“Ah, Watson.” Holmes looked up from his fingerprint dusting. “One of the gentlemen present this morning, a Russian arms dealer named Dimitrios, was either inadvertently or by design in possession of a bomb, which we managed to defuse. We are now attempting to discover whether the individual who planted the bomb left us with any identifying clues.” “I see.” Watson sat down on the opposite end of the sofa from Mycroft. “In other words, an average morning, then.”