Sherlock Holmes Short Stories - The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire: Part One

Episode Date: June 17, 2026

Holmes and Watson are summoned to Sussex to investigate a case of marital discord… in which the South American wife is suspected of being a vampire.   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: Josh Latham  Series Consultant: Dan Smith  Executive Producer: Katrina Hughes  Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

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So whether you're snacking, sharing, or just treating yourself, nothing else is Rises. 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, Holmes and Watson are drawn away from London to the countryside.

Watson's old friend, Robert Ferguson, believes his wife has attacked their infant son, and worse still, that she may be a vampire. The evidence is damning, bite marks on the child's neck, and the mother discovered with blood on her lips. But Holmes has never been one to accept the supernatural. In his eyes, even the strangest mystery is bound to have a rational explanation. From the Noyser podcast network, this is The Adventure of the Sussex Vampire, Part One. Holmes had read carefully a note which the last post had brought to. him. Then, with the dry chuckle, which was his nearest approach to a laugh, he tossed it over to me.

For a mixture of the modern and the medieval, of the practical and of the wildly fanciful, I think this is surely the limit, said he. What do you make of it, Watson? I read as follows. Forty-six old jury November the 19th, re-vampires. Sir, Our client, Mr Robert Ferguson of Ferguson and Muirhead, tea brokers, of Mincing Lane, has made some inquiry from us in a communication of even date concerning vampires. As our firm specialises entirely upon the assessment of machinery, the matter hardly comes within our purview, and we have, therefore, recommended Mr. Ferguson to call upon you

and lay the matter before you. We have not forgotten your successful action in the matter. the case of Matilda Briggs. We are, sir, faithfully yours, Morrison, Morrison and Dodd, per EJC. Matilda Briggs was not the name of a young woman, Watson, said Holmes in a reminiscent voice. It was a ship which is associated with the giant rat of Sumatra, a story for which the world is not yet prepared. But what do we know about vampires? Does it come within our purview, either? "'Anything is better than stagnation, "'but really we seem to have been switched on to a grim's fairy tale.

"'Make a long arm, Watson, and see what V has to say?' "'I leaned back and took down the great index volume to which he referred. "'Holmes balanced it on his knee, "'and his eyes moved slowly and lovingly "'over the record of old cases "'mixed with the accumulated information of a lifetime. "'Voyage of the glorious Scot. He read.

That was a bad business. I have some recollection that you made a record of it, Watson, though I was unable to congratulate you upon the result. Victor Lynch, the forger, venomous lizard or gila. Remarkable case that. Victoria, the circus bell. Vanderbilt and the Yegman.

Vipers, Vigour, the Hammersmith Wonder. Hello, hello, good old index. you can't beat it. Listen to this, Watson. Vampirism in Hungary, and again, vampires in Transylvania. He turned over the pages with eagerness, but after a short intent perusal, he threw down the great book with a snarl of disappointment. Rubbish, Watson, rubbish! What have we to do with walking corpses who can only be held in their grave by stakes driven through their hearts? It's pure lunacy. But surely, said I, the vampire was not necessarily a dead man. A living person might have the habit.

I have read, for example, of the old sucking the blood of the young in order to retain their youth. You are right, Watson. It mentions the legend in one of these references. But are we to give serious attention to such things? This agency stands flat-footed upon the ground, and there it must remember. "'The world is big enough for us.

"'No ghosts need apply. "'I fear that we cannot take Mr. Robert Ferguson very seriously. "'Possibly this note may be from him "'and may throw some light upon what is worrying him.' "'He took up a second letter, "'which had lain unnoticed upon the table "'while he had been absorbed with the first. "'This he began to read with a smile of amusement upon his face,

"'which gradually faded a wretched away into an expression of intense interest and concentration. When he had finished, he sat for some little time lost in thought, with the letter dangling from his fingers. Finally, with a start, he aroused himself from his reverie. Cheesman's Lamborley! Where is Lamborley, Watson? It is in Sussex, south of Horsham. Not very far, eh? And cheesemans?

I know that country. Holmes, it is full of old houses which are named after the men who built them centuries ago. You get oddly's and harvies and carritons. The folk are forgotten, but their names live in their houses. Precisely, said Holmes coldly. It was one of the peculiarities of his proud, self-contained nature that though he docketed any fresh information very quietly and accurately in his brain, he seldom made any acknowledgement to the giver.

"'I rather fancy we shall know a good deal more about Cheeseman's Lamberley "'before we are through. "'The letter is, as I had hoped, from Robert Ferguson. "'By the way, he claims acquaintance with you. "'With me? You had better read it.' "'He handed the letter across. "'It was headed with the address quoted. "'Dear Mr. Holmes,' it said,

"'I have been recommended to you by my lawyers, but indeed the matter is so extraordinarily delicate that it is most difficult to discuss. It concerns a friend for whom I am acting. This gentleman married some five years ago a Peruvian lady, the daughter of a Peruvian merchant, whom he had met in connection with the importation of nitrates. The lady was very beautiful,

but the fact of her foreign birth and of her alien religion always caused a separation of interests, and of feelings between husband and wife, so that after a time his love may have cooled towards her, and he may have come to regard their union as a mistake. He felt there were sides of her character which he could never explore or understand. This was the more painful as she was as loving a wife as a man could have,

to all appearance absolutely devoted. Now for the point which I will make more plain when we will, meet. Indeed, this note is merely to give you a general idea of the situation and to ascertain whether you would care to interest yourself in the matter. The lady began to show some curious traits quite alien to her ordinarily sweet and gentle disposition. The gentleman had been married twice, and he had one son by the first wife. This boy was now 15, a very charming and affectionate youth, though unhappily injured through an accident in childhood. Twice the wife was caught in the act of assaulting this poor lad in the most unprovoked way.

Once she struck him with a stick and left a great wheel on his arm. This was a small matter, however, compared with her conduct to her own child, a dear boy just under one year of age. On one occasion about a month ago, this child had been left by its nurse for a few minutes. A loud cry from the baby, as of pain, called the nurse back. As she ran into the room, she saw her employer, the lady, leaning over the baby, and apparently biting his neck. There was a small wound in the neck from which a stream of blood had escaped.

The nurse was so horrified that she wished to call the husband, but the lady implored her not to do so, and actually gave her five pounds as a price for her silence. No explanation was ever given, and for the moment the matter was passed over. It left, however, a terrible impression upon the nurse's mind, and from that time she began to watch her mistress closely, and to keep a closer guard upon the baby whom she tenderly loved. It seemed to her that even as she watched the mother, so the mother watched her, and that every time she was compelled to leave the baby alone, the mother was waiting to get at it. Day and night the nurse covered the child, and day and night the silent, watchful mother seemed to be lying in wait, as a wolf waits for a lamb. It must read most incredible to you,

and yet I beg you to take it seriously, for a child's life and a man's sanity may depend upon it. At last there came one dreadful day when the facts could no longer be concealed from the husband. The nurse's nerve had given way. She could stand the strain no longer, and she made a clean breast of it all to the man. To him it seemed as wild a tale as it may now seem to you. He knew his wife to be a loving wife. and, save for the assaults upon her stepson, a loving mother. Why then should she wound her own dear little baby?

He told the nurse that she was dreaming, that her suspicions were those of a lunatic, and that such libels upon her mistress were not to be tolerated. While they were talking, a sudden cry of pain was heard. Nurse and master rushed together to the nursery. Imagine his feelings, Mr. Holmes. as he saw his wife rising from a kneeling position beside the cot and saw blood upon the child's exposed neck and upon the sheet. With a cry of horror, he turned his wife's face to the light

and saw blood all round her lips. It was she, she beyond all question, who had drunk the poor baby's blood. So the matter stands. is now confined to her room. There has been no explanation. The husband is half demented. He knows, and I know little of vampirism beyond the name. We had thought it was some wild tale of foreign parts, and yet here, in the very heart of the English Sussex, well, all this can be discussed with you in the morning. Will you see me? Will you use your great powers in aiding a

distracted man. If so, kindly wire to Ferguson, Cheesman's, Lambly. And I will be at your rooms by ten o'clock. Yours faithfully, Robert Ferguson. P.S., I believe your friend Watson played rugby for Blackheath when I was three-quarter for Richmond. It is the only personal introduction which I can give. Of course I remember him, said I, as I laid down the letter. Big Bob. Ferguson, the finest three-quarter Richmond ever had. He was always a good-natured chap. It's like him to be so concerned

over a friend's case. Holmes looked at me thoughtfully and shook his head. I never get your limits, Watson, said he. There are unexplored possibilities about you. Take a wire down, like a good fellow. We'll examine your case with pleasure.

Your case? We must not let him think that this agency is a home for the weak-minded. Of course it is his case. Send him that wire and let the matter rest till morning. Promptly, at ten o'clock next morning, Ferguson strode into our room. I had remembered him as a long, slab-sided man with loose limbs and a fine turn of speed, which had carried him round many an opposing back. There is surely nothing in life more painful than to meet the wreck of a fine athlete whom one has known in his prime. His great frame had fallen in.

His flaxen hair was scanty, and his shoulders were bowed. I fear that I roused corresponding emotions in him. "'Hello, Watson,' said he, and his voice was still deep and hearty. "'You don't look quite the man you did. when I threw you over the ropes into the crowd at the old dear park. I expect I have changed a bit also, but it's this last day or two that has aged me. I see by your telegram, Mr. Holmes,

that it is no use my pretending to be anyone's deputy. It is simpler to deal direct, said Holmes. Of course it is. But you can imagine how difficult it is when you are speaking of the one woman whom you are bound to protect and help, what can I do? How am I to go to the police with such a story?

And yet the kiddies have got to be protected. Is it madness, Mr. Holmes? Is it something in the blood? Have you any similar case in your experience? For God's sake, give me some advice, for I am at my wits end. Very naturally, Mr. Ferguson. "'Now sit here and pull yourself together and give me a few clear answers.

"'I can assure you that I am very far from being at my wits' end, "'and that I am confident we shall find some solution. "'First of all, tell me what steps you have taken. "'Is your wife still near the children?' "'We had a dreadful scene. "'She is a most loving woman, Mr. Holmes. "'If ever a woman loved a man with all her heart and soul, She loves me.

She was cut to the heart that I should have discovered this horrible, this incredible secret. She would not even speak. She gave no answer to my reproaches save to gaze at me with a sort of wild,

despairing look in her eyes. Then she rushed to her room and locked herself in. Since then she has refused. to see me. She has a maid, who was with her before her marriage, Dolores, by name, a friend, rather than a servant. She takes her food to her. Then the child is in no immediate danger. Mrs. Mason, the nurse, has sworn that she will not leave it night or day. I can absolutely trust her. I am more uneasy about poor little Jack, for, as I

told you in my note. He has twice been assaulted by her, but never wounded. No, she's struck him savagely. It is the more terrible as he cannot defend himself. Ferguson's gaunt features softened as he spoke of his boy. You would think that the dear lad's condition would soften anyone's heart. A fall in childhood and her twisted spine, Mr. Holmes. but the dearest, most loving heart within. Holmes had picked up the letter of yesterday and was reading it over. What other inmates are there in your house, Mr. Ferguson? Two servants who have not been long with us, one stable hand, Michael, who sleeps in the house.

My wife, myself, my boy Jack, baby, Dolores, and Mrs. Mason. That is all. I gather that you did not know your wife well at the time of your marriage. I had only known her a few weeks. How long had this maid Dolores been with her? Oh, some years. Then your wife's character would really be better known by Dolores than by you? Yes, you may say so.

Holmes made a note. I fancy, said he, that I may be of more you. use at Lambly than here. It is eminently a case for personal investigation. If the lady remains in her room, our presence could not annoy or inconvenience her. Of course, we would stay at the inn. Ferguson gave a gesture of relief. It is what I hoped, Mr. Holmes. There is an excellent train at two from Victoria, if you could come. Of course we could come. There is a a lull at present, I can give you my undivided energies. Watson, of course, comes with us, but there are one or two points upon which I wish to be very sure before I start.

This unhappy lady, as I understand it, has appeared to assault both the children, her own baby, and your little son. That is so. But the assaults take different forms, do they not? She has beaten your son. Once with a stick and once very savagely with her hands. Did she give no explanation why she struck him?

None, save that she hated him. Again and again she said so. Well, that is not unknown among step-mothers. A posthumous jealousy, we will say. Is the lady jealous by nature?

Yes. She is very jealous, jealous with all the strength of her fiery tropical love. But the boy, he is fifteen, I understand, and probably very developed in mind, since his body has been circumscribed in action. Did he give you no explanation of these assaults? No, he declared there was no reason. Were they good friends at other times? No. There was never any love between them.

Yet you say he is affectionate. Or never in the world could there be so devoted a son. My life is his life. He is absorbed in what I say or do. Once again Holmes made a note. For some time he sat lost in thought. Spotify, it's Jay Shetty. Are you one of those media strategy people

scrolling through spreadsheets, searching for an audience that pays twice as much attention to your ads than they do on social, let me introduce you to fans. And they're here with me on Spotify. Trust me, I know fans. They don't skip, they stay for hours. They don't move on, they manifest. They're not a demographic group, they're fans. Spotify advertising. You're among fans.

No doubt you and the boy were great. Comrades before this second marriage. You were thrown very close together, were you not? Very much so. And the boy, having so affectionate a nature, was devoted, no doubt, to the memory of his mother. Most devoted. He would certainly seem to be a most interesting lad. There is one other point about these assaults.

Were the strange attacks upon the baby and the assaults upon your son at the same period, In the first case it was so. It was as if some frenzy had seized her, and she had vented her rage upon both. In the second case it was only Jack who suffered. Mrs. Mason had no complaint to make about the baby. That certainly complicates matters. I don't quite follow you, Mr. Holmes. Possibly not. One forms provisional theories and waits for time or fuller knowledge to explode them. A bad habit, Mr. Ferguson, but human nature is weak. I fear that your old friend here has given an exaggerated view of my scientific methods. However, I will only say at the present stage that your problem does not appear to me to be insoluble, and that you may expect to find us at Victoria.

at 2 o'clock. Next time, on Sherlock Holmes' short stories, Holmes and Watson pay a visit to the Sussex countryside. A sickly dog provides a crucial clue, and the great detective uncovers a secret even more dangerous than the legend of the vampire. That's next time. Can't wait a week until the next episode.

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