It is November 1890, London is gripped by a merciless winter and Holmes and Watson are taking tea by the fire when an agitated gentleman arrives unannounced at 221B. Edmund Carstairs, a fine art dealer, is being menaced by a man in a flat cap who appears to have followed him all the way from America. What begins as a stalking becomes something far darker, running through Boston’s criminal underworld, gaslit streets and opium dens. The Conan Doyle Estate authorised it, and Watson narrates, exactly as he should.
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