Unraveling Words: Unraveling: Locked by Eva Morgan

Monday, March 10, 2014

Unraveling: Locked by Eva Morgan

Title: Locked

Series: Locked Book One

Publication Date: February 10, 2014

When eighteen-year-old Irene Adler meets her new neighbor, the gorgeous, brilliant, and arrogant Sherlock Holmes, she never expects him to be the one to make her feel like life is worth living again. Ever since her sister's death, she's been addicted to risk-taking as a way to deal with her depression, and Sherlock quickly becomes the biggest risk she's ever taken.

Locked is the story of a broken girl and the genius who gives her life back to her. It's the story of a witty asshole who's never known love, and the girl who shows him what love means. It's the story of an unexpected connection, two people who save each other, and the importance of seeing the goodness underneath.

*Based on the Sherlock Holmes series by Arthur Conan Doyle.

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My Thoughts

Sherrrrrrrlooooooooockkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk!

Need I say more? If that's not enough to convince you, I don't know what is!

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Ok, ok, fine, let me try and convince you then...Have you watched BBC Sherlock? No? Then what the hell are you doing reading this?! Go watch it right now! Back already? Excellent, let's proceed then.

Ms. Morgan does such an awesome job at catching the essence of Sherlock and then putting him in a high school setting. It was brilliant.

This is the story of a modern day Sherlock and Irene. Irene is a very troubled girl. She was in the car when her sister died and she didn't come out of it whole. So what happens when her mom makes her welcome the new neighbors by bringing over a casserole? Sherlock does what he does best and throws in her face the death of her sister not 2mins after opening the door.

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Irene's reaction? Throw the casserole at Sherlock's face. And so their strange friendship starts. Irene was a strange but great mix between Molly and Watson. Watching Sherlock trying to make sense of this strange girl, and Irene trying to cope with such an intense young man. It was perfect.

The whole book had me laughing out loud, sighing in contentment, and breaking my heart at others. Especially the ending! But it was all so worth it!

I would have liked a bit more mystery to the murder plot, but I was just having so much fun with Sherlock and Irene I couldn't be bothered with it for too long. Mycroft was a tad creepier here than he is in the show. We don't even know what his job is, only that he is basically never at home, and every time he talked with Irene he gave me the creeps, but you could still tell that he did care for Sherlock. We also get a very tiny glimpse of Moriarty and I can't wait for the next book!!

Here is a small scene between Sherlock and Irene in classroom.

“It’s not working out between us, Irene,” he says loudly. “I’m afraid I’m dumping you.”

And he sits back down.

As if I’d let him off that easy.

I stand up, the sound of my chair scraping back nearly deafening in the silence. “Like hell you’re breaking up with me, Sherlock Holmes.”

I take my seat again.

“Um…perhaps if we could save this for later…” whispers a petrified Mrs. Fields, frozen with her marker halfway to the whiteboard.

The classroom is a dead quiet sea of stares.

Sherlock is glowering at me. I smile back sweetly and he gets up again. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says.

Did he read a handbook on how to break with someone? Probably. What a dork. I get up again too. “It’s not either. It’s both of us. Which is still a thing, because we’re not breaking up.”

“Personal matters…are for outside the classroom,” Mrs. Fields squeaks. Nobody listens to her. I think the classroom is about to combust.

Sherlock narrows his eyes. “I’m gay.”

Breaking out the big guns, then. I volley back: “Not according to last night, you’re not.”

One terrified giggle escapes someone in the front row.

“Stop it, Irene,” he says under his breath, turning up his death glare as high as it will go.

I grin. I’m winning. Today, I don’t mind the stares. They’re for a good cause. “What about yesterday, when you said you couldn’t live without me?”

“Irene,” he hisses.

“And the day before that, when you said you wanted to get marr—”

“Point made,” he growls, throwing himself back into his chair like he’s hoping it’ll break.

“That’s what I thought,” I say, smiling widely. “Babycakes.”

And I take my seat.