"Good day, Mister Holmes," the woman behind the desk said.

"Hello," Holmes responded. "The woman who got me, she said you had a mission for me."

"And so I do," said the woman, passing a file folder Holmes' way.

"I do hope you know that I'm retired. I finished doing this sort of thing a long time ago, after the scandal with-"

"I think you'll want to," the woman interrupted. "This is a profile of the most dangerous man in the world. He's killed thousands of people. Your task is to-"

"-to kill him?" Holmes finished. "That's quite a generic task."

"He's in London," she said, standing up, her curly blond hair cascading down her back. "And his name is James Moriarty. He's got a criminal ring set up, but we have other people onto them- people in the British government. But we need you to kill him… to kill Moriarty."

"It's in London?" Holmes asked, glancing through the profiles. "Will I be seeing them?"

"Probably," the woman said. "It's hard to walk around London these days without seeing Sherlock Holmes."

"That's a fair point." He paused. "I'm not sure I want to take this job."

"I'm not sure you have a choice," she said.

He held the file folder with hesitation. "How long do I have?"

"Forty-eight hours. The cab is waiting outside."

"Well then." Holmes stood up and was stopped as he stepped through the door.

"Good luck, Sherrinford Holmes."