The Three Locks

September 1887, and London is melting in an exhausting Indian summer. But Holmes and Watson cannot rest. Not one but three mysteries are about to pique their curiosity. Madame Borelli, wife of a famous escape artist approaches Holmes, fearing her husband’s life is in danger. Deacon Buttons, a man of the cloth from Cambridge, fears for the life of Odelia Ann Wyndham, the daughter of a famous don. And Watson receives an unopenable locked box that perhaps holds a family secret, hidden from him for years. Homes and Watson waste no time in their investigations, but time, they will soon learn, is like fog in their hands.

Whilst The Three Locks clings to the Arthur Conan Doyle format, our intrepid detective does not feel quite as sharp or vibrant as the original. Perhaps this is because here his indecision and guesswork diminish his outstanding intelligence and observational powers, despite both Bonnie MacBird and Doyle’s Holmes denying guessing, describing it as a ‘shocking habit’.

Watson has always been depicted as the underdog, but in this adventure, even more than his earlier outings in MacBird’s hands, his drippiness had me speed-reading some parts. Then I realised why. The writing lacks Doyle’s masculinity. Feminine choices of words, phrases, and sentiments crept in, jarring me out of the story. I have often found that some writers can be unconvincing when they write in the opposite sex and sadly, this is yet another instance of that, which is a shame as greater attention to detail might have eliminated this slipup. There are also several unacceptable Americanisms that make an unwelcome appearance.
 
If my memory serves me well, I am sure Doyle’s Holmes did not take on two cases at a time. He was focused and Jack-Russell-like in his tenacity. Here, Holmes seems out of character by taking on two cases. I did wonder within half a chapter if there would be a tenuous link between the two.
The book felt like two stories that weren’t long enough to stand alone, but just about made it when strung together. That said, there was a lot of fluff that added little and without it, the story would have galloped along rather than ambling.

The more intelligent and feisty female characters are clearly there to satisfy a modern audience that does not want to see Victorian girly-girls swooning at every moment. Goodness, Queen Victoria would have been proud of the ones depicted here!

In the author’s favour, her writing is senses-driven, evoking Victorian London and Cambridge convincingly. The streets, rooms and dark corners are lively and suitably threatening where appropriate.

The Three Locks is an easy, entertaining read. The whodunnits are not challenging, which is a shame as I always believed Holmes was infinitely more intelligent than his readers. But the book was great for whiling away a quiet Sunday afternoon despite the inconsistencies in language and writing style.