Disclaimer: Obviously, I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Nancy Drew, The Hardy Boys, or Stephanie Plum. I am merely using them to review this shitty book.
Sherlock Holmes: Well, everyone else has a book club. So, it was only natural detectives start one too. Though, I really have to say that this is a waste of time. And is boring. Especially this book.
Nancy Drew: Who also has a book club?
Sherlock: Because it’s redundant. But I’m not the one who makes these choices. Obviously. I honestly believe that this is some warped version of fan fic being written to a book review since none of you exist in my books or various television media. But what do I know, I’m just the world’s greatest detective.
Nancy : Actually, I thought that role went to Batman.
Batman: Oh, no. I’m not reading another YA book.
Sherlock: Still having post traumatic stress about The Brokenhearted?
Batman: Hardly, I’m Batman.
Sherlock: That is an obvious defense mechanism if I have ever seen one.
Batman: (rolls eyes) Well, how did you like The Naturals?
Sherlock: It was trite. Nothing really extraordinary about it. A girl wanted to be like me. Tried to make obvious observations about everything. When really she was just making assumptions. I believe there’s a saying that if you make assumptions you make an ass of yourself. And well, Cassie sort of did.
Nancy: Ass is just a dirty word. And that’s just an opinion.
Sherlock: Is it Ms. Drew? I mean, I want you to think of your own deduction skills and compare them with Cassie’s.
Nancy: I don’t see that much of a difference. I don’t over analyze everyone like that. But I didn’t find Cassie to be particularly obnoxious. Hence, your claims being opinion not fact.
Sherlock: Oh, everything can be conisdered opinion. Doesn’t mean that opinions can’t be facts.
Stephanie Plum: All this psycho babble is getting annoying here. Can we just blow up a car already?
Sherlock: Oh, because that makes a book. I guess when you spend twenty books lusting after two guys while solving plebeian mysteries a car bomb does make for a nice plot twist. Though, after twenty books it’s really not a twist anymore.
Stephanie: Was that an insult?
The Hardy Boys: Obviously.
Sherlock: Can the two of you think for yourself?
The Hardy Boys: We’re different. One of us is blonde the other is brunette.
Sherlock: No. The only difference is that one of you lusted over Ms. Drew in those super mysteries. Pity. That was almost a tolerable romance. Not like the romance in these books.
Batman: Way to turn the subject back to the book club.
Sherlock: You’re one to talk. Didn’t your book club end with a blood bath?
Batman: You’re the supposed world’s greatest detective, you tell me?
Sherlock: I don’t even have to tell you, just look at the transcript. Luckily, there’s not going to be any blood bath at this book club.
Batman: I don’t kill.
Sherlock: I said blood bath, not massacre. World’s greatest detective, my arse. Whatever though, the love interests. They are dull. It was obvious that they were written to appeal to teenage girls and boys. Muscle bound morons who moon over some impossibly average teenage girl who is described to look like a supermodel, despite the author’s best intentions. I mean, really when has that worked before.
Nancy: Um, it sort of worked in my best friend, Bess’s, favorite novel about this girl who falls in love with a vampire and a….
Sherlock: Sarcasm, Ms. Drew. I know it’s hard to believe I have it, but I dot occasionally make a mot remark.
Hardy Boys: It means witty. Jeez, Nancy, use that thesauruses app we told you about.
Nancy: Whatever. The fact is, that teens are attractive to cute guys. That doesn’t mean they were bad love interests.
Sherlock: Really? Okay, tell me what you learned about Dean and Michael.
Nancy: Dean had muscles and a tortured past. He’s…well, like Batman.
Batman: Oh, hell no. I am not like any character in a shitty YA book.
Stephanie: What if we say he’s more like Ranger. You know, mysterious the guy who holds back because you know there’s something more behind that muscle shirt he’s wearing.
Batman: Well, that’s tolerable. I guess. However, I want it to be proclaimed that there will be no YA ripoffs of Batman.
Sherlock: Oh, get over yourself. Everyone and their mum knows that you’re a rip off of me.
Batman: You weren’t a tortured soul.
Sherlock: (Raises eyebrows) Okay, tormented souls aside. We have to talk about the other git that this pathetic Sherlock wannabe is fawning after. He’s a “funny” guy.
Stephanie: I love funny guys.
Sherlock: No, you love cupcakes.
Stephanie: Well, Morelli has his moments…but Ranger….oh, I don’t know.
Sherlock: Just get your own TLC show. I’m sure you Morelli and Ranger would make a great spinoff to Sister Wives.
Nancy: Sherlock Holmes watches TLC?
Sherlock: A necessary evil when you fight crime, my dear. Have to get inside the criminal mind. So anyway, where was I. There are two buffoons after little Ms. Wannabe of deduction. And low and behold, there’s also a serial killer after her. Hmmm, where has that happened before?
Batman: In my universe, damn it.
Sherlock: Once again, another moment you ripped off of me. I had the original serial killer after me. Your Joker has nothing on Moriarty.
Nancy: Okay, intense stare off has started between those two, so I guess it’s my job to solve the case.
Stephanie: Um, I thought this was a book club.
Nancy: Whatever. Like Sherlock was saying, there was a serial killer. But I didn’t see anything really leading up to the killer. There were no hints. And obviously, you knew it was going to be someone in the books but the depiction of the villain just didn’t make sense on so many levels.
Stephanie: It actually did make sense.
Nancy: Really? Did it make sense to you Frank and Joe?
Hardy Boys: Nope. There were no clues.
Nancy: (smirks) See?
Stephanie: Let me explain, there had to be a villain. And obviously it had to be someone on the canvas who knew. Bam! There’s your explanation.
Sherlock: That is probably one of the most erroneous explanations I ever heard.
Stephanie: (Shrugs) Makes sense to me, Tastykake?
Sberlock: I can’t even believe your a real detective, Ms. Plum.
Stephanie: Bounty hunter. And I have a movie.
Sherlock: I have multiple movies made after me. Two television series that are currently on the air. And various other multi-media products. That alone doesn’t make me a detective.
Batman: And certainly not the world’s greatest detective…
Sherlock: Shut up, Wayne.
Sherlock: Oh, yes, I know your true identity. Not that hard to deduct who you are, rich boy. Surprised no one else in that city of yours has figured it out yet.
Nancy: He’s Bruce Wayne? Yeah…that does sort of make sense.
Sherlock: See even Rebecca from Sunnybrook Farms….
Nancy: My name is Nancy. Nancy Drew. I have my own set of books, some movies, a TV show, and video…
Sherlock: That’s nice…but whatever. The point is even you figured out his identity. Even you know how dumb the mystery plot in this novel was. Even you felt like Cassie lacked deductive skills.
Nancy: I never said that.
Sherlock: Oh, Nancy. It’s quite obvious you think that Cassie is incompetent. You basically told Stephanie off. And you and I both know she’s a better detective than Cassie. Plus, I think you realize what Cassie really is?
Nancy: Oh God, is this going to be your summation. Am I seriously your Watson at the book club.
Sherlock: Oh, trust me, love, you’re not Watson. For one thing you have better legs than any version of Watson, robot and Lucy Liu version included. And for another, well, you have a penchant to be annoying. But since you asked for a summation…I’ll be more than willing to give it to you. Let’s look at Cassie. Physically she reminds me of someone. Red hair, tall, good looking in your typical All-American teen way.
Nancy: Oh, please.
Sherlock: I’m not done yet.
Batman: She obviously doesn’t want one of your long winded know it all explanations, Holmes.
Sherlock: I’m speaking the truth.
Nancy: Doesn’t that contradict your earlier hypothesis that Cassie is just like you.
Sherlock: I said she was trying to make deductions like me. Not that she was attempting to be like me. There’s a difference there my dear, Nancy. Now if I were you, I’d kick her arse.
Nancy: You said you were going to be civilized.
Sherlock: Obviously. But I’m always civilized. The accent helps.
Nancy: Dear lord…no. Just no. I am Nancy Drew the queen of niceness. I do not kick ass. Unless I have to. And Cassie has done nothing to deserve an ass kicking.
Sherlock: Aren’t you afraid she’s being a Nancy Drew knock off?
Nancy: No. I’m not. Because while she physically might look like me and try to be a girl detective, dead mother included. She’s not me. No matter how hard she tries or Barnes tries. It’s one thing to say you have the power of deduction, but just be annoying with friends who shout out statistics and trying to have “cool” science incorporated throughout the text is not going to make you Nancy Drew.
Sherlock: Yes, but that’s true but…
Nancy: I have a legacy, Sherlock. Maybe not as long as yours, but it is respectable. People are going to identify redheaded detectives as me not Cassie. Therefore, as much as she tries she’s not going to be a ripoff.
Sherlock: That does not make sense.
Nancy: No one’s ever going to think of her when they hear teenage detective, Sherlock. She is forgettable. The best defense mechanism I have is to just ignore her.
Nancy: Yes, boring but effective. Tell me, what happened when you fought with what’s her name.
Batman: Justice was served. You’re not doing justice anything if you let her walk…
Nancy: Oh, justice is being served. No one will know who she is in three years.
Sherlock: Unless she has twenty sequels. And Nancy it can happen…(points to Stephanie).
Nancy: Damn it.
Sherlock: Now that’s out of character.
Nancy: Oh, how would you like it if someone tried to rip you off?
Sherlock: Oh, someone or should I say someones been ripping me off for years. It doesn’t mind me so much now.
Sherlock: Because all of you lack deduction skills. That and I know a serial killer and if any of you bother me that much I can just get Moriarty to handle it for me. I have to say he was very helpful a few years back with that spotted elephant from Rudolph pretended to be a detective.
Nancy: I didn’t know he was a detective.
Sherlock: Exactly. Now who’s the world’s greatest detective?
Overall Rating: Four out of ten. It’s readable but barely (D+/C-) the characterization and plot were poor which made the overall experience suck.