Autumn 1930. Sherlock Holmes, aged 76, still resides in Baker Street. However, he spends his days slumped in his favourite armchair, lost in thought and in a drug-induced haze. Until one day, the headlines jolt him from his lethargy. "3rd victim butchered and disembowelled! Jack the Ripper returns?" He receives support from Eddy, the loveable but lazy husband of his new landlady Alice. But what about Dr Watson? And will Sherlock Holmes manage to track down the perpetrator as he did in years past, even without him?
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Sudden darkness. Hands grabbed Watson. He thrashed about wildly, but it was all in vain. A violent blow to the head.
When he regained consciousness, he found himself in some sort of cell. But where exactly was he? Only the chimes of Big Ben thundered loudly in his ears. Yet why had they brought him here? There was no sign of the perpetrators anywhere.
Biting January cold, hunger and thirst pushed him to his limits. Would his friend Sherlock Holmes find him in time?
When he regained consciousness, he found himself in some sort of cell. But where exactly was he? Only the chimes of Big Ben thundered loudly in his ears. Yet why had they brought him here? There was no sign of the perpetrators anywhere.
Biting January cold, hunger and thirst pushed him to his limits. Would his friend Sherlock Holmes find him in time?