel like a fugitive.

I mean, I suppose I am sort of in hiding slash on the run from the law.

He is a detective after all.

But hey you're complicit too, listeners.

You know some would say I've dragged you into this adventure against your will but

I don't see it that way.

I think we all know that you'd rather be with me looking for a creepy doctor in Cambridge rather than hunting down von Borkenstein's Duchess or whatever he was on about.

Anyway, yeah, welcome to Cambridge the Guo.

Yep, and just like Oxford, full of murderous cyclists.

Big, big brainy murderous cyclists, of course.

I mean, this is where Isaac Newton pissed about with an apple and made us learn about it for 300 years, so thanks, Isaac.

It's also the learning

place

of bearded monkey man himself, Charles Darwin.

So, you know, you're a Sylvia Plath, you've got Stephen Hawking, you've got...

Well, you've got your loads.

Loads of them.

But one particular individual of the star-studded Cambridge alumni is very important to us, my fellow companions, and that is Dr.

Leslie Armstrong.

I am currently walking down,

where am I?

Brooklyn's Avenue, alongside some very nice botanical gardens, marvelling at the clever people sat about on park benches and stuff, nursing my inferiority compliments.

And not just because of the well-educated, but also

because I am currently being lead detective of Sherlock and Co., and that is not a role I fill very often, if at all.

Excuse me, sir, can I borrow you to talk about the value of friendship?

Oh, sorry, mate.

I'm I'm heading to something qu quite urgent.

Sorry, sorry.

Um right, at the end of Botanical Gardens, I go up this main road and then go right on Broad Street and I will see the Blood Archive, which is the clinic of our doctor, our evil doctor.

It's the good doctor versus the evil doctor today, ladies and gents.

Me, a barely qualified army surgeon with an average record.

Him, a specialist to prestigious athletes and global elites.

But terrible bedside manner.

It would seem Dr.

Armstrong, the hematologist, is pretty good at what he does.

I mean, he is the leading expert on

quite simply blood.

And it is my hope, lovely listeners, that no blood has been or will be spilt in the case of the missing three-quarter.

Yeah, I'll probably think of a better title.

But yeah, a bigger, creepier fish to fry for now.

There's no time to delay and dither.

This is a time of action.

I'll have a pint of Guinness, please, mate.

Pint of Guinness, yep.

Lovely.

His disappearance has sparked concern for fans all across the world.

We caught up with him.

Yeah,

awful.

Awful.

He'll turn up though, I'm sure.

He scored against my lot just last week, and now he's poof gone.

Yeah, yeah.

You uh want another drink, sir?

Same again.

He pushed in front.

All right,

my mistake.

My mistake.

I'll sort this fella out and then I'm all.

Sorry about that.

I didn't see it.

Cause you weren't looking.

Alright.

Been here long?

No, no, not in the pub.

Obviously, that's 300 years or so, judging by the old bean.

You've been here most of that, right, Liz?

Ah, bugger off of you.

Can't a woman enjoy a good bottle of plonk in peace?

This you local, Liz?

Yeah, I suppose.

Not much else drawing me in here.

Certainly not the witty bar staff.

Pint of Guinness, there we go.

Marvellous.

Cheers, Liz.

Cheers, then.

You've got a good spot.

Same spot every day.

Yeah, right by the window.

Watching the world go by, are you?

Better than looking at my phone.

See much action in that place there.

What place would that be then?

The um

the the clinic.

What uh

what is it?

They're not your patient, there's buyer.

So they do not require your safeguarded confidence, Dr.

Armstrong.

Perhaps not.

Then I must have their name, and I must know why they require my blood.

I wouldn't be here long if I provided those answers, now would I?

You fear them.

Oh,

very much so.

We all have reputations, don't we, Holmes?

Some grow wild and treacherous.

Others are carefully pruned, topirized into their desired form.

I wouldn't go asking questions about the bloodman.

What?

But leave them untended.

All the iron you need is in that Guinness,

not over there.

I'm not looking for blood work or anything.

And imaginations will enrich the soil like rotting waste.

Want a drop of claret?

I recommend the Bordeaux.

Cheers.

And then

a monstrous formation

will grow in its stead.

No, no, I've um

well, I'm I'm a doctor.

Um

I did uh I was an army doctor and you know his his pioneering work was very important when I was studying and

well enhancing my knowledge on how to treat what pioneering work is that then, eh?

A blood collector

What do you know, Liz?

I've seen his clients.

I've I've seen him walking every day like zombies, draining their life force so we can store it all up.

And for what, eh?

Okay, Dr.

Armstrong does work in hematology, so he is always going to be involved.

Look at that fella at the bar.

Yeah, he just bollocked me for ordering a drink before him.

Cloaked?

Hooded.

What's he got to hide, eh?

I don't know.

It could be anything.

It's not really my business.

He'll be a buyer, no doubt.

Buyer of the blood,

is it that lucrative?

Is the blood of great athletes and thinkers and supermodels and world leaders lucrative?

What do you think?

Not to you or I, little fella,

but to those who know what to do with it,

right?

Well, I'll tell you what, if I take your number, next time you see him, my husband and I used to drink him most nights, and it's the only time you'd see him.

The only time you'd see Dr.

Armstrong?

Yeah, just as the pub was closing up, he'd skulk out of the place, he'd dash into his car, and he'd be off.

Do you

know where he went?

I don't want to know with all due respect, Led.

Why?

Harvesting human blood and lurking around in the night.

Dracula, we used to call him

Dracula.

Ah, bingo.

Perfect.

Still a functioning inn, as you can see.

Got the bed on suite.

Great.

And little kettle there.

You want an ironing board or anything like that?

Just pop downstairs.

Amazing.

Thank you so much.

There is room at the inn.

Of course.

It looks out onto Broad Street, as you requested.

But it can get a bit loud early morning, what with bing collections, deliveries, and such.

Yeah, no problem at all.

Got a very loud flatmate at home, so all good.

If you don't come back down to the bar, you have a good night, yeah?

Great.

Yeah, thanks.

Thanks, mate.

I'll um, you know, pay up and check out in the morning.

Alright, no night.

Cheers, mate.

Have a good one.

Well,

in case you hadn't noticed, listeners, I missed the last train.

So

yeah.

It is a night at the Checkers Pub.

The inn, I should say, the Checkers Inn on Broad Street in Cambridge.

Not all

bad, though, as I do have a great view of the Blood Archive.

A grand old building staring back at me across the street.

tall and narrow, dark stone with ornate mouldings depicting angels and cherubs and stuff like that.

It's hints of lights on inside, I think.

Air escaping from its vents on the roof.

So if I do catch a glimpse of our elusive

um

huh

that

hooded guy from the

from the bar is just

he stood out in the street.

I think he's just

looking at the clinic.

It's hard to tell.

It's quite dark, but

yeah, he's just

transfixed, it would seem.

Quite a tall guy with.

Oh shit!

Oh shit!

He looked up and saw me.

Bollocks, bollocks, bollocks, bollocks, bollocks.

Just.

Just hiding for a sec on the bed.

Under the window.

Like a big brave boy, obviously.

Just gonna

peek and see if the coast

is clear.

Which...

Yeah.

Yeah.

He's

he's gone.

It's uh

just an empty street now.

Right.

Well, anyway, it's a long night ahead.

Staking out

Dracula himself, apparently.

Locking in, folks.

Some people get drowsy after a few drinks.

Not me.

Not me.

No, no.

It charges me.

I can go the whole night through.

Just.

Please, I'm just

I'm looking for somebody

I can help

who are you looking for?

A doctor

so am I we

can work together if you just doctor with a deaf wish

And a stupid little podcast.

Selfish attitude.

And he's short and he has silly hair and he has no respect for his detective agency.

Sherlock?

And he thinks it's okay to just saunter off to Cambridge to take up a case all by himself.

Get off me!

And casually ignore

any potential adventure involving a duchess.

Will you shut up about this bloody duchess?

Will you shut up about this bloody footballer?

Get off!

No,

you get off!

You are sat on top of me, Sherlock!

Because I am preventing you from doing something utterly stupid.

Yeah, well, what about this?

No, no tickling.

You leave me no chance.

No, no, not the ribs.

So, you know he's a baddie.

You know he is.

Oh, you're living in a fantasy, you fool.

You said it yourself.

Confronting him will be stupid, so you're afraid of him?

His

is none

of our

business.

Stop it, tickling.

No!

Oh, great.

I'm bleeding.

Thanks, mate.

Take it up with the landlord.

Yeah, I will.

I'll tell him that you've got a rusty screw on your windowsill, mate, and my colleague and best friend stalked me for a day and a half, disguised himself, snuck into my room, and pushed me onto it.

I don't think that level of detail will do you any favours.

I get it.

Okay?

I get.

I knew.

I knew from the get-go that I was...

I was being selfish.

I was hiding from you and Mariana, alright?

I know I'm in the wrong.

You don't have to berate me.

Oh, don't I?

But also, you don't have to cloak yourself up, play weird old men in bars, and then break in here just to make a point.

Wait,

were you the charity worker that tried to stop me on the street as well?

You are such a bell end.

A charity worker that wished to discuss the importance of friendship?

Rather fitting, don't you think?

God's sake, is all this really necessary?

And how else would a point be made?

Hm?

Oh, lots of ways.

Like what?

A phone call?

Well, yeah, but I was sleeping.

Yes, at an inn, in Cambridge, staking out a blood bank.

You know I'm on to something.

You know it, and you're just being stubborn.

Don't be ridiculous.

He was on a strict programme from Doctor Armstrong, Sherlock, against everybody's advice, right?

He's not just a doctor to these people.

He's their mentor.

He's manipulating them through medicine.

It is not illegal for a doctor to care for their patients.

Oh, Sherlock, what kind of care?

Exactly.

He's missing.

Yes, perhaps because he's involved in blood doping and artificially enhancing his performance.

Come on.

Such a practice is forbidden, is it not?

Hmm?

Mr.

Football Expert?

That's Doctor.

Football Expert to you.

Where are you going?

I'm going into that clinic and I'm taking Godfrey D'Souza-Ribeiro out of it.

With or without your help.

But with my phone!

Where is it?

Here.

Thank you.

What was the code for the front door?

1617.

Thanks.

Goodbye.

Don't need your help anyway, mate.

You just required it for the code, mate.

And I don't require it anymore, mate.

Ah, bollocks have broken the door.

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