You grab your club from the pocket of your coat and wave it at Colonel Rairy. “The only thing we shall be examining is how your plan failed.”
Watson rushes to your side. “What are you doing, Holmes?” he exclaims.
“Do you care to explain, or shall I?” you ask Rairy.
A wide grin spreads slowly across his face. With one swift move, he turns and follows his female companion through the door.
A moment later, he reappears, holding a revolver. You suddenly find yourself looking straight down the barrel of a gun.
“Drop your weapon,” says Rairy.
Reluctantly, you let the club clatter to the floor.
“I don’t understand,” says Watson. “What’s all this about, Holmes?”
You keep your voice steady and calm. “Our client is actually the famed Professor Moriarty.”
“Well done, Holmes,” says the villain. “You reasoned it out. I wish I could be as quick and clever as you.” He steps back in mock surprise, holding a hand to his chest. “Oh, wait, I am!”
Moriarty nods his head toward the door, keeping the revolver pointed straight at you. “Move it.”
You and Watson are forced outside and into the night’s darkness. Your life is at an end, and you know it. You can imagine the coming newspaper headline: FAMED DETECTIVE MISSING, WORST FEARED.
Indeed, it is the worst. You are Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective, and because you chose poorly, you will never be heard from again.