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by J. B. Varney (Author)
In the early summer of 1913 I received a letter from my old friend, Sherlock Holmes. While he concentrated upon his bees and worked on his memoirs in Sussex most of the year, he had taken my advice and rented a place in Scilly. There the clement weather, sunshine, and the beautiful views had granted him new energy. Meanwhile a storm among the nations like none we'd ever seen was rising up across Europe. Imagine my shock when upon opening his latest letter, I found only ten words.
"Watson, the game is afoot! Bring your revolver to Ruben's."
Ruben's was, of course, the Ruben's Hotel in London. When we met he at once declared that the government, in the person of his brother, Mycroft, had need of him, and he, likewise, had need of me. A spy had infiltrated Britain's inner sanctum and it was feared he had exposed our weaknesses to Germany. Mycroft was clear that nothing could be done to undo the damage, but he was equally clear that only Sherlock Holmes could find the spy and keep the harm from continuing. The Game is...still afoot!
