Why would a wealthy noble murder a man too poor to own stockings? Inspectors Gregson and Lestrade could explain, but Gregson is suddenly in the custody of the Foreign Office, and Lestrade has vanished. The only clues Sherlock Holmes can use are in the dead man's rags...or a strange archaeological relic involving all three men: A half-melted Celtic wolf found in the bottom of a Roman Well.

"Mr. Holmes is an amateur, Hopkins." Lestrade was smiling around the stem of his pipe as he spoke. Hopkins could hear it. "Not a man who works well in teams, he. He still trusts Dr. Watson not to lie to him... and Dr. Watson's pulled some whoppers to save his skinny neck in the past." Lestrade was still smiling. “Not that that’s not the most interesting thing about those fellows. I could tell you some stories about them, Stanley... oh, I could tell you stories...'". Meet Sherlock Holmes through the eyes of his fellow lodger once again... and meet both through the eyes of the Yard - especially those who saw them the most: Inspectors Lestrade, Gregson, and Bradstreet. From Montague Street to a supposedly straightforward case of smuggling in Cornwall, Scotland Yard saw more than the disconcerting and dazzling private detective; it also saw an admirable and steadfast British soldier who shared their need for justice. Doctor John Watson may call himself unremarkable, but the Yard wou...