He held up a small, heavy cylinder made of blackened lead. Etched into its side, in tiny, precise copper filigree, were the words: .
"The extraction," Holmes corrected. He stood, his long coat sweeping the floor. "The victim’s memories weren’t just stolen. They were archived. Compressed into a format the Scotland Yard analysts can’t even recognize." A.Study.in.Steampunk.rar
They stepped out into the night, two shadows against a sky lit by the orange glow of a thousand furnaces. He held up a small, heavy cylinder made of blackened lead