Most people who turn their hands to writing a Sherlock Holmes story can't do it - it quickly becomes a farce, a travesty. Those who can, cannot usually sustain it - a miracle occurs, a trick appears. Then something amazing occured. Sherlock can do something he never could, before -- or can't do something that he could always do. Watson turns out to be the smart one. Something like that. Gah.
But, very rarely, one finds an author who can do it, can sustain it, and do so with flair and imagination. Such an author is James Lovegrove, and Gods of War is such a book.
Holmes is retired, as is Watson. Both are aging, living quietly, Holmes alone, Watson with his second wife. Watson has come to visit his old friend, a small reunion of two long-time companions. Nothing out of the ordinary.
And then something happens. The police are stymied. And a certain elderly man is contacted....