Hamburg, Germany
My trip to Hamburg begins like any good murder-mystery should, with my empty train pulling into a city shrouded in night and fog. I sorely regret not letting Rose talk me into buying that trench coat, and also the sad redundancy of the trusty steam-train. (Is it too much to ask for 80 years of technological regression to fulfill my sense of whimsy? I don't think so.)
I settle for sneaking off into the night, drinking a sneaky coffee, munching a sneaky pret...