The story of a war-weary medical doctor returning to London from Afghanistan and finding himself falling in love with a sociopath who revels in framing the innocent lower classes for his long series of grisly murderous crimes. Well, maybe not, but if subtext had been a thing in Victorian pop-literature, then that would have been a pretty sure verdict on this first Sherlock Holmes story.
It wasn't what I expected a Sherlock Holmes novel to be like if I'm honest. It has two major parts, the first introducing Watson and Holmes to each other, having them settle in to totally normal Victorian London co-habitation, and then being drawn in to a a case of murder in which an American is killed, and then another American is killed, and then suddenly Holmes invites the murderer around to Baker Street to arrest him. The second part was more interesting though, outlining the history of the 3 men in Salt Lake City in Utah, demonstrating the crimes that had happened there as being the basis for the more recent crime of passion. The end of the book closes with Holmes being insufferably self-congratulatory again, and with Watson barely concealing his throbbing boner for his new friends MASSIVE brain. It's kind of a stupid book, the 'master of logic' doesn't ever really show his mastery, it's not very well written but... actually pretty fun. Not least because you can't help but give each character a stupid Victorian England accent that makes them sound like drunkards fumbling through a bunch of coincidences before the inevitable brutal hangover turns pride in to shame.
I'm not sure I'll read another. It was incredibly short, so maybe I'll be tempted again. Who knows.
Finished reading - 29/03/26