I quite enjoyed this one, and all the cameos Meyer dropped in. The story was enjoyable and did feel mostly like a quite authentic Conan Doyle tale.

I do also like that Meyer is willing to take chances and also push the boundaries of Sherlock's universe, but not too much. Sherlock doesn't meet Cthulhu or Batman or Donald Trump, so these are good things.

I do, however, think that it does go a touch too Hollywood. The cameos are fun, but in a slim volume, it does begin to feel a touch claustrophobic, a touch overstuffed.

Still, with no new Doyle yarns, Meyer is, at least for now, still my favourite go-to for the further adventures of Holmes and Watson. ( )

I can't remember a blessed thing about the plot of this one other than it involves the theater. Let that speak for the quality of it over a star rating.

I'm a sucker for books that combine fact with fiction. I'm also a theater geek, so this book seemed made for me. And it was, for about the first third of it. Holmes and Watson look into the murder of a theater critic by a young, not famous George Bernard Shaw. Taking them into the world of the theater seems a good fit for Holmes is a bit of an actor himself with all his disguises. The story is a fun, light read and I enjoyed it, but the solution, I felt, came from left field. It's not that it was impossible, it was, it's that it was melodrama at its highest. Still, a good plane read. ( )

Finally, a wonderful Holmes pastiche! And I say that as someone who is probably a bit hyper-defensive of Holmes and Watson. Normally I'm ridiculously pedantic when it comes to my beloved Holmes and Watson...the fact that people even have the sheer nerve to try to impersonate or resurrect them rankles me automatically. As I've admitted openly in previous posts, when it comes to the Canon I'm a pedantic purist (and apparently an alliterative one at that). If the pair must be visually portrayed, only Jeremy Brett will do.

But this, I have to say, was pitch perfect in plot and narrative style and a great one-sitting read. You see, it's 1865 in London and a rash of strange occurrences are shaking up the dodgy theater district, including a murder, a socialite getting her throat slashed, two corpses disappearing along with a plastic surgeon. To solve the mystery, Holmes and Watson find themselves meeting a host of interesting people: Bram Stoker, Ellne Terry, Bernard Shaw, Henry Irving, and of course, Oscar Wilde.

Oh, and the suspect's name? You guessed it: Jack.

For more of my reviews, particularly on mystery character series that take place in England, the British Raj or Ireland, please visit my blog, The Body on the Floor, at www.bodyonthefloor.blogspot.com. ( )

A pastiche filling in one of the cases hitherto unnoticed by the Great Detective's biographer. Entertaining as fanfiction ( )