Old Time Radio Detective - Sherlock Holmes - The Reigate Squires

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This episode includes AI-generated content.

Duration: 21m
Broadcast on: 06 Oct 2026
Audio Format: other

Shabbat! Shabbat! Capital, my dear Watson. Let us return to our humble of earth. Two to one be bigger. Eight to seven. From London we present The Righate Squires, a tape radio by Michael Harwick, based on a short story by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The Righate Squires. I see from my notes that it was on the 14th of April, 1887, that I received a telegram from the lion, telling me that Sherlock Holmes was lying ill there. Within 24 hours I was in his sick room. His iron constitution had broken down under the strain of a two month investigation. And when I got him back to two to one be bigger, sleep three days later, it became obvious to me that for all his love of London, he would be better off for change in the country. Well, how are we feeling today? I don't mind admitting it's left me feeling a bit knocked up. You've been working what? 15 hours a day average? Two Watson's. Two. Now you're paying a penalty. Exhausted. Still, I suppose all this is some compensation. What's there? All these telegrams. Congratulations. Still coming in by the bucketful. Oh, those are now really homes. You succeed where the police of three continents have failed. You out-belover the most accomplished swindler in Europe and every point in all you can say is, "Oh, the let the politicians and the financiers do the rejoicing." The Netherlands of Maapra company lit the fairs are things of the past for me now. All I want Watson is a good rest. Well, matter of fact, Holmes, that's just what I wanted to have a word with you about. This is Colonel Heder, old friend, down in Afghanistan. Well, he's taking a house down in your racket. And he keeps asking us to go down for a bit of a break anytime we like. He's just doing you the invitation, and I thought a week or so of springtime in the country might be just the thing. On the body, there. I'm sure your friend means very well, Watson. Springtime and sorry, delightful. But does you see me lounging about on surface beef, husted death by well-meaning? It's a bachelor establishment, Holmes. Well, then? Head of the final soldier in the world. Talk all night if you wanted to. Oh, bye. But learn when to keep out of the way and leave a man in peace if that's what he prefers. How will you say, Holmes? You suppose his breakfast has come up to my standards? Holmes, Holmes. Well, you'll come then, huh? Good pleasure, Watson. Just as soon as you can arrange to transport these weary old bones of mine between baker streets and ragged. Ah, what about this ginger, Watson? Is it a beauty, eh, what? It's, eh, it would have made no sense. Hey, hey, isn't it? Oh, Joe, I say, Heather, you've gathered quite an armory about you. Have the Holmes.

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