"The password, Holmes?" Watson asked, checking the pressure gauge on his leg. "You can't possibly know it."
Watson tightened the valves on his leg, the metal glowing dull red. "Then let’s go, Holmes. I’ve a feeling this 'rar' contains enough heat to burn London to the ground." A.Study.in.Steampunk.rar
"It’s too clean, Watson," Holmes murmured. His voice was sandpaper and velvet. "The password, Holmes
"It vents lethal chlorine gas," Holmes finished. "Or erases the contents entirely. But they didn't count on one thing." I’ve a feeling this 'rar' contains enough heat
The machine groaned. Deep within its bowels, pistons began to pump. A green light flickered behind a glass vacuum tube. Suddenly, the room was filled with a holographic projection—a flickering, sepia-toned ghost of a man.
"The victim was a clockmaker with a penchant for the classics," Holmes said, his fingers dancing over the ivory keys. "He believed that even in an age of steam and steel, the old blood still matters." He typed: STUDYINSCARLET .