Sherlock Holmes Short Stories - The Adventure of Shoscombe Old Place: Part One

Episode Date: August 5, 2026

A hidden crypt... a mysterious late-night visitor... and a figure emerging from an old family tomb... Welcome to the last Sherlock Holmes story that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle ever wrote. A Noiser podcast production. Narrated by Hugh Bonneville  Written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle Produced by Duncan Barrett Script Supervisor: Chris McDonald Sound Design and Audio Editing by Tony Onuchukwu Sound Supervisor: Tom Pink Compositions: Dorry Macaulay and Oliver Baines Mix & Mastering: Ralph Tittley Series Consultant: Dan Smith Executive Producer: Katrina Hughes   For ad-free listening and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Just click the subscription banner at the top of the feed to get started. Or go to noiser.com/subscriptions Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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I'm Hugh Bonneville and welcome to Sherlock Holmes short stories, the series where we delve into the files of fiction's most brilliant detective, following his keen mind and unerring instincts from the first subtle clue to the final dramatic revelation. This time we bring you the last Sherlock Holmes story that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle ever wrote. The Adventure of Shostom Old Place. First published in 1927, just three years before Doyle's death, the story sees Holmes and Watson leave the bustle of Baker Street for the quiet grandeur of the English countryside.

At Shostom Old Place, the stately manor steeped in history and horse racing, something is amiss. Mr James Mason, a loyal trainer, comes to Holmes with troubling concerns. His employer, Sir Robert Norrassie, Orbitan has been behaving strangely. A hidden crypt, a mysterious late-night visitor, and an eerie figure emerging from the family tomb, all point to a secret too dark to stay buried.

From the Noyser podcast network, this is The Adventure of Shostcombe Old Place, part one. Sherlock Holmes had been bending for a long time over a low-power microscope. Now he straightened himself up and looked round at me in triumph. "'It is glue, Watson,' said he. "'Unquestionably, it is glue. "'Have a look at these scattered objects in the field.'

"'I stooped to the eyepiece and focused for my vision. "'Those hairs are threads from a tweed coat. "'The irregular grey masses are dust. "'There are epithelial scales on the left. "'Those brown blobs in the centre, are undoubtedly glue. Well, I said, laughing, I am prepared to take your word for it.

Does anything depend upon it? It is a very fine demonstration, he answered. In the St. Pancras case, you may remember that a cap was found beside the dead policeman. The accused man denies that it is his, but he is a picture-frame maker who habitually handles glue. Is it one of your cases? No.

My friend Merivale of the yard asked me to look into the case. Since I ran down that coiner by the zinc and copper filings in the seam of his cuff, they have begun to realise the importance of the microscope. He looked impatiently at his watch. I had a new client calling, but he is overdue. By the way, Watson, you know something of racing? Well, I ought to. I pay for it with about half my wound pension.

"'Then I'll make you my handy guide to the turf. "'What about Sir Robert Norberton? "'Does the name recall anything? "'Oh, well, I should say so. "'He lives at Shoscombe Old Place, "'and I know it well for my summer quarters were down there once. "'Norbiton nearly came within your province once. "'How was that?'

"'Oh, it was when he horsewipped Sam Brewer, "'the well-known Curzon Street moneylender on New Market Heath. "'He nearly killed the man. Ah, he sounds interesting. Does he often indulge in that way? Well, he has the name of being a dangerous man. He is about the most dare-devil rider in England, second in the Grand National a few years back. He's one of those men who have overshot their true generation. He should have been a buck in the days of the regency, a boxer, an athlete, a plunger on the turf, a lover of fair ladies.

and, by all accounts, so far down Quare Street that he may never find his way back again. Capital, Watson, a thumbnail sketch. I seem to know the man. Now, can you give me some idea of Shoscombe Old Place? Only that it is in the centre of Shoscombe Park, and that the famous Shoscombe Stud and training quarters are to be found there. And the head trainer, said Holmes, is John Mason? You need not look surprised at my knowledge, Watson, for this is a letter from him, which I am unfolding. But let us have some more about Shoscombe. I seem to have struck a rich vein. Well, there are the Shoscombe Spaniels, said I.

You hear of them at every dog show, the most exclusive breed in England. They are the special pride of the lady of Shoskham old place. Sir Robert Norbertan's wife, I presume. Sir Robert has never married. just as well, I think, considering his prospects, he lives with his widowed sister, Lady Beatrice Fowlder. You mean that she lives with him? No, no, no. The place belonged to her late husband, Sir James.

Norberton has no claim on it at all. It is only a life interest and reverts to her husband's brother. Meantime, she draws the rents every year. And Brother Robert, I suppose, spends the said rents. "'That is about the size of it. "'He is a devil of a fellow and must lead her in most uneasy life. "'Yet I have heard that she is devoted to him. "'But what is amiss at Shoscombe?

"'Ah, that is just what I want to know. "'And here I expect is the man who can tell us.' "'The door had opened, and the page had shown in a tall, clean-shaven man "'with the firm, austere expression, "'which has only seen upon those, who have to control horses or boys. Mr. John Mason had many of both under his sway, and he looked equal to the task.

He bowed with cold self-possession and seated himself upon the chair to which Holmes had waved him. You had my note, Mr. Holmes? Yes, but it explained nothing. It was too delicate a thing for me to put the details on paper, and too complicated. It was only face to face I could do it. Well, we are at your disposal.

First of all, Mr. Holmes, I think that my employer, Sir Robert, has gone mad. Holmes raised his eyebrows. This is Baker Street, not Harley Street, said he. But why do you say so? Well, sir, when a man does one queer, thing or two queer things, there may be a meaning to it, but when everything he does is queer, then you begin to wonder. I believe Shostcom Prince and the Derby have turned his brain.

That is a cult you are running? The best in England, Mr Holmes. I should know if anyone does. Now I'll be plain with you, for I know you are a gentleman of honour and that it won't go beyond the room. Sir Robert has got to win this Derby. He's up to the neck and it's his last chance. Everything he could raise or borrow is on the horse. And at fine odds too, you can get 40s now, but it was nearer the hundred when he began to back him. But how is that if the horse is so good? The public don't know how good he is. Sir Robert has been too clever for the tax. Sir Robert has been too clever for the he has the prince's half-brother out for spins. You can't tell him apart,

but there are two lengths and a furlong between them when it comes to a gallop. He thinks of nothing but the horse and the race. His whole life is on it. He's holding off the moneylenders till then. If the prince fails him, he is done. This episode is brought to you by Accenture. When your advertising operations fall out of six, Everything else follows.

Spotify and Accenture are working together to reinvent the rhythm of ad sales, using automation, analytics, and smarter workflows to simplify campaign delivery and access better data across the business. The result? Less time spent on operations, more time connecting brands with the moments and fandoms that matter most. Learn more at Accenture.com slash Spotify. It seems a rather desperate gamble, but where does the madness come in? Well, first of all, you have only to look at him.

I don't believe he sleeps at night. He is down at the stables at all hours. His eyes are wild. It has all been too much for his nerves. Then there is his conduct to Lady Beatrice. Ah, what is that? They have always been the best of friends. They had the same tastes that it was.

of them, and she loved the horses as much as he did. Every day at the same hour, she would drive down to see them, and above all, she loved the prince. He would prick up his ears when he heard the wheels on the gravel, and he would trot out each morning to the carriage to get his lump of sugar. But that's all over now. Why? Well, she seems to have lost all interest in the horses. For a week now she has driven past the stables with never so much as good morning. You think there has been a quarrel? And a bitter, savage, spiteful quarrel at that. Why else would he give away her pet spaniel that she loved as if he were her child? He gave it a few days ago to old barns what keeps the green dragon three miles off at Crendel. That's

certainly did seem strange. Of course, with her weak heart and dropsy, one couldn't expect that she could get about with him, but he spent two hours every evening in her room. He might well do what he could, for she has been a rare good friend to him. But that's all over, too. He never goes near her. And she takes it to heart. She is brooding and sulky, and drinking, Mr Holmes. Drinking like a fish. Did she drink before this estrangement? Well, she took her a glass,

but now it is often a whole bottle of an evening. So, Stevens the butler told me, it's all changed, Mr. Holmes. Now there is something damned rotten about it. But then again, what is master doing down at the old church crypt at night? "'And who is the man that meets him there?' "'Holmes rubbed his hands. "'Go on, Mr Mason.

"'You'll get more and more interesting.' "'It was the butler who saw him go. "'Twelve o'clock at night and raining hard. "'So next night I was up at the house, "'and sure enough, Master was off again. "'Stevens and I went after him, "'but it was jumpy work. for it would have been a bad job if he had seen us.

He's a terrible man with his fists if he gets started, and no respecter of persons. So we were shy of getting too near, but we marked him down all right. It was the haunted crypt that he was making for, and there was a man waiting for him there. What is this haunted crypt? Well, sir, there is an old ruined tipped.

chapel in the park. It is so old that nobody could fix its date. And under it, there's a crypt, which has a bad name among us. It's a dark, damp, lonely place by day, but there are few in that county that would have the nerve to go near it at night. But Master's not afraid. He never feared anything in his life, but what is he doing there in the night time? Wait a bit, said Holmes. You say there is another man, There. It must be one of your own stableman or someone from the house. Surely you have only to spot who it is and question him. It's no one I know. How can you say that? Because I have seen him, Mr. Holmes. It was on that second night. Sir Robert turned and passed us, me and Stevens, quaking in the bushes like two bunny rabbits, for there was a bit of moon that night. But we could hear the other moving about, behind. We were not afraid of him, so we got up when Sir Robert was gone and pretended we were just having a walk like in the moonlight, and so we came right on him, as casual and innocent as you please.

Hello, mate, who may you be, says I. I guess he had not heard us coming, so he looked over his shoulder with a face as if he had seen the devil coming out of hell. He let out a yet, And away he went as hard as he could lick it in the darkness. He could run, I'll give him that. In a minute he was out of sight and hearing, and who he was or what he was we never found. But you saw him clearly in the moonlight? Yes, I would swear to his yellow face.

A mean dark, I should say. What could he have in common? with Sir Robert. This episode is brought to you by Accenture. When your advertising operations fall out of sync, everything else follows. Spotify and Accenture are working together to reinvent the rhythm of ad sales, using automation, analytics, and smarter workflows to simplify campaign delivery and access better data across the business.

The result? Less time spent on operations, more time connecting brands with the moments and fandoms that matter most. Learn more at Accenture.com slash Spotify. Holmes sat for some time lost in thought. "'Who keeps Lady Beatrice Fowler company?' he asked at last. "'There is her maid, Carrie Evans. "'She has been with her this five years,

"'and is no doubt devoted.' "'Mr Mason shuffled uncomfortably. "'She's devoted enough,' he answered at last. "'But I won't say to whom?' "'Ah,' said Holmes, "'I can't tell tales out of school.' "'I quite understand, Mr. Mason. "'Of course, the situation is clear enough.

"'From Dr. Watson's description of Sir Robert, "'I can realise that no woman is safe from him. "'Don't you think the quarrel between brother and sister may lie there? "'Well, the scandal has been pretty clear for a long time. "'But she may not have seen him. it before. Let us suppose that she has suddenly found it out. She wants to get rid of the woman. Her brother will not permit it. The invalid with her weak heart and inability to get about has no means of enforcing her will. The hated maid is still tied to her. The lady refuses

to speak, sulks takes to drink. So Robert, in his anger, takes her pet spaniel away from her. Does not all this hang together? Well, it might do, so far as it goes. Exactly, as far as it goes. How would all that bear upon the visits by night to the old crypt? We can't fit that into our plot. No, sir. And there is something more that I can't fit in.

Why should Sir Roberts want to dig up a dead body? Holmes sat up abruptly. We only found it out yesterday, after I had written to you. Yesterday, Sir Robert had gone to London, so Stevens and I went down to the crypt. It was all in order, sir, except that in one corner, there was a bit of a human body. You informed the police, I suppose?

Our visitor smiled grimly. Whoa, sir, I think it would hardly interest them. It was just the head and a few bones of a mummy. It may have been a thousand years old, but it wasn't there before. That, I'll swear, and so will Stevens. It had been stowed away in a corner and covered over with a board, but that corner had always been empty before. What did you do with it? Well, we just left it there. That was wise. You said, Say Sir Robert was away yesterday. Has he returned? We expect him back today.

When did Sir Robert give away his sister's dog? It was just a week ago today. The creature was howling outside the old wellhouse, and Sir Robert was in one of his tantrums that morning. He caught it up, and I thought he would have killed it. Then he gave it to Sandy Bain, the jockey, and told him to take the dog to old barn. at the Green Dragon, for he never wished to see it again.

Holmes sat for some time in silent thought. He had lit the oldest and foulest of his pipes. I am not clear yet what you want me to do in this matter, Mr. Mason, he said at last. Can't you make it more definite? Perhaps this will make it more definite, Mr. Holmes, said our visitor. He took a paper from his pocket. and, unwrapping it carefully, he exposed a charred fragment of bone. Holmes examined it with interest. Where did you get it? There is a central heating furnace in the cellar under Lady Beatrice's room.

It has been off for some time, but Sir Robert complained of cold and had it on again. Harvey runs it, he's one of my lads. This very morning he came to me. with this which he found raking out the cinders. He didn't like the look of it. Nor do I, said Holmes. What do you make of it, Watson? It was burned to a black cinder, but there could be no question

as to its anatomical significance. It's the upper condyle of a human femur, said I. Exactly. Holmes had become very serious. When does this lad tend to the furnace? He makes it up every evening and then leaves it. Then anyone could visit it during the night? Yes, sir.

Can you enter it from outside? No, there is one door from outside. There is another which leads up by a stair to the passage in which Lady Beatrice's room is situated. These are deep waters, Mr Mason, deep and rather dirty. You say that Sir Robert was not. at home last night? No, sir. Then whoever was burning bones, it was not he. That's true, sir. What is the name of that inn you spoke of? The Green Dragon. Is there good fishing in that part of Bakshah? The honest trainer showed very clearly upon his face that he was convinced that yet another lunatic

had come into his harassed life. Well, sir, I've heard. There are trout in the mill stream and pike in the whole lake. That's good enough. Watson and I are famous fishermen. Are we not, Watson? You may address us in future at the Green Dragon. We should reach it tonight. I need not say that we don't want to see you, Mr. Mason,

but a note will reach us, and no doubt I could find you if I want you. When we have gone a little farther into the matter, I will let you have a considered opinion. Next time, on Sherlock Holmes short stories, Holmes and Watson arrive at the Green Dragon with their fishing tackle in tow. The rehomed Spaniel helps uncover a dastardly ruse, and a late-night visit to the family crypt

provides everything Holmes needs to crack the case. That's next time. Can't wait a week until last week, the next episode, well, listen to it right away by subscribing to Noisa Plus. Head to www.noiser.com slash subscriptions for more information or click the link in the episode description. This episode is brought to you by Accenture. When your advertising operations fall out of sync, everything else follows.

Spotify and Accenture are working together to reinvent the rhythm of ad sales, using automation, analytics and smarter workflows to simplify campaign delivery and access better data across the business. The result? Less time spent on operations, more time connecting brands with the moments and fandoms that matter most. Learn more at Accenture.com slash Spotify.