It's not so bad. It's not that great either. There's The Mazarin Stone, which is written in third person mainly because it originally appeared as a stage play and there was no way Doyle could re-adapt it as a story re-told by Watson. But it still doesn't feel right. It also features a character shouting "It's a fair cop!" once the cops have rushed into 221B Baker Street. Is Conan Doyle responsible for this phrase, or at least popularizing it? If so, Monty Python owes him a huge debt of gratitude...


Then there's The Three Gables, which features not one, but two offensive stereotypes, and a villain who comes out of nowhere (Tsk tsk, Sir Doyle).


On the other hand, The Three Garridebs and The Retired Colourman are pretty good, and I'm fond of The Lion's Mane because - like The Norwood Builder - I figured it out around the same time as Holmes. The Illustrious Client has a sort of scope to it that you don't see too often in a Doyle short story, but it derails towards the end,  when Holmes saves the day by becoming a desperate, clumsy burglar.


One of my favorite aspects of working through the Doyle canon are the mentions of unwritten cases by Watson. Of course, this is the collection which references the giant rat of Sumatra ("a story for which the world is not yet prepared"). Another story begins with Watson musing on:  

• 'Mr. James Phillimore, who, stepping back into his own house to get his umbrella, was never more seen in this world'  
• 'the cutter Alicia, which sailed one spring morning into a small patch of mistfrom where she never again emerged'
   
• 'Isadora Persano, the well-known journalist and duellist, who was found stark staring mad with a match box in front of him which contained a remarkable worm said to be unknown to science'

A step up from season five, season six nevertheless, has a feeling of playing it safe some times.

Case in point, there's this episode where they beam down to a planet Riker visited years and years ago when he was serving on a different starship, and they discover that a transporter accident had created a true duplicate of him - a duplicate that had been marooned on that planet all that time, who was still a lieutenant, still in love with whatsherface, and still cockier than Riker Mark One. The producers toyed with the idea of killing the original Riker at the end of said episode. Data would've been promoted to first officer, and Riker Mark Dos would've taken his place at Ops. That's called 'shakin' things up', but they chickened out at the last minute.

"...so after I slew the seventh Nausicaan warrior with my bare hands, I disemboweled his lieutenant and tore his still beating heart from his chest and - sorry. May I trouble you for another lump of sugar, please? Thank you."

So here's how I wound up running at top speed across the Brooklyn Bridge, half-naked, in the middle of the night, pursued by all five members of a heavy metal band.

So begins chapter five of this book, after chapter four ends in a relatively low key way. The tone is like that all through the book and it pretty much saved it for me. You see, I just don't like it when the author writes himself into the novel. Just puts me off. But the tone here - despite the plot being about the murder of a burlesque performer while she's on stage - is light and breezy. It's fun.

Option 1: The 6 train. There was an entrance to my left. Now, in almost any movie, TV show, or afterschool special ever written about New York by an L.A. writer from Ohio, the escapee running away tries to elude capture by ducking into a subway station. This is something no self-respecting New Yorker would ever do. Look, it's the subway. When you get into the station, you're going to have to wait for it to arrive. For at least 10 minutes. On the same platform as the people chasing you.
This is not a viable escape plan.

You see? Fun. Later on in the book, Johnny Porkpie escapes capture by hiding in a zeppelin. No joke.

I zipped through this in about a day.